Chapter 2: Marcus's Tale
Cain bolted up right, but in the process, hit somebody and knocked something flying. The
sound of water reverberated in the silence. Cain could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His
breath was raspy, and his vision was dim, but slowly returning.
Cain looked around, surveying his present surroundings. He was in a dimly lit room. A
few torches were lit, and a cauldron was over a merry fire. The room was mostly empty. Only a
bed, dresser and a shelf were in the room against the opposite wall. Two people were standing at
the bedside with Cain, an older man, with dark hair, which was beginning to grey. He was
wearing a white robe, and a belt with various pouches and bottles of liquid attached. The other
person in the room was a fair maiden, close to Cain's age. The expression she had in her eyes,
though as beautiful as she was, looked as though it could melt steel.
"I hope you are happy," she stated. Cain looked down and realized what she meant.
While getting up, he knocked the water basin out of her hands, and it had spilled all down the
front of her clothes.
"I... I'm," Cain couldn't think of anything to say.
"You're sorry! I would certainly think so." And with that, she turned and left the room,
slamming the door shut on her way out.
"Don't mind her," the man said. "Today has been a bit of a rough day for us all."
"Where am I?" Cain questioned.
"Why lad, you are in Sunwater," the man said smiling. "My name is Gerald. I am the
village healer."
Cain swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to stand up. But to his surprise,
he could not muster the strength to stand.
"It would be best to lie down and rest. You are running a mild fever. But it should die
down by sun fall. You've had a nasty ordeal. But on the bright side, your wound on your
shoulder should be healing just fine now."
Cain glanced at his shoulder. There was a thick glob of yellow goo smeared over his cut,
which he could see, was neatly stitched together. The goo smelt strongly of skunk and rose.
"It is an ancient remedy," Gerald aid interpreting Cain's confused look. "It is made from
the sap of a willow tree, the essence of a skunk, and crushed rose petals. It is used to stop
infections and mend injuries.
Cain rubbed his head. He could feel a small headache subsiding.
"How did I get here? The last thing I remember was riding my horse through the forest,
following Eric."
"It was Eric who brought you here. He fastened branches together, tied it to your horse,
placed you on it and had the horse drag you here. Smart lad, he is, Eric. But a bad history
follows him. With the death of his mother and sister, he is strong for what he does."
Not wanting to peruse the topic any further, Cain peeked under the covers.
"Where are my belongings?" Cain said, taking note of his missing garments.
"Ah, do not worry. Your armor and clothing are being washed and your belongings are in
the bucket over there," Gerald told Cain pointing to a bucket at the foot of his bed.
"And now I leave you to rest," Gerald said turning to the door.
"Wait, I want to know. What is the maidens name? I must know." Cain asked.
Gerald smiled. "Aras," he said simply, as he left the room.
Aras, Cain thought to himself. A name as beautiful as she is. Cain thought as he drifted
into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
Cain stirred peacefully. Two people were talking rather loudly outside his ajar door.
Without opening his eyes, he listened carefully.
"We can't let him go out there! It is too dangerous. Even our best warriors on defense are
struggling to protect us!" A voice said.
"He saved Eric's life and only came out with a minor wound," Gerald said.
"Eric is fine on his own," the voice said. "He is twelve an has lived through this
nightmare since he was ten. Cain is around sixteen and has probably never seen battle in his life.
He is just another knight, if he is even that, that wants to play hero. If he goes out there, he will
be dead in less than a day." The last comment had a hint of impatience in it.
"That is enough," a new voice said. This voice sounded tired and old, full of wisdom. "I
examined the boy while he was sleeping. He is the brother of Uther." Cain strained his listening
even harder at the sound of his brothers name. "he seems young, but he is strong within. And
now he can't leave. Do you remember when he awoke. He had a dream, a vision. While in a
trance, I saw what he saw. His dream was invaded by an outside force. It tried to defer him
away. I have a feeling now that he will search out his brother, even if he finds Uther dead. He
wants to know what happened to his brother. And nothing you do or say will stop him."
