Ghaleon remembered the sensation of floating, as if his legs had been shoved out from under him but he hadn't fallen, and instead remained suspended in the air. He had been surrounded in light. And he had the distinct feeling that he was in transit, although he couldn't feel the movement of the air against his skin. But then abruptly, the light shattered and he was thrown clear.
Thrown. And to land upon this insignificant isle that was but the smallest piece of an archipelago.
Just his luck. Newly back from the dead and now here he was such on some forsaken mound without a mainland in site. Just another bunch of islands and the great expanse of the sea.
Ghaleon heaved himself into an upright position and turned his head towards a groaning sound that emerged from his left.
Kazyr sat up and rubbed his head. And then the white-haired mage noticed that Ghaleon was watching him.
"You're here?" Kazyr murmured with a note of surprise.
Ghaleon huffed. "Yes, so I am. But I had no choice. The Star Dragon left me with none. It was this or getting burned."
Kazyr eyed him, and though his expression seemed content, there was a glint of mischief in his gaze that disturbed the former Magic Emperor.
"Oh all right," Ghaleon relented with a growl. "I came here to warn you."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be. I'm just doing this because I know something's wrong and I want to find out what." Ghaleon unstrapped his armor and the cloak connected to it, and set them on the sand beside him so he could examine his shoulder wound more thoroughly. "I don't fully know what's going on right now. But for some reason, it had been crucial for the connection with the Blue Star to be severed. The Star Dragon didn't want us to come here, and I've determined one thing; he's no longer following any orders Althena, our dearly departed goddess, had given him. He referred to his master as the Maker."
"The Maker?" queried Kazyr.
"Yes. Have you heard of him?"
Ghaleon yanked off his heavy tunic and dropped that beside his armor. He tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his cloak and proceeded to bind his injury as best he could.
"Sorry, no," Kazyr replied. "But it sounds like the Star Dragon is implying that this Maker is the maker of all."
"I agree. When he tried to finish me he told me that I didn't need to know who the Maker was because I would be seeing him soon enough when I died. But that's not right. Althena created this world. And she created its people. As much as it irks me, I may as well say I am her creation."
"Well," said Kazyr. "There's always the question we mortals are doomed to ask. Our gods and goddesses may have created us, but who created them?"
Ghaleon's gaze turned out towards the ocean. "So you're implying that Althena may have been created by this Maker, and so now he's just dropping by to see what his creation had created?"
"No. It's merely a suggestion. And I doubt anything that powerful would simply be dropping by for a check up."
"A wizard of your power is rarely seen just dropping by either," Ghaleon snorted as he pulled his tunic back on.
"Yes, well, I-" Kazyr's expression blankened, and he stood, turning towards the side of the coastline so that his back was facing Ghaleon.
The other mage noted for the first time that Kazyr's long hair stretched down all the way to his ankles, and that it was tied together with leather thongs about every foot or so starting from the hollow of his back and working downwards. Ghaleon imagined Kazyr's hair as a bellpull for a moment and wondered how much agitation it would cause the white-haired mage if he yanked on it.
"What is it?" Ghaleon asked instead.
"I sense something. Another power."
Ghaleon's gaze narrowed. "Lucia perhaps?"
Kazyr didn't answer, although Ghaleon hadn't really expected him to. His gaze remained turned towards the sea. He lifted an arm, palm turned upward, and slowly raised it until his hand was level with his shoulder. The waters before him seemed to whirl and bubble.
"What are you doing?" Ghaleon growled.
Again Kazyr did not answer.
Kazyr's movements were precise and measured. He made a sweeping motion with his wrist several times. And each roll of his hand increased the power of the suction in the sea.
The waters parted. And something began to rise.
"An armor," breathed Ghaleon, although in truth the metal suit before him was unlike any sort of armor he had ever seen.
