I woke up to someone kicking my boot. It felt like someone clonked me over the head with a hammer while I slept.

“DeAnna, wha..?” A brief moment of panic hit as I took in the site of the wood battlement, the reed mat, the strange tall man looking down at me with a smirk.

Then I came to. It hadn’t been a dream, but it still felt like I was living one. A reel played in my mind: the fall, the splash, the chase, the magic, the burnt porridge.

Dang, why does my head hurt so much? Some kind of otherworldly allergies? I suddenly craved coffee. Back in my world there was always some handy, either in my apartment or in one of the many cafes a block’s distance away from where I lived. Did they even have coffee here?

As if on cue, Osner, who had been patiently waiting as I roused from sleep, worldlessly handed me a cup of brownish liquid. No way! I tipped the cup back and muddy water passed over my tongue. I grimaced. They probably didn’t even have filtered water in this world. Was it even clean?

I choked out a begrudging ‘thank you’ as I finished the last sip, careful to avoid the sludge at the bottom of the cup.

Osner nodded, “Time to away, stranger. We’s get you home.”

I sure hoped so. I’d seen some pretty incredible things I never thought I’d ever see, but I was missing home. Coffee, video games, DeAnna’s cooking. I was in a scratchy tunic without even clear water to drink. Definitely a new low.

We walked to the wooden gate on the opposite side of the way I’d come in. I caught the corners of a few stares from the guards.

The mustache on the short captain twitched in irritation. “Mind my men, stranger. Na funny business, else…” He made a rude gesture at me, like imitating an axe striking his temple. I got the message loud and clear.

A new person joined us at the gate. From our conversation last night I guessed this was Ysbek. He was a cold glare in human form with sharp, angular features. He carried a short bow with a quiver of arrows strapped to his waist. I tried to wave and he stiffened, eyes boring into mine. I hesitantly lowered my arm and looked away.

Osner and Ysbek exchanged nods and led me through the gate.

I was amazed anew as I glanced up at the fresh dawn. The interlocking bands of the sun glowed radiantly above the tops of the corkscrew-shaped trees. There was something peaceful about it, away from the incessant honking and noisy pedestrians of St. Louis.

Compared to the eerie silence of my first night in this new world, several birds could be heard heralding the new morning.

I caught sight of one gliding over my head. It was a dazzling sheen of blue. It had a large wingspan with tendrils like long ribbons trailing from its tail. It cooed a gentle melody and barely flexed its wings as it sailed ahead on the breeze.

We walked at a quick pace on a loose dirt road. Ysbek took point and leered into random trees as though they hid some kind of danger. Osner stood beside me, calm as ever. Only his hand hovering an inch over his sword betrayed his caution.

It was then that I realized how vulnerable I truly was. Besides the karate I took, and dropped in fourth grade, I knew next to nothing about how to defend myself. In a world full of monsters and magic especially so.

Up ahead Ysbek stopped and held up a hand. My nerves started to fray.

Bandits, more of those wicked bugs?

I swear my heart stopped as something stepped from the forest onto the road. It looked like a moose, but much bigger, with a large horn protruding from its nose like a rhinoceros. Its translucent antlers, instead of facing up, reached forward from its skull like ghostly hands.

It was a few hundred feet away but slowly turned its head to regard us. The frozen seconds felt like minutes. Then with a flick of its tail, as if shooing a fly from its haunch, it casually and confidently crossed the road to the forest beyond. We stood for a few minutes in silence until Ysbek waved us forward.

I was somewhat relieved, even though my heart was still hammering in my chest. So much I didn’t know. I’d have to learn fast.

“Osner,” I said quietly, “are creatures like that everywhere here?”

“The trunkel? A few wander the woods. Leave be and they leave yas alone. Mess with a cub though, differen’ story.” He flashed a crooked smile. “Nah worries though, stranger, we hunt bigger.”

“Bigger? How much bigger can they get?”

Osner pondered for a moment, as close to plain serious as I’d ever seen him.

“Well the manticore be roaming closer to camp than we’d like. Is why I’m to take this missive to the Armsduke to request help.” I balked.

“A manticore? Like a lion with a scorpion tail?” Memories of stories my mother read to me at bedtime flooded my mind.

“I dunnae what you mean by ‘scorpion’, but lion yes. About a trunkel twice high. Black as night. If the claws an’ teeth don’t get you, the fire it spews from its tail will. We saw the smoke from it across the Crescent Lake yesternoon.”

Wait. The Crescent Lake, wasn’t that where..my mind trailed off. My nerves were kicking into overdrive. I thought about the smoke I’d seen across the lake when I first arrived. Had I really been that close to a flame-shooting monster? At the time I thought it was someone making camp. I’d have walked right up to it and become otherworld barbecue.

We continued walking for another hour in silence. My head still hurt, my nerves shot. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee. Or air conditioning. The rays of the interlocking sun intensified. I held my hand up to keep the worst of it out of my eyes.

Osner chucked. “Nah much for the heat, are yas? A wonder you made it this far outside t’city.” He looked unphased by the rising temperature. I guessed living in a fortress out in the woods would do that to a person.

