Elton,

  I purchased these journals in a village not long after I arrived here. I miss you, man. I’ve decided to keep my own Chronicles here in the Everywhen for you. I don’t know that you’ll ever see these, but writing this gives me hope that you might in the future.

  I guess if your Chronicles leading up to my departure could be considered book one, then this is book two. My travels in the Everywhen. I hope that some day after this is all over I can send these along with a gnome or an elf and have them delivered to you. I’m not a writer, Elton. I’m not even going to pretend these chronicles are going to be up to your standards. But I want to do my best to give you something. A parting gift. Something to remember me by. I can’t explain how much I wish I could hand deliver them to you myself, how much I wish you’d come with me because I don’t know that I’ll ever come back. This may be home now, for a lot of reasons.

  I’m not alone here now, but I miss you. I miss the three of us traveling and trying to do something good for the world. I miss the quiet times. I miss the life I hadn’t even had a chance to build before it all went wrong.

  I want you to know that I think about you often, my friend. Know that you’re loved, regardless of what you tell yourself. I’ve begun to realize that the things we tell ourselves, and the things we believe, are just ways to limit ourselves. We’re terrified of what we could be without those limits.

  But without those limits, you ARE a good man, Elton Beasley. One of the best, and it has been an honor to know you.

  Love,

  T.

  Terry Lingal, the Errant Apprentice, stepped out of a hole in the air into the magical realm known as the Everywhen. He looked back for one last look at Elton and his home world. He tried to give Elton a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure it worked. He would probably never know if it had. The gateway snapped shut and Terry was alone standing beneath a yellow sky. He had made his choice. He had a vow to keep.

  He’d lost his purpose in life. Until that morning he had been in training to become a knight for the Order of St. George the Dragon Slayer. He had taken the vows to join that Order as a child, scarcely knowing the truth behind the words he had spoken. Just that morning he had renounced them. He was going to be something else. Something new.

  He’d also lost the reason he had renounced those vows. Delores Cody. His mage, his partner, and the woman he loved. She’d been taken from him and sent to this new world. He’d vowed to her that he would survive for her. He’d vowed he would always return to her. If the world thought that the walls of reality would stop him from keeping that vow, well, the world didn’t know Terry Lingal.

  Behind where the portal had been was a massive valley, and through that valley a river snaked its way along, turning to pass the hill he found himself on. He thought he saw cleared land along that river but he couldn’t be sure. He turned to look at the mountain that had drawn his eye before entering the portal.

  He did not like this mountain. For one thing, it was a single mountain on its own, and surrounded by foothills on all sides. Terry stood on one of these now. The mountain was covered in geometric shaped boulders. Cubes, spheres, cones, pyramids, and at least a dozen shapes Terry couldn’t name with his limited education.

  The worst part of the mountain were the holes. The mountain was covered in holes and a thick fog poured out of them, filling the space between the foothills. It gave the entire landscape an otherworldly feel, which was appropriate now that he came to that. It made him feel uncomfortable.

  The sight of it was what made him truly understand that this wasn't Earth. He’d now lost everything. His best friend, his lover, and his future, and his home. All in the time it took to boil an egg. He sat down hard on the ground, dropping his saddle bags and his sword. The tears came. Any anger at the unfairness of it all had fled and he was just left with the loss now. That and the impossibility of his task.

  How was he supposed to find Delores? He didn’t know if he was near where she had come through, and there was no telling how much time had passed. Months. Possibly years. She could be dead. She could be an old woman now. What would he do if that was the case? And what if he never found her? This was an entirely new world that he’d heard was larger than Earth. The hopelessness of it all sapped his strength and his will to continue.

  Terry shook his head.

  “No.” He said out loud. “NO, damn you. You’re not ending like this. You’re not your father. Get up.”

  He stood back up and looked to the river, which was the easier choice of the two directions. The light inside him had been going out more and more frequently when he was alone, but he didn’t have time to let it stop him now. Elton said that people admired him because he tried. Well, that was all he could do now. And it was past time to try.

