As soon as he said that, there was another shift, which felt as though their bodies were rapidly turned inside out and made them see double for a moment. They sat down, and when the ground stopped spinning, Staven said, “I think we’re getting close, but you’re holding back Mark. I’ve given my best, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Well, remember how Urtish and Mayre said that visitors don’t remember this world when they wake up?” asked Mark.
“Yeah, I thought that was strange,” said Staven.
“Me too,” agreed Mark, “Especially since I remember everything.”
“Whoa, that’s something to keep to ourselves, buddy,” thought Staven. Then they felt like they were going to throw up and their world went black as they passed out.
Chapter 4
Stavius
Stavius awakened with a thick, coppery taste in his mouth. He was disoriented, the ground was still slightly moving, and he couldn’t feel his body. Well, he couldn’t feel most of his body. There was something like a rock poking him in his back. He realized it was his own arm when his shoulder erupted in pain as he tried to roll off of it.
Stavius squinted at his arm after pulling it out from under him and was amazed at its size. He brought the hand close to his face to inspect it and then extended his arm until it was outstretched above him as he laid on his back in the soft summer grass. He could make it move around like one of those claw games in an arcade, but its unfamiliar size and appearance, combined with a total lack of feeling, made it seem disconnected and surreal.
He closed his eyes to try to gather his thoughts and something immediately dropped onto his abdomen. He quickly sat up in fright only to lean back in relief when he discovered that it was just that arm again. “Oh, this is strange,” he thought to himself as he struggled to lean against the tree.
He was starting to regain feeling in his body bit by bit. He could feel his back, right arm, and intestines, which felt like they were sloshing into his lap. They weren’t, but he had to look to make sure. His panic began to subside as more of his body came back to life. His rapid breathing and racing heart had slowed to more normal rates by the time he was finally able to feel his entire body, including his face, which was still aching from Craan’s sucker punch.
Stavius cautiously stood and looked up into the trees. Smelling the summer fragrances and listening to the cacophony of bird songs, chattering squarells, and rushing river made him marvel at the peacefulness of this valley. Then he realized that one thing he didn’t hear: Mark’s voice was no longer in his head. In fact, Staven wasn’t there either, and yet he was. Stavius realized he was Mark and that he was also Staven. All of their fears of being lost were misplaced. Both were still there and a part of him. Stavius chuckled as he realized that he had lost nothing and gained much.
The young man suddenly dropped into a horse stance, threw two straight punches, a cross punch and a front kick. Mark knew martial arts! His parents had forced him to take it for four, long years but he had always hated it, and finally convinced them to let him quit after passing his red belt test. The problem was that, while he knew all the moves, being an overweight kid with a lame arm meant that he was never able to do more than go through the motions. Now, however, Stavius was a powerfully built seventeen-year-old man suddenly possessing impressive mixed martial arts skills.
Stavius laughed and spent several minutes punching, kicking, jumping and even doing some flips until he was panting and covered with sweat. He had never felt this alive before, which might not mean much since Stavius was all of ten minutes old, but he knew that neither Mark nor Staven had ever felt so good either. He took a breath, turned around, and his jaw dropped.
Stavius had been facing away from the village while doing his routines and was unprepared for what he saw when he turned around. The community was quaint, immaculate and populated with beautiful people dressed in simple, but tasteful clothing. It was an odd sensation, like déjà vu, because while this was how Mark remembered it, Staven had seen it differently. Stavius felt that he had both been here before and was seeing it for the very first time.
He walked to a nearby cottage and ran his hand along the wall. His fingers sank an inch beneath the smooth, weathered, stone wall and felt a rough wall underneath. It was an illusion. Staven was seeing illusions for the first time through Stavius’ eyes. The village was so much more beautiful than Staven remembered.
Stavius recalled Mayre’s advice about perspectives and stepped back and to try and see the village from Staven’s point of view. The ivy-covered cottage walls began to fade as he concentrated until he was staring at a poorly-constructed hut made from sticks, leaves, and mud. Someone had jammed a few large branches into the ground and woven some smaller ones between them. They then magically transformed this rickety structure into stone and slathered mud and leaves over the top. They must have repeated this mud, leaves, and magical transformation process until they had the desired shape. Then they enchanted it for strength and weatherproofing, finally wrapping it with a stone, thatch and ivy illusion.
Stavius looked around and now saw the village as Staven remembered it: a squalid collection of mud and leaf huts. He also saw the people as they had appeared to Staven. Most were in their thirties to fifties, with a few who had to be in their upper seventies. Nearly all were overweight with dirty, tussled hair, walking about in torn, old clothes or just their underwear or, in some cases, completely naked. Stavius quickly reverted to Mark’s perspective and the frail, elderly woman shuffling towards them magically transformed into the pretty, teenager, Mayre.
“So, did you manage to merge?” she asked with a flirtatious wink.
“Um, yeah, I did,” answered Stavius, who no longer found himself attracted to the buxom beauty taking his arm. “You were right. It’s pretty amazing.”
