He awoke with a start and sat bolt upright as a strangled scream escaped him. He was sitting in a dimly lit room, soaked to the skin in perspiration. He sat momentarily dazed as he tried to make sense of his current situation.
He heard a soft voice behind him, speaking words he couldn't understand. He jumped up, whirled around, and looked into the face of a very beautiful woman. The same woman he saw before he passed out. He hadn't been hallucinating, she was real. The same woman who was an angel in his nightmare. The same woman who turned into a demon.
She spoke again. Her melodic voice formed syllables foreign to him, but much different than the language of the king and his peoples. He watched in fascination as her lips formed the intricate sound patterns that made up her speech. She repeated the same sentence again, and Tim noticed that at the end her voice rose a bit, like in his own language when one asks a question. She seemed to be asking him something.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand you," Tim said helplessly.
She smiled and played with a simple silver ring on her left hand.
"You are not elven," she observed. "What are you?"
"Oh. I'm, uh, human."
She looked confused. "Hu-man?" She struggled with the pronunciation, which proved to Tim there were no others like him here."I am not familiar with that race. How did you get here?"
Tim recounted his experiences up to now, leaving out the nightmare where she changed into a demon.
"You mean they didn't come to get you, you came to them?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Raikan. They are planeseekers. They travel the planes in search of slaves."
Tim couldn't speak for a moment. Slaves? Plane seekers? Elves? It was too much to digest all at once. He decided to change the subject.
"I'm Tim. Who are you?"
"My name is Ileeya."
"How is it you're able to understand me now?"
"With this ring," she held up her hand.
"I don't understand. How can a simple ring help you speak and understand a different language? Especially a language for a race you've never even heard of?"
"It's a magic ring, of course." Disbelief lingered on Tim's face. Oh boy, he thought.
"You know," she continued, "a magic ring. You have heard of them, haven't you?"
"Well, only in stories..."
"Only in stories? Where did you say you were from?"
"Oh. I didn't. I don't know what plane I'm from, but my world is called Earth."
"I've never heard of it."
"I'm not surprised. And you say you're elven?"
"Yes."
"I've heard of elves only in stories, also. Are other elves like you?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, with pointed ears."
"Of course." The door opened then, and a few pieces of what looked like dried meat were tossed into the room on the floor and a pitcher and glasses was set just inside the door. Ileeya turned toward the 'food'.
Tim watched as she ate a piece of the meat, still turned away from him. He watched as the dim light of the room played across her hair. He couldn't help but notice her shapely figure underneath the small white dress she wore. It was quite a short dress, and he stared dumbly at her muscular thighs which, like the rest of her flawless skin, was the color pale moonlight; white, shimmery.
This must be heaven and hell combined.
She turned and he quickly looked away, blushing fiercely. Either she hadn't noticed he had been staring stupidly at her or she pretended she hadn't noticed, so as not to embarass him further.
She poured a glass of water and handed it to him before pouring one for herself. Tim drank greedily, emptying the cup in seconds. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.
His thirst momentarily quenched, he stole another glance at Ileeya. Luminous bluish eyes stared back at him. He could get lost forever in those eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look away. She returned his gaze for several seconds, and then, blushing, turned away. She was shy, that was kind of exciting.
As a distraction she picked up a couple of pieces of the dried meat and offered him one. Electric fire tingled in his hand where it had brushed hers. His eyes never left her face, but she did not look back at him. Ileeya collected a few more pieces, crossed the small cell, and sat down to eat them. The water was refreshing, but the food did little to satisfy his voracious appetite. But, he thought, something is better than nothing. He had another glass of water to quiet his stomach.
Tim felt a sudden pressure in his bladder, obviously from all the water he had drunk. "So, what do we do when we have to, uh, use the toilet?"
"The what?"
"Where do we go to, ahem, that is..." he crossed his legs uncomfortably and she got his meaning.
"Just knock on the door and tell the guard. Believe it or not, the people here are very particular about the cleanliness of their cells. They won't allow anyone to go in the corner. Knock on the door and say, 'Keeyak'."
He did so. There was a pause before the door creaked open and the guard grabbed his arm. The guard closed the door, locked it, and double checked it.
At the end of the hall they arrived at their destination. The guard opened the door for him, and Tim stepped into a dimly lit room. A wooden bench with a large hole in it sat immediately before him, and to his right was a wash basin and a towel. An outhouse, he mused. Man, he hated outhouses. That seat didn't look too comfortable.
He went about his business and hissed a word of irritation, when of all things, he got a splinter in his butt. He could always ask Ileeya to remove it for him. He smiled at the thought and went about taking care of it.
An impatient growl accompanied by a loud rap on the door startled him. He swore under his breath and tried to hurry. He found the agonizing pain in the ass, removed it, and pulled his pants back up. He was just starting to wash his hands when another fierce pounding rattled the door.
"All right!" he yelled angrily.
The guard scowled at him and grasped his arm, muttering to himself. By now, Tim had reached his boiling point. He was tired of being pushed around by these goons. Tim attempted to twist away, but the guard's grip tightened on his arm, causing him to grunt at the pressure. He realized later that he should have given in and let it end then and there. But being stubborn, he didn't, and the aching muscles and fresh bruises he received wouldn't allow him to forget it.
