《FantasyQuest》 Game Night ¡°There are other worlds. Countless fantastical realms. Tonight, we will journey deep within the stars of time and space, into one such world. A world of adventure. A world of terrors.¡± The boy paused. He stood at the head of a WalMart folding table in his basement. He was the game master. Seated before him was a hodgepodge mix of his friends from different places. ¡°You done?¡± a girl asked. The game master raised a finger. ¡°Choose your class carefully, Anabel. Your colleagues didn¡¯t, and that¡¯s why they are royally screwed.¡± It was at this moment that a freckled chap sitting next to Anabel leaned back a bit too far in his WalMart foldable chair and fell right over. ¡°Ehrm,¡± the boy murmured from beneath the table. ¡°I recommend cleric.¡± ¡°Cleric?¡± Anabel asked, peeking beneath the table. Anabel turned back to face the game master. ¡°What are my choices?¡± The game master removed a three-ring binder from his backpack, flipped through its pages, disengaged its lock, took out a sheet of paper, and placed it before Anabel. The paper was titled ¡°Character Sheet¡±. There were many words on that piece of paper. Far more than Anabel was content with. And few of them made any sense at all. Worst of all, there were many blank spaces. ¡°Oh come on, guys, this is like homework,¡± said Anabel. ¡°Can¡¯t we ride bikes like normal boys?¡± ¡°We ride wyverns,¡± said the freckled boy, now mostly back in his seat. ¡°You ride what?¡± squinted Anabel. ¡°Anyway,¡± said the game master. He removed what looked like a wand from his pencil bag and used it to point to the word Class towards the top of the paper. ¡°Your options are: Fighter, wizard, cleric, or thief.¡± ¡°What are they?¡± asked Anabel. The game master motioned to the freckled boy. ¡°Ernest is a wizard. He casts spells.¡± Then the game master turned to face a tall, quiet boy. ¡°And Gibbly is a warrior. He mostly swings things. Occasionally weapons. And sometimes he hits things too.¡± ¡°All true,¡± said Gibbly. A rare two words from him. He was a quiet one¡ªpreferred to listen, he¡¯d say, always with an amused, confident smile, sitting casual-like, yet with perfect posture somehow, handsome¡ªannoying really¡ªlook at him. Brooding eyes in the middle of a dull moment. What was he thinking about? Hitting things? Dark, sweeping hair. ¡°And then, Charlie,¡± the game master pointed to an empty chair, ¡°he is also a wizard, when he¡¯s not late. We have no clerics or thieves. Clerics are healers. Thieves are¡ª I don¡¯t know, thieves.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Anabel. ¡°So which is it?¡± asked Ernest. Anabel glanced between the three of them then shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Her smile softened the blow. ¡°Cleric then!¡± said Ernest. The game master raised a hand towards Ernest. ¡°Anabel, if I may. Imagine you¡¯re¡­ riding bikes. And a goblin comes along, right? No. Not a goblin. A bully. Right?¡± Anabel stared blankly at the game master. ¡°Now, do you hit him with a, uh, bike helmet? Or, do you say a prayer of holy protection, filling said bully with fear and causing him to run away? Or, do you use your brilliance to pinch air molecules with your fingertips at just the right angle and velocity to form a glob of fiery plasma, toss it at him, and explode him into a smoking pile of charred sea glass?¡± ¡°Dude,¡± Ernest said. ¡°This is exactly why we have too many wizards.¡± ¡°Fighter,¡± said Anabel. ¡°The helmet one?!¡± said Ernest. ¡°Well there¡¯s also thief¡­¡± said the game master. ¡°Nah,¡± said Anabel. ¡°I¡¯d hit him with the helmet.¡± The game master nodded soberly. ¡°Alright then. You are a fighter.¡± Ernest sighed. The game master walked over and stood behind Anabel. He reached for her character sheet. ¡°May I?¡± Anabel nodded and the game master rolled some dice a few times and scribbled throughout her sheet, then handed it back. ¡°I made some decisions for you. After our first session, should you want to adjust any of those decisions, I¡¯ll allow it. Once. Let¡¯s get into it.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The game master returned to the head of the table and consulted what looked like a mix between a school textbook and a bible. As he did, a door slammed upstairs, then footsteps from one side of the house to another. Dust fell from the basement ceiling. ¡°This house is too old for Charlie,¡± said Ernest. Faster footsteps down the stairs. ¡°Sorry sorry sorry,¡± said Charlie. Charlie had his jacket wrapped over his shoulders, a Victoria Secret bag in one hand, and a white box in his other. ¡°I found something incredible,¡± Charlie said. He looked up and surveyed the room. ¡°Oh, hey Anabel.¡± ¡°Hey Charlie,¡± she said with half a smile. ¡°Wait! Are you¡¯re playing?¡± ¡°I guess.¡± ¡°Heck yeah,¡± Charlie clapped. ¡°Guys, check this out.