Another World

by D. C. Gomez

  “Now that we settled that, let’s go change Sir Bertrant’s life.” Sageri wrapped her arm around mine and towed me along.

  “I’m so dead,” I told Sageri again, and she laughed.

  The registration table for this weird contest was being manned by a guard in full uniform. The man was at least six feet tall, like a lot of men in this kingdom, with a caramel complexion. Right under his eyebrow he had a scar that went down to his ear, giving him a gangster type of vibe. He carried a sword on his side that was bigger than my whole arm. I searched the area for a way to turn around and run away. Sageri was on a mission from God, or maybe her Goddess. She dragged me all the way across the marketplace and directly to the table.

  There were not that many people in line, and I didn’t blame them. No person in their right mind should volunteer to battle a dragon. Sageri had pushed me up the line, but she refused to stand next to me.

  “Don’t you think you are a little young to be taking on this challenge?” the guard said, and it took me a minute to realize he was talking to me.

  “Absolutely, but I’m not here for me. I’m here for my master,” I rambled as quickly as possible. I was not thrilled to use the word master, but I had no choice.

  “Your master? I know every page and knight in the kingdom. Who is your master?” the guard asked, getting closer to me.

  “I work for Sir Bertrant,” I told him, raising my chin. Honestly, I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. I just didn’t know what held me there. Fear, or Sageri. Maybe both.

  “The Sir Bertrant? Well this is a surprise. I didn’t know he had taken on a new page. What’s your name, boy?” The guard just nodded in approval.

  I blinked a couple of times before replying. “Madison.”

  “That’s a unique name. It doesn’t matter; this is a great day. Make it official and sign him up. It’s about time he comes back to the realm.” The guard beamed, excitement coming off him in waves.

  I grabbed the weird pen and signed Sir Bertrant’s name on the parchment. I sent a quick prayer to God that I wouldn’t die today. This was nuts, and probably a suicide mission for Sir Bertrant and a homicide for me.

  Forcing a smile, I thanked the guard and took off. Sageri was nowhere to be found. My chest heavy with worry and praying Sageri had just gone home, I hoped that she was okay.

  “Madison,” Sageri called my name from behind a tree not too far from the road.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her.

  “I couldn’t let Sir Jean see me,” Sageri said, kicking rocks with her foot.

  “Who?” I searched around for the mysterious man.

  “The guard at the table. He is the Captain of the Guard for my uncle and he used to be my father’s best friend,” Sageri explained. “He was furious when I left the castle. I don’t need another lecture.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her “Why would you ever volunteer to come with me knowing he was going to be there?”

  “I didn’t think my uncle would send his most trusted advisor to such a low-level job. Besides, Sir Bertrant has always been nice and caring towards me.’” She rubbed her forehead with her index finger. “He needs help.”

  “You better start praying your nice and caring knight doesn’t kill me for this,” I told her.

  She didn’t reply, and we walked back together in companionable silence. This was insane. I wiped my palms on my trousers and took several deep breaths. Sir Bertrant didn’t deserve to have people go behind his back and sign him up for a potential suicide mission. At the same time, if he was half as good as everyone claimed, maybe he needed this.

  Too late to question my decision now. I already committed him.

  Now it was time to pray he didn’t die.

  Ninety percent of the time I faked being tough and brave. The remaining ten percent, I attempted to convince myself that I could make things happen. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t stop tossing and turning. Sir Bertrant was nowhere to be found, like usual, but I feared what he would do when he learned I enrolled him in the contest. I doubted Somnium had an unemployment office for fired pages.

  I sat up in bed, trying to get my mind to stop going in circles but visions of getting speared through the chest played on repeat in my head, making it impossible.

  Bang. The front door slammed. This was it; he was going to kill me. I dropped back in the bed, faced the wall, and pretended to be asleep. The room was dark so I doubted that he would be able to see my face.

  “MADISON!” Sir Bertrant screamed.

