Chương 1: Up, Boy. We’ve Arrived.

We've Arrived.

"Up, boy. We've arrived." Before Teren could make sense of the voice, the wagon lurched. His shoulder struck something hard, jolting the last of the sleep from him, and his eyes snapped open to find a row of iron bars inches from his face. An older man across from him watched for another moment, then turned to look outside. Teren pushed himself upright, and heard metal scraping across the wooden floor, while something pulled painfully at his wrists and ankles.

He looked down to see thick iron bands circling both wrists, joined by a short chain, while another pair bound his ankles. For a few seconds, he just stared at his hands. They weren't his. What the... The fingers were rough, with dirt beneath the nails and old cuts across the knuckles. Hard calluses covered the palms, while his forearms were lean but solid, with more muscle than he had ever possessed.

Judging by the strong hands, the sturdy arms, and the rest of his build, this body couldn't even have been twenty years old. I was supposed to be nearly thirty... He looked around, his heart starting to beat faster now. He was sitting inside an iron cage fixed to the bed of a large wagon, with bars enclosing the sides and running across the top. Beyond them, the sky was clear blue, with a few white clouds scattered across it, and the sun felt just warm enough to keep the cool air from becoming uncomfortable.

It would have been a perfect day if not for the chains. Nine other people were crowded inside the cage with him, all wearing patched-up, filthy clothes. Every one of them was bound with chains. Most looked human. A short woman across from him had green skin and eyes larger than any human's, with dried blood covering one side of her face. Near the rear edge sat a broad, gray-scaled man with a short, tapered reptilian face. Even hunched over, he looked larger than anyone else in the cage.

Teren stared at the two of them, trying to make sense of the green skin and scales. What the hell was happening? The older man who had woken Teren was now staring through the bars at the dirt road behind them. A boy who could not even have been a teenager had his knees pulled against his chest and seemed to be sobbing, yet none of them looked surprised to be here. Teren's breathing became faster. Whatever this was, it wasn't a police van or even a prison transport, not that he was supposed to be inside either.

Where the hell am I? Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't Earth. Am I drunk? Hallucinating? He gripped two of the bars and pulled. The cage rattled, but the iron barely moved. A man across from him gave a tired laugh.

"Pull harder. Perhaps the bars will take pity on ya." Teren ignored him and tried again. Nothing happened. His heart started thumping as he tried to remember how he had reached the wagon and found only a blank space. He remembered being at home, indoors and safe as far as he knew, but there was nothing after that. He had no memory of a road or an arrest, and certainly nothing that explained the chains or the other races inside the cage. This had to be a dream.

The wagon rolled over a rut, throwing him against the bars again. Pain spread through his shoulder. It was a very convincing dream. His throat was parched, and his stomach was cramping with hunger. Judging by the weakness beneath the unfamiliar strength in his arms, he hadn't eaten properly for days. Hoping to find out more about his situation, he forced himself to look outside the cage. Two men in worn leather armor were riding horses beside the wagon.

Both were carrying swords, while one had a short bow strapped across his back. Another wagon with a similar cage followed behind them, then a third. Nearly a dozen riders were spread along the sides and rear of the small caravan. Beyond them, sparse grass and thorny shrubs covered the rocky ground on both sides of the dirt track that passed for a road. Hardly any trees broke the barren surroundings, while the land grew rougher in the distance. He turned toward the front, trying to see where they were going.

Massive stone walls blocked the view ahead. They were taller than any wall Teren had ever seen. Broad stone towers stood at regular distances along the top, and he could see a few men moving between heavy ballistas mounted behind the parapet. High above the battlements, sunlight flashed against something that wasn't there. For an instant, Teren saw the curved outline of a vast transparent surface hanging over the walls. It disappeared as soon as he focused on it.

He blinked hard, but the transparent surface was gone. Did I imagine that? Am I imagining all of this? When he looked down, his unfamiliar hands were still there, with the chains still around them.

"Right," he muttered.

"Definitely drunk." The dirt road led toward a closed portcullis built into the walls. A broad moat surrounded the city, and a lowered drawbridge stretched across the dark water. Before long, the caravan reached the bridge. Guards watched from the gatehouse above, while several more waited inside the passage beyond a lowered iron portcullis. After crossing the drawbridge, the wagons slowly came to a stop before the portcullis, and the lead rider passed a flat bronze token through the bars.

A guard on the other side inspected it for a few moments, then pressed his palm against a carved metal plate set into the wall. Immediately, pale lines spread through the grooves surrounding the plate, and the portcullis began to rise. The wagons began moving again, and passed beneath the gatehouse. Stone blocked the sky above them, while the air became noticeably cooler. Hooves and wheels echoed through the long enclosed passage. The wall has to be incredibly thick.

He noticed orange-colored light shining from glass containers fixed along the sides of the passage. No flame burned inside them, and there were no wires or glowing filaments to suggest they were electric. Weird. The wagons rolled through another portcullis at the far end and returned to the sunlight. A vast city filled the land ahead, with crowded cobblestone streets running between rows of stone and timber buildings, most of them two or three floors high.

