Wielder of the Flame (27 page)

The afterimage of the light was burned onto Demar’s eyes,
however, and despite how many times he tried to blink it away it remained for
awhile before finally fading.

He strode down the deck, Thantor close by, following his
pace.

Demar stopped when he arrived at the helm of the ship.

He turned to the navigator and asked.

“Helmsmen,” he asked, “That light just now, is it not Kolima
from whence it appeared?”

The man nodded, “I do believe it is, Distinguished One.”

Demar nodded as well, looking back into the distance.

Sesuadra was there, in Kolima, at least he should have been.
Could Sesuadra have been involved?

Demar did not know, but he was anxious to find out.

Topar opened his bedroom door before
Eleanor even had a chance to knock.

His superb hearing had allowed him to sense the woman’s
footsteps coming down the hall.

“The light,” Eleanor said, not even seeming to notice that
Topar had opened his door before she could knock. “As bright as day, and yet it
is far past eve.”

Topar nodded, “I saw it too.”

“And the booming noises,”

Topar could see the concern in her face. She was worried
about the boys, they were still out enjoying the festivities.

“Do not worry,” Topar said, his voice more gruff than he
would’ve like it to be while addressing Eleanor, “I will go and find them. Go
and see that the animals are alright,” He finished, hoping to give her
something to do to distract her worried mind.

She nodded and turned to go, and then looked back.

 “I will keep the doors open, in case you return in haste.”

Topar knew she meant because of the enchantments placed upon
the doors. He shook his head, it would be safer for Eleanor to close the
massive doors.

“Close them,” He grunted, still putting on his garb.

Eleanor shook her head.

Topar nodded then, agreeing with her, he would not argue
with her further. The woman left, then, retreating down the hall. Topar turned
to his wardrobe to quickly get dressed. Both the concerned look on Eleanor’s
face and the thought of the doors and their enchantments were enough to push
Topar’s mind back to another similar moment he had already gone through many
cycles ago.

It was a cold night that night, the
rain was pounding the bay as their ship arrived to port in Kolima.

Topar stood on deck despite the storm, his fur plastered to
his body as the water soaked him through and through. But he hardly even felt
the rain. Inside he was completely dead. The voyage at sea had taken many
fortnights but Topar had not slept hardly a one of them. Every time he closed
his eyes he saw his friend, full of arrows, bleeding in the alley of Neimu, the
largest city in the Isles of Kiohopi.

The only other on the ship who was aware of their
assignment, aside from the boy, was Demar. He was dressed in the signature
light tan and white flowing clothes of Kiohopi. He had known Garrond and Topar
for many cycles. Topar could see the slightly shifting magical runes on his
forearms and chest.

They paid the captain the rest of the charge for their
passage and disembarked in the cold rainy night. The boy was asleep, exhausted
by the long voyage. Topar carried the boy in his arms, Demar helped hold a
blanket over the both of them and the boy as they walked down the streets of
Kolima.

“I will tell Eleanor,” Demar offered.

“No,” Topar said, “I will tell her.”

They reached the Magic Emporium and went around to the back
entrance, where the house portion of the building was.

The door was locked, barring their entrance, so Demar
knocked.

It was not too long till the door opened, a younger Eleanor
standing in the doorway.

Her eyes quickly scanned Topar, then the boy in his arms,
then Demar, and back to Topar.

She stepped aside to let them in out of the rain.

Topar looked into Eleanor’s eyes and tried to speak but
couldn’t get anything out.

“Topar?” Eleanor asked, she did not need to speak the rest
of the question,
where is my husband?

A tear came to the large rovaar’s eyes and he shook his
head.

“He did not make it Eleanor, He died to bring the boy to
safety, he died doing something he believed in.”

A look of utter desperation overcame Eleanor and she stepped
backwards in the room until she bumped into one of the chairs next to the table
and sat down, hard. She put her head in her hands and began to sob
uncontrollably.

A gut wrenching pain filled Topar and his knees felt weak.
But he stood firm to hold the boy in his arms.

Demar took the boy from Topar’s grip and went into the spare
bedroom to lay the boy down. Topar did not move for a long time. Finally he
shuffled stiffly to Eleanor and knelt down to comfort her. He could not think
of more to do than gently pat her back.

