I can't believe its been three months since the last chapter... Gotta get my act together. Have to admit, I'm glad to be seeing the back of this chapter...but enjoy :)

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Cormac sat bolt upright. Waking up in strange place was becoming an unwelcome habit. He looked around at his new surroundings. He was in a sparsely furnished room - no pictures adorned the walls, no mats covered the bare tiled floors, and no furniture decorated the room, save the bedside cabinet and the bed he was lying in. The ceiling was almost entirely glass – the pale moon stared through, the dark sky speckled with stars. Apart from that, a single candle was the only source of light, flickering merrily in the gloom.

Leaving the warm embrace of the thick blankets, he slowly eased himself off of the bed. He fingered his green jerkin – his clothes had been cleaned at some point, for they were free of the mud and blood that stained them. Spying a door in the far wall, he slowly crept towards it, still unsure of his host’s motives. Whatever the situation, someone had some explaining to do.

He reached the door and noiselessly opened it a fraction. Nothing happened. Slowly, he pushed the door fully open, revealing a long corridor, completely unlit, except from the light from the moon and stars above. He padded softly along its length, feeling extremely exposed.

Soon he reached a path that branched off from the main route. Just as he was pondering on which way to go, he heard a muffled crash opposite the way he came. He hurried down the passageway, stopping in front of a heavily-set door. Placing his ear against it, he could hear various crashes and thuds and occasional grunts of effort. He heaved it open, eager to find answers. But he was unprepared for the sight which greeted him.

“…from the beginning.” said a vaguely familiar young woman, who stood in the middle of a brightly lit gymnasium. Tattered pieces of cloth and sand littered the floor. She held a polished teak quarterstaff, and was dressed in figure-hugging black clothes. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but had a certain look that could pass for handsome in the right light. “Tessa”, his eldritch memory provided.

Lisa nodded, brushed the sweat and dust out of her eyes, and raised the quarterstaff. She was similarly outfitted. They stood side by side, in exactly the same pose.

“Go!” Tessa shouted.

Sandbags to the front and back flopped down from the rafters. Lisa kicked forwards, slightly clumsily, and stabbed backwards simultaneously. Both bags burst, showering golden motes on the already gritty floor. Another bag was fired at her from the far wall, spinning lazily through the air. With a flick of her wrist she caught it on the tip of her weapon, then pitched it up and over her, and smashed the rough bag aside behind her, sending it twirling away with a spray of sand following it.

Without warning, the floor beneath her gave way, plunging her into a shallow pit. Straining her reflexes to the utmost, she caught the edges of her staff across the opening, grunting as the lurch sent pain shooting along her outstretched arm. She was left dangling one-handed above the cushioned floor.

She paused for a moment’s breath, and then pulled herself up so that her upper body was resting on the wooden staff. Then, in one fluid motion, she flipped over, planting her feet on the edge of the floor. With a tremendous effort, she eased her self upright, every muscle complaining. She flourished her staff, ready for the next assault.

“Huh-nggh!”

Tessa cannoned into her side, knocking both of them into a sprawled heap. Lisa felt coarse sand rain down on her. Tessa stood up quickly and pulled the half-empty bag off her face.

“Drat!” she exclaimed, cleaning sand out of her eyes and nose and mouth. Lisa rose, smiling slightly, unable to quell a slight feeling of pride in outlasting her training partner.

“You okay?”

“Nothing a bucket of water won’t fix. You still know your stuff.”

“Well, it’s a bit like riding a Zuum; you never forget.” She tossed a towel to Tessa. Quietly, she added “And it’s a good thing, too…”

Unhearing, Tessa replied: “Yeah, well, it’s rather strange. I mean, I am supposed to be helping you, and you keep on showing me up.”

“Well, I’ve been doing…I did it for longer than you.” Lisa corrected herself. “Anyway, it was a bit different for me. Less…extravagant, for one. I didn’t have sandbags or cushioned pits or any of the proper safety features. I pretty much had to get it right first time, otherwise, it hurt.”

