Ride Across the River

The land around them was very strange as well. All around them was silvery mist. On the banks of the river were black twisted trees that could not be seen clearly through the mist. The waters of the river were clear and full of fish, brightly colored jungle fish that looked out of place here. The sun was a dim orange dot in the sky, dimmed by the mist. Everything looked blurred and unreal, like a painting.

For a while, no one spoke. Something in the air just seemed to stifle anything they tried to say. Fred and Astra felt uneasy, but Jarlath felt it the most of all. He could feel magic all around him. It was not black magic, that at least he could pin down and understand. This was utterly alien. He looked down into the water and tried to concentrate on the fishes, anything rather than the strange world around him. They were swimming around, going about their business, quite oblivious to the raft. Jarlath suddenly realized that although the world around them and the raft were reflected in the water, he could not see his own face, or Fred's or Astra's. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

He closed his eyes and tried desparately not to think of the river. He found himself thinking of Astra. She was the most amazingly sexy woman he'd ever seen in his life. She was also compassionate, corageous, and very beautiful. And he couldn't do anything more than just fantasize about her. This didn't trouble him--she was much older than him and wasn't his type anyway--as much of the fact that it reminded him that most women were closed to him by default. He was a mage, and there was an unwritten law that no mage could ever marry a normal woman. People had looked on mages with fear and distrust, ever since the Great Magic Wars that had caused the fall of the Great Empire of Tetrilonia and destroyed all life in what is now the Waste Land between Allaria and Gelda. As a result, most mages never left their towers, and only then to travel to another tower. Most mages never married, those that did married other mages. They never even communicate directly with normal humans most of the time, speaking with them only indirectly through magic. Most mages lived their lives alone, apart from friendship and love.

It hadn't always been that way, of course. Before the Magic Wars, mages had been an accepted part of society. They had even sometimes been a part of roving adventurer bands. Perhaps it was knowledge of this that caused Jarlath to flee Ilxior and teleport to the Caves. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he was bored out of his mind. After all, he'd become a mage to escape the stifling atmosphere of the court. His father had been against it all the way, and for all his life he'd respected his wishes. But then, when he had been about to go on an expedition to the Southern Caves, he'd been found with an arrow in his back. Everyone knew who had arranged it, but no one could do a thing about it. Jarlath had, in his years as a mage, come up with the perfect assassination spell, to wipe the man who'd killed his father off the face of the Earth. But, of course, he'd never have the opportunity to use it.

He had to admit, though, that when his father had died, a part of him had been relieved. He could now pursue his dream of being a mage. He had practically been destined for it, after all, being the seventh son of a seventh son. But life as a mage had been far more boring than life as a noble. After three years of sitting around studying dusty books, he'd simply gotten tired of it. So when he'd heard that Fred had gone on this quest, to protect the Kingdom and as part of a desparate attempt to gain the D'Honaire lands back from Zular, he'd leapt into the fray. Part of it had certainly been a desire to protect Fred, but part of it had been because he was tired of sitting around and wanted to have an adventure. He remembered when Fred had come to visit him one last time before going off to slay the Dragon. Jarlath had been jealous of Fred, a Dragonslayer adored by almost everyone in the kingdom, but he'd also been close to Fred and considered him one of his very few friends. They'd snuck out of the tower into the night, and Fred had confided that he secretly wanted not to go. He had never been on a mission of this magnitude before, and wasn't sure he could live up to the demands honor had placed on him. And the fact that more than half the commoners in the Great Kingdom adored him just made things worse. He had so many expectations to live up to, and was very worried he would dash them.

It's odd, Jarlath thought idly. He had had a burning desire for adventure, while Fred had wanted to avoid it. He had wanted to be adored by all, while Fred had hated it. Odd how life was, sometimes.

Suddenly, he heard someone calling out, "Look!" It was Astra's voice, and it felt like a slap in the face, reminding him of the strange world he had found himself in. He pulled himself out of his reverie and saw looming ahead of them

1. A wharf, with a person standing on it.
2. A ruined castle.
3. A waterfall.

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