Wielder of the Flame (50 page)

“Tarenium,” Marad said, “I traded dearly for this from a
Relic Hunter. It comes only from the Black Peaks, and is extremely rare. I wish
I had more so I could more fully integrate it within your armor, but at least
it is present. These streaks of black here,” He pointed out on the armor, “is
the Tarenium.”

The streaks of black were not simply splashed on but Marad
had specifically formed them so they worked aesthetically well with the other
designs on the armor.

“I have worked everything so that it is light and allows for
better flexibility in combat without sacrificing durability or toughness.
According to Legend, Tarenium also has special properties specifically
regarding magic.”

“What does it do?” Marc asked.

“It either reflects magic, or absorbs it.”

“Which one?”

Marad simply shrugged, “What is written about Tarenium is
not precisely clear in this regard, whether it is by chance, or whether it is
the wearer of the armor that decides. In my experience it is by chance, though
I guess only time will tell.”

Marc nodded with a half shrug as well.

Their time spent eating together was also time spent
conversing. They discussed many various topics from the cold weather that was
fast approaching, to the rise in prices on goods and services in the area, but
what they talked about the most was the mission that Marc and the others were
embarking on. Lilis was surprised that a family heirloom, the crystal shard,
was such a powerful thing, an actual piece to the Summoning Stone from the
legends and histories of Lyrridia. Marad was surprised as well when Puck told
them the crystal’s ability to amplify magical powers. Stories that they had
simply told briefly they were able to share with much more detail. Lilis and
Marad were proud of their son when he spoke of the Bloodcloak soldier he had come
upon the opportunity to exact revenge, and had spared instead. Everyone was
interested in hearing, in detail, about the light in Kolima and the restoration
of the Sword of the Phoenix.

“We saw the light, even from here,” Lilis said,

“It was hard to believe,” Marad added, “we did not know what
it was, but we saw it.”

Marc told the story from his perspective, Cydas from his,
and Zildjin and even Sesuadra spoke up, describing the scene on that night.

At other times Marc spoke of the many visions he had had, of
Laura, Drake, and Puck. Zildjin and Sesuadra spoke of their experience with the
two magical creatures, the Forest Guardian, and the sleek black creature who
looked like a small rovaar with less fur. That led to Lilis and Marad inquiring
about Soren, Eleanor, and Topar, all mentioned in the story. Zildjin, Sesuadra,
with some input from Marc, described their time in Kolima and of Eleanor’s
relation to them.

“We shall send her a message,” Lilis said, “I will let her
know that you have arrived in Essoril in safety and that we took you under our
protection and care.”

“She will appreciate it very much,” Marc said.

After hearing of Zildjin and Sesuadra’s experience Laura
brought up her experience with the same creature and her magical vision of
Zheund.

One of the evenings Marc was heading
to the room he was sharing with Sesuadra and when he got there he opened the
door without knocking.

Sesuadra had been sitting at a desk facing away from the
door unwrapping his arms but the instant the door opened in one swift hasty
motion he stood up from the desk and covered his left arm, which was bare,
beneath his shirt and his halfway unwrapped right arm behind his back.

“Yes?” Sesuadra looked directly at Marc with a look that
told Marc all he needed to know,
get out
.

“Sorry,” Marc said and began to close the door, “I didn’t
know I was interrupting, sorry.”

Marc shut the door all the way and turned to face the hall.
That
was strange…
Marc thought. But now that he thought about it, in all the
time he had spent with Sesuadra he had never once seen his forearms bare, and
he Zildjin and Sesuadra had gone swimming plenty of times. Sesuadra had been
quick to cover his arms and Marc hadn’t seen anything.
Maybe he has some
embarrassing scars or something…

Marc shook his head which was already filled with too many
things like Laura.

Finally, the day came when Marad had
finished a set of armor for everyone in the group.

“I have accomplished in a fortnight, what would have taken
others many cycles to do. I invoke the Exalted that my magic will have made a
difference.”

“It will,” Marc said, “We are all more grateful than words
can express. The armor is wonderful, and Lilis, the food is wonderful too.”

Lilis had supplied them with several days of fully prepared
meals as well as foodstuffs for several fortnights after.

