Chapter 3

So many bizarre, intense, and incredible things had just happened in the last 20 minutes. I felt like I was experiencing emotional lag. Altogether the terror of the shadowy wasps, the pull of the smell of heavenly bread, and the hope of being pulled to safety crashed through my system over and over like a discount washing machine.

Oh yeah, and throw in some more fear. A row of long, curved machetes pointed at my chest like a row of feral teeth. Holding these were men covered from helmets to boots in studded leather. They wore muted olive tabards with an emblem shaped like the silhouette of a sword against one of those corkscrew-shaped trees. I sat on the cold ground which was packed hard from foot traffic. My shoulder and ankle throbbed.

As I briefly glanced around I noticed that I was in what looked to be a wooden, medieval fort, like a stage you would see at the renaissance faire. Logs protruded from the tall, wooden wall to function as alcoves and battlements for archers, of which I saw were several.

I managed to locate the source of that wonderful smell too. A large cast-iron pot sat in the middle of the circular fort over a large fire. Several men sat on benches around it eating what looked to be some kind of porridge. There were about 50 men in total. All of them were staring at me.

A stout and short man with an air of command and a large handlebar mustache addressed me. Actually, it was more like he shouted at me, even though I was only a few feet away from him.

“What yas be doin’ out gates past dark, stranger?”

I was too stunned to speak. I was hardly expecting anyone to speak English in this new world. Apparently I was taking too long. The short man, presumably the captain, kicked my foot. My hurting one.

“Oh! Uh, I’m not from around here.” I could have slapped myself for stating something so obvious. The large mustache wiggled at me.

“Nah, shax. Bit strung on mead are we? Not what I asked. What in brimstone are yas doin’ wanderin’ mana beast domain? Not e’en a sword proper?

Mana, like magic? I remembered then the ball of light that exploded behind me out of nowhere without even a trace of heat. I remembered the grip of the unnatural shadows around my ankles. This world had magic! The implications were staggering.

I saw him move to kick me again so I rushed an answer.

“I…I got lost. I don’t remember how to get back.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him that I fell through a hole in the sky. From another world, no less.

The man growled, clearly unsatisfied by my answer.

“A fine place to lose yourself an’ forget, stranger. Name. Out with it!”

I knew he was losing patience with me, but I didn’t know if I could give him any answers that could appease him.

“Alaster, Alaster Cr…” I was cut short.

“Alaster?” The man’s eyes went wide. “Nah, shax! You feign!” Something about what I’d said was really getting under his skin. His face went a whole shade redder. I assumed he was accusing me of lying. The hands holding the machetes tightened.

Just then, the bald man in the simple leather jerkin put a gentle hand on the captain’s shoulder and whispered something into his ear. By contrast, the stout man wasn’t good at whispering at all.

“True but…this boot scraper?” Then something the bald man said got my attention.

“If he is Alaster…will claim him.” That didn’t sound ominous at all. And it sounded like prison. But maybe I just misunderstood? Either way, I was surprised that something about my name was familiar to them.

Am I some kind of prophetic Chosen One? I doubt it. I’ve probably played a few too many video games. Then again, anything was possible in a world of magic.

My curiosity got the better of my judgment. Not for the first time nor the last. I had to get to the bottom of this strange connection I might have with this world. And if I was able to figure out that connection, I might find a way back home.

The captain’s mustache relaxed, although his eyes still bore into me.

“Aighty stranger. It’s to Vivenheim with yas tomorrow. Yas kind will claim ye less ye feign. For yas sake, ye bedn’t not feign.”

He raised a hand. The machetes retracted and sheathed like the paw of a mountain lion.

“Osner!”

“Yes, captain.”

“Get stranger here a bowl an’ mat. Keep eye on ‘im. You ‘n Ysbek to Vivenheim tomorra. Take ‘im twhere he needs be, an’ take missive to the Rook bouts yon encroachin’ manticores.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Sir.” The soldier named Osner appeared to be the polar opposite of the captain. He was soft-spoken and tall. So tall in fact that the standard-issue leathers he was wearing left exaggerated gaps in his armor. He was clean shaven and greeted me with a warm smile.

We were then approached by the bald-headed man with the simple leather jerkin and short white beard. His movements were peaceful and calculated, as though he meditated as he walked.

“Let me see your wounds.” He spoke with calm authority.

He gently lifted my arm and hummed as he waved his other hand over my arm, shoulders, back, chest, and legs. It was almost like getting scanned by a TSA wand at airport security. He hovered over my injured shoulder and a soft white light emanated from his hand. A smell like spearmint wafted from it.

You know when you have a headache, and then you rub your temples just right to alleviate some of the pressure? It felt kind of like that. Then I felt my collar bone snap back into place. A quick burst of pain lanced through me, causing me to freeze, but then it dissipated. I hadn’t even known I had broken it. I was gobsmacked.

