Chapter 2

2.
         Tristian hadn't felt the silent tingling tug of teleportation, nor did he feel like they had shifted in space at all. Nor did it feel like any time had passed at all, other than the ten or so seconds that had elasped while his eyes were closed. He knew the Agents could do a hell of a lot of things in ten seconds but this didn't seem to be one of them.
         You see, everything had changed.
         While before he had been standing on a concrete and slightly cracked sidewalk, with the few brave strands of grass poking up in the crevices, now he was standing on solid dirt, with tufts of grass plentiful. The pavement that made up his familiar street was gone, replaced with a forest that was thick and dark and just like he had always imagined a real one would be like. Hell, if even smelled like a forest, pungent odors of the life and death, with the subliminal roar and cries of animals slashing through any attempts at silence.
         The sky had changed the most though. Before his view had always been obstructed by the close confines of his neighborhood. If had wanted to see the stars when he was younger, he had to look out his top floor window and even then it was never satisifying. The monoliths of nearby towers had blocked his sight, planting themselves as if they deemed their own presence far more important than anything so mundane as the sky. This was different. Everything before had been closed in and Tristian didn't realize just how closed in until now as he stared at the wide open sky, his vision without obstacles as far as he could see. Bright white clouds dotted the blue sky. A shadow passed overhead and he ducked instictively as something far larger than a bird passed casually overhead. Perhaps it flew toward the highly imposing mountains that rose in the extreme far distance, impassive giants of stone that kept their secrets bundled up by piercing through clouds, covering it all with snow.
         He turned back to the Agents, shock clearly evident in his eyes, all of his senses feeling stimulated all at once. Even then another surprise awaited him. Though the faces that stared at him were still his, the clothes had changed. He still wore his typical attire of pants and shirt, casual yet rugged enough to take the punishment his life often dealt out without being reduced easily to tatters. But the Agents were decked out in matching shimmering red robes that seemed to billow out and obscure just where their body was everytime they moved.
         Taking this all in, feeling like he was being exposed to his entire life for the first time, Tristian really only had one word.
         "How . . .?"
         Agent One merely smiled. "Magic."
         Tristian blinked and grinned, slowly turning around to look at everything around, trying to take it all in as if it could disappear at any moment. "I guess but . . . my God, how the hell did we even get here. This is . . . unbelievable."
         "Look at that," Agent Two noted with a slightly wolfish grin, "we managed to shock the boy." He clapped Tristian on the shoulder in a surprisingly friendly gesture. "Not the jaded soul you thought you were, are you now?"
         "It's not that it's just . . . I can't believe that this . . . that it's all . . . real . . ." and he trailed off, slowly spinning to stare at the Agents. "Is this real, guys? Or just another illusion? I know we didn't teleport anywhere."
         "This is no illusion, Tristian," Agent One replied calmly. "It's just as real as the world we left. Perhaps moreso, depending on your point of view."
         "We're not fooling you," Agent One added, pacing around with almost manic energy. "Not this time at any rate. I'm sure you can tell that just by being here, it all feels too real to be fake, if you know what I mean."
         Tristian narrowed his eyes, part of him unwilling to accept all of this but given all that he had seen in the past, this was just another facet added to his understanding. "Fine, then, I'll take your word that this is all real. But then, where are we and how did we get here without teleporting." He gestured at the two Agents, "And just what the hell happened to your clothes."
         "If you want to act the part you have to dress it," Agent Two said with a jaunty smile. "And if you dress the part you're expected to act it."
         Tristian shook his head. "Are riddles part of the act?"
         "No more than usual," Agent One replied.
         "Then are you going to answer my questions straight, or is there some ulterior motive here? Again." Tristian felt his voice rising but it just felt wrong to get angry here, as if he was disturbing some ageold serenity. And by doing that was just pushing events along the way they were supposed to go.
         Agent One sighed softly. "There really isn't any reason to hide anything from you, actually, even though the answers might . . ." and then suddenly he trailed off, head cocked slightly to the side. "Listen."
         "What are you-" Tristian started to say, but just then there was a muffled explosion to their collective rights. Tristian spun, seeing that they had actually wound up next to a dirt road, the way worn by apparent centuries of marching feet and squeaking wheels. Down the road a cloud of dust was shapelessly beginning to form and a dark figure came sailing out of it.
         "Whoa," Agent Two exclaimed in a somewhat excited tone. "Never did take long for stuff to happen around here."
