Chapter 21

21.
         Questions were raging all through Tristian's mind as they made their way through the forest. Increasing his pace to catch up to the Agent, while also keeping an eye on his two friends still following blandly oblivious to everything, he asked, "What the hell just happened back there?"
         "Quite simple," Agent One respondedly, almost snapping, his eyes never staring other than straight ahead, "the giant got me angry and I sliced his leg off, at which point he turned into a tree. I thought it was rather straightforward, myself."
         "Funny," Tristian muttered. "But, really, what was that giant, was it just a tree that the fairies made look like a giant or . . . or what?"
         Then the Agent's eyes turned on Tristian and he saw no mercy there. He became aware of the fact that the forest no longer felt neutral around them, it felt almost containing, like it was pressing in on them. Like it was mad at them, as absurd as that sounded.
         Agent One stared at Tristian for a second without speaking and then his head swung almost robotically back to its previous position. Then his voice came. "It was a giant and then it was a tree, Tristian. Here, nothing is as it seems and everything has two origins. You don't question things, because magic isn't rational and the fairies are almost pure magic."
         "Okay, then, why didn't you just answer their riddle? I'm sure you could have figured it out."
         "I knew it even before he started asking it, giant minds aren't that hard to read you know. That wasn't the point, they want me to play the game by their rules, but I'm not playing by any rules this time out, there's too much at stake." He stared at Tristian again and this was one of the few times where he found the Agent's gaze unnerving. "You of all people should know that."
         "But isn't that the point?" Tristian asked, feeling his voice echo when it should have been muffled, like they were walking through a giant canyon instead of a forest. "Isn't this too important to waste time by irritating people? If all we've done is anger them so far, why are they going to listen to us?"
         "They may and they may not," Agent One replied mildly. "The one thing the fairies are notorious for is their unrepentant unpredictability. But honestly," he added with a shrug, "I don't care if they hear me or not. I can't make them listen to me if they don't want to and if they're going to get all petty about this, then I'll just figure a plan out that doesn't involve them."
         "But there has to be a better way," Tristian murmured to himself, staring at what he thought was a shifting shadow. Things were moving in the trees but he couldn't tell if it was just the wind stirring the branches or something else.
         "Feel free to offer suggestions if you have something in mind," Agent One said as he stepped over a downed tree. Tristian turned to help Michelle and Johan over but they were already stepping over like they knew where it was. At this point he started to realize that they weren't really leading Johan or Michelle, but instead they just seemed to be walking. Unless the Agent was leading them in their minds. Their silence was eerie though, and he wished they'd say something, even if it made no sense. That he could deal with, since little sense had entered his life in years.
         "Though, honestly," Agent One continued as he pushed a branch out of his face, "I thought you'd have more ideas then you've had thus far. It's been rather disappointing."
         That statement almost stopped Tristian in his tracks. "What are you talking about? What ideas?"
         "You know, about how to resolve this and everything." Agent One stopped and gave Tristian the barest glance before turning and moving on. "I mean, you've mostly been an observer in these little events, staying off to the side, defending yourself when attacked, answering questions when they were asked of you, things like that." While still moving, he cast Tristian a backwards look. "Frankly that's supposed to be my job."
         "Are you joking with me?" Tristian asked, stumbling forward in his haste to catch the Agent. "These people are looking for your guidance, not mine. I'm nobody, just some guys who happens to tag along with gods. You're the powerful and mighty Magents," and he pronounced the word with some distaste, "you're supposed to be the leaders here."
         "I wish you'd get off this thing about us being gods," Agent One replied and Tristian could see he was making a face. "You sound like our fawning friends back there. You of all people should understand that what we aren't is a far more complicated subject than what we are."
         "Then what do you want me to do, huh?" Tristian asked, his voice rising with anger, an anger that surprised him even as much as he welcomed it. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
         "Take some initiative, that's all," Agent One said, his voice full of unruffled calm. "I'm not human, and this fight is for the fate of an entire human race. It's not my battle, but," and he stopped and turned to Tristian, his eyes faintly flickering, "it is yours, Tristian."
