Savior pulled hard on Sarien''s hand with surprising strength. With her support, he hobbled forward despite the throbbing wound in his leg, where the massive Xzxyth pierced him with one of its many tentacles. The remains of the creature, born out of a nightmare, covered the field behind them. Its opaque goop blanketed the grass.


    <div>


    A ramshackle collection of houses and shacks sat nearby, the makings of a small village. Sarien and Savior hurried toward them and reached the squat buildings just as a group of men, alerted by Sarien’s sudden appearance, raced across the field.


    Savior half-carried, half-pushed him through an unlocked door of one of the shacks, a run-down wooden structure with a thatch roof and a hole cut into the wall that served as a window.


    "What is this place?" he asked, panting hard from the exertion.


    The young woman quickly brushed straw aside and opened a hatch in the floor. "Get in."


    "You’re joking?"


    "Look at my face and tell me I’m joking," she hissed. She looked nervously back and forth between him and the door, her narrow features and small nose reminding him of a squirrel’s. "They’re here. Get in!"


    Sarien crawled toward her and rolled through the dark opening, wincing as pain lanced up his leg. The space was small and cramped, and he flipped over to lay flat on his back. Savior stood over him for a moment longer before shutting the hatch door, causing dust and bits of loose straw to fly up around him. He sneezed. When he opened his eyes, his nose was pressed up against the wooden floorboard of the shack above him.


    "Be quiet," she whispered through the cracks before disappearing from view. He heard loud, urgent voices booming somewhere in the village. His heart raced, pounding loudly in his ears.


    A heavy knock shook the walls, causing more dust and straw to fall onto Sarien’s face. His nose twitched, but he held his breath, forcing any sneeze to subside. He heard Savior open the door.


    "Yes?" she asked. A scuffle commenced, ending with a loud thud and a yelp as Savior was knocked onto the floor above him. Dust rose and tickled Sarien’s nose, but he quickly held on to his breath as he listened to the sound of heavy footsteps make a quick turn around the small room.


    "Empty," a gruff male voice said. The door slammed shut. Sarien couldn’t hold it any longer. He let out a series of violent sneezes, each sending a jolt of pain through his body.


    "Ow," he groaned.


    The hatch opened and Savior’s face reappeared above him. "Not great at keeping quiet, are you?"


    "It isn’t my greatest strength," he muttered, crawling out of the hidden compartment and pulling himself up against the nearby wall. The burning pain in his leg radiated out into the rest of his body. “Thank you for the rescue. I’m Sarien.”


    "No worries," Savior said. "You owe me one and I’m about to cash in right away."


    "Oh?"


    She nodded and grinned a ferocious little smile. "You’re my ticket out of here, wayfarer."


    "You know about wayfarers?"


    Straight jet black hair fell over her face as she nodded, and she looped it back behind her ear in what looked to be a much-practiced motion. "You’re not the first one we’ve seen. Just the first in about a hundred years."


    "Slow down a little," Sarien said. "You’re over a hundred years old?"


    Savior narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself. "Do I look like a little old lady to you?"


    Sarien looked at her. That she didn’t, he had to admit. The young woman was almost as tall as him and looked a little thin, malnourished.


    "You look my age," he said.


    She nodded, and her face twitched as if quickly hiding a smile. "Our organization has records of a wayfarer appearing here. Apparently, she was taken to the citadel, and no one saw her again."


    A bark sounded from outside the door. "Could you let Daisy in?"


    "Your dog?"


    "Not sure if he’s mine, but he saved me from the Xzxyth."


    "Xzxyth?" she asked, opening the door.


    Daisy padded in, sniffed Sarien curiously, before curling up in a corner.


    "The monster who came through the gate with me when you found me."


    "Oh," she said. "So, can you help me? Help us?"


    "You told me that magic is blocked here. Not sure what help I can provide," Sarien said. "I’m not much of a fighter, and I lost my spear."


