“Gibson, do you read me?” I called on the radio. “Team one? Team two? Anyone?”

No one answered in my earpiece, so I continued to tread water and wonder where the hell I had ended up. The turquoise water suggested the Caribbean, but the twin suns made it pretty obvious that I was no longer on Earth.

More importantly, could I get back?

Those and other questions rattled around my brain as I tried to stay above water. Even though my molle pack was buoyant it still weighed at least seventy pounds, but I had trained under similar conditions, and I had always been a good swimmer. The adrenaline combined with my confusion and fear of whatever might be lurking beneath the water got my ass in gear pretty quick, and I began swimming for shore.

“Ho there!” A voice came from behind me.

I turned around in the water to see who it was. The waves were mild, and as I bobbed up over the waterline I saw a lone fisherman in a little boat about one-hundred yards away from me. The shore was perhaps twice as far away, and I knew I could make the swim, but I figured I might as well catch a ride.

“Ho there! I’m coming, hold on!”

The fisherman was eager to get to me, and the urgency in his voice suggested that these weren’t waters which people swam in often, or perhaps he thought that I was being pulled out by the current. Regardless, he was coming to help, so I turned and started to swim in his direction.

A wave began to grow in front of me, and I dove beneath it rather than crash through. I kept my eyes open when I went under the water, and I soon wished that I hadn’t. Below me, three sharks circled. They didn’t look like great whites, or tiger sharks, or any kind I had ever seen, but they sure as hell made my skeleton want to leap out of my skin and run across the water like a cartoon character. I redoubled my efforts and tried to remind myself that sharks didn’t usually attack people unless they had mistaken them for seals.

Or they were bleeding from tumbling head-over-ass down a rocky slope.

With renewed vigor, I swam for my life and tried hard not to look like a seal.

“Here, grab hold of this!” the fisherman yelled.

He thrust out one of his oars and nearly took my head off, but I grabbed ahold of it and welcomed his help as I struggled to get my soggy ass into the boat. My fear of the sharks made me clumsy, and I crashed to the bottom of the boat and knocked over his fishing pole. I also managed to spill a bucket of minnows, and they jumped, flipped, and slapped me in the face as they fought to find water.

“Shit, my bad.” I tried to round up the minnows, but then I knocked over the fisherman’s tackle as I flailed around his small boat.

“It’s alright, son. Never mind them. Was done for the day anyway,” the fisherman assured me. He tugged on my molle pack and helped me to sit on the seat at the helm of the small rowboat.

“Thanks,” I gasped as I tried to catch my breath.

“Name’s Torrance,” the fisherman said as he extended a hand. It, like his face and the rest of his exposed skin, was dark brown and leathery. It suggested a life spent working outdoors beneath the sun.

Or in this case, beneath two suns.

“Sergeant Ken Jewell,” I said as we shook hands. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, friend,” said the fisherman with a kind smile.

Torrance had a firm, rough grip, but an easy smile and kind brown eyes. He watched me with mild amusement and more than a small dose of curiosity. I noticed that he studied my camo, and his eyes squinted when he read the tags on my left shoulder.

“What’s a sapper, Sergeant Ken Jewell?”

“You can call me Ken,” I said and glanced around at the foreign landscape. This guy could read English, so I started to think that maybe I was still on Earth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Where the hell am I?”

He squinted at me and was probably trying to gauge if I was looney. “Why, you’re in my boat.”

“I know that. I mean what is this place? And how the hell did I get here?”

“As for where we are,” he said and waved a hand toward the land. “We are in the Bay of Mer, about three miles north of Hamstead. As for how you got here, well, you just kind of fell out of the sky.”

“I fell from the sky?” I looked up, and expected to see some sort of shimmering portal or maybe even a UFO, but I saw only faint clouds, blue skies, and the twin suns that enforced the fact that there was no way in hell I was on Earth. Their rays burst through the clouds at different angles and chased a mean-looking thunderhead inland.

“Yep,” he said. “I was sitting here fishing like I do every day. The fish bite best when both suns are out, you know? And then I heard your screaming. I looked up and saw you falling into the water.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“I don’t catch your meaning,” he said.

“Did you see … like a shiny metal craft or maybe a shimmering, uh, portal?” I inquired and realized quickly how insane I sounded.

“Portal, like a magic portal?” He scratched at his two-day beard and considered that. “Didn’t see one, but that might explain things. You anger a witch or something?”

“A witch,” I repeated with a nervous laugh. But he was serious, and I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Not that I know of, sir.”

“Well, a witch would explain things. Could have been that or a fairy,” Torrance said matter-of-factly.

I rubbed my salt water stung eyes, squeezed the bridge of my nose, and tried to figure out what the hell was going on. This place seemed real, and Torrance seemed as real as anyone I had ever met, if a bit strange.

I thought about my men and wondered what had happened to them. The drone most likely took out the fighters around the truck that fireteam one had locked down, and with that team freed up, they had most likely rushed to the aid of team two. I hoped so anyway. My conscience wouldn’t let the nagging questions rest, so I tried to focus on the problem at hand. No matter what had happened to my men, I couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. I needed to concentrate on my own predicament.

“You look like you’ve had a hell of a day,” Torrance said and he began to row toward shore. “How about we go back to my farm and eat us some of this catch, and maybe then we can puzzle out what happened to you?”