¡± Charlie dumped the bag out on the table. A dozen or so individually-wrapped shrimp-shaped candies poured out. ¡°Dude?¡± said Ernest. ¡°Slime Shrimps, Christmas edition. Guys, look at the wrapping. Look.¡± Ernest picked one up like it was a bug. ¡°Read the label. Read it!¡± said Charlie. ¡°Slime Shrimps,¡± read Ernest. ¡°And?¡± ¡°Christmas edition.¡± ¡°Yeah yeah yeah, and? And?¡± ¡°Cane sugar?¡± ¡°Give me that!¡± Charlie grabbed the piece of candy from Ernest and examined it. ¡°Here. Sour and spicy!¡± ¡°And shrimp-flavored. Dude. Why?¡± Ernest said. ¡°Not to eat!¡± Charlie said. ¡°Although, I could be convinced to try one. But no no, these are probably worth five dollars, each! Think how much they could be worth in a decade when Sea Treats Inc is defunct.¡± ¡°What¡¯s in the box?¡± asked the game master. ¡°Oh,¡± Charlie smiled wickedly, ¡°the box.¡± He raised his eyebrows. Anabel laughed. ¡°Charlie,¡± said Ernest, ¡°why are you carrying around shrimp candy in a Victoria Secret¡¯s bag.¡± ¡°The box,¡± Charlie said again, somehow with even more dramatic effect than the first time. ¡°Wanna know what¡¯s inside?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Gibbly. ¡°Behold¡­¡± Charlie gently picked up the white box and placed it in the center of the table. ¡°FantasyQuest.¡± The room was silent. ¡°It''s a plain white box man,¡± said Ernest. ¡°It¡¯s a game,¡± said Charlie, ¡°I think.¡± Ernest raised his eyebrows. ¡°What do you mean you think?¡± ¡°Looks like it doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s your box! How do you not know what it is? Where¡¯d you get it?¡± ¡°It was on my doorstep. Probably meant for Christmas. Look,¡± Charlie opened the box to reveal a red booklet with the words FantasyQuest written above a line art drawing of a dragon. ¡°Let me see that,¡± said the game master. He lifted himself up and reached out across the table to grab it. As he did, a small, flat matchbook fell from between the booklet pages. ¡°Matches?¡± squinted Gibbly. ¡°Why matches?¡± asked Ernest. ¡°Strange,¡± the game master shook his head. He carefully picked up the matchbook and examined it. It too was red with a picture of a dragon on its cover. Anabel got up and walked over behind him. ¡°Who made it?¡± ¡°Check the inside,¡± said Ernest. The game master flipped open the booklet. ¡°CuriousCorp,¡± he read. ¡°Printed 1975.¡± ¡°Woah,¡± said Ernest, ¡°this thing is twenty years old?¡± ¡°It looks brand new,¡± said Anabel. ¡°We don¡¯t have to play it now,¡± said Charlie, while inspecting one of his shrimp candies. ¡°Although, we definitely probably should.¡± ¡°Might as well,¡± said Ernest in a slump. ¡°Anabel went fighter.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that so bad?¡± Anabel asked. ¡°We need a cleric!¡± said Ernest. ¡°Charlie is in a coma, like always, and I lost a leg. Gibbly got turned into a duck.¡± ¡°A quackling,¡± corrected the game maser. ¡°Whatever.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just start over,¡± said Gibbly. ¡°And play this?¡± the game master said. He flipped through the booklet. ¡°There isn¡¯t much defined. Very loose rule system it seems.¡± The game master continued flipping. ¡°Look at this,¡± he turned the booklet towards us. ¡°It¡¯s an invitation, from,¡± he squinted, ¡°the Redrock Wizards¡¯ Guild. It¡¯s a quest. A quest to slay the red dragon.¡± ¡°That¡¯s how you win?¡± asked Ernest. ¡°I gotta say,¡± the game master nodded, ¡°it does look charming. This is all handrawn art. Super old school. Says here you can establish a wizard tower within a city, settle down, have followers.¡± ¡°What are the classes?¡± Ernest asked. ¡°Just wizard it seems,¡± said the game master. ¡°Heh, really?¡± asked Ernest. ¡°Not even warrior?¡± ¡°Can I still hit goblins with bike helmets?¡± asked Anabel. The game master shrugged, ¡°Says you can be an artificer and craft your own magical weapons too.¡± ¡°Alright. How do we start?¡± asked Ernest. ¡°Okay,¡± the game master held up a finger and finished reading the current page. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he flipped back towards the beginning. ¡°How to play¡­¡± ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna eat one,¡± said Charlie, eyeing his shrimp candy. ¡°Go for it,¡± said Ernest. ¡°Okay, you''ve convinced me.¡± Charlie tore off the wrapping and popped one in his mouth. ¡°Does it really taste like shrimp?¡± asked Anabel. Charlie nodded with a laugh, which quickly became a cough, followed by more laughter. ¡°Ew,¡± grimaced Anabel. ¡°Give me one.¡± Charlie obliged. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± said the game master. ¡°Wizard enrollment. Alphanumeric order.¡± ¡°Numeric?¡± asked Gibbly. ¡°So that''s¡­ Anabel, Charlie, then Ernest, then Gibbly,¡± said the game master. ¡°Okay, Anabel. You have eleven points. You may use points to obtain spell books or to unlock special abilities.¡± Anabel¡¯s eyes seemed to glaze over. ¡°Is this gonna take a while?