Beckett MacLeod couldn’t stop staring.
Gripping the doorframe, he blinked, trying to focus on the aliens inside the noisy bar. He’d lifted a pint of ale or two in a pub back home, but, even drunk, he’d never seen anything like this. Creatures of varied shapes and sizes sprawled in the oddly curved seats in the establishment. Some of them had populated his nightmares.
Strange words sounded behind him and Beckett looked around to find a being, easily a head taller than himself, whose face resembled a wild boar . . . with three eyes. The light from the glowing sign above the doorway glinted off its tusks as it growled. Finally comprehending, Beckett stepped aside and let the beast enter.
Beckett frowned. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t want to be here. He could no more read the sign over the entrance than he could understand the conversation spoken inside.
Beckett looked around until he found the alien he’d hired. It stood inside the bar, its head cocked to one side. He struggled to remember its hard-to-pronounce name—Rajix or something like that.
Rajix waved at him. “You want tracker? Yes? No?” The creature’s high-pitched voice matched its unusual appearance—that of an oversized squirrel, complete with bushy tail.
Nodding, Beckett entered the bar. Though dimly lit, one corner vibrated with light and he glanced over to see some creatures—no, just one creature with three heads and six arms—playing some kind of loud music. He winced. At least, he thought it was music.
As he passed through the jumble of unusual beasts, Beckett’s head throbbed. The myriad odors and types of speech overwhelmed him. This was nothing like home.
And Ciorstan was alone in this world—somewhere.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish