The Strange - The Paradox Room (Novel)

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TableofContentsTheStranger3FourWinds31AbouttheAuthors52Copyright542 TheStrangerbyMonteCookMeridlied.Thatmuchremainedobvious.Icrawledacrossthefakestonefloor.Crawled!IhadnevercrawledinallmyexistencebeforeIcametothisplaceofnightmares.AndIamancient.Meridhaddescribedthisplaceasoneofwonders.TheMaker’sownrealm.Shelied.Itwasaworldofhorrorandpain.Andworstofall,indignities.Crawl!LikeawormIpulledmyselfalongthedirtyfloorwhereonceIwouldhavesoaredhighintheazureskies,allcreatures—all—coweringorrunninginterrorbeforeme.Backthen,Ifearednothing.Iwantedfornothing.Now?Noweverythingwasdifferent.Iheardanoiseinthedarkness.MyeyeswerestillkeenandIliftedmyheadtolookaround,althoughtheeffortwasgreat.Iwassoheavyhere.Thesoundwasnotanotherrat.Muchtomyeternalembarrassment,IhadtakentofeedinguponthemandtheotherverminIfounddown3 heretosatemyhunger.No,Iknewthesesounds.Theywerehumansounds.Isalivatedatthethoughtofhumanmeatandbone.IthadbeenlongsinceIfeasteduponthem,andneverhereinthisnightmarishplace.Thesoundsgrewlouder.Footsteps.Breathing.Thequietshuffleofthecloththeydrapethemselvesin.That’sright.Comecloser.Igreweager.ThefootstepsIheardcamewithanothersound.Ialmostcouldn’tidentifyit,butthenitoccurredtome.Theman—yes,itwasamalehuman—wasmumblingtohimselfasheshuffledthroughthedarkness.Hemustbeamadman,Ithought.Alltheeasiertograbhimandfeastuponhiswarmentrails.Butno.Wait.Abetterideacametome.Amuchbetteridea.“Greetings,man,”Iwhispered.Onlythendiditoccurtome—whatlanguagedidtheyspeakhere?SurelyitwastheMaker’sTongue,right?Thatonlymadesense.Itwashisworld,afterall.“Huhn?”cametheman’sgarbledreply.Thealcohol4 odorwasstrong.Perhapsnotmadthen.Butcloseenough.“Who’sthere?”Yes,hespoketheMaker’sTongue.“Donotbeafraid.Iamnotheretoharmyou.”“Who’sthat?Who’soverthere?Ican’tseeyou.”Hiswordsslurredaroundhistongue,and—Isawashedrewcloser—throughswollenlipsandathick,unkemptbeard.“Itisme,littleman.Itisyourgod.”~Coldrainspatteredonthewindowsoftheapartment.RichardandSarahkepttheplaceinChicagoasanofficeandacrashspotforwhentheywereintown.Whentheyweren’tsomewhereelse.Sarahwalkedovertothecouchwithhertabletcomputerinhand.“RememberwhatJamisonsaidaboutsomeonecomingthroughthatdoorwaybeforetheycouldgetitclosed?”Richardnodded.Sarahsighedandsaid,“Ithinkwemayhavefound5 him.Her.It…whatever.”Sheheldhertabletinhisfacesothatthescreenglaredathim.Anemailwasdisplayedonitandhesnatchedittoholditsteadywhileheread.ItwasfromLauraBennings,withwhomtheyhadworkedbeforeonbehalfoftheEstate.Shewasn’tarecursor,butshewasquickenedandknewabouttheStrangeandtherecursionswithin.Whichisprobablywhy,whensheheardonthepolicescanneraboutthisparticulardisturbanceinNorthLawndale,shethoughttocontactSarah.Richardfinishedreadingandhandedthetabletbacktohispartner.Sheraisedhereyebrowswhenhefinishedreading.“ShadowGod?ThatcertainlysoundslikeArdeynstufftome.”Richardleanedbackonthecouch.“I’veneverheardofanythingcalledtheShadowGod.”Sarahsatnexttohim.“Weshouldcontactanative.Someonewhoknowsmoreaboutreligiouslorethere.Maybeit’sanobscurecultorsomething.”“Letmelookatthatagain.”Hetookbackthetablet.Twoofficershadapprehendedasuspectonfootlastnight6 withahandgunandabackpackfullofwallets.Whenquestioned,heclaimedhewastheservantoftheShadowGod.Whateverthatmeant.“Theperptheyarrestedwasclearlyfromhere,though,right?”“Yeah.”Sarahunwrappedapieceofgumlikeshealwaysdidwhenshefacedaproblemthatrequiredalittlepondering.Herroundfaceandpetitenoseandmouthwereinmotionwhileshethought.“Couldbeapriestorsomeonelikethat,convertingpeopleonthissidetoanArdeyncult.”“Thatwe’veneverheardof.”Hegotupandstartedwalkingwherehislaptopbagsatbythedoor.“I’llchecktheEstatedatabase,”hesaid.“Alreadydid.They’vegotnothingonaShadowGod.Ieventried,youknow,‘godofshadows,’‘shadegod,’andafewothersynonymsIcouldthinkof.Nothing.Ifit’sasecretcult,it’sreallysecret.”“Maybeit’ssomethingnew.”7 ~Thepainwasworse.Eachday,moreofmyscalessloughedaway,likedriedleavesfallingfromanautumntree.Atfirst,Ihadthoughtitwasmyimagination,justachesandthewearyingweightofthisplace.Butno.Mybeautifulserpentineneckgrewshorterwithtime.Myfleshwarpedandwithered.Thelawsofthisworldweren’tjusttearingmeapart;theywerealteringmeintosomethingelse.“Ohlord,”astammeringvoicecame,interruptingmymisery.“Wehavetheseofferingsforyou.”Ilooked.Arotundwomanwithapockedfacestoodintheshadows—adarknessthatblindedthem,butnotme—inhabitingalongcoatthathadseenfartoofewwashings.Herheadwasbowed.Shesmelledofwasteanddisease.Suchweremysubjects.Myfaithfulworshippers.Sheheldafewpapersacksfilledwithmeatwrappedinthatdreadfulclearmaterialtheyseemtolovehere.Iheldmytemperincheck.Ihadaroletoplay.Dangerous,but8 magnanimous.Terrifying,but…what’stheword?Loving.“Unwrapthemeat,”Iwhisperedwithalowgrowl.“Youknowyourmasterhatesthetasteofthatrubbish.”Themeatwouldbefarfromfresh.Beef,fromthesmellofit,again,andtaintedwiththepoisonsofthisfoulworld.Ilongedforsomefreshmuttonorevenbeeffrommyowngloriousrealm.Butitwasbetterthanrat.Probablyevenbetterthanthehumanmeatthatbowedbeforemenow.Shewouldbefresh,butold,tough,andlikelydirtyanddiseased.Thesupplicantcompliedwithmycommandwithouthesitation,althoughshefumbledatthetaskinthedarkness.