She winced and absent-mindedly rubbed an elbow as she recalled some earlier mishaps. And then she finally caught sight of Cormac, half-hidden in the door-frame, standing open-mouthed. She strolled over to him with forced nonchalance, a curious mixture of relief and embarrassment on her face.

“Hi,” she said softly. “It’s good to see you up and about, I was getting worried…I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

“I...guess.” replied Cormac weakly. On top of everything else, he’d never seen Lisa, normally energetic and eager, so subdued.

“Well, you see…”

“Perhaps it would be best if I explained.”

Cormac leapt to one side as a tall, slim man walked past, his long leather jacket trailing behind him. How had he gotten so close without him noticing? Lisa smiled, but the smile was weak and brief.

“Spooky, isn’t it? Cormac, this is Leon, a…old friend of mine.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Said Leon, smiling warmly and offering his hand. His voice was formal, every syllable slotting smoothly into place. “Lisa’s told me so much about you.”

Cormac took Leon’s hand and shook it. Leon was handsome but weather beaten, with steel-grey eyes and slick jet-black hair that ended in a ponytail. Cormac guessed he was about fifty years of age. Leon glanced at Tessa, still clutching her staff,

“I think that’s enough for one night. You two should get some rest. Cormac, have you and Tessa been introduced?”

“I am tired now, perhaps later.” Said Tessa quickly. She glared at him, and Cormac could feel her animosity, though not the cause of it. Leon seemed not to notice.

“Cormac, would you mind coming with me? I know you have plenty of questions that I’d be happy to answer. Including about your…shall we say, talent?”

Cormac hesitated, but Lisa whispered “It’s okay, you can trust him…he’s quite formal and reserved, but fine when you get to know him…I’d trust him with my life, and that should be good enough for you. I know this is all really confusing, and I’m sorry, but it’s just the way things are.”

He turned to Leon. “Alright, Lisa vouches for you, and a friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Excellent. Please, this way.”

Lisa gave Cormac a quick hug. ”I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Cormac nodded, and then scrambled after Leon. Lisa watched him go.

“Please say yes…” she murmured to herself.

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Cormac walked in silence at Leon’s side through a short maze of passages. Everything about Leon – his mannerisms, his posture, his appearance – it all screamed upper class. But Cormac was quite familiar with the local nobility (it was a part of the curriculum in the MRA School – occasionally, an especially skilled trainer might be invited to such a person’s home, and it paid to know a little about what to expect), and he didn’t recognise Leon’s face. His thick Kanturk accent dissuaded any possibility of him being foreign, as well.

“Would you like to collect Thenardi?” said Leon. Cormac nodded.

Soon, the reached what Cormac assumed was the infirmary. He was amazed by the scale of the room. It seemed to be rigged up with the most up to date technology, including many machines Cormac didn’t even recognise, seemingly designed for a great many monsters – Thenardi, sitting on the edge of a huge bed designed for a baku or dragon, looked somewhat lonesome all on his own. He quickly bounded up and away when he saw Cormac, delighted to see his master once more. Cormac scratched behind the toy cat’s ears, similarly happy.

“He pined for you quite a lot, but he needed to rest. I’m impressed by your bond.” said Leon.

“Well, I’m lucky – we just work, always have, always will.”

“It may be more then luck.”

“How so?”

“Come, I’ll explain when we reach the library.”

Eventually, they arrived at a large, ornate pair of doors, which Leon pushed open, without breaking stride. Cormac paused, for beyond was pitch darkness, as a passing cloud had blocked the moonlight, plunging the entire corridor into total blackness. He hovered at the entrance, unsettled by the strangeness of his surroundings – what house had little or no man-made light?

“Ah, forgive me. I am more comfortable in the dark, and am unaccustomed to guests…one moment…there.”

A candle-flame flickered into existence, and Cormac gasped involuntarily. The weak light revealed shelf upon shelf of thick, dusty books which lined every wall, reaching high into the ceiling, further then he could see, and dark shadows hid many more. Cormac had visited the main Kanturk library, and the amount of books here rivalled that, perhaps even surpassed it. He knew that if he spent his entire life in here, he wouldn’t be able to read half of what was stored. Leon placed the candle on a low table he was sitting at.