         The dot that had been just a dot a second ago resolved itself in Tristian's vision to a man, his arms and legs flailing helplessly. The sound of his wordless helpless scream came filtering over to Tristian and he was running in the direction where he thought the man would hit even before he could think about what he was doing. His feet pounded the hard ground faster than he thought he could move, but he was still about ten feet away when the man slammed into the ground, rolled for a bit before his motion was stopped with a crack by a bush. It swayed but didn't budge.
         Tristian figured that very few people could survive an impact like that but then he heard a low moan that came from the downed man and increased his speed yet again. He reached the man few seconds later and bent down to see if how hurt he was.
         "Yah!" the man screamed at him, lashing out with his hand from his curled up position. Tristian rocked back on his heels a bit and effortlessly grabbed the man's arm, forcing it down into an extremely painful position. The man's brief look of truimph changed into a twisted expression of agony as he gasped and tried to roll with his arm.
         "I'm going to assume that it was the impact of the fall that made you do that and not any hostility to me," Tristian said quite calmly, a contrast with the near thrashing man at his feet. "Especially since I was coming over here to help you."
         The man only gasped and gagged some more so Tristian loosened the hold on him slightly to allow him to think clearly. At that point he heard a faint rustling nearby and one of the Agents shouted his name.
         "What-" was all he got out before a shadow passed over him and a body slammed right into him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of something sharp and without thinking he brought his leg up to knock the downward thrusting arm aside and then his hand lashed out to get at the face. His palm struck solid bone and he felt a crack in the other person and a shock run up his arm. Other sets of feet could be heard scrabbling on the dirt near him. The person grunted and pressed harder against him, trying to fight his way toward Tristian's throat. Tristian managed to get his hand between them and punched as hard as he could with the limited space allowed him. It was enough. The man seemed to collapse as all the air left him and a second similar punch from Tristian caused him to sail backwards rapidly. He hit the ground at a rounded oblique angle and didn't move.
         Tristian stood up fully and cast his vision around him so he could see what else was going on. There were three others, arranged around him in a slight half circle. They had a lean unwashed look associated with those who spent most of their living on the road. Balanced on the balls of their feet, they stared at him with complete dispassion, just another body to be eliminated along the road. Their clothes were just as tattered at they were but through the dirt of some of them he could see the brilliant almost forest green of their garments. The one on the ground was groaning and rocking on his side slightly in pain.
         Tristian pointed to the man on the ground. "What I did to him I could just as easily do to the rest of the you." A short pause to gauge reaction. There was none. "I suggest you all turn around and continue with whatever business you were doing before you encountered this man here." The man who had landed near the bushes was getting slowly to his feet.
         "They won't run away," he said almost breathlessly. "Travelers are so rare on the road that any one is worth whatever it takes to get him. They'll get you too, just leave me here."
         Tristian only smiled thinly. The men in green still hadn't moved either toward or away from him. "I won't leave you here but if you're friends are deadset on fighting me then they're going to get more of a fight than they expected." He slid his hand down to his belt to where the laser sword was. It would make any fight much shorter and it was obvious that these men weren't interested in talking anyway.
         But his smile faded when his hand reached his felt and grasped only empty air. Clenching his fist almost reflexively, he realized an almost frightening revelation.
         The laser sword wasn't there.
         He must have dropped it somewhere he thought but there was no time to look around. The men had sensed his momentary confusion and were taking steps toward him. He heard the slithering metal on leather slide of blades from sheathes. There was barely any time and to throw them off guard he threw himself at the nearest man. His eyes widened and he went to bring his blade up to impale Tristian on it but Tristian knocked the hand aside almost easily and broke the arm, feeling the bone give. The short sword clattered harmlessly to the ground, the noise almost drowned out by the choking scream of the man in Tristian's hands.
         He felt the cold detachment of the conditioning, the automatic motions that would get him out of this fight alive. But he could do this himself. Almost snarling he shoved the presence in his mind aside and struck at the man in front of him just once at a certain angle, causing his head to snap back nearly all the way, causing a grim crack and causing the entire body to go limp. He dropped the now dead man like a shapeless sack of something and bent over to pick up the sword. Another man was moving toward him, his blade out and darting, ready to sneak in and cut him. Tristian lashed out with his foot, sliding through the sharp defense and catching him straight in the stomach, feeling a rib give with a liquid snap and sending the man flying back. The other man danced out of the way and kicked his partner lightly to get him to stand up faster.
         Tristian meanwhile dove for the sword on the ground, rolling and snatching it up. But while he was getting back on his feet he felt rather than saw a green flicker somewhere and the metal in his hand suddenly was blisteringly hot. Tristian gritted his teeth, feeling his hand simmering under the intense heat. Some form of object manipulation probably, he had seen mindbenders do the trick before. His entire arm felt like there was fire running down it. Tears sprang in his eyes and in an effort not to waste the sword the flung it as hard as he could at the nearest man. The blade sailed straight like an edged missile and the man's started to move out of the way. But he wouldn't be fast enough.
