Wielder of the Flame (42 page)

Mel’s face brightened at the prospect.

“No,” Drake quickly said, “Really, I feel completely better.
Let us return.”

He strode forward towards the door.

Marc nodded and they entered the hallway, walking back to
the foyer. Mel followed behind, slightly sulkily.

“The vision I had of you,” Drake said as they walked, “It
was real?”

Marc nodded.

Drake hung his head slightly, “You must have many questions
to ask of me,” he said.

“I’m sure we will have plenty of time to talk,” Marc
reassured him.

When they returned to the main room they found the group
sitting before a large meal. Servers, both men and women, were placing trays of
meat, fruits, and vegetables on the table. Marc realized just how hungry he
was. Outside it sounded as if the rest of the town had returned from hauling
timber as the noise level increased on the building being constructed nearby
and people were moving about through the nearby plain dirt streets, walking and
talking.

“Ah,” The Mayor, who was sitting at the head of the table,
stood as they came in, “Talywen spoke of your quick recovery. Come, sit, middag
is served.”

Marc came over and sat at the table next to Laura.

She smiled at him as he took his seat. He returned her
smile.

Aside from Marc, Laura, Zidljin, Sesuadra, Cydas, Drake,
Mel, her mother Talywen, and the Mayor, about ten or so other people sat at the
table. Marc realized they must all have held important roles in the town to be
seated there with them and that it was a great honor to be invited to sit at
that table to eat with them.

The food was delicious and occupied everyone’s mouths so no
one really spoke during the meal.

They finally ate their fill and their plates began to empty.
The servers returned to take away the now clear platters and dishes.

“Well,” The Mayor said, standing. He raised a glass as he
did so, “never in my life did I think I would live to see a day such as this.
Our town has endured such great challenges these past few cycles. The terror of
the Vorstai nearly destroyed us, but we held on, invoking the Exalted for
someone, anyone, to save us. And not only did the Exalted send such a hero, the
young but unimaginably skilled Drake, but they have chosen to grace us with the
presence of the most revered of beings, the legend returned, the next chosen,
the Wielder of the Flame.” The Mayor turned to Marc and gave a deep bow. Those
at the table followed suit, bowing their head low.

Marc stood, not thinking, and said, “Don’t,” he motioned
with his hand, “You don’t have to do that.”

Cydas, who was sitting near Marc gestured for him to sit
down, a stern look on his face. Cydas leaned over and whispered to Marc, “I
know you are from a different place and not accustomed to our ways, but you
risk insulting them by not allowing them to revere you.”

Marc sighed and sat down.

The Mayor ended his bow and said, “We thank you, sir Marcus,
for your visit, and we welcome you and your friends with open arms. You and any
of your friends are free to all of the town’s resources at no cost of
yourselves, I will make an official announcement to the town later today.”

Marc stood up again, “No,”

Cydas gestured once more for Marc to contain himself.

Marc ignored him and continued, “Mayor Har—”   

“Hartshor,” Mel said.

“Mayor Hartshor,” Marc nodded, thanking Mel for the name
reminder, “I would like to say something.”

The Mayor nodded, “Everyone, please listen, The Wielder of
the Flame wishes to speak.”

“Thank you,” Marc said, “Ladies and Gentleman, Mayor, we are
grateful for the food, and for your hospitality, and I am grateful for your,
how do I put it, your praise. But I need you to know something about myself. I
understand the importance of my position, and I honor it with all seriousness,
but I am different than any other Wielder of the Flame before me. I come from a
very far away place, I am not from Lyrridia.”

Some of the people seated at the table whispered and Marc
thought he heard
It is true, he is one of the Exalted come down.

 Marc wanted to say that he wasn’t an
Exalted
, but he
dismissed the thought, thinking he might be doing something already radically
different from the others who had wielded the sword before him.

“We will pay for anything we require,” He said.

He saw the look on the people’s faces, sad because of his
words.

“Not because we don’t, uhm, appreciate your offer, because I
do,
we
do, uh, but because I want to help your town. I came thinking we
would have to fight the uhm,”

“Vorstai,” Sesuadra spoke up.

“Vorstai,” Marc nodded, thanking Sesuadra this time for the
name reminder, “thinking we would have to fight the Vorstai, and willing to do
so, of course, because we want to help,
I
, want to help.”

He paused, not really knowing what to say.

Laura, who was sitting next to him, stood.

