Chapter 3 - Fera Mundi

It's a cave or, better said, a giant cave complex, cut deeply inside a massive red stone standing tall from the sand, with galleries and chambers spread across multiple levels, each forming a weirdly natural yet quite well-defined pattern. Long hallways and narrow corridors cross each floor like a web, connecting larger vertical nodes with carved stone steps and wooden ladders. On each level, smaller or bigger chambers are carved close together, each cluster united as one, housing a single chieftain and all his retinue.

She is the mightiest chieftain of the strongest tribe, ruling supreme over everyone else, all from within this giant cave, the stone capital of her savage desert kingdom. Her own tribe lives here, and so do the big chiefs. The rest are spread across the desert, scattered in lesser caves or sharing the sky with the animals, roaming as the wind from place to place in search of water or prey. Hunters, raiders, savages, that's what all of them are, beasts, just like the creatures they hunt down.

They're all bound to her, and when the time is right, everyone, from the smallest clan leader to the mighty war chiefs, comes here to pay honors to the big chief herself. Their gifts? Tribute? Duty? Dried meat, furs, gold, weapons, precious stones, and... captives, lots of captives.

The sands are hers, caravans pay or get raided, and no one dares to cross her land without paying. Gold or blood or anything in between. She keeps what she keeps, she gives away what she wishes. She splits the loot and gives orders; everyone obeys or loses their heads. It's simple and efficient, and under her rule, they are happy. As happy as a horde of animals can be.

I trail behind her, not daring to speak or stare too much, content to be alive, dragging my heavy chains around. Thankfully, she takes pity on me, and our first stop is a blacksmith of sorts, a brutish, ugly bastard sweating away all day in front of his burning hot forge.

One, two strikes, and my chains break! Finally free! I can feel the blood rushing back into my feet and arms. Wounds, bloody wounds burn and hurt like hell, but I couldn't care less.

Another stop, some kind of kitchen, fire, sweat, food, servants, people. Orders shouted, orders received. The smell of fried meat makes me swallow my spit like a stupid beast. Can we stop and eat? No? Fine, whatever you say, I'll just starve for now.

We climb stairs, walk through narrower corridors and finally reach our destination, up above everything else, the mighty chieftain's den.

It's a somewhat large room carved out from the same stone, breathing of power and might, stuffed to the roof with all kinds of beastly trophies. Thick furs, piled one over another, cover the floor and drape the walls. Massive beast heads I've never seen in my life are staring menacingly from all corners, teeth, fangs, claws, horns everywhere.

The sight is beyond words, too much for my already exhausted mind. I hesitate to step in; the sight of all those trophies is overwhelming enough to make me want to turn back and run away. But she walks inside, and so do I.

This place is like a walk-in bestiary! I've never seen so many wild creatures in my life, and what the hell are they? I dare to look at the closest to me. The head of a huge boar or bear, or something, bigger than half my body, is staring into the void with its snout open and all its insanely large fangs in full display.

What the hell is this thing? Can such a creature even exist?! Did she kill it, or did one of her chieftains gift it to her? Whoever did, he must be a god among men just to face this thing and not shit himself in terror.

And then another! Some sort of a boned head with three massive horns spreading from its thick leather-covered forehead. It could be a prehistoric rhino if such beasts ever existed. How, in the name of everything, could a human face such a monster?

I look around, head spinning, staring at each of them, trying to figure out, are we even on earth anymore? Is this our past? It can't be! Who has ever heard of a fanged serpent with a head as big as a cow's? Oh, wait, it's a fanged lizard! A giant lizard that can rip you apart and swallow you whole is living in this desert? Now that's something to keep me awake at night! Is that a giant bull?

No, of course not. It's twice the size, and its open jaw has massive serrated fangs on each side. That thing is a predator, and whatever it predates on must be at least four times its size, otherwise, why the need for fangs as long as my forearm?

Everything seems so surreal, as if someone wants to prove to me once more that this world is fucked up beyond my dreams, and I'm just a weak, pathetic programmer that has somehow dared to survive for far too long around her. Yes, I fucking know, I don't belong here, you don't have to throw it in my face all the fucking time, I keep thinking as my head swings around from beast to beast.

"Sit your ass down," I hear the apex beast speak as she pushes away a stash of furs resting over a large, heavy wooden table.

I immediately obey, sitting my ass down on the indicated spot. No, I don't intend to end up on her wall, not that I have the illusion that I'm worthy of her collection anyway. Is this a wooden bench? A wide stool?

"We drink, we eat, we talk," she informs me of the evening program.

Eat! Yes, I completely approve! Not sure about the rest, though. But eating is fine. Eating is an excellent choice. Whatever goes for food in this world, I got to have it. Her men, those fucking animals, starved us for weeks, throwing only the remains of their meals to the captives, laughing at our pathetic attempts to chew on the bones, amused by our squabbling and desperate demands for more.

