Shanna was not having a good birthday.
The Freshman came to a stop next to the rock, gazing down at the unfamiliar landmark. At least, she hoped it was unfamiliar. If she had passed it in the dark the previous night, that meant she was going in circles. Going in circles when lost was bad. Going anywhere when lost was bad. You were supposed to stay put. Let others come to you.
What were you supposed to do when the entire world vanished on you?
Letting out a deep sigh, which did nothing practical, but did make her feel a bit better, she plopped her butt on the rock. Her feet ached. Her legs ached. She was thirsty. Hungry. Tired. The patch of ground she had gotten a few hours sleep on had NOT been comfortable. Everything about that moment was horrible.
She was missing that morning's math class, though. That was something.
Shanna's eyes again went to the trees and plants around her. They weren't normal. She hadn't realized that, in the dark. A pine tree was a pine tree. In the light, though, with the growing knowledge that things were horribly wrong, she could see and accept that this didn't seem to be Earth. Or it was a very strange part of Earth. That weed sticking up by her foot, for example. All the leaves were on one side of the stalk, sticking straight out, with two small flowers splitting out from the top. And that tree, over among the pines, had a green trunk. Almost like it was, in fact, a very thick stalk. The thick green daughter trunks winding around it with large berries on them were just icing on the cake. Or berries on the ice cream.
Ice cream... God, she was hungry. Not hungry enough to try and eat any of that stuff, not yet.
She knew this wasn't a dream. Whatever it was, this was real. Partly it was the pain that told her this. Shanna didn't hurt in dreams. Mostly, though, it was the scary White guys who had attacked her.
Shanna didn't dream of White people.
The first time she had actually realized this, late in high school, she had spent a good week wondering if she was some kind of racist. After all, she was surrounded by Whites. Most of her friends had light skin. You'd think they'd sneak into her dreams just by osmosis. But, no. Every person she had ever dreamed of, that she could remember, was as brown as she was. Why?
The answer she had finally come up with, which, for now, satisfied her, was that she was just seeing extensions of herself, of her family. Home and comfort, to her inner self, was a sea of soft brown skin, holding her close. A nightmare would be those people betraying or mistreating her.
Or she was a horrible secret racist. Psych 101 would probably sort it out, if she ever made it to her next class.
Shanna put her hand to her forehead, fingers pushing her glasses back up before moving to rub her now throbbing head. Maybe she should start yelling. Screaming. Even if the bad guys came, the horrible, frightening men in their red and silver armor and sharp swords, maybe they wouldn't kill her. They hadn't killed her in the hall. They'd gone into that guy's room. God, she had been so scared. She could still feel the man's hand covering her mouth and nose, the tip of his sword touching her throat. He could have killed her. Raped her. The look one of them had given her...
Her eyes closed, body shuddering. Shanna just wanted to go home. Not back to school, to her dorm, but home. Unconsciously, she clicked the heels of her sneakers together. There's no place like home...
****
The horn blast startled Shanna into wakefulness, body on its feet seemingly instantly. She had some defensive training, how to fight off a mugger stuff mostly, and she found herself in one of the ready stances she'd been shown. Her hands were also in front of her as if she was holding a broadsword. That was stupid. She wished she HAD a broadsword, naturally. A real one, or even the dull ones she'd practiced with the times she'd hung out with those re-enactors. If only so she didn't feel so helpless.
Standing there, body tense, she heard the sounds of fighting. Of metal on metal. Of men yelling, groaning. It was close. Almost next to her. Should she run? She should run. Away. Now.
A man stumbled out of the trees not a yard away from her. It was one of the horrible men, in red and steel. Chain mail, though, not the breastplate of her attackers. His helmet was like half a football, a metal cone with something coming down to cover his nose. On either side of that, two eyes that were... wide, yet... dead. His sword dropped from his fingers, tip touching the ground, hilt falling over towards Shanna. The stranger's knees buckled, his entire body leaning away from her even as the sword hit the grass near her feet.
There was a yell. From the trees burst a creature, sword in hand. Without thinking, Shanna reached down for the sword before her, jumping backwards the instant her hand grasped the hilt. The newcomer swung its sword at the falling man, stopping the motion in surprise as it became clear a second killing blow was not needed. Shanna raised her new weapon before her. The creature saw the movement. Their eyes met.
