The Calling

(This is my third re-do. )

Clark Aerons

Only darkness existed to Clark as she slept. Clark's mind and body were too tired to process dreams, and on a soft bed in a warm room that was just fine.

"Clark." A soft and beautiful voice forced its way into her mind, and the darkness vanished as white light flooded in. "Clark, it's time."

Green rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see. The scent of spring blossoms blew in on the cool breeze, but the sun above warmed her cheeks.

"Where am I?" She asked, clearly confused since she remembered that it was autumn in the forest town she had been visiting.

"You're in my realm, Clark, but not quite. Physically you're asleep in Riverstead." The disembodied voice explained. "And I go by many names." She answered before Clark could even question. "However, the one I was given is Terrana."

"I need to find my horse." Clark dismissed the whole situation as a crazy dream as she began to trek the hills that before her.

"You won't. Not here at least, but you do need to listen. Even if you choose not to actively believe in me, you're still one of my Chosen. In fact, you're the first of your kind in this age, and I made it so for a reason."

"I'm what?" Clark paused at the crest of the hill. Her face showed the growing confusion within her as she turned her head this way and that to locate the where exactly the voice was coming from.

"You're not just a mage, but Chosen. That means you'll be acting on behalf of my will, but take some comfort in knowing that you won't be alone."

Three people suddenly appeared before her, but there were no real details to their appearances. Their bodies, their faces, their clothes, everything was a shadow as if they were simply contoured silhouettes. "These three men are also my Chosen, and you four are just a few among many." Clark looked at each ethereal man in turn. There was a tall man with a staff and beast at his side. Another standing shorter than her by just a little, but he was stout and held a maul in his hands. The third held a dagger in one hand and clutched at his neck with the other. "The druid, the warrior and the assassin, but they will not be the only ones to follow you. The chosen, however, bare my mark." The three shadow men held their left arms out to display the golden light etching an intricate pattern onto their jet ethereal flesh. "This is the same mark that all Chosen have worn since the dawn of your kind. This is the same mark that you will wear."

Pain filled Clark's mind and the golden light etched in the black pattern on to her her left forearm.

"Unfortunately, there is a price for bearing the mark, but a little pain is the least of your worries. First, you will leave Riverstead on the south road and meet the assassin. You are his salvation from the order. I can unlock his mind from their control, but you must release him from his shackles. Follow the sun to the cabin."

"Wait! The order?" Clark's gaze snapped away from Terrana's tattoo to the sky where she assumed the voice was coming from.

"Yes, and though you have regrets about your decision to leave, it was a wise thing to do. They Order of Divinity is now going beyond the slaughter of mages. They're turning to conversion and slavery. Some of my children are joining them thinking that having the gifts I have given them are a curse. As such they commit themselves to a life of redemption for being an abomination. That life entitles them to kill those like them and eventually kill themselves when their time his up. Those that do not convert and are too useful to kill are enslaved to seek and destroy others. This order must be destroyed at any cost."

Clark remained in silence for a long moment, trying to process everything from the spring weather to the Order. "But," she began, "you're a goddess. The soul of this world with great power to destroy those that interfere. So...why? Why do you leave this up to me and a handful of others?!"

"I want you to know that you and your soon-to-be companions won't be the only ones carrying out my will." The soft voice had changed like Clark's surroundings. Terrana's voice was cold, just like the harsh winds shoving against Clark. The three shadow men burst into ash and the healthy green grass died. The scent of spring no longer carried on the wind, but instead the stench of burning flesh and blood surrounded her. The clear, blue sky quickly became hidden behind a dense layer of storm clouds that darkened with the smoke rising to greet them. "It's not only your kind that can lose faith." Terrana boomed in a chastising tone. "Only fifty years ago I was released from my incarceration by your kind! Your kind that chose technology over the gifts I gave them! Even though I've returned to this world, a growing cult chooses to believe in a false god that demands the slaughter of my children!

I've given you humans so much, and now I don't have much faith left in you. If you cannot succeed, I'm will rid this world of your kind and start a new!"

Clark cowered at the storm raging around her and the anger of the goddess. "I'm sorry!" She cried out to Terrana. "I'll do it! I swear! I'll do it"

"Good." The voice boomed louder than ever and shook Clark to her core. "Now wake up!"

Clark woke up abruptly, panting and sweating while her heart thundered in her chest. She took a quick survey of her surroundings and with great relief discovered her rented room. With a heavy sigh of relief she sat up in bed and pushed her whiskey colored hair out of her face. It was a dream, she thought then froze. Slowly she pulled the left sleeve of her loose, white linen shirt up. The blood drained from her face as she saw Terrana's mark upon her forearm.

Brynden Winters

Cold rain pelted his face as he rode hard into the night. The stolen horse's hooves pounded the muddy road north to Riverstead. Brynden's victim, the blacksmith, awaited him there, but the horse would only get him within a mile. Had he more control over himself he would have taken his time and not be on his third horse. However, if he had been in control he would never have taken up the blade as an assassin.

A soft voice and warm breath brushed his ear and called his name. His eyes strayed from the road ahead only to find nothing but trees passing along side the road. Brynden turned back to the road just in time for a blinding flash to light up the area. Naturally his hands went to his eyes, leaving the reigns to fall free on the stolen horse's neck. A sudden and massive gust of wind freed him from the saddle to crash on to the road. Somewhere to the side his mount whinnied and crashed into what he could only assume was a tree. Brynden remained on his back dazed and sucking in breath to make up air knocked from his chest.

"It's time." A voice said, the same voice that had whispered in his ear. The voice came from a the figure of a woman made of a warm, golden light. He lifted his head just enough to see her approach and discover she had no discernible features. He dropped his head back into the mud as she stared down at him, letting her warm roll over his chilled body.

"It's time." A soft, beautiful voice echoed gently from the being of light though she had no mouth to speak of. He found himself staring at her, unable to move away even if he had somewhere to be. She knelt by his side and placed a radiant hand against his forehead. "I can unlock your mind, but I am not your salvation." It felt as if something were falling away from him as if he were letting go of weight and a great sensation of relief fill his mind. "The blacksmith you were sent to find is your true salvation, but know that you have been chosen."

A sharp slicing pain sprang up from under the leather armor of his left arm. He grimaced and hissed at the pain, but found delight in being able to express the pain he felt.

"This will not be easy for you. From here you must travel north along this road until you meet the blacksmith. Show her the mark I have left on you, and she will free you entirely. When you are free, you will accompany her to your next destination.

However, if at any point your body or mind fail you and you cannot continue before she can remove it, the runes will reactivate and you will be a slave to The Order once more. If you do not have the tenacity and resilience to make it to her, if you let the Order take you over and destroy her, you will have doomed us all. Go." And just as she had appeared, she was gone.

Brynden scrambled to his feet and dashed north on the road. The horse was likely dead, and there was no time to check. He honestly believed the whole situation was ridiculous and unbelievable, but if there was a chance of freedom then he'd believe a hallucination any day.