  Terry sheathed his sword into his inside coat pocket and picked his saddle bags up. He spent some time arranging them and the straps until he had something he could use as a backpack. He smiled at it. Progress. Not a lot of progress, but it was something.

  You have to celebrate the small victories.

  He put his makeshift backpack on and set out toward the forest.

  After descending the hill, he decided his best bet was to make toward the river and hope to find a settlement of some kind. He wasn’t sure what kind of creatures would be in these lands, but he tended to get on well with Fantastics. Maybe it would be goblins. He liked goblins. Sometimes more than humans. Whatever they were, he could start asking if they’d seen a bald mage or had heard of one. Where ever D was, she had probably managed to draw some attention to herself.

  “Maybe she’s been waiting for me.” Terry said quietly, and smiled. He’d find her. She was the only thing he had left to hold to.

  The forest was thicker and greener than any forest he’d ever walked in. It felt untouched by humanoid hands and it made him nervous as well. Everything in the Everywhen seemed to be making him nervous. He decided...

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Terry stopped walking. He wasn’t in the wide world any more. There was no Church to hide from. There was no threat of clerics, and no social stigma of being a knight AND a magic user. Terry could, for the very first time, be exactly who and what he was.

  Terry inhaled, and drew mana into himself. He thought of it as mana this time. Not his “will”. He nearly filled himself and he became aware of just how long that took. He had grown at some point. Delores said he was frighteningly strong and he’d somehow grown. Then Terry felt the mana.

  Doing this back home was one thing. Delores said as you held mana you could feel the purpose in it. It wanted to be used. It gave you the desire to use it. It had always made him giddy and active, but that was the worst of it. The mana in the Everywhen was different. He could feel ITS will. It knew its purpose. To create. He felt the need to commit great acts. He immediately let most of it drain out of him. The need was terrifying. He kept enough to do the things he normally did. No more, no less. The purpose remained, but as a buzzing in the back of his mind.

  He could see the web that Delores had told him about now. Well, he NOTICED the web now. A lattice work of energy touching everything. It pulsed like a heartbeat around him. It was always there, but he'd never let himself see it. There were things in the forest, and they tickled that web. Life shifted the flow of the mana and Terry marveled at it. Suddenly, he could feel something was watching him so he started walking again. He was a fair hunter and should be able to spot anything that tried to get the jump on him. He hoped.

  “Well looky here! Got us a big fella!” A voice said from somewhere. Terry specifically didn’t spin in a panic. He carefully looked around him. There was no way he could have missed a grown man approaching him.

  “Over here, haircut!” The voice spoke again, and this time Terry turned toward it. Standing on a tree stump was a tiny man.

  He was maybe three inches high and dressed in boots, canvas pants, a white shirt, green coat, with a red Smurf-hat. Sticking out of it was a white feather. He had a yellow bandanna around his neck. He was tanned and had sandy blond hair. He had pointed ears like the elves or goblins. The little man seemed to preen under his attention, almost like a cat.

  “And who might you be when you’re at home, big-job?” The little man asked.

  Terry blinked.

  “Are you a gnome?” He asked. The little man stared at him.

  “Do I have a tobacco stained beard and look like I go around collecting garbage?” he said. “Guess again.”

  Terry shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” Terry knelt down low and held a finger out. The little man seemed to get the idea and shook Terry’s finger. “I’m Terry. I’m here from the wide world. What’s your name?”

  “Well! You’re a trusting soul, aren’t ya!” The man said. “You can call me Humphrey, Master Terry. I believe I’m here to give you directions.”

  Terry smiled. Maybe his luck was changing!

  "That's great! Can I ask something first?”

  “I suppose.” The little man said warily.

  “Are you a faerie?”

  Humphrey gave Terry a flat look.

  “I believe you meant Tuatha de Danann.”

  Terry tried to repeat the word in his head and after the third attempt, gave up.

  “I kinda think I meant faerie.” He said.

  The little man walked to the edge of the stump and the smile on his face had lost all friendliness. It was the look of an irate waiter trying to keep his job.

