There are times when you need to be heard. You have thoughts, you have feelings, you have opinions just like everyone else around you--but for some, annoying reason, you feel invisible.

It’s hard when you’re a good-natured person, like Wendell, to stand up to those around you.

But sometimes, that’s exactly what you have to do.

Wendell followed behind in silence, glaring at anyone who looked back. This ‘field trip’ was not going as he expected. Not a single apology…no explanation whatsoever. Just push me out of the way and move on. Right. That’s how it’s going to be, is it?

Led by Höbin, they left Perspicacious and walked towards the heart of the Black Market. The Market was alive and buzzing, people laughing and talking merrily in the moist, smokey air.

Höbin looked back and did a double-take at the contortions on Wendell’s face—deep in his mental complaining mode. What was even more disturbing, was the smiley face mimicking each expression on his shirt. The gnomes eyes grew wide as the yellow face grit its teeth, it’s cheeks turning crimson red. He poked Chuck, worried. “Is he…ok?”

The wizard nodded, then leaned closer to the gnome. “Kids,” he muttered, “You can’t live with them,…can’t sell them off. He’ll be fine.”

Dax started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. “Hey, was that a crack at me, old man?”

“Course not monkey—you were the model teenager.”

Dax grinned to himself, “That’s what I thought.”

“For a runaway convict.”

Dax cringed, “Hey—I apologized for that!”

Chuck threw his hands in the air, his staff floating beside him as he walked, “It was THE WHOLE VILLAGE, Dax! 65 years I’d been going there. I take you to an island paradise just once…and why? Because you begged and you PROMISED to be good, to BEHAVE and what did you do? You got me blacklisted!”

“Wow,” grumbled Dax, “you ever gonna let that go? How was I supposed to know that a place, surrounded by water, would be so flammable?”

“Helllloooo…,” Chuck cried, “GRASS SKIRTS?? Tribal fire dances aren’t intended for audience participation!!” Snarling to himself, he snatched the staff up with a free hand, “Burping cannon of fire, he says…still not funny.”

Dax folded his arms, grumbling, “At least I ported us outta there.”

“Bah!” scoffed the wizard, “You didn’t do me any favors!” A glazed look descended over the wizards face and he whimpered softly, “Oka l’a, Palusami, Taro Root, Green Banana’s, Fausi, Taisi Moa and Kava” he wiggled his fingers in the air, “…and little flower umbrella’s with every drink…” He sniffed, wiping his nose along his sleeve, trying to choke back the tears. “Now I have to eat like white people!”

Wendell listened in irritated silence. His left eye…and the left eye of the smiley, started twitching in harmony. It’s like watching two children arguing in a sandbox, completely oblivious to the world around them! He jumped back as an oversized rat shot across his path, squeaking in fearful plight—a small, wiry dog snapping in hot pursuit.

The air quickly changed, carrying the stink of ripe bodies, mixed with earth and hints of cloves, saffron and sage. A small sea of patrons crowded the circular courtyard at the heart of the Market, where the light was most concentrated from the colony of snails among the stalactites. Carts and canopies surrounded a raised platform, offering trinkets, food and salves, oblivious to the hatred restrained behind them.

A stockade was mounted in the center of the platform, where a woman snarled, spat and shrieked at the crowd. Her dirty hands made clawing motions, though her wrists were securely bound by the device. Matted hair covered half of her bruised face as she screamed obscenities at the merchants below.

Wendell looked uncomfortably at the woman. Her greying hair made her look as old as his mother. What could she have done to deserve that?

He stopped, staring, while Chuck, Dax and Höbin kept walking, deep in conversation, completely unaware that he had fallen behind. Wendell watched them wander out of view and shook his head, irritated.

“They don’t even know I’m gone,” he muttered. “Unbelievable. Why should I even bother if they don’t?” But he looked about him nervously. Fear clawed at his chest, and rightly so. Thule’s somewhere in this crowd, looking for me. He glanced down at the smiley on his shirt, which had begun to sweat. Wendell was totally out of place.

“Ok, jeans and a t-shirt might not have been the best choice—I stick out like a sore thumb.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

Keeping his eyes low, Wendell moved closer to the vendors, trying hard to blend in. Maybe I better catch up to the guys after all.

“Get your hands OFF me!” came an angry cry,  piercing the rumble of the market, immediately followed by the sound of a sharp slap. The voice yanked Wendell’s attention away from his immediate concerns.

A fat merchant held up his hands to protect his already bright red face, finger streaks across one cheek. In front of him a young girl stood just outside arms distance, her hand clenched tight, raised to strike. Her hand slowly relaxed, pointing a finger of warning, her opposite hand on a large knife at her belt. “Those hands wander again, you sick little man, I’ll make sure you lose them!”

Wendell blinked in disbelief.

“No,” he gasped, “That’s not possible.”

The curly hair, the smooth, perfect face with dark almond eyes and full lips.

How is this even possible?

Both fear and excitement pulled at him.

Without a thought, Wendell waded through the patrons. She moved slowly around the circle, inspecting the goods of vendors, while Wendell, keeping several paces behind her, stared unabashed. It’s IS her! How could this be happening? It was just a dream. Just a stupid, weird…but there she was. He couldn’t deny what he beheld. The long, braided hair across her back, the tan skin of her exposed arms were a great contrast to the grey fur vest she had on. She even had the large pouch he’d seen in his dream, slung across her shoulder and chest. The only thing different was that she carried a small buckler and pearl colored club across her back.

