Careening around a corner in a rock-strewn gully, I nearly ran smack into her. My boots skidded across rolling stones, arms wind-milled frantically and I managed to stop just short of thwocking noses with her or tripping myself on my sword, which is a minor miracle. If I had thwacked her, I would have ended up on my ass, she seemed so solidly planted next to her spear. She didn’t twitch so much as one of the incredibly long eyelashes framing the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. I caught a glimpse of short silvery hair and tattered desert colored tunic and leggings before I stepped back a couple of paces to gain my balance. I had to bend over my knees for a bit to catch my breath. The dry air of the desert isn’t kind to lungs, especially when the lungs are inside a body madly fleeing for it’s life.

Once I could breath without seeing sparkles I looked up at her. She was standing smack in the middle of what passed for a path and appeared completely at her ease, as if she belonged just at that spot and no other; relaxed looking yet ready to skewer me if needed. I held my hands open at my sides and searched for something intelligent and soothing to say. All I could come up with was, “Um, hi?” in a high pitched wheeze.

Oh, very manly, Dirk, way to impress. My internal dialogue was usually sarcastic, often whiny and less than supportive. In this case I doubted I could say anything to impress the gorgeously tall, well muscled … um … whatever she was.

Anyone could have short silver hair, I suppose, and be tattooed from their forehead down a high cheekbone in shades of blue, purple and orange swirls and patterns. Anyone could develop their musculature into such a long smooth look of utter threat and confidence. But the wings were a tip-off that she wasn’t exactly human. They were shaped a bit like a butterfly’s with points at each end, sweeping from the top of her head down to her knees. I’d seen colored glass in temples that weren’t as stunning as the patterns of light through those wings.

My mouth was dry from more than the mountain air. I can be dense at times, slow on the uptake, but I got this point real fast; she wasn’t human and I needed to assure her I was no threat. And I needed to do it quickly so I could get past her and be on my way.

“May I be of assistance?” she asked. I became momentarily enchanted with her wide perfect mouth before I get the sense of what she’d said.

Okay, I’m fleeing up a narrow desert trench on my way from there to here, away from a thorough beating and she wants to know if I need help. Boy, howdy, do I ever! Presented with a choice of her spear, though, and the town guards’ bludgeons, I’d choose the guards every time, I thought. I could probably talk myself around oafs, whereas I don’t think I could budge miss what-ever-she-was with explosives. Which, when I got time to notice it, seemed rather odd. She didn’t have the attitude of going from here to there. It was more as if she was on guard against all comers.

That’s when I noticed the pathway I thought would lead me to freedom, or a good hiding place, dead-ended into the mouth of a cave. And a very large black mouth it was, shaped almost like that of a beast’s. This was not good. I wasn’t aware of any career opportunities in black hole guarding so there had to be something in there worth her considerable threat and obvious prowess with a spear. I didn’t want to know. I had a brute squad charging up the gully behind me ready to grind up precious bits of me; bits I wasn’t ready to part with as yet.

Usually I’m a bit faster on my tongue so I don’t have to be fast on my feet. Her question deserved an answer and all I could do was drawl,” Yes, you can help me.” Seems my brain had stalled in the drawl mode, which was also not good. I made my living being a quick thinker and smooth talker.

She raised a perfect eyebrow and there was the hint of a twinkle in her right eye. I relax my shoulders, which for obvious reasons had been trying to protect my neck, and stand a bit straighter.

“If you could just misdirect the gentlemen behind me? Once they’ve gone I’ll be on my way as well and you can go on about your business as if I was never here.” I smiled as sweetly as I was capable of and hoped she’d let me climb out of there or duck into the darkness just long enough for the surly louts to wander back to town or thunder up some other rocky channel.

Her smile faded a bit and a chill oozed down my spine. Casting about for a bright idea I finally got a glimpse of just how serious my careen into her part of the desert was. The opening behind her was not just a simple cave mouth. It definitely was shaped like a beast’s mouth and was flanked by pillars carved in the same patterns as her spear. There were rune sort of markings all around the pillars and cave mouth. I can read several languages, being well educated by my mum, but I couldn’t make any sense of those marks. They seemed to sort of crawl around each other, subtly changing size and color.

Right, boyo, you’ve done it again. You’ve not only fallen out of one reality into another, you’ve done it in front of what has got to be a sacred place and the person set to defend it.

I often believe I was cursed at birth. You know the one that goes, “May you live in interesting times.” Far as I’m concerned it’s a curse of monumental proportions. I prefer uninteresting moments frequently spaced so I can catch my breath and let the cuts heal. After nearly 30 years of taking to my heels one would think I’d be used to it. No such luck. But, maybe I can be charming enough to get assistance with the approaching thumpings and crunchings.

