The Ghosts of Talverton Keep

You and Maurie retreat to an appreciable distance from Jerome, who politely shuffles a few papers on his clipboard and tries not to look in your direction.

"What's our move, Brenna?" The playful smirk was gone and Maurie was all FBI agent now.

"She makes me nervous." You stare at the empty spot where Josephine had disappeared as if daring her to rematerialize. "But ghosts! Castles!" You can't keep the infectious grin of joy from your face.

"Okay, we need to find out how she is mining the Rhodium, right?" You ask.

"That's it - no heroics." Maurie answers.

"Then this is perfect!" You reply.

Maurie's face darkens as you explain the plan.

"Look, of the two of us, I should be the one going through the well house. Which one of us is the law enforcement professional here?" She argues.

"Neither of us is, at least according to our hosts, and let's be honest, that illusion is a lot easier for me to maintain than you. If something goes south in there, I want you coming in with the FBI cavalry."

"And for all their promises," Maurie looks away embarrassed, "I'm not sure Quantico would get saddled up unless I made it happen." She nods. "Alright, but just in and out. We just need enough to know how the works and then you come right out. No . . ." she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You know . . . Hanky panky."

"Really? Hanky panky? Maybe a little over the shirt petting? Might get to third base?"

"Fuck off Brenna, you know what I mean." Maurie's cheeks are bright red. "I know what it's like in there. It's like a drug."

You cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. "I'll be alright. I'll be back here before you know it." Her lips are fierce but brief.

"Now, go find a cell signal and call my family." She jogs off towards the gator. You turn towards Jerome with his clipboard and beyond him, the well house.

###

"So you're Jerome," You peer over your glasses at the youthful researcher, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. His jacket, two sizes two large, hung on his wiry frame as a fist of jumbled black curls threatened to obscure those piercing blue eyes.

"Dr. Jerome Kerr, ma'am." You hand him back the clipboard, signed contracts and all. He could almost be cute if he weren't so nervous.

"Alright, Dr. Kerr, tell me about the time difference. I've been burned by it before." You try to sound authoritative as the two of you reach the wellhouse threshold.

"Time differential, yes. Of course. It's five to one. And please, call me Jerome." Jerome answers. The arched frame made of hewed stones seemed small and suspiciously harmless - if you had not seen Josephine vanish not moments ago, you would not think it out of the ordinary in any way.

"So yes, every five days inside is one day out here." He reiterates.

"Did you set it at that rate?" You ask. Jerome nods eagerly.

"It was a right pain in the arse getting that set but we've found that five to one gives us enough competitive advantage at the mining site while still allowing for a rapid response here to a crisis if necessary." He gives the gator with Campbell and Maurie a wave as they head back to the surface.

"We should have everything you require at Talverton Keep, so . . . " he awkwardly gestures towards the gateway.

"Right." You take a deep breath and gather your skirts in your hands. "Here we go!" You give yourself a few steps head start and leap . . .

. . .

right . . .

. . .

Through. You feel lightly touch down on the polished wood floors of the well house. Passing through the archway felt no different than just a sudden breeze on your face. Compared to the stomach hurtling skydive of the Hotel Murano furnace or the jolting lurch of the Cabin in the Sky, this was downright therapeutic. You glance back. The stone archway from whence you arrived shimmers slightly with energy but beyond it, a verdant valley.

You slowly survey the scene, through the wellhouse windows, drinking in a world of pure gold and green. Thick green firs and broad leafed oaks, dripping with moss stretch out on rolling hills over wide meadows of purple heather and long green shrubs, interrupted only by the wet ponds and puddles of the scottish moor.

You take a deep breath, soaking in the warm smell of fresh rain on green leaves. A stone path leads from the well house, past a shed and stable and down a little hill into the valley. The setting sun sets the sky ablaze and silhouetted in the marbled light is Talverton Keep.

It's tall parapets and steep dusty grey walls looked foreboding in the distance but despite the Bierstadt of a landscape surrounding you, you could not tear your eyes away from the castle. It held you fixed in place, unable to turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" The only warning of his arrival was the telltale breath of wind passing a moment before - barely enough to stir your hair. Jerome has left his workman jacket behind, now garbed in his brown shift and carrying a decidedly modern rucksack.

