Adelfried

Adelfried’s head throbbed. His chest and wrist ached from the impact. He opened his eyes but a blur of white and green made his head spin. He had to get up. What would Harold do next? He struggled to his feet, his arms and legs barely cooperated, but dizziness overtook him, and he fell.

He had to protect Minna and Leyna. He forced his eyes open. Slowly the world came into focus. He was outside and the sun was bright. The air was hot. Grass and trees surrounded him as he sat in a muddy puddle. The air hummed with an unfamiliar sound unlike anything he had ever heard. What treachery was upon him? What had happened? Where was he? The damp air smothered him like a wet blanket. Unfamiliar and stringent odors filled his nose.

He rose to his feet, but immediately became lightheaded as the puddle below spun around and slapped him in the face. A warm nasal injection of muddy water later and he was now at least more alert.

He rolled over onto his back, now resigned to being soaked, and sat up cautiously. He wiped the grass and mud stuck to his face when panic took him. Where was the Root? He looked around frantically until he found it lying on the ground next to him along with the bag of silver coins meant for Harold and Minna’s misshapen doll.

The portal potion must have interacted directly with the Root and thrown him somewhere far, far away. So far that it was warm? Warm in the middle of winter. How was that even possible?

After considering his surroundings he realized he was in a ditch next to a trail made from a smooth white material that almost glowed in the intense sun.

He put the bag of coins and the doll into a pocket and grabbed the staff. Using the staff as support, he slowly rose to his feet and clambered up out of the ditch to the path. To the right it went over a bridge and around a corner, and to the left it forked. He bent a careful knee and rubbed his hand across the surface. The heat from it almost burned his fingertips. This path of white rock had tiny pebbles magically embedded within it. He knew from experience that only a powerful magical being could create this substance. But who would spend so much energy for a simple path through a thicket of trees? Whoever they are they could be dangerous. Stealth would be the best option.

He had designed the staff to focus the energy of the Root and make it easier to wield. But the Root now served as a huge beacon for a powerful magic wielder. Anyone who could easily make magical stones sliced to perfection for something as unimportant as a walking path would not be someone to trifle with. He wasn’t going to let this accidental jump to a foreign land alert a powerful wizard to the Root’s presence and then lose it to them.

Better to be safe. He smashed the end of the staff down on the stone path. The thin ornate prongs he had spent months perfecting snapped as the Root unceremoniously came loose from the staff. He tossed the staff into its waters below the small bridge. He picked up the Root and smothered it in mud and dirt to reduce the amount of magic being emitted, like a less effective version of the vault he created at his fort.

He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped the Root in it. He squeezed the wrapping around the Root and magically hardened the thick casing. The makeshift bundle was now just a bit bigger than the original Root and would have to suffice until he could get it home to the vault.

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To his left there was a larger path made of the same peculiar white stone but much wider than the path he was on. To his horror a hulking red metallic beast roared down the larger path at him. The roar grew louder as the beast neared. Its perfect rectangular mouth with shiny straight silver teeth gleamed in the hot sun. On either side of its mouth were two white soulless eyes lit up like lanterns. He shoved the Root in his pocket and dashed behind a shrub. As the monster got closer, he realized it was following the wide stone path it was on. The beast’s black feet made no sense. They were round. They spun around on silver discs below its body.

He laughed. “You fool,” he mumbled to himself. This was no monster; it was a magical carriage made of shiny metal. He shook his head, astonished. The beast continued down its wide path and a moment later it was gone.

The dread within him grew as he started to notice other oddities that defied explanation. First, tall perfectly straight wooden poles held up a shiny black rope strung between them. Was the rope metal? What purpose would those serve? At his feet was an oddly shaped translucent glass bottle. When he picked it up, its lightness in his hand surprised him. It flexed like a tender branch. Witchcraft indeed. On the bottle was the most unusual, stylized writing on it in bright colors and he didn't recognize the language. He stashed it in his pocket for future study.

This land was beyond anything he could imagine. Each new anomaly causing more concern than the last. Where could he be? He heard a faint howl, which grew louder. He held his breath. Some creature was about to strike, but from where? The howl grew louder. He looked wildly around but saw nothing until he peered skyward. A tiny bird flying in a straight line above him was the source of the sound. It seemed to glide indefinitely, without ever flapping its wings leaving a straight white cloud behind it. Only after it became a distant dot did the sound fade away. What mad land had he discovered?

He heard voices growing louder, and laughter. What language was this? He knew all the languages of his land, but this was unfamiliar. The two figures moved towards him along the narrow path he was just on. He stayed hidden behind the shrub while sweat continued to pour down his face from the intense heat and damp air. As they got closer, he saw what must be two young warriors. Each carried an oversized leather glove with exaggerated fingers and a webbing between the thumb and index finger. The glove was clearly too large for their hands. Was it some kind of leather shield? The taller figure, armed with a long grey club talked loudly, while the shorter one laughed. The shorter one had a bag slung over one shoulder, perhaps where he kept a knife.

At the fork in the path, the taller boy slapped the leather glove of the shorter one and a small white ball with red seams fell out and rolled away. The aggressor laughed and jogged down the fork leading away. The shorter one yelled back in defiance shaking his head. He dropped the bag and protective glove and started looking for the ball. It had rolled down the incline under the shrub Adelfried had hidden behind. He froze as the boy drew closer, but the Root didn’t. Even covered in its casing and stored within his pocket it pressed towards the boy as he neared. Adelfried tensed as the magic within crackled gently at the boy’s proximity. It was as if the child was pulling the magic from him.

The boy couldn’t reach the ball and rose to come around the shrub to where Adelfried was. He would be seen. He had to hide and quickly. He closed his eyes and imagined he wasn't there. The magic flowed around him in a warm embrace and when he opened his eyes, he was invisible. He held his breath as the boy came around the side of the shrub and collected his ball.

Adelfried only allowed himself a breath after the boy had collected his belongings and continued down the other path not taken by the taller one.

Something was amiss. Did this boy draw magic to him? Was he why Adelfried had been dragged to this world? He could use him to hide at least. After a few moments to ensure there was enough distance between them so his footsteps wouldn’t be heard, Adelfried took the same path as the boy.