“Thank you,” I said.

I craned my neck around to study the beach. There were no palm trees or any of the other trappings of the Caribbean. Instead, thick green grass littered the sand dunes, and farther inland, a tall forest of pine surrounded the bay. On the other side of the bay was a long shelf of stone that created a sheer cliff at least one-hundred feet high that jutted out from the earth like a colossal finger.

We made landfall, and I helped Torrance pull in his fishing boat. Then we dragged it across the beach, and I secured it behind one of the dozen or so sand dunes while Torrance collected his catch. Five red fish about a foot long and a pair of crustaceans that he had caught in a net. They looked like a cross between a crab and scorpion, but I would have eaten anything right about then.

The thought of food made my stomach growl. I had skipped breakfast that morning, since I didn’t want to take a dump while on duty, and all I had eaten during the mission was a energy bar from one of my MRE’s. Cooked fish sounded pretty damn good.

“Let me help you carry something,” I suggested, but Torrance shook his head and shouldered his gear.

“Nonsense, you’re my guest. Besides, it looks to me like you’ve got enough on your shoulders.”

I glanced back at my molle pack. “I’m used to it.”

He nodded agreeably, and I watched as his eyes move over my utility belt and the M17 handgun holstered on my hip. He didn’t seem to recognize it as a weapon, and he gave me another smile as he gestured away from the boat.

I took a better look at his clothes and gear as we moved out of the trees. His fishing pole was nothing more than a long piece of bamboo with a line twisted around it, and the knife holstered on his thigh looked like an ancient artifact. His brown trousers appeared to be made of hemp, and his leather jerkin and sandals seemed to be handmade. Either he was a hippy, or I had landed in a world with technology a few centuries removed from Earth.

“What you lugging around in that big bag of yours?” he said as he started down a well-worn trail.

“Supplies,” I said as I followed close behind him and surveyed the land like I was still in enemy territory.

For all I knew, I still was.

“Where you from?” he asked.

“Uh, a land far from here,” I said as I reminded myself not to give too much info. I liked the guy, sure, but I didn’t know him or this place. Any information I gave him could potentially be used against me, and until I knew I could trust the man, I didn’t want to give him too much info.

“Oh?” he said and waited for me to elaborate. When I didn’t, he continued the conversation. “Well, wherever you’re from, it ain’t no place I’ve ever been. Never seen clothes like yours, and I can’t place your accent. But a man has got a right to keep his own secrets, eh?”

“I suppose so.”

He nodded to himself and glanced back. “You a married man, Ken?”

“Nope, not married. You?”

“Was.” He made some sort of sign in the air with his right hand like a big S. “Her name was Mildred. Lost her to a kobold raiding party a few years back.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right,” I said as I reached a finger in my ear to clean out some of the water.

“A kobold raiding party,” he repeated.

“Kobold? Like the creatures from Dungeons and Dragons?”

“We have both dungeons and dragons,” He said with a shrug. “Or are you talking about a place? You seem kinda confused.”

“Uhh, yeah,” I said, just because I realized that a fisherman from another world wouldn’t know about the tabletop game.

“I ain’t never heard of that land, but they were kobolds alright. I told her not to go out that night, but her sister was sick, you see, so she left as soon as she got word. Was the last time I saw her alive.”

I stopped in my tracks and glanced around. I thought for sure someone would pop up out of the tall grass and tell me I was on a hidden camera show, but no one did, so I hurried to catch up to Torrance.

We came out on a well-worn dirt road on which the tanned fisherman headed west. At least I thought it was west. I retrieved my lensatic compass from my utility belt, and the needle pointed away from the ocean, toward the forest of pine. Which confirmed that we were, indeed, headed west. I glanced at the suns to confirm our direction, and one looked to be four or five hours from setting, but the other trailed a few hours behind the first.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I told Torrance.

“She’s in a better place now,” he said. “At least where she went there ain’t no monsters, on account of the beasts not having souls.”

“You mean there are other things besides kobolds in this land?” I said as I realized that he had not only been serious about the witch, but the fairy as well.

He stopped and turned to regard me with confusion again. “You telling me that, where you’re from, there ain’t no monsters?”

I didn’t want to seem more foreign than I must have already appeared, so I shrugged and said, “Sure, there are monsters, but they’re rare.”

He nodded. “Well, you’re a lucky one then. This country is crawling with monsters. There are entire cities of the beasts down in the underdark. I guess it’s a blessing that they only come out at night though, on account of not being able to tolerate the suns.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Our monsters only come out at night too.”

He pointed into the woods on the right side of the road. “See that there?”

I followed his finger and saw what looked to be a cave entrance, but it was all boarded up and blocked off by heavy stones.

“They come out of caves like that and other, less conspicuous holes in the ground,” Torrance explained. “They’re like blasted moles they are, always digging their tunnels through the land. You close one hole off, and they make two more. But there haven’t been many raids lately, thank the Holy Twins.”

By ‘Holy Twins’, I assumed he meant the two suns, but I didn’t bother asking, since I already looked like I didn’t belong here. We continued west down the dirt road and away from the ocean, and soon the pine forest loomed on both sides. It was nice to get into the shade of the trees for a bit since the two suns left few places to find a reprieve. Shadows didn’t work right here, and it was a little hard for my eyes and my brain to get used to all the light.

