Chapter 3

3.
         The man, Johan, was still in the bowed position when the Agents turned away from him and began discussing other matters.
         "The thing that I find odd is that even recognizing who we are, they still attacked us," Agent One mused, one hand cupping his chin and his head slightly bowed. He paced in a slow leisurely line. His brother was following along, hovering off the ground a bit and treading air.
         "Well they didn't attack you, actually, you sort of put yourself in his way. I'm sure if you had given him more than two seconds to think about it, he probably would have went right along on his way." Agent Two's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Speaking of our late friends, wasn't there a living one hiding around somewhere? I thought Tristian had only knocked out the first one."
         "Mm, probably ran off when the fireworks started. He probably realized what we were." He spun slowly and started pacing back in the other direction. "It really doesn't matter, he's not that important. This entire situation was just a momentary diversion."
         "Well aren't we the cold and callous one today," Agent Two replied in a half mocking tone.
         Meanwhile they were totally ignoring the newcomer. Tristian could see that his face was puzzled but he wasn't moving. Probably figured that the Agents had to say something first. Bending over a little, Tristian leaned over and whispered to the man, "You might as well get up, they do this to me all the time."
         Johan gave him an odd look and slowly stood up. His legs still looked shaky and dirt and dust and some blood covered his face, caking into his blond hair. It was somewhat long, but fairly well kept, considering the state of the rest of his attire.
         Still, he looked confused over the turn of events. The Agents had reached their farthest away point in their pacing and whatever they were saying couldn't be heard.
         "They don't seem to care at all about my vow of service," Johan stated, his voice seemingly shocked.
         Tristian shrugged. "They were never the type for servants, frankly. And it's not like they were in any danger by helping you. I think they graduated past taking out bandits a long time ago."
         Johan looked sideways at Tristian. "One might say the same thing about you. Not many men could have the bravery to take on four armed men without any weapons."
         Tristian replied with a sheepish grin. "Well to be honest, I thought I had a weapon going into the fight. It was only when I realized I didn't that I had to start improvising." He ran hand through his hair. "They didn't make it easy though, how the hell did they do those tricks that they did, you know, the explosions and heating metal up and stuff."
         With another shocked glance, Johan stared at Tristian. "Why the way everyone else does of course." His expression seemed to suggest that Tristian had asked an absurdly stupid question, bordering on the rhetorical.
         "Magic, I suppose?" Tristian asked, his face impassive. He crossed his arms and stared at the Agents, who were slowly making their way back to the pair. "Figures, I ask for magic and they give it to me in spades." Still there was something about this place that appealed to Tristian, even after the somewhat rough start. People died no matter where he went, he had gotten used to that, even if he hated that very fact, but perhaps here there might be something to spark his soul again and make him feel like it all meant something. Or maybe not. He would have to find that out over time.
         He turned back to Johan suddenly, mentally slapping himself on the forehead. "Geez, I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself. The name's Tristian." He held out his hand in what he hoped was a friendly gesture.
         Apparently it still was here, because Johan took it after only a second of hesitation. "Like I said before, I'm Johan." His grip was hearty and strong. This was someone who was no stranger to work.
         "Well it was a pleasure to rescue you," Tristian added, though already starting to feel the many bruises that the fight's exertion had caused. "But what were you doing travelling by yourself? Where I come from that isn't a smart idea, I didn't think things would be any different here. You could have easily gotten killed."
         Eyes wide, Johan only nodded. "Don't I know that. But I had thought to try my luck selling my goods in the marketplace at Carpatha to see if maybe I could command a higher price there." His face became exuberant. "For once my luck paid off, or so I had thought. I made more money there than I had selling things in my village in a month and there were still folks expressing interest in the event I came back." He rubbed the back of his head and stared in the direction he had been heading down the road with great longing. "But I left my wife behind because someone needed to watch things while I was gone and" his voice dropped to a bare whisper, "with her expecting our first child, I didn't think it was right for her to travel." He clapped his hands together joyfully. "And now thanks to you, not only will I make it home with my money but I'll actually make it home."
         "Sounds good to me," Tristian replied, finding himself liking the man. If everyone here was as decent as this man seemed, he might find himself staying here for as long as the Agents let him.
         "The problem is," Johan continued, his voice lowering a bit, "is that I don't know what to do now that I've been rescued. It seems wrong for you not to receive anything from me. I probably owe my life to you."
         "You do," Agent One said suddenly, finishing his linear circuit and bringing himself back to the pair of mortals. His brother floated lazily alongside, his expression ranging from bliss to peevishness. Tristian knew from experience that it was all an act. "But you don't have anything to give me that could possibly be of any use to me."