    Savior grinned. "We already have a plan to deal with the blockage. Now that you’re here, we might actually pull it off. I’ll take you to see the others soon."


    Sarien chuckled. "I seem to stumble upon rebellions wherever I go."


    “We need your help with Yelena.”


    "Yelena? One woman? Doesn’t sound so bad."


    "Yelena the Destroyer of Hope."


    "That does have quite the ring to it," Sarien admitted, grimacing as he shifted his leg. "My wounds need tending if I’m going to help you, or I’ll bleed out on your floor."


    Savior jerked up. "Right, forgot." She stood and headed for the door. "I’ll go talk to the others and bring back some salve. Won’t be but a minute. I’m Myn, by the way. Welcome to Malac."


    Myn peeked out the door before rushing out, leaving Sarien and Daisy alone in the house. House might have been too grandiose a name for the small wooden box, built with thin planks and a rickety door. The single-room house lacked any furniture other than the heaps of straw on the floor. Sarien didn’t think Myn actually lived here. How could she?


    What felt like an hour passed and Sarien trembled as a chill racked through him. The straw and floorboards beneath him were stained with his blood. Daisy had moved over to Sarien and was resting his head in Sarien’s lap, the dog’s large brown eyes fixed on Sarien’s face. The dog radiated heat and comfort and Sarien struggled to keep his eyes open.


    Sarien’s shoulder and thigh throbbed with pain, and it took all his willpower not to look at his wounds. If he did, he was sure to pass out.


    When he’d almost given up on Myn’s return, the door opened. Sarien gasped. With the early morning sunlight streaming in from behind her, creating a glowing halo around her head, he thought she was a spirit from beyond who’d come to claim him.


    "He’s not looking too good," someone croaked. An old lady pushed past Myn. She leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane.


    Sarien’s eyes widened, and he mumbled, as shadows edged his vision, "Are you Death?"


    The old woman struck him in the head with the cane.


    Sarien woke, his head aching. To his surprise, everything still hurt, but not quite as bad. He cautiously opened his eyes.


    He was tucked into a bed in a room bigger than the whole building Myn hid him in. It was decorated simply. A gray rug lined the clean wooden floors. A lamp was lit on the table beside the bed, the warm light flickering behind the glass casing.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Sarien’s throat and mouth were parched, and he swallowed several times before he could speak. "Hello?"


    The door banged open, and the old lady barged in. "Death, am I?" she barked.


    "What?" he asked. "Where am I?"


    She stopped abruptly and narrowed her eyes. They almost disappeared behind thick folds of leathery skin. "In my house. Brought you back from the brink, didn’t I?" The woman shoved a glass of water into his hands and Sarien drank greedily. It tasted clean and sweet.


    He coughed, cleared his throat, and forced himself upright. With a wince, he fell back into the bed. "Thank you for helping me." Whatever she’d done, it hadn’t been as effective as Tomford’s healing. Curious, he lifted the covers to inspect the wound in his shoulder.


    Sarien’s face burned. "Where are my clothes?"


    "Threw them away. Never seen fabric in such a sorry state before, have I? Blood, mud, and who knows what else?" She gestured to a chair by the door. "Myn got you some new ones. They’re over there."


    The old woman’s face softened. "I’m Viv."


    "Sarien. Thank you again."


    Viv gave him a long and searching look. "The girl says you’ll help us get away from here. Not a liar, are you?"


    "I’ll do whatever is in my power to help, but I don’t know anything about this place. She told me magic doesn’t work here in Malac."


    She shook her head. "Not anymore, not for a long time. But if you are what she says you are, we might have a slim chance to taste our boons again. Rest up, young man. Don’t want to have to treat those same wounds again, do I?"


    Viv disappeared through the door, leaving Sarien alone. Voices drifted from the room beyond, and by the rapid, hushed murmurs, there were several of them. He thought he heard Myn. Daisy was definitely in the adjoining room. There was no mistaking his excited barks.


