Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  He was far enough away that it was difficult to make out specific features of her face but she was beautiful.

  Finally finishing with the handmaid doll she sat the figurine in front of her and sat back.

  She just sat there, looking at the doll. Marc watched silently.

  After some time, in which she remained unmoving, he moved closer, trying to get a better look.

  What is she doing? He thought.

  Though she seemed to be doing nothing, the closer he got the more quickly he realized she was concentrating on the figure. She scrunched her eyebrows down tightly, staring at the doll. Her fists clenched, a bead of sweat began to appear on her forehead.

  She began to tremble.

  He stepped closer, should I help her?

  She closed her eyes and lifted her head up, visibly relaxing.

  She remained that way for a moment.

  Then suddenly she opened her eyes and stared down at the figurine again.

  Marc stepped back in surprise at what happened next.

  One instant the doll was there, in front of the girl, and then next moment it was gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

  Marc rubbed his eyes, in an attempt to reset his vision.

  He watched as the girl smiled and got to her feet.

  She looked up, searching the tree she had just been sitting under.

  Marc followed her gaze.

  And then he spotted it, near the top, just peeking out from a leafy branch, the tallest on the tree, was the grass and stick figure she had made.

  Marc walked closer to the girl.

  She reached out her hands, cupping them together as if holding a small invisible object. She looked up at the grass figurine dangling in the branches.

  The trees rustled quietly.

  Marc found her absolutely captivating. Her beautiful hazel eyes were deep, rich, like warm honey, and her lips were full and pink.

  She closed her eyes.

  Marc had had several secret crushes on many girls in many schools he had attended. Marissa being the most recent he had liked (what a mistake that had been). But he had never gone steady with one.

  Besides, the one he now observed was by far the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on. There was something special about her, a glow.

  Then, in an instant, the grass doll disappeared from the branch and reappeared in her hands.

  Suddenly a girl stepped out from behind a nearby tree.

  “Laura!” the newcomer cried. She had golden hair pulled back in a bun, and was dressed in the same uniform as the other girl.

  “Kimira,” The auburn haired girl replied.

  “You have to stop slinking away from lessons! Can you imagine what would have happened if it was a Doyenne who had followed you and found you here instead of me? Doing this,” Kimira continued gestured to the doll, “all the other Aides have been whispering, even some of the doyennes have begun to grow suspicious.”

  “The fault lies not with me!” The auburn haired girl responded, “I am trying!”

  “Try harder! If they discover the truth about you, what do you think the Circle will do to Kaelynn? She sacrificed greatly to bring you into the Order and keep you here. Do you not see that your mischief jeopardizes all of that? And these dreams you talk about, Doyenne Carlata frowns upon them, and her voice is strong in the Circle.”

  “But it is true! I saw him in my dreams, it is a sign from the Exalted Spirits!”

  Marc realized that sounded just like Sesuadra when he had said he had seen Marc in his dreams.

  “Exactly the kind of thing Doyenne Carlata disapproves of!” The blond said.

  “The Exalted can honor whom they will,”

  “Be that as it may, the Circle finds it difficult to believe that the Exalted would choose an Aide, even an Adept over a Doyenne with a vision.”

  “I did not choose to receive the vision,” the brown haired girl sounded exasperated, “I merely have the courage to speak the truth.”

  Marc felt that he should approach the two girls, and that somehow, he knew that if he did, he would reveal himself. He began to walk slowly towards them.

  The golden haired girl’s face and voice softened. She placed her hands on the brown haired girl’s shoulders.

  “Laura,” She said, “I will not argue of this any longer, I only wish what is best for you, and what is best for Mother and I, alright?

  “Yes Kimira.”

  “Good. Now—”

  But she did not finish.

  Marc took one step closer to the girls and was suddenly visible.

  Kimira, able to see Marc, let out a shriek and stepped back, tripping over a tree root and falling backwards onto the grassy earth below. Laura turned around in surprise.

  Upon seeing Marc, though, her surprise melted away and was replaced with warmth.

  Marc felt his heart melt as she faced him. Without really trying, he noticed every specific feature of her countenance and her beauty.

  Their eyes met and time seemed to stand still. He felt an electric energy surge through him. It was similar to the feeling of energy that coursed through the weapon at his side, but it was different somehow, closer in a way. His stomach flipped upside down, as if on a roller coaster.

  “Laura!” Kimira cried, “How did you—? How could you—?”

  Laura did not respond, did not even seem to hear the other girl.

  “It’s you—” she said in a quiet, excited, tone, “the one from my dream. Did the Exalted Spirits send you?”

  Finally Marc spoke.

  “I don’t know who that is, but something magical did bring me here, and others have seen me in their dreams as well, but nothing like this—this feeling.”

  “This—feeling?” Laura replied, “What is your name?”

  “Marcus,” He said.

  And then he was gone.

  ***

  He was back in the silvery world.

  Sesuadra was there, sitting on the slowly shifting grey floor. He stood as Marc appeared.

  “How long was I gone?” Marc asked.

