Chapter 4: Revelations Interupted

Ron and Bishop have reached the village, but their safety is compromised as a more powerful enemy is revealed.

       Ron awoke the next morning, feeling better than he had in weeks. His head no longer hurt, which seemed strange to him whereas he was pretty sure that he had received a concussion. Oh well, he thought, he decided not to complain about the lack of an extensively irksome injury.

      Suddenly, a thought popped up in his head and he sat up quickly. Today would be a good day; He wouldn't have to relieve himself in the middle of the woods, he could, if his assumptions were correct that they had one, take a shower, and he could finally learn more how things really work. He considered damn near everything he had previously known to be wrong at this point, especially considering he just had had a conversation with someone who had seriously mistaken him for someone powerful.

      These revelations, plus having a bed rather than a sleeping bag, had led to a slightly more optimistic state of mind. He laid back momentarily and stretched, enjoying the feeling of being indoors once again. He sat staring at the ceiling, smiling to himself, for several minutes. He wasn’t falling asleep, just enjoying his new-found surroundings.

      Eventually, he forced himself to stand, or at least his bladder did, as he realized he had gone straight to bed, without even locating the bathroom. He groggily pushed himself back into a siting position, rubbed his eyes, and and stood, stretching once again and making himself dizzy in the process. Once his head had cleared, he began walking out of his spacious bed room into a hallway, which he could now fully appreciate for the first time. 

      The look of it reminded him slightly of a log cabin, though there were no cuts in the wood, and it was a lighter color. It looked as if it was a tree that had simply grown into a suitable hallway, the wood was a light color, with what appeared to be a form of bark, though it was soft and welcoming to the touch. The hallway itself was spacious, if Ron stretched his arms out to both sides he wouldn't be able to touch both of the walls. The ceiling rose up at least ten feet, with light seeming to come in through the ceiling, leaving the ideal amount of light in the room.

      Ron's architectural admiration was short lived, as he once again became aware of his acute need to use the bathroom. He walked toward the first opening on the right, looking inside. It looked to be the correct room, there what looked like a toilet though it had no lid, or water, yet it somehow seemed to be spotless. There was an area that had holes in the walls and one on the floor that looked to be a kind of drain, Ron assumed that to be the shower, and next to it, a smaller indent in the wall with a hole in the top and bottom, a sink. One of the major differences of this room to those of his home, was that everything, even in this room was made out of wood.

      He relieved himself, then took a long shower, that without and sort of manual control on his part, seemed to maintain its temperature, at the perfect level. It had even automatically turned on when Ron had stepped into the wooden indent. Once he stepped out of the shower, a bit hesitantly, as it had felt fantastic, the water shut off, and he realized that he was completely dry, including his hair. Though there had been no soap, he still felt as if the water had contained its own pleasant smell.

       He looked around, slightly perturbed when he noticed that his dirty shirt and jeans had been cleaned, repaired, and folded. He hadn't heard anyone in the room with him, but he looked out into the hallway just in case. There was no one there. He decided it was probably normal for this place, after all he had to start getting used to this whole “Magic” thing sooner or later, and the sooner he did so, the easier it would be to understand this place.

      Once dressed, Ron made his way out of the bathroom and down the hall, to where he had first entered, the previous night. Before he reached it, Bishop walked through the door and into the room, waving, and startling Ron as he did so. “Morning, Ron,” he said, casually.

      “Uhh morning, Bishop,” can anyone who wants to get in here?” Ron asked eying the door.

      “No. Just you... and well me, but I don't really count,” he said pulling a croissant-looking pastry from a box he was holding and handing it out to Ron.

       “Why don't you count?” Ron asked, taking the pastry, and taking a bite after he finished posing the question. The pastry was just like a croissant, but it had a filling that reminded him of a cheese danish. He nodded in silent approval of the pastry.

        “Ron... from what you know of me so far, do you really think the door of an Inn would really keep me at bay if I wanted to get in the room?” Bishop said, tilting his head to the side.

       “I guess not, though I now know you don't have to knock either. Also, don't forget, I was promised answers from you today,” Ron retorted, through another bite of the pastry.

       “You wound me. I came here expressly for that purpose, as soon as you woke up,” Bishop said, slyly.  He began walking further into the apartment, taking his first left into a sitting room.

      “How did you--” Ron started to ask, as he followed, but then thinking better of the question, he stopped.

       “Your learning,” Bishop said, sitting down on what looked like a couch, grown from the wall, cushions and pillows to furnishing it, making it look rather comfortable. “Sit and we can start with some of the answers, though some things I simply can't tell you until we get to my house.”

