by Nikolas Rex
“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.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
Respite
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!
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.
“The Oracle seemed to indicate the map had special properties?”
Marc nodded again.
He willed the map to change. Mel and Drake both watched more closely and were more interested in the working magic of the map than the others as it was both their first times seeing it in action. Marc guided the map to depict the room they were all standing in. Mel’s mouth fell open as each person present in the room began to appear as small dots around the ink table and labels materialized underneath each person.
