Chapter 3: The Village

Ron and Bishop finally arrive at the village, but nothing seems to be what Ron was expecting.

Chapter 3

      Ron woke with a start, he was sitting up. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, though he thought it was something closer to the nightmare category, judging by his racing heart, and sweat-permeated face. He laid back down, his body still sore and his mind still slightly fogged with grogginess. He yawned intensely, and stretched his arms and legs out in four diagonal directions, grunting with a rough, “HHRRRGGGHH.”

      He looked over towards Bishop's sleeping bag, which he realized to be missing. Looking around he saw him sitting fully dressed on a nearby log, holding globe of blue light and peering into it. Ron wondered at the globe, not only because it seemed to be pure energy, but also because it had Bishop's complete attention. Moreover, he actually looked concerned, as if this orb was showing him something, and it wasn't what he had expected to see.

      A bead of sweat worked its way down Bishop's long forehead, and teetered threateningly on his eyebrow. Suddenly, the orb began to make noise that filled the clearing. The first noise that made Ron realize that something was terribly wrong, was the screaming: The sound was horrifying. He listened as he heard the terrified cries for mercy, that seemed to go unanswered. There were howls of pain, and the worst screams of all, the ones that truly burrowed its way into Ron's soul, those of the children. They screamed and cried for their parents, but the screaming only seemed to increase as more and more seemed to be swept into what sounded like a slaughter.

       The screaming was accompanied by a myriad of other, less distinguishable sounds: The crashing and breaking sounds of wood, as if trees were crumpling under the force of wind. There seemed to be sounds of movement, the most noticeable of which was the thunderous booming steps that Ron recalled from the Weirkin, as Bishop had referred to them. Finally, there was the rain. The countless waves of it could distinctly be heard, even over the clamor of all else.

       Ron listened as the sound increased and altered, it no longer seemed to be just coming from the orb, it was now coming from all around them, from the forest itself. He wanted to help these people, there had to be some way to do it. He desperately looked over at Bishop, who now stared into the orb, with a scowl, and seemed too engrossed in whatever he was seeing inside its horrific blue depths, to notice.

       Just when he thought the noise couldn't possibly get any louder, there was a deep roar, that shook him down to the core of his being. It went on for over a minute without stopping, and drown out every other sound. Then it finished, defiantly lowering and finally, cutting off, leaving not a sound in its wake. As if that creature had been the definitive end to the events the orb was portraying.

      Ron shook, the silence he was facing was far worse than all the screaming. Not even the forest or its inhabitants made a sound, as if those few moments had simply drained the life and beauty from the forest. He didn't dare to speak, it felt like it would be wrong to, at that moment.

      Bishop flinched, only slightly and said, “No,” seemingly to the orb. Then he closed his fist and the orb began to fade away as if it had just been a gas, held in place only by his outstretched hand the entire time.

      “Bishop,” Ron said slowly, “what was that? What did you see?”

      Bishop hadn't moved at all, he sat staring at his hand, where the orb had once been. Without sacrificing unnecessary movement, or breaking his stare, Bishop said, “That was the capital of this Realm, in the event that we fail.”

      “What do you mean, the future, if we fail? What do me and my Realm have to do with the future of yours?” Ron asked feeling the knot in his stomach tighten at the thought of whatever that was being his fault.

      Bishop sighed, and said, “this is why I have to protect you and why you have to do this, kid. I can't go into specifics, but know this: Your Realm is mentioned in an ancient prophesy, it's really the only reason that we knew about it, before a bridge had been opened. It mentions you as well. You're meant to become someone very important, and I'm meant to start you on that path. I can tell you more, when we get to Ruilenth.”

      Ron didn't know how to react, he couldn't grasp it all. He asked, “How far are we from that city?”

Bishop looked around, then said, “I'd say if we hurry, we can be there within three hours. If we go at the normal pace it will be closer to five hours.”

      Ron nodded, “Ok, let's hurry. As much as I really don't want to ask more about this, I think I need to know more, and make sense of it.”

      “Then get everything packed up, we head out in ten minutes,” Bishop said, turning towards the camp.

      Ron did so as quickly as possible, putting on the clothes, and smelling the wretched odor that seemed to be emanating from them, and as he now realized, himself. “So, does this place we're going have a place to bathe, I smell like a petting zoo,” he asked puling his white shirt, which now had several long tears near his left shoulder, over his head.

      “Yeah, they do, but what the hell is a petting zoo?” Bishop asked.