¡± asked Charlie. ¡°Well,¡± said the game master, ¡°I can make the selections for you if you want?¡± ¡°Yes, let¡¯s do that,¡± said Charlie. ¡°Yeah, for this first time,¡± said Ernest. ¡°Very well,¡± said the game master. The game master slowly studied the manual and scribbled something next to each of our names. ¡°Okay, now, it¡¯s time to summon you in,¡± he said finally. He squinted then glanced up at the matchbook in Charlie¡¯s hands. ¡°Huh.¡± ¡°What?¡± asked Ernest. ¡°The matchbook,¡± said the game master, pointing at it. He examined the manual again before looking back up at Charlie. ¡°It says to stand and light the match to begin the game.¡± Charlie flipped opened the matchbook. A single black match was inside. ¡°Light it?¡± Charlie eyed the game master skeptically. ¡°It says, ¡®To begin, stand and light the match¡¯, so, yes.¡± Charlie scoffed a chuckle and tore off the match from the cardboard base then stood to his feet while examining it. ¡°Huh,¡± Charlie whispered. ¡°It¡¯s heavy.¡± He eyed the match between his fingertips. The match head was a deep black with a faint glistening starry texture. Light nearly seemed to bend at its edge. Charlie turned the match in his hand in awe. ¡°Charlie?¡± asked the game master. ¡°Hm?¡± Charlie uttered, glancing up at the others. ¡°So just light it?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± said the game master with a shrug. ¡°Why is there only one?¡± asked Charlie. ¡°Charlie, just light the match,¡± said Ernest. Charlie placed the match against the striker and pulled. I¡¯m afraid I have no more story here for you. Everything that happened next occurred far away. And if you want to hear that story, you won¡¯t be hearing it from me. You¡¯ll have to hear it from Charlie himself. Summoned As the match ignited, the room changed. It became a dark place. A cave, by the looks of it. I was alone. By the dim light of the flame I spotted a pair of raven eyes watching me. I stared into its eyes in horror. The match burned my fingers and then went out. There was only darkness then. A headache pooled across my mind. The silence there took my breath away. Some time passed. A sudden otherworldly shriek echoed off the walls. In it I found a surge of life and I ran only to bash my head against chalky stone. I lowered and blindly felt around. The ground was stoney, flat, and cold. My fingers traced engravings upon the ground. Far beyond the ache that encased me, I heard muddled, distant echoes. I sat for a time utterly overwhelmed, in shock, panicked. My breaths were only growing heavier. I pressed my hand against my chest. I was hyperventilating. No dream felt this real. I was horribly awake. So helplessly confused. My mind grasped for sense but found none. From the silence came suddenly the quiet echoed patter of distant footsteps. I called out something. My voice echoed. I stammered to my feet, arms flailing above and around, hands hitting against jagged stone above and on all sides. I stood, slowly turning, arms outward. Far into the distance in one direction was a glint of light. The only light. I stumbled forward towards it like it was home. On the ledge as I passed came into view the faint pair of Raven eyes. I recoiled at the sight of them but walked on, following the light. Footsteps behind me. I ran towards the light. A new wave of pain crashed over me. I was on the ground. There was a sharp, fiery, pain, across my back. A cold, heart-wrenching, dull soreness all across my body. From what felt like my toes I heard a hiss that seemed to echo endlessly. For all the pain and fear I had, it was the nausea that drove me to desperation. The world faded from me and I was sure that I was dead. ??? My eyes shot open. The stench of sulfur filled my lungs. Before me were metal bars. Beyond them, a torch on the wall. The torch''s flame flickered as if starved for air. A deep, grinding pain with the pattern of heartbeats faded into my consciousness. I tried to stand but only stumbled. Eventually, flung into a corner, I used the walls to stabilize myself and lift myself up. Some time passed. As my headache subsided, I realized I was shivering. ¡°Awake?¡± spoke the prison wall. It was an unfamiliar girl¡¯s voice. ¡°Yes,¡± my voice cracked. I patted and knuckled the wall, doubting and clinging onto the words. But there was now only silence. I slowly raised myself to my feet. ¡°Yes,¡± I repeated once more. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°A high man?¡± asked the voice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°You are! Aren¡¯t you? A high man, here? How?¡± ¡°What?¡± I whispered. The voice fell silent. I leaned my ear against the wall and waited, but I heard nothing. I waited but no voice came. I began to doubt there ever was one at all. ¡°Hey?¡± I whispered. I slapped the wall and nearly fell over doing so. ¡°Hey!¡± I shouted with desperation. ¡°Where are you from?