I didn’t get a horse. I was escorted by one of the guards down the long flights of stairs to the market terrace of Vivenheim.

The interlocking rings of the sun glared furiously down on my face and hands. I started to feel a grimy layer of sweat and oil on my forehead. I looked around, but there weren’t any large awnings to shield me from the ferocious rays. I was really hoping for that bath day soon.

I took in the sounds of haggling farmers and dancers with castanets. I looked around for the colorful Harlequin, but I couldn’t spot him among the many stalls. Someone as dramatic and ostentatious as him should stick out. I wondered if he made it to one of the many inns.

The sharp noise of a bugle carried over the sizzling sausages and passionate peddlers. The crowds quieted. A host of white box carriages with four horses leading each made their way down the main thoroughfare. They rolled from the direction of the castle.

I inspected them as they drew nearer. Instead of logs and rough stones for wheels like the typical farmer’s cart, polished rods held what looked like stone discs etched with runes. Instead of the expected loud clacking, the wheels were soundless on the cobblestone road.

At the head coach stood a short man. He stood as though his prominent position gave him a few inches of extra height, and squinted as though he needed glasses. He trumpeted his bugle a second time and the array of carriages came to a noiseless halt. Then he shouted as loud as the bugle in snub monotone.

“His excellency the king of Vivien, ruler of Vivenheim, calls the party of the hunt to step forward and receive his excellent hospitality to the grounds of this most excellent hunt!”

Does this guy even breathe? Also, someone needs to get him a Thesaurus.

The guard next to me nudged me with his elbow. I became more and more self-aware as I approached the train of carriages. People in the market were taking notice of me, wearing expressions of what looked like envy or outright hostility. Some whispered in hushed tones. I didn’t have hearing as good as DeAnna’s, but I could still make out what they were saying:

“Look, that’s the lad who weaseled his way into the kingdom’s coffers.”

“To think Lord Alaster had an illegitimate heir. That hypocritical prude.”

For the first time, I felt a bit sorry for Kalculus. Me showing up and claiming his name broke his wife’s heart and was already hurting his reputation. Add the fact that he was nobility and all sorts of complications came with that revelation.

Then there were the others approaching the carriages. A man with long, black hair wore a set of heavy red armor. He had an obsidian, twin-bladed battleaxe strapped to his back. Each head shone like a dark moon.

A little overkill for deer hunting.

He wore a white cape with the gold shield and silver sword emblazoned on it. I recognized it as the same emblem that the guards at my trial wore. If anyone looked like a champion, he was it. He locked eyes with me and smirked, rolling his eyes. He stepped into his carriage first.

The second person I noticed was a mountain of a man. He had shoulders the size of boulders and wore a simple orange tunic with chest hair sprouting from the ‘u’ in his collar. His insignia was an axe and hammer. He was bald with a rough looking brown beard. I nodded to him and he raised an eyebrow, evaluating me. Then, he nodded back, and had to bend over double just to enter his carriage.

The third hunter was beautiful. She wore the burgundy robes with the eye and scepter on them. Her hair cascaded down in ash blonde waves streaked with brown. She moved with an effortless grace as though she were gliding instead of walking. Her nose and chin were sharp. And those stunning eyes, they gleamed like pools of liquid mercury. She floated into the carriage with practiced ease, ignorant to my gawking.

I couldn’t help feeling like a total imposter as I entered my own carriage. At least the interior looked comfortable. Puffy-looking white leather benches lined either side with a small table in the middle. I sat facing the open door. There was a bowl of wrapped treats next to some kind of decanter. I unwrapped one and popped it in my mouth as the attendant closed the door behind me.

A horribly strong, bitter taste of something that tasted like earwax racked my tongue. I froze, and promptly spit the mess onto the small table. I noticed the attendant staring at me through the window. He gave me the most judgmental side eye I’d ever seen, and disappeared from view.

I felt the carriage being pulled from under me by the horses, and the market erupted into whistles and waves, shouting for their favorite house. I noticed some even placing bets on the favorite to win. My money was not on me.

We were pulled through the large city gates and out into the country. I observed the violent crashing of the Mantrapper from where I sat for awhile, then became absorbed in my own thoughts.

A constricting hand tightened around my chest. I felt trapped.

