“S o there are four moons, and this is good news?” Joan of Arc stood at the cave mouth and looked at the four moons-one huge and yellow, another smaller and tinged sepia; the third was a bright green emerald, while the fourth was colorless. The slender Frenchwoman ran her fingers over her short boyish hair, flattening it. “There is so much that I do not know, and astronomy is not one of my strongest subjects, but even I know that the earth does not have four moons, has never had four moons.”
The moonlight turned Scatty’s red hair black and made her skin even paler than usual. Her eyes were silver mirrors. “Don’t you see what this means?” she said excitedly.
Joan shook her head.
“It means we’re in a Shadowrealm.”
Joan continued to look at her blankly, four pinpricks of moonlight reflected in her gray eyes. “So we’re not in the past.”
“No,” Scatty said, taking her friend’s hands in hers and squeezing tightly. “We’re not.”
“And that’s good?”
“If we were in the past, then we’d be stuck, with no way out. Or at least, I couldn’t think of any way out, other than someone coming through time to find us, and the chances of pinpointing us in time would have been astronomically small. The only way for us to get back to our own time would be by living maybe a million years.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Theoretically, yes. Elders and Next Generation can live incredibly long lives, but I’m not sure about the humani. Look at what happened to poor Gilgamesh after ten thousand years. I think the body can live on, but the mind breaks down under the weight of all the memories and experiences.”
“So if this is a Shadowrealm…,” Joan began.
“… then there must be a leygate,” Scatty finished delightedly.
“And how do we find it?” Joan asked.
Scathach’s smile faded. “I haven’t quite worked out that bit yet. But there’s got to be one around here somewhere.”
The Dire Wolves attacked at dawn.
Scathach and Joan beat them off easily, sending them howling into the thick mist lying heavily across the landscape.
A single lion prowled around the foot of the cave shortly afterward, but Scatty pelted it with rocks until it scrambled out of range.
The giant short-faced bear appeared next.
The two women watched it approach, loping on all fours, its head thrown back to sniff the air. The creature was huge.
“It has to weigh at least twenty-five hundred pounds,” Scatty said, loosening her short swords and checking her nunchaku, “and I’ll wager it probably stands close to eleven feet tall when it’s up on two legs.”
“I don’t want to have to kill it,” Joan said.
“Trust me, it’s not going to share your reservations about killing.” She pointed with her folded nunchaku. “It’s looking at us now and thinking: breakfast.”
Joan shook her head firmly and pushed her sword into its sheath, then slung it across her shoulders.
Scatty sighed. “If we don’t kill it, it will kill us.”
Joan shook her head firmly. “I’ll not kill it.”
“Can I remind you that you once led an army?”
“That was a long time ago. I will defend myself, but I will not kill an innocent creature.”
“Is that why you became a vegetarian?”
Joan shook her head. “No,” she laughed. “Shortly after Nicholas gave me your blood, I discovered that I really hated the taste of meat.”
The bear paused at the bottom of the incline and looked up at them. Then it reared up on its hind legs, threw its head back and growled.
Scatty revised her original assessment of the beast’s height. “Twelve feet tall.” She examined the creature critically. “I could take him.”
“Look at those claws,” Joan said. “One swipe will take your head off. And I know you can do many things, but growing a new head is not one of them.”
They ran for most of the morning, moving easily across lush waving grassland. Now that they knew this was a Shadowrealm, the tiny inconsistencies in the world became obvious. The breeze only blew from the south and always smelled of lemons, there were no insects in the air and although the sun rose in the east and climbed into the heavens, it seemed to remain at its highest point for far too long.
“It’s as if someone created-or re-created-the Pleistocene era from memory,” Scatty said.
“Well, they got the animals right,” Joan said, in French. Although she kept herself fit and in condition, she thought they’d run the equivalent of a marathon so far, and there was no end in sight. She had a stitch in her side and her calves were beginning to cramp. She was also conscious of the blisters starting to form inside her boots. “I’m going to need to rest soon,” she said. “I need some water.”
Scatty pointed to the right. “There’s a stream down there.”
Joan could see nothing. “How can you tell?”
“Look down,” the Shadow said, pointing. The earth at their feet was impressed with scores of hoof and claw tracks, all leading off to the right.
“If there’s a watering hole down there, then we’re sure to find something drinking there…,” Joan began.
“How thirsty are you?”
“Very.”
Scathach slipped both nunchaku out of their sheaths and turned to the right, following the animal trail. “Let’s get you that drink. And I promise not to kill anything that doesn’t try to kill me first.”
The trail dipped down into a hollow, and the grass, which had been waist high, now grew to their shoulders. It hissed and rasped together noisily. The air was filled with the rich cloying odor of life and growth. Without the cool lemon-scented wind on their faces, the temperature immediately rose.
Scathach held up her hand and Joan stopped and immediately turned to look behind them. The Shadow stood with the back of her head against her friend’s. “Be careful,” she said, using the French language of Joan’s youth. “Something’s wrong here.”
Joan nodded. “We cannot see through the grass, our sense of smell has been overwhelmed, even our hearing is impaired. Coincidence?” she wondered.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Scatty answered. Pushing her nunchaku back into their holders, she pulled out her matched short swords. “Something is wrong here,” she repeated, “very, very wrong.”
They moved forward carefully, conscious that with limited vision, hearing and even smell, they were at a disadvantage. Anything could be hiding in the tall grasses.
“Snakes,” Joan said suddenly.
Scatty jumped and spun around. “Where?”
“Nowhere. I’ve just realized we haven’t seen any since we arrived. Yet this place should be filled with them. Especially here, in this grassland; it’s the ideal environment.”
They took another half-dozen steps and the grass suddenly ended. Directly ahead of them lay a sparkling blue pool, the perfectly still water reflecting streaks of unmoving white clouds in the sky above.
And sitting on the boulder by the side of the river was a man wrapped in a long hooded leather cloak. He turned his head to look at them, and they saw that the bottom half of his face was concealed by a scarf, leaving visible only a pair of bright blue eyes.
“Scathach the Shadow and Joan of Arc. Where have you been? I have been waiting for you for such a long time. Welcome to my world.” The hooded man stood, and as he spread his arms wide, they saw the curved metal hook that took the place of his left hand.