Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (black female authors .txt) 📗

for him. People who wanted to kill him. People with eyes like the driver of the car. He shuddered at the realisation. Goosebumps welled up on his arms as he realised something else. In his dreams, he had a friend who repeatedly saved him from the evil ones. That friend was short and dumpy and wore a wide brimmed hat with a white feather. He had the brightest blue eyes, curly black hair, and the beakiest nose you’d ever seen. He’d saved Simon’s life today in the real world and given his own in return. I must be going crazy.

For a moment, Simon wondered if he were really going mad. Then, as he entered his bed sitting room he realised he most surely had. The strange fellow was waiting for him, sitting on his bed, idly flicking through one of Simon’s medical textbooks as if to pass the time.

“About time you got here,” the little man said in a resonant voice that suggested a stature at least twice as high as its reality. “I haven’t got all day, you know!”

News from Afar

“Who are.., what are.., why, how..?” Simon stuttered a whole range of meaningless questions. He stared at the apparition sitting on his bed. He didn’t know whether to be afraid of him and run away or to thank him warmly for saving his life. I’m certain that I’m going crazy. Take me to the funny farm.

“You don’t know me, do you?” The strange fellow asked. “Curse that Manfred; he never gives me enough information to work with. I felt sure we would have met before in this dimension. I’m sorry if I startled you, Simon, but time is critical.” He jumped up from the bed, removed his hat and made a deep bow, flourishing his hat as he did so. “My name is Jhamed al Suraqi, companion to heroes, dogsbody to wizards and general layabout. I am here on an errand of the utmost importance to you, me, wizards and probably the entire multiverse. Your presence is requested on FirstWorld for an urgent meeting of the Council of the Wise. Beats me why they call themselves that, half of them couldn’t think straight if you nailed them to a plank – actually the plank would probably be able to contribute more. I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”

Simon was astounded. First, this Jhamed should be dead. Second, when had they met before? Third, why was he in Simon’s dreams? Fourth, what or where on earth was FirstWorld? Fifth, what was the Council of the Wise? … Nineteenth, why was Simon invited?

Jhamed watched Simon’s confusion with interest. “I suppose you have a few questions? You usually do.”

“Actually, I have nineteen; make that twenty. What do you mean I usually do?” Simon finally managed a reply. “But first tell me how you are alive after a dozen people saw you with your head squashed on the pavement like a melon? Oh, and thank you very much for saving my life like that. I’m really very grateful; it’s just that I’m so confused.” Simon tailed off.

Jhamed sat down and replaced his hat, stuffing handfuls of curls inside it.

“Why don’t you get a haircut?” Simon asked.

“Is that one of your twenty questions?” Jhamed smiled.

Simon smiled too. The strange fellow had a way of making him feel at ease. He knew he hadn’t met him before but he felt like he had known him all of his life. “I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable and safe with you, Jhamed. Safer than with anyone I have ever known, except perhaps my mother; well my adoptive mother.”

Jhamed held up a hand. “Stop right there, young man. We’ve no time for one of your melancholy reminiscences. In any case, I’ve heard it all a million times before.” He gave Simon a big wink as he said this. “Look, time is very critical. How about I give you a quick run-down? The potted history, so to speak. Then we’ll get out of here and Manfred will fill in all of the details when we get to FirstWorld?”

“I may feel safe with you. But I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t you heard, Indonesia has invaded? World War III is about to start. And where the hell is this FirstWorld anyway? The airports are all closed, there’s no way to travel.”

Jhamed sighed and then took a deep breath. “I can see this is going to be one of those difficult times. I don’t know why I don’t just kidnap you, sometimes. It would be just as effective and much less effort. OK let me have a go. I bet I can get at least fifteen of your twenty questions. It’s the obscure ones, like the haircut, that get me every time.”

Jhamed spoke for the next ten minutes. Simon tried to take it all in and refrained from asking questions. “You can close your mouth now, I’ve finished,” Jhamed concluded. “I don’t suppose you’ve anything to drink? My throat is as dry as a crutchet’s armpit after all this talking. By the way, I enjoyed the food you left out for me when I arrived.” He indicated the now empty simuburger wrapper.

Simon sighed and poured Jhamed a glass of water. “Sorry, it’s all I’ve got. I’m a poor student you know. What’s a crutchet? Every time you open your mouth, you make me think of a dozen more questions. No, wait, don’t tell me. Let me try to tell you what’s going on. See whether I got it straight. OK?”

Jhamed nodded and downed the glass of water in one go. He followed up with a loud burp, but said nothing, indicating with his hand that Simon should continue.

Simon took a deep breath and began. “You saved my life this afternoon and were killed for your trouble. Did I thank you properly?”