“So. What do you want to know first?” asked Leon, steepling his fingers and giving Cormac a long, cool stare that he would become accustomed to.

Cormac thought briefly. “Where am I?”

“You’re all in my home on the outskirts of the Kanturk suburbs. We brought you four here directly from the stadium.”

Cormac nodded slowly. The memories of the bloodshed and destruction burned in his mind, swamping his memories with the horrible images. Almost as bad, the haunting memory that how easily [i]it could have been[\i] him amongst the victims…

“I’m not scared at all.” he thought to himself. “Weird. I’m just angry. I mean, I can feel the fear and terror, like an icy numbness in the back of my head, but the anger just isn’t letting it out…”

“What about my talent, as you so nicely put it?”

“Of course. One moment, while Harlequin kindly obtains an essential tome for my explanation.”

Leon whispered a command, and a shadow detached itself from the wall. Harlequin slipped silently away amongst the bookshelves. Cormac watched admiringly, even in the unusual situation.

“Your Kato certainly knows how to use the shadows.” he said.

Leon nodded. “You have your gifts, and I have mine.”

Cormac thought carefully before speaking again. “Are we talking about the same…unusual…gifts?”

Leon said nothing, but placed one hand in a pool of shadow on the table. He pushed down. His hand and arm moved effortlessly through the wood – the table was thick oak from top to bottom, and as far as Cormac could make out, solid through. It looked like his hand had been sliced off.

Cormac, alarmed, leapt to his feet. He felt a gentle prod on his right ankle. Slowly, and with great reluctance, he looked down. Leon’s hand, quite unharmed, poked out from the tiled floor. Cormac looked back at Leon. He was watching him, a calculating look on his face. A long moment passed.

Finally, Cormac closed his eyes, took two deep breaths, and said in an almost-normal voice, “I see.” He opened his eyes again. Leon had both hands pressed together on the table. Cormac sat back down. Thenardi hadn’t moved throughout the entire demonstration, and was looking at Cormac with a faint expression of bemusement across its face.

“My apologies if I startled you, but it seemed the best way to demonstrate one of my talents, and hopefully give my stories more…credibility.”

Cormac glanced at the table, vainly searching for any sign that it was all some kind of trick or joke, but to no avail. What had he gotten himself into?

“Well, you have my attention.” he said weakly.

Harlequin returned, carrying a large and dusty tome.

“Good, now listen carefully, because the next hour will change your life forever. I suppose I should start…”

An hour passed. Cormac sat back and rubbed his forehead.

“Let me get this straight…basically, after all of that history and dates and facts, I’m a…” – he tested the unfamiliar syllables in his head before uttering them aloud – “...a Bua ó Creideamh?”

Leon nodded. “In our language, it roughly translates as ‘Avatar’, or literally ‘Gift of Belief’.”

Cormac drummed his fingers on the table. It felt as though his world had come loose, and was now twisting and flailing, looking for something secure and normal as it fell into uncertainty.

It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling.

“I have to tell you Leon, if you hadn’t just stuck your hand through a foot of solid oak, I wouldn’t been even entertaining what you’re saying, but it’s your hand. Why me?”

Leon paused, and for the first time was hesitant.

“I…cannot say for certain. I have speculated that the Avatars are direct descendants of these warriors, or perhaps live close to where the god was sealed, or are simply chosen at random, but I have no real way to prove any of these theories.”

“Okay…if I believe what you are saying, then who am I the ‘Avatar’ of?”

Leon had produced a small copper coin from somewhere in the long black jacket he wore.

“I have my suspicions, but I need an empirical test.” He placed the coin on a well-groomed thumbnail. “Call it.”

Cormac felt a slight tug in his mind as he focused on the small coin as it glittered in the half-light. It felt as though a thousand voices, familiar voices whose names he couldn’t quite remember, were calling him, telling him which way to guess. As the coin arced lazily through the air, a single thought shouted –

“Heads.” He said aloud.

