Rescue

While unconscious, David finds himself face-down in an ethereal, blank white space. He hears gentle, slow footsteps and the rhythmic tapping of a walking cane. The light is blinding. He struggles to turn himself upright, and sits up, gasping for air. The silhouette of an old man comes into view.

Peering through the light, he makes out his features, through squinted eyes. Long, white beard. Gaunt, wrinkled face. Pointy ears, jutting out from either side of his head. An old, tattered, black mage’s robe. He’s carrying an incredibly old, knurled wooden staff, that terminates in a perfect round, wooden ball at the top. His frazzled, white hair stretches down to his knees. He stops, standing over David, looking down at him.

“Young man...”, he says, frailly, “I know not how you found us, nor, how you knew to activate the altar that imprisoned us. I can only say, you have our greatest thanks for rescuing my people. Please, tell me your name.”

David stares back at him, eyes wide. What’s going on? Where am I?

“David, sir.”, he croaks.

“David… Be not afraid.”, the old man responds.

He lifts his staff up in the air, and holds it over David’s body. A gentle, yellow glow emits from it, and a wispy tendril of magic snakes through the air and pierces David’s forehead.

In an instant, the entire history of this imprisoned tribe of mages rends David’s mind. The spell was a mass data transfer. In it, he sees a mage’s village. Beautiful stone brick houses, in an agrarian society, with elves happily tending to the land with magic. A school sits in the center of the village, full of prodigious children. They’re practicing spells.

This happy way of life carries on for about 500 years. The village grows larger. The school becomes a university, with students from all over the continent. A carriage arrives. In it, resides a large, gelatinous, purple creature. A Slime. The small university welcomes this magic-adept creature and makes every effort to accommodate her. A few years later, the Slime has cemented itself in the university’s leadership, making sweeping policy changes, bringing in vast amounts of funding and expanding the once-little village into a mid-sized bustling town.

A revolt erupts. The townsfolk had realized their power had been stripped away from them. All the while, from the moment this Slime arrived, she had set up a vast siphoning matrix that sapped the mana from every mage, rendering once-powerful masters into useless, weak, old men. Those who had used magic to prolong their lives fell dead, one by one. A plan was hatched; imprison the Slime, sever her connection to the town, and oust her.

This old man, with a much more youthful countenance, sits at the head of the resistance, leading a rag-tag group of young & old men in clandestine meetings. They executed their plan. A nullifying barrier was constructed with the combined efforts of the resistance. For a brief moment, the group had regained their powers, and casted targeted bombardment spells on the Slime’s chamber within the College. They spared no effort. The Slime was reduced to a smoldering, boiling crater of molten earth.

Their victory was assured. They cheered, with a grand celebration of drinks and partying. Unbeknownst to them, the purple Slime had secretly deposited her essence into every one of the townsfolk, a microscopic piece of her, which activated once her main body had been destroyed.

These infected villagers assembled in the town square, silently. Combining their latent mana, they casted a two-part combination spell; sealing and transformation. It lit up the sky above this corrupted crowd, and in an instant, this old man and his compatriots disintegrated into thin air. As revenge for this humiliation, this purple Slime had the rebels transformed into giant slugs and teleported to an unknown, remote island. The altar had been constructed as a fallback, in case the Slime needed to revive them as a contingency plan.

David falls back, sweating and gasping. He glances around again. The old mage is sitting in front of him, clearly exhausted from the effort it took to show him this.

“Sir...” David croaks. “How long have you been here, on this island?”

The old man looks up, ruefully, with a fire in his eyes.

“One thousand, five hundred and seventy-seven years.”

David stares at him.

“Were your minds held intact while you were... slugs?”, he asks.

“Yes… It was the greatest torture imaginable. A full mind, trapped in a body without mana, and an especially worthless body at that.”, he croaks, bitterly.

“Can you imagine needing three hours to traverse a mile of ground? Being forced to eat the bitter, acerbic leaves of this jungle for sustenance? There is hell to pay for this.”

David raises one eyebrow. They were screwed over, big time. Had he really rescued them? What do they expect of him?

“Sir, if I may...” David asks. “What can I do to help your people?”

The old man beams with pride.

“Yes… Indeed. You are our savior. Knowing our enemy, they have likely continued their plunder throughout these years of our torment. Tell me, young man, where did you come from?”

David takes a moment to think. He launches into a quick explanation of what he knows. Particularly, when he fled from his father, on his conjured map of the world, the country he left was called Laios, with a footnote below it that said “Lamara”. He’d died and been transported to this strange world.

The instant he utters that word, the old man grins.

“That’s the name of my beloved village, young man.”

He’s beaming with pride.

“In a moment, I will bring the two of us out of this summoned space. Time is of the essence. We must return and set things right. I will have you give me the details on the way. Thank you, David, from the bottom of my heart.”

Before David can say anything, the white, ethereal space vanishes, and he’s met with the fresh, humid tropical air of the island. His head is pounding. Peeling himself up from the ground, he glances around. Sara is crumpled next to him, out like a light. He hauls himself up to his knees.

The slugs that had surrounded the altar had been transformed back into elves, with a few humans interspersed. Their clothes are tattered and ragged, unconscious, their chests heaving. He scans his eyes around, looking for the old man. There he is. He’s coughing, hacking, but seems full of life. A quick dash over to him, and David helps him up to his feet. He’s smiling from ear to ear.

“Oh, to have legs again!”, he shouts, taking a few, uneasy steps.

“The others were weaker than I. It will take them time to revive. Please; let’s gather them and prepare for the briefing.”

Over the next hour, David and the old man sliced down countless trees, assembled a makeshift shelter, floated the unconscious villagers into neat rows, preparing a small dinner with wildlife from the village, roasted and prepared expertly.

The old man stands before them. Raising up his staff, he casts a grand healing spell on the still-unconscious villagers. One by one, they rouse to life, including Sara, David’s little elven companion, who wakes up first. He’s right by her side to assuage her fears.

Silence fills the air. Then, confused murmuring. A young man shouts out in joy. Then, the others realize what’s happened. After so many long years, they’d been freed. Crying, shouting, and cheering fills the air. Sara stares up at David, confused. He pats her on the head, smiling.

The old man is now standing before his former rebellious villagers. He beckons David to come stand next to him.

“This young man has saved us. You will all get to know him in due time. I am sure many of you have lost your sense of self since our great calamity occurred. Fret not. Our victory is at hand. For the moment, please enjoy a feast – our first dinner prepared with human hands in a thousand years. Cheers!”

The crowd shouts with joy and applause. The old man takes David’s hand and raises it in the air in celebration. A bountiful feast of meats and veggies flashes into view, prepared on banana-leaf mats in front of each villager.

As the villagers take their fill, the old man leans towards David and extends his hand.

“Young man, tonight we feast. Tomorrow, we leave. We’ll need your help.”

Sara stares up at David, pleading with him. She wants to go, too. Anywhere but this island. The sound of drums and shouts of joy fills the air.

David takes the old man’s hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Let’s do this.”