by Nikolas Rex
Drake held the move for only a brief moment, and then stood, sheath his blades on his back and put out a hand for Marc to take and stand. Drake helped him up, Marc was again surprised at the strength of the young man.
“You seem much stronger than you look,” Marc said as he retrieved the Sword of the Phoenix.
“Magic,” Drake replied simply.
“Of course,” Marc said, “I shall use mine then, if I may.”
Drake nodded, “Of course.”
Marc retreated to where he had been for the first attempt and turned around once more to face Drake.
He stole a glance at Laura drawing a quick flash of energy and faced Drake.
This time he let the power of the sword erupt with a small flame and glowing light. The energy began to glow around him as well.
He lifted his sword and charged once more, a powerful yell emanating from his mouth.
Drake lifted his weapons again to defend the blow but this time the Phoenix Blade knocked the two katanas back much further than before.
Drake opened his mouth and let out a grunt of exertion to push the Sword of the Phoenix away.
They exchanged a few sword hits before Drake was able to finally throw Marc down.
“Much better, and it was not just because of the magic, you learned quickly, even after only one attempt.”
Marc nodded, taking the compliment.
“The danger of learning quickly is allowing your swiftly earned success to make you overconfident, overriding your caution. Do not let that happen.”
Marc nodded again, “I won’t.”
“Your speech is strange at times,” Drake said.
“To me,” Marc replied, “So is yours.”
Drake shrugged, fair enough.
“Alright, a few more, and then I will face the others one by one, and then general instruction.”
Marc nodded a third time.
Chapter Thirty Nine
The First Crystal Shard
Puck’s mouth was dry, his lips parched.
He had tried to stay on the road for as long as he could but he knew that if the surviving Bloodcloaks wanted to track him down, they would do so relentlessly and the road would be the first thing they would follow.
As the morning broke on that first day of his escape he turned off the road, traveling into the woods but still moving downward towards Whiteholt, or at least, that was his intention.
The food and water he had grabbed had quickly been consumed and without provisions his already beaten and tired body had pushed him over the edge.
He tried to tie himself to the aldom but his arms were too weak. He tried to draw strength from the pendant his sister had given him, but even that had been used up, it seemed.
He saw blackness closing in all around him and fell from the creatures back. His bag fell from his shoulders.
Puck shook his head and tried to scream in frustration, but he was too tired, and his voice was nearly gone. His eyes were laced with red and every single muscle and bone in his body seemed spent. He closed his tired eyes and took a deep breath. I just want to sleep, sleep and die and end this misery.
The aldom came over to him and licked Puck’s face, right on his wounded cheek.
He opened his eyes and sat up at the pain. No! He thought to himself I have to keep going! I have to get home, I have to get home and show them the journal.
He reached over and retrieved the bag, making sure he could still feel the journal within it. He stood with the help of the aldom but he could not get back up on the creature.
Tired, so tired. Puck’s mind drifted as he walked, step after step, through the forest, holding onto the aldom’s neck. His feet were sore, his muscles ached, he walked tired and he looked tired. His shoulders were slumped he bowed his head in weariness.
Finally the sun set and Puck, eyes half closed, fell to his knees, and then onto the mossy forest floor, face first. He lay there, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed in and out. The world around him grew dark as the sun’s light faded and night fell. His eyelids fluttered in the dimness and he was about to fall asleep right there when something in the forest ahead of him, far in the distance, caught his attention. It was a small fire, a single light in the black void all around him. Could that be Whiteholt? Puck’s hopes soared. The thought gave him a small burst of strength. It was enough for him to push himself up.
Father. He thought. Mother, I won’t give up on you… Puck staggered forward. His legs ached, flared with pain, burned in protest. Each stumbling step seemed to take an eternity. Thump… thump… his footsteps sounded dully against the forest floor. Puck did not know how much time passed. His vision blurred, like looking at the inky blackness and the fire through stained glass. The fire came closer, closer, it was not just a single light, but several. They did not seem too far away now. But it was getting harder and harder to go forward.
Father…
Mother…
He thought with each trod of his feet.
But his strength drained away with every movement.
Aliyana… Puck shook his head and his eyelids fluttered again. But the fires were so close now. He was almost to their reaching light.
Ranasa…
As he fell to his knees he thought he heard voices.
Tristen? An image of his brother’s face flashed across his mind.
He fell backwards and was looking up to the darkening treetops.
Then he realized it was not Tristen, but the young man from his dream.
“Puck?” The young man said.
How does he know my name? Puck thought.
It was his last thought before he welcomed the darkness.
***
Puck opened his eyes slowly.
Everything was fuzzy and cast in shadow. He lay on his back on something soft, looking up at the stars, four treetops at the edge of his sight. The crackle of fire sounded softly nearby him and he tried to sit up and turn to look around. He groaned as he moved and decided against it, his head landing back down on the bundled up blanket beneath him.
