Illusional Reality Read online

  Unfortunately, every time Darthorn used the Dark Force it cost him dearly in return. To receive the deadly mist, Darthorn sacrificed ten of his warriors to prove his loyalty to the dark side.

  Having no special gifts of their own, the warlords of Senx used the Darkeye for guidance. It spoke to them, giving advice and direction. Only in desperate circumstances would they call upon the Dark Force.

  The Darkeye was a jet black, oval crystal, housed in a cavern within the warrior's domain. Only a warlord could enter. Certain death was promised to anyone else who tried. Should a warlord employ the Dark Force, he would call on it and be given the price of payment before he could make use of that power. Most of the time Darthorn used the Darkeye for predictions.

  The eye told him of a very special Ganty that was to be born, one who would eventually destroy him. He decided to kill the child before its second birthday, and so planned a surprise attack. As always, his plan had been prophesied and the child sent to a place of safety. In desperation and outrage, Darthorn had the King and Queen killed, leaving Tsinia without a Ganty to rule them.

  ***

  Salco was the first to see the stones flicker. He tapped Omad on the shoulder to get his attention. Omad opened his eyes and saw it for himself; the Changlins shone unsteadily, as if unsure what to do. Silently, he prayed, although Salco spoke his feelings aloud. “Go on, you can do it. That is it—slowly…”

  Omad smiled. Salco was talking to the Changlins as if they were one birthday old. However, it seemed to be working. He had a difficult time stopping himself from joining in. Instead, he silently willed them.

  The glow strengthened and the Changlins were as bright, if not brighter, than ever before. In delight, the men stood and hugged each other. Once composed, Omad left the Plecky and hurried towards the Tora in the hope that Thya had recovered, as he was certain she had. Salco ran quietly behind.

  ***

  Valcan unintentionally fell to sleep. He woke a while later and after filling himself fully, felt stronger than before. It took a few moments before the memory of Thya flooded back. Even before he reached her, he knew she was going to live. As soon as he walked into the room, he noticed her rosy, glossy skin. She had full red lips, and her cheekbones were more defined. However, what stood out the most was her long, silver hair (notorious with a Ganty.) She was Tsinian; there was no doubt in his mind. Kneeling down beside her, he placed his hands an inch above her chest. He smiled to himself, satisfied with his work. She was sleeping peacefully and her skin looked vibrant and healthy. He couldn't help but stare at his beautiful princess. A tear rolled down his cheek. He felt proud that he had the skill and power within him to heal her. Only, was this delicate flower really their saviour?

  He had just sat down when he heard a frantic knocking on his door.

  “Enter,” Valcan said.

  Salco and Omad stared at him questionably.

  “Our lady is well?” Omad inquired.

  “She is well and resting.”

  “Grant praise to the Changlins,” Salco and Omad chorused.

  “Salco, go to the council and inform them on our lady's wellbeing. Advise them I will appear shortly.”

  Salco bowed, and then departed.

  “To what extent will our lady slumber?”

  “Tis difficult to sense. At this moment, she is weak and requires relaxation,” Valcan answered.

  “I grasp this. Nonetheless, I am compelled to converse with her as soon as I am able.”

  “I am aware of the urgency, Omad. However, I do not recommend this. She is not in a state to receive you. It would be unsafe to agitate her.”

  “I am confident you are just, Valcan… Swear to me, the instant she wakes, send word. Not one is to converse with her prior to me.”

  “Your command is understood, Omad. I will dispatch word without delay.”

  Omad left the Tora in haste, knowing the council would be waiting to hear from him. He'd made a grave mistake sending Salco to retrieve the princess on his own. He was expected to be wise and foresee the unforeseen after all.

  ***

  Becky woke from her sleep to find a sombre face looking down at her. She sat up in surprise.

