The Missing Link

By

Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon
2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of
the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-139-4
ISBN 10: 1-60174-139-1

The Missing Link
Copyright © 2012 by David Tysdale

Cover design
Copyright © 2012 by Judith B. Glad
Cover background
photo: The Sombrero Galaxy in Infrared
R. Kennicutt (Steward Obs.) et al., SSC, JPL, Caltech,
NASA

All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in
whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter
invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the
FBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.

Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

The tiny pig stamped the ground. "Rit?"

Thirteen-year-old Carole Sylphwood knelt beside him. "I've already told you why, Runt.
It's too risky. The place is crawling with werewolves. Remember the one that nearly tore out
Mariat's throat? Well they love pork even more! Besides, I'll only be gone the weekend."

"Ret reet!"

"Actually, it was Professor Philamount's decision but--" She squinted down the path.
Two connector technicians had just come into view. "No time to argue. Get going, and remember to
keep away from my parents."

The pig trotted off with a flick of his tail.

Carole dropped behind some tall grass and waited for the workers to walk past before
darting into the connector field. Not that they were likely to follow, but why take a chance. She
found the Nightshade connector pole where the professor said it would be, though he was nowhere
in sight.

She rested her forehead against the thick beam of wood. Had it really only been three
months?

Three months since she'd discovered she was a multitasker.

Three months since she and Runt had set off from Earth on a crazy journey through
shifting dimensions to repair the Hub, her true home.

Three months of hell.

True, for the first time in her life she actually had friends, but bringing the twins along
with her hadn't done them any favors. They were as much outcasts here in the Hub as she was. And
now this!

What was Professor Philamount up to? For weeks he'd been arguing that she was too
busy with school work to visit Hal, that transdimensional travel was still too dangerous. And now
he'd turned around and sprung this trip on her.

The Nightshade and Ghostly Spirit Realm not dangerous? Who did he think he was
kidding? She sighed heavily.

"Why have you not opened the portal, Miss Sylphwood?"

She turned to see the tall, specterish man striding her way. "I was just waiting for you,
professor."

"And as you can see, I have arrived. Quickly now, the witches are waiting."

Carole activated the connector link and watched the swirling vortex take shape. She
followed the professor inside.

Lifting its muzzle, the creature howled to the sky. Thin and mangy, this werewolf
possessed little of the muscle or grim determination of the beast that had stalked Carole Sylphwood
only a few months ago. That animal had smashed through a heavy wooden door as if it were a row
of matchsticks. Only the even more determined action of the thirty or so witch cats had saved her
from the werewolf's frenzied jaws; that and the fact that her tutor, Professor Melodious T.
Philamount, had tossed her from the second floor of Witch Hall. Carole was still a little miffed at
Professor Philamount for treating her that way, even if as he had claimed, his actions had been
perfectly justified and absolutely necessary.

The werewolf reached the end of the false trail and nosed around uncertainly. It pawed
the ground, sniffed the air, and then reared up on its hind legs. A large clump of summer hair fell
from the beast's belly, revealing pasty gray skin beneath. It howled a second time.

Despite its shabby and less than threatening appearance, Carole's skin began to crawl
when the wolf turned her way. She pressed deeper into the rocks. A moment later the animal
dropped back to all fours, gave one further disgruntled 'wuff,' and loped back into its cave.

"You sure that was a smart thing to do?" she whispered, still eyeing the cave.

"Pshaaw," her witchling friend, Mariat, teased. "T'aint ye the same multitasker that did
play tag with dragons whose size be equal to Witch Hall?"

"That was a little different. For one, I didn't throw rocks to wake them up."

"Jest wanted to show ye we've no more to fear from the wolf." Mariat smiled. "Besides,
Cleo be here to protect us all this time, even if that beast happened to be a smartish type and
figured out our ruse." She ran her hand lovingly over the back of Cleopatra, her napping
tortoiseshell cat.

"No offence Mariat, but Cleo's just a little thing. Remember how many cats it took to
stop that other werewolf?"

"Last time be because of the Great Conundrum. Since ye did fix the dimensional fluxing,
there be no more pesky werewolf problems, just lazy wolfs, such as that one gone back to his bed. It
be plenty easy for one witch cat to chase him off, even if the cat be as small and graceful as
Cleo."

Carole shook her head. "I still can't believe it."

"Do." Mariat patted Carole's arm. "Nowadays life arount here be plenty full of ease,
thanks to ye."

Carole smiled a little skeptically. "Is it the same with the Whistler and the Dark
Wood?"

"Oh we not go there. Still plenty of menace to those, even without the Conundrum
stirring 'em up. They jest be normal dangers is all. That be why Westhill Coven comes back to the
ole village site. Lesser dangers arount this place now than up north. What ye think of our ole
place?"

"I like it, at least I've seen. Too bad I can't stay more than the weekend."

"Takes only three days fer brew to be brewed, and Philamount didst set it up with
Herling on today past. Why did he not bring ye then?"

"School."

"Ye could stay a couple of days more, after brew's answer be given."

"Philamount won't let me miss any classes. He already thinks there's been too large a
break in my education."

