Thanks to everyone who has read this so far. Kudos to you. All comments and crits welcome.
EL
Firséd: A Tale of Evermore
IV. A Stranger in a Strange Land
When Kyle awoke all he could feel was pain. His head throbbed as well as his hand. His back felt like it had been used as a pipe cleaner by a kindergartner with the attention span of a goldfish.
After the pain, the second thing he noticed was that he was moving at a reasonable pace and that he was on his side. When he went to move his hands he found them bound, as well as his feet.
Shit, maybe last night wasn’t a bad dream.
When he opened his eyes he was greeted by the sight of heaps and heaps of yellow, flaxen straw.
Oh great, just great.
With all the strength he could muster he flipped himself over, the action made his whole body burn and he moaned softly.
Above him was an azure cloudless sky, black dots of birds hovered near the bright sun. Kyle craned his neck to the left, and then to the right as much as his muscles would let him. He discerned that he must be in some type of wagon or cart. Rolling over a large rock it jostled him painfully.
“Ack!” He seethed, biting down hard to keep from crying out in pain.
A familiar face materialized in view, the voice scathing against the ears.
“So he awakes.”
Kyle cringed at that.
The pot had left his system, but the memory of the previous night had not.
The man, Milord-something-something sat astride a large battle-ready horse.
Jesus, I’ve landed in some Monty Python Parody.
Kyle wondered where they were, how far they were from Coyote Canyon, how long he had been out, and who the cultist people were.
“Milord,” his steward called, and Milord turned his attention from Kyle.
“We should break camp here before Lagremose, the horses need a rest before the Egris.”
Lagremose, Egris… Kyle had never heard of these terms before, and filed them away to ask later.
Milord nodded to his steward before bellowing, “Break camp.”
There were various mumbles around, all which sounded like “Yes, sir.”
The cart halted under a blanket of low trees, if Kyle had the capability he could have reached out to touch their branches.
Two men grabbed him and tossed him out. At the sharp impact in the grass, Kyle hissed at the pain that coursed through him.
“Ow…”
Being bounded as a trifle because he could move himself in a better position, on his side was the best that he could get. Inspecting the now dried cut on his hand, a large shadow loomed over him. Kyle looked up.
“Boy, what are these?”
The man threw his black backpack at his face.
Kyle found it very hard to speak, but managed, “My things…”
Maybe if he could get the knife.
“Oh?” the man raised a sinister eyebrow.
“Yes.” Kyle pinned his eyes to the grass at the man’s feet.
“You will not need them, then.”
“No! No!” Kyle shouted, straining to peer at the man again.
“I’ll…I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” The man looked slightly amused.
Before it could go on any further one of Milord’s men interrupted. “Sir.”
“Yes?”
“I do not believe we are alone.”
“What?” Milord spun on his man, right before an arrow whizzed passed his ear and into the tree above Kyle’s head.
“Great Yfezda! Riders.” Milord unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip into Kyle’s chest.
“Don’t move.”
As if I could do anything else.
“Roark watch him.” Milord said before disappearing.
One of the large brutes stepped nearer.
Kyle hardly though he was capable of movement that he deserve a guard.
Curling upon himself, and closing his eyes Kyle lay there as the battle erupted around him. Countless times he was kicked or run into. He tried to shut those sensations out, maybe if he thought hard enough about home, everything would go back to normal.
But the chink of metal impacting on metal, and the grunts and cries of men drowned him.
He pulled in on himself even more then. Concentrating on one thought, one mantra, ‘It’s all a crazy lucid dream.’
A hand rested on his head, and he jerked.
“Son, son, its over. Look at me.”
Kyle raised his head to look at the owner of the voice. He met a pair of kind, grey-green eyes. He tried to uncurl himself then, and then the man reached out to cut the bonds that tethered Kyle. At soon as his limbs burst free Kyle stretched them experimentally. They were sore but a good deal of the pain had subsided.
He turned to search for the man, who had now disappeared. He surfaced back into Kyle’s field of vision carrying a satchel. Kyle now had a chance to survey the man. He was dressed similar from the men who had captured him, except on his arm sleeve there was a patch, white, the outline of a phoenix, on the other was a jade green dragon. He looked a little young than his father, but that wasn’t saying anything. He had dark hair that in the sun glinted mahogany red, except for an ivory streak above his right ear; it was shaggily cut, and the longest strands reaching just passed his square jaw.
He knelt beside Kyle, who was sitting Indian-style in the grass.
“Give me your hand son. It must hurt.”
Automatically, in a daze Kyle gave up his hand.
Men gathered around, their horses grazing near. They were talking heatedly and cleaning their weapons and the way they looked at him he thought – they must be talking about me.
They all looked like Paladins out of Diablo II or characters from fantasy novels; where in hell was he?
Kyle swore under his breath as the man started to clean and wrap his hand.
His entire hand stung, like little needles were prickling at his tender flesh.
“There,” the man nodded as he tied a piece of soft muslin around it. “That should do for now.
The pain had snapped Kyle out of his stupor and he rounded on the man.
“Who are you? Where in hell am I? Who were those guys? Why did they say I was the one? And if this is all an elaborate prank on me, then ha ha, you’ve had your laugh I am going home now.” Kyle was breathing heavily at the end of his tirade, murder flashing in his eyes. At that point he didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he was getting out.
The man, the knight didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Those are relatively easy to answer lad, I am Captain Cailem of the Phoenix Guard. As or where we are, we are in the Forests of Hemlen near the Egris. Those men who had you were most probably Bandits probably from the Redlands, east of here. And as you why you are here and why they called you the one I have not the answers suitable for that.”
Kyle’s head was swimming with questions, none of those names clicked.
“Uh…where are we again?”
“Near the Egris.”
“Uh still not computing, state, country, region?” Kyle tried not to sound petulant.
“This is Evermore.”
Kyle tried to process that information: Evermore; which led his thoughts to The Never Ending Story, to Narnia, and countless other tales in which someone landed in another world. Except those were stories, fantasy, not real.
A voice inside his head whispered, And this isn’t?
While voices in his head started warring Kyle bent to pick up his bad. As if it could save him, take him home, he hugged it to his chest.
“I am sorry lad for the trouble, but I think there is someone who can answer all you questions, if you come with us.”
He turned to look at Cailem and suddenly he felt very small. Barely squishing the impulse to flee through the forest he answered, “Okay.”
*
The Egris was a mountain pass, the lowest and safest point at which to cross the Vanderstepp. The dark uneven crags surged upwards dangerously to the sky, out of the craggily trees, surrounding the edge. Above the sky danced darkly, shades of blue and purple mingled with each other, while the sun hung low.
Kyle, in a subdued sort of daze clung to the edges of Cailem’s saddle as he rode pillion, on the large, grey almost white charger Melengar.
The rose single file, a line of fifteen riders out of the forest, into the rocky step, their horses picking their own way with there large hooves. At the lead was a young man named Kiyan; a dark; slim fellow from the North, a little older than Kyle with dark tattoos over his cheek bones. With him, a bird perched on his arm, a mottled hawk with ebony sharp talons and yellow eyes named Trga, (which in Bas, Kiyan’s native language meant Watcher). Kyle had not the chance to get to know the rest of the men, since they all but broke camp, after his talk with Cailem.
Cailem twisted around so he could face Kyle.
“It should be two, three days ride to Algna, where we keep and from there not ever a stones throw to Rivina, the capital of Eirelisle.”
Kyle nodded; maybe there he could get out of this mess.
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