    He sat up, more gingerly this time, and let the covers fall. A distinct smell rose from his bandaged shoulder. Herbs and something else that reminded him of freshly baked bread from the kitchens back at the Karm estate. He thought about Ben. Whatever he’d brought into Maydian came from here, from Malac. A person, he desperately hoped it was human, from this very place now lived inside Ben, his childhood friend.


    With a bracing exhale, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sharp pain shot up when he put his weight on the wounded thigh, but it was far less intense than he’d anticipated. Whatever concoction they’d slathered on his wounds was doing its job. Sarien hobbled over to the pile of clothes and found his mother’s book and the strange device his father gave him.


    He opened the small book and flipped through page after page of handwritten notes in a neat hand. His mother’s handwriting. Sarien wanted nothing more than to plop down and start reading, but a chilly draft reminded him of his very naked state.


    The clothes appeared comfortable and not too worn. He pulled on the off-white, almost gray, loose-fitting tunic. A pair of brown cloth pants that only chafed a little completed the outfit, along with his old boots.


    Sarien peered out the window and looked up at a clear night sky filled with stars. The door slammed open, startling him, and Myn gave him a glare. "What are you waiting for? We heard you banging around in here. Just come on out already!"


    "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, limping along behind her. They entered a larger room with bedrolls strewn about on the floor. In one corner, a boiling pot bubbled with a smell that made his stomach grumble. In the center of the room was a small, circular, wooden table where a group of people sat staring at him with a mixture of wonder and suspicion.


    "Hello," he said, giving them a short wave. Other than Viv and Myn, three more chairs were occupied. Four if he counted Daisy, who sat on one chair, his tail thumping wildly. When no one spoke, he continued, "I’m Sarien. Thank you for helping me."


    "Stop dawdling and sit down," Myn said, gesturing for the lone empty chair. "Can’t have you falling down dead on us now."


    He winced as he sat and then glanced around the table. The ones he hadn’t met before were all older than Myn, but not as ancient as Viv. To Sarien’s left was a short, burly man with bare arms covered in thick, dark brown hair that matched a bushy beard. His hair fell past his shoulders. He wore a thoughtful expression and leaned back in his chair, as if waiting for something to happen.


    The next stranger was a woman in her late middle years. She wore clothes almost identical to Sarien’s. Her head was tilted up as if to look down her nose at him. The woman looked solid with her thick forearms and wide shoulders like she was used to a hard day’s work. Next to Viv sat another man. He was hunched over, his head pillowed in his folded arms. The only feature Sarien could make out was his short-clipped hair. The man''s hands twitched but he appeared to be sleeping.


    "This is everyone," Myn said. She gestured to the burly man, "Haen," moved to the woman, "his wife Freyn," and then pointed to the sleeping man, "Emiril. Viv, you’ve already met."


    "Myn says you’re a wayfarer," Freyn said, leaning over the table. "Prove it."


    "How is he supposed to prove it?" Emiril asked, sitting up. So, he wasn’t sleeping after all.


    Freyn huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I don’t know."


    "We all felt him," Myn said, throwing an irritated glance to Freyn. "Also, he was in the middle of a field. No way he could have gotten there on foot with his injuries."


    "I came here from Maydian," Sarien said, trying to diffuse the rising tension.


    "Never heard of it," Viv said.


    Sarien shrugged. "It’s what I call my world."


    "Why did you come here of all places? Did you want to get stuck?" Haen asked.


    Sarien hesitated. These people looked and felt friendly enough. And he didn’t have many options in this strange alien world. He had no choice but to trust them. "I pulled someone or something from this world into mine a while back, something malicious. Thought this world was like this being, that’s why I sent the Xzxyth here. Didn’t expect to be pulled along with it."


    "And now you’re stuck with us," Emiril said.


    Viv’s mouth hung agape.


    "What?" Sarien asked.


    "You pulled someone from here?"


    "I did."


    "It couldn’t be," Viv said, slowly, as if mulling over her words.


    "Has to be him, right?" Myn said, an excited grin on her face. She gesticulated wildly. "What if he’s gone?"


