One of the earthmen rose quietly from where it had been hiding on the rocky outcrop and crept toward the sleeping body of Peregrine. Stooping down, it hissed in Peregrine's ear, then gripped Peregrine's shoulders and tried to shake him awake, but recoiled in horror at the sight of its filthy brown arms and hooked claws. It managed to calm itself and then started to work on Peregrine's bonds with its sharp claws and teeth until they finally fell away.
"Wake up, Peregrine."
The sound of a voice awoke me, but I was horrified to discover an earthman standing by me with its face close to mine. I tried to rise from the chair, but I was still weak, and the creature pushed me back down.
"Don't be afraid. I am here to help you," it said in a girl's voice.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Montana," it replied.
My heart was pounding. It was the voice of Montana, or a perfect copy, but hearing her voice come out of the slit mouth of this vile creature was obscene.
"What sort of evil trickery is this!" I exclaimed.
"Forget what I look like, Peregrine; underneath this disgusting disguise, it's me, Montana."
"It was her voice, without a doubt. This was an impossible situation. Yet I so wanted to talk to her. . . if it was her. She sounded distressed, and soon the words came tumbling out of her mouth uncontrollably.
"I have never stopped thinking about you since we first met, Peregrine. I could not wait to see you again. Aunty sent me to find you and help you if I could. I am so glad to see you again, Peregrine."
She took a deep breath to calm herself.
"This is the weirdest place ever for a first date," she said nervously.
It had to be her.
Despite the danger we faced, I felt ridiculously happy.
"I'll make up for it next time, I promise," I said, and without thinking, we fell into each other's arms but instantly parted. I was embracing the figure of an earthman, and the touch of its fur was repulsive, but it did not alter anything.
"You must know Montana that…"
I was about to say something stupid, but she interrupted me.
"Me, too," she said impulsively.
We both knew what we meant, but this was not the place to say it.
I moved onto safer ground.
"How did you get here?"
"With great difficulty, "she replied." "The place is well protected, and I could only get through the defences put up by the Queen of the Underlands in the form of one of these ghastly beasts."
I ignored her appearance and listened only to her voice.
"Aunty made it happen, "she said. I don't think you realise the power she has at her fingertips. She is one of the most important people I know."
She hesitated, unsure how to go on, and in the end, the words just tumbled from her lips.
"I have a vocation for inter-dimensional travel. I'm a pupil, indentured to Aunty until I am twenty-one. She is teaching me. I was going to tell you, Peregrine, just as soon as the opportunity arose. I hope you don't think I was keeping anything from you. . ."
Her voice tailed off.
"Of course not," I replied. "I am honoured to be a friend of someone of your status."
"Friend?" said Montana.
"More than a friend," I said. "You must know that, but for only as long as you think I am good enough for you. You could get anybody you wanted."
"I want you," she said softly.
That was wonderful to hear, but I could hardly believe it.
"I want you too, Montana, "more than I could ever express in words, but if somebody better comes along. . ."
She leaned over and put her finger on my lips.
"Shush, Peregrine. There is nobody else and never will be."
She sounded tearful but spoke in a deceptively light tone of voice.
"Nobody has asked me for a date recently, and I could use a night out. Don't think you are getting away with it by hiding in a cave."
She went quiet for a moment.
"Look, Peregrine, get back safe, OK? "
I could hold it back no longer.
"I love you, Montana."
"Oh, Peregrine." Her voice choked with suppressed emotion, but then she suddenly gasped, and her tone changed.
"They have detected my presence! They know I am here and are coming for me. I must leave Peregrine. No more time."
She looked down in distaste at the matted brown fur, and by some magic, the intensity of her glare caused the animal's pelt to shrivel up like brown leaves under a winter sun. Montana materialised as herself, but only in the form of a luminescent shadow that glowed green in the dim light.
Little did I know that was the last time I would see her for a long time.
The outline of her body glowed brightly in farewell, and she was gone. The thought of losing Montana was unbearable, and I was determined to complete my quest and return home to her as quickly as I could.
Down below, the rower's brief lives ended. Rudderless craft drifted beam on against the current, performing irregular pirouettes, and bumping together, spinning slowly on the surface like driftwood. The rowers died without grace as their waterlogged boats sank into the mud on the river bottom; they were prisoners to the end.
The low hum of powerful machinery broke the silence, and the precision-engineered granite riverbanks closed like the lips of a tightening vice, fusing seamlessly together to create an apron of smooth rock over the subterranean river.
The Queen and the fugitive were transformed into living statues as supernatural forces took control.
This was a world in transit.
A deep black shadow fell across the cavern as if covered by a magician's cloak and then whipped back to reveal the subterranean cave in its original state of creation. Every feature was as it had been before, but the cave was now turned into a theatre. Nothing remained of the previous occupants, apart from the queen and the fugitive. I looked down at the bridge in concern at the sight of my diminutive friend, barefoot and puny, against the towering figure of the queen. He was holding a lantern that pierced the immediate darkness, and I could see that he was dressed in what looked like a farmer's smock with a wide-brimmed hat perched on his head.
Released from their immobile state, they stood together on a narrow ledge of rock that protruded from the wall. The queen stepped back, startled by the sight of the strangely dressed fugitive beside her.
"What aberration do we have here?"
