Unwilling Ch. 4

“Ah, Isabelle. How great to see you.” Said a man in rather strange clothes. He sat in a delicate wooden chair, a small cup in one hand and a bundle of thin papers in the other.

Isabelle stood in an pitch black void; darkness in every direction for eternity. Though it was darker than night, she could still see the strangely dressed man as if he were standing in the sun. “Do I know you?” She asked.

The man sat his cup and papers on the ground, or where the ground would be if there was a visible ground. He stood smoothing the wrinkles from his very expensive looking pants and raked a hand through his shining yellow hair, “No. I suppose you wouldn’t know me, but I most certainly know you.”

Isabelle felt a little put off by his statement. She wasn’t quite sure how someone could know someone without ever meeting them. She crossed her arms and took a step back and asked, “Sh-should I be worried about that?”

The man laughed, “No, no. Don’t worry, I would never hurt you. I’m actually here to help you.”

She eyed the man, distrusting of his black and white clothes of expensive materials. She herd stories of royalty walking around in expensive clothes, but this man didn’t look like royalty. “Help me how, and who are you?”

“My, where are my manners?” He swept an arm around his body and bowed with his other harm hanging out, “I am Saul, your guardian angel, and if this were a different circumstance, I’d be the one escorting you to the other side.”

“The other side?” She asked.

Saul nodded, “The other side. You are dead for the moment.”

Isabelle felt goosebumps cover her body at the certainty in his words, “Dead? How can I be dead?”

Saul waved a hand in the air and the black void was replaced with the nursery Ragis had taken Isabelle to. The small thin woman with huge eyes and golden hair stood in between them, Ragis standing by the glowing tub of water. Isabelle looked around wildly, the teleportation circles that brought her to the western continent came to the front of her mind. “We’re not really here, Isabelle. We’re still in that big empty space from earlier, this is just a vision of the living world. Look there.”

Before she could question him further, she looked down at a limp form on the ground at her feet. Fire colored hair partially covered the face of a young woman with a gaping hole in her chest. Blood stained her clothes and a puddle of the same blood continued to expand on the floor. Isabelle may not have owned a mirror back in the village, but she could still recognize the woman lying dead on the floor. She knew it was herself, and she quickly grasped her situation.

Isabelle now knew she had died; Ragis ripped her heart out and killed her. The strange man was something not human or mythical, but something of a higher being. Holding tears back, Isabelle looked up at Saul, “So, what now?”

Saul waved his hand again and the inky black void returned, “Now, we have a little talk. Please sit.”

A chair materialized behind Isabelle’s legs and knocked her back into it. Saul was already seated, his cup and papers gone. “I’m dead now, what could we have to talk about?” Isabelle said, fear of the unknown after death and the hurt of betrayal from Ragis threatening her composure.

“You are dead, yes, but not for long. In roughly seven minutes, Ragis is going to throw your body into that small pool of magic water and force your soul,” Saul gestured to Isabelle, “…Back into your physical body. In the process, your body will heal to a point, and with the path into this realm already forged by your soul, you will have access to magic, just like the beings your world calls Mythics. The people of your world have done this for thousands of years with great success, so please, worry not. You will live again.”

Isabelle met the man’s eyes, hope surging in her chest. “I’m going to be okay?”

“You’re okay now. Isabelle, death is not the end of existence. The other side may be a mystery to you, but to fear it is to fear a kitten.” Saul sighed and continued, “I could sit here and talk all day about life and death and after, but we don’t have all day. What we need to talk about is what you are going to take back.” He held his hand out and pulled a blue book from thin air as if he pulled it off a bookshelf.

“If I’m just a soul, how am I supposed to take something back with me?” She asked.

Saul started flipping through the pages of his book, “Your magical talent, Isabelle. Most mythicals make this journey when they are still a baby, unable to make choices; but for those like you, you get to examine yourself and to an extent, choose a magical talent. To begin, tell me about yourself?”

“You act as if this is just another day of work.” Isabelle stated.

He bobbed his head around pondering on her words, “That is an accurate description. Believe it or not, this is just another day at the office for me.” Saul smiled brightly, amused by his own words. “I love my job.”