¡± returned the voice. I took a step back from the wall and glared at it. I pressed my hand firmly against it, feeling the cold, grainy stone. I slid my hand over the stone, then held my hand near my face so I could see my fingers in the flickering light. I slowly touched my fingertips together, feeling the small grains of chalky dust from the stone wall. ¡°Where are we?¡± I whispered to my neighbor behind the wall. There was no answer. I pressed my ear up against the wall and waited. ¡°Who are you?¡± asked the voice. ¡°Are you important? What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Charlie.¡± ¡°Char-lee?¡± The voice seemed uneasy or confused. ¡°You hit your head, Charlie?¡± I paused and touched my head. ¡°Something did.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s the first thing you¡¯ve said that¡¯s made any sense. Are you truly asking me where we are?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Orc country.¡± ¡°Orc¡­¡± I whispered to myself. ¡°You must be important.¡± ¡°What¡¯s beyond these caves?¡± ¡°You mean above? There¡¯s nothing.¡± ¡°Nothing?¡± ¡°Desert is just about nothing, wouldn¡¯t you say? Sand for five horizons.¡± I leaned against the wall and fell into a sit. ¡°Know anyone?¡± she asked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Back home who might pay your ransom.¡± I shook my head to myself. ¡°Home,¡± I whispered. Suddenly there was a thud, enough to shake the dust off the stone walls and flicker the torch¡¯s flame. ¡°Quiet,¡± she whispered. ¡°What was that?¡± I asked. The wall was silent. It happened again. This time, there were distant high-pitched shrieks. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked, pounding the stone wall. The thuds continued until there didn¡¯t seem to be much dust left on the stone walls. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to them,¡± replied the voice. ¡°Who?¡± Suddenly a door I hadn¡¯t noticed flung open. A goblin-like creature entered the room. It looked shorter than me, a green tint of skin, yellow eyes, sharply tipped ears. It had the kind of eyes that saw you looking in and didn¡¯t seem to like it. ¡°Locusts,¡± the thing called out in a low voice. It had in one gnarled hand a wooden staff, and the other a silver key. ¡°Which of you is a boy?¡± it hissed. ¡°Me,¡± said the girl¡¯s voice behind the wall. ¡°No, wait,¡± I called out. I rushed over to the bars. The goblin lifted his silver key in the light lunged forward towards the cell of my neighbor. There were loud clanks and clashes of metal, with an occasional inhumane hiss or groan, until with a slam the next door prison cell gate flung open. A blonde girl emerged, shrouded by shadows. She was tall and moved slow. The light of the misbehaved wall torch flame danced briefly across her face, revealing wide blue eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a boy,¡± I called out. The goblin turned and eyed me over, then glanced between the two of us with a confused look. ¡°We are both boys,¡± said the girl. ¡°Bring both,¡± said a deeper voice from the darkness behind the goblin. With a groan, the goblin shoved his silver key into my door and then grabbed me by neck with alarming strength, pulling me out and up against the wall next to the girl, near the flame. As the goblin turned to lock their cells, I examined the girl. She was blond, light complexion, sharp features, pretty, chin was cut, lips too, and both were swollen. She was examining me back. ¡°What do we do?¡± I whispered to her, motioning towards the creature. The girl scowled at me and said nothing. ¡°Where are we going?¡± I whispered. ¡°Shut up!¡± the goblin hissed, turning to face me. Before I could close his mouth, it struck me across my brow with his staff. The woman helped me to my feet. As I steadied himself, the goblin barked something vile with a haphazard motion that suggested we better follow. Through the door was a deeper black I ever wished to see, especially while following such an unpleasant fiend. Blind and dizzy, I quickly bumped into the goblin. Before I could mumble an apology, I felt the slap of the goblin¡¯s staff against my arm. The swiftness gave me the sobering sense that the goblin could see plainly where I couldn¡¯t see at all. And when it happened again, surely less than a minute later, the staff swiftly swiped my side. ¡°I can¡¯t see,¡± I muttered, half crying with the rush of pain and fear. I hid within a corner of my mind gasping for a sense of where we were going, or why, let alone how any of this was happening at all. On the third or forth whack of the staff, I cursed myself for walking between the goblin and the girl, neither of whom seemed to have a problem seeing in the dark. As we walked on, curving to and fro and occasionally inclining up, my wailing arms sensed the already tiny tunnel was narrowing. I continued to bump against the goblin, but after a