She’s real. An actual girl…of my dreams. He looked around him. Right. This…this has to be destiny! His hand went to his chest, which once more burned under his skin. He took a deep breath, sucking in air painfully. I have got to find out if this world has antacids.

The girl stopped at a merchant selling wooden beads when she finally looked up and noticed Wendell’s presence.

He bobbed around the flow of patrons pushing past him, trying to keep her in sight. She’s so beautiful, and he started to smile.

Her expression stopped him.

At first he thought she might be looking past him. Something or someone over his shoulder that he couldn’t see. But he could feel her eye’s upon him. He quickly straightened his shoulders and stood tall. You need to make a good impression. Make sure she really notices and remembers you. Oh, that’s a good idea, he thought—forgetting the troubles of the day. I should say something. Say hello, so I don’t seem weird, tailing her like this.

He never noticed the red hearts bubbling out of the eyes of the smiley face, nor its lips blowing silent kisses at the girl.

…but she did.

Her posture straightened abruptly as he took a step towards her. Her eyes quickly narrowed in warning.

Wendell stopped, daunted.

The girls nostril’s flared and her face contorted with disgust.

In that instant, Wendell felt less than a bug, trying to crawl upon the Market floor.

…after a boot has squished it.

Without a word, she broke eye contact, turned sharply and walked away.

For a long moment, Wendell just stood there, completely confused and dejected. It had always been this way with girls, which he never understood. Wendell was nice, polite, had manners and respected girls—so why didn’t they like him?

He watched the back of her head disappear into the crowd and sighed. You might like me.

A hand gripped Wendell’s wrist roughly and yanked him backwards through the crowd.

“This is NOT the place to wander off,” snapped Dax, fiercely irritated. “What the hell is wrong with you, kid?! Can’t you, for once today, just do what I ask you to do?”

Wendell flailed about in protest, pointing in the direction where the mystery girl had vanished, but it was no use.

“Let GO!” he yelled, “Get your grubby, green hands OFF me!” but Dax completely ignored him, pulling him along the path.

He finally stopped struggling altogether.

What’s the use? She didn’t recognize me, anyway. He shook his head, reality setting in. Of course she didn’t recognize you moron. She was in a dream…your dream, not hers.

The look she’d given him made his chest ache, though. He’d been spurned, countless times before—back home on Earth…but this, actually hurt. No matter where I turn, I’m nothing.

Still nothing.

Dax grunted, tightening his grip, pulling Wendell down the path like a child about to be disciplined. “Have ya already forgotten rule number two? Fairy farts, kid!! You’d think with all you were told at breakfast, you’d stay focused fer five freaking minutes!”

But Wendell wasn’t listening. Dax’s arrogance was just another example of the insults and bullying throughout the day.

The Roadkill Tavern looked dramatically different from every other building in the Black Market. It was a lodge, lovingly crafted, to reflect the personality of its owner and benefactor. Brought in and assembled, piece by piece, to resemble the rugged mountain taverns of the famed Humär woodsmen.

It was, by far, the largest building in the Market—its irregular shaped logs peeled and tightly interwoven into a stupendous edifice of strength. The Roadkill sat partnerless within the cave as if patiently waiting to be returned to the native forest from which it was hewn.

Two large fire pits of layered stone slabs blazed in the small courtyard outside the entrance. The firelight frolicked across the black iron hardware of the giant wooden door. A dried and cured boars head was nailed to its center, tusks protruding from its mouth. At least Wendell thought it was a boars head. The gaping eye sockets of the pig-like creature stared at Wendell, challenging him to enter.

He didn’t want to.

Dax opened the front door, pulling and pushing Wendell forward. He finally had to yank the young hero off his feet and through the doorway…confused at the less than motivated attitude towards such a fine establishment.

They hadn’t taken more than three steps across the plank floor, before they were hedged off by an impassible wall of greasy muscle, hair, soot and dirt. The smell of smoked meats and sour ale drifted past Dax and out the front door.

“Payment,” grunted a dark haired man looming in the hallway. Impossibly broad, he nudged closer, slowly wiping his large hands onto a dirty rag hanging at his hip.

Dax looked up the worn apron covered in animal blood, gravy, specks of meat and sinew clinging to the fibers…and into the unemotional face of the Taverns owner.

“Wood!” he beamed cheerfully, “My friend—how’s business?”

Chiseled square, Woods chin and face was roughly shaven and scarred. His right eye was black, deep and dark as the void of the night sky…his left, covered with a soiled patch of brown leather. The patch fit snug against the burned flesh of his cheek. His eye remained locked on Dax, completely ignoring the young man who now stood there, dumbfounded. Letting the cloth fall against the stained cord holding his apron in place, Wood put both anvil sized fists on his hips.

“Closed to you, unless you brought coin,” the words rumbling deep from his chest.

Dax grinned weakly, “But it’s been six months…I’ve paid my time.”