       “I can live with that,” Ron said, sitting across from Bishop, on an identical couch.

       “Good. You seem more agreeable in these surroundings,” Bishop said leaning back. He waited for Ron's retort, but when none came, he said, “Well I suppose you want to get to those answers now, huh? Ask away.”

      “Where to start,” Ron asked himself. “Ok, so why weren’t there like a hundred guards, keeping us from getting out of that castle? If were standing in their way, why not throw everything they had at keeping us locked up?” Ron asked leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand.

      “They didn't know who either of us were at that point, if they had, we would've had to fight through an army. As is they thought I was just a handsome man they had caught stealing from their potato stores. It was my intention to be put in that cell, as I was waiting for you,” Bishop replied thoughtfully.

      “How did you know I was going to be there?” Ron asked.

Bishop smiled and said, “I was one of the ones who summoned you to this Realm, though it was a long time ago. Your arrival would've been quite a bit more pleasant, but we... well, I was betrayed.” At this his smile faded he a hint of sadness flashed behind his blue eyes.

      Ron paused for a second, surprised by the reaction. The problem he was facing was that that answer had created more questions than it had answered. He prioritized with the ones that he had put the most thought into before saying, “I'm sorry to hear that,” at that Bishop nodded his head dismissively. “So, what was with the black lightning?”

      “Ah, yes. That. Its not actually lightning, it was the beginning of a tear in the fabric of your Realm. It was there for quite some time, it only became visible, because you were being exposed to Magic, as we summoned you,” Bishop sat forward and adopted a grave countenance before continuing, “It's a sign that your Realm is in the midst of Magic's emergence.”

       “Wait, it's already started happening?” How much time do I have before the Darkness comes?!” Ron asked, a wave of nauseating fear building inside of him.

       “Six months. Give or take a few days,” Bishop said solemnly.

       “What?!” Ron's heart began to beat at a frightening pace. “I'm supposed to learn to use Magic in six f*****g months?!” This couldn't be happening, not only was he supposed to do something impossibly difficult he had to start immediately.

       “Ron, calm down! Magic doesn't work like that, you already have Magic you simply need to harness it, in the proper setting, you could learn it and still have time to fine tune it's use,” Bishop said, reassuringly.

      “So, then how does it work?” Ron asked, only slightly soothed by the response.

Bishop looked as if he was about to say something, when he suddenly whipped his head to the corner wall behind Ron. His brow creased as if something had just happened and he was trying to figure out the details. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked almost frightened.

      Ron felt a renewed wave of fear, from what he knew of the man so far, anything that made Bishop nervous, terrified Ron. Suddenly, there were footsteps coming from the entrance area. Both men stood, Ron, not knowing what to do, crouched and readied himself to jump at whatever could be coming.

Bishop stood and said, “It's just Michael.”

       Right as he said his name, Michael turned the corner and appeared in the doorway, pale, and looking more terrified than Ron felt. He was carrying a staff with lines that seemed to glow blue, carved throughout. “Bishop, they're here!!” he sputtered in a high pitched voice.

“I sense them. Who is it, they're blocking me from telling, I've never met a man that can do that,” he said, in a commanding voice.

      “They're Grey Ones,” Michael replied, looking nervously back at the door. “But they're so strong, Bishop they killed the village guard already, all of them. They were using Dark Magic and they wore black cloaks.”

      “Dark Magic?! Son of a b***h, they must have reached the Darkness, I don't know how they did it but they're augmented. It's the only explanation,” Bishop said, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked over at Ron and said urgently, “Ron the explanations will have to wait.” He paused to look at Michael, “take Ron and get him out of here, meet me in the forest 10 miles east of here. I trust you know where I mean.” Michael nodded. “Good. Ron go with Michael, things are about to get dangerous. Stay low. And Michael, keep him safe, I don't need to tell you how important that is. I'm gonna go hold them off. Be careful you two.”

      Michael nodded once again and said, “you too, remember these aren't the normal Grey Ones you're fighting.”

       “I will be, but remember I'm not a normal mage myself,” with the last words his eyes began to glow a light blue color. He smiled slyly and said, “Ron once again, be careful. Trust no one, save Michael. Don't any unnecessary risks, your too important.” He extended his hand.

       Ron looked at the man with a feeling of reverence, for the first time. “I will. Be careful yourself, but make sure to kick some a*s.”

        With that, Michael and Ron walked over to the entrance, while Bishop walked over to the Ron's bedroom. He put a hand to the wall and it crashed outwards, with a huge bang, leaving the room exposed to the elements. “Come on then Ron,” Michael said pulling him through the doorway and into the hallway.