The coin vanished into Leon’s hand. With a flourish, he placed it down with a ‘plunk’ on the table. The carved face of a long-forgotten ruler stared back at them.

“That proves little. Again.”

Nineteen flips later, Leon placed the coin on the table once more He regarded Cormac with another cool stare. The young man looked flustered – his cheeks were red and unease lined his face. Cormac felt both thrilled and disturbed at his waking gift.

“Every single guess correct. I flipped the coin each time, and you had no way of tampering with the coin either before or after.”

“Coincidences do happen…” said Comac falteringly. Not even he believed that.

“True, but I can tell you that the odds of correctly predicting twenty coin flips in a row are…” – he paused, silently mouthing numbers – “…about 1.3 million to one. Now I can introduce myself properly.”

He rose to his feet; again Cormac saw the grace and poise in his stance. His suspicions were confirmed – this man had noble blood in his veins. Leon offered his hand.

“I, Leon de Malachite, Avatar of Scáth, greet you, Cormac McLaughlin, Avatar of Tairngreacht.”

Cormac stood and shook the hand carefully. It was the same hand that had passed through wood, stone, and seemingly space. It felt perfectly normal – nothing more than flesh and sinew.

De Malachite...the name was familiar, but he wasn't sure why...

“You are the Avatar of the Future, and I, as you might have guessed, am the Avatar of Shadows.”

“The future? What does that mean, exactly?”

Leon rolled the coin between thumb and forefinger. “By the looks of it, precognition. As well as some generic traits that all Avatars seem to have.”

“What traits?”

By now Leon was tossing the coin into the air and catching it again absent-mindedly. “Well, you’re going to become somewhat stronger, faster and tougher than an average person. We enjoy especially strong bonds with our monsters, who also share our talents and increased fitness. Plus you’re both going to live longer – I’m almost eighty, and Harlequin is pushing twenty, now, but we’re both still close to peak fitness. You’re lucky.”

But the glare on Cormac’s face showed that he wasn’t very happy at all. He felt things rush away from him – he was in a situation where he wasn’t fully in control, and where he had to rely on someone else. He had vowed never to rely too heavily on another person – it just caused too much pain in the end. He just wanted to be free…

The coin struck the ceiling and deflected away. Without thinking, he reached up and caught it in the palm of his hand. Leon nodded approvingly.

“But this doesn’t make any sense!” Cormac protested. “How come I didn’t know…um…?”

Leon now held four coins.

“Call them.” He replied, seemingly ignoring Cormac’s complaints.

“Uh…three heads, one tails.”

The candle-light picked out 3 dragons and a single face.

“Hmm. Care to try again?”

Cormac close his eyes and concentrated. “Two of each.”

Four coins plunked onto the table. “Three and one. You see, for simple tasks, like a single coin flip, you can manage. You might be able to get two right, or possibly, with a lot of effort. Three. But for complex events, like four at once, you don’t have enough skill to foresee the outcome properly. You’ll still have a better chance than most at games of luck, and you also probably have excellent intuition, and occasional precognitive flashes.”

Cormac nodded. “So...what, that’s it?”

“You can be trained. With time, you should be able to predict more complex events, as well as events further in the future. You might even be able to manipulate these events, forcing favourable outcomes. But that’s a long time from now. If you wish, I can aid you. I have many years of experience, mainly with myself but also with one or two others.”

Cormac looked down. “No.” he whispered.

Leon looked nonplussed. “What?”

“I said no. This is a gift I didn’t ask for and don’t want. And now I know, I just know, whether it’s through my “gift” or not, that you’re going to ask me stay and help you do something that is none of my concern. Well, the answer is no, alright? Please don’t argue, or try to convince me. My past has been nothing but striving for a state of normality, and now that I’m almost there I’m not going to be turned away. Now, please tell me hot to get out of here.”

Thenardi made a distressed little sound in the back of his throat, causing Cormac to wince.

Leon said nothing. Then, with just the hint of a sigh, he said “Very well, I will not force you to do anything you don’t want to. Leave the way you came, take a left and keep going until you reach a set of double doors. They will lead you outside. I’m sure that you can find your way back from there. I’ll let Lisa know that you’ve left, I’m still not sure of her plans.”

