Another month had passed, as near as he could tell. He was currently doing wind sprints, having given over the first couple of hours after breakfast to sword and staff respectively. He was surprised at how easy it was these days. His knees weren’t bothering him at all. Fifty yards, stop. Fifty yards back, stop. Ten repetitions and then some calisthenics. His wind still wasn’t what it should have been, but he was getting better. The sprints were helping.
Jack san, the voice came to him. Would you come here, please?
He looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen. Out front, then? He grabbed the rough towel and wiped some of the sweat from his torso and shoulders before shrugging into the ill-fitting tunic which was his only upper covering. He shuffled over to his arch nemesis and retrieved the staff he’d leaned against it. “Don’t think I’m letting you off this easy,” he warned the tree. “I’ll be back,” in his best Austrian accent.
He was leaning on the staff more than he probably should be when he rounded the corner of the hut and brought up short. The old woman was there, of course. But she had company. A girl of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, dressed in white robes piped with purple and cyan, and carrying a tall, elaborate shepherd’s crook staff capped with a gaudy blue jewel the size of a robin’s egg woven within a maze of colored metallic threads inside the eye of the crook. Over her shoulder hung a leather satchel, dyed pink and embossed with brightly colored flowers and colorful gems. Her eyes were the purest violet, and her hair a true silver bisected by a familiar band of orchid. It was obvious who she was before the thought confirmed it.
This is my granddaughter, the old woman raised a hand to indicate the girl. Tiarraluna Galbradia.
He turned to the girl, who placed her hands together on the fronts of her thighs and bowed formally from the waist. “Hajimemashite, Jackson sama,” she said softly. “Watashi wa Galbradia Tiarraluna desu.”
He leaned his forehead against the staff and groaned. Of course she was speaking Japanese. What else could he expect at this point. He suddenly regretted all of those dubs he’d been watching. ‘I watch anime and read books’ he’d always insisted to the haters. Hah! If only he’d known.
Seeing his reaction, Rosaluna frowned. Is something wrong, Jack san?
“Not really,” he sighed. “Except that I don’t speak Japanese.”
But she is not speaking Japanese, Rosaluna corrected him. She is speaking Tandrian, the language of this land, although I’m told it sounds a great deal like Japanese. Are you saying that you are speaking something else?.
“English,” he said, raising his head. “I’m speaking English. I’m an American.”
A-mer-ick-an? Her eyes went wide. As though she knew the word, and didn’t much care for it.
Another error, I’m afraid, she said a moment later, shaking her head, her tone harsher. You must forgive an old woman, Jack san. I have been listening in here, she tapped her forehead, rather than here, indicating an ear.
She looked back and forth between the man and the girl. This will be a problem, I’m afraid, she told him.
“Ya think?” he groaned. Then, “I’m sorry, Rosaluna. I owe you more than I can say, and I’m being rude. I’m just... I’m....” he sighed and banged the staff lightly against his forehead. “I’m lost.”
In more ways than one, I’d imagine at this point, she came back. The question is, what are we to do about it? How is it that you alone, of them all, do not speak the local language?
“Same reason I don’t have one of those life crystals?” he ventured without raising his head.
He lifted his head from the staff and looked towards the hut. “Perhaps it might be better if we moved this conversation?” he suggested. “I think I need to sit down.”
She smiled stiffly and waved, glancing towards the confused girl and indicating the hut.
“We have legends on my world,” he began once they’d settled to the wooden chairs arrayed just outside the door and beneath the shade of the thatch. “Going back many, many years. Each of our countries, of worlds beyond our own, and of heroes from our world who journey there, to those worlds, in their times of need. Many of those legends are told in the land that we in the west know as Japan. But not all of them. My own country has tales going back even further, although they are more rare.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
He paused to sip from the mug of water he cradled in his lap, and to allow Rosaluna to translate for her granddaughter.
“One, almost universal trait of all these legends,” he resumed, “is that the hero from Earth can somehow understand the locals when they speak. It never really made sense to me, and I’d always put it down to author’s convenience. Makes for a dull story if the dashing adventurer has to spend his first month or so in the new world learning the basics of the language from nothing. Not counting how short the story would be if he were mistaken for a barbarian and murdered by the locals before he’d built up the skills to save them.”
Again, he paused while the old woman conveyed the story.