The scents of the forest rode on a mild wind, and the smell was a familiar comfort in the unfamiliar land. It smelled like it had rained recently, and the freshness of the pine combined with the musk of the forest floor helped to calm my nerves. A chorus of birds sang in the forest, accompanied by the chittering of chipmunks and the steady rhythm of grasshoppers and other bugs.

We arrived at Torrance’s farm ten minutes later. It was a decent sized plot of land from what I could see. A modest one-story cottage sat beside an old weathered barn facing north. There was a hay field to the west of the house, and a one-acre garden to the east. Behind the buildings there was a long sprawling apple orchard. A wagon sat parked between the house and the barn, and livestock grazed in a roped off area to the left of the buildings. There were about a dozen cows that reminded me of Black Angus, a few goats, and a couple pigs. Chickens had free reign of the property and pecked happily at the ground as we walked toward the house. The homestead reminded me of an Amish paradise, and it seemed a lot like Earth.

Except for the two suns in the sky.

Torrance led me inside and plopped the catch down on a sturdy looking table. The inside of the cottage was well-lit by the sunlight shining in through the many windows on the north wall. The place was cozy, and the smell reminded me of my dad’s beloved meat smoker. Aside from the table and six chairs, there was a sitting area with a few wicker chairs situated beside the big fireplace. Across from that was the cooking area centered on an open hearth. The fireplace was wide and lined on both sides with stacked wood set to dry. Sausage and herbs hung from the top of the hearth, and a cast-iron pot set on a swivel slowly simmered. The aroma of vegetable soup found my nose, and hunger pangs tore at my stomach.

“You need some dry clothes?” Torrance asked.

“No, thanks, I’ve got some in my pack.”

He nodded and pointed to a hallway to the left of the cooking hearth. “You can go on and clean up in the washroom. Second door on the left. I’ll clean up these beauties and pour us some spirits in the meantime.”

“That sounds great. Thanks, Torrance.” I went to the wash room and discovered that it came complete with a water basin fed by a hand pump, and an outhouse style shitter. There was even a stack of what looked like old shredded newspaper if I needed to wipe my ass.

A mirror hung above the basin, and I was surprised at how wild-eyed and disheveled I looked. My brown hair had bits of seaweed in it, and my usually clear brown eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking. Dried blood speckled my right cheek from the flecks of sandstone that had been kicked up by the gunfire back on Earth, and I had big welt on my temple from knocking into the wall on my tumble down the hole.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked my reflection. “Where am I?”

“You say something, Ken?” Torrance yelled from the kitchen.

“No, sorry, just talking to myself.” I rolled my eyes at my reflection. Torrance must have already thought I was a bit odd and admitting to talking to myself probably didn’t help matters.

I shouldered off my molle pack and set to cleaning myself up. My clothes were still wet from my little swim, so I undressed and folded them up before putting them aside. In the water basin I scrubbed my face of the dried blood, washed out my hair, and then splashed water on the rest of my body to get the salt from the ocean off me. I had soap in my molle pack, but I didn’t want to use any of my supplies yet if I didn’t have to. With a quick glance around the shelves of the wash room, I found a bar of soap. It smelled like lilies, and I was surprised at how refreshed I felt after I washed with it. When I was done cleaning myself up I retrieved the waterproofing bag out of my pack and took out an extra pair of camouflage utility pants, a dry t-shirt, wool socks, and combat boots. I started to put the bag away but decided to wear my patrol cap as well.

I dressed in my dry clothes and strapped on my utility belt. It was still a bit damp, but my M17 handgun was holstered to it, and I didn’t feel comfortable without the sidearm. I realized that the weapon had also taken a dip in the ocean with me, and while the handguns were super durable, it was easy enough to take it apart and wash the salt off the barrel and springs.

When I was done cleaning my gun, I glanced at my watch. It reported 3:00 pm, and I was surprised that I had only been in this strange new world for less than an hour. It seemed like days since I had fallen into that damned sinkhole in Syria, and not for the first time today I seriously began to question my sanity.

By the time I returned to the kitchen with my pack slung over my shoulder and my wet clothes in hand, Torrance had finished cleaning the fish, and he had already poured two small glasses of amber spirits.

“Ah,” he said when he saw me. “You look all refreshed. Have a drink with me?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said as I put down my clothes on top of my molle pack.

He handed me one of the glasses, and I inspected the three fingers of amber liquor. A quick sniff told me that it had a high alcohol content, and I felt my mouth curl into a smile. The liquid reminded me of bourbon, but with an intense smoky aroma.

If I had to be stranded on another planet, I was glad it was one with liquor.

“What should we drink to?” I asked, and I hoped he knew what I meant. Rule number 1 about visiting a new territory was: never eat or drink their stuff, since it might make you sick, but I knew I wasn’t on Earth anymore, and this guy had no reason to poison me.

Torrance thought about that as he held up his glass and scratched his stubbly chin. Then his face lit up, and he smiled wide, showing off his impressively straight white teeth. “To new friends,” he suggested.

“To new friends,” I said as I tapped his glass with mine, tapped the table and tossed it down with one big gulp. It washed through my belly like molten lava, and my skin prickled all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. When I exhaled, I half expected flames to shoot out of my mouth.

“Looks like ya enjoyed it!” Torrance laughed.

