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KSchnee — The Rift
#centaur #fantasy #griffin #portal #transformation
Published: 2019-01-20 05:17:28 +0000 UTC; Views: 14146; Favourites: 16; Downloads: 0
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Description

One spring day when freezing rain forced the cracks in the pavement wider, Alan found a long dark feather that shimmered. He picked it up despite thinking of bird germs and bird flu and who-knew-what else tainting the thing. It was pretty.

Back home, he took off his heavy work boots and showered to get the dust of the day off him. Afterward he noticed the feather again, wondering what to do with it. It would be fun to have a quill pen even he never really used it, even if he could order a perfectly good one online. It'd make him feel like he'd done something unusual. He took out a fancy tool-filled knife that he owned for the same reason, and tried cutting the feather's stem into a point.

The air split. Alan staggered backward, unsure whether there'd been a thunderous explosion or only a burst of color that his brain couldn't process. Some of the second idea was definitely true. A hole stood out in the middle of his dim apartment's empty space. It expanded into a circle, and shined with the light of another world. Alan stared, drawn to it, and he jumped through without asking any questions. The portal was something he recognized, even if he couldn't name it.

#

He landed on all fours outside a hillside village. When he tried to stand, Alan discovered that his hands were scaly yellow things ending in talons. Amazed and frightened, he saw the golden-brown feathers above his scaly elbows, then felt the beak on his face and the feather-edged tail that tickled along his muscular lion-legs. He could stand upright, but being stable on the ground was much easier for walking. When his wings twitched for the first time, making him aware of them, he let out a gasp of shock and worry and a kind of recognition. Wings had to be earned, somehow.

He had the body of a griffin! Alan hopped around, barely able to believe it. But his talons dug into the dirt and he could feel his feathery tail and tawny fur. He had no objection to any of this.

Once he'd accepted what had happened, he could trot ahead into the village without fear. Flight... well, he'd need to learn and practice for that, but he was glad to know it was possible. The villagers were startled to see him, fearful at first but then gathering around to ask if they could pet him. Alan blushed under his fur and feathers but agreed.

The villagers had a favor to ask of him: they'd been menaced lately by a goblin tribe. Alan stood there with his beak hanging open, trying not to laugh. He'd just been invited on an adventure! Of course he'd accept a chance to play hero. Man, how could he pass this up?

Alan the griffin went on his quest eagerly. After decades of fantasizing about such things he felt he was well prepared. As it turned out, though, being stabbed with goblin knives actually hurt and the evil critters' lair stank even to his avian beak. On the other talon, several villagers willingly came along to fight by his side instead of waiting passively for their hero to do everything. In the end Alan slew the goblin chieftain and drove off the survivors, to return in triumph. The villagers cheered him, patched up his wounds that were already healing quickly, and held a feast in his honor.

The next day, while he was relaxing in the village, the portal back home reappeared. Alan faced it down grimly. Did he have to go back? Was this his lone chance to be a magical creature and a hero? He resented the thought of going home. "Do you know anything about this?" he asked the village elder.

"Heroes come sometimes," the old man said.

"But do any get here more than once?"

"According to the legends, they often do."

Alan gave an anguished hawk-cry, because he wasn't alone back home. Having an adventure was well and good, but what value did that have for his friends? He wanted to tell them that griffin-wings and magic and portals were real things. They needed to hear that, more than to have all the gold of a dragon's hoard.

He took a single copper coin with the mark of an unknown king on it as a souvenir, leaving the rest for the villagers. It was really their world, after all. He stepped back through the shining hole in midair.

#

As he feared, he was human again. Alan was back in his apartment, and three days had passed. Phone messages had piled up to ask why he wasn't at work and then to tell him he was fired. The Internet told him there were riots going on and the stock market had crashed a thousand points... but those things were unrelated to anything he did. Out of his control. He ignored all of that and called up his three best friends, by text anyway. He had never actually heard their voices. He told them of wings and goblins and portals, then sent a photo of the single coin that had come back with him.

They were stunned, and probably discussing in the background whether Alan had finally gone mad. At last, one of them said, "When can you go again?"

"How would I know, for Pete's sake? There wasn't a manual."

They all fell silent for a while, brooding. Alan finally typed, "What if it happens again tomorrow, and you're not there?"

One of his friends sent, "What if it never does?"

"Which would be worse?" asked another.

