Trapped in Illusion

The Silvergrey Sea

Part Six: Storms

Trapped in Illusion

* * *

The Æthyr was a swirl of ever-changing notions. The part of Drago that had been a mortal would have been just as horrified as the man Abram was. The part that was an immortal Element and a Great Soul was fascinated at this glimpse into the mechanics of Reality.

Another part wondered where the Erthe Woman was. Technically, she was nowhere, of course. But he should have been able to connect with her as easily was he had with the Hermetist.

It was imperative that she be stopped. It should be possible to do it even here. Letting her have her head and continuing with his plan to subvert the Manifestation at the moment of climax no longer seemed the wisest course. Everything had gone to hell when the Primal Matter had been dispersed by the well-meaning fools of the Order of Hermes.

What happened just then surprised him.

He was standing in a village.

The slate roofs of single story, plaster buildings and the rounded cobbles of a narrow street were blue tinted by a small, high moon. The lane descended, curving to the left toward a valley, the far side of which was thickly forested right up to a ridge about a mile distant.

The mild breeze, carrying an unidentified floral scent relaxed him. Or maybe the place itself did.

From nearby houses, the Watr Man could hear laughter and the music of flute and zither. These people, whatever else their lives were, were happy.

Something was wrong, though. Something he’d missed.

Where was Abram?

Still in the Æthyr, perhaps.

This was a trap.

The Erthe Woman. Had to be.

But why this? As traps went, it seemed overly complicated. She could more easily have put them in a simple cage made from NOTHING.

“Abram?”

Again, louder, “Abram!”

The music screeched to a stop. Only the night wind broke the silence, now.

He heard a door open. Turning in the direction of the sound, Drago saw yellow light spill out from a wooden doorway.

The creature that emerged was short and dressed in simple linens, dyed brown and green. Oversized feet were unshod; the head was hairless and oval shaped with large dark eyes. Seeing Drago, he smiled and strode toward him. “Salutations, friend. What needs have you, this even?” The voice was high, but of a timbre that spoke of age.

As he closed, the Element saw other’s feet were long toed and seemed to have an extra joint. The tips of claws just peeked out from the ends.

Drago had to think quickly.

None of this was real, obviously. It was meant to stop or delay him. Them, if Abram were somewhere here. If he wasn’t trapped in his own custom-made illusion.

“I’m looking for a friend I’ve been travelling with. We entered the village an hour ago and now I cannot seem to locate him.” Drago made his tone casual, his expression friendly and slightly embarrassed.

It worked. “Oh!” The other grinned an unaffected smile. “We get few visitors here and very rarely from off-world. I’m sure he won’t be difficult to locate. I think I know where to start.” So saying, he led the Watr Man down toward the river. “Did you land in Tryst?” over his shoulder.

“Yes, not three days ago, in fact.”

Wrong guess. The native gave him a puzzled look but didn’t say anything. This ‘Tryst’ must have been some considerable distance away.

“You won’t give me away, will you?” he winked, when the other turned back around.

Again, the smile.

It had been a shot in the dark. The Watr Man suspected that technology was artificially curtailed here. Seemed he was right. By implying Abram and he had bent the law and used something illegal to get round more conveniently, Drago had shown trust.

That seemed to ease the other’s mind.

Evidently, the folks hereabouts were not bothered by anything beyond local law and custom.

Once again, he reminded himself this was all an illusion designed by the Erthe Woman to delay them at the very least. It was a very convincing one. He wondered if this person was autonomous and thought he really did exist. The level of skill that would require—memories, a history of this world, &c. It was a frightening thought. Momentarily, he despaired of escaping to thwart the Sea God’s plan.

The road wound gently between houses Drago couldn’t help but think of as ‘quaint.’ The blue moonlight made everything seem ethereal; the breeze made him slightly light-headed, scented as it was. Yet another indication that he was in a simulation—it was too perfect to be real.

The last of the houses pulled away and the river that flowed along the valley floor came into view. Moonlight made it sparkle as it wound between the gentle green slopes that led to hills that pillowed the descending blue orb in the sky.

The road became a dirt trail that ended in a short dock. Sitting at the end of it with a line in the water was a figure that even at this distance, didn’t look like a native. As they thumped along the slightly warped boards, Drago doubted this was his companion.

He was wrong.

“Stranger,” the Element’s native companion said to the fisherman.

The other turned around—and it was Abram. His hair was short, and he was clothed in homespun wool. Sandals were on his feet. He smiled up at Drago’s guide and then at him.

“This man is looking for another alien who came here with him. I thought you might have seen him.”

Reaching out a hand, Abram said, “Name’s Alfred.”

Alfred.

‘Now what?’ Drago thought.

—Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, October 2026

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