Side Story: Salek

      "Can anyone recite Ulek's three principles on magical resistance?"

      A few shuffled a bit.

      "Who knows the spell set for melee combat?"

      A cough.

      "How about the Summoner's Oath? ...Or even the Necromancer's Rite?"

      Nervous breaths followed.

      "Any clue as to why we're here?"

      "Spiritually or academically?" a response came.

      Some snickered and the tension dissolved.

      "Nice response, as both have great importance in the field of Refined Magic. Class, meet Salek Alon. He is a second year student in the academy and enjoys philosophy, combat magic, and females." The class laughed at the comments as the boy blushed deeply.

      "I'd tell you who he likes but I'll spare him the shame, as I will spare all of you. Salek, would you be so kind as to tell them how I knew a complete stranger's identity and information so quickly?"

      "...T-Telepathy, Ma'am," he mumbled to the floor. The class quickly quieted down again.

      "Correct! Now don't worry about me prying into your thoughts; I avoid it like paperwork. Why? I prefer death to insanity, that's why. Oh, and Salek?"

      "Yes, Ma'am?"

      "Use some of that courage you had earlier and ask that crush of yours out after class. She likes the South Gardens and I think she'll like that spell you've been practicing recently. Now before I embarrass the rest of you,... open your books to the first chapter: Fundamental Forces!" she announced with a grin.

----

Five years...

Before the war...

Before the hate...

Before... her...

----

      A pair of teenagers lay upon a grassy hill above the city, watching the sky.

      "Hey."

      "Yeah?"

      "Remember that spell I showed you when we first met?" 

      "Heh, yeah. How can I forget? It was beautiful," she replied in a tone of sleepy joy.

      "How about a three year anniversary showing?"

      "Hehehe, that would be great."

      "Alright, prepare to be amazed by Salek the Illusionist!" He jokingly announced as he waved his arm dramatically. They both laughed at his theatrics. He rolled up his sleeves and put his hands together. As he slowly separated them, yellow light swirled between forming threads of energy. The colors shifted to green, then blue, then cycled through the rest of the rainbow. Then some threads broke, startling the boy. The rest of the threads snapped and dissipated.

      "That's never happened before," he thought aloud.

      "Hmm... try it again."

      "Yeah, I probably wasn't focusing enough."

      He dismissed the fluke and exhaled, reseting his hand positions. He once again slowly separated his hands. The yellow light reappeared and... faded away.

      "What's wrong? What can I be doing wrong?" 

      "Are you feeling alright?" 

      "Yes, I'm fine, except for this!"

---- 

That day...

I lost it...

No one knows how...

But it's gone...

---- 

      "...So you're sure about this?" the dean asked.

      "Yes. I'm leaving the Mage Academy. I can't possibly continue like this. I'm useless around here."

      "Nonsense! You've reformed the logistics mess and inspired Professor Balt to establish a Non-Magical Relations department for next year!"

      "By doing what? Being the first person to lose their magical ability in all recorded history?! Charts and numbers are the only things left for me to do around here anyway. Even after the fact, I hate it when we use half of class to find more alchemy ingredients or runestones. What am I saying? This is all pointless. I have no purpose here."

      "Now just a minute! Before you leave, I want to let you know something. I've told your accomplishments to some friends of mine in high places and they are interested in having you help solve problems in more influential groups, such as, say, the Council?"

      "...The Council? Really?"

      "Well, a select few, but after you show them your talent, I believe that the entire Council will see your potential. I've arranged transportation for you to the Capital next week, provided that you are up to it. You seem to feel that you're future is not here, so I doubt that it will inconvenience you too much to miss a few weeks of 'alchemy ingredients and runestones,' as you put it. I'll be expecting an answer in the morning, so think about this tonight, or if you know the answer already, then pack up for your new life. Dismissed."

 ---- 

A new life...

Born from loss...

Forged hope again...

For my future...

---- 

      "...You have been commanded to report to the Capital immediately for an emergency meeting of the Council, Advisor Alon."

      "Advisor? You don't mean-"

      "Sir, we need to leave immediately! We shall explain on the way."

      The squad escorted the official from the construction project to the airfields.

      "Drakes? You're telling me we are riding dragons to the Capital? Even this remote town has enough mages to teleport us to the Plains, at least! Drakes are temperamental in the best conditions! I'm not riding one of those until I get an explanation! Besides, I'm not an advisor! I'm just an assistant!"

      "Sir, the city of Till has been lost to an unprovoked Energist advance in the western provinces. We have reason to believe that Advisor Hunley and Archmage Kyrjen have been at the very least captured or more likely killed *sigh*. You are now the new Advisor of Resource Management in the Council. As for the drakes, the mages are being conscripted for the defenses and are unavailable at this time. Sir, once again, we must not delay our return."

