Well, it was good to know that by the commonly held definition of insanity I wasn't exactly insane. That would require repetition, and this was going to damn well be the first and only time that I tried this. Either it would work or it wouldn’t and I would have to take this woman to court. I snorted to myself, l couldn't help it as I imagined myself explaining this situation to a judge and a jury.
‘Yes your honor, I was led to believe there was another version of the world across a magic barrier and that I could swap places with my other version so I could go and actually meet my parents.’ I am sure that would go across about as smoothly as if it was covered in sandpaper. For my personal esteem alone I really really hoped this went smoothly and was indeed real. I looked around the room shaking my head at the decor. None of it screamed magician to me, it was all very uptown former Harvard grad cheque, from the bookshelves lined with organized books in every conceivable size and thickness, to the desk that sat in one corner, a modern laptop sitting there with the lid closed but a bit of backlight from the screen squeezing out between the two sections. And yet here I was, attempting to swap places with another version of myself in another version of the world. An endeavor that was going to cost me something like 40,000 dollars in cash. Yeah, perhaps I wasn't insane, but I wonder if I could be classified as crazy.
I thought back to the events of the past few months as I sat there and waited. The series of events seemed like something you would hear in a bad novel or something. A series of events that took me from a relative norm to this place I was currently sitting in. Well, normal is always relative, so perhaps I was under some illusions as to how my situation was. Gramps had always raised me to be aware and open to the possibilities and opportunities so perhaps this was just that. The thought of gramps tore another hole in my chest and I pushed it away savagely as I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. He would be disappointed if he could see me grieving over him, he was never the sort to let the world get him down. Anyway, after his death I had been deeded the ranch, over 512 acres of cattle grazing land in the flint hills of Kansas. Gramps had raised me after my parents had passed away in a car accident of which I was the only survivor. I had been four at the time, and having no one else to take me in Gramps had decided he was going to raise me.
Life on the ranch was hard work growing up, but it taught me several skills and more than a few life lessons and to look at everything objectively. One of which was to look out for people intent on scamming you out of your things. Which was why it felt so odd to be here, contemplating an attempt to jump over to another world, a world where every soul that lived here also lived there.
According to Mrs. Hillman I was both there and here, as was everyone else, every soul that had lived, does live or will live had a soul there, not all at once mind you, apparently when you were born in one then you were also born in the other. This meant that somewhere out there in what I could only rationalize as an alternate reality there was another version of me, and apparently he wanted to trade spots with me, or at least that was what the email Mrs. Hillman had sent me had said.
Now, I know any sane and rational person would have simply pressed the delete button on that email thinking, probably correctly so, that it was another lame attempt at fraud. Only, I didn’t. I didn't throw it away, I didn’t press that delete button, something stopped me, and like the idiot I was I actually sent a reply email. After several email exchanges I agreed to meet at a downtown emporia coffee shop, in broad daylight, mostly due to the fact that it would be busy enough and light enough out that if this “Mrs. Hillman” actually turned out to be some big thug that was trying to steal my kidney or something, he would have a hard time at it. I also wisely in my opinion made sure to pack my gramps 1911 A1 he had brought back with him from vietnam, or Nam’ as he like to call it.
As it turned out Mrs. Hillman was actually a woman, and a normal enough looking one at that. She had curly red hair that only had a few streaks of grey in it, a heart-shaped face with green eyes and a dusting of freckles scattershot across the middle of it, and looked to be in her mid-forties. If I had to guess I would have said she looked like a soccer mom, a look that was amplified by the fact that she drove a new jeep, one of the ones that no longer even look like jeeps. All of which made what she told me all the more strange to me. According to her both worlds used to be connected in the past, connected through special points in the world, these special points required upkeep by both sides. Both sides had to be maintained and recharged, but unfortunately at some point in time in our past we had decided that witches were bad, as such, those points, those connections between the two worlds had not been maintained. What with the witches more concerned with the fact that people were hunting and burning them at the stake and whatnot.
