Wielder of the Flame (3 page)

“Whoa!” Marc looked down in surprise and took a step back.

The cat meowed reassuringly. It looked back at the sword,
gesturing for Marc to take it.

He looked down at the belt and sheath around his waist. It
looked odd and out of place with his street clothes which, were suddenly,
curiously dry.

What in the world is going on?

He glanced behind him, staring at the hole in the thick
overgrowth. It was still there, as if to say,
even now, you can leave, and
return the way you came.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the sword
before him. He did not wish to go back to face Victor and his gang.

With only another moment of hesitation he took a deep breath
and reached out. Something warm begin to stir inside his soul as his hand
physically drew nearer to the weapon. The light from the sword began to pulse
more brightly. He was just inches away, reaching slowly, apprehensively, unsure
of what was to come. Finally he grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled to
lift it out.

It came free with ease.

As the blade withdrew from the stone the light surged for a
moment in the cracks and even into the hillside, before it snapped back into
the metal.

An energy began to build within the sword in his hands. It
pulsed sharply, growing and brightening. It creeped into Marc’s fingers, then
up into his palms and into his arms. He gripped the hilt with all his might as
the magic flowed into him. It was overwhelming.

He fell to his knees, barely keeping hold of the sword.

The cat backed away slowly, watching the unfolding scene
intensely. 

Marc could feel every bone in his body, every corner of his
mind, every part of his very soul, being filled to bursting with this power. He
did not comprehend what was going on. He lifted his head upwards, looking up
into the infinite sky and yelled, not in pain, but because of the immensity of
it all.

And then, as the stream of energy continued to flood into
him, he saw a light forming high above him, even brighter than the sun. He squeezed
his eyes closed as a self-defensive reflex. But the figure in the sky remained
before him. He quickly realized that the figure was so bright he could still
see it through his closed eyelids. He turned his head away so that he would not
go blind.

A rush of deafening wind tore past his ears and an invisible
force hit his torso like a freight train, throwing him to the ground and
entering into his soul like a crashing, thundering wave of power, and energy,
and life.

The world was subsequently sucked inward in a single instant
as the form and the magic completed their transfer.

And then, everything went black.

The sun was finishing its descent on
the horizon, darkness quickly approaching in its wake.

The impending shadows of the forest surrounding Soren made
him feel uneasy.

He was tall and brawny, and not usually an easily frightened
man. Whether it was the creaks and groans of the oncoming night, or of the
increase about sightings of mysterious things lurking in the area, there was
just something about the dark woods that troubled him. He clicked his tongue
and shook the reigns to make the two beasts that were leading his wagon move a
little bit faster. In turn the animals picked up their pace, making the wooden
wheels of his wagon squeak in protest.

Good investments.
He thought, as he recalled when he
first bought the two balkars.

Balkars were generally large and bulky, with thick scaly
hides. But these two had seemed tougher than most, which is why he had paid the
extra coin for them. One had a turquoise colored hide which was dark on top and
gradually faded into a fleshy pink underbelly. The other beast had a richer cobalt
blue hide fading into a grayish pink underbelly. Not uncommon colors for the
animals.

There were two long poles attached to the front and rear of
the wagon with hooks on the end. Lanterns were attached to the hooks. They
swayed back and forth in rhythm with the rotation of the wheels and soft
thudding of the balkars’ hoofs against the ground.

He nodded, satisfied with the creatures’ pace.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he turned
his head and checked behind him to make sure everything was alright.

The wagon was full of barrels, burlap sacks, some small
boxes, and a very large wooden crate, all filled with various food goods and
exotic spices.

Besides him and the contents of the wagon, two older teenage
boys rode with him. The one with black hair and fair skin was Zildjin. The
other, who sat at the rear, had light bronze skin and brown hair, Sesuadra.

Good boys
, He thought silently,
Eleanor sure
raised them right.

Only four cycles had passed since they had apprenticed under
him. Sesuadra and Zildjin had been younger then, thirteen and fourteen
respectively, but still eager to learn, and willing to work. Mornings working
with him, afternoons with Eleanor, and evenings training with Topar, they were
growing up quickly. But in these hard times that was only to be expected. Living
a carefree life was a commodity only the rich could afford.

Soren was not a wealthy man, but he considered himself to be
well enough off.