      "Hunley's... gone?"

      "Sir, he won't be the only one if we delay our preparations for the next attack against us."

      "R-Right! Let's ride these accursed creatures then. We've got a war on our hands."

---- 

Tides changed...

Here I stand...

Running a nation...

Into fresh flames...

----

Chapter 2: A Bard’s Tale

      Sound.

      Harmonic motion of objects to the point of resonance.

      Collisions between air molecules.

      Vibrations of the eardrum.

      Emotion.

      Ever changing; ever flowing. Poetic in every way.

      Affecting their creator and those around them.

      Living and dying.

      When done right, the former affects the latter to the highest degrees. From the peace of a calming voice or flute to the intensity of drums and trumpets, music has influenced minds, countries, worlds…

----

      “…♪ She is the Liii-iiight, brighter than the Sun! She is the Lii-ii-iight, and she loves to have fu-un! ♫-”

      “J-man! We need some help with these amps! You do want those ladies to hear your voice tonight, right?”

      “I’m coming, I’m coming! We still have an hour and a half ‘til the gig and we only need half of that to set the equipment up, jeez!”

      The lightly built twenty-two year old leapt off the branch of a large oak onto the ground. He ran his hand through his sandy blond hair that, according to his father, needed to be cut soon because it was starting to curl at the ends. It was summer but he still wore jeans, wear and tear included. He also donned a white undershirt and an opened, blue, button-up shirt that faded to a dark blue at the bottom. Hands in his pockets, he strolled towards the band’s van. The sun’s warmth echoed memories of things lost and unspoken; his smile slowly faded into a time that felt so distant and wonderful. The six-foot tall man then remembered a few sweet words and peace returned to him. He lifted the handles of two amplifiers and carried them inside the club.

      “Right here, J-man! I think we got the rest. Just go relax for a bit, you know, socialize some.”

      “Alright, Aaron,” he replied, feeling that his friend just wanted him to go inside, rather than help set up things. 

      Socialize. Surprisingly this wasn’t what he wanted, at least… well, at least he’d go buy a soda. He didn’t like alcohol, which helped him stay sober for shows. He walked over to the counter and ordered a root beer. The bartender handed him a glass and told him performers get free drinks. He nodded and took a sip.

      'Why am I so glum?' he pondered, 'Here I am, about to entertain people and I just radiate depression. She'd lecture me so much-' and he cut the line of thought. A quick tear dashed down his lowering face. He wiped it away, took a deep breath, chugged his soda down, and flashed a wide grin. "Alright, let's do this!" he chuckled as he stood up.

      "Bartender!! Drinks are on me for all the ladies in the house! After all, it is time to get this party goin'!"

      Electricity flowed through the room. The pulsing of the beat couldn't be stopped. Persperation's sweet scent brought with it feelings of ecstacy. The music faded and the resident DJ got on the speakers.

      "Excuse my interruption, folks, but it's time for tonight's special treat. Presenting the fire of the clubs, the wind of change, the ice of the night, and the thundering sensation: Elements of Sound, with the lead vocalist known only as Jeremy!"

      "Heh, guess I'm late for work, ladies; pardon me!" the man bowed to the girls he was dancing with. He reached into his pocket and removed a cordless microphone. Wrapping his hand around the top to prevent feedback, he flipped the switch on and took a swig from his water bottle. The girls were speechless as they and the nearby crowd respectfully backed away. The lights centered on the tree once hidden in the forest. Jeremy tossed the water bottle on stage and cleared his throat.

      He lowered his head to the mike and slowly blew into it like a soft breeze. The keyboardist played three notes, both introducing the song and giving Jeremy the key. He sang a capella.

      "♪ She is the Liii-iiight!♪......tss-tss-tss-ah!"

      A light percussion kicked in for four measures, paused, and was joined by a pounding, synthetic bass. Jeremy danced in the center of the floor, caught in the hypnotic rhythm that defined the genre: trance.  He then sang in a intimate mezzo-piano:

      "♪ Sunlight is walking beside me. It whispers, 'There she is.' I see her, shimmering shining. Her beauty is like a summer's kiss.♪" The synthesizer crept into the mix, ever building in strength. Jeremy synchronized with the music as he climbed the scale, picked up in tempo, and crescendoed. "♪ She glows like the sand; she's kind as can be; her warmth in inside me; she's always so free!... *Ratatat-tat!* She is the Lii-iight, brighter than the Sun! She is the Lii-ii-ight, and she loves to have fu-un! She is the Lii-ii-iight, melts the darkness away! She is the Lii-ii-ight and she is here to sta-ay!♪" The percussion rolled down, and the piano was introduced as the song returned to softer sounds for the next verse.

