Five

-ch!

I opened one eye gingerly. A pale light suffused the full -- if somewhat restricted -- extent of my vision.

The second shutter flicked open. Okay then, no searing pain from my back or chest. Only a dull, throbbing from my skull. I shut my eyes and embraced the comforting darkness. That was a good thing. I could feel pain. So I wasn't dead -- although I had nothing, except what little I had read on the subject, on which to base that assumption. Now, what was the routine in situations like this? Oh yes, who am I? Well, I don't think I'm going to quibble over that. Next question? Where am I? Now that might require a little more work. I supposed I had better open my eyes again and take a better look around.

And then memory returned -- you could say 'flooded back' -- to the extent of permitting feelings of dread at what I might see once I did return to the 'land of the living' as it were. Was it likely that I would find myself staring into the face of a madman, semi-crazed at having been momentarily thwarted? Would my first sight be the business end of a personal firearm and my last that of a speeding bullet? And what exactly had just happened? Why didn't my shirt feel damp and heavy from soaked blood? Although this begged the question of why, if indeed my attacker was still around, had he not just got it over and done with and simply shot me whilst I was down and out? I consoled myself -- partially, it has to be said -- with the answer that he was one of these villains who preferred to gloat and make sure their victim knew exactly what was going to happen. Although it didn't seem very likely in this case, it was a thought I had to cling to. It meant that I had a chance. However slim. Oh well, time to get this over and done with.

I opened my eyes. The trailing edges of a leafy, green canopy fringed a sheet of such pristine azure that I almost mistook it for a painting. The fluttering motions of winged creatures, birds I would presume, helped realise that I was actually looking at the sky. The air was filled with the fresh fragrance of newly bloomed flowers, the scent of an early spring afternoon. A cool breeze ruffled the leaves and bushes. All in all it was quite idyllic. No sign of whoever it was that had so rudely interrupted me before. But that didn't mean he wasn't still around. Slightly nervous, despite the serenity of the scene, and more than a just a tad tense, I attempted to draw myself into a sitting position so that I might better assess my predicament. Such a simple action was not exactly painless -- I ached all over, bruises and other contusions vying for sensory attention. But such minor agony could safely be ignored for now as curiosity demanded to know where it was.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto." And an oh-so familiar laugh.

"Pity. You might look quite fetching in a blue and white gingham dress, m'lady." And with that, I turned my head, with a wide smirk -- flavoured with a soupçon of surprise -- plastered across the face, to greet Kieran once more. I'm sure you all guessed that it was him though -- it wasn't exactly a difficult leap to make. "Although, you realise I might take offence at being called a scruffy dog."

"Oh, I think I can live with that," he countered with a smile.

A multitude of questions were queuing up to be asked and answered. Somehow I knew that the fair majority -- if not all -- of them were going to go unvoiced. Kieran was the kind of person that wouldn't say unless pressed and even then was likely to give a disingenuous reply if it suited his purpose. Even now, I still find it difficult to sort the wheat from the chaff. He likes to throw up a smokescreen to his true intentions so it's bloody hard to truly know -- concretely that is -- whether what he chooses to tell you is the actuality of it all. Especially here. I refrained from asking to just avoid any necessity for duplicity and deception. As good 'friends' as we are, if he still felt the need to keep things from me then that was his decision. So I asked those questions that I knew would be safe, free from him having to reveal himself in any great detail.

I scanned our immediate surroundings in the hope of gleaning some information as to what had passed -- well, I had no idea of how long had actually passed since my little 'accident'. I found myself leaning up against the trunk of a young tree, on the edge of a copse that seemed to stretch down the back of this hillock, by the side of a faint path that wound down and around the front slope to disappear from sight in amongst the dips and rises of this small range of foothills we appeared to be in. Across from where I reclined was the stone I must have struck my head against in my flight from... where I had previously been. It looked fairly sizable, sunken as it was into the hilltop, and had several protrusions that were quite lump-producing as my tender skull attested to. It was on this feature that Kieran had chosen to sit. There was no sign of the curtain of shimmering strands -- perhaps, 'portal' is a more appropriate designation for it -- that had granted entrance to this rather tranquil land. For this was most definitely not the environs of Cambridge, unless my unconsciousness had spanned geological time frames and Britain had undergone significant tectonic shock to produce what lay before us.

"I don't suppose you have any idea of where we might be?" I inquired, choosing to start off in neutral territory before progressing into the more tenuous ground of parts unknown.

"Nope. Your guess is almost as good as mine." I don't suppose even this could stop him from playing the ever-egoistic joker.

"Have you had a chance to look around Andy?"

"'Fraid not. I've just been sitting here 'til you recovered."