“But you never paid for damages,” Wood challenged, his biceps and forearms flexing, making his deep scars stand out. “It cost me nears three gold coin to repair the tables, the chairs, replace three casks of ale, forty plates, thirty two mugs, replace my front windows and buy me a new goat.” He bent forward at the hips, drawing close to Dax with a sneer. “I liked that goat.”

“Is there a problem, Wood?” asked Chuck, appearing cheerfully behind the tavern owner.

Wood didn’t bother looking back. “There is if he don’t have gold to settle his account,” he growled, eye still locked on Dax.

“Hmmm,” replied the wizard, “and what if he humbly apologizes?”

He considered. “Good idea,…add it in with the gold he owes.”

Wendell had stopped fuming long enough to enjoy this moment. In fact, it was becoming quite entertaining. It was nice to see the tables turned on someone other than himself…especially if it was focused on his sarcastic guardian.

“Well don’t look at me, monkey,” rebuked the wizard, waving his hand, “I won’t pay for your mistakes this time.” And with that, he turned and walked back into the great hall.

Oh yeah, thought Wendell, this is definitely funny.

Dax gulped and patted around his waste, pretending to look for coin he knew wasn’t there. He edged towards the door. Sweat trickled down his brow and he smiled weakly, bumping into Wendell.

The expression on his face immediately shifted.

“Hey kid, can you loan me a little cash?” he whispered desperately, Wood looming closer. “I know ya got piles of coin in that sack ‘o yers. I’ll pay ya back…with interest—I swear!”

Wendell scoffed, disgusted, “Seriously—after the crap you put me through? Taunting me, teasing me, roughing me up and now you want my help? You have got to be joking! Why would I help you?” Wendell could see the tinge of panic in his eyes.

“Because I’ll…I’ll owe you,” Dax hissed, stressing the offer.

As mad as he was, the deal did sound tempting. The green little devil will owe me? I…kinda like that thought. Hmmm. Might not be a bad idea, actually.

He waited long enough to see the sweat trickle more fully down Dax’s brow before answering—just for fun.

“My friend owes you money sir?” Wendell finally blurted.

Wood’s good eye shifted to Wendell, who quickly stepped forward and offered his hand to shake. The tavern owner just stood there, staring.

“Ok,…friend might be too strong a word,” he corrected himself, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. He did want to make this believable, after all. “Acquaintance, would be more accurate.”

Dax glared at him.

Powerful arms, like two gnarled cottonwood trees, folded over the apron. “He does,” Wood said in his deep, gruffly voice.

Right. Wendell mustered a smile. “Would it offend you, sir, if I paid his bill? Or do you need the payment to come directly from him?” He added, looking to Dax, “I could perfectly understand wanting to make someone of his questionable character, to suffer…”

Dax bit his bottom lip and stared at Wood, eyebrows crunched together in a single arch of hope. Wood raised his own in surprise, the massive arms relaxing, somewhat.

“Coin is coin,” he grumbled, “So long as it ain’t stolen, don’t matter where it come from…if it’s real enough.”

Wendell grinned, as did the smiley—though the shirt looked a tad more cunning. Wood didn’t notice.

“Very wise. I couldn’t agree more. Did you say three gold coins?”

The tavern owner didn’t flinch, but his good eye went from Wendell to Dax and back again.

“That was my cost,” he replied in a monotone.

Wendell paused, considering. “And you’re in business to make money, not just exchange it, of course.” He tapped his chin with his index finger. “Would four gold coins suffice then?”

“Four?” repeated Wood, somewhat taken back. “Gold?”

Wendell shook his head, embarrassed. “You’re right, it should be five. What was I thinking? I do apologize, that wasn’t meant as an insult. I’m new around here.”

Woods arms unfolded and lowered slowly to his sides.

Wendell reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out the small magical coin sack and gingerly pulled on the string. Oh please don’t make me look stupid—have enough, please have enough…

Taking his time, as if digging into his life’s savings, Wendell slowly moved the coins around with his finger. The bag looked full and most of the coins were indeed gold. Whew. But Wendell still took his time—feigned a worried look, digging deeper into the pouch, then changed to a gleeful look of relief, picking each coin out…one at a time.

“I believe I have five gold in here…” he said softly to himself, though loud enough to be heard.

Dax shook his head. “Kid, just give him the…” he whispered.

“When someone provides good service, Dax, you pay for that service,” Wendell said aloud, openly rebuking and milking the moment. Pausing, he smiled once more at Wood, who was leaning ever-so-slightly, trying to get a peek into the little bag. “Especially when you boast about this place so much. People will think you’re rude!”

Wood jerked his head back, his face contorting between disbelief and confusion. “He…boasts?” The hint of a smile tried to wrestle control away from the frown chiseled upon his face, “…about my tavern?”

Wendell sighed with satisfaction and took out a small handful of coins. “Are you kidding?” he said loudly, “This tavern is just about all Dax has talked about since we got here.” It wasn’t a complete lie—after all, Dax was hungry. “The food, the atmosphere and especially the,” he squinted his eyes, stuck in his bluff, “finest drink in the Market?” Ehhh…that sounded like a question, not a statement.

“Blackseed Rum!” boasted Wood, puffing his chest out in pride.

