Wielder of the Flame (47 page)

It had been an exhausting few days in Whiteholt, gathering
everything together, hiring the wagon guards and drivers, and purchasing
balkars, but in the end, they had done it, and had used almost every single
coin in doing it.

Mel was saying her goodbyes.

Finally she turned to Drake and said, “I have tried hard at
playing for your affections,”

Drake looked everywhere he could to avoid her gaze.

“But it appears that you cannot return those feelings to
me.”

Drake put a hand to his forehead, still looking down and
said, “I am sorry Mel.” Clearly embarrassed and out of his comfort zone.

She leaned forward and gave him a hug, then kissed him on
the cheek.

She whispered something into his ear that only he could
hear, then she withdrew.

“Exalted keep you,” She said to everyone, “All will be
well.”

They each gave her a farewell hug.

“All will be well,” they replied.

“I will miss you,” Laura said.

Mel rolled her eyes, “Spend your time with Marcus, it is
clear you two wish to court each other!”

Laura glanced at Marc, she was blushing, Marc felt awkward
as well.

 “Yes,” Mel said, “Well then, Farewell!”

And then, the two groups were separated, heading down
different paths.

At first the group could only speak
of Mel and her time with them. Then they spoke of Terga and their time there,
since Puck had not been with them at that time. Puck was impressed to hear of
Drake’s victory over the Vorstai in Terga. He asked him why he had traveled
South and Drake replied that after being unable to find out where Puck had
gone, he had traveled south, trying to find Marc.

Whether or not it was fully true, Drake did not know, but he
hoped it was.

Then they began to tell each other of their respective
stories and the time flew by.

In the late afternoon they continued their sword training
with Drake. Puck had only heard of Drake’s prowess on the battlefield but never
experienced it firsthand. He was impressed with the young man’s agility and
strength.

They followed roads and trails where they could. They passed
by many farms. Sometimes children would run down and see who was journeying by,
but mostly they were greeted only by the rolling farmlands. The mountain range
in the distance they were traveling towards soon grew closer and closer until
the mountains rose up on their right, leaving sparse woodlands and green
rolling hills on their left. The warm breeze and hot sun began to grow slightly
colder by the day.

“Abeo draws near,” Cydas said one morning.

“Abeo?” Marc asked, he thought he had heard the term before
but could not remember.

“The Season of Change,” Sesuadra replied, “The warm days of
Refoveo are soon to be over.”

“Autumn,” Marc said, “Where I’m from we call it Autumn, or
Fall.”

“Ah-tum,” Sesuadra tried, “Interesting.”

“Why Fall?” Laura asked.

“Because it is the time of year when all the leaves on the
tree turn from green to orange, brown, yellow, and red, and then, they fall off
the tree.”

She smiled, “I like it,” she said, “Fall.”

Marc smiled back. He was glad she was no longer angry with
him.

Puck changed his bandages and was coming along in his
healing nicely but he still had the now scarring wound on his cheek.

Laura was becoming quite good with her magic. The group
would take turns throwing rocks and pebbles gathered from the ground, as high
and far as they could in whatever direction to test Laura. She would wield her
magic upon the stones, extending their distance traveled, or changing the
direction of the flung stone completely to land in different locations. She
would do so until she was bathed in sweat and leaning against her aldom’s neck
to not fall off. As time went on she would have the party throw several rocks
in unison and she would teleport the rocks to form shapes in the air or have
them disappear completely. After several days of this she then began to have
the groups throw the rocks and she would teleport herself to catch the rocks
before they hit the ground, and then return to her aldom, captured rocks in her
hand. Once she mastered that she would have two of the party members throw
rocks, one high in the air, the second a little later as far as they could
throw. She would then teleport herself into the air to catch the first stone,
then teleport herself to catch the further thrown stone.

The first time she attempted this she simply winked out and
the second stone clattered to the road in front of the group a fair distance.

“Laura!” Marc’s heart leapt in fear.

A few moments later Laura appeared so far in the distance
down the road she was barely a speck.

“Hurry!” Marc said, urging Redmor to a sprint, “She could be
hurt!”

Marc raced ahead and the group quickened their pace, trying
to keep up.

Marc arrived first, pulling Redmor to a halt and leaping off
his mount to the road. He ran to Laura who was laying face down.

He carefully but quickly turned her over.

