He floated up. An impression of a face and a sense of movement. Then all was lost. He drifted into darkness again.

***

Maybe another impression. Maybe of more than one face. Maybe a few sounds. Maybe.

He was still now. Everything rotated around him but he was still. Too much effort to try to figure it out. Best to let the black take him.

***

Then light pushed against his eyelids. Niall tried to open his eyes but even a crack convinced him it was too bright to contemplate completing that movement just yet. He shut his eyes again. A repeated clang reached his ears. It started and stopped without a discernible pattern. He could tell that he was in bed. Not his own bed. He liked his bed. He spent as much time as he could in it. It was an unwavering source of pleasure in an inconstant world.

However, this was not that bed. The mattress was too soft and the pillows too plump, but it was a bed. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He ran a paper-dry tongue over cracked lips and tried again. This time a moan emerged.

There was an excited chatter in a language that he didn’t recognise. Then he heard the sound of a door opening and the clatter of shoes running down a staircase.

He tried once again to force his eyes open before immediately shutting them against the glare. Once more, slower, and eventually the brightness resolved into a timber-beamed ceiling. It was quiet now. The clanging stopped and he heard footsteps come up the stairs. Two sets. One quick and light, the other steady and deliberate.

He summoned the energy to turn his head as two people entered the room. One, a boy eleven, maybe twelve, years old wearing a linen shirt and rough trousers. A mop of messy black hair and light brown skin. The other was the man who had wielded the axe. He was unarmed now and out of his armour. He moved with no hint of the limp he had shown in the fight and all trace of blood had been washed away.

Without the threat of immediate death looming over him like the last time he had seen the man, Niall was able to examine him properly. He was an older version of the boy, and similarly dressed. Thick, straight black hair sat over a lightly lined face and a beard. Both the beard and the hair were streaked with grey. However, the overwhelming impression, even under a loose shirt, was of physical strength. Of layered muscles in the light brown arms that emerged from the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. Muscles that continued into a broad chest that led to broader shoulders.

Maybe also a quiet strength of character, but definitely physical strength.

Niall cringed back in his bed, pulling up the sheets as if they would form some protection. He looked around wildly, then down at himself. At least he wore a shirt now. It was not a fashionable shirt, maybe something that would be worn by someone who had come back from a commune after an unsuccessful attempt to find themselves.

His head spun at the sudden movement so he stopped moving. Why was he focused on fashion? That was not the important thing. Not now anyway, maybe later. Protection, safety. The bottom level of the hierarchy of needs. That was what he needed to think about. Not that it mattered. There was nothing within the room he could use to defend himself if he needed to. In any event, given what he had seen of the man so far he was not sure that a weapon would be of any use anyway.

The man spoke to him, again using a language Niall did not understand. He tried to reply. This time he managed a croak. The man smiled and spoke again, some kind of apology judging by the tone. He was raised to a sitting position as if he were a child and a cup was lifted to his lips. He sipped and then, as he tried to gulp, the cup was gently taken away. The man spoke again and Niall shook his head.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The man’s eyes narrowed and he spoke to the boy, his son? The boy looked disgruntled, but at another word from the man he left. Uncowed, he took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at his father before he left.

The man smiled then stood and shut the door before he turned back and sat in a wooden chair he pulled over from the side of the room. “I was wondering about that,” he said in English “and why do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“The thing, the minotaur? The fight. Sorry, just ignore me.” Niall blinked as his brain caught up. “Wait, you speak English?”

The man nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Niall said. “I had some kind of, I don’t know, hallucination? Or maybe a dream. But you were in it. I don’t think I’m quite right. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. I’ve got to get home. Sorry. I’m babbling. Sorry.”

The man held up his hands “It’s OK. Relax. The Bulvine that we took down was the only one. We had been tracking it for a while. You’re safe”

Niall took a deep breath. “OK. Good. Weird, but OK. Where am I? Is this your house?” Niall looked around the room. It was clearly a bedroom. White, limewashed walls set off the wooden furniture pushed up against them. The interior decorator had successfully given the room a feeling of rustic chic.

“That’s not as straightforward a question as it might first appear,” the man said. “But know you’re safe, and healthy. Well, as healthy as someone can be if they have been unconscious for about six hours. You had a nasty bump, but Gwen and I fixed you up.”

“Six hours? That’s not good. I think I need to go to see my own doctor. No, I need to go home. I’ll call a cab.” Niall looked around. “Where’s my phone?”

A look flickered across the man’s face. “You don’t remember? You were naked when I found you. There was nothing with you. I brought you to my home and we’ve been looking after you ever since. There are no phones here.”