Demar returned to the main room, “Topar,”

The rovaar stood.

“Now that Sesuadra is safe I must depart to ensure a number
of other things continue as planned. Before I go, I will leave an enchantment
on this place for further safekeeping.”

Topar nodded but did not move.

“Topar, you must come with me, I will have to teach you how
the magic works or you will be unable to use it while I am gone.”

He nodded.

Noises coming from the back door
brought the large rovaar from his reverie.
Eleanor!
Was his first
thought.

Topar immediately left his bedroom and rushed his way to the
main room where the back door was.

He burst into the main room to see a rain soaked Zildjin,
Sesuadra, and Eleanor, along with some stranger placing an either unconscious
or dead Marc on the table.

Eleanor glanced up to see her friend come into the room.

Topar glanced over at the stranger and Eleanor spoke quickly
to ease the rovaar.

“He means us no harm, the boys said he saved Marcus,”
Eleanor said, “I saw them coming in from the side gate where I was attending
the aldoms and ran to greet them. Quickly, some dry clothes for the boy.”

Topar nodded his head, her word more than enough for him,
and turned back around into the hallway.

 “So cold,” Zildjin said, running his hands through his long
wet gangly hair.

“Yes,” Eleanor nodded, “some warm drinks for the belly,”

Soon enough everyone was dry. Marc
was still asleep, now in clean dry clothes, and in his bed.

Everyone else but Eleanor was sitting at the table
downstairs, a hot drink in front of them. The stranger was remaining silent
until Eleanor came down. Topar was watching him warily, but Zildjin and
Sesuadra seemed just fine with the stranger’s presence.

Finally Eleanor was descending the stairs to the main room.

Topar met her eyes as she stepped down the last stair. Topar
did not need to ask the question everyone had on their minds.

“He breathes the slow and steady breaths of a deep sleep,
and cannot be roused from it, otherwise, he seems fine.”

She sat down at the table, across from the stranger.

“I suppose now would be the time for me to introduce
myself.”

They all nodded.

“My name is Cydas, Ardusk of Fallhaven.”

“Fallhaven,” Topar grunted, “I know it well.”

Eleanor nodded, “My husband and Topar passed through
Fallhaven many a time.”

“Relic hunters?” Cydas guessed.

Eleanor nodded again.

Zildjin and Sesuadra both listened quietly. Eleanor had
spoken of Fallhaven. They knew it was the farthest outpost still inhabitable by
mankind, the last bit of civilization before reaching true Wildlands. It was a
must go to spot for relic hunters, a place for making one final stop before
seeking out their treasures.

“And why have you travelled here all this way?”

“And how did you do so at the precise time Marc was about to
be killed,” Zildjin said.

“I thought you would have known already,” Eleanor said,
looking over at Zildjin.

“We did not have much time to talk since that blinding light
enveloped Marcus.”

“Wait,” Topar interrupted, “Marcus was the cause of that
light?”

“Please,” Cydas said, drawing everyone’s attention, “All of
this can be explained, just allow me to speak.”

“Of course,” Eleanor gestured.

“It all began when The Keeper arrived in Fallhaven with his
last dying breath to deliver a message, and a map, to the Oracle.”

“The Oracle?” Eleanor asked.

“The Keeper?” Zildjin inquired at the same time.

“Yes,” Cydas responded to Eleanor, “The Oracle. As for the
Keeper,” he continued, “he was the last good Ascendant Sage.” 

Marc awoke surrounded by heavy
swirling mist.

He was lying down and yet he felt as if his body was
hovering over the ground and moving swiftly backwards. He could feel the
tendrils of mist sliding over his body like a waterfall pouring over him in
slow-motion. He moved his arms behind him, trying to feel the ground beneath
him, the silvery grey floor that should’ve been there, but he merely grasped at
more mist.

He moved his head and immediately regretted it. An
overwhelming sensation of vertigo swarmed his senses.

Suddenly he felt himself sitting.

The mist began to recede, leaving him alone on the shiny
silvery endless plane.

Where is Sesuadra?
was his first thought,
Sesuadra
is usually always here at least.