A near-naked sand-dusted young woman opens the door. Two more enter, quickly filling up the massive table. Meat, fruits, and more meat! Piles, plates, more piles. The sight of the huge plate of smoked and grilled meats waters my eyes and weakens my legs. The smell alone is enough to give me strength for two more days!

And then there's water! Or whatever that looks like. Maybe not, but who cares. It looks like a liquid and comes in clay pitchers and jugs. The smell? Yeah, not water, more like wine, fermented and fruity.

"Tell me, Marcus, where are you from?" she asks, moving past me, leaving her heavy axe on the floor next to her massive fur-covered bed.

I guess there won't be any decapitations on the evening program. Good, fantastic news even! Food, drinks, and no threat of sudden and brutal demise! There's nothing else I wish for now!

"I... I come from far away..." I try my best to deflect the question, looking at her confused.

What the hell is she doing now!? Is she undressing right in front of me?

The beast goes ahead, ignoring my muted protests. Her thick fur hide falls off her shoulders first, right after her leather chest bindings come loose, and the sight of her full breasts comes into my view. She moves around without a care in the world, free, unrestricted, right there in front of me. I'm already at my limit when the tick belt keeping her leather loincloth in place slides down next, and with it, the only thing covering both the front and back of her... everything...

The view of her bare skin fills me with amazement and awe; this is too much for my eyes! I freeze. Silver-white, just like her wild hair! I stare, unable to look away, just ogling her like a brain-dead idiot. Her body, her breasts, her... parts... Yes, a true, wonderful, amazing beast of a woman, I conclude... drooling...

And yet... I stare... tempting fate...

My brain suddenly reconnects, sending a fury of warning messages right into my spine as she turns, naked, staring at me with fire burning in her savage eyes.

I instinctively overreact, looking away, almost falling off my seat. The sight of her body erased from my mind! There's no way in hell I dared to stare at her wild nakedness! No! That never happened! One decapitation is enough for one day! I was just admiring the trophies, nothing else!

Yes, a very impressive collection! Lots of mighty beasts, one deadlier than the other, savage, amazing creatures, especially the hunter... no! Focus, damn it!

And yet my memory is still there. I've already seen whatever was there to be seen, and that's far more than I've ever dreamed. Savage, strong, wild, and... beautiful? I shake my head, confused. Sure, some may describe her like that. But not me! I can't, how can I? First of all, there's nothing to compare her against.

There's no such record inside my brain; all my memories, my past experiences.... neatly shaved, clean and sweet. Maybe a trimmed one once? I was too drunk to remember, not even sure if that was real or just my brain messing around, telling me to stop watching so much porn before bed. Yeah, sure, if only I could sleep after an entire day sitting on my ass staring at a computer screen...

The memories of another world are yet to fade away. Will I ever be able to go back?

But now is now, here is here, and she is here, all naked, and so is her fucking sharp axe! Is she still staring back, or maybe not? I don't dare to look up at her anymore.

"You drink gaeng, yes?" I hear her asking.

"S-sure." I nod, keeping my eyes fixed on the table at the mountain of delirium-inducing roasted meats.

A boner?! Again? Are you fucking kidding me?

Is this how I die? Chopped in two by a savage barbarian queen because I couldn't keep my stupid dick in check? I ponder, almost smiling, over the ridiculousness of the situation. And then it downs on me. If anything I did, by chance or mistake, bothered her, I'd be already dead by now. I shiver. What the hell was I thinking?

Yet, I'm still alive, breathing, looking down, ashamed of my own body's reaction. The beast clearly noticed my stupid stare and didn't split me in half for it. She could've, but she didn't. She's not the kind to care about such things; after all, she was right there in the big hall, spreading herself on her massive throne, not giving a shit about me or any man alive... or dead.

They've all seen her, they've all accepted their pathetic position in the pack. She was the alpha; everyone else was her worthless inferior. This is the way in this feral world, this is the normal here; I'm the weird one for feeling so guilty and ashamed.

So this is how it works, I ponder, scratching my newly grown beard.

I was about to shave before leaving for the convention, then I remembered I kind of look good with a beard, so why not keep it for a bit longer, just enough to pose as a mighty warrior, take some pictures for my social wall, and such. Unfortunately the damn thing kept growing and started to itch.

Quite an annoyance, and yet, somehow, I'm glad for it. I don't dare to think what those brutes could've done to a clean, shaved-looking me. I can only imagine their reaction... yeah, not pretty. I got enough stares because of the clothes and the rest, but at least my beard looked somehow normal to them.

She sits in front of me, and I feel the need to peek at her. Half dressed again, a different fur on her back, some leathers running down on her chest, other bits hanging around covering her waist, almost decent, or not.

Whatever, as long as she doesn't care, I'll just avoid staring and mind my own business. Right now, I have other things on my mind. I'm famished. Do we eat or not?

"Here, wizard." She slams one of the large clay pitchers in front of me and points towards the rest. "Drink!"

