Deadwood

"It's time for me to return to Oerth", the woman said, breaking the silence.

The two of them spent many afternoons like this - sitting on the covered porch, drinking coffee, the distant ripple of the Black Hills visible in the hot August sun. Truth is, Callana had never felt more content than she had in the last few months here. She would rise at dawn, help Murlynd with the horses and cattle and then sit and read in the rocking chairs, avoiding the day's heat.

After the cold of Moil and her still-fresh loss, she needed this time. That cold had seeped into her bones. And as a companion, Murlynd was perfect company. To a stranger he might appear withdrawn, taciturn but she had known him for years and his quiet nature was merely that of someone who only spoke when he had something to say.

Finally he broke his silence, "If you've decided then, we'd best see Heward." Another of Murlynd's friends and fellow exiles here in the Badlands, Hew had managed to keep himself quite busy - by day he was the principal and head teacher of the 3-room schoolhouse, taught music lessons and played nightly in Sly's Saloon. Balding, with flame-red hair, enormous sideburns and a gregacious nature, he managed to be well-liked and respected in Deadwood.

He was also a man with secrets and one of those was a hidden room full of mirrors that allowed passage to any number of places. One of those mirrors would take Callana home.

Watching Murlynd ride toward town, she remembered how she had met him all those years ago. At her former home, the desert refuge called the Solastery. Riding up, she was struck by his piercing blue eyes - and the calm way he assessed her and her companions. This was a man clearly used to being outnumbered - and comfortable with that.

And now he was Marshall of the Territories. Probably the only one to go about his duties with a broadsword strapped to his back but the locals viewed him with equal parts fear and respect after their most recent upset - the day the town graveyard erupted and the dead walked the streets. Formerly hanged criminals, heads lolling to the side, shambled alongside deceased grandmothers and gunshot victims.

Murlynd stood in the center of town, his revolvers spitting out a stream of death until he was ringed by fallen corpses. And when his ammunition had run out and both gun barrels smoked from the heat, he drew that sword and charged into the mass of walking dead, beheading them with every swing until none remained. After that, dazed townsfolk emerged from the buildings and the town sheriff walked up to Murlynd, pressed his badge into Murlynd's hand and rode out of town, never to be seen again.

***

As sunset neared, Callana finished packing her saddlebags, emptying the last of her possessions from the trunk in the guest house. The ride into Deadwood was a calm one, the horse taking the path with a steady gait. Tying it off at Sly's, she stepped inside and Murlynd spotted her immediately and waved her over to his table.

"You should have a steak since it's your last night here - and Hew has a few hours left" he said, gesturing over at the sweating figure on the piano. Truth be told, Callana didn't much care for the style of music favored by the locals - it was jarring to her melodic ear, but Heward's playing couldn't be faulted.

"So what are you going to do when you return?" he asked mildly.

"I don't know but I can't just stay and do nothing and hope that this horror won't reach us here - the graveyard proved the lie of that."

"Fair enough" he said, adding "Just know that you have a home here and we'll do our best to defend it from whatever comes."

They ate their meal in silence after that but on this, her last night here, Callana found herself brimming with questions that hadn't occurred to her before now. Despite that, she still couldn't voice them. Finally, Heward joined them, breaking the tension by smiling broadly at Callana.

"I'm sorry to see you go Callana - I'll have to tell Millie at the general store to stop bringing in so much gingham", Heward joked.

"I do find it strangely exotic" she said, cracking a faint smile.

Banter aside, the mood was heavy and the three of them fell into silence. Heward ate ravenously, drank down four beers and finally they left and headed up to Hew's largish house on the edge of town. He led them into his study and unlocked the door within. Stepping inside, they emerged into a brightly-lit domed chamber considerably larger than the house, dominated by a huge pipe organ in the center. The ampitheatre-like sides held several rows of full-length mirrors.

"Now" Heward said, "There's that little problem of you coming back here because as you might imagine, this is a somewhat out of the way place." Opening a lacquered box, the portly man lifted out a brass key and walked over to Callana.

"Welcome to the Illuminuti!" Heward said, grinning broadly. "All you have to do is press this key to any sizeable mirror, think about Deadwood and it will let you step through to here - well, my wardrobe to be precise."

"Now there's the matter of getting you home" and he sat at the organ, muttering about harmonic resonances and the octave of Oerth. Operating the pedals and keys with ease, he played several strange-sounding melodies and then with a loud "Aha!" played a series of notes that caused a ringing chime to sound from one of the mirrors. Looking that way, Callana saw the surface of the mirror begin to glow like the moon on a still lake.

Turning to Murlynd, who had been silent since dinner, Callana looked him in the eye and said "I know you have responsibilities here and if you hadn't found me on that strange metal ship I don't know if I'd ever have found my way home. I'll come back if I can."

Murlynd nodded, saying "You might find like we did, that home is no longer where it was but where we make it."

Eyes tearing up despite her willing them not to, she quickly turned away only to see Heward failing the same struggle. Callana hugged him fiercely and then picked up her saddlebags, walked to the shining mirror - and vanished into its depths.

As the glow faded, Heward turned to Murlynd, seeing he'd restored his stoic expression. "Shouldn't we have told her about Zagyg & Keogh?"

"No", Murlynd shook his head faintly "Things are bad enough without taking away more hope."