Chapter 1
The desert heat under the piñon was stifling. Andrew could feel the sweat trickling down his spine as he lay on his belly propped on his elbows under the low, evergreen tree, his finger in the trigger guard, ready to fire. He had been lying there for half an hour, sweating and waiting for the enemy to show himself around a tall pillar of sandstone jutting twenty-five feet into the hot, searing air of New Mexico.
Beside him, Joe fidgeted and squirmed. As usual, his impatience was getting the best of him. Unlike Andrew, who could lie motionless for hours waiting for that one, perfect shot, Joe liked to be up and about, moving through the sand and piñons, hunting the foe.
“Ah, there he is,” said Andrew in a whisper, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. “Be still; I’ve got him as soon as he pokes his head out a little more from behind that rock.”
“Where? I don’t see him,” said Joe, not bothering to speak softly as he peered impatiently through the low-hanging branches of the scrubby piñon.
Andrew squeezed off two quick shots and watched as bright red splattered on the surface of the rock. The head was no longer there.
“You missed him,” said Joe with glee. “Stay here and keep him pinned down. I’m going to climb that tall rock pillar and get him from above.” Andrew silently nodded his head, his gun aimed and ready to fire again.
* *
Joe backed quickly out from under the piñon where he and Andrew had set up their ambush. He belly-crawled backwards to the edge of a small arroyo twenty feet away and dropped into it, careful to keep his head below the lip of the shallow, dried-up creek bed. He crept to his right a dozen steps, then eased his head up and peered over the gully’s edge.
He couldn’t see the enemy he and Andrew were hunting because their quarry was hiding on the other side of a massive rock towering like a two story domino straight up in the air. Open ground the size of a basketball court separated Joe in the arroyo from the pillar hiding his target. Joe’s plan was to cross the exposed terrain and get to the top of the rock. From there, he would have a perfect shot at their foe pinned down by Andrew.
As quietly as he could, he eased himself over the lip of the arroyo and ran for the rock pillar, hunched so far over his knuckles practically skimmed the scorching sand. He zigzagged from one scrubby piñon to another to stay hidden from sight. He could hear Andrew calling out to their enemy. Good, thought Joe to himself, keep him distracted so he won’t see me coming.
* *
Back under the piñon, Andrew started to wonder what was keeping Joe. There had been no sound from him to indicate his ambush had been successful, nor had he seen anything of their enemy since firing his two shots. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Andrew thought to himself, his mind unsettled. It’s too quiet.
Thump! Andrew felt a sudden, sharp sting in the middle of his ribs.
“Awright! I’m hit!” he yelled at the top of his lungs just as he heard the dull thump, thump of two more paintballs being fired. They hit him too, their sting driving the air from his lungs. “Ow!” he yelled, “I give up. You got me, dammit!”
He looked over to his left and saw his brother’s smiling face peering out from underneath another piñon close by.
“How did you get over there without me seeing you?” Andrew asked, backing out from under his tree and getting to his feet. He felt his ribs; they were already tender to the touch. He was going to have one heck of a bruise later.
“You and Joe aren’t the only ones able to sneak around without being seen,” said Matt as he crawled out from under his piñon and walked over to his brother. “You almost got me when I peeked around that rock column. I figured I’d better get away from it pronto before Joe climbed on top and ambushed me from above.”
“How did you know he’d try that?” said Andrew.
“He’s as predictable as the dawn,” said his brother with a smirk. “Now you’re dead, and I’m going to follow Joe’s trail and ambush him on the top of that pillar. You get back under your tree and rest in the shade. I’ll be back after I kill him, and you two can buy me my cokes.”
Andrew smiled half-heartedly at his brother’s cockiness. That was their standard bet: whoever ‘killed’ the other two was treated to sodas by them. Matt seldom had to buy.
Andrew settled back in the shade of the low piñon tree to get out of the hot summer sun and await the outcome of his brother’s ambush of Joe.
* *
For Matt, following Joe’s tracks through the sand was easy. He quickly reached the base of the sandstone pillar and found only one possible way to the top. Thousands of years of water expanding as it froze in cold winters had widened a tiny crack in the rock into a narrow crevice called a chimney by rock climbers. Matt slung his paintball gun on his back and began his climb, pressing against the sides of the chimney with his hands and feet as he slowly inched his way up.
When he neared the top, he stopped and braced himself with his feet. He quietly unslung his gun and got it ready to fire. Joe would be up on the summit somewhere searching for him. With a little luck, he wouldn’t see Matt when he popped up and shot him. At least, that was his plan.
With slow care, Matt peeked over the rim of the chimney and searched for his target. But there was no Joe.
Raising his head a little higher he looked about.
Still no Joe.
Puzzled, Matt climbed out of the narrow chimney, stood up, and looked around.
The top of the rock column was about the size of a tennis court and just as flat. Up here, there was simply no place for Joe to hide. The towering rock’s three story height was too tall to jump from safely, and there was no other way down except the chimney Matt had just climbed. He walked slowly around the rim and peered over the edge, searching for his friend.
Suddenly, he spotted something on the desert below—the black shape of Joe’s paintball gun. But Joe was nowhere to be seen.
* *
Back under the piñon, the ants were beginning to annoy Andrew, and it had become too stuffy to stay under the tree in spite of the shade it offered from the scorching sun. And to add to his irritation, he hadn’t heard anything from his two paintball buddies in a long time. “I wonder what’s keeping them,” he grumbled as he crawled out from under the piñon.
A sudden thought struck him. “I’ll bet they’re planning to sneak up on me and get in a couple of cheap shots,” he said to himself, and he looked around warily.
Shading his eyes with his hand, he looked up through the shimmering heat waves to the top of the rock column. He almost expected to see his two friends taking aim at him, but there was nobody up there. His gaze returned to the scorching, quiet desert, but still he didn’t see them. The silence was broken only by a soft, crunching sound as he impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the burning sand.
