Several of the people began murmuring among themselves, the tone turning to hopeful. “Then why are you with that monster?” the man demanded, pointing at Zeph—who flicked her tail and hissed in irritation. Jak gave her a warning look, and she subsided sullenly.
“She’s Tala, from Annfwn,” Jak replied, going with the truth. Ursula would rather the Tala keep their more mythical forms discreetly hidden, but here in this bizarre alter-realm, all bets were off.
“Oh yeah?” the man sneered. “Let’s see it shapeshift, then.”
Well, shit. “She can’t. Not in this alter-realm. The laws of magic are different here.”
“A convenient story.” The man glared, unconvinced.
“Seriously?” Jak spat at him. “Because everything else here makes so much sense?”
That had them exchanging uneasy glances, so he pressed his advantage. “You’re from the Midway Inn in Erie. You were lured or dragged into a rift behind the inn and ended up here—a land of square grids with uncrossable defiles between.”
“The children,” the woman spoke up, lowering her skillet. “The children found the hole and disappeared. We set out after them. We’ve been here without food or water, we don’t know how long. Can you get us home?”
“Yes,” Jak told her with a firm confidence he didn’t feel. There had to be two dozen of them, children and adults. Zeph might be able to hop the kids across to the square that held the rift to home, but not most of the adults—and certainly not that big beefy guy. Except… There must be a rift on this square or they wouldn’t be here. “Do you know where you came through?”
The woman pointed. “Over there. But we can’t go near it because there’s a wolf. We got as far away from it as we could without getting too near this edge. We lost young Ilano before any of us even saw these canyons.”
“Biggest damn wolf I’ve ever seen,” meaty guy agreed. He eyed Jak’s sword. “Maybe you can kill it for us.”
Jak grinned as relief washed through him. Rhy was wisely sticking close to the rift, though something must be preventing him from crossing back on his own. But if the rift at the inn dumped Rhy and the people here, why had he and Zeph landed in a different spot? Also, it seemed possible that, if they crossed back through the rift on this grid, they might end up somewhere else entirely. At least they could hope it would be in their own world again. After that, getting back to the inn would be a matter of plain geography.
This place made his head hurt.
He glanced at Zeph, whose curved beak hung open in an unsettling smile at the news that Rhy was alive and nearby. “You want to go ahead, find Rhy, and we’ll follow?”
She snarled happily and took off in an easy lope in the direction the woman had pointed. The group of people watched in stunned awe.
“Sir?” A kid had slipped their keeper and tugged at his sleeve. Jak crouched to meet the kid’s brown eyes. “What kind of monster is that?”
“She’s a gríobhth,” he answered, using the Tala word. “A gryphon in the Common Tongue.”
The beefy man snorted. “Gryphons are a myth.”
Jak just shook his head and stood, addressing the group. “She’s as real as you or me, and her name is Zephyr. I’m Jakral Konyngrr. You can call me Jak.”
“Konyngrr. That’s a Dasnarian name,” the man said with suspicion.
“Gotten honestly from my Dasnarian father,” Jak agreed cheerfully. “My mother was one of Her Majesty’s Hawks. We’re loyal to the high throne.”
Even the big man was mollified by that.
“Hi, Jak. I’m Rika,” the kid said.
“Ready to go home, Rika?” He held out a hand, and Rika took it trustingly.
“Will the greebtha kill the wolf?” Rika wondered.
The pronunciation was close enough. “No, because they’re friends.”
“Figures,” the man muttered, and the woman shushed him.
They all began walking, some of the adults carrying the children. They all looked weary and worse for being stranded. “Did you ever see anything else here?” Jak asked the group in general. “Any signs of life besides the wolf?”
Mutterings and head-shaking answered him. “What is this place?” the woman with the skillet asked. “Nothing lives here.”
“We don’t really know,” Jak hedged. Surely he was the worst choice for a diplomat. What would Astar have him say? “Her Majesty has sent us to find out.” That was true enough. “And to help anyone who—”
He broke off at a strange hissing sound, a slithering of scales across a smooth marble surface. Danu, what now? Not really wanting to look, he casually glanced over his shoulder.
And saw a snake the size of a castle moat bearing down on them. “Run!” he shouted, shaking free of Rika’s surprisingly fierce grip, drawing the Silversteel sword and palming a dagger. As the adults snatched up the children and began running, Jak took his own advice—but in the other direction, directly for the snake.
If he could hold it off, maybe Zeph could get everyone back through the rift. Everyone but him.
“If I live through this, I’d better get a fucking medal.” Of course, if he didn’t survive, they’d probably give him a posthumous medal, and what use was that? But then, what kind of idiot ran straight into the fanged maw of a giant snake? “Strike that,” he muttered to himself. “Hold the medal. I’ll deserve a slap upside the head for sheer stupidity.”
He picked a spot to make a stand—don’t think of it a last stand—pretty much at random. It wasn’t as if he had handy cover or high ground to choose from. Just that barren expanse of unnatural nothing. Which had birthed an enormous snake. Probably there were rifts popping in and out of existence all over this place. Would be nice to have Stella’s skill at detecting the things.
Taking a defensive stance, he spent those last, rapidly vanishing moments to observe the snake. It looked like a regular Dasnarian copper viper, if they grew to three times his height instead of the diameter of his little finger. It was moving fast, but not with hot speed. Not surprising given the temperate-to-cool temperature of this place. A definite advantage there. The narrow head quested, flicking a forked tongue to taste the air for his presence, bead-black eyes set back on its head. He wouldn’t spend any time wondering how a Dasnaria copper viper got to this place—and grew to gigantic size—but he would assume that it was equally venomous.
The snake drew up, neck ratcheting back into strike position. Feeling oddly like he was squaring off with a sparring opponent, Jak waited. “First move is yours,” he murmured.
The snake struck. Jak threw the dagger into the snake’s mouth as it opened, leaping to the side and bringing the Silversteel sword around in a sweeping arc, laying open the head, but just missing the eye. The snake reared back and struck again just as fast, unbothered by the blade it had swallowed. The nearest fang came down, easily Jak’s height, the breath of its passage hissing along his cheek. He flung a second dagger into the snake’s soft palate, hoping to hit the brain from the closer distance.
Two daggers down. Three left.
The snake snapped back, striking again with blazing speed—so fast that he didn’t have another dagger ready yet. Stella would laugh. Or not, it occurred to him as he tumbled out of the way.