The Greatest Pub in the Multiverse, page 9
part #1 of Greatest in the Multiverse Series
“Gloria! Ha’dran!” Tarvo called, raising his voice above the noise. “Gather your things! The gateway has opened!”
James
Moira shifted through the portal for a second time, returning from O’Sullivan’s with a bottle of Irish whiskey. Apparently, ale wasn’t strong enough for the conversation they were about to have.
The rest of them grabbed a seat around the bar, and Rudy made his way behind the counter to face them, like he would an audience. “You’ve noticed the area of the pub doesn’t quite fit with O’Sullivan’s space, haven’t ya?”
“It’s pretty tough to overlook,” James admitted.
“That’s because this place doesn’t exist in our reality,” Rudy said. “Or in any reality—not really.”
James, Kathy, and Liam exchanged uneasy glances. Moira slammed back a shot of whiskey and poured herself another. She pulled out four more shot glasses, filled those too, and passed them around.
“I don’t think you’re making any sense, Uncle Rudy. Between what realities?”
Rudy sighed. “To be honest, I’ve never quite wrapped my head around it myself. All I know is that our world isn’t the only one that exists. Our . . . universe runs parallel to others. There are other Earths. Worlds where different choices have led to different outcomes. Worlds where magic exists, where there are men who fight wars with creatures you couldn’t begin to imagine, and others who have known nothing but peace and security. Some of those worlds connect here, to this place. But this place is outside of any of them. It was created by a magic long forgotten. For some reason, your family was chosen as the caretakers.”
“A curse is what it is.” Moira nearly spat the words. “You should know better than anyone. It’s nothing but asking for trouble.”
There was a sadness in Rudy’s eyes. “Lots of heartache, ya. But this pub also saved my life. It probably saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. And it’s done a lot of good for you too.”
Moira scoffed.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Kathy lifted her hands. “What kind of half-baked tale are you trying to spin on us, Rudy? Is this some kind of joke? You’re talking of magic and other worlds? Next you’ll be telling us of leprechauns and fairies. I have to admit this is a pretty impressive setup. And I don’t understand the glowing doorway we walked through to get here. But there has to be a logical explanation for all of this.”
“Just because you don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it’s illogical,” Rudy said.
“Why don’t you want it open, Mum?” Liam asked. The man seemed less concerned with the ridiculousness of the claim and more worried about why his mother had been upset by the notion of it. Which in some way made perfect sense.
“Always some sort of trouble coming though those gateways,” Moira said. Whether she realized it or not, she’d waved a hand toward a side wall adjacent to where they’d entered. It was only then that James noticed a series of four doorways, each identical to the one they’d come through. Frames lined with stone, each with a smooth round inset, the perfect size for an orb. A small platform rested below each one, like a kind of landing pad.
“One night it’s gnomes, the next its some paladin on their way to fight some evil. Then before you know it, that evil sneaks through because someone didn’t shut the damn portal behind them. We were never meant to muck in the affairs of other worlds. If you ask me, each universe should keep its own problems to itself.”
James didn’t know what to think. Gnomes? Paladins? Evil? This was exactly the stuff of his mother’s stories.
He was no stranger to the term “multiverse.” He’d seen enough sci-fi and Marvel movies to understand how different decisions made can create alternate worlds, but he was having a hard time wrestling with the thought that a doorway to them all existed in the storage room of O’Sullivan’s.
It was too ridiculous for him to believe.
“That’s a bit dramatic,” said Rudy. “You know there are wards in place to prevent anyone truly malevolent from coming through.”
Moira pursed her lips. “Those wards aren’t enough if the Tíogar Mór are able to drain their magic.”
James was barely listening to their exchange. “So these people . . . from other dimensions, come through these gateways, and then what? They have a pint and go home?” James lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I’m sorry, but this all seems a little farfetched.”
“That’s precisely what happens,” Rudy said before taking another sip of his drink. “The Pint and Portal serves as a refuge for weary travelers, for heroes. Those seeking to do good in the world. It’s a place of rest for those who need it most. Whatever magic runs this place also decides who will be let inside. The orbs don’t work for just anyone, and the magic of the tavern seems to control how many patrons are able to enter. Otherwise, I suppose we’d potentially get millions of customers coming through the gateways, and we wouldn’t have the space.” Rudy let out a hearty chuckle.
James took a sip of his whiskey. The smooth caramel and oak notes were the touch of familiar he needed to settle his thoughts. He let the warmth of it roll down the back of his throat and into his belly.
He couldn’t shake off his encounter with Michael and how the man had called him the gatekeeper. He knew O’Sullivan’s had been in his family for generations but . . . an inter-dimensional speakeasy?
He struggled with what question to ask next. It was especially challenging because he didn’t know if he believed any of it. His brain was struggling with the reality of where his body sat. Instead, his thoughts spilled out in a series of questions.
