C H A P T E R 1

RUDE AWAKENING

Vi’s eyes were caked shut, and she rubbed at them absently as she woke. Whatever dreams she’d had after the nightmare had lumped together into a vague feeling of emotional fulfillment. Totally unsatisfying. That monster, though... The hunger for blood bit was overdone, but the design of the monster itself had been pretty cool. Short rigid fur, with an almost deer-like snout. Why had nobody ever thought about how awesome deer would look with sharp teeth? It was going in her notebook for sure. Vi rolled onto her side, hand searching for the notebook she always kept at her bedside table. She touched cold stone. In fact, she was laying on cold stone. And she was naked.

Squealing and scrambling upright, she scraped her eyes completely clear and looked around. She was on the floor of a rectangular room that appeared to have been carved from solid rock. Designs had been carved into every surface, almost floral. In fact, flowers similar to the carvings were spread around in tiny clusters and bouquets, propped against giant stone cases that lined the walls of the room and filled depressions along the walls. The ones at the back were still empty, save for an odd spider web. In the center of the room, a little behind where Vi sat, was a raised altar of some kind. In front of her was an open doorway, shaped like an arch.

This is a crypt, she realized. I’m naked in the middle of a fucking crypt.

“Donnat, Avri,” said a voice, growing closer. Wavering light filled the doorway, followed by a young robed man holding a torch. He had an unruly head of blonde hair that looked a bit greasy, and a wispy beard only a boy around her age would be proud of. His narrow, defined nose was his best feature. “Yakat ma har--” He stopped speaking as he saw Vi, the torch falling from his limp hand. He gawked, his jaw open to an almost comical degree. Vi made a feeble attempt to cover herself, but it was obvious the man wasn’t gawking at her nakedness. He was surprised she was here at all.

“Um, hi?” She said, trying her best to smile. It probably looked awkward as hell. Just like how she felt. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here? That wasn’t supposed to be a question?”

The man took a small step back, testing his footing, and then bolted back the way he came. “Avri,” she heard him shout as he ran. A door slammed somewhere outside. “AVRIIII!”

“Oh shit,” muttered Vi, pushing herself to her feet through the sudden flares of pain she was beginning to feel. Taking a deep breath, she ran out the door, her bare feet slapping loudly against the stones.

Beyond the arch was another stone chamber that looked a lot like a mortuary. Simple wooden chairs were set in neat rows in front of a raised plinth. More tables and chairs stacked in the corner, along with cushions and cloths, made it clear the room was meant to be rearranged. Through a half open door opposite the entrance to the crypt, she could a rack with a bunch of sharp- and creepy-looking tools hanging from it. To her left were stairs going up.

Vi grabbed one of the tablecloths and wrapped it around herself like a bath towel, trying not to think about germs. Wet spots started to form even before she finished; she was already sweating despite the chill temperature. Thankfully, the stairs sported a simple wooden railing, so she was able to haul herself up despite her sleep-addled brain’s attempts to trip her.

She threw open the wooden plank door at the top and stumbled into a breezy corridor. All around her, men and women in white robes turned in alarm, calling out to her even as they encircled her to block her escape.

There would be none of that.

In a moment of unmatched bravy, Vi let the tablecloth slide off her body and whipped it at a balding, middle aged man who was reaching out for her shoulder.

“Scat!”

The man recoiled, backing away and saying something in a stern tone. She couldn’t understand the language, but it sounded similar to the one the kid from earlier had been speaking. She heard the term “Avri” thrown around a few times, but with no idea what it meant there was little use in thinking about it.

Without looking around, she wheeled suddenly to the left and pushed the gap between two of the robed strangers, wrapping the cloth back around herself as she glared bloody murder at them. They made no move to pursue her, and for that she was glad. Until she ran into something hard.

She saw a flash of metal before her feet went out from under her, her head spinning as she fell backward and hit her head quite painfully. When her head stopped buzzing, she found herself looking up at the tines of several pitchforks all pointed at her prone form. Behind them loomed the faces of what appeared to be a gaggle of angry farmers, all staring down at her with judgement written on their faces.

“O-okay,” she squeaked. “I think things may have gotten a little out of hand? That wasn’t supposed to be a question?”

Vi winced as the farmers deposited her into a solid wooden chair with no small amount of force. What bruises she’d sustained in her fall had made new friends as she’d been dragged bodily up no less than three flights of stairs.

