Chapter 1

I don’t know how I got here.  I don’t even know where “here” is.  Last night, I was in my bed in Riley, counting the minutes until I turned 16.  And now, I’m here.  Somewhere different.  Somewhere outdoors.  And I’m not alone.  

I don’t want who ever is here to know that I’m awake just yet so I lay still and fake sleep.  I tune into every sense but sight with the hopes that I will figure out where I am and whom I am with.  I feel spongy, soft ground underneath me.  I feel the breeze brush across my skin and shadows dance across my face.  The smell of trees confirms that I’m in a forest.  But what forest?  And who is my companion?  I’m more worried about that right now than where I am.

I can hear him; at least, I’m pretty sure it’s a him, about 60 yards from my feet.  My guess is that he’s hiding just past the tree line.  I can hear the soft shift of pine needles as his weight shifts from foot to foot.  Yes, this is definitely a moment where I’m grateful for my gift.

“How long to do you plan on hiding?” I ask, pulling myself to a sitting position.

“Never thought I was hiding,” my companion says.  “Just giving you time to wake up.”

As he walks from the shadows, I’m rather shocked at what I see.  Knee-high leather boots, dark green breeches, a white shirt under a leather vest.  But it’s the sword strapped to his hip that has my full attention.  Who dresses like this in?  Well, unless you’re at one of those Renaissance fairs.  But this isn’t a Renaissance fair.  This is the middle of some forest and I’m facing a man with a sword.  All of my senses tell me one thing.  Run.

“Please sit back down, Lucas,” he says.

I didn’t even realize I had stood up.  And how does he know my name?  It takes everything I have to hold still but I don’t sit.

“My name is Malcolm and I can explain everything but you need to listen.  Do you understand?”

I only nod.

“You are in the Realm of Verilius.  You are here because you are now of age to take what is yours.  You are here to be king,” Malcolm tells me in a tone that is too calm.

Now I sit.  Verilius.  Of age.  King.  For some reason these things make me think of my mom.  My mom.  What about my mom?

“Your mother is fine.”

“How do you know?” I spit the words at Malcolm.

“I know she is fine because she knew this day would come.  She knew you would end up here today.  And while I am very sure she misses you, she would not let you come home.  Even if you could.”

“No, how did you know I was thinking about my mom?”

“That...that question will have to wait.  We have other matters to discuss.”

Malcolm has my nerves on edge.  I can feel the frustration hum through my veins.  How can he know my thoughts? What else does he know?  I rein in my anger and, even though all I want to do is lash out at this stranger, I decide a friendly approach might keep that sword away from my neck.

“Well, Malcolm, what can you tell me?”

“I can tell you a great many things.  You’re Lucas Roberts, 16-year-old son of Abigail Roberts.  Raised by her and her alone in Riley, Kansas.  You went to bed last night expecting to wake up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, just like every other birthday you remember.  Instead, you woke up here.  My question for you though:  do you always sleep in your clothes?”

For the first time, I realize that I am fully dressed.  T shirt, the jacket I wear when my mom and I go camping, jeans and boots.  I must look a fool to this man.  But I wasn’t wearing these clothes when I went to bed.

“No…I was wearing…never mind.  I guess it doesn’t matter.  Is that all I get to know?”

“I will tell you more but first how about we eat something.”

I watch Malcolm as he walks back to the trees and retrieves a pack.  We sit on a blanket that came from I don’t know where and he begins to pull out enough food to feed at least five people.  There is some kind of flat bread that looks like a pancake, round discs of meat that I tell myself is sausage, berries that are so blue they look black, half a dozen of what appears to be turkey legs, red crackers and a small cask of I don’t know what.

“Eat as much as you would like but make sure to eat only 2 of those,” Malcolm says, indicating the red crackers.

As if he doesn’t trust me, he leaves four crackers on the blanket and packs the rest away in his pack.  I admit to myself that I’m starving and the food smells delicious but I still haven’t decided if I trust this man.  

“I assure you all the food is safe and rather good,” he reassures me, again knowing what direction my thoughts are going.

“How do you do that?” I ask around a mouthful of what I’m calling a turkey leg.

“I as I said before, that is a question that will have to wait.  We have other, more pressing matters to discuss.”

I’m dismissed again and I don’t like it.  This situation is not working in my favor and it seems Malcolm has all of the control.  My mom would never do this to me.  Ever since I was old enough to be responsible for my actions, we had been more of a team than mother and son.  She never made a major decision without hearing my thoughts.  But here, in this place called Verilius, I don’t think my opinion counts for much.  I have to decide very quickly whether to trust Malcolm or not.  

“Why should I trust you?  Why should I let you help me?” I want him to convince me.

“You don’t have much of a choice right now.  You’re here.  You need help.  Here I am,” Malcolm spits back at me.  But then his face softens for a moment as he adds, “It would kill your mother should anything happen to you.  I wont be the cause of that pain too.”

Suddenly, his face is familiar.  A passing glance through a coffee shop window, standing at the edge of the bleachers at one of my wrestling matches, in line at the grocery store and I’m sure many other places that I cant remember.  And each time, the only constant was my mom.  My mom was there and she was happy.  I want to ask him about this but, for some reason, I know this isn’t the time.  I also know that I have to trust him.  I have a feeling my mom would have wanted me to.

“Alright.  I’ll trust you.  But if I find out you’ve lied to me, things will not end well for you,” I calmly say to Malcolm.  “Just help me get back to my mom.”

Next Chapter: Chapter Two