Wielder of the Flame (44 page)

Marc shrugged.

He looked around and saw Sesuadra wrapped up in some sort of
book, like usual. Cydas was standing slightly off from the crowd, a mug in his
hand, sipping it carefully. Mel and Drake were also standing off to the side
along with some of the more elderly people who were just watching and clapping.
Mel seemed to be waiting for Drake to ask her but Drake just kept slowly shaking
his head and staring off.

I can reenact what Zildjin did to ask Laura to dance
.
Marc thought confidently.

He walked over to Mel and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around and immediately lowered her head. No
matter what Marc did she kept doing stuff like that.

Well it’s my turn now
. He thought with another inward
smile.

He bowed low to the ground, putting one knee on the ground,
and touching her right foot on the toe of her shoe.

“Wielder—I,” she tried.

Marc figured she wanted to say,
cannot dance with you,
because of your greatness,
so before she could finish he interrupted her
with:

“Cannot refuse the first dance,” Marc let his smile show,
“That’s what I was planning on, c’mon!”

He had no idea what to do but he was determined to dance
with Laura and he was going to try his hardest to do so. He was awkward and Mel
found it difficult to dance across from him. He struggled to keep up but was
becoming more and more embarrassed.

He stumbled and almost fell, but a pair of hands caught him
at the last moment.

It was Laura.

“Let me help,” She smiled down at him.

He looked up and smiled back. He could sense an almost
electric power from her touch, magnetizing him to her, he was so drawn to her.

He stood up and she touched his arms, slowly showing him the
gestures.

“Like this,” she said over the music, “And this.”

They exchanged a long slow gaze into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly the song came to an end and everyone was clapping.

After the cheering died down a quiet fell over the crowd.

“Another!” someone cried.

“Yes quickly!” A second agreed.

There was quiet again for a moment, and then one of the
wooden flute-like instruments rang out with a mellower, but still spritely,
simple melody.

Marc had never heard anything like it in his whole life and
he had listened to several hundred thousand songs before. It stirred his soul.
He felt as if he had suddenly flown up high into the sky, so far that the stars
were rushing past him. He was reminded of the emotions he had experienced in
the vision with the Faeries and he was surprised that a simple tune could be so
powerful to him. Everyone listened with anticipation as the notes rang for a
few moments, then paused, followed again by the melody, as if to teach the
crowd
this is how the song will go
. Then another pause. This time a
second wooden instrument joined the first, augmenting the beauty of the tune.
One couple began to dance, slowly, feeling the music. Then another, and more,
quickly followed. They were all dancing in a line again, this time creating the
movements of the dance as they went along, being a part in the creation of the
music. The two instruments held a chord of notes and just at that moment a
third instrument, this time one of the lutes, began to pluck away at its
strings, then the other strings followed.

Marc turned to Laura. They were both smiling. He saw the
group beginning to create another line to dance and he decided he didn’t want
to spend one of the most beautiful songs he had ever experienced looking like a
fool while he tried to learn the impromptu dance. Instead he put his hand in
hers and one around her waist. She looked confused at first, but then he said,
“This is how we dance where I’m from.”

He was silently grateful for the one time they had learned
ballroom dance in Physical Education it was the only place he had really
learned it.

He began to dance with Laura, this time with a surety of his
movements. He moved back and forth in rhythm with the music, guiding Laura with
his hand at her waist and with his feet. She smelled nice, entrancingly so,
mostly of vanilla. It was a wonderful aroma. He realized then he must have
smelled heavily of the pungent tallow soap he used to scrub himself down the
other day upon their arrival to Terga. Trying to put the thought from his mind
he focused on the dance, and his closeness to Laura.

He slowly twirled and spun her until she was confident
enough, understanding the way he danced, that she could move faster.

Finally as the music came to an end he dipped her low, his
face just inches from hers.

Time seemed to stand still.

They were both breathless. He stared deep into her hazel
eyes. They were so rich with color like emerald green leaves changing into the
many golden browns and oranges of autumn; he just wanted to fall into their
infinite exquisiteness.

The people erupted into clapping and cheers around them and Marc
and Laura were broken from their moment.

He picked her back up from her dip and they continued to
hold hands. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled, could
feel his cheeks wanting to be red, and was glad once again that he rarely if
ever actually blushed.

The rest of the night was mostly a
blur of eating, drinking, dancing and fun, but no moment compared to that first
dance.

Later, finally, the celebration was finally over. Everyone
had returned to their homes for the night and they were back at the mansion.
Zildjin, Sesuadra, Cydas, Drake, and the girl Mel, had all gone to their rooms,
but Marc lingered a moment in the hall, his arm still around Laura. He moved
his head to look down at her and she looked back up at him. The nearest lantern
shone on her, letting the glowing light dance dreamily in her hazel eyes and
Marc was held captive by her beauty. There was a moment of silence as both
gazed at each other, entranced.

