Sunlight pierced his sleeping eyelids, stirring him awake. Birds chirped in a symphony of morning sounds and the faint sound of running water lapping against a river bank echoed through the air. Lying on a straw mat beneath the crooked wooden boards of the roof was a boy, just recently turned man. He had dark brown hair with eyes to match, his face, while certainly not unpleasant, was plain in appearance with the notable exception of a deep gouge scar on his eyebrow. He was of slightly above average height at six foot and his build was in that awkward zone of bulking that showed that he was certainly well built but not very well defined.
He opened his eyes and for a moment, all was calm. Until it wasn't.
He jolted awake, eyes darting left and right, up and down, backwards and forwards. Straw, wood, straw and a goat?
"Where the fuck am I?" He thought, a cold sweat building up on his forehead.
Just last night he had gone to bed in his room, in his house. He looked down to see that he was in the same state he had gone to bed in, that is, wearing nothing but his underwear. His breath turned into a heavy pant, his knees began to shake and his jaw was clenched so tight he briefly worried he might shatter his teeth. He looked around. Low wooden walls, straw on the floor, a wooden trough filled with water and in the corner of the small wooden pen was a rusty shovel.
"Where the fuck am I?" This time, speaking aloud.
His vocalization was met with a yelp from behind the low wooden board wall. He froze, holding his breath, praying this was just a particularly lucid dream, that in just a moment he'd be awake in his bed at home.
"Who are you?!" A woman's voice called out, followed by another yelp.
He looked up and to the left just to see a middle aged woman looking down at him. She was, by all accounts, completely ordinary looking, brown hair, round face, average sized nose. Ordinary by all accounts except for her eyes, shimmering emeralds that drew in any and all attention available.
"I uh, I really don't know where I am, I'm very sorry." Was the only reply the very startled man could muster.
"You're in our goat pen." She replied, a small smirk creeping up her face.
"Huh, I... don't remember getting here." The bewilderment on his face must have been sincere, because the woman had to stifle a laugh by covering her mouth with her hand.
"Do you remember where you left your clothes at least?" She said, a hint of teasing laced into her voice.
"I'm pretty sure I left them at home. I don't suppose you have anything I can cover myself with?" He asked.
"Well, I'm not sure anything of my husband's will fit someone your size." She said in earnest, "I can have a look though? Maybe you can use a sheet?"
"Thank you, I'm really quite lost here." He said, climbing up to his feet. That's when he finally noticed.
The woman was short, unusually short. She couldn't be anything above five foot tall. Even this pen roof was unnaturally low, with just an inch of room available between the top of his head and the wooden boards. Looking at her properly, her height wasn't the only unusual aspect of her appearance. Her clothes were practically medieval, a long white dress with dirt stains, a tan waistcoat like garment and a white bonnet.
"Whoa... Sorry my Lord but we most certainly don't have any appropriate clothing for someone so grand in stature." She said as he stood up, her body lowering into a bow in a robotic-like impulse.
"I'm sorry, my Lord? What makes you say that?" He asked confused.
"Well, my Lord, it's just, you're so big, only nobility gets so strong and tall my Lord." She replied.
"There's no Lords here." He said, this time it was him who stifled a laugh, "I'm just like you, just a bit taller." He understood something was off. This wasn't just a new location. Lords? Peasants? He couldn't think of anywhere on Earth that still used a system like that. The alternative however was too strange to bear, could this really be...
"Given that I'm really lost, do you mind telling me where I am, geographically I mean." He asked.
"Oh, right, yeah, you're about half a days walk from Branvel village to the north, and about a two days ride from Veldia to the south." She said after a brief pout at the realization that she had just bowed to somebody for no reason.
"Oh, no." He thought. He understood. There was nowhere on Earth called Branvel or Veldia, certainly nowhere that spoke English. This was bad, really bad. "Best case scenario, this is a dream, worst case... Just act natural" He thought again.
"Right, okay. Confusion over. I'm Eric." He said, extending his hand over the low wooden wall towards her.
"Eric? So you're a Northman then? Explains the height. I'm Anne, Anne Herder. My husband is Alfred Herder, he's off in Branvel trading right now."