  I was not getting out of this bed. He could come and kill me here. Maybe I was being overly dramatic, but death was a huge possibility right now.

  Bang. I wasn’t sure if Sir Bertrant had broken my door down, but by the deafening sound he’d made, I had a feeling he did.

  “MADISON!” he screamed from the door.

  In slow motion, I rolled over, rubbing my eyes cautiously. I was not going to make this easy for his drunken self.

  “Hello? Sir Bertrant? Is that you?” I yawned, covering my eyes from the light coming from the doorway.

  “What have you done?” Sir Bertrant paced inside my room.

  “What are you talking about?” I rubbed my eyes like a two-year-old when I sat cross legged on the bed.

  “Oh don’t pretend you don’t know.” Sir Bertrant pointed his shaky finger at me. “The contest…you signed me up for it.”

  Spit flew from his mouth every time he spoke. At this rate, he would start foaming at the mouth any minute. He didn’t. Instead, he walked to the window and gripped the sill with both hands.

  “Oh, that.” I waved my hand in the air, dismissing the topic. “Yeah, of course I did.” Pulling my pillow closer and tucking it against my stomach, I watched him.

  “Of course? What is that supposed to mean?” Sir Bertrant turned rapidly around to stand over me, his fists shaking at his side.

  “You are a knight, and they are recruiting for knights to save missing girls,” I told him, making my eyes as wide as possible and plastering the most innocent smile I could muster on my face.

  My hands were trembling and held the pillow even tighter. I didn’t need him to see me shaking.

  “You demented child, have you lost your mind?” Sir Bertrant yelled, rushing at the wall and slamming his fists against it.

  “Please don’t make a hole in the wall, I have no clue how to fix plaster,” I told him.

  Let’s be honest, how was I supposed to repair a hole in a medieval house? I decided I was stuck in medieval times in a foreign world. Why couldn’t I get stuck in future times in a land of cotton candy?

  “Madison, are you listening to me?” Sir Bertrant shouted again.

  Whoops. Guess I blocked him out again.

  “Nope, sorry,” I admitted to him. “What were you yelling about again?”

  He took a deep breath before starting again. “I can’t go back to the castle,” Sir Bertrant said, dropping his head.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Maera is there.” He turned to face the wall, then wiped his face with his hand.

  “Who is Maera?” I asked, hoping he was planning to explain this madness.

  “My love,” Sir Bertrant mumbled so faintly I didn’t know if I’d heard him right.

  “Still not helping.” This was like pulling teeth.

  “She left me and married that bastard, Morien.” Sir Bertrant knocked the pitcher of water from the table.

  The crash of the pitcher against the wall made me jump to avoid getting wet. I was glad he wasn’t facing my way since it took me a minute to gather my thoughts.

  “Why would two people with such similar names marry each other?” I was getting distracted, but I couldn’t help the fact that those names got my attention.

  “Morien is my arch enemy,” Sir Bertrant continued like he didn’t hear me.

  “Hold up! Are you telling me all this is over a girl?”

  God, please let me be imagining this. I jumped
up on the bed and glared down at Sir Bertrant.

  “Not a girl, but Maera!” he screamed.

  “This ridiculous drunken stage, the anger, and the reckless life is because a girl left you? Are you demented?” It was my turn to scream.

  “You don’t understand; she was everything to me.” Sir Bertrant fought the tears that were threatening to escape.

  “I don’t understand?” Something inside me snapped and the dam I had created around my emotions broke. “Listen here, you self-righteous drunk, my parents abandoned me to my grandmother when I was only a baby. She was the only person in my life who loved me, and she died. Her last will was to send me across the country to my psychotic, workaholic aunt who hates kids and her family. Do you think you are the only one who has lost everything?”

  “It isn’t the same,” Sir Bertrant said, shaking his head.

  “No, it’s not,” I growled in rage. “I made a promise to my grandmother, when she was on her deathbed, that I would not give up. That I would fight to be better, to be the person she was proud of. I failed every day, but I get up every day to try again. You gave up without even trying. You are a coward.”