“Damn, that’ll straighten the short and curlies,” I replied with a cough, despite being a somewhat seasoned drinker.

Torrance laughed. “Those are true words. This spirit is one of my favorites. Here, give me your wet clothes, and I’ll have Matilda hang them up to dry for you. She’s my daughter, sweet as her mother she is. I’ve got two boys as well, or did I tell you that already? I tend to repeat myself sometimes, so don’t be afraid to let me know if I do, you won’t offend me.”

“Ah. Alright, and no you haven’t, sir.” I said as I handed him my clothes.

After fifteen minutes of sipping the alcohol and chatting about the weather, Torrance called his kids to dinner. He had added the fish to the vegetable soup that simmered in the cast-iron pot, and the aroma made my mouth water. When the kids came in, I was introduced to Matilda, sixteen, a waif of a girl with brown hair and dimples, who averted her eyes to the floor coyly when she spoke. Her two brothers, Markus and Maximus, looked to be about six or so years younger. They both stared at my clothes and my hat and ogled my utility belt. Both had brown hair like their sister, but they were big and strong for their ages, no doubt from their years of hard farm work.

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“What’s that?” Maximus asked, pointing at my holstered gun.

“Can I hold your knife?” his brother chimed in.

“Boys, where are your manners?” their father asked with a scowl. “Quit ogling our guest like a bunch of sneaking goblins and go on and get washed up, or we’ll start without you.”

Markus ignored his father and pointed at my molle pack in the corner. “What’s in there?” he asked suspiciously.

“Mind your pa!” Matilda suddenly screeched and slapped the boy upside the head. She turned a coy glance back toward me and blushed as the boys yipped and scampered off.

“Atta girl,” Torrance laughed. “Just like her mother. She’ll make a good wife someday, she will, for some lucky fellow...”

I got the feeling that he was insinuating that she would make a good wife for me, and a quick glance at the girl told me exactly how she felt about the idea. She batted her eyes and let those dimples do their darndest, but besides the fact she was way too young, I had more important things to worry about right now.

Torrance indicated the seat across from his at the head of the table, and I sat with Matilda to my right. The boys ran back into the kitchen like a whirlwind and fought each other for the seat closest to me on my left. Markus won and gave his brother a punch in the arm for good measure.

“Pa!” Maximus protested and rubbed his arm.

“Take it out back of the barn where it belongs, or else shut your yappers,” he told them as he offered me a gracious smile. “Would you like to say a blessing?”

“I’m not sure.” I had never been a religious man, and I certainly had never said grace. We just didn’t do that in my family.

“We’d be honored,” the fisherman said as he gestured to his family.

I nodded, and everyone clasped their hands together and then twisted their wrists up so that the palms were facing upward in a kind of offering. I mimicked the awkward pose and closed my eyes. My mind raced to think of the right words, and a quick peek showed me that everyone still waited patiently. Then I remembered Torrance’s name for the suns.

“Holy twins,” I began shakily, but then cleared my throat. “Holy twins, thank you for this bountiful meal set before us. Thank you for Torrance and his wonderful family. May you bless their farm, and give them all long, happy lives, uh, amen.”

“Amen?” Markus asked.

I opened my eyes, worried that I had broken some unspoken etiquette, but Matilda came to my defense swiftly.

“It was a wonderful blessing!” she hissed at Markus, and then she smiled sweetly at me.

“He forgot to make the sign,” Maximus pointed out. I recalled the sign that Torrance had made when he spoke of his late wife, and then I drew a big S in the air in front of me. The others followed suit, and Torrance nodded happily.

“Dig in!” he urged, and I eagerly started to shovel food onto my plate.

A half hour later, I leaned back in my chair and patted my full belly. Matilda cleaned up the table, and the boys sat quietly and listened to Torrance and I as we talked about his farm and animals. The old farmer lit up a pipe and offered one to me, but I declined, never having been a smoker. Tea was served shortly after, and Matilda laid out some strawberry tarts. I wolfed down four of them and chased them with lemon flavored tea while Terrance puffed on his pipe. The cherry scented smoke hovered above his head like a thick halo and coalesced pleasantly with the fading smell of dinner.

“So, tell me, Ken. What power do you have?” he asked, and the boys turned to me with excitement.

“Power?” I said through a mouthful of tarts.

“Abilities, gifts, I’m talking about magic powers, son.”

“Uh, I don’t think I have any,” I admitted, and by the looks on their faces I might as well have told them that my pecker grew out of my forehead.

“You don’t have one?” Torrance said with a disturbed look in his eyes. “Well, you should. You’re well over the age when they present themselves. Or don’t your people have magic?”

“I …”

“Let’s bring him to Granhelga in Hamstead!” Matilda said excitedly.

“Yeah!” Maximus cheered.

“Can we, Pa?” Markus begged.

“Who’s Granhelga?” I asked.

“She’s the local magic-teller,” Maximus said. “She’ll read the stars to find your power.”

“She’s a witch!” Markus exclaimed and made big-eyes at me.

“Settle down now,” their father told them. He gazed at me for a long time while he puffed on his pipe, and a slow grin grew on his face. “What do you think about going to see the witch, Ken?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to waste your time.” Truth was, I didn’t want to waste my own time. I needed to figure out how to get back to Earth, but I didn’t want to be rude to my host.