Again, he looked thoughtfully at the top of the stone pillar. Up there would be the best place to spot the pair. And just maybe he could turn the tables on them and get in a few shots himself. “Matt deserves one to his ribs,” Andrew thought as he gingerly felt his own. They were now very tender to his touch.
He went over to the towering rock and began his climb in the chimney. The coarseness of the sandstone skinned his fingers as he reached for handholds. Once on top of the pillar he moved to the lip and searched the surrounding desert, shading his eyes against the bright glare of the hot, summer sun. He saw nothing but sandstone rocks and scrubby piñon trees—the ideal place to play paintball.
A shadow passed over him, and he casually looked up at it. He expected to see one of the small, white, cottony clouds that dotted the dazzling blue, desert skies of New Mexico passing in front of the sun. But it wasn’t a cloud that blocked the sunlight, and he gasped, dropping his paintball gun in surprise. A large, dark, misty blob of inky blackness descended on him, and he grew dizzy as the murky shadow engulfed him.
He clutched his spinning head as he felt himself swaying. He struggled to maintain his balance, knowing a fall from the rocky column might break an arm. Or something worse. But it was no use. He lost consciousness as he fell face first to the ground far, far below.
* * *
Cold wetness numbed his cheek as awareness came slowly back to Andrew. He felt strong hands roll him to his back, and he heard muffled voices in the distance. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw two blurry faces peering down at him. With an effort he focused and realized the faces belonged to Joe and Matt.
“Are you all right?” Matt asked in a worried voice.
Andrew sat up slowly and held his throbbing head in his hands. “I think so,” he mumbled.
“You’ll be okay in a minute,” his brother said. “The headache goes away pretty fast. Just breathe deeply.”
Andrew took a big breath and shivered as cold, damp air entered his lungs. He got slowly to his feet, dizzily leaning on his brother’s arm to steady himself. He looked around and saw he was standing in the middle of a clearing in a hardwood forest. A thick, heavy blanket of snow covered everything and muffled any noise. Low, gray clouds promising more snow scuttled over the tops of bare, leafless trees while an icy wind moaned and sucked the warmth from his shivering body.
Andrew turned and looked into Matt and Joe’s worried faces. “Where the heck are we? Where’d this snow come from? What’s going on?” he asked in frantic, rapid fire.
“Calm down. Calm down,” said Matt in a soothing voice, still supporting him. “I don’t know what’s going on. One moment I’m on the top of that big rock and the next moment, poof, here I am. Wherever ‘here’ is.”
“Yeah, same thing happened to me,” said Joe. “I climbed up to the top of the rock to ambush Matt, and a blob of darkness fell on me from the sky. I have no idea what happened, but I don’t think we’re in New Mexico any longer, Toto.”
Andrew’s mind whirled in confusion. Where in the world were they, and how did they get here? Would anyone be able to find them? And would they survive the freezing cold until they did?
Andrew glanced at Matt as his brother scanned the silent, snow covered meadow, a troubled expression on his face. Andrew knew Matt was struggling with these same questions, and he felt relief ease his mind as he watched his older brother step up as he always did to take care of him and Joe.
“Brrr, it’s cold,” said Andrew, coming back to their present crisis. The frigid temperature made him shiver uncontrollably since, like Matt and Joe, he wore only cut-offs and a tee-shirt.
“Let’s get a fire going,” said Andrew. “Anyone got a match?”
“Just your breath and a buffalo fart,” said Joe with a grin. Andrew gave him a look that would have curdled fresh milk.
Matt put a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered, “I just heard a noise in the woods over there.”
Andrew and Joe turned toward the snow-covered trees where Matt was pointing and saw a huge man step out of the forest about fifty yards away carrying an enormous spear. He was dressed in ragged furs, leather boots, and a thick, tangled beard. He stood a foot taller than Matt’s six foot height, and his heavily muscled body outweighed all three of the teens together. But before they could hail him, the man drew back his arm and hurled his large spear at them like a javelin.
As usual, Joe was the first to react. He shoved Matt into Andrew knocking the two brothers down as he himself dove out of the way. The spear landed harmlessly in the snow between the three of them.
“Let’s get out of here!” yelled Matt. The boys scrambled to their feet and fled for the opposite side of the clearing as the enormous man lumbered heavily after them.
Andrew spotted a small trail heading into the woods as he neared the edge of the clearing. He led his two friends toward it and the protection of the forest.
Inside the shelter of the trees, the snow was not as deep, and the three boys had no trouble fleeing down the path. Andrew heard his brother, who had placed himself protectively in the rear when they entered the woods, right on his heels.
After a couple of minutes of running, Andrew could no longer hear his brother behind him. He stopped and turned around. There was his brother standing a dozen paces away, absolutely still, looking intently back down the path toward the meadow. “I don’t see him,” Matt said in a quiet voice when Andrew and Joe walked over to him. “I think we got away.”
“Yeah, but it won’t be hard to track us in this snow,” replied Andrew, always the practical one. “Let’s put some more distance between us and that clearing.” After a moment of walking, he added, “I wonder why he attacked us like that. We hadn’t done anything to him.”
The three continued along the trail at a brisk pace, and the walk warmed them up in spite of their light, summer clothing. It was almost pleasant in the woods now that the trees blocked the wind and they had outrun their pursuer.
But after a few minutes, soft gentle snowflakes began to fall through the bare branches above them. The woods were silent but for the occasional crunch of their feet in the soft snow.
“Wow, this is so beautiful,” Andrew said to himself. “A white wonderland.”
He watched as Joe ran from snowflake to snowflake, trying to catch one on his tongue.
Suddenly and without warning, there was a whirl of snow and a startled yelp. A bent tree limb straightened unexpectedly, and Joe was hanging by one foot in the air, eye to eye with an astonished Matt. A bellow of triumph in the distance told Andrew their pursuer had heard the trap being sprung and was heading toward them.
