“Three!” They said together, there was a moment’s hesitation as they weren’t sure if they were jumping on three, or counting three and then jumping, but the moment ended when Charlotte leaped forward into the portal. Even though the world looked close enough to touch from our world it was still a journey to get there. They were sucked into what looked like technicoloured outer space as our world passed away and faded behind them and they zoomed ever forward towards Pandromir. They flew faster and faster until they shot out of the portal sideways (our world is perpendicular to Pandromir) and tumbled onto the grass. Neither of them were sure if they travelled for an hour or a matter of seconds, but that didn’t matter now, they had arrived. Olivia stood up and helped Charlotte to her feet. They looked around, it was just like Olivia’s dreams. Beautiful hills and valleys with mountains in the distance, pink and purple sunsets cast against a dark blue sky, castles dotting the horizon and what looked like every type of beast from Olivia’s favourite books were bustling around. They appeared to have landed just outside of a village or some kind of social hub. There were elves and dwarves and centaurs moving in and out of the village gate, selling and trading chickens and other livestock.

“This is unreal!” Said Charlotte.

“Don’t get carried away.” said Olivia cautiously, “We have to keep our wits about us.” Olivia scanned her surroundings looking for something to tell her what to do next.

“Let’s go into the village and ask people about your dad.” said Charlotte. Olivia hesitated.

“What would we even say?” she asked. Charlotte thought for a moment.

“Do you have a picture of him?” she asked.

“Just on my phone.” said Olivia, pulling it out of her pocket.

“Perfect!” said Charlotte. She grabbed Olivia’s hand and started running towards the village gates. The gates were manned by some gruff looking guards in leather armor carrying spears. They were both humans, or so they thought (it’s hard to tell sometimes, but it’s doubtful an elf would allow himself to get that dirty).

“Um, excuse me?” said Olivia nervously to one of the guards. He was a muscular man with long blond hair in a high ponytail with small braids woven together down his scalp. He didn’t react.

“Excuse me, have you seen this man?” she asked again, holding her phone up to his face so that he could see the picture. You’d think that someone living in what seemed to be a pre-medieval society would freak out at the sight of a smartphone but when you see magic every day technology tends to fall short. The man still didn’t react.

“Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions... “ said Charlotte. “Do you know who has him?”

“I don’t know if anyone ‘has him’, Uncle Jethro just said he was here to talk to the Dark Mage.” As soon as the words “Dark Mage” left her mouth the guards both squatted into a battle position with their spears out and trained on Olivia.

“Okay…” said Olivia, “not fans of the Dark Mage, I take it?” The guard with the blond hair grabbed Olivia by the arm while the other one apprehended Charlotte, who tried to run but didn’t really know where to go, and in her hesitation she allowed herself to be captured. They dragged them into the village and pushed the girls in front of them with their spears pointed at the small of their backs.

“March.” grunted one of the guards. The words “to where?” almost left her mouth, but Olivia decided it best not to be sarcastic with the man holding a spear to her back. Charlotte and Olivia marched into the village with the guards close behind them. Whenever they needed to change direction the guards would correct them with a sharp jab on either side of their backs with the butt of their spears.

“Where are you taking us?” Charlotte asked.

“To Barflegh, Lord of Bramblebrook.” They were directed to a large two story stone building with a straw pitch roof. The wooden door creaked open and they entered the dark hall that was dimly lit by a few torches. In the center of the hall was a red carpet that appeared to be intended to make the room more regal, but the broken bits of straw and dried horse manure spread on bits of it betrayed the illusion. The carpet led to the far end of the room where a man sat on a wooden throne of sorts. The throne was tied together with what looked like woven straw and it looked like it might break under the weight of the man, who was not tall by any standard but was quite fat. Not so fat that you’d expect a chair to break under him, but that just speaks to the poor craftsmanship of the throne. The fat man, who Olivia and Charlotte assumed was Barflegh, Lord of Bramblebrook, looked unwashed and had long dark greasy hair that hung down in strands. His lips were large and edemic and he appeared to not be getting enough oxygen as his lips and surrounding tissue had a slight blue tinge. His eyes were large and bloodshot, and he was gnawing on what seemed to be a turkey leg.

