Wielder of the Flame (23 page)

A bloody reddish hue cast itself on the decaying buildings.

Laura felt an uneasiness begin to creep into her.

The young girl led them down a number of small alleyways
filled with sick people coughing and groaning, to a medium sized dwelling
squished between two other larger structures.
 

She opened one of the large wooden doors and stepped inside.

“Daddy!” She called, and ran inside, “I brought someone to
help!”

Carlata opened the door for herself and Laura to go through.

It was dark inside, difficult to see in the fading light. A
lamp or two shone somewhere deep inside the building. There were several
hallways leading in different directions. The girl was already gone.

It was eerily silent.

The wood floors creaked noisily underneath their weight.

“Hello?” Carlata tried.

The girl peeked out at the end of the hall, “Come quickly,
something is wrong! Please hurry!” She disappeared again.

Carlata strode down the hall with Laura behind her.

“Something is wrong,” Laura said, “We must go back and get
the guards,”

Carlata glared down at her, “You were the one who insisted
on this in the first place, you would do well to mind your tongue, giving
orders to a Doyenne.”

Laura fell silent at the rebuke. But she could not shake the
feeling that something was utterly and horribly wrong.

Why was the place so quiet? Where were the cries of the
sick?

Some of the doors to the rooms in the hall were partly open,
she peered into some of them as they walked by. She caught a glimpse of an
unmoving body on a bed.

She shivered and said, “They are all dead.”

Then they heard the little girl scream, followed by a thud,
and then silence.

They ran down the rest of the hall and turned the corner.

A set of large wooden doors lay before them. One was
partially open, a hand was visible, it was swollen and black at the fingertips.

They could hear movement behind the door.

Was it the little girl? Was she okay? What had happened?

Carlata moved to the door and slowly opened it.

The hand was not attached to anything. It looked as if some
large monster had bitten it off.

The door creaked open the rest of the way and both women
froze.

A single lamp lay askew, lighting the room in frightening
orange and yellow flashes, the corners remained shrouded in darkness.

Bodies lay scattered about the room, discolored and
mutilated.

A large figure stood in the middle of the room, hunkered
over a small body in its hands, eating.

It was the body of the young girl.

The Doyenne and the Aide only had a few seconds to take in
the room.

The large figure turned slowly, dropping its meal.

It was Emerson, the man from the crowd.

But he had changed into something horrible.

His skin was discolored, and pale. Half of his face was
peeling off, the skin flapped with his movement. One of his eye sockets was
empty, the eye dangled from a single piece of muscle. His other eye was white,
the pupil almost invisible. Flesh and gore hung from his lips.

He growled.

“Run,” Carlata said and slammed the door.

Or at least she tried. The hand was in the way.

But she didn’t realize it.

She kept trying to slam the door.

The man-turned-monster in the room made a sound halfway
between a groan and a screech.

  Laura began to take a few steps backwards, she couldn’t
believe what she had just seen.

“RUN!” Carlata cried.

The Doyenne realized what was keeping the door open and
kicked the hand out of the way.

Just as she thought she would close the door the monster’s
arm reached through and grabbed her.

“DOYENNE!!” Laura screamed.

The hand gripped the woman with an incredible, inhuman
force. It crushed her shoulder bones and blood poured through the torn skin.

“RUUUN!!!” Carlata screamed a final time before she was
dragged through the doorway.

Her voice finally pierced through Laura’s frozen panic and
she turned and did just that.

But she did not get far.

Around the corner the hall was filled with stumbling
groaning figures. They had come from the rooms on either side of the hallway.

But they had been dead, all of them.

The closest human/thing made a throaty groan and lunged for
her.

She screamed in fear and shoved the thing away from her with
all her strength.

The thing toppled backward, making a squelching thud against
the wood floor.

The rest of the discolored groaning figures shuffled forward
towards her.

The door, I have to make it to the door, I have to get
out of here!

Carlata screamed again and again behind her until her voice
was suddenly cut off.

 I have to get out of here!

She began running down the hall, pushing the next monster
over. It fell, but not with as much ease as the first.

Two more jumped at her, their arms swinging crazily as if
they were unable to fully control them.

She dove between the two, only to land in front of three
more.