"Nice of you wait around this time," I retorted sardonically. I dunno quite what came over me at that point. It was as if my feelings of abandonment had decided just lash out without consideration. For me, that was rather vituperative. But I didn't think of apologising for it. It was warranted, I suppose. But that kind of justification didn't stop it from hurting me the moment I said it.

If I had expected him to flinch at that -- very cutting, in my opinion -- remark, he didn't. He simply turned his head to stare out over the rolling landscape. "I felt bad for what I did to you."

Silence.

I didn't push him on it. It was obvious that it was the closest thing to an apology or explanation that I was going to get. So I just accepted it. As per usual. I suppose I should be grateful that he deigned to say anything at all. Oh well, it shall suffice. It would have to.

"Are we safe?"

Kieran looked around before shrugging his shoulders. "Can't say for certain. He doesn't appear to have followed us and I came through right after you."

A chill ran up my spine. I raked my gaze about the ground; started scrabbling around in the nearest shrubs. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kieran half-rise from his seat and crane his neck forward.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?" I shot back.

"Whatever it is you're frantically looking for." Good recovery, no trace of hesitation that I noticed -- although it could be said that I was a bit distracted. I wondered if I should be suspicious at the shrouded innocence of his question but shrugged it off. But... if, as he said, he came back behind me, he should know that I was searching for the golden sphere and there shouldn't be any need for him to conceal his knowledge that I had been carrying it. Rats! This line of thought was making the throbbing in my head worse. I really should stop suspecting Kieran so. He's my friend after all.

Supposedly.

That word kept intruding every time I tried to dismiss those shameful thoughts.

"I'm looking for the golden metal orb I was carrying. Medium sized and fairly heavy." I indicated the rough dimensions to him with my hands. I rested again. It was obvious this was a fruitless search.

He shook his head as he replied, "Sorry. I saw something fall from your hands when you fell but I've no idea where it might have got to."

I smiled ruefully. "Oh well, easy come, easy go," I said, attempting to be philosophical about the loss. But inside my head, I knew I shouldn't have let that happen. In all likelihood, that man -- whoever he was -- now had possession of it. And that was a scary thought but I couldn't, for the life of me, think why that should be so. I didn't know who he was and I didn't know what it was, if it was anything at all. If he did, then good luck to him. But that just made it worse. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Yet.

Yet, thinking about it rationally, just what would I do if I got the chance? I had no answers to that. Yet. Perhaps I would let the situation dictate, if it should ever arise. For I held little -- maybe foolishly so -- hope that I would ever recover that gleaming gewgaw of gold.

Thinking it might be better if we tried to make some headway into this mystery we seemed to found ourselves in, I tried to stand. My limbs failed to entirely cooperate with the request to move. So I stayed seated for the moment.

"Still painful, huh?" I nodded, wincing as I did so.

"So how long was I out for?"

He snorted in mild derision. "Take a look at your watch."

Manoeuvring in such a manner as to cause least discomfort, I took in the display of my timepiece. I had to squint, since the plastic face had gotten quite scratched and scuffed in the fall so I presumed I had landed heavily on my wrist. If the marks were anything to go by, therefore, it's a minor miracle I hadn't broken it. But it was fairly sore. Anyway, the slightly obscured figures read 13:31:22. About ten minutes since I had last looked. But that couldn't be right! Surely not... hang on! The figures weren't changing. In the manner of old, I tapped at the damaged watch. No movement. "It's broken," I finally announced.

Kieran shook his head in disagreement. "Possibly. But look at this." He came over, knelt down and showed me the face of his watch... sorry -- chronometer. It was a fairly expensive number, with a mother-of-pearl fascia and calendar features. It was also an analogue one. The hands were frozen at approximately half-past one and the mechanism was silent.

"Unwound? Quartz gone? Jammed? Spring broken?" I said, cycling through the various options that came to mind.

"This morning. New. Unlikely. Improbable. In that order." He smiled disarmingly -- now where was that smile when I needed it? -- sorry. "I know it's going to sound ludicrous, but-"

"Time stopped when we came through the curtain-thing?" One raised eyebrow in the fashion of Mr Spock greeted him. Kieran nodded. "You're right, it does sound ludicrous."

"But not entirely impossible to believe. For instance, I'm sure you've been out cold for ages but in all that-" And he hesitated to use the word. "Time," he continued, 'I haven't noticed any changes in the light level at all. Only what you'd expect with the occasional cloud."

"Then maybe I wasn't unconscious for all that long. The light wouldn't necessarily fluctuate over a short period, say two or three hours."

"It's not that, so much. It just doesn't seem to be natural, that's all."

"I don't think you could get much more natural than this," I smirked.

