Chapter Five

Amber landed on soft, loamy ground, knees crashing down first before she bent forwards and placed her hands before her to stop her fall.

She panted while staring at the dirt between her hands. Everything felt off.

Once, some years ago, a fair had come to Hollowpoint, with ferris wheels and rides and all sorts of stalls. She had eaten her fill of poorly cooked corn dogs and cotton candy, then she’d gone with some school friends to one of those tea-cup rides. She remembered laughing for the first minute, then the cotton candy and corn dogs made an explosive return.

It had been embarrassing, sure, but what really stuck with her was the strange, dizzying weakness that came right after.

Oh, crap, this doesn’t feel good.

She coughed, then felt burning bile rising in the depths of her esophagus. Swallowing hard, Amber kept everything down and just focused on breathing. She was cramping up all over, arms and legs and in her gut, but she’d had worse.

Okay, okay, I can do this.

Placing one foot down, then the other, Amber stood up and stretched to her full height. The motion seemed to help. It settled things a little.

A look around did the opposite.

“Where the hell am I?” she muttered.

There were trees around her. Huge, towering things that were as big around as cars. The branches above formed a canopy that masked a darkening grey sky. The air was fresh, with the lingering smell of rotting leaves and good dirt.

A chill wind slipped by, rustling the leaves above and sending a shiver down Amber’s spine.

The one thing that caught her off guard was the lack of animal noises. It took a moment to notice the absence, but as soon as she didn’t she couldn’t help but hear the missing sounds. No bird calls, no squirrels chittering. Not even the cries of crickets or the buzz of bees.

Amber stumbled over to the nearest tree and leaned her back against it as she breathed. The wracking pain was still there, as if someone was tugging at her muscles. And that... thing, the one that felt like a new limb of sorts, the one that she felt as soon as she accepted the Seelie’s deal, it was aching as if about to burst. Like her bladder after drinking way too much.

Weird analogy, that. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Okay, I’m in a forest. I wasn’t in a forest before. This... is bad. A glance down at herself revealed that she was still wearing that same costume. Bright, crimson red, with black highlights. She had a belt around her waist with a set of knives tucked into it, and a sort of sleeveless jacket that flared out around her hips.

She was also wearing pantaloons. “Okay,” she said. Fashion wasn’t her thing, but that was still a bit weird. The thigh-high boots were a bit strange too, but she didn’t exactly have a wardrobe to pick from.

Acting on instinct, she lowered her hands to the bottom edge of her jacket where it stuck out from her side and felt under it. With a faint clunk, a metal disk fell into her hand. It had a recessed handle, and a blade that formed a perfect circle.

“Very weird,” she muttered. The blade... a chakram? fit back under her jacket with an almost magnetic click.

Well, I’m armed, at least. And I’m a magical girl. Which is nice, I suppose.

She did feel... stronger, maybe. Amber kicked her foot out, as if striking for a ball, and the motion felt more smooth than she was used to, even with the cramps.

Great. Now... did I just yeet myself into the past?

There was no hiding the time stuff around her. She felt as if she knew when every second passed, not in an intrusive way, but as though she were in a room with a grandfather clock ticking away in the background.

Also, there were clocks on her costume. As a belt buckle, on her wrists and she suspected there was one on her hat.

Amber smacked the tree with a closed fist. There was too much going on. Powers, the costume, the time stuff, the entire world being replaced by a forest. Her dad.

Breath in, hold it, out. She waited until her heartbeat slowed down and some of the cramps subsided. “Think Amber, one thing at a time.”

She had powers. That was cool, but unless she could use them to get back to her dad, they weren’t useful just yet.

Something clicked and Amber realized she had at least one thing she could try. Clearing her throat, she spoke in a low voice. The solitude of the forest called for quiet. “Seelie, Seelie, Seelie,” she whispered.

Nothing happened.

“Okay, so much for that,” she muttered.

Her next plan was to start walking until she found water. Magical Girl or no, she was still pretty sure she needed to eat and drink.

“So, this is where you landed.”

Amber jumped and spun, foot digging a furrow in the dirt as she tugged two knives out from her belt and prepared to throw them.

She paused on seeing the Seelie sitting atop a fallen log. Then she noticed her pose, arms raised in a sort of fighting stance, knives ready to be flung. That wasn’t something she’d thought about.

“Your combat instincts seem to work fine,” the Seelie said. “Too bad your common sense isn’t so instinctual.”

Amber lowered her arms. “Hey,” she said. The awkwardness was soon replaced by boiling indignity. “Where am I?” she asked. “What did you do?”

“We did nothing. Other than warn you about the fickle nature of magic.”

“Where am I?” she asked again.

The Seelie titled its head. “On an island. In what would be the Eastern United States on Earth. Here, in Agartha, it is a shallow ocean fitted with islands. You are fortunate to have landed on solid land.”

Amber felt her stomach drop in time with another cramp passing through her. She grit her teeth and shoved her knives away into their sheathes. “Can I go home?” she asked.

“We doubt you’d be able to make it.” The Seelie started walking along the edge of the log. “There are other paths back to Earth, of course.”

“So, how can I get there?”

“We should warn you of some things first. These are warnings freely given. Whether you listen or not is entirely upon you.”

Amber swallowed. That sounded important. “I’m listening.”

“We appreciate it,” the Seelie said. “First. You cannot return home as you are.”

“What?” she burst.

Something in the woods shifted, branches moved and leaves rustled. Amber crouched down a little.

