I’ll Get You Where You Need To Go. Prologue

There weren't always Dragons in the valley…

"Dragons!" Screeched a masculine voice. I cringed. Dammit I said that out loud. Deep breath. Smile. Now turn.

I calmly turned around, as if this was no big deal. I mean, yes there were Dragons in the valley, which meant an additional three days of travel going around the valley, but it wasn’t that unexpected. Twelve years ago Earth was basically thrown into some kind of cosmic blender with another world and then both were spit back out forever altered and compared to that madness, encountering Dragons was almost normal.

The man fuming before me stood in sturdy, clean clothes that were fine quality and we’re so clean, they looked freshly woven. His boots actually shone and I wondered which one of his very pregnant wives polished them. He looked like an entitled douchebag because that’s exactly what he was and he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood a weasel of a man. Skinny and not as tall as his friend, also with two pregnant wives, Weasel looked constantly at his friend for cues as to what he should say and how he should act.

“It’s not unusual to have to deviate because of Dragons…” I began before Douchebag interrupted me.

“We paid you to safely guide us from Rivertown to Unity for the emergence,” he ranted. I settled in for a tirade and focused my energy on not rolling my eyes.

“And you said you knew the safest path there! It’s the only reason we hired you. We were willing to overlook you being a woman!” You overlooked me being a woman because I have a good reputation and happen to be the cheapest guide you bigot

I grit my teeth slightly but otherwise did not react. I’d been guiding idiot followers of Limenitis for years. Limenitis, some guy with the name of a black and white butterfly, I know because he has a painting of the dang thing and wears only those colors,“emerges” like a butterfly from his cocoon every year to speak to his followers. They make the trek to Unity to see him from all over the continent, usually arriving in Rivertown, then hiring a guide such as yours truly for the rest of the journey. As far as I could tell he only emerged from a drug induced orgy to spout trite butterfly metaphors on a certain day for his followers, because it was the day he happened to run out of drugs. They conveniently resupplied him through their donations and then left feeling blessed, so he could return to his drug induced orgy. Limenitis only had one real skill set. The ability to create and maintain a cult.

“Are you even listening to me?” Douchebag screamed, looking livid.

“Of course,” I replied calmly. I hadn’t been.

He took a threatening step towards me and at that moment four exhausted women approached us. Their wives, all in various stages of pregnancy and carrying all of the luggage. One woman, easily a foot shorter than her angry husband, let out a pained sound as she set down a pack, one hand on her swollen belly. Her sound drew her husband's ire and he turned to yell at her.

Fifteen years ago, when I was training to be a forest ranger, before the Concurrence tore our worlds apart, Janet, the senior forest ranger, caught me grumbling about some irresponsible campers and spouted out this pearl of wisdom: “Is it really your place to judge Sara?” First off, Janet got my name wrong, it isn’t Sara, it’s Saffron, and I really don’t care if it’s my place to judge, because I am judging these two jerkweeds. The one raising a hand to his exhausted pregnant wife and the other one looking smug.

I quickly stepped between the 6 foot plus man and his diminutive, submissive wife and put on my best concerned look.

“There is no time to waste,” I said plaintively, making my eyes big as I stared at his face. “You are in danger as Dragons prefer manflesh the most.” I wrung my hands for added effect. “You heard the stories of the four guides that went missing last Spring? They were killed and eaten by Dragons and all were men.” I added just enough panic and truth to make the man before me pale and lower his hand. I snickered in my head, while my inner feminist wailed at the need for such acting.

It was true that the guides had been killed by Dragons and all were men. I wasn’t sure the Dragons had eaten them though and they left plenty of men unharmed every year. Those four had been particularly terrible people. Abusers and rapists. Perhaps Dragons simply targeted horrible humans? When I wasn’t working, I was exploring the extensive library of Rivertowns most eccentric recluse for information on this world. There was little I had found regarding Dragons but if they did target horrible people than these two men were in real danger.

“We must leave now!” Douchebag grabbed me by the shoulders, desperation and fear written across his face and it occurred to me that either I had laid it on a little too thick or this man was even more of a coward than I had realized.

“What are we waiting for?” Whined the other man. Casting a glance towards the valley, I heard him whisper. “Don’t let them eat me.”

