Ch7-4: Illusionary Forest
“Shiva!! They’re everywhere!!” Palom cursed as he came to a sharp halt, nearly causing AC to run right over him. Not missing a stride, the boy was off darting in another direction, dashing madly into the growing shadows of the nighttime forest.
Anywhere. Any direction. As long as they were moving away from those terrible, burning eyes. But the eyes always seemed one step ahead of them. Always leered from just to the side. Or right in front of them. They moved with seemingly no effort. And the three Mages – Newt having just been wounded – couldn’t keep running forever.
“Wait! Not that way!!” AC’s voice was hoarse as he tried to catch the boy’s shoulder, a moment too late. His hand only met with thick, dim air.
This is wrong!
AC’s senses were on fire, every inch of his body reacting to the flow of tainted energy that choked the air around them. His violet eyes could make out the blur of leaf and tree moving in ways they could not naturally move. He wondered if his companions realized that they were caught up in the heart of a dark, deadly illusion. And moving further and further away from the safety of the city.
Nothing in this forest is real!
Palom was unknowingly leading them all straight into the weave of illusionary power. It was hard to believe that such a promising, esteemed Black Mage student of Mysidia seemed unable to sense the things that AC could. However, try as he might, AC was unable to keep the boy from continuing his crazed dash.
I don’t know what these creatures are… but they can manipulate an entire forest in illusion. I’ve never read about anything like this before!
A low groan rose to the Black Mage’s ears, pulling his gaze back over one shoulder. A few paces behind, Newt was struggling to keep up with the pace. Though shorter in stature, the White Mage was far stronger in every degree, and was usually never one to fall behind in physical activity of any sort.
He looks sick…
Newt’s face was still very pale, dotted with beads of perspiration. It seemed like he was doing everything in his power to simply keep one foot moving in front of the other. Still, when Newt realized that AC’s gaze had fallen upon him, the White Mage gave a dark, throaty grumble, “Damn kids…”
“This isn’t the way to the castle,” AC gave a tired gasp, turning his head to keep focus on where Palom was running in front of them.
“What the hell you mean this isn’t the way to the castle?” Newt grated.
“I mean–”
A sudden shriek lit up the night as pulses of light and dark leapt out of the forest upon Palom. The boy had run up ahead a little too far, and seeing that one of the group was now separated, the creatures must have decided to attack.
“Palom!” AC’s breath came in a horrified whoosh as he ran toward the fray. Nothing could be seen of the boy, just a blobbing mass of tainted energy.
“Shit!” Newt threw himself into an all out run at AC’s side. The air began to condense around the White Mage as he once again drew in the weave of holy power. Both hands flew out in front of him, streams of glowing white energy lighting up the underside of the tree canopy for many yards around.
What sort of spell is that?
AC had never studied much about White Magic. It was hard enough for him to make sense of what the Black Magic texts were trying to detail. But whatever kind of magic Newt was using now was unlike anything he had felt before.
As if he just… created it on the spot?
Concentration hung over the White Mage’s sharp features as his focus narrowed in with fierce intensity upon the attacking creatures. Just as it had been before, the holy energy seemed to be quite effective in reaping a response from them.
Is that possible?
A chorus of shattering screeches echoed through the forest as the creatures instantly leapt away from their victim. As they reeled back with convulsions of agony, AC could see their ghastly features melting in streams of oily grey. Again, uncontrollable illness swept through his entire body at the sight – and the stench. The smell of putrid death.
“Palom!?” Newt’s voice bellowed as he slumped. The holy magic drained quickly from the exhausted White Mage’s form.
Palom appeared from out of the retreating group, looking terrified but unharmed, dragging himself on his belly along the ground. His pale face mirrored choked illness. AC raced out to help the boy up as the last of the burning eyes fled back into the shadows. No doubt, they were regrouping to nurse their wounds and consider another avenue of attack.
But their illusion is broken… for now.
“Did they hurt you?” Newt asked quickly, not even seeming to realize he was being concerned.
“No… I’m alright. They just came out of nowhere…!”
“I know,” the White Mage spat in disgust.
“We’ve gotta keep moving,” AC told them sharply.
“How far are we from Baron?” Newt grimaced, eyeing the forest. Prowling sounds came from every side. The creatures were still out there.
“We should be getting close,” Palom answered, unaware.
“No… we’re further than you think,” AC informed the two. “They’ve been leading us through one huge illusion. I was trying to tell you that, but you wouldn’t stop running.”
“You’re kidding me?” Newt grumbled.
“I wish I was.”
“You mean they were yanking us around in circles this whole time?” Palom’s voice grew plaintive and frightened.
“So where the hell do we go? We don’t know where we are! We don’t know where Baron is!” Newt raised his hands and lowered them in a frustrated motion. “And you’re telling me that at any time we could be running through some damn illusion and not even know it?”
“How do we know which way is right?” Palom added with a miserable stare into the shadows.
AC drooped slightly. He had no answer.
Why are they asking me? I’m the loser flunk-out. Just because I can sense what’s going on doesn’t mean I know how to—
A strange, gentle sound suddenly caught the Black Mage’s attention. As his gaze turned from the stricken faces of his companions, he saw a tiny black sparrow perched on a low branch not far away.
Though AC was never one to watch birds, something about this one drew his interest. Maybe it was just the fact that it was the first sign of life that he had sensed in the middle of the dark illusionary magic. Or maybe it was the unusual glint of intelligence that seemed to mark the tiny, beaded eyes.
AC suddenly found himself to be prompted to speak, his voice distant even to his ears. “We’ll follow the sparrow…”
“What…” Palom’s face grew incredulous.
“The hell..?!” Newt added his own flourish to the question.