Wendell chuckled, quickly snapping his fingers. “That must be it! My apologizes, I’ve never had it myself. Never had rum at all, actually.” Whew…close one. He dropped the coins into Woods gigantic hand.

“I hope that will cover Dax’s bill.”

Wood counted the coins and looked up, wide-eyed. “Six?!”

Wendell let his expression fall, “Not enough?”

“No—NO, this is fine,” the big man grinned wide, “fine indeed!”

Wendell beamed, this time watching Dax from the corner of his eye. The goblin looked as if he was about to faint.

“I’ve spent enough time with Dax to understand why you could be upset.” Wendell squinted and gave the tavern owner a nod, dropping his voice to a near-whisper, “Let’s just call that interest for pain and suffering.”

Woods barrel chest heaved as his laughter exploded through the tavern. Placing the coins in a pocket under the dirty rag, he patted his new treasure and stood aside, motioning Wendell and Dax into the tavern.

“I thank you master…”

“Wendell.”

“Master Wendell,” Wood added.

Wendell shook his head. “No. Just ‘Wendell’, please. My friends call me Wendell.”

Wood considered, then grinned himself. “Then welcome…Wendell.” Pointing down at Dax, who was still shocked at the owners affected mood, he boomed loudly, “Any man who’s willing pay the tab of this lot is certainly a friend of mine!”

This time it was Wood who extended a hand, and Wendell gladly accepted it.

Dax started to walk off, when Wendell cleared his throat.

“Ahem.”

Dax stopped and looked back. He stared at Wendell until he finally snapped. “What!?”

Wendell held a hand up towards Wood and grinned wide, “I believe you owe this man an apology…in addition to the gold?” He smirked, but the smiley face was already laughing hysterically.

Dax looked from Wood, to Wendell, then back to the tavern owner. His shoulders sagged. “I’m…sorry…Wood.”

Wood snickered and shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh—HO! Well don’t that just shock the trousers right off ya!” He laughed boisterously. “You make yourselves comfortable and I’ll send Gwen over presently.” Striding across the wood floor, the tavern owner kept chuckling to himself, shaking his head, “I’ve seen it all, I have.”

Dax breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks kid, I owe ya.”

“Yes, you do,” chimed Wendell, quite proud of himself, then he added firmly, “with interest.”

Dax had nothing further to say.

The great hall was full that evening. Laughter and shouts for food and drink thundered through the smokey air and giant log beams overhead. Pipes burned with the scent of cherry and bourbon, jokes were told and a minstrel played soft tunes on his lute from a plush chair at the hearth. Platters overflowing with food, vegetables and meats smelling of butter and spices, carried by exuberant barmaids. Working their way from table to table, the ladies tried frantically to quench the endless thirst of their patrons with cider, ale and Wood’s famous rum—the main reason the Roadkill was usually full.

Höbin and Chuck had already seated themselves in the last booth, next to the hearth, at the north end of the hall. It was as private as you could get in the tavern. Dax sat against the wall, the wizard next to him. Wendell sat at the edge of the booth, affording him a perfect view of all the lively patrons—the gnome sitting next to the young hero. Wendell’s attention was immediately drawn to the patrons.

Though the Roadkill was filled mostly with humans, a group of Kutollum laughed merrily at two tables, while a small group drunkenly attempted to engage in a game of darts. Wiping their mouthes on their thick beards, they each belched their appreciation of both food and drink.

Four Evolu sat in a booth near the door, their brilliant green robes stark contrast to the dark stain of the wood around them. They looked between themselves, almost nervously, drinking a deep red liquid out of fluted glasses. Wendell wondered why they’d even come to such a place when they looked so uncomfortable.

In the very center of the hall, long tables were pushed together where at least two dozen Gnomes engaged in aggressive conversation. Food and drink were spread over large, unrolled sketches and diagrams. Held open by mugs, plates and a few rear ends—they debated over concepts, building materials…and how many mugs you can balance on your nose while intoxicated.

In the booth opposite Wendell was a single human male, middle-aged and balding. He sat quietly, reading a book while sipping tea from a tiny white cup.

All seemed well and good at the Roadkill Tavern, except for the two tables closest to the bar. Wendell shuddered at the sight. Four Vallen at one table, mugs in hand, solemn and quiet—while two others sat alone, scarfing meat still raw and bloody, like animals, rending the flesh with their jagged teeth. The barmaids cringed as they set down fresh pints of drink and food, snatched up the coins and shuffled off as quickly as they could.

Wendell swallowed with some difficulty, his hand scratching at the gem.

“We’re alright, son.”

Wendell blinked, “What?”

Chuck grinned, “The giants at the table. Ignore them. They’re being watched as we speak, so don’t worry yourself.”

Wood made sure Wendell’s booth became a priority, assigning Gwen, an older woman, to their table personally. It eased some of the tension Wendell was feeling and even though it had to do with the money he’d given, it felt good to be acknowledged.

“Do you like Käärunä, Wendell?” asked Höbin as they considered their orders. “Wood boils them first, then fries it with fresh butter, salt and herbs, then adds eggs…and ham, if any can be found in the market. It’s one of his best dishes.”

Wendell looked to the wizard, “Käärunä?”

Chuck licked his lips at the description. “They’re similar to potatoes.” He nodded to Gwen, “I’ll take an order of that. Wendell?”

