Chapter 7

Birog awakened and stilled.

Something had disturbed her sleep.

She glanced around, her eye surveying the abandoned building. Nothing had been moved out of the ordinary, but something felt different.

She wasn’t alone

“Who is there?”

Nothing answered.

Standing to her feet, she looked down at the thread of her magic. It had regained some of its pearlescent hue again. The needles lay at her side and she bent and picked them up.

Could she seal herself properly now?

Knit, purl, knit, purl, yarn-over.

The seal appeared around her as it hadn’t since she first entered this strange world of two-eyes. A braided chain of fluid stiches made from her magic started from the bottom of her feet and came to her waist, making her invisible from the waist down.

When she continued to knit, the magic started to droop again.

“Not fully restored,” she said out loud.

How long had she slept for? Glancing out at the window, she saw that day had turned to dawn.

How long had she been asleep? The course of a night or longer?

Birog pulled the stitches off her needles and her seal unraveled. She could see the lower half of her body again. She felt rested, well rested, in fact. As if she’d spent more than one day rejuvenating herself. Cyclops being what they were, they didn’t often need sleep but when they did, they could sleep for a couple of days.

A sound made her turn around.

Her eye narrowed. Something was here.

“Who’s there?

“Lady Birog.”

She whirled around. A small group of faeries hovered before her, their delicate wings fluttering.

“Crystal faeries.” A wave of relief rushed over her. How wonderful to see something familiar in this two-eyed populated world.

“How did you get here?” One came forward who appeared to be the leader. She bowed respectfully, and the rest followed suit. Birog inclined her head.

“The same way you did. Through the ripped space. Did you come in at that time, too?”

They nodded.

“When?”

“According to this world’s sense of time, three days ago.”

Birog suppressed a groan. Her magic must have been more depleted of vitality for her to have gone to sleep for days.

“Does Mother Righteous know you’re here?”

Birog frowned and rubbed her brow. “I do not announce my movements to Mother Righteous.”

“But she must know you have left,” another of the faeries spoke. “She will send someone after you.”

“If she hasn’t already.”

It was something Birog refused to think about. Mother Righteous had the loyalty of the Cyclopean people through their stance of neutrality. But now that she was here, in this world...

“So be it.”

She thought of the two-eyed man and woman she found herself attached to. Watching their actions as she manipulated the colors they exuded.

“Faeries, do you think ... love is here?”

“Yes!” They all squealed in one voice.

“How can you be so certain?”

“If you ask the question, then you must have seen it,” the leader said.

“Perhaps.”

“What does it look like to you? Our magics are all different so you can perceive in a way we can’t.”

Birog told them how she perceived the colors about her as ribbons. “I have been attached to a two-eyed man and woman. The strange purplish color makes them react in a way I’ve never seen before.”

The faeries flew around her head in a burst of excitement. “It must be love. Just like with Abbie and—”

“But my magic is waning. And I do not know. There’s something about the sun’s light that affects it.”

The leader shook her head. “We do not know why.”

“Do you know if anyone else from our world has made it here?”

“Yes, but we’re not certain who.”

Birog pursed her lip. “Do you think Mother Righteous will appear?”

“It is only a matter of time.” The leader of the faeries flew a little away from the group, a pensive expression on her face. “Mother Righteous would have us to not believe that love exists. But we have seen it. You have seen it. Should we go back to the world where it doesn’t exist?”

“If this purple color really is love,” Birog added. She didn’t know what to believe. She’d been taught love was a myth.

How could she explain the reactions she’d observed in the two-eyed man and woman she’d watched? If she recalled the few whispers among the Cyclopean people, love made people want to be together.

Hadn’t she observed that?

Her spiked hair suddenly stood up in warning, an innate sign that she was in danger.

“Oh no!” The faeries squealed in fright. “I can feel it. Mother Righteous’ magic.”

Birog could feel it, too. Heavier than water-drenched wood. Deeper than a moonless night. Hot as a roaring fire.

“Is she here?”

The faeries stood still, their heads turned as if listening. “No,” the leader determined. “But someone from her inner court is here.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know! We’re not signal pixies.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She had to get out of here. Now.

Birog packed her needles. She could try to seal herself again, but the magic hadn’t been fully restored.

“We must go, too, Lady Birog.”

The faeries bowed once more and with a swirl of glittering movement, they vanished into the air.

Birog gathered her needles and wrapped her magic around them. Her hair grew more erect. So straight, the three thick strands almost looked like a single horn.

She made her way out of the building into the brightening day.

The presence of Mother’s Righteous’ magic drew closer.

How to get away.

Run, Birog. Run!

She obeyed her instincts, running down the street and turning down a corner and skidding to a stop.

It seemed as if there were dozens of two-eyed people, although there were maybe two or three.

“It’s a bear!” some two-eyed shouted.