“Yourrewardwillbegreat,”Icooedtoher.“Youserveyourgodwell.”Shesobbedasshepulledatthepackagingofrawmeat,tossingeachpieceintoapilebeforeher.“Whenyouaredonehere,youcanreturntoyourfamily.You’llfindthemsafeandsound,thankstothegraceofyourjustandprotectingShadowGod.”ThewomanmutteredsomethingIcouldnot9 understand.“Speakup,child.”“Someofthefaithfulhavebeenarrested.Theywerecaughtstealingforyou.”Ofcoursetheywere.“Howmany?”“TherewasJacob.Andthatonewiththebeard,Idon’tknowhisname.Maybeoneother.”Acceptablelosses.“Iftheyarefaithful,Iwillseetoitthattheyarefreed,”Ilied.“Exonerated.”Igesturedwithaclaw,althoughitwasdoubtfulhereyeshadadjustedtothedarkenoughtosee.“Thepeopleofthiscitysimplydonotyetunderstandmeasyoudo.Theydonotunderstandmyneeds,ormypower.Butweshallchangethat,won’twe,daughter?”Sheswallowedandnodded.Thepeopleofthisworldwereeasilymanipulated.Atleast,thosewhohidinitsshadowswere.Thesewerepeoplewithouthomes.Withoutanysenseofloyaltytotheirfellows.Someofthemappearedtobeatleastsomewhatmad.Damaged.10 Inotherwords,perfectformyneeds.“Gonow.Seetoyourchildren.”Letmeeat.Shebowedandsaidherthanksandstumbledpastthemetalpipesandtherottingboxesofpaperfilledwithtrashnoonehadlookedatinyears.Iwatchedhermovetowardthestepsthatwouldtakeherupoutofthedarkness.AndthenIatetheofferingsshehadplacedbeforehergod.~RichardandSarahflankedthemanastheywalkedawayfromthepolicestation.“Mr.Harrison.You’reprobablywonderingwhywepaidyourbail,”Sarahsaid.Themaninthelonggraycoatsaidnothing.Hestrokedhisthickblackbeardwithadirtyhand.“Wejustwanttoaskyouafewquestions.”Ablockfromthestation,themantriedtobolt,butRichardgrabbedhisarm.“Justacouplequestions,Mr.Harrison.Whydon’twebuyyousomebreakfast?”11 Theman’slargeeyeswidenedatthementionoffood,andheletRichardleadhimdownthestreettoafastfoodrestaurant.Theylethimorderwhateverhewanted,whileRichardandSarahjustgotcoffee.Thethreeofthemsatatthesmooth,brightlycoloredtable,Sarahononeside,Richardandthemanontheother.Richardremainedreadyifthemantriedtorunagain,butthefoodseemedtoanchorhim.“Mr.Harrison,wewanttoaskyouaboutwhatyoutoldthepolicewhenyouwerearrested,”Sarahsaid.Themanjustate.“WewanttoknowabouttheShadowGod.”Hervoiceloweredasshesaidthelasttwowords,asifshewereembarrassedofthem.Ormaybealittleafraid.Probablythelatter.Thankstotheirpreviousexperiences,theyknewthatsuchthingswerealltooreal.Anddangerous.Thewordsfellhardupontheman,wholookedupatherassurelyasifshe’dcuffedhishead.Hehadbiscuitcrumbsinhisbeard.“It’sallright,”Richardsaid.“Weunderstandabouthim.Wejustwantyoutotelluswhatyoucan.”12 “Can’t,”themansaid,lookingathisfoodbutnoteatingit,asifitwassuddenlydeniedhim.“Whynot?”Sarahasked.Themansat,headbowed.“C’mon,friend,”Richardsaid.“It’sokay.LikeIsaid,weunderstandaboutthingslikethis.We’renotlikethepoliceoranyoneelse.Wefoundyou,didn’twe?Wegotyououtofjail.Eatyourbreakfast,it’sokay.”Themanslowlywentbacktohisfood.“Whycan’tyoutellus,Mr.Harrison?Issomeonemakingyou?”“Notasposedtotalkabouthim.Toldallus.”Theman’swordswereslurredwithsausage,biscuit,andegg,buthestressedthemispronouncedone,apparentlytomakehispoint.Asifwiththat,theconversationwasover.“Whotoldyou?”“Hedid.Hisself.”“TheShadowGod?”RichardwantedtoaskwhattheShadowGodwas,butheknewthatwasthewrongquestion.Evenifthemananswered,itwouldn’tlikelybewithanythingofuse.But13 mostlyhedidn’twanttoscarethemanoffbyshowingignorance.“I’dliketotalktohim.”Againthemanpaused,mouthfull.HelookedaskanceatRichard.Assessingsomething?Heshookhishead.“Whynot,Mr.Harrison?”Richarddidn’tlethimanswerSarah’squestion.“He’llbeangrywithyouifyoudon’tletmetalktohim.You’veseenhimangry,haven’tyou?Youknowwhathemightdo.”Thisvisiblyshooktheman.Hepushedawaythetray,ahalf-eatentriangleofhashbrownsstillonthecardboardplate.“IthinkheateTom,man,”hewhispered.“Youdon’twannagodownthere.”Richardpushedasidethatdisturbingdetailandpressedhisadvantage.“TheShadowGodwillbeangryifyoudon’ttakeustohim.”HeshotaglanceatSarah,whowasgrimacing.Themansighed,andgavethembothaslow,pained14 look.Then,hegobbledtheremaininghashbrownsinasinglebiteandmadeasoundthatRicharddecidedwashimsaying,“allright.”~Meridwoulddieaslowpainfuldeath,Ivowed.Shespokeofthisworld—theMaker’sWorld—withglowingpraise.ShehadsaidI’dbegivenanewbodywhenIarrivedhere;onethatwouldallowmetofitintothecircumstances.Ahumanbody,presumably,sinceeveryoneinthisworldappearedtobehuman.That’snotatallwhathappened.Ipassedthroughthatdoorwayandthenitclosed,buttherewasnoadaptation.Atleast,notlikeMeriddescribed.Thiswretchedplacetwistedandrippedmybeautifulbody,itsrulessomuchdifferentfromthoseofmyhome.Now,Ibarelyresembledmyformerself.Mylimbsslowlyhadretractedintomybody.Mybonescouldbarelyholdupmyflesh.Myexquisitewings,whichoncehadglistenedlikejewels,hunglimplikeacloakdrapedovermybulk.15 Butevenasmybodyfailed,mymindremainedstrong.Mywitswouldsaveme.ItwaseasyenoughtointimidateanddeceivethepeopleIhadfoundintobeingmyservants.Myworshippers.Myarmyintheshadows.Iwouldfindawaytosurvivehere.Theywouldbemyeyesandears,andmyhandsaswell.Theyhadneverseenacreaturelikemebefore,andbelievedmetobeagod.AndsoshallIbe.Merid’sassurancesthatreturningwaseasywerepartofherlie.Ihadnoideahowtoleavethisplace.SoIwouldconqueritinstead.