Alan looked at the feather that had seemingly started all this. It now lacked the otherworldly shimmer that had first caught his eye. Was its magic drained, then? The sensible explanation was that nothing had really happened and that the copper coin with its unknown, blurry king was really just a mangled penny. He finally answered, "Let's find a way to meet in person, finally, in case it opens again."

#

Alan looked for work again, and every opportunity forced him to swallow his pride and not be seen making fists at his sides in frustration. How could he sit at a desk or stand behind a counter when he'd had days of walking through enchanted hills, and making tentative flaps of his wings? He could still feel the long bundles of muscle and feathers as though they were draped across his back like a blanket. He didn't enjoy the job hunt or the clerical work he eventually landed. He only endured it.

One summer day when a masked gang broke windows all over downtown, Alan saw the feather on his desk shine. He'd been on his way out the door, but a beam of light had come in through the blinds and made it shimmer more brightly then any natural reflection. It was calling. Alan reached toward it like a phone, but forced himself to stop. Instead he got online to contact his friends and use a certain code phrase meaning, "For everybody's sake get over here, right now."

He called in sick to work. He spent the entire day sitting in his apartment, alone, watching the magical artifact and trying to distract himself from it. He had pizza delivered, he played a video game, he polished the little pewter griffin he'd bought, and he read half a fantasy novel. None of those stopped him from looking at the feather. If it stopped shining it'd be for reasons completely beyond his knowledge or control, and he'd be responsible for great expense to his friends, only one of whom had much by way of money. That one would be paying for the short-notice tickets, and it'd hurt even for him.

He didn't dare leave his room, not even to meet them at the airport. He imagined going there and returning to find his ticket to adventure had vanished or been stolen. An irrational fear, sure, but he was dealing with something he didn't understand.

When his three friends knocked on the apartment door Alan squeezed his eyes shut, fearing to disappoint everyone in half a dozen ways. He'd never claimed to be especially handsome or amazing, but it was quite possible that all they'd see today was an ordinary feather and a deluded loser guarding it.

He let them in and they all stared at each other, laughing nervously. They made jokes about griffins and other fantasy things. But it wasn't possible to evade the real point for long. Everyone looked into Alan's study, toward his desk, and gasped. It was late at night now but the feather still shined as though in sunlight.

Alan finally dared to touch it. There was a burst of sound or color or something nameless, and the portal expanded from nothingness to shine invitingly into their world.

"Real," one of Alan's friends murmured. He was the first to throw himself through headlong. The rest hurried nearly as quickly, asking no questions. They'd had months to speculate about what they'd do, after all.

Alan chuckled and grabbed the backpack in one corner of his room that was labeled "Adventure Supplies". His very rare visitors had assumed the words were a joke.

#

On the other side, Alan landed on all fours and felt his wings unfurl. He let out a joyous cry.

His friends were easy to recognize, but superficially different. They were now an elven wizard, a graceful centaur mare with a spear, and a tricky-looking kobold with an array of mechanical gizmos and knives. They spent a long time laughing, whooping, and hugging each other before paying any attention to the desert city on the horizon. At last though, they set out to see what great deeds might await them.

Near the city lived a rampaging djinn who had once been friendly, or so the rulers said. The djinn had raised an army of spiteful whirlwinds and scorpions to prey on caravans. Could the heroes from another world please solve the problem?

Alan and company had absolutely no problem accepting the dangerous mission. Alan practiced flying and the others began to master magic and traps, the fearless charge and the heroic teamwork formation. It wasn't all fun, since there was some tedious mapping of monsters' lairs and a trip to a city sewer that was less spacious and clean than one would normally hope for in a fantasy world. Still none of them complained. Before long they'd hunted down the djinn in his cave of glass and smoke, defeated his demonic guards, and smashed the gem that had bewitched him. The city and the djinn himself were grateful. Alan and friends celebrated in a private room of the finest inn.

"What can we take back with us?" asked one of Alan's friends, the kobold. "Why stop with a single coin?"

The centaur looked at the saddlebags she wore, containing the "adventuring supplies". Alan had brought practical things like a compass and rope and some tradeable trinkets like ballpoint pens and pretty stones. (They'd been lucky to show up in a land where ten pairs of sunglasses sold quickly.) She said, "These things came through the portal intact. Why not bring back gold?"

"Or magic," said their wizard.

"Both!" the kobold said, with a toothy smile.

Alan's wings twitched and drooped. "Sure, but you're assuming that we'll go back. That the portal will reappear and we'll walk home."