As such, most if not all of the knowledge was lost over the generations, and now there was none that knew how to reopen the gateways between the worlds. But like all lost arts, if one studies records enough, does enough digging then it is possible in theory to reconstruct something once thought lost. According to Mrs. Hillman that was exactly what the order of witches she belonged to had been doing for the past several generations. And they had made some progress, apparently roughly fifty or so years ago they had re-established a form of communication with the other world. They had found that the degeneration of magic had happened there as well, though they had done a better job at the keeping of records on that side than we had on ours.
The interesting thing appeared to be the fact that while some magic was still used in that world it was only certain magics that were accepted, others were outright illegal and suppressed, and those that pursued illegal magics apostates.
Which apparently was what had made it so interesting to the coven of apostate witches over in the other world when a person had gotten ahold of them and had asked for a message to be passed along via communications to the otherworld version of themselves.
Which, incidentally was me.
A sane person would have nodded his head pleasantly and then faked a phone call or something and made a break for it, but I apparently was not a sane person, as I took the piece of what looked like thick yellowish paper from Mrs. Hillman that day at the coffee shop and took it home with me.
It was in the end that paper that had convinced me that she was not just some crazy woman, or a swindler with a really strange method. That paper wrote on itself, when I wrote “Hello, my name is Alain,” feeling rather stupid while doing so, on the top of the page it sat there for a moment, a long moment, so long infact that I thought it wasn't going to do anything. But then there was a slight tremble in the page as though someone else was grabbing at it, before dispersing, and another line appeared in its place that read; ”As is mine.” Now, like any rational person I had thought it had to be a trick, a screen of sorts, but no, I folded it, even ripped one corner off, hell I even took a lighter to the edge to see if it would burn, it did, and I had to quickly put it out to not lose the paper entirely.
If that piece of paper was tech then it was well in advance of anything I had ever seen…
I spent about a week writing back and forth with the other version of me, learning things about his world, and teaching him things about mine. I wanted to go even before he dropped the little tidbit about his mom and dad.
My own parents had passed long ago, and I had no memory of them aside from what gramps had told me. Naturally when I learned that they were alive in this other world my mind was made up, I wanted to swap with the other me, even if it meant I only got to see them for a month or so if only to have an actual memory of my own from which to draw.
Which was what led me to this rather interesting point in my life, questioning my sanity as I sat in a supposed witches’ house, in the middle of what looked to be a pentagram of some sorts after having paid her $40,000 to transport me to another world. This was exactly how horror movies started…
“Sooooo-” I dragged out the word, making it several syllables long as I watched as she moved around me, rearranging things ever so slightly, or lighting candles or a myriad of other small things that she seemed to be very occupied with. “If the pathways between worlds were severed how exactly are we going to get me there and him here?” I asked.
"Well, you will not actually be going physically you see," she said in her rather charming Irish accent, moving a bottle of what looked like olive oil. "You were born here, your flesh is of this world, meaning it is bound here very tightly, but your souls are connected as are all mirrored souls, so what we will have to do is pull that soul out of your body and send it over there to his, all the wall bringing his soul over to yours, it is a delicate task, and one that I have never actually done before,” she gave me a smile that I assume was supposed to be soothing but the words that had come right before it really spoiled it.
“Wait, you haven't done this before?” I asked, not quite sure that I had heard that right. “Is this dangerous?”
“No, well, no to the fact that I haven't done it, and yes to the danger bit of that question,” she said matter of factly as she carefully tilted a tallow candle so that the wax dripped onto the edge of a table and down the front of it just so. “Technically speaking you will be dead for several minutes as the transfer happens, and if the timing is off and his soul is not untethered as well when I try to send you over there, there will be nowhere to place you as he will be occupying the body in which you are supposed to go,” she glanced up at me. “Oh, don’t worry honey, I went to med school, well, went to, never really graduated but you know...”
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I said putting one hand down on the carpet to push myself up to standing, before I could she rushed over and placed her hands on my shoulders.
“It's fine, it's fine,” she said soothingly and I allowed my muscles to listen slightly and I settled back down. With a smile she went back to her tinkerings around the room.
