Chapter 2: Champion

    He fell for a long time without feeling any sort of impact, as though he were in a bottomless pit.  Eventually, the falling sensation ceased, but everything was still dark.  That's when he realized that his eyes were closed.  He opened his eyes see a world engulfed in light.  An enormous fireball could be seen hovering above him, as though some magical experiment gone awry were in process, holding the fate of the world captive.  The ceiling, which was normally either black or brown, was a light blue color, with splotches of white marring its perfection.  Around him stood several men, each garbed in a black traveling cloak with a silver clasp.  He looked down to see that he was dressed the same way as they, except his clasp was gold.  Beyond them stood a green field that seemed to stretch on until it met the horizon.  One of the men leaned down closer to him, and began to speak.

    "Sir, are you alright?" one of the men asked him.

    "We stopped after you fell to the ground.  What happened just now?" another said.

    Deklos tried to open his mouth to answer, but found that he lacked the ability to do so.  He had questions he wanted answers to, but no way of asking them.  He was about to give up in frustration when he felt his mouth open and heard himself say something.

    "I have no idea what just happened, men.  It was like a dream where I was experiencing someone else's life.  Probably a vision of some sort. I'll consult the oracle when we get back to base."

    "Do you feel able to keep going today, sir?" the man asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

    "I'm fine, Lagos," Deklos heard himself say, "We should move as soon as we can.  The gods know that we need to report what we saw to the base."

    The men helped Deklos up, though Deklos was starting to think that he was really not himself today.  Each man, including Deklos, picked up his own pack and started to walk north.  All was quiet as they walked, giving Deklos a chance to think.

    'What is going on here? Why can't I control my own body? And where am I?  I've never seen this place before; it's almost as if it must be...'

    A sudden thought hit Deklos hard.  He was aboveground.  The blue ceiling must be that thing called "the sky" in the old books, and that fireball must be the "sun."  Considering these things, he looked more closely at the clasps that each man wore.  Engraved in each one was a symbol that Deklos has seen quite often: the Crest of the Dark Lands.

    'If these men are from the Dark Lands, then what are they doing aboveground?  What in the name of the Night King is going on?'

    A flash of light blinked probably a mile away.  Seeing this, the other men from the Dark Lands became worried.  Deklos even felt himself become a little anxious at the sight.  The steady hike became progressively brisker, until the men had nearly broken out into an all-out dash for the source of that light.

    "We're too late!" one of the men shouted.

    "All the more reason to get back to camp quickly," Deklos felt a foreign entity say though him, "Hurry!"

    As the men ran across the plain, another flash of light erupted, this time much closer to them.  The men in the black cloaks seemed to expect this, but then the unexpected happened.  A deep purple pulse flashed where the light had been moments before.  It seemed to engulf all the light of day into itself, before vanishing.  This sight seemed to encourage the men for some strange reason, as though the purple burst of power symbolized all that was not the flash of light.  They hurried across the plain, shapes beginning to take form on the horizon.  These vague shapes became buildings, and in the center of these buildings a war of incredible brightness and eternal dimness took place.  Finally, they arrived at the camp.

    The men did not rush into the theatre of war, but rather hid in the shadows on the sidelines, watching the drama unfold.  Before them were a host of lifeless bodies littering the ground, some wearing black and purple, others wearing white and gold.  Two champions could also be seen in their field of vision.  One appeared to be a man with long white hair and a pair of white and golden wings.  His wings were feathered, like birds wings.  In one hand he held a golden sword that possessed an aura of power.  In the other hand, he held a globe of pure light magic.  He held his sword arm at his side, blade ready should it be needed, as he held the globe of energy in front of him.  Facing this champion was one that seemed to be his antithesis.  This other champion had jet black hair and a pair of dark bat wings.  He held a lance in one hand and a sphere of dark magic in the other.  Behind each champion stood the remainder of their armies, ready at arms should their hero fall.  Each champion stared at his opponent, hatred clearly visible on his face.  In this brief moment, all was still, before the champions began their dance of death once again.

    The battle between the champions was not one that could be easily described by a casual onlooker.  For one thing, the duel took place at incredible speeds, sunlight flashing off of weapons and powerful magic flying this way and that.  The champions focused on each other, each trying to gain the upper hand over the other, neither yielding, neither able to make the other yield.  Sword clashed against lance, light met dark to create brief explosions of incredible power.  Finally, the champions flew away from each other.  The Champion of Light smirked, and once more gathered light magic in his hand.  The Dark Champion, seeing this, gathered his magic as well.  After a few seconds of gathering power, the two released their powers against the other.  The Dark Champion's magic flew in a globe toward the Light Champion, swerving this way and that in a nearly unpredictable path.  The Light Champion saw this and brought his sword to bear before him.  The sword met the dark magic, and the dark magic dissipated.  The light magic flew in a straight line toward the Dark Champion...and completely missed.  The magic went right by the Dark Champion, causing no harm whatsoever.  The Dark Champion began to laugh, but stopped abruptly as he heard screams accompany the minor explosion caused by the impact of the light magic and the ground.  He whirled around to see what had happened, and death and destruction engulfed his vision.  The magic had missed the Dark Champion, but hit its true target: the regular army that the Dark Champion led.