         Tristian didn't say anything, he just glanced down at the ground and then back up at the Agent, his breath heaving in the cloying dimness, his face flushed with the onset of frustrated anger.
         "What happened to you, Tristian?" Agent One asked softly, almost gently, taking a step forward and looking right at his face. "What happened to the man who used to be at the forefront at action, who didn't flinch when he ran into a shipful of Nordites, who was making plans even as things were falling apart around him? What happened to that man who used to spur others when they found no other reason to keep fighting?" Agent One paused and glanced sideways at Tristian. "Or did you ever listen to your own words?"
         Tristian blinked and swallowed and when his voice came it was a hoarse thing. "I listened . . . but they were just hollow . . . the person who said them . . . he . . . died, chipped away bit by bit . . . he . . ." he turned away from the Agent, who followed him like a red robed shadow. "I don't want to talk about this now. There are things to get done."
         "Yes, done by my lead . . . all you've done is follow my lead so far, you're not my strongman, Tristian, you're a man in your own right."
         "It's better . . . this way," Tristian said, softly, whispering, "following your lead, no one gets hurt . . . no one . . ."
         "Is that it?" Agent One asked, his voice a velvet shout. Then his voice hardened and cracked into a whip, lashing across Tristian. "Is that it? Are you so concerned with the idea of someone getting hurt that you're paralyzed into inaction? People live with death, all the time, Tristian, death affects all of us, but we let it change us, help us grow, not stuff ourselves down into some hole, hiding in a corner in hope that the bad things will pass us by."
         "Maybe you're just better than I am, then," Tristian snapped, his voice rising and falling in waves of noise, "maybe you can take the guilt and the fear better than I can. I know I can't," and his voice shifted in something crackling with pain, "because it's a weight that I feel always pressing down on me, it's . . . it's something that takes a piece of me everytime it happens and after a while there's barely anything left to feel, barely anything left of . . . of me."
         "It's not a matter of being better than someone," Agent One said, his voice even, "but a matter of acceptance. We seek to make things better as best we can, but sometimes people don't make it to see the fruits of our labors. It doesn't make the victory any less sweet, not the sacrifices any less bitter." He swept over to Tristian, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. Tristian turned to see a face that resembled his only in form. "You accepted all that once, Tristian, why can't you do that again."
         "Because the person that accepted all that went away, and I'm his replacement," Tristian said with a weak smile. "He just couldn't handle it. Maybe you got the wrong person to do this."
         The Agent sighed and started to walk away, his hands clasped behind his back. "I don't envy you, Tristian, you were thrust into this too fast but there was no other way to do it." He stopped and stared at Tristian across the distance between them. "But we didn't make the wrong choice. The only thing wrong is your failure to see your role in these things and activate it, as you know you have to."
         "But maybe you don't see it-"
         "Magent," a siblant voice called softly. Agent One's eyes narrowed and he stared around.
         "I hear you," he said calmly, slowly. "Are you going to come out or are we still playing games?"
         "Oh no," came the voice again but Tristian realized with a shock that it was coming from Michelle. There was an evil smile to her face as she stalked over to stand between the Agent and Tristian. "I think we're still in the game playing stage."
         "What are they doing to her?" Tristian asked suddenly, his entire body tensing. This was just another example of the weirdness that seemed to permeate this entire damned woods. "Who are you?" he shouted at the thing speaking from Michelle.
         The eyes lazily went over to him, the smile seemingly plastered on her face. "Ah, so the scion decides to speak for himself."
         "They're just speaking through her," Agent One said. Tristian noticed that Johan, a different expression on his face, was also starting to walk forward. "Apparently they find the novelty of that . . . amusing."
         "At least we have a sense of humor," the thing inside Michelle sniffed. "More than we can say for you."
         "I'm a barrel of laughs when everyone isn't in mortal danger. Trust me," Agent One said offhandedly. "But this is serious business and you're only costing me time."