  “Perhaps,” Humphrey said in clipped words, “you meant the Wee Folk. Or the Gentry. Maybe the Good Folk, and not that... that other THING you said.”

  Terry was off his game and the Fae had never been a focus of his readings.

  “Nope. I'm pretty sure I meant faerie.”

  “THAT’S IT!!” The little man yelled. He leaped into the air and hit Terry in the face with a roundhouse kick.

  Terry went flying and skidded to a halt on his stomach. He tried to lift himself up, but he felt the full weight of a man standing on his back. He felt his backpack stripped from him and tossed to the side. Then a pair of tiny feet walked up his back. Try as he might, he couldn’t get up.

  “I tried,” the little man said, “to be a good member of the Gentry. I was gonna do like the Court said and guide you to something useful. Well now you are straight up FUCKED, me old beauty.”

  Terry felt a foot kick his head hard enough to force his face into the dirt.

  “Going to the bathroom?” Humphrey said. “I’m stealing the toilet paper. Got a cookie?” Another kick to the head. “THOSE WON’T BE CHOCOLATE CHIPS, PAL!”

  Suddenly, Terry felt the little man pause and he heard something in the wind. A whisper at the edge of hearing. When he turned his head just enough, he saw Humphrey listening to that wind. Did everyone hear voices and Terry had just been too wrapped up in himself to notice?

  The little man sighed.

  “Fine. FINE. I can’t torment you. Not as much as I’d like. You’ve got something to be about. BUT, I AM allowed to punish you for using the “F” word.” Humphrey said before cupping his hands and shouting, “BRING OUT THE HONORED DEAD!”

  “Wait, what?!” Terry shouted. He heard more tiny footsteps and when he looked in the direction of the mountain, a troop of faeries, wee folk, whatever, appeared. They were all dressed like Humphrey. They were also carrying a corpse.

  It was dressed like them, but was the size of a toddler. Terry blinked. Then the thing’s head lifted and Terry’s skin tried to crawl backwards off of his body.

  “Are we leaving yet?” The corpse said.

  Terry heard screaming and it was his own voice. He hadn’t realized he’d started. This thing was dead. It looked dead. The eyes were the milky white of a corpse’s eyes and didn’t move. The skin was ashen. It had an. . .odor. Terry tried to climb up to run and nearly made it, but Humphrey jumped up and came down on his back so hard it forced him back down.

  “OH NO YOU DON’T!” The Wee Folk said, and Terry could hear the grin in his voice. “We have specifically been given permission to do this.”

  Terry laid there and felt himself shaking as the giant, tiny, dead person was placed on his back. The thing gripped him tightly through his duster. He thought the fingers and heels might be digging into the armor underneath. It was like they’d given him a dead man backpack.

  Terry finally managed to struggle to his feet. He tried taking his duster off and running but it felt like it had become attached to him. He tried shaking the body off, but it wouldn’t budge. It weighed a ton.

  “What is this?!” Terry shouted down at the troop of faeries.

  “Oh!” Humphrey said in mock civility. “It’s simple, bright boy! Danal there is dead! You have to take him to holy ground for us and bury him! If you don’t do it by sunrise tomorrow...” Humphrey trailed off and thought for a moment. “We’ll cut your balls off!” The rest of the troop nodded sagely.

  Terry screamed in anger and started trying to stomp the little men, but one of them swept the leg and knocked him to the ground. Terry sprung back up and looked around. They’d all vanished.

  “They couldn’t be serious.” He said to himself.

  “Oh, they’re serious.” The corpse said suddenly. Terry felt his hair stand on end. “And if you don’t mind I’d rather have this done sooner rather than later.”

  Terry took a minute to compose himself. He was letting his emotions get away with him. He took a deep breath. The stink of death settled into his lungs and he nearly threw up right there. As he straightened, he felt the massive weight of the corpse bounce on his back.

  “Giddy-up.” Danal said. Terry grumbled and set off in the direction the little corpse indicated with a finger.