  Sir Bertrant dropped his head. I wasn’t being fair, but I didn’t care. I had been holding my anger for so long and he was taking the full force of it.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked, trying to wipe his tears. “Everyone thinks I’m a fool. Why should I try anymore?”

  “Why? Because you can’t let them know they beat you. You go out each day with your head raised high and give the world hell. You don’t let them know they won, even if it kills you on the inside. That’s what I do each day.” I wanted to slap him to death, but instead, I wrapped my arms around myself.

  Tears fell down my cheeks as months and months of pain cascaded out of me, and I could do nothing to stop it.

  “It’s not that easy,” Sir Bertrant said.

  “How do you know? You never even tried. Just go and mope around somewhere else.” I dropped back on the bed and turned to face the wall.

  Sir Bertrant dragged himself out of the room, slowly closing the door.

  Did I just kick him out of his own house?

  I didn’t care. He had created years of pain for himself because his pride was hurt. My head pounded and after that emotional outburst, I was exhausted. I laid my head down on the pillow and cried. Sir Bertrant could always find someone else, but I would never be able to replace my grandmother.

  “Ahhhh, die!” I woke up to screams. Slam. Someone was getting beat up.

  We are under attack. Without thinking too much about the potential threat, I jumped out of bed and grabbed my dagger. I charged out of the room and into battle wearing my PJs, a pair of soft pants, and a tank top.

  But I froze when my eyes landed on the most bizarre scene ever. “What in the hell is going on?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

  Sir Bertrant stood there, smashing away at a weird mannequin dressed in armor, except he had no pants, only what looked like a strange version of boxer shorts. Thunder and Lightning were standing on the far side of him, laughing their heads off. To add to the ridiculous situation, chickens strolled around everywhere, clucking as if they were singing a song.

  When Thunder made his way over to me, I turned to him and asked, “What did I miss?” Moving a bit closer, I tried to not step on any of the crazy birds covering the place, but it wasn’t easy.

  “It seems your lecture last night lit a fire under him,” Thunder said, turning to watch just in time to see his knight stumble and fall right on his butt. It only made the horse laugh again.

  “You heard me? Never mind. That doesn’t matter. I never realized knights trained like this.” And truthfully, it appeared horrible. Maybe he drank to forget the embarrassment and pain of his training and not his love life?

  “Not at all.” Thunder sauntered away. “And yes, everyone heard you because you were that loud, but he needed it.”

  “That is called years of drinking and poor training,” Lightning jumped in from behind. How could a beast so big sneak up on me?

  “This is sad,” I told him.

  “You do know I can hear you all,” Sir Bertrant told us, gasping for air.

  “What exactly are you doing?” I asked him, noticing the sweat dripping from him and the way he could barely stand up straight.

  “Training. What does it look like?” He pointed at the mannequin as if the thing could speak. I hoped the thing couldn’t, but around here, I’d seen stranger things.

  “It looks like you are dying over there,” I told him.

  “Well, if someone hadn’t signed us up to battle a dragon in four days, I wouldn’t have to hurry.” He rolled his eyes.

  “What do you mean by us?” I asked, staring around. Did he have a mouse in his pocket that I didn’t know about?

  “Oh, you are coming too, my dear page,” Sir Bertrant answered as he stabbed his new buddy a few more times.

  “Me?” I turned towards Lightning for confirmation.

  “That’s the rule. The page goes with the knight. You are both going to die,” Lightning finished talking and joined his brother by the apple trees. From the looks of it, Thunder had figured out how to get fruits from the tree by himself.

  “That’s right, little page, you are coming. Now go get changed; you are going to be training with me.” Sir Bertrant attacked the mannequin again.

  “Do I have a choice?” I asked, not liking my options today.

  “This was your idea, so no!” Sir Bertrant shouted the last part.

