Chapter 2

The Hereditary Priest of the Hidden Temple of Ra (don’t worry if you never heard of it, it was meant so.) received a message from his God. It surprised and shocked him, as he thought the whole gig was just a sinecure that was passed down his blood-line. It wasn’t language or conversation but the meaning gradually distilled into a command to bring the strange ones into the light of day. By now, every one knew that the Aquarians couldn’t tolerate sunlight. Roger Boney groaned, he had studied the sacred scrolls, and knew that he had to try, no matter how insane the attempt seemed- Others of his ancestors had ignored the very rare communications from their solar deity, and had paid the price. (Think Waterloo. Think Alexander the Conqueror. Think King Arthur of the Round Table)

On the other hand, life had been very good to his branch of the family (with only failing of the God’s demands meriting punishment) going back beyond all but ritual and legend. That was just the way the bones fell, now it was his turn to act at the God’s command. But how?

When I had crossed from Barra’s demesne into Agatha’s demesne (I told you she was a fangirl, right?) my club had turned into an air-pistol, my furs and skins into flying leathers (including goggles and boots, because that’s the kind of fangeek Agatha is... ) and I felt welcomed to the neighborhood in a way.

At least that is, until the bulky odd shaped bat started to fly directly at me. If I had still held a club, I would have swatted it from the air, but since I had an air-pistol in my hand instead, I shot it. It exploded in a sizeable fireball, the damned flying rat had been mined! Keeping my eyes open for more too bulky shapes in the murky evening light, I got myself away from there, the borderlands.

With the succeeding generations of muddies, born to the Age of Aquarians and not knowing of how the world was before Magic had arrived and distorted and fractured reality, the local demesne would be their world and crossing to another would be entering a different realm. At least I had reference to the roots of the realities from having lived in the world before.

As I was crossing a clearing a shadow crossed the moon. I crouched down defensively as I looked up to see the silhouette of a sailing ship with a wooden rung rope ladder dangling to the ground. Feeling threatened by the looming mass hanging directly overhead I took the proffered invitation and clambered up the swaying and flexing contraption as gracefully and as quickly as I could. I couldn’t have looked more awkward.

“Good shot, Pilot. That bomb bat would have been on us if you hadn’t have distracted it.” said a tousle-haired youth of indeterminate gender, looking too young by a few years for it to really matter that much anyway. Their oversized boots flopped open unlaced, leaving a mystery how the boots stayed on the feet, unless they were filled with hideously out-sized feet.

The freckled pixie face was sooty except for where the eyes had been protected by flying goggles, now hanging about the scrawny neck. It was also split by a wide white grin. I played for some time to figure out what was going on. That was always the first thing to do, is figure out the new rules of the new place.

“Nice ship, thanks for taking me aboard. I’m Brent.”

“Welcome aboard the Piper’s Nest, and Welcome to my demesne. I’m Agatha.”

Oh shit I thought to myself. The safest thing to do when under the regard of an Aquarian was don’t rock the boat, don’t struggle or run or scream or faint. Maybe fainting would be OK, but then again, anything could occur, wouldn’t you rather be facing it?

Suddenly, I was her apparent age, although I knew she had to be at least sixteen, and which fortnight she celebrated her birthday in. I also knew I was still my own age of 33 in spite of now looking a mature 12. My leathers shifted to match my new size- now Agatha didn’t have to crane her head to look up at me. My boots hadn’t shrunk at all though, and I discovered how they were meant to stay on my feet. Toe straps.

She grinned into my eyes, and now that I was in a less mature form and I knew her gender, she no longer seemed too young for me or that it didn’t matter. Actually, she was kind of cute, and I now noticed the subtle bumps under her flying leathers. She called me on it. “Take a daguerreotype, it’ll last longer!” she teased. I blushed deeply.