The
Virtual
Realm

Future Impossible

The Arch-Mage was waiting as Presto entered the chamber. Flanked by the faithful Drow servants, he was sitting on a high-backed throne, casually leaning on the curved sidearm, his eyes glowing with a malevolent delight.

Half-dressed, cold and afraid though he was, something inside the Magician was strong enough not to panic; for panic was what Venger obviously wanted him to do. Fighting to breathe, he forced himself to look his captor in the face.

The Arch-Mage watched with a slight, odd-looking smile as Presto was brought before him and force to kneel at his feet. Then he gave a slight bow.

‘Greeting, young Magician.’

Presto didn’t reply, and one of the Drow guards stepped forward, as if to strike. With a flick of his hand, Venger stopped him.

‘Leave us,’ he said.

Presto didn’t know whether to be pleased or not; being alone with Venger, at any time, was not something he enjoyed. But he saw the Drow bow, and fade away into the shadows. Only then did the Arch-Mage look back down at him.

Still on his knees, Presto stared back, quaking inside. Why didn’t Venger just get on with it, whatever it was? The Magician had been alone with the Arch-Mage before; but this time he seemed different; more evil, if that was possible. Just being in the same room as him this time made Presto’s skin crawl.

Eventually, the Arch-Mage rose from the throne and walked over to one of the walls of his throne room, towards a large object, covered in a black drape. Without looking at it, Venger pulled the material off, letting it fall to the ground with a soft swish. Behind the drape was a Mirror.

It was large, nearly twice the height of Presto himself, and had an ornate ebony frame, depicting gargoyles and demons and other figures doing… Presto wasn’t close enough to be sure of what they were doing, but it looked horrible. The surface of the Mirror, while reflective, was covered in a thin dusting of frost, as if it had been left in a freezer. It stood free of the wall, on a heavy stand, and was tipped back slightly so Presto couldn’t see his own reflection. Even when he stood, he still couldn’t make out anything on the surface.

Venger stood to one side, with an ugly half-smile on his face. It was an expression he’d never seen Venger us before. It was malicious and cold and utterly unforgiving.

‘Do you know what this is?’ Venger said after a long pause.

‘A mirror?’

‘Not just any mirror, my young Magician. This is one of the Great Mirrors. This is the Fourth Mirror of Nynad.’

‘Who’s he?’

Again, a smile slid across Venger’s face.

‘I do not expect the Dungeonmaster told you of him. He was a wizard, a very powerful one; but he was arrogant and foolish, and careless. Though he persevered through adversity, his legacy is only this Mirror; one of five that were made to see into the Realm’s past, present… and future.’

‘It can see into the future?’ asked Presto, intrigued in spite of himself. ‘It can show what will happen?’

Venger shook his head, very slowly.

‘It can show what might happen. For there are no absolutes in Time.’

Presto was on the verge of mentioning the Crystal of Kronos, but that didn’t seem wise, in the present circumstances. Besides, intrigued or not, the Magician knew enough of the Arch-Mage to still be afraid.

Silently they waited again; Venger watching him. Presto’s mind was suddenly racing with the possibilities of such powerful magic. He could find out where the others were, if his spell had worked and if they were safe.

His breaths grew more shallow. Then he could find out if they all got home. He could find out if they all got home.

He stared at the Mirror, intoxicated with irrational hope and the desire to know. This Mirror would tell him what happens next; it would show him how they got home. He would be able to keep going, knowing that; even if it took years, he would still know. He could still keep his hope up.

‘If you wished, you may look,’ said Venger.

But that was a bad idea. That Mirror was evil.

He knew it was a very, very bad idea.

Venger wanted him to look; Presto could sense that this is what it was all about, this single moment. But there was an ache inside that wouldn’t go away; he couldn’t turn down the chance. He should, but he couldn’t. The dark, gleaming surface of the Mirror could tell him what he desperately wanted to know.

‘I,’ he mumbled. ‘I, would like, to know.’

God, he wanted to know. He needed to know they were safe. He needed to know if they ever got home.

Venger’s expression didn’t flicker, there was that same, skewed smile as before. He took a step back into the shadows, away from the Mirror and lifted his hand, leaving the way clear for Presto to move forward and look.

The ache inside grew stronger; he had to know what had happened to the others. He had to find out. He looked at the Mirror’s cold surface, and the ache grew stronger still.

He had to look.

He stepped forward, right up to the stand.

At first, all he could see was his own reflection; thin, cold and humiliatingly naked. He looked himself in the eye, knowing this to be wrong, but unable to stop. Seconds passed, and slowly his image faded. The thin veil of dust seemed to fade too, and he was looking into the dark as if there was nothing else in existence.

At first the flashes were of his home, his real home back on Earth; images of school and his parents, and the things he’d done.

There was a yearning, wistful feel to the images, for this was the past; and they were blurred and out-of-focus. Days changed, he moved to a new school and found new friends. And then suddenly it was that day; the day the amusement park opened.