But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

He shuddered as he remembered the wizard with that
stranger’s sword sticking out of him. Marc had never been so close to death. It
was different than what he witnessed through the media he used to consume. He
felt he should be more shocked by it, affected somehow, but most of his energy
was focused on understanding the magic and power that had come from the sword.

The Sword.

He looked down at himself.

He was dressed in the clothes Eleanor had made him and he
was completely dry. His sword was sheathed at his side.

Except that the sword was different now. It was immaculately
clean and polished. He could see his own reflection in it. The cut on his cheek
was gone. In fact he looked better than he had in a long while, if only a
little tired.

A soft glowing light made him look up from his reflection.

A small shape lay nearby him.

At first he did not recognize what it was. A golden light
emanated faintly from within and around it. Then it moved a wing and lifted its
head from underneath the wing. 

It was a small bird.

It could fit in the crook of his arms it was so small and
delicate looking.

The bird looked up at him, locking eyes with him. He felt a
warmth flow through him. He felt all the fear and hate and all the negative
things from his paste dissipate within the eyes of the creature. He felt his
eyes begin to water with emotion.

“Hey there,” he whispered gently to the bird.

He reached out a hand tentatively, wondering if it would be
okay to touch the bird.

It closed its eyes and extended its head.

Marc touched the bird’s soft fluffy feather fuzz on its
head.

There was a blinding flash of white light and then.

Darkness.

Marcus?

He heard someone calling his name.

Marcus!

It was the voice of a girl and he recognized it.

He opened his eyes slowly.

“Marcus,”

It was Laura.

He was still a little dazed and did not know what to say,
especially at the sight of her beautiful face.

She helped him sit up.

Her fingers brushed the bare skin of the back of his head
and he felt his heart flutter. Though her hands barely touched him he felt
every little contact with her. Marc didn’t really blush but he knew if he did
he would’ve been beet red. This was the closest he had ever been to a pretty
girl.

It was evening; the sun was creeping towards the horizon.

 “Are you alright?” Laura asked.

He noticed her hands were still on his back and knee.

He thought he was going to die of her overwhelming feminine
beauty. Sure she stank, it was clear she had not washed in a while, but so did
he, or at least he thought he did. But was this his body? Or merely a
projection of himself? He still wasn’t sure. Her closeness triggered his senses
to focus on several things about her, her shape, and her cool hand on his warm
skin. He thought he was in heaven. Was this a dream? Or was this real? Was this
like the other visions and he was destined to return to his body at any moment?
Were all the visions he had before real? If he was in a dream, where was his
real body? Back with Zildjin and Sesuadra. But then why did he feel so
completely alive and real right now with this beautiful girl? She wore the same
black, green, and gold robes as before but they were torn and dirty and she was
missing one of the sleeves.

She realized that he was taking notice at her touch and
withdrew her hands shyly.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing his head, “Yeah, I think I’m
okay,” he paused, trying to gather his words, “How did I— you—?” He didn’t
really know what to say. Not just because she was so beautiful, but because of
the experience he had just been through.

She seemed to understand his question anyway, “I know not
how you have come here to visit me again, but as to how I came here,” She
paused, “Well, I have a gift.”

He looked around as she spoke, taking in his surroundings
and her words.

A large waterfall was nearby. The sound of rushing water was
loud, and yet soothing. Mountains and cliffs loomed overhead behind him. In
front of him was a valley of green rolling hills with thin wooded areas here
and there. Towering high into the sky above them was a sight unlike anything he
had seen before. It was as if a city had been caught inside a spider web of
arched bridges between two massive pillar shaped mountains. The bridges spanned
both pillars, connecting with more towers and buildings that were coming out of
the pillars themselves. It all defied the law of gravity as Marc knew it, and
it was an impressive sight. The red-violet rays of sun caught the walls and
sides of the bridges spectacularly, making everything seem to glow. The
waterfall tumbled some far distance below the lowest bridge spanning the two
pillars. They were situated in a small wooded area in the middle of a clearing.
Marc saw a sort of dwelling covered by large leaves underneath a few trees. A
bedding of leaves was made up underneath the cover.