      “Oh, yeah. I guess you guys may not have them, its where people pet animals from a farm.” Ron asked, now falling in line with Bishop to start their walk. He once again began to wonder how it was that they were speaking the same language, since Bishop understood every word, in modern English, but didn't know what a petting zoo was. He decided to defer the question until they were in this place Bishop kept talking about.

      “Well, that's strange, I don't know why one would pet barn animals,” Bishop mused.

      “Honestly, neither do I,” Ron said. Though he was trying to make distract himself from the reality that peoples lives may depend on his actions, Bishop seemed to be troubled by what he had seen in the orb, and was thus, not the best person to distract Ron from his troubles.

      The other problem he faced was the questions he felt burning away at his mind, most of what he had heard so far was bad news for his hopes to return to a normal life, once he had gotten home. He wasn't sure if he actually wanted to know any more, what if he was supposed to kill, or to die, himself? He thought that the Grey Ones would eventually force him to do one or the other. Then there was The Darkness, creatures that sounded damn near invincible, existing only to cause hell.

      As they made their way through the woods, Ron noticed that the forest was beginning to feel less and less ominous: The trees seemed to give each other a wider birth, it was as if the trees were no longer trying to wall them on to a specific path, rather gently guiding them to their destination. Ron didn't notice any direct changes in the light, but he felt that it was, in fact brighter, for some reason that eluded him. Even Bishop seemed to be in a lighter mood, the further they got from the spot where they had awoke. Ron half expected him to start cracking sarcastic jokes.

      Ron felt the next couple of hours meld by in a blur of walking, the only exception being a drink of water from a small stream they crossed. Ron guessed that he was getting used to the constant traveling, if only because he was too distracted from exhaustion to think about the time. He was surprised when Bishop revealed that they where almost within seeing distance of the village, from the naked eye.

      For the first time, Ron found himself wondering what the village would look like, after all Magic had seemed to change many things so far. He wondered what the architecture would look like: Would it be just huts with thatched straw roofs that had invisible enchantments on them? Or would they be made of some new material that served all the purposes that the residents would need?

      As they began to climb up a small hill that was beginning to look more like the dry dirt of a well used road, with every step, Bishop began to slow his pace to a calm walk. Ron was relieved that he was doing it, but he was curious as to why of all the time they had been on the road, would Bishop slow his pace when they were so close? Almost as if he had read Ron's thoughts, Bishop said, “You should know something about this town before we go in, don't say a word to anyone about anything that's happened in the past few days.

      “This town is currently out of the Grey Ones control, but they maintain a strong presence in the form of a spy network, woven through the town. It's guessed that about one in every sixteen people has affiliations with them. To that end, I would also not recommend getting any alcoholic drinks from the tavern, they wouldn't hesitate to poison someone they deemed a threat

      Same thing for food, I'll make sure I get us enough to last till morning, I'll have to get some supplies anyway,” Bishop finished, though it sounded as if he had been talking more to himself about the supplies.

“I wish you hadn't even brought up alcohol, because I could really use a drink right now,” Ron sighed. He hadn't actually thought about drinking, but the idea of releasing some stress and maybe forgetting his troubles for a bit sounded tempting, to say the least.

      “No offense kid, but that's a good habit to break now,” Bishop was speaking as if he had had this conversation many times before, “Magic and alcohol can only lead to trouble.”

      “I can understand that, but still I can't use magic yet. Besides, I just had a metaphorical bucket of s**t dumped on my head, no offense,” Ron mumbled, trying not to sound as if he was complaining.

      They had almost reached the top of a large hill, when Bishop revealed that they would be able see the town once they were on the top. Ron took the final step to the top of the hill, and stared. He had never seen anything like the village before, a word which he didn't think did it justice. The buildings seemed to be the roots of massive trees intertwined with smooth stone in such a way as to make caverns inside the size of two-story houses. The trees continued hundreds of feet into the air, and at the tops, barley visible due to the distance, was a flat canopy of treetops, that seemed to shield the village from the harshness of the sun and other elements.

      There was everything he would expect to see in a modern day town: One building, with patrons going in and out at a fast pace, with armfuls of what looked like meats and cheeses, wrapped in a brown paper bag. Smoke burned out of small sides in many of the buildings, but it was pure white and somehow seemed to float into the air and disperse faster than normal smoke. Pipes pumping clear liquid could be seen going from the ground into the buildings, and in a circular perimeter around the village.

      “Woah,” Ron said, surprise permeating his voice.

      “What?” Bishop asked, “You didn't think that we were going to be living in straw, huts with smelly animals stewing in their own filth did you?”

      “I was actually thinking that,” said Ron, “how did you know?”