The three were dressed in roughly the same fashion of
clothes. Well worn garments that had been made to last, and appeared just so.

Soren combed a hand through his dark brown, mid-length,
hair. It was streaked with gray at the temples, revealing his age. He pushed
the rest of it back away from his face with his other hand, pausing momentarily
to stroke his beard. A plain one handed broadsword with a double ring guard was
sheathed at his belt.

It is getting late,
Soren thought to himself,
probably
best to stop and make camp soon.

He glanced at the quickly appearing stars in the dark sky,
and the two large circles, Tinven and his sister Oata, among them.
Oata will
be bright this night
, he thought,
and Tinven will try and hide her for
his jealousy
. He looked up ahead for a small clearing in the trees that
would be suitable to rest for the night.

“You keep looking back as if someone is following us,”
Zildjin said. “Afraid of the Revenant hidden in the shadows?” He attempted to
shake his own fear away by drawing attention to Soren’s apparent unease.

“I am only doing so to make sure you and Ses are not eating
all my goods,” Soren replied in jest. “I know you love churta.”

Sesuadra turned at his name and grinned at the comment, but
otherwise remained silent.

“
Your
goods?” Zildjin joked back, “Excuse me, but who
were the two who loaded all this into the wagon? And I do not like churtas I
like reytuls. Just keep your eyes on the road, we would not want to run into
any trees now.”

Soren chuckled and turned back, “Questioning my skills with
the reins, eh?”

Zildjin grinned.

“No,” Soren continued. “I was thinking it is about time to settle
down for the night. What do you two think?”

“Yes,” Zildjin replied.

Sesuadra nodded his agreement.

“Very well, this small clearing up ahead will do.”

He led the balkars to the intended destination and pulled the
wagon off the path onto the grass. Once they had stopped completely, the two
boys jumped from the cart and began unloading the bedding and the other things
they needed for their camp.

Soren nodded appreciatively,
I did not even have to ask
them.

He jumped down with less grace and silently cursed his
aging, as his back complained with pain from the days ride. He remembered a
time not too long ago when he could travel for days with little to no sleep, by
riding or by wagon, and afterwards still feel as spritely as ever. But that
time had passed. He unlatched the balkars and led them to a thick clump of
underbrush for them to munch on. The large creatures ate hungrily. He then
withdrew a sizeable sack of pungent smelling spice. He took large handfuls of
the stuff and generously threw it on the ground around the area and around
their campsite. The two creatures would not need to be tied to anything. They
had been trained to recognize the strong smelling odor as safety and security
and would not leave too far from the scent. Soren patted the nearest balkar
firmly on its front right shoulder.

Faithful creatures,
he thought again, nodding.

He made his way back to the camp, not too far from where the
beasts were eating. Sesuadra was finishing covering the wagon with their large
canvas sheet, and Zildjin had already started on a fire. Soren was looking
forward to a warm meal. His stomach grumbled with hunger.

He helped Sesuadra finish his work, then the two of them set
up the three makeshift beds around the fire and afterwards helped Zildjin start
supper. They peeled vegetables, pulled out dried salted meat, and boiled water
for a stew.

It was not long before they were all hunkered over their own
separate bowls of food, eating and sipping quietly. The night held a slight
chill that was unusual for Refoveo, the warmest part of the cycle.

 They ate until the rest of the stew was gone, then cleaned
their platters, utensils, and the pot. Finally they were ready to sleep. The
fire died down to lowly burning coals. The balkars continued eating quietly
nearby. The three each lay down on their own makeshift beds and closed their
eyes.

At first, Soren was unsure what had
awoken him. He sat up from his bedding on the hard ground. Was it the balkars?
No, both large creatures were lying down, asleep, unmoving aside from their
heavy breathing. He scanned the camp, both boys were still sleeping as well.

Then the sound came again and he turned to the forest. The
rustling of leaves and of underbrush came from within, accompanied by a strange
light. Soren eased himself up carefully, slowly drawing his sword. The sound of
his blade against the sheath woke up Zildjin, who sat up, rustling his bedding,
in turn waking Sesuadra. The two boys looked at Soren, worried.

Soren brought his hand up to quiet them and then pointed to
the forest. A glowing white and green light was moving in-between the trees,
fast approaching them.

Zildjin and Sesuadra both drew their blades.

“Wh—?” Zildjin whispered but Soren cut him off.