Marc’s heart hammered in his chest at least twice as fast as
it usually did and his stomach was doing flips inside him. He didn’t know what
to do. She looked so calm and relaxed. But he felt completely opposite. He
didn’t want to screw things up. He had never had any experience with girls
before, aside from the fact that he knew he liked them a lot. His mind was
racing. Finally he summoned the courage to speak.

“We had a great time tonight, didn’t we?” He said and smiled
and she smiled back.

“Yes we did. Thanks for teaching me how you dance.”

“No problem, anytime.” He replied.

Should I take my arm away from her now, or what? Why
can’t I just think clearly?

After a moment Laura looked down at the floor and then down
to her room, the one she shared with Mel. “Well, I guess this means good
night.”

She slipped her arm off of his shoulder. Marc let his arm
slide off as well and he put it back by his side.
What now? Is she going to
leave? Should I kiss her good night? I like her—Okay, I’ll kiss her then.

Laura turned to go, then half turned back again, looking up
at Marc.

No! She’s leaving! Okay, do it! No, I can’t. What if
she’s offended? Well, she kissed you on the cheek earlier didn’t she? That’s
true—
Marc argued quickly and furiously in his mind.

With a final glance she began to turn back again and was
about to leave for her room.

NO! Kiss her!
Suddenly Marc made up his mind. Without
another moment of deliberation he said “Laura, wait.” He caught her hand and
brought her towards him gently. With one smooth motion he brought his head down
and kissed her gently on the lips. To his surprise and to his great relief she
didn’t turn away, or jump back and slap him. In fact, as Marc was going to
break it off so that he wouldn’t seem like he was rushing things she held the
kiss for a moment longer. After what felt like an eternity and only a flash of
a second melded together as one, Laura pulled back slowly and with a tiny smile
said,

“Good night Marc.”

“Good night, Laura.” Marc said airily, his eyes gazing at
her and
through
her at the same time. He watched as she walked down the
hall, the blue flames reflecting off her beautiful form until her door closed
behind her.

“Wow,” Marc whispered, his fingers gently brushing against
his lips. He shook his head and then opened the door to his room and got ready
for bed. For some strange reason he had a feeling that whatever would happen
over the next several years of his life, as long as Laura was there, everything
would be alright.

Interlude

Marc could hardly focus on anything
but Laura over the next several weeks.

They did not kiss or show affection to each other when the
others were around, which was always, so Marc’s desire to do those things
continued to build, and he imagined it was the same for her. But they would
walk their aldom’s next to each other and talk frequently to one another about
many things and gaze into each other’s eyes, even if at distance.

They left Terga the next morning after the celebration at
sunrise with a mixture of feelings, both sad to leave such a friendly place and
warm beds, but excited to meet up with Puck and continue on to the Oracle. They
did not finish Drake’s memorial, but Drake promised he would return as soon as
he could to see the completed structure and accompanying statue.

They spent plenty of coin on supplies and gear in the town
but Zildjin kept quietly commenting to Marc that he felt the townspeople were
asking for a significantly lower amount than what one would usually pay. Marc
didn’t know what else he could do and just told Zildjin they should just go
along with it and make the people happy.

“At least they are letting us pay
something
.” He had
finally said.

Everyone in the town was there to see them off. The
townspeople sang a beautiful song of farewell to them. It was a customary
tradition to see off prestigious individuals such as themselves, the Mayor
stated afterwards. When the song was complete the Mayor led the town in
invoking the Exalted Spirits to look over Marc and his companions on their
journey.

Those who had to, returned to their morning work and chores,
leaving the children and a few others to follow Marc and friends down the main
road leading out of the town. The children laughed and played with the aldom’s
tails. The children stopped following near the edge of town. One of the
musicians who had played at the celebration must have broken away from the
goodbyes earlier and walked ahead for he sat upon a large tree stump along the
road leading away from the town just on the outskirts of the last building. He
was playing soft, random notes that did not make up a comprehensible tune as
they approached.

As the group passed the musician sat up straight and put his
lips to the pan pipe in his hands. He played the same tune which had so
resonated with Marc the night before. It was a beautiful song.

It was the last memory Marc had of Terga.

A beautiful memory.

“We are being followed,” Drake said,
the second day they were on the road after leaving Terga.

“How can you tell?” Marc asked, breaking out of his
conversation with Laura.

It was a sort of grey day, with clouds dominating the sky. A
slight breeze was in the air, sort of chilly. The heat of what Marc had figured
was Summer was dissipating day by day.

“There has been movement in the rocks above us on several
occasions,” Drake replied.

