Corcoran finished telling his tale and left the town of Norfolk a little bewildered. The mere thought of 50 years passing to what he thought was only 30 cast a strange shadow of doubt over his intentions. The conflict he had left behind would be at least 60 years in the past; this “Galen” could not be the same one he had heard stories of while he grew up. Was it possible that the Galen he now wanted to slow down was actually the son of the legend? So many questions ran through his mind.
He wondered what kind of spell his old master had cast on him. He knew that his invisibility cloak did something to way time flows around him every time he used it but he did not think that he would miss 20 or more years just by using it. Something was strange about how his old friend Richard could hardly remember him. It was a good thing the walk to Pespid would take another four maybe five days, he had a lot to think about.
Planning a new conflict would be difficult if there were no news of any unrest through out the known world. He would have to meet with the messenger in Pespid, maybe he would learn of any unrest. The many years between his childhood and now would certainly throw a kink into his plans. It was just a small twist; he could overcome a small twist.
The sun was still high in the sky, but there was a cold wind coming from the south. Corcoran could feel the moisture in the air; a storm was coming. The storm would slow the messengers down, but it would also slow him down. He would have to continue in the rain. Thunder cracked in the distance letting him know that it would not be a safe journey; but in this day and age no journey was without its own risks. At least he would be able to avoid any encounters with beasts. He did not want to use his cloak or magic unless it was necessary. Learning about the slow passage of time worried him so.
The overcast skies enveloped the sun creating eerie shadows everywhere. Weather was the least of his worries. Corcoran pressed on through the now darkening forest. The occasional flash of lightening was his only light as the thick rain filled clouds blotted out the sun, with the inevitable crash of thunder filling the air and his ears the heavens unleashed their torrents of rain. It was pathetic how the weather seemed to emulate the confusion in his head.
Corcoran’s curiosity had made him want to sabotage these two messengers on their way to Colodia. But what was more curious was the passage of time around him; intuitively he linked the difference in time to magic. Had his old master deceived him? The old man practised the dark arts so the assumption of deception would be a definite.
As the rain rapidly soaked through the magical cloak Corcoran wore his thoughts went back to his tenure as an apprentice of Kartu. The evil master Kartu thoroughly enjoyed toying with men’s perceptions of the truth. His heart knew that Kartu was behind him but also lay ahead of him; a chill ran up his spine. Corcoran felt like he was being watched. Every time he thought of Kartu he could not shake the feeling of eyes preying on his every move. Could his old master be watching him back in the fortress that he used to call home? Corcoran had seen the black pool that Kartu used for far-seeing. Thinking about that black pool made another shiver run up his spine. He pressed on through the rain; next stop, Pespid.
Come back next week for Part 5...
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