“Mayor Hartshor, fine people of Terga,” Laura said. She had
an immediate air of power and authority but also of calming gentleness about
her as she spoke, “In these dark days, in these dark times, when the
uncontrolled magics of the east continue to creep towards our towns and our
cities, and when the powerful and feral creatures from the Wildlands continue
to leave their deep caverns and come to threaten our home and our lives, it is
now that the Exalted have finally chosen a new Wielder of the Flame to ‘
give
hope to the hopeless, and light to where there is none.
’ Marcus has come
from a far away land, he knows little of Lyrridia and is not used to our ways.
This may seem like a strange choice for the Exalted to have chosen, but their
ways and purposes are wiser than ours. Marcus is here to help, and I and the
rest of our small group are here to help him. We have an important task to
accomplish and a difficult road ahead of us and if it is your desire to help us
than what I think Marcus is trying to say, is that he wants you to help each
other, and in
that
way, you are also helping us achieve our goal.”

Marc smiled, relieved that Laura had stood and spoken.

She turned to him as she finished and carefully put her hand
in his, giving it a squeeze, before sitting down.

Marc gave her hand a gentle return squeeze before she let
go. He focused his attention back to those at the table.

“Thank you Laura,” He said, “She said exactly what I was
meaning. If you truly want to help me, to help us, then help each other.”

He felt strengthened as he spoke. A warm glow began to
emanate from the sword and from himself.

He paused.

The servers froze as he spoke, mystified by his power. Those
at the table looked as if they desired to bow but remained seated to listen
respectfully as he spoke. Marc realized that the people before him were
listening intently to his every word. Anything he said they would think of not
just as ‘
good advice
’ but as of guidance with which they would lead the
rest of their lives upon. He was like a god to them. The weight of the thought
hit him powerfully, more so than the other realizations he had had.

He then also realized why Laura had stood to help him speak.
It was important. This was important. He was important.

Like before the weighty thoughts threatened to overwhelm him,
but he drew vigor from the magic that was a part of him and he mentally felt
himself standing greater than the fear within his own mind.

“Keep building up this magnificent town that you have,” He
continued, his aura grew and brightened, “Keep strengthening your friendships
with one another. Help your neighbors, be kind to each other, don’t let
unimportant squabbles turn into fights. Together, united, you will be able to
accomplish anything.”

Suddenly an old man near the end of the table stood, “We
pledge our loyalty Blessed One!” His voice matched his appearance, old and
cracking, but he spoke with all the strength of his heart and soul.

Two others stood and repeated the phrase.

Finally everyone was standing, including Laura and his other
friends and the Mayor.

“We pledge our loyalty!”

The entire room was aglow with the power emanating from Marc.

He suddenly felt woozy, and slightly drained and he let the
magic go.

He put his hand on the table and sat down hard.

Everyone made a gesture of concern over Marc’s action.

“Are you alright?” Laura asked, placing a hand on his
shoulder.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “I just need to rest for a moment, it’s
been a long journey getting here.”

“Rooms,” The Mayor said, “We will have rooms for all of you,
paid or no.”

Marc nodded, not having strength to argue.

“You can stay as long as you need,” The Mayor continued.

“Thank you,” Marc said, “We can stay for a few days.”

Puck’s sword sliced through the wood
of the spear with ease, leaving only a small portion left sticking through
Fatloaf.

The Bloodcloak let out a breath of relief.

“I did not miss,” Puck said in almost a low growl, “Just in
case you thought I had.”

Fatloaf said nothing but merely whimpered, still in pain.

“Now, every day for the rest of your miserable existence you
will remember this moment in time, when
I
, Puck, Salvend of Essoril,
spared your life.”

Puck discarded the terragurion blade, then slapped one hand
over the man’s mouth and gripped the man from underneath the arm. He slowly
pulled the man off the cut spear shaft. Fatloaf screamed in pain but Puck’s
hand muffled the noise considerably. Finally the man was clear and Puck let him
fall to the ground. Blood poured from the open wound and Puck knew that the man
would die if his lifeblood drained out.

Somehow he found the strength to summon his shifting
abilities. With the magic he pulled the spear tip from the wagon and took it in
his hand. He let the part he was touching remain cool but superheated the tip
of it. With one hand still on Fatloaf’s mouth Puck touched the hot metal to the
man’s wound, burning and sealing it shut. The Bloodcloak screamed again, but
Puck successfully stifled the sound.

He carefully turned the man over where blood was pouring
from the other side of the wound. Once more, still holding Fatloaf’s mouth shut
with one hand, he pressed the hot metal onto the wound, stopping the bleeding.
Fatloaf stopped screaming and went limp. For a moment Puck thought the man had
died.

Puck turned the Bloodcloak over again and put his hand near
the man’s mouth and nose. Air gently brushed his hand and Puck knew the man was
still alive, though the pain had forced him into a deep sleep.

Puck stood up, “Perhaps your friends will win the fight and
come get you. If not,” Puck kicked the man’s leg forcefully, “At least I was
not the one to kill you, despite how much you deserve it.”

Puck could only hear the sounds of two swords clashing
against each other and a chorus of distant groans from the wounded who had
fallen around the campsite, and he realized that the fight would soon be over.

