Wielder of the Flame (46 page)

Laura nodded.

“I never knew this was so important,” Puck said, “It has
been passed down to the women in my family for generations. Aliyana only gave
it to me to keep for a short time. It is hard to believe that all this is
happening. The Wielder of the Flame, the crystal, the Oracle.”

“I understand,” Marc said. He moved to help Puck up, “More
than you probably know.” 

He and Drake helped Puck stand.

Puck looked at Marc.

“I must return to Essoril,”

“But—” Marc began.

“I mean,” Puck said, still focusing on Marc, “We must all go
to Essoril. You need to speak to my father, it is important.”

“But the Oracle did not tell me of this,” Cydas admitted,
“Are you sure a desire to return home and inform your family of your discovery
is not clouding your judgment?”

Puck shook his head, “No, The Oracle told me we need to go
there. Though of course I will tell my family of what I have found out when we
get there.”

Cydas shrugged, turning to Marc on how they should proceed.

Marc thought for a moment, “To Essoril then, but how far
away is it?”

Puck looked at him, “The Oracle said you had a map.”

Marc smiled. It seemed she had not forgotten to tell anyone
about the map.

Puck marveled at the enchanted map. It began of course
depicting Lyrridia as a whole, with the points of light depicting the crystals
in their respective locations.

“This is us, now watch,” Marc said. He mentally instructed
the map to show all of them gathered together.

 “This is fascinating!” Puck said, “So this is how you found
me. I guess I must have missed Whiteholt.”

They were just southwest of Whiteholt.

Marc nodded.

“You had the crystal, and Drake knew you, so we were able to
see you had the crystal on you.” 

“You saw I had the crystal?” Puck was amazed even more.

 Marc nodded again. He moved the map.

This time the map was focused in close enough that it
appeared as if a hand was being drawn onto the surface of the parchment.

They were all surprised as an inky sketch outline of Puck’s
hand and the figure of the crystal shard in it appeared before them.

They were equally surprised when Sesuadra whispered
“Incredible!” fairly loudly.

Puck moved his hand and the drawing on the parchment moved
as well, ink smudges quickly reforming at the movement.

Marc found it visually cool, but having grown up with
technology on an equal, if not more sophisticated, level, was not as impressed
as the others.

Marc tried to think that maybe technology
was
a magic
of sorts depending on the perspective of the person, but then shook his head,
briefly remembering that the Oracle had said
Your world is yet young, and
thriving, even without the aid of magic.

Marc brought himself out of his thoughts and back to the
task at hand.

“Essoril, you said,” He looked at Puck.

“Yes,” Puck replied, and stopped moving his hand.

Marc had the ink change to show the map of Lyrridia again.

“Essoril is here,” Puck said.

“We are here,” Sesuadra pointed out.

“Quite a journey on foot,” Cydas added, “it is out of the
way of Fallhaven, and we are already almost out of supplies. We need spice for
the aldoms and the balkar, and our food and water is near gone. I suggest we
continue up to Whiteholt, to resupply.”

“With what coin?” Drake noted.

“And whose fault is that?” Cydas stated.

Most of the group looked at Zildjin.

“What is in Fallhaven?” Laura interrupted.

“Where we must go on our journey to the Oracle.” Cydas
replied simply.

They all turned to Marc for guidance. Marc was quicker to
fill his role as leader than on previous occasions.

“We will travel up to Whiteholt to resupply. I know we don’t
have any coin, but maybe we can bargain with something.”

“Just tell them who you are and what your quest is,” Mel
suggested, “If Whiteholt’s people are anything alike those of mine in Terga,
they will be glad to help, and wonder at the tale of the newly chosen Wielder
of the Flame, and of the light in Kolima. Surely they saw something that night
as well.”

Marc shook his head, “I don’t want to abuse my title like
that, it’s not right, and it’s not fair to the person on the other side of the
giving.”

Mel shrugged. No one else spoke.

“It’s decided then,” Marc nodded, “We will go to Whiteholt,
then here to Essoril. Then to Fallhaven, with Cydas. Your word is enough for
me,” he looked at Puck.

Puck nodded, grateful.