“Andrew! Keep him off of us,” yelled Matt as he pulled Joe down to help him get out of the noose around his foot.
“Got it,” Andrew said and he placed himself protectively between his friends and their approaching enemy.
The huge man appeared out of the gloom and confidently strode toward Andrew. He lunged at him with his large spear, jabbing it like a fireplace poker, but the agile youth was able to dodge the thrusts.
The man grasped his spear with both hands for another attack, but not before Andrew kicked out with his leg and landed a solid blow to the man’s knee. His many years of karate had earned him a black belt, and he knew the man should have gone down in pain. But instead, he merely grunted and swung his spear at him like a baseball bat. Andrew dove to the ground and rolled away from the attack rather than standing and taking the hit. It saved his ribs from a crushing blow.
He leaped back to his feet and watched in horror as the giant man raised his spear and aimed it at Matt’s unprotected back. His brother was too preoccupied to realize his danger as he concentrated on helping Joe remove his foot from the noose.
In one swift motion, Andrew packed a handful of snow and hurled it at the man’s face. The pitch would never have earned him a spot in the major leagues, but the snowball blinded the man enough that he dropped his spear to wipe slush from his eyes.
Andrew immediately launched another attack on the huge man, but this time he planned to put him out of action once and for all—he would attack his groin. He leaped high into the air so that his side kick would reach the man’s crotch, but kicking him was like kicking a massive oak—nothing moved. The giant of a man merely laughed as he turned to Andrew, now sprawled on the ground, and lunged at him with his bare hands.
Suddenly a knife blade appeared, protruding from the huge man’s throat. Andrew’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and he watched transfixed as the man clutched at his neck, blood gushing between his fingers. He fell slowly like a tree toppled by a woodsman’s ax.
Andrew hurriedly looked around, searching for whomever had thrown the knife. All he saw was his brother holding the rope slack so that Joe, now sitting on the ground, could remove his foot from the noose.
Andrew cautiously approached their dead enemy and saw that what he had taken for a man was more like a grotesque parody of one. Vaguely shaped like a human with two arms, two legs, a head and a torso, it looked more like a cross between an ape and a Neanderthal. Andrew looked up as Joe and Matt cautiously approached the dead giant.
“What in the world is that?” asked Matt.
“And I thought your girlfriends were ugly,” said Joe.
Matt elbowed him in the ribs.
“That, you foolish boys,” came a voice from behind them, “is an ogre.”
Spinning around quickly, Andrew saw a short, slim, wiry man dressed in white leather armor wearing a mottled gray and white cloak that easily camouflaged him in the snowy forest. He carried a pair of swords tucked into his belt, and his hands rested comfortably on their hilts, ready for action.
He approached the three teens slowly, eyeing them curiously. “There are lots of ogres in these forests, and only fools come in here with them about.”
“You’re kidding! An ogre?” said Joe, sarcasm dripping from his words. “They only exist in children’s fairytales.”
“Well,” the man said as he dropped to one knee, yanked his knife from the ogre’s neck, and cleaned the blade with snow, “that fairytale almost kicked your butts.”
* * *
Later that night, the three teens huddled around a small campfire, exhausted, cold, and hungry. The man who had rescued them from the ogre roasted a pair of rabbits over the flames, seemingly at ease in the wintry forest. For hours he had led the three boys through the snowy woods, not saying a word. His only comment when they had reached a tiny clearing at dusk was, “We need firewood. Lots of it,” before he disappeared into the woods.
The three lads knew from camping in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and New Mexico that what was needed was fuel that wasn’t wet. But the snow made it difficult to find much of anything dry enough to burn, and they were rather proud of the small pile of dead branches they had gathered. When their rescuer had returned a bit later with a pair of rabbits, he glanced at their stack and merely grunted non-committedly.
Dropping his two rabbits next to the pile on the ground, Andrew watched their rescuer squat down and start building a fire using flint and steel from a small pouch on his belt. In a matter of seconds he had a small flame going. Andrew looked over at his brother with a look of surprised awe. Matt was by far the best of the three boys at woodsmanship, but it generally took him much longer to start a fire, even using matches and cotton balls.
After starting the fire, the man took one of the rabbits and handed it to Matt along with an extra knife from his belt. Matt nodded his head to show he understood and silently began to skin their dinner. The stranger started on the second coney himself, and the two soon had the rabbits ready for cooking.
Slowly the stranger roasted their supper over the fire on a spit cut from a green pine branch. Even though he concentrated on cooking the meal, Andrew noticed he was aware of what was going on around them, for he often glanced into the forest, listening to the night sounds. His cautious silence was infectious, killing even Joe’s playful humor. Andrew noticed that Matt too began to peer into the forest at each rustle in the night.
And while Matt kept glancing into the forest, Andrew intently observed their rescuer. What he saw was a man with green eyes and long blond hair, short, barely coming to Joe’s chin. But even though he had a slim build, his arms were muscled. He did not give the impression of being delicate or fragile; rather he appeared to possess a wiry strength, like that of a parcour runner.
Hunched closely over the fire, a stray lock of the man’s long, blond hair dangled dangerously close to the flames. As he tossed his head back to throw the loose strand out of his face, Andrew gave a startled gasp and peered intently at his ears. They were pointed!
The man looked up at the sharp intake of breath and noticed the stare. “What?” he replied, pulling the rest of his long, blond hair behind his ears, “you’ve never seen an elf before?”
“No,” Andrew replied slowly, “I thought they existed only in children’s fairytales, like ogres.”
“You thought elves and ogres weren’t real?” the elf asked, cocking his head to the side. “Just where are you from anyway?”
