Ethan returned to the common room and took a seat at one of the long tables. He jingled the coins in his pocket, wondering how much they were worth. A young serving maid very soon approached, her blond curls bouncing with each step. Her tanned skin, twinkling blue eyes and obvious curves had every male eye watching.

She gave Ethan a bright smile. "What can I get you?" she asked.

He wasn't sure. "A beer, I suppose," he finally said, pulling out a coin and handing it to her.

"Planning on getting a bit drunk tonight are we?" she teased. Before Ethan could reply, she sauntered off with hips swaying provocatively.

She returned a short time later with a large pitcher and clay mug. Foam spilled down the side of the pitcher as she placed it on the table in front of him.

"And if you're needing a bit of company, just let me know," she said with a wink. "We don't see too many handsome strangers around here."

"Th-thanks," he stammered.

The girl laughed merrily and spun around, leaving Ethan gawking after her, and uncomfortably aware that the color had risen in his face. He wasn't normally shy around girls. He'd even had a girlfriend for a while back in Brooklyn. But he'd never had one be so forward with him before. Markus would have teased him about it no end had he been there.

Markus... Thoughts of his friend flooded in. At this rate he would never find out what had happened to him. Finding Markus was the only reason he'd come to Lumnia, and yet here he was...lost and at the mercy of a grumpy old man he didn't trust.

He sat alone for more than an hour steadily drinking, though the beer tasted terrible and was far too warm for his liking. The serving maid stopped by from time to time to see if he needed anything...and to flirt a little more.

By the time the pitcher was drained, Ethan's head was beginning to swim. The common room was now almost empty only a lone drunkard remained slumped in the corner and Ethan was ready to leave.

"To h.e.l.l with Jonas," he mumbled. With shaky legs, he pushed himself to his feet. After gripping the edge of the table for a moment, he made his way to the door. "Tell him I'll be back," he called out. He had no idea if anyone had heard him. Nor did he much care.

Not certain which direction to take, Ethan turned left on a whim, taking elaborate care not to stumble as he moved along. Soon he could hear the sound of singing and laughing coming from a building a short distance away.

That's more like it, he told himself.

The door was already flung wide open, and even from outside he could see at least a dozen men and women seated at small tables with pitchers of what he a.s.sumed to be beer in front of them. For a moment, the thought of more beer soured his stomach. Then he belched, releasing much of the discomfort. He reached into his pocket to finger the two remaining coins, briefly recalling Jonas' warning about not spending them. But the alcohol already coursing through his veins pushed aside any care for what the old man had said.

The tavern was indeed lively. On stepping inside, he saw that it was virtually full to capacity with a pretty much equal number of men and women, their simple dress and familiar cheer suggesting that they were mostly local townsfolk.

Ethan's entry did not go unnoticed as he made his way across the room to the bar at the far end. His youthful countenance and unsteady steps drew more than a few stares. But no one seemed sufficiently interested to say anything.

He plopped himself down on a bar stool and ordered a beer, careful not to slur his words. The bartender gave him a wary look before turning to a large barrel behind and filling a mug.

"You're not from around here, I take it," he said.

Ethan reached into his pocket to retrieve a coin. "No, sir. I'm not."

The man merely nodded, then handed him five smaller coins. His change, Ethan supposed. He took a sip and raised an eyebrow. This was much better than the beer at the inn. Infinitely better.

He sat there quietly drinking until the daylight coming in through the windows started to dim. At this point, a serving maid began lighting lanterns hanging from the ceiling. He had been trying to listen to what people were talking about, but the sheer number and volume of competing voices, combined with the amount of beer he had consumed, made it impossible to gather anything useful. By now, the five coins he had received in change were all gone. Oh well, he thought. It'll give Jonas another reason to be an a.s.shole.

The serving maid from the inn flashed into his mind, producing a devilish grin. Maybe she was still there. Gripping the bar to steady his legs, he slid off the stool. The beer had certainly bolstered his courage and relieved him of any boyish inhibitions.

Just as he was about to leave, a commotion sprang up two tables away. A stocky man in a sleeveless shirt and rough trousers was clutching hold of a girl who looked to be no more than thirteen years old. He had her wrist pinned firmly to the table top. With thick muscular arms and a shaved head giving him a menacing appearance, he was clearly no stranger to violence.

"d.a.m.n little street rat!" the man roared, small flecks of spittle flying from his mouth with each syllable. "Steal from me, would you?"

The girl, her brown eyes wide with fear, struggled in vain. Her straight black hair, tied in a ponytail, flailed wildly back and forth across her thin features.

"Hey, what's the problem here?" demanded the bartender, his loud voice carrying over the crowd. Quickly, he rounded the end of the bar and approached the table.

"I caught this one trying to steal my coin purse," explained the brutish looking man. "Tried to cut it off my belt, she did."

"He's lying!" the girl cried out desperately, tears streaming down her face. "I'm not a thief. I swear it."

"Did anyone else see this?" asked the bartender.

Two companions of the accuser both nodded an affirmation.