Isabelle couldn’t help but think of the strange man as a small child playing grown up. She shifted in her seat; she admired how comfortable the chair was. Most furniture in Fiona was rough and all home made. Her village didn’t have a resident that specialized in wood work, though her father did dabble in wood carving.

Saul pulled another object out of thin air and jabbed it into the book open on his lap. He scratched the paper with the small silver cylinder, ‘was it a writing utensil of some kind’, Isabelle thought to herself, ‘how could he write something without dipping it in an ink well first?’

“And again,” Saul said, meeting her eyes, “Tell me about yourself?”

Isabelle bit her lip in thought, but nothing came to mind, “I don’t know where to start. What do you want to know?”

Saul tapped his writing utensil on his lips, “Hmm… Let’s start with something simple, like your dreams for the future. When you were younger, what did you want to be when you became an adult?” He pointed the object at her.

The situation was odd, weird and strange and continued to be so to Isabelle’s already frazzled mind. It was bad enough that she had been murdered, but now she was being interviewed by an angel, whatever that was. Since the situation was already weird, she decided to walk with it, “When I was a girl, I wanted to be a blacksmith like my father, and as I got older, I wanted to get married and be a mother.” She said it with confidence.

Saul scratched something down in his book and nodded with her answer, “I like it. Normal girl, normal dreams. Admirable ambitions, if I dare say.” He stopped writing and read over something out of Isabelle’s view, “Okay, another easy question. Let say, hypothetically, you had the power and money to do anything in the world at this very moment. Not here, but in the living world, of course. With that power, what would you do?”

“I’d run home. I would want to go back to Fiona with my father and live out the dreams I’ve told you about.” Isabelle’s eyes drooped, “But I know I can’t. Ragis brought me here to be some sort of student of his, but he hasn’t explained what it was. It scares me how little I know of my fate. I wish I could run away from it all.”

Saul looked unperturbed as he kept writing, the continuous scratching beginning to irritate her, “I understand how you feel. You feel powerless, unable to move in your situation?”

“Yes, exactly. Ragis was able to rip my heart out without me even seeing it happen. It’d be a different if I could run from something like that, but I’m only human.” She confessed.

“I got it!” Saul tossed his writing utensil over his shoulder, disappearing into the void, and clapped the book closed. The sudden action made Isabelle jump in her seat; Saul explained, “I know what your magical talent should be.”

“What is it?” Isabelle asked, terrified of what may happen if she didn’t play along.

Saul vanished, like a candle being blown out in the middle of the night. A hand rested on her shoulder, the sudden appearence sending chills down her spine. Saul’s smooth deep voice whispered in her ear, “If you want to run away, run. If you want to gain power, grow. You have this gift with my blessing and I wait until the day we meet again. Goodbye, Isabelle.”

————

Isabelle coughed and spat as she pulled herself out of the glowing water. Her hair was matted against her eyes, blinding her. Finding her bearings, she pushed her wet hair back and the pale grey nursery came into view. Infants wailed in the disturbance of their peace and the thin woman without a nose held a blanket in her arms at the edge of the tub. Ragis was nowhere in sight, and neither were her things.

“Hello Miss Isabelle. I am Tyr, please do not be afraid.” Said the woman. She unfolded the blanket and held it up, “Please come out of the water, you’ll catch a cold.”

It wasn’t until she mentioned the water did Isabelle realize how cold the bath was. Her skin burned from the low temperatures and she couldn’t get out fast enough. Tyr wrapped the blanket around her soaking figure, “Where is my sword?” Isabelle asked.

“Master Ragis has taken it to the training hall. He awaits your arrival after you have recovered with the others.”

“Others?” Isabelle remembered how she had died and look down at her chest, the cloth of her shirt was gone, exposing a small portion of her cleavage. She pulled the blanket around herself tighter.

Tyr nodded, folding her hands in front of her. She began walking toward the door, “Please follow me. I will escort you to your quarters where you will dress for training and join the Master Ragis.”

