Pt. 6
Galen searched his ship carefully; using every trick at his disposal to discover how the images he had seen had been transmitted. He used internal scanners to carefully examine the bulkheads then ran his fingers lightly over the smooth metal surface, searching for a slight imperfection that would reveal a transmitting device. Yet after almost two hours he had to admit there was nothing there.
"Well, who ever they are, they're inventive to say the least." He muttered, leaning back in his seat. He hesitated for a moment, and then called up the image of the Swordsman again, setting parameters on his computer for a search of all his available databases. After another hour, he again had to admit defeat. There was no match for the image anywhere, no name he could give this man with his face. He stared into the blue eyes that looked back at him from the hologram. Eyes that looked so much like his he was almost willing to swear he was looking in a mirror. He could feel them pulling him back in and for a moment he resisted, wary of giving over control of his mind and body to an outside force.
"Be calm." A voice in his head said. "You wished to know, now you will." The voice was so familiar, so like his own and yet at the same time different. Galen stiffened, wondering if some nanotech virus from the painting had corrupted his tech, causing him these auditory hallucinations. He closed his eyes and began to try calling up subroutines to diagnosis his implants. "That won't help." The voice commented sounding slightly amused. He frowned, recognizing the snide tone he sometimes used with Gideon.
Galen reached out and pulled his staff across his lap, ready for whatever might come. "Very well. Show me then. Show me who and what you were." He slowly relaxed, putting himself into a meditative state, making it easier for whoever or whatever it was talking to reach him. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. The room was quiet, with only the sound of his breathing to break the silence. Then other sounds began to intrude, sounds that should not have been present in the ship. A bird called in the distance, branches rustled above him and a sound of hoof beats seemed to be getting closer. He opened his eyes and found himself again on the path he had seen before, watching the Dark Lady approach on her dark steed. But the angle was different than it was before. He seemed to be looking down at her from a great height. Galen looked to one side and was surprised to see himself standing there, dressed in a dark, silk robe with a short dagger at his belt. The man turned away and Galen was able to catch sight of him in a mirror. The figure reflected back to him had his face but at the same time was not him. There were scars across his bare chest and on his exposed arms that he knew were not there. And around his throat was something that resembled a golden dog collar. The eyes that looked back at him from the mirror were soulless. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he knew that he was watching the passing of events in the life of the Swordsman. Galen was, for all intensive purposes, a ghost in the room.
A door opened behind him and both Galen and the Swordsman turned to find themselves staring down at the most hideous creature Galen had ever seen. It bore a passing resemblance to a man, yet had what appeared to be snakes for hair and running sores over most of its body. Its blood-shot orbs stared at the Swordsman with malice.
"So, taking in the scenery are we?" it rasped, slithering across the room to stand at the window. "See anything interesting? Any new amusements for us?"
The Swordsman shrugged, standing his ground. "Another rider comes up the trail. A woman, this time."
"So, they run out of men to throw on your blade, now the rebels think to send a woman's wiles against you. Fools!" The creature stepped back and pointed a finger at the man before him. "Dispatch her, I command it!" Then it turned on its misshapen feet and stomped away.
The Swordsman shrugged. "As you command." He replied. Only Galen was left to see the man grip the pommel of his sword till his knuckles were white and the metal cut through his skin.
The horsewoman looked up at the foreboding castle with a frown. Damien had said this would be a difficult case but he hadn't mentioned just how hard it might be. "Note to self – remember to talk to my blond idiot brother about leaving out details during a mission briefing." She absently ran a gloved hand over her horse's neck, scanning the countryside for possible danger. An older woman, walking up the path from the village towards her, was the only figure visible.
"Hello, old mother. Is this the village of Ainsley in front of me?"
The woman looked up at the figure on the horse with a frown. "Who might you be, missy, to be asking about Ainsley?"
"My name is Marianne of Draco. I come in search of the one they call Urius the Jinn."
The older woman blanched at the others words. "Are you mad girl? Do you wish for death? Be gone from this place before the demon or his servant hears of you."
"What servant?" Marianne asked with a frown.
"The Swordsman, of course. You've not heard of him?"
"Should I have?" Marianne slid off her horse and stretched her tired muscles for a moment before fixing her gaze again on the old woman.
"All have heard of him. He destroys all those that seek the demon. No man or boy in a thousand years has stood before him, sword in hand, for long."
"Seems a pretty weak demon if he has to have someone else do his fighting for him." Marianne replied thoughtfully.
"It seems a weak group of rebels who must send a woman to fight their battle." A voice agreed. Both women looked back down the road to see the dark figure standing on the path.
"The Swordsman!" the old woman squeaked, backing fearfully off the road.
"The Swordsman." Marianne echoed, standing calmly in place.
Galen woke with a start, disoriented for a moment. He looked around his ships control room, reassuring himself of its reality. The hologram portrait was still displayed before him, the expressionless eyes still staring down at him. He stared up at it for a moment then saw a detail he had not noticed before. The man in the portrait was not wearing the golden collar he had seen in the vision. He moved to stand then pulled his hand back from the chair with a gasp. A long, shallow and bleeding cut had appeared on his right hand right at the spot where the Swordsman's pommel had cut his hand.