by Nikolas Rex
He slowly twirled and spun her until she was confident enough, understanding the way he danced, that she could move faster.
Finally as the music came to an end he dipped her low, his face just inches from hers.
Time seemed to stand still.
They were both breathless. He stared deep into her hazel eyes. They were so rich with color like emerald green leaves changing into the many golden browns and oranges of autumn; he just wanted to fall into their infinite exquisiteness.
The people erupted into clapping and cheers around them and Marc and Laura were broken from their moment.
He picked her back up from her dip and they continued to hold hands. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled, could feel his cheeks wanting to be red, and was glad once again that he rarely if ever actually blushed.
***
The rest of the night was mostly a blur of eating, drinking, dancing and fun, but no moment compared to that first dance.
Later, finally, the celebration was finally over. Everyone had returned to their homes for the night and they were back at the mansion. Zildjin, Sesuadra, Cydas, Drake, and the girl Mel, had all gone to their rooms, but Marc lingered a moment in the hall, his arm still around Laura. He moved his head to look down at her and she looked back up at him. The nearest lantern shone on her, letting the glowing light dance dreamily in her hazel eyes and Marc was held captive by her beauty. There was a moment of silence as both gazed at each other, entranced.
Marc’s heart hammered in his chest at least twice as fast as it usually did and his stomach was doing flips inside him. He didn’t know what to do. She looked so calm and relaxed. But he felt completely opposite. He didn’t want to screw things up. He had never had any experience with girls before, aside from the fact that he knew he liked them a lot. His mind was racing. Finally he summoned the courage to speak.
“We had a great time tonight, didn’t we?” He said and smiled and she smiled back.
“Yes we did. Thanks for teaching me how you dance.”
“No problem, anytime.” He replied.
Should I take my arm away from her now, or what? Why can’t I just think clearly?
After a moment Laura looked down at the floor and then down to her room, the one she shared with Mel. “Well, I guess this means good night.”
She slipped her arm off of his shoulder. Marc let his arm slide off as well and he put it back by his side. What now? Is she going to leave? Should I kiss her good night? I like her—Okay, I’ll kiss her then.
Laura turned to go, then half turned back again, looking up at Marc.
No! She’s leaving! Okay, do it! No, I can’t. What if she’s offended? Well, she kissed you on the cheek earlier didn’t she? That’s true— Marc argued quickly and furiously in his mind.
With a final glance she began to turn back again and was about to leave for her room.
NO! Kiss her! Suddenly Marc made up his mind. Without another moment of deliberation he said “Laura, wait.” He caught her hand and brought her towards him gently. With one smooth motion he brought his head down and kissed her gently on the lips. To his surprise and to his great relief she didn’t turn away, or jump back and slap him. In fact, as Marc was going to break it off so that he wouldn’t seem like he was rushing things she held the kiss for a moment longer. After what felt like an eternity and only a flash of a second melded together as one, Laura pulled back slowly and with a tiny smile said,
“Good night Marc.”
“Good night, Laura.” Marc said airily, his eyes gazing at her and through her at the same time. He watched as she walked down the hall, the blue flames reflecting off her beautiful form until her door closed behind her.
“Wow,” Marc whispered, his fingers gently brushing against his lips. He shook his head and then opened the door to his room and got ready for bed. For some strange reason he had a feeling that whatever would happen over the next several years of his life, as long as Laura was there, everything would be alright.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Interlude
Marc could hardly focus on anything but Laura over the next several weeks.
They did not kiss or show affection to each other when the others were around, which was always, so Marc’s desire to do those things continued to build, and he imagined it was the same for her. But they would walk their aldom’s next to each other and talk frequently to one another about many things and gaze into each other’s eyes, even if at distance.
They left Terga the next morning after the celebration at sunrise with a mixture of feelings, both sad to leave such a friendly place and warm beds, but excited to meet up with Puck and continue on to the Oracle. They did not finish Drake’s memorial, but Drake promised he would return as soon as he could to see the completed structure and accompanying statue.
They spent plenty of coin on supplies and gear in the town but Zildjin kept quietly commenting to Marc that he felt the townspeople were asking for a significantly lower amount than what one would usually pay. Marc didn’t know what else he could do and just told Zildjin they should just go along with it and make the people happy.
“At least they are letting us pay something.” He had finally said.
Everyone in the town was there to see them off. The townspeople sang a beautiful song of farewell to them. It was a customary tradition to see off prestigious individuals such as themselves, the Mayor stated afterwards. When the song was complete the Mayor led the town in invoking the Exalted Spirits to look over Marc and his companions on their journey.
Those who had to, returned to their morning work and chores, leaving the children and a few others to follow Marc and friends down the main road leading out of the town. The children laughed and played with the aldom’s tails. The children stopped following near the edge of town. One of the musicians who had played at the celebration must have broken away from the goodbyes earlier and walked ahead for he sat upon a large tree stump along the road leading away from the town just on the outskirts of the last building. He was playing soft, random notes that did not make up a comprehensible tune as they approached.