He was trying to come up with an excuse to get out of her unrelenting grasp when the village clock chimed three times. He screamed, “Oh Terra help me, we’re late for Urtish’s class,” as he raced toward the cave.
Stavius dashed into the cave a good ten minutes late, realizing he had no idea where to go once he arrived. That question, at least, was answered when he entered the large cavern hall and espied a single chair placed in front of a blackboard. He dashed to the chair and sat down, hoping that he had successfully snuck in since he did not see Urtish. Stavius realized he was wrong as a voice echoed from the darkness behind him.
“Mr. Stavius, your tardiness shows a complete lack of respect for me, for my time, and for this subject,” complained Urtish.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure where to go,” said Stavius. His excuse was valid, but not the real reason he was late.
“Oh, please, Mr. Stavius. I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses, and I am insulted by the fact that you think you can sneak by me when you are the only student. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you suddenly filling the only empty chair?
“I’m here to try to teach you some history, Mr. Stavius, and yet I don’t think you’re interested in learning. I think that you would rather run around wrestling in the field. Am I right?”
“Well, it does seem that a history class might not be the best use of our time. I mean, we’ll have to trim things to shorten the training time, right?” Stavius said with more than a little hope in his voice.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” argued Urtish. “That’s a famous quote from Mark’s world. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it, or something like it,” said Stavius.
“And do you know who said it?” asked Urtish.
“Um, no,” admitted Stavius.
“It’s a quote from the early twentieth-century philosopher and writer, George Santayana,” said Urtish, “and I think that it should have special meaning to you, young man.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“Because young men and women like yourself have been heading off to fulfill the prophecy for thousands of years a
nd almost every single one of them was slaughtered. I would think that someone in your position might want to strive not to repeat that particular past.”
Mark never liked history class, and Staven had never even had one, but Urtish had suddenly motivated Stavius to eagerly follow every word as he began his first lecture on the history of this world and the prophecy they were attempting to fulfill.
There are few literate people in this world, which means that much of the known history is based upon oral stories handed down across generations. A lot of these stories are from the religions of this world which, while divergent in some of their beliefs, all share the same core teachings. There were also some historical logs and a few ancient artifacts which provided some guidance for the conjoined historians who passed through from time to time.
The stories claim that roughly six thousand years ago a group of gods came and brought magic to the Earth. Very little is known about the world before their appearance, but the stories all agree that Janus was the first to arrive and that he pretty much wiped out whatever he found. The four savior gods, Terra, Mars, Luna, and Venus, came before he could complete his destruction and saved our world and the three others with their magical energy.
Every religion on Mearth agrees with this origin story. They also all concur that Janus made a prophecy before he was banished. In it, he advised the pious to construct seven sacred talismans which would reward them with unmatched power. He also predicted that someday a group of young heroes in their prime would arrive as representatives of the gods to lay claim to those talismans to restore the world.
Despite the similar origin stories, however, several religions arose which cannot seem to get past their differences to see their commonality. Terrans, the most numerous, depict Janus as an evil demi-god who was stopped by the four savior gods before he could complete his destruction. Resurrectionist Janarians believe that Janus judged everything and everyone on Earth, Luna, Mars, and Venus, and destroyed all but the righteous, whom the gods then graced with magic. And the New World Janarians believe that he merely prepared four lifeless worlds for the coming gods.
Interpreting what “restoring the world” means is another branching point for these religions. Some believe the prophesized heroes will use the talismans to bring the gods back. Some prophesize they will be used to restore the world’s magical energy, which appears to be dwindling. Others suspect the so-called heroes will use the power of the talismans to wipe out the world and start over, much like what Janus and the four gods did six thousand years ago. So, while very few people are fans of Janus, none of the Prophecy Heroes are favored by everyone. Urtish warned Stavius that he should be especially careful around those who are enjoying the fruits of the talismans’ powers.
That evening, Stavius gazed up at the stars thinking about Urtish’s lesson. He stared at the two brilliant blue points of light, Mars, and Venus, which were far brighter than any other stars and wondered if people like him lived there. Then he turned his attention to the full moon and marveled at her deep blue oceans, green continents, and slowly swirling clouds. He contemplated how similar and how different this world was from Mark’s and decided he was happy he lived here.
Chapter 5
Illusions
Stavius arrived at the tournament field well before nine o’clock the next morning and sat on the dew-laden grass watching his teacher’s approach. He was careful to turn up early for this class since angering Urtish was one thing but pissing off a platoon of trained warriors was quite another. However, he arrived earlier than he had intended because everyone was still avoiding him. Being early meant that he ate his breakfast alone in silence. It also caused him to eat as quickly as possible to escape the glares from the long table.
Craan and a dozen of his equally large friends arrived at precisely nine o’clock. They were all dressed in dragon skin suits, several were wearing full armor, and some were carrying helmets and weapons. None looked pleased to see Stavius.
Staven had spent a lot of time with dragons, so Stavius was familiar with the properties of dragon skin. It made terrific personal armor because it was reasonably light, flexible and difficult to penetrate with anything other than a magically enhanced weapon. It was also capable of absorbing the energy of anything striking it so that even the mightiest punches felt like gentle shoves.