Before Isabelle could protest, Tyr was gone. Teeth chattering and shivers beginning to set in, she ran after the small strange woman.

Isabelle kept pace with the appearingly floating woman as she walked. She didn’t think there was ever a woman that moved with so much grace that not even her hair moved. Aside from not having a nose, Isabelle was sure Tyr was everything she wanted to be in a woman.

After a while of walking, Isabelle broke the tense silence, “Excuse me, Tyr?”

Without turning around, Tyr replied, “Yes, Miss Isabelle?”

Isabelle looked around the long and seemingly endless hallway, “How big is this place? And why?”

Tyr giggled to herself, “This is the capital of Tazen. This is where the leaders of our empire reside. So, in case of an invasion, the castle must be difficult to navigate for outsiders. Do not worry, Miss Isabelle, you’ll become accustomed to it soon enough. And here we are.”

Tyr had stopped in front of a wooden door and pulled it open from the casted iron handle. She gestured Isabelle inside and the room was nothing she had expected.

Isabelle’s home in Fiona was made mostly from dirt and wood, and the main room and the two small bedrooms together were dwarfed by this single room, not to mention the bed itself would pay for her father’s home four times over. Paintings and mirrors decorated the walls, surrounding a bookshelf full of leather bound books. There were so many books, Isabelle couldn’t pull her eyes from the shelves.

Stepping into the room, Tyr followed Isabelle’s gaze, “I take it you like books, Miss Isabelle?”

Isabelle snapped back to reality and faced the woman, “N-no, not really. I can’t read.”

“You can’t… read? Miss Isabelle, what was your education like in your home village?”

Isabelle pondered for a moment and smiled, “My father taught me everything he knew. I can forge a blade and deal with money.”

“Is that all? Did the school not have competent teachers?” Tyr asked, visually bewildered.

Isabelle’s smile was soft, but her expression sad, “Fiona doesn’t have a school. We’re a four day journey to the nearest city. But not all of us are illiterate, a few of the elders can read, and often read to young children. They’ve tried to teach some how to read, but other responsibilities like preparing for the winter prevented any lasting skills from setting in.” She remembered the days when Celine would read to her, Meredith and Peter around the fire. She could vividly remember a red leather book with ingraining of a silver rabbit.

“Miss Isabelle, would you like to learn to read? It is a very common and useful skill in Tazen, and I would think you would benefit greatly for it.”

Suddenly, lights glowed in Isabelle’s eyes, “You can teach me?” She couldn’t hid the excitement in her voice.

Tyr could only smile, “Of course. I’d be honored to.” She bowed gently at the waist.

The proper decorum only made Isabelle nervous. She knew it was a sign of respect, but she didn’t think, correction, she knew she didn’t deserve that kind of respect. So, she bowed in return, only not as graceful. Standing together, Tyr walked over to a free standing wardrobe and pulled open the gold inlayed, oak door. From the head spinning amount of cloth, the Mythical woman drew away with a set of rough looking clothes, “Here, please change into this quickly. Master Ragis will be expecting you soon.”

Taking the clothes, Isabelle examined the obviously worn clothes. She wasn’t uncomfortable with hand-me-down possessions; she was actually quite thankful for it. In Fiona, to receive something from another who could not use it anymore, symbolized the trust in one another. What caused her to heasitate was what she would need them for. The way the clothes were stitched together in patches signified a kind of combat. Like the way the guards and hunters’ clothes looked after fighting off dangerous animals.

Quickly, Isabelle shed the still wet clothes from her body and noticed something odd about her body; she had no scars. Once, when she was beginning her apprenticeship, she had gotten a burn on her thigh after mishandling a yellow billet after pulling it from the forge. It had burned through her pants and left a large scar, except that it gone now. She looked over her body and noticed every sore, cut, scrape or scar she had had disappeared. She didn’t even have a mole or freckle to speak of on her pale, nearly pink skin. Holding the clothes to her chest to hide herself, she quickly panicked and asked Tyr, “What happened to me?”

Tyr looked confused once again, “Miss Isabelle, what do you mean?”