Do I escape on foot?
he thought,
Or, perhaps I
should just risk it and take one of the aldoms.
He remembered seeing a bag
of spice next to his gear and returned to the back of the wagon, making the
decision to take one of the aldoms.

He jumped up into the wagon and moved the cloth hanging down
to enter the wagon. He quickly eyed the bag of spice with which the creatures
had been domesticated and trained with to recognize as safety. He would need it
to take one of the aldoms. He hoped they were of the simple kind and not of the
higher intelligence variety or he might have some trouble with them. He also
realized he needed to give them something to eat. He searched through some
crates until he found one that was filled with reytules. He stuffed as many as
he could into his bag and turned to leave the wagon.

He noticed the secret compartment again and thanked the
Exalted once more for revealing the journal to him. He touched his bag and felt
the square shape of it, still there.

He was feeling tired, the battlefire in him was cooling
down, especially after using the sense again.
But I have to escape!
Puck
thought,
Now or never!

He shook his head, getting a hold on himself.

He jumped more carefully from the wagon, not slipping this
time.

He looked around the corner and Fatloaf was gone.

Exalted!
He cursed.

He did not have time to look for the man and so he shook his
head again, clearing his mind.
Just focus on escaping!

The clash of swords had slowed considerably and Puck knew
that one was soon to be the victor. He crept quickly but quietly to the gap
between the last wagon and the second to last in the train. He had to circle
around to reach the balkars and aldoms without being spotted. He peered over
and could just make out the small camp turned battlefield in the dim light.
Only two figures were not laying down that he could see.

Puck wasted no time to watch but quickly sprinted the gap
and slowed as he reached the cover of the other wagon. He did so for the next
two wagons and finally could see the balkars and aldoms in their spice circle.
The creatures were awake, watching the battle, but had not moved, feeling safe
where they were. 

 Puck fought the exhaustion welling within him. He did not
think there would be time to saddle one of the aldoms up and hoped he could
stay on, riding bareback.

You will be surprised by what you can accomplish, as long
as you believe you can do so
. The voice of his mother came to his mind and
he nodded, drawing strength from the thought.

He peered over the last wagon, looking at the campsite.

One figure stood tall, the other was on their knees. With a
broad powerful stroke the standing individual swung their sword and lobbed off
the head of the one who was kneeling.

Puck felt a wave of nausea hit him, along with the
exhaustion that was still present within him and he fell to one knee.

“The boy has escaped!” Someone yelled in the distance.

“The last mercenary has fallen!” The one who had just cut
off another’s head responded. Puck recognized the man’s voice as Jaeic, “Spread
out and search for the wounded!”

“What about the boy?”

“Kill him!” Jaeic screamed in rage, “This is
his
doing! If you find him I want his manhood separated from his body and
his
body burned at the stake while he is still alive!”

Puck swallowed the bile that tried to come up from his
stomach.

He quickly shook it off and stood. Staying as much in the
shadows as he could, he made his way to the creatures. Some of the balkars
snorted and shifted at his approach but the rest were too sleepy to do
anything. Puck steered clear of the large cart pulling balkars and finally came
around to the aldoms.

“Stoke these fires!” Jaeic yelled, “We need more light! Kill
any wounded alborcans, I do not want to see another of their pale icy ridden
faces ever again!”

Puck could make out torches being lit and wood being added
to the fires.

There were two more figures walking through the battlefield
and a third came into the light from the place where they had tied him to the
tree.

“He is nowhere up there, captain!”

“
FIND HIM
!” Jaeic shouted.

There were four aldoms total.

He only needed one.

He put his hand in the spice bag and withdrew it. He also
took out one of the dark burgundy fruits with his other hand.

He approached the aldoms as close as he dared, then made a
little noise with his mouth to catch the aldoms’ attention.

“
Hey there,
” he whispered quietly,

One of the aldoms turned its head, trying to make out the
strange figure in the dark.

“
Hey there little buddy, yeah you, come here, I have a
treat for you. Good boy, come on.
”

The aldom chittered, partly curious and partly afraid.

“
Shhhh
,” Puck said, “
All is well little guy, all
is well.
”

The creature took a tentative step out of the safety circle.
It could smell the safe spice in Puck’s hand.

“
That is right,
” he continued, “
Just a little bit
closer and you can have the reytule.
”
 

A noise nearby made the aldom near Puck as well as the others,
turn their heads. The balkars were acting restless and getting noisier.

What now!?
Puck thought, he was so close.

The balkars were beginning to grunt and stomp their heavy
feet. Some of them began to move, spreading apart. Puck drew closer to the aldom,
desperate to jump up and get away. The camp fires began to grow brighter and
Puck tried to see what was making the balkars restless in the new level of
light.

Suddenly a figure emerged from between the balkars,
stumbling to the ground.

It was Fatloaf.

“HE IS OVER HERE!” the man croaked.

