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.

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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— the sort you’d expect from a grandfather clock— 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— 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—” 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— 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— 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.