They all grew quiet. The centaur scuffed at the sand with one hoof. "Being heroes here is well and good, but what value does that have for everyone else?"

A messenger from the palace came and bowed. "Honored heroes, a portal has appeared in the courtyard!"

"So it's time," the kobold said. "At least we can get rich."

The mare snorted. "We need to head back regardless. Our families will be worried for us."

"Not mine."

Alan reached out with one wing to hug the kobold. He'd gotten much better with the things and was reluctant to give them up.

The wizard said, "I think we should stay here. There'll be more quests for us, I'm sure."

The centaur told him, "What we did back home was important too. This world will call for us again when it needs us."

"You seem so confident in that. You're taking all this for granted. Do you really want to go back after all this? Cripes, you've imagined getting to go on an adventure like this since I've known you!"

She bit her lip and dug a furrow in the sand. "I don't want to, but we should."

Alan felt the same conflict. His mundane job meant nothing to him, which was good considering he was probably fired again. But the week or so they'd spent in this other world had felt unreal, a succession of wondrous things existing almost, almost just for them, where every action had meaning and every beat of his wings had cleaved the air and borne him higher. Just as he'd have been cheating his friends by staying here the first time, he'd be cheating his whole world by remaining in this one.

He dipped his beak low. "We should go, and be prepared to come back when we're needed."

#

The four of them landed back in Alan's apartment, late at night with only moonlight to show them they were human again.

Their former kobold said, "Please, for the love of everything, tell me I didn't just imagine all that."

The part-time centaur felt around on the floor and held aloft the sack of treasure they'd tried to bring back. He said, "Let's see!" and poured it on the floor with a wonderful clattering noise.

They all crowded around the pile of loot that landed right in the moonbeam. It wasn't quite what they'd taken along: there were gold and silver coins and a ruby ring, yes, but the ornate potion bottles now held only water and the magic scroll no longer burned with the divine flame of a djinn's handwriting. In fact the writing was elegant gibberish now rather than a guide to spellcraft. The kobold's favorite clockwork traps had degraded into loose gears and springs.

Alan picked up the scimitar the wizard had slain a demon with. "We still have this, too, but the runes on it are gone. I guess there's an embargo on anything magical."

"Magical!" the would-be wizard echoed. He laughed, loud and nervous. "It really happened, then. I would have loved to have proof of spells and sorcery, but at least the four of us know, now."

"We know," the ex-kobold said, "but what good is that? We'll need to be careful about selling off the shinies, and after that, what? Do we tell your families to wait by the phone for an invitation to do some questing? Alan, I doubt that your aunt would go even if you could prove it's real. And from what I've heard of your brother, he's busy raising his kids and would never jump into another world."

The wizard said, "Some of my family wouldn't go, yeah. And for all we know we'll be merfolk next time or giant ants. We still know so little about how the other world works."

The friend who'd been a centaur frowned. "I don't think so. Alan was a griffin both times, and you've seen him obsess over them since even before his first trip."

Alan smiled. "Griffins were only in my top three fantasy races at the time." He now had a cool poster of one on his wall, and a few figurines.

"I... as you know, I didn't mind my own changes at all, and I didn't hear you others object. Maybe it's consistent, what we are over there. Some expression of ourselves becomes real."

The wizard shrugged. "I'd like to experiment and see if I can be something else, half just to test your theory." Though he tried to sound nonchalant, he wasn't fooling anyone, not after so many online conversations over the years about designing fantasy worlds. "What can we do except sell coins carefully and bide our time?"

Alan said, "What if we told everyone?"

"They wouldn't believe us. Alan, we'd trust you with almost anything, but even we barely were willing to agree to the whole 'hop on a plane to see my magic portal' idea. Even we worried you were crazy; you can't blame us."

Alan nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. You had good reason to get me committed. So, why'd you come anyway?"

"Same reason you'd have gone to us, if one of us had claimed to discover the portal. Because we'd die inside if we found out it was real and we missed out."

"I'd wing-hug you if I could."

"I'll accept whatever you can do."

Alan gave him a regular hug, then each of his other friends. "I'm so glad you came along. Not just to share in the adventure, but to see it for yourselves."

The centaur said, "I tried not to doubt you; really I did."

Alan said, "It's not about whether you trusted me. Like I said, it was completely reasonable not to. Geez, even I wasn't sure..." He shook his head, forcing back tears. "It makes me a little angry that we can't hop back and forth whenever we want. What if we all move to the same town, and tell anybody else who might believe us about that 'hurry and get over here' signal? We don't need cash for the moment; we can hang out and... train, I guess."

