James dreamed of flying. Water and coastline rushed by. A rhythmic sound, like the titanic beating of wings. He had the sense of something holding him about the chest and legs. He felt comforted, as though cradled in the arms of his mother.

  Darkness washed over him and he allowed himself to rest. His body yearned for slumber and he welcomed it. Even if he would never wake again.

  He woke in a bed. For a moment, he was disorientated.

  James tried to recall the last things he remembered. He had joined the others below deck. They had been descending for some time, the boiler had gone out when the last of the bellowhands had died at his station.

  He had the sense that they had crashed, but had he dreamt that. Had he dreamt all of this? Perhaps he had fallen into a fever and he had never stepped foot on the Mystery after all.

  Everything about the room he was in was strange. It felt foreign, but in a way that he had never experienced before. The Royal Air Force had allowed him to be well travelled, and he had experienced many a country. But it was nothing like this.

  A woman entered, wearing white linen wrapped about her. Her hair was tied up, coiled in braids. He was taken aback by her beauty, but especially how different she was. Her skin was dark, but her complexion and the structure of her face was unlike anything he had seen in the Africas and the Indias. She was from somewhere very different.

  “Seh-a,” she said, with a smile.

  James gave her a confused look and shrugged. “Hello,” he said back.

  “Naya kor-a nahum?” she said, gesturing to her brow.

  He put a hand to his head, noticing the bandage wrapped around it. He winced as he touched the side of his temple.

  “Na,” she said, hurrying to take his hand away. Her skin was soft and cool on his.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t– I must have hit my head on… something.” He looked away. “I don’t remember.”

  She talked to herself, muttering words he had no chance of understanding, as she worked. She changed the bandage around his head and rubbed ointments into bruises and scrapes on his limbs.

  “Where am I?” he tried. Not hoping for an answer he would understand.

  The woman looked at him and smiled encouragingly.

  He let her do her work, her soft hands taking great care to lift an arm or a leg she needed to work on. The woman was very good at communicating with her body language what she wanted him to do. James felt at ease, cared for. It was very unlike the hurried bedside manner of a typical field hospital.

  As the woman left the room, he laid his head back on the pillow. “But just where the devil am I?”

  But he remembered a battle off the coast of the Africas. A fast airship that had chased them into a hurricane. He remembered the treacherous crossing, how he had been forced to watch his men slowly fading and dying from starvation and dehydration.

  A jug of water sat beside his table. A wooden cup next to it. He lifted it and took a sip, the water cool and fresh from a spring. He could taste the quality of it, something he would only have tasted at a rich admiral’s banquet.

  His throat still ached from the burn of thirst. The delirium of a man doomed to die that had gripped his mind. But it all seemed so far away now. He slept under clean sheets. He ate. Drank. And slept like the dead.

  Something let out a strange animal call, half roar and half screech. It made him jump out of his skin and some primitive reaction made his skin prickle into goosebumps. A shadow passed by the windows, whipping through the air like a bat from a cave.

  His belly knotted. The room seemed to grow in size. He felt vulnerable. Alone. Small. And so very far from home.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  James rolled onto his side and tried to sleep. The strange voices speaking words he had no hope of understanding wafted in through the open windows.

  He fell asleep, his dreams filled with flying. Dreams he had not dreamt since he was a young apprentice, flying on his first airship.

  …

  Something kicked his bed, shocking him from his sleep. James snapped his eyes open.

  A man stood before him. The strange face was familiar. He wracked his memories. The man stood below deck. James pointed his gun at him. They had been on the Mystery. The man had sheathed his sword. James had lowered his gun.

  “Dae-khota?” James asked.

  The man smiled. “Ena,” he replied, pointing at his chest. “Daekhota.”

  , he thought. “Good to see you.”

  Daekhota responded with a confused look on his face.

  James gave the man a smile.

  From the doorway, a larger man appeared. His clothing was colourful, with flourishes of cloth. A golden piece of jewelry was pinned to his chest. James had never seen something made of so much solid gold before. But the way it almost glowed, how his mind yearned to have it, made it unmistakable. James wondered if he was a chief or some kind of commander.

