Wielder of the Flame (11 page)

Sesuadra closed his eyes.

Marc noticed Sesuadra had kept his sword close to him and Marc
followed suit, keeping his rusty blade near him.

He let his eyes close with his fingers wrapped around the
sheath.

“Yeah,” Marc finally whispered, “night.”

And he dreamed.

“You are here again.”

Marc turned at the voice, it was Sesuadra, “Yes,” he
answered.

They stood once more in the silvery realm.

“I wonder, if it will be every night that we come here,” the
other said.

“Yeah,” Marc replied, “There are a lot of things I’ve
wondered about ever since I got here,” he admitted.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Why isn’t Zildjin here?” Marc said, meaning, there in the
dream world, with them.

Before Sesuadra could answer there was a sound.

It was a bird chirping, behind Marc. It had come as if right
over his shoulder.

He swiveled to find out what it was.

And he was surrounded by the mist again.

He quickly rotated back to facing Sesuadra in hopes that his
friend was still there.

“Sesuadra? Have you gone again? Sesuadra?”

No answer.

The mist began to fade.

Marc found himself at the edge of a forest clearing. He
stood by a tree. He could sense that he was invisible, as he had been in the
previous instances.

He looked around the clearing and his eyes fell upon a young
woman kneeling in the grass by the roots of a large tree, humming softly to
herself. She looked to be about his age. In her lap was a small object made up
of twigs, leaves and grass. She was weaving long pieces of grass to tie it
together. It was difficult to make out exactly but it appeared to be a little
doll.

The girl was dressed in robes of light fabric, black and
green with gold embroidery and lining. On the center of her chest was a
fantastically designed green and gold leaf. Matching thin black gloves were
tucked into her belt. Around her shoulders and covering the back of her neck
was a sort of cut off cloak shawl, opened in the front, held together by loose
leather cords. She had smooth, silky auburn hair pulled back from her face in
tight braids, a few loose bangs hung down over her cheeks.

He was far enough away that it was difficult to make out
specific features of her face but she was beautiful.

Finally finishing with the handmaid doll she sat the
figurine in front of her and sat back.

She just sat there, looking at the doll. Marc watched
silently.

After some time, in which she remained unmoving, he moved
closer, trying to get a better look.

What is she doing?
He thought.

Though she seemed to be doing nothing, the closer he got the
more quickly he realized she was concentrating on the figure. She scrunched her
eyebrows down tightly, staring at the doll. Her fists clenched, a bead of sweat
began to appear on her forehead.

She began to tremble.

He stepped closer,
should I help her?

She closed her eyes and lifted her head up, visibly
relaxing.

She remained that way for a moment.

Then suddenly she opened her eyes and stared down at the
figurine again.

Marc stepped back in surprise at what happened next.

One instant the doll was there, in front of the girl, and
then next moment it was gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Marc rubbed his eyes, in an attempt to reset his vision.

He watched as the girl smiled and got to her feet.

She looked up, searching the tree she had just been sitting
under.

Marc followed her gaze.

And then he spotted it, near the top, just peeking out from
a leafy branch, the tallest on the tree, was the grass and stick figure she had
made.

Marc walked closer to the girl.

She reached out her hands, cupping them together as if
holding a small invisible object. She looked up at the grass figurine dangling
in the branches.

The trees rustled quietly.

Marc found her absolutely captivating. Her beautiful hazel
eyes were deep, rich, like warm honey, and her lips were full and pink.

She closed her eyes.

Marc had had several secret crushes on many girls in many
schools he had attended. Marissa being the most recent he had liked (what a
mistake
that
had been). But he had never gone steady with one.

Besides, the one he now observed was by far the most
beautiful he had ever laid eyes on. There was something special about her, a
glow.

Then, in an instant, the grass doll disappeared from the
branch and reappeared in her hands.

Suddenly a girl stepped out from behind a nearby tree.

“Laura!” the newcomer cried. She had golden hair pulled back
in a bun, and was dressed in the same uniform as the other girl.

“Kimira,” The auburn haired girl replied.

