Chapter 3 - Dreams or Reality
With a tired, weak-chested sigh, Garnthalisbain achingly rose from his studies and laboriously stretched his back. He smiled upon hearing the dry sound of his stiff joints popping all the way up his spine.
At twenty-six years old he was still technically a young man. But his grueling studies and strange gift of magic assisted greatly in aging him before his time. Missing out on all of the activities that would have made him physically healthy and strong as a youth, Garn was forced to make his way through life at a snail's pace, always wary of the larger, stronger predators of society. From the moment that the young mage had learned to read, Garn knew what he wanted out of his life. Knowledge.
And so, he studied. He studied long and hard, learning all of the techniques and challenges that his books presented to him. Then, sometime in his early teens, Garnthalisbain realized his true gift. He was one of the fortunate few, one of those able to feel the Powers of the Universe and wield it to his will as it flowed by. From that very day forward, Garn tripled his studying. Feverish to learn more of his abilities. Desperate to be the very best. In the few short years since first learning of his gift, Garn had gone through four different instructors, each more powerful and more talented than the last. After the fourth, Garn realized that other people had taught them all that they could and that it was time for him to move ahead on his own.
And so he did in the only manner that he knew how. He read his books, studied their techniques and taught himself.
Yawning widely, the young mage rubbed at his eyes with both of his curled up fists. A very childlike gesture that no one would ever see him use as long as he had something to say about it. Yawning once again, Garn forced himself to close the book he was reading and turn to his warm mattress and blankets. It was truly frustrating for him to continually fight the urge to study when he knew that sleep was the more immediate concern. It was doubly frustrating seeing as how close he was to finally working his way through one of the more difficult theories of relative magical properties. I'm right on the edge of it, he argued with himself. There's just that one little part that I can't quite grasp... yet.
He shook his head forcibly and slowly removed his cloak and cowl. Another day, he thought. I'll figure it out another day.
Laying his dark-colored cloak over the sole chair, Garn caught a sideways glimpse of himself in his floor-length mirror. Roughly five and a half feet tall, probably less. With thin shoulders and a very slender frame. His long, dark hair fell down, over his face and hung in front of his chest. At first glance, one would be forced to assume that the mage was starving. His ribs visibly stuck out, to the point where they could be counted. His arms looked like discarded branches off of a dead tree while his torso resembled the trunk of that selfsame tree. Were it not for the double-knotted sash at the mage's thin waist, his breeches would slide right to the floor, having nothing to grab a hold of.
With a flick of his head, Garn tossed his hair back, out of the way, and looked at his face. It too was very thin, slowly approaching skeletal in appearance with his dark circled eyes. A negligence in shaving produced a short, thin beard that covered his pallid cheeks and precise chin with a dark shadow. His lips were a compressed, thin line while his nose seemed sharp, pointed. Almost like a beak but not nearly long enough. Short, if anything. The creases and lines crisscrossing his face give the impression that Garn was actually a man ten years his senior.
But, as always, it was his eyes that caught the immediate attention of most people. They were sunk back into his head a ways, with dark shadows of extreme weariness circling all around. The bright, green color of his irises added such a contrast to the normal darkness of the man. They were so vivid, so seemingly full of life. And yet so bitter and withdrawn at the same time.
He was powerful, and he was weak. He was feared, but well-liked and trusted. He was rude, coarse and abrupt. Yet, subtly caring and concerned for the well-being of others.
Garn shook his head again and forced the introspective thoughts from his mind. His body shivered in the faint cold, so he quickly padded over to his thickly covered bed and slid into its soft warmth. With a brief flick of his fingers and a whispered word under his breath, the three dozen lit candles and the small fire in the hearth all went dark, leaving him peacefully in the dark.
The young mage felt the tug of deep sleep pull on him tantalizingly with a long, drawn out yawn. Willingly, he succumbed to the temptation and let himself fall, fall, fall....
An insistent, hollow rapping at his door broke the silence.
Garn's eyes snapped open. He rolled his gaze from side to side, waiting. When the sound didn't immediately repeat itself, he squeezed his eyes shut and snuggled into his blankets a bit more. Surely, he'd just imagined it.
"Garn?" came a muffled, familiar voice along with more knocking.
Rolling over onto his stomach with a groan, Garn hid his head under a pillow and fervently he hoped that he was already asleep.
The knocking came again, even louder this time. "Come on, Garn. Open up. I know you're in there."
"Go away," Garn moaned from beneath his goose down pillow.
"Garn, open the door. It's Tasha, I need to talk with you."
"Come back in the morning, I'm trying to sleep here."
"But it's important!"