"Marcus," the voice said, "this boy doesn't know what he is up against. He doesn't
deserve to die."
"Nayr," Marcus replied, "I know you are stressed over what has been happening lately.
But what the boy wants is not to be a hero. He is just looking for his brother.
Rapid footsteps echoed as somebody approached.
"Sir," a new voice said. "Scouts report the area is safe."
"Thank-you," Nayr said. "Please excuse me Marcus an Gerald. I must go and debrief the
scouts."
Two sets of footsteps left the hallway.
The door opened and Gerald walked in with an old man behind him. Cain presumed this
man was Marcus.
"Ah," Gerald stated, "you are awake."
"You knew my brother?" Cain asked Marcus.
Marcus smiled under his beard. "Yes," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "I had the
honor of knowing your brother."
"What happened to him?" Cain asked, sitting up in the bed.
"What happened to him begins with this ring," Marcus said, holding up the ring that Cain
had removed from the beast. Cain looked at the ring attentively.
"This is the Ring of Life. It gives the bearer more life force to live on. If in battle, the
wearer could live longer, even with life threatening ailments."
"So, how does this ring relate to my brother?" Cain asked.
Marcus sighed. "A long time ago, many eons before even myself, a great War waged.
No name can be given to this war because no word can describe it properly. It is only referred as,
The Great War. The war was the ultimate war. Between heaven and hell. And the battles fought
were from the Gates of Heaven, to the rivers and seas of Hell. Most of the battles were fought
between angels, archangels from heaven and the demons and beasts from Hell. Or at least they
were in the beginning. Then man was brought into the fight. Religious followers fought for
heaven and hell. The leader of Hell, Volbaide, was a tricky creature. He recruited many
followers. And with his right hand Warlord General, the Fallen Angel, Lucifer, they began to
dominate the war."
Cain just stared. Nothing was making sense. he could not picture a war this great.
"I don't understand," Cain said.
"Here," Marcus said. "Let me show you."
Marcus reached his aged hand and placed it on the crown of Cain's forehead. Cain felt as
though he was flying. His spirit felt totally free at this touch. Then Cain opened his eyes.
Looking around, he realized that he was no longer in his room. Nor was he near Sunwater. He
appeared to not be standing on anything; nor did he feel like he was floating. He was in a place
that was completely white. It was bright, but there was no light and no shadows. Cain couldn't
tell if the white vastness ended.
"Welcome to the Astral Plain. This is where thoughts are reality and dreams are real.
Almost anything is possible here." Marcus stated.
"Is this real? Where are we?" Cain asked.
"We are still in the room inside Sunwater. And yes, this is a real as you or I. This is a
realm that exists above and beyond our own realm. Much like Heaven and Hell exist above our
world, this realm exists even further above them." Marcus said.
"Why are we here?" Cain questioned.
"'We' are here so I can show you what you do not understand. Memories can be seen
here. I will show you memories that have been passed down through my family," Marcus stated.
Marcus closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Cain patiently waited. Then Cain
heard a sound. Faint at first, as if it was far away or not quiet loud enough. It was sounds of
battle. Constant yelling, metal upon metal contact, the rustle of armor. And worst of all, the
sounds of death.
Cain heard it before he saw it. But then the sound turned to picture as the battle came to
life. Cain stood there watching the battle rage on. No longer did Cain appear in the white
nothingness, but on now barren wastelands of war-torn countryside. Cain could see the awesome
power of the battle. Angels, more graceful that cats, against Hell's army. It appeared to be an
even match for both sides for nobody was moving forward, and nobody was moving back.
"This is but a glimpse of the true war," Marcus said, standing behind Cain. "Demons die
easy," he continued, "but sometimes angels can die easier."