         Except when there was another green flicker and a hawk was flapping toward Tristian from where the blade had been. He gave a shout of surprise and batted the keening thing away, where it flapped for the safety of the forest. His arm felt like it had truly been on fire and his mind didn't want to accept that one of those two men had just changed the sword into a bird. But at the same time it only made him more resolved in finishing this before him or the other man got seriously hurt.
         The man was on him now, the sword flicking at him, a flashing blur in the sun. Tristian ducked back, seeing the other man standing back, his eyes seeming to be looking for an opening, his hands moving slowly. Tristian didn't want to know what he was planning next. The sword cut at him again and he stepped to the side and grabbed the man's wrist, forcing the sword up and then twisting the arm toward the man in one motion, feeling the wrist crack and then buckle under the pressure as he jammed the sword right into the man's neck. He gurgled once and then flailed before falling still. Tristian cast that body to the ground also, feeling the detachment still on him, not wanting it but knowing it was what he needed to finish this. Killing people had never been one of his favorite pasttimes.
         He started to turn toward the other man but found that there was no one there anymore. Near him he heard the slight scuffling of footsteps on the hard dirt. Then there was no other sound.
         The man who had fallen first and who Tristian was supposed to be rescuing had stood up now and looked almost panicked. "He's invisible," he nearly shouted, his voice hoarse with fright. "Just let them have me, man, there's no reason to get yourself killed."
         "Shut up," Tristian said softly, his ears attuned for any noise. He cast his eyes out for a shadow or something to give him some clue where his opponent was. But there was nothing. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and he forced himself to calm down.
         When it came, it came right from the front. The air shifted slightly and Tristian brought his arm up just in time to feel a bone jarring strike right at his head. The air seemed to shimmer and he saw a vaguely human like figure in an almost heat haze moment. Get him on the ground, he thought to himself and he reached forward and grabbed something to yank down. The man gave a small cry as they both went off balance and rolled. Something cut Tristian across the chest as they rolled but the stinging blood didn't deter him at all. They rolled and rolled, finally with Tristian landing on top. His hand at the other man's throat he got ready to finish him off.
         He thought he heard the man mutter something that sounded obscene but found he had little time to reflect on it. With no other warning another explosion sent him flying, the air itself seeming to catch on fire. His lungs gasping, he flew a few feet and hit the ground heavily, his entire body aching and feeling as it a bulldozer had run over him. Forcefully he tried to get himself upright but he already heard footsteps running toward him. He willed his body to move, to turn his head to do something but nothing was happening. Distantly he heard the man who he was supposed to be saving shouting something and maybe the muted tremors of his footsteps but it all seemed so far away. Footsteps got closer and a shadow fell over him.
         And then two other shadows eclipsed it.
         Tristian by this time had managed to prop himself up and turn on his side. He found two sets of red robes dangling right in his face. The Agents had appeared out of nowhere and were standing between him and his attacker. He couldn't see their faces but he imagined it was a cross between slight amusement and mild unhappiness. This probably wouldn't take long at all.
         "Hi there bucko," he heard Agent Two say, in total contrast to the rather somber robes he was wearing. "You look like you were going somewhere fast. But not now you aren't."
         "Not ever," Agent One said, taking a step forward and muttering, "Don't move." Tristian had gotten to his feet finally, feeling a shakiness in his legs but otherwise feeling steady. The rescued man was trotting over, his eyes completely wide for some reason. Agent One was standing right in front of the man now, his hands clasped behind his back and eyeing the man up and down. The man didn't budge an inch.
         "I suppose I could show you some mercy," he was saying, "after all, you didn't know who you were attacking, if you had the little fight might have turned out differently." He appeared to reflect upon this for a minute. "But probably not, I'm sure even now you think there's some way of out this." He shook his head sadly. "Humans. You think you're all invincible when you're so very vulnerable. You think that just having limitness ingenuity means that you'll always escape."
         The man's eyes were moving around crazily and frantically. His entire body seemed to be trembling slightly, as if he was exerting all his energy to no avail. Beads of sweat were slowly tracking down his brow and his face. Salted tears.
         "Or maybe you don't believe that," Agent One noted calmly. Gently he took the man's chin in his hand and guided it so that the man was staring right at him. The eyes seemed nearly to bulge out of his head. Tristian realized with a bit of a shock that he had no idea what the Agent was about to do. His brother was staring at him with an expression somewhere between puzzlement and acceptance but that might have been a puton for anyone watching.