“My body!” She proclaimed as if it was obvious, “What happened to my body? Where are my scars? My freckles? Is this even my own body?” She pulled her hair in front of her face to see if it was still the same. Aside from her cloak and sword, her hair was all she had of her mother and father. Thankfully, it was still the same firey copper curls sh always had.

Tyr put a hand to her chest and sighed, “Miss Isabelle, when you were revived from the waters, your body was made anew. Any illnesses, damage or imperfections were washed away along with your old body. We call it a baptism, the rebirth of your new life. A gift from God.”

Not entirely satisfied by the answer, there was still much she didn’t understand about magic, she finished getting dressed. Once she had dawned the soft and breathable white shirt, and the animal skin pants, she was given a leather vest that tied closed at her waist. Still barefoot, Isabelle was examined by Tyr. Satisfied, Tyr turned, “Master Ragis is waiting. Come along.” With that said, Tyr made a hasty retreat.

After another jaunt through the castle halls, Isabelle’s feet slapping on the poslished stone floors and Tyr’s footsteps not so much as making a taping noise, they come across a large double door made of solid oak. Thick iron bars held the wood together and giant iron rings hung from the door, too high up for a normal person to reach. Tyr held up a hand to Isabelle, “You wait here until after I announce your name. Then you come inside. I understand now that you are not educated in formal affairs, so it is important you make a good first impression with the people behind this door as most are nobility. Remain calm, bow when approached for the first time then speak with manners when spoken to unless told otherwise. To be honest, you may be the only commoner in this castle aside from staff, so be warned. Ready?”

Nobility? Commoners? A sick feeling started to rise in her stomach. Isabelle was about to enter a world she felt she had no place in. Were the manners she knew good enough for the higher classes, or was she about to get herself in trouble.

Without waiting for a response from her, Tyr gently and easily pushed the giant door open. From inside the room, Isabelle could hear soft chattering coming to a hushed silence before Tyr projected her voice, “Introducing the last of the dragon selected, Isabelle Desmond daughter, of Fiona.”

Knees shaking, Isabelle stood as straight as possible and walked into the room. Before she saw anybody, she bowed in a nearly random direction, her heart pounding louder than drums. Tyr sighed and nudged Isabelle into the proper direction. A deep chuckle could be heard and Isabelle’s face burned red. Two steps into the door and she already screwed up.

“It’s about time. Come, young one, meet your brother’s and sister.” Said Ragis’ voice. Isabelle stood straight at his words and looked around.

The largest room Isabelle couldn’t even imagine caused her to feel smaller than she already was. The entire village of Fiona could fit into this singular room and then some. The room looked to be built for giants, and speaking of giants, a set of montrous men and women stood staring at me. Ragis, sitting on a silver thrown in his red robes was beckoning me over.

The recent memory of Ragis’ hand holding her heart flashed through her mind; mixed feelings of awe and fear filled her head as she walked up the three steps of the thrown rise. She stood in front of Ragis and bowed again.

“Please, young one. Do not bow to me, or to anyone here, again. As of this day, you are part of something outside of social classes, or of our societies as we know it. That goes for you three as well.”

Isabelle turned around and found three other… beings, standing at the foot of the steps. A rather normal looking soldier type man with silver hair and metal armor stood at attention. The only thing peculiar about him was that his skin was green and his nose was as big as an apple. Isabelle tried not to stare, not at his nose or his green skin, but the giant mole on his chin with three grey hairs sticking out of it. He was so serious looking, but he was such a strange oddity. The other two seemed more normal to what Isabelle knew, like the tall male with pale skin and long pointed ears. He was an elf with broad shoulders and short black hair. In terms of looks, Isabelle wasn’t so impressed as she had heard that elves were supposed to all be attractive, but this guy looked like someone she would pass without giving a second glance to. It wasn’t that he was unattractive, but he wasn’t overly special either.

Finally, there was a very tall woman with her hand on her hip. Her very muscular hand, attached to her very muscular arm and her very muscular body. This woman, at least seven feet tall, braided black hair and scars lining her skin, had built more muscle than most men in her village. Again, not unattractive, just off putting. Isabelle had never seen such meanacing looking woman before. She had apparently stared at the woman for a bit longer than she intended to, “Something wrong?” She had said.

