I did the only reasonable thing I could with someone pointing a sharp weapon at me. I used one arm to swat the blade aside and I punched the pointed-eared devil right in the jaw.

  The blond warrior staggered back, snarling at me as blood trickled from his lip. It might have not been the best idea to anger the man with the sharp weapon, but I’d had a bad enough of a day already I wasn’t about to tolerate someone coming up and threatening me.

  I leaped forward, grabbing the warrior’s wrist so he couldn’t slash the blade at me and win this fight by flaying me in front of the red-haired beauty.

  She screamed something in a language I didn’t understand, but it didn’t seem to help any.

  That was when the blond’s friends joined him, grabbing me by the arms and yanking me back from what I assumed to be their leader. The blond peered at me with a blood rage like he was about to raise his sword and strike me through, but the woman stopped him, gripping him by the bicep.

  The other warriors guided me forward by spearpoint. I put my hands up and surrendered. What else could I do?

  After they spoke in their language for a time, the pointed-eared people bid me to come with them, ushering me forward and making it clear that if I deviated from the path, they wouldn’t be too kind about it.

  The blond man walked with Lyrielle ahead, arguing in a language I couldn’t comprehend.

  “What are you saying? I think I have a right to know what you’re planning if it’s about me,” I said loudly.

  One of the men behind me prodded me softly with a spear tip. It pricked and stung through my space suit. There’d be one hole in it now, and if, for some reason, we lost atmosphere, I’d vent all my atmosphere inside.

  Taking in a hurried breath of the fresh air in a stark reaction to the spearpoint prick, I understood I wouldn’t have that problem soon. My immediate problems may lead to my death just a surely, however.

  “Don’t be rough with him,” Lyrielle said, turning to look over her shoulder, crimson strands of her hair flowing in the breeze and falling over her face as she did so. She brushed it back over her pointed ears. “You’ve never heard High Elvish before?”

  High Elvish? Is that what was going on here? The pointed ears, the medieval look of their clothes and weaponry—had I ended up in some fantasy world?

  I’d never been much of a reader. I watched the Lord of the Rings movies a couple of times, damn good movies those were. These looked a lot like the Elves Peter Jackson had in the film. There was no way this could be real. I burst out laughing. “I’ve really lost my mind.”

  “You say some strange things, but you seem sound to me,” Lyrielle said.

  “Stop talking to the human,” the blond elf soldier said. “You know his kind, and ours don’t mix well.”

  Lyrielle waved him off, continuing to walk toward the city in the distance, which grew closer as we moved. “Torven, leave him be. He was in an accident. He came crashing down from the heavens in a burning chariot. I tell you, it’s an omen we need the elders’ wisdom upon.” She glanced back at me again, her eyes twinkling. “Besides, I find him charming.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “Don’t let your betrothed hear that,” Torven said, grumbling to himself afterward.

  The conversation died afterward, but at least I had some semblance of what was going on. Elves had me prisoner and took me to their shining city. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes and ache with every bone in my body from the crash landing, I would have thought it was a prank being played on me, though I don’t see how someone could make something this elaborate.

  Shadows fell over the land as we continued our march forward. The pink skies of the late afternoon gave way to a darkening dusk, the light of the two moons illuminating the world better than many cities’ streetlights. In the moonlight, the Elvish city seemed to sparkle, the stone material shimmering with the quality of diamonds from its walls to its towers.

  We came closer then, and like any good castle, it had a deep moat around it, a drawbridge set down, and giant wooden gates, large enough for ten men to have stood head overhead to enter through. Two elvish guards stood at attention at the gates, looking straightforward, unmoving like the ones at Buckingham Palace. I’d visited there once and seen the changing of the guard. I’d had fun then. Now, I could only stare at everything with incredulity. How had they built such a beautiful city?

  Everything inside was clean and shining like the outer walls. Cobblestone streets weaved between the various buildings, and the city had a fluidity to it, as if it were all designed at once by a master artisan.

  Different elf merchants and traders with their carts moved through the streets. Some men on horseback also traveled, and a few women and children hurried about their evenings. Many of them stopped and stared at me as if I were the strange creature present, and to them, I must have been. I didn’t get the impression many humans traveled between these walls.

  We came to a building with a normal-sized wooden door, and Torven opened it for me to head inside. The guards with the spears stopped and waited.

  Like everything else, this building was designed with elegance and restraint, not adorned with too much ornamentation. However, the crisp lines were so perfect that they seemed eerie.

  I stepped inside at Torven’s bidding, and he and Lyrielle closed the door behind me. The air inside carried a faint scent of lilac, soothing me even as I stumbled with the fear of whatever awaited me.

  “Is this where your elders meet?” I asked. As beautiful as the building was, it seemed on the small side for a place of such importance.

  “No,” Torven said, as stark and harsh with his words as when he had first arrived. “This is our prison. You will wait in one of our cells while we ascertain what to do with you.”

  “Torven, can’t we take him to an inn and let him get a good rest?” Lyrielle asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

  “It’s enough I’m agreeing to let you take him to the elders. We don’t know who this human is or why he’s here. Given our last encounter with his kind, I want to act with precaution. The other tribes may have sent him in as some trap to lure us into complacency. Who knows what machinations he might be scheming?”

  “I can tell you, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t help in the least.

  Torven shot me an angry glare.

  Lyrielle sighed. “Fine.” She pressed a hand against my chest. It was warm, even through the insulated space suit. My heart beat a little faster at the touch. “I apologize for any harsh treatment. I believe you are an omen of good, coming from the heavens for a purpose only the elders can divine. It’s late. You’ll have to meet them on the morrow. Please, try to rest.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said as her hand slipped off of me. How I wanted to take her hand into mine and never let go, but I restrained myself. Torven might have lobbed my arm off if I tried to touch her.

  Torven motioned to a corridor that had a row of cells inside. A couple of other creatures were in them, one who looked to be an orc, and one an elf, but a ruffian. I would be trapped with them, but at least they had bars adorning the cells that would keep them separate from me.

  I stepped inside. Torven ushered me into an empty cell, one with a cottage on it and a big empty pitcher, one that I presumed would be for pissing. It also had a bowl with water and a washcloth. There wasn’t much for amenities, but it beat getting run-through with a sword.

  He shut the barred doors behind me, and then he left. He and Lyrielle talked outside in the Elvish language for a while, and I sat down on the cot.

  The orc in the cell next to me snored loudly. This was going to be a long night.