Puck was furious. The man had followed him from the wagon.
It appeared as if one of the wounds had reopened at his movements.

“Wyrm filth!” Puck hissed.

Puck quickly put the reytule up to the face of the aldom and
the creature took it with a loud munching sound. He jumped up to straddle the
creature without a saddle.

“HE IS TAKING ONE OF THE ALDOMS! HURRY!”

Fatloaf leaped at Puck, grabbing onto one of his legs and
trying to pull him down.

Puck felt himself slipping from the creature.

“I got—I got him!”

Puck let anger fuel his body and he lifted one leg over the
aldom so that both legs were on one side. He grabbed and held on to the neck of
the creature and kicked at the wounded Bloodcloak. The kick glanced off
fatloaf’s shoulder but the man held on. Puck’s face slammed against the aldom
in the struggle and blood poured from his cheek.

Fatloaf reached up and pulled at Puck’s shoulderbag.

Puck felt the bag trying to give.

The journal with all its precious secrets was in the bag.

“NO!” Puck hissed. He lifted his leg once more and brought
his foot squarely into Fatloaf’s face. Fatloaf gurgled, blood flying from his
mouth, and fell violently to the ground.

With the man off his person Puck straddle the aldom once
more and made the creature rotate away from the camp.

Puck could see torches rushing over.

He gave the creature the signal to run and the steed jumped
quickly into action.

“There he is!” Someone shouted.

“If you can see him, KILL HIM!” Jaeic shouted.

Puck heard the twang of taught bow strings being released
and he made himself low on the aldom, hugging the creature with all his
strength.

“Run little guy! Run with all your might!” He pleaded.

The aldom continued away from the camp at a quick speed.

Puck heard arrows rushing past his head.

One grazed his arm, sending blood flying and he cried and
slipped as he let his grip loose.

He held on with his other arm and righted himself.

Have to get away, have to get away, have to get away.

He chanted silently.

The whooshing of arrows ceased and the light from the camp
was dwindling behind him.

He had done it.

“Cease fire!” Jaeic shouted, “The
boy is gone!”   

“Should we pursue him?”

Jaeic shook his head.

“He is more trouble than he is worth. This whole mission has
been a complete disaster.”

“We cannot return to the Krynn with our hands empty.”

“What
CHOICE
do we have?” Jaeic replied angrily, “Our
numbers have been decimated, the Alborcans betrayed us, Kilik Dualis is real
and is still alive, what more can we do!?”

“Krynn Remos cannot possibly believe our story,” one of the
soldiers muttered.

Jaeic was too tired to rebuke him.

Whether
or not he believes us
, Jaeic thought,
Stoneheart
would reward us handsomely for a live report of what happened to our company.
We can personally verify the message that has been sent ahead of us about the Revenant,
Kilik Dualis. Perhaps we can request a transfer and join the Ranks of Krynn
Brellek.

At least, he hoped so.

Drake returned the scry glass, to
Cydas, after he finished with it.

He did not say anything for what felt like a long time.

Marc, Laura, Zildjin, Sesuadra, Cydas, Drake, and the town’s
apprentice healer Mel, were all gathered together in one of the larger guest
rooms on the second floor of the Manor.

“Well?” Marc finally asked.

Drake focused his attention to Marc, “I am very grateful to
have found you, the Wielder of the Flame, and your companions. I look forward
to traveling with you and to meet the Oracle as soon as we can. Also,” he
continued, “I have already met the blacksmith with gray eyes that she spoke of.
His name is Puck. I have also had the opportunity to meet his family too.”

“You have?” Marc was surprised.

Drake nodded, “I first met his Mother Lilis, and his sister,
Aliyana in the woods just north of the Jurhal River.”

Drake proceeded to describe the events of his meeting with
the gray eyed blacksmith and his family.

Everyone was surprised when Drake spoke of his exploits
against the Bloodcloaks to free Lilis and Aliyana. They were having a hard time
imagining a young man of his age fighting and defeating thirty armed
Terragurion Soldiers. Marc remembered the corpses of the giant creatures they
had seen upon entering the town and also did not quite believe the young man
had killed both of the creatures on his own.

Everyone listened quietly and politely, asking only a few
questions. As he was nearing the end of his story he said, “Can I see the map?
I have a feeling about something and I want to confirm it.”

“Of course,” Marc nodded.

Marc pulled the scroll container out of his pack and
unsheathed the Phoenix Blade. He opened the container as usual by matching the
symbol of the phoenix at the base of the blade with the corresponding indent in
the scroll holder. After the container opened Marc withdrew the map and lay it
out upon the large table near the center of the room.

“Fascinating,” Drake said as he came over to the map.

The others crowded around as well.

Drake quickly scanned the spread canvas and without asking
he was able to surmise that the softly glowing lights were indicators for the
hidden crystal shards.