It had green skin. That was the first thing she saw, the only thing she saw until she gave herself a mental shake. It was human. Or humanoid. Slender. Like a dancer. A dancer clad in thick leather on its upper body, a leather kilt hanging down to its knees. It was close to her height of five and a half feet, ears long enough to perhaps add a half inch to that as their pointed tips reached up above its shaggy black hair. Its eyes were perfectly round, black with pure white pupils.
Black eyes. Did that mean a black soul?
It leapt at her.
Shanna's weapons training, such as it was, came from two places. One was those re-enactors slash live action role players she had spent some time with while she was dating Frank, and for a while even after that. Swinging that heavy broadsword had been fun, at times more so than dealing with Frank's smaller personal sword. Because of such experiences, she held the sword she had with two hands, despite it obviously being meant for one. It just felt right. And light, compared to what she was used to. As the black souled creature came at her, its long sword slicing down, she swung her own up to meet it. Steel clanged on steel, her teeth clenching as her arms trembled with the impact.
The second source of her training was a pair of YouTube videos of some guys fighting with light sabers.
She had watched those two fight over and over. One reason, of course, what that the guy with the glasses was damned cute. He was gay, yes, as she'd found out tracking him down to this movie podcast he did, but she could change that. Shanna had the half-written fanfic to prove it. The other reason she loved those fights was the style. Not so much the actual light saber stuff, but what they did apart from that. The two guys, whenever there was an opening, would punch and kick each other. The idea wasn't to score style points, it was to beat the other guy however possible. Punch them in the kidney, kick them in the knee, whatever. Just win.
Before the green guy could react to her block of its attack, Shanna kicked her foot out, catching him in the leg. She jumped back.
The look the thing gave her was one of surprise, those black eyes seeming to get even wider. Whether it was impressed or upset, she didn't know. What she DID know was that the arrow that suddenly appeared in its neck, just above the top of its armor, made the thing's feelings on any particular matter rather moot. Two more of the creatures appeared from the trees, three arrows almost as quickly embedding themselves in their green bodies.
Shanna turned.
Humans were rushing towards her. Human men with red coats and silver armor, wooden bows and steel swords.
She was tired. She was scared. Letting the sword fall from her numb fingers, Shanna raised her hands.
"I surrender."
****
Shanna couldn't understand a damned thing they said.
It was language. She assumed that. These soldiers weren't making up words just to piss her off as they marched her through the woods. It even sounded somewhat familiar, as if she had heard at least something like it in some movie or on TV. Maybe Russian? Was she in Russia? That was stupid. Why would she be in Russia? She didn't think they had green skinned people there.
They hadn't groped her too much, searching her. The one guard pushed her shirt up, hands going under her bra. Another pair of hands shoving down her sweatpants and panties, before letting her pull them back up. She had watched as the soldiers went to the dead man, showing compassion that Shanna found reassuring. She hadn't been sure they were capable of such feelings. It didn't do HER much good right then and there, but it gave her hope for the future.
"Idz szybciej!"
The barked command came with a push in her back. That, she now knew, meant she had to go faster.
"OK, OK. Jesus."
Her hands weren't tied, at least. That was a blessing. She wasn't being led like some Civil War slave by the army of mustached white men. And they were all white. Not a brown or yellow person among them. Wonderful.
The thing that had attacked her had been... green. Actually green. And it had been human. Hadn't it? Did these people think she was human? Or were they looking at her brown skin and wondering if she was kin to those black-eyed things?
God... she wanted to go home...
****
The wagon train stretched as far as the eye could see.
Shanna hadn't expected this. She didn't know what she had expected, but not this. Not an endless flow of gypsies or something. That was her first thought. Gypsies. There was something about the clothing, about some of the wagons, that seemed to indicate that. Gypsies didn't have soldiers, though, at least not that she knew. The red and white banners also seemed to indicate something else. Some almost looked like a flag she should know, if she had paid attention to such things in school. French? No, not French. These people didn't look French. No berets.
The horses caught her attention more than the endless stream of people. They were everywhere. Pulling wagons, being ridden. Sleek, beautiful mounts, sturdy work horses, even some mules and ponies. And lots of oxen. Shanna had always loved horses. She wasn't the kind to fill her room with toys and posters of them, like some girls, but she still thought they were the most incredible creatures on Earth. Every summer she had spent as many weeks as her parents could afford riding, taking care of them. The camp stable had held a dozen stallions and mares. Here, before her, were hundreds. Thousands.