"But ye be a special multitasker from what I hear. Missing a day or two shouldn't be
such a problem fer ye."

"Who told you that?"

"Head witch Herling talked about ye to 'nother coven witch, Brunstice." Mariat grinned
conspiratorially. "I be listening behind a closed door at the time. They think that I be too much of a
babe fer advanced magic, so I have to listen in now and again to learn certain parts of the trade.
Quite a bother it be, too."

Carole chuckled. "I suppose it could be."

"So school not be the whole reason why ye not be allowed to stay."

"There is more to it. Philamount doesn't want me multitasking without his
permission."

"Thinks he that ye still be a babe needing its hand held, after what ye already done on
yerself fer all the dimensions?" Mariat's expression was incredulous.

"No, I don't think that's it. Something else is going on."

"What else?" Mariat got up from her belly and sat cross-legged.

Carole followed Mariat's example, and rubbed the soreness from her elbows and knees.
"That's just it, I don't know, but I seem to run into him in the weirdest of places."

"He be a spying? What needs he be a spying fer? And why so crude with his methods?
Plenty of ways to spy without needing to follow someone direct like."

"And that white bush of hair is so obvious." Carole snickered. "Kind of hard to miss, if
you know what I mean."

Mariat snorted. "Like a signal fire, his hair be."

"He's sworn me to secrecy about a lot of things too, especially about how I'm able to
multitask. He doesn't want anyone to know I can free-fall, not even my parents."

"Strange is that, fer sure. I wouldst have thought Philamount be most proud of yer
victory deeds. Still, Herling puts plenty of trust in that old fraud, so might be ye listen to him fer a
while yet, 'til ye figure more things out. 'Course if ye really want to know more about what be going
on, maybe we can discover brew's answer to Philamount's question. Might be we do a little spying
ourselfs."

Carole chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't want to cause any trouble, but I am tired of
being kept in the dark."

"Be no trouble if we don't get caught."

"Let me think about it," Carole said. "Are we about done here?"

"Yup. This be only a simple demonstration to show ye how much has changed since ye
done fix things at the Hub. I figured the werewolf be of most interest to ye."

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." Carole got up off the
ground and rubbed the soreness out of her backside.

Mariat picked up Cleopatra and draped the cat over her shoulders. Carole handed
Mariat her broom and straddled behind, gripping the witchling's waist firmly as the wood sprang to
life. With barely a whisper of air, they lifted swiftly into the morning sky.

Mariat leveled out at about a hundred feet up and began to carve lazy arcs through the
air. After a time she pointed her broom directly towards the Westhill Coven. The crag lands fell
away, and soon they were racing over a patchwork of bronze and flaxen fields; crops ready for the
harvest, and crops already harvested.

"This be the best season fer growing that I can remember," Mariat said over the sound
of the wind. "Probably ye be responsible for that, too."

A meandering stream, sparkling in the morning light, flashed beneath and Mariat
altered course to fall in line with the water. Soon a number of squat buildings appeared on the
horizon, most clustered around the stream and its destination, a shimmering lake of pthalo blue. As
Mariat overtook the buildings and shot above the lake, Carole saw numerous sparks of color flicker
away from the shadow they were casting on the surface of the water. The witchling banked hard,
dropped altitude and swung back towards shore. She came to a gentle landing on a tiny spit of
sand.

As soon as they were back on the ground, Cleopatra slipped from Mariat's shoulders and
vanished amongst the reeds and grasses of the shoreline.

The Westhill community was bustling with activity. Everywhere she looked Carole saw
witches coming and going from buildings or working in the nearby fields. Watching the commotion,
she felt herself a bubble of idleness awash in a sea of busyness. A guilty bubble. "Shouldn't we be
helping out?"

"Ye be my chore." Mariat beamed. "Herling gives me special instructions to keep ye from
working 'cause of all ye have already done for us of the Nightshade and Ghostly Spirit Realm. Maybe
I also be picked 'cause I put my life in the way of that pesky werewolf. Remember?"

"One of your more stupid ideas."

"Not stupid at all. It be exactly what Herling did order. So, what should we do
next?"

"Why not show me around the place. You whisked me out of here so fast this morning, I
hardly saw anything of the village."

"Fair enough. Come this-a-ways."

Mariat led Carole along a well-used path through windswept grasses to a building
nearest the lake but farthest from the other structures. Inside, Carole saw an austere though well
maintained dorm. One side of the short entranceway opened into a modest common room outfitted
with a fireplace and a few pillowed, willow cane chairs. Across from the common area were a
number of doors.

"Those be the rooms of other witchlings. They be more advanced in age and spell lore as
well, but between ye and me Carole, they be not so greatly advanced... specially Lucreta. She be
more interested in making potions to smell pretty fer the boys from the village." Mariat wrinkled
her nose. "I don't think Lucreta truly be the stuff of Westhill Coven. More likely she be the stuff fer
brooding and breeding."

"Lucreta?"

"Lucreta be next to me in age by three or four turns, but I still be better at spell casting
and broom flying than she, and she knows it. She be always on my back fer one thing or another.
Always trying to blame me fer when things go wrong, too, even when I not be the cause. But I get
even." Mariat snickered.

"What's so funny?"