~Thebuildingwason18thStreet,inasouthsideneighborhoodRichardmighthaveavoidedatnight.Threestoriesofdecay,graffiti,andabuse.Theirguidesaidtheyneededtogodownintothebasement,theentrancetowhichwasinthealleythatranalongtheeastside.Sarahhadtriedtogetmoreinformationfrom“Mr.Harrison,”(Richardwasfairlycertainthatwasn’thisreal16 name)onthedriveover.Themanhadkeptprettyquietaftergivingthemtheaddress,eventhoughSarahaskedalltherightquestions.Wasthelocationalie?Atrap?Themanbecamemorenervousastheygotclose,butwhentheystoppedinfrontofthebuilding,thebackseatdoorflewopenandhetumbledout.Dammit!Richardhadthoughthehadchildlockedthebackdoors.Thebeardedmanrecoveredfromhisrollinaquickbutawkwardmotion,andranasfastashislong,skinnylegscouldmove.Histatteredcoatwhippedbehindhim.Hedidn’tevenlookback.Sarahcalledoutafterhimthroughthestill-opendoor.Richardconsideredchasinghim,butforonlyamoment.Instead,heturnedoffthecar’sengineandlookedatthebuildingagain.“Iguesswegotwhatweneededfromhim,”Sarahsaid.Ifanyofitwasthetruth.“Ifyouweresomekindof…thingfromArdeyn,isthiswhereyouwouldhead?”17 “Me?”shereplied.“Noway.I’dusethefewmomentsoflingeringsorceryIhadtoconjureupsomesafehouse.Oravehicletogetoutofhere.”“Whatifyoudidn’thaveaccesstosorcery?Ordidn’tknowitwasgoingtofade.”“I’dstillgosomewhereelse.Youknow,justtrytofitinasbestIcould.”“Butwhatifyoucamethoughwithoutcontext?Youdidn’ttranslate,youjustshowedup?”“Getsomeclothesand—““Andifyouweren’thuman?”Sarahsighed.“Well,dependingonwhatwe’retalkingabout,theEarth’sruleswouldprettyquicklytakeover.Ifyouwerebig,you’dhaveahardtimesupportingyourownmass.Ifyoudidhavesorcerousabilitiesofanykind,andwerereliantuponthem,you’dsuddenlyfindyourselfinaveryunhappysituation.Gravity,density,youknow…physics—thesethingsmatterhere.“Yeah.”“Imightjustcrawlintothenearestholeandhide.”“Yeah.”Helookedbackatthebuilding,nodding.18 “Yeah.”“Sonotacultleaderorapriest.Notasorcerer.Acreature?ItapparentlyateTom,afterall,whoeverhewas.”“Onlyonewaytofindout.”RichardopenedhiscoatandpulledouttheGlock30shekeptinahiddensideholster.Sarahrolledhereyes.“Youliveforopportunitiestosayshitlikethat.Theactionmoviemindsetwillgetyoukilledsomeday.”“Youknowwehavetogofindit.Wewouldn’thavecomehereifweweren’tgoingin.”Shesighed.“Iknow.”Thealleywasamessoftoppledtrashcansandjunk.Ashortflightofconcretestepsleddowntoadoorreinforcedwithanironplate.Amanstoodatthebottomofthesteps,infrontofthedoor.Heworeashort,dirtyjacketoveralongsweater,grime-coveredkhakis,andastockingcap.“Nope,nope,nope,”themansaidinstantlyuponseeingRichardandSusan.“Youdon’wannabehere.Keepwalkin’,man.Keepwalkin’.”Hewavedthemawayand19 glaredatthem,althoughstillmanagedtoavoideyecontact.“Excuseus,sir,but—“Sarahbegan.“No,no,no.No‘excuseme.’No‘sir,’jestkeepwalkin’.”Hewavedthemawayagainasiftheywerechildren.Sarahpulledoutwhatlookedlikeasmartphoneandtappedonacoupleicons.Richardknewitwasn’tasmartphone—thatwasjusttheshapeittookwithinthecontextofEarth.Butofcourse,theguyinfrontofthedoorcouldn’tknowthat.Withthepressofathirdicon,theman’seyesrolledbackandhiskneesbuckled.Richardboundeddownthestepsintimetocatchhimbeforehisheadstruckconcrete.Hesettheman’slimp,unconsciousbodyontheground,amidthetrashthatcollectedatthebottomofthestairs.“Nicework,”hesaidsoftly.“Iguesshewasthetempleguard?”“Ithinkour‘ShadowGod’hastotakewhatitcanget.”Thedoorwasn’tlocked.Ithad,infact,beenforcedopeninwhatappearedtobethefairlyrecentpast.Infact,20 Richardnoted,thedoorwasslightlybowedinward,asifalargeweighthadpressedagainstit.Despitehisshowofbravado,thetruthwas,hewasgettingmoreandmoreworriedwitheachpassingmoment.Ontheothersideofthedoorhesawaroomlitonlybyasingleshaftoflightcomingfromadirty,high-placedwindowhehadn’tnoticedfromtheoutside.Theroomwasfilledwithtrashandsmelledofrottenmeatandurine.Totheright,amassofancientductworkandpipes.Totheleft,alowcorridorfromwhichawomanemerged.Sheworeaparkaabittoosmallforheroverwhatlookedlikeablueterryclothbathrobe.Mismatchedgalosheswereonherfeet.Herfacewasgauntandcreased,hereyessunken.“Whothehell?”Sheasked,herfacealivewithmultiple,rapidtics.“TheLorddon’twantyouhere.”Richardenteredtheroom.Heheldupanopenhandtomakecalminggestures,buthekepthisotherhandclutchingtheGlockbeneathhiscoat.“TheLord?TheShadowGod?We’reheretoseehim.”“Ohno.Hedon’twantyou.Hecamehereforus.21 Weliveintheshadows,justlikehim.He’sforus,notyou.”“Wedon’tmeananyoneanyharm.”SarahsteppedintothebasementroombehindRichard.Hehopedshehadanothercypherthatmightdealwiththiswomanasneatlyasshehadhandledtheguyoutside.“We’reheretopayourrespectstohim.”“Iknowyou’relying‘causeyoudon’thaveanymeat.”Meat.TheShadowGodcravedmeat.Thiswasnotgood.Hepulledouthisgun.“Look,ma’am,wereallydon’tmeanyouanyharm.Butyouneedtostepoutoftheway.”Thewomanbackedagainstthewall.“No,please.Don’tkillme.I’mjustdoingtheLord’swork.”Sarahtookthewoman’sarm.“We’renotgoingtokillanyone.”Shepushedaten-dollarbillintothewoman’shand.“Gobuyyourselfsomethingtoeat.Somethingwarm.”Thewomanpausedforamoment,andthenhurriedupthestepsclutchingthemoney,stridingovertheman’ssleepingformasifshedidn’tevennoticehim.Thehallwaywasverydark,butSarahhadasmall22 flashlightinhershoulderbag.Richardletherleadthewaywithit.Hehadhispistolinhand,butthesituationforusingit—ifhehadto—waslessthanideal.Anothersetofstepstookthemdeeperanddarkerintothebowelsbeneaththeoldbuilding.