They took a left and began running down the hallway. Now, Ron began to hear a myriad of sounds, similar to the ones he had heard coming from the Green Orb the previous day. Screaming burned his ears, and stabbed at his heart as he made his way down the hallway, though he barely felt it through the immense wall of terror writhing in his gut.

       As the hallway came to an end, Michael raised a gold necklace, that he had been keeping under his shirt. As he did so, the wall at the end began to lift as if the treelike wood was retracting, simply to let them through. They ran through the opening and into the outside air. Ron's senses were immediately assaulted: He smelled fire, and something else foul, that seemed to eat away at his nose. He noticed that though, he was sure that it had only been late morning, the sky was dark and it seemed to be in the middle of a cold night. He looked as he saw the tree buildings aflame, residents seeking safety, outside. They were met with a barrage of fire, ice, stone, some all encompassing blackness, and some things that Ron was too fearful of to look at for long. It was all shooting from the hands of men in black cloaks with hoods drawn over their heads.

      Though the slaughter seemed to falter as they seemed to be called as backup for the group Ron guessed had confronted Bishop. As if to confirm his assertions, a massive series of bangs reverberatted from a far away part of the village, followed by the largest amount of lightning strikes Ron had ever seen, all around the village, hitting some, though not many, of the hooded figures. Ron couldn't be sure but he though he heard Bishop laughing and throwing some unintelligible insults at some unseen foe. This made Ron smile slightly, at least someone was putting a hitch in their plan. Since he could not, Bishop seemed the next best thing.

       The duo ran between the trees to their left, using them as cover while they checked to see if it was safe to go to the next one. After five or so trees, a Dark One seemed to notice them as he walked out of the burning tree. “What have we here?”

        “Your death,” Michael said. Instantly he had raised his staff, causing a large boulder to materialize fly at the figure.

       The Dark One easily brushed the boulder to the side with a wave of his hand and said snidely, “You'll have to do be--” he was cut off as the boulder he hadn't seen, the one falling from ten feet above him, fell with a crash and a series of sickening cracks as his bones snapped.

       Michael smiled, “I still got it. Come on, they may have heard that.”

      Ron was impressed by the man's trick and followed quickly, understanding the need for a quick getaway. They soon dodged their way through the thickly populated area of town. They stopped behind a tree that was at least fifteen feet across, in order to gain their breath. “Ok,” Michael began between gasps. “We need to make it across those three farms to get to the treeline, where we will be slightly harder to detect.”

       “Ok, just give me the signal when your ready, I'm going to keep pace with you as I don't have Magic to defend with,” Ron said, having successfully regulated his breathing.

Michael waited a moment, took a deep breath, sighed, and motioned for them to start running. Ron began found himself struggling to keep pace with the man, who was shorter than Ron, though he moved his legs with a respectable speed. They had just gotten past the first farm when five figures appeared with a hiss and a wall of light black smoke.

       “Going somewhere friends?” The man in the middle asked with an amused air.

       Ron looked at him with a deep hatred. This man liked tormenting these people, their horror, pain, and despair seemed to make him truly happy. He felt himself beginning to clench and unclench his fists.

Michael hit his staff against the ground and everything went around them, with the exception of the pair of them. He looked at Ron and said, “I'm sorry Ron, but I need your help with this one. We only have thirty seconds. Now I need to know do you hate these scumbags?”

      Ron barely had time to process what Michael was saying, but he nodded, saying, “I despise them.”

      “Good then I need you throw everything you have at them, I want you to attack them like a savage animal, with Magic.” Michael gestured at the men, who seemed to be frozen in place as he spoke.

      “I don't have Magic remember,” Ron said, an edge working its way into his voice.

      “Well there going to kill us in fifteen seconds if that's true. Do you want to die, Ron? Do you want to die at the hands of men like these?” Michael asked.

      Ron looked at the men for a moment, then said, “no. I don't.”

      The color began returning to the world slowly. “THEN FIGHT!”

      The men began to raise their hands' at Ron and Michael, they stopped and smiled, clearly wishing to enjoy the kill.

       Ron's felt terror claw at him as time seemed to be moving extra slow. He closed his eyes, morbidly accepting that in a few seconds his life would be over. He failed Bishop, his family, his friends, his whole damned Realm. No. It would not end like this, not at the whim of men who take pride in the killing of innocents. Not here and not now. In his head he saw the owl that he had seen in the starts, two nights earlier. Something about it seemed important, though Ron didn't know what. He heard Bishop's words ring through his head, “remember that moment, it was the moment when you glimpsed Magic.”