“Not letting a little brush animals scare you, are you?”
Zildjin jested.

“No,” Drake replied simply and seriously.

For such a young frame Drake carried himself as one who was
much older.

“I am certain it is a person.”

“Well,” Marc said, “I might have an idea.”

Still atop his steed he pulled out the map and unrolled it.
Using its magic he willed it to draw, in close detail, the location where they
were on the road in Rawson’s pass.

Drake came over and motioned for Marc to angle the parchment
so he could see. He had declined on purchasing a mount. At first Marc was
afraid he would be unable to keep up and slow them down, but he moved at a pace
that was almost faster than the aldoms.

Surprisingly, before their eyes, a dot appeared on the map
and a name underneath it as well. Mel, Radan of Terga.

“Wait, what?” Marc said.

“Is that—?” Laura remarked.

Marc nodded his head.

Drake let out an almost inaudible sigh.

“Who? Who is it?” Zildjin steered Tandur to get a closer
look.

Sesuadra looked up from his reading of a large book but did
not guide his mount over, waiting patiently for more information on the matter
to come forth on its own, instead.

Marc stopped Redmor and everyone followed his lead. The
balkar, which Drake was leading, stopped also.

Marc turned Redmor to face the rock face.

“Mel? Is that you? We can see you on our map, Mel?”

There was no response but the echo of the Wielder of the
Flame’s voice off the mountainside.

Then finally, a figure stood up in the distance, appearing
behind one of the larger of the boulders above. The individual was a stark dark
contrast to the light grey rock.

“It is I!” She answered.

She began to make her way down the cliff face and approached
the group.

When she reached the party she looked down at the ground,
not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Why the secrecy?” Marc asked, “If you wanted to come with
us, you could’ve just asked.”

“Her mother would not allow it,” Laura chimed in.

Mel was silent.

“Is that just a guess?” Marc asked Laura.

“We spoke about it,” Laura answered.

Marc remembered seeing the two girls frequently together in
Terga and nodded.

“If that’s true,” Marc spoke to Mel, “Why have you followed
us then?”

“I—” she struggled to speak, “I thought, that I would be
able to help in some way. I feel that I
must
help. You are— You are the
Wielder of the Flame! And Drake, and all of you must be able to use magic in
some way.”

“Mel, didn’t you listen when Laura and I spoke the other
day. If you want to help the best you can do is help each other, your town
needs you.”

“I know,” Mel said, “But I guess I just thought you were
more meaning those without the ability to sense or use magic. I am different,
like my mother, not like the rest of them. Your path is sure to be one of
danger, let me come along, I can heal.”

“Mel,” Marc began.

“I
have
to come,” Mel spoke up, “I mean— I have to
make sure Drake is okay still.”

“My wounds have already fully healed,” Drake insisted.

Marc raised his hands for silence.

“Look,” Marc said, “We are headed to Whiteholt to meet up
with another who will join our group. We would be glad to have you along—”

Mel’s face brightened with a joyful smile and she clapped
her hands.

“But,” Marc continued, “on the condition that once we reach
Whiteholt we purchase an aldom and some supplies and you return to Terga,
deal?”

Mel nodded happily.

“Alright then,” Marc smiled, “Welcome to the party.”

“You can ride with me if you wish,” Laura smiled and patted
the empty space in her saddle. Mel and Laura were both small enough for it to
work.

The group continued on toward Whiteholt.

Marc was a little grumpy with the
addition of Mel to the group.

With her present, the two girls spent a lot of their time
talking to each other and Marc was forced to face even less time with Laura
than he liked.

 Laura and Mel whispered quietly to each other laughing and
stealing glances at the others, usually Marc and Drake. Whenever any of the
others got close enough to listen in, they fell silent.

Marc found himself trotting behind more and more until he
was near the back of the group of Zildjin and the balkar carrying the supplies.

Zildjin had a smile on his face, his eyes looking off into
nowhere in particular.

Marc felt glum and thought that if he felt glum, everyone
should feel glum.

“Why are you so happy?” He said, a slight irritation in his
voice.

Zildjin broke away from his trance and looked at Marc, “Your
puppeteer paint a frown on your face today?”

“Huh?” Marc was still not use to all the colloquialisms and
phrases of this place.

“Just two days ago you and Laura shared a kiss,”

“What!? How did you know?” Marc said in surprise.

“I knew it!” Zildjin said with a sneaky smile, “I knew you
two must have kissed after all that dancing!”

“You little punk!” Marc said.

He tried to punch him but Zildjin dodged out of the way.

Marc pulled on the reins, positioning Redmor in front of
Tandur.

“Get him Redmor!” Marc commanded, half joking.

“Whoa!” Zildjin cried, leaning back just out of reach from
the aldom’s snapping jaws.