"It's the middle of the night. Nothing's that important!"
There was a short pause in the conversation during which Garn could faintly hear Tasha muttering some very unladylike words and phrases under her breath. "Please, Garn?" She tried again, more softly. "I really think this is important."
"What? You're not sure anymore?"
Another pause. "No. Not really."
The dark-haired head of the mage carefully surfaced from beneath the pillow and looked at the door in thought. After a time, he sighed and slowly, regretfully crawled out of bed. It was extremely odd for Tasha to openly claim ignorance about anything. Of course, it's also rare for women as a gender to do the same. So I suppose I can't specifically blame her, Garn thought as he staggered over to his cloak. And besides, she's not going to go away until I let her in, so I might as well get this over with.
Yawning widely, the young mage wrapped himself in his dark cloak once again and minced, bare-footed across the cold flagstones to his door. Concentrating briefly, Garn whispered a word under his breath and the hearth blazed into fire once again. His slightly trembling fingers fumbled at the latch briefly before finally opening the door.
Taking one look at his friend forced Garn to bite back his initial sarcastic comment and quickly usher Tasha into his room. She was dressed loosely in a bathrobe with her long hair wet and dangling haphazardly in front of her face. Her lips were tinged blue and she was starting to shiver from the cold. Forcing her to sit down in his chair, Garn leapt back to his bed and whipped the top layer of blanket from it and carefully wrapped it about her frame. And then, with the swiftness of someone who has performed a ritual so often that it could be done without real thought, he removed a several small leaves from one of his many containers and set them in a kettle of water. After hanging the small copper kettle over the flickering flames in the hearth, he shoved aside some of his papers and sat down on his desk, right in front of her.
"Why didn't you tell me you were so cold?" Garn berated, guiltily thinking that he should have been more considerate. "I would have let you in right away if I'd known."
Once her shivering subsided slightly, Tasha calmly tried to explain. "I didn't even think about it. I was barely aware that I was cold until I got in front of your door."
Garn grimaced, muttering to himself as he rose to retrieve two small mugs from one of his shelves.
"Thank you," said Tasha gratefully after receiving a steaming mug filled with sweet, herbal tea. She began to eagerly gulp it down but painfully sputtered and coughed it back out.
Garn chuckled softly and pat her on the back. "Watch yourself, Tash'. It's still pretty hot, or had
you noticed that already?" After seriously making sure that she was all right, he took his seat on the desk once again, curling his feet up under him and waited patiently. Five seconds later he'd had enough of that. "So what's the deal? You lecture me for not getting any sleep, and then, when I finally decide to catch an hour or two, you come hammering on my door demanding I wake up. I mean, seriously. What are we? An old married couple?" He snickered at that last thought while Tasha turned a slight shade of pink.
Taking a moment further to collect her jumbled thoughts, Tasha began. "I think I had a vision?"
Garnthalisbain frowned concernedly. "Well, did you or didn't you? Make up your mind, this could be a serious issue."
"Well, it's hard to tell," Tasha said defensively. "Always before, when I was... " she motioned with her free hand as she grasped for a word.
"'Exploring' ?" Garn offered blandly.
Tasha shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. When I use my abilities, I can almost always control where I'm going and what I'm doing. But this time... It was like I was drawn. Pulled. Towards... " She shook her head with a sigh. "It's so hard to explain."
Shifting slightly to get more comfortable on his desk, Garn leaned forward. "Well, let's start at the beginning. What did you 'see' ?"
Slowly, with great personal uncertainty, Tasha began to relate to Garn everything that she'd seen that evening during her mental journey. Garn noticed her hesitate right after she related what happened after she'd exited his mind that evening. But immediately after that, Tasha began to describe the dark figure in the mists and the mage forgot all about her hesitation.
By the time Tasha had finally finished her story, Garn had managed to push aside the few remaining shreds of fatigue that had been clouding his mind. There was a new problem that he had to solve and he was certain that he already had a fairly good head start on it.
Rising from his desk, Garn strode purposefully across his room and stood in front of one the many bookshelves that filled his room. He stared, motionless for several long moments, his eyes flickering over the cover of each and every book on in the case. Finally selecting one from the very top shelf, he whispered an arcane word and magically caused it to slide out of its place, allowing gravity to drop it into his waiting hands. He carried the tome back over to his desk, leaning against it while casually flipping through the pages.
Tasha sat in her chair and waited as patiently as she could. Which wasn't very, seeing as how she would fidget every ten seconds or so.