The images took on more definition, the colours grew stronger; and Presto watched in angry impotence as the six friends made their way round the park, slowly and inexorably towards the new Dungeons and Dragons Ride.

He wanted to shout out a warning, but the words stuck in his throat. He watched them join the queue; he watched them stand and wait, laughing and watching the other people come out safely. He watched them move closer; ever closer.

Then it was their turn and the ride car moved off.

One moment they were on the ride, the next they were running for their lives from Tiamat, their new weapons in their hands; such was their abrupt arrival in the Realm.

Then the images skipped lightly onwards, never focusing on one thing for too long. But they were always powerful moments; spelling his friends to the Giant’s Castle, returning to the Realm after the Bogbeast-Eric, facing Hank as he fired the signal arrow from the Cloud-bears treetop home, and then Varla,the beautiful Illusionist was in his arms; he should have kissed her when he had the chance…

The image changed.

This time, all his friends were there and he recognised the situation. This was at the Orc encampment, during their most recent run in with the Orcs.

Hank had picked up the unconscious girl, the Chief’s daughter, and started back out of the camp, with Bobby following close behind. Sheila had pulled up her Cloak, but Presto knew she was following the Cavalier back to help him and Diana as they struggled with the rearguard.

No, I don’t want to see this.

For a few seconds, the four of them had fought well. Then there was a piercing scream. Presto could hear it now as then; a cry of such terrible pain that it made him feel sick all over again.

In the Mirror, beside the now-visible Thief, Diana stumbled to the ground.

Each one of the three friends turned to look, and Eric lowered his guard in shock. Then the Orc came, its sword flashing bright white against the dark ranks of its comrades. The Shield defected the main force of the blow, but Eric staggered under the power of the attack and lost his balance. The Orc moved in to finish him off.

Presto held his breath, afraid for his friend even though he knew what happened next.

There was another flash of white, as Uni ran forward and jabbed the attacking Orc with her horn, as hard as she could. It only distracted him for a second at most, but it was just enough for Eric to recover, and raise the Shield once more, and Uni covered beneath it, trying to hide from the enraged Orc she’d attacked.

The Cavalier looked up, his expression one of pain and fear.

‘For God’s sake, get us outta here, Presto! Now!’

The words were clear to him again, he could hear the desperation in the Cavalier’s voice.

Then it was the spell. Not the best spell he’d ever tried, but it was the best he could come up with. He’d said the words, and closed his eyes and hoped.

There was a deafening boom, and a huge cloud of dust billowed up around them. In the Mirror, he now saw Sheila pull Diana to her feet and stagger off through the mass of blinded Orcs. But they were disorientated, and went the wrong way out towards the grasslands, not the Village.

And as the dust settled, he saw himself, lying motionless on the ground. But there was no sign of either Uni or the Cavalier.

The Mirror faded to black once more.

The Magician took an anxious step forward, almost unable to keep himself upright he felt to light-headed. He had to know what happened next. He could hardly breathe. He reached out.

‘No!’ said a voice from beside him: Venger. ‘Do not touch it!’

Presto blinked, and swayed, the confusion and fear making it difficult for him to keep breathing.

‘What happened?’ he gasped. ‘I have to know. Where are they?’

‘Did you not see?’

‘That was the past,’ he said desperately. ‘The past, not now, not the future.’

‘You wish to see more?’

‘I have to know where they are,’ he said, pleading with his captor, hoping for some glimmer or compassion.

There it was; that smile again. The smile that made him feel sick through his soul and cold to his heart. It was a smile of pure evil mixed with pure triumph. He shuddered.

‘You have to concentrate on them,’ said the Arch-Mage, the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘And you have to ask. Ask nicely!’

Presto turned back to look into the deep surface of the Mirror.

‘Show me my friends. Where they are now.’

Nothing.

‘Please show me! Show me Hank!’

The Mirror changed abruptly, the surface melting from black to grey; the grey of approaching dusk.

Hank and Bobby were there, soaked and cold, waiting beside a fast-flowing river. Hank was looking across the grassland, an expression on despair over his handsome face.

‘Hank…’ murmured Presto, reaching his hand out towards the Mirror, so close he could almost be reaching out to touch him on the shoulder.

Suddenly, the Ranger stiffened, and turned abruptly, bringing the Bow round too and nocking an arrow. Then there was a shattering screech from behind them; a sound that Presto recognised as the call of a Red Dragon.

Hank turned pale as he loosed a volley of arrows. The screech grew louder.

Then there was another cry from the behind them. There was another one, hovering in the air, it’s talons ready to strike.

‘NO!’ gasped Presto.

The Mirror flicked out.

‘NO! It can’t be! NO!’

He didn’t know if he said it out loud. No, Not Hank. It couldn’t…

His breath was coming in short painful gulps. He turned to Venger.

‘That’s not true, that can’t…’ He had to stop. He couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out.

But the Arch-Mage was nodding very slowly.

‘This is happening. It is happening as we speak. They are seconds away from destruction.’

‘The Mirror does not lie.’

Venger’s face was impassive this time.