while, the hits ceased, though the goblin¡¯s hisses never did. I for a time contemplated trying my luck tackling the little bastard. He was at least a foot shorter than me. Perhaps when better lit, if ever, I thought to myself. We walked for what felt like an hour through the darkness. My fear compounded into exhaustion. Then the numbness came and I became the walk. A hint of light appeared far into the forward. I thought I had imagined it at first. Then I heard murmurs of life up ahead; a dull tapping, perhaps a hammer, and the occasional screech of metal. We eventually entered into the light. It was a cavernous city, full of pig-like goblins busying about. Other goblins too, including others like their goblin, and dark-eyed elves. The cavern was massive. ¡°Wow,¡± I gasped, hardly knowing I did. The goblin tisked and scowled at me, ¡°You barf-minded sloth!¡± A clangy, loud mess of compartmentalized metal rolled into view. Thick smoke poured into the room like death. ¡°A train,¡± I murmured. I wish I hadn¡¯t. For the goblin then kicked me in the shin and punched me in the face. The woman again helped me up, though this time with only one hand, and we followed the goblin onto the train. Two brawny pig-like creatures stood guard on either end of the train car. The train was nice on the inside. Blue leather seats, a lemon-cinnamon smell, otherworldly music. Never in my life had I felt so out of place. Gorgeous dark-eyed elves came and served drinks without any communication. The drinks just came. A pink sparkling something in a crystal bottle with an ornate top came to me. The girl got a yellow one. Mine had a label that said Clarity. I opened the top to smell it. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± the girl said with a glare. I closed it and set it aside. ¡°Where are you from?¡± she asked with a flare of disgust. It didn¡¯t seem like the type of question to answer. The goblin¡¯s drink was black. He drank it and another came to him just as quickly. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I whispered to the girl. She hadn¡¯t stopped glaring at me. ¡°You lied.¡± ¡°What?¡± She looked around and then back at me. ¡°You know someone.¡± I shook my head slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Someone¡¯s bailing you out,¡± she whispered. She surveyed the train then turned back to me. ¡°Or you¡¯re being sold,¡± she added. ¡°But who buys a boy?¡± I examined the other passengers. There were a few pig-like creatures and goblins, but the majority were large, green creatures with tusks. I glanced back at the girl. She was eyeing me cautiously. She looked afraid of me. ¡°Where are we going?¡± she asked. I squinted like she was mad and shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Why are you asking me?¡± There was commotion up ahead. Two men¡ªactual ordinary humans, by the look of it¡ªhad just stepped on board and were arguing with the pig-like creature in the front of the train car. One other pig from the back of the train car was rushing over to them. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I whispered to the girl. ¡°Do you know them?¡± ¡°No,¡± I whispered. The girl scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± I examined the men again, as if a closer look would make a difference. One of the men glanced over at me. ¡°You must know them!¡± said the girl. I turned to face her. ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone.¡± Suddenly the girl stood up and turned to face behind them. Our goblin escort leapt to his feet. ¡°Sit down!¡± ¡°Where is this train headed?¡± called out the girl to the other passengers. ¡°Silence!¡± the goblin shrieked. He swung his staff at her head, but she dodged. ¡°Where!¡± she cried out. The goblin tried swinging again, but she directed the staff away and into the wall. ¡°Dawn,¡± a voice called out from somewhere in the train car. The girl sat back down. Her face was white. The goblin towered over us from behind our seats, his staff raised. He cracked his staff across the girl¡¯s head from behind her. He hit her this time. ¡°Stay seated!¡± he hissed. He cracked the staff atop my head for good measure and then sat back down. I watched as the girl¡¯s eyes darted around. Her eyes were wild, nearly frantic. ¡°What?¡± I whispered to her. ¡°What is it?¡± She didn¡¯t seem to hear. She looked terrified. I continued watching her in silence, waiting for her to speak again. I watched as her pupils dilated and her breathing slowed. Finally, she turned to me. ¡°Get off here,¡± she whispered. ¡°What?¡± I asked in a panic. I glanced out the windows into darkness. The girl stood to her feet. ¡°Wait,¡± I grabbed her arm, ¡°Where are you going?