ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔯. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔢, 𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰… 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔵𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫.
“Teh Esselone par entin lesky – upton orski par insun!”
There is little to describe how Jack was feeling in that moment. What seemed like just minutes earlier, he was standing next to his backyard pool back home, in the 21st century, Earth, mourning the yearlong memory of his daughters’ loss. Next thing he knew he was naked and being chased by some four-legged vulture-like creature through the brush of an unfamiliar forest. He could have sworn the beast was just about to latch onto his neck when he found myself mid-air, falling fast, then landed in a river, swept away by the rapids, and ended up getting washed ashore next to some… uh… a medieval village? But that wasn’t even the weirdest part of the previous few minutes of Jack’s existence because, while he stood there in the night, observing the outskirt structures of the town, his blue eyes were drawn to the three large moons suspended amid the stars above.
No… this was just a dream, it must have been. The most bizarre, lucid and scariest damn dream he’d ever experienced, but a dream no less. Alas, this dream wasn’t about to end.
As he ventured farther, creeping in the shadows as best he could, making way around a log cabin to assess what must have been the main street of town, a young girl –
for the love of god, why it had to be a child – caught sight of his exposure when he tripped on a fallen branch. Needless to mention, it took all of a second for her screams to draw the attention of other townsfolk.
Jack was back to my feet quickly, covering his manhood with both hands while somehow managing to find the audacity to lay silent awed judgement on the people that had stopped their activities to glare at him with looks that, to his surprise, didn’t kill him. Had it not been established yet, now it was; just by the clothes these people wore, there was no doubt he had entered a place far detached from his own time and world. For an instant, just for an instant, he imagined laying sight on a dragon ascending with roars from the sky. Of course this imaginative thought, which would later turn out to be more a premonition, was broken by the large stranger who seemingly came out of nowhere, making himself known to Jack by the cold steel of his swords pressed firmly against his neck.
For fear of having his throat slit open, or possibly dying of asphyxiation from the potent stench of the man’s body odour, Jack could but turn his eyes to him -
Oh wow, he looked like Grizzly Adams – And, if things could not have gotten any weirder, the stinky brute opened his mouth to speak the aforementioned words:
“Teh Esselone par entin lesky – upton orski par insun!”
Despite the fear of losing his life, Jack would have likely replied with a smart remark about the stranger being polite enough to take a bath before sneaking up on a naked man, but he never got the chance. At the ending of the strangers statement, a sharp pain struck – it shorted like electricity through Jack’s ears, his throat, and stuck like a knife at his frontal lobe like he was undergoing a lobotomy. With it, a high pitched shriek could be heard, like that of a dogs whistle before, a moment later, the strangers gibberish words were repeated like an echo of English in Jack’s mind.
He had said; “Have you lost your mind, man? - I should have your head!”
“N-n-no-no….” Jack found himself stammering for the first time in his life, and although he was speaking English, it felt strangely like he was speaking the man’s own language as well. “Steady there, big man, I don’t want any trouble. I actually don’t know how I got here. But I would really appreciate it if you had some clothes I could wear….”
The large stranger, or, well, let us just call him Mr. Adams for now, curled his upper lip, squinting one eye in familiarising thought as the cold steel of his blade removed from Jack’s neck. He lowered the weapon, letting the tip of blade ride to a stop in the dirt of the road before he replied:
“I see. Too much drink today, stranger? Mr. Adams chuckled, and added; “Never be that of mind. Still, if you wish for a whore, the Blackgale Inn across the street should meet your needs of fine lady types. No need to run about naked like a perverted type, from where do you co – ”
His words were cut short by a peculiar turn of events, and Jack was just as taken aback by what happened as Mr. Adams was: The black denim jeans Jack had been wearing before his arrival in this current world appeared on his person again. Just like that, no sound, no flash of light. Nothing. They were just there, covering his nakedness once again, held up by a crocodile leather belt.
Jack dropped his eyes, wide with wonder, before looking back at Mr. Adams with an unknowing shake of his head. The big brute glared back with an equal amount of question. Yet, despite this miraculous turn of events, he found the wisdom not to get overly distraught;
“What sort of magic is this?”
Jack shook his head in response, utterly lost on how to explain myself, at the same time concerned by the content of the question.
Magic? What? Mr. Adams had mentioned the word like it was more or less as common as sliced bread, which, to be fair, may or may not have also been a thing in this world.
