A Wizard's Tears (25 page)

Vergail watched in horror as Lorkayn collapsed to the ground, sobbing. She exchanged a very quick glance with Keldoran, who appeared incredibly puzzled by this turn of events, then, without warning, she rushed over to the sorcerer’s side.

“Lorkayn,” she said softly, her hands inching out to touch the man’s shuddering shoulders. “Let me help…I am your lover…your spirit’s soulmate…”

The sorcerer looked up then, as if noticing her for the first time. His face was lined with tears and sweat, but his eyes looked at her in anger. “I betrayed you, and still you come here, seeking me out? Why, woman? Why do I need you? Can you not see I cast you aside? You meant nothing to me then, and nothing to me now!” In a cold fury, Lorkayn lashed out, his fist striking the priestess, sending her toppling to the ground.

This was what he remembered, Lorkayn thought furiously. The power, the control, the anger at all life! This was better than weeping. This was what you had made me, gods, he thought. I am evil, I am corrupt. I will never change. Only death will stop me from hurting, and slaying. I am everything you did not want, everything that you cursed. Well, here I am, and I plan to stay, not wallow in the misery you have shown me.

With an inhuman snarl, Lorkayn pounced on the fallen priestess, his hands around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. She would be the first to die, this one, not just for her stupidity and stubbornness, but because he could. He would defy the gods one more time; show them they could not reach him now. He was beyond anyone’s reach. Although his soul cried out for those he had killed, his mind shut it off. It was better for him not to think, but merely to act, to be in control once more. To have power!

Vergail’s eyes bulged. She tried to speak, tried to talk to the sorcerer, but his hands were firm around her throat. Even now, he could see the look of love in her eyes, even as he was killing her. Her face was horrible to him, a reminder of his soul yearning for release from the evil he had enveloped himself in. He would crush it, and see her face no more!
Keldoran could not watch this without acting. The pain of the land magick inside him was burning, making his movements slow. He was dying, but he could not, simply could not look and see the priestess, the embodiment of goodness and love, be killed by this insane sorcerer.

Staggering, clutching his stomach in agony, Keldoran lurched forward, throwing himself with his last breath onto the sorcerer, pulling him away from the priestess. At that moment, Keldoran let the land magick overwhelm him and his body, letting it spill out into the open.
Vergail fell backwards, clutching her neck, rubbing the pain with her fingers. She stared in awe at the two combatants before her. A halo of bright, blue energy enveloped them both, a scream coming from both their mouths. Keldoran’s body seemed to melt in this power, as his land magick burst forth, eating into Lorkayn’s already damaged body. Slowly, she watched, as the two bodies seemed to entwine, seemed to dissolve in the gathering energies.

Lorkayn, with his last strength, hurled Keldoran away from him, to collapse onto the harsh, wet ground. The connection severed, the blue energy no longer ate his body. The land magick, still pouring out of Keldoran, shot upwards, into the sky, and a large explosion of sound erupted from the heavens. Then, it was gone. With an almighty sigh, Lorkayn fell to the ground, scorched and wounded beyond repair.

Vergail crawled over to the sorcerer, and almost retched at the sight of his body. Charred and burned beyond all recognition, the skin hissed and sputtered, blood oozing and melting before her very eyes. Lorkayn, although breathing, his lungs filling the air with their rasp, was dying, and there was no way she could heal him.