“Avri,” intoned a short, bearded priest as he pointed to himself. His whiskers were so thick she could barely see his mouth move when he spoke, but he came off as kindly, rather than intimidating. He moved his hand slowly, as if she would bolt at any sudden motions, and gestured again toward the man she’d scared half to death in the crypt. “Kett.” Kett nodded, averting his eyes. Or trying.

Vi pulled the flimsy cloth tighter around her.

The crypt, it turned out, was in the basement of an isolated temple. She’d looked through windows as they’d ascended and seen nothing but rolling hills and a few goats. Nothing to give her any idea where she was, or how she’d gotten here. It was still early morning, and mist clung to the landscape in most places. What she thought were the peaks of distant mountains loomed beyond the clouds.

Right now, they were in Avri’s office, which was on one of the upper floors. It was sparsely decorated, with only a simple rug to keep one’s feet warm, a desk and two chairs--currently occupied by Avri, who looked incredibly uncomfortable with the entire situation, and Vi--made of some rich dark wood Vi had never seen before, and an altar to whatever god this temple was dedicated to in the corner behind Avri. There was another chamber off to the side, hidden behind a curtain, which she assumed was a bathroom or maybe a private prayer room of some sort.

“Vi,” she said, mirroring his gesture. Avri smiled and nodded, then reached across the desk to pass her a steaming pewter mug of hot… something. The liquid within was pinkish in hue, and smelled vaguely of cider. She took a sip, and was overcome with a sweet and spicy flavor she couldn’t place. Definitely fruit, but definitely not apples.

“Vi,” Avri said mostly to himself, thoughtfully. “Varrest enwa gora?”

“What?”

“Varrest… Enwa… Gora... ? Hest orren?”

“Sorry,” said Vi. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Avri turned to Kett and asked something in their language. Kett looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and said something that sounded incredibly noncommittal. Avri raised an eyebrow, and Kett sighed. His next word was whispered, but seemed to please Avri.

“Avri... Kett…” Avri swept his hand around the room. “Sheksetir…” He hugged himself and smiled warmly. “Henn.”

Vi supposed they were offering to keep her safe until they could figure something out. She nodded, smiled, and took another sip of hot alcohol.

They led her down a floor to a small bedchamber, throwing some more gestures her way which she took to indicate the room was her’s. Inside was a simple cot, an empty writing desk and accompanying chair, and a small chest-high wardrobe. It was about the size of a big closet, and homey, which was nice. The floor wasn’t carpeted, but a pair of slippers were tucked under the cot. Perhaps the best thing about the place was the folded robe that rested atop the wardrobe.

Avri and Kett were already walking away, having a heated argument that they were struggling to keep to a whisper. She paid them no mind. Despite just waking up a little over an hour ago, she was incredibly tired for some reason. She shrugged. “Well, nothing else to do. May as well take a nap.”

As she drifted off to sleep, Vi briefly thought about how strange it was that nothing bad had happened yet. Usually, She threw a curveball about now. Maybe the monks were cannibals, or she was actually a prisoner. For all that this dream was more vivid than usual, she’d expected even more torment to go along with it. Instead, she got… two nice monks? Oh well. There was no sense in worrying about it. She might as well enjoy a good dream, for once.

In minutes, she was asleep.

Vi realized it had never been a dream when she woke up that afternoon. Both Avri and Kett spent hours bringing her sweetcakes and cups of mystery cider to calm her down. She ruined most of the sweetcakes by tossing them to the floor, and immediately regretted it, which only made her feel worse. Kett had gone from thinking she was a vengeful spirit to thinking she was an insane and possibly murderous vengeful spirit.

Neither he nor Avri understood why she was upset, because neither of them spoke English.

And even though her sleep the previous night had been thankfully dreamless, she wouldn’t be so lucky the next night, and she had no Prazosin.

She muddled through her cider-haze, trying to figure out what was going on. She was in a strange place, a temple where they worshipped strange gods. It was definitely not anywhere near home. The people didn’t speak English, only something that sounded vaguely European. They wore robes and--if the torches and sconces she’d seen around the place were any indication--had no electricity, or even gas lights.

About the only thing that made sense was that she’d been summoned to a fantasy realm, and there was no way that made any sense whatsoever! She wasn’t a hero. She was Vi, the fat nerd girl from the middle of nowhere who nobody liked. And this… this was what she’d always wished would happen, when she was depressed and alone and shaking after the nightmares. She never got what she wanted. It was always a trap. It was always snatched away at the last second.