One grabbed her leg and she screamed, kicking wildly. Her
foot connected to the things head and it wrenched sideways with a thud and a
squish. Black ooze spurted from the fleshy bumps on its skin where her foot had
connected with its face. Laura gagged from the stench.

She struggled to stand and another of the monsters fell on
top of her.

She screamed and screamed, wriggling and pushing.

The once human was trying to
eat
her. She let out a
powerful yell and threw the thing off of her.

I need to get out of here! I need to get to safety!

There came a splintering sound and a crash behind her and
thundering footsteps.

The thing that had once been Emerson was crashing through
the other things to get her.

She stood but one of the things grabbed her robe, pulling
her to her knees.

The bloody remains of Carlata hung from his skeletal hands
and gnashing teeth.

She was about to end up the same way.

I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!!!

One moment Laura was there on her knees surrounded by flesh
eating monsters, about to die.

And the next thing she knew,

She was not.

The sun was just rising, casting the
world in a swath of bright golden light.

It was the official first day of the celebration.

Marc was sitting at the table, the rest of his first meal in
front of him. Sesuadra, Zildjin, and Eleanor were there as well, finishing
their food. Topar was already watching over the front part of the shop. Marc
was excited because the night before Eleanor had announced that she had
finished creating travel attire for Marc, of the same quality as the other two
boys. She was going to give it to him this morning.

They cleared the dishes and cleaned the table off.

“The courier arrived with a message this morning, from
Soren. I wanted to share while I still have all three of your attention. He
arrived in Belwick. He writes, ‘By the time this reaches you, the festivities
will most likely already started. I hope you enjoy the celebration. I have
reached the Kinyrr and Shadowhand Library and am searching its vast repository
of knowledge for answers with help from an old friend of mine who is a Steward
here. I hope to discover what I can soon about our
visitors
, and our new
friend,’ He means you Marc dear, of course, ‘and the two magical beings who
brought you,” She continued reading, “and I hope to return shortly thereafter.
All is well, Soren, Morest of Briv.”

“It is good to know he is alright,” Eleanor said, “Now,”
Eleanor announced, “on other things, I have your gift ready, dear,” she looked
at Marc.

“You really didn’t have to,” Marc began.

But she lifted her hand dismissively and he smiled.

She left and returned quickly.

“A bag, to match the others,” She handed him a knapsack that
was indeed similar to the one she had made and given to Sesuadra and Zildjin,
with the same symbol of the dragon and shield on it’s front.

Marc lifted it, it was quite heavy.

He smiled again, “Thank you so much,” He said, “This really
means a lot to me.”

“go on now,” Eleanor nodded gracefully and shooed him to one
of the nearby rooms.

He complied and shut the door behind him quietly.

Sesuadra and Zildjin talked excitedly with Eleanor about the
day. She and Topar had suspended all lessons and training until after the
festival.

After a short time, Marc reappeared, dressed in the outfit.

It was like Zildjin and Sesuadra’s, dark blue and black,
sturdy and fit for travel, but regal as well. There were many pockets and
places for little knickknacks, and a few armor plates covered his shoulders,
arms and shins.

Zildjin and Sesuadra applauded, praising Eleanor for her
work.

She simply smiled in return.

“How do you like it?” Eleanor asked him.

He was beaming. He felt great, he never felt better. No one
in his entire life had ever given him something of such fine quality. And the
fact that Eleanor had taken her own personal time to work on it specifically
for
him, he could hardly contain his appreciation.

He felt his eyes begin to water. He was immediately
embarrassed. He didn’t want Zildjin and Sesuadra to see him like this.

He quickly ran over to Eleanor and gave her an enthusiastic
hug, hiding his face.

She returned the hug with equal gratitude.

“I will take that to mean you like it very much,”

He pulled back, finally able to hold his emotions down to
the level he wished to show.

He looked down at the outfit, marveling at the level of detail
in the craftsmanship.

“I just don’t know what to say,” 

“You do not have to say anything at all,” she replied with
another smile.

He was quiet for another moment or two as he inspected the
exquisite attention to detail in his new clothes.

“You look just like any professional Relic Hunter would, all
geared up for adventuring!” Zildjin exclaimed.

