Wielder of the Flame (41 page)

“Those are Vorstai,” Sesuadra said, pointing.

“Incredible,” Marc whispered. It was like a dream come to
life, a creature from another world made real.

Marc figured they passed a lot of the residents back on the
road, carrying lumber up.

The other thing that caught their attention, though, was a
group of people working on the framework of a large building, larger than any
of the others there within the town. It was being constructed near the center,
next to the second largest edifice. A tall wooden outline of a statue was
positioned in front of the building. A skilled stonemason was working a giant
piece of marble next to the unfinished statue. Half of a face was carved out of
the stone.

At first Marc didn’t realize why his mind was particularly
focused on the statue, and then it dawned on him.

“The statue,” He said excitedly, “I know who it is!”

“What?” Zildjin asked.

Sesuadra rode Syril a bit closer in curiosity to hear what
Marc had to say.

“It’s the boy who was in my first vision, the one all
covered in blood.”

“Interesting,” Zildjin noted.

The group finally stopped at the small town center.

A man stood, overlooking the work being done. He was dressed
in clothes of a richer color and finer make than anyone else present, clearly
separating him out as the man the wagon leader had described as Mayor Hartshor.
Marc dismounted nearby the man and he turned at the sound.

“Ah! Travelers! Welcome! We have been expecting you!”

“Huh?” Marc looked confused, “We just got here, how—?”

“Word travels fast here my friend. We have not had many
people stopping by here for a time, but now that the vorstai have been killed,
and the town safe, we have been preparing for adventurers, and you are the
first! We must spread the word, the bounty has been claimed, Terga is back open
for business! Make yourself at home, we have a few Inn’s here that should be to
your liking. Do not mind the construction, we have not been able to keep up
after so many attacks, but now, we can rebuild without interruption.”

Marc was dying to get a word in, but the man spoke so
quickly and so much it was clear he loved the sound of his own voice.

“The statue there,” Marc finally got in, “Who is it of?”

“Drake of course! The Hero of our town!”

Someone appeared from underneath the entrance of the
unfinished building.

Marc and the group turned their attention at the newcomer.

Marc immediately recognized the young man.

“I heard my name, Mayor,” He said.

Marc noticed also a young woman, not much older than the
boy, appearing from around the corner of the unfinished building. No one else
seemed to notice the girl.

“Ah, Drake, the man himself,” The Mayor said, acknowledging
the boy’s appearance, “come forward, greet our newest visitors, the first to
appear here after so long!”

This is Drake?
Marc thought,
he is
the one
from my vision, able to kill such large creatures by himself?

The young man approached Marc and the others. He was dressed
in a white shirt, green tunic, brown loose fitting breeches, dark knee length
boots, and brown leather gloves. He looked different from the vision Marc had
of him, without his armor, and not covered in blood, but it was definitely the
same kid. He seemed younger without the swords in his hands and armor on,
fourteen or fifteen years old.

The young woman approached the spot where Drake had been
standing.

“Mel,” The Mayor said, “What are you doing here? I thought
you were studying at the Manor with your mother?”

The girl named Mel shook her head.

“He is the ageless one!” Cydas said.

He,
Marc thought,
the ageless one?

Before Drake came too close to Marc and the others his gaze
fell upon Marc and he stopped.

“Drake?” The Mayor asked. The girl turned her attention from
the Mayor to Drake.

The boy didn’t move. He seemed to be trembling.

“Drake?” Mel said, her voice concerned, “Are you alright?”

Marc felt the sword at his side begin to grow warm, and
suddenly golden light emanated from the blade. Then it surrounded Marc as well,
casting everyone around him in the glow.

The Mayor and Mel stepped back in surprise. The carpenters
on the building stopped what they were doing, some even dropped their tools.

“It’s him,” Marc confirmed to the others, “The one from my
vision.”

The boy said nothing, but continued to look upon Marc,
transfixed.

Marc moved as if to dismount but paused, unsure of what to
do.