“No.” He said, out loud, prompting a roar of laughter from the men. He opened his eyes, seeing a glow on his eye sockets and cheekbones, a white light, emanating from his eyes.

       This seemed to startle the men into action. They unleashed a barrage of attacks: Lightning shot from one hand, fire from another, the middle one seemed to be using some for of dark energy that Ron had seen earlier. He watched as the attacks were sucked into the middle attack forming a ball. The ball seemed to twirl as fire, ice, stone, wind, and blackness were swirled into one. Then the man put his arm out and it began making its way towards Ron.

      Before Michael could react, Ron put a hand up, catching the ball of swirling energy and lifting it into the air, effortlessly. It was as if his veins were filled with pure power. It was as if Magic was him and he was it, they blended together and it guided him in his actions. Lightning struck the ball increasing it to have a diameter of over six feet. Now the elements tore at each other violently within the sphere.

The men, and Michael watched in shock as Ron hurled the ball at the men, about ten feet away. He had just put up a barrier, though he didn't know how he had done it, when the orb slammed into the group of Dark Ones. It tore through the man in the middle as if he was paper, past whatever invisible defense he had tried to use, nearly disintegrating him. Then it exploded and the other men were tossed like rag dolls, thirty feet in every direction.

      Ron looked over at Michael who gaped at him. Though Ron couldn't say he blamed him he wasn't even sure of what he had done, and he certainly wasn't expecting it. Hearing the commotion, ten more of the Dark Ones appeared behind Ron and Michael. Ron turned around to face them with deadly intent.

This time there was no hesitation or laughter the men began unleashing a barrage of spells, though this time, due to the quantity and confusion, Ron rolled out of the way, launching a burst of air at two of the men. It hit them, sending them sprawling backward unconscious. Michael had managed to kill one of the men at this point as well.

      Suddenly, a bolt of fire came from the side, hitting Ron's right arm, and serving to increase his anger. He raised his uninjured arm and let loose his fury. A large hole suddenly formed in the ground where the men were standing, causing them to fall in. Instantly, Ron closed the hole by bringing the walls together, and silencing the remainder of the men.

       The endorphins keeping him from feeling the pain in his arm where wearing off fast, and the wound was certainly nothing to scoff at. The sleeve of his shirt had been singed of and his blackened arm hung limply at his sid. Had it not been for his use of Magic, he had a feeling that he'd be incapacitated from the sheer pain and shock of the wound.

       He soon realized that exhaustion was beginning to take him over, the only things keeping it from taking over Ron's consciousness, was pure adrenaline. “Let's get the hell out of here” he said in a low whisper as the white glow began to fade from his eyes.

“By the gods!” he heard Michael say, making his way over to stand next to Ron. “I knew you were supposed to be an Archmage, but wow.”

      They started making their way to the treeline, as audible bangs and crashes reverberated from the village, and the spot where Bishop was confronting the other Dark Ones. Ron got a few steps before he felt his body start to collapse. Before hitting the ground, Michael caught him under his good arm and began carrying him. Ron struggled as hard as he could, but no matter what he did, the wave of exhaustion was too strong for him to resist. Each step brought him closer to the treeline, but also closer to passing out... or death, though he wasn't sure which he was closer to.

       “Stay with me Ron,” Michael said increasing the pace slightly and taking more of Ron's weight upon himself. Eventually through sheer force of will, the duo made their way past the farms and stumbled, exhausted into the treeline.

       Almost immediately afterward Ron fell to the ground, simply unable to move his body any further, no matter how many times he told himself he would die if he didn't move, a fact that was repeated by Michael. Ron couldn't do it. He couldn’t move any further, not even crawling. He figured that at least if he was going to die he had taken some of those b******s with him.

       Noting his silence and exhaustion, Michael picked him up and began carrying him through the woods. This caused Ron to re-realize exactly how much his body ached and he began to let himself fall into the all encompassing blackness that was taking over his mind. His last thoughts before slipping into a world of unconsciousness, were of the day's beginning only hours ago, when he had thought it to be the first positive day that he had had in this accursed Realm. How wrong he had been. He felt his head drop and then he greeted the uncertainty of this particular wave of sleep, if it was that, with open arms, ready to forget the events of the day so far.

Author's Note

Just finished, still a first draft. Any opinions welcome.

Reviews

[Acropolix]

I really like it! The way the story develops is great :) Keep writing!

[NoblePariah]

Thank you, I'm glad your enjoying it! From here on out the story is going to be moving at a faster pace, with considerably more action, and I certainly will!