“I uh… I’m not really sure what to sa….” Jack began replying, only to be silenced by the appearance of brown Goodyear Welt Boots on his feet. A grey, sleeveless t-shirt materialised on his upper body. An android cell phone appearing in his left hand. A gold Rolex analogue watch appeared on his wrist. Then, as the phone announced a recently received text, Jack rolled his eyes back to the man, the man who was now portraying a look of intense trepidation.
Mr. Adams and Jack locked stares for a moment, while many of the nearby onlookers released a gasp of dismay.
“Please,” Jack said, “before you get any more ideas about cutting off my head, I really don’t know where I am. I have no idea what’s going on right now. I need your help. Please…. Where the hell am I?” His voice began to shake with honest intent.
Grizzly Adams gaped for quite some time before responding, and when he did at last peak, Jack was somewhat appreciative of his surprising amount of understanding.
“Listen, Friend.” He told Jack straight. “I don’t know who you are or where you are from. But I have never seen magic like this…. For the sake of all of us here, I hope you intend us no harm.”
“I assure you. My friend.” Jack was quick to reply in the calmest voice he could muster. “I mean you no harm, you or your people. I can promise you that.”
Mr. Adams returned his sword to the sheath on his back, seemingly defeated as someone putting away a stick while being confronted by a mammoth. His eyes denoted the same sentiment.
“What is your name?” Jack added, attempting to ride the upper hand he now found himself with.
“You may call me Travius.” The big man declared with a forced sense of pride. “I am the local blacksmith. Take respite in our town, of course. We of Sonarlis wish for only peace. You may come to my workshop to acquire weapons in the morning if you wish. Outside of that, please stay clear of my kin. I however wish for no further kinship with the likes of your own kind.”
Despite the circumstances, Jack suddenly felt ill with disappointment at the sounding of Travius' words. He had been in this strange and far detached world for less than five minutes and already he was despised by the first person he met.
“It’s okay,’ Jack nodded firmly to say. “I meant what I said, I mean no harm – but thank you for the offer. Pleased to meet you, Travius. My name is Jack.”
Travius responded with nothing more than his own firm nod, and as Jack extended his right hand, all Travius did was take a cautious step in retreat. Jack lowered his hand and watched Travius walk away before he looked around at the other bystanders, most of them still intent on staring at Jack, analysing his odd clothing, his cell phone, his watch, murmuring among themselves.
Rumours of Jack’s arrival had spread as quickly as fire in dry brush. By time he entered the local tavern, otherwise knows and Blackgale Inn, there wasn’t one eye in the entire establishment that didn’t lock onto him. Every mouth became deathly silent. After refraining from the initial impulse to vomit from the stench of body odour, urine and stale alcohol, He dropped his eyes demurely, feeling it a prudent course of action not to make eye contact with the many faces peering at him. The sound his boots made on the floorboards, however, was awkwardly loud, being the only sound to be heard as he made his way to the bar. There, he raised his attention to the bartender; a scrawny looking pop-eyed elderly gentleman with a fear-induced grin straddling his face.
Jack gave the man a small smile, yet since he had no idea what these people used for currency he attempted a request that would avoided payment of any kind: “Name’s Jack." He said. "All I want is a drink of water. A table to sit at. That’s all. Thank you.”
The feeble old man’s lips were trembling as his eyes made their way over Jack’s clothing, his watch, his cell phone, still gripped in Jack's left hand. Eventually the bartender found words to reply:
“Take it.” He produced a clay jug of water with a wooden mug, placing them on the dark wooden timber of the bar. “Take any seat you wish for. Just please… with respect, try not to bring about any trouble in my establishment.”
After sliding the phone into his pocket, Jack took up the jug in one hand, the wooden cup in the other, and made his way through the still silenced and watchful group of drunks, whores, diners, even a few children, until he arrived at a small empty table with two chairs near the door. Nothing like preparing for a quick exit…. Taking his seat at the table, he kept his eyes to himself, poured a cup of water, sighed, but held off on actually taking a drink.
“Might be safer to drink my own piss….” He mumbled, staring dismally at the murky water in his cup while the ambient voices of those in the tavern started up again, and the tavern musician started playing a peculiar, questionably cheerful tune on an unfamiliar stringed instrument.