The armor was well over ten feet tall and slender for its height. The horned helm was shaped almost like a face, having a pair of eyes rather than the customary visor. Silvery gauntlets ended in claw-tipped fingers. And the silvery alloy completed covered whatever being may have been lying within.
"Awaken," murmured Kazyr.
The white-haired mage swung his right hand to his side and the armor followed the motion, settling itself on the beach. Kazyr walked up to the armor and pressed a button on its side.
Much to Ghaleon's surprise, the helm fell back and the breast split in half and slid down to the sides as if creating an entry way for the one who wished to climb inside.
"It's a machine," Ghaleon realized.
But the machine was corrodes in many places, most notably the joints. All the seawater must have done much to ruin its form of locomotion.
And then Ghaleon's attention was drawn to the flaccid face in the armor. The corpse was of a blond-haired man, apparently in his mid to late twenties. From the waxen color of his skin, Ghaleon guessed that the body had been submerged for several days. But drowning did not appear to be the cause of his death. The armor sported many punctures where a sword had apparently gotten through.
"Why?" Ghaleon asked.
But he cut himself off before saying more as he saw Kazyr draw out a golden charm with an ivory chip attached to it. Ghaleon's hand went reflexively to the identical chain around his own neck.
Kazyr drifted towards the corpse and slipped the charm over its neck.
"Aren't you even going to ask the guy if he wants to be resurrected?"
But Ghaleon's harsh words fell on deaf ears.
A golden aura surrounded the body and color returned to its pallid cheeks. Water squirted out from between previously still lips and the man coughed. He rolled his head to the side, groaning, and more water trickled out. Then he tried to open eyes that were crusted shut by the sea water.
"I think he'll be all right," Kazyr said warmly.
"Good for you," Ghaleon snapped. "Now will you tell me why you just did what you did and why you ignored me the whole time?"
Kazyr looked to the sea as if he could see something beyond the horizon. "I don't know. Everything just felt right. Even more intensely so than when I chose to crash on Lunar. I could hear you, just barely. But it never occurred to me to respond. I don't know why. And this man emits an aura of magic that is as strong as our own. Well," Kazyr conceded upon catching GhaleonŐs disapproving gaze, "almost as strong as our's."
Ghaleon squatted near the reviving man and peered at him inquisitively. "Still, why did you resurrect him? You don't need his help as you did mine."
"Well," Kazyr grinned. "You can look at it this way. I'm stuck on this world and I haven't the slightest idea where I can find the source of the blast that shot me down."
Ghaleon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Swell. You can raise the dead, but for the life of you, you couldn't find a location on a map if someone pointed it out to you."
"I'm not that bad!"
"Hush! He's almost awake now."
Freedom. Yes, the freedom of death had almost been welcome. There really was no reason why he should have to rule over such an ungrateful world. And if only Elynthia had truly understood what gifts he had to offer. But all that was behind him now. Death may be the great equalizer, but he had arrived here with a bigger bang than most. And whether they liked it or not, the people of his world would be remembering him for a long time to come.
The man smiled. And yes, one thousand and fifty-two years of life should have been long enough for a man by any stretch of the imagination. Again he thought of Elynthia. And a patch of shadow darkened the imaginary sun he was shining on himself. Shouldn't he have spent his years with her instead of being absorbed in the Armor? She weathered her magically induced immortality far better than he. But she had friends and supporters around her. He wandered from town to town every decade or so, refusing to let anyone catch on to his eternal youth.
Of course, he wasn't always young, or even young-looking. But he discovered after a time that he preferred the way he looked in his youth rather than the fifty some odd years he wore when he and the other four Magicians of Vay sealed away the insane armor that nearly destroyed their world. It was also easier making a living when one appeared to be a young man rising up in the world. And then he would let himself age for a while if he found a place that suited him. But before he'd start feeling too old, he'd cast the rejuvenation spell on himself again and move on.
And now he was dead. Wasn't it funny? It wasn't old age that got him, but a young prince's sword.
