Chapter 1

It started with a book, a wish, and five simple words; I don't want to go.

These words were not uttered from the hospital bed of a fearful patient facing her last days, nor whispered softly into a lover's ear the night before a soldier shipped out. No, these words were not even spoken, just a petty thought, an internal moan of annoyance before an uncomfortable event.

I don't want to go.

From the moment the irritating blare of her alarm clock jolted her awake that morning, the words had been bouncing uselessly in Kate's head, like a DVD player screensaver when the movie's been paused for just a bit too long.

I don't want to go, as she showered, dressed, and called a cab, because of course stupid daylight savings had made her miss her bus. I just don't want to go. Really, all she wanted to do was crawl back to bed, onto the lumpy, second-hand mattress, which was never quite so comfy as when she had to leave it, into the warm, fluffy cavern of blankets, turn on her white noise machine and sleep until reality found her. Or maybe forever. That sounded good.

She had screwed up at work so many times yesterday, and pretty monumentally too—though in her defense, how was she supposed to know flammable and inflammable meant the same thing?—that she was pretty sure she was getting fired. And yeah, working at the stop-and-rob wasn't exactly Kate's dream job, but it paid the bills and kept a house over her head in her cheap basement apartment and at this point it was really all she had.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad as she thought. The fire hadn't been that big, and she'd gotten it out rather quickly, after all. Maybe she'd just get stuck with the night shift. Then she could hang out with the crackheads. That would be fun.

Oh, she really didn't want to go.

Suck it up, buttercup.

It was her mom's favorite phrase, and it grated at her, but that didn't stop it from popping up every time she found herself wallowing. Suck it up, buttercup, life is tough, but so are you. You do what you have to do.

And if she didn't want to end up on the streets with the fun crackheads, (or more likely, moving back in with her mom) she had to go to work and see if she could somehow salvage the wreck she'd made of it.

Upside, she was supposed to meet her mom for lunch that day—free food, score! —downside, that probably meant another hypocritical attempt at a set-up. Hypocritical because Kate couldn't remember the last time her mother had dated anyone, but that… that was a can of worms she didn't want to open. Again.

Kate sighed. Yup, the day was going to suck, and dwelling on it was only tying a knot of anxiety in her stomach, so as she waited for her cab, she sought escape the same way she always did; she grabbed her favorite book—The Talerian Chronicles: book one—and, brushing back an errant lock of bright blue hair (newly dyed, mom was going to love it) tried to read.

"Wish I could just run away to Taleria," she murmured wistfully. She'd much rather face down goblins and dragons and trolls than the consequences of her own stupidity. Ah, but if wishes were fishes—

A honking horn jolted Kate out of her thoughts. Dag. The cab was there. She reluctantly closed the book and stood to go, but didn't get more than a step before she felt something slam into her chest with enough force to knock her back onto the couch and steal the air from her lungs. She gasped and coughed, trying to catch her breath, but before she could, something violently yanked her forward, sending her tumbling to the floor.

Except she didn't hit the floor.

She didn't…

What? Where…

Who turned out the lights? How did… when did it get so cold?

She was falling, still falling, how was she still falling?

Where… where am I?

Her thoughts were sluggish and muddled when they came, like trying to wade through molasses. Eventually, it occurred to Kate that she should probably be trying to do something, finding the ground maybe, or opening her eyes. Were they closed? She thought they were open, thought she was blinking, but it was hard to tell.

It was impossible to say how much time had passed, it might have been a minute, it might have been a year, but finally the darkness faded from her eyes and Kate's vision returned. When it did… Oh boy.

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.

She was staring up at a bright blue sky, framed by leafy green branches of some of the tallest trees she'd ever seen, gently swaying in the breeze. Definitely not the ceiling of her apartment. Although, that was an idea, maybe she could paint it to look like—no, focus!

She tried to get up, look around and get her bearings, but she—she couldn't move. What the hell? She was paralyzed. She couldn't move, couldn't feel anything, was she even breathing? She couldn't feel air entering or leaving her body, she tried to look down at her chest to check if it was moving but couldn't see past her chin. No, she had to be breathing, she was conscious, wasn't she? Tears blurred her vision as terror took hold, but she couldn't make a sound.

She couldn't call out for help. How long was she going to be stuck there, in a forest of all places?

She started at a rustling sound from somewhere to the far right. Her first thought was a bear, and what the hell was she supposed to do about that? Breathe at it? Blink a message in Morse code? She didn't even know Morse code!

Heart pounding, she strained her eyes to a painful limit but there was nothing. Maybe she had imagined it? Or maybe the wind—

A brown and white blur leapt out of the bushes and streaked toward her. Fear squeezed her eyes shut and…

Nothing happened. No ripping, no tearing, no blood… no pain.