“On second thought, it sounds like a great idea.” I realized that if this Granhelga character was a real witch, she might be able to help get me home. Torrance had asked if I angered a witch, and he had insinuated that they knew how to create portals. Maybe she was my best bet.

“Great,” he said as he rose from the table. “Go on, Markus, Maximus. Get the horses and the wagon ready. Might as well show Ken our little village. You up for that Ken?”

“Sure. Let me check on my clothes, they should be dry by now.”

I gathered my clothes from the clothesline. They were still a little damp, but they were dry enough. I changed back into my heavy fatigues in the washroom and folded my t-shirt, wool socks, and camo pants and returned them to the waterproof bag.

Ten minutes later Torrance, Matilda, the two boys, and myself were riding down the long driveway toward the dirt road in a open air wagon. Everyone had changed out of their farming clothes and now donned what looked like their Sunday best. Torrance wore a pair of fine brown slacks, a puffy white shirt with a ruffled collar and frilly cuffs. Over the shirt he wore a leather jerkin the same color as his trousers. Shiny leather boots and a Robin-Hood looking hat with a feather in it finished the look. The boys wore a version of their father’s attire, and Matilda wore a long green dress embroidered with moons and stars. She had applied some coloring to her eyes and cheeks as well, and she kept shooting me shy smiles as we rode

All in all, they looked like they were headed to a renaissance fair. They were simple country people, but they conducted themselves with pride and dignity.

They were my kind of folk, and even though I was far away from home, I felt myself smile.

As we rode, Torrance became increasingly excited by the idea of me having my stars read. “I tell you what, I bet it’s a great power that you possess. You’ve got that look about you.”

“Maybe he can shoot lightning out of his fingertips,” Maximus conjectured.

“Or fart fire!” Markus put in.

“Now that would be something else!” I exclaimed. “But I would probably set fire to my bed when I farted in my sleep.”

The boys rolled with laughter in the back of the wagon, and Matilda covered her mouth while she giggled. Torrance’s merry chuckle added to the joyful chorus, and I found myself joining in.

Then a thought occurred to me, and I turned to the farmer. “Torrance, what’s your ability, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Not at all, not at all.” He slapped the reins and clicked to the horses as they turned onto the road. The old farmer stuck out a thumb in my direction and waggled it a little. His eyebrows danced, and I realized that he wanted me to guess.

“Uh, do you have super hitchhiking abilities?” I asked.

“Hah! What’s that? No, no, I’ve got a green thumb.”

“Pa can make anything grow in any kind of soil!” Markus said excitedly.

“Hmm, that must come in handy. What about you, Matilda?” I said and glanced back at the second-row seat.

As expected, she was blushing. “I’m not yet of age,” she whispered.

“It’ll be another two years before Matilda stands before Granhelga to be read,” the farmer explained. “But my coin is on her having my ability. They usually run in the family, but crossways like. Daughters get the power of their fathers, and sons get the power of their mothers. Not always, mind you, but most of the time.”

I wondered what I was about to get myself into as we rode through the forest. I doubted that I even had a power in this world, let alone two, like Torrance said sometimes happened when he explained how the powers worked. But then again, I hadn’t woken up that morning thinking that I would fall through a portal to another world either. The idea of having a magical ability started to appeal to me.

Having a magical power seemed like it would be pretty awesome.

We crested a hill, and a straight-up medieval village grew from the valley below. The one and two-story cottages looked like they had jumped right out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. They had thatched roofs, wattle and daub walls with a few exposed beams which crisscrossed each other or outlined the rooms within. A small river snaked its way through the village from north to south, and I guessed that it spilled out into the ocean. A few windmills stood on the banks of the river, and two stone bridges offered travelers a way over the body of water. Deeper into the village, the buildings shed their wattle and daub walls for stone and heavy lumber, and the roofs changed from simple thatch to thick shingle shakes. I hadn’t seen many castles in my day, but there was no mistaking the large building that sat on the distant hill for anything else but that.

“Who lives there?” I asked Torrance as I pointed at the distant castle.

“That would be Duke Bellfrey,” Torrance said.

“Ah,” I said, “the big cheese.”

He laughed at that one. “Never heard it said that way, but I guess it’s correct. Bellfrey owns all the land you see and a lot of what you don’t.”

“Is this like a fiefdom or something?” I asked.

“Yep, you see, you aren’t so far out of your element here,” he said merrily. “A few weeks with us and you’ll fit right in.”

He steered the horses into the village and tipped his hat to a group of women walking by. The ladies looked to be in their forties, and they covered their mouths with their hands and whispered to each other as their eyes stared at me. I knew that they were gossiping about me, and who could blame them? I was in the middle of a medieval village wearing full Army garb, and I got about as many looks as I would have received if I walked through an Army barracks in a tutu.

The village reminded me of a set from Game of Thrones. It contained a blacksmith, a livery, a church that donned a big S rather than a cross, a butcher shop, and a small schoolhouse. There were also a number of quaint shops, along with numerous open markets that offered everything from fresh vegetables to pickled pigs feet. The smell of manure was almost overwhelming, but no one else seemed to mind.

Torrance didn’t apologize to me for his nosey neighbors, but instead yelled to them like a carnival barker. “Don’t stare, a painting lasts longer. Come on, follow us. We’ve a visitor from another land whose stars have never been read before!”