“You have to stop slinking away from lessons! Can you
imagine what would have happened if it was a Doyenne who had followed you and
found you here instead of me? Doing this,” Kimira continued gestured to the
doll, “all the other Aides have been whispering, even some of the doyennes have
begun to grow suspicious.”

“The fault lies not with me!” The auburn haired girl
responded, “I am trying!”

“Try harder! If they discover the truth about you, what do
you think the Circle will do to Kaelynn? She sacrificed greatly to bring you
into the Order and keep you here. Do you not see that your mischief jeopardizes
all of that? And these dreams you talk about, Doyenne Carlata frowns upon them,
and her voice is strong in the Circle.”

“But it is true! I saw him in my dreams, it is a sign from
the Exalted Spirits!”

Marc realized that sounded just like Sesuadra when he had
said he had seen Marc in his dreams.

“Exactly the kind of thing Doyenne Carlata disapproves of!”
The blond said.

“The Exalted can honor whom they will,”

“Be that as it may, the Circle finds it difficult to believe
that the Exalted would choose an Aide, even an Adept over a Doyenne with a
vision.”

“I did not choose to receive the vision,” the brown haired
girl sounded exasperated, “I merely have the courage to speak the truth.”

Marc felt that he should approach the two girls, and that
somehow, he knew that if he did, he would reveal himself. He began to walk
slowly towards them.

The golden haired girl’s face and voice softened. She placed
her hands on the brown haired girl’s shoulders.

“Laura,” She said, “I will not argue of this any longer, I
only wish what is best for you, and what is best for Mother and I, alright?

 “Yes Kimira.”

“Good. Now—”

But she did not finish.

Marc took one step closer to the girls and was suddenly
visible.

Kimira, able to see Marc, let out a shriek and stepped back,
tripping over a tree root and falling backwards onto the grassy earth below.
Laura turned around in surprise.

Upon seeing Marc, though, her surprise melted away and was
replaced with warmth.

Marc felt his heart melt as she faced him. Without really
trying, he noticed every specific feature of her countenance and her beauty.

Their eyes met and time seemed to stand still. He felt an
electric energy surge through him. It was similar to the feeling of energy that
coursed through the weapon at his side, but it was different somehow, closer in
a way. His stomach flipped upside down, as if on a roller coaster.

“Laura!” Kimira cried, “How did you—? How could you—?”

Laura did not respond, did not even seem to hear the other
girl.

“It’s you—” she said in a quiet, excited, tone, “the one
from my dream. Did the Exalted Spirits send you?”

Finally Marc spoke. 

“I don’t know who that is, but something magical
did
bring
me here, and others have seen me in their dreams as well, but nothing like
this—this feeling.”

“This—feeling?” Laura replied, “What is your name?”

“Marcus,” He said.

And then he was gone.

He was back in the silvery world.

Sesuadra was there, sitting on the slowly shifting grey
floor. He stood as Marc appeared.

“How long was I gone?” Marc asked.

“Not long,” the other replied, “It is hard to tell time
here, but it did not feel too long. What did you see?”

“I saw two girls, about the same age as you and I,” He said.

Sesuadra nodded but did not press for more information, he
knew Marc would say more if he so wished it.

“This is a strange place,” Marc said, more to himself than
to anyone, “What is its purpose?”

He had a million questions going through his head. Sesuadra
seemed to sense that.

Sesuadra did not answer immediately.

“This is a powerful magic my friend,” he said finally, “It
is the manner of enchantment spoken of only in legends. I do not know the place
you are from so I do not know how to explain—” He paused, thinking.

He thought for several long moments. It was quiet there.

“Those beings who brought you to us,” Sesuadra broke the
silence, “I believe them to be truly ancient creatures of magic, maybe even the
First Ones. I never thought to see such powerful things in my life.” He stopped
again, trying to find the words.

There were another few moments before he finished his
thoughts.

“It was merely an ordinary day, one as unto any other, and
then in an instant, everything changed—such ancient magic—” he looked off,
remembering the two creatures and Marc’s appearance, “You must have a great
destiny to fulfill to have been brought here by them.”

