Wielder of the Flame (10 page)

He continued his wanderings.

There were weapons on another aisle. Each item was carefully
laid out on luxurious, silky cloth. Tags written on parchment said
Ice Blade
of Pelios
,
staff of the Daemon killer
, and
sword of Dragons Bane
.
Next to the weapons were shields with fancy symbols etched into their surface,
gem encrusted helmets, and ornamented suits of armor, each with their
respective titles. In one corner a whole section of wall was dedicated to
animal heads mounted on pedestals, they were beastly things. Marc read the
labels on some of them,
Urgar Bear Head
ten hundred quins,
Telar Head
,
of the Darkspawn Forest,
fifteen hundred quins and fifty koons.

That must be the currency here
, Marc thought as he
read the price tags.

Topar stared at him all the while. The large white creature
was an imposing figure.

Finally, after having toured the fantastical shop Marc
returned to the counter.

“He gave me this!” Zildjin was showing the small item Lanvar
had given him on the road.

“It is rather interesting,” Eleanor was fingering the little
metal figurine, “These markings.”

Just then Sesuadra appeared, his long dark brown hair was
still wet. He was dressed similarly to Zildjin, but had his hands to his
knuckles and up to his elbows wrapped with strips of cloth.

“I believe it to be the markings of the Fae Ones,” Sesuadra
commented about the coin.

“That was quick,” The old woman commented.

Sesuadra bowed his head, “Cold water makes for a swift
bath,” he said.

“You could have stoked the fire,” She gave a grandmotherly
smile, a knowing smile. She knew Sesuadra well.

Sesuadra shrugged as if to say
it did not matter, cold or
warm, now I am clean.

“Now then, Marcus, to the wash, I will draw a fresh draught
of hot water for it.”

It was the strangest thing. A large
metal tub filled with water that was warmed over a fire.

Everything about the room was right from a history book of
ancient times. He thought of the standing shower back home and the hot running
water spilling from the showerhead and for a moment missed the familiarity of
it.

The water in the tub was scented
with an aroma that was like chamomile and lemons. He stripped down, leaving his
clothes in a pile on the floor. He placed the belt and his sheathed sword
propped up by the tub. He then eased himself into the bath. It was hot, almost
scalding, but he smelled horrible and wanted to clean the dirt from underneath
his fingernails so he sucked it up and sank all the way in. There was a table
nearby with a brush and soap. A towel was draped over a chair by the table.

A knock came on the door, “Some
clothes for you dear,” Eleanor said from the other side. Then she left.

Using the items on the table he soaped down then rinsed and
scrubbed until he felt clean. The hot water eventually grew lukewarm and his
fingers and toes were wrinkled like raisins. He knew it was time to get out.

He stepped out of the tub and toweled dry.

He smelled fresh and clean. Wrapping the towel around him he
crossed the room and opened the door. He took the clothes from the floor and
shut the door again. He dressed in the shirt, which was an off-white parchment
color, and brown leather breeches. His belt and sword went over the shirt and
pants. He then headed downstairs.

The two boys were sitting at the table as Eleanor was
placing food down before them.

“All clean now,” she said.

Marc nodded.

“Just in time for middag,” she gestured to the food and Marc
deduced she meant the equivalent of what he knew as lunch.

Marc sat across from Sesuadra and next to Zildjin.

She laid an empty plate in front of Marc and then walked
over to her place at the table. She did not sit down yet though. She lifted her
head and looked up.

“Times change as the wind blows, nevertheless may we always
be free. So be it,” she finished and sat down.

“So be it,” Sesuadra and Zildjin added.

Marc didn’t know what to say.

She then motioned for them to take what they wanted.

Marc didn’t recognize anything before him. He watched first
as Zildjin and Sesuadra took food and placed it on their plates. He followed
their lead. As the wonderful smells from the food wafted into his nose he
realized just how hungry he was.

Eleanor was the first to talk.

“Zildjin, have you been keeping up with your studies?”

Zildjin squirmed under her gaze, “No ma’am.”

“When I let you boys work with Soren I knew it would mean a
busier schedule, more time outside, learning his trade, but I expected, and
still expect you to keep up on your readings. Garrond, rest his soul, may have
chosen the life of adventuring but he never stopped reading, or learning, and I
expect you boys to follow his example, Zildjin, you especially.”

Her words were sharp but her tone was kind and heartening.

Her eyes met Marc’s gaze, “And Marcus, do you read?”

 “Yes, and write.”

“Very good, then as a good friend you must encourage
Zildjin.”

Her gaze fell upon Sesuadra.