And the poor monks. Some teenager apparates into their crypt, they’re kind enough to feed and clothe her, and then she has a meltdown on them. Good job, Vi. How are you going to fix this?

Inside her mind, the darkness stirred.

“I have to talk to them,” she said to herself. Before she could change her mind, she hopped out of the cot into her waiting slippers and opened the door. Into Kett’s face.

Kett grunted and recoiled, clutching his nose. So much for his best feature, she thought, and surprised herself with how nasty that had sounded.

“Sorry, Kett! Are you okay? Let me see.” She reached for his face, and he zipped away faster than she thought humanly possible. By the time she realized he wasn’t there anymore, he was halfway down the corridor to the stairs. “A-Avri amakt en henn est. Erm... ” He struggled to find words for a moment. “Vi.” He pointed to her. “Avri.” He pointed up.

Vi guessed that meant follow him to Avri, so she did.

Avri was seated in his usual place in his office, but this time there was someone else here. The stranger was seated in the corner on a borrowed stool, speaking to Avri enthusiastically. He had short black hair and skin to match, and a gigantic mustache. His eyes were a pleasant almond brown, and mirrored the excitement in his voice.

And this was the first time she’d seen clothes other than monk’s robes. He wore a highly polished breastplate over an expensive looking shirt all in red and gold. His pants--she thought they were called johdpurs--matched, as did his knee-high boots, which were plated in the same shining metal as his armor. She also noticed that he had some sort of paper inscribed in clawlike script sealed to his left breast in wax, where medals would be pinned on the military uniforms she was familiar with.

He turned to her when she entered and cut off his previous conversation. “Kett,” he said. “Vestin se jangelt, arr.” As he finished speaking, he pointed to an amulet on Avri’s desk. Kett, who had been standing as far away from her as possible, picked it up and… stood there.

Avri sighed, but the stranger grinned mischievously. Without warning, he clapped his hands together as hard as he could and screamed “KETT!”

The amulet sailed across the room as Kett dove for cover behind the altar. Everyone laughed, including Vi, though Avri was trying hard not to. Bending to pick up the jewelry in question, Vi took a moment to examine it. It was about the size of the palm of her hand, and etched with glyphs that were probably magical in nature. They formed a neat circle around a red gemstone, set deeply into the center. Silvery chains were strung through it at several points, meshing together to form the loop where it looked like her neck would go. Since Avri and the stranger were now busy talking, she decided she might as well put it on.

“Hest orren sa karr en,” said Avri. “Ilm var hope that this works.”

“My enchantments have never failed before,” said the stranger. He turned to regard her, and smiled. “Ah. If the look on her face is any indication, my record holds true. Can you understand me, dear?”

“Er… yes,” she said, a bit sheepishly. Yep. This was magic. Real magic. Holy shit I’m wearing a magic amulet for reals a magic amulet this is the best ever! Fantasy world confirmed!

Avri looked a bit confused, but the stranger--a wizard?--merely pointed to the amulet. “You need to grasp the amulet. It doesn’t work unless it’s touching bare skin. You see, not only is that working Physik, but touching it opens up the channels through which the--”

Vi touched the amulet. “Sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“--latent energy… oh. Er, aren’t you one of Avri’s students?”

“No.”

Avri took a sip of cider and looked to the wizard. “This young lady’s circumstances are one of the things I wished to discuss with you privately.” Vi hadn’t noticed when all she could hear was moonspeak, but Avri had one of those wise old man voices that made you feel calm. It was nice. Kett, on the other hand...

“Avri,” he said, his voice shaky and a bit too nasal as he got to his feet. “Are you sure this is a good idea? We don’t even know who she is.”

Avri--bless his wise old man soul--shook his head and said, “I know you’re worried, Kett, but this is the easiest solution for everyone. Now, why don’t you go help Magg in the kitchen? Judicator Barrus and I have business with our guest.”

Kett looked like he might protest at first, but a stern look from Barrus put a stop to that before it started. “As you say, Avri. Judicator.” He bowed low at the waist and left the room, trying to look dignified and not doing a good job of it.

“All right,” said Barrus. He looked Vi over for a moment and began to blush beneath his impressive mustache. “Erm… Avri, old friend. Perhaps there’s a robe more suited for Miss Vi’s… less masculine... proportions.”

