Landing on his back, Cyran felt his body scream in pain at the impact. Scrabbling his hands around him, he felt the grip of his twin swords that he clutched with the pathetic strength he had left. Staring at the fissure he had just been pushed through, he saw his father facing off against a tide. From battle stance to a charge, Cyran saw the man fell swathes of men around him. He heavily planted each foot ever closer to the portal, trying to make his way back, trying to come to the sentinels aid. The sparkling fissure started shrinking before completely vanishing, welling panic within the boys chest.
"DAAAAAAD!" Cyran roared with the last effort of a dying flame before collapsing to his knees. He found himself in an unknown place, with buildings made of stone that towered high above him. Unfamiliar people were staring and whispering to each other as he slowly lurched to his feet. It may have been night time yet Cyran could see the crowd of onlookers clear as day, large metal spears coming out of the ground had lights at their tips which spread as far as he needed. Panic and desperation once again threatened to consume him when a gentle hand against his shoulder startled him. He spun and lashed out, arcing his sword in an attempt to cleave whoever it was in two yet he met only air. An odd voice called out from behind him.
"My my, not a very polite way to greet someone," it said. The voice was calm, almost playful sounding. Cyran turned to see a man standing there in a bright motley of colours whilst his face, sat under a jet black tophat, was as pale as though he were looking at a ghost. The stranger opened his mouth to say something when Cyran turned and fled. His mind racing, he made his way down narrow alleys in between the tall buildings. His breathing ragged, ignored the searing agony his body was in to get himself somewhere safe. Leaving bloodied handprints against the buildings as he passed, Cyran eventually settled into a deadend alleyway. With no alternatives and no clue as to where he was, he slid down the wall he was leaning on to to sob against the floor.
"Trying to cut and run? I have to say, not the sharpest tool around are you. But I can't say I don't admire a final gambit sometimes," the stranger said, almost as though he appeared out of nowhere. Walking forward with the elegance of a cat, the man suddenly seemed dangerous as he was odd. Without the slightest hint of exhaustion on his handsome features, the strangers face narrowed as though he were examining Cyran. "You...," he said as he fanned out the tails of his flamboyant jacket, "cut my clothes," he finished as he emphasised a clean slice through the end of the material. His tone made this news seem important so Cyran said nothing, he dared not even move to wipe the fresh tears from his face. His own heartbeat filled his ears like a rising drum, a symbol of his terror.
The stranger raised one hand and waved it around in the air. Staring at his movements, Cyran saw a small circle of runes briefly flash in the air. "Now, you destroyer of fashion, I have questions for you. You will answer them," he softly spoke. The man took a couple steps forward and knelt down in front of Cyran, taking his young and fear stricken face in his gloved hand. Cyran noticed for the first time his eyes. One was of a deep blue colour whilst the other eye was a fierce red and yet in that moment they both flared with an intense glow. "If they are not satisfactory, I will erase you from this world."
Cyran's eyes widened. He had no idea who this eccentrically dressed man was or how he managed to find him in the winding alleyways; all he wanted was to escape this strange city like place and rush to his fathers aid. He was battling a horse of shadow like men alone. Cyran was not sure what sort of help he could be but he would at the very least swing his sword with all he had.
"First question, young one. You cut my coat, that in itself is a travesty. Yet the act also surprising. Your blades cut through my protection magic. There is only one pair of swords in existence that can do such a thing and I would know, I helped make them. So, where did you get your weapons?" As if to emphasise the threat the man posed to Cyran's life, his hands warmed with an unnatural heat that stung his elven skin.
"They were a gift. From my father," he managed to say as he began to sweat.
Eyes narrowing, the stranger continued, "that leads me on to my next question. You appeared before me from a portal of my own magical signature yet you are not the intended recipient of such magic. Would the recipient and man who gave you those swords happen to be the sentinel of the Sylvarran woods?"
Cyran stopped struggling against his hand for a moment and looked at the stranger. He knew his father?
"You know my father?" Cyran replied.
"Why were you the one who stepped through the portal?" the stranger continued, ignoring Cyran.
"Our... our village was attacked by these... shadows. Dad he..." before Cyran could explain any further, the stranger let him go and stood. He twirled, took off his hat and bowed with such extravagant flair that Cyran almost felt as though he were some sort of royalty.
"Now with that ghastly business over with, I should introduce myself. I am Abus, grand mage of Movar and purveyor of style. I will take us to your forest and you will guide me to your father," he exclaimed whilst raising his head and returning his hat to perch upon his head.
Cyran was too shocked to process all that he had just seen. Could this man truly get him back home? How? What was a mage? Realising that he had said nothing whilst Abus held his gaze, he tried to speak, "I... errm, I-"
"You... owe me a new jacket," Abus scoffed as he waved his hands and more runes burned into the night air. As a new portal tore itself into existence, the mage extended a gloved hand to Cyran. All the danger that seemed to encompass him had vanished and now he just seemed like an abnormal street performer in his strange outfit. Cyran would believe it too if he hadn't witnessed him just create a portal out of nowhere.
"Well lets not dally, time is a thing to be used wisely."