"Oh, God, sorry, it must be frightening to have some stranger in your goat pen. I should really get out of your hair, shouldn't I. Maybe find some clothes." Eric said with a laugh.
Anne's face grew stern, "God?" There was a fire in her eyes that Eric had never seen before.
"Damn it." He thought, "Haha, sorry, slip of the tongue, just waking up." Eric said with a simile, hoping to play it off.
"Well... don't let it happen again. Inquisitors are everywhere now." She said, making a half circle from her left shoulder down and up to her right, then touching her forehead and looking to the sky. Eric copied her motions.
Just then, as he was about to say something to change the topic, they both heard a scream. Anne whipped her head back towards a field of crops and out bolted a little girl, her hair the same color as Anne's, her eyes the same emerald green. Even her clothes were just small versions of Anne's. as she ran further out of the field, she tripped on a rock. The girl's white dress was stained red, blood caked on her face.
"Hilda!" Anne called and ran through the mud, clinging to her daughter.
Then, from out of the crops, it came barreling through, tripping and falling on the same rock on it's way out. Eric couldn't deny it. It was a goblin. Anne screamed as she saw it clambering up to it's feet.
Like a man possessed, Eric ran out of the pen, grabbing the shovel on his way out, it was light in his hands, clearly made for a much smaller man. He ran towards the goblin, his feet screaming in agony as he stepped on small, sharp stones hidden in the mud, he screamed in rage as he got closer to them, just a few more steps were left. He raised the shovel above his head.
The goblin, just barely stood up, looked up at the imposing figure for just a moment. Eric closed his eyes and swung down with all the force his body could muster. He was poorly structured. Amateurish, completely unprepared. Regardless, he swung down, the edge of the shovel head landing square on the goblin's forehead. Eric had never heard such a violent sound before. A skull cracking under that weight and pressure sounds something like a frozen watermelon being hit with a hammer, it cried out with a bell-like ring from the shovel. A warm splat hit his face. He was covered in goblin blood. When he opened his eyes, the sight was of pure carnage. Bone fragments peppered the ground and a dark, greenish blood pooled on the ground. Parts of its miniscule brain hung out of its open wound.
Eric turned away, the sight elicited a dry heave from him, he doubled over, holding his stomach as he threatened to vomit at any moment.
From behind him, through choking tears, the little girl stammered out through her wails, "Th-there's two."
Just as Hilda choked out the words, a thud came from Eric's left shoulder, followed by white hot pain. He looked to see a flint-napped dagger buried in his flesh. He shrieked and collapsed to the ground, dropping the shovel in the process. He chambered his leg as he rolled to his back, kicking out as hard as he could directly into the goblin's stomach, it flew back like a ragdoll. Eric scrambled to his knees, leaping on top of the goblin, knife still in his shoulder. He picked up the rock that had made the girl trip and raised it above his head with his right hand.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Crack.
Blood spray coated his face and chest, some got in his mouth. He rolled off the mangled goblin, looked to the sky and screamed. The sky, a dark grey of overcast clouds, threatened to swallow him hole. He felt himself melting into the blank space, the adrenaline warping his mind to much to understand that unless something was done, he'd probably bleed out from the dagger sticking into his shoulder.
"Eric!" He heard Anne call out as she ran up to him, "Eric! Gods above look at your arm!"
"Yeah. I know." He tried to put on a tough act, he couldn't let two strangers he had just met see him crumble under the fear of death.
"Hold still! I need to go get some things, I can fix you right up okay, just wait here." With that, she ran off towards the house next to the pen he had woken up in.
Hilda, however, stayed behind, "Th-thank you mister." She said, her little hands resting on his injured shoulder.
Eric's eyes widened in pain as she rested on his wound. He grit his teeth and said, "Don't even mention it. as long as you're safe that's what matters."
She noticed his pain and pulled away, "Sorry, sorry!"
Eric couldn't help but laugh at her innocence, "It's fine. You go inside with your mum, you shouldn't have to see this." He said, staring up at the sky.
However, as he said this, Anne came running back up to him.