The kobold sounded gloomy. "Train for a call that might never come again."

"It's the best we can do. It's a different way to live."

#

Alan and his friends moved into the same town. Alan explained to his family that they were starting a board game shop, which was true, and had gotten funding, which he was evasive about but also true. It had turned out that precious metal from a mysterious source wasn't trivial to sell for market value, whether melted down or in the form of coins with "fantasy" designs on them. Still, the loot was profitable and the shop was nearly breaking even despite none of them knowing what they were doing yet.

They each told a few customers about "special events" at the store that might happen on short notice, and a few online friends about whatever version of the truth each seemed like they might believe. Alan didn't know how each of them would act, if the call came. He kept the feather safe at home in a glass case, with a replica in the shop.

One autumn afternoon when an earthquake tore a hole in a half-forgotten fault line and fires burned the heart of the state's largest city, Alan woke up feeling one of the shocks. He sensed that something near to him was calling. He saw the feather's shine once more. He smiled, already imagining his beak and his wings and the chance to leap into the sky. He turned on his computer. He didn't question why he'd felt like the building shook just now. Maybe he'd imagined it, and he had no control over whatever might've happened. He pushed the thought of it aside and with a smile, double-clicked the icon that sent out a few urgent e-mails. Here was something he could accomplish!

It was early morning, but his phone rang right away. He scowled at the emergency government message about an earthquake, a contact with some distant authority who'd signed up literally everyone for mandatory messaging. He replied tersely to his parents, saying he was fine but might be away for a while on a trip. His automatic e-mail to them said as much, though the one to his brother invited him to come here in a hurry if possible. And to tell Alan right away if he was doing it.

Then he got to the important messages from his friends. They were coming, of course. He waited in his apartment and checked his bag of cross-world trade items. His heart was steeled for adventure and his back itched to have wings again. He just didn't know if he wanted to ever come back here a third time.

The others showed up together, hauling luggage of their own. They'd gleefully assembled their own collections of items to see what the portal would let them get away with bringing. After all, they'd had months to plan this and fantasize about how to do it right.

The maybe-centaur said, "Alan, why aren't you recording?"

Alan startled to attention. "Oh! I completely forgot that part of the plan." He set up a little video camera and aimed it at the feather, broadcasting to the wall of their game shop for anyone who might even now be looking in through the glass. "One of us has to go open the place up, huh?"

Their wizard volunteered. "Just don't hop through until I get back, right?"

The centaur frowned. "Wait up a minute. Now that this is really happening, we set up the Call wrong. We shouldn't be telling the shop customers to come to one of our homes; that's kind of creepy. And it doesn't sound like there's much quake damage here in town, but people are rattled. Why not bring the feather to them, so that everyone can see the portal and go from there?"

The wizard said, "Who cares about earthquakes when there's a princess to save, or something? That's something we can actually fix."

Alan said, "It was safer to keep the real feather here. And once I touch it, the portal will be right in this room."

"So keep it in the glass?"

"We have no idea whether moving it while leaving it untouched will..." Alan laughed nervously and slicked back the thinning hair that would be feathers again, soon. "Man almighty, who knew magic would be complicated, huh? I'm willing to try carrying the feather under glass."

The wannabe kobold was suddenly nervous. "What if doing that means we don't get a portal this time? We might break it somehow."

"I'm willing to experiment," the wizard said. "Even if we miss out, this time. We've had our adventure time and it's only fair to give others a chance."

Alan nodded, feeling the same way. To know that bright and wondrous things existed was actually more important than getting to see them personally. Not that he'd turn down a chance to go again! "Okay. Let me try wrapping the glass case in a blanket so we absolutely don't break it or have the feather get blown away."

As soon as he tried doing that, though, the feather reacted to his presence. The gleaming portal arrived once more with the promise of another world.

"Well, that didn't work."

"Camera's live-streaming," said the centaur.

"Loud enough to be heard from outside the shop?" asked Alan.

"Maybe not, but they can see the projection and the whole thing is going up on the Internet."

"But maybe nobody's even watching."

"Somebody will grab a copy. We'll be celebrities when we get back." The kobold turned to the camera and began explaining about magic and quests and griffins as though pleading to be believed. "We don't know how long this will stay open, so hurry over here if you want to see for yourself!"