Drake remained silent, but his body began to shake more.

The young man’s hands slowly rose, they were trembling as
well. He distorted the expression on his face in sudden immense pain. He
grabbed his head and fell to his knees. He opened his mouth and screamed. He
tilted his head back, mouth still open, still screaming, still gripping his
head tightly. A nearly invisible wave shot forth, the boy at its center. It
rushed over everyone around him, pushing them back slightly. The Mayor and Mel
stumbled back slightly.

Marc jumped down from Redmor and ran forward at the same
time Mel rushed towards the young man.

They reached Drake almost at the same instance.

Drake’s scream ended but he continued to tremble and he
swayed backwards.

Mel put her arms behind the boy’s shoulders and back,
catching him and cradling him in her arms.

The boy looked up at Marc.

“Help me,” he whimpered, “you are the only one who can help
me.”

And then he closed his eyes.

Marc stood, the boy remained in Mel’s arms.

“Wh—o, Who are you?” The Mayor looked down at Marc in
astonishment and the magical aura surrounding him.

“My name is Marc, I am the Wielder of the Flame.”

The Mayor was silent at Marc’s announcement.

“We have to lay him in his bed,” Mel said finally, breaking
the silence.

Marc nodded in agreement but the Mayor was still stunned at
everything.

“Mayor?” Marc tried again having heard the boy address him
as such.

“huh?” The Mayor replied, “Yes, of course, to the manor.”

He gestured towards the nearby building, the second largest
within the town.

“And our aldoms, they have need of a place to rest and eat.”

“Of course, follow me.”

“I cannot lift him alone,” Mel said.

Marc leaned down to help. 

Mayor Hartshor was mostly silent as
he led them to the large building next to the one being constructed.

He spoke only when needed. He called over some of the
workers to stop what they were doing and help. He directed a few of them to
take the aldom’s and the balkar to the stable. Zildjin, Sesuadra, Laura, and
Cydas all dismounted and handed off their steeds. Cydas retrieved the pack
containing important things from the Oracle first, as well as some other
personal things. Marc saw this but did not feel he needed to keep anything
safe, as he already had the Sword of the Phoenix and the map at his side.

The Mayor led them inside the building next to the
unfinished one. It was a large two story structure, simple in design but
furnished with subtle fancy wood and stonework to set it apart from the other
buildings in the town. Marc followed, Drake between him and the girl’s arms.
The boy was relatively light, but was beginning to feel heavy and Marc wanted
to set him down soon, the girl had spoken of a bed. Laura followed closely
behind Marc. She seemed a little put off by something.
Is she jealous that
I’m close to another girl?
Marc dismissed the thought as he took in the
Manor. The elegantly carved double doors opened into a grand foyer. Great stone
pillars led up to finely crafted wooden beams that spanned the length of the
ceiling. Several doors aligned the walls at even intervals. Two curving
staircases on each side of the room led up to balconies of the second floor.
Near the end of the room was a sort of pedestal with a large chair on it. An
extremely long table stood before the chair and several less elegant chairs
surrounded it. Ceramic vases filled with greenery and decorative empty pots
arrayed the dark wood table top.

At the end of the room at the far side of the table sat a
woman. A young child of about ten years of age was talking with her when the
Mayor opened the doors.

The child looked over at the group of newcomers and
immediately pointed at them, as if to say to the woman
see, there they are,
they are the ones I was talking of
. 

The woman stood as the group came forward.

“Mel, I was wondering where you had gone off too, and what
is this? Our young hero has fallen unconscious once again?”

“Yes,” Mel replied, “We are taking him to his room.”

“And,” the woman glanced at the others, “We have more
guests, as Belik has just informed me.”

The boy nodded and smiled.

“Come,” The woman said, gesturing to Marc, Mel, and Drake,
“The rest of you may stay here.”

Laura made as if to follow Marc but decided against it.