“Shhh,” He whispered back, waving his hand.

The rustling grew louder and they heard quick and heavy
footsteps against the forest floor.

Soren gripped his sword tightly. All the stories he had been
hearing the past few days of unexplained attacks on the road came to detail in his
mind. He knew there were many dangerous predators of varying degrees deep
within the forest, but those creatures mostly stayed within their territory,
steering clear of the advances of civilization and the major roads. The most
terrifying beasts lay far in the east, deep in the Wildlands, where wild magic
roamed free.

So what was this light? What had they done to attract it?
And what did it want when it reached them?

He pushed the fears back down inside him as he was trained
to do, as he had done much in his lifetime. He would not let his emotions get
the better of him.

He stood up and slowly walked over, putting himself between
the boys, the camp, and whatever was drawing near.

The glowing light reached them before they could see its
source. It was more than light, it surrounded them and entered them, spreading
calmness through them.

And then the thing emerged from the trees. It was a giant
beautiful beast of the forest. It stood on four powerful legs with hoofed feet.
Protruding from its large head behind its ears were two massive curved horns
and two impossibly enormous, intricate, antlers. The creature stared down at
them with black and green glowing eyes. It had a long muzzle ending in a large
black nose. It towered over them. It’s head was the size of a man. A thin light
brown fur covered most of its body, a massive shaggy mane covered its lengthy
neck and its lower leg joints. A powerful glowing aura surrounded the creature,
lighting from its body and mane almost like a lustrous green and white mist.
The creature was the source of the brilliant emerald and silver light.

A young man about the same age as Zildjin and Sesuadra lay
nestled in the antlers of the creature, asleep. The boy was dressed in strange
apparel and had a sword attached to a belt around his waist. He had a head of
thick, tousled, brown hair. Another small furry creature, not unlike a tiny Rovaar,
sat next to the boy.

Soren’s eyes grew wide with wonder at the appearance of
three visitors. He slowly let his fingers uncurl around his sword and the
weapon fell to the earth. He felt like he was in the presence of greatness, a
feeling he had experienced before. He knelt on one knee out of respect. He
didn’t have to look behind him to know that Zildjin and Sesuadra were following
his example. He heard their weapons drop and the shifting of their clothes as
they moved.

The small furry creature was black, also with green glowing
eyes. It lighted off the antlers, landing with extraordinary grace to the
ground below.

Then a voice came into Soren’s head, and he could sense that
the voice could be heard in the two boys’ collective minds as well. It was a
male voice, deep, resounding, coming from the large creature.

Nao Timore. Fear not.

The glowing aura around the creature brightened for a moment.
Soren felt calmness spread through him again and he relaxed.

Then a second voice came, this time coming from the small
feline. It was a calm, soothing, female voice. A beautiful voice.

We come only to speak a few words for we cannot remain
here long. I have led this boy here, now, for a purpose. This is a strange new
place to him, help him in all things, guide him. We have granted unto him a way
that he will understand those around him, and you will understand him. Darkness
is rising and you all have a part to play in the fight against it.

We will help when we can, we will be watching.

The large creature carefully leaned forward, bending its
massive front legs, and bowing its mighty head to the ground. The white and
green light surrounded the sleeping boy and lifted him from the antlers to
softly rest on the clearing floor.

The small furry animal looked up at Soren. Zildjin and
Sesuadra watched silently as Soren and the small creature held their gazes
steady for a few long moments. Then Soren nodded and the black creature turned
to the mighty beast.

The small creature bounded gracefully back up to its antlers
and then the large beast drew back to its extensive length.

Farewell.

They all three heard the voice.

Then both creatures slowly withdrew into the forest, the
light fading with their retreat.

It was silent for what seemed like a long time.

Then Zildjin spoke, “We should help him.”

Soren nodded.

“Sesuadra, grab an oil lamp and—” he began but Sesuadra was
already lighting one.

After the lamp was lit he came with Zildjin to Soren.

The three of them slowly moved forward to where the boy lay,
resting.

Sesuadra lifted the lamp to better see the stranger’s face.

He drew a breath in surprise and turned to Soren and
Zildjin.

They returned his gaze with confused looks of their own.

“What?” Zildjin said.

Sesuadra, usually the quiet one, had not spoken for almost a
day and a half, but he deemed it important enough now to say, “I recognize
him.”