Her nose was bleeding.

“Laura?” Marc gently shook her, wiping the blood from her
face.

The rest of the group arrived as Laura opened her eyes.

“Is she alright?” Zildjin asked.

Marc lifted his hand for silence.

Laura sat up.

“I am okay,” she said, her hands shaking slightly.

“No more teleportation today!” Marc said sternly, “You could
have been seriously injured.”

He helped her to her feet.

Laura shook her head, “I have to keep practicing, it is the
only way to improve.”

Marc nodded, “Take a break for the rest of the day at
least,” he implored.

Laura did not reply immediately, but as blood trickled down
her nose and she wiped it away, she consented.

As they got further away from Denbel
and Whiteholt they could see each mountain clearly as the peaks rose up and
declined, forming triangular shapes that were distinctly separate. The one they
were nearing was much taller than the rest.

“These are the six mountains that lead to the Path of
Freedom, the path that the Shyden Monks follow, their Monastery is near here,
if I remember correctly.” Sesuadra said as they began to pass next to the first
mountain.

“Have you been there?” Puck was surprised.

Sesuadra shook his head but continued speaking anyway,
“Kyroth, Courage over Pain, the first mountain. Eroesa, Strength over Weakness,
the second mountain. Seiswen, Mind over Body, the third mountain. Legaia, Life
over Death, the fourth mountain. Pirewin, Truth over Lies, the fifth mountain,
and Shyden, or Ascendency or the Rise of one’s Essence, the sixth and last
mountain. The Shyden monastery is built near the base of the first mountain,
Kyroth, where the snow melts from the mountains run off and down the waterfall
to form the Jurhal river. Those who wish to join the monastery and take the
Oath, must travel over Kyroth and back. Each mountain crossed over and returned
represents a deeper and more powerful level of commitment to the Oath. The
mountains literally and symbolically represent the Path to Freedom. As one
crosses over each mountain, one must contemplate what that mountain symbolizes.
Only one monk, by the name of Ybiend, in the history of the Shyden Monastery
has crossed over each mountain and climbed to the peak of the Shyden mountain
and completed the Path to Freedom. He did not return and the monks claim that
they only know he did so because a bright light rose from the mountaintop of
Shyden almost half a cycle after he left.”

Sesuadra paused and Zildjin spoke.

“Sesuadra,” Zildjin said in disbelief, “I know you must have
read it somewhere once, because that is how you know everything you know, but
what I do not understand, is how do you remember it all?”

 Sesuadra gave a sort of shrug, “I—”

He struggled to find the words.

“I do not know,” He finally said simply, “When I see things
I just remember, that is all.”

Zildjin shrugged.

“So they have a difficult test to pass to become a monk,”
Marc said, “Unless they cross over Ky—the first mountain, they can’t go
inside?”

Sesuadra nodded.

“Or if you are family, like me,” Puck said.

“They also have a great reverence for magic,” Sesuadra
commented, “I am sure if you,” he looked to Marc, “ever wanted to visit, they
would allow you in.”

“Interesting,” Marc said, “interesting.”

Their days were spent journeying and
talking, and their nights were spent training and sleeping.

Drake never seemed to tire, despite teaching and practicing
against each of the group separately every evening. Even Cydas, who was older
than all of them, found that he had much to learn from Drake. Drake was even
teaching Laura to fight with a dagger and sword combination and she was
learning fairly quickly. Marc noticed that Zildjin, of them all, did the best
against Drake during practice. For some reason Zildjin always seemed to luck
out at all the right instances. They were all surprised one evening when Drake,
usually perfectly balanced, tripped upon a stone and Zildjin was able to fling
one of Drake’s katanas out of the young man’s grip. Drake ended the practice
with acknowledgments to Zildjin’s good performance with a little bit of good
fortune.

They were all impressed with Puck’s magical artifact. He
could transform it into any weapon. He shifted it into a sword to swordfight,
but he wanted to learn how to use the quarterstaff most. Drake admitted to not
learning much in the way of fighting with staves so Puck was mostly on his own.

When they weren’t learning sword fighting they were
practicing and learning other skills. Sesuadra began to open up more about his
vast knowledge of things. Hunting, survival, everything they needed to know on
the road. Laura tried to share what she remembered from her lessons in the
Order of the Leaf but admitted that her skill was paltry compared to Mel.