“Sure,” he said coolly.

Dax ignored the food suggestions and ordered four rounds of drink, all for himself. “Ya know kid, that was impressive,” he said, once the four were finally alone. “Ya have these buffoons eatin’ outta yer hand.”

Wendell looked at Dax with disgust. “What are you talking about?”

“Wood, the barmaid—ya got everyone thinking yer a decent guy, which is good.”

“They’re not buffoons, Dax. They’re people trying to live life like you and me.” He reconsidered, “Well, me, anyway…and it has nothing to do with eating out of my hand. I just try to make friends by being decent, that’s all.” He grinned sarcastically at Dax, but the smiley glared over the lip of the table. “You should try it sometime.”

“Right,” continued Dax, blowing off the insult, “I get it. Ya wanna make it all seem real. I’m impressed.” He raised his own mug in salute.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Here, here,” added Höbin, raising his own mug. “A toast to polite young men with proper manners!” He winked at Wendell, “May we all learn from their good example.”

Chuck smiled and raised his mug in agreement, but Dax scoffed.

“Bleh,” he stuck out his tongue, “…wouldn’t go that far.”

Wendell waited until Gwen had brought all the food and was out of earshot before he finally unleashed his frustration.

“So Thule’s in the Market,” he blurted.

Dax spit his drink all over the table…and into Wendell’s face. Both Chuck and Höbin started choking and the wizard had to smack the gnome on the back repeatedly.

Wiping his face and beard on the sleeve of his robe, the wizard slammed the mug onto the table. His first thought was to rebuke Wendell, but when their eyes met, Chuck found the sight a bit disconcerting.

Wendell was sitting back, hands on the table with a serene expression. The smiley, however, was another story. Chuck knew to watch both. The emoticon had a slight red tinge to its cheeks, frowning at the wizard through narrow slits.

“No,” he replied, trying to stay calm, “Thule is not in the market…and I’d appreciate it if you’d lower your voice, young man. You’ll start a riot.” The wizard frowned, trying to look stern, but when Wendell remained undaunted, he sighed. “I know that’s what you heard Dathern say, but that’s not what he meant.” Chuck glanced at Höbin.

“No reason why you shouldn’t tell the boy,” urged the gnome. “Seeing the responsibility that’s been placed on the lad, he has every right to know.” When he looked to Wendell, it was with an expression similar to the wizard’s. Fatherly, but there was…something else. Respect.

Wendell opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Don’t worry, young man…I know exactly who you are.” Höbin’s eyes smiled as he knocked on the table with a knuckle, “You let it all out and don’t mind me. You accepted a job I wouldn’t wish on anyone. That takes stones.” He raised his mug, “The honor is all mine.”

The words were unexpected, especially from a stranger. Wendell wasn’t sure what Höbin knew, but his kindness helped, soothing some of the sting. Wow. Finally, someone who understands…and noticed.

He smiled at the gnome, “Thank you.”

“Look, kid…” Dax cut in.

“Pay up or shut up Dax,” snapped Wendell. The anger swelled immediately at the sound of his voice. “You don’t have anything right now that I want to hear, especially from a bully.”

Dax looked at the wizard, confounded, and slumped back on the bench.

“You certainly sound upset.” Chuck took a bite of food. “Mmmmm—garlic.”

Wendell leaned against the table, cocking his head towards the wizard. “Why shouldn’t I be? You’ve ignored me, pushing me aside and I’m the one who has to figure out how to save this freaking world!” His cheeks flushed, while the smiley went dormant. “I know you’re stuck with me and people have expectations of me. That’s WHY I’m upset, Chuck! How am I supposed to learn anything if I don’t matter enough to be included?”

Chuck set his utensil down and gave Wendell his full attention. “Son, I…”

“Let me finish!” Wendell snapped, frowning. “I’m just as uncomfortable having to be babysat as you are being stuck with me, ok? I GET it. I’m only here because I wanted to help, not to be a burden! If you remember—I had the chance to walk away.” He sank back against the seat, folding his arm across his chest. “But I didn’t.”

He glared at Dax for a moment. The evolu met his gaze without blinking.

“I don’t know the history of this world or anything about my enemies. I’m wandering about without any family or friends or people to rely on. Not a clue on who the good guys or bad guys are, other than Thule’s the king of creepy evil and at this point Dax is running a close second!”

“Hey!”

“I’m sitting in a world of magic, but don’t have a clue how to use it, yet you expect me to become one of the best magic users…”

“Mägo.”

“WhatEVER, Chuck!—I’m totally lost here. Don’t you get that? I’ve got a talking gem in my chest, a letter from a dead guy, animals who understand me, women who want to eat me, scary old people clawing at me from the shadows, chanting riddles I don’t understand…then I see the girl from a dream I just had!”

He huffed and took a deep breath, “For crying out loud, Chuck,” he shot a pleading glance at the Dax then, “I’m already on overload and terrified of failing…and you push me aside? How does that even make sense?”

Trying to catch his breath, Wendell’s shoulders fell forward, his anger spent. “I have a hard enough time believing in myself, but now I have a literal world added to that pressure. I can’t do this alone, guys…can’t you see that?”

“Wendell,” whispered Chuck, leaning against the table, “…look at me, son.”