She spat the words out as her eyes swept around the room, looking to find out where she was. In her mind's eye, she saw her underground palace and instantly assumed the role of the Queen of the Underlands, not realising that she had entered another world and broken free from her life in the original narrative.
But she was not free, and her future was still determined. The queen had not left the constraints of a structured story; she had stepped into a new narrative and assumed the life of an alternative character.
With every word she spoke, she moved further away from her original self, evolving separately and growing ever more altered as new experiences accumulated. This would continue until all memory of a previous life faded into nothing.
As for the queen left behind in the original narrative, nothing changed, and she continued her scripted life without knowing that an alternative version of herself had been created and was now an evolving character in a new text.
The queen stared into the blackness and, with open hands, beseeched the unknown.
"Whose magic is this?"
She looked around in bewilderment.
"Is this my palace still?
"Do I rule this deep realm or not?
"Is this but a dream, or do I live?"
She turned, and in her subjective reality, she saw her chamber in the palace, each wall holding the familiar iron brackets stuck with flaming torches that cast flickering yellow beams of light, lighting the floor of the ledge where she stood.
She turned to the fugitive and mistook him for a character in her previous existence, in The Silver Chair. In that story, he was a 'Marshwiggle,' called 'Puddlegum.'
"You, is it?" she said. I know you as the creature who came with the children, whom I believe you may have devoured, and the idiot prince, who also fled or murdered."
Growing in confidence, the Queen addressed her diminutive companion with contempt.
"You and I, my watery friend, have unfinished business, and I mean to put an end to you this very night."
Looking out into the darkness, she imagined that she saw the assembled subjects of her subterranean realm and addressed the fugitive mockingly.
"Do you stand before me once more to argue for this imaginary world of yours?"
He was holding a lantern that pierced the immediate darkness, and I could see that he was dressed in what looked like a farmer's smock with a wide-brimmed hat.
She strode back and forth across the chamber like a prosecutor in court. A consummate actor, she relished the drama and the opportunity to play before an audience.
"I would have you state your case again, madman, but my worthy subjects who sit before you fear you would bore us with your rantings and lies. Here we live in the real world and have our eyes to see, ears to hear, and brains to think, while you have only dreams to order your senses."
The queen pointed at the fugitive accusingly, her glittering finger like a bejewelled dagger ready to plunge into his heart.
"Before I pass the sentence, I order you to admit that this fantastical world of light and goodness that you preach of is only a dream."
The fugitive answered her without fear.
"Perhaps it is a dream, but the dreamer who created it is one far greater than you."
A great roar of anger from her imaginary loyal subjects echoed through her head. Drawing back her arms, she prepared to send an explosive bolt of light into the fugitive that would blow him out of this and every other world forever. The fact that the Queen of the Underlands originated as a creation of fiction made no difference. In this world, her powers were real and deadly.
My bonds dropped away, and I rose from my chair with all control of my body taken away by the supernatural forces at work in the cave and watched helplessly as the queen prepared to kill the fugitive.
But she never released the bolt.
She dropped her hand, and to my amazement, I felt her fetid gasp of terror on my cheek, for I had been transported to her side and was holding a sword to her throat. I was dressed like the medieval prince, Prince Rilian, and knew it was my duty to kill her.
In the ever-shifting, multi-reality universe, the identity you thought you were in can be seen differently by others. I saw myself in the role of Prince Rilian; she saw me now as an avenging angel that she was powerless to resist. Her identity as Queen of the Underground disappeared, and she was now the witch of her original creation. Nothing has only one place, but is constantly transformed in the perpetually twisting currents of interdimensional space.
There was no fear in her eyes, only acceptance, and a dark joy at her imminent release from a life of torment. She was a demon, and her only wish was to face her death in the form of her master. There was no need for explanation; we understood one another well enough.
"Grant me this," she muttered, and I nodded curtly.
With her arms by her side and her legs together, she willed the metamorphosis to begin. Her body writhed and twisted like a maggot on a hook until her limbs fused into reptilian form. Her gown became a putrescent mass of rotting fabric, and the mordant colour hid the thickening roll of sinew and flattened muscle that was now the body of the serpent.
Wary to the last, I trapped the head of the snake under my foot, and she hissed defiantly in my face. Her flickering black tongue was like a dagger that she would have plunged into my heart if she had the chance. I raised my sword to strike off her head.
"Stop!"
There was such authority behind the command that I instinctively obeyed. It was the fugitive who had spoken, and he blocked my sword arm to prevent the downward stroke.
"Let her live. It is too soon. The creature that squirms beneath your foot is a shape-changer, a follower of Beelzebub, one of the Seven Princes of Hell and Lord of the Flies. The day is yet to come when we will purge evil from the world, but when we do, the serpent in all its many forms will die by the sword of a warrior angel, and this creature will not escape her fate."
The fugitive, noble as he was himself, spoke on the part of someone far greater, and I willingly dropped the sword to my side.
"I raised my sword to strike off her head."
A moaning wind echoed around the deserted cavern, and the screams of the reprieved demon became the anguished calls of all those other abandoned souls trapped beneath the clay of the underworld. The eyes of the serpent glittered with hate as it escaped through a gap in the rock, and the ground began to shake in what was the first stage of a coming earthquake. I needed to get out of here fast, and my body was snatched up by a rising wind sent to save me and transported into another world.