“We’re from a place called Farmington, in New Mexico,” interjected Joe impulsively who had been following the exchange from the other side of the fire. “We were playing paintball when a dark cloud zapped us to a clearing in these woods. We don’t have a clue where we are now.”
“And in Farmingtown,” said the elf, “you have no elves?” When Andrew silently shook his head, the elf murmured under his breath, “What a lonely place that must be.”
* * *
Who are these guys who don’t know about elves? thought the elf as he gave the spit one last turn and looked closely at the rabbits. “They’re cooked,” he said aloud to the three boys sharing his fire. He cut them apart and gave a portion to each of the teens he had rescued.
“Can you tell us where we are now,” the elf heard the tallest boy, the one the others called Matt, ask. “And who you are?” He started to blow on the cooked rabbit just handed to him to cool it.
“I am called Zengar by you humans,” the elf replied, “and you are now in the ancestral home of my people, known in your language as the Elven Forest of Tauramar.”
Zengar paused for a moment, thinking deeply, “You know, I have been a ranger of these woods for many years and have visited all the dales that border our forest. Yet, never have I heard of a village called Farming Town. And I doubt that you have traveled far, not in those clothes and in the middle of winter.”
The shortest teen piped up quickly before the others could answer, “We hadn’t gone far when you rescued us, just a few hundred yards or so. We found ourselves in a clearing after being swallowed by a big, black cloud. When we left home, it was summer and really hot. Now we’re in a land of elves and ogres, and it’s winter.”
After a silence Matt spoke up, “By the way, we haven’t thanked you for rescuing us. My name is Matt; this is my brother Andrew, and the short one is our friend, Joe.”
The elf stared at the three for a long moment, measuring their character. Satisfied, he nodded his head.
Andrew, the elf noted, was fairly tall, thin, reserved, yet confident. Very often he would sit back quietly and observe, and he seemed to be the thinker of the group.
Matt was obviously his older brother and the leader of the trio. But unlike his slim sibling, Matt was starting to get the broad shoulders and thick chest of a full-grown man even though still in his late teens himself. The elf also remembered it had been Matt who had gone to Joe’s rescue when he was hanging in the ogre’s snare. And while the ogre was attacking, Matt had calmly remained by Joe’s side, working to remove his foot from the noose. A good man to have at your back in a fight, Zengar thought to himself.
On the other hand, Joe was obviously not related to the two. Where Matt and Andrew were both tall with reddish-blond hair, Joe was short, black-haired and wiry. At five and a half feet tall, he was still a bit taller than the elf yet weighed less. Zengar noticed Joe’s body was toned and his reflexes sharp to the point that his movements were quick, precise, and efficient. But a bubbly sense of mischief and a lot of bounding energy reminded the elf of a puppy, and it was clear to him that if anyone were going to stumble into trouble, it would be Joe.
“Well met,” said Zengar, picking up his portion of rabbit. “Perhaps you could tell me a little more of your home.”
“Well,” interjected Joe again before the others could say anything, “it’s not too different from this place. We’ve got trees and rabbits and snow just like here. The only difference is no elves or ogres. Except in children’s stories. Is there any more weird stuff here, like dragons? Or magic?”
“What is so weird about magic and dragons,” said Zengar as he chewed his dinner. “They are both certainly common enough, especially magic. The bards often sing of it in their songs.”
“Magic is real here!” exclaimed Joe. “Wow, this is going to be a great place to live! What’d you say the name of this place was?”
“The Elven Forest of Tauramar,” the elf answered. “And what realm are Farming Dale and New Meck Zeeko in?”
“Realm?” said Joe, puzzled. “No realm; just the good ol’ U.S. of A.”
Suddenly Andrew spoke up. “Say, what planet are we on?”
“Planet?” said Zengar, confused.
“Yeah, you know,” interrupted Joe again, “like a moon, only bigger.”
“Yes,” said Andrew after a short silence. “A sphere of land, water and atmosphere in space, orbiting a sun. Our planet is called Earth.”
“Earth? Here, that’s just another name for dirt.”
Zengar was silent for a moment. “But the name of the orb that Tauramar lies upon is called Geokainos by the sages.”
He paused for another moment of thought. “But your homeland sounds very strange, and I don’t believe you are from Geokainos at all. You have obviously stumbled through a magical gate linking our two worlds. I must look into getting it closed.”
Zengar noticed a silent exchange between Matt and Andrew before Matt said, “But if you do that, we’ll never get back home.”
“Hey, that’d be cool!” said Joe, excitement in his voice. “This is just like the fantasy roleplaying games we use to play as kids. Only now we’re not playing.” He paused. “This is gonna be an awesome place to adventure! I wonder if we’ll meet Legolas here; Zengar looks just like him!”
Matt and Andrew again exchanged looks. This time when Matt spoke up his voice was quiet, “What’s going to happen to us now. You don’t know of a way for us to get home, do you?”
The elf shook his head. “No, I don’t. Often these gates only go one way. It is possible you are stranded here. But cheer up; you’re safe with me for now. And I have friends who will take you in, even train you in some skills if you would like.”
He paused before turning to Joe, “You enjoy adventure? Well, perhaps you could lead an Adventurer’s life. There is danger involved, but it’s filled with excitement.”
To all three he added, “However, we can talk about that later. For now, I want you to dig a wide, shallow pit right over there.”
* * *
Later that night the three boys snuggled close together under a rough lean-to that Zengar had constructed to keep off the gently falling snow. Buried several inches under them were the coals of the fire. They shivered together under a large blanket provided by the elf, waiting for the earth to warm up under them.
In the darkness Matt turned to his brother Andrew, a frown on his face. “I don’t know whether to be excited or scared.”
Joe, his eyes bright with excitement, answered him. “Scared? What’s to be scared of? This is way better than any fantasy game we’ve played. Only now we’re not roleplaying—we’re actually doing it!”