He looked up. The wizards bright eyes almost sparkled in the dim light and the stern expression was gone. In its place was concern.

Even Dax put his drink down and quietly watched them.

“I’m sorry,” the wizard breathed, “I should have explained myself better, so this miscommunication didn’t have to happen, but I was trying to calm a very old friend. This…” he wagged a finger back and forth between them, “is good. It’s communication and it’s all good. You should know—that even though I’m old,…and I don’t know how much longer I can actually keep this up, I plan to be with you for a long time to come. I’ve waited a very long time for you to show up.” He smirked, “Ok, maybe not you…but then again, here you are. I might be unsure, I might be  a bit scared of the outcome…but I am not disappointed.” Chuck knocked on the table, “So this is a chance to learn about each other…and hopefully this doesn’t have to happen again. Alright?”

Wendell nodded.

“Wait,” the wizard frowned, suddenly catching on, “Did you say you saw a girl, from a dream you had? As in, an actual, living person, from a dream you have recently?”

Wendell nodded again. “Last night, actually. You guys left me behind in the Market and I saw…,” he turned to point at the front door when his mouth dropped open.

“That girl…right there!” he said, gulping.

Sure enough, striding across the hall was the same girl from the Market square. With a confident stride, she weaved through the tables and patrons, gaining a few glances and made her way to the bar.

Opening her bag, she took out some coin and exchanged words with Wood. He nodded, took the coin, then vanished through a curtain, into the back. She sat down on a stool and let her attention drift over the sea of activity.

Höbin leaned out of the booth, getting a glance over Wendell’s shoulder. “Well, you have good taste, I’ll give you that. Not a bad looking female…as far as your race goes.”

Chuck frowned and tapped on the table surface, trying to bring the attention back to the conversation. “A dream, dream? Like you were asleep?…or were you awake and saw things in front of you?”

“Wha-? Oh, uh, I was asleep,” but Wendell’s attention was fixed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one. The two vallen seated together had also taken notice of the girl. Pointing and commenting while they gawked, Wendell strained his senses, but couldn’t hear what was being said.

What’s going on? His chest suddenly burned so hot that he flinched and slapped a hand over his t-shirt.

“What’s wrong?” asked the wizard, but Wendell’s attention was fixed on the girl. He waved a hand near the young hero’s face, “Son??”

But Wendell couldn’t hear him.

Wood came out from the curtain with a platter of food and a large mug. He set them on the counter in front of the girl. Wendell cringed. She’s all alone.

Sliding from the stool, she walked around the tables towards an empty booth.

No, no-no, that’s a bad idea!

Her path led her past the vallen watching her.

A giant hand reached out and grabbed the girls backside.

Wendell’s hand closed around his thick, clay mug.

It shattered, milk spraying across the table.

“Woah, kid!” Dax bellowed, shaking the milk from his hands, “Be a little more…,” but Chuck raised a finger to his lips. He nodded in Wendell’s direction.

There was no scream, no yelling—only laughter between the two giants. That is, until the steaming vegetables, soup and piping hot tea were splashed into the cretin’s face, followed by both plate and mug being shattered over his head.

The great hall bursted into laughter at the girls defiance. Kutollum and Gnomes raised their mugs and cheered, while others observed grimly.

Roaring, the giant stood up abruptly, hands clawing at it burning face—his chair sliding across the floor.

Before the girl could detach the club from her back, large fingers darted out and gripped her throat.

“Gak!” she choked. Her body rose off the floor, while feet kicked and nails clawed at green flesh.

Wood yelled from the bar, trying to get around the group of barmaids and through the crowd to intervene, but his shouts were swallowed up in the taverns energy.

“Gonna learn your lesson, little wench,” the vallen snarled, spittle rising over its burned and swelling lips.

“Go to hell,” she choked.

The giant raised his fist to strike her.

…but it never fell.

Small fingers held the arm fast, digging into the muscular wrist.

“Let…her…go,” Wendell whispered between clenched teeth.

The large hall went silent.

Wendell’s eyes were focused on his enemy, his face flushing a deep red, the veins in his forehead and neck bulging. “Let her go,” he repeated, this time squeezing so hard, a stream of blood drizzled down the giants forearm. Wendell’s body trembled and his face looked as if it were about to explode from the pressure. Drips of black blood pooled under his fingertips.

The scene looked impossible. A child against a giant…but the monster couldn’t pull free.

“Now!” Wendell demanded.

The girl fell to the floor, gasping for breath and Wendell smiled.

There, that’s more like…

Spinning on his heels, the giant punched Wendell in the face with his free hand.

Wendell flew backwards, arching across the great hall and with a loud crunch, into the wall beside the hearth. He crumpled against the logs and with a thud, fell to the floor.

Only the drunk cheered, then reconsidered.

Dax was already on his feet, jumping up onto the table, ready to lunge into the fray, but the wizard held him back.

“Look!” Chuck whispered.

Wendell slowly lifted his head from the floor.

It swayed from his shoulders as if attached by puppet strings. His vision was blurry, the ringing in his ears drowning out every sound. He coughed. Saliva mixed with blood trailed from his mouth onto the wooden floor.