“Ihearsomething…breathing,”Sarahwhispered.Richardheardittoo.Awetrasp.“Ihearyouaswell,girl,”alow,roughvoicecamefromthedarkness.“Iknewyouwouldcome.Itisthetraditionaltale,isitnot?Thebravebutfoolishknightspryingintothedragon’slair.I’mafraidifyou’vecomeherelookingforgoldyouwillbedisappointed.”Sarahflickedtheflashlightbeamaroundtheroom.Shestopped.There,amidancientpipeslaywhatatfirstlookedtobeapileofrottinggarbageuntilthelightflickeredacrossthesparkling,jewel-likewingsthatlaydrapeduselesslyatopthemound.Thepileshudderedasclawedlimbsstruggledtoadjustitsposition,itsbodyaquiveringmassofropyflesh.Allaroundit,onthewetfloor,laywhatappearedtobebitsofbrokenpottery.23 Enteringthesmallnimbusoflight,onalongneckthatslidacrossthesebits,wasavaguelyreptilianheadwithamouthfilledwithcanine-likepointedteethexposedinarictusgrin.Aforkedsnake’stonguedartedoutofthemouth.Large,flateyeslikeyellowingdisksstaredatthem.Itwaspreciselywhatitclaimedtobe.Thosepotteryshardswerescales.Adragon.“Awisewarriorwouldleavenow,”itsaidasthougheachwordwasanewache.“Dotheinhabitantsofyourworldnotknowtofearmyfierybreath?”“Notachance,”SarahwhisperedtoRichard,neverturningawayfromthebeast.“ThatwouldneverworkinEarth’scontext.”Thedragon’sheadcockedatananglenotentirelyunlikethatofacuriousdog.“Youdoknowofdragons,then.AndyouknowthatIamnotfromhere.”“You’refromtherecursionof…worldofArdeyn,”Richardsaid.“Weknowaboutit.Andaboutthegatewayyoucamethrough.”“We’vebeenthereourselves,”Sarahadded.24 “Ardeyn,Imean.It’swonderful.”Thismadethedragonchokeoutalaugh.Richardwasn’tsurehewantedtoknowwhy.“ThisistheMaker’sWorld.Icameherethinkingitwouldbe,asyousaid,wonderful.Itisnot.”“Ourworldhasdifferentrulesthanyours,”Sarahcontinued.“Youdidn’ttranslatehere.Thepathyoucamethoughissometimescalledaninappositegate.Sometimes,aparadoxroom.Ifyou’requickened,youtranslatethough,andgetabodythatworksinthecontextofyournewsurroundings.Ifnot,youcomethoughphysically.”“Yourwordsdon’tallhavemeaningtome,buttheconceptsaresimpleenough.Itexplainsmuch.Whatitdoesn’texplainisyourpurposehere.Haveyouindeedcometoslay?”“No,”Sarahsaid.“Notnecessarily,”Richardsaid.Thesmellofrottingmeatwasstrongerhere.Surely,someofthestenchcamefromthebeastandhisdyingbody,ravagedbyEarth’sphysics.Buttherewasmoretoitthanjustthat.ThewordsHeateTomechoedinhismind.25 “Notnecessarily,”thedragonrepeated.“Suchbravery.Anddoyouthinkyoupossessthemighttodoso.”Richardsteadiedhispistolwithbothhands,makingsurethedragoncouldseeit,althoughherealizedthatthecreaturemightnotevenknowwhatitwas.“Look,”Sarahsaid,“wedon’tneedtobe‘dragonslayers’here.I’dsayyou’veonlygotafewdaysleftevenonyourown.Wedon’tneedtokillyou.Ourworldisdoingthat.”“Yes,”thedragonwhispered.“AndI’mguessingit’snotapleasantdeath.”“No,”thewhispercamemoresoftlystill.“Maybewecanhelpyou.”What?Richardelbowedherarm.Sheturnedtohim.“You’vegottheportalcypher,”shewhispered.“Youwanttoripanotherholeintheuniversejusttosendthisthinghome?”Thedragon’svoicegrewlouder,butcoarser.“Youwieldmagicthatcansendmebacktomyrealm?”“Sortof.It’snotreallymagic.Magicdoesn’tworkhere.It’sanobjecttiedtotheStrange…”Hestopped.Why26 intheworldwasheexplainingthistothedragon?“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Sarahsaid.“Allthatmattersisthatwecansendyouhome.Doyouwanttogoback?”“WhyshouldIeverwanttoleavesuchaparadise?”Thedragonsaid,strainedvoicedrippingwithsarcasm.“HereIliveinfilth,canbarelymove,andcanbecondescendedtobychildrenabouttheworkingsofsorcery.”“Sarah,”Richardsaidquietly,teethclenched,“weshouldtalkaboutthisfirst.”“Why?”Sarahwhisperedback.“It’sadragon.Iteatspeople.Terrorizeswholetowns.Itprobablyshoulddie.”“Ah,”itsaid,“finallywordsoftruthspillfromyourlips.”Apparently,thecreature’shearingworkedaswellaslegendssaiditmight,evenonEarth.“No,”Sarahsaid.“BecauseIknowenoughaboutArdeyntoknowthatdragonsrespectpacts.ThedragonsallarestillboundbytheRedPactthatkeepsyououtoftheCitadeloftheHarrowinginKuambis,right?”27 Thedragondidnotreply,butnoddedinaveryhumanway,slowly.Reluctantly.“Soyou’llswearapactnow.We’llsendyoubacktoArdeynandyou’llswearbythepactof…JacksonStreetthatyou’llneverharmanotherintelligentbeing.Nomorekillinghumans,orqephelim,ordlamma,oranythingthatisintelligentandfree-willed.Iknowyouneedtoeatmeattolive,butyou’llhavetogetbyondeerorwhateverotheranimalsyoucanhunt.Nomoredestroyingvillagesorfarmsoranythinglikethat,either.”Thedragonseemedtoliterallychewoverthethought.Finally,itspoke.“Iaskforonlyonestipulation.”“Hereitcomes,”Richardsaidunderhisbreath.Hishandtensedonthepistol’sgrip.“Thereisanotherdragon.HernameisMerid.Idonotwanttobepact-boundfromgivingherallthatshedeserves.”SarahshotaglanceatRichard.Eveninthedimlight,hecouldseehereyebrowsraisedinquestion.Richardshruggedandshookhishead.“Fine.”28 “Sobeit.”Ifitwaspossibleforacreaturetoconveyawickedgrinthroughwords,Richardthoughtthedragondidjustthat.Richard’scyphertooktheformonearthofabrightgreenplasticringwithacartoonyskullonit—thekindyou’dhavegotasaprizefromacerealboxyearsago.Withatwist,itactivatedandcreatedanareanexttohimwheretheairbentinward,asthoughagiantfingerpushedaholethroughit,revealingscintillatinglightbeyond.Thedragoncrawledforwardwithlimbsmuchtoothintosupportitsgreatbulk.Afterlong,agonizingmoments,itreachedthelightthatcamefromtheopenhole.Itbathedinit.AndthenfinallyturneditsheadbacktoRichardandSarah.