I tested my shoulder. It was still sore, but that burning pain was gone. The man then moved to my ankle. More aware now of what to expect, I braced myself as it popped back into place. Then I moved it around.

“That’s amazing.” I said in a soft whisper. The bald man looked up at me, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Have you never been healed before?”

I started to shake my head, then made a dramatic show of scratching my head.

“Hmm.. I think maybe, one time? I don’t remember.”

He turned to Osner, who was still waiting patiently to take me to my food and bed.

“An ill omen.” He pursed his lips so that they hid beneath his small white beard. “Strange ebbings flow from the mana of the world. The stranger’s memory has been affected. To what extent, I cannot say.”

The drone beasts must have been those wasp-like things with those wicked shadow traps. I can definitely say my memory was working just fine. Maybe a little too fine. How could I forget the ethereal room in white, or falling from the arch in St. Louis, through a treeline, and into a lake? Or those hideous mandibles grasping to tear me to shreds?

I might have an easier time if these people think I have magical amnesia. I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep it up. It was not going to be as long as I originally expected.

Osner smiled. “Full a mysteries, ain’t yas?” Don’t despair lad. I’m sure you’ll find the answers you need in Vivenheim.” I hoped so too.

Osner ushered me towards the cauldron. I was mad excited for this food. Osner grabbed the ladle and poured me a heaping helping of the thick porridge into a wooden bowl. There wasn’t a spoon, but I could figure it out. We sat at one of the benches that made a semicircle around the fire. A pair of other soldiers talked in hushed tones, glancing my way.

Down the hatch! Without being invited I tipped up the bowl so a glob of steaming porridge slid into my mouth. I had a hard time swallowing the first mouthful. For one, it burned my tongue instantly and I popped my mouth open, breathing in and out rapidly to try to cool it down. Then, once it finally went down, it tasted like porridge alright..if it had been left on the stove for three days. Just bitter and burnt.

Osner half-smiled apologetically, like he read the expression on my face.

“I cn imagine fare’s better in Vivenheim,” he said.

I resisted a nod. It was time to play dumb.

“My memory’s fuzzy on that. Can you tell me about it?

“About what, Viveheim? What yas like to know about it?”

“Any and everything?” It was my turn to smile apologetically.

I had to admit, after that first gulp it got a little better. At least I didn’t feel like I was going to puke anymore. As much as the flavor was terrible my need was greater. After a full day of panic, confusion, and running for my life I needed all the energy I could get. Without being asked, Osner poured me a second bowl. I thanked him and took to it greedily.

“Well, Vivenheim is the largest city this side of Mantrapper in Vivien proper.” So Vivien was like a county kind of, with Vivenheim being the main city? Wait, what about that one thing he said?

“Mantrapper?” I asked.

Osner raised an eyebrow. “Yas really hit your head lad. Mantrapper be largest river in Vivien. Many drown ins seasonal floodin’, which splains the name.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I realized I should ask more about Vivenheim itself, since that’s where Osner would be taking me tomorrow.

“So what’s in the city?” I asked.

“What’s nae in the city?” Osner asked. He looked amused. “Royal palace, noble houses - here he nodded to me in a strange way -, an’ stadium market are some of many luxuries yas can enjoy. Well,” he chuckled to himself, “that is, if yas purse is big enough.” He winked, then yawned openly. It had been a long day for both of us.

I patted my stomach and yawned too. It still was curious to me why yawning was contagious. Scientists still couldn’t figure it out. But maybe the scientists here were different? Was there even a need for them in a world of magic? ((was he implying I was some kind of noble?))

“Well, I’m ready for bed” I said. He gave me a raised eyebrow with a bit of a smirk. I realized why when he walked me to the back of the fort to a plain reed mat lying flat next to the wooden wall.

“Here’s bed” he chuckled. He left to cross the fort.

The cold was seeping through my still-soaked clothes. I was grateful when Osner came back with a folded roll. I unfurled it to reveal a plain creme-colored wool tunic. Seeing as we were all men here I quickly dropped my soggy drawers. The tunic started itching when I put it over my head. But it was warm. And dry. It was weird not having underwear, but at least I was covered. He dropped a pair of leather sandals next to me. No velcro unfortunately, so I had to manually figure out how to tie the laces. Ah, I’d worry about it tomorrow. I laid down on the reed mat.

“Thanks Osner.”

“I accept yas thanks, stranger.”

Osner turned away from me and rolled out his own reed mat. He sat, legs crossed. I guessed he would have to keep watch on me tonight.

I turned to face the wooden wall. I was hoping to sleep but my mind kept racing.

Deanna! Was this seriously the first time I thought about her since I fell off the arch? She’d probably be up worried till morning, then call the police to try and find me. I missed her..and her cooking. A tear welled up in the corner of my eye. It was the first time I felt truly alone, surrounded by strangers in a world of monsters, royalty, and magic.

Will I ever make it home?