“I will not let them eat you,” I said firmly. The taller man still gripped me with his hands and when I attempted to move, he squeezed.

“Douch-Mr Sarmen, please let go of me so I can guide you safely away from here,” I said. That was close Saf, I warned myself.

Douchebag let me go and I motioned them to follow me. I put a finger to my lips, although the Dragons knew exactly where we were. I was convinced they had let me see them on purpose, so I would avoid them. I took a few steps then paused and looked behind me. The women looked weary but the men were right on my heels fresh as daisies.

“We must move quickly,” I said. “We will move faster if everyone helps carry the packs.”

Anger swept over the tall man’s face and before he could protest, I threw a fearful glance towards the treeline to our left and then behind us towards the valley. He turned and grabbed the two lightest packs from his wives and his friend did the same. I looked at the heavily pregnant woman, walked up to her and without asking, removed her last pack and shouldered it. I carried no pack. My cloak kept me warm at night. My food was in a pouch under my jacket and my water rested in my favorite bottle on my hip. A soft protest escaped her lips, which I ignored. I knew she would be given something to carry but I couldn’t do more than I had just done.

Limenitis followers raised their daughters to be obedient baby making slaves. It was amazing that just thirteen years ago women had equal rights for the most part. We had a female Vice President in the U.S. and powerful, educated women all over the world. I myself had two Bachelors degrees in Forestry and Ecology, with a minor in Wildlife Ecology. I spoke three languages, graduated top of my class and had been offered no fewer than five high ranking government positions my final few months completing my Masters degree in Wildlife Biology.

Now here I was safely guiding cultists who believed in polygamy and that educated women were evil incarnate, to their leader and they were, sadly, the majority of humans on the planet. Take away their technology and apparently most men just revert to the toxic patriarchy of the middle ages. Although technology did still exist, it was just rare and expensive. A mix of Earth tech and the mystical steam-punk-ish tech of this world, which Earth had merged with during the Concurrence, or Eclipse, or Meld. The term changed depending on who you spoke with.

We walked along the trail that skirted the valley. Trees, a mix of pines and firs, deep soothing greens, lined the trail, with the occasional vibrant purple and white or blue trees of this world interspersed. We walked for about an hour before the men started whining. They did so quietly, for fear of being eaten, but it still grated on my nerves.

I guided them around fire ant bogs and made them stop and huddle on the ground while I lit a Borear deterrent. Douchebag started to complain at the smell, to be fair it was awful, until he saw the fanged skull of a Tircat, easily as big as Tiger. Borear, creatures that resemble the unholy offspring of a bear and a beatle, love to eat Tircat’s. The smoke from Borear deterrents damages their sensitive eyes and keeps them away, making them invaluable. They also happened to be the cheapest of my supplies to replace. Even still, they smelled like raw sewage, so I really hoped it was the only one I would have to light.

After 8 hours, in which I saved Weasel's life twice and Douchebag’s once, as the idiots refused to listen to me half the time, we finally found a safe place to camp. I slid my hand into the large inner pocket of my jacket and removed my carefully wrapped Halliflower rope. The rope cost me a month's wages, but was worth it. Nothing crossed a Halliflower rope. I had no idea why and the Farr, as the natives called themselves, never explained how the gadgets they sold worked.

While I set up the barrier, three wives erected tents for their husbands, while the fourth started a fire. The men sat on a blanket laid out for them and sipped something from a flask, probably wine. By the time I had the rope set up, the fire was finished with something cooking in a small pot and the fourth wife was helping with the tents. I walked over to the fire, knowing the women would not appreciate my help.

My first trip to Unity, I went with an experienced guide and a group of three men and five women. One man only had one wife and she had been very young. I had watched her struggle for two days and felt sorry for her. On the third day I attempted to help her, but the four other women intervened and explained that it was her duty. When I tried to ignore the other women and help anyways, my fellow guide pulled me aside and told me to stop. He explained that there were ways to help but if done wrong, the men would beat their wives for not fulfilling their duty. My feminism was bruised that day and had been a raging, impotent inferno in me since. I tried to balance it by helping where I could and at least making sure the women survived the journey.