Owwwwwww. What hit me? He blinked. Got to look both ways before I cross the street. No, wait. You’re in a fight. He shook his head, The girl. Someone’s beating up a girl. Which girl? He blinked again. Doesn’t matter! You don’t hit girls!!

Thu-THUMP-Thump!

Get up! You’re the Wendellizer. She needs you! This is not happening again!

Thu-THUMP-Thump!

NO MATTER WHAT.

Like the wave of an ocean, Wendell’s mind cleared, his vision still blurry.

I survived a hit from that guy? It seemed almost impossible, but it was true. He looked to the hearth and then to Chuck, Dax and Höbin. I did! I actually took a hit from a giant and lived! His glare locked onto the vallen, still a large mass of blurry shadows and shifting lines. The last moments of Kyliene’s life rolled through his memory. The enemy, smiling at him.

Mocking him.

He could feel his heart beating strong and wild.

Thu-THUMP-Thump! Thu-THUMP-Thump! Thu-THUMP-Thump!

Wendell blinked, again and again, trying to make sense of the shapes swirling in his field of vision. The small blurs suddenly became a big blur…right over him. A dark spot dove at him.

Move!

He rolled away from the wall, not knowing where to go next. A chair smashed where he had been, exploding into pieces, part of the leg ricocheting off his shoulder. Blinking again, he forced himself to his feet.

You’ve taken a beating from bullies all your life, he told himself, but you never had the chance to hit back. His enemy was coming into focus.

Big. Powerful. Scary.

He preferred the blur.

I know you can hear me Ithari. The vallen was, of course, much bigger and stronger than a high school football player, but Wendell hoped the beast was just as thick-headed.

Help me survive this.

Sidestepping to place the wall at his back, Wendell grinned big and wide, adding a cheesy sneer for flavor. He had an idea.

“Did your mother teach you to hit like that, ugly?” he taunted, “Can’t take a out a human child…cause you hit like a widdle girl!” He pouted, then laughed out loud—the smiley face sticking out its tongue.

The roar was deafening.

The giant ran at him and lunged, arms outstretched.

That’s it, stupid. Wendell stood his ground until the last possible moment—then dove into the booth next to him. Grasping fingers brushed against his sneakers.

There was a resounding crunch as the giants boil-riddled head kissed the log wall…and the body collapsed to the wood floor.

The hall burst into cheers.

Höbin cheered, “That boy does have stones!”

The wizard tilted his hat back and snorted, “Well I’ll be,” he admired, “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Dax, however, wasn’t smiling. Jabbing at the wizard, he pointed at another table. “Looks like they’re impressed too.”

While the whole of the tavern was cheering and hooting for the human kid, four giants looked on soberly. It was then that Dax noticed the polished armor, clean tabards and helmets set at their feet. These weren’t the everyday fodder used by Thule. These were scouts. Trained to observe, return and report. None of them seemed to take notice or care about their fallen comrade. Instead, they watched the young hero slide out of the booth and back to his feet. None of them commented or looked to one another.

They just…stared.

“I don’t like this,” grumbled Dax, sliding across the bench. “We need to leave, now.”

…but it was too late.

An anvil sized fist struck Wendell in the head with such force, his body spun around twice and he face-planted into the floor.

The tavern went deathly quiet.

The vallen scouts grinned.

“Get up,” the beast sneered. Wendell had missed the movements of the second giant, who had apparently followed right behind his buddy.

Wendell tried to lift himself off the floor, but his body felt like lead. Arms shaking violently, he struggled just to pull his knees up under him.

The giant snarled, baring its teeth. “I’ll show you what mother taught me.”

You…can…do…

A fist pummeled him in the side of the head. His face bounced off the floor, breaking his nose. Blood shot across the floor on impact. When his chest followed his face, the impact knocked the wind from him.

OW! That…REALLY hurt! He wanted to scream, but he needed more air. Mouth open, he gasped, trying to expand his lungs. The creature was too strong. Stabbing pain shot through his face, chest, spine and he was certain his jaw was broken—which, luckily, made him focus.

Putting his hand out against the wall, he tried to stand up.

“I’m taking this guy out!” growled Dax, leaping back onto the table, but Chuck grabbed the back of his shorts.

“No,” said the wizard.

Dax looked at him, dumbfounded. “Are you inSANE? That boy’s gonna get killed!” He slapped the wrinkled hand but Chuck held fast. “He’s my responsibility, old man!”

Chuck shook his head, “Wendell wants to understand what he’s in for? Let him find out. She’ll heal him and the beast hasn’t pulled a weapon. Let it go, for now.”

Dax yanked free of the wizards grip and shot Höbin a concerned look. It was a look they shared. The gnome nodded almost imperceptibly, then slowly pulled back the two middle fingers on his metal hand.

Wendell moaned as his jaw popped, shifted. His hair now damp with sweat and blood, he struggled to raise his head. Inhale…Exhale… He coughed and blinked again. The sounds around him spun in his mind—a carnival ride he wanted desperately to get off of.

I know you’re there, Ithari. I can feel you. There was a snap and he flinched, his nose realigning. His ears stopped ringing enough to hear the laughter. The beast was taunting him. He swayed, holding onto the wall, but still hunched over. Wendell could see the blood dripping from his mouth—a small pool on the wood floor beneath him.