The centaur held up a sign in blocky print in front of the camera, saying much the same thing. "We'll leave the apartment door unlocked."

Alan was alarmed. "Hey, no, we're not letting people loot my apartment while we're gone."

The kobold fidgeted. "Well, I'm not missing the chance. We've let people know what's happening. I... look, I want to try this again. See you there!" He leaped through with a whoop of joy.

Their wizard said, "Is the portal stable? Is it going to shut now that one person's through?"

Alan said, "Geez, how would I know?"

The wizard flicked a bank of gadgets on, ones that he'd installed in Alan's room for this day, to gather any scientific data he could. "We should go through, just in case."

"I thought that giving other people the chance to come along was what mattered."

"They still can. Don't worry about the apartment; we can come back with another pile of gold if it gets robbed. Let others follow if they can." He hurried just in case the portal was about to close forever.

The centaur nodded, said "Come on, let's go adventuring!", and ran through as though being chased.

Alan was alone again with the gate to another world, looking back and forth between it and the camera. "This wasn't in the plan," he groused. Was the portal's round edge wavering more than before? It was tough to tell. He said, "For anyone watching: yeah, it's real. I'm going to leave the door open to give you the chance, but somebody please lock up for me once the portal's gone." He laughed and named a large reward in store credit for whoever did that. "Otherwise, guys, it seems like it comes back once a season or so. So don't feel like you missed this forever. If you didn't get to go this time, try learning some skills and thinking about how to be an adventurer next time, okay?"

The portal was definitely wavering now. Alan gulped. He said, "I'm sure it'll be super public next time. Probably guarded by the government or something, so it could be a problem. But if we live like adventurers, we'll be able to get back and overcome whatever's in the way. Right?"

Alan was about to jump through, but paused for a moment, steeling himself. Was he rushing into the other world, or away from this one? Neither, he decided. He was walking calmly to a place where his actions mattered... except, in a small way, they'd begun to matter here as well. Shaking off his doubt, Alan stepped through the gate just in time before it shut.

#

The four of them reappeared in the same bodies they'd had on the last trip, loaded down this time with their attempts to smuggle trade goods and technology. This time they were on an island near a port village. The kobold was rummaging, complaining that the computers had gotten bricked or turned into decorative writing tablets.

Alan said, "Were you really going to ditch me?"

"Of course not. You were going to come through; we just wanted to make sure we didn't miss out."

He was a little miffed, still, but got over it quickly. He had wings, after all. He spread them and felt the warm sun shining on them. There was heroism to do! It wouldn't all be fun and games, but it was something they could all handle. "Fair enough. Tough to hang back no matter what we told ourselves in advance."

The elven wizard was excitedly patting his many pockets. He pulled out his spellbook and kissed it. "How I've missed you."

The kobold said, "Man, how did people even cope when they were living on some medieval farm? Back then there were no crystals to collect or spells to cast. Nothing to look forward to. All of the good stuff was just missing."

Their centaur was bounding around, getting the feel of four hooves again and wearing a huge grin. "For fun's sake, don't question it too much or maybe it'll pop like a soap bubble. We get to be heroes again! I haven't gotten to do anything really worthwhile in months."

"What about the shop?" asked Alan, flicking his tail experimentally. It'd been months since he'd had it, of course, and now that it and his wings were attached to him again he felt like something missing had finally been restored.

So, they set out to the town. As it happened, there were pirates besetting the place who needed to be hunted down. The four adventurers met with the Merchants' Guild who recognized them right away as fabled visitors from another world, and then descended into political squabbling over exactly how much to fund them.

The kobold spoke aside to Alan: "Is it always this way?"

"Part of the deal, I think, is that it never goes smoothly."

Even so, they got access to a ship. Their centaur was nervous on the deck, but they all found a way to help sail and head out in search of pirates. The sea monsters and a trickster dolphin found them first, and a terrible storm made them all seasick for two days, but in the end, they burst into a tropical cave and battled their way past traps and minions to capture three foul, merciless pirate kings. Even the trip back to the city was exciting due to the escape attempt.

But once the heroes had turned the thugs and their worst minions over to the Guild and been hailed as the city's saviors, there was once again the problem of what to do next. The four gathered in a luxurious inn room with food and wine, and the wizard said, "I'm not going back."

"What?" said Alan. "You know the pattern. There'll be a portal leading home, soon, and then we'll get another cycle, another chance to get more people involved."

The centaur lay on a big cushion, trying not to move too much. "Now that it's come up, I'm tempted, too."

