Carthia

The woman Carthia stared in awe as David’s fading face dissolved into nothingness, and the rod, that only an instant earlier he had clutched so tightly, fell to the floor.

She had known what would happen, had accepted what she must do, and yet still it amazed and shocked her to watch him vanish before her very eyes as if he had never existed at all.

It seemed as if moments passed before the screams, shouts and protest from behind finally broke through into her dazed and befuddled mind.

Tomas had moved in front of her, was shaking her, was shouting at her, “Carthia. What is wrong? Are you well?”

Pulling herself together, Carthia turned and looked at the captives bound before her.

Jain stood in some form of fighting stance to her side, and her men with weapons raised, surrounding them all.

“Deal with it Tomas,” she said. “You know full well what he said must happen now,” and with that she strode off toward the trees, her temper barely in check.

She found him sat on the old fallen tree, as she knew she would.

He had not moved from that spot since early morning, and had refused to eat or drink, or even to speak until it was all over and the deed was done.

He was upset she knew, and despite her anger she softened toward him.

"That seemed to go well," she said, and continued with, "I am sorry that I went against you, but I could not let him go back as he was."

She stared at him, expecting some sort of reply, a rebuke even. But none came.

So she continued into the stony silence, "You knew all along that I did not believe that your plan would work as it was… he needed to know some things, however little.

"And yet you persisted regardless that I disagreed with you. Well I am sorry if you are not happy with what I did, but what's done is done.

"Besides I would probably do the same again anyway… so I suppose that I'm not sorry at all really."

Too late she realised that she was rambling.

She knew it was because she had defied him, and that was something she had never done before.

But he had always been right before, his decisions always made sense, and he would always talk things through with her, listen to and value her opinions.

This time had been different, very different.

He had started out by saying that there would be no debate whatsoever about how things were to go. It would be his way and no questions asked.

Everything that happened after they captured David, was to be exactly as laid down in the script he had prepared.

When she spoke, there was to be no deviance from his script, no matter what happened, no matter what David said.

There had been far too much she disagreed with. If he had confided in her, then perhaps most of her issues would have gone away.

But he hadn’t, and for the very first time since they had met long ago, he had kept her out, completely out.

So because of his bloody minded attitude, and because she believed that, in this, he was wrong, she had defied him and spoken outside of his precious script.

She was embarrassed with herself for rambling, but was also beginning to seethe with fury at the whole situation.

This had been planned for weeks, and for weeks he had shut her out.

She had done what was right, she was convinced of it, and he had not only been wrong, but had treated her, and everyone that had a part to play, with utter contempt.

She should not be apologising, he should. If anyone else had dared to treat her this way, they would have been minus their head long ago.

As she came to this realisation, he shrugged and started to turn away. That was way more than she intended to take, regardless of who he was.

"Where the hell do you think you’re going?" she said. "If you think you are just going to walk away from me, then you are very mistaken. I want to know what this was all about! I want to know what the hell’s been going on these last few days, and why you have been so flaming objectionable.”

He turned back to her, his face a mix of anger and thoughtfulness.

And yet suddenly it changed, his eyes sparkled, and he laughed, a loud uproarious laugh. "Oh Carthia, I do love you so very much," he said, laughing still.

"I love you for many, many things. I love you because you, of all those I know, are the one who can always be trusted to do the right thing, no matter what.

"But most of all I love you because you are not afraid to tell me what you think, and usually in the most graphic of terms.

"Come with me and I will explain all. You deserve to be the first to receive an explanation… given your starring role today."

They sat a little way off, apart from and out of sight of the others. He spoke for quite a while, only interrupted by occasional outbursts of foul language and threats from Carthia.

Finally finished, he looked into her eyes and waited for her to speak.

Once again, but this time with a very pronounced sarcastic tone, she said "It was as I said earlier… that seemed to go well."

The man hesitated an instant, his face unreadable. Then he smiled, and yet his voice took on a very serious tone as he spoke,

"It went exactly as planned, exactly as it should have done,” and then quietly, almost as if to himself, he added, "Although had anything been said or done differently, I must confess that I do not have a clue what the outcome would be."

They both stood and walked back towards the others in the clearing.

As they got near a collective gasp went up from those few sat around the fire.

###

David

The rod was gone, Alex was gone; both left behind. I had been duped, tricked at the very last moment yet again.

Jain, Tarnia, Step and Garam murdered at the last, and now Alex snatched from my very hand as I again heeded the words of a stranger.