Slowly the ground under them began to warm. Drowsiness overcame the three teens as the exhaustion of the day set in. Matt had almost dropped off to sleep when he heard Andrew say softly in the darkness, “I think I’m going to be scared. That ogre was real.”
Beside him, Joe fidgeted and squirmed. As usual, his impatience was getting the best of him. Unlike Andrew, who could lie motionless for hours waiting for that one, perfect shot, Joe liked to be up and about, moving through the sand and piñons, hunting the foe.
“Ah, there he is,” said Andrew in a whisper, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. “Be still; I’ve got him as soon as he pokes his head out a little more from behind that rock.”
“Where? I don’t see him,” said Joe, not bothering to speak softly as he peered impatiently through the low-hanging branches of the scrubby piñon.
Andrew squeezed off two quick shots and watched as bright red splattered on the surface of the rock. The head was no longer there.
“You missed him,” said Joe with glee. “Stay here and keep him pinned down. I’m going to climb that tall rock pillar and get him from above.” Andrew silently nodded his head, his gun aimed and ready to fire again.
* *
Joe backed quickly out from under the piñon where he and Andrew had set up their ambush. He belly-crawled backwards to the edge of a small arroyo twenty feet away and dropped into it, careful to keep his head below the lip of the shallow, dried-up creek bed. He crept to his right a dozen steps, then eased his head up and peered over the gully’s edge.
He couldn’t see the enemy he and Andrew were hunting because their quarry was hiding on the other side of a massive rock towering like a two story domino straight up in the air. Open ground the size of a basketball court separated Joe in the arroyo from the pillar hiding his target. Joe’s plan was to cross the exposed terrain and get to the top of the rock. From there, he would have a perfect shot at their foe pinned down by Andrew.
As quietly as he could, he eased himself over the lip of the arroyo and ran for the rock pillar, hunched so far over his knuckles practically skimmed the scorching sand. He zigzagged from one scrubby piñon to another to stay hidden from sight. He could hear Andrew calling out to their enemy. Good, thought Joe to himself, keep him distracted so he won’t see me coming.
* *
Back under the piñon, Andrew started to wonder what was keeping Joe. There had been no sound from him to indicate his ambush had been successful, nor had he seen anything of their enemy since firing his two shots. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Andrew thought to himself, his mind unsettled. It’s too quiet.
Thump! Andrew felt a sudden, sharp sting in the middle of his ribs.
“Awright! I’m hit!” he yelled at the top of his lungs just as he heard the dull thump, thump of two more paintballs being fired. They hit him too, their sting driving the air from his lungs. “Ow!” he yelled, “I give up. You got me, dammit!”
He looked over to his left and saw his brother’s smiling face peering out from underneath another piñon close by.
“How did you get over there without me seeing you?” Andrew asked, backing out from under his tree and getting to his feet. He felt his ribs; they were already tender to the touch. He was going to have one heck of a bruise later.
“You and Joe aren’t the only ones able to sneak around without being seen,” said Matt as he crawled out from under his piñon and walked over to his brother. “You almost got me when I peeked around that rock column. I figured I’d better get away from it pronto before Joe climbed on top and ambushed me from above.”
“How did you know he’d try that?” said Andrew.
“He’s as predictable as the dawn,” said his brother with a smirk. “Now you’re dead, and I’m going to follow Joe’s trail and ambush him on the top of that pillar. You get back under your tree and rest in the shade. I’ll be back after I kill him, and you two can buy me my cokes.”
Andrew smiled half-heartedly at his brother’s cockiness. That was their standard bet: whoever ‘killed’ the other two was treated to sodas by them. Matt seldom had to buy.
Andrew settled back in the shade of the low piñon tree to get out of the hot summer sun and await the outcome of his brother’s ambush of Joe.
* *
For Matt, following Joe’s tracks through the sand was easy. He quickly reached the base of the sandstone pillar and found only one possible way to the top. Thousands of years of water expanding as it froze in cold winters had widened a tiny crack in the rock into a narrow crevice called a chimney by rock climbers. Matt slung his paintball gun on his back and began his climb, pressing against the sides of the chimney with his hands and feet as he slowly inched his way up.
When he neared the top, he stopped and braced himself with his feet. He quietly unslung his gun and got it ready to fire. Joe would be up on the summit somewhere searching for him. With a little luck, he wouldn’t see Matt when he popped up and shot him. At least, that was his plan.
With slow care, Matt peeked over the rim of the chimney and searched for his target. But there was no Joe.
Raising his head a little higher he looked about.
Still no Joe.
Puzzled, Matt climbed out of the narrow chimney, stood up, and looked around.
The top of the rock column was about the size of a tennis court and just as flat. Up here, there was simply no place for Joe to hide. The towering rock’s three story height was too tall to jump from safely, and there was no other way down except the chimney Matt had just climbed. He walked slowly around the rim and peered over the edge, searching for his friend.
Suddenly, he spotted something on the desert below—the black shape of Joe’s paintball gun. But Joe was nowhere to be seen.
* *
Back under the piñon, the ants were beginning to annoy Andrew, and it had become too stuffy to stay under the tree in spite of the shade it offered from the scorching sun. And to add to his irritation, he hadn’t heard anything from his two paintball buddies in a long time. “I wonder what’s keeping them,” he grumbled as he crawled out from under the piñon.
A sudden thought struck him. “I’ll bet they’re planning to sneak up on me and get in a couple of cheap shots,” he said to himself, and he looked around warily.
Shading his eyes with his hand, he looked up through the shimmering heat waves to the top of the rock column. He almost expected to see his two friends taking aim at him, but there was nobody up there. His gaze returned to the scorching, quiet desert, but still he didn’t see them. The silence was broken only by a soft, crunching sound as he impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the burning sand.