  The blue tunic that hung neatly on his lean, tall build was tied around the waist with a plaited grass belt. A single binding of wild grass held his long chestnut hair off his face. He had a stern appearance, with penetrating blue eyes and a short, yet bushy beard. Becky assumed he was middle aged though not quite mature in years. Who was this strangely dressed man? And where was she? She recalled the strange man who had stepped in front of her in the alleyway. She looked down to where she'd been hurt and was surprised to find herself dressed in a green quilted embroidered gown. Her eyes opened wide; she'd never seen anything quite like it. Becky looked wildly around the strange shaped room. She was dreaming, yes, that was it. It was all a dream. The shooting, the strange man, she would wake at any moment in her own bed. It may have started as a nightmare but was turning into a pleasant dream.

  She turned her head to observe her surroundings and a wisp of silver hair fell to her chest. It was the first time her hair had changed colour. Spotting a mirror on the other side of the room, she jumped off the bed to take a good look at herself.

  Her mouth gaped open. She looked like a fairy from A Mid Summers Night Dream. Maybe that's who she was. Titania. Queen of the fairies.

  “Wonderful,” she spoke aloud.

  Suddenly remembering the strange man in the room, she acknowledged him. “Hello. Who are you?”

  Valcan remembered Omad's words, bowed, and quickly departed.

  “How rude,” Becky mumbled.

  She returned her attention to the mirror, enjoying the unusual realism of the dream. She was eager to check out her surroundings and take in every sight and sound, savour every moment. She hoped when she woke she would have something to help her remember the unusual dream.

  ***

  Valcan found Omad standing in front of the councillors. He wondered how Omad felt, being on the other side for a change. Many a time Valcan had been in that position, and he hadn't liked the feeling at all. From the raised voices, Valcan sensed the meeting wasn't going too well. He coughed to gain their attention. Omad turned to face him and relief washed over his face. He seemed to know instinctively why he had come.

  So not to look like he was hiding in the shadows, Valcan stepped into the centre and nodded respectively to the councilmen. There was no need to speak to Omad for he looked eager to leave. Valcan turned to follow his friend when one of the members called out to him. He walked towards the addressing star in the middle of the floor.

  “I am your servant as always,” Valcan greeted.

  “Announce to us, Valcan. What is our lady likened to?”

  What a question to ask him. Were they asking if she could liberate Tsinia? He couldn't answer that. Was she beautiful? Certainly, there was no doubt in his mind. Only the question had many hidden meanings, and they were waiting patiently for an answer.

  “She is a Ganty,” was his reply.

  Their curiosity satisfied, they signalled for him to leave. Valcan soon caught up with Omad.

  “Did you converse with her?” Omad asked.

  “I did not. Although she is eager for dialogue.”

  “Is that so?”

  Valcan left him at the door, knowing that Omad wanted to speak to her alone. Omad entered the Tora and found Thya walking around the room looking curiously at all the possessions. He stood patiently until she noticed his presence.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Thya put down the trinket and studied the strange looking man. She wondered if he would be as rude as the other one. He was authoritative looking, that much was clear. A tall, robust figure with an ageing long, white beard, though his kind blue eyes gave way his gentle nature. His pale grey robe, tied with a rope of the same colour, flowed as he approached her. His bare feet were visible beneath it as he walked.

  Omad fixed his eyes on B
ecky's well-defined features, relieved to note the colour had returned to her cheeks. She was a Ganty, most certainly, and a beautiful one at that. Kovon would be pleased with her.

  “You remind me of someone,” Becky asked.

  Omad laughed, rejoicing to see his princess alive and seemingly happy. “I am named Omad.”

  “Hello, Omad. I'm Becky.”

  “Nay, you are not,” he declared. “Come… I have something to convey, and you would be more comfortable being seated.”

  That was the hard part over. All he had to do now was convince her of who she really was. He cleared his throat before beginning. “You are named Thya. You are the princess of Tsinia, sadly the last of the Ganties. You were returned to your homeland as a result of an ancient Oracle, which prophesied that you would deliver your kinsmen from Darthorn, the warlord of Senx. Further will be clarified to you in the coming future.”