“Naked? I remember that. Sorry. Embarrassing. Never mind. OK. Look, thank you very much. Really. But I’m meant to be at work, I mean home. Six hours. I’ve got to go. Find a phone box, whatever.”

Niall looked down again, all he was wearing was that unfashionable cream shirt. Trousers, similar to the one that the man was wearing, were on the chair next to him along with some socks and boots. They were of an odd cut, but they would do until he got back home. Hopefully no one would see him. Niall pointed at them. “Are these for me? Do you mind? I’ll bring them back. Or give me your bank details. I’ll transfer the money.”

At the nod from the man, Niall got out of the bed. He would have collapsed had the man had not leapt up and caught him. Niall was gently set back on the bed.

“Right, thanks. I’m not being ungrateful, really. It’s just the last thing that I remember is that I was on my way to work. Then I thought I was in a wood, and there was a fight, but that’s just mad. I don’t know what happened. Working too hard probably. Need a holiday. I feel fine though, but I’ve got to get to work. Home. Work. Anyway. I’m in so much trouble.” Niall steadied himself on the carved headboard and pulled on the trousers and shoes while he spoke.

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The man just watched him without speaking, his eyes compassionate.

Niall finished putting on the boots and stood up, more carefully this time. “Right, well thank you for looking after me. I’ll call you. Oh. Right. No phones. I know where you live, I guess, so I’ll be in touch.”

The man smiled at him. “Of course. Do you need any help getting down the stairs?”

“No, no I’ll be fine. Bye then.” Niall opened the door and walked into the corridor. The rustic theme carried on through the house with beams, rough walls and oak dominating.

His legs felt almost too weak to carry him but he managed to stumble down the stairs. He took in an impression of a large comfortable kitchen with a couple of people in. They paused when he appeared. Niall gave a half-baked smile but otherwise ignored them. No eye contact. Any social interaction at this point would just be embarrassing. He focussed on the wooden door next to the window. Freedom. He opened it and stepped out, taking a deep breath as he did so.

It was crisp clear day and Niall gave a shiver as he looked around for a phone box. There was none in sight, not even any sign of a mobile phone mast. In fact, not even any electricity pylons. As far as he could tell, he was in the countryside somewhere, although nowhere he recognised.

He turned around and took a few steps backwards . The house he had just exited was a large thatched cottage. Around the side, chickens scratched in a large run and a pig lay in a pen. There was a large building with smoke coming out of it off to the left and a substantial, well-tended kitchen garden to the right. Starting from around a hundred metres behind the house was a green forest that stretched either side as far as he could see.

He turned around. Down a slope, maybe a quarter of a mile away, was a town. Thatched wooden houses made up the majority but there were a few larger, stone buildings, mostly around a large square, scatted around. Roads were almost non-existent, just dirt tracks running towards farms and one wider, rutted road running into and out of the town. The town was surrounded by fields with a scattering of farmhouses nestled within them. Smoke drifted from the chimneys up into the blue sky and towards the moons.

Niall stopped and stared up at them. Two moons, not one. He could not understand what he was seeing. There were two moons in the sky, one smaller than the moon that he knew and the other one larger.

“Quite some sight, isn’t it? I couldn’t quite believe it the first time that I saw them either.”

Niall gave a start as he turned to see the bearded man from before standing next to him. The man handed him a blanket.

“It gets chilly this time of year. You may want this.”

Niall took the blanket, wrapped it around his shoulders and stared at the man. “Where am I?”

The older man walked to a wooden table outside the cottage and sat down. He put down the bowl and spoon that he had in his other hand and pushed them to the other side of the table. Steam wafted from it bringing the scent of honey and cinnamon to Niall. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of how long it had been since he ate.

The man gestured. “Tuck in. You need it. Almost as much as you need answers. In case you hadn’t realised it yet, there are no phones anywhere here, and by here, I mean this planet. If you still want to go haring off I won’t stop you, but you’ll do better with a meal inside of you.

“Also, I have the answer to the question I didn’t know I needed to ask when I was in your position: Your family is fine for now. You don’t need to panic. The quest to get home is a marathon not a sprint. It's something that will take years, if it's even possible. As far as we know, no one’s managed it yet. You may even, like me, decide that, no matter what The Deathless One said you’re going to stop trying and choose to stay here.

“But for now, having a meal doesn’t change anything.”

Niall looked around again. There was nothing that gave any indication of where he was. Even if he left, he didn’t know where he would go. For now, with no better options, he walked over to the table, sat down, and started to eat.