A horrible thought occurred to her then. She was paralyzed. The thing could be gnawing at her cheek at that very moment, and she wouldn't feel a thing. Some distant part of her recognized that would probably be a good thing—a painless death's better than an agonizing one—but she had to know, and that morbid curiosity forced her eyes open just in time to see a big, wet nose snuffling at her face.

She blinked at it.

It was a dog. A hunting hound if she wasn't mistaken, with droopy jowls and floppy ears. It lifted its head and regarded her for a moment with its big, sweet eyes before its jaw dropped in a doggy grin and it slapped its tongue across her face.

Kate was too shocked to be upset by the slimy drool clogging one nostril and dripping down her cheek for the very fact that she knew it was dripping down her cheek.

She could feel it.

Hope flared and she tried to move, just to turn her head, open her mouth, make a sound, something, but she still couldn't control more than her eyes. Before she had time to wonder what that meant, the dog bounded away.

No, don't go, she tried to call, but all she could do was watch helplessly as it disappeared back into the bushes.

She stared after it for a long while, hoping it would come back, before finally returning her gaze to the sky. She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath, her mind warring between hope and despair.

Okay.

Another breath.

Okay, think.

She had felt the dog's tongue, could still feel its drool drying on her cheek, when she hadn't been able to feel anything else. That had to be a good thing. The dog was gone now, but that was okay, because dogs meant people. It had probably just gone off to find its master. Yeah, that was it. It had gone to find its master, and then it would… what? Pull a 'Timmy's fallen into the well' routine?

Yeah, that was going to happen.

"Daute vae?"

Kate started at the deep murmured words, her eyes flying open to see a smooth, masculine face hovering close to hers, wearing a curious expression. His long, dark mahogany hair brushed her cheek as he moved away and though his expression didn't change, Kate's would have, if it could.

She knew that face.

She couldn't count the number of times she had seen it dashing across her tv screen, flashing a lopsided grin or a determined grimace as the elf pulled a bow or sword and slaughtered a gaggle of goblins or took down a troll in the Talerian Chronicles movies. That was Lindolir, one of the main characters.

Kate's brain stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she was looking at a fictional elven prince.

Maybe she was on a movie set? Were they making another one? He was in full costume, the same forest green tunic and charcoal gray leggings he wore in all four of the movies.

"Dau vae. Ilte evein?"

But if she was on a set, why was he speaking Elvish? She wouldn't be in the movie.

"Elethte peledh?"

The answer hit her then like slap in the face, so obvious she could kick herself for not seeing it sooner. She was dreaming. She'd been reading The Talerian Chronicles while she waited for the cab, and she fell asleep. It explained everything, the darkness, the forest, even the paralysis.

Sleep paralysis was a thing, right?

Yes, that had to be it, it made perfect sense. She was dreaming. Now she just had to figure out how to wake up before she missed her cab and got fired for sure.

Pain always worked, but pinching herself was out, for obvious reasons. She couldn't even bite her tongue.

Lindolir sat back on his heels and looked her up and down with a thoughtful frown, as if she were a problem that needed solving.

Yeah, well, feeling's mutual, buddy, she thought as he gave a brief nod and knelt beside her. He laid a hand across her forehead as if checking for a fever and quickly drew back with a sharp gasp as if burned.

"Flann cui eleg!" he whispered.

I must be running one hell of a fever, she thought dubiously, because she felt fine. Well, apart from the whole paralyzed thing, but whatever. It was a dream; it didn't need to make sense.

After a moment's hesitation, Lindolir slowly replaced his hand on her head and moved the other over her heart before he bowed his head and began to speak softly.

"Dhaen Caver, puil te anen tel bellan esed rhaul." A dim light began to seep from his fingers, glowing faintly in flickering shades of green and blue as he turned to face the sky and continued, "Maldhen Alor, puil tel lauth tarie nastedren esed hur."

What the hell did he just call me?

That last word had sounded like 'whore'. Rude-ass dream elf.

"Dhaen Caver, puil te anen tel bellan esed rhaul. Maldhen Alor, puil tel auth tarie nastedren esed hur." Slowly, the light began to spread, moving across Kate's limbs and enveloping her in its gentle pulsing glow, leaving a soft tingle in its wake.

His voice rose as he spoke the words again, and as it did, the tingle intensified until it became painful, a cold burn, like when your foot falls asleep and the tiny needles jab at it when it wakes, except magnified and everywhere at once.

It grew and grew until she cried out from the pain, and Lindolir released her, sitting back with a satisfied nod.

The pain slowly faded leaving behind a disturbing chill while Kate wiggled her fingers and toes, testing them out as feeling returned. Lindolir sat next to her, watching her with a curious expression as he idly petted the dog, who had laid down, resting its head in his lap.