A couple days ago I could just go where and when I wanted. And when I was really feeling stuck, I could hide away in a coffee shop. But now…

Now I was being herded like cattle. I was bullied about by the whims of a powerful noble who clearly hated me. I could understand why a little more now, but I despised being forced to do someone else’s bidding. I resolved that I would do what I had to do to win my freedom, and then go back to my world where freedom was possible.

Soon a field of pines and corkscrew teal trees swarmed my vision. Then the carriages came to a stop.

“Party of the hunt, depart and gather for your briefing!” called the obnoxiously loud voice of the attendant. A small mercy he hadn’t blown that bugle again. The squinty little man took his job a bit too seriously.

6 people climbed down from the carriages and assembled in a small clearing. Axe man, boulder shoulders, and the beautiful lady joined me and a few from other houses. Our mix of colored robes looked like a fancy human tapestry.

The announcer raised his chin as if trying to stretch out over us. It was kind of funny; he was like two feet shorter than me.

“The contest will be decided on both the quantity and quality of your quarry. Each creature you conquer will be quantified and qualified, and your scores will be applied appropriately.” I felt itchy just listening to this guy. Too many ‘q’s. I was convinced he just liked to hear himself talk. “One of the forest guards will accompany you to the trail farther in. May the Celestial grant you success in your hunt. Go forth in the good graces of our gracious Lord, King Extravagus the Second.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I was glad he stopped talking when a familiar face stepped into view. Osner scanned the hunting party. When his eyes fell on me his lips parted in a wordless gasp. A series of emotions played across his face. Amazement, confusion, seriousness, then something like anger. He gave me a look that clearly read, “You have some explaining to do.”

Then he snapped back to attention and addressed the group as a whole.

“They were last seen a hare’s sprint from here, Southwards. Three shes. We suspect there’s an alpha with them, but we ‘ent caught sights on it yet.”

The champion in red armor sneered. “Oh, it will be there, and it will be my blade that severs its head.” The pretty ash blonde woman shot him a cold, challenging look. He didn’t notice. The bald man just shrugged.

Osner added, “We appreciate the help. They’s been a great thorn in the side of late.”

I had to wonder, what sort of prey would give trained fighters like Osner and Ysbek trouble? Maybe the deer were just insanely fast?

Osner was cut short and brushed away by the attendant.

“Yes, yes, save your kisses for the royal boots of His Majesty the illustrious Extravagus the Second. Lead our champions on to their quarry.”

Osner turned his wrists up in a show of respect, then waved the party forward. “Go straight, yas can’t miss ‘em. Be careful.”

The man in red armor snorted, “I advise you to be careful. By my might and pedigree I shall slay them all.”

What a jerk-face.

Osner stepped aside as the man wielding the obsidian battleaxe strode confidently into the woods. The bald man followed, eyes calculating the details in the forest around him.

I wanted to ask the lady with ash blonde hair more about her noble house. Ok, maybe I just wanted to ask her about her.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t about to do either. Osner made a beeline for me and tugged me towards the back of the procession. He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to us, then hissed out a barrage of questions as we walked:

“What in Sheol are yas doin ‘ere? We guard yer life so yas can toss it away again?

“Throw it away?” I hushed my voice to match his. “I’m just joining a hunt. There’s plenty of fighters here who can do the actual hunting. Besides, Kalculus was treating me like a slave back at the manor. He said I could become a young lord if I joined the hunt.”

Osner stiffened, then softened a bit. I could read the empathy on his face.

“Do yas know what kind of man Lord Alaster is? Shrewd. He wants rid of yas. Did yas think this was a rabbit hunt?”

As he asked the question a chill began to creep into my body despite the sun. I looked around. There was a glimmer through the trees. Like a lake. No, exactly like a lake. And by the shape of it, it looked like the exact lake I had fallen into when I first arrived in this world. I remembered the smoke that I had tried to follow, and what Osner said about it afterwards. I paled. Panic swelled in my chest. The party was not hunting prey. Osner said the word as it appeared in my mind. “Manticore.”

He noticed my fear.

“Look, jes go back to the carriage. You’re not well. Something dinae agree with yer stomach. You should go back.”