I sat down on a barren patch of dirt near the fire, careful to keep my long cloak under me. Another Farr purchase, it was coated in something that kept the creepy crawlies away from me. It was also warm when I needed it to be and light, when I was overheating. I adored it. My boots were soft and knee high, human made but sturdy. I undid the catches on my jacket, made from Draskin leather, whatever a Draskin was, it was likewise an expensive Farr item I had purchased. My original ranger jacket had not lasted two treks from Unity and back. I untied my food pouch, filled with high density dried fruits and meats, from a loop inside my jacket. Although the food was warmed by my body, sometimes unpleasantly so, the position let me run and move without worrying about losing my food.

Turning my head without thought, I found Douchebag staring very intensely at my chest. My jacket was cool, my cloak was awesome. Each item of my outfit had benefits but damned if I could find anything as amazing as my old sports bra or any bra really. In this world, it was corsets and unless you had itty boobs, corsets were a pain in the ass. If you had a “generous bosom” as the Unity seamstress described my chest, well, it just plain sucked. It meant every time I bent over or even just sat as I was doing now, I got the whole heaving bosom appearance as my cleavage practically exploded out of the corset. Even a modest shirt did little and to be honest, wearing a thick shirt under a corset is so uncomfortable it makes me want to light things on fire. So I stick to thin shirts and often these shirts are low cut or have buttons, and well, Douchebag was getting an eyeful of upper boob. His eyes traveled down to my waist and tight pants and backup, to my now closed jacket. I looked down before his eyes could meet mine. Hating that I couldn’t flip him off or curse at him.

I needed the money too much and surviving in this mixed bag of a world was hard enough as a woman. I ate a third of my food pouch while I let my mind do all the things my body couldn’t. Having mentally punched Douchebag in the groin for the ten or twentieth time, I felt calmer. I took out my water bottle, a relic of the past and looked over the stickers I’d placed on it decades ago. For a second, my mind touched on memories of another time. A time when I had a family. Before I could remember that darkest of days, I drank. The cool water washed away the memories but not the ache in my chest.

I stood afterwards and walked the perimeter as the women fed the men and then retired to their tents. It was not our first night together. I knew the routine as did they. I slept near the fire, waking frequently to check the perimeter. I woke the women for breakfast, giving them as much time as I could for them to sleep. They made food, fed the men, packed everything as I removed the rope and then we left again. Rinse and repeat. This night was especially terrible as Douchebag was apparently frisky. I felt guilty and vowed to leave my coat buttoned for the rest of the journey. By the sounds I could tell he had chosen the poor woman about to burst. I fell asleep wrapped in my cloak and imagining him being eaten by a Borear.

The next day was even more exhausting. I had to lead them on a detour from the path and Douchebag decided that leaving the trail was the wrong idea and when I tried to explain, egged Weasel into going down the trail instead of following me. I then had to rescue him from poison hornets. I got to him after three stings and quickly applied some of my precious antipoison paste to the stings. Worst of all, poison hornets target the fleshy backsides of humans. I saw more of the man as he thrashed than I ever wanted to see but I did save his life. He was delirious for hours and I had to tie a rope to him and lead him behind me, as I guided them off the path around the hornet nests and then back. The one blessing was that once the delirium faded, he refused to question my orders after that and even glared at his friend when he protested.

That night we settled in an area near a stream and it was a good thing we did, as I could practically feel the violence in Douchebag and had feared tonight would be the day I had to choose between my future as a guide and the life of a woman about to be beaten by her husband.The day had been hot and the cool waters of the stream cooled his temper. He bathed with his wives attending to him, while I set up the rope perimeter.

“Thank you,” said Weasel. Startling me. I had not even seen him approach me, I had been so focused on carefully laying out the delicate rope.

He stood in front of me but his eyes were downcast. I regarded him for a second before he looked up at me with pale blue eyes and it hit me. He’s just a kid, I realized. Well, not a kid, but young. Maybe twenty, twenty-one. What was his name?

“You’re welcome,” I said slowly, as my mind worked. “Mr..”

“Call me Cal,” he said quickly. Oh thank god, I literally had no idea what his name was.

