Excerpt

 

     She heard her name being called, faintly, as if over a long distance. Glancing around, she saw no one and shrugged. Must've been my imagination.

      A momentary dizziness overwhelmed her.

      As if in a dream, she stumbled through a heavy mist. In the distance, she heard a strange chanting. She moved closer and the mist parted. A lone person stood with arms widespread, face to the sky, eyes closed. The figure turned, an old woman, her face lined and creased with age. She seemed to be praying. Her eyes opened. She lowered one arm to her side and with the other beckoned Rylla forward.

     Rylla approached slowly. An object rested in the old woman's outstretched palm. An arrowhead. "You will need this for the journey."

     Rylla opened her eyes and looked around. The old woman had disappeared. Mist swirled where she had stood. She must have dozed off and dreamed. She leaned over to splash cool water on her warm face. Her wavering reflection stared back at her.

     Looking into the crystal-clear depths, she spotted an oblong piece of rock. Intrigued, she plucked it out of the water and examined it. The edges had been flaked away. One end was pointed. A slight ridge ran down the middle. Surprisingly, the edges were still sharp. She ran her fingers over the top of the stone, feeling the smooth, almost soapy texture. An arrowhead.  How odd. Like in her dream.

     Had it belonged to some ancient warrior, fighting to defend his land? Or a rebel trying to take new territory? Maybe a great hunter. Or perhaps a young boy, coming into manhood. What would it be like to live back then? No machines. Certainly, no Tramport glitches.

     She pulled her feet out of the water and leaned against a boulder, warm from the summer sun. The stream chuckled over the rocks. "Nice," she murmured and closed her eyes, letting the peacefulness wash over her.

     It would be odd to live in a peaceful world. No conflict. No crowds. No big cities. Her last assignment had definitely affected her if she contemplated a life of peace and quiet. Most likely, she'd be bored in no time at all. But it sure made a fine vacation.

     She must have dozed again, because when she opened her eyes, the sun was a huge orange ball behind the leaves of the trees, poised to slide below the horizon. Regretfully, she pulled on her stockings and relaced her boots. When she stood, the arrowhead fell to the ground. She thought about leaving it, but an irresistible urge pulled her. She picked up the arrowhead, slid her backpack over her shoulders and began the return hike to the lodge.

     Back on the trail, Rylla absently rubbed her fingers the length of the arrowhead, savoring its smoothness. "I'll bet an interesting story is connected to this."  She chuckled. "I really do need a break. Here I am, talking to myself in the middle of the woods about the possibility of a story occurring hundreds of years ago." She shook her head in disbelief.

     As she strolled along, the arrowhead grew warmer and warmer, becoming uncomfortably hot. Holding it aloft, she examined it.  No longer black, it had become translucent. Very strange. The arrowhead had been dark and opaque when she first picked it up.

     The light around her shimmered, as if she stood within a mirage. A peculiar wrenching sensation lanced her head. She stumbled to one side of the trail and slumped against the trunk of a tree. Her head pounded and her stomach roiled. Feeling dizzy, she squeezed her eyes shut.  Had to be the aftereffects of the damned malfunction in the Tramport. Must've done something odd to me.

     When her stomach settled, she straightened up. The queer sensation didn't abate, although the arrowhead had cooled and was again opaque. She looked around. Everything had changed.

     This wasn't the trail she'd been on before. A dirt path stretched out before her, not the one maintained by the Park. She looked around, listening, trying to pinpoint exactly what was different.