Chapter
CLARA
Altyria - Altyrian Desert Portal
A flash of light blinded Clara, and her body quaked. She was dropping or suspended in air. Or both. Head spinning and stomach cramping, she tumbled onto a coarse, hot surface where she pushed herself to her knees, lurched forward and vomited. When there was no more to expel, she coughed and spat in between dry heaves until falling sideways in utter exhaustion.
A deep voice startled her, "Fantastic, another drunk."
Too tired to roll over and see behind her, she moved to speak but hocked more spit instead.
"You don't wanna talk. That trip plays hell on shit-faced people. Give it a few more hours." A large, dark man with kind eyes appeared in her field of vision. "That's how long it'll take to get there, anyway. Here," he held out a canteen of what she hoped to be wine or rum, and she took it. A smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. "Sorry. It's water, not booze. Sip slowly."
With shaking hands, Clara brought the rim to her lips and tilted the bottle back, allowing a thin stream of liquid to run down her tongue. It was water all right, and it soothed and cooled her throat, making her realize she needed that more than anything else. Beyond grateful to this stranger, he read her gratitude and returned her smile. She angled her head further and drank in huge gulps until emptying the jug. After wiping her chin, she handed it to him.
"Thank y-?" Clara heaved again, spewing the clear liquid and clenching her belly as it spasmed again.
The man sighed. "I told you not to talk, and to sip slowly, remember? You're in a new world now, and you have to adapt."
Clara clasped her throbbing skull between her palms. Where was this place? What did she need to adapt to? She surveyed the area, taking in endless, dry land and two burning suns.
Two suns?
Clara blinked a few times, scrunching her brows to adjust her sight, and dismissed what she saw. It was nothing more than a fatigue-induced hallucination. Maybe the alcohol she consumed only hours ago still dampened her sight. Whatever the explanation, she could extrapolate being stranded in the middle of a desert, and that it was hotter than hell. The last thought not comforting in the least.
The man repositioned a peculiar hat with a curved brim jutting from the front, reminding her of a duck's bill, and glimpsed at the horizon. "C'mon, we gotta go. Lizen will be here soon."
Lizen?
He groaned at her confusion. "You're not on Earth anymore. This is Altyria. And this," he waved around, referencing the spot in which they stood, "is the Lizen desert, the most dangerous place in this world. We have to hurry if we don't wanna be discovered."
Clara's lip quivered. The man's words bounced about in her brain and sought the part responsible for deciphering them.
Where was her father and his men?
Not Earth? What world? How? When?
WHY?
"Listen, I know this is a lot to take in. You still can't tell if it's real or a bad dream, right?" As tears streaked her dust-covered face, his tone softened. "You have no reason to trust me. But I'm gonna ask that you take a leap of faith, cuz if we hang out here much longer, your bad dream is gonna get a whole lot worse. I can't stress that enough. We have to go. Now!"
Worn and weak like a rag doll, Clara allowed him to place her in a saddle strapped to a four-eyed horse. Her eyelids fluttered to correct the oddity, but the four orbs remained.
"It looks strange, but this is an Altyrian horse," the man said as he stroked the beast's head. It whinnied and growled, and she cowered. "Don't be afraid. I know he doesn't look like it, but he's gentle as a kitten."
The kind man jumped into the saddle behind her and nudged the animal. Clara steadied herself as it trotted forward at a quick pace. "I'm Jasper. What's your name?"
Clara twisted to look at him with wide eyes. Did he not tell her to stay quiet?
The man chuckled. "Everyone falls for that, but I guess you're not like everyone else."
Unable to keep her head from swaying, she laid it against Jasper's chest and prayed not to throw her guts up again. The ride soothed her, and drowsiness set in. Against her better judgment, she let it rock her to sleep.