Chapter
The Market of Dreams
Mikel brushed himself off and stood, staring at the wonder he’d stumbled into.
When Helsket shoved him through the open door into the waiting blackness Mikel assumed he’d end up in a filthy dilapidated structure filled with the workings of a smithy - bellows, furnace, hammers, and projects in various states of finish - or as he’d suspected when The Callisto Jewel had begun to vibrate angrily, he would just cease to be. The echoes of the chill from the gem still coursed through his body - chilling him against the comfortable climate he’d been thrown into.
He’d expected something… Different. What he hadn’t expected was to be thrown into a world entirely different from the town of Farraway.
The Callisto Jewel shivered in his shirt once more as he stood, its chilly aura, which seemed to emit more and more often, crackled through him. He shivered against it and tried to shove the sensation out of his mind, but his first few attempts were as successful as trying to imagine away a frozen north wind.
The only thing that finally worked was the realization of the absolute madness and wonder he’d fallen into.
Mikel stood in an endless market surrounded by sights, smells, and sounds he could scarcely believe were real, heart hammering and mind racing in a vain attempt to catalog and store away every sensory experience bombarding him.
Monstrous and amazing buildings, roads, and structures he couldn’t name, in shapes he could scarcely imagine, rolled away in every direction - even straight up. When he craned his neck back and tried to see the tops of the buildings - all he could make out for story upon story were more and more buildings.
Layer upon layer of buildings raced towards a black, star-shot sky far above the thronging crowd as blue-green rose-scented torches flavored the air and provided more than enough light to see. There was no sun. There was no moon. There was only the wash of stars above and the amazement contained beneath that firmament dome.
Music and strange, wonderful smells floated on the breeze in equal measures, intoxicating in a most base way. Mikel’s head swooned as he allowed the bliss-filled air to take him over. Within moments he was swaying to the music as his worldly concerns became less and less - until he was barely aware of his name. His father was not even a ghost of a thought in his mind, nor his family's predicament. He was in heaven - and he never wanted to leave.
He was jerked out of the reverie by a massive, callused hand striking him across the face.
His eyes watered and his ears rang. Mikel swore as he looked up at the man who’d hit him - the man he didn’t recognize. The man who’d pulled him out of the delightful headspace he’d just floated into.
“Who do you think you are?” He barked as he pulled back from the massive man, “Where do you get off hitting people for no reason?”
The giant of a man grinned and shook his head, suddenly more familiar to some small voice in the back of Mikel’s mind.
Have I met this man before?
He touched his lip where hot blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and glanced at the ruby of it sitting on the tip of his finger.
The tantalizing sensation of the strange place floated into his mind once again and just as he was about to let himself be carried away by the sensation, the giant lifted his hand again and made clear that if Mikel went any further into the delirium, he would strike him.
Mikel scowled at him and shook his head, “Who in the hels are you? Leave me be. I’m minding my own business and you don’t need to worry about me.”
The big man dropped his hand and shook his head, now scratching at the thick mane of black hair coiling down his shoulders and back in ropes as wide as snakes.
The style was unlike anything Mikel had ever seen and the hair appeared to be woven together and stylized with thick gold rings, bangles, and jewels of all types. If Mikel were pressed to give an estimate of the value of the gems in the man’s hair, he would have ventured enough to purchase a small kingdom.
“Who are you?”
“You don’t recognize me?” The voice which came from the man’s mouth matched his stature - and although Mikel was sure he’d never met the man before the strange lilt to his voice and the energy he carried himself with made him second guess. It was not a combination easily forgotten.
“I don’t,” Mikel said as his eyes were drawn away from the man and he began to watch the fantastic displays of magic, acrobatics, and strength on full display.
People of all types mingled peacefully, the only conflicts arising were the passionate discussions of potential patrons with would-be sellers. The thing that struck Mikel was that every person within sight was quite possibly the most gorgeous specimens of humanity he’d ever seen. This sight alone rivaled the head rush he got from the smells and sounds.
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“Hang on - maybe this will help things.” The big man said.
He held his index finger and thumb to his lips and blew out a sharp, shrill note that cut through the revelry - the revelry made anything Mikel experienced in Farraway a pale shadow by comparison. A few people turned to look at the two men, but one in particular stood out like a boulder in a freshly tilled field. The man was massive and his head of flaming red hair flowed in the gentle breeze as if his locks were real fire. He had massive muscles and gold bangles decorating his arms at the wrist, elbow, and above biceps - which were larger than most men’s torsos. There was only one man who looked like that.
“Helsket,” Mikel said as he sighed. He hadn’t been aware he’d been holding his breath, but now, seeing his friend he relaxed a bit. This was a strange place but would be manageable with the old warrior. Or who had been an old warrior.
As Helsket closed the distance between himself and the man who’d hit him, Mikel realized something was wrong - or at least different with his friend. At the moment, with so many people and things clamoring in between the two of them, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
It was only after Helsket had gotten within arms reach Mikel realized what had happened.
Helsket had aged backward by twenty or thirty years and to all evidence, was in peak physical condition.