  “Not long,” the other replied, “It is hard to tell time here, but it did not feel too long. What did you see?”

  “I saw two girls, about the same age as you and I,” He said.

  Sesuadra nodded but did not press for more information, he knew Marc would say more if he so wished it.

  “This is a strange place,” Marc said, more to himself than to anyone, “What is its purpose?”

  He had a million questions going through his head. Sesuadra seemed to sense that.

  Sesuadra did not answer immediately.

  “This is a powerful magic my friend,” he said finally, “It is the manner of enchantment spoken of only in legends. I do not know the place you are from so I do not know how to explain—” He paused, thinking.

  He thought for several long moments. It was quiet there.

  “Those beings who brought you to us,” Sesuadra broke the silence, “I believe them to be truly ancient creatures of magic, maybe even the First Ones. I never thought to see such powerful things in my life.” He stopped again, trying to find the words.

  There were another few moments before he finished his thoughts.

  “It was merely an ordinary day, one as unto any other, and then in an instant, everything changed—such ancient magic—” he looked off, remembering the two creatures and Marc’s appearance, “You must have a great destiny to fulfill to have been brought here by them.”

  Marc’s head began to spin as Sesuadra spoke, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the whole thing.

  “But that’s the thing I don’t get,” Marc replied, “It was the same for me, a day just like the next, cruddy morning at home, cruddy day at school, cruddy afternoon leading to a chase through the park, and suddenly I’m following a strange black cat and pulling a sword out of the ground. Next thing I know I’m being enveloped by incredible energy, and then I woke up here. Why was I chosen? There’s nothing special about
me,” He said, matter-of-factly.

  “There must be,” Sesuadra said quietly, “There must be.”

  ***

  Marc awoke to the sound of chirping birds followed by a loud voice.

  “Arise with haste and greet the morning!”

  It was Zildjin.

  “We have some studying to do,” He continued excitedly, “and then after middag and sometime in the yard with Topar we are free to roam the city and see what kinds of things are happening while Kolima gets ready for the Gathering. Now hurry up.”

  And he left, his footsteps retreating down the stairs.

  Marc glanced at Sesuadra.

  A second passed, then Sesuadra said, “It is sure to be a day unlike others,”

  “What do you mean?” Marc asked.

  “Zildjin never wants to study,”

  Marc smiled.

  ***

  During what they called first meal, what Marc knew as breakfast, Zildjin asked if Sesuadra and he had dreamed again.

  “Yes,” Marc replied.

  “Soren spoke briefly of that,” Eleanor added, “But, again I say, only briefly.”

  She wanted to know more about it.

  “Well,” Marc said, “It began in the silvery realm like before, and Sesuadra was there—”

  Marc described the dream in detail. He spoke of the way Laura had used magic to make the grass figurine move, and of the arrival of the other girl. He did his best to illustrate what they looked like, what they were wearing, and what they had said. It wasn’t exact, but he got the gist of it, enough so that Sesuadra sat up straighter in his chair as if to say something.

  Sesuadra waited until everyone was quiet before he spoke, “The Order of the Leaf,” he stated simply.

  “The what—?” Zildjin said.

  Eleanor nodded, “Yes, exactly right Sesuadra.”

  She stood up and walked to the bookshelf. She let her hands run across the spines of a number of books, muttering to herself.

  “Ah, here.”

  She pulled down an old faded leather bound text.

  “A Leaf in the Wind: Chronicles of the Healing Order,” she read the title in gold lettering.

  Marc wanted to know more.

  “It is quite an exclusive group, comprised entirely of women,” Eleanor said, thumbing through the pages, she paused at a certain point and read aloud. “They are devoted to the healing arts, using a unique blend of natural and magical properties and techniques in their learning and practice. It is believed they founded their Order under the Terragur banner but in the cycles after Terragur passed and other rulers threatened to disband their organization for whatever reasons, they withdrew from The Noble Kingdom. Since that time they have wandered the lands. Wherever they go they stay only long enough to acquire new healing practices from that region, and move on. To this day it is believed that their knowledge of the healing arts is matched by none, and yet they are very selective in both whom they allow to join their order, and to those whom they administer their services. Some say they are so reclusive because they practice ancient dark magic, others say they have become withdrawn in their sharing of knowledge because in the past their good arts have been used for evil purposes.”

  “Interesting,” Marc said.

  “What is interesting,” Sesuadra spoke again, “Is that one within their order, has the ability to manipulate the passage of things with magic, a powerful ability indeed.”

  “Here,” she said, shutting the book, “It is about time for study, after all, let us clear the table and you may read.”

  She placed the thick tome next to Marc on the table.

  ***

  After finishing their meal Marc found himself standing in front of a bookshelf on one of the walls. He had already skimmed through the book about The Order of the Leaf. It had begun to list too many names and dates that Marc did not have the slightest connecting to or even context to begin to understand and he readily began to lose interest. The real reason he had even picked up the book was because he wanted to know about that girl, about Laura. He wondered if he would dream of her again, not in the dream sort of way, but in the actually visit and see her sort of way. He thought that either way he did not much care, he just wanted to see her again. There was something about her, besides how beautiful she was. The book, of course, said nothing about Laura, so he had put it back on the shelf and was browsing for a different one.