Alex was better left behind though, than to be here with me, here in this dark, dank room. It was a cellar, I thought, not a dungeon cell, but still a prison.

Who and what lay outside I could only guess.

To say I was tricked there at the end when I again held the rod, would be an understatement, though. I had believed, or at least guessed, that Alex would be left behind.

But I had to take the opportunity, had to return somehow, no matter what danger it took me into.

"Hold hands, we will go together, stay close,” all a charade I had to play, otherwise her anger would have been such that we would still be arguing after the allotted time had long passed.

I had to deceive her, but better to suffer the guilt of that, than have had to use force to subdue her; for that she would have hated me, and knowing that would have been far worse than the guilt of deceiving her so.

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I was only sorry that I had not been able to say my goodbyes – I would miss her in the times to come, of that I was sure.

But I had been duped, from the very beginning I had been played.

Returned home and my friends killed at the very last moment. Why? Sent here, for what, for what purpose? Who were they, and what advantage did they gain from controlling me this way?

I met Alex, the Carthia of my home world I had somehow concluded. Her stories and her sister’s dreams – they meant something, held clues, I was sure; but clues to what I did not know.

And then there was Jalholm and his story; the last he told, that was the truth, I was sure.

But he had said nothing of real value, nothing that could be used against Dar'cen – he merely told a history, a firsthand history long forgotten by all; best forgotten perhaps.

Had Jalholm finished his story, there might have been something of use – a way back to Ellas that I could have controlled perhaps, or some knowledge that might have helped to hurt or even destroy Dar'cen. But I had learned nothing from him, nothing at all of use.

Then there was New York. Who attacked me? Who warned me? Were they the same people? What was their purpose, and did they really want me dead or was it some test?

None of it, none of it at all made any sense. All I had were questions.

I had been played, I was sure, but I did not understand why or what anyone gained from what had happened to me. I certainly had not gained anything.

Then there were the messages. Who was behind them? I believed, had assumed, that they were somehow sent by the woman Carthia or the one who watched from the trees.

But to what end I did not know, could not even begin to guess.

It was they who had sent me back to Earth, then the messages had come, and eventually those very same messages had delivered me here to this room by using the very same travelling rod that had first brought me home. It had to be them.

But what was the purpose of the messages? Were they a way of prodding me into some direction or action that fitted their purpose? If so, what was that purpose? Whoever it was, they had a reason, must have followed a plan, but for what?

The messages had sent us to the four corners of the world, both through the portals of the Internet and in the physical sense.

They had us visit ancient ruins, standing stones, temples and supposedly buried cities.

All to no avail, not even knowing what it was we were expected to find. I had hoped for remnants of travelling stones, or anything that would take me back to Ellas, but there had been nothing.

So what was it, what had I missed? There must have been something, something I was meant to find, or to learn. Otherwise what was the point in the messages at all?

These thoughts were futile, I knew. My mind had visited these very same thoughts over and over, and nothing changed.

I saw nothing new. I did not know why I was sent to those places, what significance, if any at all, they had to my search.

I did not know why I had been sent back to Earth in the first place. It was certainly not to live out my life in peace. That was the only thing I was sure of – the messages ensured that I would never settle back into my old life; they had goaded and prodded me until the very last, when I was sent here to this room.

I had been duped, I concluded yet again; duped from the very beginning.

And now, after all the hoops they had had me jump through, I was finally back, back on Ellas – I had not been outside this room, but I was sure of that. This was Ellas.

I examined the door again, it was wood, but solid, one piece. It reminded me of the capping wood on Jain’s Barantu battle staff; harder than steel he had said it was.

If this was such wood I would never breach it despite the strength I had been gifted by Dar'cen.

I had tried, but only a token attempt really – I reasoned that I was expected, that someone awaited my arrival; they had sent me back, sent the rod to me, and so eventually they would open the door and come for me.

And then, be it the woman Carthia, her cohorts or the watcher himself, I would deal with them swiftly. I had been toyed with enough; I no longer wanted explanations, I wanted to avenge my friends – I wanted their deaths and an end to this game they played. And so I waited.

A long while later, perhaps half a day – night had passed and the sun was well on its way to its zenith if the temperature was to be reckoned – I heard faint footfalls.

They descended steps towards the door; a lone person, light of foot. Not a Nargu then, nor a heavily clad warrior.

The woman Carthia perhaps, though I could not hear the clink of weapons or armour, nor the creaking of leather.

