Lost and Found, Page 3

  ***

  The normal, the mundane, can seem odd and unusual, Danald discovered. A silent room, late at night, with the sleepy sounds of nocturnal creatures twittering through the broken glass. A fire crackling, sending out subdued light.

  For a moment he wondered if any of it had happened, if he had been dreaming after his meal. Then he saw the upset table, the dishes broken on the floor. He remembered who he was and who he had been.

  And he saw Rhia, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath but still quite astonishingly angry.

  Danald waited, more for the anger to die down than for her to catch her breath. He remembered—remembered, thank the gods!—what she could be like when angered and thought it best not to draw attention to himself just yet. Indeed, perhaps he should sit quietly on the floor for a while and enjoy the luxury of a whole mind for the first time in...how long? Months? Years?

  His reverie was broken by a harsh voice.

  "I was too easy on him, at the last, damn him. He knew I would be. He should have been made to suffer more. I should have twisted his filthy—"

  Still breathless from the powers she had called forth, she paused, gasping.

  Anxious to calm her, for her sake and somewhat more for his own, Danald asked, "How did you find me?"

  She raised a hand, took several more deep breaths and seemed to regain partial control.

  Encouraged, Danald continued, "Has it been long? Was it difficult? Did anyone help you, or—"

  "Have pity, have pity," she laughed harshly. "A question, an answer, let us proceed in that fashion, I pray you."

  She righted a chair and seated herself, motioning for him to do the same.

  "You disappeared on the first full moon of the new year. We had had a disagreement, if you recall." Her eyes dared him to speak. "I thought that perhaps you had gone away to think things through. But after a week had passed with no word, I began to be concerned."

  Rhia paused. A bottle, uncannily left whole amidst the rubble, had caught her eye. Capturing it and withdrawing the cork was the work of a moment, turning it up, the work of another.

  "I see you haven't lost your taste for spirits," Danald said.

  He remembered their last disagreement very well indeed.

  She had the grace to look abashed for a second, but she took another gulp of wine.

  "Anyway, I sent out searchers. How difficult could it be, I thought, to find a tall arrogant student who thought he knew more than his teacher? But it proved to be quite difficult. There was no sign of you, nothing to even start a trail."

  Rhia placed the half-full bottle with particular care on the rubbish-strewn floor.

  "So I began a search myself," she finished with a shrug.

  Danald was as surprised as he was touched.

  "And Omron?" he asked.

  "An old student. We disagreed even more fiercely than you and I. And over quite different subjects, I do assure you."

  Rhia looked away for a moment, lost in her thoughts. They did not appear to Danald to be pleasant ones.

  "Well," he said to distract her, "I shall be very useful about the house in future. You would not believe the talents I've acquired."

  A lone bird called outside. A faint tinge of pink showed on the horizon. The night was nearly done.

  "Could we find some breakfast, do you think?" Danald asked plaintively when she made no answer. "I am really most astonishingly hungry."

  The Lady Rhia Darkhawk, advisor to the Queen, Magistra of the School of Malmallard, member of the Council of Leontor, and one of the three first-ranked wizards in all the Lands, laughed.

  "By all means," she replied, "let us have breakfast."

  #####

  About the author of Lost and Found

  K.G. McAbee has had several books and nearly a hundred short stories published, some of them quite readable. She takes her geekdom seriously, never misses a sci-fi con, loves dogs and iced tea, and believes the words 'Stan Lee' are interchangeable with 'The Almighty.' She writes steampunk, fantasy, science fiction, horror, pulp, westerns and, most recently, comics. She's a member of Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers and is an Artist in Residence with the South Carolina Arts Commission. Her steampunk/zombie novella, BLACKTHORNE AND ROSE: AGENTS OF D.I.R.E. recently received an honorable mention in the 2013 3rd quarter Writers of the Future contest.

  The Journal in the Jug

  The Heiress on the Island

  Queen Elizabeth's Wizard

  Lady Abigail and the Morose Magician

  Ray Was Right

  Me and the Bank

  Time Is of the Essence

  Professor Challenger and the Creature from the Aether

  The Case of the Sinister Senator

  E.U.C.B.

  With Murderous Intent

  A Dilemma of Dark and Dangerous Dimensions

  Mightier Than the Sword

  Aunt Clytie's Canning Jars

  Currents of Doom

  A Rollicking Band of Pirates We

  Soul of Diamond, Heart of Glass

  Out of Time: An adventure of The Spectre

  Monarch of the Seas

  Souls Touched – Reasonable Rates

  Cast Away the Works of Darkness

  Oblique Vengeance

  Double Double Cross

  Optical Orifice of the Beholder

  Lord Ghul and the Rat Princes

  Double Double Cross

  Dark of Night

  Not Poppy Nor Mandragora

  The Beauty in the Beast

  Lord Ghul and the Rat Princes

  Luke Zane and the Claim Jumper

  Luke Zane and the Bushwhacker

  Captain D'Artagnan Jones and the Felspindyll from Zardogaz

  End of the Beginning

  And don't miss Tales from Omega Station

  Omega Station, aka the Rock. A barren, airless asteroid on the outermost edge of the galaxy, home of the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. Dotted with commercial, military and residential domes, the outer surface is the place to live for those who can afford it or are lucky enough to work there.

  But the vast majority of the Rock's residents don't live in the surface domes; instead, they have tunneled downwards, moving ever further towards its fiery heart. The upper levels are safe, comfortable, secure—or as secure as anyone can be on Omega Station. The lower levels, now; they are home to the detritus of a double dozen races and species, all living in uneasy juxtaposition, fighting, loving, eating—and being eaten.

  The Rock's location in space, the last real port before exiting the galaxy, has made it a valuable commodity to many governments and private corporations, as has the addictive drug straz, which grows only in its recycling vats. Control has been taken and given in a hundred bloody battles over the years, but those who live in the lower levels—and further down, in the Depths—are often barely aware of whoever claims to be in charge.

  No one, really, rules the Rock, whatever they may claim, however many weapons and warriors they throw against it.

  For the Rock is eternal…and it has many stories...

  Tales from Omega Station: the Omnibus Edition