“How did my family come to be the ones to run this pub? How long has it been here? Did my ancestors build this place? How did they set it up? Why—”
Rudy placed a firm grip on James’ shoulder to stop the stream of questions from flowing. “Easy now. One question at a time. But the truth is, we don’t know. We know that ancient magic created it. Your mother was always more interested in it than your father. But your grandfather didn’t know how it worked, either. Your parents were in much the same position you are now. The only difference is that when your grandfather passed, this pub was still running. Your parents had already been helping in a limited capacity before then. Once they were on their own, your dad wanted nothing to do with it. However, your mother insisted they take over. Your father loved her so much that he carried on helping her. They learned what they needed as they went.
“For whatever reason,” Rudy continued, “your pub, O’Sullivan’s, in our dimension is the only one that controls the master key and switch. If your orb isn’t set into the wall nobody else gets in. We don’t know why it was set up this way, just that it is.”
Kathy was shaking her head. “I’ve seen all of the financial records for the bar,” she said. “Sure, the pub was making a lot more before Mom passed, but it wasn’t enough to stock two bars. How did we fill the shelves? Where did all the money go?”
Rudy laughed. “Some of it from the shop. Some of it from other worlds. Some of it is magic. Most of the people who come through those portals have never heard of a Euro. So they pay what they can or make deals. Sometimes an adventurer is so grateful for the time they spend here that they bring barrels of ale in appreciation. Some of the ingredients will come from our world, sometimes we acquired things that were only available elsewhere. But like I said, this place runs on magic, so sometimes you find it has exactly the ingredients you need.”
Rudy grabbed his plate of strudel and tilted it to the others. “Hah! If only I could be so lucky with my baking!”
James’ head was straining under the weight of everything he was hearing. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples in an effort to relieve some of the pressure.
“So, not only am I forced to get one failing pub up and running,” he said, “I also have to run a second one—one that runs on . . . deals with parallel worlds and magic?”
“You don’t have to do a damn thing.” Moira stood. “Your father had the right idea shuttering this place. He should have tossed that orb away. That Micheal was always a troublemaker too. I don’t know why your dad trusted him the way he did. If you know what’s what, you’ll do the same. I want to see O’Sullivan’s do as well as any of you, but Pint and Portal? This place was better off forgotten.” She threw back the rest of the whiskey in her glass and stormed through the gateway. The waves of the portal caused her outline to linger and expand like ripples in a pond.
“Don’t mind Moira.” Rudy looked at Liam. “No offense to your mom. I hate to say not everything always went as it should. Moira, like the rest of us, went through some bad experiences. She’s never quite looked at this the same since.” He let out a heavy sigh. “In a lot of ways, I can’t say I blame her.”
Liam frowned. “What kind of experiences?”
“Not my story to tell,” Rudy said. “She’ll tell you if she wants you to know. Some things made her paranoid of what might appear through one of those gateways, and what it might mean if they gained access to this place. It’s best to remember that not everyone who came through those gateways had an easy life. Most didn’t, actually. You throw people from other worlds or cultures with different rules into one room and misunderstandings are bound to happen from time to time. But that doesn’t mean they were bad people. Some of them were only lost. Others were trying to find their way.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” James asked.
A warm smile graced Rudy’s lips. “No. Hardly ever.”
A low, resonant hum rolled through the room, like the distant stirrings of a storm. It seemed to pulse in the walls and floor, a subtle vibration James could feel in his chest. Rudy’s ears piqued, his head snapping up as his sharp gaze fixed on the four archways along the wall. James followed his line of sight just as a sharp blue light sparked in the second gateway from the left. It flared like a struck match before swelling and rippling outward.
Rudy’s gaze darted to the switches in the corner of the room.
“You opened the gates?” He shouted the words as he stood, poised to run to the lever, but instead, he froze, his gaze focusing back on the new gateway forming. “That lever allows travelers to find us!”
“I was trying to switch on the lights.” Liam’s eyes darted from Rudy to the opening portal, back to the switch. “I can turn it off.”
Rudy raised a large hand to stop Liam from standing. “It’s too late. If you close the portal now, who knows what will happen to those coming through.”
Concern crossed Liam’s face as he paused, eyeing the swirling array of lights that was forming a new doorway.
Kathy gripped the table and pushed herself to a standing position. “Do we need to be worried?”
“Not likely.” Rudy shook his head. “Unless they’re thirsty.”
Light expanded into a swirling vortex of light blue and green. Based on what Moira and Rudy were saying, James had no idea who, or what, he expected to come through.
Seconds ticked by as the gate formed and remained unchanged. Though the sight was a spectacle enough on its own. James was starting to think perhaps it opened by mistake; maybe nobody was coming through after all.
Then a shape emerged from beneath its surface, and a red-haired woman about the same age as him stepped through. She was dressed in a cloak and cradling a small black satchel under one arm. In her right hand she held a short dagger, the blade reflecting the yellow and blue of the pub’s lights.
A gasp escaped from Kathy’s lips.
It wasn’t the dagger that shocked James, though, it was who came through the portal next.
Three short, stout people—one woman, with two long blonde braids hanging down the front of her, and two men. One was older, one younger.