    Sarien looked back and forth between Viv and Myn, confused. "Who?"


    "You should fill the boy in on what is happening here. It’s only right if we’re going to have him help us," Haen said, looking to his wife.


    Freyn sighed. "Malac is the home of many powerful magi. Throughout our history, factions have risen and fallen as they struggled for control over our different kingdoms. About a hundred years ago, one mage acquired an artifact with the ability to control the use of magic."


    "Yelena?" Sarien guessed.


    "That’s right," Freyn said. "No one knows how she got it, but she used the artifact to cut everyone off from their magic. Everyone but herself and her closest ally and advisor, Renheld. He is a more powerful mage than her but swore fealty to Yelena for fear of losing his own powers."


    "Without him, she’ll be vulnerable!" Myn exclaimed. "We should get started right away!"


    "Let her finish," Haen said. "Go on, honey."


    "There isn’t much else to say," Freyn said. "We all retained the ability to sense when someone tries to use magic. That’s why soldiers were sent to locate you. Yelena knows you are here. A few of us have banded together to put a stop to her, or, at the very least, to disable the artifact somehow. If we can destroy it, Yelena will hunt us to the ends of the world. That''s why we need a way to leave this godforsaken place."


    Myn punched a fist into her open palm. "Now that we have our very own wayfarer, it’s time to strike! Especially if Renheld is gone!"


    Questions buzzed through Sarien’s head, but the most important one percolated to the top. "Renheld. What makes you think it was him who came to my world?"


    "It’s common knowledge that he has been doing research into world travel. The other wayfarer was sent to him," Haen said.


    Viv scoffed. "We don’t know why he’s been researching this. Perhaps Yelena wants to conquer more worlds, or it was him doing it on his own accord to escape. If you reached out to this world, I can’t imagine anyone but him throwing himself at the opportunity to leave."


    "I would’ve if I could access my magic," Emiril said. The man was in his thirties, Sarien thought, with a few days of beard growth and hollow cheeks. His eyes were expressionless, like looking into an empty void.


    What they were saying made sense. Renheld might very well be the one in control of Ben.


    "What can this Renheld do?" he asked. Sarien knew he’d face Ben again at some point, if Heradion hadn’t done something drastic before then. The last time he saw the pyromancer was when the old man stated he was heading to the Karm estate more than three weeks past.


    "Do?" Viv asked.


    "With magic, I mean," Sarien clarified.


    "Bone dancer," Haen said.


    Freyn shuddered. "Once attended one of his executions. Crushed every bone in a poor man’s body, breaking each one at a time."


    Sarien winced. Renfeld did not sound like a pleasant man.


    "Let’s hope he’s not here then," Sarien said. "Are all of you mages? How would you know if your magic has been restricted?"


    "We can sense the power churning inside us, even if we don’t know what we might be capable of," Emiril grunted. He glanced to the stove. "Food’s ready."


    "Only mages can sense when someone else is trying to work their magic," Freyn added.


    "I was a brightling," Viv whispered, looking at her fingers as she splayed them in front of her face. "Long ago."


    "You’re over a hundred years old?" Sarien asked.


    She glared at him. "What of it, young man?"


    "Nothing, nothing," he assured her.


    "Ready to hear our plan?" Myn asked, her face brightening with pure excitement.


    "Just one more thing."


    "What?" she asked, scowling.


    "Maydian is under attack by a race called the rhinn, and monsters keep appearing from gateways. Just so you all understand, when we do get there, we might be landing in the middle of a war."


    "Great!" Myn shouted. "That will give me the opportunity to test and use this thing inside me before I explode!"


    "That’s fine," Viv agreed.


    Haen nodded, and Freyn pursed her lips. "That’s agreeable."


    "Whatever," Emiril grunted from over by the stove.


    Daisy gave a loud bark.


    That was it then. Sarien couldn''t return home immediately, but at least he’d been provided with a way forward.


    "What’s the plan?"