Again, he looked thoughtfully at the top of the stone pillar. Up there would be the best place to spot the pair. And just maybe he could turn the tables on them and get in a few shots himself. “Matt deserves one to his ribs,” Andrew thought as he gingerly felt his own. They were now very tender to his touch.
He went over to the towering rock and began his climb in the chimney. The coarseness of the sandstone skinned his fingers as he reached for handholds. Once on top of the pillar he moved to the lip and searched the surrounding desert, shading his eyes against the bright glare of the hot, summer sun. He saw nothing but sandstone rocks and scrubby piñon trees—the ideal place to play paintball.
A shadow passed over him, and he casually looked up at it. He expected to see one of the small, white, cottony clouds that dotted the dazzling blue, desert skies of New Mexico passing in front of the sun. But it wasn’t a cloud that blocked the sunlight, and he gasped, dropping his paintball gun in surprise. A large, dark, misty blob of inky blackness descended on him, and he grew dizzy as the murky shadow engulfed him.
He clutched his spinning head as he felt himself swaying. He struggled to maintain his balance, knowing a fall from the rocky column might break an arm. Or something worse. But it was no use. He lost consciousness as he fell face first to the ground far, far below.
* * *
Cold wetness numbed his cheek as awareness came slowly back to Andrew. He felt strong hands roll him to his back, and he heard muffled voices in the distance. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw two blurry faces peering down at him. With an effort he focused and realized the faces belonged to Joe and Matt.
“Are you all right?” Matt asked in a worried voice.
Andrew sat up slowly and held his throbbing head in his hands. “I think so,” he mumbled.
“You’ll be okay in a minute,” his brother said. “The headache goes away pretty fast. Just breathe deeply.”
Andrew took a big breath and shivered as cold, damp air entered his lungs. He got slowly to his feet, dizzily leaning on his brother’s arm to steady himself. He looked around and saw he was standing in the middle of a clearing in a hardwood forest. A thick, heavy blanket of snow covered everything and muffled any noise. Low, gray clouds promising more snow scuttled over the tops of bare, leafless trees while an icy wind moaned and sucked the warmth from his shivering body.
Andrew turned and looked into Matt and Joe’s worried faces. “Where the heck are we? Where’d this snow come from? What’s going on?” he asked in frantic, rapid fire.
“Calm down. Calm down,” said Matt in a soothing voice, still supporting him. “I don’t know what’s going on. One moment I’m on the top of that big rock and the next moment, poof, here I am. Wherever ‘here’ is.”
“Yeah, same thing happened to me,” said Joe. “I climbed up to the top of the rock to ambush Matt, and a blob of darkness fell on me from the sky. I have no idea what happened, but I don’t think we’re in New Mexico any longer, Toto.”
Andrew’s mind whirled in confusion. Where in the world were they, and how did they get here? Would anyone be able to find them? And would they survive the freezing cold until they did?
Andrew glanced at Matt as his brother scanned the silent, snow covered meadow, a troubled expression on his face. Andrew knew Matt was struggling with these same questions, and he felt relief ease his mind as he watched his older brother step up as he always did to take care of him and Joe.
“Brrr, it’s cold,” said Andrew, coming back to their present crisis. The frigid temperature made him shiver uncontrollably since, like Matt and Joe, he wore only cut-offs and a tee-shirt.
“Let’s get a fire going,” said Andrew. “Anyone got a match?”
“Just your breath and a buffalo fart,” said Joe with a grin. Andrew gave him a look that would have curdled fresh milk.
Matt put a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he whispered, “I just heard a noise in the woods over there.”
Andrew and Joe turned toward the snow-covered trees where Matt was pointing and saw a huge man step out of the forest about fifty yards away carrying an enormous spear. He was dressed in ragged furs, leather boots, and a thick, tangled beard. He stood a foot taller than Matt’s six foot height, and his heavily muscled body outweighed all three of the teens together. But before they could hail him, the man drew back his arm and hurled his large spear at them like a javelin.
As usual, Joe was the first to react. He shoved Matt into Andrew knocking the two brothers down as he himself dove out of the way. The spear landed harmlessly in the snow between the three of them.
“Let’s get out of here!” yelled Matt. The boys scrambled to their feet and fled for the opposite side of the clearing as the enormous man lumbered heavily after them.
Andrew spotted a small trail heading into the woods as he neared the edge of the clearing. He led his two friends toward it and the protection of the forest.
Inside the shelter of the trees, the snow was not as deep, and the three boys had no trouble fleeing down the path. Andrew heard his brother, who had placed himself protectively in the rear when they entered the woods, right on his heels.
After a couple of minutes of running, Andrew could no longer hear his brother behind him. He stopped and turned around. There was his brother standing a dozen paces away, absolutely still, looking intently back down the path toward the meadow. “I don’t see him,” Matt said in a quiet voice when Andrew and Joe walked over to him. “I think we got away.”
“Yeah, but it won’t be hard to track us in this snow,” replied Andrew, always the practical one. “Let’s put some more distance between us and that clearing.” After a moment of walking, he added, “I wonder why he attacked us like that. We hadn’t done anything to him.”
The three continued along the trail at a brisk pace, and the walk warmed them up in spite of their light, summer clothing. It was almost pleasant in the woods now that the trees blocked the wind and they had outrun their pursuer.
But after a few minutes, soft gentle snowflakes began to fall through the bare branches above them. The woods were silent but for the occasional crunch of their feet in the soft snow.
“Wow, this is so beautiful,” Andrew said to himself. “A white wonderland.”
He watched as Joe ran from snowflake to snowflake, trying to catch one on his tongue.
Suddenly and without warning, there was a whirl of snow and a startled yelp. A bent tree limb straightened unexpectedly, and Joe was hanging by one foot in the air, eye to eye with an astonished Matt. A bellow of triumph in the distance told Andrew their pursuer had heard the trap being sprung and was heading toward them.