“I would have Topar anoint the three of you in a moment,”
Eleanor beamed in her grandmotherly way, “You look the part to be sure. But I
have left it up to him to tell me when you three are truly ready.”

“ I’ll wear it!” Marc said finally, to Eleanor, “I’ll wear
it today for the celebration, in your honor!”

Eleanor smiled brightly.

“We will wear ours too!” Zildjin chimed in, “Will we not,
Ses?”

Sesuadra nodded his agreement, “The Defiant Dragoons Guild
out on the town during the Gathering, it is perfect!”

“Very well,” She continued, “But if there is even any hint
of a Seeker pausing to talk to the three of you, you be sure to make it known
that the Defiant Dragoons is not officially reinstated as a Guild.”

Zildjin and Sesuadra nodded, Marc followed suit.

“Marc, there is something very special about the material I
used. My husband brought it back with him one of his journeys. It has magical
properties, of which I am not quite sure, but it has a special aura about it, I
could feel it every day as I worked. I hope it serves you well.”

“Thank you very much,” Marc said again.

Eleanor nodded.

“Now, then,” She said, “when you are all three ready, head
out to the city square, they are sure to be starting the festival very soon!”

Even so early in the morning the
city was overcrowded, even more so than usual.

The Gathering was happening, everyone was assembling in the
city square, near the Overseer’s bastion, the heart of Kolima. Over the past
few weeks Marc had seen merchants, trappers, and traders, and all kinds of
people trickle into the city, but he still could not believe how many people
were on the streets for the festival. A plethora of colorful banners and flags
whipped in the breeze, hanging from rooftops and walls. Beautiful flower
bouquets lined poles and window sills. The always present smell of the sea was
almost overpowered by the aroma of griddlecakes, pies, cookies, breads, and all
sorts of goodies and foodstuffs being cooked inside open bakeries and shops
displaying their goods.

It was like navigating an ever-moving maze with the number
of people up and about, heading to the opening ceremonies. The three friends
stayed close together and moved quickly, dodging between men riding aldoms and
carriages pulled by balkars.

Even after all their shortcuts and alleyways it took them
twice as long to get to the city center than it would have otherwise.

There was a plaza in the center of each district in Kolima,
but on that day, none were as beautifully or as ornately decorated as the plaza
in the center of the city.

The sweet smells of freshly made desserts that they merely
whiffed on their way to the center plaza, was now so overwhelming they could
practically taste the food on their lips. There was shouting, trading,
bartering, selling, little kids laughing and bards playing flutes or singing
ballads and all sorts of festive noise. Many Protectors and Overseer’s Hands
stood off to the side, ready to control the crowd if things got out of hand.
There were also many personal guards and hired swords to protect the more
affluent and distinguished of the city’s visitors standing at their posts by
those they were defending. The banners and decorations were rivaled, only by
the diversity of items for sale for the celebration, the majority of which were
magical. All the Relic Hunters had set up shop to sell their magical trinkets
and things they had collected over their travels. There were silly things, like
enchanted clothes with a variety of magical attributes, robes that never wore
out, cloaks that felt lighter than air, boots made you run faster and feel less
tired, a hat that made you hear better, or spectacles that could make you see
in the darkest night. There was magical dinnerware that floated, or rope that
once tied would never come undone without the command word, or pots and pans
that washed themselves.

The closer to the center of town, the more grand the items
became, in price as well as in degree, and the traders behind the counters were
becoming more and more identifiable as highly reputable and skilled Relic
Hunters. Traldor, who was known for specializing in recovering magicked armor,
and Afadore, one of the few females in her line of work, and Sanga a Relic Hunter
from the far away Islands of Kiohopi.

There was so much it was beyond anything Marc could ever
imagine if he was not looking at it right then and there. He could feel the
magic pulsing through him, all around him, everywhere. It was like the Magic
Emporium but on a much grander scale. There were powerful staves, rods and
wands that had scrolls on display next to them describing their uses,
Flotation, Stone Shape, Flaming Sphere, Wall of Fire. There were rings as well,
of all designs, both beautiful and plain, each which would grant the wearer
magical abilities, like Ring of Transmutation allows the user the ability to
change small things from one element to another, for example, a rock into
water. And there were also potions, all sorts of colors and mixtures, bubbling
orange red, oozing aquamarine, pallid gray sludge, with all sorts of effects on
the drinker of the potion.

