The Fourfold Key

Ruth groaned and opened her eyes, only to shut them tightly again against the blinding light of the sun. What happened? she wondered. Then all the memories of her fall came flooding back. She gasped and quickly sat up, ignoring the blinding pain in her eyes and the aching pain in the back of her head, and looked around.

She was at the edge of a glade in the middle of a forest. In the middle of the glade, there was a small cottage with a thatched roof. In the disoriented state Ruth was in, the only thing she did was stand up, the photo of her father clutched tightly in her hand, and stumble clumsily toward the cottage.

At the door of the cottage she knocked feebly on the thick oak door. The door was answered by a heavyset, middle-aged woman with what looked like a medieval dress on. At the sight of the bedraggled state Ruth was in, the lady gasped and gestured for her to enter. She helped Ruth to a straw bed by the wall next to the fireplace. Ruth laid weakly onto the bed, not minding the lumpiness of the mattress. The woman walked to the other side of the room and came back a minute later with a bowl of steaming broth. She pulled up a stool and began to feed the broth to Ruth. When the bowl was empty, she got up and came back with a plate of crustless bread. When the plate was clean, she rose for a third time and poured her a cup of tea. Feeling a bit better, Ruth propped herself up and took the cup in her shaking hands. As she was sipping her tea, the woman began to talk.

“Now, dear,” she began in a soft voice. “Tell me why you were a’knockin’ at my door in your condition.”

Ruth set down her tea. “I don’t really know how I got here. I was on a bridge, and...I heard a voice. Lila’s, I think. And I dropped my picture…and then I fell into the river and woke up here.”

“Alright,” the lady nodded slowly. “Who’s Lila? What is the picture of, and which river?”

“Lila Knicks is my best friend, the picture is of my dad, and the river is called Crawdad Creek.”

“Hmmm,” the lady frowned. “The closest thing to me is Dwarfshead River, and that’s a mile away. And that’s a river, not a creek. I can’t think of any creek by that name, but perhaps people in your area call it something different than what it’s really called. Do you remember dragging yourself at all after you fell in the river? It is a possibility.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t pull myself anywhere, and, if I did, wouldn’t I be all scratched up?” She asked, holding out an unscathed arm for emphasis.

The woman stared at a crack in the floor, lost in thought. Then she seemed to remember that she had a visitor. Her head shot up and began to speak. “Oh! My goodness, how rude of me. My name is Idabelle. What is your name?”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Idabelle. I’m Ruth. Ruth McKenzie. And you don’t have to apologize. I forgot to introduce myself, as well.”

“Please, no Ms. I dislike formalities. Are you comfortable? I could get you some more tea if you like.” She got up and was moving for the kitchen. Then she stopped and frowned. “What did you say your last name was?”

“McKenzie. And I’m very comfortable, thanks for asking. Where exactly do you live? I’d like to get back as soon as possible. Lila’s probably drowned in a flood of her own tears by now.”

“I’m just shy of the center of the Gnome Forest.”

“Gnome Forest?” Ruth asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. “I’ve never heard of the Gnome Forest. Are there any other towns or cities nearby?”

“Yes. The Fairy Kingdom is on the border of the bottom half of the Forest, and the Middle Kingdom is located in the center.”

“Is this a joke?” Ruth said warily, a heavy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “None of those places exist! This is not funny, Idabelle. Do you know where Hot Springs, North Carolina is?”

Idabelle’s face was clouded with confusion, “No, I’ve never heard of Hot Springs, or North Carolina. And these places most certainly exist. I’ve lived in several of them over the course of my life.”

“Well, I don’t know why you would lie to me, or if you’re just confused, but Hot Springs, North Carolina does exist! What part of the USA is this?” Ruth shouted, confusion replaced with panic. “I just want to go home! I don’t have time for your silly jokes!”

“My dear, I’m afraid this is no joke. This isn’t the USA. This is Adonia.”