Wielder of the Flame (37 page)

“The town is throwing a celebration in your honor, those two
Vorstai have terrorized these mountains for almost three cycles now. They
arrived suddenly in the area and set up a nest nearby. They are very
territorial creatures and began raiding all our wagons sent out for supplies.
Travelers have become more and more scarce this way as well because of the
danger.”

“Why did the people stay? You could have left, or moved.”

Mel shook her head, “Most everyone in town has been here
since the founding of Terga, their whole lives are here.”

“What about my armor? My swords?”

“I overheard Borst, the town blacksmith talking about the
damages to your armor. It seemed pretty bad but he said he would set aside all
his other projects to devote all his time to restoring your suit. Your blades
were in perfect condition, which he found surprising.”

A celebration in my honor? Town savior and hero? Archfiend
take me! Waking up surrounded by giant dead beasts covered in blood, Exalted!
He
chided himself for the cursing, he did not like to invoke the Exalted
improperly but he was getting tired from his blackouts.

“Is there something I could wear until the celebration
then?”

Mel gave a short curtsy, “Of course.”

She went to a finely carved dark wood dresser and retrieved
a simple light brown tunic with belt, a set of matching leather tie breeches,
and a pair of soft leather boots.

She had not actually seen the young man entirely, her mother
had done the wrappings on the wounds on the young man’s legs, and a part of her
wanted to. Her mother had already taught her the makeup of the bodies of many
species, humans included. She had been truthful when she told Drake she had
seen both men and women without clothes in her apprenticeship under her mother.
But there was something different about this young man. He was young and very
fit, and his saving of her town added something to the mix too. But as she
handed the clothes to Drake she pushed aside her feelings and decided to
respect him. She faced away from Drake as he stood from the bed, clothes in
hand. She busied herself with collecting the wraps and fiddling with the water
vase, avoiding looking at Drake.

The door to the room opened just as Drake was finishing
getting dressed.

The lady woke and sat up at the door’s opening.

Mel turned as well.

“Ah, up and feeling better already, are you,” A large,
cheery man came into the room.

He was dressed in black trousers with silver trim, a long
dark green tunic with a belt, and a fancy surcoat and matching boots.

“Mayor Hartshor,” Mel said with a curtsy, “His wounds are
already nearly healed,”

The Mayor’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “But how can that be,
boy,” he addressed Drake, “You were nearly dead when Belik found you! By the
stars, you were truly sent by the Exalted!”

Drake sighed.

He knew that whatever was to happen next, it was going to
take a long time until it was over.

And he was already eager to leave this place and get back on
the road.

He had to find the boy from his vision.

And soon.

Warm golden sunshine bathed Laura
from her shoulders up, prodding her gently out of her sleep.

She brought up her hand to shield her eyes and relaxed for a
moment in the cool shadow of her arm.

A knock on wood nearby made her realize she was in a room,
on a bed.

“Laura? Are you awake yet?”

It was Marc’s voice, slightly muffled on the other side of
the door.

“Yes,” She replied, “Give me a moment.”

She looked down at herself. She was still in her now badly
tattered Aide uniform robes of the Order of the Leaf. One of the sleeves was
missing entirely and the rest of the fabric had tears and unraveling threads in
numerous places.

“Ugh,” She muttered to herself.
My clothes look terrible
.

She looked around the room. A simple wood wardrobe stood
against the wall opposite her bed. A table and two chairs sat next to a desk by
the open window. A vase of water sat next to a basin and utensils on the table.

She got out of bed and crossed the room to the wardrobe. She
opened it, hoping to find something suitable to wear. She was surprised to find
a number of clothes made for a young woman about her same age, height, and
weight. Some of the clothes did not quite fit, but she found something nice to
wear. She put on a blue button up tunic with frills at the end, a loose fitting
white long sleeved shirt underneath, black leather pants, knee length boots,
and a large brown leather belt. After dressing quickly she said,

“Enter!”

Marc opened the door and peered in.

“Ah, I see you found something to wear with the clothes we
bought. I’m glad they fit.”

“You bought me clothes?”

Laura was delighted at the prospect of someone, especially a
boy, and especially someone she liked, buying her things. She looked at Marc.
The sunlight from the window basked him in a golden aura. It softened the
features of his face, making him even more handsome than any other time she had
looked upon him. The mantle about his shoulders made him appear regal. A warm
breeze rustled his hair. Her stomach fluttered and she felt warm all over.
Whenever she had traveled with Kaelynn and Kimira, and whoever else in the
Order was with them on assignment, to the larger cities, she would frequently
shirk her responsibilities to spend time observing the city girls and listen in
on their conversations. She wanted to live a life like theirs. She got close,
hoping to glean information and insight on their upper class conduct and customs.
Mostly she wanted to learn about courting, and boys, something not taught in
the Order. One thing she remembered was not to appear so eager to someone she
liked, as this would give the male all the power of the relationship, so she
composed herself.