  Eleanor was watching the shop with Topar up front. Zildjin and Sesuadra both sat at the table. Sesuadra seemed deeply engrossed in a thick tome. Zildjin had a number of scrolls laid out in front of him with large symbols and letters on them in sprawling diagrams. To his left was a mostly blank piece of parchment with only a few letters written on the top left hand corner in black ink. An inkwell and a shallow dish filled with fine sand were also laid before him on the table. He also had his small token out as well next to the inkwell. He had a feather quill in his right hand. Zildjin would practice making the strokes of the letter he was working on in the sand. When he felt ready he would carefully ink the letter on the parchment. He did not seem to be progressing quickly, but he appeared determined in his purpose.

  For a time Marc watched Zildjin. It was strange because the strokes he practiced in the sand did not seem to form any sort of English letters, but when he put these strokes on the parchment to Marc they appeared as letters from the alphabet he knew.

  It was magic.

  After watching Zildjin write a number of symbols that turned into letters Zildjin looked at him with a face that said you better not just sit there and stare at me the whole time or I will punch you. Or something to that affect. Marc got the message and made his way to the bookshelf.

  He finally found something interesting, and began to read.

  Elves through the Ages:

  History, Myths, and Legends

  Long ago Elves were born into the world on that momentous day when magic first came to the world of men, that day when everything changed, when new life was created, new animals, and plants, and elements. Elves were brought to the world as a sacred guiding race of beings with prolonged life, A race who symbolized peace, wisdom, and order in a world of change and new life. They came, already with knowledge of this new force called magic that now resided in all things. The Elves, as they said, had been blessed by the Divines with this revered knowledge and they came to teach the humans to harness this power, to help them rebuild what had been shattered, to save humanity from destruction.

  And for hundreds of cycles the two races lived in peace, learning from one another, mostly the humans from the elves. Together they survived in the new world, where they fought many gigantic beasts like dragons, and defended their city from other dark races, the trugs, goblins, and others.

  The human’s great city grew and they prospered so much so that their city became many cities, and even nations, until finally they were one vast empire, stretching across the lands bountiful with food and resources. Always expanding, the combined populace drove out the wild animals, destroying the forests, the wild creatures’ homes, to create new cities and crushing the now weak and insignificant goblin and trug nations. And the people lived in peace and prosperity.

  But Elves and humans were too dissimilar to live amongst one another. The thinking of the both races were too different. If a problem were to occur the Elvin leaders would say to wait, arguing that it would solve itself in a matter of ten cycles and how it was impractical to waste resources and energy to try and fix it immediately. This is because the Elves have such long lives. But the human leaders would say that they did not have ten cycles to waste and that the problem needed to be dealt with immediately. And this is because humans have such short lives compared to the Elves. And so the people themselves divided.

  Eventually the division became so great the elvin people, being lesser in population because of their long life and less of a need to have children, could not even leave their homes without being threatened, mocked, beaten, and even in some
rare cases, killed. For many cycles the humans tortured the elvin race, having long forgotten the things they had been taught by the once revered people. And they did things, horrendous unforgivable things to the elves.

  After many cycles, at long last the humans, under a united banner, drove out the entire Elvin race, or as much of it as could be gathered together, into the hot sands, where the humans hoped the weak elvin race would die. Some of the elves, powerful magic users and warriors fought against the humans to save their people and even though they fought valiantly, they were crushed under the vast might of the dark empire.

  Some say the elves died in the sands, wasting away to dust, but others believe that they used their magic and crossed over the Sea of Fire to inhabit an unknown land. Whatever may be the truth, never again would humans have dealings with the elves.

  Eleanor came in a few times to check in on them, commended Zildjin on his progress and asked questions about Sesuadra and Marc’s readings, but mostly stayed in the shop.

  Finally Eleanor returned and declared she had closed the shop for middag and asked them to help her prepare the meal they would soon eat.

  “And after you finish, out to the yard with you,” She told them, “Topar will be there waiting.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Observations

  “The sword!” Topar said loudly with a mixture of conviction and respect, “Is the most important aspect of the warrior.”

  It was the beginning of the afternoon. The three boys stood in the shallow pit of hard packed dirt that made up what Zildjin and Sesuadra had called the yard. It was a simple expanse of earth, marked off in some areas with some light colored sand to contrast the dark brown of the ground beneath it, and a number of targets crowded the end of the range. The three boys stood in a row facing the tall, powerfully built anthro-creature, the rovaar as Zildjin had named him. Zildjin had also told him that after the War of Power, there were not many of Topar’s kind still alive. They were suited up in armor. Marc’s armor felt loose, it was too big for him but it was the best they could do on short notice. They each held wooden training weapons, their swords were placed at the end of the yard.