Cain understood. He watched as a swarm of beasts, much like the one he took down the
other day, leap upon an unsuspecting female angel. She put up a good fight, but alas, when she
knocked off one, three more took its place. She died on the spot. Cain bowed his head in
respect. When he returned his gaze to the angel, his eyes opened in surprise. The demons were
stripping the weapons and armor off the slain body. One of the beasts cackled evilly as it pulled
a dagger and cut a long line along its hand. Green blood oozed from the open wound and
dripped upon the armor. At the first touch, the armor began to change. It darkened, turning
black, with demonic designs appearing on it. Horn-like extensions grew from odd angles. When
the change finished, the demon slipped the armor on and continued on its way to the next target.
"This is just one of the few memories passed down through my blood line," Marcus said
quietly.
With that said, the image began to bleed; the colours mixed together. Then it took shape.
Cain looked around to see where he was now. He seemed to be in a Smithy shop. A tall, burly
man, larger than any man Cain had ever seen stood by a fire, quickly pumping a fan, building a
perfect fire. When the fire was at his satisfaction, he pulled a red hot rod of steel from the fire,set it upon a giant black anvil, where the Smith pounded the steel with a mighty hammer. His motions were swift and in rhythm. He never quickened, nor tired. Every once and a while, he
would re-heat the steel, only to continue pounding at it. When he reached a point of satisfaction, he dipped the steel into a bucket of water. he fastened a handle and began to sharpen the edges of the blade.
A warrior stepped through the door, carrying a small stone, just larger than a pebble. But
oddly, the pebble glowed an eerie white colour. The war-drawn warrior gave the stone to the
towering Smithy, who placed it into a socket on the hilt. Instantly, the sword began to emanate a very bright white light. The sword was so bright, the room looked black.
Then, as if nothing happened, the glowing dimmed down; but the sword was different. It
was more elegant than brute. The blade was smooth, almost appeared to be see-through. The
handle was white like ivory with a single red ruby where the stone used to be. And the ruby was
inserted so it was visible on both sides.
The Smithy looked at the sword with satisfaction. The silence was broken by the Smithy.
"It was Silvermoon, wasn't it?" the Smithy said with a thick Scottish Clan accent.
"Yes," the warrior replied simply.
"Then in honour of her beauty, grace and hope, I call this the Silver Sword of the Moon."
"What will this weapon be special for?" the warrior questioned.
"Ah lad, who knows. Whatever Silvermoon' spirit chooses will be this swords strength
and destiny," the Smithy replied shaking his head, causing his long braided red hair to toss about. He scratched his equally red beard.
"How much longer do you figure?" the warrior asked.
"When will the mountains cease to exist? Only time will tell," the Smithy replied.
Again, the room began to dissolve. This time, Cain found himself back on his bed. He
looked down at the ring he held in his hand. He looked at the top to see stone, similar to the one in the memory, encrusted on the top.
"So, I still don't understand what the ring has to do with Uther," Cain said.
"Well," Marcus continued, "After the war finished, Heaven won and overthrew Hells
effort. The demons were rounded up and thrown into an eternal lock up. Or at least most of
them were. There were the few that stayed in hiding. But the recent times marked the first
millennium since The end of the war. And the demons decided to give everybody a rude
reminder of The ast. But something happened. Their reminder became a threat; they began to
raid villages. So word was sent out for knights to protect this part of the country-side. This land is part of the land that the final years of the war was fought upon. That brings your brother here.
He did a very good deed by hunting down demons which were responsible for the deaths of
people within the villages. One day, he went out with a group of his new found friends to hunt
some 'small game' as he put it. Later that afternoon, one man came back. He was so badly
beaten, he got out only a few words before death smiled upon him. I will never forget those
words.
Marcus paused, and closed his eyes.
"What did he say?" Cain inquired.
"I'll let you hear for yourself," Marcus replied as he reached out to put a hand on Cains'
head again. This time, there was no traveling to the Astral Plain. Only a voice sounded in his
mind. It was shallow, on its last breath.
"Evry..one ded......Uther livz....dragd to forst...HE'S BACK!"
Cain stared at Marcus. "Who's back?" he said.
"I don't know, but I have a feeling that someone or something is trying to bring the war
back to the land," Marcus replied breathing deeply.