Help me, Ithari. Please…I don’t know what I’m doing! Again his jaw popped, back into place. The pain was lessening, but he felt so tired…ached, everywhere. Sooner or later it’s just going to be you and me. Together.

The giant was hovering over him, waiting for him to stand up. It howled, then barked—egging Wendell on, daring him to fight back.

He looked to the side, glancing at the Vallen’s feet, please—give me strength.

He looked up, to see his booth come into focus.

Guide me.

Dax and Höbin had worried looks on their faces, but the wizard, seemed…calm.

Chuck smiled.

Thu-THUMP-Thump!

With a roar, the Vallen swung his immense arm downward, dropping its body into the blow.

Wendell caught it.

Gasps and cheers exploded throughout the tavern. Even Wood boomed at the top of his lungs.

“Chuck!” yelled Dax, jabbing a finger at the front door. The scouts were quietly leaving the tavern. Dark eyes lingered on young Wendell as they filed through the door.

“Not good,” gulped the wizard, “Yup, time to leave!”

Shocked at the unexpected outcome, the vallen yanked his fist away from Wendell and pulled a knife from his belt.

“OH! DEFINITELY not good!!” Chuck stammered, pointing a shaking finger at the giant. “Foul! Not fair!!….Someone STOP him!”

Hopping to the floor, Höbin pressed a button on his forearm and two needles shot from the tubing of his middle fingers. The metal sank into the exposed flesh of the giant’s arm. 50,000 volts traveled down the wires and into the target. Shaking violently, it turned and roared at the gnome…then yanked the needles from his arm.

“Oh hell,” Höbin sighed—just before a fist sent him sailing through the air and into the base of the staircase. With a clang, the old gnome fell to the floor.

“HÖBIN!” yelled Chuck and Dax simultaneously, the wizard bolted from the booth to his friend.

Dax, on the other hand, threw his mug at the giant to grab its attention. The clay shattered against its jaw.

“Hey!” Dax bellowed. Cracking his knuckles, an evil grin crawled across his face, his large eyes narrowing to slits. Circling around, he positioned himself between Wendell and the giant.

“Bad move, ugly,” he said, baring his teeth, “now yer gonna get hurt.”

The giant laughed. “By YOU!??” he bellowed, then threw his head back and roared.

Dax’s expression changed to a wily smirk. “Nope,” he said smugly, pointing behind the giant, “by her.”

The vallen looked over his shoulder…then down. The gnome didn’t even reach the giant’s kneecap. Her face was cold, hands tapping the tiny swords on either hip. She wore a combination of chain mail and random pieces of plate armor with dark blue and red markings, black leather gloves and boots. The outfit made her red hair glow like fire, her green eyes standing out like portals to the abyss in a forest landscape of pale beauty.

“You hit my father,” she said coldly. “Stupid move.”

The creature didn’t get a chance to react.

Both blades jumped from their sheaths and flashed, severing the achilles tendon of the closest leg. Blood sprayed and the giant howled—tables and chairs lurched as he collapsed upon the floor with a mighty boom.

Leaping up onto the armored chest, the gnome poised both blades at the Vallen’s throat.

“Alhannah!” shouted Höbin, “That’s enough!” Chuck was helping the old gnome sit upright, inspecting the seal of the metal plating around his skull. He raised a warning finger, “I tasered him first, young lady—leave him!” he ordered.

Alhannah spat in the giants face, quickly slashing her blades across his right cheek, making a deep X.

“If I see you again,” she whispered, “…ever…I’ll finish what I started.” She slid off.

Dax helped Wendell to his feet. “We gotta get outta here, now!” he barked. Glancing over at Höbin, “You ok, bub?”

“I’ll be fine,” said the gnome, waving away the concern. “That’s a new record, boys—only a mug and a chair to pay for? I’m impressed.”

Wendell stood up straight, his shoulders and neck popping into place with a moan. He stumbled about, still trying to shake the experience—and stop the world from spinning.

Dax looked around nervously, “I’ll be impressed if we get out of here alive.”

Höbin grinned, “Well, I have the bill covered. You boys run along.” He looked at his daughter sadly, “…and take Alhannah.”

“What?” she exclaimed, “I just got here!”

“…and now you need to leave. That wasn’t self-defense back there, sweetheart.” He lowered his voice, so it was nearly masked by the howling of the vallen. “The Sentry will be here soon and if you’re not gone, you’ll be lucky if you end up in the stockade.”

“Screw them,” Alhannah cursed, but her father shook his head disapprovingly. She scowled, glancing at Dax, then Chuck and even shot a curious look at Wendell. Mouthing obscenities in silence, she finally gripped the hilts of her swords, rattling them in frustration.

“Fine,” she scorned, then bent over to kiss her father on the head mechanically and marched away.

Höbin just smiled.

Alhannah’s shoulders slumped and she dashed back to her father. Kneeling at Höbin’s side, she hugged him tight and rubbed her forehead against his.

“Ok, dad,” she whispered, “you win.”

He smirked, “Always do.”

Straightening her gloves and adjusting her belt, Alhannah Luckyfeller rounded her shoulders and looked up at the wizard.

“Have room for a chick-warrior, Uncle Chuck?”