Illusions
When he regained consciousness, he found himself standing In a field, one not unlike the one in which he had parleyed with old chief Eredan.
“Naea!” he shouted, “Where am I, where is everyone?” his words echoed throughout the field, returning to him, but he got no answer.
He looked around, but he was alone. In the distance he saw a single clump of cloth and hair, he instantly recognized the style of robes as Naea’s. Panic flooded him, and he rushed towards her.
“No!” he shouted, as he took her limp body in his arms. What had happened? He thoughts as he felt tears starting to run down his face. There no sign of a fight, there were no weapons, no marks of harm on her body, there was no blood.
As he held her lifeless body in his arms, her considered the possibilities, all the options he could think of.
Then, as if out of nowhere, her body started to turn to dust. He tried to hold on, to keep her together, but all his efforts were in vain.
“What in the name of the goddess?” he asked, not sure to whom.
As the dust, that which had once been the women he loved, slipped through his fingers, he dropped his arms, feeling helpless and alone, and when she was completely gone, he remains scattered in the slight breeze, he finally looked up.
He jumped, startled. “By the goddess,” he whispered to himself, as he saw the bodies of all his men, strewn over the ground. Where had they come from? They hadn’t been here before.
Where these the men he had come with? He wondered, as he recognized some of the faces. As he wondered amongst the dead, he saw the faces of all the people he had failed, not just his fathers lifeless body, but also his mothers. Then, he saw Arthur, a pained expression still on his face, Borgh, even Claith, an every woman and child of cloud central, all dead in front of him.
“What is this?” he thought, and as he did, some of the bodies started moving. They got up, and started moving towards him, eyes still dead as ever, and skins pale as now.
“You failed,” one of them groaned. “What will you do, King?” Marcus looked at them, “I will do what I can, I am sorry for what has happened, I can fix this!” he said, almost desperately. “No!” another snapped, “You cannot raise the dead! Mistakes are forever!”
No. He thought, This must be another vision. “I will do what I can, everything I can, I swear it!” he assured the dead. “Who did this? What happened?”
But the dead spoke no more, and they too faded into dust, until he was alone again. And then, a light, starting small, blinding, and it grew into the summer sun.
He was on a battlefield, in his own home region, there were men fighting over a narrow mountain pass.
“Give the order, my liege!” A man shouted next to him. It was Arthur, not a day older than he remembered him, covered in sweat dust, and streaks of blood.
“What order?” Marcus asked, confused. “Whats going on?”
Arthur looked irritated. “We need to end it, my liege, there is little time, give the order so we can end it!” Arthur shouted over the noise of the battle. “Give the order and we will drop the rocks.” He said insistently.
Order? What rocks? Marcus looked to the battlefield, he saw lines of men waiting their turn at the front lines, it was only then that he saw the contraptions on the sides of the valley. They each held a bunch of heavy rocks that, if dropped, would crush the troops under them, and block any people from coming this way for a good long while, until the resulting blockade was cleared.
“Hurry, my liege, there is little time, they are almost through, It is now or never!” Arthur shouted, sounding desperate. Marcus froze. How many would die? Not just the enemy, but his on men, and for what? Just so he could be king?
No. That was not why he fought, he fought for a better tomorrow. “What about their tomorrow,” a voice demanded, a male voice, he did not recognize, “They will have no tomorrow!”
No, Marcus thought, but the world might!
“Drop the rocks!” He shouted to Arthur, he nodded, and passed on the order. The rocks fell with a crash, and he felt a stab of guilt in his heart and mind, as hundreds of men, both his and the enemies, were crushed under the weight of tons upon tons of boulders an debris. He could hear the screams of despair and agony as men were turned into piles of flesh and blood, bones sticking from open wounds, and he could feel his stomach churn, and he only just managed to keep himself from throwing up.
Was this really the right thing to do? Did these men really have to die? Was he a monster for killing them?
He could hear Naea’s voice in his mind, telling him he had only made the hard choice, that this was a necessary sacrifice he had needed to make for the greater good. It didn’t make him feel any better.
Wait, hadn’t she died just now? Where was he? What was going on? Before he could finish his thought, the world faded again.
He saw a brief glympse of a giant figure, black against the heavens, and four smaller ones beneath it, it was only brief, a flash, before light returned.
He was holding a sword, his enemy was wielding a spear, which meant he had a reach advantage.
He attempted a boomerang, but Merheeth didn’t respond. Marcus frowned. “What the hell?” He had never ignored him before, in fact, Merheeth had always been eager to do anything that involved action, especially in a duel like this, never min that right now, he really needed to win this fight.
“Merheeth, huh?” he heard in his head, like a distant, idle thought, one which he could easily have mistaken for one of his own if it wasn’t for…
“Okay then, boy! Cast boomerang!” Merheeth wheezed, “What are you doing? Do something. Cast something!” The spirit croaked, sounding irritated, an Marcus did.
“Is that it boy?” He hissed, “Swing harder, swing stronger!” he went, and Marcus did. Hmmmm, the spirit hummed, in that gravely croaking way that he did. Marcus swung and jumped, spun and threw his sword, like a boomerang.
“Swing stronger, ground your feet, Marcus!” The spirit wheezed again.