Looking up from his book, Garn stared blankly at Tasha for a great deal of time, trying to choose which words to use in order that she might understand what he was thinking. Then he shrugged his shoulders minutely and one corner of his mouth twitched slightly, forming a sort of smirk, though there was no humor in his eyes. "Tasha," he began carefully. "How much do you know about history?"
Tasha blinked, surprised at the unusual question. "Well, a fair bit I suppose. My tutors taught me about the political creation of Kaemar and Kaemaria, and of the Great Dwarven War, and... those sorts of things," she finished lamely
Garn shook his head, his mouth a grim line. "So, in other words, you don't really know all that much. Am, I right?" A slow flush crept up Tasha's cheeks briefly, then she nodded. "I'm right." He took a deep breath, looked briefly to the ceiling as if silently asking for some sort of spiritual advice, and began.
"Three thousand years ago, the world was, quite obviously, a different place than it is now. Back then, there was no Great Sea separating the continents like there is today. It was all one giant cluster of land where everyone lived under the rule of one government. This book," he shook the tome lightly in front of Tasha's eyes for emphasis. "This book describes that government as the Great Empire, and I tend to agree with that description. For at no point in time since has there ever been a ruling system that was more fair, more prosperous or more vast.
"For generations, one family of Emperors ruled over all with an equal amount of grace and righteousness. By all accounts, not just the one's in this book, in all the books that I have found about this time period, these people were revered as demigods by their millions of subjects.
"Now, of course, history is written by the people in charge. No one ever wants anything bad written about them for people in the years to come to read and believe, so I suggest that you take this with a grain of salt, Tasha. But, apparently, everything came to head with the emperor named Recluvan.
"Now, I'm going to read directly out of this book for a moment or two. I think that it depicts what I'm trying to say the best."
"But, Garn..." Tasha interrupted.
Garn motioned her to silence, scanned the book briefly for the spot that he wanted and began.
" 'And, lo, for upon the time of his coming of age, the Prince Recluvan ascended upon the throne of Great Empire, and proceeded to rule with all of the propriety and honor of his father, and his father's father before him, and his father's father's... ' " Garn cleared his throat and looked abashedly at Tasha for a second. "Sorry about that. It tends to get a bit repetitive." Turning the page and quickly scanning down it, Garn found the precise spot that he wanted and continued.
" 'Not wanting to rest after concluding his debates with the Tribal Nomads, Emperor Recluvan sent word to his twin brother, Rexuvan in the neighboring state of Mindalon, requesting his presence.
" 'Prince Rexuvan, although the emperor's twin, was the younger of the two by mere minutes, thus, explaining why he was the Lord of Mindalon and its surrounding areas rather than the head of the entire Great Empire. During the time that Prince Rexuvan was coming of age, his family and friends did all for him that they could to make him feel loved and welcome. But nothing they could say or do could ever remove the younger prince's jealousy of his ever-so-slightly elder brother.
" 'Finding no real welcome in his family or friends, Prince Rexuvan drowned himself in his studies of the arcane and sold his soul to the daemons, practicing in the evil arts... ' " Garn's narration slowed to a halt at that point, as he shook his head sadly.
"What is it?" Tasha asked.
"I just hate the way people misunderstand us at times." Turning his full gaze upon Tasha briefly, he stared her directly in the eyes. "Look at me," he demanded coldly, his green eyes flashing in the dim light. "I study magic all the time, I practice the use of the Powers and all of that. But do I truly look like I've sold my soul to daemons?"
Suddenly intimidated by the ferocity of her friend's indignant stare, Tasha flinched unconsciously. "Maybe this isn't the best time for you to be asking me that, Garn."
Scowling softly at Tasha, Garn altered his tone. "Well, don't worry. I haven't." Clearing his throat solidly, the young mage continued his tale.
" 'For over fifteen years had Prince Rexuvan studied the evil arts. Over that time, he was widely considered to be the most powerful mage in the known world. This was part of the reason why Emperor Recluvan wanted to see his brother. He knew of the jealousies that Prince Rexuvan had against him and wanted to see if they could be put aside for good.
" 'Within days, Prince Rexuvan arrived at the Imperial Palace. He was immediately ushered into the throne room so that the twins could have their long awaited conversation. With open arms was the prince welcomed, and with a turned back came the cold response.
" ‘Dismayed, the Emperor tried to engage his brother in conversation, asking him how his studies went. With a thunderous expression the despot prince told a tale only a child would believe. Of how a great time of ice was coming, that the entire empire and its surrounding lands were to be completely engulfed by its vastness. The emperor laughed lightly then, assuming, naturally that his brother had told a joke to lighten the mood. But Rexuvan did not laugh. The emperor then explained that the Gods Above would hardly let anything happen to their loyal subjects.