James wasn’t one to judge appearances, but he wasn’t sure that they were even human. Both wore what he’d consider to be capes, and the older one had a weapon of his own strapped to his back. If he wasn’t mistaken, it appeared to be a very hefty battle axe. Their faces were like rough leather—even the younger ones’ skin was creased and worn. There was something very . . . familiar about them. Like something out of a Peter Jackson film.
“Are those . . . dwarves?” The words were barely audible, but he couldn’t stop them from leaving his lips.
“Ya.” Rudy’s answer was barely more than a breathy whisper. “That’s exactly what they are.”
Emma
Emma’s feet landed softly on a hard wooden floor. Her dagger rested easy in her hand. It had been months since she’d had to protect herself, but some habits didn’t die. If it had been nearly two decades since Tarvo had traveled through the portal, there was no telling what might be on the other side.
Despite Demon Box’s protests, she saw her one, and maybe her only, chance to get off a world that had come completely undone, and she had to take it.
You never listen to me, Demon Box complained. We could have ended up in the fiery pits of a volcano, or far worse.
“Far worse?” she asked with an eyebrow raised. “I already have to put up with your whining.”
In truth, there was no telling if this pub Tarvo had remembered still existed, but they took that chance any time they’d traveled to a new world. The threat wasn’t unique just because Demon Box hadn’t been the one to open the portal.
If we didn’t leave that world with them, Emma directed her thoughts toward her inter-dimensional friend, we would have likely gotten stuck there forever, and you would never get a chance to be fixed.
She got the distinct sense that Demon Box was rolling its eyes, though it didn’t have eyes, so she had trouble visualizing what it was broadcasting to her.
Of course, they hadn’t landed in a volcano, they had landed . . . here. A pub—of course a pub, just as Tarvo had said. Every world she’d visited so far had its own version of O’Sullivan’s pub in Cuanmore. Why that was, she’d never really bothered to question. Her assumption was the pub had existed for so long, the timeline would have had to split millennia ago for it to have never been built.
Even though they had left from the remnants of O’Sullivan’s, wherever this was, whatever world it was, this pub wasn’t the same one.
Tarvo had called it The Pint and Portal.
Her newfound dwarven companions, Tarvo, Ha’dran, and Gloria ran through behind her. The portal they had entered hadn’t been all that different from the ones Demon Box created when it was functional.
My portals are a little less bumpy. The box’s voice rattled in her head. I think I’m going to be sick.
Normally, Emma would have had a witty comeback for the conscious device, but for right now, she remained silent, letting her gaze and other senses take in the surroundings. The air in this place lacked the metallic char of Tarvo’s world, and she was more than happy for the reprieve for her lungs. The smells were replaced with a staleness and layers of dust that suggested it had sat empty for some time.
Tarvo let out a heavy breath as a hint of a smile crossed his face. “It hasn’t changed.” The dwarf’s voice was raspy with wonder. “It’s just as I remember.”
He seemed to break himself out of his trance long enough to turn and grab an orb from the wall beside the portal. At the same instant, the gateway winked out, leaving the space they’d entered feeling darker and dingier than it had a moment ago.
“Liam!” cried a portly, older gentleman who stood behind a table on the far side of the room. “Pull the switch!”
Emma held her breath as a younger man with black hair, a short beard, and piercing dark eyes stood from where he was seated and darted for the wall. The man pulled a large blocky switch down, and a hum that she had barely noticed now fell quiet.
Liam. How many years had it been since she’d seen the man? Since she’d seen any version of the man. Because of course this man wasn’t, couldn’t be, the Liam she’d grown up alongside. The man who she’d fought monsters with, who had become not only her very best friend but also the man she hadn’t realized she was madly in love with.
Not until it was too late.
When she’d first started traveling between worlds, according to the code of the Hunters of the Cursed, Liam should have arrested her for possessing magic. Instead, he let her go. It was that day that she’d traveled through a portal for the first time. Out of necessity, she’d made new friends: Aldrich, the mad scientist and creator of Demon Box, and Vespa, the empathic fairy who wanted nothing more than to help people discover what they needed.
She’d seen several versions of Liam immediately after that, which made her think she’d have infinite chances to win him back. Each world being a variation of her own meant she’d encounter familiar people who had lived completely different lives. But over the last few years and countless worlds, she’d yet to see another man who possessed his face.
Now, here he was again. She wondered if she’d ever get used to Liam’s features being attached to someone who didn’t remember her.
“Tarvo?” The older man said the dwarf’s name as he moved from behind the table.
Tarvo had finished putting the orb in his satchel as he looked up. His eyes were still in a half daze. “Rudy?”
Barely a blink exchanged between the man and the dwarf before both of them broke out in a sprint toward each other at a surprising pace given size and advanced age. Though based on what she knew of dwarves, Tarvo was likely far older than the man he had called Rudy.
The men wrapped their arms around each other in a deep and knowing bear hug. Tears streamed down both of their faces.
Wherever this place was, there was no danger here.
“I never thought I’d see you again.” Rudy’s face was wet and contorted with unrestricted emotion.
Emma had never imagined she’d see the dwarf cry, but rivers of tears flowed down Tarvo’s face as well. He shook as he embraced the man.
