Confusion - Chapter Two.

Interior Emotions/ Flashback. Part Three.

The first thing that Dane felt was cold; bitter cold. So cold he felt as though the very marrow in his bones would freeze.

It never felt the same twice in a row. Last time he'd been through a Gate, it had felt as though he was about to jump five hundred feet or fight a dozen mutants, it had exhilarated him, making his heart beat faster, making him want to get up and run a mile as fast as he could.

But this time all he felt was cold.

Magic had always been around him, for as long as he could remember, whether it was back with his father in Dernland, or on earth with his group. He'd never been good at controlling it, but he'd never feared it. He'd respected its power, but he would never have run from it.

But now he felt a hint of fear inside him.

The unknown has always haunted humanity, and the dancing lights, just out of his reach, instead of intriguing him as they usually did, only made him want to run. He assured himself that he wasn't really this afraid of anything in this nonexistent place through which all had to pass to reach other worlds, that it was only the magic of the Gate trying to work it's way into his mind, but he still felt the slight fear.

To make things a bit worse was the fact that while one is passing through a gate, one cannot move, not even blink. He was forced to lie there, as his body was slowly transferred through the immeasurable space that separated Earth and Dernland, and watch helplessly as a thousand, multicolored, magical lights sparkled and bounced about him.

They seemed to be whispering to him, but he could not hear what they said.

They seemed angry at him, but he couldn't see why.

They seemed to produce the cold, but he couldn't be sure. . . .

It'll go away in a few minutes, he told himself, trying to push the memories of fear that rose up in his mind to the side.

Suddenly the lights around him spun, blurred together, and he was twelve again, back on Dernland . . .

"Dane!"

He looked up from the heap of baskets he was hiding behind and saw his father, alone, running across the castle courtyard, looking . . . for him.

He hadn't understood what was going on that night, the fires, the screams, the explosions and everything had only scared him. And so, he'd left his room and come down here looking for his father, and that's when he'd seen the men, fifty of them, wearing long white and red cloaks, marching through the courtyard. They hadn't been father's men. They'd scared him, and he had hid.

He sat back down, his legs feeling like jelly, his heart beating harder and harder.

"DANE!" His father practically screamed his name.

"I'm over here dad." He said weakly, curling up against the heap of baskets.

A moment later a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him to his feet." Dane, thank God!" His father had sighed, tears cutting streaks of tan through the soot and blood that covered his face." We have to get out of here, the castle's under attack."

"What about mom?" He'd asked weakly, while bravely trying to stand.

His fathers hard, scarred face had fallen and he'd replied hoarsely." Your mom's not going to be around for a while here. Come on!"

The castle had been burning as they rushed through it, dead bodies lay scattered across the hallways and courtyards, smoke rose into the air from everywhere, screams still occasionally split the air in the distance.

It had seemed as though they where just out of the castle when they ran into the soldiers. Three of them. His father and yelled at him to run . . . a moment before a spear sunk into his back.

Dane had screamed, but he was helpless in the arms of one of the soldiers who took him, and hauled him away . . . the last thing he saw of his father before the sack descended on him was his body, lying deathly still on the ground . . .

He still sometimes asked himself why he served the people who had killed his father: For Jensen Link had not been heard of since that night. He still sometimes felt that he was somehow betraying his father . . . His response to this was simple: He didn't serve his father's killers, he served his friends.

But tonight he felt a spark of doubt ignite in his mind.

A moment later the was a crack and the Gate released him, leaving him to fall face first on the ground. Slowly he stood and looked around, they were back in Colorado. He sighed, mountains were getting a bit old.