"Hilda, inside, now." Despite the little girl's protest, her mum just shot her that signature look all mothers have and sent her away, "Right, I used to be in the church. I wasn't the best at this but the nearest healer is in the church at Veldia, you can't make that journey like this. I'm sorry, I can heal you but it won't be the same as it was before."
In her hands she carried all manner of strange items. A glass vial of water, sprigs of a herb Eric had never seen, a gold coin and a half moon necklace made of shimmering opal. She put the necklace on and took Eric's hand in hers.
"I'm sorry, this is about to hurt." She said, but before Eric could ask why, she ripped the dagger from his shoulder in a jerking motion. Blood sprayed out onto the ground and Eric arched his back in agony. She began chanting in a language that sounded like a bizarre cross between German, Latin and Greek, dumping the water out onto the wound, wrapping the coin in the herbs and cramming it into Erics mouth. In a blinding flash of green light, the pain began to subside and within a matter of seconds, was completely gone. The coin and herbs, which had been choking him, had miraculously vanished.
Eric looked down at his shoulder and instead of an open wound, a thick scar sat in its place.
"I- Wow, thank you." He said, bewildered.
"It's not the best job, but, at least you aren't going to die, right?" Anne said with a laugh, to which Eric responded with a laugh of his own.
"Yeah, it could certainly be worse. Thank you. Is there a bath or stream or something? I'm, I'm really not enjoying this blood on me." Eric asked.
"There's a stream behind the house, it'll be a bit cold but, go for it." She replied.
She was right. It was ice cold. He had disrobed what little clothes he had and was scrubbing the thick, oily blood off his body, heaving and dry-retching as he felt it cling to his hands. The adrenaline was wearing off fast. His knees began to shake hard and he found himself sat in the stream, looking at his hands. He felt like crying, but nothing would come out.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, he got 'dressed' and marched back to the house. However, once he reached the threshold, a new sight greeted him. A horse and cart. Riding that horse was a man. They locked eyes for just a moment before the man yelled.
"What are you doin' on my farm?! Go on, get outta 'ere you creep! There's women an' children in 'ere. I swear I'll run you through! Don' make me, I don' care how big you are!" He jumped off his horse. He was also, very short. His hair was the color and texture of straw, his eyes were a dark brown, his body, while small, was dry and wiry, tendons and muscles rippled under his skin. It was a long-time laborer's body. His clothes were ragged, with tan pants held up by a thick rope belt, on his waist, a short axe, clearly designed for fighting, sat waiting.
He reached for it, it's spiked end glinting in what little light came through the clouds. The men stared at each other.
"Alfred!" Anne came crashing through the door, "What do you think you're doing? Get over here and stop threatening Eric!"
Alfred grimaced, "Who is this Eric? Eh? You 'avin strange men over when I'm out earning for this family?"
"How dare you!" Anne cried out, "He saved our lives! I won't have you threaten to kill him!"
His expression softened, if only slightly. He walked over to his wife, whispered something into her ear, then they walked into the house together. After a few minutes. Alfred walked out, axe now missing. He walked right up to Eric, face hard as stone. In an instant, Eric was in his embrace.
"I'm sorry, I ain't know." Alfred said, "Thank you. I, I ain't realise they'd spread so far out the hills, I never would've left if i knew. I'm sorry you had to do that."
"It's alright man, as long as everyone's safe I really don't mind. I don't blame you either, I wouldn't like to run up on a half naked man I don't know either. Speaking of, I was told there'd be a sheet of some kind, I don't want to test your patience but I'm getting a little embarrassed stood here like this."
Anne came creeping out with a long white sheet, "Here, I cut a head hole in the middle, you can use it as a robe with this rope as a belt, it should hold up pretty well."
"Thank you so much, I'll just go put this on."
Eric walked behind the goat pen, which now contained no goats, and put the sheet over his body, wrapping it around his waist for as much coverage as possible then tying the rope around his waist. "Huh, this is basically a toga." He thought, "How dignified." He thought, a light smile creeping across his face. Now clad in a white robe which reached just beyond his knees, he walked up to the door of the house and knocked.
Alfred answered the door, "Come in lad, come in." He said, beckoning him with his hand, "I mean, that's just ridiculous, look at that, the sheet doesn't even touch t'ground. How d'ya even get so big lad."