Isabelle quickly remembered what Tyr had said and bowed and answered, “No ma’am. I’m sorry.” Then she remembered that Ragis said not to bow and stood straight again, and apologized again.

The woman turned her head and laughed into her hand, trying to hide her amusement. It didn’t work. Isabelle’s face grew hotter moment by moment.

“Isabelle, I’d like you to meet your fellow selected: The Goblin General, Krux Bill, chosen by Metalit, my sister the blue dragon; Marcus PrivinSon, elven nobility chosen by my brothers Ozan and Avon; and last but not least, Tanari SalokKin, princess to the land of Giants, chosen by my brother Arvug. To you all, this is Isabelle, human daughter of Desmond, chosen by me. You are the dragon selected, for reasons known to the dragons and their chosen. You will become the saviors of our world.” Ragis announced.

The entire room’s air quickly grew stale in the silence. The dragon sitting on his thrown had complete athority over his subjects, or so Isabelle thought, “You chose a human?” Cried a man in dimond encrusted green robes. “Of all beings, you chose a lowly human?”

Isabelle could feel a wave of heat emanate from Ragis as he spoke, “You dare question my decision, Ozan?”

“Ozan, don’t do this.” Said another man in matching robes except encrusted with rubies rather than diamonds.

“Quiet Avon. Our brother has dishonored us all by bringing in the enemy of all mythicals. These halls are sacred and as such should not be sullied by human filth.”

All eyes fell on Isabelle and Ragis. The red dragon stood, his figure steaming, “Ozan, we agreed that we would choose as we pleased, regardless of race, to create a small group of people to represent and defend our entire world. Are you to say your word has no honor?”

The stone floor cracked under Ozan’s feet even though he had not moved, “Not only do you bring the kind that murder mythicals, but dare question my honor as well? Where is your loyalty?”

Isabelle took a few steps back, fear overwhelming her senses. Ragis had called him brother, and Ozan, a dragon. If this man was also a dragon, she couldn’t imagine the power he wielded. How quickly could this dragon completely annihilate her? Would he simply stop at killing her?

Sweat dripped off of Isabelle’s chin, the moment dragging into eternity. Finally after a thousand years, a woman’s voice cut through the silence, “My Brothers, you bicker about honor and how you think the selected should be selected. If you hold honor so high in value, you both will respect that the ones we have selected are what we have and none of us will or will be able to change it. Isabelle, human or not, will remain among the selected and Ozan will hold his tongue when speaking to those above us. We agreed by on our honor, that the selected would be above us in social class as they will hold the responsibility that we can not shoulder. Is there a problem?” A elegant older woman stood by the wall near the door in a beautiful blue dress, lined in gold.

Ozan gritted his wide teeth, “We have honor, and we will respect our honor. However, how are we to know what kind of honor would she have? How are we to guarantee that she will uphold her responsibilities?”

“The same way we guarantee that you hold up your responsibilities, through trust and how we can not change who you are.” The silver haired woman said. Her blue dress seeming to billow as if in the wind. Her piercing grey eyes held Ozan in his place.

Ozan stood there, motionless. The tense sensation that a fight was about to break out between these three menacing figures lingered through the air. Avon pulled on Ozan’s sleeve and the moment faded with Ozan stepping back to stand by his brother. Ragis sat back down, the heat dissapearing in tandem and the woman smoothed out her dress. Not another word was spoken, but Isabelle could understand the unspoken truce between them.

Isabelle turned her head to look at Ragis and he returned her gaze with a radiant smile, “Please, do not be discouraged. You are safe and welcome here. I will make sure of it. Oh, I nearly forgot.” Ragis reached over the opposite side of the thrown and retrieved a sheathed sword and a bundled purple cloak, “Here you go, young one, these are yours.”

Isabelle gratefully took the cloak and sword in hand and thanked him profusely. Holding the sword in hand, she could feel a significant change in weight. She drew the blade partially from its sheath and examined the craft of the sword. It was definitely her father’s work and the sword hadn’t been changed, but it was lighter than before.