Marcus paused, what was that? “What did you just say?” he asked the spirit, confused. He had never asked him to do that before, he had only ever told him to be faster, to be more agile, and how to swing better, and he had called him Marcus? He hand never done that before either. He had only ever called him boy, or young one, or something like that.
“Fight!” he shouted, “What are you pausing for?” the spirit seemed impatient.
“Remember what is real, and what isn’t” Naea’s voice echoed through his head. “Stay with your own mind,” she said, now as clear as if she was standing next to him.
“No!” he shouted, “you are not Merheeth! That spearman is not real!” The spearman lept at him, spear straight at him, but Marcus stood, and let him. The spear pierced his chest. It hurt, there was blood, it gushed out of him like he had seen from men who had really been stabbed with spears, but he felt fine, the pain faded, and the blood stopped.
“Aargh,” a gravely voice exclaimed, “”That bloody witch, huh?” Marcus couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, but he now recognized it as old Eredan.
“What did you do to her?” Marcus demanded, already suspecting the answer.
“Oh settle down, she’s fine, having quite a pleasant dream too, I assure you.” Eredan chuckled, “It is not easy to intrude into a witches mind ill have you know, but most intriguing.”
“Where am I?” Marcus demanded, ignoring the old chief. “Same place you left off,” Eredan replied.
“How are you doing this? What are you doing?” Marcus asked.
“My elements are those of Illusion and communication, one lets me create visual illusions, the other lets me enter peoples minds, put things inside of them, like messages, or take things out, when you combine the two, well, you gain the ability to put illusions into peoples minds, as well as reading their thoughts. Quite useful as you might imagine.”
Marcus nodded, he definitely could imagine that. “So what now?” he asked, wondering what the point of this whole charade had been.
“Now,” Eredan started, “I have just one more test left for you.” Eredan was still invisible to Marcus, but he could almost smell the grin on his face.
“A test of what, War? Bloodshed?” Marcus asked, getting angry, “What are you even testing me for?”
“No.” The old man sighed. “A test for your heart, and your resolve.” Marcus heard, as once again, the world began to fade, and he felt the illusions slipping from his mind.
He opened his eyes, and found himself back in the field, Eredan sitting in front of him, still in his palanquin.
He could feel his bond buzzing. “What the heck did that bozo do to us, boy?” Merheeth croaked.
“He planted visions in my brain.”Marcus replied.
“Well, next time, tell him not to shut me up, I like talking wheneve I want, I dont apreciate the outside intervention!”
Marcus looked around, everyone was still there, although they had all gotten closer. Naea looked severely irritated. She had probably been able to deduce what had happened and was not happy about it.
“I’ll be sure to pass it on.” He sent his spirit.
Then he looked to the old man, who gave him a grand wink, with his large bushy eyebrow. “Would you like to know what I saw in that witches head, Marcus?” He asked with a hint of glee on his tone.
“Not really,” Marcus grumbled, and and the old chief shrugged. “Your choice,” he said, and then, he raised his voice, so everyone could her him.
“Alright then, Marcus of Cloud Central, or should I call you: King, of Cloud Nation.” And he gestured his men to help him off his palanquin, and he bowed.
“I will swear to you, I will accept you as my king, under one condition!” Marcus frowned, now what? Was the show not over yet?
Little did he know, the show was about to begin. He saw movement behind the old man, and he caught a glimpse of the young woman he had noticed earlier.
“Under the condition, that you marry my daughter!” Marcus looked to the woman, who was obviously the daughter in question, she was young, she had long blond curls, and she was wearing two sapphires in her ears, ones that almost seemed to be glowing, and now, he recognized her, she was the woman from his visions, and he knew what his answer had to be. He looked to Naea, she had a slightly pained expression on her face, one only he would pick up on, but she looked back at him, smiled, and gave him an encouraging nod.
Marcus straightened his shoulders, and his resolve grew stronger.
“And I accept.”
He could see eyes jerking towards him, both from Eredans men, and his own, political marriages weren’t unheard of, but they weren’t common either, not here on Cloud, some people thought them a Eskaren matter, for fancy lords and prince-lings.
And for kings, he thought.
All eyes were on him now, but not Naea’s, she was staring at the woman, a girl really, his future wife. He had only seen her in his visions either with their children, or, during the wedding that would undoubtedly take place in the coming days.
Marcus walked towards the girl, she couldn’t be more than twenty years old, suitable more for Arthur than for him, under normal circumstances.
Her blond curls had been tied loosely behind her head, keeping them from obscuring her face, blond hair was common outside the mountains.
Her face was triangular, with a strong chin, and she had dense brows, like her father, although hers were neatly combed and groomed to look more womanly.
She was dressed in fancy woolen clothes, and a thick fur coat, cut in the western style, and decorated in the white and red colors of the red rivers.
He extended his hand to her, and she took it confidently. “My name is Marcus, it is a true pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He said, kissing her hand. The girl smiled, squeezing his hand.
“My name is Gyslane, my lord” She said. She had a clear voice, not sharp like Naea’s, but more crisp, and slightly hazy. She must be a great singer, he thought.
“But my friends call me Izzy.”