         "Time for what?" the Johan fairy sneered, his voice changing into a growling parody of its former self. "Time for the humans to push us farther back, to drag the essence of magic further more its roots and turn it into nothing more than something to make their lives more convenient?" It crossed its arms. "I think not, Magent. Better to wipe the slate clean and start anew."
         "You inhabit that same slate," Agent One replied, sounding a bit tired. "Regardless of whether you two agree or not, you're facing a common enemy. The Dark Riders will slaughter you both."
         "Then so be it!" the Michelle fairy barked. Agent One blinked in surprise at this. "You don't understand what these humans do, Magent, what they seek to do. Better that we all die then they continue along the path they've chosen."
         "What happened?" Agent One asked, his voice sounding somewhat shocked. "The fairies I knew loved life in all its forms. You've turned suicidal."
         "We still love life, Magent," the Johan fairy noted with a hint of resignation in its voice. "But to us, magic is life and without it we have nothing."
         "They pervert the colors, Magent," the Michelle fairy pronounced and the nearly toneless way the statement was formed made it sound like a death knoll.
         "The colors evolve, like everything else and the humans just change along with them," Agent One said calmly. "You of all races should realize that, given your perspective-"
         "They move things faster than evolution will allow," the fairies both sneered, their voices melding into one, fading in and out on different scales. Perhaps it was only one fairy speaking through two bodies. Tristian couldn't be sure.
         "Can't you put that aside?" Tristian found himself asking, not even sure what made him do so. "Is keeping the magic the same as you want it worth everyone dying." He paused. "From what I've seen, magic is like everything else, it's not stagnant. It changes and the people who use it change it as much as it changes the users. There has to be some compromise."
         "Your scion raises well worn points," said the Michelle fairy, her voice seeming to purr even as it seemed to grow flatter.
         "But we are long past the point of compromise," the Johan fairy chimed in, even though Tristian still suspected it was one person speaking with two voices.
         "Then the fairies are collective fools," Agent One stated, his arms crossed angerily over his chest. He swung his head around in a frustrated gesture. "And this is getting me nowhere, I'm not here to debate my point with some nameless fairy. I demand a convening of the council."
         Both fairies were silent as the Agent's words sailed out into the air and settled like dust on them. Finally, both mouths moved again and the voice called out, "You know not what you do, Magent."
         "On the other hand, I know perfectly well what I'm doing, you lot seem to be the ones wandering around without any sense of direction," Agent One replied a bit crossly. "But I think this matter has reached the point where I wish to speak to the council."
         "I say again, you know not what you do."
         "And I tell you, it's my right and I'm using it."
         "They may not hear you."
         "Then I'll find them and speak to them individually." His voice delved into the low range. "I rather doubt they'll find that experience enjoyable at all. But I'll make them listen to me." He clapsed his hands behind his back. "Now, the fairies have always struck me as a fair people, a bit on the stubborn side, maybe a little too old fashioned for their own good, but still a decent set of folks none the less." His eyes narrowed. "Out of respect for me, and for what I represent, I don't think whether the council will hear me or not is much of a question, wouldn't you say?"
         The fairies were silent again for the longest time. Tristian found the entire matter unsettling, seeing his friends speaking in those odd voices, their bodies hijacked while their minds labored in some fairy trap. He wished he could get through to them somehow, seeing them like that, while his mind was free, made him feel even more helpless. And Tristian was getting tired of feeling helpless, of feeling sorry for himself and everyone else. Something the Agent had said was lingering in his head. But he didn't know where to start changing.
         "Very well," the voices from the edge of eternity came floating back in their answer. They sounded sad for some reason. "The council will hear you, as much as it goes against their better judgements." Both Johan and Michelle turned to face the Agent and their faces will twisted with thinly veiled anger. "Remember, Magent, you bring this upon yourself. Remember that." Then they spun on Tristian, causing him to back up against a tree in surprise. "And you, scion, remember that as well. What happens is because of him. Only he."
         Then they were gone and Johan and Michelle were reduced to the same trance like state as before.
