A Quest for Chumps (Departed Dimensions Book 1)

  Departed Dimensions:

  A Quest for Chumps

  G.M. Reinstra

  This book is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, events, etc. are the product of the author’s imagination or are otherwise used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual people, places, businesses, etc. are purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 G.M. Reinstra

  GMReinstra.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written consent of the copyright owner.

  Editing by Josiah Davis.

  Cover designed by MiblArt.

  Ebook formatting by Beth Martin.

  Chapter 1

  The Battle for The Chasm

  “We take out the big one first, got it?” John slashed an ‘X’ into the ground with his dagger to represent the nearest sheepstalker.

  Rialta trembled as she studied John’s crude battle plan. She thought of her mother, whose bravery had always seemed so effortless, almost careless, and hated herself for being afraid. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to seem collected and at ease, but her body betrayed her will. Sweat trickled down her forehead. The cadence of her breath was becoming little more than ragged gasps.

  “We need to focus on one target at a time,” John continued. “If we take out one right away—y’know, before they have a chance to react properly—it’ll be three on two. Just like that, we’re at an instant advantage.” He slashed twice more into the diagram and pounded his bulky fist into the ground for emphasis.

  Rialta wondered what it would feel like when a sheepstalker’s massive broadsword tore through her chest or crashed down on her skull. Maybe it would be quick. Maybe she wouldn’t have much of a chance to feel the horrifying pain. She grasped her wand so tight that her fingernails dug deep into her palm, and she gritted her teeth as if she could push her apprehension away by the raw force of her will.

  “That’s really about it,” John said, sighing as he stowed his dagger in his belt. “Rialta and I will be the big guns. Remmy, you just keep us blessed, okay?”

  Remmy nodded and removed a leather tome from the pack hanging from his shoulder. The book looked massive in his scrawny arms.

  Rialta suddenly took in the world around her with an intensity she had never experienced before. Everything felt so rich, so overwhelming and wonderful. Each fleeting moment seemed desperate to carve out a place in her mind before what was sure to be her untimely death. She frantically looked around to capture every detail of the sheer beauty of life flourishing all around her. The smoothness of the massive boulder they huddled behind. The thick, dark, clouds high above, obscuring the bizarre green sky. The sweet, cool breeze flowing gently through the air. How had she been so foolish as to take these simple pleasures for granted all her life?

  “You good, Rialta?” John asked.

  Rialta could feel her blood run cold. “Yes,” she heard herself say. “There’s no other way. We have to fight.”

  With this, Rialta peeked out from behind the boulder and looked far down the hill to where two tattered tents had been erected beside a firepit. The three terrible monsters were still patrolling their makeshift campground in the valley below, effectively cutting off the only access into the little town in the distance. She fixated on the nearest foe, a ghoulish creature with leathery, blue-gray skin. It stood tall on hoofed legs, all the better for chasing down its prey. All three sheepstalkers wore impassive scowls on their flat faces as they paced around the valley. Each of them hefted a broadsword over its shoulder.

  “That’s exactly right,” John said. He paused and offered Rialta a weak smile. “Look, I know we haven’t exactly started off on the right foot, but we’re going to be fine, okay?”

  Rialta forced herself to smile in response. She nodded.

  John returned her nod. “On my signal,” he said.

  There was a beat of silence. Rialta felt her pulse thudding in her throat.

  “Now!”

  The trio leapt from behind the giant boulder atop the hill. Rialta ran down the hillside to the right. John ran to the left. As Rialta charged forward, she focused her mana into her core. A familiar heat began to well up within her. As the sensation strengthened, she felt braver. Soon all she could feel was blistering, raging fire. The blazing energy crawled up her right arm, and her wand began to glow with a fierce scarlet aura. As she reached the bottom of the hill, she leapt forward and planted her feet on the even ground of the valley. She took aim with her wand, pointing its tip squarely at the nearest sheepstalker.

  “Fyorferbarne!” she screamed as the spell welled up within her. She was surprised at the sheer menace in her voice. It felt as though a woman much greater and stronger than herself had shouted the incantation. Crimson light gathered in electric arcs at the tip of her wand before erupting in flame and rocketing toward the sheepstalker in front of her. The beast turned around mid-stride just in time to see the colossal ball of fire and crackling energy hurtling toward it.

  The resulting explosion ripped through the valley.

  A massive cloud of dirt and dust plumed from the ground and drifted in the air. Even Rialta nearly fell to the ground when the reverberating shockwave of her own spell rebounded on her position. She would have marveled at the raw power of her magic had she not just thrown herself into deadly combat for the first time in her life. She crossed her arms in front of her face to shield herself from the debris still raining from the sky. Coughing and spluttering, she took a step backward to better observe the battlefield. Panic shot through her as she heard the infuriated roar of another sheepstalker. She fervently looked from side to side to see where it was coming from, but it was no good. She could not see through the veil of dust she had created. A series of slow, tremulous footfalls began to move toward her from somewhere in the abyss.

  “Remmy! Help!” Rialta’s voice cracked as she screamed over her shoulder toward the hill where Remmy stood. The beast’s footsteps were becoming quicker.

