boots, and a dark forest green traveling
cloak. He had fairly long brown hair, parted down the middle and over his ears.
The nearby flickering candlelight made his armor shine with
a silver gleam, the breastplate, forearms and leg plates were covered with
masterfully carved designs. Around the boy’s waist was a belt of dark brown
leather and around it were pouches that appeared to be full. The boy was
muttering something indistinct.
“Hello?” Marc tried again.
Marc took a tentative step towards the young man. Was this
all just a dream? Everything looked and felt so real, even smelled real. A
slight aroma filled the air, slightly metallic, probably from the young man’s
armor. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else too.
As Marc came closer the whispers grew louder and more
distinct.
Cannot — Once more — happening. The boy muttered.
“My name is Marc,” Marc tried once more, “I don’t know how I
got here, or what I am supposed to be doing,”
The boy seemed oblivious to Marc.
“Can you hear me?”
Marc stood now just behind the boy. He could hear what the
young man was saying now, repeatedly, over and over.
Not again, not again, not again.
“Hello!?”
Marc put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and pulled the
boy to face him.
“NOT AGAIN!” The boy screamed.
He was covered in blood.
“Ahhh!” Marc cried and stepped back.
There was a flash of light and the sound like all the air in
the world was being slowly inhaled, followed by a deep boom, then silence.
***
Marc was suddenly pulled back to the
silver and gray realm, standing above Sesuadra, or he would have been, except
Sesuadra now stood next to him.
Sesuadra nodded and said, simply, “Marcus.”
Then everything shifted and darkened.
Sesuadra disappeared.
The light in the strange silvery world began to fade. Marc
heard someone calling his name. He began to move his upper body back and forth
involuntarily and his name echoed over and over, growing stronger.
Marcus.
Marcus.
Marcus!
***
Marc awoke to the early gray of
morning. At first he felt strange. Where is my bed? Where am I? But he
quickly remembered everything that had happened. He was on the ground, lying on
some rumpled blankets.
Zildjin was shaking him awake.
“I’m up, I’m up,” Marc said.
Zildjin stepped back.
Marc sat up and looked around. The forest was gone, replaced
by hills and thick grassy plains. It looked as if they had pulled off the road
and made a small camp.
“I don’t remember getting out of the wagon, how did I—?” He
began.
“You are one heavy lump of balkar waste,” Zildjin said with
a grin, “We practically had to unload you from the wagon like a sack of
tartors. You were in such a deep sleep again.”
“I was reading that book. I guess I must have dozed off.”
“And you would not be woken after such,” Zildjin grinned
again.
The boy stretched out a hand and Marc took it to stand.
Soren came over, overhearing their conversation.
“It must have been the magic you received in the grove, that
powerful of an enchantment would drain anyone of their strength.”
Marc nodded.
“Well, you are on your feet now, time to pack up.”
Soren and Sesuadra were almost done cleaning their portion
of the camp. The two pack animals were munching on grass nearby. Sesuadra was
making sure everything was tight on the wagon.
“I think we can make it to Kolima by tomorrow morning if we
push on through the night again,” Soren said, seeing Marc awake, “Zildjin and
Sesuadra, help me ready the balkars.”
***
After they had all relieved
themselves they were soon packed and on the road again. Zildjin had opened up a
crate and passed around food, some more hard bread and some type of strange
fruit Marc had never seen before. It looked like an apple, but it was purple
and not very juicy. It’s sweetness, however, complimented the bread nicely.
Near the end of the meal Zildjin was the one to break the
silence.
“So,
cloak. He had fairly long brown hair, parted down the middle and over his ears.
The nearby flickering candlelight made his armor shine with
a silver gleam, the breastplate, forearms and leg plates were covered with
masterfully carved designs. Around the boy’s waist was a belt of dark brown
leather and around it were pouches that appeared to be full. The boy was
muttering something indistinct.
“Hello?” Marc tried again.
Marc took a tentative step towards the young man. Was this
all just a dream? Everything looked and felt so real, even smelled real. A
slight aroma filled the air, slightly metallic, probably from the young man’s
armor. But it wasn’t just that, there was something else too.
As Marc came closer the whispers grew louder and more
distinct.
Cannot — Once more — happening. The boy muttered.
“My name is Marc,” Marc tried once more, “I don’t know how I
got here, or what I am supposed to be doing,”
The boy seemed oblivious to Marc.
“Can you hear me?”
Marc stood now just behind the boy. He could hear what the
young man was saying now, repeatedly, over and over.
Not again, not again, not again.
“Hello!?”
Marc put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and pulled the
boy to face him.
“NOT AGAIN!” The boy screamed.
He was covered in blood.
“Ahhh!” Marc cried and stepped back.
There was a flash of light and the sound like all the air in
the world was being slowly inhaled, followed by a deep boom, then silence.
***
Marc was suddenly pulled back to the
silver and gray realm, standing above Sesuadra, or he would have been, except
Sesuadra now stood next to him.
Sesuadra nodded and said, simply, “Marcus.”
Then everything shifted and darkened.
Sesuadra disappeared.
The light in the strange silvery world began to fade. Marc
heard someone calling his name. He began to move his upper body back and forth
involuntarily and his name echoed over and over, growing stronger.
Marcus.
Marcus.
Marcus!
***
Marc awoke to the early gray of
morning. At first he felt strange. Where is my bed? Where am I? But he
quickly remembered everything that had happened. He was on the ground, lying on
some rumpled blankets.
Zildjin was shaking him awake.
“I’m up, I’m up,” Marc said.
Zildjin stepped back.
Marc sat up and looked around. The forest was gone, replaced
by hills and thick grassy plains. It looked as if they had pulled off the road
and made a small camp.
“I don’t remember getting out of the wagon, how did I—?” He
began.
“You are one heavy lump of balkar waste,” Zildjin said with
a grin, “We practically had to unload you from the wagon like a sack of
tartors. You were in such a deep sleep again.”
“I was reading that book. I guess I must have dozed off.”
“And you would not be woken after such,” Zildjin grinned
again.
The boy stretched out a hand and Marc took it to stand.
Soren came over, overhearing their conversation.
“It must have been the magic you received in the grove, that
powerful of an enchantment would drain anyone of their strength.”
Marc nodded.
“Well, you are on your feet now, time to pack up.”
Soren and Sesuadra were almost done cleaning their portion
of the camp. The two pack animals were munching on grass nearby. Sesuadra was
making sure everything was tight on the wagon.
“I think we can make it to Kolima by tomorrow morning if we
push on through the night again,” Soren said, seeing Marc awake, “Zildjin and
Sesuadra, help me ready the balkars.”
***
After they had all relieved
themselves they were soon packed and on the road again. Zildjin had opened up a
crate and passed around food, some more hard bread and some type of strange
fruit Marc had never seen before. It looked like an apple, but it was purple
and not very juicy. It’s sweetness, however, complimented the bread nicely.
Near the end of the meal Zildjin was the one to break the
silence.
“So,
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