      “No, as I said boy our technology is ancient, our Magic is unfathomable. As for the farm animals, I'm sure you'll meet some politicians soon enough,” Bishop said taking a breath. Ron got the opinion that Bishop also felt relieved to be back in some manner of society. After all, he had been in prison prior to Ron's arrival in this Realm.

      They were at the village within half an hour, the hustle and bustle of people going about their everyday lives, as if everything was still normal, comforted his nerves. Ron guessed that most of them had no idea of the coming danger. For that reason, he envied these people slightly. The smell of bread baking, permeated the air, and Ron noticed it was coming from a building on there left. He now noticed that the stone built into the buildings was see through, at a closer proximity, almost like glass.

      For some reason, Ron had thought that he would have eyes upon him while in the village, as if the people would sense that he was from a different Realm, or at least notice his strange clothing. Though to his surprise, no one seemed outwardly interested in him or Bishop. That brought up a new

question that he would have to have Bishop answer: Bishop was incredibly powerful, could it be that he was famous? Or maybe infamous? The Grey One guards didn't recognize him, even in his extended stay.

      They made their way to one of the buildings, that was indistinguishable from the rest, apart from the word “INN,” carved above what looked like a door. “Here is where we will be staying tonight,” Bishop said, motioning to the building, “the owner is an acquaintance.” He pulled up the hood of his raggedy cloak, and walked in.

      Ron quickly followed, though he slowed after crossing the threshold. What looked like a house-sized building was actually a massive hall the length of a football field with a ceiling that stretched at least forty feet up. He heard Bishop joke, “good use of space, eh?”

      He grunted in agreement, feeling his voice slightly loss in shock, once again. They made their way over to a large ornately decorated wooden counter, and a man, only his top half showing past it. He was average height with his black hair slicked back, giving him a clean and proper look. Everything about this man seemed to be just another example of his high society demeanor, with the exception of his eyes. Hidden slightly by a pair of oval glasses, they seemed to move quickly and take in the details, as if he was expecting anything and everything to be a threat. Though something in his stare told Ron that the man had known fighting and could draw upon that experience at a moments notice. Once they had reached it, Bishop said gruffly, “Looking for reasonable accommodations for two travelers for the night.”

The man looked them over and tried to peer under Bishop's hood, but he tilted his head down. He squinted and put his hands on the counter, “Travelers can be dangerous people nowadays, are you dangerous?”

      Bishop surprised Ron by answering, “Very. But, not to you or anyone else who doesn't mean us harm.”

      The man looked slightly taken aback, but then smiled and said, “we shall see then.” He closed his eyes, and began taking deep breaths. A blue glow lit up his eyelids, as if his eyes were emitting light. They stood there for what felt like hours, but Ron couldn't bring himself to walk away or otherwise interrupt what was happening.

      Suddenly, as if he had been struck, the man behind the counter fell backwards a few feet and gasped. Ron thought he was going to scream in horror but instead he just looked, eyes wide, glow slowly fading from them... at Ron. Ron didn't know what to do, why on earth would this man be afraid of him, of all people. Especially whereas Bishop the Archmage was standing next to him.

Bishop quickly pulled back his hood and said, “it's okay Michael, it's me.”

      The man looked over at Bishop and seemed to relax slightly, “Bishop?! Is... is it really you?”

      Bishop smiled and said, “Yeah its me, I just said that, but will you please calm down, I think the other patrons are starting to get concerned,” and they were.

      “Right, sorry,” he said standing up straight and brushing off his suit jacket and tie, in a vain attempt to smooth the wrinkles that had sprung as a result of excessive movement. He then motioned for a nearby young man to take his place at the desk and led them to a back room. Once they had gotten to a small room that seemed to be the center of the tree, the man sighed, “Good god, you two nearly gave me a heart attack.”

       “I assure you, that wasn't our intention, but it's good you see you again,” Bishop said putting a hand on the Michael's left shoulder.

      “And you old friend, I didn't know if you even lived or not,” Michael replied, extending his hand for a handshake. After shaking hands, he looked at Ron asked, “And who is this young fellow? Giving him some pointers are we Bishop?”

      “Sort of,” Bishop paused and waved his hand drowning out the noise coming from the main lobby area. “This is the future Archmage of the Seventh Realm.”

      Michael's eyes widened and he gaped for a second before saying, “Gods. Have things really gotten that bad? Though that explains some things...” He extended his hand towards Ron, “The name is Michael Wrembling, and it is truly an honor to meet you.”