I gave him my best smile. “You’re welcome Cal.”

He blinked at me and then gave me a look I knew was trouble. My friend Terri had called it “the adoring puppy look.” She swore that all I had to do was smile at a guy in Highschool and I would have a faithful follower for life. Just waiting to do my bidding with that puppy dog look. I was too focused on making valedictorian to notice if she was right. I had a feeling though that in this case, she may have been. My smile froze as I edged around him to keep laying out the rope.

“I bet the water feels nice,” I said. “Maybe you should enjoy it as well.” I pretended not to notice that he was just standing there staring at me, as I spoke.

“What about you?” he asked. I cringed inwardly.

“I have to lay out this perimeter, to keep us safe. But don’t worry about me, you go, have fun,” I said, glancing at him.

I kept moving and eventually he left. I managed to avoid everyone as they set up and ate by lying through my teeth that I had heard Mireflies and needed to be ready to set out Mirefly traps. Mirefly traps are these tiny sticky balls that I didn’t even have because there were no Mireflies this time of year. But everyone hates the damn insects, with good reason, and it was easy to pretend that I was setting out traps, as they are so small. Once they were in bed, I was dismayed to hear moaning in both tents, as I ate my food. I used a cloth to wash my face and arms but did not undress. Only an idiot gets naked in a stream in this forest at night, even with a Halliflower rope perimeter. I slept fitfully,constantly feeling a presence nearby but awaking to nothing.

“What are you staring at?” Carl asked the next morning.

I held the Halliflower rope in hand and just barely kept myself from jumping at his voice.

“Just lost in thought for a second,” I lied.

I quickly gathered the rope as Carl returned to the fire. I moved on autopilot as my mind tried to understand why there were footprints along the entire Halliflower perimeter. Not animal prints. Human footprints. Boot prints, okay that’s one thing, still weird but what human would wander around in the Blue Ridge forest, near the valley, without footwear at night?

I was on alert as we left. Not engaging with anyone. Keeping my eyes and ears sharp. I scouted ahead and dropped behind the group, looking for animal signs, tracks, anything. My vigilance did spare the group from an unpleasant slog through putrid sands. So-called not because they are made of sand, but because they resemble quicksand that is not deep but smells horrid. No one argued leaving the trail this time. I also snatched a Yellow Tree Viper midair as it fell to grab up one of the wives and prevented a Poison Moth Frog from attaching itself to one of the packs, where it would have burrowed inside and laid its eggs, translucent little globs that hatch upon contact with warm skin and producing burrowing worms that invade the host so quickly nothing can be done to stop them. Although not deadly, they are painful, reaching maturity in the gut and then escaping in a horde of adult Moth Frogs, each the size of a golf ball.

The closer we got to Unity, the more I felt we were being followed. Everyone could sense my unease and uncharacteristically, neither man said a word. Finally, we reached the descent into Unity from the ridge. Everyone was sweating as I pushed them without a break. The trees were thinning, gradually being replaced with more and more golden bushes and purple grass, favored by the town. I let the group pass me so I could backtrack and my hair stood on end. I could hear something coming and it sounded large. I looked to the group about 50 feet ahead of me and knew they could hear it as well.

“Drop the packs and run,” I screamed. The women hesitated. “Get to Unity and someone will come back for them.”

In one redeeming moment, Douchebag turned and stripped his wives of their bags and urged them to run. Carl's wives did not hesitate to do the same, but Carl, he looked at me and waited.

“Run” I yelled as I ran towards him. Idiot, I cursed.

He turned and ran and I heard the thing getting close. It sounded like a train was bearing down on me. I veered into the bushes and ran hard, I heard it change direction coming for me as I had hoped. Damn it Saffron, are you really going to die for them, for cultists for gods’ sake!

I glanced behind me and all thought fled. I screamed as the Dragon roared. My foot hit something hard and I flew forward, throwing my hands up to brace my fall and then watching in horror as they never touched the thick purple grass. My legs were crushed together and there was a tight band around my torso. I couldn’t move, couldn’t lower my arms to my sides. I could only watch the world fall away from me as I was carried into the sky.

Saffron’s story continues in Chapter 1 of “I’ll Get You Where You Need To Go.”

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