         "Maybe you look at me and you realize what I am and what I can do to you. How, even if I left you free to move, how utterly and totally useless every bit of power you have would be against me. I could find that out I guess, your mind might as well be wide open to me." He gave a thin, absolutely frightening smile. "But I really don't care all that much. Goodbye."
         And then in one smooth motion that was completely effortlessly he ripped his hand up and tore the man's head completely off his shoulders. The body, now free to move, flailed around for a second as if trying to locate the head, took a faltering step forward and then collapsed to the ground in ballet themed slow motion. Blood spurted from the gaping stump almost anticlimatically.
         Agent Two gave a low whistle. "And you've called me flamboyant. I've got nothing on you."
         Agent One shrugged. "So I indulge every once in a while." He was staring at the head with a bored sort of curiousity, as if he knew everything there was to know about it but was looking anyway on the odd chance that there was something new to see. There wasn't, apparently because a second later his arm went back and then forward in a blurred motion and the head was saying away to become a black dot against the blue sky. "Allow me my moment at least."
         Agent Two shook his head. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, if that's the way you want to play things this time out, then who the hell I am to say anything."
         "Guys, what the hell is going on here?" Tristian asked and both Agents turned to him as if they had just realized he was there. "How did that guy turn invisible and make all those explosions. And where the hell is my laser sword?"
         Agent Two gave Tristian a broad smile. "Come on, Tristian, you know the answer to the first one."
         Tristian went blank for a second and then shook his head slowly. "Of course. Magic."
         "You keep expecting things to make sense around here, Tristian, but they aren't going to," Agent One told him.
         "You still haven't answered my question about my laser sword," he responded evenly.
         Agent One did that careless shrug again. "My apologies, I forgot to mention that technology generally doesn't make the transition to here. When we go back I'm sure you'll find it in the usual place."
         Tristian just shook his head again and turned around. Agent Two had slid next to him and put an arm around him. "Listen, don't let this get you down, this place actually is great. Just because some losers decided they wanted to use magic to do some stupid parlour tricks doesn't mean it's all bad. Don't let it color your expectations." His face brightened. "You should see some of the things they can do here with the stuff."
         "Maybe you're right but so far all I've seen . . ." and he turned to indicate the headless body lying at their feet, blood still leaking out of it to pool on the ground, "is death. The same kind of death I can see back home."
         Agent One stepped forward. "Death is the same wherever you go, Tristian, there's no escaping that fact. Ever." He gently nudged the body with his foot. "You get out of magic what you put into it. These men sought to case death with it and that's what they were rewarded with in the end. I've found that these things tend to balance out when all things are considered."
         "Hey, guys, not to interupt this riveting philosophical debate, but aren't we forgetting about someone?" Agent Two asked suddenly. His hands were in his pockets and he inclined his head to indicate the person standing near them.
         "Who are you . . . oh yes of course," Agent One replied. "I can't believe I had forgotten about him." He sounded surprised at the fact.
         Tristian turned to find the man had been standing behind them the entire time. He wondered how the man had gotten that close without the Agents realizing it. Tristian felt shaken up though, like everything he had believed had been turned upside down. He didn't like the feeling but he didn't know what was causing it. Surely the things he had just seen were no more amazing than things he had seen in the past. Even the things that he had seen were nothing that he hadn't heard of mindbenders doing before with their psychic powers. But something about the entire deal gave him a mild chill.
         Thrusting the thought out of his head he regarded the man standing before them. His clothes were plain, mostly brown but ripped in places were he had taken a tumble during the fight. He was a lanky man, his face and skin toughened by exposure to sunlight but still young and smooth. He appeared to be trying to keep his face calm but some emotion kept poking out in random twitches. His eyes were the dead giveaway though. In those eyes Tristian could see absolute awe and fear and reverence rolled into one. He figured that to the man they must be a sight though, three men who look exactly alike, two of those men dressed in outlandish red robes, the other able to fight off three men with his bare hands. Yessir, they must have made quite an impression on him.
         "Hey there," Agent Two greeted him cheerfully. "I don't think we've met."
         The man glanced at him and then to Tristian's utter surprise, dropped to one knee, keeping his head bowed.
         "Milords, I am called Johan and I wish to pledge to you my services for as long as you deem it necessary. This I do swear." His voice was soft but carried conviction even if underneath there was a mild quaver, as if he really didn't want to do this.
         Agent Two smiled and bowed slightly to his brother. "Our reputation preceeds us. Or at least mine did. After that last display of your vaunted powers I think the only thing he'll pledge is to try his best not to soil his pants everytime he sees you."
         Agent One just sighed and rolled his eyes at Tristian.