“My love…” she choked, resting her hand on the burning torso of the sorcerer. “I have failed you.”
Lorkayn coughed in response, a horrible sound, no longer a cough, but a burning spit of blood and flame. His mind was closed to his pain, now, except one. The pain of loneliness, of anguish at the tortured life he had led, and the tortures he had done on others. The gods’ images still etched themselves in his mind. He had hoped, by getting angry, he would be able to banish this pain from his soul, but he could not.
The voice of the priestess came to him, begging for forgiveness, and in that moment, he nearly laughed. It would have been the first, genuine laugh to have come from his lips. Yet he did not have the strength. He merely lay, hearing her pleas, and each plea was the finishing arrow in his slowly beating heart.
She was touching him; he could feel her hand on his chest. Why, after all of this, after he had tried to kill her, why was she doing this? He would have expected her to spit on his remains, not this undying love. It was too much to bear. He would have cried, but his eyes were smoked over, and there was no water left in his body to shed.
Vergail mourned for him. She had travelled worlds to be with him. She had touched his soul, and for a fleeting moment, had seen a glimpse of goodness. It was this goodness, and their intimate linking of souls, that had brought her to this moment. She would never feel the same again. All of her life she had been seeking such a bond. She thought she had had this with Untaba, the god of survival, but she realised what that was now. That had just been a cover, a way to live, to gloss over the real yearning in her heart.
She had been lonely, and this man had come into her life, evil and corrupt, but made her whole. She had made it her mission to save him, to redeem him. At first, she had been charmed by him, by her dreams. She wondered why she had dreamt of him, and maybe now she knew the answer. The gods, here, in this ravaged world, had wanted her to redeem him. It was their way of sowing a seed, planting a reason in her for her life. It was a very profound thought.
She would not pity this man, nor ridicule him, at his time of death. She would do what the gods had asked of her, and what her soul demanded of her. She would love this man to the end of her days, and be forever bonded to him. Even in death, she knew that the gods would honour her, and send her soul once more to his, so they could again entwine and dance the dance of dreams.
A gap in the clouds above formed, and she smiled as a stream of sunlight washed over her and Lorkayn. The gods are watching, she thought.
Lorkayn, although he could not see Vergail, sensed her hands and her emotions. He felt the love pouring from her, into him, somehow stopping him from being completely alone. It was one of the most profound and happy moments in his life; it was ironic it was his last thought.
Perhaps it was a final gift of the gods, but Lorkayn, as his life force ebbed away, felt completely at peace. He remembered the time his soul mixed with Vergail’s, and remembered the goodness and innocence within him. He wanted to say thank you, and he wanted to say sorry, but he could not speak. Yet, he still had power inside of his charred body. Perhaps, finally, he would use this power for a greater good. For the first time, he felt he had achieved something great.
Raising his hand, what was left of it, in a gesture of farewell, he let forth his power, much like Keldoran had done earlier. A blast of hot energy issued from his fingertips, creating a shimmering portal in the mist of fog and rain. A start to make sure Vergail could get home. As if to thank him, the gods added their own majesty to the portal, making it stronger, until Vergail could see the city of Malana clearly through the portal. She would not have to journey through the planes of nowhere to find her way back. She could simply walk through, and be back where she had come from.
“Thank you,” Vergail said, her words clogged with sadness. “Thank you, my love. I knew you would find your goodness. I knew it!”
The sun came out then, a bright warm glow, banishing the rain and wind. All over Mincalen, people flocked outside, to witness the first sunlight for over two months. Some cheered, but all were awed by the magnificence of this sunburst. It was the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen.

Vergail remained with Lorkayn long after he had died, basking in the warmth of the new dawn on Mincalen. She had almost forgotten about Keldoran, when his coughing brought her out of her reverie of peace.

She was instantly at his side. Keldoran’s body was in just as bad a shape as Lorkayn’s. Burned and scarred, the land magick had torn him apart. It was a wonder he was still alive.

