Roanoke: Chapter Twelve
Edwyn le Fay jumped into the vortex. He had no idea as to what would happen to him. For all he knew the vortex might tear him apart. But at least there was a chance that he might survive. It was better than getting shot dead by a Black Magician.
There was also the fact that this mystical vortex had to be connected with what had happened to the Lost Colony of Roanoke. He might actually discover what had happened to that colony. That was why he had come to Roanoke Island in the first place.
As soon as he entered the vortex he was swept away from what he thought of as the real world. He heard one final shout by Trevelyan, and the noise of a gunshot. Then he was gone.
He was surrounded by a whirlpool of colours. This was not water, but Magick in its most primal state. He could tell that it was Magick even without casting a spell of detection. He was a wizard, after all.
In fact, as he was swept up into the maelstrom, it occurred to le Fay that casting – or attempting to cast – any sort of spell might be a spectacularly bad idea. He had used Shadow Magick when close to the maelstrom. That had thrown him miles out of his way, having him end up in Richmond, Virginia. If he cast a spell, of any sort, inside this maelstrom it might end up with him being ripped apart. All that he could do was to ride out this mystical whirlpool and hope that the Magickal forces did not rip him apart.
He could feel Magick all around him, so strong that it felt tingly on his skin. All that he could see was an ever-changing rainbow of colours. There was nothing else to see. There was nothing solid here. Yet he could still feel things. This was not like the world of shadows.
At least he was not being torn apart. When he had jumped into the vortex he had thought that it might be the end of him. He was alive – at least for the moment. But would he survive exiting this mystical whirlpool?
It was then that le Fay noticed that there was something else in the vortex with him. At first he thought that it was a small stone or a pebble. It was keeping pace with him. Had he kicked it inside the vortex when he had jumped into the whirlpool of colours?
Le Fay squinted, and saw that it was a bullet. Trevelyan must have fired at him as he had jumped.
At least the bullet was not gaining on him. Not that le Fay could really have done that much about it if it had been. He was not going to attempt to cast any sort of spell inside this Magick vortex. Even Edwyn le Fay understood that such a mix of mystical energies would be a very bad idea. All he could do was hope to survive.
Le Fay was not sure how long he had been in this mystic spiral. The whirlpool seemed to go on forever. He glanced down at his watch. But the hands of the watch were not moving. Perhaps this place was beyond the considerations of time. Or perhaps he had simply forgotten to wind his watch that morning.
Le Fay touched his watch. Or, rather, he tried to. But he could not actually feel his watch. It was as though he had lost his sense of touch. His fingers stopped at the edge of the watch. But, otherwise, it might as well not have been there.
Le Fay tried touching his face. He didn’t feel his fingers on his face. Neither his face nor his fingers felt anything. In this vortex there was no sense of touch.
He realised that there was no sense of heat or cold, either. He could not tell what the temperature was in that vortex. He wondered what would have happened if he had been in possession of a thermometer. What would it have shown? Perhaps it would have exploded in confusion.
The journey through the vortex of colours continued. Perhaps it was for the best that there seemed to be no time in this un-place. If le Fay had been aware of time perhaps he would have become bored by now. Maybe he had been in the swirl for years. Or maybe it had been only a few seconds, like in some dream stretching out time.
He had read, once, in a book on Magick, that there was a world of Dreams that could be accessed by certain spells. Those thoughts returned to him now. He would not have minded learning Dream Magick. But, although it was known that such Magick existed, it was an area of Magick which was hidden, and which very few wizards knew. It was not something which was ever going to be taught at High Tor.
He wondered if, perhaps, this was a dream, and he had come physically into some dreamscape. But he rejected that idea, as this was not like any dream which he had ever had before. He knew that he was awake, and that this was real.
He wasn’t hungry. Perhaps you could not get hungry in this place. Perhaps you could not get thirsty, forever. Maybe he was now in a world of swirling colours which were going to go on forever, with him trapped inside them. He should have found the idea scary. But he didn’t really feel anything at all.
Then, suddenly, it was all over. He fell out of the vortex, falling some six feet to a very hard ground. The bullet exited the vortex a moment later, zooming over where he had been but a moment before, missing him by inches, and disappearing somewhere into the distance.
Le Fay was out, and alive. But where was he?