“Thank you,” She said simply.

“So I made it after all,” She said after a pause.

“With quite the entrance,” Marc said lightheartedly.

“I am still learning how to control my magic,” she played at
being defensive, “Where, after all, did I end up?”

“We are in Itherin, a small city called Fairlake.”

“I do not know it,” she admitted.

There was an awkward silence that neither of them knew how
to fill.

“Don’t worry,” He said finally, “I don’t know much of
Lyrridia either.”

She wanted to smile a big smile, he talked sort of funny,
but she showed a small shy one instead, “I know most everywhere east, near the
Wildlands, but I have never traveled to the coast.” She admitted again.

“Me neither,” He said, then realized that didn’t make any
sense, “I mean, besides Kolima I haven’t seen any of the coast, but I guess I
don’t know any of the places near the Wildlands, so, never mind, I don’t know
why I said that.”

She held back another big smile, letting a small grin appear
on her face.

There was another moment of silence.

“You said ‘we’?” she finally spoke.

“Ah, yes,” He answered, “The others. Well, come down when
you are ready and you can meet them.”

“I am ready now,” she looked down at herself.

“Oh,” He paused, “Well,” he paused again.

He put his hand through his hair, and then made a gesture to
hers.

She froze with panic.

My hair!
She thought,
I have not touched it for
several days! It must be a gnarly mess!

Marc got the sense that he had embarrassed her and felt bad,
“It doesn’t look too bad, I mean, you should see mine when I wake up.” He
didn’t know what else to say.

“I will come down in a bit,” She said.

He nodded, “We will be downstairs in the common room,
anything you want for first meal?”

She shook her head, “I will see to it when I come down.”

“Right,” he said.

He shut the door and she heard his footsteps retreat down
the stairs.

Ughhh!
She melted to the ground with embarrassment,
her cheeks reddening. She had taken the time to change into something nice
looking, discarding her other tattered clothes, but had forgotten all about the
rest of her appearance. She then realized that her first meeting with Marc she
had probably looked just as frazzled and she put her palm over her face.

After a moment or two she finally picked herself up.

Well, I cannot do anything about it except clean up now.
She thought.

She quickly made her way over to the table and poured the
water from the vase into the basin. She found a brush and other things in the
desk drawer, and got to work.

Marc, Zildjin, Sesuadra, and Cydas
all sat at the same table as they had occupied before, food before them on
their plates.

The room was fairly busy for a morning, the din of utensils
on ceramic plates, cups being drained, chairs being moved, and barmaids serving
customers filled the room. Marc kept letting his eyes wander to the stairs,
waiting for Laura to come down.

The conversation kept turning to the vision Marc had shared
with Laura and the Fae Ones. Zildjin kept commenting on the coincidence of
Lanvar recovering a Fae One artifact and of Marc actually seeing a group of the
magical beings.

Finally, after glancing up at the stairs again, Marc saw
Laura descend the stairs.

She was absolutely stunning, her hair combed, braided, and
rolled up into a bun, and her face washed and clean. He thought she looked even
more beautiful in her new clothes than her other outfit.

“She really is as pretty as you said,” Zildjin leaned over
and nudged Marc.

Marc elbowed Zildjin back and gave him a glare that was
semi-serious and partly friendly.

Laura quickly found Marc and walked over. Three others sat
at the table with him.

One had long disheveled black hair and fair skin and was
dressed in finely made traveling gear like Marc. The other had brown hair and
light bronze skin and was dressed in clothes of a style Laura had never before
seen. The third was a little older, in his twenty second cycle or so of life.
He was dressed in more simple gear, dark green and browns, his cloak had seen
better days and it was clear he had spent many successive fortnights on the road.

 “Laura,” Marc said, standing up, “these are my close
friends, Zildjin, and Sesuadra, and our guide and fellow companion Cydas.”

Each stood as they were introduced.

They did not take her forearm in greeting as they had done
with him, but gave a courteous short bow, which she returned with a formal
courtesy.

“I am Laura, Chaelath of Linwel,” she replied.

“So we finally get to meet the girl Marc has spoken all
about,” Zildjin said as he bowed.

“What?” Laura replied stealing a glance at Marc.

Marc shrugged, not knowing if his action would be
understood, but doing so more out of habit than thought.

“Ever since he witnessed you and your friend arguing by the
tree he has spoken much of you indeed,” Sesuadra said, with an
uncharacteristically long verbalization.

“The Unseen Pathwalker,” Cydas said with reverence as he
bowed.

“Hmm?” Laura gave a small noise that indicated a question.

Cydas straightened.

They all sat down and Marc pulled a chair out for Laura. She
sat down as well. Marc waved down a barmaid and Laura ordered something to eat.