“Andrew! Keep him off of us,” yelled Matt as he pulled Joe down to help him get out of the noose around his foot.
“Got it,” Andrew said and he placed himself protectively between his friends and their approaching enemy.
The huge man appeared out of the gloom and confidently strode toward Andrew. He lunged at him with his large spear, jabbing it like a fireplace poker, but the agile youth was able to dodge the thrusts.
The man grasped his spear with both hands for another attack, but not before Andrew kicked out with his leg and landed a solid blow to the man’s knee. His many years of karate had earned him a black belt, and he knew the man should have gone down in pain. But instead, he merely grunted and swung his spear at him like a baseball bat. Andrew dove to the ground and rolled away from the attack rather than standing and taking the hit. It saved his ribs from a crushing blow.
He leaped back to his feet and watched in horror as the giant man raised his spear and aimed it at Matt’s unprotected back. His brother was too preoccupied to realize his danger as he concentrated on helping Joe remove his foot from the noose.
In one swift motion, Andrew packed a handful of snow and hurled it at the man’s face. The pitch would never have earned him a spot in the major leagues, but the snowball blinded the man enough that he dropped his spear to wipe slush from his eyes.
Andrew immediately launched another attack on the huge man, but this time he planned to put him out of action once and for all—he would attack his groin. He leaped high into the air so that his side kick would reach the man’s crotch, but kicking him was like kicking a massive oak—nothing moved. The giant of a man merely laughed as he turned to Andrew, now sprawled on the ground, and lunged at him with his bare hands.
Suddenly a knife blade appeared, protruding from the huge man’s throat. Andrew’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and he watched transfixed as the man clutched at his neck, blood gushing between his fingers. He fell slowly like a tree toppled by a woodsman’s ax.
Andrew hurriedly looked around, searching for whomever had thrown the knife. All he saw was his brother holding the rope slack so that Joe, now sitting on the ground, could remove his foot from the noose.
Andrew cautiously approached their dead enemy and saw that what he had taken for a man was more like a grotesque parody of one. Vaguely shaped like a human with two arms, two legs, a head and a torso, it looked more like a cross between an ape and a Neanderthal. Andrew looked up as Joe and Matt cautiously approached the dead giant.
“What in the world is that?” asked Matt.
“And I thought your girlfriends were ugly,” said Joe.
Matt elbowed him in the ribs.
“That, you foolish boys,” came a voice from behind them, “is an ogre.”
Spinning around quickly, Andrew saw a short, slim, wiry man dressed in white leather armor wearing a mottled gray and white cloak that easily camouflaged him in the snowy forest. He carried a pair of swords tucked into his belt, and his hands rested comfortably on their hilts, ready for action.
He approached the three teens slowly, eyeing them curiously. “There are lots of ogres in these forests, and only fools come in here with them about.”
“You’re kidding! An ogre?” said Joe, sarcasm dripping from his words. “They only exist in children’s fairytales.”
“Well,” the man said as he dropped to one knee, yanked his knife from the ogre’s neck, and cleaned the blade with snow, “that fairytale almost kicked your butts.”
* * *
Later that night, the three teens huddled around a small campfire, exhausted, cold, and hungry. The man who had rescued them from the ogre roasted a pair of rabbits over the flames, seemingly at ease in the wintry forest. For hours he had led the three boys through the snowy woods, not saying a word. His only comment when they had reached a tiny clearing at dusk was, “We need firewood. Lots of it,” before he disappeared into the woods.
The three lads knew from camping in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and New Mexico that what was needed was fuel that wasn’t wet. But the snow made it difficult to find much of anything dry enough to burn, and they were rather proud of the small pile of dead branches they had gathered. When their rescuer had returned a bit later with a pair of rabbits, he glanced at their stack and merely grunted non-committedly.
Dropping his two rabbits next to the pile on the ground, Andrew watched their rescuer squat down and start building a fire using flint and steel from a small pouch on his belt. In a matter of seconds he had a small flame going. Andrew looked over at his brother with a look of surprised awe. Matt was by far the best of the three boys at woodsmanship, but it generally took him much longer to start a fire, even using matches and cotton balls.
After starting the fire, the man took one of the rabbits and handed it to Matt along with an extra knife from his belt. Matt nodded his head to show he understood and silently began to skin their dinner. The stranger started on the second coney himself, and the two soon had the rabbits ready for cooking.
Slowly the stranger roasted their supper over the fire on a spit cut from a green pine branch. Even though he concentrated on cooking the meal, Andrew noticed he was aware of what was going on around them, for he often glanced into the forest, listening to the night sounds. His cautious silence was infectious, killing even Joe’s playful humor. Andrew noticed that Matt too began to peer into the forest at each rustle in the night.
And while Matt kept glancing into the forest, Andrew intently observed their rescuer. What he saw was a man with green eyes and long blond hair, short, barely coming to Joe’s chin. But even though he had a slim build, his arms were muscled. He did not give the impression of being delicate or fragile; rather he appeared to possess a wiry strength, like that of a parcour runner.
Hunched closely over the fire, a stray lock of the man’s long, blond hair dangled dangerously close to the flames. As he tossed his head back to throw the loose strand out of his face, Andrew gave a startled gasp and peered intently at his ears. They were pointed!
The man looked up at the sharp intake of breath and noticed the stare. “What?” he replied, pulling the rest of his long, blond hair behind his ears, “you’ve never seen an elf before?”
“No,” Andrew replied slowly, “I thought they existed only in children’s fairytales, like ogres.”
“You thought elves and ogres weren’t real?” the elf asked, cocking his head to the side. “Just where are you from anyway?”
“We’re from a place called Farmington, in New Mexico,” interjected Joe impulsively who had been following the exchange from the other side of the fire. “We were playing paintball when a dark cloud zapped us to a clearing in these woods. We don’t have a clue where we are now.”