" 'At that point, and that point only did Prince Rexuvan laugh. He belittled his brother, the emperor and blasphemed the Gods Above, claiming that They were the cause behind
this mythical time of ice and that They were to be blamed.
" 'Enraged by his brother's words, Emperor Recluvan tried to have Prince Rexuvan restrained, but it was no use. Every member of the Imperial Guard that attempted to seize the wizard was promptly besieged by a strange green-colored light that reduced those men to the mere ashes from whence they came.
" 'When all of the guards were removed from the scene, Prince Rexuvan seized his own brother, the emperor by the front of his imperial robes and vanished.
" 'They reappeared mere moments later high in the sky, directly above the Imperial palace. From there, Rexuvan proceeded to berate and belittle the emperor in a voice loud enough for all in the Imperial City to hear. In the end, it seemed as though Emperor Recluvan tried to reach some sort of agreement with his twin. However, it was far too late for that.
" 'From that great distance in the sky, Prince Rexuvan released his brother, the Emperor Recluvan and allowed him to plummet to the earth with nothing to break his fall save for the peaks of the Imperial Palace.
" 'In the very instant that Emperor Recluvan struck the peaks of the very palace that was his home, the former prince Rexuvan unleashed the hedonistic powers that were at his command and completely obliterated the Imperial City. Every building, every shop and nearly every person became demolished at the mere thought of this truly evil man.
" 'From that moment forward, Rexuvan took a new name for himself, one that was synonymous with darkness... Xir.' "
Garnthalisbain looked up from his tome with a sigh and took a moment to compose himself. It had been quite some time since he'd last taken the time to deliver such a lengthy speech. In all, he felt drained from the experience. Similar to the feeling he experienced after casting a strenuous and involved weave of Power.
Tasha just sat, riveted in her seat, too afraid and enthralled to move.
Looking disdainfully at his now cold mug of tea, Garn strolled loosely over to one of the other bookshelves. Removing a rather thick book from one shelf, he cradled it carefully in one arm and carefully popped the safety seal. Opening the cover, Garn removed a small, glass bottle of Clannish Brandy. Removing the stopper with his teeth and spitting it back into the book, Garn then proceeded to pour roughly half of the bottle down his parched throat. When he finally took another breath, he sighed contentedly, reveling in the warmth that had permeated in his chest. Replacing the stopper back in the bottle's neck, Garn returned the brandy into the hollowed out book and put it back on the shelf.
Turning back, he saw Tasha staring at him with a shocked expression on her face. He opened his mouth to say something but was forced to stop as the harsh alcohol he'd consumed hit his empty stomach. He shivered violently for a quick moment before regaining control and quietly saying, "You didn't see that." At which point he belched profoundly.
Sheepishly, Garn ran his sleeve across his mouth and mumbled a soft apology.
After a brief period of silence in which neither of them said or did anything out of the ordinary, Tasha spoke up. "Well, Garn. That was very interesting and all... But what does that have to do with what I saw in my vision?"
The young mage got a brief, blank look on his face before he frowned softly. Then he swiftly cleared his throat and resumed his normal look of cool confidence. "Yes," he began. "Well... There's a bit more to the story than that, you see."
Tasha sighed quietly and leaned back in her chair, preparing herself for another barrage of information.
Garn picked up the book again and looked for where he'd left off.
" 'Several months later, Xir resurfaced from his hidden lab in the Great Empire. He made it perfectly clear that the time of ice was very nearly upon the world and that it was time for him to do that which he had planned to do all along.
" 'And so, with all of the daemonic power that was his to command, Xir found an empty field in the middle of the Great Empire and challenged the Beast God, Arixeas to a duel.' " Tasha gasped in surprise and Garn smiled. "I know what you mean, I thought pretty much the same thing myself. But it gets better, trust me."
" 'Without question, the fiery tempered God of Beasts accepted the challenge and roared down from the heavens to confront the blasphemous heathen. The ferocity of their battle is without peer. The sheer levels of Power that were attained were beyond all conventional means of magical measurement. Thankfully, their duel was not long. Had it gone on for a greater time, much of our world might possibly have been destroyed.
" 'In the end, once the upstart Xir had been soundly defeated, Arixeas raised him up to the sky, about to pass judgment in his own particular fashion. But his Brother God, Shirvanth, the NightLord interjected. After a brief discussion, the two Brothers decided to imprison Xir in a place so inescapable that it does not even exist in this plane of reality.