"Tempted, sure, but we have responsibilities back home."

The kobold laughed. "The shop? It's a hobby. We don't need it, what with the gold. Or, we could just buy a home here and get on with our adventures."

Alan said, "What about our families?"

"We'll leave them a note about our new career choice. The portal must've made the news by now, so I can imagine news pundits hanging on every word that comes back from this side."

The wizard chimed in: "Magic is real. Or at least it is here, and some aspect of it leaked into our world. I want to learn all about it."

Alan asked, "Don't you want to see what data your science instruments recorded back there?"

He shrugged. "I'm less interested in that than in my spellbook. I figure that the next round of adventurers will bring the data here."

"And there will be more," the centaur said. "Next season there'll probably be a horde! Best to get ourselves established here, and maybe even warn the locals what to expect."

Alan looked around at his friends. "All of you are serious about staying, and throwing away our lives out there?"

The wizard looked down at the floor, steeled himself, then met Alan's eyes. "This is a world where my actions mean something. That one isn't. Something's always felt missing out there, and here I've found it." The others murmured in agreement.

The kobold fiddled with a bag of clinking coins. "Man! You're bent out of shape about this, Alan. If there's nothing really important and grand for us to do out there -- nothing more than struggling to pay bills and watch TV with no more significance than that -- then why not escape to a magical world as much as possible?"

"And food and housing and so on aren't a problem for us anymore," said the centaur.

Staying felt wrong to Alan, yet he couldn't say why. There should have been some counter-argument, but a hero's life was tempting even with the strange sense he had that it was contrived, put together just for the likes of him. He said, "Once more. Let's go home one more time and... get our affairs in order. See if there's a reason to stay."

They fell quiet, refusing to argue further, and slept at the inn.

#

That night, Alan woke up to an eerie blue light. The portal had opened in his corner of the room, humming faintly. He steadied his breathing. His friends still sprawled asleep. The blanket lay heavily atop his feathers.

If he stayed, he might never return and see his world again. If he went home, he might not return here. It'd be low of him to abandon his friends. But... this was a choice he had to make for himself. He looked back at his wings and tail. Was this body really his? It felt right, and the others seemed happy with theirs.

The portal gleamed, not judging him. Alan sighed. I may not have an exciting life back there, but I'm the one who got us involved in this portal business. It's my responsibility to see that other people get to try it, too.

He looked into the bright yet murky gate, then flicked the blanket aside with one wing. He swept up a few gold coins with his talons, into his saddlebags. After one last look back at the others, leaped through.

#

He landed in his apartment, but it took a moment to recognize the place. Cameras and other sensors were everywhere, and every stick of furniture had been cleared out. Instead he'd reached a RESTRICTED AREA, as several signs proclaimed. An alarm buzzed. Alan wobbled as he tried to stand up on two feet again. His human ears couldn't swivel to drown out the noise. He reached the door just as it burst open and a pair of soldiers confronted him.

Alan held up his hands, though he was still unsteady. "Whoa, don't shoot!"

One of the pair said, "You're Alan?"

"Yes! I come in peace!"

"Where are the others?"

"Still on the far side. Am I under arrest for something?" After the initial shock, his hero experience came back to him a little. The guns weren't pointed at him, but they were there and he didn't have so much as his talons.

"No, sir. But you're under our custody."

That was another thing Alan liked better about the fantasy world: a lot fewer word games. He glanced behind himself, at the portal that still shined there. He slowly lowered his hands and said, "I'm not going to hurt you. But you're in my home and I'm walking out of this room unless you plan to physically attack me. You can ask me nicely afterward if I'll come along and talk to whoever you're working for."

"Sir..."

Alan took a step toward the door, holding his hands open at his sides. The soldiers stepped apart to keep their distance, which left the doorway open. Alan said, "You two, right now, have the chance of a lifetime." He nodded toward the other door, the one that had begun to waver. He felt a pang of guilt at not giving his friends one last chance to dive through, since they were probably still asleep. "You can just go, and do something heroic there."

The soldiers hesitated. One said, "Backup is coming."

The other said, "Sorry!" and dashed past Alan, jumping into the portal.

The first gaped and raised his gun for a moment, then relented. "God damn it, why?"

Alan blinked. "There's a word I haven't heard in a while."

"You just got him to abandon everyone!"

"I've got half a mind to go back, myself. But only half." He slowly reached for the pouches that were still around his waist and showed off a gold coin. "Drinks are on me. Let's get out of here."