      Ron shook the man's hand the way he had seen Bishop do it: Both men grabbing each others wrists and shaking. “Wow, thank you, it's nice to meet you too,” he said, “my name is Ron Ferrinson.”

      “Right then,” Bishop said, clapping his hands together, “we have much to discuss, I've been away for quite a long time. Ron, why don't you go to one of the rooms for a bit while we talk, I'm sure you want to enjoy some amenities that have been denied you recently.” Before Ron could object, he continued, “and I haven't forgotten that I have to catch you up on some things, but, I have to find some of them out my self first.”

      “You can't just talk with me here?” Ron objected, “Are there things that I'm not allowed to know or something?”

      “Yes, there are,” Bishop said, calmly, “some because it wouldn't make sense to you...yet. Besides, I'd like to talk with an old friend who has recently been through the stigma of having thought the world lost someone as great as myself.”

      “What a horrible world that would be to live in,” Ron said, under his breath, “Fine. How do I get the room?”

      “I can help with that, I'll have one of my people show you to it,” said Michael, putting two fingers into the air, then twisting them 180 degrees. A man, wearing golden robes entered the room and bowed. “Meider, please take Ron to some nice accommodations and see his needs taken care of, he is a personal guest of mine, and I'll take any discomfort on his part as a personal insult,” he told the man, gesturing to Ron.

      “Right away sir,” said Meider, lifting from his bow and extending a hand to his right, gesturing for Ron to begin walking that way.

      Ron followed, offering a slight wave to the two men as they walked through a door on the side, leading what looked like a maze of hallways, each leading in a different direction. As they made their way through, Ron kept catching the man staring over at him. After a few minutes he became frustrated and asked, “What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

      The man looked down, “I'm sorry sir, it's nothing, I'll stop now,” he said abashed and with a tone of something that sounded like fear.

      “Hey man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get cross with you, but believe me you don't even want to know what kind of a week I'm having,” Ron said, perplexed by his sheepish response. “Please do tell my why you keep looking at me like that though.”

      “It... It's just that I've been here for a long time and every time Michael has guests their high class people, that tend to have an air oozing with self-indulgence, but your different,” he said looking Ron in the eye, for the first time. “But, more than that, I have seen that man beat six burly men trying to cause a ruckus, without even using his magic. I've never seen him break a sweat, yet, when you came in he looked as if he was staring at the entire horde of Darkness.”

      “Woah, wait a second, I have no idea why he reacted like that, I'm no threat to him, or for that matter anyone in this place, to be honest I think you know more than I do about why that happened,” Ron said rubbing his hands through his hair, as he often did when he was stressed.

     The man looked at him skeptically, “Sir, I have some magical ability myself, I can sense your talent without even trying to, and if you so wished to be, you could be more than a threat.”

Ron wasn't expecting that answer and he took a second to respond, “I literally have no idea what your talking about.”

       “Ah, well, we have arrived at your accommodations, is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, stopping in front of a section of wall covered in ornate carvings.

       Ron looked around only seeing the hallway with similar carved rectangles going down the hallway one on each side every five feet or so. “Well, I do have one question: Where is the room?”

       “What do you mean sir, it's this one right here,” he said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing at the room. As he did so the tip of his middle finger went through the carved wood, as if it only looked to be solid.

      Ron didn't want to give Meider any reason to doubt that he was from this Realm, so slapped his forehead and said, “Oh, of coarse, this one. Sorry man, as I said its been a long week.” He stepped into the “room.” The inside had a ten foot ceiling and a few rooms that extended back farther than Ron had expected. The first room that they were standing in had chairs that seemed to be wood, but with a cushion on top that made them look slightly more inviting.

      Meider once again asked, “Is there anything else that will make you more comfortable here?”

Ron tore his eyes away from the room long enough to look over at Meider and say, “no thanks, you've been a big help, now I need to get a nap in.

      “Excellent, then I bid you good evening, just pull the lever if there is anything you need,” Meider said, bowing.

      “Thanks, will do,” Ron said, though he had no idea what lever he was talking about.

       Once the other man had left, Ron began to explore the room, but soon decided the next morning would be a better time for that, as his body was demanding a soft place to sleep. He walked down the hallway past what he thought might be a kitchen and bathroom, and found a large room at the end. It had solid walls that had the swirling lines of wood, but looked as if it had never been cut.

       In the center of the room, there was a soft looking set of cushions and linens. The bed. He walked over and let himself fall backwards onto it. He only thought about how comfortable this bed was for a second, likening it to floating without gravity, before falling into a deep sleep that he had been longing for, ever since he had arrived in this accursed place.

Author's Note

Just a rough draft, any input welcome.