      "♪ Radiant, she's so far above me. She has a- warm embrace. She see's me her brilliance showing; she wears a lovely smile on her face.♪" The music rebuilt itself for the chorus. "♪ She glows like the sand; she's kind as can be; her warmth in inside me; she's al-ways-so-free!... *Ratatat-tat!* She is the Lii-iight, brighter than the Sun! She is the Lii-ii-ight, and she loves to have fu-un! She is the Lii-ii-iight, melts the darkness away! She is the Lii-ii-ight and she is here to sta-ay!♪" The music drops out for his last verse.

      "♪ Caring, she softly holds me. She whispers, 'I need you.' I love her; my heart is pulsing. Her Light begins to fill me through and through.♪" The beat shocked in at full force. "♪ She glows like the sand; she's kind as can be; her warmth in inside me; she loves you and meeeeeeee!...♪" He froze, head facing the floor. He held the pause longer this time until-" *Ratatat-tat!*" -the sounds climaxed. "♪ She is the Lii-iight, graceful as the Moon! She is the Lii-ii-ight, stole my heart so soon! She is the Lii-ii-iight, her head upon my chest! She is the Lii-ii-ight, and I know she's the be-est!

      "♪ She is the Lii-iight, brighter than the Sun! She is the Lii-ii-ight, and she loves to have fu-un! She is the Lii-ii-iight, melts the darkness away! She is the Lii-ii-ight and she is here to sta-ay!♪"

      The crowd erupted with cheering. Jeremy then saw a bright flash and was no longer in the club. He later remembered his horoscope said something about how he should try new things today. He later made a mental note to find the person who writes those things and punch them in the face. Really hard.

Chapter 1: A Knight’s Tale

            “A knight there was, and that a worthy man,

            That fro’ the time that he first began

To ride out, he loved chivalry,

            Truth and honor, freedom and courtesy…”

            -Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales

----

      A large figure sat with its back against the wall, pulse racing, adrenaline flowing, breaths quickening.

      Breathing.

      In and out.

      Just breathe. Breathe deep.

      Ahhh!! Painpainpainpain! My leg... I-I see red! Lots of red!

      I-I can take it! It's just blood. Just blood.

      *Ratatat!!*

      Gunfire! Right, gunfire! That's why I'm here! That's how I got shot! That's why I'm behind this wall. That's why I'm in this house. Gunfire.

      -We were ambushed! That's it! We were just on our routine patrol and then-

      *BAM!!!*

      An explosion! An RPG! Our Humvee flipped God-knows how many times before we stopped. Must've hit the ground under us, 'cuz the chassis took the brunt of the shockwave. Unfortunately, so did Parsons. Said he always liked the window seat. Always said he could see the faces of the people we were helping. See their smiles. He saved my neck more than once, and now he ended up doing it by accident. I guess I can't pay him back for those times.

      Mackenzie musta flew thirty feet to be as far away from the 'vee as he was. I saw him when I crawled out of the debris. Had to run to the knocked-out fool and drag him into this house. He sat on the top of the 'vee, behind "Skipper", our gunner. He said they've been friends 'fore joining, but they were at each other's throats so often, I think he just got claustrophobic in that tin can. Fresh air despite the stale company, I guess.
      "Gilligan" and Tarski were in the front; not sure if either one made it. I bee lined for Mack so I didn't get the chance to look back. Especially when the shooting broke out. Everything they tell you in Basic means nothing if you can't handle the gunfire. The feeling of being shot at with the full intent of causing your death is the make or break moment that defines a soldier. You don't think when you're being shot, you act. Snap judgments separate the life and death of you or the soldier next to you. Those snap decisions also seem like lunacy when the adrenaline finally burns dry, or at least the ones I made that day did.

      There was a family huddled in the corner of the home, frightened by the fact that this likely would be their day to die. They would die, not because of anything they did, but because I chose on impulse to run into their house, and because someone wanted me dead in spite of whomever innocent would fall from their actions.

      I wouldn't have anyone else spill their blood on my behalf though. Parsons' unknowing sacrifice was already too much for my life, so this was the least I could do for this family. I looked into the father's eyes and patted on Mack's shoulder, passing the responsibility to him, whether he really understood me or not. Leg wound or not, I was leaving, hoping to draw all the fire away from the house and its occupants.