They got three steps down the hall of the now-abandoned apartment building before another, larger squad of troops and scientists confronted them. "Told you," said the man who'd chosen not to go.

Alan said, "Hi. Portal's closing soon. If you want to go, or send a probe through or something, hurry."

The guards and researchers reacted quickly; two of the troops stopped to block Alan's path while the rest hurried on to the portal room. One of the guards who'd stayed said, "We need you to come with us, sir."

Alan said, "I've just been through this. I'm a citizen and unless you're planning to beat me up or worse, I'm walking out this door to go get a drink and then you can ask me questions."

This group of men looked ready to stop him anyway, but one of the scientists gave orders. "You know what, mister? Step outside that front door and then tell me how stubborn you want to be about having a chat with us."

Alan didn't like his tone, but walked downstairs. The guards didn't block him. He got to the building's front door. There was a profound emptiness about this place, because it was obvious that all of the residents had gone. It was no longer home for anyone, only a place for science and suspicion. In the distance above, the air crackled and a faint boom marked the closing of the gate to another world.

Alan hesitated at the door to the real one. When he opened it, he saw a sea of faces, with news cameras and drones ready to show yet more people the return of the world-hopping explorers. They were fearful of him but curious, desperate for news. For him to tell them anything about the other world and what it was like. They looked ready to devour him in their eagerness, and in hindsight the scientists behind him were the same in their own careful way.

He took a deep breath and called out, "We lived like adventurers, out there. There were forces at work that were bigger than us, and we mattered to them. With my friends and fellow heroes, we worked to earn our powers and more chances to go and use them."

A thousand questions came. Reporters surged against a hasty police barricade. Alan risked being trampled. Everybody wanted his attention, maybe a promise to take them along. There were people holding signs to that effect, even. When he'd had wings he used to back off from threats and handle them one at a time. Here, the crowd was overwhelming.

One of the government men murmured in his ear, "Now, do you mind going somewhere more private to tell us the details?"

"Wait a minute. Where's the feather?"

"Secure at the anomaly site."

Alan felt a flash of panic. He turned to the scientist. "What, so you can control the gate next time?" He imagined a locked-down lab, a grim fortress where only people chosen by some shadowy agency could ever become heroes, or ever see the light of the other world.

"If we may discuss this off-camera...?" An armored jeep was waiting. A helicopter's blades whooped in the distance, approaching.

Alan called out to the crowd, "The key is a feather in my apartment. Don't let them confiscate it!"

The scientist said, "Okay, we need to shut this down. Please come with us, sir." Two soldiers grabbed his arms and began to hustle him toward the jeep.

"Don't let them!" Alan shouted.

The crowd exploded in violence, surging past the barricades and trampling well-meaning men who were just there to prevent a riot. A dozen would-be heroes attacked the men holding Alan and wrenched Alan free. Someone got clubbed with a rifle and there were shouts of outrage, a flurry of thrown stones, a howl of pain.

"You idiot!" said the lead scientist, as a crowd forced its way toward the apartment building's front door. "Do you realize what you've done? I'd shoot you myself but a martyr would only make it worse."

Feeling hot-blooded, Alan said, "We're keeping the way open for everyone! Come on; let's grab the feather!"

Alan and a mob rushed into the building like a tide and overpowered everyone in the way. Alan found the feather in its glass jar, which was clamped in place but not locked. He snatched the artifact and held it up. Many hands went up. "I've got it," he said, worried that a thousand people would steal the thing. "Let's get someplace safe and I'll tell you everything."

It was a short adventure, getting back out of there and through the streets and into the nearest gathering place, the Green Dragon Tavern. Alan had a few helpful people clear him some space and get a microphone. Cameras pointed his way. Alan smiled, though he was still nervous. These people needed to hear. "We're going to make sure the gate is open next season for everyone who wants it. To do that we need to keep this feather safe, and find some way to protect it from anyone who'd turn it into some secret agency's project."

Someone called out, "Is that a quest?" Strangely, nobody laughed.

Alan said, "I suppose it's a worthy one."

#

One winter evening when armed members of the Order of the Feather dug the trenches deeper around their compound, Sir Alan felt the feather stir from its place locked in his office. He rose from his ornate chair and hit a button.