  “Dearest gods above, please hear our prayers!” Remmy called out in a loud, clear voice. He held his tome wide open in his left hand as he raised an open right palm to the heavens. “We praise you for this glorious—” He paused, taking a moment to look up at the dark, cloudy sky above.

  “Well, this semi-lousy, frankly kind of crappy day,” he continued. “But as always, we assume you guys are doing your best. Maybe you’ve just got some stuff going on and things are a little weird right now. We get it.”

  Rialta stood still, mouth agape as she stared up at the hilltop where Remmy was attempting to bless her. “Do something!” she screamed.

  Remmy shook his head and snapped his tome shut. “I’m working on it, Rialta, but this really works a lot better when you don’t interrupt, all right? Your shouting really kind of makes me lose my concentration—makes my prayers a lot less effective and whatnot.” He reopened the large leather-bound book and began to flip through it. “Let’s see now…”

  A horrible cracking noise from somewhere deeper in the obscured battlefield forced Rialta’s attention back to the fray. She squinted hard as she searched for her next foe. She could hear distant, heavy footsteps thumping toward her, but she could not see anything through the cloud of dirt still filling the air.

  “John?” she cried as she took a defensive stance. She held her wand out in front of her, preparing to cast another spell.

  “What?” John shouted from somewhere in the distance. His tone rang of indifference.

  “Where are you? I can’t see the next one!” Rialta shouted, all attempts to hide the panic in her voice abandoned. The approaching sheepstal
ker roared again as it grew closer, its steady gait turning into a jog.

  “Busy stealin’ stuff,” John replied from somewhere on the opposite end of the valley.

  “What?” Rialta muttered.

  A cold dread settled in her stomach. She was utterly alone, blinded, and helpless. She shook her head, and the fear subsided enough to allow her to think. This was her last chance, and she was determined to act rather than submit to defeat. She focused her energy once again and held her wand out in front of her, pointed the tip of her wand in the direction of the oncoming footsteps, and aimed another explosion spell into the void of thick dust.

  “Fyorferbarne!”

  This spell was even more powerful than the one she had cast a moment before. Furious coils of red energy rifled down her outstretched arm, coalescing into a bolt of fire which shot out through the cloud of dust before her. She knew immediately that she had missed. Although a massive explosion erupted somewhere in the distance, she could still hear the sheepstalker barreling toward her, and now it was moving at a full sprint. She took a step backward in the hope of establishing a better defensive stance, but she tripped over a rock and fell backward.

  She had just barely managed to push herself upright into a sitting position when the horrible figure of the sheepstalker burst through the haze of debris in front of her, its massive broadsword held aloft, ready to strike.

  Rialta’s voice failed her. She could not scream, or even utter a final word.

  Death had come.

  She closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. An earth-shaking force crashed down in front of her.

  And just like that, it was over.

  Rialta was surprised to find that the finishing blow did not hurt. She had not expected to suffer long, but she’d been sure she would feel something.

  If she was a spirit, though, why could she still feel the cool earth below? Why could she smell the sweet scent of distant rain lingering in the air? She opened her eyes and pushed herself up off the ground.

  John’s bulky silhouette was crouched in front of her. As the dust cleared, she saw that he was panting and sweating profusely. He was inspecting the sheepstalker’s lifeless form, apparently searching its roughly fashioned garments for anything of value.

  “That went really well!” Remmy called out enthusiastically as he jogged down the hill toward them. “Find anything good?”

  “They had a couple decent blades in the little shelter over there,” John said with a casual nod to one of the little tents in the distance, “but none of them are carrying anything worth taking.”

  Remmy shrugged and stowed his tome back in his pouch as he came to a rest beside Rialta. “That’s a shame. Oh well. Nice work, everyone. Should we head on toward the Chasm?”

  Rialta remained on the ground, her limbs trembling. As each moment passed, her arms threatened to give way and send her crashing into the dirt.

  She knew now, beyond any doubt, that the three of them were likely stranded in this new world forever.

  Chapter 2

  One Day Earlier

  “RIALTA!”

  Rialta awoke with a start. She sat upright quickly, and several newspaper clippings and pens flew from the top of her bedsheets.

  “Whu-what is it? Where’s the tomatoes?” she said, blinking furiously into the bright golden light shining through her apartment’s windows.

  “Good lord,” said a voice from above. “Did I just wake you up?”

  Rialta shut her eyes tight and blinked a few more times. Her apartment finally came into focus. A pink orb of light was hovering over her head, the source of the voice. A horrible dread settled into the pit of her stomach. She looked at the little alarm clock on her nightstand. It was 9:12.

  “…No?” she finally replied.

  “Get down here. Now. You’re nearly fifteen minutes late as it is. You’re lucky to have a job at all at this point. If you’re not here by ten, you’re fired.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Rialta said. She was already jumping out of bed as she spoke.

  “You’d better be.” With that, the orb dissipated into the air.