As the three friends were gazing a musical blast of trumpets
and a loud yell caught their attention.

They turned to see a battalion of Protectors and a trio of Overseer’s
Hands leading the way for a very large and very elaborately decorated carriage
which they had seen many times before. 

“Make way for the Overseer!” A man in royal robes ahead of
the Protectors yelled. “Make way! Announcements of this grand celebration to
start momentarily. Make way!”

The people cheered at the notice of their leader and they
clapped and applauded until the Overseer’s carriage passed and then the crowd
of people quickly closed in behind its wake, and the three boys returned their
attention to the merchandise.

The scepters, amulets, wands, staves, rings, and potions
were great, but what were even more amazing were the weapons and armor. These
items were what made Relic Hunters true Relic Hunters, because they
used
these things on their journey to accomplish their task.

There were all sorts of weapons, more than Marc and even Sesuadra
or Zildjin had ever seen. First it started out small with daggers that never
got dull, and knives with invisible blades, then shurikens, scythes, kukris,
and rapiers each with different specific powers, then one handed short swords,
swords that felt as light as a feather but as deadly as any other blade, two handed
swords that could shock the enemy with lightning and even greatswords. And
there were axes enchanted with the power to freeze opponents with ice upon
contact, and giant flails and morning stars that no matter how hard or how
wildly they were swung they would never hit the wielder. Next there were the
ranged weapons, javelins, throwing axes, crossbows, and then bows and arrows
enchanted with magic so powerful they would fly true every time.

The three friends particularly liked one bazaar that was
filled with nothing but armor and shields, full plate, chain mail, scale mail,
leather, and even rarer substances like adamantine and what seemed the greatest
of all, armor that claimed to be made of dragons scales.       

Finally, they came to the very center of the city, where the
true makers of Relic Hunter history were, standing around the plaza with the
other hundreds of citizens of Kolima who were also there listening to the
Overseer. He was a great leader who had earned the respect of his people after
many great deeds and just ruling. He was tall and slim yet muscular man with a
head full of black hair and a trim beard and dressed in attire that spoke of a
noble quality but did not flaunt it belligerently. He had already begun his
speech about The Gathering and was just finishing.

“And to the people of Kolima…” He was saying, “I want you to
welcome a very special visitor this year, Commander of the Reclaimers, the one
and only, Relic Hunter of Relic Hunters, Lanvar!”

There was an enormous shout of delight from the crowd
including Marc, Zildjin, and Sesuadra, as the Overseer stepped down and Lanvar
took his place.

Marc, Zildjin, and Sesuadra were lucky enough to have found
a spot and could see the tall figure clearly from where they were and they had
never seen anyone else like him.

Lanvar stood almost a head taller than the Overseer, who was
a fairly tall fellow, and was noticeably stronger. He was dressed in sparkling
chrome armor made from dragon scales and a helmet with a plume of stiff dyed
gold hair that was said to have come from a unicorn he had tried to save but
despite its best efforts had died and he had taken its hair in its memory.
Underneath his armor he wore a dirty but fancy suit of blue with faded gold
stitching and across his back he wore a velvet red cape. In his right hand he
held a large polearm with an axe on one end.

“My fellow Freelanders!” He yelled.

His voice was deep and filled with power.

The crowd and the three boys roared with patriotism.

“I know I usually have a Guild representative or other
member of the Reclaimers attend The Gathering. I admit I have not come very
often, for my travels take me far. But I have come this cycle, and I just wish
to say, to all my brethren Relic Hunters out there today, that I am not so
proud as to boast my guaranteed victory at this contest for I am assured that
my reputation precedes me, but I will tell you now, that I have come across,
through dragonfire and wasteland, some of the greatest relics I have seen in all
my cycles. Good luck to you all. Thank you!”

The three friends smiled, and clapped and cheered along with
the crowd until they were hoarse from yelling. “He gave me this!” Zildjin
yelled at the top of his lungs, holding the medallion proudly and tightly in
his hand.

Finally the Overseer got up again and finished with,
“Kolima! Enjoy the festivities, and from here until the end of the third day,
let the judging begin!”