" 'And there, the would-be-god, Xir, sits, unable to free himself and incapable of causing any more damage upon an already damaged world.' "
Garn finally closed his book and laid it down upon the desk, next to him. "That's as far as I can go with the book, so here's the rest of it from what I've pieced together. Less than a century later, the world was almost completely covered by glaciers. It stayed that way for almost five hundred years. When the ice finally retreated to the poles where they now reside, the survivors came out of hiding to find that much had changed and began to build the world into the way it is now."
Tasha's eyes were wide with wonder. "How come I've never heard any of this before?" she asked with genuine concern.
The mage closed his eyes shook his head with a laugh. "Because precious few people truly want to believe it, Tash'. The religious fanatics at Haven all adamantly insist that nothing existed before the glaciers. No matter how much evidence of the old empire is shown to them, they refuse to believe. 'Blinded by their faith' one might say."
There was a brief period of silence during which both Garn and Tasha tried to organize their thoughts. Slowly, the young mage slid forward, dropping to one knee before the seated Tasha. He gently laid one thin hand on her shoulder and tried to think of an easy way to break his news to her. He failed. "Tasha... I think that the figure you saw in your vision was Xir."
Her eyes widened fearfully and she shrank away from Garn at the mere thought of it. "No. It can't be. It's got to be a dream. A nightmare... "
"It's probably both. But I also think it's the truth."
"Well, what about the other parts of the vision?" Tasha broke in forcibly, trying to desperately change the topic. "The woman and the cat? The countryside? What about all that?"
Garn sat down on his desk again, weariness rapidly returning to his undernourished body. "The woman and the cat?" He shrugged his shoulders and got a bizarre look on his face. "Your guess is as good as mine, makes absolutely no sense to me. All I can say, is that the woman is the most crucial part of the whole vision. Don't ask me why, I'm just sure of it."
Taking a brief moment to stifle a yawn, Garn continued. "The countryside? Well, I thought that one was fairly obvious. I mean, the woman out and out told you what it was." Seeing Tasha's rather blank expression, the mage filled in the blanks for her. "It was an image of Southmoor."
"Southmoor?" Tasha said incredulously. "Why would I be shown an image of Southmoor?"
Again, Garn shrugged. "If I knew that, I probably wouldn't feel this sudden, burning need to go there, would I?" Tasha blinked in surprise. "By your expression I can see that you feel it too. Don't ask," he held up both hands in mock-defense. "I don't know what it is. But it's like a very subtle compulsion, pushing us both in the direction of knights, chivalry and all of that wonderful stuff that Southmoor is known for."
"But, why?" Tasha insisted.
"I told you, I don't know!" Garn snapped irritably. " I just get the feeling that the answers to all of our questions will start to show themselves when we get there!"
"No, I mean why me?"
Garn clapped a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply. "Tasha, it's definitely too late for you
to be asking me questions like that. Too much philosophy too late at night is way too much for the brain." However, seeing that Tasha expected some sort of an answer from him, Garn made the token attempt. "For starters, I don't ever want to hear you use the word 'me' like that ever again. Because the minute you brought this whole 'vision thing' here to me, got me involved in it. Like I said, I feel the compulsion too. As to why... I don't really have an answer to that.
"Except, maybe this. You've got your mental abilities, I've got my obsession with magic. And it is an obsession, I make no claims otherwise at all. Basically, we're exceptional people in a crazy world. Maybe we're the only people that can deal with... whatever's going on."
Tasha stared at her friend for a long moment. "Garn," she said with a laugh. "That's got to be the most ridiculous thing that you have ever said."
Garn scowled, whipped his blanket away from her and pointedly ignored her sudden squeal of indignation. Tossing his blanket onto his bed, Garn marched over to his door and opened it wide. "That's it," he muttered. "Get out."
"Garn... "
"Don't 'Garn' me, young lady. it's very late, I've answered all of your questions as best I can, now get out. I'll talk to you in the morning."
Finding it almost impossible not to smile, Tasha rose from her chair and primly tightened the sash on her bathrobe before heading out into the hall. Once there, she turned back one last time and asked the only question that she had left. "What if it was all just a dream... or something?"
The young mage looked long and hard into her liquid amber eyes for a moment or two. When he finally spoke, it was in a unusually low-pitched tone of voice. "What do you think?" he asked. With that, Garn gently closed his door and returned to the warmth of his bed, extinguishing the flames in the hearth with a mere thought.
It wasn't until he was just about to drift off into that mystical realm of sleep once again that he heard the sound of someone furiously pounding upon a solid object out of base frustration. "What kind of an answer is that?!"
Garn groaned wretchedly and buried his head back under his pillows, valiantly trying to ignore the animalistic hammerings at his door.