“Thank you.” said Cormac, swaying slightly as he rose. “I’m truly sorry.”

Leon watched him go.

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Cormac shook his head as he walked towards the front door, unable to free himself from the mist that seemed to cloud his mind. Had Leon done something? Drugs? No, Lisa said she trusted him, so probably not…but then again, Lisa wasn’t acting quite right either…

He was aware of the penetrating gaze of Thenardi beside him, clearly unhappy with his actions. Whenever Cormac turned to look at him directly, however, he quickly looked away.

“Look, Thenardi, it’s none of my business, okay?”

No response.

“It’s not like I can do much – I’m just a kid, and I’ve seen what those guys can do…”

More silence.

“Anyway, I’m sure that the militia…can...handle…”

He’d emerged onto the main street of Kanturk, thronged despite the fact it was still the early hours of the morning. Surprised, he turned back to look for the way he came, and saw nothing more than a dilapidated wreck of a house behind him. Something was wrong.

A shrill scream whirled him around. Large crowds were huddled under the flickering torches, next to the gutted hulk of the stadium. Many were crying, some were sullen, but all were miserable. All of Cormac’s senses were assailed in an instant – the horrible stench of disinfectant and blood, the chill air, the fear and sadness of the crowd, the sounds of those sobbing, and the atmosphere of anger and grief and sadness that hung the air, choking him, filling him with nausea. His stomach took another lurch as he caught sight as he caught sight of row upon row of white sheets, covering half of the square.

Drawn inexorably towards the chaos, no more able to resist than a moth to a candle and despite Thenardi mewling and tugging and pulling him back, desperate to avoid the sight which was clear for all to see, Cormac saw the fate of many more innocents, if those responsible were not stopped, if he didn’t help to stop them. The knowledge sat in his mind, cold as ice, solid as marble, big and horrible and unmovable.

He tottered over to a deserted alley, and was violently sick.

And still, the horror increased, for he saw a grieving relative slowly lift a veil, under which lay a familiar face. A kindly old face, one willing to chat while selling a programme or two, content in her small role. And now she would never laugh, or cry, or feel anger or joy or do anything else ever again…because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and no-one could have saved her…

Except…him?

And this would happen again and again…unless he did something…

Oh, hell…

“I felt this would do more than anything I could say.”

Leon placed a hand on his shoulder.

“This was a dirty…way to get me to help you…” croaked Cormac.

“Really? I’m just showing you something you are trying to block out, limiting yourself. I know it hurts, I know it’s difficult, but the simple fact is that this is the way things are, and it’s up to people like you and me to help fix it. I went through the same thing sixty years ago. But I was alone. And I promise you that I will aid you in any way I can.”

“So, here I go again, put into a situation I don’t want to be in, by forces beyond my control.” Cormac murmured to himself. He shuddered, and then straightened up.

“Are you a good teacher?”

Leon smiled. “I guess this is where we both find out.”

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I'm already half-way through the next one, so it should be avaialable a little faster next time. As usual, comments, etc. are appreciated.

Mwuaha...Katos...

Very nice installments, and I apologize for my tardiness in reading your last two chapters.

Both nicely done. I really enjoy the "Avatar" twists, and even then, Fate wouldn't have been one I could have imagined.

The battles are so well done and the environments so excellently portrayed that I can't help but be envious of the raw talent that is beginning to surpass me...

Guess I'm just old and rusty.

Speaking of the such, I just reacquired Microsoft Word on my computer, so expect me to plug out a few new chapters in the next week or so. Still trying to get my new apartment up and running (or at least clean) for the time being.

I await the next installment with baited anticipation, so let’s give people some real nail-biting chronicles to follow, eh?

Somehow, I know you won't disappoint.

Simply... amazing.

Your words flow through me like an evening rain, accompanied by the sweet smell of orchids, and the blooming of new ideas, along with the flowerings of the already spawn.


Superb, amazingly well written... extremely well done!

RANK: S