Vi looked down. Thankfully, nothing was popping out of the borrowed robe, but the fabric had ridden up on her waist and chest, accentuating her curves. Especially the curves she didn’t want accentuated.

Too fat, a voice said deep in her mind. It sounded like Her.

Hurriedly, she tugged on the cloth and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… sorry.”

Barrus waved his hands, eyes going wide. “Nononono, I wasn’t implying, that is, I’m not... Avri?”

Avri’s face was in his palm, his thumb and forefinger massaging his temples. “Sorya is working on adjusting a spare to her size. My apologies, to both of you. Vi? Can I fetch you a cloak, perhaps?”

Vi nodded. Avri rose from his desk and walked into the side chamber she’d noticed before. He emerged moments later with a rich burgundy cloak, which he draped around her shoulders. It was incredibly soft, but also a little thick. Much better than a hoodie. Beneath the cloak, Vi crossed her fingers all manner of capes and cowls were in fashion wherever she was.

“Vi,” said Avri, easing back into his chair. “I hate to impose on you like this, but we’re going to have to ask you a few questions. I’m sure you can understand, a strange girl suddenly appearing in our crypt and running rampant through the grounds is cause for alarm.”

There was certainly no doubt about that.

“I have asked Judicator Barrus to join us. Among other things, he will be able to tell if you’re lying. So please don’t.”

Vi looked at Barrus, who smiled benignly. As she watched him, his eyes began to change from their usual brown to a bright sky blue. They also looked to be glowing. A shiver went up Vi’s spine. “I would hate to have to kill you, Miss Vi. You seem like a charming young lady, and you’re wearing my finest cloak.

Come to think of it, the cloak did match the rest of his outfit. Awkward.

Avri cleared his throat, and Barrus’ eye-glow subsided a bit, along with his smile. Apparently satisfied, Avri launched his line of questioning. “First, where do you think you are?”

Vi considered her options. She couldn’t just outright tell them that she thought this was another world. Best case scenario, they kept her locked up and tried to figure out how she’d traveled between worlds. Worst case scenario, they’d torture and execute her. Barrus had already threatened to do that, unless it was a joke. She couldn’t be sure. Best to play safe.

“I have no idea,” she said brightly and with absolute confidence.

“Truth,” intoned Barrus without hesitation.

Avri sighed. “You’re in Avendar, County Osten to be exact, about fifteen fales south aaaaand you have no idea what any of that means.”

Vi shook her head dumbly.

“Avendar is our nation. It’s a small Principality bordered by the ocean to the east and our allied nations on the other three sides. Following?”

The only Principality Vi was familiar with was Zeon, but she nodded anyway.

“Our Prince is also the head of our church. Here in Avendar, we worship the old gods, like Sheksetir.” He nodded to the altar. “It’s a sort of bastion for us, since the rest of the world has adopted a newer, more stylish religion.”

“Stylish,” chuckled Barrus. “Please. Their priests go to sleep dressed in better clothes than I’m wearing now.”

Avri ignored him. “Judicator Barrus is an old friend of mine, who despite his borderline blasphemous sense of humor has a righteous heart hidden under that armor.”

“You’re the one who called them stylish,” he fired back goodnaturedly.

“Moving on,” said Avri, taking a sip of... Vi really needed to figure out what that drink was. “Where are you from?”

That had to be the next one. Shit. “Brooklin,” she said quietly. “It’s a small… fishing village... in… the… north?”

Barrus looked at her strangely for a moment. “Truth, but you seem a bit flustered. Perhaps not the truth so much as a truth, hm?”

Vi had to change the subject. “So, Judicator Barrus… how do you do that?”

“Oh, the Truthseeing? It’s a gift, by divine mandate of Anathar--” He made a sign with his hands. “--I am given his full authority and backing on the material plane. I speak only truth, and I have the power to tell if others are doing the same. In some parts of the world, my word is law.”

“But not here,” added Avri.

“Ah, correct. Here and now, Avri’s word is law.”

Vi thought for a moment. “So Anathar is the God of Justice?”

Barrus clapped gleefully. “Yes! Good!”

“And Sheksetir?” Vi asked.

“Sheksetir,” began Avri, taking another sip of his drink. Did he time that for dramatic effect? “Is the God of Death.”

“Oh,” replied Vi. She didn’t know quite how to respond to that. Was she supposed to feel safe under the protection of the God of Death?

