In the Eyes of Men
by FalconWind
Chapter Seven
"More Voices"
Horandrin was pondering what the voice had meant. "Wait three days for them," he repeated. He didn't know what that was supposed to mean. /Wait for who?/ he asked himself.
/Who am I supposed to wait for?/ Horandrin hated when people said things without context. It was somewhat more irritating to Horandrin, for the fact that whomever was communicating with him had the power to project his messages, but not the common sense to make his messages clear. Horandrin could only assume that it was on purpose, and that was even more irritating.
Horandrin hoped that his assumption of what the voice had meant was correct. Otherwise, they were all digging their own graves.
There was a knock on his door. "Come," he said, allowing Sergeant Braxton into his quarters.
Braxton entered, and bowed. "Master Horandrin, the men are ready. I have been assured that we will have more than enough transportation for our departure."
"You've been assured?"
"I'm not stupid, sir. I inspected the vehicles and made sure they were not to be used for the entire week. We can't afford to take chances."
"Good work, sergeant. What of Daleon's progress?"
He shrugged. "He has not reported anything to me, sir. I'd assume he's still working on it."
Horandrin nodded. "Please tell the men that it will not be more than a few days."
At this, Braxton was surprised. "I was under the impression that we were to leave tomorrow."
"Something has come up. I can't elaborate. But believe me, Sergeant, in three days we will leave."
"But we've been-."
"Three days, sergeant." Horandrin stood and sighed. "I know that this has seemed to drag out for the longest time. But three days is the schedule. If not by that time, then I'll relinquish this endeavor to someone else. Daleon, or even, perhaps you."
Horandrin considered Horandrin's words. "I don't think that will be necessary, sir. I'll convey this to the troops."
"You may go."
Braxton did so.
Horandrin had suggested that Daleon delve deeper into the inner workings of the Light of Revelation. It had become apparent that the spell had a more active role in the epiphanies of his men. Daleon was scrutinizing it line by line, but he too was certain that the spell had an inherant mind-altering ability.
Horandrin thought that he would feel outraged, but, to his surprise, he was indifferent. In fact, he was still glad, despite the dishonest means that may, or may not have contributed to his "conversion".
It was late in the evening when Daleon finally returned with results.
"Horandrin, I have no idea who, or what, could have made this spell," he started off.
"What do you mean?" Horandrin asked, puzzled.
Daleon, mentally drained, sighed wearily. "I fancy myself an accomplished sorceror, Horandrin, and many other will tell you the same, but this spell is beyond me. The casting is simple, too simple, in fact. But if your look at how complex and extensive the spell is... it is mind boggling!"
"A well crafted spell is not uncommon."
Daleon laughed, almost mockingly. "Believe me Horandrin. There is not a man or creature alive that could have crafted this enchantation. I tell you this without hyperbole."
"So can you enlighten me as to it's workings?"
"I can tell you how it worked on me." Daleon sat down into the couch. "I was very careful as I mapped out the spell's structure, but that yielded little in the way of results. I decided to cast the spell again."
"And."
"And, I think you should do so as well."
"Is that it?" Horandrin said disappointed. It wasn't the definative answer that he'd been hoping.
"It is difficult to explain, Horandrin. The best way for you to know, is to talk to yourself again." Daleon got up. "Trust me." He turned and exited the room. It was then that Horandrin noticed the ancient book that sat in Daleon's seat.
He picked it up, and started to read.
-------------------
The sensation was of being seperated from one's body. The feeling past quickly, and he stood on the top of a familiar hill.
Reaching up to his face, his hand touched a hard mask. Looking at his hand now, he realized, to his surprise, that it was an armored gauntlet.
"What is this? Why am I..."
"It seems," came a voice from behind, "that we've switched bodies. In a sense."
Horandrn turned to face the familiar voice. His unarmored self greeted him. "This was unexpected. Why have I appeared as the old Horandrin?"
"You're the sorceror."
"But, I'm not. I mean, I am supposed to be the good Horandrin. I'm supposed to look like you."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Did you ever think that you /are/ the good Horandrin?"
Now it was the chaos Horandrin's turn to give 'the eyebrow' or he would have if he could. "What do you mean?"
The man spotted a large rock and sat on it, gesturing for Horandrin to do the same. The other Horandrin did so. "Horandrin, things have changed in you, in us."
"Such as?"
The other Horandrin smiled. "Such as everything. The last time we met, you hadn't made the decision yet. Now, in a way, I'm the same counterpart that you met last time. But," he gestured at his body, "in some ways, I'm not."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it, Horandrin. The first time, I was your goodness, your humanity, but I was in your body. You were the Thousand Son in the human body... Actually, I think I just figured it out."
"Make up your mind, Horandrin," he said, not realizing the irony of that expression in this circumstance.
"I don't think we switched bodies. Rather, I think you became me. Instead of you keeping the human body and becoming more human of mind, you simply became the human mind in the chaos power armor... Which means I'm really you." There was a long silence. "Did that make sense?"
"Maybe. But, I believe I understand. We switched personalities, and acheived the same effect. Because... I could never have that body... my body back. As I am now, in my mind, is how I am in the world."
"I suspect eventually, I'll cease to exist, and you will be the only one of us. Reality and fantasy sometimes co-exist. At one time, something is a metaphor, and the next time, it's a literal representation. I'm glad I don't have to do this often. I think I have a head ache."
"But how is that possible, as we are inside my head."
"Look, don't start."
Horandrin chuckled. "Very well. But I can't say I like the prospect of losing you."
He smiled. "Don't worry. We're one in the same. If I go, it's just because we've become one."
Horandrin nodded. "You speak wisely."
"Must be inherited."
The two spoke for hours, it seemed. They conversed about all manner of things, diving into their memories, remembering good times and bad.
"I guess you better be going, I hear something trying to wake you."
"Yes. I will see you again," he said as they embraced in a brotherly handshake-hug.
"Perhaps not," replied the other.
-----------------
Horandrin returned to consciouness and was instantly aware of the loud noise. It was a heavy pounding on his door. It wasn't a hostile banging, for it came in short bursts indicative of someone knocking.
Picking himself off the couch, he made his way to the door. Strange, he didn't remember laying down on the couch.
He opened the door. It was Daleon. "Horandrin, I see you're finally awake."
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Nearly three days."
"Three days?" Horandrin reflected that it had only seemed like hours, but then he remembered that dreams often only lasted a few minutes, but would take an entire night in the real world. He hadn't slept in so many years, he'd forgotten. "Then I suppose it is time to leave."
"Yes."
/Yes. Leave, now! Go, they are coming soon! Join them! They will help you!/
/Shut up already! I do not need you constantly barking orders into my head!/
He shook his head. "Then let us go." Horandrin turned to grab a large bag of books. "Destiny awaits."
-------------------------