“I’m sorry,” said Vergail genuinely. “I…Lorkayn…he is dead.”
Keldoran let out a sigh. He knew, now, that his mission had been completed. The Ice Lord would have been proud of him. The prophecy was fulfilled. “Then it worked. I saved you from him. You are free.”
Vergail smiled warmly at the young man before her. “Yes, I am truly free, but not of Lorkayn, for he will be with me forever. Yet I thank you, Keldoran, for he would have surely killed me had you not intervened. I owe you my life, and I aim to do so much with this life. I have seen whole new worlds, new gods, new beginnings. I have also seen love, even inside the most evil of hosts.”
Keldoran could only look at her, confused by her words, but grateful she lived and the sorcerer dead. “My life is complete,” he answered, equally as profoundly. “I ended a life by accident, back on Elrohen. Relb was my friend, even though I had only known him for such a short time. I sought to balance out that wrongdoing. I think I have done that, here.”
Vergail wiped the sweat along his brow, and Keldoran, again, and for the last time, admired her beauty. “You are a good man, Keldoran,” responded the priestess to his words. “Many can have accidents, but few seldom learn from them. You have a wisdom that is beyond your years. I will be happy to ease your passing, and it will be a loss to Elrohen that you have to die.”
“Thank you for being with me,” said Keldoran, tears coming to his eyes. He knew he was dying, and he was suddenly afraid. “I don’t want to be alone, at the end.” Vergail clutched the young man’s hand fiercely, squeezing it tightly. “You will never be alone.” Keldoran cried now, letting all of his emotions out. “There was so much I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be a mage, the best mage that could be. I had so many childish dreams, so much ambition. My life is over before it really began. It…isn’t fair, is it?”
Vergail leant forward and kissed Keldoran soundly on the lips. “You have done more in your life than many people do in their lifetimes combined,” she said sweetly. “You have saved a life, and travelled beyond your world. You have lived, Keldoran. You have truly, truly lived.” Keldoran smiled at the priestess, but did not stop crying. “Death…it’s so…final. What is the point of it all? Why do we all have to die? I do not want to die…” Vergail stroked his hair gently. “You are on the start of something greater, Keldoran. It is not a moment to feel sad, but a moment to rejoice! You are merely leaving this plane. Who knows? Perhaps, for you, you will become a god, and teach other mortals like myself the way to true enlightenment. Perhaps, somewhere, on some planet, a star will shine in your honour. This is not the end, Keldoran, this is the beginning. In some ways, I envy you.” Tears coming to her eyes now, as well, Vergail hugged Keldoran tightly, offering words of encouragement. Keldoran hugged her back, and his last memory would be a happy one. Smiling at her, in the end, Keldoran kissed her forehead. “I…am going…” he said. He could feel the end was near. His body was spent.
Vergail nodded, and lay him down on the ground. “Farewell, brave Keldoran. I will tell your story wherever I go, spreading the word of a courageous young man, who looked death straight in the eye, and smiled.”
Keldoran smile grew broader, and he nodded his thanks to the priestess. He stared at her, not daring to blink, giving in to her beauty. Then, her face ebbed away, and Keldoran slept.
Vergail stayed with him until the end, and cried tears of joy and peace for him. She closed his staring eyes for him, and was glad to see the look of peace on his features. She buried Lorkayn there, beside the path. She did not worry that the mound she dug in the soft earth with her hands looked ugly. She merely wanted to protect Lorkayn’s body from being eaten by birds. When she was done, none would even notice the mound beside this path, in the middle of nowhere.
She stood by the mound for a good while, paying her last respects to the man she loved. She could not stop crying, but they were not tears of grief, but rather of an emotion too complicated to understand.
The sun warmed her back, and caressed her soul. She had lived though much, she realised. Her mind shuddered when she remembered the demon she had faced. Again, Keldoran had saved her there. He had been a protector to her, in these strange places. She thanked him again. Finally, she knew it was time to leave. The portal still shone, shimmering with its own ethereal beauty. She lifted up Keldorans’ body. She would not leave it here. It should be returned to the young man’s parents, so they could mourn. In Elrohen, he will be remembered, of that she vowed. Odd, she thought, his body seemed quite light, and easy to carry.
For one last moment she looked back at the mound, and remembered that special moment when her soul had become one with the man buried there.
“Thank you,” she said to the earth. “Thank you for showing me the way home.”
Vergail stepped into the portal, and was transported instantly back into the city of Malana, back into the very room she had left.
It was as if she had never been gone. The room was still in chaos. Vo’Loth, the ice lord, was there, with his host of birdmen, and Suralubus looked at her appear in astonishment. Yvanna and Corg cried out in anguish at the sight of Keldoran’s body.
Vergail smiled at them all. Everything would be alright. She would look after Yvanna and Corg, console them in their grief. She would tell all of them her tale, of the brave Keldoran, and, of Lorkayn’s goodness in the end. It would be quite a tale, and one she would be sure to tell for the rest of her days.
* * *

The priestess walked back to the gardens in Malana, a place where she had often found solace. She had something to do, there, a misdemeanour to be set right.

Yes, there he was, the man, coughing with his ailments still, sat against one of the tall trees that marked the entrance to the gardens. He looked up at her as she approached, his face leering at her. “So, you come back to mock me some more priestess? Do your worst!”