“In the meantime,” Marc continued, “Every afternoon we
should continue our training. And Mel, anything you can teach us about healing
while traveling, would be helpful. We’ll get you provisions in Whiteholt, and
then you can return to Terga afterwards.”

Drake and Mel nodded at this.

“Knowing is not enough, we must apply. Willing is not
enough, we must do.” Sesuadra said.

Everyone was satisfied with Marc’s decision.

He was their leader.

A Friend

They had indeed used all their
provisions by the time they reached Whiteholt.

Between Drake and Cydas, however, the group had gathered
quite a few small animals and hoped to use the animal hides to bargain for a
room and supplies.

It was one of the hardest things Marc had to do since his
arrival from his old world, skinning an animal. He looked down at the small
creature Cydas handed him.

“All is well, Marcus?” Cydas asked.

Marc shook his head no.

“I’ve—” He paused, “I’ve never done this before.”

Cydas and the others seemed confused, wondering how Marc had
eaten anything without hunting it first. Marc tried to explain, but gave up.

“Can we,” He said finally, “Can we please take a moment and
thank the, uhm,”

“The Exalted?” Laura tried.

“Yes,” Marc replied, “Let’s take a moment and thank the
Exalted for sending us these creatures, who sacrificed themselves so we may
eat. And don’t waste any part of the creature, let’s try and use as much as we
can.”

“Of course,” They replied.

Marc stared down at the little creature. It resembled
something between a squirrel and a rabbit. “Thank you,” He said simply, then
looked up to the sky, and back down at the animal. He didn’t know who to
address, or what to say, he just felt like saying thanks, so he did.

“Thank you,” Marc finished.

With Laura’s help, Marc was able to finish skinning the
animal, and felt better about doing so.

It was morning when they arrived in Whiteholt. Drake and
Puck led the group through the town streets to The Majestic Guardian, the same
place they had stayed before. Everyone dismounted to go in except for Zildjin.

“I will stay with the aldoms,” He offered.

No one argued

Bargaining with the innkeeper turned out to be harder than
they expected, Puck did most of the talking, having been there with Drake
previously. In the end they were simply short too much gold. The skins were
barely enough for the Innkeeper to let them stable and feed their mounts. They
would only be able to get rooms after they drummed up enough coin.

“Well?” Zildjin asked when the group returned.

Marc responded, “We can stable and feed the animals, that’s
it.”

“So what should we do now?” Cydas asked Marc.

Marc was quick to decide, “Everyone split up, cover as much
ground as you can. Go shop to shop to see if there is anyone willing to pay us for
a day’s work. Sweeping floors, moving crates and barrels, anything. After we
stable the animals someone will have to stay with them and watch them.”

“Not I,” Zildjin replied, hopping down from Tandur.

Marc was surprised, thinking Zildjin would stick with the
aldoms.

“Oh,” He said.

No one else seemed eager to step up.

Marc thought, he, out of all the group, would be least
effective at gathering coin, considering he was the one most out of his
element, and decided to stay with the aldoms.

 “I’ll assume everyone has some great coin-earning ideas and
doesn’t want to let the group down by having to stay with the aldoms. No
worries, I’ll watch them. If any of you strike out in finding work, come back
and rotate out with me.”

 “All is well,” Puck replied, “It will be easy for me to
find a blacksmith shop needing help of some sort.”

The others all offered encouraging sentiments.

“Don’t over extend yourself,” Marc advised, “After what
you’ve been through.”

“I will be careful.”

They followed Marc into the large barn near the Inn where a
few other animals were stabled. A young stable-hand with red hair named Eldn,
showed them to their stables. Everyone unstrapped the saddles to their
respective mounts and began to pat down and clean the road-weary creatures.

“No,” Marc said quickly, “I’ll do the cleaning, we need
everyone on the streets quickly looking for work.”

No one argued.

They worked out the rest of the details of their plan and
then each left the barn, taking off down different streets.

Zildjin knew exactly what he was going to do, but this time
around he was going to be much more careful about it. He rubbed his medallion
between his fingers, feeling lucky.

The aldoms stank, and so did the
balkar.