Ragis saw the look of a question on her face and answered, “You’ve noticed your sword is of less weight than before?” Isabelle nodded and the dragon continued, “The sword is not lighter, you are stronger. Bringing you back to life with the baptism has made your body stronger. You should be able to wield your sword and your new magic more efficently now.”

“Excuse me, Master Ragis, you gave a human magic?” Said the elf, Marcus was his name if Isabelle remembered correctly.

“If Isabelle is to be a leader, such as you, would she not need as many advantages as she can muster? You are not threatened by a newly baptized human, are you?” Ragis said.

“No, Master Ragis. Forgive me.” Marcus said behind gritted teeth.

Ragis clapped his hands together and announced, “Now that the formalities are behind us as are the disputes, we will now begin training. We’ve not a moment to waist. Avon, will you do the honors of preparing our training space.”

Avon, a timid man, bowed his head and started mumbling to himself. Ozan spread his hands and demanded, “Everyone, move.”

Ragis placed a hand in front of Isabelle telling her she didn’t need to move as the rest of the occupants of the room moved onto the thrown rise. Avon stood alone in the center of the massive room and continue to mumble. He moved his hands in an intricate pattern, small whisps of light sparking to life between his fingers. He stopped mumbling and brought his hands to his mouth as he blew the gathered light into the air. The sparkling silver light pulsed and suddenly condensed to a single point on the floor. A moment before curiosity broke Isabelle’s hold on her tongue to ask Ragis for specifics, the light exploded into a half sphere twent feet high and fifty feet wide.

Avon walked out of the dome and sat in front of Ragis, facing the dome. Isabelle watched him as he looked as if he started meditating. Ragis stood and gracefully walked around his brother and entered the dome of silver light. He turned to us all still standing around his now vacant thrown, “This is commonly known as a time bubble. In this bubble, time loops within a sixty second period. Every sixty seconds, everything inside the bubble will return to the state in which it entered. I shall demonstrate.”

Ragis pulled a wooden great shield from his robes, Isabelle tried not to question how he managed to hide such a monstrous item in fine clothes. Ragis sat the base of the shield on the ground and with one hand, drove the entire wooden piece into the ground, shattering it into thousands of splinters. The metal frame holding the wood together had bent and sheered itself apart from the excessive force applied to it. Ragis gently wiped his hand on his robes and waited.

“You selected will train your fighting skills and magic skills in this bubble, and like this shield, you will likely be severely injured or even killed during. However, like this shield,” As Ragis made his speech, the pieces of the great shield began to pull themselves back together and in a matter of seconds, a shield laid at the dragon’s feet as if it hadn’t just been a pile of scrap scattered on the floor, “you will return to normal with no lingering damage or side-effects. There is the point to make that if one with a wound enters the bubble, that wound will never heal, nor will it get worse. Please do with that information as you will. Now, Isabelle, my chosen, please join me. You as well Krux.”

Isabelle looked over at the goblin, the man stood straight and full of confidence. She was again reminded of the guards of Fiona, but this mythical had an aura beyond just competent. In unison, Krux and Isabelle stepped off the rise, past Avon, and into the time bubble. A tingling sensation rushed over Isabelle’s skin, giving her bumps.

Unsure if she should even speak, Isabelle felt she needed to ask regardless, “Ragis?”

“Yes, young one?”

“What kind of training will nessecitate these precautions?”

Krux barked an answer in Ragis’ stead, “We are going to be engaging in physical combat training. Don’t hold back against me.”

The goblin lowered himself into a ready stance and awaited an attack. Ragis nodded as he examined the goblin’s stance, then looked to Isabelle, “Ready?”

Isabelle knew going into this that she was expected to fight, what she didn’t expect was to be thrust into what could be a life threatening fight with a goblin general without any kind of preparation other than dying and be brought back. What was she supposed to do. She instictively shook her head no, “I-I can’t fight. I… I’m not ready.”

Ragis’ sharp toothed grin scared her, “A battle will never wait for you to be ready. Begin!”