Eric just laughed as he stepped into the house, ducking under the door and keeping his head bent down under the beams of the house, "Guess that's just how the Gods made me, right?" The house was small and cramped, a large bed in one corner, a smaller one in the other. A straw mat covered the floor and dotted around the walls were handmade shelves and cabinets.
He felt a little tug on his robe, Hilda was clinging to his leg, "Thank you mister." She said.
Eric smiled down at her, patting her on the head, "C'mon, I've gotta sit down don't I."
She let go long enough for Eric to crouch down and sit on the chairs that were frankly, a bit too small for him.
"I don't want to overstay my welcome but it's getting dark and I don't really know where I'm going. Do you mind if I sleep in the goat pen tonight?" Eric asked.
"Don't be ridiculous lad, you can sleep in the house, gets cold at night" Alfred said, outrage in his voice, "Can't leave the hero on his own out in the cold."
"Of course, we can't just let you freeze after you saved us." Anne added.
"Well now I wouldn't say hero, I just did what I had to." Eric said, embarrassed.
"Nonsense, you put yourself in harms way for two strangers, the Gods truly blessed us with a hero today." Anne said, making the same moon and point hand sign across her chest.
"Don' mind 'er, trainee healer 'fore we married, bit too into the church and that." Alfred said with a chuckle.
"Alfred! You can't say things like that anymore, the inquisition is all the way to Veldia now. It's too dangerous to not be devoted."
"S'pose you're right, love. S'all gone a bit too far this inquisition lark. I mean, I get it, we can' 'ave sorcerers an' witches about but it's anyone not spending their 'ole lives bowin' and prayin' at this point, can' they just call it a day?" Alfred replied, a solemn look growing across his face.
"Interesting..." Eric thought, "So what Anne did wasn't magic in the sense of a wizard or mage and there was a difference, they seem to actively dislike magic in this world. Maybe the line is drawn between divine healing and ritual and non-divine? I don't really think I can ask without arising suspicion. I'll have to find out on my own later."
"Anyway, enough of all that, I doubt our guest wants to think of the inquisition now." Anne said, changing the subject.
"True, true, I'm more thinking of where to go from here. I mean, I really have no idea how I got here but I'm a long way from home. And I don't have much money to actually, you know, get anywhere." Reality weighed heavy on him, "Get home? What? You gonna walk back to your world?" He thought to himself, the impossible situation seeming almost comical to him.
"Well... Y'big enough to join the army. Even if y'don' know any swordsmanship or nothin'." Alfred said, "Don' know 'ow old y'are but you seem young, they'd be all over ya trynna get you to join."
"Alfred!" Anne interrupted.
"What? He's got no money, he's got no sword, nowhere to go. All he has to do is go to basic, someone that big? They'll probably put him in a city guard or somethin'." Alfred reasoned.
"I mean, he's not wrong. I've not got much going for me at the moment. I can read if that helps. At least I think I can." Eric said, met with shocked faces.
"You can read?" Anne asked.
"Well, a little, haven't in a while." Eric said, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.
Anne got up and opened a low cabinet pulling out a thick, well used book and putting it on the table in front of him.
"Give it a go." Anne said, a suspicious look in her eyes.
He flicked to the first page, analyzing it for a second. It was very similar to English, with just a few difference. First? No 'th' just the Old-English 'þ'. He reasoned what sound it made on his own, unaware of the history. The second difference? The spelling was fairly inconsistent, but could still be understood to an extent.
He began reading, "In the beginning, there was nothing. Archos, lord of time, spoke aloud, 'Set in motion, lest I make you' and the wheel began to turn. Saptos, lord of life..."
"Wow..." Anne interrupted, "You can really read."
"I mean, is it that rare? My father taught me." Eric replied, feigning ignorance.
"Well, s'pose that does change things. Should head to Veldia, lots'o work there for someone who can read." Alfred said, "'Ere, take this." He slid a gold coin across the table towards Eric, "Had a good harvest, good prices, don't mean much this. What you wan' do is go to Branvel, get a carriage to Veldia, footin' it won't cut it, too far, just get a ride from the village. They pass through every day or so, shouldn't be waiting too long. Tell Wendin that Alfred sent you, he's the innkeeper's husband, should set you up for a day or so. Actually, know what, I'll ride ya' there tomorrow morning. Make sure you get a place safe."
