Marcellus tensed. There was nowhere to go, but he knew that he wanted to be anywhere but in the impossibly white room with a man who could control aspects of reality, yet not control his emotions.
The Man with Mirrored Eyes exhaled. The storm inside of him seemed to subside and the room illuminated to its original brightness. He continued as though nothing had occurred.
"The final realm is Anshaer, where only the winged ones are permitted. Together they combine to form the true world, Marcellus. Not the realm you behold with your restricted perspective."
Marcellus could not help pointing at the level not spoken of. The one on the very bottom. "What is this realm, then?"
A spasm of fury flickered across the face of the Man with Mirrored Eyes. "That is Ersetla Tari. The Shadow World that Anko claimed for his own, where the Night Mares run wild and dead dreams weep bitter tears. Legends say that the greatest knowledge can be found in those dark depths, but no such treasure exists. It is a realm of endlessly shifting doorways, illusion guised in the form of hope. Nothing dwells in Ersetla Tari except lies."
The darkness of his expression clearly forbade Marcellus from pursuing the subject any further. He cleared his throat. "Why…are you telling me this?"
The Man with Mirrored Eyes seemed amused. "Because you are my servant, Marcellus Admorran, Champion of Kaerleon. And I expect my servants to be as informed as possible."
Marcellus did not reply. He was aware of the emotionless gaze upon him as he racked his brain for a way to respond. He couldn't acknowledge the man's statement, but to deny it would more likely than not result in dire consequences.
The Man with Mirrored Eyes saved Marcellus from his quandary. "You appear not to believe my words. But it was you who championed my most trusted servant. Only a wyvern and her rider could traverse the Threshold to Kuan. When you agreed to be that rider, you opened the passage for her to eventually make her way here to me."
Marcellus shook his head. "I don't remember any of that. I went into the lair and discovered the dragon was real. The only thing I remember after that is coming back out."
"Of course. Your memories cannot cross the barriers of the different stratums. You lost the ability to recollect your time in Kuan the moment you returned to your own world. But know that what I tell you is the truth."
Marcellus dared to look into the other man's mirrored eyes. "I don't understand what I have to do with any of this. The wyvern, the Reaver…why was I chosen for these roles?"
When the globe winked out of existence, the Man with Mirrored Eyes sat directly in front of Marcellus as though his chair crossed the distance in an eye's blink. "You do not know your bloodline, Marcellus. Humanity is ever forgetful of their past. Yours is the blood of kings, as well as the blood of the Elious. Which means you have the blood of royal Aelon in your veins. You were born to do great and terrible deeds, in the legacy of your ancestors. And you will do them for me."
"No." Marcellus was surprised by the firmness in his voice. "My actions are the result of my choices. I am no one's thrall." The words felt hollow as Leilavin's pallid face loomed in his mind, her smile mocking.
Laughter seemed to whisper around him, although the Man with Mirrored Eyes had not opened his mouth. When he did speak, his voice was so hushed that Marcellus had to strain to hear him.
"You know who I am, don't you?"
Marcellus felt as though invisible needles stabbed his chest. "No."
"You lie." The words echoed in the glowing room.
Sweat dripped down Marcellus' brow. "Please. I…I want to go. Please…"
"Go?" The Man with Mirrored Eyes turned. The nearest wall winked out, exposing Marcellus to the terrible view of the inferno that bloomed in the sky, and the blackened world of misshapen stacks of jutting ebony rock scarred with veins of liquid fire.
That was the least terrifying sight.
The Man with Mirrored Eyes stood on the outside rampart, cloaked in darkness. Only the reflective orbs of his eyes were visible as he stared at a figure in the distance — a heavily armored figure on a monstrous steed which billowed gouts of flame from her mouth as she reared. The Reaver raised its onyx sword in a challenge to its enemy…
The Man with Mirrored Eyes turned to Marcellus. "Where can you go, Marcellus? Don't you see? I am already in your mind."
Marcellus choked as he lurched to his feet. The chair winked away instantly, vanishing into nothing as the room spun in dizzy circles. The Man with Mirrored Eyes watched the Reaver from the rampart outside. The same man gazed at Marcellus without expression from inside of the brilliantly lit room.
"You cannot think to contest me, Marcellus. I have defied the boundaries of time and space. I shaped the very landscape of your world. You were brought here by a Night Mare that can traverse impassable boundaries, into a realm where no man can enter. Do you not wonder why? Because my designs demand your complete subservience. And if I have set my designs upon you, then you will act in accordance to my will."
Marcellus gasped at the invasive sensation of cold fingers thrust into his mind. He staggered and clutched his head, but there was nothing he could do to resist. The assault was a raging river of malignant force, his mind a pebble cast into its midst.
There was no longer a man in front of Marcellus. Mirrored eyes surrounded him from all sides. They reflected hundreds of images of himself over and over, every one of the reflections magnifying the terror etched on his face.
Fingers seized him, pulling him deeper into the fathomless pupils. He fell into nothing, weightless. He dissolved into nothing, losing himself piece by piece, falling forever.
MARCELLUS AWOKE WITH a start and grabbed the hand on his shoulder. His dagger whistled before stopping at Nyori's throat. Her eyes were wide with fear, her body frozen. The staff in her hand was the only illumination in his darkened tent.
He sheathed the blade with trembling hands. His voice was rougher than intended when he spoke. "What are you doing here?"
"You were thrashing and yelling like a madman." She raised shaky fingers to the red line on her throat. "They summoned me when no one could wake you. You were sweating, literally burning up. I thought I would have to heal you again—"
Marcellus turned away. The visions of the night fluttered in his mind like caged ravens, murky and indistinct. "What is in me can't be healed, Nyori. You should know that more than anyone."
Her eyes held unwanted sympathy. "Marcellus, I saw what Leilavin did to you. You should not even be alive. What you are, what you can do…is impossible."
His voice softened somewhat. "I am sorry that our paths had to cross, Shama. I fear I have exposed you to much evil since we met."
"You had nothing to do with what's happened to me." Her eyes dropped. "I was in this long before our paths crossed."
He gazed at her. She was frightened of him, but for some reason he felt it was not the obvious, not because he was the Reaver. "Nyori. You have no reason to trust me, and every reason to stay away from me. Why are you here?"
She looked away, and for a moment he was sure she would not answer. When she looked at him again, her eyes were afraid. "Because what happened to you is my fault. I warded you, something that hasn't been done in over an Age. Because of that, Leilavin was able to bind you as a Reaver. I have to undo what she has done to you. I am the wielder of Eymunder, and I have to learn to use it correctly. We cannot let them win, Marcellus. We have to find a way to defeat them somehow."
You cannot think to contest me…
Marcellus winced. It had been no dream. He had been there. It had something to do with the way the Night Mare traveled, the waves of darkness that carried her outside of their reality. He had been there, pulled by forces beyond his comprehension into that world of fire, where the Man with Mirrored Eyes…