“Yeah.” I had to agree with him. On all counts I could, should have been dead. I had been in a fender-bender before, but I was never so keenly aware of my own mortality as I was in that moment.

Our path through the forest turned a bend, and opened up like a flower in full blossom. A wonderful scene filled my view. Beyond the crossing paths crossing at a tee was a massive, frothing swell of blue. The river spanned at least a mile in width. I spottest the barest hint of green and brown on the opposite shore. The vibrant glittering blues in eternal conflict with the gnashing roar of muddy foam. It captured the essence of how I felt about this world, equal parts beautiful and violent. Thinking back to Osner’s brief geography lesson the night before, I guessed this was the Mantrapper. It certainly looked the part.

Several carts lined the crossing path directly in front of us. They were either pulled by people or by what looked like hornless bulls with very thick front legs. Most carts had a triangular canopy which made them look like miniature houses on wheels. The wheels themselves were made of stone, with small logs sticking through them.

That looks efficient. The strange animals and strong people didn’t seem to mind though.

We made our way into the throng and along the river. We passed lush farmlands ripe with tall grains and bundles of laborers. The road curved to our left and I froze, causing Osner to bump into me.

“Ey!” He yelped in surprise.

I mumbled a quick sorry in response, but something else had my attention completely. A ginormous golden tower pierced the sky behind a huge grey crenelated wall. The tower ended with an orb twice as thick as the tower itself, radiating the many-colored hues of stained glass.

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“Come on,” Osner nudged, “It’s more impressive up close.” His words echoed ever truer as more of the city came into view.

It was stunning, rivaling the size of St. Louis itself. The stonework of the encircling wall was flawless and seamless as though it were carved from a single block of stone.

Our path joined a second onto a massive highway, and we found ourselves in the middle of a sea of people. Many of the men wore plain brown and slate tunics, and several women wore faded yellow dresses with collars that opened like lace flowers around their necks. It seemed like most were farmers, judging by the strangely colored vegetables in their carts.

As we approached the massive wooden gate in queue I grew apprehensive. I noted the silver of shining visors through the turrets in the walls, no doubt holding archers or worse. I looked down, trying my best to walk normally.

The guards at the gate recognized Ysbek and Osner immediately, and waved us through. They wore the emblem of a gold shield behind a silver sword. The royal guard, I guessed. One of them raised an eyebrow as I walked past, but must have assumed I was no threat, and waved me on dismissively.

We stopped at the large stone barracks on the opposite side of the gate. Osner nodded to Ysbek and went inside, leaving Ysbek to wait with me outside.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” I asked. Ysbek continued to stare at the many faces of the people piling into the city. I shrank back, deciding that Ysbek could care less that I was there.

After waiting half an hour, Osner returned. A small shadow touched under his eyes.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Didn’t even make it to the Armsduke. Warden turned me aroun and said since there’s no danger right away, there’s nothing he could do.” He made an odd gesture with his fingers.

Ysbek nodded, and went into the barracks himself while Osner escorted me to the city proper. When he left, I turned to Osner and whispered.

“What’s his deal? Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he just ignores me.”

Osner looked puzzled for a second. Then the shadow dropped from his eyes as he leaned back and belted out a laugh.

“Oh, that does the soul good. Nah, stranger Ysbek meant no harm. He’s deaf, you see.”

Well now I just feel like a jerk...and a bit of a moron. It all made sense now. I thought the signs Osner and Ysbek made were like some forest guard call sign, but it was actually a form of sign language. And it wasn’t that Ysbek was ignoring me, he just couldn’t hear me.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I took in the enormity of the city. I could barely believe what I was seeing. I was able to see the entire city all at once. It was in the shape of a gigantic bowl with four massive and distinct terraces. Towards the back of the city sat a shimmering golden palace with the tall tower. From here it looked like the multicolored panels on the orb were flowing, no doubt reflecting the intensity of the Mantrapper.

The terrace I was on had stables and taverns and thousands of crowded apartments. They were all in varying stages of disrepair. I even noticed a few people sleeping on blankets between them. The sounds and smells of all the commotion were overwhelming.

Animals brayed. Savory meats were cooked on fires in stone pits. The smell of dung and fresh fish also hung in the air. Tens of thousands of carts and stalls lined this terrace. Jugglers and acrobats and a variety of other street performers displayed their tone physiques and lightning movements.

That’s when I ran into the most colorful man I have ever seen. His outfit looked like a combination of several renaissance faire costumes stitched together. He carried a large guitar-like instrument with a round body that reminded me of an avocado.

A single gold feather stuck to his jaunty, oversized cap. The feather was bent in the middle in a pretty yet fragile kind of way.

“Copper for a song?” he asked with a dramatic smile.

I looked at Osner and he smirked, as if to let me know this was the only freebie I was getting. He flipped the copper piece into the air. The man of many colors snatched it away so quickly that I couldn’t tell where he stashed it.

He flexed his fingers expertly and quickly tuned his instrument. It produced a rich baritone sound as he strummed the strings. He plucked through an experimental arpeggio then began his song in earnest.