"I really can't thank you enough Alfred, I don't know what I'd do without you." Eric replied.
"Go on, get some rest." Anne said, "You've had a hard day."
And so he did. He slept, curled in a ball on the floor. By the time morning came he jolted awake, heard pounding. His mind raced with the thought of goblin skulls cracking beneath him, the smell of that oily blood, the stiffness from his left shoulder. Anne looked at him from the kitchen-nook of the house.
"Bit restless?" She asked.
"Yeah." Eric said with a sigh.
"Should be heading out soon, he's just off checking for weeds in the wheat... Don't join the army Eric. Just use the fact you can read. Keep books or records. The church always needs literate people and they pay pretty well to contractors." She pleaded.
"Yeah, I don't think I'm cut out for war." Eric said.
"Aye, would ya look at that, he's up." Alfred said from the doorway, "C'mon, sun's risin' we better head off. See ya later, love."
And with that rush, they were off, Eric sat on the back of the cart, Alfred on the horse's saddle.
"Be about two hours 'till we get there, not too long. You're actually lucky, should only be one sleep before the next carriage to Veldia." Alfred explained.
"That's good then. How much does the carriage usually cost, I don't want to be taken advantage of using your money." Eric asked.
"Well, from Branvel to Veldia it should be about three silvers. You've got ten in that coin. Get it split at the inn, don' wan' people seeing a gold on ya, think ya' got money that way." Alfred said. He was a man smarter than he sounded, understood people.
"Right, right, are you gonna stick around in Branvel or head straight back? Ah, never mind, silly question. You can drop me off and head back." Eric realized that after that goblin attack, he wouldn't want to stay with him in the village.
"Right, c'mon. Spill, how'd you meet Anne then, don't tell me it was during your time studying at the church." Eric said with a chuckle.
Alfred chuckled back, "Noticed we're like oil an' water did ya'? Yeah, we ain't meet in no fancy library. I was a soldier, way back when. She was sent by t'church to the front with us. Just a trainee y'know, useless on the battlefield but the church was hurting for experienced healers, they weren' gonna send one out for a peasant infantry division. We were out west. Border town 'tween Aldburg and Franvina, 'alf of Franvina was infested with monsters back then, requested aid from Aldburg. All the king spared was a handful of peasants, y'know how it is. Anyway, we get there and it's just carnage, like, complete mess. What was meant t'be goblins and some imps was actually a whole damn invasion force of goblins and orcs. Disaster. Anyway, she pulled me out a wreckage and 'ealed me after my squad got ambushed. Got to talkin' rest is 'istory."
"Man, sounds like you got lucky then." Eric responded.
"Aye, lucky for me she were there, no chance I'd 'ave made it back after that ambush."
"Well, you know, fate is fickle and so on, maybe it was meant to be." Eric said.
"All part of t'Gods plan it were. For sure. Don't make sense otherwise." He made the moon motion and looked to the sky.
After an hour and a half more of riding, they were about ten minutes out of Branvel. Eric had watched from the back of the cart as flat farmland dotted with the occasional cottage had become dense woodland with a well worn carriage path cutting between the trees. The birds sang songs he had never heard before, flowers he couldn't even imagine were dotted along the roads and for a while he thought that a world filled with so much new beauty couldn't be all bad. Maybe he could even build a new life here, if he couldn't go back that was.
"Oh, damn. Don' mean t'alarm ya lad but I'd probably take my eyes off the road if I were you." Alfred called from the front of the cart.
The woodland finally gave way to a clearing, a clear sign they were about to approach the village itself. Eric looked around to see what Alfred was talking about and there it was.
The flowers that dotted the roads were gone. Instead, thick wooden beams stood in a long, long row on each side of the trail. Lashed to each of them was a corpse. Wooden boards tied around their necks, on each one a different word.
Thief.
Adulterer.
Heretic.
Any marked as heretics suffered the most brutal wounds. Each one of them was missing their head, the board nailed to their chest instead of tied.
"Never mind. This must be hell."