Jhamed frowned. “Yes, get on with it, we don’t have all night!”

Simon continued, “There’s this thing called the multiverse, which means that the universe has other dimensions with alternative realities that are somehow interlinked. You were killed, but you are from an alternate universe so it wasn’t you but another version of you that was killed. When you, or rather he, died, his body was pulled back to his own dimension. You’ve been travelling through the dimensions finding different versions of me because your wizard mate Manfred has some crazy theory that I’m a superhero who will save the world. Now you want me to leave my dimension and come back with you to some place called FirstWorld and meet this Manfred guy who’ll explain everything and we’ll all live happily ever after. How’s that?”

Jhamed smiled. “You were paying attention. I like that, a succinct summary. I might write it down and use it myself next time. All except the happily ever after bit.”

“I was going to ask about why you have to keep finding me in different dimensions and why that guy in the car was trying to kill me?”

“The problem is,” Jhamed paused, whether for effect or because he was choosing his words, Simon didn’t know. “The problem is, that there are two sides out there. Two opposing forces, and the other guys are after you as well. The other problem is that when they find you they kill you. You are getting very hard to find. You might even be the last one of you left alive in the entire multiverse.”

Simon went even paler than normal, if that was possible. “You mean, I’m dead if I stay here and dead if I come with you? Some choice. How do we get to FirstWorld anyway?”

“I think that the Council of the Wise might live up to their name this time. They can’t afford to lose you. You have a very important task to perform. Don’t ask me, I don’t know what it is. I’m a mushroom, only given what I need to know. There are certain links between the dimensions, if you know where to look. That’s my skill; I know where to look. At other times, one or more dimensions touch for brief periods; that’s probably the explanation for most ghost sightings. Anyway, with the links, you have to navigate carefully. It might take us a thousand dimensions to get back to FirstWorld, and some of them are not very nice, I can tell you. Some people, a very very few, have the ability to move between the dimensions at will. Wizards have very limited ability in this area; thank the Balance they have some limitations, or they would be completely insufferable. Anyway, as I was saying, some people have the innate ability to move between dimensions. There are very few left alive in any of the dimensions. You are one of the few, maybe the last.”

Simon looked at Jhamed incredulously. “Now I know I’m either mad or asleep and having a nightmare.” I have never been out of Australia, let alone out of my dimension. I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but you are one crazy guy!”

Jhamed seemed resigned to his task. “At least I can be consoled by the thought that this may be the last recovery of Simon Redhead that I’ll ever have to make. You can’t imagine how boring this providing proof routine becomes. Things are critical. We don’t have time for all this!”

Simon sat down on the chair and stared at Jhamed. “I don’t believe you. I’ve had a bad day. I’m in shock. I’m going to sleep and you’ll go away. Or I’ll wake up and you’ll go away. In any case, go away!”

Jhamed slowly rose to his feet. He made to move towards the door. Simon never saw the syringe that was hidden in his coat. He never saw Jhamed dart the syringe into his leg but he felt the jab and the sleepiness that came over him before he could complain. He never saw the Prime Minister’s broadcast because he was unconscious. It was probably just as well. The Prime Minister announced that Darwin, Cairns and Townsville had fallen to the enemy. Brisbane was being evacuated. Australia was drawing a line in the sand north of Newcastle. The United States had agreed on support. If the enemy crossed the line, they risked nuclear reprisals.

Dungeons and Damsels

Simon slept like a drunk. No dreams disturbed his slumber. He was unaware that Jhamed had dumped him unceremoniously into a large hessian sack, that formed part of his emergency travelling supplies for just such a contingency, and dragged him to the nearest dimension portal, cursing under his breath. Had he been able to hear he would have caught the words Redhead and Manfred loosely dispersed between the foulest profanities. Despite it all though, Jhamed loved his work.

When Simon awoke, he felt close to panic. Where the hell am I? What happened? Have I gone crazy? He was immediately assailed by a range of unpleasant sensations. His head throbbed painfully and his body ached, as though he had been lying in an uncomfortable position for a long time. A horrendous stench filled his nose and he retched as the foul tendrils caressed his nostrils. Above everything else, his ears were assailed by the screams and wails of people who seemed to be in perpetual agony.

He looked around and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he became aware that he was in some sort of cave. The floor was sandy and the walls and ceiling were made of jagged grey rock, chipped and hewn as though by generations of human hands to smooth walls wherever they were in reach. He was sitting in a sort of alcove, his back to smoothly hewn rock with a low ceiling just above his head. For a moment, the panicked feeling of claustrophobia passed through him, but he managed to force it away. Stay calm. This is all a dream.

His nose though told him it was not a dream. The smell was abominable. It was a fetid animal smell, a mixture of unwashed bodies and excrement.