As the group passed the musician sat up straight and put his lips to the pan pipe in his hands. He played the same tune which had so resonated with Marc the night before. It was a beautiful song.
It was the last memory Marc had of Terga.
A beautiful memory.
***
“We are being followed,” Drake said, the second day they were on the road after leaving Terga.
“How can you tell?” Marc asked, breaking out of his conversation with Laura.
It was a sort of grey day, with clouds dominating the sky. A slight breeze was in the air, sort of chilly. The heat of what Marc had figured was Summer was dissipating day by day.
“There has been movement in the rocks above us on several occasions,” Drake replied.
“Not letting a little brush animals scare you, are you?” Zildjin jested.
“No,” Drake replied simply and seriously.
For such a young frame Drake carried himself as one who was much older.
“I am certain it is a person.”
“Well,” Marc said, “I might have an idea.”
Still atop his steed he pulled out the map and unrolled it. Using its magic he willed it to draw, in close detail, the location where they were on the road in Rawson’s pass.
Drake came over and motioned for Marc to angle the parchment so he could see. He had declined on purchasing a mount. At first Marc was afraid he would be unable to keep up and slow them down, but he moved at a pace that was almost faster than the aldoms.
Surprisingly, before their eyes, a dot appeared on the map and a name underneath it as well. Mel, Radan of Terga.
“Wait, what?” Marc said.
“Is that—?” Laura remarked.
Marc nodded his head.
Drake let out an almost inaudible sigh.
“Who? Who is it?” Zildjin steered Tandur
to get a closer look.
Sesuadra looked up from his reading of a large book but did not guide his mount over, waiting patiently for more information on the matter to come forth on its own, instead.
Marc stopped Redmor and everyone followed his lead. The balkar, which Drake was leading, stopped also.
Marc turned Redmor to face the rock face.
“Mel? Is that you? We can see you on our map, Mel?”
There was no response but the echo of the Wielder of the Flame’s voice off the mountainside.
Then finally, a figure stood up in the distance, appearing behind one of the larger of the boulders above. The individual was a stark dark contrast to the light grey rock.
“It is I!” She answered.
She began to make her way down the cliff face and approached the group.
When she reached the party she looked down at the ground, not meeting anyone’s gaze.
“Why the secrecy?” Marc asked, “If you wanted to come with us, you could’ve just asked.”
“Her mother would not allow it,” Laura chimed in.
Mel was silent.
“Is that just a guess?” Marc asked Laura.
“We spoke about it,” Laura answered.
Marc remembered seeing the two girls frequently together in Terga and nodded.
“If that’s true,” Marc spoke to Mel, “Why have you followed us then?”
“I—” she struggled to speak, “I thought, that I would be able to help in some way. I feel that I must help. You are— You are the Wielder of the Flame! And Drake, and all of you must be able to use magic in some way.”
“Mel, didn’t you listen when Laura and I spoke the other day. If you want to help the best you can do is help each other, your town needs you.”
“I know,” Mel said, “But I guess I just thought you were more meaning those without the ability to sense or use magic. I am different, like my mother, not like the rest of them. Your path is sure to be one of danger, let me come along, I can heal.”
“Mel,” Marc began.
“I have to come,” Mel spoke up, “I mean— I have to make sure Drake is okay still.”
“My wounds have already fully healed,” Drake insisted.
Marc raised his hands for silence.
“Look,” Marc said, “We are headed to Whiteholt to meet up with another who will join our group. We would be glad to have you along—”
Mel’s face brightened with a joyful smile and she clapped her hands.
“But,” Marc continued, “on the condition that once we reach Whiteholt we purchase an aldom and some supplies and you return to Terga, deal?”
Mel nodded happily.
“Alright then,” Marc smiled, “Welcome to the party.”
“You can ride with me if you wish,” Laura smiled and patted the empty space in her saddle. Mel and Laura were both small enough for it to work.
The group continued on toward Whiteholt.
***
Marc was a little grumpy with the addition of Mel to the group.
With her present, the two girls spent a lot of their time talking to each other and Marc was forced to face even less time with Laura than he liked.
Laura and Mel whispered quietly to each other laughing and stealing glances at the others, usually Marc and Drake. Whenever any of the others got close enough to listen in, they fell silent.
Marc found himself trotting behind more and more until he was near the back of the group of Zildjin and the balkar carrying the supplies.
Zildjin had a smile on his face, his eyes looking off into nowhere in particular.
Marc felt glum and thought that if he felt glum, everyone should feel glum.
“Why are you so happy?” He said, a slight irritation in his voice.
Zildjin broke away from his trance and looked at Marc, “Your puppeteer paint a frown on your face today?”
“Huh?” Marc was still not use to all the colloquialisms and phrases of this place.
