"Thanks," he said, and tried again, directing his thoughts in a concentrated wish: fly. He didn't have any better luck this time, though, and now the people around him laughed outright. A few pointed at him and spoke more unfamiliar words, but Jedra didn't have to know the language to know what they were saying. They thought he was crazy.
Well, that was one piece of information, then. People couldn't fly in this world. That would explain all the chariots. Blushing furiously now, Jedra began walking through the crowd. The first few people gave way before him, but the ones behind them didn't know that he was the source of the commotion, or even that any commotion had gone on, so he had to jostle his way along with the rest of them.
He'd gone less than a hundred paces before someone shouldered him aside and he lost his balance. Without thinking, he stepped out into the street to keep from falling over. One of the yellow chariots brushed by him, its hard flank banging painfully into his thigh and knocking him back. The chariot blared angrily as it continued past, and Jedra fell against one of the metal light posts. He clutched it for dear life, which brought forth more laughter from the people on the walkway, but he didn't care. Better safe and embarrassed than dead beneath a chariot.
His leg hurt. His heart was pounding, and his breath was coming in tight little gasps. It was time to leave. Jedra imagined a hole in the gray stone walkway through which he could fall out of this mad world...
... but no hole appeared.
I wish to be out of here, he thought, but nothing happened.
Hmm. This place obviously followed different rules. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on finding a pathway out of it, but when he opened them he was still in the throng of people and chariots. And nobody spoke his language, so he couldn't even ask for help.
Suddenly he realized he was being an idiot. He had a perfectly good method of communication he hadn't even tried. Do you understand me this way? he mindsent to a man passing by, but the moment he tried it he realized that wouldn't work. He couldn't sense the man's mind at all.
Confused, he turned his attention to another person on the walkway beside him, but he felt no mind there either. He tried to contact another and another, but he got nothing from any of them. Were they all zombies? Magically animated corpses? Or were they something else entirely?
Jedra closed his eyes tight against his mounting anxiety, but the city's noise still crashed in on him. He held his hands over his ears, but that barely muted it. How could people live in such a place? It would drive him crazy to be in such a hectic environment all the time.
Maybe that was why nobody here seemed to have a mind. To escape the insanity around them, they had all retreated into some inner world, leaving their bodies behind to carry on without them.
Worlds within worlds within worlds... the possibility frightened him more than anything else he had seen here.
He had to get out of this place. Now. If he couldn't leave the entire world, he could at least leave the city.
With renewed determination, he stepped into the flowing river of people again and began to walk.
He lost track of how many streets he crossed, how many thousands of people he passed on the walkways, how many chariots roared past him. His leg flashed with pain at every step, but the rest of him felt numb. He tried dozens of times to escape back into the real world-his world-but remained trapped within the frantic city. At last he stepped from a canyon of giant buildings to see a line of darkness before him. All he had to do was cross one more busy street, and beyond it waited an expanse of unnaturally even grass stretching off toward a copse of trees. He waited for a gap between the chariots and sprinted across, ignoring their angry bleats, then he hopped the low stone wall separating the street from the grass and continued to run past the few startled people walking beside a pond until he reached the edge of the trees. Beneath the trees' protective cover he found a rock to sit on, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
His tension began to drain away. There had to be a way out of here; he just hadn't tried the right thing yet. If psionics didn't work, then maybe magic would. He probably ju
st needed to find a mage who could work the spell for him. He would search for one soon, but for now he would just relax. When his heart quit pounding, he would go on.
"Hevar," a voice said right by his side. Jedra jumped up and swung around to see a boy a couple years younger than himself standing there, his hands balled into fists and held ready in front of him. Behind him stood four more even younger boys, all in unmistakably aggressive poses. All five wore dark, tight-fitting clothes, making them difficult to see in the dim light.
Jedra hadn't sensed them at all. Of course not-his psionic danger sense was just as dead as all his other abilities. Suddenly sweating, he backed away slowly, hands held out palms-forward in a gesture of peace, and said, "Sorry. I didn't know this was your place. I'll leave." The boy who had spoken said, "Kemali non vanada." His tone of voice made it sound like a command, and sure enough, the others spread out to block Jedra's escape. Jedra had witnessed the same sort of thing before in Urik. He had never had to fight there, though; his danger sense had always warned him in time.
"Look," he said, his voice wavering, "I don't want to fight you. I just want to go home."
The leader of the boys laughed and said, "Delan." He reached out and tugged on the sleeve of Jedra's tunic. The other boys laughed with him. One of the boys who had flanked him said, "Marada delor?" and Jedra turned to say, "Sorry, I don't under-"
The first boy hit him in the left side of the head. Jedra's teeth clacked together, biting into his cheek and tongue, and his ear rang. "Ow!" he shouted, jumping back to avoid another blow, but one of the boys behind him hit him in the side, and another in the back. He whirled around and struck at them, fear making him swing wildly, but his longer arms let him connect solidly with one's chest even so.
"Hooda!" the leader shouted, hitting Jedra in the head again. Jedra spun around and punched him in the nose, two quick, almost instinctive jabs, then he whirled around to face whoever else was close. It was nearly impossible to keep all five boys at bay; they danced forward and back, one or two leaning in and striking while he protected himself from another. Blows fell on him nearly constantly, mostly on the sides and back, but a few landed on his head and face.
His elven ancestry did at least give him the advantage of reach. He didn't know how to fight well, but he was fast, and he could snap a fist in past his attackers' guard without letting them get close enough to return his punches. And now he was getting mad. Through his rising anger he noted with satisfaction that the leader was at least bleeding from both nostrils, even while he tasted blood flowing freely from his own. This couldn't last, though. He couldn't win against five people, even if they were just children.
That realization transformed his anger back into terror. "Help!" he shouted. He looked past the boys to the open grass, but the only person he saw was hurrying away.
His plea brought forth more laughter from the boys. They shouted something, but their words blended together in Jedra's ringing ears. Another fist from the side hit him in the right eye, and his vision on that side burst into a shower of light. Screaming in pain, Jedra kicked out sideways with his right foot and felt it connect solidly with the stomach of the boy who had hit him. Jedra heard the boy go down. He spun around, punching and kicking to drive the others back, then he leaped through the gap he had just opened in their ring.
Only he hadn't hurt the boy on the ground as badly as he'd thought. The boy grabbed Jedra's leg as he jumped over him, and Jedra toppled off balance and fell to the ground. He wrenched his foot free and jumped up to run again, but it was too late. The others had entrapped him again.
And now they were angry. They had just been playing with him before, but he had fought back too well; now the leader reached to his waistband and withdrew from a pocket a dark folding knife, which he snapped open with a practiced flick of his wrist. Jedra heard the snick of four more knives opening. His heart seemed ready to tear itself from his chest. He kicked out frantically at the boy he'd knocked down, trying once again to make an escape, but the boy dodged back, and before Jedra could recover and turn, he felt a sudden burst of searing pain in his left side.
Blood bubbled out through the slash in his tunic. Jedra clasped his hand over the wound, but another hot flare ripped along his right arm, then another in his back. He screamed and kicked out again and again, trying to drive the boys back without exposing his arms or face, but they merely slashed his legs until he could barely stand. Then he saw a silvery blur slide toward his left eye, felt a hot streak of pain slide up his cheek-and his eye went dark.
His right eye gave him only blurred shadows. Jedra kicked and swung his fists blindly, fighting by feel now, but even though he connected again and again, the knives slashed him relentlessly. He felt them plunge deep into his belly and sides, felt them slice his left ear, felt them slam to the hilt in his chest. He didn't even notice when he fell over; his mouth was just suddenly filled with dirt.