Cain bolted up right, but in the process, hit somebody and knocked something flying. The
sound of water reverberated in the silence. Cain could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His
breath was raspy, and his vision was dim, but slowly returning.
Cain looked around, surveying his present surroundings. He was in a dimly lit room. A
few torches were lit, and a cauldron was over a merry fire. The room was mostly empty. Only a
bed, dresser and a shelf were in the room against the opposite wall. Two people were standing at
the bedside with Cain, an older man, with dark hair, which was beginning to grey. He was
wearing a white robe, and a belt with various pouches and bottles of liquid attached. The other
person in the room was a fair maiden, close to Cain's age. The expression she had in her eyes,
though as beautiful as she was, looked as though it could melt steel.
"I hope you are happy," she stated. Cain looked down and realized what she meant.
While getting up, he knocked the water basin out of her hands, and it had spilled all down the
front of her clothes.
"I... I'm," Cain couldn't think of anything to say.
"You're sorry! I would certainly think so." And with that, she turned and left the room,
slamming the door shut on her way out.
"Don't mind her," the man said. "Today has been a bit of a rough day for us all."
"Where am I?" Cain questioned.
"Why lad, you are in Sunwater," the man said smiling. "My name is Gerald. I am the
village healer."
Cain swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to stand up. But to his surprise,
he could not muster the strength to stand.
"It would be best to lie down and rest. You are running a mild fever. But it should die
down by sun fall. You've had a nasty ordeal. But on the bright side, your wound on your
shoulder should be healing just fine now."
Cain glanced at his shoulder. There was a thick glob of yellow goo smeared over his cut,
which he could see, was neatly stitched together. The goo smelt strongly of skunk and rose.
"It is an ancient remedy," Gerald aid interpreting Cain's confused look. "It is made from
the sap of a willow tree, the essence of a skunk, and crushed rose petals. It is used to stop
infections and mend injuries.
Cain rubbed his head. He could feel a small headache subsiding.
"How did I get here? The last thing I remember was riding my horse through the forest,
following Eric."
"It was Eric who brought you here. He fastened branches together, tied it to your horse,
placed you on it and had the horse drag you here. Smart lad, he is, Eric. But a bad history
follows him. With the death of his mother and sister, he is strong for what he does."
Not wanting to peruse the topic any further, Cain peeked under the covers.
"Where are my belongings?" Cain said, taking note of his missing garments.
"Ah, do not worry. Your armor and clothing are being washed and your belongings are in
the bucket over there," Gerald told Cain pointing to a bucket at the foot of his bed.
"And now I leave you to rest," Gerald said turning to the door.
"Wait, I want to know. What is the maidens name? I must know." Cain asked.
Gerald smiled. "Aras," he said simply, as he left the room.
Aras, Cain thought to himself. A name as beautiful as she is. Cain thought as he drifted
into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
Cain stirred peacefully. Two people were talking rather loudly outside his ajar door.
Without opening his eyes, he listened carefully.
"We can't let him go out there! It is too dangerous. Even our best warriors on defense are
struggling to protect us!" A voice said.
"He saved Eric's life and only came out with a minor wound," Gerald said.
"Eric is fine on his own," the voice said. "He is twelve an has lived through this
nightmare since he was ten. Cain is around sixteen and has probably never seen battle in his life.
He is just another knight, if he is even that, that wants to play hero. If he goes out there, he will
be dead in less than a day." The last comment had a hint of impatience in it.
"That is enough," a new voice said. This voice sounded tired and old, full of wisdom. "I
examined the boy while he was sleeping. He is the brother of Uther." Cain strained his listening
even harder at the sound of his brothers name. "he seems young, but he is strong within. And
now he can't leave. Do you remember when he awoke. He had a dream, a vision. While in a
trance, I saw what he saw. His dream was invaded by an outside force. It tried to defer him
away. I have a feeling now that he will search out his brother, even if he finds Uther dead. He
wants to know what happened to his brother. And nothing you do or say will stop him."