“And in Farmingtown,” said the elf, “you have no elves?” When Andrew silently shook his head, the elf murmured under his breath, “What a lonely place that must be.”
* * *
Who are these guys who don’t know about elves? thought the elf as he gave the spit one last turn and looked closely at the rabbits. “They’re cooked,” he said aloud to the three boys sharing his fire. He cut them apart and gave a portion to each of the teens he had rescued.
“Can you tell us where we are now,” the elf heard the tallest boy, the one the others called Matt, ask. “And who you are?” He started to blow on the cooked rabbit just handed to him to cool it.
“I am called Zengar by you humans,” the elf replied, “and you are now in the ancestral home of my people, known in your language as the Elven Forest of Tauramar.”
Zengar paused for a moment, thinking deeply, “You know, I have been a ranger of these woods for many years and have visited all the dales that border our forest. Yet, never have I heard of a village called Farming Town. And I doubt that you have traveled far, not in those clothes and in the middle of winter.”
The shortest teen piped up quickly before the others could answer, “We hadn’t gone far when you rescued us, just a few hundred yards or so. We found ourselves in a clearing after being swallowed by a big, black cloud. When we left home, it was summer and really hot. Now we’re in a land of elves and ogres, and it’s winter.”
After a silence Matt spoke up, “By the way, we haven’t thanked you for rescuing us. My name is Matt; this is my brother Andrew, and the short one is our friend, Joe.”
The elf stared at the three for a long moment, measuring their character. Satisfied, he nodded his head.
Andrew, the elf noted, was fairly tall, thin, reserved, yet confident. Very often he would sit back quietly and observe, and he seemed to be the thinker of the group.
Matt was obviously his older brother and the leader of the trio. But unlike his slim sibling, Matt was starting to get the broad shoulders and thick chest of a full-grown man even though still in his late teens himself. The elf also remembered it had been Matt who had gone to Joe’s rescue when he was hanging in the ogre’s snare. And while the ogre was attacking, Matt had calmly remained by Joe’s side, working to remove his foot from the noose. A good man to have at your back in a fight, Zengar thought to himself.
On the other hand, Joe was obviously not related to the two. Where Matt and Andrew were both tall with reddish-blond hair, Joe was short, black-haired and wiry. At five and a half feet tall, he was still a bit taller than the elf yet weighed less. Zengar noticed Joe’s body was toned and his reflexes sharp to the point that his movements were quick, precise, and efficient. But a bubbly sense of mischief and a lot of bounding energy reminded the elf of a puppy, and it was clear to him that if anyone were going to stumble into trouble, it would be Joe.
“Well met,” said Zengar, picking up his portion of rabbit. “Perhaps you could tell me a little more of your home.”
“Well,” interjected Joe again before the others could say anything, “it’s not too different from this place. We’ve got trees and rabbits and snow just like here. The only difference is no elves or ogres. Except in children’s stories. Is there any more weird stuff here, like dragons? Or magic?”
“What is so weird about magic and dragons,” said Zengar as he chewed his dinner. “They are both certainly common enough, especially magic. The bards often sing of it in their songs.”
“Magic is real here!” exclaimed Joe. “Wow, this is going to be a great place to live! What’d you say the name of this place was?”
“The Elven Forest of Tauramar,” the elf answered. “And what realm are Farming Dale and New Meck Zeeko in?”
“Realm?” said Joe, puzzled. “No realm; just the good ol’ U.S. of A.”
Suddenly Andrew spoke up. “Say, what planet are we on?”
“Planet?” said Zengar, confused.
“Yeah, you know,” interrupted Joe again, “like a moon, only bigger.”
“Yes,” said Andrew after a short silence. “A sphere of land, water and atmosphere in space, orbiting a sun. Our planet is called Earth.”
“Earth? Here, that’s just another name for dirt.”
Zengar was silent for a moment. “But the name of the orb that Tauramar lies upon is called Geokainos by the sages.”
He paused for another moment of thought. “But your homeland sounds very strange, and I don’t believe you are from Geokainos at all. You have obviously stumbled through a magical gate linking our two worlds. I must look into getting it closed.”
Zengar noticed a silent exchange between Matt and Andrew before Matt said, “But if you do that, we’ll never get back home.”
“Hey, that’d be cool!” said Joe, excitement in his voice. “This is just like the fantasy roleplaying games we use to play as kids. Only now we’re not playing.” He paused. “This is gonna be an awesome place to adventure! I wonder if we’ll meet Legolas here; Zengar looks just like him!”
Matt and Andrew again exchanged looks. This time when Matt spoke up his voice was quiet, “What’s going to happen to us now. You don’t know of a way for us to get home, do you?”
The elf shook his head. “No, I don’t. Often these gates only go one way. It is possible you are stranded here. But cheer up; you’re safe with me for now. And I have friends who will take you in, even train you in some skills if you would like.”
He paused before turning to Joe, “You enjoy adventure? Well, perhaps you could lead an Adventurer’s life. There is danger involved, but it’s filled with excitement.”
To all three he added, “However, we can talk about that later. For now, I want you to dig a wide, shallow pit right over there.”
* * *
Later that night the three boys snuggled close together under a rough lean-to that Zengar had constructed to keep off the gently falling snow. Buried several inches under them were the coals of the fire. They shivered together under a large blanket provided by the elf, waiting for the earth to warm up under them.
In the darkness Matt turned to his brother Andrew, a frown on his face. “I don’t know whether to be excited or scared.”
Joe, his eyes bright with excitement, answered him. “Scared? What’s to be scared of? This is way better than any fantasy game we’ve played. Only now we’re not roleplaying—we’re actually doing it!”
Slowly the ground under them began to warm. Drowsiness overcame the three teens as the exhaustion of the day set in. Matt had almost dropped off to sleep when he heard Andrew say softly in the darkness, “I think I’m going to be scared. That ogre was real.”