When they all put on their armor, they appeared like the
warriors and heroes that fate was calling them to be.

With the group now fully equipped they were ready to depart.

It was time to go.

It was morning, bright and early, when Marc sat atop Redmor,
ready to travel on the road once again.

Everyone else was on their own mount.

“Be safe,” Lilis said worriedly, “We will keep in contact
with Eleanor as much as we can.”

Marc nodded.

“May the improvements on your equipment and weapons prove
useful,” Marad noted.

Zildjin nodded, rubbing the medallion now embedded onto the
hilt of his sword out of a newly formed habit.

“Exalted keep you!” Aliyana told her brother, near the back
of the group.

Puck nodded and smiled, “And you too.”

“I am glad you came back,” Ranasa said, “Even after
everything you went through. You are an inspiration to me.”

“How so?” He finally said.

“I think if I had been in that situation,” He whispered, “I
would have killed him.”

Puck had not time to reply as Marc finally said.

“Goodbye!”

And they were off.

On the map, the distance between
Essoril and Fallhaven appeared the same as Kolima to Terga.

 And it almost was.

But the way that time passed with the group traveling as a
whole with a single purpose, rather than four traveling with faint direction,
seemed very different, much quicker.

Mornings consisted of breaking down camp, cooking first meal
and eating it. Days consisted of travel on the road, and off it when it seemed
the faster choice. Afternoons were spent training with Drake. They suited up in
their new armor and realized that their improved weapons needed some getting
used to, especially since most had been lightened. Evenings were spent making
camp, sitting around the fire and talking, and nights were spent sleeping.

The group fell into a routine, each with their own duties to
fulfill every day and night.

The weather and land began to change as they traveled as
well. The trees grew in larger thickets, the underbrush thicker and fuller than
before. A chill took to the air, a coldness that was beginning to overtake the
nights.

Marc and Laura shared only a few kisses when no one was
looking, and held hands when they were.

Marc found himself wondering sometimes about customs and if
he was acting appropriately or not towards Laura. He recalled the celebration
in Terga, and how Zildjin had asked Laura to dance. Was there something special
he should be doing, or something he shouldn’t do? Marc never really had had a
superb set of adult role models in his life and so he had set about trying to
create his own set of morals and standards to live by pieced together from his
observations of those around him outside the home, Most of the time he simply
went with his feeling towards Laura. Things just felt right with her.

 The map was an incredible help. With its powerful
enchantment they were able to navigate off-road terrain with unprecedented
accuracy. Even on things to small degrees such as fallen trees blocking a path,
they could circumvent by following alternate routes, saving hours and even days
of their time that they would have wasted backtracking and exploring.

“I’m not going to go easy this time,” Marc said one
afternoon as he stood a fair distance away, facing Drake.

Marc had the Sword of the Phoenix drawn but not ignited,
Drake had both of his katanas unsheathed as well. Both were in defensive
stances. They were both suited up in the armor Marad had made for them.

Sesuadra and Zildjin were sparring off to one side and Cydas
and Puck were sparring off to the other side. Laura was sharpening a dagger
while watching Marc and Drake spar.

“So you have been going easy every sparring session until
now?” Drake said.

“Well,” Marc looked left then right, “No.”

Drake gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, not believing
Marc.

“I just mean now I’m really going to try my hardest to best
you.”

“So you have not been trying your hardest all the other—”

“Just,” Marc said, half-frustrated, “Let’s start already.”

“I have been ready this whole time, simply waiting on you.”

“Fine, fine.”

Marc released the magical flames and let the golden aura
alight around him.

Instead of opening his mouth with a battle cry and charging
forward he simply advanced towards Drake with slow but steady steps, one foot
after the other, the Phoenix Blade in front of him, poised to strike.

Marc brought the Sword of the Phoenix in a rapid low
swinging arc moving upwards. Drake had never seen Marc move so quickly.

Drake was able to counter with one of his katanas but just
barely, and brought the other in a forward stabbing thrust. Marc swung his left
arm and deflected the slightly long curved blade away. Marc then pushed the
Sword of the Phoenix up, driving the hilt towards Drake.

The two then engaged in a lightning fast exchange of strikes
and parries. Laura watched in surprise at Marc’s sudden increase in speed. The
fire on the Phoenix Blade was nothing more than a blur of light followed
closely behind by Marc’s equally quick footing.

