It wasn't that Jasper had found some inner reserve of heroism.

The moment he could actually think, he regretted opening his mouth.

No, it was only, well-- Dessim was the closest thing he had to a friend here. Or anywhere, really. Which was sad, because Jasper didn't really like him that much.

And now Jasper found himself staring down an angry, six-foot tall raptor, with bright electric blue feathers and wild yellow eyes. One of its massive talon-feet pawed the earth, raking apart the leaves and mud of the forest floor with bladed claws. From its throat poured a low, rattling hiss.

But somehow-- Jasper really wasn't sure how it got there-- he had a knife. The grip was cylindrical and wrapped in cloth ribbons for grip. The blade was a silver stiletto. And in his hand, it almost seemed to have its own will, ready to be used. With natural skill as if he'd been born for the task, Jasper drew back his hand and threw.

The knife flew from his fingers in an arc of glittering silver that slammed down into the beast's throat, piercing deep.

It screeched and lunged for him, leaping up. Its wings kicked out, allowing it to turn mid-air and reach out its terrible, bone-rending claws. Jasper flung himself aside–

– too late.

One of its talons seized him by the shoulder, pulling him down into the ground. The claws bit through the meat of his shoulder, jarring against the bone. He screamed as its full weight stomped him down into the dirt and leaves.

In the background he could hear screaming. Dessim yelling for help, him screaming in pain–

“Fuck! Fuck you! Your girlfriend fucks so many other birds, her eggs come out scrambled!”

Something solidified in his hand. Another knife. He slammed it into the leg holding him down, and twisted the hilt, breaking the blade in half.

It let go and Jasper rolled, gasping, out of air to scream again, his face white and drenched in sweat, blood oozing out underneath his fingers as he grasped the wound.

He had fallen into the thing’s nest. Pale blue eggs lay on all sides, and something glimmered, shining in the bed of river-smooth stones the raptor had lined its nest with.

What was going on?

Jasper’s mind churned furiously.

Insults.

Every time he insulted the beast, another dagger appeared in his hand.

He pushed himself up with his good hand, rising, stumbling forward to keep distance between him and the foe. It was kicking the ground and thrashing its neck, trying to dislodge the splinter of metal trapped in its foot.

“You– uh– the Jurrassic called–”

Scowling at his sudden lack of wit, he stomped down on an egg. The shell broke and sticky, snot-yellow yolk surged over the sole of his boot.

It’s eyes fixed on him again. It began to lope forward, picking up speed…

“The archeologist that discovers your dick is gonna think they found a fossilized shrimp! The one that finds your skull is gonna think a duck fucked a rat!”

A knife was in his hand, the grip cold and smooth and reassuring. He drew his arm back, and it was if the knife knew where it needed to go, guiding his hand down as he threw. It sailed through the air, tumbling end-over-end–

And slammed into the beast’s right eye.

It went limp mid-stride, falling forward with a crash of dust and leaves. Its body skidded along the ground, coming to a rest at Jasper’s feet, and he flinched back.

“I knew he was a mage!” Tyben was striding forward, other bandits at his back. In the few moments the fight had lasted, half-a-dozen had come running towards the shouts, and now they stood there, looking strangely at Jasper.

“No uh, I just had the daggers palmed. No wizardry about it.” Tyben looked unconvinced. “But you probably go around shrieking about magic and witchcraft every time it rains.” And making it look like he was pulling the knife from his shirt, Jasper made another dagger appear. This time it was rusted, with a chipped edge…

Maybe the quality of insult mattered?

He tucked it away, stowing it in his belt. Tyben looked satisfied at least.

“Greenhorn saved me!” Dessim said, stepping up to clap Jasper over the shoulder. Jasper winced and made a small, croaking sound of utter pain, and Dessim quickly pulled his hand back, fingers sticky with blood. “Oh, oof. Sorry bou’that. Less’ have a look about bandaging tha’ up.”

But first he turned back to the crowd.

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“Got in the way a’ tha’ raptor withou’ even thinking twice. Brave lad, y’gotta give it our fool.”

And indeed–

They were looking at him different, now. So far he’d struck them as an oddity, an Ardish foreigner who entertained them and kept to himself. A little effete and a little crazy. Now, there was a full-grown terror bird lying at his feet.

But Jasper didn’t have time to take this in.

Jasper was already slumping down against a tree, holding his wound as if the fingers could keep the blood in. A few seconds of combat had left him utterly drained.

But somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered seeing something shine in the raptor’s nest. He let Dessim kneel down and wrap his shoulder in a length of rough cloth, cinching it until the blood slowed, and nodded thankfully–

But before he left for the camp, he made a point of stomping the eggs in the nest into splinters. The men cheered as he crushed and pulped the bird’s offspring, but the real reason he bothered was the moment he reached down, feigning like he was peeling a bit of egg off his boot– and palmed the sparkling treasure hidden inside the nest.