“I wish she would have stayed,” Laura said one evening.

Drake shrugged.

“She needed to return. Terga really could use her help,
since her and her mother are the only skilled healers there, besides, no one
else could have gone back with the supplies but her,” Marc replied.

Laura nodded.

They also continued to practice their magical skills. Laura
was getting better and quicker at transporting things from one place to
another. She was still hesitant to trying moving herself again, but told Marc
that the Oracle had told her she would be able to do so easily one day. She
said it was scary, unnerving. She felt like she was being pulled apart and put
back together again or something. Marc contemplated similar technology he knew
of that did the same thing with information, but decided not to bring it up as
it would likely be too complicated to explain in full detail, and just more
unsettling for Laura. He always supported and encouraged her.

Puck spent his time changing his artifact into different
shapes and stretching the limitations of his power. The relic seemed to have an
unlimited supply of metal but did not follow any rules or laws of science as Marc
knew. It transformed from the smallest of things into much larger items.

The largest of which Puck could shift it into seemed to be
something the size of a wagon.

Drake, of course, kept pace with the aldoms simply by
walking quickly.

And Marc, was becoming better and better at controlling the
power from the Sword of the Phoenix.

They followed the Jurhal river down to Essoril.

Essoril was the second smallest town
Marc had visited, next to Terga.

Since they had no real need of stopping in town Puck led
them down a separate road that went to his home.

“It is small, sure,” Puck agreed when Marc mentioned it,
“But it is my home, and speaking of home, there it is!”

Puck raced forward.

It was a fairly sizable stone home with a shop jutting out
of the side of it, there were two doorways, one for the home, and the other was
more of an opening, which they could see right into the smithing area. The
house also had two chimney stacks, one for the house, and the other for the
shop, which at the moment had thick black smoke billowing from the top of it.

A man was in the open area at work at the forge.

“Father! I am home!” Puck cried as he and the group
approached.

The man turned at the voice.

“Puck! What? What a surprise! It is good to see you back!”

Puck hugged his father, despite the black soot all over his
apron.

“Who are they?” The man asked.

“Father, these are my friends. There is a lot to talk about,
where is mother and Aliyana?” They are inside, I am sure—”

The front door to the house opened and a woman poked her
head out.

“Marad, what is—oh!”

She saw Marc and the others all atop their steeds and their
balkar in the back loaded with supplies.

Then she saw Puck.

“Puck! You are home! OH! Puck! By the Exalted, what happened
to you?”

Puck looked much better than before but still had several
fairly badly colored bruises on his arms and face.

Puck dismissed her concern and rushed over to give her a
hug.

“Never mind it Mother, these are my friends, I must
introduce them, there is much to talk about! Where is— Aliyana! And Ranasa!”

Marc could not see the other two people as they were in the
house.

Puck dodged inside to greet the other two people.

Puck’s mother sighed in a sort of forgiving but exasperated
sigh.

She walked over to Marc and the others, putting a hand on
Redmor’s neck. The aldom gave a sort of cooing sound, not minding the stranger
at all.

“Please forgive my son’s manners, it seems he has forgotten
them.”

“No worries,” Marc replied.

“My name is Lilis, I am Puck’s Mother,” She put out a hand.

Marc reached down slightly and gripped her forearm briefly.

Puck’s father put down what he was working on and came out
to stand beside his wife.

“This is my husband, Marad,” she said.

“My name is Marcus,” Marc replied.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Marad said, he had a monstrous
crushing grip.

“I am Laura,” Laura said.

Puck came out with the other two people as Marad and Lilis
greeted everyone.

“Sorry,” Puck said, after realizing he hadn’t introduced
everyone properly.

“All is well,” Marad said with a hearty smile, “We have come
to expect your forgetfulness on things of this nature Puck.”

Marc jumped down from Redmor and the others followed suit.

“Well,” Puck said, “At least I can introduce my sister
Aliyana, and her, uhm, companion Ranasa.”

They all went around and introduced everyone again.

Aliyana and Ranasa did not let go of each other’s hands at
any time, and they kept looking into each other’s eyes.

Marc sort of wished he could do the same with Laura, but was
embarrassed with what everyone in the group might think, especially Cydas.
Cydas was older, and seemed to picture Marc’s title and calling as more
important than anything else, especially frivolous things, like relationships.