The two sat in silence for a few moments while Niall busied himself with what he soon realised was a bowl of creamy porridge. Both of them looked up as the door of the house opened and a woman emerged. She wore a simple ankle length dress with an apron over the top, and she held two mugs and a steaming metal jug. Niall was not a good judge of these things but she looked to be a few years younger than the man. Brown hair was tied in a plait, with hazel eyes surrounded by laughter lines.

She held the jug up and said a word that Niall did not understand.

Niall looked at the man, then back to the woman with a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

The man smiled. “This is my wife, Alana. She’s asking if you would like some coffee.”

“Oh yes, yes please. Hello Alana, my name is Niall. Niall Vendra” Niall pointed at himself as he said his name. If nothing else, his mother had taught him manners.

The woman gave him a friendly smile. She said a sentence of which the only word Niall could make out was his own name.

“She says that it’s nice to meet you, Niall Vendra,” the man translated.

The man and the woman exchanged a few more words before she poured them two cups. She put the coffee can on the table then left them alone with a pat on her husband’s shoulder and another smile towards Niall.

Niall finished every scrap of his porridge and took a sip of his coffee. It was good, better than the chain-store sludge he usually fuelled himself with. Right now though, he would take being back on the wet streets with a paper cup.

Nonetheless, it was worth taking his victories where he could. It was undeniable that the coffee was good. He sat back in his wooden chair and gave an involuntary sigh.

The man looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “Better?”

Niall nodded.

“Good. So, you’re Niall? I’m Devon.”

“Niall? Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you.”

Niall held out his hand. Devon gave a grin as he took his hand and shook it. “Well, it’s been a while since I did that. Around here people tend to grasp forearms, or bow if it’s someone important.”

“Where is ‘here’?” Niall asked. “Is this some kind of Amish settlement? But you said ‘planet’ and what about the moons?”

Devon’s grin turned into an outright laugh. “No, we definitely aren’t Amish. It’s been a long time since I thought about them.” He waved around him. “This is the Kingdom of Gwilliant, on the planet of Axera. Specifically, this is the town of Raintor. Welcome.”

“Planet? Yeah, you already said that. So, anyway, I’m just going to play along for now. What the actual?” Niall was embarrassed to feel tears building up in his eyes and dashed them away.

Devon started to reach out across the table and then pulled back. Instead, he rummaged in his pockets until he produced a clean white handkerchief that he placed on the table.

Niall grabbed it and dabbed his eyes as the tears kept coming. Eventually he stopped and blew his nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Devon shook his head. “Hey. It’s OK. No apologies needed. You’ve been through an ordeal and it’s a lot to take in. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I have too many answers, but I know what you’re going through.”

Niall looked at him. “You know? How do you know?”

“I know because thirty-five odd years ago I was in the same place you are. One day a mechanic at the local garage. The next I was in this place. No knowledge of how I came here. No clothes, no nothing. Just a weird conversation with The Deathless One. I didn’t know the language, didn’t know anything really. Fortunately, Patrick found me and helped me. Just like I found you. Although if you're here, that means he must have died. Too many years since I saw him last.”

A dozen questions went through Niall’s head but he focussed on one. “Died?”

“It’s one of the few things we have been able to work out. There are always two of us. When one dies, another arrives right where the other is. As far as we know, there’s no way to get back, at least not one that we have found yet. To be honest, I stopped looking a while back.”

“Was this Patrick with you before? Did he get killed by that minotaur? No, not minotaur, you called it something else.”

“No, Patrick doesn’t live anywhere near here. I hope he died happily in his sleep wrapped in Lucas’s arms. Bulvine is the word you’re looking for. It’s what they call minotaurs here. But, yes, for all intents and purposes it was a minotaur.”

“But it was still trying to kill me.”

“Yes it was. It may not feel like it but you’re the lucky one.”

“Lucky?”

“The unlucky ones were the ones that it tracked down before we caught it.”

Devon stood up. “Which is why I need to head off. Now that I know you’re OK, I need to head into town to report what happened. Gwen hates admin so she won’t have done it, but Elder Lars will insist that we send a message to the Duke in Hallen to let him know what happened and to recover the body. Having a Bulvine raid this far from the border isn’t something that we can keep secret, much as I would like to.”

Devon had clearly been thinking out loud and turned his attention back to Niall. “In any event that’s enough mind blowing for one day. You’ve only just got out of bed. You’ll need some time to adjust, and not just your mind. If nothing else, the gravity, radiation, and oxygen levels here are different to what you’re used to, so your body will need time to adapt. Nothing dangerous, just different.”

He tossed his coffee grounds from his mug onto the grass. “Take some time out here to rest, drink coffee, and process things. When I get back from town I’ve got to finish some work, then I’ll come and get you for dinner. There’s something urgent we’re going to have to do afterwards. It’s for your own safety.”