Kate didn't remember seeing the dog come back, but then, who notices a dog when there's a handsome, fictional elf staring you in the face?

A handsome, fictional elf, who she was starting to think was not just part of a weird dream because, as much as she appreciated whatever he had just done, it had hurt way too much not to wake her.

"Vui daute fae?" Lindolir asked.

"I don't—" her voice came out rough, like she hadn't spoken in weeks, and she stopped to clear her throat before continuing, "I don't understand you. Why are you speaking Elvish?" Because he couldn't possibly be an actual elf. Kate was a grown-ass woman, she knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and elves weren't real. And whatever that glowy finger thing was, it certainly wasn't magic, because magic wasn't real.

Or at least, that's what she'd always believed. Now though…

No, Kate pushed the thought away. No, there had to be something else going on here. Maybe she was on one of those prank shows. Did anyone still make those? But that didn't make sense either, because then how did she get here? What, did someone break into her apartment and drug the granola bar she'd had for breakfast, wait for her to pass out then carry her away?

That was… possible, she supposed, but it didn't seem all that likely, and it didn't quiet the tiny voice that came from somewhere deep inside and whispered with a childlike wonder and hope, what if?

What if magic was real? What if she really was in Taleria? Would that really be so bad?

"Te dau uvpeledh eselen," Lindolir said, then paused, tilting his head, and spoke again, this time with words that sounded coarse and hard in comparison to the smooth flowing Elvish. Still gibberish though.

"You…don't understand me either, do you?" she asked as she sat up. One point for the Taleria column, then.

He let out a small, frustrated huff, then stood. "Elethte arie?"

"Still don't know what you're saying," Kate muttered as she followed suit. Her legs felt like overcooked noodles, so it wasn't easy, but she managed.

"Maedh." He smiled. "Orim berro te cen buil enasted. Elethte para?"

It sounded like a question, but Kate had no idea how to respond, so she shook her head and shrugged, trying to express a lack of understanding. Lindolir's brow knitted as he looked away before turning back to her with a lightbulb expression, and moving back a few feet, motioning for her to follow. Ah, he must have been asking if she could walk.

She could, and while that wasn't as easy as it should've been either, her legs only wobbled a little and she managed not to fall, even when her foot connected with something hard and sent it skittering into Lindolir.

Kate's breath caught as he stooped to pick it up and she saw what it was.

The Talerian Chronicles.

And not just any copy, but hers, with the swoopy little scratch and two tiny mud stains on the top corner of the front cover from when she'd dropped it in the parking lot at work two years ago.

What was that doing here? Well, what was she doing here—chances were pretty good the answer to both questions was the same.

But the book… If this really was Taleria, and she wasn't convinced of that, but still, if it was, then that book could be very dangerous, because she had no idea where in the story she had fallen, what had already happened and what still needed to. The right information at the wrong time could unravel everything, and Kate had loved that book, that world, too deeply for too long to let that happen.

"Uh… Can I have my book back?" she asked in a soft, talking-to-small-children-and-animals sort of voice as she held out a hand.

Lindolir, fortunately, had no way to perceive the importance of the book the way Kate did, and so only gave it a cursory glance before handing it back.

"Taluin."

Kate closed her eyes and hugged the book to her chest for a moment before an idea struck. She remembered seeing an article somewhere about lucid dreaming which said that a good way to test if you're dreaming is to read something twice, because if you're dreaming, the words will be different the second time. Really, she didn't think she was dreaming anymore, but what would it hurt to test it out?

She opened the book to a random page and read the first line.

'…it was not a thing to dwell overlong upon, yet he found his mind unwilling to move on.'

She closed the book, keeping her finger on the page, and waited a few seconds before opening it again.

Her shoulders slumped as she read the line again, word for word exactly the same. Dag. Score another for the Taleria column. Or at least the Not Dreaming column.

She sighed and looked up, only to find herself alone in the clearing.

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Elvish Translations

"Daute vae?" - Do you live?

"Dau vae. Ilte evein?" - You live. Are you hurt?

"Elethte peledh?" - Can you speak?

"Flann cui eleg!" - Skin as ice!

"Dhaen Caver, puil te anen tel bellan esed rhaul." - Great Earth, may you give your strength to this body.

"Maldhen Alor, puil tel lauth tarie nastedren esed hur." - Gleaming Sun, may your warmth bring healing to this heart.

"Vui daute fae?" - How do you fare?

"Te dau uvpeledh eselen," - You do not speak elvish.

"Elethte arie?" - Can you rise?

"Maedh. Orim berro te cen buil enasted. Elethte para?" - Good. Yet I believe you still need healing. Can you walk?"

"Taluin." - Come.