“Sesuadra, you must be more encouraging too.”

Sesuadra nodded silently.

They were soon finished with the meal.

Eleanor stood up and began clearing the table, Sesuadra and
Zildjin stood up and helped as well. Marc followed their lead. Eleanor placed
the leftover food on the kitchen counter, placing a cloth over it. The dirty
dishes were placed in a large empty basin next to a pot of water.

Once they were finished the old woman looked at them and
said, “Now, stay here, I will return with your surprise. Marc dear, please
forgive me, If I would have known you were coming I would have gotten you
something as well.”

“No worries, Ma’am,” Marc followed Zildjin and Sesuadra’s
example of speech, “food and drink is more than enough for me.”

“Nonsense, I will make something for you as well,” Eleanor
said with a kind smile, “Now just give me a moment.”

She left through one of the doors. They could hear her
footsteps retreating.

She returned quickly.

Eleanor walked in with two large leather backpacks in her
hand. Both packs had numerous pockets, buckles, leather straps and ties and
looked to be made of the finest quality. A symbol was inscribed with gold on
the front of the knapsack. It featured the silhouette of a dragon on a kite
shield. The interior of the shield was divided into a checkered pattern of four
panes, two a sharp cobalt blue, and the other two, black.

She set both bags on the table in front of Zildjin and
Sesuadra.

“Eleanor, I do not know what to say,” Zildjin began, “Is
this not the symbol of your husband’s—” He didn’t finish.

“Indeed,” She smiled, “It is the symbol of his Guild.”

“The Defiant Dragoons,” Zildjin said in a reverent awe.

Sesuadra did not speak, but his admiration could be seen on
his face.

“There is more,” Eleanor continued.

Zildjin and Sesuadra looked at her quizzically.

The bags bulged, filled with something. Both boys were
trying to get a feel for what was inside.

“Before you open the bags let me just say I have been
thinking with all your traveling you have been doing with Soren recently you
should have some attire that is good for the road. I have placed your garments
inside the bags. Go, go, try the clothes on now, I want to see how they fit.”

“Yes ma’am,” They answered together.

The two boys shouldered the bags and retreated into two
different of the adjacent rooms. Marc sat silently, tipping the cup in his
hands back and forth. There was a small last bit of drink in it but he didn’t
want to down it and then having nothing else to do with his hands.

Fortunately the old woman broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Your sword,” She gestured to the weapon at Marc’s side,
“Soren spoke briefly of how you acquired it, may I see it?”

He nodded and unsheathed the blade.

A golden glow surrounded his hand and the weapon.

The old woman had at first stretched forth her hand to take
it but when it began to glow she withdrew her hand.

“I dare not touch it,” She whispered.

“Soren held it,” Marc said almost absent mindedly, his eyes
on the blade.

“Even so,” She responded, “I have had the opportunity to
handle many a magical item in my line of work, my husband brought home more
than a few ancient relics from his adventures. I can feel its magical aura from
here without even needing to touch it. A strong enchantment, more powerful than
any other I have seen.” Her voice dwindled to barely more than a whisper.

She studied it with her eyes but kept her hands at her side.

“It appears to be in such poor condition, but I believe that
to be a farce. It hides a great power,” She finished.

“It is clear you have come here with a grand purpose. As
long as you embrace it and push ahead with full purpose of heart, you can and
will accomplish what you were meant to do here, do not let anyone tell you
different.”

“I won’t,” He nodded.

Never before had he experienced something like this. His
grandparents had both passed on before he was old enough to understand that and
the majority of the adults in his life had been less than exemplary examples of
wisdom, understanding, and kindness. He had never really spoken with one who
had treated him with so much respect. It felt good in a way that gave him the
need to honor the advice she had given him.

One of the doors opened and Zildjin came out.

He was dressed in attire in hues of dark blues and midnight
black. His feet were in long black boots with the extra material folded over to
come up just to his knees. They laced up on the sides and had extra hardened
leather plates around the back of the heels and two across the top of the foot
with solid soles for long days of walking. His pants were a meld of hardened
leather plates, sewn in pouches, and leather straps, all dark blue, held up
with a large black leather belt. Over his chest he wore a black and dark blue
tunic of similar features, sewn in pouches, and leather straps around the
shoulders to secure it. On his hands he wore gloves with hardened leather on
the back of the hand, the fingers were cut out for better gripping. His attire
was finished with a black trench coat of sorts that came down to his calves. It
had dark blue hardened leather plates attached to his shoulders and silver
lined, dark blue cuffs. The symbol on the knapsack was also emblazoned on
Zildjin’s new coat. A smaller similar symbol was on the back of his shirt.