“Magic is everywhere here. Right now, you are absorbing far, far more than you can handle. Were you to snap back to Earth, it would burst out of you, uncontrolled and feral. We cannot guarantee that you would die. Though we suspect that if you don’t, you would wish for it.”

Amber eyed the cat-like thing. “Okay,” she said. She couldn’t go home yet. She could deal with that. Later.

“You will need to hone your craft first. Then you will be able to return safely. It is why it takes most magical girls some months before they come here. By then they are accustomed to the weaker magic of Earth and are more capable when they arrive. You could have died on arrival. You are fortunate.”

“That’s what the cramps are from?” she asked.

“In all likelihood, yes,” the Seelie said. “You will grow accustomed to it in time.”

The thing jumped down and came closer.

“Second. We have contacted Norumbega. They are sending assistance. You may want to move to a place where you will be more visible. We can guide you.”

“Oh,” Amber said. Help. Just like that.

“And finally. As you may be aware, it is six fifty in the evening.” The Seelie’s eyes narrowed. “The Seventh Hour Men will be hunting soon.”

One of the Seelie’s tails whipped out, and Amber caught something out of the air. A compass, no bigger than a dollar coin, but wrought of fine silver cut out in a filigree pattern, and with its red-tipped needle pointing off to Amber’s side.

“That will lead you to the place where your help will arrive. They will leave at the strike of eight.” The Seelie started to walk off. “Be there, if you’ve lived that long.”

Amber watched its tails disappear around a trunk. “Wait!” she called out. When she arrived, it had left already.

She eyed the compass, its needle unwaveringly pointing off to... not the north. She suspected that things didn’t work that way here.

It feels like I’m starting high school all over. Familiar things, but different rules.

She stared around for a moment, but there wasn’t much to do except deal with the pain and wonder what a Seventh Hour Man was and why it seemed to worry the Seelie so much.

Gritting her teeth, Amber glanced at the compass one more, then started walking off in the direction it was pointing towards.

The ground was a bit rough, with roots as big around as her waist jutting out of the soil, and dips and rises in the landscape that made it hard to see far in every direction. She found a few spots soon enough where trees were uprooted, or where craters were blasted into the ground.

She tried to avoid those.

Her internal clock informed her when she crossed from six to seven o’clock.

Nothing really changed. It was a pinch darker than it had been on arriving, but not so much so that she couldn’t still see and travel. The compass’s needle spun around suddenly, and pointed to her left.

Amber stared at it, then shook the compass a bit. Nothing changed, the arrow still pointed off to her left. What kind of awful compass is this?

Keeping her grumbling to herself, Amber turned in the new direction and took off again. Time ticked on by, constant and unrelenting, with only the wind in the trees above to fill the silent void.

Then something howled.

Amber stopped and dropped into a crouch. She was next to a pair of smaller trees that had grown close together, so she hopped a little closer to them and perked her ears for anything, any sound or motion she could see.

The growl had come from ahead of her.

The compass now pointed just a little to the right.

Amber hesitated, but it was already seven twenty-two, and she didn’t know how far away the meeting point would be. She stepped out from behind the trees while staying low to the ground, and started sprinting from bush to tree-trunk, to hill-side, always moving while keeping something between herself and the growl.

That didn’t stop whatever was growling from coming closer.

Amber threw herself down when something roared just over the hill she was on. There were roots around her, and a few smaller bushes for cover, but she still felt exposed. Whatever was making the noise couldn’t be more than a dozen meters away.

Slowly, as if any brusque motion would alert the thing, she moved to the top of the hill and poked just enough of her head over the edge to see.

There was a creature at the base of two hills. It had hooved feet that were kicking into the dirt, and a pair of bat-like wings big enough to engulf a car. Its head, some sort of lizard-like thing, was twisting this way and that. The growls weren’t a warning roar, then were pained.

One of the thing’s wings was broken, the delicate bones snapped.

Amber kept her breathing low and continued to watch, aware that time was passing. She could step out and heal it...

The creature looked to the air and flames gushed out of its open maw.

Or I could just leave and not get toasted.

She was about to do just that when someone moved into view.

He was an older gentleman, with a happy, toothy grin, and a jovial ponch around his waist. A sack dragged onto the ground behind him with a rasp that somehow reminded Amber of Christmas music.

His off-hand held a bright red saw, the end dripping red goop merrily on the ground.

Smiling, the man moved over to the monster while humming a happy tune.

Amber felt like getting up to greet him. He was a neighbour, even if separated by an entire dimension. Just a kindly old fellow.

But she didn’t want to disturb him, not when he seemed so busy.

The old gentleman stopped by the monster and gave it a careful pat. It crooned at him, then nudged him with its big head.

The smile never faltered as he brought his saw around and started hacking through the monster’s flank. Soon, he moved onto the wings and legs, each bit chopped off going into his bag. Though sometimes the old man was a little naughty and would take a chomp.

Amber lost track of time. She smiled, laying on the hillside, as the nice old man hacked and sawed and cut apart the monster and fit each bit into his jovial little bag.

Eventually, the monster died.

And just like that, he hefted the sack over a shoulder and shuffled off, leaving a pile of meat behind, but not a single bone.

It was seven forty-six when Amber snapped out of it with a gasp. She swallowed, holding back bile as she realized what had just happened. What the hell? What was that? Why wasn’t I afraid? God, I almost called out to him!

Scrambling to her feet, Amber glanced at her compass, then took off running. I need to get out of these woods.

***