"The Keep never looked that good in my lifetime. I remember when I was a boy, the old ruin was there and me and me mates would mess around there till our parents called us home. Of course, then the community league had it demolished to make way for the bypass and that was that." He steps past you and out onto the stone road, jostling you with the rucksack.

"Sorry Mrs. Sampson, I do go on. The horses are over here - do you know how to ride?"

The brief expression of panic that flashed across your face was answer enough.

"Uh . . . "

"Don't worry, I'll help you up and the horses know where to go." His eyes are earnest and his slender arms steady as he helps up to a sturdy looking dusty mare, already saddled in the stable.

"Besides, if we go slow, we can talk and I have so many questions for you." and with a kick of his heels the two of you trot down the stone path under the fiery sky.

The horses set a steady gait as the path winds its way through the valley, the stirring of the purple flowers mirroring the fiery post-sunset kaleidoscope above you.

"Jerome, I'm curious about the Rhodium operation, I understand there was metal in this area but the vein was depleted." He flashes a quick awkward smile.

"Wow, cut right to it, huh? Quite the professional - I like it." He gives you little finger guns which are less effective when holding the reins of a horse.

"Sorry." You apologize, he laughs.

"No, no. Keep it up and we will make an honorary Scott out of you yet, you worthless Yankee."

"Yankee? Ha! America can go fuck itself! How's that for blunt?" He belts out a laugh, startling a pair of preening crows in a nearby tree.

"See, you already know your lines!" He gestures towards the foothills behind the Castle, where you could see a dark wedge of the mountain was gone. In the fading light, you could make out a few flickering lights - campfires or maybe cabins set into the mountain - but it was too far.

"If you want the work logs and the dusty iron carts, and all the dreary details of how to build a modern resource extraction operation with 16th century technology, I am afraid I will be of no help at all." He rubs the back of his head, his mess of brown hair becoming even more tangled.

"For all that shite, you want McCormac. He's a local boy too although he was a good ten years ahead of me in school and a hell of alot bigger. Kids in my class still talked about him, said he was a wicked good football player. When I went off to University, he stuck around working construction. Imagine my surprise to be working with THE Sean McCormac here - you never really escape your hometown, I guess."

"Well, not exactly your hometown." The stone path split off down into the valley. Following the trail with your eyes, you see it lends to a small village tucked snug against a dark forest. The village, a collection of thatch roofs, stone and cob cabins wrapped around a town square with a well. Jerome pays it no mind, continuing on the original road up towards the castle.

"So, tell me, how did you get into this . . field?" Jerome asks, his clear blue eyes peering at you. You twist a little bit in your saddle and hear a popping noise from your light blue blouse. Shit, you probably ripped something back there. You are grateful for the ever-deepening twilight.

Best to keep it closest to the truth. "I actually just fell into it. Quite literally, actually. My first jump was unintentional. I accidentally came into contact with a . . construct." You hope the momentary fumbling for a word was masked by the steady beat of the horses hooves.

"You say, 'Jump', is that the standard term that specialists use?" You nod. "And did you get recruited? Or were you a freelancer before? Did you receive professional training or . . ." He catches himself.

"I'm sorry, it's just . . . it's been mostly me up here about this stuff. It's rare we get a visitor and certainly not someone we can . . . you know . . ."

"Someone you talk to about your pocket dimension?" Your laughter echoes on the cobblestones, widening as you approach the bridge over the fast-churning river that encircles the castle.

"I'm afraid my contributions to the mining operation are simply telling McCormac, on this side, and Campbell, back at home, that nothing that passes through the well house can be larger than six feet wide by 11 feet tall. It means lots of smaller batches, they use very sturdy wheelbarrows for the actual transfer and I understand that it makes it easier for processing on the outside but really not my area of expertise."

"Now, if you want to talk about transdimensional thermodynamics, I'm your guy." Jerome continued. "I mean, that was my work before this - Josephine hired me when I was still . . . how'd she describe it . . .still a 'talented but unmotivated graduate student' at Edin. But since then, I've had to pick up some linguistics and electrical engineering and of course, much much more on the theoretical physics side of things . . ."