The woman walked to one of the doors and opened it. Mel
moved and Marc moved with her, shifting Drake’s weight to a comfortable
position to fit through the door. Marc glanced behind him and caught Laura’s
eye. He tried to give her a reassuring look.

The hallway was long, with several other doors leading to
other rooms, but finally they reached the end of the hall and the woman opened
the last door on the left. It was a simply furnished yet tastefully decorated
room.

They laid Drake on the bed at the far corner of the room
from the door and stepped back.

“I will fetch him some water,” The woman said.

She disappeared down the hall, leaving Marc alone in the
room with Drake and Mel.

There was an awkward silence.

I wish Laura had come with
. Marc thought.

Then the girl did something Marc was not expecting at all.

She fell to her knees, bowing her head close to the ground.
Her long hair fell against his boots.

“I am not worthy of thy presence,” She whispered, “Forgive
me.”

What the—?
Marc thought,
What is going on? What is
she doing?

“Stop,” Marc said, bewildered, “Don’t do that,”

Mel remained on her knees, “I cannot,” she shook her head,
which was still bowed low, “I am not worthy to stand in the same room with the
Exalted’s Blessed One.”

Blessed One?

“Please, stand,” He said, embarrassed.

Marc heard the woman’s footsteps returning down the hall.

“
Please stand up,
” He whispered desperately.

Mel remained motionless in her prone position.

The woman turned the corner into the room, a tray and
pitcher of water in her arms.

“What is the meaning of this?” she said, quickly taking in
the scene.

“Mother,” Mel replied, keeping her head bowed, “He is the
Wielder of the Flame.”

The woman’s mouth opened in surprise, then she closed it,
“Mel, do not be silly, how can—”

“Mother, please,” Mel glanced up, then back down, “What
reason do I have to speak falsely?”

The woman looked at Marc.

“Pardon, sir,” She said, her voice quieting, “is it true?”

Marc was again glad he did not blush.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie, but he
was also embarrassed. He finally resigned to speak simply and truthfully.

“I am,” he admitted.

“Exalted forgive me, my faith is weak,” She said, “Do you
have the sword, truly?”

Marc shifted to better display the sword at his side. He
placed his hand around the hilt of the weapon. He immediately felt the
connection and warmth, and gently summoned its power. A golden glow rose from
the blade and from him.

Mel’s mother opened her mouth in utter awe, taking a step
back and letting go of the tray.

Marc reached out quickly, missing the tray, but catching the
ceramic pitcher of water with one hand. The wood tray clattered noisily to the
floor.

Mel’s mother fell to her knees as well, bowing her head low.

“Please,” Marc said, “stand.” He gestured for them to pick
themselves up.

It was at that moment that Drake awoke, from the sound of
the tray hitting the ground.

“Look, he’s awake, you have to get up,” Marc said.

He released the power and the golden light dispersed.

Mel and her mother stood slowly.

Mel’s mother held out a hand and Marc handed her the pitcher
of water. Mel bent over for a moment and retrieved the fallen tray, handing it
to her mother. Mel’s mother placed the tray and pitcher on a small nearby
table.

Drake sat up from the bed.

“So it is true,” He said, “You are the Wielder of the
Flame?”

Marc nodded with mixed emotions, sort of wishing he could
lie, but on the other hand desiring only to speak the truth. He did not know
how to react to such attention. A part of him did not mind it, but another part
just wished to disappear into obscurity, to revel in solitude.

“Yes,” he said again, “I am.”

“Then you must be able to help me.”

“I don’t know how, but I can try.”

Drake fell silent.

“I will let the others know,” Mel’s mother gave a short bow
and left.

“If you feel up to it we should return to the main room,”
Marc said, “Our friend Cydas may have some answers for you.”

“He should remain here to rest,” Mel found her voice.

“No,” Drake said, “I feel fine.”

He stood up quickly to reinforce his words.

Mel gave a small shrug, trying to indicate that she did not
care either way, but Marc sensed she actually did mind and worried for the
young man.

“We could get everyone in here, it would be a little crowded
though,” Marc suggested.