It was familiar to Jasper.

In fact, he was sure it had come from his room back on Earth– maybe all of the ‘artifacts’ the Witch was looking for were the same way, just random debris that came through with him on his journey.

It was a pale blue twenty-sided die.

And in his hand, it felt electric, charged with a buzzing energy.

— — —

Later, Jasper wouldn’t remember how he got to camp. The loss of blood left a long, blurry streak in his memory, and he couldn’t recall if he’d walked or been carried or done something in between. What he did know was that when he woke up, he was lying on a straw palette in a cold stone room within the ruined castle.

The Witch of the Wilds stood with her back turned, grinding something in a mortar and pestle. Fresh bandages had been wrapped around his wound, and they stung faintly, oozing a prickly green smell of herbal medicine.

“Ah, good. You’ve decided to live.” He hadn’t said anything, but she spoke almost as soon as his eyes opened. “You’re not as hardy as these mortal-folk. Your past life must have been quite soft– I was worried I’d have to raise your spirit to answer my questions.”

Jasper froze.

She knew.

The witch turned, and Jasper met her eyes. He couldn’t remember what color they’d been before but in the darkness they seemed pitch black.

“You should know I don’t like being lied to.” She said.

“Does anybody? Seems like a useless statement. If you want to scare me you could lead with something more intimidating– I can rip your soul from your body, or maybe, I can make your balls spin around until they drop off.”

“If I want to scare you, all I need to be is a woman.” She responded in cold and unbothered tones.

Jasper winced.

“Now, enough of your foolishness. I wish to know which god sent you.”

Jasper hesitated, but he didn’t exactly know enough to spin a good lie. It was better– safer– to just play stupid where he could and be honest where he had to. “He called himself the God of Fools. Didn’t look like any god I’d ever heard of…”

“Nor does he bear any known name. Interesting…” The Witch tilted her concoction of ground seeds and broken husks into a teapot over a portable burner. She added, carefully, teaspoons of colorful powders and drops of liquor that steamed as she uncapped their bottles. “What of your world?”

“Different. Really different. None of this magic, nothing exciting…” He decided not to mention guns, television, or anything modern, then and there. Too much chance someone tried to torture the secrets out of him– which would be bad, because he had no idea how almost anything worked.

“No?” Something he’d said was wrong. She turned, her eyes flashing. “A boring world. An unexciting world…” Something about her tone was wrong. Too-sweet, almost mocking. “Oh, and definitely not planning to invade our land, either…” And there it was. Her words turned sharp.

“What?” Jasper came up short at the accusation. “No!” He lifted himself up off the mattress, pushing his back against the wall. The motion made him groan softly in pain.

“I did warn you about lying to me.” The Witch said slowly. She advanced towards the bed.

“Do I look like I’m plotting– what, interplanetary war?” He sputtered.

“You look like a fool, and yet, what else would a scout look like? When you’re threatened, you suddenly reveal hidden depths. When you arrived on this world, you only took days to work your way in among the locals, and now they practically think you’re a hero. You’re more than you look, but not as clever as you think, spy.”

And when she put it like that, things suddenly looked grim for Jasper.

What else would a spy do? Pretend to be harmless and fit in. But… “Hold on. Why here? What good does slumming around with a bunch of bandits do me?”

“You could be getting your bearings. Learning what you can about the terrain, and preparing to make your next move…” But she didn’t sound completely convinced. Her tone had loosened a touch from its death grip seriousness.

“Or…” It was a thin hope, but it was the first time she’d even considered she might be wrong. “I could just be a nobody in over my head.” He tried to sound– not innocent, but desperate. And that was easy. He was desperate.

She drew a knife from within her dress. The serpents that coiled around her neck lifted their heads and hissed, menacing, as the glint of the blade moved down to rest at his throat. It was cold. He gulped, mouth suddenly dry, and the tip of the knife bit against his throat as it rose and fell.

“And why, then, would a god go through the trouble of sending you here?”

“Because he’s the God of Fools, and it was funny to him.” Jasper spat.

She paused–

And lifted the blade from his neck, palming it back against her hand. “Very well. I do not believe you– but I do not offend the gods unless I am sure of what I do.” Meaning there was still some fraction of a doubt keeping him alive.

She gestured to the tea, which was beginning to let off roiling clouds of steam. “Drink that when it cools. It will heal your wound.”

And she stepped out, towards the door. “I will be watching.”

Jasper sighed and slumped down, thoroughly exhausted. His eyes gazed up towards the ceiling. Judging by the lack of light pouring through the cracks, it was the dead of night now…

And as he watched, there were two sharp flashes from above. Two iron coins dropped from thin air and rang down against the floor.