“So how much does all of this play into the success rate of the transfer?” I asked looking at all the things around the room.
“What? All of this stuff?” she asked and I nodded. “Oh it doesn't matter at all, none of this means anything, the six-pointed stars and all that, it just looked witchy and my master always said the performance was half of the art.” she gave me a wide smile. “Besides, it helps me concentrated and seeing as we have to make sure we get you there in under six minutes I need all the concentration I can get.”
“What happens after six minutes?” I asked not really wanting to know the answer.
“Oh, well, that is where my time at med school is useful, it's quite simple really, as I said you will be dead, and as such your body will no longer be breathing, the brain needs oxygen and after about five to ten minutes of no breathing your brain will start to have serious damage due to lack of air.” I started to push myself back up but before I could she clapped her hands, turned to look at me and smiled. “And we are ready, it is time,” she held her arms apart for a second, eyes closed and breathing in and out slowly. She flared her eyes open, and instead of the normal green, they blazed bright gold. With a swift motion she clapped her hands together, and as she did all light seemed to wink out, leaving me alone in a void of blackness.
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It was like coming up for air after having been underwater for too long. There was a burning sensation, and I had one hell of a headache, but damn did that air taste good, it tasted so good in fact that it took me several moments to realize that it smelled completely different from the air in Mrs. Hillman’s house, there was a lack of incense and potpourri, for one thing, this air tasted more of stone and wood fire. Carefully I cracked an eye and looked at my surroundings, gone was the comfortable family home decorated in quant candles and pictures, in its place was a stone and wood room. It took my brain several moments to wrap itself around the fact that it had actually worked. Even up to this point I wasn't so sure that this was all just a trick, a fantasy concocted by Mrs.Hillman to trick me out of my money or kidneys or something. Part of me had expected to wake up and find that that wasn't actually her house and that no such woman had ever lived in the area her having vanished with all of my money and what not.
Stones made up two of the walls, in which high windows were set, letting in a pleasant day’s sunlight. The floor, which was wooden planked as was the high overhead ceiling was covered in a fur rug that looked to be bear or something equally as mysteriously large. In one corner sat a fireplace, in which no fire roared, but one had been set and would no doubt be easy to light. There was also a rather large and frankly soft-looking bed, draped in red and gold quilting, and on the walls were several tapestries which were woven with pictures of what looked to be battles or hunts. As I looked around I caught sight of a woman, one who had been standing behind me in a position that I had not been able to see when I had first sat up and looked around.
The sight of a silent person in the room with me caused me to jump and she chuckled at me. After I had swallowed my heart which had firmly lodged itself in my throat I realized she must be the witch that had helped with the transfer on this side.
She was not the mirror copy of Mrs. Hillman, this woman was older, had more grey and looked a lot more worn down by time. If I was being completely honest she looked generally more witchy than Mrs. Hillman. She chuckled at me when I had jumped at the sight of her and handed me a folded piece of paper.
“What is this?” I asked, looking at the sheet.
“The person who hired me told me to hand that to you, I was told it was instructions, explanations and the like.” I looked at the folded paper dubiously, after all, we had agreed to write detailed explanations to help each other get through the transition with some ease, I had practically written a full novel for him, so this small paper really didn't seem like it was enough.
“Is this it? I kind of expected more of an expli-” I looked up, but found that I was apparently talking to an empty room. “Wha-” I looked around, confused as to where she could have gone. But then I understood, after all, if she was a witch that could help transfer a soul across worlds then surely such a disappearing act was childs’ play to her right? I was about to open the paper when there was a knock on the chamber door. A rather forceful knock, one that was soon followed by the door itself starting to open.
I panicked a little, jumping up to my feet and stuffing the slip of paper quickly into my waistband, after all it might be just a little hard to explain seeing as I was pretty sure this was illegal magics, it wouldn’t do to get here to simply get arrested or punished before I got to do anything.
The door opened and I found myself looking at a face that I had not seen with the exception of Gramps’s photo album. It looked like my father, albeit with a rather longer mane of hair and a beard, but still, he was easily recognizable. I had no actual memory of the man, no idea what he was like outside of what Gramps had told me about him. I confess I panicked a little. “Hi,” I said. I could not help it, it just slipped out of my mouth like a fish through a net.
