A Midsummer Ultima Dream...
Reality....
As I entered my home after a long day at work, my immediate plans of relaxation were interrupted by an insistent phone ring. “Hello?” I answered warily. “Hello! I’d like to take a moment to introduce you to our new...” The salesperson’s inane rattling was cut short as I replaced the handset to the base. Telemarketers... *sigh* A quick check of the answering machine showed no messages, and fortunately, the daily mail produced no new bills for the day. ‘Great, time to unwind!’ my weary mind exulted. I wandered into my living room intent on checking my e-mail, my mind miles away. As I approached my system, I stopped. The monitor was glowing softly, flickering as I rubbed my fingers along the screen. ‘Hmm, an electrical discharge?’ I wondered silently. I reached behind the computer to switch off my surge protector, and was stunned. The monitor was still glowing, yet the power was disconnected. ‘What the hell?’ I mouthed as I fell into my chair. The monitor began to glow more strongly, and something within me caused me to reach out and touch the screen again...
The dream...
... and the screen went black. ‘Hmm...’ I thought. As I went to switch the system back on, I noticed something odd. The surge protector was gone, the cables to the system missing. ‘What is going on here?’ At this point, I was becoming nervous. I pulled the tower forward, and received my second shock. The system was an empty box, the ports and connections missing from the back. When I leaned back, my eyes were drawn to my reflection in the screen. A blond man stared back at me, his mouth slightly open. As I cast my gaze around my desk, I noticed my bookshelves had books in them, but were immobile. I stood suddenly. A box on the shelf was glowing the same shade as the monitor before. ‘Ultima VI,’ my mind read the writing on the side. As I pulled the box loose, something fell to my feet. A small black stone, smooth and cool as it rested within the palm of my hand. The Orb of the Moons slowly pulsated against my skin, and to my surprise, my ankh amulet against my chest pulsed the same beat. “Britannia...” I breathed softly. The memories flooded my mind; the quest of the Black Gate, deep within the Isle of the Avatar, as the blackrock gate shattered across the floor, the Guardian’s final taunt. I was trapped in the lands, unable to return to my beloved Earth; the Serpent Isle, within the beautiful Ethereal Void, watching the three Serpents twist and coil about themselves repairing the ancient Imbalance, the voice of the Red Bastard mocking my actions; the land of Pagan, his red hand crushing my sides as he gripped me like a doll, his malignant voice cursing my deeds, my recreation of the Blackrock Obelisk allowing me to return home.... my god, 200 years had passed from the time of the False Prophet when I last returned to Britannia, but only a mere 2 years in Earth. It had been 7 years here in Earth since the time of the Black Gate... nearly a millennium had passed. Would they remember their Avatar, or had I become a distant memory? Shame washed over me for the time wasted peacefully in my world while the Guardian had free reign to defile the lands. I was the Avatar, paragon of Virtue and the embodiment of the Principles of Truth, Love, and Courage, yet I had turned my back on the very people who needed me the most. Outside a storm approached, the distant thunder a clarion call to arms. ‘Of course...’ I smiled.
The raindrops felt like needles against my skin as I fought my way outside against the howling wind. Darkness covered the ground, occasionally broken by lightning cascading across the sky. Stumbling forward, I noticed a small dirt path I had never seen before, yet seemed familiar. Sliding along the muddy track, I emerged within a clearing of grass, a circle of stones set in the center. The doubts in my mind went silent, the fear silenced by my conscience. I stepped to the edge of the circle, the Orb raised high. A simple toss, one step in front of me, to land the black stone in the exact center. The thunder built to a deafening crescendo, and with a sound unlike I’ve ever heard, a searing bolt of lightning speared downward to strike the ground. The force of the strike knocked me to the ground, the fury of the electricity roaring and crackling across the stones. A thunderclap echoed across the heavens, and with a blinding light, a shimmering red moongate rose from the scorched earth.
I climbed to my feet, and entered the gate.
Still the dream...
Light surrounded me, swirling. A moment (eternity) passed for me when what seemed as long as an eternity (a moment) ended, and I found myself kneeling on the ground. As I rested there, my eyes were drawn to the ground in front of me. A broken cobblestone road, overgrown with weeds, chipped and cracked, lay under me. As my gaze swept upward, my heart turned to stone within my chest. Castle British lay in ruins, its once noble walls shattered and crumbling upon themselves. I stood, and walked toward the ruins, hope turned to ashes within my mouth. After carefully crossing the rotted drawbridge planks, a sight of horror greeted me. The grisly remains of warriors littered the entrance hall, their bones and rusted weapons scattered about the floor. As I crossed into the courtyard, the once beautiful fountain that provided the castle residents with clear, clean water was fouled with scum, the flowers surrounding withered and skeletal in their appearance. The Great Hall proved the most heart-wrenching, its towering stained glass windows shattered across the floor, the bodies of guards piled like a child’s broken toys, the great throne blackened and destroyed. My throat tightened as I stared in disbelief at the destruction. ‘At this very moment, Britannia burns...’ the laughing voice of the Guardian spoke as I had traveled across Pagan, seeking a path home. ‘My fault...’ my mind spoke, ‘this is my fault...’ I sank to my knees, sobbing as a child, wracked by guilt for the deaths and pain my absence had caused. ‘My lord, forgive me...’ I silently begged, ‘I meant no wrong...’
“Avatar...”
I jumped to my feet, and spotting a short sword lying nearby, armed myself. Shadows played across the Hall as I slowly backed further into the room.
“Avatar, turn about,” the voice repeated. Fear causing my heart to pound, I slowly turned. A man in a gray cloak stood before me, his features seeming both young and old in the shifting shadows. “Thou should not be here. Thy arrival is foretold in the heavens, yet thine appearance is premature. Thou must return to thy homeland, lest the Guardian gain dominion eternal across the lands. Thy reasoning of guilt is faulty, Avatar. Thou were prevented from returning to the lands until thy power equaled that of the Guardian. The suffering of Britannia, while a terrible thing, was necessary toward its redemption. Seek thee not to return here until thou has received a clearer sign of thy welcome. May the light of Virtue guide thy way to ascension, Avatar.” With an enigmatic smile, the Time Lord gestured toward me, his hand offered in a form of benediction. My heart lifted, I reached forward my hand to touch his...
Reality?
... and found myself sitting at my desk, my hand resting across my monitor screen. ‘Soon, Guardian, soon...’ I smiled wolfishly.
October 24, 1999
Eagerly awaiting the Ascension...
Houston Dragon
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