Just as I was bracing myself to flee back the way I had come her face relaxed a bit and the twinkle migrated to her left eye. “You appear to have great need. You are, perhaps, being pursued?”

Yeah, we’ve got time for rhetorical questions and understatements. I sighed carefully to myself and spent a moment listening for the approach of large boots.

“Yes, Lady, I am indeed being pursued by large thugs with clubs. Could you see your way clear to either allow me to hide behind a pillar or at least climb out of here?”

“Or maybe you could just kill me and put me out of my misery.” This is not exactly what I expected when I climbed out of bed this morning. I had expected to climb out of that bed before daylight and shift myself quietly through back streets to the road in the opposite direction from the one that led me here.


I’m not the kind of guy to sleep with the wrong beauty and then have her beast chase me down. I’m too ugly for that. Big wobbly ears, lumpy nose broken in childhood arguments, colorless eyes and spiky hair in several shades of brown all conspire to keep me out of most beauty’s beds and, for that matter, most not-so-beauty’s beds. I am tall and straight and fairly proportionate, otherwise, just not so easy to rest eyes upon.

So, I’m not fleeing from a poorly chosen romp in the hay, so to speak. I am, in point of fact, quite charming when I set my mouth to it, and can make a fairly good living selling things that are still a part of some unknown inventor’s imagination; or property not quite suitable for human habitation. I have a gift for knowing when to move on to the next victim … um … customer, usually. Today, though, I miscalculated the stupidity of the chosen mark, his resources for revenge, and his cognitive speed. So here I am, on the run with gold-jingly pockets. I’m not actually considering trading my lovely gold for help from the monumentally beautiful, well muscled lady, but I’d do just about anything else. Those full pockets will pay for a lot of healing and good food and safe places to bide a while.

To my surprise a thoughtful look crosses her face and it appears she is actually thinking about what I’ve said. Her head cocks a bit to the right, as if she’s listening, and she gets a worried look started. My head cocks a bit, too, because the sounds of chimes whispered on the wind and tiny sparkles of multi-colored light drift out of the cave mouth.

Oh, crap, she works magic. Or works for someone who works magic. This can’t end well, boy. So much for talking fast enough to get out of here in one piece.

In my experience magic is never found in good places or situations. It is often misunderstood and the dumb toughs behind me might just be the sort to take exception and transfer their anger from me to her. In fact, they are the types that would take one look at those glorious wings and set about bashing them to tatters instead of just bashing my head in. I would really rather not be the one to bring down trouble on this fascinating creature or whatever or whoever she is protecting. I do have a certain ethical standard I stick to, despite my chosen profession.

“It seems I’ve brought trouble to your door, fair lady, for which I am heartily sorry. I will be more than happy to divert it, if possible. Whatever you are doing must be far nobler than my petty troubles and, with a bit of help, I will be on my way and you can go about your business. Just tell me how I can be of assistance and I’ll be eternally grateful for my unpuctured skin in return.”

It is a very rare talent, magic. Most people can’t even detect it let along use it. My awareness of working magic has gotten me out of more than one tight squeak in the past. Magicians have no sense of humor. In fact, they are often either cranky or arrogant or both.

Briefly and concisely I explain why my tail’s being chased up a twisting desert culvert. She seems to have a sense of humor because both eyes are now sporting a twinkle and her mouth has definitely twitched in an upward angle. I know there will be a price; nothing in this life is free, no matter what your momma says about loving your fellow man and/or creature. And, as I said earlier, I’m willing to do anything in reason, short of actually parting with the contents of my pockets, to get myself past my troubles. As long as it doesn’t involve parting with the contents of my pockets. Skin heals, for the most part. Gold doesn’t magically appear and guy my food, pay my rent and get new boots for running away in.

She replies, “Yes, you could be of some assistance. I believe the distraction will be of some beneficial service.”

Service? Wonder what she means by that. It doesn’t sound good, boyo. What have you gotten yourself out of and into this time?

I bow respectfully to her and take up a position at her side, drawing my sword and flexing my wrists and knees carefully, trying to work out the cramps that threaten to overtake my much abused leg muscles. I’m left handed, which puts me on the side not holding her weapon. She relaxes her hand a bit on her spear but doesn’t move it an inch; the hall-mark of a very accomplished warrior. I also note the fluid flexing of her muscles and the solid rooted-to-the-earth stance she’s in; feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent.

This lady is ready for anything. Sure hope you are, too, my boy.