Birog almost glanced over her shoulder for the acid-tipped claw monster but stopped herself. What was it with these two-eyes calling her a bear?

A woman took out a small box and pointed at her.

Commotion sounded from behind her. Thunder-like sounds which made her heart pound reverberated.

Then she heard it: a growl that sent a wave of ice-cold fear down her spine.

Ornol, the minotaur! Mother Righteous’ personal guard.

A vision of that battle axe that could cleave a Cyclopean child in half and sever a limb from an adult made her spine turn to a rod of ice.

She had to get away.

Birog ran down the street, but then she heard the roar of the minotaur behind her.

“Lady Birog!”

Run, run, run.

She dared not look back. Too many things were going on that she couldn’t identify. Ribbons of color from the two-eyes who watched fluttered about as she raced down the street. Fear, terror, anger, surprises, they all brushed against her.

Don’t let him catch you!

Her feet skidded on the ground as she ran. The barreling hooves of the minotaur seemed to get closer. Her heart almost beat out of her chest. She tripped and fell into some sort of obstruction. The metal dented like paper.

The minotaur’s footsteps pounded closer. She leapt to her feet and looked frantically around at the buildings. She had to get inside, had to lose him.

An assault of floral scent wafted to her nose and she turned to see an open door.

Flowers! Minotaurs hated flowers.

Without thinking any further, she ran into the place of flowers.

Plants and flowers filled the interior, their overpowering scent almost nauseating.

Ornol would find their aroma repugnant.

Maybe she could mask her own scent among them.

Her hair stood straight up and without another thought, she fell to the ground just as the wind from Ornol’s battle axe whooshed by her.

“Missed you, that one time, Lady Birog.”

“Ornol!”

She scrambled backward on her hand, trying to get away, crashing into things she couldn’t see for the terrible vision before her.

The minotaur’s black hairy body rose before her, heaving from exertion. His stench overpowered the flowers she hoped would protect her. Those dark eyes glared down with a dark pleasure.

“Mother Righteous told me to bring you back to her, alive or dead, Lady Birog.” He growled and switched the gleaming sharp battle axe from one cloven hand to the other. “I always obey my mistress.”

“If you kill me, Ornol, my people—”

“Won’t do a thing,” he finished for her, with a deep acidic laugh.

The truth of those words settled like a noose about her neck. Why should they when they had nothing to fight for or live for? Under Mother Righteous, they only had a day to day survival. Why would they do anything but continue to live in the area of neutrality?

At that moment, Birog remembered the scene from three days ago. When the two-eyed man had stood to protect the two-eyed woman from her.

Time stilled as if stuck in the slowing moving trail of a tar pitfall. She recalled the color of purple whipping around him as he did so. He’d been willing to risk his own safety for the two-eyed woman. The color had intensified like flames.

Love myths said one would be willing to die for the heart of another.

For the first time in her life, she’d beheld love although she had no idea what it was. The two-eyed man and woman had showed her. Love was real. It existed. She’d held it in her hands and felt its power. Seen it in action.

“I’ll give Mother Righteous your regards.”

Ornol lifted the axe into the air. With a speed she’d never knew she had, she swung her leg and kicked the minotaur in his rock-hard stomach. The impact sent him flying back into the wall. She may not be able to inflict pain on him, but very few could resist the power of a cyclopean kick.

“Why you!” He rushed at her but she’d taken her needles and wrapped the pearl thread of her magic around them, and stretched them, turning them into spears.

She’d never used her magic in this way before, had no idea she could but she had to protect herself.

Birog had found love and she wasn’t going to let go of it now.

Their weapons collided, with snarling and fighting, their strength almost matched. Deep grooves from the struggle of dominance carved into the floor under their feet.

Shouts sounded from somewhere else in the flower place. Ornol took his eyes off her for one moment. With a single motion, she took her needle-spears and swung it under his feet, felling him to the ground, the battle ax falling to the ground.

Birog jumped over his body and started for the door. A weight landed on her ankle, pulling her back. The unexpected motion loosened her grips on her needle-spears and they clamored to the ground.

Gazing down, she saw Ornol had her captive.

With a mighty roar, she yanked her ankle away from his grip. The momentum sent her sprawling backward and she fell. Something sliced the back of her calf in a searing, burning-like pain but she had no time to do more than grab her needles which shrank back to their normal size.

She scrambled to her feet and limped away, just as shouts echoed behind her. A trail of warmth trickled down her calf and she saw she bled. Taking the needles and the flimsy thread of magic which had once more become nearly gray, she knitted.

Knit, knit, purl. Knit, knit, purl.

As she did, she started to lose consciousness, she made one final stitch.

Yarn over

“Please let this work,” she begged as she disappeared, and her mind went into oblivion.

“Minnie, are you okay?”

Minerva jumped at the sound of her name and turned to see the red-rimmed eyes of Amelia Parker.