So, she turned back to him. You believe that some sort of spell is used in order that we... ah, that these heroes may communicate with the residents of the worlds to which they travel?
“Possibly,” he allowed. “Or possibly it’s some function of the worlds themselves. See, usually gods are involved. Some to better purpose than others.”
I see. She tapped a finger against her cane. And yet, you cannot understand my granddaughter, and would no doubt fail to understand me, were I speaking normally.
“Clearly stated and correct.” he nodded, frowning.
And do you have any idea how that might be possible?
“I’m afraid I’m beginning to,” his frown deepened. “I’m beginning to think that the spells aren’t cast on the heroes, but on the worlds.”
World spells? An eyebrow went up. That is a grand notion, indeed, she allowed. Although I’m not sure I’m ready to believe in such things.
He shrugged. “If it was supposed to affect me, I’d be speaking Japanese. Or at least something closer to what you’re speaking. Don’t you think?”
She nodded slowly. As you say, I’m beginning to.
He sighed again. “The evidence is building that... well, as a great sage on my world once said, ‘I t’ink I may’a took a wrong toin at Albeqoique.’”
That one took her a moment to work through. You believe you were sent here by mistake?
“Not even,” he shook his head, remembering the peculiar nature of the bus. “I think I was pushed. Redirected. Deliberately.”
The silence this time was longer. The sending when it finally came was tinged with more than its usual degree of sadness. You believe that somewhere there is a world that desperately needs you, and that, instead of saving it, you are stranded here battering at my oak tree with a stick.
Another shrug. “That’s the theory that makes the most sense at this point.”
That makes what we do here even more important, she stated firmly.
“And that is what, exactly?”
While I cannot aid you in your search for a life crystal, she said. There is one who might. Tiarraluna is here to escort you into the town so that you may petition him for his aid. There is no other way for you to reach the capitol in a single piece.
“The capitol?”
The new king, she told him. He is from your world and a mage in his own right. If anyone on Mund will know of a way for you to reach your true destination, it will be him. But you must needs be able to communicate with him. And, for that matter, with my granddaughter.”
“Yeah, that’s the—”
Not so much as you might think, she said contemplatively. Perhaps after all, the problem is not so great. At least, there may be some limited remedy over the short term. There are magical devices, you see. Some used to facilitate long range communication, some for privacy, some to allow the user to communicate with the fell beasts or even demons.
“And you have some of these things?”
She snorted. Young man, I craft such things to earn my living. A skill I learned long ago... tears formed at the corners of her eyes. in another life.
She turned once again and spoke to the girl, who nodded and disappeared into the hut. Moments later, the girl returned, bearing a pair of plain gold rings. Bowing, she handed one to Jack. The other, so soon as he’d donned his, she placed on her own finger, blushing prettily.
Rosaluna seemed to chide her for the blush. Probably something to do with the fact that the items were rings, and the connotation of exchanging them was similar here to what it was at home.
Her ring firmly in place, Tiarraluna stood before him and repeated the bow. “I am pleased to meet you, Jack san”, she said. “I am Tiarraluna Galbradia, and granddaughter to the great and wise Rosaluna Galbradia.”
He stood and bowed in turn. “Jackson Grenell,” he told her. “Knucklehead from Earth.”
She giggled, though Rosaluna didn’t seem to find it so funny.
You know about sticks, Jack san, she sent sternly. Do you know anything of horses?
He smiled, feeling better already at having doubled the number of locals he could converse with. “I know which end to stay clear of after a big meal,” he laughed, although her stern gaze wiped the laughter from his voice. “Grew up with them, madam,” he held to a small grin. “Need one shoed, curried, doctored, or broke, I’m your boy.”
I will settle for your putting her between the traces and walking her into town, she said, slightly less sternly, in spite of herself. When I scraped you off of the grass of the Hero’s Glade, I was forced to leave my cart behind, loaded with trade goods for the shops. Tiarraluna knows the spell to undo the wards, but she is not versed in the workings of our four legged friends.
“Got it,” he said. “I appreciate your efforts, I truly do, and I’m sorry if I messed up your plans.”
Delayed them, only, she assured him. My buyers can afford to wait a few months. The prices will only rise. With that, she stood and turned for the door.
Accustomed by now to her manner, Jack nevertheless stiffened. “You mean right now?” he called to her back.
What better time? She answered without turning. I assure you that you will never defeat the tree without a larger stick.