Marc’s head began to spin as Sesuadra spoke, he couldn’t
wrap his mind around the whole thing.

“But that’s the thing I don’t get,” Marc replied, “It was
the same for me, a day just like the next, cruddy morning at home, cruddy day
at school, cruddy afternoon leading to a chase through the park, and suddenly
I’m following a strange black cat and pulling a sword out of the ground. Next
thing I know I’m being enveloped by incredible energy, and then I woke up here.
Why was I chosen? There’s nothing special about me,” He said, matter-of-factly.

“There must be,” Sesuadra said quietly, “There must be.”

Marc awoke to the sound of chirping
birds followed by a loud voice.

“Arise with haste and greet the morning!”

It was Zildjin.

“We have some studying to do,” He continued excitedly, “and
then after middag and sometime in the yard with Topar we are free to roam the
city and see what kinds of things are happening while Kolima gets ready for the
Gathering. Now hurry up.”

And he left, his footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Marc glanced at Sesuadra.

A second passed, then Sesuadra said, “It is sure to be a day
unlike others,”

“What do you mean?” Marc asked.

“Zildjin never wants to study,”

Marc smiled.

During what they called first meal,
what Marc knew as breakfast, Zildjin asked if Sesuadra and he had dreamed
again.

“Yes,” Marc replied.

“Soren spoke briefly of that,” Eleanor added, “But, again I
say, only briefly.”

She wanted to know more about it.

“Well,” Marc said, “It began in the silvery realm like
before, and Sesuadra was there—”

Marc described the dream in detail.
He spoke of the way Laura had used magic to make the grass figurine move, and
of the arrival of the other girl. He did his best to illustrate what they
looked like, what they were wearing, and what they had said. It wasn’t exact,
but he got the gist of it, enough so that Sesuadra sat up straighter in his
chair as if to say something.

Sesuadra waited until everyone was quiet before he spoke,
“The Order of the Leaf,” he stated simply.

“The what—?” Zildjin said.

Eleanor nodded, “Yes, exactly right Sesuadra.”

She stood up and walked to the bookshelf. She let her hands
run across the spines of a number of books, muttering to herself.

“Ah, here.”

She pulled down an old faded leather bound text.

“
A Leaf in the Wind: Chronicles of the Healing Order
,”
she read the title in gold lettering.

Marc wanted to know more.

“It is quite an exclusive group, comprised entirely of
women,” Eleanor said, thumbing through the pages, she paused at a certain point
and read aloud. “They are devoted to the healing arts, using a unique blend of
natural and magical properties and techniques in their learning and practice.
It is believed they founded their Order under the Terragur banner but in the
cycles after Terragur passed and other rulers threatened to disband their
organization for whatever reasons, they withdrew from The Noble Kingdom. Since
that time they have wandered the lands. Wherever they go they stay only long
enough to acquire new healing practices from that region, and move on. To this
day it is believed that their knowledge of the healing arts is matched by none,
and yet they are very selective in both whom they allow to join their order,
and to those whom they administer their services. Some say they are so reclusive
because they practice ancient dark magic, others say they have become withdrawn
in their sharing of knowledge because in the past their good arts have been
used for evil purposes.”

“Interesting,” Marc said.

“What is interesting,” Sesuadra spoke again, “Is that one
within their order, has the ability to manipulate the passage of things with
magic, a powerful ability indeed.”

“Here,” she said, shutting the book, “It is about time for
study, after all, let us clear the table and you may read.”

She placed the thick tome next to Marc on the table.

After finishing their meal Marc
found himself standing in front of a bookshelf on one of the walls. He had
already skimmed through the book about The Order of the Leaf. It had begun to
list too many names and dates that Marc did not have the slightest connecting
to or even context to begin to understand and he readily began to lose
interest. The real reason he had even picked up the book was because he wanted
to know about that girl, about Laura. He wondered if he would dream of her
again, not in the dream sort of way, but in the actually visit and see her sort
of way. He thought that either way he did not much care, he just wanted to see
her again. There was something about her, besides how beautiful she was. The
book, of course, said nothing about Laura, so he had put it back on the shelf
and was browsing for a different one.