"Not all of them. They have a chance of connecting somewhere safe, just like they do somewhere deadly. A good deal of the first humans to settle in other realms wandered through a Zag and never managed to find their way back home. Of course even besides the chance of ending up in a lake of fire as hot as the surface of Earth's sun, or inside a nest of spider demons, there is the danger of it being a partial Zag. If the stretched space doesn't possess a sufficient opening, it would be like squeezing play doh through a hole a few sizes too small. Not pretty." Seamus punctuated his horrifying statement by using his knife to stab the last piece of sausage still left on the wooden platter and toss it into his mouth.
"That hit the spot. Now lad I have a few errands to run, don’t have all day to waste gabbing. I'd leave you here, but the old coot who owns the place would likely have you chained in the back washing dishes if you take up a table without buying anything. You have anywhere to be? Besides answering to mortal authorities in your hometown as to why you are the only person from your road crew that didn't get turned into a charcoal briquette, I mean. If not, you can follow me around, I can keep showing you a bit of the ropes." Seamus slid out of the booth as he finished speaking. He pulled a coin pouch that obviously wasn't using normal legal tender out of the physics defying pockets of his coat and dropped it onto the table before looking at Patrick for an answer.
"Am I really gonna be in trouble with the cops for what happened? I mean more trouble than I already was?" Patrick slid out of the booth and nervously followed behind Seamus as he began to walk across the room to a large wooden door with bronze metalwork around the frame. Seamus pushed the door open, revealing a dim staircase. From the overwhelming sound of traffic, it let out onto a rather busy city street.
"Well, I may not be a native human, but I've been around for long enough to understand that, like most bastions of authority, they tend to take a rather dim view when individuals with checkered pasts go missing from the scenes of mass tragedies only to end up in another city. Gets a lot of hurtful language like "evading arrest" and "deliberate terrorism" thrown around." Seamus led the way up the stairs, exiting onto a busy street, crowds of pedestrians pushing past each other, the honking of car horns and screech of brakes echoing through the narrow valleys between the towering concrete edifices. Neon lights shone down on the bustling scene, stunning Patrick with a purely mundane, and somehow not less magical sight than those he had recently begun to be accustomed to.
"So where the hell are we? After all that talk I half figured we were in some sort of Fae city. And how did we get here from where we were earlier today?" After they had walked about half a block down the congested sidewalk, Patrick huddled closer to Seamus as he attempted to strike up further conversation.
"New York City in all its filthy glory. No where else in all the realms will you find a greater concentration of diverse magical beings, at least those gathered willingly. But trust me, you don't want to see either side of a slave market in the Chaos Domains." Seamus spat into the gutter on the side of the road with a dour look at the mention. "But to answer your other question, the Chizz Barrel was my closest Anchor, so I appeared there when I needed to exit a situation with expedient haste. Think of it like speed dial for spatial travel, but for getting the fuck out of dodge without the normal accessories or ritual."
"So we teleported? Now that is a magic I could get behind. Can anyone learn it?" Patrick perked up at the mention of spatial magic. Being able to teleport had always been a fantasy of his. More than just the mystical nature, it was the sheer unbridled freedom, to go anywhere, do anything.
"No, not anyone can learn to use spatial portals." Patrick started to frown, until Seamus continued. "Of course you aren't just anyone, you're Fae. Still not sure what type of bloody Fae you are, but most Fae can at least learn basic spatial magic to travel between spatial nodes, or Anchors. Certain Fae have more or less affinity with spatial manna, resulting in different levels of requirements and subsequent ability. Leprechauns are among the more gifted Fae when it comes to spatial manna, which is why I was able to travel without starting at an Anchor. It also lets me skip using a ritual or incantation as long as I'm traveling to an Anchor within a certain distance. We may not be most gifted when it comes to battle, but with our Luck and affinity to spatial manna, there are few Fae that can measure up to a Leprechaun in survivability." Seamus puffed out his chest as he started talking about Leprechauns, obviously enjoying bragging about his race in front of the new blood.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
In a world where battle and bloodshed was a central part of many being's lives and very identity, power was heavily respected. For many races it was the only determining characteristic when it came to social worth. So there were more than a few races who looked down on the Leprechauns as "lucky cowards" for their preferences for fleeing or 'coincidentally' avoiding any type of conflict more serious than a barroom brawl. So it was rare for Seamus to be able to boast about his race without someone shooting him down. Even for someone with abnormally thick skin, such things got troublesome after a while.
