I followed Teagra for a couple of minutes. By now, the cave I had been trapped in had given way to an opening leading to some rolling plains.

I’m not in Vermont anymore.

I didn’t know where I was, but it wasn’t Vermont. The land was dotted with vibrant flowers along the countryside. For the most part, I had firmly convinced myself I probably wasn’t secretly dying, and this probably wasn’t one last fever dream before the brain gave out.

But if I am dying, it’s a hell of a fever dream.

Mostly, I just marveled at the woman Teagan had become. Teagra moved through the rolling hills without any sign of pause or hesitation. Her toned arms clung to the sword, and I found myself gawking at her long legs once or twice.

I wanted to hate her for walking out on the Watch…and walking out on my best friend…but mostly I just felt sorry for her.

Simon Merit must have done a number on her. This was NXiVM levels of cultish nonsense.

Sure, I couldn’t explain how she looked younger or taller than the last time I’d previously seen her, but at least I knew what the hell was going on.

At least I wasn’t dressed like some sort of model out of a sword & sorcery magazine.

My confidence lasted all of five minutes, until I saw my first dragon. It had a long neck, big colorful eyes and a bulbous body leading into large leathery wings. It didn’t look like it should be able to fly with its awkward shape, but it flew right over our heads nonetheless.

Teagra didn’t even flinch.

I watched as the dragon continued to glide overhead, coming to perch on a large wall shaped like several massive shields carved out of granite. My mouth continued to hang agape as I continued to approach the sitting dragon. It took no notice of us. As we came closer, it pushed into the sky and out of sight.

Okay, so we’re back to the dying fever dream theory then.

I realized I recognized the massive shields. It took me a while to remember it was on the cover of a novel. It was all coming together.

Shields at Dawn.

I was standing in the middle of the world of Shields at Dawn.

How the hell had I fallen into a well at Roy Fritz’s house into his fictional world…which didn’t look so fictional all of the sudden. I saw Teagra stop and suddenly give me a troubled expression.

“What?” I said. I had seen that look on Teagan’s face in the newsroom. I knew her tells, and fantasy world or not, she still had them.

“It will raise questions if I am seen walking about town with an Outsider,” Teagra said.

I noticed the cuffs at her hip.

“What about those?” I pointed to the iron chains. “You could cuff me on the way in, say I was your prisoner. Like in Star Wars.”

“There are wars among the stars, Outsider,” Teagra said dryly. “And more to the point, would you trust me to release you from the irons when the time was right?”

She did have a point, because the answer was implicitly no. I had seen enough to know that Outsiders weren’t welcome here, and I had no way of knowing if she’d just march me towards the authorities the moment we got to this town.

“No,” I said in a plain tone. “I don’t trust you.”

Teagra nodded. “Then we must find an alternative solution. Stay here.”

And with that, Teagra raced out of sight, disappearing behind the Wall, leaving me to my devices.

Devices?

I immediately reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. It was still operational, but I noticed there was no signal.

Figures.

Beyond that, I had my rental keys and wallet, but I doubted they took American Express in these parts.

I quickly pocketed the items. Who knows when I might need them next?

No sooner had I done so were several pieces of fabric draped over my head. I turned to see Teagra glaring at me, her expression unchanging and ever-serious.

“Seriously?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Put them on,” she said as she started to turn her back. I sighed and did as I was told, crouching behind the large stone shieldwall.

“What even are these?” I said as I slid into the fabric, which consisted of far too loose pantaloons alongside a robe several sizes too big.

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

“They are the biggest I could find,” Teagra said. I checked to see her thankfully, still looking forward.

“From where?” I said.

“The tavern in town has an assortment of drunks and dimwits,” I heard Teagra’s voice from behind the wall. “And this will be far from the first time any of them wake up unclothed and inebriated.”

I suddenly felt a wet spot as I slid the robe over my torso. I really hoped it was from liquor.

“You couldn’t find anything a little more dignified?” I asked as I emerged from behind the shieldwall. Teagra gave me an up-and-down glance, showing neither surprise or disgust. She simply turned around.

“Beggars cannot afford to be choosers,” she said. “And for that matter, neither can Outsiders. Now come!”

For the umpteenth time, I decided to do what the lady with the sword said. I followed her. I could see two rickety guard-posts, suspended by tall wooden ladders twenty or so feet into the air.

“Act normal,” Teagra said in a harsh whisper.

“Cool,” I said. “What does that entail?”

“Just don’t act like an Outsider” Teagra replied, her voice low.

Not very helpful.