“Iammostinterestedintheseconceptsyouspokeof.Translation.Cyphers.Andthis‘Strange.’Ishallbeinvestigatingthemfurther.”Withthat,hespreadglisteningwingslikewindowsofstainedglass,pulledamuscular,taughtbodyfromthefloorasscalesquicklygrewacrosspaleflesh.Lanky,clawedlimbscarriedhimthroughtheportal,serpentineneckcarryingaregal,reptilianheadheld29 high.“IftheEstategetsreportsofadragonflyingthroughtheStrange—”Richardbegan.“Wedon’tknowanythingaboutit,”Sarahfinished.~Joy.ThatwasthefeelingthatsurgedthroughregeneratedveinsinoutstretchedmusclesasmywingstookmehighoverthegreenhillsofArdeyn.Joy.Relief.Andthoughtsofrevenge.30 FourWindsbyBruceCordellMyjournalwascrowdedwiththemapsofahundredcrampedcaveroomsandconnectedtunnels,notesanddiaryentries,andseveraldozensketchesofthecrystalformationsIhadfoundexploringMelodyCave.Myname,NairaHorsecapture,wasscrawledingoldinkonthetitlepage.Belowthat,I’dwrittenmakohloka,whichmeanscaveinthelanguageofmyLatokaancestors.Normally,IwaiteduntilIgothometomakeanentryintomyjournal.Thatday,however,Ipausedatthecaveentrance,pulledoutapen,andrecordedmydiscoveryofachamberI’dneverseenbefore:2PMIextendedmyexplorationoftheCrownGallerytodaylookingforfrostwork,orthepetroglyphsIhopeformost.Ifoundafewnewformations,butnoancientartwork.WhenIreturnedtothesurface,Istumbledacrossanewchamber.I’vebeenthatwayahundredtimes;strangeI31 didn’tnoticebefore.SoI’mgoingtocallittheParadoxRoom.Notimetocheckit;mybatteriesarealmostdead.I’mstrangelyelated,allthesame.Thegrandfatherstellstoriesaboutthesecaves.Theytalkaboutoneundergroundroominparticular,whichcomesandgoeslikethingstendtodoinlegend,aroomfilledwithimagesofatimewhenThunderbirdyethuntedtheskiesandtheLakotastillroamedtheplains.They’rejuststories,but...whoknows,maybeI’madayawayfromfinallylocatingapetroglyphunderground,madebyLakotamedicinemenhundredsofyearsago.Tomorrow,Iplantofindoutwhat’sinside.~Mymindwhirlingwiththepossibilities,IfumbledthejournalasIreturnedittomypack.Itfellintothedeeppoolatthecaveentrance.“Holyshit!”Iyelled.Ifelltomystomachatthewater’sedge,plungingmyarmsintomyshoulders.The32 coldwasshocking,butnotasmuchaswatchingthesinkingjournalevademyfingersandfadeintotheblackofthedrownedtunnel.Itsankintoaspacetootightformetofollowevenifithadn’tbeenfilledwithwater.Ispentanotherhouranyway,fishingaroundthepit,hopingthebookwouldfloatbackupsoIcouldgrabit.AllIgotformytroublewassoakingwet,achillthatsetmeshiveringforhours,andbloodiedknuckles.Mycavediarywasgone.Andwithit,everythingI’daccomplishedsinceI’dreturnedtothereservation.Whenmyfatherdied,mymotherwasinconsolableandneededcompany.Butshewouldn’tleavetherestocomestaywithme,eventhoughIwasworkingonmydissertationattheuniversity.SoIcamehome,totheres,tolivewithmymother,totheplaceIsworeI’donlyreturntoafterI’dobtainedmyPhD.I’dalwaysclaimed,tomyselfandanyonewhoasked,thatthedoctoratewasn’tanenditself;itwasawaytoconnectwithmypast.It’spossiblethatwaseventrue.Whichiswhyduringthefirstfewweeksaftermyreturn,Iwasalmostinconsolablemyself,untildumbluck33 savedme.Everyoneknewaboutthecavesontheres,atleastenoughtowarnkidstostayout.I’dcertainlynevergiventhemasecondthought.Butuponreturninghome,Ihadalotoffeelingsorryformyselftoaccomplish,combinedwithtoomuchtimeonmyhands.Ononeofmylongwalks,soundslikesomeoneplinkingonapianodrewmetoinvestigate.Thenoiseechoedupfrombehindatumbleofboulders.ThereIfoundthewaterholeandthecave.Inamedtheplaceafterthe“music”thewatermadeasitroseandsankeachday.Findinganewsectionofunexploredcavesinspiredme.MaybeIcouldstillobtainmyNativeAmericanStudiesdoctorate,butwithadifferentdissertation:IemailedmyadvisorsthatIwasgoingtoexplorethecavesystemsontheresandbringbackdefiniteproofthatmyancestorsusedundergroundroomsassacredspaces.Myadvisorsweredoubtful,butIgotpermissiontotry.Afterthat,Iexploredthecaveeveryday.Overthemonths,MelodyCavebecamemoreandmoreimportanttomeasIgatheredcluessupportingmyPhDdissertation.34 ThedetailsofwhichI’dkeptinmyjournal.Withoutit,Ihadnorecordofmyexploration,nocluestooffermyadvisors,nothingtobuildmythesisfrom...IhadnoPhD.IrecalledadviceI’dreceivedwhenIfirstlefttheuniversity:Insteadofviewingunfortunateeventsastragic,weshouldchooseacontextinwhichtheybecometransformational.Lossisanaturalpartofhumanexistencebecauseitinitiateschange.Insteadofresistingchange,wecanlearnto—“Blah,blah,blah,SHIT!”Iyelled.FirstI’dlostDad,achangenoamountofcheapadvicewasgoingtomakeacceptable.ThenI’dcomebacktotheresforMom,whichwasonlybearablebecauseofthecaveproject.NowthatI’dlostthejournal,wasitreallyreasonableIcouldturntosomethingelse?No.Iwasn’tdoneyet.