Patrick, unaware of this as of yet, only thought this behavior was somewhat comical, but was still deeply impressed. Being able to escape anytime you wanted was something he could have only dreamed of for years.
"So if I can learn it because I'm a Fae, can you teach me? Not that I hope it will happen anytime soon, but I would prefer not to rest my hopes on being within arm's reach of you if another monster shows up wanting to murder civilians." Patrick tries to keep the eagerness out of his voice as he asks, but it is difficult. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets and rushes slightly to keep up with Seamus. Despite the crowd on the street and his short stride, the Leprechaun somehow manages to move at a quick clip down the block.
"Hah, as if carrot top. Just cause almost all Fae can learn the basics, doesn't make it easy. Besides the ones who have a natural gift for it like myself, most Fae children spend a couple years to master just simple Anchor to Anchor portals. And that is for those who have already awakened their heritage, which you have yet to undergo." Seamus laughed at Patrick, then turned off the street they had been following since leaving the bar and headed down an alley between two skyscrapers. Patrick was disappointed, but it wasn't a feeling he was new to experiencing, so he just kept pace with Seamus and tried not to step in any of the dank smelling puddles or slightly rotting piles of trash that littered the alley steeped in shadow.
"Well, can you tell me where we are going? Not that I'm not grateful for pulling my ass out of the fire, so to speak, but following a man I just met through the garbage filled alleys of a strange city would be a lot less stressful if I knew where we are going or what we are doing." Patrick scratched his head as he questioned the Leprechaun. While he was truly grateful not to have been left behind on the side of the highway to get better acquainted with whatever demonic figure he had seen exiting the raging inferno that consumed most of his fellow reprobates, he had spent too long dealing with the hypocritical smiling faces from his mother's church, and the criminals delinquents that made up the admittedly shallow underside of his hometown not to recognize a professional liar when he meets one. And while he hoped he was just being paranoid due to the near brush with death and shocking revelations he's undergone in the last day, Patrick had long learned to only rely on himself to get through things. He was sure in a world with demons, Fae, and magic, that would only hold more true.
"I could, but we already be here." Seamus pointed at a dim neon sign crookedly attached to the concrete wall above a metal door with no handle set into wall of the alley. Patrick observed the decrepit surroundings and then looked at Seamus with an unspoken question.
"Enough of the looks, by now you should have realized things aren't always what they seem. Most magical beings find simple distractions are the easiest way to set up in native territory without too much fuss. Easier to throw trash in an alley to keep away the wrong type of customer than to pay for large scale enchantments. As for why we are here, I'm here to collect payment for a job, and you my friend need to get some new clothes. People put up with a lot of weird stuff in New York City but even they would have questioned you for wearing an orange jumper with the words County Corrections across the back if I hadn't slapped a glamour on you when we left the pub." With that Seamus gave Patrick a very pointed look in somewhat mocking rebuke before turning his back and grabbing what appeared to be empty space in front of the bare door. As soon as Seamus' hand had fully closed, just as he began to pull back, a long vertical handle began to appear, like an invisible cloth was being pulled back to reveal what had always been beneath.
Without saying another word Seamus entered the door. Patrick couldn't see anything inside beyond a dimly lit concrete hallway with another door at the end. He only had a few seconds before the door closed, the handle already starting to vanish from sight, either going invisible or disappearing. Figuring that while the odds for entering the mysterious building with his new roguish Leprechaun acquaintance and something terrible happening could be bad, the odds for staying alone in a dirty alley in New York City wearing a County Corrections jumper and something terrible happening to him was unavoidably bad, so Patrick darted through the doorway right before the metal door swung firmly shut.