Tandur pushed Redmor away in a manner that was just between
friendly and a warning.

“Alright, alright,” Marc guided Redmor back to walking
forward. “I think we got our point across.”

“What is a ‘punk?’” Zildjin asked after a moment or two.

“Right,” Marc acknowledged the question. He thought for a
moment, images of grunge music and punk rock bands played in his mind and he
dismissed them, thinking it would be too complicated to explain it in that way.

“A punk is a rebel to authority, a troublemaker, someone who
gets into mischief all the time.”

“Ah,” Zildjin nodded, “So Itherin was a punk, well thank you
very much, I am proud to be labeled with one such as Itherin.”

“No,” Marc shook his head, “when I called you a punk, I was
more meaning that you cause trouble.”

Zidljin shrugged, “Very well,” He grinned, “I guess I can be
a punk sometimes then,”

He grinned again and Marc let out a small laugh.

“Yes,” he said, “Yes you can. So, why
are
you happy
then?” Marc asked again.

Zildjin nodded, “I am happy because I left all the coin I
won in Fairlake, in Terga, with a note saying that it was a gift from the
Exalted given from the Wielder of the Flame.”

“What?” Marc said, “
Great
! Now they’ll just want to
worship me even more than they already do!”

“What is wrong with that? You give them hope.”

“I don’t
want
to be worshiped, I just want to help is
all.”

“But you will be,” Zildjin added, “Whether you want to be or
not.”

Marc shrugged his shoulders.

Drake fell back from his quick strides, leaving Cydas in the
lead, Sesuadra to his reading, and the two girls to their whisperings.

“I overheard something about leaving all the coin in Terga?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Zildjin said.

“But our current supplies will not last till Fallhaven, and
I do not think any of us, besides Mel perhaps, have any coin to purchase
more.”     

Zildjin was feeling a little bit cornered again and Marc
noticed.

“We will find a way, we have so far,” he said, hoping to
cheer his friend up.

He decided to steer the conversation another direction.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Marc looked down at Drake.

“Yes?”

“How exactly you took down those two giant creatures we saw
when we rode into Terga?”

Drake immediately found himself in the same position as
Zildjin.

“I—” He began but paused.

They rode in silence for a moment.

“It is hard to say exactly.”

Marc seemed slightly confused.

“There is much about me that is difficult to explain.”

They waited for more of an explanation.

Drake, picking up on Marc’s tactic, decided that he himself
would change the conversation this time.

“We should break and make camp earlier than yesterday.”

“Huh?” Marc and Zildjin both said.

“You want to know how I killed those two creatures?”

They nodded.

“I will show you all I know about sword fighting, then you
will understand how I killed the Vorstai.”

“You can show us all you know about sword fighting in one
evening?”

Drake shook his head, “Of course not, it took me several
cycles to master a single technique.” He paused.

“Tonight, will only be the first trainings of many.”

 “Now,” Drake said, his two blades
drawn, “Attack me with everything you have!”

They had stopped in the afternoon, instead of the end of the
day, just as Drake had requested, to give extra time for sword training. Marc
found himself once more facing off against someone seemingly more experienced
with a weapon than he was. Everyone else stood nearby to watch, with the
exception of the girls who had decided to sit next to each other on a nearby
flat boulder, but who were also watching.

The sky was a clear one and Marc could feel the slight
coldness in the air again as the Sun drew lower in the sky.

“I’ve heard
that
before,” Marc said.

“Yeah,” Zildjin agreed, “But last time it was with wooden
sticks and against Topar, he is like three heads taller than you Marcus. Drake
is small, you can handle him.”

“He
did
kill those huge flying things,” Marc said,
somewhat nervous.

“He
said
he did,” Cydas noted.

Marc shrugged.

“You can only learn if you try,” Drake said, waiting
patiently.

“Go on Marc,” Laura said encouragingly, “You can do it.”

She smiled reassuringly at him.

Marc nodded, feeling empowered.

He steadied his grip on the Sword of the Phoenix and got
ready to rush forward.

“Aaaaaahhhhrr!” Marc cried as he ran towards Drake.

Marc swung the Phoenix Blade with all his might.

Drake swiftly placed his blades up in defense and Marc’s
sword clanged against them, sparks flying.

Marc grunted, surprised at the boy’s strength. He felt as if
he had just hit a giant immovable metal wall.

Drake slipped one of his katanas down the length of the
Phoenix Blade and moved quickly to disarm Marc.

Marc tried to hold desperately to his weapon but soon found
himself on the ground with a sword at his throat.

Drake held the move for only a brief moment, and then stood,
sheath his blades on his back and put out a hand for Marc to take and stand.
Drake helped him up, Marc was again surprised at the strength of the young man.