“Hello Alain,” he said, one eyebrow quirking as though he thought this an odd exchange. “I see that you are almost ready,” he said, “Good, we need to be leaving shortly, grab your blade and follow me,” he said, gesturing behind me and off to the right. I almost asked two questions there for a second, one being what he meant by we had to leave, and two being “Blade?” But smartly I decided to keep my mouth shut, after all, the answer to both of those questions was likely something the other me would have known, and it would be odd if I hadn't known them. So instead I turned and looked at where he had been pointing, and indeed there was a blade there, resting against the headboards of the bed.
The blade was in a leather sheath that seemed to have a belt already integrated into it. I couldn't see the actual blade but judging both by the curve of the scabbard and the fact that it had a single handed hilt complete with a knuckle duster on one side it reminded me of the civil war era cavalry sabers I had seen in museums.I picked it up and covertly glanced at my father to see what side he had his sword belted on and attached my own in the same location. As I put the sword belt over my clothing I noticed for the first time the actual clothing that I wore.
It was a long-sleeved black garment, a jacket of a fashion with a high collar, with a flap of fabric that crossed over the chest and closed with a double row of buttons complete with shoulder lapels. A belt closed it around my waist and there were a few pouches attached to it. The pants were the same black but instead of napoleonic pants that were tight and usually had a a single white line embroidered down the side of the leg on both sides these were looser around the thighs and almost baggy with cargo pants like side pouches sewn in and closed with golden buttons. The pants went from baggy to tight at around the knees, senched there with essentially black boot laces up the calves that tied just bellow the knees. This made sense seeing as it allowed me to easily tuck my legs into boots. Black riding boots that came up to just below my knees that closed and tightened on the side via laces and golden studs going up the side of the boots. All in all if I had to guess judging by the cut and make of the garment it reminded me strongly of a uniform or something, in fact the style looked a lot like an old napoleonic style military uniform or the like.
“Ready?” My father asked and I looked up at him, “Good, your mother is waiting, let us go,” and just like that he left, the door closing behind him. There were still several questions in my head, the first and foremost being where the hell we were going, but I put them aside and made for the door, after all when we got to wherever we were supposed to be going I was going to get my answers wasn't I?
As I made my way to the door I caught sight of movement in the corner of my eye and turned to look at it, only to find that I was staring at my own reflection. Generally speaking, I looked like myself, same build; slim with a decent amount of muscle mass. Same age; 18, but different hairstyles. The Alain of this world apparently preferred his hair long, and free-flowing with nothing to hold the hair out of his eyes. And while I liked mine short, buzzcut to be exact, I found I didn't much mind the look. He also had a rather nice looking amount of hair on his face, it was trimmed down and somewhere in the nebulous area between a five O’ clock shadow and a beard, and it looked good, though I found I couldn't stand the hair in my eyes, I looked around and found a scrap of black ribbon sitting on a dresser and grabbed it, inexpertly holding my hair back and tying it up to keep it out of my eyes. A few strands of it escaped but it was better than all that hair in my eyes.
I gave myself a good look up and down in the mirror, adjusting the uniform and nodding to myself. The other me, this other Alain at least seemed he took good care of his body, which boded well for me, as while I was here in his body he was there in mine, and hopefully he would be as careful with it as I was going to be with his. After all, this was only a temporary arraignment. Satisfied with my once over I adjusted the belt that held the blade a little more and opened the door, following my dad out of the room, only to find that he had already gone ahead.
My fear of getting lost in some grand sweeping castle whose’ passageways I didn't know proved to be unnecessary. The house I was in could be called a mansion, for sure, but it wasn't a castle. My room was on the second story, and was one of three up here. A long decorative staircase led down from the second-story landing to the first floor and I took the steps three at a time.
