Ellen Under The Stairs Read Free

those reared in the moon-like
"pull" of Bandworld.
    But it was murder coming
home.
    He'd adjust to it. He had before. It
was just that the transformation wasn't easy.
    Gravitational shifting was why, when
traveling from lighter "weight" bands to heavier ones in their own
world, the people of the other reality thought of the leaden way
they felt as "sickness." Band sickness.
    Paul had warned him to stay away from
the other world. But John had gone anyway -- why, he couldn't
recall just yet. It'd come to him.
    All he could remember at the moment,
was that he'd once again bluffed his way into being Crystal-Mage of
Stil-de-grain, his celebrity leading to his imprisonment by
Pfnaravin, the embittered Mage of Malachite. If Coluth, Golden, and
a couple of Coluth's sailors hadn't slipped into Hero Castle and
gotten John out of that cage ....
    John's mind was wandering
....
    Platinia moaned again, John feeling
sorry for the tiny, black haired girl. So small, so slender he'd
first taken her to be a child, only to discover she was a young
woman. From the first time he'd met her, he'd seen it as his duty
to protect her. Why, he wasn't sure. In Platinia's presence, he was
never certain about what motivated him; had even thought she might
have a kind of hold over him; had cast a spell on him.
    Not as strange a thing to think as it
might seem. For, to his amazement, he'd learned that the other
world did have ... magic ... John-the-skeptic eventually having to
admit there was no other word to describe the "miraculous"
occurrences in that "other place." (Not story-book magic like
building castles in the air or turning people into frogs. But
magic, nonetheless.)
    Time to get out from under the
stairs.
    John took a mind-clearing breath.
Tasted dust from the dirty pine flooring of the confined storage
space.
    With shaky muscles, John pushed
himself up from the plank floor, only to hit his head on the
underside of the steeply zigzagged stairs, negotiating the cramped
space made difficult because John ... couldn't see. Why? Because
the triangular door to the storage area under the stairs was
closed?
    John stuck out an unsteady hand to
find out. ... No. It was just that it was nighttime. The whole
house dark.
    Straining his fatigued body this way
and that, trying not to bruise little Platinia beside him, John was
able to torture the generator out from under him.
    Panting in much needed oxygen, he
pulled himself to his hands and knees, John barely able to trip the
inner latch on the door and crawl out on the hall's wood floor
before collapsing on his side to rest.
    Near him were the shadowy outlines of
the stacked boxes he'd dragged out so he could enter the storage
space for his trip.
    The flashlight he'd used in his
preparations had to be close by.
    Rolling over painfully, twisting
himself into position, sticking out his too-heavy arms, John
reached under the stairs to get a grip on the static-electric
generator; managed to wrestle it out and slide it to one
side.
    Struggling up on all fours, weights
seemingly strapped to every part of his body, he found the
flashlight where he remembered putting it. Picked it up. Switched
it on. Squatted back.
    The "ten pound" flashlight trembling
in his hand, John switched it on to see black robed Platinia, still
sprawled under there, her arms seemingly Velcroed to the floor. In
obvious pain, she was sweating, her dark eyes open, blinking in the
light.
    "Here," John said, managing to crawl
to the triangular storage space again.
    Supporting himself on both elbows for
a moment, he bent forward. Reached in. Caught Platinia's hand.
Pulled her out.
    Wearied from that burst of activity,
John sagged back to sit on the hall floor, then lean against the
short wall opposite Platinia.
    They were home at last. At least, John
was home.
    "We're at my house, Platinia," John
said, waving the light about.
    Even talking was difficult in the
world's fierce gravity!
    "You came here before. Some time
ago."
    "I am ... weak," the girl