  Omad stopped to observe Thya's reaction, waiting for a look of horror to cover her face. Instead, she burst out laughing. “Oh, how wonderful. I've always wanted to be a princess.”

  Omad was pleased to hear that and sighed in relief.

  “So when do I get to meet my prince?”

  Omad frowned. “How are you aquatinted with Prince Kovon? Who has conversed with you?”

  “Nobody has conversed with me,” she exaggerated his strange choice of word. “It's obvious isn't it? Every princess has a prince charming, but he must be handsome and a real gentleman, if I am to do this right.”

  Omad was confused. “Right?”

  “Well, yes, this is a beautiful dream. I don't want a spotty, ugly prince, do I?” She laughed.

  Omad suddenly understood. Although she had listened to him, she was dismissing everything as a dream. This was worse than he could have imagined.

  “Thya, tis not an illusion. You are awake. Tis not your inventiveness. Tis reality. You are required to grasp the importance of why you were returned. Your citizens await your aid.”

  How was he supposed to convince her? He wished Alkazar was present, for he had knowledge of her world and would communicate better with her. Maybe he ought to be called upon.

  “If this is… reality,” Thya said, “then as your princess, you can't keep me locked up in this room. I can walk out of here this very minute.”

  “If that is what you desire. You are not a felon; you are not even a guest. Tis your home. You are the rightful heir. Just the same, I suggest you dress in the proper attire, lest you chance upon your subjects.”

  Thya looked down at the beautiful gown she was wearing. “What's wrong with this?”

  “That garment is for resting.” Omad chuckled to himself. The thought of their princess being seen in sleeping apparel was quite humorous. “I will summon for your attendant. She will be certain you are suitably attired.”

  This would also give him time to find Alkazar.

  Deciding to play along, she waved him away. Omad left in search of Thya's chosen attendant.

  “This is amazing,” she squealed. Didn't every girl dream of meeting their prince charming? It was such a vivid, peculiar dream, it was almost frighteningly real.

  A gentle tap on the door got her attention. “Come in,” she called.

  A lovely brunette girl entered. She wore a dull coloured robe, with a grass belt, while her long, brown hair was neatly tied back. A cream silk dress hung over her arm. The young Tsinian curtsied before approaching her mistress. Taking Thya's hand, she led her to a stool next to the mirror. Thya watched carefully as the girl began to dress her hair.

  “You're very quiet,” Thya remarked. “You either can't speak or have been ordered not to. It doesn't matter which… So this place is called Sidinia?”

  “Tsinia,” corrected the girl, and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

  Thya turned around. “Ah! So you do speak.” She laughed. “It's okay; I won't tell the old man. So, what's your name?”

  “Kezar.”

  “How old are you, Kezar?”

  “Old? I do not comprehend.”

  “How many years of age are you?”

  “I do not recognise what is meant.” Kezar bent her head, ashamed of not being able to understand her mistress.

  Thya realised she would have to explain herself if she was to make Kezar cheerful again. “Okay. When you are born, you live one day, which makes you one day old. When you have lived eight years, you are eight years old. Understand?”

  “I believe so,” Kezar replied, dressing Thya's hair. She braided the sides and pinned them to the back of her head while the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Kezar stood Thya up and began undressing her.

  “So how old are you?”

  The girl stopped what she was doing and considered. “I am not aquatinted with this. We do not embrace year or day.”

  “Really? That's so weird. Well, I'd say you look about eighteen.”

  “You will not sight many Tsinians younger than I,” Kezar said.

  Thya was curious. “Oh, why is that?”

  Kezar explained. “When we are born, we are an infant for a short while, a day I believe you name it… Then on our second birthday, we become at an age…” Kezar checked to see she had said the word correctly. Thya nodded. “At an age when we are intelligent enough to master the code and arts… Tis a short while since I first commenced.”

  “Are you telling me there are no children here?”

  “Tis true. I beg of you, do not convey to Omad that I have conversed with you, for tis not my place.”