Laborers pulled carts and led heavily loaded wagons through the traffic, while traders shouted from open stalls and small groups of guards moved through the crowds. Some of the guards were on foot, while others rode horses or large scaled beasts that reminded Teren of iguanas. Most of the people around him were humans, but he could see several short, green-skinned figures moving between the stalls, their large eyes distinct even at a distance.

A few broader people with gray-scaled faces and bodies were mixed among the laborers and traders as well. Farther across the city, there was a large palace complex standing above the surrounding roofs on a low hill, with a few broad-hulled airships moving slowly through the sky nearby. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to the cage wagons. Apparently, chained slaves being transported into the city in broad daylight were an ordinary sight here. Wonderful.

The streets around him were loud, crowded, and messy enough to feel like complete chaos, unlike any city on Earth he could think of. As he took in the traffic and the buildings stretching in every direction, his chest tightened until every breath felt too shallow. This couldn't be a film set. There were too many people, too many buildings, and too much movement, without a car, electric sign, or twenty-first-century gadget anywhere he could see. He turned toward the short, green-skinned woman with blood on her face.

"Where the hell are we?" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Her large eyes fixed on him as if he had asked why the sky was blue.

"Karthane. The capital o' the duchy. Where else?" Teren waited a moment, hoping the name would mean something to him, but it didn't.

"Right," he said.

"That explains everything." The woman frowned at him.

"Hit ya head on the road or somethin'?"

"I must have, I guess." She watched him for another moment, then turned away to look at the city. The wagons left the main street soon after entering the city gates and turned left, passing through another gate in a second, smaller wall inside the city. Beyond it lay what looked like a fortified medieval military compound. The ground was hard-packed dirt, surrounded by long wooden halls that were probably barracks, as well as fenced enclosures and small watchtowers built along the walls.

Guards carrying swords, spears, and bows were moving between the different areas. Judging by the number of barracks and soldiers he could see, the compound looked large enough to hold hundreds of people. As with the men who had escorted the wagons, nearly all of the guards here appeared to be human. A knight wearing plate armor was standing near one of the holding yards, speaking with some guards while a steel helmet rested beneath his arm.

On the way here, Teren had overheard the other slaves saying that the city had many such gates, each protected by its own military compound inside the walls. The compounds appeared to house the soldiers responsible for defending the gates, while also overseeing the constant flow of people and goods entering the city. If Karthane maintained a garrison this large at a single gate, he could only imagine how many soldiers guarded the rest of the walls, streets, markets, palace, and inner districts.

The scale of it made him wonder just how large the city was, and what dangers required so many soldiers to protect it. Teren's stomach tightened as the wagons slowed. They had brought three wagons of chained people into a guarded compound and closed the gate behind them. Are they going to kill us here? He forced himself to breathe more slowly.

If these people had only wanted the captives dead, they could have done it outside the city; nobody transported three wagons of prisoners through a massive guarded gate just for the pleasure of murdering them in a yard. Probably. But panicking wouldn't remove the chains or open the gate. He needed to stay calm, look around, and find a way out. He heard a burst of cheering from somewhere to the left, followed by dull, wet sounds that could have been two people punching each other or...

someone violently kneading dough. Teren wasn't sure which possibility he preferred. He twisted around, trying to see between the wooden buildings, but he barely caught a glimpse of a low wooden enclosure and a group of men crowded around it before the wagon turned. Soon, the wagons stopped. Two riders dismounted and walked to the rear of the cage. One unlocked it with a heavy iron key.

"Out!" The captives near the opening began climbing down. The broad, gray-scaled man was among the first. The moment his feet touched the ground, he threw himself at the nearest guard despite the chains around his wrists. His shoulder struck the guard in the chest and knocked him back.

"Get the bastard!" another guard shouted. The other guards were on him immediately.

"Damned lizard!" one of them snarled as a cudgel struck the side of the large man's head. Then another blow smashed into his knee. The man fell to the ground, but the guards continued beating him until he curled onto his side and stopped trying to rise. Seeing that, the people still inside the wagon moved away from the opening. Some pressed themselves against the bars, staring at the bleeding man on the ground.

Teren remained trapped near the middle of the cage, with half the captives still crowded between him and the opening. One of the guards climbed inside and struck the older man across the shoulder with the same cudgel, the beaten slave's blood still wet on its end.

"I said, out!" The remaining captives scrambled toward the opening. Teren rose with them. He could easily guess nothing good would come from staying inside. As he moved toward the exit, the chain between his ankles forced him to take short steps, and he nearly lost his balance when the wagon shifted beneath him. A guard caught the front of his shirt and dragged him toward the opening, making Teren tumble out of the cage. He threw his chained hands forward to keep his face from striking the ground.

His knees hit the packed dirt hard, followed a moment later by his palms. The impact scraped his hands and left his knees aching beneath the thin cloth of his trousers.