¡± The goblin leapt to his feet and pulled back his staff with a shriek. But before he could swing, she ran past him and towards the back of the train car, away from me and away from the arguing orcs and men. As she and the goblin disappeared from sight, chatter broke out across the train cab. The argument between the men and orcs seemed to grow more intense, with frequent glances at me from all four of them. Suddenly the train lit up with red lights and screeched to a violent halt, slamming everyone into the seats in front of them. I ended up on the floor. The train doors flung open. An eerie multi-toned alarm blasted from all directions. I stumbled to my feet and maneuvered into the aisle. The two men and orc guards were on the ground. I stared out the open door. There was only darkness. From the flashing red lights I could see the train was in a giant cavern. I could make out a cluster of neon lights in the very far distance. I took a step towards the door and peered out. It looked like some sort of subterranean city was up ahead. ¡°I can help you,¡± said a voice behind me. I turned to face the voice. It was one of the two men that had been arguing with the orcs. He was tall, middle-aged, tan skinned, with brown hair. The other man, pale with black hair, and younger, stood behind him, watching. I peered beyond the two men at the orcs motionless on the floor. I shifted my eyes back to the man in front of me. ¡°My name is Jacob,¡± said the man, with his hands slightly raised, palms facing me. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I remained silent. I eyed the other man again then glanced back at Jacob. ¡°Charlie, yes?¡± asked Jacob, though he clearly knew. ¡°I can¡¯t help you if you exit here.¡± ¡°How do you know my name?¡± I demanded more than asked. The man remained silent. He glanced up over my head. I followed his eyes. Above the door was a countdown. Sixteen seconds. Fifteen. Fourteen. I turned back to the man and slowly stepped backwards off the train. The man nodded resolutely as if accepting of defeat. ¡°Well,¡± he sighed, and with a hand he dug through his pockets without breaking eye contact,¡± ¡°take this.¡± In a single graceful motion he removed a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and held it out to me. I glanced at the paper. ¡°What is it?¡± The man said nothing. He held his hand extended out to me. The tan paper was folded into a small diamond. I examined the man¡¯s face. His eyes were fixed intently on mine. Suddenly the train doors began to close. ¡°It¡¯s leaving,¡± I said. The man blocked the doors from closing with his free arm. ¡°Take it.¡± I stepped forward and grabbed the paper. As I did, the man lunged forward and stabbed me in the chest. Stone Keep I felt so cold and far from myself. I was without will, without direction, without a sense of time. It had to be some sort of sedative. I was seated again on the train. This time, an inner window seat. Out the window, I saw landscape. The sky was blue. Rolling icy white hills. Dark mountains in the distance. I looked out the window for what felt like days. I drifted in and out of sleep. ¡°Get up,¡± said a voice. I opened my eyes to darkness. The train was stopped. It was raining outside. I felt heavy and dizzy. So dizzy in fact that I dared not move. ¡°Go ahead,¡± the voice said to someone. I felt a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Can you stand?¡± I turned to face the pale man from before. The girl and goblin were missing. I stood slowly and followed the man off the train. We walked down a long, dark dirt path, through thick woods then under a wooden gate. Inside was a winding cobbled path that led us into a bustling market square. I could feel the sedative waning, but my senses were still strung about and left contorted. I was floating and I couldn¡¯t smell a thing. But I saw blacksmiths, cooks, street performers. Fresh bread, saddled horses, wooden signs with etched words. This was a city of men. We walked into a stone building, up a flight of stairs, or two, and into a small room. I fell into a bed. I didn¡¯t care about anything. I slept. I woke in a different room. It was larger. This bed was stiff. Five, maybe six, men were standing over me. I must have tried to sit up, or telegraphed my intent, because one of the men put his hand on my shoulder, keeping me down. The others, one by one, left the room. ¡°Easy,¡± said the man. He was the pale one who I had followed off the train. He and the room were dressed plainly. ¡°I¡¯m Paul.¡± I grunted. He slowly lifted his hand from my shoulder and took a seat next to my bed. I waited, expecting a question, but one did not come. ¡°I bet you¡¯re hungry,¡± he finally said. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Breakfast is in the works. Wasn¡¯t expecting you to wake so soon.¡± I glanced out the window. It was dark outside. ¡°I was stabbed.¡± Paul nodded. ¡°That was Jacob.¡± I could sense the disapproval. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry about that. He means well.