‘What about the others,’ he asked desperately. ‘Eric, Sheila, Diana. Perhaps they can help…’

The Mirror darkened once more as he said their names. He saw Sheila and Diana moving across the grasslands trying to outrun the Orcs, the Acrobat fading with every step and the Thief getting weaker too. They disappeared together into the forest, and the Orcs soon gave up. But the girls were obviously lost.

The trees grew thicker, and finally Diana couldn’t go any further, and she slumped down against a tree. Beside her, Sheila waited, watching over her friend as best she could, but it was obvious what she was thinking.

Sure enough, she pushed herself up, and headed off to find help.

Presto watched with growing horror as Sheila kept herself going through the forest, getting more lost and most disheartened with every step. Then she stopped by the river, unable to stand, and slipped into a dark, exhausted sleep.

The scene changed; Sheila was still beside the river, but awake, and it was dark. She had seen something. She had seen Hank on the other side.

Presto’s heart leaped, and for a second hope filled him. Then he saw Sheila run forward into the swollen river. But Hank didn’t see her

The Magician watched her wave and shout with a growing urgency. Then she stopped and looked up at the dull red gleam in the sky. There was the screech of the dragons.

Recoiling from the Mirror, Presto closed his eyes.

His head snapped round.

‘Where’s Eric?’

The Mirror’s surface didn’t change. Smooth darkness was all he could see.

‘Eric?’ he said, his voice starting to shake. ‘Where is he! Show me!’

There was no change, and the Magician was forced to look at Venger for an explanation. But the look of Venger’s face held no comfort.

‘Where’s Eric?’ asked Presto, beyond caring that he was pleading with his enemy. ‘Please tell me he’s ok.’

This time, the expression was one of slight confusion, tinged with anger, and Venger replied:

‘I do not know. But the Mirror does not lie.’

Presto looked back to the cold Mirror surface. There was nothing to show. There was nothing to show, because…

There was nothing to show, because he wasn’t there to be shown.

Presto looked back at Venger, and read in that blank expression confirmation of his greatest fear.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ The Magician’s voice was choked with raw emotion. ‘Oh, God, he’s dead already.’

‘The Mirror will show what it is ask, but I have not seen the Cavalier. I know nothing of his fate.’

It won’t show it, because it can’t.

‘Oh, God, he’s dead.’

Unable to do anything but stare at the floor, he couldn’t believe it, yet there was no other explanation. Presto didn’t move as time ticked on; he hardly even breathed.

… dead.

Suddenly, he was filled with the need to know.

‘Show me what happened!’ The Mirror still didn’t change. ‘SHOW ME!’

Face with the implacable black of the Mirror, Presto raised his fist to strike at the surface. His wrist was caught by the Arch-Mage, who held it fast in an ice-cold grip. He didn’t let go, though Presto tried to pull away.

‘Magician, there are still your other friends.’

‘It is happening as we speak,’ said Venger.

‘Why are you showing me this? Why do I have to watch them d-‘

He choked on the last word.

‘It was your choice, Magician. You chose to look.’

And how he wished he hadn’t. But the lure of knowledge had been too much. Venger had known it would be. He’d been so dumb, so easy to manipulate. It was just what Venger had wanted.

‘They are not gone yet, Magician. There is still time. Just.’

‘But I can’t do anything!’ he shouted at the Arch-Mage. ‘I can’t help them!’

There was the smallest of pauses, and Presto knew what Venger was going to say next. He’d walked straight into it…

‘But I can help them.’

Still held fast by the Arch-Mage, they looked each other eye to eye; and Presto knew he had no choice. He’d looked, and he’d seen what was happening. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing; no matter what the cost.

No matter what the cost: And it is going to be high, Presto. Very, very high.

He’d walked into the trap; and such a clever trap it was. He had no other choice.

Weakly, the Magician nodded his acceptance.

‘Help, them. Please.’

Venger slowly released his grip on Presto’s wrist.

‘I will expect something in return, Magician. Are you sure?’

He had to nod again. He couldn’t see any other way out. Venger had won.

‘If you’re sure…’

‘How do I know, how can I trust you?’ Presto said suddenly. ‘You’ve lied before.’

Much to his surprise, the Arch-Mage laughed.

‘You have grown, young man,’ said Venger. ‘You understand better this time. So I will vow, before my Master, that I let no harm come to those you see before you.’

With that, a sick, sinking feeling lurched through him. He’d done it. He was Venger’s willing slave now. He was the traitor. He lurched back form the Mirror, unwilling to look in case he saw his own treacherous reflection.

A swish of black clothing rouse him from staring at the floor. Venger was now watching the Mirror, reaching out into it. Beside him, two of the Drow was standing, waiting for orders.

‘Return him to his cell,’ said Venger, not turning round. ‘Return his robes, and feed him.’

The Drow pulled him upright, through he could hardly keep his legs from buckling. He was the traitor now. What was he going to do?How oculd he do this to the others, to himself?

Everything was growing darker, everything was growing faint.He only got as far as the throne room door, before he passed out.

= = =

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Watching and Waiting