“Just two days ago you and Laura shared a kiss,”
“What!? How did you know?” Marc said in surprise.
“I knew it!” Zildjin said with a sneaky smile, “I knew you two must have kissed after all that dancing!”
“You little punk!” Marc said.
He tried to punch him but Zildjin dodged out of the way.
Marc pulled on the reins, positioning Redmor in front of Tandur.
“Get him Redmor!” Marc commanded, half joking.
“Whoa!” Zildjin cried, leaning back just out of reach from the aldom’s snapping jaws.
Tandur pushed Redmor away in a manner that was just between friendly and a warning.
“Alright, alright,” Marc guided Redmor back to walking forward. “I think we got our point across.”
“What is a ‘punk?’” Zildjin asked after a moment or two.
“Right,” Marc acknowledged the question. He thought for a moment, images of grunge music and punk rock bands played in his mind and he dismissed them, thinking it would be too complicated to explain it in that way.
“A punk is a rebel to authority, a troublemaker, someone who gets into mischief all the time.”
“Ah,” Zildjin nodded, “So Itherin was a punk, well thank you very much, I am proud to be labeled with one such as Itherin.”
“No,” Marc shook his head, “when I called you a punk, I was more meaning that you cause trouble.”
Zidljin shrugged, “Very well,” He grinned, “I guess I can be a punk sometimes then,”
He grinned again and Marc let out a small laugh.
“Yes,” he said, “Yes you can. So, why are you happy then?” Marc asked again.
Zildjin nodded, “I am happy because I left all the coin I won in Fairlake, in Terga, with a note saying that it was a gift from the Exalted given from the Wielder of the Flame.”
“What?” Marc said, “Great! Now they’ll just want to worship me even more than they already do!”
“What is wrong with that? You give them hope.”
“I don’t want to be worshiped, I just want to help is all.”
“But you will be,” Zildjin added, “Whether you want to be or not.”
Marc shrugged his shoulders.
Drake fell back from his quick strides, leaving Cydas in the lead, Sesuadra to his reading, and the two girls to their whisperings.
“I overheard something about leaving all the coin in Terga?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Zildjin said.
“But our current supplies will not last till Fallhaven, and I do not think any of us, besides Mel perhaps, have any coin to purchase more.”
Zildjin was feeling a little bit cornered again and Marc noticed.
“We will find a way, we have so far,” he said, hoping to cheer his friend up.
He decided to steer the conversation another direction.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Marc looked down at Drake.
“Yes?”
“How exactly you took down those two giant creatures we saw when we rode into Terga?”
Drake immediately found himself in the same position as Zildjin.
“I—” He began but paused.
They rode in silence for a moment.
“It is hard to say exactly.”
Marc seemed slightly confused.
“There is much about me that is difficult to explain.”
They waited for more of an explanation.
Drake, picking up on Marc’s tactic, decided that he himself would change the conversation this time.
“We should break and make camp earlier than yesterday.”
“Huh?” Marc and Zildjin both said.
“You want to know how I killed those two creatures?”
They nodded.
“I will show you all I know about sword fighting, then you will understand how I killed the Vorstai.”
“You can show us all you know about sword fighting in one evening?”
Drake shook his head, �
�Of course not, it took me several cycles to master a single technique.” He paused.
“Tonight, will only be the first trainings of many.”
***
“Now,” Drake said, his two blades drawn, “Attack me with everything you have!”
They had stopped in the afternoon, instead of the end of the day, just as Drake had requested, to give extra time for sword training. Marc found himself once more facing off against someone seemingly more experienced with a weapon than he was. Everyone else stood nearby to watch, with the exception of the girls who had decided to sit next to each other on a nearby flat boulder, but who were also watching.
The sky was a clear one and Marc could feel the slight coldness in the air again as the Sun drew lower in the sky.
“I’ve heard that before,” Marc said.
“Yeah,” Zildjin agreed, “But last time it was with wooden sticks and against Topar, he is like three heads taller than you Marcus. Drake is small, you can handle him.”
“He did kill those huge flying things,” Marc said, somewhat nervous.
“He said he did,” Cydas noted.
Marc shrugged.
“You can only learn if you try,” Drake said, waiting patiently.
“Go on Marc,” Laura said encouragingly, “You can do it.”
She smiled reassuringly at him.
Marc nodded, feeling empowered.
He steadied his grip on the Sword of the Phoenix and got ready to rush forward.
“Aaaaaahhhhrr!” Marc cried as he ran towards Drake.
Marc swung the Phoenix Blade with all his might.
Drake swiftly placed his blades up in defense and Marc’s sword clanged against them, sparks flying.
Marc grunted, surprised at the boy’s strength. He felt as if he had just hit a giant immovable metal wall.
Drake slipped one of his katanas down the length of the Phoenix Blade and moved quickly to disarm Marc.
Marc tried to hold desperately to his weapon but soon found himself on the ground with a sword at his throat.