¡± I felt a flare of fear and then anger, but then I quickly became paralyzed by some far grander realization. I¡¯m still here. Here. Where is here? What is this? Have I gone mad? I shook my head and took a forced breath. The room was still. The man was calm and silent. It bugged me. Made him seem in control. I wanted that control. But I had far too many questions burning inside me to just sit there in silence. ¡°Tell me where I am,¡± I said finally. ¡°Haroldville,¡± he said. ¡°Stone Keep.¡± He had a rare sincerity about him, in his voice, his eyes, his movements. A peace. The kind of peace that seemed mad in any world, his or mine. An expression so deeply neutral, steady. His gaze, attentive, though calm and kind. Intense yet easy. ¡°Stone Keep,¡± I said softly, with half a nod. It meant nothing. But I wasn''t sure I wanted him to know that. I needed better questions. This particular room sure fit the name. Stone walls, stone ceiling, stone floor. On the opposite wall, a desk made of, indeed, stone. With a wooden chair, how unsuited, and a window, if you could call it that, small and barred. Not an encouraging sight. ¡°So?¡± I finally said. ¡°You¡¯ve captured me. Explain yourself.¡± The man apparently Paul glanced up. His face was expressionless. He didn¡¯t answer at first, but then he looked down, breaking his gaze from me for the first time since I had awoke. ¡°Rest now.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel restful.¡± ¡°All your questions answered, and a few of our own, after breakfast.¡± ¡°Why not now?¡± ¡°Because Tom isn¡¯t here yet.¡± ¡°Who is he?¡± ¡°These are questions.¡± ¡°Yes. They are.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not free to answer questions.¡± I held back a snarky comment and closed my eyes. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Conditions didn¡¯t improve at breakfast. Paul had left and I was alone, save for a pair of over-armored guards posted at both doors of the small dinning room. Served, to me alone, were omelets and some sort of poached egg french toast donut. In and out was a rather skittish cook who, despite her love of all things eggs, hadn¡¯t yet seemed to discover salt or pepper. To make things worse, there was a tick tock¡ª the sort you¡¯d expect from a grandfather clock¡ª coming from somewhere, and for the life of me and despite my best effort, I couldn¡¯t find it. ¡°Is there a tick-tock? Like from a clock?¡± I finally asked the cook. She looked horrified at the question and only barely glanced at me before scurrying away out of sight deeper into her kitchen. I leaned over and glanced under the table. Where is the dang thing? ¡°Do you always rhyme?¡± asked one of the guards. It took me quite by surprise to hear from a guard. ¡°You¡¯re allowed to talk?¡± I asked. ¡°And why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said. I hadn¡¯t a good answer to that. It was at this moment that I wondered if this was all just a bad trip from rare toxins in the shrimp candy. Had they been expired? That might be it. The tick-tock brought me back to the room before me. ¡°Do you hear it?¡± I asked the talkative guard. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So you do hear it! Where¡¯s it coming from?¡± He glanced towards the kitchen without an answer. I followed his gaze. It seemed that in the cook¡¯s sudden retreat, she had left the stove on. Eggs were sizzling and starting to pop. This room had a proper window. It was day now, and a beautiful one. I could see other guards, not unlike mine, posted up at different entrances across a lovely garden courtyard, while fancy others leisurely walked to and fro. I had eaten just about enough eggs and was growing rattled from all the tick-tocking. I stood and faced the friendly guard. He was in the way of the door to the courtyard. ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said politely. ¡°Heading out.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No? Am I being detained?¡± I asked. In place of an answer he shifted his weight with an audible ¡°Uh¡±. ¡°I want to go outside.¡± ¡°Are you finished eating?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I let my attitude flair a bit. ¡°Follow me.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°To your quarters.¡± ¡°I do not wish to go to my quarters. I wish to go outside.¡± ¡°This is why you don¡¯t talk to them, Roland,¡± said the other guard from across the room. He was guarding the other door. ¡°Fine, I get it,¡± I said. ¡°To my quarters then.¡± When we arrived, I had a guest waiting. An old man with grey hair sat at the foot of my bed. He wore a blue and green robe with golden tassels. He greeted me with a gentle smile. The guards left us. I remained standing at the doorway. ¡°You Tom?¡± I asked. The old man nodded. ¡°Charlie.¡± He slowly rose to his feet. ¡°Why¡¯d you free me?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t. That was someone else.