  “Fine, but I’m eating breakfast first.” I refused to die on an empty stomach. “By the way, what is going on with all these chickens? Where did they come from?”

  “For training,” he mumbled.

  I hopped from one spot to the next, trying to escape the chickens trying to peck my toes off. Walking around barefoot outside was no longer an option thanks to Sir Bertrant’s killer chickens.

  “We are going to slaughter chickens? You do know Sageri will kill us if we go around massacring chickens.” I was more afraid of the witch in training than Sir Bertrant.

  “Not for killing, for eggs.” He did a weird maneuver that landed him on the ground again. I shook my head and searched below my feet, making sure the chickens hadn’t laid any eggs and I’d missed them.

  “Do we have eggs now or are we waiting to eat until they lay eggs?” What was wrong with this drunken knight?

  “There are eggs inside and a new chicken coop next to the stable,” he told me, trying to swing his sword again.

  “For a drunk man, you are very efficient,” I said before I turned around.

  “Where are you going?” Sir Bertrant asked.

  “To change and make breakfast, unless you made that too?” I asked the flailing knight.

  “No!” he answered as he body slammed the mannequin. Unfortunately for Sir Bertrant, the mannequin didn’t move, and he bounced back to the ground. “Food making has never been my specialty.”

  “By the looks of it, neither is falling. Three points for Baldy and zero for drunken knight.” The horses laughed from the tree lines. “When you are done beating yourself up, come inside for food.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m in charge here,” Sir Bertrant told me.

  “Of course you are. Just get inside and don’t step on the chickens.” The birds had come together in an attack formation and were all charging at the knight.

  I gave the knight one last glance before going back inside the house. This was not what I had in mind, but at least he wasn’t looking pitiful and depressed. Nobody deserved to be the laughing stock of town. It was time for Sir Bertrant to start fighting back.

  “Die!” Sir Bertrant screamed again. He charged Baldy but tripped on a chicken and flew past him.

  I covered my face with my free hand and prayed. We were going to die. Might as well get dressed. Facing death and humiliation in your PJs didn’t sound like a great idea.

  It w
as the morning of the fifteenth day in the fifth month, according to the Somnium calendar system. This method of telling time was annoying. It basically had been three full days since Sir Bertrant had gotten his mojo back. He tried to make up for three years of drinking in three days. This was not working out for him, or for me. My biceps burned and my poor thighs were numb. It took him two full days to stop shaking from the alcohol withdrawal. The horses suggested for him to run laps around the property to speed up the detox process, so he did, and he seemed miserable the whole time. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but it was tough. He got himself in to this mess, so he needed to come out the other side. We could be there for support, but in the end, if he didn’t want it bad enough, it wouldn’t happen.

  The horses filled me in, and it seemed Sir Bertrant hadn’t been totally lazy. Even in his drunken stage, he had tried to keep up with his marksmanship skills. He needed it, since he enjoyed starting fights at the taverns. This world was not ready for a deadly drunk. Fortunately for us, it made the training process a lot faster.

  Sir Bertrant developed a few drills to get me familiar with weapons. He agreed that the dagger was a better weapon for me. According to him, I was holding it wrong. I tried to use it like a bat instead of a knife.

  The contest kicked off tomorrow at sunrise. That meant we needed to pack our gear tonight to be ready to roll.

  At first, I was afraid I would be walking the whole time. Lightning refused to let me ride him. Thunder was Sir Bertrant’s horse. According to Thunder, the knights were always in the lead, so he wouldn’t be riding in the back with a page.

  Even the horses had ranking issues. How ridiculous was that?

  Lightning had decided he didn’t want an inexperienced rider on him. I tried to explain nobody in this kingdom knew that, but he explained that he knew, and it was enough to make him unhappy. When everything else failed, I resorted to bribery. I offered Lightning fresh fruit twice a day and a rub down for allowing me to ride. He agreed, but I had to also call him “his Majesty Lightning” until this adventure was over. So, he gave in, but I had to work for it—and keep working for it.