  Rialta leapt out of bed and took three long strides into the small bathroom in the corner of the tiny apartment. She took a rushed, uncomfortable shower, forcing herself to get in while the water was still cold and to get out before it was reasonably hot. Within two minutes, she darted back into the apartment without drying off properly. As she dressed, her damp tee-shirt clung uncomfortably to her back and arms. She grabbed a hairbrush from the dresser and began to work on her hair in front of a large mirror situated on top of the dresser. With her free hand, she made jabbing gestures at her keys and wallet in turn. Each item leapt from its respective position from around the apartment and landed in her bag next to the front door.

  As she brushed her hair, Rialta glanced down at a small jar full of glittering coins on her dresser. The jar sat immediately below a photograph of her mother, which Rialta kept taped to the bottom-right corner of the mirror. Rialta found herself staring blankly into the jar of coins, and all thoughts of being late for work slowly drifted to the edge of her consciousness.

  She had been saving the money ever since she had turned eighteen the year before, when she was finally allowed to leave state-mandated care in the orphanage and venture out into the world to make it on her own. Though Rialta had not exactly saved a substantial sum of money, her savings were quite impressive given that she had earned it all working a low-paying job at a local restaurant.

  Rialta suddenly snapped out of her drifting thoughts, glancing once more at the clock before darting out the front door without eating breakfast or attempting to dry her hair. She was halfway down the hallway leading to the stairs when she stopped on her heels, turned around, and ran back to her apartment. She threw open the door and ran inside, coming to a halt beside the mirror above her dresser.

  Rialta stared intently at the photograph of her mother, whose long black hair hung low over her shoulders, and whose smile was so bright that it seemed to shine through time itself. “I miss you,” Rialta whispered, reaching her hand up to her mouth, kissing her middle and index fingers, then pressing her fingers to the photo.

  Minutes later, Rialta was bolting down the sidewalk of a main thoroughfare toward the city proper. As she sprinted southbound, the myriad of townhouses, wrought-iron fences, and well-kempt lawns became a blur in her peripheral vision. It was a gorgeous summer day—pleasantly hot, but cut with the occasional cool, sweet breeze. Thin rays of glimmering golden light shimmered down through the minuscule gaps in the leaves of the trees above, and the smell of flowers hung in the air. Her hard footfalls splashed through puddles made by a combination of her neighbors watering their flower boxes and city employees watering the hanging baskets on the lampposts. It was all so lovely, but Rialta could not enjoy any of it. Some sadistic, irrational punisher residing in the depths of her mind told her she wasn’t allowed to enjoy anything if she was late for work.

  “That’s my bike! Stop!”

  Rialta’s fixation on her destination was instantly broken. She trotted to a stop and looked about to see who had shouted. Several other people walking the streets did the same.

  “My bike!”

  Now that she was looking for it, Rialta had no difficulty finding the source of the voice. On the opposite end of the street, a short girl, perhaps a few years younger than her, was hopelessly chasing after a man flying down the sidewalk on a bright red bicycle. The girl was breathing heavily and running with an uneven gait, struggling to keep her thick glasses perched on her nose as she chased after the thief. Rialta was surprised to find herself stunned into inaction. One might read about a robbery in a book or see one happen in a play, but it was certainly not something she would expect to see in the richest city on Ro.

  Rialta looked up and down the street. There were no police officers nearby.

  “Please!” the girl shouted between gasping breaths. “Help! Please! My bike!”

&nbs
p; Rialta glanced down at her watch. 9:51. She looked toward the dazzling skyline of the city off in the distance, then turned back to the girl chasing the thief. Rialta grimaced and faced the bike thief. She took a deep breath and planted her feet at shoulder width. She stretched out her left hand and lined up the thief in her sight between her ring and middle fingers. An angry heat ignited in her stomach.

  “Halt,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

  A brilliant, bright blue beam rocketed from her open palm. The spell instantly connected with the man on the bike and sent him hurtling into the brick façade of a little general store. The bike continued forward as though it had forgotten it needed a rider until it coasted onto the curb and came to an abrupt stop. The thief crumpled to the ground, but quickly scrambled to get to his feet. Now that he was still, Rialta was able to get a better look at him. He was much taller than she had expected. His powerful, muscular frame was intimidating enough for her to momentarily forget that she could easily counter his physical strength with her magic. He wore loose-fitting gray sweatpants and a baggy, tattered T-shirt, and his sandy blond hair was wild and unkempt.

  Baring his yellow teeth and snarling, the bike thief looked all about for the source of the spell when his dark brown eyes met Rialta’s indigo ones. She realized a moment too late that she was still aiming her open palm in his direction. She hesitated, not knowing whether to run or cast another spell.

  But there was no need for her to do anything. No sooner had the criminal taken a step toward her than a massive hand seized him by the shoulder. A burly, bearded officer clad in his neat black uniform had come rushing onto the scene from inside the general store. The officer immediately threw the thief to the ground and placed him in handcuffs. The other bystanders, who’d been powerless to help the poor girl whose bike had been stolen, turned to look at Rialta in amazement. A small crowd began to form around her.

  “What happened?” an older woman lugging a little grocery trolley asked a middle-aged businesswoman in a blue suit.