“What now?” He shouted. His voice was loud and obnoxious like the braying of a donkey, and he spat when he talked.

“Emissaries of the Dark Mage, oh majestic one.” said the blonde guard.

“Uh, no, no!” said Charlotte, “We’re just looking for the Dark Mage.”

“And why would you want to do a thing like that?” barked the fat man, “No one seeks out the Dark Mage, she is a plague on all of Pandromir.”

“Yes, we’re here to defeat her.” Said Charlotte proudly.

“Charlotte!” growled Olivia, “Shut up!” Barflegh laughed, spitting out bits of turkey as he did.

“And how do you intend to do that?” he asked.

“It’s easy!” said Charlotte, “Olivia is the chosen one!” The room went quiet. After a moment the Barflegh spoke.

“The… chosen what?” he asked dumbfounded.

“The chosen one.” said Charlotte, “the one long foretold to rise up and defeat the Dark Mage.”

“Foretold by whom?” he asked.

“Surely there's some kind of prophecy about a chosen one who will rise up and end tyranny.” Charlotte said, “There’s always a prophecy in situations like this.”

“I… see…” Barflegh said. “And how do we know this isn’t a ruse perpetrated by servants of the Dark Mage?” Charlotte fell silent. She hadn’t thought about that. The silence made the guards uncomfortable and they trained their spears on the two girls once again.

“Guards!” Barflegh shouted, “Throw them in the dungeon!” Olivia started to panic but quickly got her wits about her.

“Our eyes!” she shouted. The guards stopped.

“What?” asked the fat man.

“Our eyes!” she said again. “Servants of the Dark Mage all have the same fiery eyes, but ours are normal!” Barflegh thought about this.

“Yes…” he said, “That is true.” He thought for a moment longer. “So, you are trying to defeat the Dark Mage?”

“Yes.” said Charlotte before Olivia could answer.

“Because you’re the chosen one?” he said.

“Yes.” Said Charlotte again before Olivia could protest or correct them.

“And just what makes you so special?” he probed.

“I’m um…” Olivia stammered, “I’m a mage.” There was an awkward silence followed by uproarious laughter. The fat man wiped a tear from his eye.

“You!” he laughed, “are a mage?”

“Yes…” said Olivia quietly.

“Well, go on,” he said, “do something mage-y.” Olivia was silent and suddenly very nervous. She had never done magic on purpose before. She wasn’t even really sure she’d done it by accident either, how did she know this hadn’t all been some big ruse to get her here. Olivia held out her arms as if she was expecting magic to fly out of them and amaze everyone.

“I...don’t know how…” she said sheepishly. Barflegh burst out in laughter spewing more half chewed turkey out of his mouth.

“Lock them up!” He said in a sudden change of tone. Charlotte had an idea, she quickly grabbed the guard’s arm and bit his hand (which was very brave considering the amount of filth on him). The guard shrieked and dropped his spear, which Charlotte caught before it hit the ground.

“Hey Olivia!” she shouted, “Think fast!” She grasped the spear in her hand, drew her arm back, and hurled it like a javelin as hard as she could towards Olivia, who turned around just in time to see the spear streaking through the air towards her. Olivia screamed and covered her face and then disappeared in a gulf of flame just as the spear was about to run her through. She reappeared in a gulf of flame just beside the fat man with her face still in her hands. She was starting to understand how Uncle Jethro got out of the tree and what he meant when he said the impossible merely becomes the unexpected for a mage. Barflegh sat awestruck gawking slack jawed at what had transpired in front of him. He was so shocked he dropped his turkey leg.

“She is a mage…” he said. He sat for a moment thinking and then said, “Lock them up anyways!” The guards grabbed each girl firmly by the arm and started dragging them down a dark corridor until they came to the back door. Olivia’s arm hurt so much she thought it was going to dislocate. The guards were walking so fast that she would lose her footing periodically and be dragged for a few feet. Charlotte was having a similar experience in that she refused to walk altogether and was being dragged by the blonde guard. Charlotte had the massively delusional thought that this passive resistance made her a bit like Gandhi, which of course, it did not. The guards dragged the girls outside to what looked like a bamboo cell tied together with leather cords and threw them inside. The cell was connected to a pulley with a rope on what looked like a wooden crane and the guards heaved and hauled and pulled the rope so that the cell was suspended in midair. They laughed and walked back into the dark corridor.