"You know what I mean." He paused to gaze at the unspoilt beauty all around us. "Why would both our watches have stopped then?"

"Both broken."

"Both. Granted, yours perhaps but given that mine hasn't exactly gone through the wars-" I cut him short with an askance look. "Okay then," he relented, 'I know two items isn't enough...'

"...even if the sample population is two," I finished with a smile, before closing my eyes to soak up the calmness of it all.

"You're the scientist, not me."

"Too true."

"Harrumph!'

"Now, now, there's no need to pout."

"How do you know I'm actually pouting? Huh? I could be pretending."

"Yeah, right. Whatever you say m'lord."

"I'm beginning to wonder why I bothered returning."

"You know you don't mean that."

"Really? And you know exactly what I'm thinking, huh?" There was a coldness there that I hadn't expected to hear.

The smile faded from my lips. Beneath my lidded eyes, I could feel the traces of tears begin to well. Drat my emotional nature! It's too true, I'm afraid -- I'm not very good at hiding my feelings. If something hurts me, it can be quite difficult for me to control my reactions. And this was certainly one of those occasions. I took a deep breath. I could feel that Kieran had withdrawn, probably back to his stony seat.

I forced myself to open my eyes. Kieran was seated on the crest of the hill, his back towards me. Striving to regain control over this state of affairs, I posed the most pressing question clamouring for vocal attention. "What happened back there?" I asked quietly, "Why am I not off 'soaring with the angels' as it were?"

No answer, save the whispering of the soft wind.

"How did you save my life?"

"You make it sound as if it was accidental."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. You know that. Sorry. I just want to know why I still have my life when, by all rights, that gunman should have deprived of it. I heard the gunshot." A pause. "At least, I think I did."

"Oh you did all right. The shot hit a tree. It's difficult to aim properly when you're falling over in the process."

"You didn't-" I started, aghast at the notion.

"Kill him? No way! I never struck him that hard. All I did was stun him, I think. He really wasn't expecting it, so it wasn't difficult to sneak up on him. Or down, actually." I saw him turn to see the puzzled expression on my face. "I was hiding up a tree beside the path. He showed up only a few minutes before you did. When I saw that he was going to pull the trigger, I had to act. So I leapt to knock him over, which I did. He stumbled into you, knocking you to the ground, firing just after that. You tumbled through the curtain and I followed. Good thing I did, 'cos you wouldn't have been able to defend yourself if he had followed us through." He smiled again, in reassurance of his testimony.

"Then I really must thank you. I don't think I'm ready to shuffle off this mortal coil."

"Huh?"

"Hamlet. The famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy."

"Ugh! Shakespeare."

"Yes, well." I left it at that. Our differences of opinion on the Immortal Bard were well known; there's no need to rehash a pointless digression here.

There was one thing nagging me though. Well, actually, several things but I'm sure you can tell what the one most glaring thing is. Yup, if he had been there since before the guy even got there, why did he wait until he was about to blast me to kingdom come before acting? There was no way, however, that I was going to ask him that. That would be a surefire way of introducing a rift into our already fragile friendship. I know it's not as if he really had anywhere to disappear to -- unless of course, he knew where the way out was or had reconnoitred safe passage whilst I was out for the count.

But enough of these musings. As nice as our environment was, the ground was starting to feel quite hard beneath me and I needed to stretch my aching legs. As much as I feared the complaints from my muscles -- much like those I suffer in the days after having played football with my mates back home -- along with the inevitable twisted ankle -- where every movement is a trial by ordeal due to long periods of inactivity -- and my general malaise over exercise -- it was clear we weren't going to accomplish much by simply sitting around talking. We could do that whilst we walked and tried to find a way home.

"Well then, my stalwart travelling companion," I intoned jovially, "shall we see where we have fetched up?"

"I'm up for that." And with that he jumped to his feet, turned and started to descend the hill. I pursed my lips, wondering just how long it would take him to realise, return and render assistance. I had a curious sense of déjà vu.

Fortunately, my count had only reached five before I saw his sheepish grin.

"Sorry 'bout that. Need a hand?" He stretched his right arm out to help me up.

"Much obliged."

Standing -- somewhat gingerly, it has to be said -- on my own two feet again, I surveyed the land from this new vantage stance. Some distance away, beyond the edge of the foothills, I thought I espied the twinkling of the sunshine off a ribbon of blue. Thinking that such might be a river or stream, I pointed this out to Kieran who strained his eyes but -- in spite of having far keener sight -- could not see it.

"Nope, can't make it out," he reported.

I refrained from suggesting he climb the tree.

