The Keeper of Interworld: Prologue

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley..." - the inscription began and ended on the moss-covered stone sticking out of the ground.

Will looked around at the other boulders, tightly enclosed in a stone circle. He tried in vain to find a sequel. Next to the "marked" stone, there was clearly a gaping hole with the outline of a missing cobblestone.

The first rays of the sunshine made their way through the hole, ironically gleaming on the ultramarine surface of the lake behind the young man. It was the only stone circle built right around the lake known to Will.

He remembered these places of power from the fairy tales that his mother read to him at night - the only memories left of her. The rest of the moments were as vague to Will as his guesses about the inscription on the stone.

A warm gust of wind. The smell of pine needles and meadow flowers (apparently, it came from the forest nearby) filled the air. But there was something else about it, something that made Will's skin goosebumps.

He only thought for a couple of seconds before hiding behind a rock. Either some inner presentiment or slight ripples on the lake's water pushed him to go around the stone and hide behind the circle. No matter how cautious he reacted, Will knew it was the right decision. He had never seen bad things happen outside the magic circle. The stones were the first attributes of those lands into which only the most courageous and desperate wandered. In Will's own opinion, he was rather desperate.

But, as it turned out, his intuition worked perfectly. Before he realized everything that was happening to him, a stranger's hand appeared from the lake's center, holding some outlandish iron object.

As if opening the statue, one after another, the female body parts appeared. Will saw an elbow and tender forearm. Then head and torso rose above the lake's surface, completely dry as if not a single drop had wet them. The strong legs of the girl were the last to appear.

To Will's surprise, she did not stand but sat astride a snow-white horse. Being above the water, the stallion made a sharp leap, as if pushing off the surface. He found himself right on the shore of the lake in one jump.

Will's first thought was to run as fast as possible, but the bag of luggage he had left inside the circle made him stop. With trembling fingers, he reached for the nearest strap. The horse neighed, discovering an intruder. Will pulled the bag from behind the stone and looked at the rider. It seemed she didn't notice anything, exhausted by the journey through the portal.

The young man breathed a sigh of relief and continued to slowly walk back. But taking just a step, he noticed a path of traitorous footprints that led straight out of the circle in his direction. Will furrowed his brows and forced himself to take another step back. But at the last moment, he felt someone's steadfast gaze on him. His eyes ran over the footprints track to the end and met the eyes of the rider. He got caught.

* * *

Today Mr. Schnapps couldn't close his eyes all night because of the scratchy feather bed. About 5 times, he fluffed it up, but something kept him pricked even though his brand-new pajamas. Nervously smoothing out his sleeping area for the 6th time, he plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes tightly.

"Mr. Rogue," as everybody called him in the town, snorted again in displeasure. His dark eyes were darting around the room, searching for a spare feather bed. But it wasn't there because Mr. Schnapps, with his usual generosity, which he did not forget to remind everyone about, gave his last feather bed to his old chum, who runs the local tavern.

‘Damn Henry! Borrowed a barrel of mead from me last year. But he brought it back, parasite! What a good memory!’ muttered Mr. Schnapps, rolling onto his left side.

Crunch, crack... the bed creaked like a vertebra broken in half. Before Mr. Schnapps could utter a single curse, he was already lying on the floor, spitting feathers in all directions.

‘Pah, you! A hedgehog under my armpit!’ the forester went on, continuing to cough up the contents of the feather bed.

Raising himself from the floor, Mr. Schnapps wiggled his knuckles and hobbled to the far wall with the window. But before he had time to pull out a broom from under the working rubbish, he suddenly heard something like the neighing of a horse.

His house was in the very heart of the forest, where not a single path led. Hence unwanted guests rarely disturbed the owner of the hut. The sound came from the western side of the woods. Those territories were untrodden. There was something obscure about them, something that makes you afraid but may also attract even more.

The nature of Mr. Schnapps didn't even allow him to think about going beyond his territories. Considering it for only a second, the forester already felt a tremor in his knees and the condemning look of his late father. But there were those fearless ready to reach the lands of Sidhe. Growing right on the outskirts, the hills of Sidhe multiplied like mushrooms after rain. And, like after rain, they bloomed and stayed fragrant all year round, evergreen.