"Marcus," the voice said, "this boy doesn't know what he is up against. He doesn't
deserve to die."
"Nayr," Marcus replied, "I know you are stressed over what has been happening lately.
But what the boy wants is not to be a hero. He is just looking for his brother.
Rapid footsteps echoed as somebody approached.
"Sir," a new voice said. "Scouts report the area is safe."
"Thank-you," Nayr said. "Please excuse me Marcus an Gerald. I must go and debrief the
scouts."
Two sets of footsteps left the hallway.
The door opened and Gerald walked in with an old man behind him. Cain presumed this
man was Marcus.
"Ah," Gerald stated, "you are awake."
"You knew my brother?" Cain asked Marcus.
Marcus smiled under his beard. "Yes," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "I had the
honor of knowing your brother."
"What happened to him?" Cain asked, sitting up in the bed.
"What happened to him begins with this ring," Marcus said, holding up the ring that Cain
had removed from the beast. Cain looked at the ring attentively.
"This is the Ring of Life. It gives the bearer more life force to live on. If in battle, the
wearer could live longer, even with life threatening ailments."
"So, how does this ring relate to my brother?" Cain asked.
Marcus sighed. "A long time ago, many eons before even myself, a great War waged.
No name can be given to this war because no word can describe it properly. It is only referred as,
The Great War. The war was the ultimate war. Between heaven and hell. And the battles fought
were from the Gates of Heaven, to the rivers and seas of Hell. Most of the battles were fought
between angels, archangels from heaven and the demons and beasts from Hell. Or at least they
were in the beginning. Then man was brought into the fight. Religious followers fought for
heaven and hell. The leader of Hell, Volbaide, was a tricky creature. He recruited many
followers. And with his right hand Warlord General, the Fallen Angel, Lucifer, they began to
dominate the war."
Cain just stared. Nothing was making sense. he could not picture a war this great.
"I don't understand," Cain said.
"Here," Marcus said. "Let me show you."
Marcus reached his aged hand and placed it on the crown of Cain's forehead. Cain felt as
though he was flying. His spirit felt totally free at this touch. Then Cain opened his eyes.
Looking around, he realized that he was no longer in his room. Nor was he near Sunwater. He
appeared to not be standing on anything; nor did he feel like he was floating. He was in a place
that was completely white. It was bright, but there was no light and no shadows. Cain couldn't
tell if the white vastness ended.
"Welcome to the Astral Plain. This is where thoughts are reality and dreams are real.
Almost anything is possible here." Marcus stated.
"Is this real? Where are we?" Cain asked.
"We are still in the room inside Sunwater. And yes, this is a real as you or I. This is a
realm that exists above and beyond our own realm. Much like Heaven and Hell exist above our
world, this realm exists even further above them." Marcus said.
"Why are we here?" Cain questioned.
"'We' are here so I can show you what you do not understand. Memories can be seen
here. I will show you memories that have been passed down through my family," Marcus stated.
Marcus closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Cain patiently waited. Then Cain
heard a sound. Faint at first, as if it was far away or not quiet loud enough. It was sounds of
battle. Constant yelling, metal upon metal contact, the rustle of armor. And worst of all, the
sounds of death.
Cain heard it before he saw it. But then the sound turned to picture as the battle came to
life. Cain stood there watching the battle rage on. No longer did Cain appear in the white
nothingness, but on now barren wastelands of war-torn countryside. Cain could see the awesome
power of the battle. Angels, more graceful that cats, against Hell's army. It appeared to be an
even match for both sides for nobody was moving forward, and nobody was moving back.
"This is but a glimpse of the true war," Marcus said, standing behind Cain. "Demons die
easy," he continued, "but sometimes angels can die easier."