I saw several armed sentries, wearing cloaks, carrying longbows in their hands. I shrugged.

“Greetings! Friend! Sir!” I said, trying to remember the etiquette of the last Renaissance Fair I had attended.

Unfortunately, it had been a while.

“Sir Friend!” my voice boomed, my arm raised. Teagra probably grabbed in and gave a brief courtesy to the sentries, who nodded.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

“Being normal?” I said.

“Not like that!” Teagra said, her eyes flashing. “Just…don’t say anything. At all. And whatever you do…don’t stand out!”

“Or they’ll make me walk the plank?” I said, my patience clearly wearing thin.

“Or they’ll kill us,” Teagra said. “Both.”

Her words held no trace of sarcasm or humor. Given how intently the sentries were looking at me, I decided to simply walk forward as naturally as I could. I took several more steps. I felt their eyes on me, but after a few more stressful minutes, I turned to see the sentries had turned their back, turning their attention to a caravan up the road.

Okay. Act normal. Don’t stand out. Shouldn’t be too hard.

I turned around and was proven immediately wrong for at least the second time today. I was getting really tired of that last part.

Large men strode down the street, with muscles that would put the Rock to shame. Many were dressed in tight-fitting leather jerkins, which showed off their ridiculously large frames. That wasn’t the worst of it.

What shocked me was that many of them had green scales gleaming in the sunlight like rich scabbards. The large creatures seemed to have a variety of faces and features. Some looked downright human, with others possessing more lizard-like bodies.

And that still wasn’t the strangest part. After all, I was in Shields at Dawn. Barbarian ogres were par for the course in Roy Fritz’s fantasy.

The weirdest part was that these orcish barbarians carried a broadsword in one hand…and a briefcase in the other.

I struggled to remember Shields at Dawn. It had been several years since I had read the book. The fantasy was significant for its lack of human characters, with the world solely populated by fantasy races such as orcs, ogres, centaurs and fairies, all separated into different kingdoms.

The group before me was considerably more mixed, with creatures both human and decidedly not walking through the town center. Most of the population, however, seemed to fall somewhere between. A small girl ran by me with green skin, trailed by her parents, one a scaly green barbarian with a suitcase, and the other a small human female in a robe not unlike mine.

I hadn’t felt this way since Comic-Con. I had to keep telling myself it was all real…and no one here was in a costume.

What made that all the more harder to process was how…quaint…the town looked. The streets ran narrow, barely big enough for a carriage, yet they were paved with wooden sidewalks which lead to modern-looking storefronts. We passed barbershops, general stores and even someone who sold dragon insurance.

Even more weird, everything had been written in English. Or something resembling English. Much of the font was written in an exaggerated manner, making it hard to completely discern, but I could still make it the general language.

In Shields at Dawn, every race had their own language and culture. Part of the challenge of the heroes in stopping war from breaking out across the land was overcoming the language barriers in addition to the various cultural misunderstandings. Written in the early seventies, the book was considered ahead of its time.

I tried to listen to various conversations in the middle of town, but all I heard was basic English…an ogre growling about his work schedule, a fairy girl reciting her grocery list.

Everything seemed so . . . normal.

Then I got to the stockade. I saw three figures - a centaur, an ogre and a fairy - caged for all to see. The centaur was rather comically bound by just his human half, leaving his horse body simply standing in the middle of the town with his tail swishing from side to side. I struggled not to laugh at the rather large pile of poop placed just beneath the imprisoned centaur. The ogre was also placed in a similar circumstance, with the fairy trapped in an iron cage.

I turned to Teagra. “What are they in for?”

Teagra gave me a serious look. “The most serious of all offenses.”

“Murder?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Loitering,” Teagra said in a harsh whisper.

“Wait, what?” I shot back.

“Mayor Merrick has taught us to value hard work above all else. Those who stray away from the path of productivity bring only hardship and misery to the rest of us,” Teagra said in a solemn tone.

“Mayor…?” I started.

I nearly careened headlong into Mayor Merrick seconds later when I barely stopped myself from crashing into a sandstone pillar. Atop of the pillar I saw the man Teagan left Jason for, his chiseled likeness perfectly etched into the granite statue. He wore a metallic breastplate with segmented ridges, looking like a character right out of a fantasy novel.

Mayor Simon Merrick.

My wonder quickly turned into horror, as I quickly realized why this world didn’t line up with my memories of Shields at Dawn at all.

This world wasn’t based on Roy Fritz’s creation. Somehow Simon Merrit had molded Roy Fritz’s world into his own.

And somehow, I was trapped in it.