by Nikolas Rex
“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.
So it seems my leads were correct, Nyrith thought, Belator must be here, and it appears as if he is stirring up quite the chaos.
She wanted to speak with someone about what was going on, gather some more information to more solidly confirm her thoughts, but did not want to draw any more attention to herself than needed. Since leaving Kolima she had already had to deal with more than a dozen male eyes watching her in various towns and inns. She was well aware that traveling alone, with her striking female figure and small demeanor, made her appear as easy prey for a hungry and needy man, but with swift action and a little bit of magic, she had defended herself quite easily to the surprise of her would-be attackers.
Now, so close to meeting her new master, she could not bother with someone questioning her and delaying her trip any longer.
She did not know exactly how to go about it, but she knew she must show Belator the red gem and explain what happened in Kolima. No doubt he had heard the rumors about the rise of the Wielder of the Flame, but she must affirm to him that the rumors were not a farce, but true. He could alert the Overlord of the Wielder of the Flame and the return of the Sword of the Phoenix soon so that the Wielder could be destroyed, and quickly.
She had seen him in Kolima, he was only a boy. She estimated, maybe a mere few cycles younger than herself.
But she knew that if he had even a portion of the power she possessed, the boy would be a force to be reckoned with in the near future.
The crowds of people leaving Sulendald looked upon her with faces that said, if you had any sense of self-preservation you would not go that way. Beware what you will face in the city. Danger lies that way. Turn back while you can.
But none of them knew that she was a follower of Tremos, and what was happening in Sulendald, was exactly the kind of thing she supported.
It did not take her long to reach the entrance to the city.
The city guards were so pre-occupied Nyrith simply walked through the main gates without being asked to show her parchment roll nor being bothered about stating the reason for her visit, she had hardly even been noticed.
Inside, the city was in more of a frenzy than the long caravan of people leaving Sulendald. The citizens were in chaos, frantically trying to evacuate their homes. Fathers and brothers were stacking barrels, crates, and furniture onto wagons while Mothers soothed their crying babies or watched diligently over their frightened little kids. It was as if a fire was sweeping through the buildings and they had to rush with their packing before the flames reached their abodes. And yet, there was no fire, indeed no visible threat at all, at least not near the entrance of Sulendald. Some had taken advantage over the situation, using the chaos as a distraction while they stole things. The city guards were busy enough trying to contain the situation from getting
worse that they were having a hard time resolving or even preventing each and every crime.
Even with the guards so occupied with the chaos within, as a habit, Nyrith kept to the shadows, making herself as small, invisible, and going unnoticed as possible as she moved deeper into the city. She could see the dark smoke and the fog in the distance. Her mind began to wander and she let her thoughts go free. She kept going back to the death of Safral, her first master. With so much time alone on the road to think and to analyze her situation and her mentor, in retrospect, he had not been that special of a teacher, or even that good of a wizard. He had been a fine enough teacher, but he had limited the things she could do, always telling her she was not ready. She believed that his age had begun to take a toll on him. Especially with the sudden obsession for the magical sword the boy had. Nyrith was disappointed that Safral had not realized that the blade was actually the Sword of the Phoenix.
She turned a corner into a smaller side street shrouded in shadow and began walking down it. She got only about halfway when five men stepped out from behind stacked crates and shallow recesses in the walls, two in front of her, and three behind, positioned to block both exits from the alley.
She silently chided herself having been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she did not see the men.
They were poorly dressed, dirty, and smelled of fortnight-old-sweat. The tallest had black greasy long hair, the others had similar brown, and one had red hair. Even the shortest stood a good head taller than Nyrith.
“You lost girl?” One said.
“You look lost,” Another followed.
“The main gates of Sulendald are back in that direction,” The one with black hair said pointing to where Nyrith had come. He seemed to be the leader of the group, “You are headed the wrong way.”
Nyrith sighed, exasperatedly. She had faced many similar situations before and, like the others, knew how this one was going to end.
“Oh, sorry,” The black haired man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Are we keeping you from something important?”