“I can see why you’d find that a bit distressing,” said Avri, sympathetically. “In most places, death is something to be feared. We, on the other hand see it as more of a peaceful conclusion to a life well lived.”

“That sounds… nice, I guess?” Vi wasn’t so sure.

Avri raised a hand. “I’m sure all your questions will be answered in time, child, but we have more pressing matters. Now come the more important questions.”

“Um, all right. Ask away.”

Avri took another sip of cider. “Are you a Faynite sympathiser?”

“No.”

“Truth,” intoned Barrus.

“Are you a member of the Ten Zei Wa, or hoping to become one?”

“No.”

“Truth,” intoned Barrus.

“Does the name Sanna mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Truth,” intoned Barrus.

“Have you come here for a book?”

What was that supposed to mean?

“No? That wasn’t supposed to be a question?”

“Truth, and truth.” Barrus chuckled lightly.

“Do you know how you came to be here?”

“No,” she said, a bit relieved. Finally, a question that made sense.

"Truth."

“Have you been trained in the magical arts?”

“No.”

“Truth.”

Avri took another drink and paused for a moment. “One final question, and that will be all. Do you intend to harm myself, my associates, or anyone in my care?”

“No.”

“Truth,” said Barrus, clapping his hands again and smiling. “Well, that was helpful.”

Vi couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.

“Avri?” Barrus raised an eyebrow at the old monk. “Are you satisfied?”

Avri sighed. “My most immediate concerns are allayed.”

Barrus’ eyes faded back to brown. Had he kept his powers active on purpose until he heard Avri’s answer? She wasn’t sure if the monk had noticed, or if it was even a concern. Better not to say anything. Better to watch. Listen. Learn. The darkness stirred.

The two men stood and nodded at each other in unison. Vi looked between them for a moment and decided she should also stand. She had already started to move before she realized she was standing up already. Then she tried to sit down, and remembered there was no chair for her. She hoped neither man had noticed that she’d just wiggled twice for no reason.

“Barrus, my friend,” said Avri, not noticing after all, or pretending. “I had wondered if you would show Miss Vi to the seamstress. I have private matters to attend to. Shall we meet over dinner?”

“Alas, but I must be off.” To his credit, Barrus looked legitimately upset that he couldn’t stay for the meal. “I’ve been called to settle a dispute between two Rukhari Shamans. I must travel far, overnights, and hope that I arrive before things start exploding. But of course, I will show your lovely guest to the seamstress on my way out.”

Avri rounded his desk and embraced Barrus, who was much taller. “Look to the light,” said the old monk.

“Put the shadows behind you,” replied the Judicator. He turned about on his heels and motioned for Vi to follow him. Pulling up the hem of her robe, she trotted after.

The walk wasn’t particularly unpleasant, but Vi felt like Barrus was waiting for her to say something, and she wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. The result was a companionable silence. Walking beside this man, the closest thing to a paladin she’s seen so far, was the only time she’d felt truly safe in… years. She basked in that feeling, and Barrus let her.

“Here we are,” he said, suddenly stopping at an open door. Vi almost bumped into him, still caught up in her own head. He didn’t seem to mind. He smiled at her. Was this man even capable of frowning?

“Oh. So, this is the seamstress?”

“Indeed it is, young lady. Ask for Sorya. I believe she’s the one the old man has working on your… situation.” Vi remembered Avri mentioning that name. She was a bit thankful that Sorya was a woman. Being the only woman in a temple full of men was a certain kind of hell for an introvert like Vi.

“Okay. Thank you, Barrus, and goodbye. Maybe I’ll see you again if you come visit?”

Barrus stood there, looking at her with a grin plastered on his face.

“Um… did you need something else?”

“Well, my dear,” he said, “I was hoping I could get my cloak back. Nights can be a bit chilly around here."

His cloak. The one she was still wearing. The one she’d almost walked off with. Right. She took it off her shoulders and handed it to him. In one smooth motion, he whipped it around his body and fastened it.

“Take care, dear Vi. I have a feeling we’ll meet again. You know what they say about Judicators and feelings.” He winked, and departed without waiting for her reply. She didn’t know what they said about Judicators, or who they were, but she had a feeling he knew that. She watched him go, a tiny part of her wishing he’d asked her to join him.

Questing can wait, she decided as she made her way through the door, toward the sound of a woman’s laughter. I need to get clothes that actually fucking fit first.