“Change”couldgochaseitself.Ireturnedtothecavethenextmorning,determinedtomakeanewstart,beginningwiththeParadoxRoom.IhadabrandnewjournalandenoughbatteriestopowermyLEDflashlightfordays.Ipausednearthepoolwherethewatercomes35 gurglingineverymorningandouteverynight.Nope.Mylostdiaryhadn’treappearedontheedgesincethedaybefore.Thatwould’vebeentooeasy,Isuppose.Trailingafewchoiceobscenities,Ienteredthecave.WhenIgottowheretheParadoxRoomentranceshould’vebeen,itwasn’t.Maybeatrickofthelighthidit,ormaybeIwasjustlookinginthewrongplace.Multipletimes,Itriedtofindit.Finally,IwentallthewaytotheCrownRoomandthenheadedbacktowardtheentrance,likeyesterday,beforenoticingtheopeningagain:acrawlspacebarelylargeenoughtoadmitme.Flashlightstretchedbeforemelikeanoffering,Ishimmiedonmystomachthroughthecrampedopening.Thefloorwascoveredwithtalcum-finedustthatsmelledlikesmoke.Thecavernbeyondopenedupsome,andmylightshoweditasafairlysmoothspace,almostliketheinteriorofaneggshelljustbigenoughtoholdagrownwoman.Standing,myfingertipsgrazedtheroughceiling,remindingmeofsandpaper.Andthere,waitingcenturiesinthedarkbeforethatmoment,wasasimplesquaresymbolscratchedintothe36 stone.Ateachofthesquare’scorners,athirdlinebranchedoutward.Apetroglyph.Thehaironmyneckstoodonendandafunnyfeelingcurledinmystomach.SomeonehadbeenintheParadoxRoombeforeme.Along,longtimeago,perhaps,butthereitwas.It’sexactlywhatI’dbeenhopingtofind,buttheetchingunsettledme.IsuspectedthepetroglyphwasaversionofUname,aholysymbolofthelandandthewindsthatblowovertheworld,indicatedbythelinesradiatingoutfromeachcorner.ExcitementgaveatrembletomyhandsasItracedthedesign.WhenIfinished,airwhistledthroughtheroom.Thesoundofstoneslidingonstonevibratedupthroughmyfeet.“Hello?”Isaid.Myanswercamefromthesymbolitself;itscrapedoutofthewallandwould’vefallenifIhadn’tcaughtit.Ifoundmyselfholdingarockcube.Afiligreeofrepeating,intricateshadow-linescoveredallsixofitssides.Istaredatit,mouthhangingopeninrawamazement.Thedelicatedesignsspiraledintoeverfiner37 patterns,seemingtogoforever.Icouldn’tdragmyeyesawayfromfollowingthemdownanddown.AvoicewhisperedtomewhileIwasrapt,inthelanguageofmypast.Icouldn’tmove,couldn’tturnaway,couldn’tshutmyears.Ihadtolisten.Iknewlittleofthelanguage,butsomehowhadnotroubleunderstandingeverythingsaid.ThevoiceechoedfromtheParadoxRoomitself,remindingmeofmyheritage.PartsIknew,butsomewaswhollynewtome.Thevoicetoldmeofthecreationoftheworld,thebuffalocycle,andthefoundingoftheFourDirections.Ittoldmeofthespiritsofthewind,ofThunderbird,theonetheLakotacalledWakį́yą,oflifeontheplainsbeforethecomingoftheWhiteMan,andmore.ThenthefloordroppedoutbeneathmeandIplummetedseveralfeet.Insteadoffallingontohardstone,coolgrasscaughtme.Whatthehell?Igropedtomyfeetagain.Isawariverofstarsoverhead,eachpinprickasbrightasPolaris.Andtheresailedthemoon,largerthanI’deverseenher,luminousasabonfire.Beneaththenightscape,tallhillspressedtheirsilhouettesintothe38 twilight,andtheodorofwildflowersandhoneylingeredonanightbreeze.Night?Stars?I’denteredMelodyCaveataboutnineo’clockinthemorning,butmyeyestoldmethatthesunhadgonedown,andIwasn’tintheParadoxRoomanylonger...Thatrealizationwasdifficulttoaccept,butthereitwas.Iwasoutside.Imust’vehitmyheadandblackedoutforawhile.Maybesomeonehaddraggedmeoutofthecave...OrmaybeI’dhitmyheadandwasstillhallucinating,becausethemoreIlookedaround,themoreIunderstoodthateverythingwaswrong.Themoonandthebrilliantstarscapeperfectlyilluminatedtherollinghillsspreadingawayfrommeonallsides;Iwasdowninsomekindofgrassybasin.Onthehilltops,figuresdancedsilently,ignoringmecompletely:Peopleinrobes,peoplewithnoclothes;peoplewithheaddressesoffeathers,offur,andofantlers;peoplewhoseheadswerebuffalo,cougars,andcrows...Iglancedawayfromtheheights,shaken.Myoutfitwasallnew,too.Insteadofboots,39 trousers,shirt,andcoat,Inowworemoccasins,arobecutfrombuffalohide,andavarietyofleatherbracelets,necklaces,andsimilaradornments.Myflashlight,myextrabatteries,mynormalclothing,evenmynewjournal,weregone.TheonlythingIhadfrombeforewasthepatternedcubeI’ddislodgedintheParadoxRoom.Nowitlookedlesslikeastonecubeandmorelikealanternmadeofhidestretchedtightoveraregularframe.Butthewordsthechamberitselfhadsomehowspokencamebacktome,makingwhatIwasseeingeasiertoaccept.ThoughIwasconfusedandscaredallthesame,becauseI’dbeentoldsomethingcrazy:TheParadoxRoomwasa“portal”toarealmdifferentthanEarth.I’dtriggereditbyentering,likesomekindofNativeAmericanversionofNarnia—ThelightdimmedandIglancedup.Ashapeoccludedthestarsandthemoon,withwingsoutspreadlikeaneagle’sifaneaglewerethesizeofatown.Itfixedenormous,hungryeyesonme,downinthebasin,andscreeched.Thesoundwashunger,thunder,andwrath.Irecognizedit.Wakį́yą.Thunderbird.40 Iprobablyscreamedthen.Thegargantuanthingcircledoverhead.Anunbelievablymassive,living,angrything.Withabeakandtalons.Duringmytimecaving,I’davoideddrowning,falling,andlosingmywayundergroundbynotpanickingduringdangerousmoments.Sometimes,whenthingsbecomeridiculouslyterrible,itsnapsmeoutofmyfear,allowingmetoactinthemoment.ThesamethinghappenedwhenThunderbirddoveatme.PlusIhadtheadvantageofinstructionfromthecube.Idon’tbelieveinsoulsormagic,butsomethinginme—thatupuntilthatmomenthadbeenclosedtightasafist—opened.WhisperedinstructionsoftheParadoxRoommatchedasuddenintuition.Icalledonagiftitpromisedmeinthatplaceofnight,dancingtotems,andthunderousbirds.IliftedmyhandandaskedtheSpiritoftheNorthWindtosaveme.Nothinghappened.41 Thunderbirdfoldeditswingsanddroppedoutoftheskylikeanarrowaimedatme.Itriedtorun,buttherewasn’tanywhereto—Mistblewup,white,opaque,andbeautiful.Itpulledmeintohiding.TheSpiritoftheNorthWindhaddecidedtohelpmeafterall.Gratefulwastoopaleawordtoapplytothesurgeofemotionchargingthroughme.Thunderbird’stremendousroarsoundedseveralmoretimes,butIdidn’tmove.Icouldn’tseethroughtheswaddlingmist,andsinceIhadn’tbeensnatchedupandborneawayintothenight,Ipresumeditcouldn’tseemeeither.Thatdidn’tmeanIwasn’tontheedgeofwettingmyselfinterror.ThescreechesseemeddesignedtoflushoutpreyandittookaneffortnottobolteachtimeIheardone.Imanagedtosittight.Frustratedhuntingscreamsgrewsofterandsofteroverseveralminutes,untiltheybecamedistantthunder.Thefogdispersed.Isaid,“Thankyou.”Iwasn’tsurewhomIaddressed,butitseemedright.