"Get up!" Teren pushed himself upright before the cudgel could come down. The body he had awakened in moved more easily than his own ever had, and his movements felt quicker and more balanced despite the hunger and the chains. He looked toward the gate behind them. The city had seemed large enough for one person to disappear easily among the crowds, but reaching it was another matter. Guards stood beside every doorway and along the inner wall.

The nearest man had a sword hanging from his belt, but Teren had never held one in his life. Even if he managed to grab it, he would not make it ten steps with chains around his ankles. For now, he decided to wait and learn more about this place. Soon, the slaves were forced into a line while a pair of guards moved along it, unlocking the shackles around their wrists but leaving the ankle chains in place.

When Teren's hands were free, he rubbed the raw skin around both wrists and kept searching for another way out, but there still wasn't one. An older man who looked more like a bank clerk than a guard sat behind a narrow table near the first wooden hall. His dark wool tunic was clean, with a brass badge pinned to his chest. There was an open ledger in front of him, brought over moments earlier by one of the wagon drivers.

A guard beside the table had already started calling names, while two other men were dragging the beaten lizardfolk slave across the compound by his arms. His head hung loosely between his shoulders, and Teren could not tell whether he was just unconscious or dead.

"Teren." Teren glanced around. The guard shoved him hard between the shoulders.

"That means you. Get moving." Teren stumbled forward. Apparently, the name had been meant for him. Only then did he notice the flat wooden tag hanging from a cord around his neck. With his hands free, he lifted it and looked down. The carved symbols made sense immediately: Teren Marr. Age 19. No Family. There was no place of origin or prior job listed, and nothing else on the tag. How the heck did I get transported to this place? To this... this world?

When Teren's turn came, the clerk looked from the tag to his face.

"Any trade?" Teren lowered the tag.

"Uh... I can't remember." The clerk paused.

"Experience with tools? Animals? Field work?"

"I... don't know." The older man frowned.

"You know your letters?"

"Yes, I can read." The clerk made a note in the ledger.

"Literate. No listed trade." A guard caught Teren by the shoulder and pushed him onward. Ahead, every slave was being taken past a strange metal contraption before being divided into separate groups. A cloudy crystal sat inside a brass cage atop a waist-high stone block. A brass handgrip arched above it, leaving enough space for someone to close a hand around the metal. One by one, the slaves closed a hand around the grip. For most of them, nothing happened. The crystal remained dull.

A young man ahead of Teren made it glow weakly yellow. The scarred man beside the contraption leaned closer.

"Hm. Possible mage candidate. Send him to Master Edras." One of the guards laughed.

"Hah! If he's a mage, yard-master, then I'm an archmage." Another guard shrugged.

"If Master Edras doesn't see any use for him, he'll send him back. I'd bet this man will be sent back before supper." The young man was taken toward a separate wooden hall on the far side of the compound. The short green-skinned woman ahead of Teren closed her hand around the grip. The crystal remained dark.

"Labor. About right for a goblin." A female guard directed the glaring woman toward the group waiting on the left. Then Teren found himself in front of the contraption. The yard-master was broad across the shoulders, with a deep scar running from his temple to the edge of his jaw. He pointed at the grip.

"Hand around it." Teren looked down at the cloudy crystal. It resembled the lights he had seen beneath the gatehouse, though this one was larger and gave off no light of its own.

"What does it do?" The yard-master's expression hardened.

"Put your hand on the device." A guard to the side laughed.

"Watch yourself. He could be another archmage." The others laughed with him. Teren looked around once more, unsure whether he should follow the order. There were too many guards to fight and too many walls to cross. Refusing would only earn him a beating or perhaps something worse. After airships, goblins, lizardfolk, and people riding giant iguanas, a glowing crystal contraption should not have surprised him. What could possibly go wrong? He raised his hand and curled his fingers loosely around the metal.

Cold sank into his palm. For the briefest instant, light flickered inside the crystal. Teren thought it might have flashed purple instead of the weak yellow he had seen earlier, but the light vanished before he could be certain. The crystal went dark. The yard-master frowned at it.

"It's spent already?" Teren released the grip. The man bent closer and rapped his knuckles hard against the brass frame.

"Again." Teren hesitated, then placed his hand around the grip a second time. The cold returned, weaker than before, and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Nothing happened. The crystal remained dark. The yard-master struck the frame once more.

"It worked for the last one," a guard commented.

"They sold us a half-drained crystal. Fetch another one from the armory." Teren was still staring at the dark crystal when a white glow appeared at the edge of his vision. He turned. An unnatural white fire was rushing across the yard. It crossed the distance before anyone could run. The people in its path vanished inside the flames almost as soon as Teren saw them. He barely understood what was happening before the heat became unbearable, scorching his throat and searing his face and arms.

Then the white flames engulfed him. His hair ignited and his skin blistered, then his eyes vaporized as the air inside his chest became liquid flame. Death came before Teren could draw another breath.