Gone was the massive gut that had poked out beyond his belt and the bald spot on his head. His red mane was thick and lustrous and cascaded down his back and shoulders in whorling locks which caught the blue light and cast it off in purple shimmers.
He stood taller than before, was wider and absolutely cut - Mikel could see every fiber of muscle in the big man’s arms and bull-sized neck.
“Ah, good work Telgil,” Helsket boomed in a deep healthy baritone, “ I was worried we’d been split up on opposite sides of The Market. We would have wasted all night trying to find one another.”
“Telgil?” Mikel asked as Helsket walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder, the motion alone enough to send Mikel reeling.
Like lightning Helsket’s other hand reached out and grabbed Mikel by the shoulder and held him in place.
“You’ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet boyo,” He said with a smile. Mikel noticed that all of Helsket’s teeth were back in his head and white as the bleached bone of a skeleton in the wastes. He looked like a god.
“I’m… wondering what in the hel is going on?”
“Telgil,” Helsket snapped, looking behind Mikel, “You didn’t tell him anything yet?”
Mikel turned and looked in confusion at the massive man who’d whistled to attract Helsket’s attention. He walked up to the two men and smiled an equally white, opalescent grin to Helsket’s.
“Didn’t have time. I just found him, about to get sucked into the Reverie. It’s a good thing I rang his bell or he would have been lost to us.”
Helsket groaned, “How in the hell is The Reverie affecting him?”
He looked at Mikel accusingly, “Didn’t you say you couldn’t use magic?”
Mikel nodded, more confused with every passing moment.
“I… I was tested when I turned thirteen. I’ve got no aptitude for it.”
“And yet you were succumbing to The Reverie,” The strange man Helsket kept referring to as Telgil said. He didn’t resemble the crippled dwarf of a blacksmith at all. This man, like Helsket, resembled more god than man.
Was he dreaming? Or maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe the passage through the portal mixed with the strange way The Callisto Jewel was behaving had pushed him into a nightmare. His dreams had been… Strange, lately and he’d seen enough oddities in the past year to send even the most even-keeled man awry.
What was happening?
“Do you know if the test might have been a fluke?”
Mikel shook his head, trying to get his bearings, “Hang on - I’m lost here. We need to take a step back. Helsket looks… so -”
“Amazing?” The old warrior said while he beamed and flexed a bull-thick bicep.
“Sure,” Mikel said, “We’ll go with that. You look like you do but… you’re telling me this is Telgil? Wasn’t Telgil about -” Mikel held out a hand about three feet off the ground, “this tall? This guy is like three Telgils stacked on top of one another, plus he looks nothing like him, nor sounds like him minus the accent.”
“Telgil” laughed. It was a good laugh, deep, low, and genuine.
Again, the thought pricked the back of Mikel’s mind that he knew this man - but how?
“It’s the magic of The Market,” “Telgil” said, “It’s the magic to make you what you really are - or who you want to be. It’s a miracle place, of our world but not quite our world, put in place by the gods to assist us in our daily toils. This place is The Market of Dreams.”
Chills shot through Mikel’s body as the words left Telgil’s mouth. Helsket nodded and looked around brightly.
“I for one have been gone from here for too long,” The old-not-old warrior said, “This place hasn’t changed a bit - well, it has, it always changes, but at the same time, it hasn’t.”
Telgil grinned and turned to Helsket and just before the two launched into another conversation Mikel interrupted.
“What in the nine hel’s is going on here? Helsket looks a lifetime younger and a body lighter, while… You, Telgil… Look nothing like the you I met in front of our smithy -” Mikel turned around and gasped as he saw what was behind him. He’d expected to see the door they’d come through but was entirely put off by the fact that there was only more thrumming crowd behind them and another segment of the seemingly endless Market of Dreams.
“You’ve never heard of this place?” Telgil asked, fingering a golden bangle in his hair absentmindedly, “I thought all adventurers knew of this wonder.”
“Ah, he’s young yet, and not quite an adventurer,” Helsket said, “We should go find a tavern and have a drink. He can fill you in on his needs and his aims, and you can, in turn, explain this little wonder to him.”
Telgil considered for a moment before nodding slowly and glaring at Helsket, “You’re buying though. I swear to you that I’ll still kill you over what you did to my life, but -”
“But a pint or six will increase my odds of survival, yes - I’m aware of the price I must pay to avoid losing my head.”
Telgil snorted a laugh, “I doubt an ax would cut through that tree trunk you call a neck. Were you really this big?”
Helsket rubbed his shoulder as if a cramp had suddenly developed, “A bit bigger maybe - you know how this place goes. Nothing is ever quite as it seems.”
Mikel cleared his throat and drew both men’s attention back to himself.
“Information, please. I’m lost right now and you two are making things more difficult.”
“C’mon then,” Telgil said lightly, “I know a good place that serves the best noodles in town. You’ll love them, Mikel, trust me.”
Mikel fell in between the two men, mysteriously young Helsket behind and the strange version of Telgil ahead, leading the way deeper and deeper into the maze of vendors, patrons, musicians, and in some cases, thieves as everyone within the Market of Dreams sought to capitalize on their brief stay in a world far away from their own.