The two dodged and ducked, spinning and twirling, each clang
of the swords grew quicker and louder.

Marc felt himself finally gaining the upper hand against
Drake. Marc spun the Phoenix Blade around in a mighty blow, connecting with one
of Drake’s katanas. Marc twisted his weapon, using the hilt to spin the katana
around and yank it out of Drake’s grip.

Drake spun and dodged, ducking away from Marc in surprise.

Marc kicked the fallen katana away.

“Just one sword now,” Marc said, “fairly even odds now, I
always thought you had the better chance with two swords.”

“Less talk, more fight,” Drake replied coldly.

The others began to stop their sparring and turned their
attention towards Marc and Drake.

Now each with a single weapon Marc advanced once more
towards Drake.

Marc allowed the fire to flare on the Phoenix Blade,
demonstrating his gaining the upper hand.

Drake shook his head and advanced as well, not remaining
still like he usually did.

After a number of tension filled steps Drake finally charged
forward with a downwards strike.

Sparks flew as Marc lifted the Phoenix Blade and parried the
attack.

Marc could feel a fierce strength from Drake that hadn’t
been in any other strike up until that point. Marc pushed Drake’s katana away
and thrust the Phoenix Blade forward. Drake countered and the two swordsmen
were at it again with several strikes and blocks. Without really thinking about
it Marc began to draw more and more from the power and the aura around him
began to grow.

Dirt and loose pebbles around them began to be flung away
purely from the magical aura permeating from Marc and the Sword of the Phoenix.

Sweat flew in great drops from Marc’s forehead and nose but
he had no free moment to wipe his face.

Strike, block, counterstrike, parry. Blow after blow the
fight continued, neither relenting.

Marc felt his lungs begin to complain, struggling to draw
breath.

“Drake!” Marc said almost breathlessly, at a volume only he
and Drake could hear, “Drake!”

Marc thought he saw something, a darkening of Drake’s face,
almost like a computer when it glitches for a fraction of a second, and then it
was gone.

Drake’s attacks suddenly became quicker somehow,
strengthened to a degree Marc had never seen. Drake did not seem to be a young
boy any longer, his appearance a deception somehow.

One hit, barely blocked, then a second.

Laura felt something change, perceived it like Marc had.

Another strike, this time quicker and harder than ever
before.

The Sword of the Phoenix flew into the air.

Marc stepped back, tripping over a clump of grass and some
stones.

Drake spun, katana in hand, as if to deliver the final
killing blow.

And suddenly the katana was gone and Drake fell, out of
balance.

The katana appeared out of nowhere, nearby, spinning until
it sunk fairly deep into the trunk of tree stopping with a thud.

Laura had stood up from sharpening her knife and had one
hand on her temple and the other outstretched.

She had thrown the katana with her power.

Drake picked himself up.

Everyone but Marc, Laura, and Drake were clapping.

“Sorry,” Drake told Marc, putting out a hand to help the
other up. “Got a little carried away.”

Marc took it and stood.

Drake seemed quite young again, naïve and above suspicion.

“No worries,” Marc said, brushing himself off.

Laura came over, “keep it calmer next time you two.”

Drake nodded, “Yes. Sorry, I do not know what came over me.”

He went over to retrieve both of his weapons, heading over
to the one on the ground first.

Laura helped brush Marc off.

“Thanks,” Marc said, “For that.”

He gestured to the katana embedded into the tree trunk.

 “I am sure your new armor would have withstood the attack,
but I just wanted to be safe,” Laura replied.

Marc nodded in agreement.

Zildjin came over and wrapped his arms around Laura and
Marc’s neck in a friendly manner, “Hey you two lovebirds! Very impressive
fight, Marc. No fair though Laura. I am never getting in a swordfight with you,
not if you just make my sword disappear out of my hand!”

The others came over to join in the conversation.

Laura smiled, “If I got in a swordfight with you Zildjin, I
would just make
you
walk an unseen path, not your sword.”

They all laughed together.

Drake came over with his two katanas.