I pretended to be blocking out the suns and hid my face as the people ogled us and started to murmur. Within five minutes, it seemed that the message had reached every corner of the village, and by the time we stopped in front of the witch Granhelga’s little hut by the river, more than a hundred citizens of Hamstead had gathered to see what was going on.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Torrance urged. He looked to be enjoying himself immensely, and I saw the glimmer of stardom in his eyes.

I reluctantly climbed down from the wagon, and the crowd gasped and murmured to each other. I made out random comments about how strange my clothes were, and speculation about whether I was a warrior of some sort. Other people scowled and spit on the ground, mumbling about foreigners and keeping to your own.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said as I eyed the growing crowd. Any plans that I had had about keeping a low profile shot right out the window when Torrance stood up on his seat, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted my arrival to the town.

Matilda stared at me with stars in her eyes, and the brothers stood beside me like conquering kings as they shouldered against each other to be seen better. Torrance gave a flourish of his frilly wrist and bowed low.

“Good people of Hamstead, I present to you, Ken Jewell.”

“What’s the racket all about outside my door?” the thick, raspy voice of an old woman called out. She sounded like she drank whiskey all the time and smoked three packs a day.

I glanced at the door to the hut and watched as the old witch shuffled out of the place with the help of a gnarled and knotted cane. She wore a brown patchwork cloak, and on her right shoulder sat a frazzled looking black cat. On closer inspection, I realized that the thing was dead, stuffed, and pinned to her robe. Her nose was long and hooked at the end, and two beady green eyes partially lost to saggy, wrinkled skin scanned the crowd. When she spotted me, she froze, and her eyes grew about three sizes bigger.

“You …” she said, and pointed at me with a long, crooked finger. Her fingernails were so long that they curled up under themselves.

“Uh, hi,” I offered. “You must be Granhelga.”

The crowd began to murmur again when they heard my voice, and whispers about my accent didn’t miss my ears.

“I am Granhelga,” the witch said with a flourish of her robed arms, but then she let out a groan of pain, put her hand on the small of her back, and took a slow step forward. “But who are you?”

“I’m, uh, Ken.”

“Uh Ken who?” She sounded like a creepy owl, and I tried not to let on just how nervous the old hag made me.

“Just Ken,” I told her.

She grinned at me devilishly and reached up to take my chin in her long fingers. Her fingers smelled like hummus and ass, and I held my breath and glanced at Torrance. He offered me a reassuring nod.

“Hmm, ahh, Torrance has found a diamond in the rough, or should I say … a Jewel?” She leaned in when she spoke, and I nearly gagged. Her breath smelled like she had been chewing on cat turds.

I laughed nervously and tried to remind myself that Torrance had just introduced me to the crowd a few minutes ago, so she hadn’t really used any magical powers to guess who I was.

“Hmmm,” she murmured at me and turned my head left and right. As my noggin swiveled on my neck, I caught a glimpse of the crowd who practically held their breath in anticipation.

“Granhelga, Lady of Mystic Knowledge,” Torrance said as he bowed before her. “I have brought this man to you so that you might determine what powers he has.”

“I know why you have brought him here, you oafish fool!” she scowled at him and turned her attention back to me. “Come, and I will read your stars.”

I offered Torrance a pensive frown, but he continued to encourage me with his animated expressions. Granhelga waved her hand and beckoned me to follow, so I let out a pent-up sigh and walked into the little hut.

“Put your pack down and sit on the other side of the fire,” she instructed and proceeded to gather an armload of ingredients from the many shelves about the place.

I sat down on a cushion by the fire that burned at the center of the hut and surveyed the confined space in two heartbeats. The hut was perhaps twelve feet wide and circular. It had a stone half wall and a domed wooden frame covered with thatch. There were several open windows that gave the villagers a clear view of the inside of the hut, and they crowded the windows so they could watch silently. The light revealed stacks of leather-bound books haphazardly stacked against the wall to my left. Behind me I saw a small cot, and to my right the wall consisted entirely of shelves littered with jars full of strange, many-colored liquids, some with pig’s heads, human hands, dead snakes, or trapped spiders inside, along with dozens of other sticky unnameables.

The place smelled like cat piss and old lady diapers.

Granhelga had gathered all her ingredients and spread them on a small table to her right. She then sat down across from me with many grumbles, groans, and general elderly protests. Once she had settled in, she turned her soul-searching gaze upon me once again. The look she gave me made my pecker want to retract into my sack like a turtle head, and I tried to relax.

I’d had my fortune read before. Granted, it hadn’t been in front of a hundred mystified villagers on another planet, and there were no real witches back on Earth that I knew of. But the villagers sure seemed to believe in the old hag’s abilities, so I guessed that she could probably do what they said she could do.

“You have come very, very far, haven’t you, Sergeant?” Granhelga asked.

“You can say that again,” I said and tried to remember if Torrance had told everyone my rank.

“Why, are you hard of hearing?” she inquired.

“What? No, it’s a figure of speech. Never mind. Hey, how long is this going to take?”

The crowd who watched through the windows and the door gave a collective gasp, and I guessed that I had broken some rule of etiquette. But the witch didn’t seem to mind. She smirked at me and gave a small laugh that turned into a smoker’s cough. Or a tuberculosis cough. One of the two.