         "I can see that, sirs, just by looking at your attire," Johan said in return, his tone extremely formal. While he had been almost friendly with Tristian, when the Agents had come back over he had stiffened up again, almost in utter fear. Tristian wondered what it had to do with what they were wearing. "I've never seen any cloaked in power like yourselves."
         "Yes, well we're a bit unique in that respect," Agent One replied smoothly, grabbing his brother by the neck and forcing him back to the ground. Agent Two let himself sink about knee deep into the dirt before jumping back up with an audible pop.
         "Probably a good thing, when you think about it," Agent Two added with a slight wink. "And really my brother isn't really thinking, since there is something you have that we could use."
         "You have every right to demand of me anything you need," Johan responded, his voice shaking slightly. Tristian wanted to put an arm out to steady the man but he really didn't know what he could do. The Agents weren't acting especially frightening, other than the display with tearing the man's head off. In fact they were almost cordial.
         "Well that would be information my friend," Agent Two said grandly, pushing himself past his brother, who only looked on with his face expressionless. "We've been away from here a long time and would like to hear about the things that have been happening since that time."
         "Ah, I believe that would be . . . possible." Johan was obvoiusly taken aback by the request, perhaps wondering why beings that were so powerful would need to ask someone of his limited abilities for information. "How long have you been away, sirs?"
         Agent Two cast a glance at his brother. "Oh, not long really. What would you say, a hundred years or so?"
         "Two fifty," Agent One said flatly.
         Agent Two shrugged in a dismissive fashion. "Give or take. No really pays attention to years anyway, nagging things that they are. Never had any use for them myself."
         Johan by this point was only nodding dumbly, the nonchalant admission of age probably battering away the last of his defenses toward shock.
         "But really," Agent Two continued, "a discussion like that isn't something that you should be having here, in this dank and dismal place between bastions of civilization." He was waving his arms about wildly and Tristian discreetly moved back to avoid one of the long sleeves of the robes. He was still having trouble getting used to the Agents dressed so ornately.
         Agent Two took a step forward and grinned right in Johan's face. "Yessir, a discussion like this is something that should be held in a proper place. A place like the privacy . . ."
         Tristian suddenly realized what was coming and whispered to Johan, "I hope you have a strong stomach.'
         As he said that the world flashed alternating colors of gold and red. Tristian felt the all too familiar tug of a million different directions and the world phased out.
         It came back in a second later and as Tristian blinked away the stars from his eyes and fiercly grabbed mental hold of his stomach and the breakfast that threatened to rebel, he took note of his new surroundings. A modest home, by the looks of it. They were in a room about fifteen foot square, with plain walls that appeared to be made from wood with decent sized furnature. A small table was right in front of him and he noticed that everyone had appeared around it. He put a hand on the wood, seeing that it was finer craftsmenship than the rest of the house, to steady himself. Johan pitched forward completely against the table, his arms waving weakly. He looked extremely pale. Tristian thought with some amusement that he probably didn't look much different the first time the Agents had teleported him without telling what they were doing.
         ". . . of your own home!" Agent Two finished, crossing his arms in front of his body and bringing them down slowly. Motes of faint red light seemed to flicker around him briefly, almost too fast for Tristian to notice.
         Tristian moved over to Johan, helping the man stand back up again. "Take deep breaths," he advised, "and try to avoid throwing up. I've found that just makes it even worse."
         Johan stared around almost wildly and then turned a surprised face back to Tristian. "My home," he breathed. "How is that possible?"
         "The magic of instant teleportation, my friend," Agent Two explained cheerfully. "The best way to get from point A to point B without having to deal with such trifles as walking, running or flying."
         Johan turned back to Tristian, his face still flushed. "Your friends are capable of wonders, Tristian."
         "Depends on your point of view-" Tristian started to say when Agent Two pushed past him.
         "You want to see wonders? I can make them table so polished that you'll be able to shave by it. I can-"
         A yell and a scream broke the sudden mood and everyone turned to see the source. Agent One had gone across the room and was staring out the window. A small woman had come from the other adjoining room, a sword in her hand. Her face was set and she held the handle tightly enough for the whites of her knuckles to show. It was clear she didn't see anyone else in the other part of the room.
         Raising the sword, she yelled again and stabbed forward, the blade hissing through the air, glinting off the dim lighting, right at the back of the Agent.
         "No!" Johan yelled, starting to dive forward.
         But it was already too late.