“Are you crazy!?” Olivia yelled at Charlotte.

“What?” Charlotte asked defensively.

“You threw a javelin at me!”

“Oh, that. I had a theory, and it worked.” said Charlotte proudly.

“And what if I didn’t teleport?” asked Olivia, “what then?”

“Then you would have used your powers to dodge or heal yourself if you got hit!” Said Charlotte getting annoyed with how upset Olivia was getting.

“Well, can we at least agree that what a mage can and can’t do are drastically unknown to us and maybe not try to kill me while finding that out?” She said perplexed. Charlotte paused for a moment.

“Fine.” she said flicking her hair and turning her head dismissively. “So, how are you going to get us out of here?” She asked excitedly.

“I still don’t know how to use my powers” Olivia said, “I don’t know what I can and can’t do or how to do or not do them.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Charlotte.

“If this was Harry Potter we could use floo powder or a port key…” said Olivia with a sigh of dismay. But then she remembered something. Her key. She thought back to her conversation with Uncle Jethro.

“What does it open?” She remembered asking.

“Doors.” he said. She rummaged around for the key in her pocket. Charlotte noticed what was happening.

“What is it?” She asked. “What’s going on?” Olivia pulled out the brass key on the long neck chain and examined it. It looked like just a normal old key, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe Uncle Jethro was trying to tell her something instead of just being sarcastic. She looked around the cell for the lock. It was on the outside of the bamboo cell about 3 feet to her left. She slowly stuck her hand outside the cell and found the hole in the lock. She stuck in the key and turned it slowly. They heard a click and the latch on the lock popped open, Olivia removed it and flung the door open. Charlotte squealed with delight as she helped Olivia climb down out of the cell and drop to the ground. She followed soon after. They looked around cautiously; the guards were gone and no one seemed to notice or care that they had escaped, so they quietly ducked to stay out of sight of any windows and ran towards a hill behind the large stone building that housed Barflegh, Lord of Bramblebrook.

The town was surprisingly smelly and dirty compared to how Olivia had experienced Pandromir in her dreams, and the romanticized stained-glass version of medieval living that she had in her head was quickly being shattered by the very overpowering odor of horses and pigs. They walked through a market and past people trying to hock their wares, but of course the girls had no money, at least none that would be accepted in Pandromir. It was when they passed the blacksmith that they were both totally smitten. Not with the blacksmith, of course, although he was very handsome; in his early twenties with a muscular build. He had sandy brown hair that was trimmed short and neat, and he had the good kind of dirt on him; the kind that showed he’d been working hard, not that he was unwashed. But who even had time for boys? What they were smitten with was his handy work. They were awestruck at the beautiful blades on display in front of the forge. There were beautiful straight blades and broadswords that you would expect a human to wield, but also curved elvish blades. There were daggers, knives, throwing knives and even more. The girls were in blade heaven.

“How much money do you have on you?” Charlotte asked.

“I don’t think they take Canadian currency here…” said Olivia. They were still drooling over the swords when there was a huge crashing sound that came from the east of the village. It drew their attention away from the swords when they saw villagers running in terror. Olivia and Charlotte also started to back away from the commotion when they saw it. It was a hulking creature with bluish gray skin and what looked like deformed musculature. It had large tusks and a small nose and it’s hair, if you could call it that, was braided, twisted and tangled into some kind of war pony tail. The creature's eyes were set far apart on its face and glowed yellow. He, Olivia thought it was a he, rode on the back of an enormous boar and together they were knocking over carts in the market and damaging the houses along the street. He drank from a black wine skin and laughed uproariously as he caused havoc. Soon after he appeared two others who looked almost just like him showed up. The one who they saw at first seemed to be the leader.

“It's tribute day! Pay tribute to the mamono! Or we will come in droves and feast the skin from off your bones!”