“My friend told me that you witches can create portals,” I said, and watched her closely for a reaction. “Can you help me get back to my world?”

“First, I read your stars,” she told me. “Now be quiet and let me focus on my work.”

She proceeded to take her sweet time tossing ingredients into the simmering cauldron between us. In went a rabbit’s foot, a bull horn, two dehydrated toad carcasses, a pinch of salt, a hint of garlic, and something that might have been thyme. The list went on and on. I had started to get bored with the little show about two seconds after I sat down, and by the time she waddled her ass over to pluck out a few brown hairs from my scalp, my patience was wearing thin.

Granhelga tossed my hair in the fire, and to my surprise, a small explosion rocked the hut and multicolored smoke filled the tight quarters.

“Jesus, lady, you trying to kill me?” I asked as I waved the smoke out of my face.

She stood over the boiling cauldron, completely oblivious to my protests, while the crowd leaned into the windows with their breaths collectively held. I found myself on the edge of my seat cushion, and I realized I was holding my breath.

“You have not one magic power… but two!”

The crowd was shocked. Some onlookers’ jaws dropped like young men laying their eyes on their first set of tits, and others stared wide-eyed, completely entranced as Granhelga leaned down more into the swirling cauldron. I peeked into the pot as well, but the concoction looked like funky soup to me. It smelled like old gym socks, spearmint bubblegum, if that was possible, and there was a hint of sulfur somewhere in the rancid banquet of aromas.

“Your first power …” She took her sweet time, no doubt trying to work the crowd. The old bat was a showwoman for sure, and a good one at that. I wondered how much money she made selling snake oils and cures for limp dick on the side.

Her eyes suddenly widened, and she looked at me horrified. “Your first power is the ability to bond with monsters!”

The crowd reeled back. Someone fell back out of a window. A woman cried out, no doubt clutching at her pearls. Men protested angrily, and children began to cry.

“And!” Granhelga bellowed, silencing everyone. “Not only can you bond with them, your first power can also bring them up to the surface world… into the sunlight!”

I heard the women in the crowd start to sob, but before I could look at them, the witch let out a moan of terror.

“That isn’t all.” Granhelga clutched at her chest. “Your second power… is even more horrible. It’s… It is…” She began hyperventilating, and I reached out to steady her when she suddenly collapsed like someone had hit her in the head with a baseball bat. I managed to catch her before her face smacked into the side of the table, and then I set her down on the floor and reached to check her for a pulse.

And that’s when the villagers went ape shit.

“He killed her!” a man cried out.

“No, I was only trying to--”

“She said that he could bond with monsters,” a woman reminded them all.

“And bring them to the surface!” another woman screeched.

“Into the daylight!” a man bellowed.

“Get him, get the monster loving bastard!”

The villagers were pretty worked up, so I guided the old witch down to the dirt floor gently, sprang to my feet, and rushed to the door. A pair of burly men blocked my way, but I was a pretty big dude myself, and I shouldered into them both with the power of my six foot three, two hundred-pound frame, combined with the momentum of my seventy-pound molle pack.

We crashed through the threshold and spilled out onto the cobblestone street. I rolled, leapt to my feet, and spun a circle to get my bearings. I was surrounded. Some villagers looked terrified of me, but others slowly closed in, more than a hundred in all. They had begun to gather whatever weapons they could find, and slowly started to stalk toward me with pitchforks, shovels, axes, and even brooms.

“Everybody calm down!” I yelled, but they kept on coming.

Torrance and his family watched from the wagon that seemed to float on a sea of pissed-off villagers. The old fisherman looked crestfallen and couldn’t meet my gaze. Matilda held her hand over her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. Maximus’s bottom lip quivered as he watched me back up cautiously from the crowd, and his brother yelled at the villagers to leave me alone. But his voice was barely audible above the chorus of dissent.

“Get that monster lover!”

“Hang him high!”

“Burn him at the stake!”

“Cut off his balls!”

I glanced at the castration enthusiast who appeared to be a barber. He held a big pair of shears and snapped them open and closed as he and the others moved closer. One man got a little too close with the skinning knife that he carried, and I smacked the blade out of his grip with my hand before pushing him back. I might as well have kicked a hornet’s nest because the crowd began to buzz more angrily than ever.

“Alright, everybody fucking freeze!” I screamed as I pulled my sidearm, spun a circle, and trained the gun on the crowd.

They stopped, eyed the gun with confusion, and then kept on coming.

“Freeze!” I warned, but like a gang of medieval zombies they shambled towards me, so I aimed the pistol in the air and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out like a snare drum rim-shot, and the townspeople collectively paused to look at my hand. For half a second, it seemed like they were a bit confused, and I thought my “Sheriff trying to restore order” routine might have worked.

But then they all turned their eyes away from my pistol, started to scream again, and closed in on me like the angry mob they were.

I charged through the crowd like a linebacker and slammed into the biggest guy I could see. He wasn’t a fighter like me, so he hadn’t been ready. The blow sent him careening into three other people, and the four of them fell in a tangle of flailing limbs. I leapt over them, landed among the villagers, and proceeded to introduce them to the concept of a mosh pit.

Then I danced through the crowd, bobbed, weaved, and shoulder slammed the men who got too close. Someone tried to hit me on the shoulder with a shovel, but I turned my back so my pack took the hit. Someone else tried to stab me with a kitchen knife, but I smacked the weapon out of their grip before they could get me. I took a few punches on the chest, and one to the side of my face , but I finally broke through the mob.