Marc used all the knowledge he had gained while living in
the Magic Emporium, taking care of Redmor, and applied it to the situation in
front of him. First, he asked the stable-hand where the supplies were. With
supplies in hand, he headed over to the stall holding the balkar, knowing it
would be the easiest to take care of. Marc started by scrubbing the beast down
with soapy water, then rinsing it off. To finish, as Topar had instructed him
during training, he rubbed a strong smelling ointment in areas where the
pack-saddle dug into the balkar’s back most.

Next Marc moved on to the aldoms. He started with the paws,
cleaning between each appendage, making sure to be gentle. He knew if he
pressed too hard the aldom’s claws would reflexively want to come out, and Marc
didn’t want to get cut. After making sure the feet were clean of things like
small pebbles, he moved on to brushing. Armed with the several different
brushes he needed Marc began the long process of grooming each aldom. The first
brush was used with vigorous, but small circular motions over the adloms
muscles, opposite the direction of the animal’s fur. He was careful to avoid
the bony areas of the creature, including its face, spine, and legs. After the
first brush loosened up the dirt, mud, and other debris caught in the aldom’s coat.
Marc then pulled out the second brush and applied it with short flicking
motions, allowing the bristles to thoroughly whisk the aldom’s coat free of
dirt. He started from the neck and worked towards the tail, again avoiding the
face, ears, and belly. With the third and softest brush, he was finally able to
massage the aldom’s most sensitive areas he had avoided with the other brushes.
The aldoms chittered and cooed their approval at the process.

So focused in his task, Marc was unaware of the passage of
time until Cydas returned to the barn. It was late afternoon, well past middag.
Marc stood up from grooming Brighteyes. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of
the late hour and the lack of nourishment.

Cydas had had little luck in securing work for the day.

“There were a few caravans looking for wagon guards, but it
was a position more permanent than current circumstances could allow for.”

Marc nodded.

Cydas revealed a single coin, “However, an elderly woman
gave me this for helping her take her days purchase at the market, back to her
home.”

“It’s something,” Marc replied with an encouraging tone.

“Let me help you finish up here,” Cydas offered.

With the work split in half, the two of them were able to
finish quickly.

Not too much later, the rest of the group trickled in.

Sesuadra had fared only slightly better than Cydas,
organizing books at Whiteholt’s only building remotely resembling a Library and
record’s keep. Laura had earned a few coins cleaning out a marketplace stall.
Mel had a small coin bag, almost full, after helping out at the local
apothecary, separating and sorting herbs. The apothecary’s owner had been
impressed by Mel’s knowledge. Drake had earned about as much as Mel, fletching
arrows at a shop nearby where Puck had found a blacksmith offering work. Puck
had brought in more than twice that of Mel and Drake’s earnings combined.

“It was fun balancing believable smithing work with magic,
needless to say he told me he had never seen such masterful work from an
apprentice in such a short amount of time in all his days. He practically
begged me to come back tomorrow. I told him I was unsure of how long my stay
would be here.”

Zildjin showed up last with a large bag filled with coins,
and caked, head to toe, in mud.

“What happened?” Marc voiced the question everyone was
thinking.

“I know, I know,” Zildjin said, smiling, and wiping mud from
his face, “The mud. I was at a nearby farm helping repair a fence when the
lagartos broke free and I pretty much spent the rest of the day catching them.”

“Not the mud,” Marc said.

“The gold,” Sesuadra finished.

“Some of it the farmer gave me.”

“And the rest?” Cydas inquired.

Zildjin paused for a moment, then looked away, “My
medallion.”

Marc realized, “You shouldn’t have traded it away! It was
important to you.”

Zildjin shrugged, “It was a small sacrifice, for a good
cause.”

Before anyone could say anything else there was a small
grumbling sound from Mel’s stomach.

She turned red, and clutched her middle, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry,” Marc said, almost laughing, “We’re all hungry
too, let’s go eat.”

“Your speech is strange sometimes,” Mel noted, trying to
recover from her embarrassment.

Marc nodded, still smiling, “So I’ve been told.”