Stavius looked at his tattered linen tunic and pants. He hadn’t expected this to be a fair fight, but it was going to be a long and painful morning. He steeled his body for the anticipated pain and mentally kicked himself for yesterday’s foolish comments.
The large man who had ordered Craan away yesterday strode up to Stavius and said, “I wasn’t sure you were going to show up, kid. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Stavius stared up at this huge man who was a good four inches taller than him, fifty or more pounds heavier, and wearing a full suit of black armor. He was entirely sure he didn’t want to be here, but replied, “Let’s get started.”
The giant laughed and said, “Well, you have guts, kid. Craan, come on out here and give the boy his first real lesson.”
Craan stepped onto the field, extended his hand, and said, “No hard feelings about yesterday, right?”
Stavius walked up to him with his hand out as well but was not caught off guard when Craan suddenly swung his left fist at his head. Craan might be large and powerful, but he was not creative.
Stavius quickly stepped to his left and raised his right hand to grab Craan’s arm and pull him. Craan had put all his weight behind his punch so he was off balance and it was easy to pull him forward enough to trip over Stavius’ right leg. Stavius glimpsed the look of shock on Craan’s face as he flew past before landing face-first on the ground with a resounding thud.
“Do you yield, Craan?” asked Stavius, as he quickly sat on the man’s back and pinned his arms.
“I’ll never yield to you, boy,” yelled Craan as he struggled to no avail. “I’m prepared to do this all day.”
“That sounds good to me,” answered Stavius. “It’s much too hot for fighting, and I’d much rather just sit here on this nice, soft seat.”
It occurred to Stavius that his words were surprisingly accurate. Craan appeared to be a muscular and heavily armored soldier, but he felt somewhat squishy as Stavius sat on him.
Stavius adjusted his vision to filter out illusions and made his most important discovery of the day. Most of the trainers had merely wrapped themselves in illusions! Craan wasn’t wearing any dragon skin armor after all, and he looked more like an overweight, drunk, barroom brawler than a highly-trained soldier. Stavius’ mood brightened as he adjusted his vision so that the illusions appeared as translucent ghost images.
“All right, enough of this,” growled the giant. “You’ve managed to figure out how to duck a punch. Get off of Craan and let’s see if you know how to fight.”
Stavius let Craan up but was careful to keep the man in sight and out of reach. He did not doubt that Craan would throw a cheap shot if he had the chance. Craan sat down on the sideline and cast a mean leer at Stavius.
Then a five-foot-long battle ax landed at Stavius’ feet. He picked up the weapon and looked up to see six, heavily-armored warriors striding down the field towards him.
Stavius had never used a battle ax before and was neither dressed nor prepared to use it to fend off six, similarly armed fighters. Before he complained, however, he noticed that the blade was just a large, reasonably rigid piece of leather shaped like an ax blade. He also observed that three of the approaching fighters were nothing more than illusions and that the other three were only partially armored.
The woman on the left looked quite athletic and was wearing shoulder pads, chest protectors, and shin guards. But her only other attire was a pair of shorts with nothing covering her abdomen. The man on the right was massively overweight, wore loose pants, a helmet, and no shirt. And the man in the middle was completely naked except for a chest protector and headgear! Stavius was outnu
mbered, and he was sure that no one was going to be pulling their punches, but he was beginning to feel that this class might turn out to be fun.
The six figures charged Stavius, who elected to feign an attack on one of the illusion figures on the left. The naked man in the middle fell for the trick and swung his ax at Stavius’ head. Stavius ducked to avoid the strike and swept the man’s legs with his ax handle as he spun around. The man fell on his face with a thud, much like Craan, as Stavius landed in a horse stance.
The woman had held back during the man’s attack but now charged Stavius with full force. Stavius was ready and leaped toward her with a flying front kick, which landed squarely on her unprotected abdomen. She was down and not likely to rise any time soon, but “naked guy” was now up on his hands and knees. Stavius swung the pretend ax as fast as he could and spanked the man’s bare butt with the flat side of the leather blade. The man squealed in pain from the slap, which sounded like a rifle shot, and collapsed on the ground crying.
The third man grabbed Stavius from behind as he was regaining his footing from spanking ‘naked guy’. Stavius managed to twist himself sideways and trip him so that they were lying on the ground, but he was now trapped. The man might be slow, but he was heavy and had the strength of a bear. Stavius knew there was no way he could force his way free.
“Do you yield?” asked Stavius.
“I think you’re confused,” said the man. “I’m going to crush your ribs, boy.”
“Last chance to ask for mercy,” said Stavius as he felt the man’s grip tighten.
“You’ve got some mouth on you, boy,” muttered the man. “What’re you going to do, eh?”
“This,” answered Stavius as he thrust the hand he had managed to wriggle free into the man’s armpit and began tickling him.
The man began squirming and saying, “Cut that out. That’s not fair. Stop it!”
“Do … you … yield?” asked Stavius one last time.
Stavius Page 5