Then I ran as fast as I could for the bridge that would take me back in the direction I had come.

I wasn’t going to try to retreat to Torrance’s house, since I had already caused him enough trouble. I was just trying to get some space between me and the pitchforks.

Behind me, the crowd of angry villagers were in an uproar. A bell began to toll, and I imagined the cavalry charging out of the distant castle.

I urged my legs to run faster and ran through the village. Men with pitchforks and torches poured out of every street, brawlers with clubs fashioned from broken chair legs emerged from every pub, and cooks charged out of eateries wielding butcher knives and rolling pins. I ducked and dodged the groping hands and impromptu weapons and hauled ass to the bridge. Luckily, no one was coming from the other side of town, so I ran across the bridge without having to fight anyone else.

I was in prime shape, but I was also used to lugging around a lot of weight. If I didn’t put an end to the chase soon, I would run out of steam and be overwhelmed by the maniacal villagers.

To make matters worse, the baying of what sounded like a dozen hounds issued from a barn nearby.

“Go get ‘em, Blue!” a man yelled, and the dogs shot out of the barn and headed straight toward me.

I was a dead man. There was no way I could outrun the dogs. I might have been able to shoot them, but I wouldn’t be able to put them all down before one of them ripped out my throat. They closed in fast, and I frantically searched for a way out of this predicament. Then I spotted the wagon sitting beside a cottage, and I sprinted in that direction. The dogs were on my heels by the time I reached the wagon, but I jumped on the wheel, stepped up atop the wagon, and lifted myself up onto the thatch roof of the nearest cottage before they could bite me. Three more cottages and a barn lined up beside the one I was on, and so I raced across the rooftops.

I finally stopped on the roof of a large barn and considered my next move. A quick glance around showed me the screaming villagers in hot pursuit, more dogs, and a squadron of knights riding across the bridge. I’d been in tight spots before, and I had always gotten out alive, but I was beginning to think that my luck had just run out.

Then I saw a horse being led out of the barn below me, and my mind drifted back to those old Western movies where people leapt from rooftops and landed on saddles before riding off into the sunset.

But this wasn’t a movie, and this horse wasn’t wearing a saddle. I imagined the intense pain that would fill my balls if I landed on the horse from this height, so I slid down the side of the roof instead.

“I’m going to need that horse, friend,” I told the man with the horse after I had landed next to him.

He stared at me wide-eyed and slowly handed me the horse’s reins. I was about to tell him to go piss off, but then I realized that I probably couldn’t get up onto the horse’s back with my heavy molle pack.

“Help me up, move, move, move!” I ordered with my best drill sergeant voice.

The squat little man rushed over and, to my surprise, dropped down on all fours so that I could use him as a stool. I would have laughed if an entire town wasn’t trying to kill me, but the man seemed more afraid than I was, and a moment later I was stepping on his back so I could climb up on the horse.

The animal didn’t like me on its back, but I didn’t much care what it liked at that moment. I snapped the reins and kicked the sides, and after a few seconds it finally complied. We rocketed down the street, hooked a left, and headed for the old road leading out of the village. Behind me, the dogs bayed and howled with anguish, and a look back revealed at least two dozen men on horses in hot pursuit.

I had only ridden a horse a handful of times, and I had always done so on a saddle. Riding bareback was way more challenging, and I knew that I had no chance of outrunning the riders who pursued me. As I exited the village and rode toward the forest of pine, I tried to figure out a way to evade the men. With the dogs on my trail it was useless to try to hide, and I knew nothing about the land, so trying to lose them in their own backyard was out of the question.

Then I thought of the one place that everyone here seemed to be afraid of.

The underdark.

I remembered Torrance pointing out one of the boarded-up caves that supposedly led to the underdark. I had a good memory for such things and knew the spot to be about a half a mile down the road. All I had to do was get there in one piece.

When I reached the spot, I leapt off the horse and raced over to the blocked off entrance. Whoever had barricaded up the cave did a half-assed job, and I easily tore down the shoddily constructed planks and started throwing the stones aside.

As I worked, the ground shook with the thunder of two dozen horses, and a horn blared from what sounded like less than a hundred yards away.

They were getting close, so I kept ripping at the wood.

“Hey you, stop!” I heard a voice cry, but the wood was almost down, so I didn’t bother to turn around.

“Get him before he escapes!” someone else yelled from behind me.

“Shoot him!” another voice shouted, but then the cave was open, and I leapt through the hole I’d made and tumbled over the stones piled in the entrance.

A second after I’d made it inside, an arrow whizzed right by my head and twanged off the stone wall. I ducked down behind a rock and gave a glance at the entrance. The group of townspeople were there with their dogs, but the animals whined at the entrance and didn’t seem to want to enter.

I scrambled to the back of the cave to get out of the range of the bowmen and turned on my flashlight. My heart hammered in my chest and the adrenaline left me a little shaky. I was glad to have escaped the mob, but now I was faced with the dreaded underdark.

I tried to tell myself that the people were superstitious, that there were no monsters down here, but the dogs didn’t even want to venture into these dark haunts, and that left me more than a little spooked.

Were there really monsters living in the caves of this strange world?

It was time to find out.