The bartender threw up his arms. "Then there's nothing I can do. Sorry, my little dove. A hard lesson is coming."

The man holding the girl bared a mouthful of rotten teeth in what might just have been a grin. With his free hand, he drew a short sword from his side. "Don't worry," he said. "This will only hurt for a second or two."

Horrified, Ethan could barely believe what was happening. This ugly brute was about to cut the girl's hand off. Right here...in front of everyone. And no one was doing a d.a.m.n thing about it.

"Stop!" he shouted, just as the sword was raising.

The man dropped his arm to glare in his direction. "Mind your own business, boy. Or it'll be you that sees some trouble next."

The horror of what he was witnessing was enough to wipe away at least a small part of Ethan's alcohol induced muddle. Seeing the sword start to rise once again, he reacted instinctively. Racing over to the table, he struck the brute squarely on the jaw with all the strength he could muster. More surprised than badly hurt, the distracted man let out a bellow of rage. At the same time, seizing her opportunity, the girl managed to slip free of his weakened grip. Ducking low under the crowd, she vanished in an instant.

Ethan stepped back, his eyes searching for a path to the door. But the crowd had already closed in, blocking his way. The furious man advanced toward him, sword still in hand.

"Durst!" shouted the bartender. "The boy only punched you. And he's unarmed."

"Durst is it?" said Ethan, using his friendliest tone. "I'm sorry I hit you, but "

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

The clatter of the sword dropping onto the floor was rapidly followed by a huge, ham-like fist smashing into Ethan's temple. The force sent him reeling back and over a table. He tried to get up quickly, but the heavy blow, together with the effects of drink, were seriously slowing his movements. Durst was on him in an instant, raining down more punches.

Even though he was a mere fraction of his opponent's size, Ethan was trained in hand-to-hand combat. He twisted and shifted with all his strength, trying to avoid being hit while maneuvering into a better position to defend himself.

After receiving a few more heavy strikes, he was at last able to turn to one side and reach into Durst's crotch. The man let out a sharp yelp of pain as Ethan's fingers squeezed tight.

The advantage briefly with him, he pushed Durst hard back and scrambled to his feet. He tried to force his way through the crowd, but before he was clear of them, thick fingers grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Durst had recovered quickly. Way too quickly.

"You'll pay for that, boy," the furious man growled.

Another bone jarring punch landed squarely on Ethan's jaw. This one sent him crumbling to the floor. The last thing he was aware of as darkness closed in was harsh laughter and the taste of his own blood.

Chapter Three.

Ethan coughed and sputtered, his mouth and nose both suddenly flooded with water. His vision was blurred and his head pounded from a combination of the beating he had taken and the beer.

"Wake up, boy," called a harsh voice.

Slowly his senses began to return. He was in a small room with bars across both the door, and the solitary window. Great, he thought as the fog lifted. I'm in jail.

Wiping his face with his hands, he struggled to his knees. "What happened?"

"You got the s.h.i.t beat out of you, that's what," replied a thin, scraggly man holding a now empty bucket. "And from what I hear, you deserved it. Now get on your feet and get out of here. Your uncle's waiting on you outside."

Ethan touched the welts on his face and winced.

"Yeah, Durst sure did lay it on you," the man said, laughing. "If you ask me, your uncle should have left you in here for a few days. Maybe that would teach you some respect."

Ethan reached out and pressed his hand firmly against the wall. "Durst was going to chop off that girl's hand. Why isn't he in here too?"

The man huffed. "Number one he didn't do nothing wrong. If what I hear is right, the girl was stealing from him. Number two we've only got one cell. And I don't think you'd really want to be sharing it with Durst. Now get on your b.l.o.o.d.y feet and get out."

Ethan heaved himself up, the effort compounding the throbbing in his head. He followed the man down a hall and into a room with a small wooden desk and a variety of swords and daggers hanging on pegs directly behind it. The door opposite was flung wide open, revealing the dim light of dawn.

"Your uncle's waiting for you outside," said the man while making his way behind the desk. "I'll tell you what I told him. I don't care how they do things in Al'Theona, while you're here you had better learn to stay out of people's business."

Ethan nodded, but did not bother replying. Stepping outside, he saw a wagon and two horses waiting. Jonas was in the driver's seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, a displeased expression on his face.

"Come on," he grumbled. "Let's get out of here before you cause us more trouble."

Ethan wanted to say something, but the fact of the matter was, he had caused trouble. He should never have left the inn. He should have listened and done what he was told. If he had, instead of taking a beating and waking up in jail, he might have enjoyed the pleasurable company of the young barmaid. The thought of the night that might have been caused a wry grin to form. But the pain from the swelling instantly turned the grin into a grimace.

He climbed onto the wagon. "How did you get me out?"

"I had to pay a fine," Jonas replied. "And I had to pay it with the same gold coins I wanted to avoid using."

"I'm sorry," said Ethan. "I only..."

"Save it," he hissed. "We need to get out of here before the whole town is up to watch us leave. I think we've attracted enough attention already, don't you?" He snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward.