The door swung inward slowly, silently. I heard no key, no bolt being thrown back – a magic then; yet even more mystery to add to my sadly lacking knowledge.

It did not matter, I had dealt with magic and its practitioners before; they did not give up their lives easily, but, to my shame, they all eventually died.

I stood, a knife in hand, as the light streaming from the world outside my prison framed a woman’s form in the opening doorway.

I hesitated, perhaps because, despite my resolve and my thirst for vengeance, I still did not want to take the life of a woman.

Yet in that brief hesitation she did not take advantage, did not strike at me, did not use spells to bind me or enslave my mind.

She merely spoke, surprise and a hint of apprehension in her voice.

“You are here at last… welcome. I have waited for what has felt a lifetime for your coming… I began to worry, began to despair. But you are here now….."

Her words went on, but they passed over my conscious mind. I heard only her voice, different somehow, ever so different… younger.

Yes that was it, younger, but hers nonetheless. Yet how could that be? She was dead; she had died to save me.

Then her words came to me again, pushing their way through the turmoil that her voice had brought.

“Please forgive my manners… my name is Anna." And then, before I could reply in kind, she stepped toward me, arms outstretched in an embrace.

Anna, truly Anna. But not the Anna I had known – younger, far younger, a young woman, eyes bright with the life of youth.

She held me tight against her small frail body, and somehow I knew that she cried.

I understood none of this, my earlier unknowns fleeing before the magnitude of what was now happening. I put my arms around this child Anna, held her as she wept.

Moments passed and then she was done. She stood on tiptoe and whispered into my ear, “Please be patient, I will explain to you all that I am allowed, but time grows short, and there are many things to attend to before we can again talk safely… I ask a great deal I know, but I need you trust my word, and to do all I ask. I know that this is all strange to you, but please ask no questions of me now."

I heard her words, but my mind reeled with confusion. What was she talking about? What was happening? How could this be?

Yet despite my confusion, despite all my unanswered questions, I knew that I would do anything for this woman before me.

This was no trick; the game now was over, I somehow knew – this woman was Anna, and I owed her my freedom, my very life… and she was my friend, and I loved her still.

I nodded my assent and she smiled, the same smile, the smile that I had longed so very much to see again.

“I must take you to meet the others, those that oppose him still. They too have waited, as I have waited, for so very, very long. But you must wear this cloak, this mask. None but I must ever see your face. Not ever! This is as the prophecies, the dreams, demand that it must be… if we are to succeed, it must be this way. Please… do as I ask."

My mind was empty, I could not think, did not understand what was happening or how this could be.

Somehow I nodded to this woman, this Anna, and as one in a dream I began to don the cloak.

“The others, they expect much of you, more than any man should be expected to give… but I pray that you truly are such a man, for all our hopes rest upon you.

"And yet, all I know of you comes from the prophecies and my dreams, and what they tell of begins from this day forward; they tell nothing of who you are, who you were and what you have been. I know not even your name.”

“My name is—” I began hesitantly, but was cut off by Anna’s shrill and urgent words.

“No! Speak no more, please I beg you! The prophecies give name to you, and that must be the name that all know you by… I, especially, must never know your true name, your given name.”

My name, unspoken, lingered on my tongue as I looked at this woman, this Anna, before me.

“Why?” I asked. “I understand none of this. I do not know what it is that you want of me.”

She smiled then, and for a brief instant all my worries were irrelevant, and all was right with the world.

“Time grows short and we must hurry… but this little at least I shall tell you… The prophecies forewarned of your coming, and my dreams have shown much that may take place.

"Yet you cannot be told of what I have seen… for now, you must remain free to choose your own path.

"Later, when the time is upon us, I will be able to help and guide you in what is to come… but now, today, I can say only this… You have been sent to lead us, to be our saviour.

"The prophecies name you, an ancient name, older even than the tongue we now speak – a name that was first written in the book that had been lost to us; the first to tell of the evil one’s coming. In our tongue today, your name would be said as Battle Lord or perhaps Warrior, but few now survive that would know such a thing…”

She hesitated, a look on her face as if she measured me, tried to see in me all that had been written, all that was expected.

That look chilled me to the bone, and my world again collapsed into turmoil as realisation finally came to me.

“You are the one who will be known to all as Al’kar, the one who has come to lead us in the fight against the evil that has for so long enslaved our world.”

~~~ End of Book One ~~~

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