With his free arm he elbowed back with all his strength. His blow landed in his captor's stomach, causing him to exhale forcefully. Tim took that free moment to easily twist out of the creature's grip. The guard reflexively covered his stomach where he was hit and winced as he struggled to draw a breath. Tim then punched him in the face, causing him to reel back into the bathroom. The guard stumbled backwards and landed on the 'toilet'. Tim grabbed the guard by his shirt and jerked him around so they were both facing the back wall. The guard struggled, but he didn't have enough time to react. Tim kicked him behind the knees, causing the guard's legs to buckle. The guard went down on his knees with a frustrated yell of anger. Tim proceeded to shove the creature's head into the toilet, then realized it wouldn't be as effective as on his own world since there was no water in it. He cursed himself as he felt incredibly stupid.
Tim was suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled out of the lavatory. His arms were pinned behind him.The guard by now had stood and brushed himself off. He sauntered over to Tim with a sneer on his face.
Oh, shit, thought Tim, as the guard's fist flew at his face. The blow landed on Tim's left cheek and nose, bloodying them.
The guard laughed heartily. They stood there glaring at each other, the guard and Tim, for a few moments before the guard started punching randomly. After several punches, Tim was released to defend himself.
Tim got another good hit to the guard's stomach and several to his face.
Then the guard connected a solid hit on top of Tim's already bruising left cheekbone. The blow knocked Tim to the ground. He was kicked several times in the shins, stomach and arms that were defending his face before the guard felt he had gotten his revenge. There was some muttered conversation and chuckling between the two creatures up above him. Tim was pulled to his feet and forced to walk back to his cell. He ended up half walking, half being dragged all the way back.
The door was opened and he was thrown in on the floor. He was dimly aware of Ileeya gasping and and yelling foreign, angry words at the guards. One of them gave her a sharp retort and slammed the door shut.
Ileeya bent over him and rolled him over. He was beginning to see a pattern here; entering the cell on his face and being rolled over by the soft touch of an angel. He tried to say her name, but was sharply reprimanded.
Ileeya ripped off a piece of his shirt, moistened it from the water pitcher, and used it to clean Tim's bloody face."Hey," he protested weakly, "this is an expensive shirt.""Ssshhh."Her touch was delicate as she dabbed at his wounds, and her face was compassionate. As weak as he was, he had to restrain himself from grabbing her and plunging his hands deep into her silken hair. It was almost unbearable holding back; just being near her made his heart race.
She stopped cleaning and cocked her head to one side, listening. Then she got up and stood near the door. She looked at Tim and put a finger against her lips, shushing him once again. It was then that Tim heard muffled voices outside the door. He couldn't understand them, but Ileeya was listening carefully. The voices rose in anger, then stopped completely.
"Aark is in trouble."
"Who?"
"The guard who assaulted you. Apparently you were not to be harmed. Aark was on strict command to keep you safe. Now he has to report to Kayrn, the captain of the guards."
He was in an empty village. He wasn't sure why he was there, or how he got there, but he was there nevertheless. The small primitive homes lined a narrow dirt road, which was deserted. The houses were all dark and quiet. He wondered what time it was. It was night, so he guessed the townspeople were sleeping. That must be why it was so quiet, but that just didn't seem right. A sense of foreboding came over him as he started walking.
He walked down the empty street, cold darkness spreading through him with every step. Something in his mind warned him to stop, but he felt strangely pulled. He tried to fight the feeling, but was unable to do that, either. 
The hill was a compiliation of death. Skeletons were interspersed throughout, becoming one with the dirt. Though they had no remaining skin, the air smelled of rotting flesh and stale blood. It was almost overpowreing. 
Tim reeled from sight of the death mound. He could almost hear the screams for help, the cries for mercy. He felt an intoxicating mixture of emotions; rage, despair, anger, fear. Who or what was capable of doing such a loathesome thing? He broke out into a cold sweat and his head started to spin.
He lost his balance and fell on one of the bodies. It made a sickening squish/crunch beneath him.
He heaved uncontrollably, his stomach in knots. As he was wiping his mouth on his sleeve, a mocking laughter started somewhere in the distance. He looked towards the sound, but saw nothing. The sound grew louder, suddenly seeming to come from everywhere at once; a hideous cackle that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.
Suddenly, atop the hill, there stood a woman dressed all in black with long, flowing silvery hair. 
The bodies spontaneously combusted. The sudden force of air knocked Tim backward. The fire was close enough to singe him and he smelled the sweet odor of his own burning skin and hair. He tried to crab walk away from the blaze, but no matter how fast or hard he tried, he couldn't get any further from away from it.
He heard the laughter again, deafening this time. A horrible demon with bedraggled white hair and silver-white eyes swooped down at him from above. It was inches from his face, breathing hot, rancid air at him.
The demon picked him up and threw him, bodily, into the flames. He felt himself roasting, his skin blistering and charring, his hair melting. He screamed in sheer agony as he tried to roll out of the fire, leaving a trail of burnt skin and clothing.
He awoke as he rolled into the stone wall of the cell. He sat up with a start, then lied back down, pressing his sweat drenched body against the cool stone wall. All he could do, for what seemed like an eternity, was lie there, shaking. 
When he finally started to regain his senses, he got up and splashed a little water on his face. He downed a cup of water as well, to moisten his dry mouth and throat. He was just making his way back to bed when Ileeya started stirring in her sleep.
She was mumbling incoherently and thrashing about, apparently having a bad dream of her own. Her voice rose and now she was speaking in a desperate high pitched voice. Naturally, he couldn't understand her native tongue, but one name kept popping up frequently: Shirra. He wondered who Shirra was. Just when he began to worry that Ileeya was getting out of control, she started to quiet down and become still. Her breathing evened out and she slept normally.
Tim spent the rest of the night curled in a tight ball, trying to warm himself up and fall asleep. He missed his comfy waterbed back home, with the gentle waves of the mattress rocking him to sleep. This mattress was hard and unyielding. He tossed and turned the remainder of the night.
