The old timer didn’t know what to make of it. He’d o been mining these mountains for fifty years, but he’d never come across anything like this. He scratched his head and looked sideways at the thing. He was standing belore what appeared to be a cave – only there was this wall of what appeared to be water over the entrance.
It had the appearance of a mirror, and rippled in the wind just as a lake would – but it was upright. If he thought about it as a pond, it made him dizzy, and he got momentarily confused about what direction was down, until he closed his eyes. Maybe it was a giant soap bubble, he thought. But when he touched it, it didn’t break. Ripples just spread out from where he touched, bounced off the sides, regrouped in the middle, bounced again off the sides… until they died.
He had tried sticking his arm into it, and determined that it was at least as deep as his arm. He touched the water again (he was convinced it was water) and watched the ripples expand, bounce, and contract until they were swallowed up by the waves made by the wind. Thinking about the waves, he had the momentary feeling that he was suspended horizontally above the pond – and found himself falling toward it. He stumbled toward the wall of water, and was engulfed. His ripples too eventually were swallowed up by the waves. His donkey brayed in remorse, and the wind howled its condolences.
The feeling of vertigo continued until he found himself floating at the surface of a small pond (this one was in the ground) in the center of a circle of sword points, The prospector looked around in bewilderment as he was ordered out of the pool and escorted to a large tent topped by a red flag with a dragon upon it.
“My liege,” one of his escorts said by way of an interruption. A small, but impressive man turned toward them. He wore rich blue robes and had blond hair and air of nobility about him. But this was not what drew the prospector’s attention. Seated next to the noble was the prospector himself – or his twin – wearing sky blue robes with astrological designs on them. The old timer fainted.
When he awoke, he found himself on a fur in the corner of the same tent – alone with his twin and the noble. He lay still and listened.
“As I was, saying earlier M’lord,” his twin was saying, his voice sounding exactly like the prospector’s, “there exist other worlds, other dimensions that differ from ours by time, space, and circumstance.”
“This man is undoubtedly me,” the room grew dark and spun, but the prospector managed to retain consciousness, “…comes from a different dimension. He has no idea who he is, or the power he possesses.”
“That’s all well and good, Merlin,” interrupted the other, “but how does this help us in our upcoming siege against Troy?”
“We know that he is unaware of his connection with us, as are we. He may be part of our past, or we part of his, or our worlds may never coincide. I can still use him as a channel to increase my power eightfold times. This increase will almost certainly make a victory oven the murderous Trojans certain. But remember as I said before, this is a one-time spell, and he will remain with us for only forty-eight hours – no more, no less.”
“If we march at once, we will make Troy by sundown,” said the noble. “Good luck, Merlin.”
“And to you, Arthur,” as the young king departed from the tent.
Merlin turned to the prospector. “Good morning, self,” the magician said – and the two began a dizzying (for the prospector) conversation about dimensions and identities.
At nightfall, they were camped a mile from Troy – separated only by a level field.
The prospector had grown to like the magician (and why not?) and was seen the next day with him as the two wandered here and there discussing plans for the siege at nightfall.
“All you have to do is repeat along with me the spells and incantations, and our powers will combine to demolish the gates of Troy. This shall all be done when we ride up with the army at our backs.”
“I understand,” replied the prospector, and they prepared to ride to Troy.
The army halted three hundred yards from the city, and the magician and the prospector rode up together to accomplish their Herculean task.
The prospector repeated the chants with remarkable ease considering that some were in strange tongues. He felt a mighty force surge through him and directed it at the gates – as did Merlin. An incredible brilliance emanated from their hands, and enveloped the gates with its blaze. They both cried out in joy at the incredible feeling of power and, in a short time, the gates of Troy were shattered, and the army rushed in.
The city fell during night and, as it neared sunrise, the magician turned to his double and shouted over the rejoicing that they had better see to returning the prospector.
Merlin took the old-timer aside and, with a simple spell, the two were back at the small pond from which the prospector had emerged.
“Goodbye, and good luck,” Merlin said as the prospector lowered himself into the pond.
“Goodbye,” the prospector replied and, with a wink, submerged himself – never to be seen in that world again.
Again the vertigo, and the prospector fell out of the wall of water, hit his head, and blacked out.
He awoke a while later with his donkey standing over him, nudging him concernedly.
He thought back, shook his head, and smiled. Rising to his feet, he patted the animal on the shoulder saying, “No more Mexican food for me, huh girl?” The donkey brayed in agreement.
He shook his head again and, with a casual gesture behind him, a flash of light from his hand closed up the portal of water – and he continued down the trail with his donkey.
“Nope. No more Mexican food for me, that’s for sure.”
I don’t remember writing this, and was half convinced — even hoping — that the ‘twins’ were going to swap places — either through mutual consent, or by one tricking the other.