  Daekhota nodded out of respect to the chief and backed away.

  The two men exchanged words. Daekhota shook his head. “Na,” he said and spoke further.

  The man gave James a look, studying him with wise eyes. “Na ura na-tol, seh-en talen,” he said to Daekhota and walked away. The only man who he knew in this place gave him a smile that said sorry and left, locking the door behind him.

  “Hey!” James called out. “Hey!”

  …

  “Hey!” Daekhota heard the Foreigner shout from behind the door. He looked to the guards at either side of the door. “Make sure he doesn’t get out – or hurt himself.”

  The guards nodded as he turned away, following after General Lornek who was marching at pace. He had a struggle to catch up, without looking foolish running like a child late for classes.

  “What is to be done with the prisoner?” asked Daekhota, when he had almost caught up with the heel of the general.

  “I am in half a mind to have him hung,” he replied.

  “Sir, I don’t believe he is a threat to us,” said Daekhota.

  Lornek stopped and looked him in the eyes. “For all we know, he is a spy sent from Jareshem.”

  “Looking like him?”

  “A white devil… I would not put a trick like this past them.” Lornek sighed. “You say he came from the east?”

  “From far out across the uncharted waters, straight as an arrow.”

  The general looked out at the coast, towards the horizon. “If he is indeed from the east he will have had to pass through Maa Soram Nahum.”

  “I thought nothing could pass the Maa Soram?”

  Lornek laughed. “A demon, maybe.” He sighed, coming to some unwanted decision. “Have him taught our language, he will be like a child. He knows nothing. We shall learn what we can of him. I must bring this news to the Council. For now, he is here on my grace. I cannot say what they will decide is to be done with him.”

  “I will see to it myself, sir.”

  “Good.” Lornek marched away, leaving Daekhota wringing his uniform. He realised what he saw doing, chastising himself for such a childish habit. He straightened his clothes and headed in the direction of the drake stables.

  …

  James sighed with frustration and lay on the bed. Pain stabbed at his head with the rhythm of his pulse. As he relaxed, it slowed before easing to a dull ache.

  He heard another of the strange creatures call out, that same roar and screech he had heard before.

  The woman appeared again. She gave him a shy smile as she neared his bed. She held a wooden plate of food. She placed it on his lap, gesturing to her mouth. “Mora naya,” she said.

  “Eat?” he asked, miming the action back to her. “Mora naya?”

  “Ena,” the woman replied, nodding with enthusiasm.

  . He laughed to himself. “Look at you, James. You’re a real explorer now, talking with the natives.”

  The woman looked confused. He gave her a smile. James felt his heart quicken each time she smiled at him.

  He took a bite of a piece of bread. “James,” he said, pointing at his chest.

  “Jams,” she replied.

  He laughed, finding her sweet. “James,” he corrected.

  “James,” she replied.

  “Very good!” He laughed as he took a bite.

  “Miyan,” the woman replied, pointing at her own chest.

  “Mi-yan,” James tried. Somehow, he felt the name seemed perfect for her, like it had been crafted just for a face as beautiful as hers.

  “Ena,” she replied, smiling. Miyan rose to her feet and began to walk away to whatever corner of the building she had appeared from. She stopped and looked back at him, with a sweep of her dress. “Mora naya, ura naya, James na-tol ilam.”

  He had no idea what she said, but James felt the kindness in her voice. He smiled as he watched her walk away, chewing on the rest of the bread.

  When he finished eating, he tried to rest but found himself tossing and turning in the bed. After what felt like half an hour, he forced himself out of bed and walked around the room. While different to anything he had seen before, the artefacts in the room did seem to look like they were medicine related.

  He found a piece of charcoal and leaves of paper on a table. He let out a sigh of relief.

  James thought of the pieces of gold jewellery.

  He made his way back to the bed and flopped himself down, letting out a groan of pain from the many wounds, bruises, and aches that complained up and down his body. James set the paper down on his right thigh and began to write.