would be like with her? You could find out tonight, and nobody would ever know.'
Vartan shook her off gently and turned to her. 'It matters not what anyone would know, Flarantine. I would know. Thank you for your kind invitation, but I would never risk losing her, especially not for pleasure. She is far too precious to me.'
Extending her arms out wide and bowing, she morphed back into her true form and whispered, 'Very well, if you really are not interested. Enjoy your stay. But know this, I will always be here for you if you ever change your mind. You really don't know what you are missing.'
Vartan nodded and continued on his way. He passed by various creatures and races from other worlds. Many buildings were focused on physical pleasures, with diverse beings standing in various states of undress. Their innumerable forms and colours were fascinating, but he simply smiled at their plentiful offers. The building playing music had caught his attention for a few moments. He had never seen such interesting instruments or heard such sounds in Marithia. One stringed instrument appeared to be powered by something which was connected inside the building.
You, come here. I have things that you will need, said a voice in his mind, distracting him from the musicians.
He stopped wheeling the heavy cart and looked around at the many traders in sight, desperately attempting to work out who had spoken to him.
Look for the small blue flag with a red circle, said the voice.
Vartan squinted as he scanned the kaleidoscopic view before discovering the described flag. He cautiously approached the trader and fully took in his appearance. For a moment, Vartan almost mistook him for a human being. On closer inspection he could see the being’s brilliant white skin and small slit of a mouth that marked him as anything but. The trader’s eyes were closed, but Vartan could still feel his direct stare, and it made his nerves uneasy.
I am pleased to meet you. You understand my thoughts as your mind interprets them into words of your own. I can read your mind, so please do not bother to haggle with me. I have some items that will aid you in your journey. Some of these artefacts are for you, and some are for those closest to you.
“Artefacts?” began Vartan. “Can you tell me-”
So you wish to know what I have for you, and you are worried about giving up your treasures in exchange for weapons of bloodshed. I told you I could read your mind — did you not believe me? Worry not, Vartan, as I am not trying to rob you of your treasures. After all, why would anyone want to risk their lives here? My assistant will only take what the artefacts are worth. They are all from different worlds and that is all I should tell you. It is what you might call ‘fate’ that you are here to receive them.
“What is your name? And what do you mean fate?”
My name does not matter. One of the artefacts will aid you in an important decision of life and death, another will save a life, and the last will reveal the truth behind lies. Even my telling you their purpose can affect your path. You can continue without them, but that decision will change your fate for eternity.
Vartan hesitated for a moment before answering. “You are asking a lot for me to trust you with so little information. I will accept your offer to take the artefacts, but how do I use them?”
Do not concern yourself with activating these objects, as once they find their true owners, they will bind to them and will activate themselves. Artefacts are not chosen; they choose you.
The trader lifted an arm toward the artefacts and made a noise like a bumblebee.
One by one, the artefacts gently lifted off the stall and hovered over to them before lazily descending into a bag by the trader’s feet. A hovering assistant grabbed hold of the bag and glided over to Vartan. He looked similar to the trader, but was smaller in size and visibly much younger. Vartan smiled warmly as he took the bag with both hands and placed it in the back of the cart. When he turned back, the assistant’s eyes opened. They swirled purple and blue and Vartan felt unable to look away from them.
Vartan couldn’t help but stare longer into his eyes, and as he looked deeper he began to see a vision of himself. He became entranced by the vision, as he did not recognise it from his memories. In this vision, he was completely surrounded by a fiercely raging battle, and many fires burned nearby. Bodies met with weapons, and blood soaked the ground around him, staining it a deep crimson. Suddenly, he saw himself flung backwards by a bolt of lightning. It was the dark sorceress Kassina, closing in on his fallen body with sword in her raised hands and a look of determination on her face.
Enough! boomed the trader’s thought, screeching through the minds of them both, and the assistant snapped his eyes shut again.
Our powers are not to be toyed with, my child, the trader scolded his assistant before addressing Vartan again. My apologies to you for my child’s actions, Vartan. It was not the right time for you to have seen that vision, if you should have seen it at all.
The trader’s son opened the laden chest and retrieved only a few glittering treasures in return. He turned to the side as he glided away and quietly sent a thought into Vartan’s mind.
Remember that the journey you take can be changed at any given moment. Changes that divert from your path will work like ripples in the continuum of time, creating a new parallel reality, said the assistant.
Vartan nodded at them both and continued on, somewhat puzzled. He left the District of Pleasure and spotted the District of Bloodshed straight ahead of him. He felt a tickling sensation as the district’s enchantment wore off and time returned to its usual momentum. He attempted to clear the vision from his mind and dissect what the trader’s son had said to him.
Kassina, he thought, trying to make sense of it all. Ripples in the continuum of time?
Vartan finally arrived at the great doors to the District of Bloodshed. Disturbingly, its flags were marked by magical blood that fell in heavy clots to splatter on the ground before instantly disappearing.
Interesting method of signage, thought Vartan as he moved to enter the building.
The building’s guardians moved abruptly aside to allow him entry. 'Good luck with your trades, sir.'
The building was filled with sounds of weapons being forged, and various languages were being spoken that Vartan could not understand. Every now and again, he could hear his own tongue being spoken. Strange that some beings from other worlds speak my language, he thought. Now, who shall I bargain with today?
He moved quietly through the stalls, observing the strange weapons being manufactured and beings inhabiting the building. There was an abundance of merchants and traders who all watched the large cart behind him closely, like predators stalking prey. Vartan couldn’t help but halt and take notice of one particular trader, who was not at all interested in his heavy cart. The trader looked quite relaxed and at ease with his surroundings. He sat quietly and smoked a large pipe, blowing puffs of smoke in shapes of beasts unheard of in Marithia. He wore a hat made of beautifully painted and varicoloured feathers that encircled his head, and wore what looked like dried warrior’s paint on his face. As Vartan looked closer, he could see the dark scars of many battles on the trader’s muscular arms. This appeared to be no ordinary trader, but a battle-hardened warlord.
This is exactly the kind of warrior I need, thought Vartan.
Behind the trader, Vartan saw row upon row of intricate weaponry and armour of various sizes. A large red bird stood far back, perched on one of the rows of heavy axes, watching him closely out of the corner of its right eye. The man placed his pipe down and made a strange noise that sounded like drums, and the bird screamed out, took flight and burst into flames. Vartan reeled back instinctively and crouched down, ready to avoid its hot, fiery path. The flames suddenly disappeared as it landed on the trader’s forearm, its heavy talons digging into the leather gauntlet specially created to hold its weight. The phoenix cocked her head and looked directly at Vartan with an inquisitive look. It squawked into the ear of the trader, who listened intently to the bird’s message. The trader burst into heavy laughter and turned to Vartan, who was still crouched down on the ground. The man pointed beside him to a large chair covered in various furs.
“She wondered why you would prefer to sit on dirt, when we have a chair prepared for guests. The trade chair is a lot more comfortable than dirt, we can assure you.”
Vartan smiled and puffed, 'That does indeed did look very comfortable.' He made his way to the chair, and overcame his embarrassment to speak. “I’m sorry about all this, but I have never had the pleasure of visiting She’Ma’Ryn before and this is all quite new to me. My name is Vartan, and I come looking for your finest weapons and armour. We fight to save all living creatures on our planet that have not already fallen into the grip of darkness, and we need all the help we can get. Can you help us?”
“She’Ma’Ryn? Is that what your people call this place? The spirits told me long ago that you would seek my