    Rage mixed with the Dark Champion's hatred of his opponent, and he began to gather an immense amount of element.  The Champion's pendent glowed intensely as he let loose this power.  The magic did not take the form of a globe but that of a wide beam that shot toward his enemies.  The Light Champion tried to block the beam with his sword, but was unable to hold it off for very long.  He quickly dodged out of the way to avoid injury, and so the beam went by him and engulfed the soldiers that the Light Champion led.  When the beam dissipated, the only ones remaining alive in the camp were the men hiding in the shadows and the two champions.  The champions, seeing that they were in a deadlock, turned opposite ways and left the encampment.

    Now, only the soldiers with Deklos were left.  As soon as the Light Champion was out of sight, they got up from their hiding place and hurried after the Dark Champion.  It took them quite a few minutes to catch up to him, given the head start that he had.  When they finally found him, he was no longer the awe-inspiring titan that they saw on the battlefield.  Now, he was a mage of average height wearing black and purple robes, and around his neck hung an amulet with a strange crest.  It seemed to be an artifact of some sort, so Deklos left his investigation of the amulet at that.  After all, most mages owned an amulet that they kept a backup spell or two in for emergencies.  The Dark Champion, now a mere man, had black hair that came down to his shoulders and a clean shaven face.  He still wielded his spear, but now carried it with both hands, as he was not strong enough as a human to heft such a weapon in a single hand.  The Champion raised his hand in greeting toward Deklos and the soldiers, relief showing on his face.  He was obviously grateful that more than just he had survived the great battle.

    "Naros, you survived!" the Champion said.

    Deklos felt his lips move of their own will again, and heard himself say, "You seem to be doing well yourself, Celthan.  We seem to be too late to help with the initial skirmish, though."

    The face of Celthan the Dark Champion fell.  "Yes...they attacked us from a distance.  Half our troops were gone before I could help them."

    Deklos, or Naros as the Champion had called him, replied, "Yes, we know.  Their camp was empty by the time we arrived.  We would have arrived sooner, but I was injured by a magical trap.  I was out cold for the better part of an hour before my men woke me."

    "It's better that such a thing happened.  If it hadn't, you'd all probably be dead right now ... or worse.  Our spies tell us that prisoners of the Light Kingdom that know magic are tortured extensively.  They seem to be trying to learn our magical techniques."

    As the Champion finished speaking, a look of absolute horror came over his face, and he started casting a spell.  Deklos saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, and spun around to see what it was.  The Light Champion was there behind them, he had apparently followed them in order to surprise Celthan.  As Deklos fully faced the Light Champion, he saw the Champion release a spell of some sort.  A second later, Deklos felt a searing pain in his chest.  He looked down, and saw a ball of light magic lodged in his chest.  Unfortunately, it was not merely stuck in his chest, it was also expanding.  This was gradually causing his internal organs to dissolve as the potent magic came in contact with them.  The pain worsened, and Deklos felt himself fall to the ground and begin to black out.  The last thing he was aware of before losing consciousness was Celthan yelling, "You're killing my brother!  You'll pay for this, fiend!"

    When Deklos awoke, he looked down at his chest to check the extent of the damage, but he was not wounded at all.  He was also not on a plain, but in rather sitting in a chair in his own office.  The piles of papers and books were all still there.  His clothes were intact.  Nothing seemed to be amiss, yet...what he had just experienced seemed too real to be a dream.  Yet now, it was as if it had never happened.  The only evidence that the events had indeed transpired as Deklos had experienced them was his own memories.

    "I don't understand, what just happened?  And why did it happen to me?" Deklos murmured to himself as he began to worry about how intact his sanity actually was.

    Deklos looked out the window, and saw that the lights of the subterranean city were beginning to dim.  It was about time he headed back home, after all he had a competition to attend tomorrow.  Deklos gathered up the books he had meant to read, and carried them out of his office.  He walked down the hall and down the stairs, reflecting all the while of the strange experience he had just had, taking the turns almost automatically until he arrived at the University Library again.  He walked through the doorway, dropped the books on the librarian's desk, and left.  Nothing seemed to register in his mind as he allowed his body to walk home.

    'The Dark Champion and the Light Champion, who were they?  Was that a future of our land, where we return to the surface and engage in a war?  No, that can't be.  Not unless the Light Kingdom on the surface has absolutely no concept of magic whatsoever.  So it had to be another Dark Kingdom on the surface...but that can't be...our history tells us that no one of our nation stayed aboveground.  So what was it?  A dream?  Some kind of strange vision of the past...?  Ah, I need to concentrate on combat techniques now or I won't beat anyone tomorrow.  How embarrassing would it be for an archwizard and professor of applied magic like myself to lose a duel to some inexperienced hedge wizard?'

    As Deklos thought that last thought, he noticed that he was standing before the doorway to his home.  He was momentarily bewildered by the fact that he had somehow traveled across town without being aware of it, but then shrugged it off and stepped inside the dark building.  After all, he had a competition tomorrow that he needed to prepare for...