“The Oracle was a little unsure as to the how and when of
your arrival to the group, but I am glad you have come.”

“The Oracle?” Laura whispered in awe.

Zildjin and Sesuadra nodded.

“I believe that this will help explain things.” Cydas said
and leaned down to rummage through his pack by the table. After a brief moment
of searching he withdrew a small relic like one he had given to Marc and the
others.

“What is it?” She asked, eyeing it curiously.

“Eat first,” Marc said, as the food arrived for her.

She nodded, and realized just how hungry she was.

The others poked at and nibbled their food while she ate so
she would not feel too uncomfortable to be the only one eating.

Finally, after she had finished, and the barmaid cleared their
table Cydas spoke.

“Best for you to return to your room and use this behind
closed doors. We will talk after you have seen what you will see.”

Laura hesitated, looking at Marc, the one she trusted most
out of the others present.

Marc nodded, “we all received one, it will help explain
everything.”

Laura nodded in reply, consenting.

“When you sit down, hold it in your hands and repeat the
following. My eyes to see, my ears to hear, my mind is ready. You have it?
Repeat it back to be sure.”

She did so.

He nodded and handed it to her.

“See you soon,” Marc gave her a reassuring smile.

She gave a short bow of her head, then walked back up the
stairs.

“She really is pretty though,”
Zildjin said again after she had left, more to mess with Marc than anything.

Marc glared at him again and tried to punch him in the arm.

Zildjin deflected the blow and smiled.

 “Relax,” Zildjin said, “It is obvious you like her. I will
not try courting her, for your sake. But I cannot be held responsible if
she
swoons over
me
.”

Zildjin grinned and raised his eyebrows up and down while
making a show of flexing his arms and puffing out his chest.

Marc went for Zildjin’s arm again and this time connected
with enough force to be on the line between friendly and not.

“Ow! Alright, alright!” Zildjin rubbed the point of impact.

Sesuadra grinned and shook his head at Zildjin’s antics.

It was not long until Laura returned, the artifact in her
hands. She handed it back to Cydas and sat down.

She looked as if she had cried.

Marc was quickly concerned.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, “Yes, yes,” she raised a hand as a sign to
discourage any further worrying, “I am fine. It is just all so very
overwhelming. But, I cannot deny what my eyes have seen and my heart has felt.
The Oracle explained much, but I wish not to delay any further the time before
we meet with her in person to speak further.”

 “I think we all desire that,” Zildjin voiced his agreement.

“Do you have any questions?” Cydas inquired.

“I do,” she said, “Can I see the map?”

Marc smiled, “The Oracle mentioned it, of course.”

“She did,” Laura smiled back.

Nyrith crested a final hill and
stopped for a moment to survey the view which her vantage point presented her.

Gone were the dark blue grey lined robes of an apprentice to
an Overseer’s hand and instead she was dressed in dark brown and black attire
with leather bindings up and down her breeches and sleeveless shirt. She had
black gloves on, plated with thin hardened leather, and matching protective
black boots. An ashen cloak finished her ensemble held together around her
shoulders with a brooch made of smooth dark metal. She felt the red gemstone
touch the base of her neck between her collar bones, where it hung from a metal
chain necklace. It was warm, almost hot, and made her feel alive at its touch.
Her black hair was pulled back tightly from her face, as she usually wore it,
letting her sharp sensuous features and deadly green eyes in full view.

Sulendald lay spread out before her in the valley below. The
vast expansive bridge leading to the entrance of the city rose gallantly over
the river coursing beneath it. Scattered woods on the hillsides to the east of
the city pointed towards the palisade like reaching fingers. The sun was low in
the sky, with barely a cloud or two around to obscure its orange and golden
rays. The warm hues sparkled across the river like glittering gems. Small towns
and farms spread out across the western expanse of the valley.

At first glance it appeared to be a scene of serenity, but a
number of things began to stand out that hinted at the turmoil arising in
Sulendald.

Thick black smoke was rising from the furthest eastern part
of the city, indicating a large burning fire within. And a strange thick fog
lay just beyond the area where the black smoke was rising. The grey fog
persisted, despite the sun and the heat. Its point of origin seemed to be
somewhere in the Wildlands just east of the city.

A vast number of tents and crowds of people were camped
outside the southwestern walls of the city. Also, the main road leading away
from Sulendald was almost overfilled with a long train of carts and people of
all sizes trudging along at a slow but steady pace. Families and single
travelers alike had lashed as many belongings as their respective wagons could
carry, or packed as much as they could hold on their own backs, and were
leaving the city. Overloaded balkars and aldoms pulled buggies, carriages,
coaches, all stuffed to the brim with provisions, foodstuffs, tables, chairs,
and other housing furnishings. Some furniture too heavy to carry, full length
wardrobes and beds had been tossed to the wayside, broken and forlorn.