* * * *

I think it might be prudent at this point to try and allay some suspicions you might have over the veracity of our behaviour in this situation. You're wondering -- and quite rightly so, I might add -- how we could be acting so nonchalantly after what we had been subjected to. You're speculating as to why we were not fazed by the rather incredulous, not to mention fantastic -- in the original sense of the word, that is -- set of circumstances that had conspired to cause us to be where we were. These are reasonable concerns.

The simplest explanation I can give you is that we had both quickly, and independently, realised that there was nothing at the time we could do about what had happened to us. Hence, to spend a great deal of time being transparently mystified would put at us at a distinct disadvantage. So we didn't.

All right. I can tell that you're not entirely satisfied with that. As I said, it's the simplest explanation. It's neither the only one nor entirely the right one. For one thing, it doesn't really go far enough.

Okay then, here's the deal -- or at least part of it, at any rate. Both Kieran and I -- but me more so than him -- are science-fiction and fantasy aficionados. Practically any example of the genre from film to literature, from Dungeons & Dragons^TM to Star Trek^TM, from the arid sands of Arrakis to the pine forests of the Uberwald. As such, since our imaginations had the choicest, most fabulous, most extraordinary of creative landscapes and concoctions to graze upon, the situation was hardly the most bizarre we had ever encountered. True, our actual experiences were, up until this point, limited to the printed word and screened image. But what we were now facing was, quite literally, the stuff of dreams. Thus, you could say we were quite prepared to deal with it without that period of deluded disorientation that so usually accompanies travellers of our ilk, such as Thomas Covenant's entry into the Land.

That's not to say we -- or at least I -- weren't afraid of what we might stumble upon. The realms of popular fiction are populated with a myriad of insidious and terrifying creatures and so forth. But we had more mental preparation than most who would find themselves in our shoes.

I hope that satisfies you on this matter. If not, I'm sure you can easily find out where to address your queries.

We had walked for goodness knows how long, over hill, past spinney and through dale. Luck, whatever that might actually be, was with us anyway for we managed to find a crop of wild strawberries growing on the fringes of one of the copses. Whatever conversation we indulged in wasn't taxing in the slightest. We were quite content to just enjoy a leisurely relaxed walk. There didn't seem to be any point in trying to rush -- we didn't exactly know where we heading, so why tire ourselves on a potential wild goose chase? We'd get there in the end and be more capable of dealing with things to boot.

But during our journey, I made a few, strange observations. There was a strong sense of familiarity about this place. Indeed, it really did look like the countryside in that dream I'd had, the one with the tree in it. That then spurred the thought -- is it likely that we'll find the vaunted tree, that started this cavalcade of events, here? And the answer: With any luck. But didn't I also dream that there was fauna to accompany the abundant flora of this -- for want of a better term -- this 'new world' in which I was feeling anything but brave? But apart from that extremely distant flock of birds -- which could so easily have been a mistake -- I had seen no other animals. No bees, no butterflies and no squirrels. Plenty of acorns but no inquisitive rodents. There was also the question of the sunlight. Kieran was right; the light just seemed to be a natural fixture, constant, unwavering. Just so. To quote an old friend, it was 'fascinating'.

Well... perhaps not 'fascinating' but 'intriguing' at the very least.

Anyway, we emerged from the foothills and onto a wide, flat, grassy plain that stretched for as far as the eye could see.

Or at least it would have done, had there not been, sweeping back from the middle distance, a vast forest, all close-packed trees and vibrantly green canopy. It didn't look a forbidding -- or even forbidden -- forest but then how often is it the case that appearances are deceiving.

The sparkling ribbon I had noticed from our starting point did, in fact, turn out to be a stream -- a babbling brook, an it pleases you. It wandered across the plain, gently meandering and softly gurgling a watersong to all who cared to listen. Given the lack of sounds, other than that of wind through the treetops and our own voices, it was quite enchanting -- haunting, some might say. Its course wasn't entirely clear -- it started way off to our left and -- surprise, surprise -- flowed into the woods at a point not too distant from us.

I mopped my moist brow -- the sun was fairly warm, after all -- with the back of my shirt sleeve and turned to Kieran, a slight grimace on my face. "You don't, perchance, happen to have a curious sinking feeling in your stomach, do you?"

He looked at me bemusedly before slowly shaking his head. "Nope. Why? Do you?"

I nodded.

"All I have is a odd sense of déjà vu." Well duh! I didn't bother responding to that.

"I don't suppose there's any chance of us avoiding going in there, is there?" I said, half to myself.

"Unlikely," he replied, stirring me from the mini reverie I had drifted into. "These things have a tendency to be intuitive." He got my mute agreement.

We resumed walking. The water -- and the woods -- were calling.