“Don’tthankme,Ididn’tdoanything,”avoice42 replied.Thelastbitsofmistevaporated,revealingamanaimingapistolatmyhead.Ohshit,really?“Well.Then...I’dthankyoutopointyourweaponsomewhereelse,mister.”IsoundedcalmerthanIfelt.Themangrinned.Thebarrelofhisgundidn’twaver.Hesaid,“Notbad.Youmanagedtoevadebecomingsupperasiftrainedforit.Forashadow,you’vegotsomepower.Andwits.”Thegunmanhadonjeans,blackboots,andabluecoat.Overthatheworeaweirdmetallicharness,studdedwithwinkinglights.Sparksjumpedandsnappedfromtheharness,sendinglittletrailsofsmokeupwherevertheboltsstrucktheground.Buttheguydidn’tseemtomind.“Shadow?”wasallImanagedtosay.I’dseensomeoddfolksontheuniversitycampus,butthisfreakhadthemallbeat.Ithinkitwasthegunthatputhimoverthetop.Seeingittrainedonmemademylegsfeellikewater.“Myname’sNaira.”Hesaid,“Nevermind.Justhandoverthecypherand43 I’llleaveyoutoit.”“Cypher?”Isaid.Fearandconfusionmademeslow.“AllI’vegotisthis.”Iliftedthecube,whichstillretainedthelantern-likeshapeit’dtakenuponarrivinghere.Agrincreasedhisface.“That’stheone.TheFourWinds.Giveit.”Ididn’twanttogiveit.SoIsaid,“It’smine!Ifounditinacavenear...“Itrailedoff.Ihadonlythevaguestideawherewewerenow,orwhereMelodyCaveandmyhomemightbeinrelation.Themanmotionedwithhisgun.“Justputitdownandbackaway.YouseemtoknowwhataColtcandoatleast,whichismorethanmostshadowsaroundhereeverfigureout.Sodon’tmakemeuseit.NotthatIcareifIendyou;you’renotevenreal.ButIdon’twanttoattractThunderbirdagain.”Icouldn’thelpmyself;myheadjerkedupandIscannedthesky.Nobigbird,whichwasaminorblessingatleast.Allthedancingfiguresweregone,too.MyassailantandIwerealoneinthisdreamlandofnativespirits.Except,thatwasn’ttrue.Whereverthiscrazyplace44 was,itknewme,andmaybeIcouldaskforhelpasecondtime.Iwouldn’tmindmoremisttohideme.ItookasteadyingbreathandsentasilentprayertotheSpiritoftheNorthWindagain,lettingahunchguideme.Butsomethingdifferenthappened.HavingactedasI’dpleadedonce,thespiritseemedtired,andperhapsabitannoyed.I’lldowhateveryouask,Iwhispered,justhelpme!Thenyoumustwait,repliedthebreeze.Buttheguywasinahurry.“Now!”heyelled.Iwasoutofoptions.SoIputdownthecubeandbackedaway.“JustsoIknowwho’srobbingme,”Isaid,“howaboutaname?”Themanmotionedmetomovefartherback.Icomplied,whichputmetoofarawaytorushhim,hadIbeenfoolishenoughtoconsiderit.Hebentandretrievedthecube.“DiegoDiamondismyname;it’sgotkindofaringtoit,doesn’tit?”Igaveahalf-heartednod.Itsoundedmade-uptome,likeamonikeranonlineforumtrollwouldtaketohide45 hisidentity.Helaughedandsaid,“Rememberit,shadow,maybeit’llbringyouluck.”Hestuffedthecubeintoasatchel,thenfiddledwithasettingonhisironharness.“ButnowIbidyouadieu.”“Adieu?You’reFrench?Diegodoesn’tsoundFrenchtome,”Isaid,tryingtostallfortime.Thespirithadsaidtowait.Heflippedaswitch.Thelightsonhisharnesswinkedinnewpatterns.Ismelledozone.ThenDiegopausedinhisadjustmentsandsaid,“HowdoyouknowaboutFrance?”Isaid,“IknowaboutFrancebecause,duh,theInternet.Idon’tknowwhyyouthinkI’msomekindofshadow,butIcanassureyouI’masrealasyou.WhatIdon’tknowiswhatacypheris,unlessit’sthatcubeyoujuststolefromme.Butnevermindallthat—Igetthesenseyou’regoingtoleavemehereinthislunaticplace,andIdon’tevenknowwherehereis.Howaboutyourethinkthingsandlendagalahand?”Diegowasstudyingme,eyebrowslifted.“You46 claimyou’vegotaspark?Orthatyou’rereallyfromEarth,likeme?Well,you’rescrewedifyoudon’tknowhowyougothere.AndIkindahatetotellyouthis,butyouprobablywon’tlastlong.TheNativeAmericangodsofthisrecursionareplentypissed...thenagain,maybeyou’lldoalright.Yousortalooklikeyoubelonghere.”“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?What’sarecursion?”Isaid,myhearthammeringmyribs.“We’renotonEarth?”Ialreadyknewweweren’t,butIhadn’tbeenpreparedtohearitsaidaloud.Everythingaboutthisplace,startingwithmynewfoundcapacitytospeakwiththewind,screamedthatI’dgonefarfromanythingI’deverknown.That,orgoneinsane.“Yeah,we’reinarecursionseededbyLakotamyths.It’ssmall,butthefoundationalrulesmakeitdangerous.Nottoomanyrecursionsallowangrygodstojustwanderabout.Whichprobablymeanthingsaregoingtoendbadlyyoufor.ButI’vegotwhatIneed.Infact,I’veprettymuchstrippedthisplaceofeverythingvaluable.”Iunderstoodthen.ItexplainedwhyThunderbirdwashuntingtheplains.Diegowasagoddamnedthief,here47 topilferrelicsoftheLakotatheydidn’tevenknowtheystillpossessed.Thatwedidn’tknowwestillpossessed!Thewarmthofoutrageflickeredtolifeinsideme.Diego’smouthcontinuedtorun,buthewasn’tpayingcloseattention;justenoughtokeepthepistollooselyaimed.Hewasconcentratingonfinaladjustmentstohisharness,whichIdeducedwasamachineforenteringandescapingthis...recursion,andminingitforanythingofworth.WouldtheSpiritdecidetohelpmebeforeDiegopulledoffhistheft?Iballedmyhandsintofists.IwonderedifIhaditinmetoriskabulletstoppinghim,iftheSpiritrefusedme.Itseemedunlikely.Diegostudiedoneparticulararrayoflightsontheharness.Onebyone,theyturnedfromredtogreen.