A sonorous melody in the form of poetry glided from his lips:

“A beautiful night,

A purest delight,

The cradle of earth is my bed.

Often I swoon

By the silvery moon

The stars canopy over my head.

By daylight I travel,

As dangers unravel,

The adders signal their warning.

Yet blessings I’m counting

I eat the earth’s bounty

My mead is the dew of the morning.”

He ended with a dramatic strum and a deep bow. Osner and I and a small crowd of others applauded. I was glad that at least that expression was the same as on Earth.

The man in the jaunty cap waved towards us.

“The name’s Harlequin.”

Of course it is. He stood there in all his pomp and glory as though that word were written specifically for him.

He then quickly spun around and began magicking away a few more coppers from the crowd he’d gathered.

“Worth the copper to see that for myself,” said Osner with a grin. “But of all people ye don’t have any coin on yas?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I guess the “Chosen One” was supposed to be rich.

“Not this second anyway,” I said.

“Yas a bag a riddles,” Osner said with a smile.

We waded through a field of market stalls. People of all shapes and sizes wore the colors of earth, stone, and flowers. The smell of rich meats cooking caused my mouth to fill with drool. Produce like oblong blue vegetables and spiky green fruit lined many racks. A few vendors even sold live animals, plump and grey four-legged chickens.

Imagine trying to catch one of those. My grandma, ‘Nana’ we called her, had lived out in the Ozarks of Missouri with a couple acres of land and more than a few chickens. More than once DeAnna and I played catch-the-chicken. It was a miracle if we could catch one in under half and hour. I tried to imagine how fast a four-legged chicken could haul it.

I stirred from my thoughts as we approached a stone stairway to the next terrace above us. A low wall circled its perimeter with several openings, each manned by a single guard.

The guard we had to get through was a head taller than Osner and about twice as thick. He had a club at his hip that was roughly the size of a small tree trunk. Although I didn’t think he even needed it. The brute could probably just strangle me to death. I grew anxious as he held up an authoritative hand.

“Osner, 7th division, forest guard.” Osner spoke in his pure formal tone that I’d only heard once or twice. The guard nodded.

“And him?” He gestured at me.

“Alaster,” Osner said, “escorting him back.”

The eyebrows of the guard shot up to his head.

“Alaster? Are you certain?” His eyes did a full body scan of me.

“Yes.” said Osner. His tone and face were confident, but something about how his thumb twitched over his sword told a different story.

What if I’m missing something? It’s nothing but crazy that I’m being treated like a celebrity here. What’s the deal with my name? I had an uneasy feeling stir in my gut.

The guard didn’t perceive any of that though. He waved us on with a primal grunt. We walked through the opening in the low wall. Everything at once seemed calmer on this terrace, almost muted compared to the hubbub below. I realized that the wall was probably there to block a lot of the noise that came from the lower levels.

Instead of free stalls, there were formal shops on this level. I spotted a few clothing stores with sparkly gowns and trimmed doublets. Suits of armor and gleaming weapons smiled through panes of glass. The smell of fresh bread wafted from a bakery.

That just brought back the chill of running for my life, away from those magic shadow wasp things. And the taste of burnt porridge. Hard pass.

After about an hour of walking we ascended another set of stairs, these ones white marble, to the highest terrace of the bowl-shaped city. A tall wall surrounded it with stone archways for entrances. I was surprised to note that these weren’t guarded.

The sounds of the lower terraces ceased altogether as we walked through the stone archway. It was beautiful.

Flowers and trees and small picnic meadows grew in colorful, trimmed bunches. Some were in brickwork troughs next to silver fountains spraying cool water. Metal gates surrounded gigantic mansions spaced out a quarter mile apart. All behind the safety of the outer wall. It looked both delicate and imposing.

As we walked towards one of the mansions, Osner turned to look at me. I couldn’t recognize the look he was giving me.

“Stranger, I wont nothing bad on yas. So I ask again, are ye truly Alaster?”

Was that hopefulness in his voice, or something else? Whatever the case, this was also my chance to maybe find out more about my unreasonable special treatment.

“What does Alaster mean to you, Osner?”

He stopped walking. He thought for a moment.

“Job security,” he finally said with a playful wink. But the shadow returned under his eyes.

I had no clue what it meant, but I also felt like he was hiding something. I was hoping to get some real answers soon.

We walked on a little further in silence. That’s when I noticed a succulent-looking blue fruit overhanging the fence. It smelled sweet, so I plucked it. I was famished. Technically it wasn’t stealing if it was outside the property, right?

I bit into the soft skin and a squirt of blue juice leapt from my mouth, almost landing on Osner’s boot in front of me. Thankfully he didn’t notice. I finished the fruit that tasted as good as it looked, a first for this world. I sucked my fingers clean, only to notice that the tips of my fingers were now cobalt blue.

I had to skid to the side to avoid bumping into Osner again. I turned to look. There, behind a black iron gate, was a vibrant red brick mansion. It had a blue roof trimmed with white. Two large banners hung from the gate. They each displayed a symbol, a river lined with white foam. Osner gestured wide.

“Welcome home.”