Mr. Schnapps was wary of those places and didn't let outsiders go there. All these disappearances should not have been on his conscience. The hills of Sidhe enchanted travelers but never brought them back. And Mr. Schnapps, in his more than 45 years of faithful service as a forest ranger, has never heard of someone going not there, but from there. Covering his jaw dropped in surprise, he immediately stared into the pitch darkness outside the window, expecting either a miracle or a terrible sight.

To his bewilderment, he saw both. The thicket waited a long time before showing him its troublemakers. But the moon emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the glade for a few moments. It was enough to see the riders.

A girl with long dark locks cut through the air on a noble steed. Her face showed great concern. The horse ran faster, picking up dust and pine needles from the floor. The rider tugged sharply at the reins and looked back.

Behind her, on a black mare, rushed a crone. Pale as death, she pursued the girl at her heels. In her right and only hand, she held a saber, from which someone's blood dripped onto the ground. A large rounded pouch dangled at her feet, leaving a burgundy trail across the thicket. The crone was catching up with the girl, waving her saber with obvious pleasure right at the tail of her steed.

Mr. Schnapps rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out whether this was all a dream or reality. He muttered something and glanced again at the broken bed. After that, the forester loudly cursed, took off his nightcap, and followed to the door.

The night air greeted him with the smell of blood mixed with the scent of lavender. Mr. Schnapps paid no attention to this, fidgeting around with some levers near the threshold.

The riders were already close when he pulled an iron lever that opened a secret gorge with an obstacle on the road. A high palisade materialized right out of the ground in just seconds. But even these seconds were enough for one of the riders to still jump over the barrier.

The young girl was on the other side of the palisade. The barrier went a couple of kilometers in length and didn't allow the crone to move further. One more time, the whites of her eyes gleamed furiously in the moonlight, staring at Mr. Schnapps. The stockade rose another couple of meters, and she turned out to be entirely out of sight.

The girl on this side of the palisade stopped her horse and also gazed at the forester in confusion. Her body, tender as the first spring bud, continued to cool from the heat of the chase.

She took a deep breath as she pulled out of the bosom a small iron object, highly similar to a decorated goblet. Mr. Schnapps had time to notice a horse's head, resembling her steed, carved on the bottom part of the vessel.

The girl whispered something quickly and seemed to take a sip from this outlandish object. Mr. Schnapps continued to fiddle with the levers while the stranger simply vanished into air, detail by detail.

After some time, he nevertheless looked around the yard, afraid to cast a single glance at the palisade where the crone had remained. When he realized that he had already shown enough interest in his work, the forester returned to the house, loudly slamming the door behind him.

Today, nothing else worried him except for a new feather bed and a desire to get some sleep as soon as possible.

* * *

Will had never seen such unusual bright green eyes, like a forest glittering after the rain or the skin of some lizard. They scrutinized him from head to toe, sternly assessing his appearance.

The young man stopped hiding behind the stones and stood up to his full height. Something about the girl and her horse made him feel at ease. In some way, he knew they couldn't harm him, but he had to be careful nonetheless.

The stranger hid an object in her bosom, which Will recognized as a goblet or a rhyton. Only at that moment, Will noticed that she looked exhausted. The steed's hooves also were knocked down and smeared with mud, as if he had been galloping for several days.

Will looked warily at the girl, not daring to enter the circle again. The rider tried to lie on the horse with her whole body, but she began to lose consciousness before she even touched the horse's mane. The girl's eyes closed, and her body began to tilt to the side.

Will's thoughts darted tensely between the need to help her and the fear of approaching a stranger in a stone circle who clearly had magic. But fear for the girl still took over, and he rushed, barely managing to catch her body right next to the ground.

Touching the girl was like an electric discharge. Will couldn't explain his confidence, but he knew for sure that he felt magic.

In his arms, she once again opened her eyes for a second, trying to say something. From the half-incoherent sounds, Will could still make out a couple of words.

‘Yet. But they will come. When the chosen one knows the prophecy,’ her lips closed at that, but her fingers were reaching out, pointing somewhere behind Will.

The girl had already passed out when the young man looked back, searching for the thing she pointed to. Behind him was only one target: the same "marked" stone and a hole for the missing part of the riddle.