He hadn't asked for this job, for the last months' outpouring of money and effort from hordes of people who wanted magic and adventure. He'd been on television talking about the wind through his wings, the monsters he'd fought, the towns he'd saved. So many people wanted to believe that they'd dropped what they were doing to come and live around him, building an instant power base that even the government feared to overrun by force. There'd been an attempt to expose him as a fraud, but considering the available facts most of the Order laughed it off. A few people even told him it "made their faith stronger".

He'd been at the center of a rapidly crystalizing organization he hadn't planned, feeling pulled along by events and able only to shape it a little as it formed. So there were titles and uniforms, a formal Gate Room for when the time came, lawyers, media relations, merchandizing, even a famous painter who'd done up a mural just to commemorate the story of the Gate. They had stories of how they'd fend off vaguely defined government and corporate threats, which were terrifying on multiple levels and just convincing enough that there'd been no assault yet.

Alan felt bewildered by it all. It wasn't simply a magical portal that was coming; it was a rift he could almost see outright in the people and the world around him. He carefully picked up the feather in its jar and walked from the office to the wide hall of the Gate, to give it a good place to appear.

The people were assembling. Each of them had a bag over one shoulder, their adventuring gear, which they'd been fussing over for months as they fantasized about using it. Most wore some sort of talisman representing what they wanted to become: an elf here, a dragon there and so on. Whether the talismans would actually do anything, Alan didn't know. But people had craved rules, structure, principles to live by, and he'd suggested that the would-be heroes think about what specific kind of heroism they meant. He hadn't originally been talking about what kind of powers or bodies. But the Order was a living, growing thing beyond his control.

Alan set the feather onto a pedestal prepared for this day. As the people gathered to hope and wish and pray in the Hall of the Gate, he laughed quietly. His actions did matter here, yet they were nearly as far beyond his control as they'd ever been. He thought of his former companions and murmured, "Am I a better hero than you, my friends, or a worse one?"

The shimmering Gate opened and people wept and fainted with joy at the sight of it. The flood of adventurers was swift and steady, organized by months of planning. Alan watched them go, watched the Gate flash as it took in more and more ordinary people to send them elsewhere in search of evil to fight. He still didn't know whether he was launching some kind of multi-versal crusade for justice that'd lend heroes to every world that needed them, or just a tourist operation that'd overrun a single world with a horde of troublemakers. For him that had never been the main concern, a fact that troubled him now. He felt guilty to put the needs of himself and his people ahead of the folk they were supposed to be helping; was that even real heroism? But it was the feeling of acting as a hero that people wanted from the Order, more than actually accomplishing anything. He could give them that.

In minutes the Hall was empty but for himself, the now-unstable Gate he'd just overwhelmed, and a pair of trusted lieutenants who'd been organizing the flow. One of them said, "Well! It works. Thanks so much, Sir Alan." She ran and jumped through, herself.

"I wonder how many will come back," said Alan.

The remaining lieutenant smiled. "A few, I expect. They'll be satisfied with one round of adventure and letting it warm them for the rest of their lives. Aren't you going, sir?"

There was still a little time. Alan stretched and walked up to the Gate. "The Order is going to grow, isn't it? Even with the departures."

"There will be even more people next season."

Alan said, "Then I'd better be here for them, to get them ready."

"I feel the same way, sir. Maybe next time for me."

Alan nodded. At last the Gate rippled and popped, and the feather that had started it all faded back to normality. Alan's shoulders slumped; in a way he wished he'd given in and gotten his wings back. "You know, my friends didn't come back through. Didn't even send a note."

"I'm sure they're busy, or they were caught off guard by the timing."

Alan was skeptical of that theory, and the man's tone suggested he was too. Alan said, "Part of what we should be teaching is the need to come back, sometimes. At least to visit and assure everyone the other world is out there. What good does it do if that world is invisible, untouchable for most people?"

"Well, we've got the recordings, and the broadcast is going out even now. That will help people believe."

Alan picked up the feather and started toward his office to lock it away for months again. "Another season, another cycle. Do you think we're really doing any good for the people who don't go?"

"Sir? The Order is for its own members, not for this world. And we did suggest they try bringing back gold and special crops and magical secrets and the like."

"I know. But there's more we can be doing here on this side. A group like ours that pours all of its energy into preparing for another life should be doing more for this one. I need to think more about our doctrine."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of people to hear it by spring, sir. Best of luck."

Alan walked away to his office, to put magic away for a little while. He did still want to go adventuring, at least one more time, but it could wait. The Gate would be there again later. Meanwhile, the rift that made it so appealing had always been around and wouldn't go away.