RIPPP. Oh no. You glance down, your long blue skirt now has a gash, longer than your hand, on the side. You look around but no tree branch nor piece of your saddle had caught you.

"It's the polyester in your skirt. The resonance is taking it apart. I'm sorry, I should have asked before we began - clothes are some of the hardest things to remember. Modern garments have so many plastics in them these days."

You look over at him in wild alarm.

"I'm sorry, the resonance?!" You ask.

"The resonance? The resonance! The force that shakes apart all objects, materials and machines that did not exist at the time?" You look at him in confusion. He pulls up his horse to an abrupt stop. Your horse prances forward a few steps before looking back and stopping in confusion.

"You mean to tell me that other worlds . . . that this isn't a thing that everyone has to deal with?"

Jerome is shook. "What . . . did I screw it up? Was it . . did my original inscription, was the language unclear?"

"Now hold on." Your mind races, frantically cycling through your experiences. When was there ever a time where you brought something into the inner worlds? There was always your clothes but those usually got lost pretty soon upon arrival. You crack a wry chuckle.

"Josephine is going to sack me for sure if she had to rig up a whole operation out of coal and twine because of me." Jerome is muttering to himself.

"No . . . no. Let me think." You answer.

There was the well under the hotel, you are pretty sure that Caroline had a toolbag or something. What happened to that? Fuck - did you leave it somewhere? The Cabin in the Sky - nothing came with you and nothing really came out. There was the snow globe with Kate, but both of you had just come out of the car, you really didn't have anything in your hands or pockets, except maybe your phone. Did that come with you? No, you left that behind in Danny's workshop.

The bandolier - you brought that with you and it came back no worse for the wear. But that was made of cloth and metal, not exactly modern materials. The zipper was plastic, was it? Of course one of the zippers had popped off, but was that before or after your trip.

The two of you slow to a stop as you cross the big stone bridge. Before you, the metal bars of the portcullis and the thick wooden doors of the castle.

"Hello up there? Who's on tonight - is that you Moniyan?" Jerome calls up to the stone guard tower above the gate. A round faced man with a shaggy red beard pokes his head out.

"Oh 'ello Dr. Kerr! No such luck tonight - you've got my ugly mug instead"

"Oh bloody hell, it's Monro." Jerome mutters to you under his breath.

"What's wrong with Monro?" You whisper back.

"Who's the pretty lady? I didn't know that you were that kind of monk, maybe I should have joined the church instead!" He makes some sort of gesture that is thankfully hidden by the narrow framing of the window. His laughter is joined by a few others deeper inside the guard tower.

"That's what's wrong with Monro." Jerome answers. You are suddenly quite aware of the strip of your upper thighs that are now catching the torchlight, thanks to the damage to your skirt.

"She's a guest of Lady Talverson, Monro." The smile ran away from Monro's face and he stood up straighter.

"Sorry, Dr. Kerr. Just having a bit of fun, you know?" He thumps a polearm thrice and you hear the movement of men, then the groaning of metals and chains as the portcullis is lifted and the heavy bar behind the doors taken aside. A man in a green tunic pulls the heavy doors open just wide enough for a horse to pass through. Thankfully, your mare knows this dance well and easily navigates the two step into Talverton Keep.

"Good evening ma'am." Monro salutes as you pass through and into the courtyard. Jerome leads you to the stable and helps you dismount, his gentle hands making the awkward task of untangling horse and rider as effortless as shedding a coat. He sets you down, his cheeks flushed at the sudden intimate contact and you shamelessly linger a moment before stepping away towards the keep.

"We've prepared a room for you. We sent ahead a raven as soon as you arrived on site this morning so the Caste staff has had at least a couple days to anticipate our arrival, so I imagine that Josephine will have had an elaborate dinner arranged for you tonight."

His eyes travel the length of your body and you realize your blouse now has a second rip in it, providing an unexpectedly tantalizing glimpse of the side of your right breast.

"I'll have some clothes sent to your room. Ah, here's Isla," a raven haired willowy girl, no more than nineteen, had appeared out the twilight of the courtyard and opened the wood side door to the keep.

"Isla, will show you to your room and provide you whatever else you require." He gives you a warm handshake.