I don't wait for her to say it twice and quickly grab hold of it, gulping down the cold liquid. It burns like fire going down my parched throat. Damn, it feels good! Alcohol? Yes, but not much. It's the thirst mostly. I take a deep breath and start gulping down the rest. Fucking good shit!

One more long slurp and it's done. I wipe my face, satisfied. I'm so thirsty I feel like drinking three of these jugs at once! And yet I start having some doubts about it. The moment I finish drinking, I feel my head spinning. Did I just make a mistake?

"Another one!" She growls, slamming her pitcher to the floor, shattering it. Large bits of pottery scatter among the thick fur.

I look at her, surprised; I didn't expect that. Oh well, I guess it's time to make a mess.

There you go!

Fuck this pitcher too!

I throw it down as hard as I can, mine barely splitting in two. Good enough, she approves. I grab another and start drinking, trying to quench my week-long thirst. Yes, tonight we drink! Fuck this world!

Oh boy, I'm already shitfaced?

I slow down, or at least try. Damn, this thing is good! It reminds me of a sweet wine, more like a fruit juice, yes, a fermented fruit juice, a really good one. Smooth, slightly bitter, perfect for quenching one's thirst. I wonder what kind of fruits these are. Do they grow them here in the desert? Maybe there's an oasis nearby? Are they making this by themselves? Maybe they're buying it from the caravans. Pottery, winemaking... are these signs of civilization? Does everyone start the same?

Thoughts, reason, questions. Good, I'm not completely drunk yet. I put the pitcher back down on the table. No need to smash it this time. Whatever she does, I do too. So far it works. My mind is set, I'll keep this up and hopefully make it alive somehow.

The beast smiles and points to the meat plate. Time to survive, boys! Time to eat!

"Tell me, wizard, wanna go back home?" she suddenly asks, almost making me choke on my juicy smoked-flavored chopstick.

I look at her, surprised, still chewing on it. I won't stop now, half of this meat is rightfully mine! Or at least this large plate in front of me!

"I do, but..."

"The doors break, you know," she confirms my worst fears.

Door? Doors? There's more of them? Did I hear her right?!

I stop and stare at her, meat and juices dripping from my half-opened mouth. How does she know? That fucking animal probably told her. Yes, the portal crumbled behind me seconds after I passed through. Its light faded, and the entire thing collapsed like a cheap prop on a cheap movie set.

I couldn't believe that thing was real, to begin with, let alone that it actually transported me to another world. And yet, here I am, grabbing another thick drumstick and sinking my teeth as hard as I can in the tender meat, ripping it off the bone and swallowing without even breathing.

Am I becoming a savage? No, it cannot be. I'm nothing like these animals!

"Listen, I'm not from here either," she speaks, ripping off a huge chunk of meat and bones with her bare hands.

My jaw drops, food almost falls out of my mouth.

What... what is she talking about?! This massive primal savage beast... is just like me?!

No... no, how can it be? I was dragged here! Her savages attacked me! Captured me! Chained me!

I remember the sands. I remember other captives. They kept us tied to each other, like cattle, no, even worse. A human chain that grew longer by the day as we were forced to march through sands, meeting other raiding parties, slowly heading towards our final destination, this place.

The days were horrible. The sun, the sand, the fucking burning dust everywhere, barely able to breathe, eyes burning, mouth dry. The nights weren't that much better either. They slept in fur covered animal skin tents, we slept out in the open, chained next to their massive beasts, shaking, forcing ourselves one against the other, stealing the heat, surviving, until finally, we collapsed exhausted, sleeping the cold away until morning came... counting the ones still breathing, leaving the dead behind.

My mind wandered back then; how did this come to be? What kind of a miserable joke is this? A portal inside a fucking medieval fantasy convention? Can this get more stupid? No, there was something else. It had to be something else! And indeed it was. One day, it hit me; that day, I remembered something.

That day a sandstorm stopped us, and for once, we got to sleep inside one of their large tents. That gave me hope somehow. They wouldn't kill us all, I thought. We might be their captives, tied and dragged around, barely deserving to eat or drink, but at least we got to share a tent, unlike the beasts that had to face the storm out there.

It was later that I found out the truth. Their riding beasts don't give a single shit about the sand, the heat, or the storms. They weren't just barely surviving, holding for dear life against nature's fury. No, the raiding beasts were just sleeping the storm away, half buried in the sand, with only their fur-covered backs exposed, barely feeling a damn thing.

Yet, for me, back then, it seemed like a sign of hope, as at that moment, I foulishly thought that somehow we were more precious than their beasts. It reassured me, made me forget about the pain, the thirst, and the constant hunger.

That sand storm allowed us to share a shelter and rest for the day, a rare and precious moment indeed. I slept, woke up, and slept again. I even tried to keep count of the time that had passed since I entered this world, and finally, I got a bit of time to think and remember the day that brought me here. That fucking cursed day!

I take hold of another full jug, hands shaking. I drink half of it at once and close my eyes, waiting for my brain to go numb.

All my recent memories hurt, but here I am. I survived, somehow.

Fuck you, savage world.