“Almostthere...,”hesaid,hisotherhandflickingmoreswitches.“Almostwhere?”Isaid,buildingupmycouragetorushhim.Hedidn’tanswer.Instead,heslappedaredcontact.Theharnessspatoutacirculardoorwayoftearingenergy.48 Throughtheopening,Isawacity.Skyscrapers,cars,peoplehustlingupanddownthepavement.Itcould’vebeenNewYork,Chicago,Seattle,orsomeothermajorcity.OnlyastepawaythroughDiego’stechnologicalcontraption.“That’shome,shadow.Forme,atleast,”hesaid,smirking.AwindoutoftheNorthcooledmyneck,chasingawaythewarmersummereveningbreeze.Ittousledthegrassandtheman’shair.Mybreathbegantosteam,asdidmyassailant’s.Iwasn’tgoingtohavetorushagunmanafterall.DiegoDiamondhadtimetolookupandopenhismouthforaquestion.ButtheSpiritoftheNorthWindhowledintohimwithwinter’spitilessfury.Hestoppedmoving.Ashedid,theholeintheairleadingbacktoEarthsnappedshut.Afterward,Icouldn’tdoanythingbutstareatthemanfrozenintoaniciclebeforeme.I’ddonethat.Orrather,it’dbeendoneonmybehalf;itwasonmyhead.I’dkilledsomeone.AllI’dwantedtodowasslowhimdown.49 “Damn,”Iwhispered.Iwasamurderer,andIfeltlikeretching.Thedistantthundergrewlouder;ithadbeenforawhile.WhichmeantThunderbirdwasreturning.Ihadnotimeforacrisisofconscience.Ihadonechancetosalvagethesituation.TheironharnesspeeledoffDiego,butonlyafterItoppledhimtosplintertheice.Iconcentratedonnotthinkingabouthowcoldandbrittlewastheman’sskin,howvacanthiseyes,andhowgreatmyculpability.Ialsoretrievedwhathe’dcalledtheFourWinds,andthepistol.Thethunderbecameascreamofahuntingdeityspyingitsprey.Thefigureshadreturnedtotheirstationsontherollinghillsaboveme,theirdancebegunanew.TheSpiritoftheNorthWindwhisperedchillinmyear,YouslewtheplundererthatwastohavebeenThunderbird’ssacrifice.Nowyoumusttakehisplace.Iwhisperedback,Nosacrificestonight.Iaddedtomyself,GoodbyeMom.You’regoingtohavetotryitaloneforawhile.50 ThenIbeattheharnessagainstarock,overandover.Thetinylightsshatteredandwentdark.Electricitybitmyfingers.ButIkeptsmashingtheharnessuntilitwasabentandmangledwreck.Thegargantuaneagleflungitselfoutofthesky.Iheldthebrokenapparatusovermyhead,screamingaraw-throatedoffering.Theharnesswasrippedfrommygrip,leavingmypalmsnumb.Thewindofitspassagepressedmetotheground,butThunderbirdwingedaway,apparentlyappeased.Escapingthedeadendsofthereservation,gettingmyPhD,exploringthecave...they’dallbeensecondchoices.Becausemyfirstchoice—whatIwantedmost—wasn’tonthetable.Atleast,Ihadn’tthoughtso.I’dbeenwrong.Iwentupthehilltomeetthedancers,starlightshowingthewayinthesummernight.51 AbouttheAuthorsMonteCookhasworkedasaprofessionalwriterformorethan20years.Asafictionwriter,hehaspublishednumerousshortstoriesandtwonovels.Asacomicbookwriter,hehaswrittenalimitedseriesforMarvelComicscalledPtolus:MonteCook’sCitybytheSpire,aswellassomeshorterwork.Asanonfictionwriter,hehaspublishedthewrybutinformativeSkeptic’sGuidetoConspiracies.Hiswork,however,asagamedesigner,islikelymostnotable.Startingin1988,hehaswrittenhundredsoftabletoproleplayinggamebooksandarticlesandwonnumerousawards.MonteislikelybestknownforD&D3rdedition,whichheco-designedwithJonathanTweetandSkipWilliams.In2001,hestartedhisowngamedesignstudio,MalhavocPress,andpublishedsuchnotableandaward-winningproductsasPtolus,ArcanaEvolved,andtheBookofEldritchMightseries.AsafreelancegamedesignerhedesignedHeroclixandMonteCook’sWorldofDarkness,andhasworkedonthePathfinderRPG,theMarvelComicsmassivelymultiplayeronlinegame,aswellasnumerousothergamesandrelatedprojects.52 In2012hefoundedMonteCookGames,wherehecreatedthehitRPGNumeneraandisco-designingTheStrange.BruceCordellisBruceisanaward-winninggamedesigner.He’sworkedonDungeons&Dragonsoverthecourseof4editionsasawriteranddeveloper(includingD&DNext);todatehe’swrittenover100D&Dproducts,includingGatesofFirestormPeak,ReturntotheTombofHorrors,ExpeditiontoCastleRavenloft,GammaWorld,andtheForgottenRealmsCampaignGuide.He’salsoanovelauthor.Hiscreditsincludeninenovels,mostlysetinthepopularForgottenRealmsworld.HismostrecentpublicationisSpinnerofLies(2012),asequeltotheacclaimednovelSwordoftheGods.HealsowrotetheAbolethictrilogy(2008-2010),andseveralstand-alonenovels.BrucejoinedMonteCookGamesin2013,whereheconceptualizedandisco-designingTheStrange.53 Copyright©2013MonteCookGames,LLCTheStrangeanditslogoaretrademarksofMonteCookGames,LLCintheU.S.A.andothercountries.AllMonteCookGamescharactersandcharacternames,andthedistinctivelikenessesthereof,aretrademarksofMonteCookGames,LLC.Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,storedinorintroducedintoaretrievalsystem,ortransmitted,inanyform,orbyanymeans(electronic,mechanical,photocopying,recording,orotherwise)withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofthecopyrightowner.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyMonteCookGames,LLCMonteCookGames,LLCwww.montecookgames.com54