“Animals… don’t get fooled by illusions,” AC murmured, not knowing how he knew. “Isn’t it weird how there hasn’t been another sign of life in this whole forest so far? Not even night crickets…”
“Dude, you’re nuts!” Palom crossed his arms.
“Our own senses can only be used against us,” the Black Mage replied. “Do you have a better idea?”
“I suppose since we have no way in hell in knowing which direction we’re walking anyhow, one way is just as good as another at this point,” Newt growled.
As if the bird knew it was the topic of discussion, it flitted off the branch to the ground not far away. Turning in bounced circles, it flirted its dark wings before hopping away into another nearby tree.
“Come on,” AC motioned with one hand, trotting off behind it. His violet eyes were fixed on the bird’s every move. And something inside him spoke of strange instinct, deeper than anything he could understand. As if the creature would talk to him if he could only speak the right language.
The footfalls of his companions followed, but they hardly registered upon him. And when the forest began to blend and shift, the illusions of the spectral creatures returning to destroy his sense of direction, AC fixed his vision firmly upon the sparrow. For the one thing the darkness could not seem to touch was the image of the bird as it fluttered from perch to perch.
“I’ll be damned,” Newt’s rough murmur was low. But it was enough to pull AC out of the strange daze that had taken him.
As his vision cleared, the Black Mage realized they were no longer surrounded by the dark overhang of trees. He had no idea how long they had been walking. And now the sky was fully dark with the heaviness of a cloudy night that threatened rain.
Even in the shadows, he could make out the gently sloping glen that lay before them. The line of forest brush stood back respectfully in a near perfect circle as soft summer grass and wildflowers carpeted the slopes that led down into the peaceful opening.
The sparrow had finally landed. As they drew closer, AC was surprised to see that it sat upon some sort of stone structure that was built directly in the center of the clearing. The feeling that came from the place was one of sacred, old magics.
This is amazing… I never knew things like this existed in the Baron forests.
Behind them, angry yowling could be heard. The burning eyes, some now melted and deformed, glared at their back in waves of rage. But the creatures did not follow.
The moment that AC stepped across the unseen barrier he knew. “This is a safe place.”
Newt peered over one shoulder at the smoldering sounds in the forest. “I guess so. Huh… go figure.”
Palom stared up at the tall stone structures as they drew nearer. He reached a hand out and brushed away a layer of moss and grime. “This is an old place… a shrine for the Summoners… Maybe even the ones that eventually went to live in Mist before the War?”
“How do you know?” AC looked up curiously. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could trace the shadows upon the tall stone above. Now that he was nearer, he could tell that it seemed to depict some strange, fierce creature. But somehow, the creature didn’t seem frightening to him. Rather, it was protective.
“I’ve seen some of these symbols before,” Palom indicated the runes that marked the base of the statue. Then his tone turned braggart once more, “I was friends with Rydia of Mist, you know!”
“Oh…” AC replied, feeling sheepish.
Rydia was the foremost Summoner of the Blue Planet. Some said that she was the very last in existence after the terrible fires that had raged through the Summoner village of Mist at the beginning of the Crystal Wars. But beyond that, and what little reading he had done for class, AC didn’t know very much about the Summoners as a whole.
“Well, there’s still something happening in this place. Those bastards aren’t coming near it,” Newt frowned, peering up at the sky. He wiped a string of sweat that had broken out on his brow with the back of one hand. “I guess we should see if there’s somewhere to stick it out here for the night.”
“You think they’ll be gone in the morning?” AC asked in a quiet voice.
The creatures did seem ghostly in appearance. And everyone knew that ghosts only came out at night. But, still…
“I don’t know. But I need a break,” Newt grouched softly. “I wasted myself saving that good-for-nothing punk’s ass.”
Palom turned his head at the White Mage’s comment. Then he gave a slow, thankful grin.
“I think there’s some sort of door over here, guys…” AC squinted, pointing towards a patch of darkness that stood against one wall of the larger stone structure.
“Here, let me check it out,” Palom walked forward, raising both hands in front of him. A burst of warm light appeared between his palms, a small flame that illuminated the surrounding area.
With a twinge of jealousy at the younger Mage’s casting ease, AC reached down and retrieved a nearby stick. Poking it into the flame, the end caught alight, successfully forming a make-shift torch.
“Not bad,” Newt admitted, his blue eyes flicking around for any signs of trouble.
There was nothing but silence and stone.
The shrine was heavily built to weather the passage of seasons. And though the walls were unkempt, hanging with beards of moss and vines, the building was still very much in tact. There were many sculptures of strange creatures that guarded over the short flight of stairs to the narrow entrance. The doorway stood open as if the ones that built it were confident that the shrine needed no such protection with the watchful eyes of the beasts standing over it.
The feeling of old magic seeped through AC’s senses as his boots touched the bottom step of the stairs. It was an alien, powerful feeling. And just for that moment, he began to wonder if the essence of the carvings might really be alive and watching over them.
Maybe if I wrote a report about this I could get extra credit in my magic histories class…
As the doorway arched over his head, a shiver ran through his body. It felt as if something unknown was looking straight into his soul… searching to see his intentions… deciding whether or not he was fit to enter such an ancient, sacred place. The others stopped just behind him, the flame of the torch reflecting in their eyes. By their expressions, AC could see that they felt the same thing.
Just as it had come, the pressure evaporated. Streams of quiet light began to trace over the walls. It was nearly imperceptible at first, like something coming awake very slowly after having slept for a long time. The glow rose around them, illuminating the tall shimmering murals that filled every inch of the walls with ancient stories of man and beast.
Behind him, his companions’ breathing was sharp in wonder.
AC took a slow step into the waiting warmth. Somehow, he knew that they had been welcomed to the Shrine of the Summoners.