  “This is incredible,” said Thya, astonished. “You know, the worst thing about having a child is the dirty nappies,” she joked.

  Kezar looked at Thya blankly.

  “Oh, never mind, you wouldn't understand.”

  “I have concluded,” announced Kezar. “You are prepared.”

  Thya stood up and admired herself in the mirror. She certainly looked like a princess, her hair was beautifully pinned and the silk dress reminded her of a Roman toga. The front hung modestly and tied around her waist was a gold coloured rope.

  She sighed deeply, wishing she could look this way when she awoke. Men would fall at her feet. She twirled around, swishing the long skirt from side to side.

  “You are beautiful, Thya. You have the appearance of a true Ganty.”

  “What's a Ganty?”

  “Tis the title of your ancestors. All rulers of Tsinia are named Ganties. Sadly, you are the conclusion, tis why you have been returned.”

  Thya ignored Kezar's last comment and walked towards the door.

  “Nay, Thya, we are compelled to remain, we cannot depart unaccompanied.”

  “Am I your princess?”

  “With certainty, only—”

  “Then I command we leave—now.”

  Kezar curtsied, and ran ahead to open the door.

  Thya made a mental note to make an appointment with her hairdresser when she woke up. Silver highlights and hair extensions would suit her, and she would certainly get noticed around town.

  Thya didn't go any further than a step, stunned by the sight in front of her.

  Her lungs filled with the scent of flowers and wonderful perfumes, the air smelt so sweet and pure. She stared in amazement at the magnificent sky. The unique silver, blue, cloudless sky and the suns, or was it moons? Two of them, one full, and one crescent shaped.

  She was in a forest, that much was apparent. Tall, dark trees littered the open path, only they were no ordinary trees. Each thick trunk had a small wooden door on it, painted in bright colours. Most of them were closed. However, Thya saw one that was ajar and glimpsed a set of wooden steps that must surely wind inside the trunk, as though they had been carved out of the tree itself. Colourful flowers and plants bloomed beneath the tree. Each small garden looked well kept, as if dearly loved and tended.

  Thya finally stepped out of the Tora and found the ground to be soft. Like all Tsinians, she was barefooted. The forest floor was covered in wood chipping and gold
en, crisp, leaves that crunched as she walked upon them. Thya gazed at her strange surroundings.

  To her immediate left, she saw two strange shaped grey buildings. They looked as if they could have been made out of clay. To her right was another, but much larger in size. The rest of the forest seemed clear of buildings. The routes to them were clearly defined by a well-trodden path. Apart from the obvious tracks, the remaining forest was rural and wild, just as nature intended. Without another thought, Thya headed in the direction of the Plecky and Escos.

  ***

  Alkazar had been given the task of tutoring Thya in the arts. The only gift he possessed was teaching his fellow Tsinians how to unleash and control their special powers. Not everyone had a gift, but those who did possessed varying skills, passed from one bloodline to the next. Like the Zeniths, they had the gift of Sight and could tell future occurrences.

  The rulers of Tsinia, the Ganties, possessed the gift of Flite, and could move objects with their mind. It was a difficult gift to unleash and would take a lot of work to teach Thya. To make his task harder, Thya should have been trained from her second birthday. Only now, she was to come to him at twenty-four Earth years. How was he supposed to teach her at that age?

  To add to this undertaking, Athron had urged him to train Thya… well, as quickly as possible. He told Alkazar about the last Oracle and Alkazar took the threat seriously. He had studied Thya's world so could communicate with her better than others. He understood how she lived and of the human emotions.

  The last few tril moons, the name Thya had been spoken in every conversation and he was eager to meet her, to see if she was all she was supposed to be.

  Alkazar was busy studying when he heard Omad calling up to him. It was unusual for anyone to shout up to the dwellings, and he wondered why Omad did not come up in person. He knew it had to be important so he put the book down, walked to the wooden balcony and leaned over.

  “Alkazar, a moment,” Omad called up.