But the man's spirit hadn't lost its edge during its first few days of death. He was quick to notice a magical intruder reaching out to grasp his soul and drag him to life. At first he was hesitant. After all, death was so peaceful. But then he also knew that peace could be uncomfortably boring. And someone was actually paving the way back to life for him.
Devious thoughts sprang unbidden into his head. Visions of a new army, a new country, a new world forged as he desired. Yes, that could do as well. And this time he wouldn't let a upstart prince unseat him! Peace and death were good, but the world of the living always offered something new.
He snatched hold of the magic tendril and sped along its path back to life.
The man's eyes snapped open and he blinked rapidly to clear his sight.
"He's coming around," the pointy-eared one, probably an elf, said.
"Oh..." the man groaned.
"Feeling better?" asked the bright-eyed white-haired one.
"I... I guess," he replied.
The man lurched into a sitting position and looked at the remains of his armor around him. He grimaced. "No! It can't be! It's all ruined!"
"What's ruined?" asked the white-haired one.
"My armor. The circuits... They're all corroded... My armor won't fly without them," the man said numbly.
"This armor once flew? What a marvelous invention!"
"Yes. But sadly, I lack the knowledge to make another. This armor was a gift from the heavens." The man thought briefly of the other armor, the other armor which the prince used to defeat him, but said nothing else.
"May we have your name?" the elven one asked.
"Hm, I don't see why not."
The man struggled out of the armor and stood before the other two. He rested most of his weight on his left foot and rested a hand on his hip. He rolled his head a bit, stretching the muscles of his neck, and then allowed his icy blue eyes to regard them. "My name is Sadoul."
"I am Ghaleon," said the silver-haired elf.
"And I'm Kazyr," the second offered cheerfully.
"I can't say I'm exactly pleased to meet you," Sadoul smirked, "being that I don't know either of you. But I would like to know just why you resurrected me. I didn't think such a thing was possible."
"I didn't either," huffed Ghaleon. "But I was resurrected as well. You see the chain around your neck? That's what's keeping you alive."
"Um hm," Kazyr agreed. "Alteration and transmutation magicks are my specialty. You're wearing one of my most powerful artifacts. It alters the fact that you are dead and invokes the possibility that you are actually alive."
"What a wonderful thing," Sadoul said, toying with the ivory chip.
"Wonderful, yes, but a pain to create," Kazyr frowned. "I spent a couple centuries trying to figure out how to embed the magic correctly into the charm."
"Then this is truly a gift."
"Well, yes, but I expect something in return."
Sadoul's eyes narrowed. "And what might that be?"
"I am not from this world," said Kazyr. "My planet orbits another sun entirely. I was traveling here when my ship was shot down by something on this planet. It was a great beam of light. Any idea what it could have been or where it may have originated?"
"A great beam of light you say? Well, I suppose it could have been a laser beam."
"Laser beam? What's that?"
"You really don't have any technology on your world, do you?" Sadoul grinned. "Well, no matter. A laser is a concentrated beam of light. It can be quite powerful depending on its concentration."
"Can it unravel magic?"
"Eh? No, it shouldn't. Lasers are purely technology. No magic is involved in their creation."
"So then it couldn't have been a laser beam?" Ghaleon interjected.
"No, it shouldn't have; unless someone has found a way to integrate technology with magic," Sadoul replied.
"Hmph. Well, it's possible," Ghaleon told him. "Before I was resurrected, I lived on the moon of this planet. And my mobile castle was built by technology, but powered by the enchanted fire elementals I summoned."
"Well then, if you're looking for lasers, I would suggest checking out what's left of the Danek Empire. They're on a large isle to the south of this archipelago."
"And how do we get there?"
Sadoul shrugged. "I suppose I may as well teleport the three of us there." He sighed as though restraining himself from saying something else. "It's the least I can do since you resurrected me."
"Careful what you say," Ghaleon drolly remarked, "because you don't know how true your words may be."