“Thank you very much ma’am. The coat is a little warm, but
perfect length.”

Eleanor admired her work, “Yes dear,” she said kindly, but
knowingly, “but Abeo is right around the corner, and then comes Gelu. The
Season of Cold may be nothing but a light breeze here in Kolima, but when I
made the clothes I had to think of any place you might have to travel with
Soren.”

Sesuadra knocked on his door, “Would I be interrupting if I
entered at this time?”

“Of course not dear,” Eleanor replied, “You are too polite
sometimes, come out, I would like to see you.”

Sesuadra entered the room.

He wore attire of the same fashion with the only major
differences being a long blue cloak draped around his shoulders, a large blue
sash around his middle instead of a belt, and long gauntlets that came up past
his elbows. The same crest was on the front of his shirt, since it would have
been covered if it had been inscribed on the back. “I made modification of your
apparel from what I could learn of Kiohopi. I know that it is hot on the
islands and no one would be found wearing a cloak that heavy, but I added it
since Itherin has become your home.”

“Ma’am, it is a perfect tribute to the manner of the cloth
worn in my homeland. I am humbled by the expert of your craft, and the tribute
to your late husband. Thank you.”

“You boys are both welcome. Marcus, I will take your
measurements soon enough.”

“It’s really no problem—” Marc began.

“Do not be ridiculous. I have run out of projects to do and
have nothing to work on from here until The Gathering. I will hear no further
objections.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Marc replied.

“Boys, change back into your other clothes, save these for
travelling. When the time is right, I will have Topar officially anoint you
into the Guild.”

They nodded and went back to the rooms they had changed in,
their excitement clear in their demeanor.

Eleanor began taking Marc’s measurements and was finishing
up when Zildjin and Sesuadra reappeared. 

“Now, you boys have had a long and extraordinary journey, it
would be best to retire early so that you can be refreshed for the morrow.”

“And our studies—?” Zildjin began, hopeful, but really
already knowing the answer.

“—will continue as usual. You will not have work at the
docks with Soren until he returns, so that means more time training in the yard
with Topar. I know The Gathering is almost two fortnight’s time from now, but
there are already many parts of the city bubbling with excitement and
entertainment and I know you boys are anxious to participate. Morning studies,
afternoon sword training, and then you will be free for evenings. Now go on and
get some sleep.”

They nodded, Zildjin and Sesuadra both looked happy to hear
that from Eleanor.

Marc realized he was indeed tired. 

He lay down on a makeshift bed of
straw and blankets in one of the rooms upstairs with Sesuadra.

The other boy had already lain down to sleep on a bed
against one of the walls. The room was simply furnished with polished wood
floors, wood wardrobe, a bed and a table with a single chair. A painting of
Kolima decorated one wall and simple but appealing designs had been painted
across the top of each wall. Sesuadra had shuttered the windows to block the
sunlight. It was warm in the room and Sesuadra had removed his shirt, but not
the cloth around his arms up to his elbows.

“What did Zildjin mean about Eleanor’s husband? Something
about Dragons, and the symbol?” Marc asked quietly.

“Dragoons,” Sesuadra corrected, “In ancient legend it was
thought that one could absorb the spirit of a dragon by defeating it in combat,
thus gaining its magical abilities, among them immortality. Although this
eventually was proved false, a Dragoon came to be known as an exceptionally
skilled warrior and hunter, like unto a dragon. The Defiant Dragoons was a small
guild Eleanor’s husband, Garrond founded, the Dragon was their symbol. Topar
was a part of it too. Almost all of the magical items in the shop were found by
Garrond and his Guild. It was disbanded when Garrond died. That is why both
Zildjin and I were surprised to see his crest on our gifts from Eleanor. She
has avoided speaking of Garrond’s Guild during many cycles.”

“Dragons,” Marc said, “I’ve always wanted to see one.”

“Dragons were once intelligent beings,” Sesuadra continued,
“They were greater and wiser, even than the elves. Dragons today are a shadow
of their ancestors, more wyrms than draconic beings, more bestial, territorial,
hunters than anything.”

Dragons. Elves. Magic.
Marc’s head was beginning to
hurt again trying to wrap his head around everything.

“Where I’m from, Dragons aren’t—” he paused. He was going to
say aren’t real, but decided to go with, “Dragons aren’t alive anymore. They
are just myths, legends.”

Sesuadra nodded, understanding, “It is the path Dragons seem
to be heading on here. Sleep well.”