"Ruszaj sie."
Another push in her back. This was getting tiring.
A group of horses broke away from the road, coming towards them. Shanna had barely taken two shove-induced steps before her arm was grabbed, stopping her. She resisted telling them to make up their mind. The men on the three oncoming horses were obviously leaders of some kind. The armor was fancier. They reined in a few feet before her captors. The one in the middle, a middle aged man whose black hair was a bit grey, leaned forward, hands crossed over the pommel of his saddle.
"Co my tu mamy?"
Anger rose in Shanna. She was no "Mammy"!
"Who the fuck are you?"
The man's eyes widened. He sat back up, regarding her with an expression she could not interpret. Turning, he looked back at the stream of people behind him.
Shanna followed his gaze. There, riding past, were people with wings.
Wings. On people. They had to be fake. Didn't they? Was the green skin also fake? Maybe these were, in fact, armored angels. Maybe this was heaven. Shanna leaned forward, getting a better view. She kept her feet in place, not wanting to be grabbed again. There were a half-dozen of the winged riders, armor shining in the late morning sun. They were surrounding someone who had no wings. Had no armor, in fact.
She blinked. Raising a hand, she adjusted her glasses.
She knew him!
"HEY! YOU!" Shanna waved her arms in the air, jumping up and down. She was quickly grabbed by the guard behind her, arms forced painfully down behind her back. She leaned forward against his grip. "OVER HERE!"
"CISZA!" The guard next to her reached over, beefy hand covering her mouth. The thought that she could bite him, get one more shout out, passed through her mind. It would get her hit, most likely, but...
The plain clothed man reined in, the winged riders following suit. He looked over. Yes, she knew him, if not his name, and even from here she could see recognition pass over his face. His horse left the road, heading towards her, the winged riders following.
A sigh came from the mounted officer in front of her. He turned, face clearly annoyed. He made a quick gesture.
"Pusc ja."
The hand left her mouth, her arms released as well. Feeling suddenly more secure, she took a few steps forward, going around the now unsure soldiers. She raised her right arm.
"Hi! God, am I glad to see you!"
The fellow student brought his horse to a somewhat untrained stop, head shaking in amazement. Shanna didn't know him, really. Wasn't even sure if they had spoken. He was tall, maybe six foot, with short curly black hair. His face was a bit too plain for her taste, probably one reason they hadn't spoken. She liked her men beautiful.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. Shanna couldn't help but laugh.
"How the fuck should I know! Don't tell me you know why you're here!"
"I know they brought me! Why would you..." She saw a realization come to his face. "You were in the hall, right? Just outside my room?"
"Yeah!"
"You must have been caught up in the magic, then. Or whatever it was. I'm still trying to figure things out."
Magic. Well, why not? It made as much sense as anything else.
"Wasza Milosc, kim jest ta kobieta?"
Shanna looked at the speaker, the winged rider next to him. Her breath caught in her throat. He was... beautiful...
"She was in school with me." He frowned. "OK, I can't remember your name. I'm James, by the way."
"S-Shanna," she stammered, eyes ignoring James as she drank in the winged warrior. Blond hair fell down to his shoulders from under a steel helmet. His eyes were blue, piercing, his skin pale and perfect.
Shanna suddenly realized something. She swung her gaze back to James.
"Wait, you can understand them?"
He frowned.
"Yes." His eyes widened. "You can't?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's just gibberish. How can they understand you?"
"Got me. I'm hearing and speaking English." He turned to the mounted officer with the greying hair. "She was outside my room when you came to get me. Somehow, you accidentally brought her over as well."
"Przepraszam, Wasza Milosc. Co proponujesz zrobic?"
"Can you stay on a horse?" James asked her. She nodded, eyes wide.
"Yes!"
"Get her a horse, then. She'll stay with me."
The man said something to the soldiers. They left her, captors abandoning her without a by your leave. She hoped the ones who groped her died horrible deaths, or at least broke a leg. Looking back at James, she frowned.
"How come they're doing what you say?"
"I'm the King."
Shanna blinked.
"Do they have an opening for Empress?"