Cain understood. He watched as a swarm of beasts, much like the one he took down the
other day, leap upon an unsuspecting female angel. She put up a good fight, but alas, when she
knocked off one, three more took its place. She died on the spot. Cain bowed his head in
respect. When he returned his gaze to the angel, his eyes opened in surprise. The demons were
stripping the weapons and armor off the slain body. One of the beasts cackled evilly as it pulled
a dagger and cut a long line along its hand. Green blood oozed from the open wound and
dripped upon the armor. At the first touch, the armor began to change. It darkened, turning
black, with demonic designs appearing on it. Horn-like extensions grew from odd angles. When
the change finished, the demon slipped the armor on and continued on its way to the next target.
"This is just one of the few memories passed down through my blood line," Marcus said
quietly.
With that said, the image began to bleed; the colours mixed together. Then it took shape.
Cain looked around to see where he was now. He seemed to be in a Smithy shop. A tall, burly
man, larger than any man Cain had ever seen stood by a fire, quickly pumping a fan, building a
perfect fire. When the fire was at his satisfaction, he pulled a red hot rod of steel from the fire,set it upon a giant black anvil, where the Smith pounded the steel with a mighty hammer. His motions were swift and in rhythm. He never quickened, nor tired. Every once and a while, he
would re-heat the steel, only to continue pounding at it. When he reached a point of satisfaction, he dipped the steel into a bucket of water. he fastened a handle and began to sharpen the edges of the blade.
A warrior stepped through the door, carrying a small stone, just larger than a pebble. But
oddly, the pebble glowed an eerie white colour. The war-drawn warrior gave the stone to the
towering Smithy, who placed it into a socket on the hilt. Instantly, the sword began to emanate a very bright white light. The sword was so bright, the room looked black.
Then, as if nothing happened, the glowing dimmed down; but the sword was different. It
was more elegant than brute. The blade was smooth, almost appeared to be see-through. The
handle was white like ivory with a single red ruby where the stone used to be. And the ruby was
inserted so it was visible on both sides.
The Smithy looked at the sword with satisfaction. The silence was broken by the Smithy.
"It was Silvermoon, wasn't it?" the Smithy said with a thick Scottish Clan accent.
"Yes," the warrior replied simply.
"Then in honour of her beauty, grace and hope, I call this the Silver Sword of the Moon."
"What will this weapon be special for?" the warrior questioned.
"Ah lad, who knows. Whatever Silvermoon' spirit chooses will be this swords strength
and destiny," the Smithy replied shaking his head, causing his long braided red hair to toss about. He scratched his equally red beard.
"How much longer do you figure?" the warrior asked.
"When will the mountains cease to exist? Only time will tell," the Smithy replied.
Again, the room began to dissolve. This time, Cain found himself back on his bed. He
looked down at the ring he held in his hand. He looked at the top to see stone, similar to the one in the memory, encrusted on the top.
"So, I still don't understand what the ring has to do with Uther," Cain said.
"Well," Marcus continued, "After the war finished, Heaven won and overthrew Hells
effort. The demons were rounded up and thrown into an eternal lock up. Or at least most of
them were. There were the few that stayed in hiding. But the recent times marked the first
millennium since The end of the war. And the demons decided to give everybody a rude
reminder of The ast. But something happened. Their reminder became a threat; they began to
raid villages. So word was sent out for knights to protect this part of the country-side. This land is part of the land that the final years of the war was fought upon. That brings your brother here.
He did a very good deed by hunting down demons which were responsible for the deaths of
people within the villages. One day, he went out with a group of his new found friends to hunt
some 'small game' as he put it. Later that afternoon, one man came back. He was so badly
beaten, he got out only a few words before death smiled upon him. I will never forget those
words.
Marcus paused, and closed his eyes.
"What did he say?" Cain inquired.
"I'll let you hear for yourself," Marcus replied as he reached out to put a hand on Cains'
head again. This time, there was no traveling to the Astral Plain. Only a voice sounded in his
mind. It was shallow, on its last breath.
"Evry..one ded......Uther livz....dragd to forst...HE'S BACK!"
Cain stared at Marcus. "Who's back?" he said.
"I don't know, but I have a feeling that someone or something is trying to bring the war
back to the land," Marcus replied breathing deeply.