After everyone ate at the Inn, they happily
paid the Innkeeper for three rooms and retired for the evening. Mel and Laura
shared the first room, Drake, Puck and Cydas another, and Zildjin, Sesuadra,
and Marc, the last.

Marc fell asleep quickly.

 It was pitch black when Marc opened his eyes. For a moment
he lay there, in bed, trying to figure out what had woken him.

A figure stood at the un-shuttered room windows, pale
moonlight casting cerulean ripples across the wood floor.

Marc half sat up, reaching for the Sword of the Phoenix
nearby.

“It is I,” Zildjin whispered quickly, sensing Marc’s
intentions.

“What time is it?” Marc rubbed his eyes blearily, “What are
you doing?”

Zildjin was silent but for a moment.

“It was hot, I was opening the window.”

Marc found the room to be cold. Was it because the window
was now open?

“Well shut it,” Marc whispered back, “It’s plenty cold now.”

Zildjin shrugged and returned the shutters to the closed
position, locking them in place.

Marc fell back into bed and closed his eyes, quickly
returning to sleep.

A knocking sound awoke Marc. It was
morning.

Sesuadra and Zildjin were gone, probably already downstairs
eating first meal.

“Just a second,” Marc said, standing up quickly.

Why didn’t they wake me? It’s like they’re always letting
me sleep in. Is it because of my title?
He thought as he quickly got
dressed.

He went to the door and opened it.

It was Laura.

She was holding a small piece of parchment in her hand,
facing Marc, for him to either just read it, or take it and read it.

Marc took it to read it.

A gift, to the new Wielder of the Flame and his
companions, to help you on your journey.

- A friend

“What is this?” Marc said, emphasizing the last word.

“We found it this morning, along with a very large purple bag
of coins.”

“What?”

“That is not all,” She continued, “When Cydas went to check
on the aldoms this morning, he found identical bags of coin in every stall, and
two in the balkar’s pen.”

“A friend?” Marc questioned, “What friend? Who?”

Laura shrugged.

Marc indicated he was going downstairs, Laura moved to let
him pass and walked alongside him, descending the stairs to the Inn common
room.

The group sat at the largest of the tables there, which was
piled with food.

Everyone was eating hungrily, after last night’s meager
dinner.

They stopped briefly as Marc and Laura approached and sat
down.

“Well,” Marc said, addressing the group, “Looks like we have
a friend with a vested interest in our mission, does anyone have any idea who?”

They all shrugged.

“Should we keep it?” Puck asked, referring to the wealth. The
poor kids bruises were still deep in color, but at least they were smaller than
before.

No one said anything, waiting on Marc’s decision.

Sometimes Marc wanted to just shrug, and let someone else
decide.

Who had given them the money? Why so much? And how? And why
the secrecy? What would the consequences of taking the money be? The anonymous
giver had said it was a gift, did that mean the giver did not expect anything
in return?

“We’ll keep it,” Marc said finally, “But only as much as we
need for our supplies. The rest we’ll give back.”

“To who?” Zildjin spoke up.

“Tis true,” Cydas added, “We know not to whom we should
return the coin.”

Marc mulled it over.

The group continued their meal as Marc thought.

After first meal was over and the group was finishing their
drinks Marc spoke.

“After we’ve purchased all the supplies we need, we’ll hire
a small caravan of goods to travel back with Mel, wagon guards and all, to make
sure it gets there safely.”

“Terga has already received much coin from us,” Zildjin
pointed out.

“Coin, yes,” Marc replied, “But not supplies. Terga was
terrorized by those monsters long enough and could use the help, right Mel?”

Mel nodded, in full agreement with the idea, “Terga was once
a thriving center of trade and a place for rest for the weary adventurers
traveling through Rawson’s Pass. A caravan of supplies would be greatly
welcomed. And I would feel much safer traveling home with company than alone.”

“It’s settled then,” Marc concluded, “Let’s go to the
market.”

They all stood at a crossroads, a
fair ways from Whiteholt, Marc with his group pointed towards Essoril, and Mel
at the head of a small wagon train headed down a road with a sign that read:
Rawson’s
Pass.

Each wagon was filled with supplies and lead by a single
balkar and driver. A guard sat at the back of each wagon as well.