His name is Johnathan Cromtwell. His home is a place known as Earth. He is farther away from home than he could ever imagine.

  A chain pulls against his neck. Leading him through the harsh sands of an endless desert. Johnathan knows not where he is nor where he is going. Neither is his most pressing concern at this moment. No, what perplexes his mind most is what he has been imprisoned by. A creature which defies all his knowledge is holding the other end of his chain. It reminded Johnathan of the muskrats he would have to hunt to keep off the crops at his father’s farm. Though if this were a muskrat, it would be the largest ever recorded, being near the height of a full grown man.

  The Muskrat creature rides another strange beast. Like a reptilian donkey which holds several packs of necessary supplies for this harsh environment. A weapon, not unlike the rifles Johnathan himself used in the Great War, is clasped in the Muskrat’s paws. The creature has refused to speak to him, assuming it even can. Merely prodding him along with the harsh pull of the chain or threat of a solid shot to the chest. Johnathan woke up in this desolate place with no memory of how he got here. All he knows for sure is he is in danger.

  A settlement starts to form over the horizon. At first it appears to be little more than a mirage. A symptom of hyperthermia and dehydration. As the forced march continues, the settlement grows and becomes real. It is small and composed chiefly of large tents. There are more of those lizard animals than there are the Muskrat creatures. They appear to be nomadic. Trading goods and water between each other around a small oasis. Jonathan is led to a trough full of dirty water being used by the lizard-donkeys. He drinks from it without thought. Desperate for some relief from this thirst. The Muskrat creature laughs at him, then hooks the chain to a post.

  Johnathan takes a moment to look at himself in the dull reflection of the water. He is still himself. Short brown hair, green eyes, and as tall and fit as he was at home. He has not changed, though his environment has greatly. He tries to think back to how he got here. How he ended up in such a strange, foreign place. All he can remember is being back in Kansas. In that old museum off the beaten path sorting through old, long forgotten trinkets. Then there was a sound like thunder and feeling like falling, and he woke up surrounded by sand.

  Something hard strikes Johnathan’s back. He turns to see a half eaten red fruit of some kind rolling in the sand. Having been thrown by some cackling Muskrats. Johnathan takes the fruit and eats it quickly, knowing he may not get another meal for some time. This is not his first time as a prisoner of war. The nights are cold and hungry. This only makes the creatures laugh at him even more. Maybe if Johnathan is lucky, they will throw another.

  The rifle bearing muskrat returns. It takes the chain and yanks Johnathan away from the precious water. He makes sure to take note of as many sites as he can. Trying to find some clue as to where he is and, just perhaps, how he might escape. There are many symbols that he cannot recognize. Johnathan speaks fluent English, French, German and Dutch and has studied many languages from the Native tribes and African continent. Yet he has seen nothing like this. To him it appears as a series of spirals near indistinguishable from one another. The Muskrats are trading weapons, food and water between each other. A thriving community in these harsh conditions. Most items are crude; only poor craftsmanship could be seen. Most of these tools seem to have been made of scavenged materials.

  That is why the helmet stands out. It is dark, blood red and made of a metal far higher quality than all the others. It reminds Johnathan of an ancient helmet from the medieval times. It is placed upon a wooden stick. Muskrats are throwing rocks at it. One aims a rifle and fires from not 20 feet away. The round shatters upon it, leaving no harm to its form. A strange custom for something so strong to be wasted on.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The Rifle Muskrat nears an older, grayer one who stands in front of iron bars. A few coins pass between their paws and the older Muskrat takes Johnathan’s chain. It opens the bars and pulls him inside. With a swift kick, Johnathan falls to the floor as the Muskrat locks the bars behind him. The cell has a hard wooden floor attached to wheels. A prison cart to take their slave with them. It is dark thanks to many layers of cloth. Perhaps they intend to make an exhibit out of Johnathan? A spectacle to throw peanuts at? Or perhaps he is spare rations. Not many possibilities that are good.

  There is a stirring from the darkest corner of the cage. A vague shape, far larger than those Muskrats or their Lizard-donkeys, is just barely visible. Slowly it comes out of the shadows. Black scales upon a tall, slender, almost serpentine body. It crawls on its four legs in an awkward stance. Its face is long with a tip like a beak and teeth sticking out its long muzzle. Wings that seem too short for its body stick out from its back. The monster comes closer. Hunger in its gold, slit pupil eyes.

  Johnathan presses up against the bars. He tries to motion and scream for help. The Muskrats seem not to care. He has no choice but to defend himself with what little he can. A femur bone from a long finished meal is in the corner. He grabs it to wield as a club. Johnathan swings wildly. The monster is unimpressed. It snaps in the air, just in time to catch the bone mid swing. Crushing it between its powerful jaws.

  He has no options. The Monster edges closer. Johnathan’s army instincts kick in. No chance for flight, only option is to fight. He reels back his fist, takes a big step forward, and swings the hardest haymaker of his life.

  It is an immense shock to the Monster, and Johnathan himself, that this works. The creature sent flying off into the far end of the cage with a clang as the metal bars bend. Johnathan looks down at his fist in utter disbelief. Struggling to process what he himself had just accomplished. The Monster rubs its jaw and spits out a tooth.

  “What kind of prey are you to dare and strike me with such power?”

  Johnathan stares at this mythic creature before him.

  “You can speak?”

  “I can speak? Of course I can speak. How are you speaking?”

  “Monsters do not speak where I come from.”

  The Monster crouches on its hind legs, too tall to stand in this cage. Its fore legs are in fact arms with three fingers and a clawed thumb. It looks completely disgusted at the insinuations being made about it.

  “I am no monster. I am Yael. Prince of the Drak’aan people and rightful heir to the throne. You shall respect me as your superior, animal.”

  Johnathan takes a closer look at this Yael character, now that he can. He is dirty. Covered in sand and dirt and the leftovers of previous, less fortunate roommates.

  “An Heir to a throne? You? I have beaten back gators with more dignity. Better manners as well.”

  “Even in this cage I demand your respect. I will force it from you if I must.”

  “Try it.”

  Johnathan lifts up his fists once again. Ready to deliver another shocking blow. Yael meets his challenge. Snarling his teeth and digging his claws into the ground, preparing to pounce.

  Neither gets to make the first strike. An explosion followed by the sounds of gunfire and screeching demand their attention. Outside, pandemonium strikes. The Muskrat creatures are desperately running away from some new found threat. Johnathan can only watch through his bars as many are struck down by strange bolts of energy. Tents are set ablaze. Bodies pile upon the sands.

  That’s when he sees them. An armored being in crimson wielding a spear appears in front of the bars. The Crimson Knight stares at Johnathan, who stares right back. Then, it turns and leaves the two to their cage. Returning to the slaughter.

  “We have to stop them! We need to-”

  “No.” Yael speaks plainly as if he were ordering a light lunch. “We can stop nothing. They pose no threat to us. Let them go.”

  Johnathan sat in the cage. Force to hear the sounds of war for which he was all too familiar. Until the last scream was silenced.