A few people were out and about, and all of them seemed to take notice of their departure. Jonas cursed continuously under his breath until they reached the town's edge.

"If you intend to survive, this cannot happen again," he scolded.

"But I only did it to save a little girl," Ethan protested. "That animal was going to cut off her hand. I had to do something."

Jonas sneered. "Really? You had to? They told me what happened. She was a thief and probably deserved it."

"What kind of people are you?" Ethan exclaimed, appalled. "She was just a little girl."

Jonas gave him a sideways glance and sighed. "I admit that things have changed. Such barbarity would not have been allowed in the days of the five kingdoms." He then turned his head to look directly at Ethan. "But those days are gone, and you had better learn to do as you're told. Thanks to your heroics, everyone in that blasted town will be talking about us. And as for your farmer friends...it will lead anyone who is interested straight to them. You should think about that."

Ethan's stomach knotted. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I only did what I thought was right."

Jonas sniffed. "And I suppose getting drunk and wandering about a strange town was right."

Ethan's guilt was slowly being replaced by anger. "That's enough. If you hadn't brought me here in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess. It's all thanks to you I've lost my best friend and ended up stranded on this G.o.d forsaken world. And even if I do somehow manage to get back home, I'll probably end up in the stockade for desertion."

"You can't blame me for that," said Jonas, unmoved by Ethan's anger. "I only did what your mother asked of me. Nothing more. As for your friend. That was his own fault."

"His own fault? He saved your G.o.dd.a.m.n life. If he hadn't kicked that grenade, we would both be dead right now." Rising from his seat, Ethan jumped from the wagon.

"Where are you going?" Jonas demanded.

"Away from you," he replied fiercely. But it was only a single road leading north and south. After jogging in front of the wagon until he was several yards ahead, he slowed his pace.

"There's nowhere to go, Ethan," Jonas called out. But his words fell on deaf ears.

They continued like this for more than a mile. Several people pa.s.sing by gave them curious looks. Jonas tried to speed up and pull the wagon beside him, but Ethan blocked his way.

"You're acting like a child," Jonas told him. "You know you have no chance on your own."

Ethan stopped dead and swung around to glare at him. "I'm an Airborne Ranger," he said. "You may think I'm just a kid, but I bet I've seen more war and death than you ever have. I survived the Krauts. I'll survive this. And I'll do it without your help."

The two locked eyes, neither wanting to blink or look away. Finally, Jonas grunted and shook his head.

"If I was overly harsh with you, I am sorry. But you cannot make it on your own. Regardless of how capable you are, you know nothing of this world. And though many things have apparently changed, I at least know the lay of the land."

Ethan didn't move for several seconds. Make him sweat, he thought. Only after he felt that enough time had pa.s.sed to make his point did he jump back on the wagon. "You don't have any food, do you?" he asked.

Jonas reached back and produced an apple. "This will have to do until we stop." He also produce a small dagger. "And you should have this."

Ethan examined the weapon and attached it to his belt. He then devoured the whole fruit in only a few bites. The juices helped to cure the dry mouth that had been plaguing him since the moment he'd woken up. Not that he was about to tell Jonas this and give him more ammunition to berate him about the previous night's drinking. But like it or not, the fact remained that he really was much better off in the company of someone who knew the land than he would be on his own.

Jonas took a small gla.s.s container from his pocket and tossed it onto Ethan's lap. "Put some of this on your bruises. It will help to heal them."

Ethan opened the lid and instantly recoiled. "This smells awful! What the h.e.l.l is it?" He dipped his finger into a thick green paste, then wiped it off on the edge of the jar.

"I'm not sure," admitted Jonas. "Normally I would take you to a healer. But as magic is outlawed, this will have to do. The woman who sold it to me said it was good for minor injuries." He glanced sideways and smiled. "Of course, you could always allow them to heal on their own. I must say they are already looking a lovely shade of purple."

Ethan took a long look at the paste before scooping out a large lump with his finger and smearing it over his worst bruises. Jonas waved his hand in front of his nose and frowned.

"d.a.m.n barbarians," he muttered. "Humans treating wounds with potions and salves like some sort of wild elf. Even the dwarves are better than this."

"It's not that bad," remarked Ethan.

But he soon discovered that it was. As the hours pa.s.sed, the stench increased. So much so that by early afternoon it was almost unbearable. Ethan tried to wash it off in a stream they happened upon, but this only seemed to make matters worse. By sundown the smell had become so pungent, it was obvious they would be forced to camp outside. There were a few lodges along the road, but Jonas refused to approach any of them.

"We've already attracted enough attention," he growled. He had already wrapped a cloth over his face, but still felt the need to hold onto his nose for long periods. "And if I ever see the witch who sold me that foul concoction again, I'll bathe her in it."

They found a spot a few yards away from the road and made camp. Ethan could tell by the scowl on Jonas' face, and the way he checked his blanket repeatedly for insects, that he did not enjoy sleeping outdoors.