      I checked my M-4's magazine and safety. If I were to make it through this alive, Sgt. Tarski most surely would chew me out on how many rules in the manual I'd broke pulling this stunt. If he's still alive, that is. No guarantees.

      I placed my hand against the wall to try and stand without putting pressure on my bleeding leg, but it still hurt like no other. Hobbling slowly towards the doorframe, I was breathing heavily and feeling dizzy. I hastily peered around the corner, seeing no one, despite the sounds of gunfire persisting nearby. I tried to collect myself as best as I could before turning the corner to move back to the smoking Humvee. This time, however, I stepped out to an insurgent approaching the house. Our eyes locked as we both squeezed triggers. 

      I felt a the heavy impact of a bullet on my vest, knocking me prone. I saw a bright light briefly before feeling weightless, and then I slipped into unconsciousness.

Part I: The Seven Tales of Heroes

"Who are true heroes but the commoners who fought when others ran?"

Prologue

"I give no answers to life, only ask questions and present possibilities." - Max Chester

      “…Are you sure this is the only option left?”

      “…Yes…we have no other choice.”

      “But Lana-”

      “Advisor Alon! You should keep formalities while we are in a public place, even a hall.”

      “But Master Estur, the dangers involved are-”

      “I know. It hasn’t been done for ages… for good reason, too. Yet the times are desperate; the need is great… Here it is.”

      The two arrived at a pair of large, rusty doors. The young advisor lifted a large, circular handle and strained to pull the metal entry open. The smaller wizard marched right in, raising her left hand which began to illuminate and brought some much-needed light into the room. Her attire consisted of a long (for her at least, being hardly five feet tall), short-sleeved robe of pure white with a blue and green lining. It was more of a dress than a robe with its thinner cloth and excessive frills, but she nonetheless upheld and did, for the most part, respect the traditions of the great wizards of the past. She made sure to be technically wearing a robe, even wearing a belt, though tied at the back and covered by her blue extended vest, not that anyone in the country could really force her to change. Her eyes were green, hair was white, and she had, like nearly everyone in the land, a small stripe on each cheekbone. Her’s was blue, no symbolism behind it, just blue. She could change it to any color with simple thought but had no desire to change it. Blue satisfied her quite well.

      Behind her, the advisor hurried into the dome-shaped room. He was six-foot and thinly built, but was roughly the same age as the magician, seventeen by our standards. He had short, blond hair and grey stripes on his cheekbones that matched his eyes. Most assumed that he chose grey to match his eyes and outfit, but no one really knew the reason. He wore a red trench coat that could be described, strangely enough, as formal. It was unfastened in the haste of the situation revealing his white t-shirt and grey pants that were far more casual than an advisor would wear. He then caught up with her.

      “Mast- no, Lana, are you sure this will work?”

      “No,” she softly spoke as she used her free hand to trace the large magic circle imbedded in the stone floor, a faint glow following her path, “But we need to do it… we need them.”

      He didn’t want to admit it. He hated admitting things. He hated his inert blood. He hated his inability to do anything himself, anything to help. So he used the only thing he could. Words.

      “Please be careful… my sweet Lana.”

Synopsis

      After catastrophic economic disaster on the distant world of Nulell, where High-Tech and High Fantasy reign, a single message seeps through the ashes and ignites a revolution across a continent: Idealism. The people gather into new ethnicities, identified by one's beliefs rather than origin. They are the compromising and mixed Humanists, the spiritual and environmental Naturalists, the technological and rebellious Machinists, and the powerful and individualistic Energists. However, it isn't long before conflicting ideals bring conflict and plunge the people into war.

      When one of the factions turns desperate, they summon seven heroes of legend to turn the tide. What they got was seven ordinary people from Earth, with little experience and less patience. Without much choice, the band is forced to become the very heroes of the legend that brought them there. Yet, in an Ideal world, who do you fight for?

The Ideals

Freedom, the ability to choose, unhindered by oppression;

Progress, the drive to make things better for all;

Creation, the power to build and invent wonders;

Knowledge, the desire to learn and grow;

Chivalry, the valiance to stand up for noble causes;

Order, the system to accomplish the task at hand;

Compromise, the rationale to negotiate issues;

Honor, the merit to those who go beyond their duty;

Harmony, the trust in the larger picture;

Preservation, the duty to guard life in its many forms;

Respect, the reverence of things great and small;

Spirit, the sense of inner being and will;

Individuality, the desire to be unique among many;

Enlightenment, the path to guide ourselves in the world;

Evolution, the will to advance our race in unimaginable ways;

Potential, the hidden strength within us all;

Which ideals will you stand for?...

 Ideal