"I'm so grateful that you are here, Mrs. Sampson." His eyes are the deepest and clearest oceans you have ever seen. "I can't wait to get to know you better." Your stomach does flip flops but you summon the best professional face you can manage.

"It's a pleasure, Jerome, and please, call me Brenna." His smile is sudden and heartwarming.

"Brenna it is, we will talk more soon." And with that, he departs. You turn to Isla.

"Do you have any things, ma'am? Luggage and whatnot?" You shake your head and ponder your next step.

"I don't have any luggage but I would like to see where I'm staying. Take me to my bedroom please, so I may get ready."

Isla gives you a curt nod and leads you up the winding stone staircase of the keep.

"Careful miss, the steps can be slippery with the rain."

Despite your best efforts, you quickly lose track of how many floors have passed by until a narrow window presents a glimpse of the courtyard, now far enough away to make your head spin. The iron lanterns on the outer wall of the keep sway in the wind - casting a thousand rippling shadows on the inky river and the forests beyond.

There! Your eyes are drawn to movement outside the castle walls - a lone figure running through the scrub brush and muck on the far bank of the river.

In a blink of your eye, the shadow leaps up and clears the castle wall.

"Isla!" You cry out in alarm. She rushes to your side.

But when you scan the courtyard, the figure is gone.

"Miss?" She peers at you with deep doe eyes, concerned.

". . . nothing." You step away from the window,"I'm so sorry."

"No matter miss, looks to be frightful weather tonight. Your room is just over here."

You pass through a wooden door and along a narrow corridor. You fight the urge to walk sideways. It's a castle, not a bunker at Fort Worden, but the feeling is the same. Isla turns a sharp left and takes a short step up to another wooden door.

Inside there is a small hearth, already lit, a simple wooden table with two chairs, a carved wooden bed with warm linens and clothes! You rush forward in excitement, running your hands over the cotton slip, long brown skirt and dark green petticoat.

"But how did they get her so fast?" Isla shrugged.

"Lady Josephine told us this morning to be ready for your arrival. And when the Lady wants something done, we hop to it. I've long since stopped asking questions. For my own self, begging your pardon, I'm just grateful to be working here rather than down in the village." Isla says, then gives a little hop to the side and looks down at her feet.

"Sorry miss, shouldn't talk out of turn in front of the gentry.." You shake your head.

"No, no. Speak freely Isla. I'm just like you, just someone doing some work." You start to pull your shirt off but in one final act of defiance, it gets snagged on your bra and rips a jagged cut from the neck hole to the small of your back.

"Damn it." You mutter and with a SPROING, a bra wires punches through the bottom of your left cup.

"Here, let me help." She is there, by our side pulling the slip over your head, her long skillful fingers doing up the laces on your petticoat.

"Did you grow up here?" You ask.

"Aye. My father is a baker down in the village but with two older siblings, he has more than enough hands around the stove. Thankfully, Lady Josephine arrived soon after I came of age and put just about everyone to work." A gust of wind rattles the window, you walk over to latch the shutters.

"When did Lady Josephine arrive?" You ask gently, exploring a basket on the table, covered in a wool wrap.

"Any other odds and ends, you'll find in there. A brush, some smallclothes, the like." Isla explains and then pauses to think, running a hand through her raven dark hair.

"She comes and goes as she pleases, I understand she has another holding south of here, but she returned to be the Thane of Talverton Keep . . .three winters ago." Isla returns to the door as you hear steps on the stone corridor. Isla exchanges whispered conversation with another, unseen person before turning back to you.

"Dinner is ready to be served, are you ready for Lady Josephine to receive you?" You take a deep breath and glance around your accommodations, before yielding to the grumbling of your belly.

"Yes, I believe I am."

###

The dining hall was actually much more modest than you expected. The table, a long narrow carved piece, is layered high with a variety of roasted vegetables and meats, fresh loaves of dark bread, steaming. Simple metal plates and utensils were laid out around the table, four settings. All this, illuminated by the flickering candles in the chandelier above. Outside the window, the rain was coming down steadily, rattling the wooden shutters just enough to be irritating.

You are beckoned in by the warmth of the gentle hearth, it's orange light filling the space, heat radiating through the stones beneath your shoes.