A couple of seconds passed and he heard the rustle of loose clothing. Then, a pretty female face appeared over him.
Her bangs fell to each side of her face revealing her blue eyes and the rest of her shiny black hair was tied up in the back. Her skin was a light chestnut in color. She looked to be in her eighteenth or nineteenth cycle of life.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
All his cuts and injuries were wrapped in some sort of remedy and cloth and he realized he felt much better than he had before. A cool leaf and salve was placed over his deep cheek wound, keeping it from hurting.
“I—” He tried to speak but his voice came out like a raspy scratching noise. He coughed.
“Here, drink this,” she said.
Puck nodded his head slowly. The cool liquid felt so soothing on his lips, but it hurt slightly going down his dry throat. Puck drank too much too quickly and coughed.
“Not too much,” She said, taking the waterskin away.
“It is good to see you alive,”
Puck turned at the voice.
It was Drake.
“Drake! I—” Puck was immediately embarrassed. He felt bad for having simply walked out and abandoned his traveling companion, someone who had done so much to save and protect Puck’s family.
Drake shook his head dismissively, “Worry not about what happened in Whiteholt.”
Puck gave a sort of shrug as if to say But should we not talk about it?
“You did what you did because you thought it best.”
“I was a fool!” Puck admitted, “Look what I have to show for it,” he coughed.
He looked around and realized that he was in a camp with many makeshift beds and several sleeping figures. Drake and the girl were not the only ones present.
“Who are all these people?”
“They are my friends,” Drake said, “Marcus is with them.”
“Who is
Marcus?”
“The young man from our visions.”
“He is here?” Puck sat up more straight, a little excited.
“Go back to keeping watch,” the girl told Drake, “he needs to rest.”
“How did you find me?” Puck asked one last question as Drake turned to go.
“In the morning,” Drake replied, “All will be explained in the morning.”
Puck nodded.
“Now rest,” The girl said.
Puck laid back down.
“What is your name?” He asked her.
“Mel, Radan of Terga.”
“Puck,” he replied, “Salvend of Essoril.”
And then he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
***
Marc was packing up his gear when Puck awoke.
He was glad Mel had come along. He could not have predicted they would have needed her healing abilities and skills when they found the young man.
Puck had looked like he had gone through hell and back. He was cut and bruised all over his body and face. It looked like he had gone awhile without food and water. Mel had told them this morning that he had slept mostly through the night but had awoken once.
Marc and the others came over when they saw Puck was awake.
Puck and Drake were talking as everyone gathered around.
They stopped their conversation as the group approached.
“How are you feeling?” Marc asked.
“You,” Puck replied, “You really are the one from my vision.”
Marc nodded, “I remember you,” he said, “Transforming metal with magic.”
Puck shrugged and nodded his head once, “It seems that my abilities are not out of place here.”
“Nope,” Marc replied.
He placed a hand on the Sword of the Phoenix and released the glowing magical power.
“My name is Marcus. I am the Wielder of the Flame.” Marc put his hand out for Puck to take.
Puck sat, mystified by the statement.
He glanced at Drake, the only other person he really knew, for confirmation.
Drake nodded.
Puck took Marc’s forearm in the same manner that Marc had gotten use to as the handshake of Lyrridia.
“This is Laura,” Marc began, then sort of froze, forgetting how they introduced with last names and everything.
Laura picked up on the queue and finished for him, “I am Laura, Chaelath of Linwel.”
The others stepped forward and introduced themselves.
“I am Zildjin, Jidan of Kolima.”
“I am Sesuadra, Jidan of Kolima.”
“I am Cydas, Ardusk of Fallhaven.”
Puck greeted them each in turn. He appeared much better than he had when they found him. Mel really could work wonders.
“What happened after Whiteholt?” Drake asked.
Puck looked down, reminded again of his shame.
“Well,” he replied, “I decided to strike a deal with one of the leaders of the Bloodcloaks.”
Everyone except Marc groaned in disbelief. Marc would have as well had he known and understood more about the Bloodcloaks.
“I know, I know,” Puck admitted, “It sounds foolish after saying it out loud, but I was brimming with confidence in the moment, too much so.”
Puck proceeded to tell them his story of capture and torture, of why he had gone with the Bloodcloaks in hopes of discovering who was behind targeting his family, and of the journal he found during his escape.
***
“And now you know who it is then after your family?” Marc asked.
Puck shrugged, “To be honest, since my escape I have not yet looked through it more thoroughly, but I believe some answers lie there.”
They nodded, understanding.
Sesuadra and Laura handed out food for everyone to eat.
The group ate hungrily, especially Puck. First meal was downed with a drink Marc had gotten use to that tasted like sour yet sweet cider.
“We were wondering,” Marc said, “If we could see the pendant your sister gave you, and the crystal on it.”
“How did you know—” Puck began, but then glanced at Drake and realized he must have told them, “I guess,” he continued, “Why?”