I wasted no time and turned back. That’s when a wall of flame erupted, shattering the carriages. Many of the horses reared and stomped in panic. Some were burnt to a crisp on the spot. Smoke and fire billowed from the open windows. The proud announcer was clutching a burning arm and slapping it frantically on his pants as he screamed, running away from the torrent of heat and chaos.

Osner only hesitated for a moment.

“Run! Run towards the others! I’ll cover yer flank.” I spun around and bolted deeper into the woods.

A second wall of flame boxed us in, cutting through the path that led to the other warriors. My feet clamped to the earth in sheer terror.

A tall, dark shadow strode casually through the flames. Obsidian claws the size of my hands protruded from muscular ebony arms. Its eyes glowed darkly like tainted rubies. Its mane was like layered charcoal. It roared, sending my soul quaking to the back of my spine. Flickering flames danced around its mouth. It looked like a lion draped in the black of a panther, but three times too large.

“Alpha.” Osner hissed. In milliseconds his eyes darted to the manticore, then to me.

“Take it. Celestial guide you.” He unsheathed a dagger with incredible speed and handed it to me, never taking his eyes off the fiery beast.

It shook in my hands as I held it up in what I hoped was a guard that would gain me an extra second to live.

In a blur, Osner drew his sword. It glowed a faint blue. Then Osner charged with lightning speed. No. I rubbed my eyes quickly but there was no doubting it. There were four shimmering Osners, four swords converging on the beast as one.

Hope swelled in my chest. Then the monster batted Osner aside as if he were a fly. At the last moment Osner raised his sword into a guard, avoiding the manticore’s claws. Three of the four of him disappeared as he rolled through the dirt. Then he was on his feet, breathing heavily from the strain.

“Fine, no tricks then.” Osner grunted.

The manticore pounced for the tall guard’s head. In a blinding flash Osner ducked under its swiping paws, then surged up like a lethal geyser. His sword slashed towards the manticore’s head, which shifted to avoid its arc. Which put the manticore’s eye in range of Osner’s…fist?

I blinked, not sure if I was seeing correctly. Osner’s fist surged toward the hellish monster’s ruby eyes, but it was tilted unnaturally as if…

No. No. No! Time slowed as I realized with horror what Osner had just attempted to do. His fist bounced harmlessly off the beast’s eyelid. I saw the realization also cross Osner’s face. A split second too late.

Osner had tried to stab the beast, with a dagger he no longer held. His honed reflexes and training with both his dagger and his sword worked in tandem like two blades on a pair of scissors. But without his dagger…

A devastating paw with razored claws reached Osner as he stared in his empty left fist with disbelief, then horror.

“Osner!” I screamed.

The paw tore through Osner’s side as though the leather armor he wore was made of tissue paper. Its momentum hurled him into a corkscrew tree with a sickening crack. I saw blood pooling from his sides. He wasn’t moving.

I was shaking uncontrollably. My thoughts stabbed me over and over.

Dead weight. I’m dead weight. I killed him. We would both be ok if he didn’t give me his dagger. He’d still be alive. I killed someone.

The dagger in my hand clattered to the ground. I didn’t remember dropping it.

The manticore licked its lips, stalking towards the unmoving Osner.

“H-hey.” My panicked voice sounded like a whisper. My thoughts raced a million miles an hour. Not good enough. I had to do something. Even buying a few seconds of time for help. Maybe Osner wasn’t dead yet. But I couldn’t draw its attention. It would kill me. I couldn’t let Osner just die.

“Hey! Back. Off!” I shrieked, all the terror and anger surging into my voice.

The manticores rubied eyes fixed on me.

I’m dead. I am going to die.

It growled like mountains grinding together. It drew eagerness from my panic. No help. No rescue. I would die in this new world before I felt I had ever lived.

Its haunches constricted, preparing to pounce. Its eyes regarded me with finality. Flames licked hungrily from its maw. Then, it leapt. A coffin of claws rushed to embrace me.

I stumbled back. I felt the presence of something behind me, moving like a blur. I was falling into a cloud of sand that seemingly spouted from nowhere. I only had microseconds left to think as the claws and jaw of the manticore closed in around me on all sides.

Whoever, whatever you are, please, help me.

My hand caught on something bristly as it ran past. I felt a pulse of my own will, crystal clear and running like water. A surging will to live.

A thunderbolt split my consciousness. I tasted the sharp flavor of strawberry lemonade.

Then, my world went black.