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°I intercepted you.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Curse of curiosity.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Do you know who paid your ransom?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Not even a guess?¡± ¡°No. Who?¡± ¡°Well I find that hard to believe. Your train was headed for Dawn.¡± He tilted his head and eyed me expectantly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± he scoffed. His face faded sour. ¡°I¡¯m telling you the truth. I¡¯m not from here.¡± ¡°So where are you from?¡± I shook my head. I wasn¡¯t sure what to say. I sighed. He held up a hand. ¡°Let me get this right. A high man prisoner of the orcish burrows, far fall beneath the vast expanse desert. How that¡¯s possible is a quandary its own. But then, bailed out by the most powerful individual of the underworld, Zalmora the Darklands Queen. I expected a much more interesting conversation.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°Who?¡± Tom leaned back and sighed and heavy, tired sigh. He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed onto mine. Then he shifted his eyes away into thought. After some time, he looked me back in the eye. He didn¡¯t seem quite as friendly now as he did before. ¡°I regret picking you up.¡± ¡°I¡¯m being honest with you.¡± ¡°Do you want to go to Dawn? Is that it?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Where then?¡± ¡°I want to ho home!¡± He glared at me expectantly. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know it. Not here. It¡¯s¡ª I¡¯m from a different place.¡± He thought for a moment, expressionless. ¡°Speak it.¡± ¡°What do you want me to say? Massachusetts? America? Earth. The Milky Way.¡± ¡°Did you¡ª¡± Tom¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Stop,¡± his eyes flashed disgust, maybe fear, then he let a wicked grin slip through. ¡°Hold on, hold on,¡± he nearly laughed, though his eyes looked horrified. He glanced up at the door, then to his bookshelf, then to me. ¡°Stay right there,¡± he practically threatened. He walked over to the bookshelf and rummaged through multiple stacks of bound pages. ¡°Jacob!¡± he shouted at the door. ¡°Hold on,¡± he murmured to me, before resuming his search. As he dug through papers, he glanced back at me often. I silently stood near the door and watched. After some time, Jacob poked his head in and Tom motioned for him to step in. ¡°Yep?¡± Jacob asked. ¡°Stick around,¡± Tom said, still rummaging. Jacob eyed me suspiciously and then stepped in and closed the door behind him. ¡°What are we looking for?¡± Tom shooed him away. ¡°Eh, eh¡ª hold on.¡± Jacob suppressed a scoff and leaned against the wall. After a few minutes, Tom stopped rummaging. ¡°Here,¡± he whispered, tapping a page, then tracing his line through the words. It looked like a letter. ¡°Say it again,¡± he looked up at me, ¡°where you are from?¡± ¡°The Milky Way?¡± ¡°No, no,¡± he held up a finger, ¡°the other.¡± ¡°Earth,¡± I said. ¡°Earth,¡± Tom tapped the word on the page and showed it to Jacob. ¡°What is that?¡± I asked, moving closer to read. Jacob grabbed the paper and moved behind Tom so I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Have a seat, Charlie,¡± Tom said, pointing to the foot of the bed. I took a heavy breath and obliged. Jacob handed back the letter to Tom and Tom tucked it away in his pocket. ¡°Can you get me back?¡± I asked Tom. ¡°Hang on,¡± Jacob said. ¡°Are you stuck?¡± Tom glanced at Jacob and then back to me. ¡°That¡¯s what you want?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why¡¯d you come here?¡± asked Jacob. ¡°I didn¡¯t. It was an accident. Look, I don¡¯t want to be here. I don¡¯t even know where, or how, or why, or anything. I just¡ª I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°How long have you been here?¡± asked Tom. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Days?¡± ¡°You just woke up one morning and you were here?¡± ¡°I appeared. In a dark cave.¡± ¡°My god¡± whispered Tom. ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Okay,¡± Tom nodded, deep in thought. He glanced up at Jacob. ¡°Go. You can go,¡± he shooed him way, then turned back to me thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯m attaching you to a unit. Do not tell them anything. Do not ask questions. You¡¯re along for the ride. They¡¯ll take you to a man called Edgar. Tell him what you¡¯ve told me. No one else. Got it?¡± ¡°Will this get me home?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Why are you helping me?¡± ¡°You want to go home. That¡¯s what best for everyone. Let¡¯s get you home. You leave at sunrise.¡± Tom turned and opened the door to leave. Half way out, he turned and looked into my eyes. His face had change so much from the moment I had entered the room. He looked older now. He looked scared. ¡°Good luck,¡± he said softly. Then he closed the door.