         "They could have at least freed them," Tristian said, staring at them, wondering how much of the outside world they were perceiving.
         "Yes, it would have been a sign of good faith. Another thing I'll have to ask the council about."
         Tristian stared around. "Just where is the council supposed to take place? They didn't tell us to meet them anywhere."
         "Oh they tend to-" and then Agent One jumped back as the ground crumbled and buckled, rising up before them. The trees cracked and split, moving backwards until the area was as wide open as a meadow. The sunlight, which had been hidden for so long except for brief glimpses, poked through in wide shafts now. Meanwhile the ground had finished rising and leveled off, the grass and weeds breaking off and flaking away, revealing a hardened dirt surface underneath, almost polished. It reminded Tristian of the table he had seen at Johan's. He wished the man could see this.
         Something was strange in the air, and squinting he realized that it was full of color. Colors he didn't even have words for, motes flickering and dancing even as the mound crafted itself to form a table, even as moss covered stones rose out of the ground like pillars to form chairs in a circle around the table, about twelve in all. The trees that had moved aside to make room for the table were growing and elongating, lacing together overhead to form a natural canopy, giving the whole scene the sensation of a room somewhere, a room carved from the woods themselves.
         Agent One cleared his throat. "As I was saying, they tend to bring the council chambers along with them." He leaned over one of the rock chairs, dusted it off with his hand, stared at his palm, made a face and then gestured. He added his red glow to the proceedings and a perfectly formed wooden chair, complete with apparent cushion rose from the ground, the wood a dull red in color. "Much better," the Agent said to himself, smiling as he sat down.
         "Would you like one for yourself?" Agent One asked Tristian. "They aren't that hard to make."
         "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stand," Tristian admitted. "I don't think that I'll be much use here anyway."
         Agent One frowned at that statement but said nothing else, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the table after a minute in an entirely human gesture of impatience.
         The leaves on the other side rustled. Agent One calmly looked over as a deer's head popped out, complete with a small set of branching antlers.
         "About time," Agent One noted, even as Tristian felt his eyes widen as the rest of the creature walked out. The body was entirely human, if naked, covered with a small layer of fine brown fur. It walked hunched over a little, no doubt due to the weight of the head.
         "My apologies," came the deep voice, the animal's mouth apparently having no trouble speaking human language. But then this was magic. "But we are not used to acting with speed anymore." The fairy seemed to sigh. "Perhaps this matter will change that policy."
         "About the first rational thing I've heard here all day," Agent One said cheerfully. The fairy walked over gracefully and sat down quite comfortably on one of the rock chairs. "So before everyone else gets here," the Agent added, leaning forward toward the fairy, "is there anything you can do about my two companions over there. Your fellows caught them in a bit of a trap and they really didn't do anything to deserve being stuck like that. And besides, I think they'll want to hear what comes next."
         "Hm, a reasonable request," the fairy mused, "I shall see what I can do when the others get here." He glanced over at Tristian. "Will your scion not sit with us?"
         "He's feeling a bit shy today," Agent One explained, smirking over at Tristian. "I'm sure when you all win him over he'll come and have a seat."
         "If you say so, he deserves a seat along with the rest of us here," the fairy responded, snorting a bit. He scratched his head, looking around. "All the others should be here shortly."
         "And here I thought I would be last," a somber, overly familiar voice soared down to them. Tristian whipped around even as the Agent stood up in one mindboggingly quick motion. Tristian felt his hand once again going for a sword that was no longer there.
         The Dark Lord seemed to elicit actions like that. He strode out of the darkness of the foliage like he had been born from it, his cape barely dusting the ground. His eyes glowed with indifference to everyone around.
         "Greetings again, Magent," the Dark Lord said, standing confidently across from the Agent, who seemed to be barely controlling his surprise. Surprise was quickly turning to anger though.
         "Get the hell out of here," Agent One growled and even Tristian had to turn away as the world became flooded in crimson, washing away every other color. In the distance someone shouted.