It didn't take me long to get down to the foyer where everyone appeared to be waiting for me. I paused on the last step as every head turned my way, I had never been comfortable with crowds and this time was no different. They all watched as I took the last step down and walked over to where my father was standing, I was about to say something when the sound of heels striking stone caused me and everyone to turn and look at the other set of stairs.
I recognized her instantly, it looked like she hadn't aged a day from the photo I kept of her next to my bedside. Mom was a good looking woman, she had wavy brown hair, not quite curly, but with a good amount of volume in it, a slightly rounded face that looked like it was always smiling and small almond-shaped eyes that shone with an intelligent emerald color that seemed able to peel away layers to get to your core.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs dad went over and offered his arm, she wrapped hers around his and rested her hand atop his own, allowing him to lead her down the last step and across the foyer towards the rest of us.
"Hello Alain," she said, a smile on her lips. I felt a weight I hadn't known I had been carrying to lift off of my chest when I saw that smile."Nervous?"
"Hello mother," I said smiling back at her, "and to be honest yes," though whether I was more nervous about the whole situation with us apparently being expected somewhere or about meeting the two of them after so long, I had no idea and it was not like I could ever tell her that anyway, so I simply shrugged.
"Don't be, remember your father went through the same thing, just remember, with the gift of privilege comes the burden of expectation," she smiled at me again, though I didn't doubt her sentiment it simply made me wonder what this expectation was even more. I really should have read that letter while I had been upstairs before I had left the room. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, "He looks good doesn't he dear?" she asked and my father looked me over with an appraising eye.
"Yes, he does look presentable,” he responded curtly after giving me a once-over. “But then again he should he is a-Ow! Woman! What was that for?!" he pulled his arm out of hers and began rubbing the back of his hand, which was already turning a darkening shade of color, which would no doubt start to turn purple before long.
"Do not speak that way it is unseemly and unfit for one such as you." she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into step with her, once again wrapping her arm around his." Do I make myself clear?" she asked.
"Yes dear," my dad sighed.
"Good, then let us all be to the task, I would hate for my son to be late, what would everyone think of us then?" she asked, “Hmmm?” It was a surreal experience seeing them there standing in front of me despite the fact that I knew that they were both gone. It was like a dream, and it leant an air of unreality to everything else, one so palpable that I had to forcefully remind myself that it wasn't a dream and that I was in an alternate reality. That air of unreality only intensified as my mother made a gesture and people moved to open the doors, reveal a courtyard. It was a rather pretty courtyard, filled with flowering bushes that bloomed in many shades and colors, and curving walking paths paved in red stone that wound between them. Sitting in the open area in between me and that garden was a carriage, it was being pulled by a set of horses that were as white as clouds with not a mark on them.
Before I could do much more than gawk at the sight I was practically herded into the carriage while my mother and father stood outside the door looking at me, quickly I glanced around and found that the window between me and them could be hinged down so I opened it and leaned out slightly towards them.
“Now dear, make sure you are properly behaved, I expect nothing short of the most gentlemanly behavior from you young man, remember she is in the same position as you are so you need to extend every courtesy to her,” I opened my mouth to ask her what she was talking about but before I could she went on talking. “And I expect you to visit on holidays, and you will bring Eleanor with you,” who was Eleanor? I almost asked but before I could my father gave a smile and nodded his head to the coachman and before I could ask we were off. I blinked, wondering exactly what I had just gotten myself into, which was when I remembered the letter. I was alone in the carriage, so I pulled it out and opened it.
I saw with some shock and not a little alarm, that not much was written on it.
I took the two seconds it took to read it:
Alain,
Today you are heading to the country of Serasburge, you are going there as our kingdom the kingdom of Tathensi has signed an alliance with those of Serasburge, as a gesture of good will you are one of thirteen nobles that have been betrothed to the Serasburge nobility. You will also be attending the Military academy at Serasburge with your betrothed Lady Eleanor vas Graasman in order to strengthen the bonds between our two kingdoms. I apologize for the deception, but I have decided this is not the life for me, and seeing as both of us need to be willing to trade places it is now your fate, good luck.
Alain,
Oh shit.
I'd been played.
Oh shit, I'd been played!