Sunlight fell, on the thatched huts of a sleeping village. A typical farming community for Janus, somewhere in the Polaris system. No-one knew exactly where, but no-one needed to. Also, no-one suspected the menace that was arising from the mines to the North. One by one, the people within the township began to awaken to a strange noise- similar to Hovercraft, but louder, more menacing... The missiles struck the barracks and chaos began to rise... more missiles and this time lasers striking with the sound of banging pots...
Mannik awoke to the sound, realised suddenly it was his cousin Sar simply trying to wake him in the simplest manner possible. He swept off the sweat from his forehead, and climbed stiffly off the mat on the floor that had been his bed for the past five years. He looked around the cave that was more his home than the thatched hut had ever been. Here he had lived, not the serfdom of agricultural work, but the life of a freedom fighter.
For the last five years... he thought deeply, a habit he was known for, as he scratched the day-old stubble from his chin with the straight razor next to the pool that made his bath, sink, and drinking supply. For the last five years he had fought against the Elves, with their cyberware and magic.
He thought of his awakening on that day. As he had never heard a hovercraft before, he had thought the tales of Daemons returning was coming true; he had left his bed in a hurry, looking for his knife. His family had been rounded up and carted towards slavecraft. His quick thinking had saved them all, bringing them out of the clutches of the life they would have led. He just couldn't remember what had happened... what he had done. From the time he entered the craft to the time he ran to the caves... he couldn't remember.
He had rescued others, too. Even other Elves, strange and perverse as they were, from their bretheren. Those that knew of such things said he must have let off a psychic wail, something that blanked the minds of all within his mind's radius. There simply was no other option available, well... none that anyone wished to think about.
Sar ran into the room; a bouncy girlchild looking for mischief. Seising the advantage of surprise, she slammed the pots together whilst looking at his bed. As the gong resounded through the room, she looked slowly towards him, as she had not realised he had arisen.
Mannik threw a handful of soapsuds at her, catching her on the face and splattering her with soapy mess.
"HEY! This is my nice dress! You know what's happening today!"
Mannik looked confused. "What is?"
Sar shook her head. While Mannik was obviously a powerful, if untrained magus, she knew he would never develop his skills if he stayed in the complex world of his memories all the time.
"Today the Mithoris Templars are arriving! They've answered our distress call." Sadness crossed her face. "You really don't remember, do you?"
Mannik shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't. I remember who the Templars are, though!" His face changed to embarrasment as he realised he had left himself open to a jibe.
Sar simply continued to look sad. He was her cousin, and she couldn't do anything as he simply slid further and further into the past. She didn't mention that the Templars thought they could sense an anomaly in the flow of time coming from this direction. She also didn't say that that night, four other people had dreamt of the same dream, the same recurring dream that Mannik complained of often.
That was the other reason the Templars were coming. If Mannik was an anomaly, they would see to it quickly that he would either be trained to control his abilities or die trying. They were hospitable enough, but not known for showing mercy. To them, the timestream was not linear, but a product of the Races' consciousness. From the moment the Spirits of Matter arrived on the scene in the Universe, time had been dropping slower and slower, with smaller gaps happening between changes. It was sentience that allowed time to eddy and flow backwards: Deja vu was a product of the untrained Spirit.
Mannik watched his cousin's face fall. "What? Is there something you should tell me?"
Covering quickly, Sar cried: "You've cut your chin! AAAGH! BLOOD!" as she raced out of the room.
Mannik continued to look confused. "I haven't even shaved my chin yet..."
Mannik continued to look confused. "I haven't even shaved my chin..."
He paused, and looked at himself in the water. "Did you also have a feeling that this has happened before?"
The rest of the morning passed without mentionable effort. Breakfast was scrounged from the larder, a meager supply of oats stolen from the Elves' harvest earlier in the year. Janus was known for it's temperate climate and agreeable weather, so it did indeed look like a prime candidate for the gasping "pointy-ears" to take over.
© Ben Hayter, 2003