“Obedience is the mother of success and is wedded to
safety,” Drake said as he sheathed his swords, “I am sorry I pushed the fight
to where it escalated to such degrees. I did not obey my own rules of teaching.
I will be more cautious in the future.”

“All is well,” Laura said, “As long as I am here to put a
stop to things,” She winked.

And the group laughed. Drake even let out a small smile.

After almost two fortnights they
finally reached a road that would take them straight to Fallhaven.

“We are almost there,” Cydas stated, “Almost home.”

Marc had forgotten that Cydas was from Fallhaven.

“It will be good to see it again, no?” Marc asked the man.

Cydas nodded.

They continued forward.

Fallhaven was a sight of serene
beauty.

Marc felt calmed and comforted the moment he saw the little
outpost come into view.

It was late in the day, but the sun pierced the clouds,
lighting the village perfectly. There were only about a dozen or so buildings
that made up the village. The nearby river, which was labeled Lerthan on the
map, coursed nearby the outpost. A number of streams broke off from the river,
curving away from their source, zigzagging across the area that the village
occupied, even running in-between some of the buildings, and down several short
levels, like steps, forming a myriad of beautiful small waterfalls, until they
curved back into the river. The river then tumbled again down a number of
levels, this time much wider and slightly taller than the ones by the village,
until the water cascaded down a large waterfall to the massive Naeshdar Lake
below. A number of wooden sort of interconnected bridges spanned a large
portion of the village, where the stream ran underneath. The gentle and steady
flow and trickle of water sounded throughout the area, lending to the sense of
calm. A balkar stood next to a tree on a sort of island surrounded by the
flowing streams, content to stay there, chewing on grass. Birds flitted between
nearby trees, chirping their happy songs. The buildings were constructed of
wood and stone, the larger buildings with dark tiled roofs and chimneys and the
other smaller with thick thatched roofs. A number of watermills were built next
to the river, slowly turning in time with the flowing water. The tallest
building, three stories tall, was north east, at the far end of the village
from the group’s approach.

“There,” Cydas said, pointing to the largest building.

“There, what?” Marc asked.

“You will see,” the man’s face was one of happiness and
relief.

Cydas led the group up some stairs onto the wooden
interconnected bridges. They were well built and held the combined weight of
the steeds and their owners.

Several villagers turned from their various tasks to watch
at the arriving newcomers.

Many greeted Cydas and he returned their casual greetings.

“You are well known,” Marc commented.

“It is a small place, everyone knows everyone here,” Cydas
replied.

Marc nodded.

Finally they arrived at the three story building.

There was a stable area nearby and a woman sweeping rushes
into small neat piles. Cydas guided the group there and stopped. The woman
appeared older, dressed in a simple but sturdy dress with a single purple sash
tied around her waist. Her hair and eyes were a dark brown, but her skin was
light.

“Cydas Ardusk! You have been a long time gone from here! All
is well?” The woman said with a smile.

“All is well Goodmother,” he replied, dismounting from his
aldom, “All is well.”

“And Goodness you have brought quite a few friends with
you.”

“Yes,” Cydas smiled, “They are here to converse with the
stars and understand the passings of the cycles and the meaning of all things.”

“Oh,” the woman replied.

She put a hand to her chest and seemed to falter.

Cydas stepped forward and steadied her.

She clung to Cydas, looking up at Marc and the others.

“Is it true then?” She asked.

“Yes,” Cydas replied, “It is the Wielder of the Flame, and
the others whom I sought, Advocates of the Flame.” Cydas pointed Marc out
specifically and then the others.

“So as ye have said, may it come to pass, the doors are open
and ye may enter through the way.” She said in almost a whisper, her hand
pointing to the doors of the nearby building.

Cydas embraced her, “Thank you Goodmother.”

“Of course,” She replied, “You can leave your animals here,
I will stable them for you.”

Cydas nodded, “Thanks again.”

“Come then,” She motioned for them to dismount and proceed
to the doors, “I shall not delay you any further.”

Marc and the others dismounted.

“Thank you,” Marc bowed his head.

She shook her head, “Do not bow to me Blessed One, You bow
to no one.”

Marc nodded, holding back a shrug and sigh of exasperation
and keeping himself composed.

Cydas walked to the building and the others followed.

“Converse with the stars?” Marc asked.