“This,” Cydas said, digging through his bag, “will explain why.”
He withdrew one of the glass artifacts from the Oracle.
“Is he well enough?” Cydas asked, looking to Mel, the healer.
“For what?” Mel replied.
“Marcus?” Cydas asked, lifting up the relic.
“What is that? What does that have to do with my sister’s pendant? Well enough for what?” Puck questioned.
Marc looked at Puck, “Do you want to know why I appeared to you, how we found you, why your sister’s pendant is important?”
“Of course,” Puck said.
“This is from the Oracle.” Cydas said.
“The Oracle?” Puck appeared to be in awe, “but she is just a myth, a tale from the Illuminated Era.”
Cydas shook his head, handed the magical relic to Puck and explained what it was and how to activate it.
Puck listened silently, still somewhat astonished, then finally followed the instructions and was soon taken into the magical grip of the item.
The group chatted amongst themselves as Puck conversed with a piece of the Oracle.
***
“It is lucky Mel came with us,” Zildjin said to Marc.
The two friends were tightening the saddles on Redmor and Tandur. Marc patted Redmor on the neck in a friendly manner.
“Yeah,” Marc agreed.
“But Laura is from the Order of the Leaf,” Zildjin continued, “I am sure she probably would have been able to lead us all in how to help Puck.”
“Actually,” Marc replied, “From what we’ve talked about, Laura said she struggled in the Order of the Leaf, learning a lot, but forgetting most or not being able to really apply what she remembered.”
“Hmmm,” Zildjin shrugged, “I think we could all benefit from learning a little more practical healing techniques and survival skills than we all know, then.”
Marc agreed.
“What are you two talking about?” Laura had come over.
“Nothing,” Zildjin averted his gaze.
“I told him you aren’t the healer everyone would expect coming from the Order.”
“What!?” Laura said, a small anger lacing her face.
Marc shrugged, “What? I didn’t think there would be a problem with—”
“I told you that in confidence Marc!” She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and turned around, storming off. She strode over to Mel to confide in her female friend.
Zildjin gave a small laugh and shook his head.
Marc stood there with one of the saddle straps in his hand, dumbfounded.
He rolled his eyes and thought Girls.
***
Puck came out of his trance and the light from the magical relic faded and went out.
Cydas retrieved the relic and replaced it in his bag.
The group gathered around Puck again.
Puck reached inside his shirt and withdrew the pendant.
When they saw the crystal immediately they all felt a sort of aura, emanating from the crystal, surround them.
The Sword of the Phoenix began to glow.
“Do you feel that?” Marc asked, turning to Laura.
Laura nodded, “I feel like, like I can do anything!”
One moment the crystal pendant hung around Puck’s neck, and the next moment it was around Laura’s neck, the crystal in her hand.
“Hey!” Puck said, surprised.
Laura looked down at the necklace and then said, “Sorry, I did not mean to—”
Using her magic she sent the necklace back to Puck.
“You can send other things through the unseen paths as well?” Cydas asked.
Laura nodded.
“I never knew this was so
important,” Puck said, “It has been passed down to the women in my family for generations. Aliyana only gave it to me to keep for a short time. It is hard to believe that all this is happening. The Wielder of the Flame, the crystal, the Oracle.”
“I understand,” Marc said. He moved to help Puck up, “More than you probably know.”
He and Drake helped Puck stand.
Puck looked at Marc.
“I must return to Essoril,”
“But—” Marc began.
“I mean,” Puck said, still focusing on Marc, “We must all go to Essoril. You need to speak to my father, it is important.”
“But the Oracle did not tell me of this,” Cydas admitted, “Are you sure a desire to return home and inform your family of your discovery is not clouding your judgment?”
Puck shook his head, “No, The Oracle told me we need to go there. Though of course I will tell my family of what I have found out when we get there.”
Cydas shrugged, turning to Marc on how they should proceed.
Marc thought for a moment, “To Essoril then, but how far away is it?”
Puck looked at him, “The Oracle said you had a map.”
Marc smiled. It seemed she had not forgotten to tell anyone about the map.
Puck marveled at the enchanted map. It began of course depicting Lyrridia as a whole, with the points of light depicting the crystals in their respective locations.
“This is us, now watch,” Marc said. He mentally instructed the map to show all of them gathered together.
“This is fascinating!” Puck said, “So this is how you found me. I guess I must have missed Whiteholt.”
They were just southwest of Whiteholt.
Marc nodded.
“You had the crystal, and Drake knew you, so we were able to see you had the crystal on you.”
“You saw I had the crystal?” Puck was amazed even more.
Marc nodded again. He moved the map.
This time the map was focused in close enough that it appeared as if a hand was being drawn onto the surface of the parchment.
They were all surprised as an inky sketch outline of Puck’s hand and the figure of the crystal shard in it appeared before them.
