Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  They were equally surprised when Sesuadra whispered “Incredible!” fairly loudly.

  Puck moved his hand and the drawing on the parchment moved as well, ink smudges quickly reforming at the movement.

  Marc found it visually cool, but having grown up with technology on an equal, if not more sophisticated, level, was not as impressed as the others.

  Marc tried to think that maybe technology was a magic of sorts depending on the perspective of the person, but then shook his head, briefly remembering that the Oracle had said Your world is yet young, and thriving, even without the aid of magic.

  Marc brought himself out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand.

  “Essoril, you said,” He looked at Puck.

  “Yes,” Puck replied, and stopped moving his hand.

  Marc had the ink change to show the map of Lyrridia again.

  “Essoril is here,” Puck said.

  “We are here,” Sesuadra pointed out.

  “Quite a journey on foot,” Cydas added, “it is out of the way of Fallhaven, and we are already almost out of supplies. We need spice for the aldoms and the balkar, and our food and water is near gone. I suggest we continue up to Whiteholt, to resupply.”

  “With what coin?” Drake noted.

  “And whose fault is that?” Cydas stated.

  Most of the group looked at Zildjin.

  “What is in Fallhaven?” Laura interrupted.

  “Where we must go on our journey to the Oracle.” Cydas replied simply.

  They all turned to Marc for guidance. Marc was quicker to fill his role as leader than on previous occasions.

  “We will travel up to Whiteholt to resupply. I know we don’t have any coin, but maybe we can bargain with something.”

  “Just tell them who you are and what your quest is,” Mel suggested, “If Whiteholt’s people are anything alike those of mine in Terga, they will be glad to help, and wonder at the tale of the newly chosen Wielder of the Flame, and of the light in Kolima. Surely they saw something that night as well.”

  Marc shook his head, “I don’t want to abuse my title like that, it’s not right, and it’s not fair to the person on the other side of the giving.”

  Mel shrugged. No one else spoke.

  “It’s decided then,” Marc nodded, “We will go to Whiteholt, then here to Essoril. Then to Fallhaven, with Cydas. Your word is enough for me,” he looked at Puck.

  Puck nodded, grateful.

  “In the meantime,” Marc continued, “Every afternoon we should continue our training. And Mel, anything you can teach us about healing while traveling, would be helpful. We’ll get you provisions in Whiteholt, and then you can return to Terga afterwards.”

  Drake and Mel nodded at this.

  “Knowing is not enough, we must apply. Willing is not enough, we must do.” Sesuadra said.

  Everyone was satisfied with Marc’s decision.

  He was their leader.

  Chapter Forty

  A Friend

  They had indeed used all their provisions by the time they reached Whiteholt.

  Between Drake and Cydas, however, the group had gathered quite a few small animals and hoped to use the animal hides to bargain for a room and supplies.

  It was one of the hardest things Marc had to do since his arrival from his old world, skinning an animal. He looked down at the small creature Cydas handed him.

  “All is well, Marcus?” Cydas asked.

  Marc shook his head no.

  “I’ve—” He paused, “I’ve never done this before.”

  Cydas and the others seemed confused, wondering how Marc had eaten anything without hunting it first. Marc tried to explain, but gave up.

  “Can we,” He said finally, “Can we please take a moment and thank the, uhm,”

  “The Exalted?” Laura tried.

  “Yes,” Marc replied, “Let’s take a moment and thank the Exalted for sending us these creatures, who sacrificed themselves so we may eat. And don’t waste any part of the creature, let’s try and use as much as we can.”

  “Of course,” They replied.

  Marc stared down at the little creature. It resembled something between a squirrel and a rabbit. “Thank you,” He said simply, then looked up to the sky, and back down at the animal. He didn’t know who to address, or what to say, he just felt like saying thanks, so he did.

  “Thank you,” Marc finished.

  With Laura’s help, Marc was able to finish skinning the animal, and felt better about doing so.

  It was morning when they arrived in Whiteholt. Drake and Puck led the group through the town streets to The Majestic Guardian, the same place they had stayed before. Everyone dismounted to go in except for Zildjin.

  “I will stay with the aldoms,” He offered.

  No one argued

  Bargaining with the innkeeper turned out to be harder than they expected, Puck did most of the talking, having been there with Drake previously. In the end they were simply short too much gold. The skins were barely enough for the Innkeeper to let them stable and feed their mounts. They would only be able to get rooms after they drummed up enough coin.

  “Well?” Zildjin asked when the group returned.

  Marc responded, “We can stable and feed the animals, that’s it.”

  “So what should we do now?” Cydas asked Marc.

  Marc was quick to decide, “Everyone split up, cover as much ground as you can. Go shop to shop to see if there is anyone willing to pay us for a day’s work. Sweeping floors, moving crates and barrels, anything. After we stable the animals someone will have to stay with them and watch them.”

  “Not I,” Zildjin replied, hopping down from Tandur.

  Marc was surprised, thinking Zildjin would stick with the aldoms.

  “Oh,” He said.

  No one else seemed eager to step up.

  Marc thought, he, out of all the group, would be least effective at gathering coin, considering he was the one most out of his element, and decided to stay with the aldoms.

  “I’ll assume everyone has some great coin-earning ideas and doesn’t want to let the group down by having to stay with the aldoms. No worries, I’ll watch them. If any of you strike out in finding work, come back and rotate out with me.”

  “All is well,” Puck replied, “It will be easy for me to find a blacksmith shop needing help of some sort.”

  The others all offered encouraging sentiments.

  “Don’t over extend yourself,” Marc advised, “After what you’ve been through.”

  “I will be careful.”

  They followed Marc into the large barn near the Inn where a few other animals were stabled. A young stable-hand with red hair named Eldn, showed them to their stables. Everyone unstrapped the saddles to their respective mounts and began to pat down and clean the road-weary creatures.

  “No,” Marc said quickly, “I’ll do the cleaning, we need everyone on the streets quickly looking for work.”

  No one argued.

  They worked out the rest of the details of their plan and then each left the barn, taking off down different streets.

  Zildjin knew exactly what he was going to do, but this time around he was going to be much more careful about it. He rubbed his medallion between his fingers, feeling lucky.

  ***

  The aldoms stank, and so did the balkar.

  Marc used all the knowledge he had gained while living in the Magic Emporium, taking care of Redmor, and applied it to the situation in front of him. First, he asked the stable-hand where the supplies were. With supplies in hand, he headed over to the stall holding the balkar, knowing it would be the easiest to take care of. Marc started by scrubbing the beast down with soapy water, then rinsing it off. To finish, as Topar had instructed him during training, he rubbed a strong smelling ointment in areas where the pack-saddle dug into the balkar’s back most.

  Next Marc moved on to the aldoms. He started with the paws, cleaning between each appendage, making sur
e to be gentle. He knew if he pressed too hard the aldom’s claws would reflexively want to come out, and Marc didn’t want to get cut. After making sure the feet were clean of things like small pebbles, he moved on to brushing. Armed with the several different brushes he needed Marc began the long process of grooming each aldom. The first brush was used with vigorous, but small circular motions over the adloms muscles, opposite the direction of the animal’s fur. He was careful to avoid the bony areas of the creature, including its face, spine, and legs. After the first brush loosened up the dirt, mud, and other debris caught in the aldom’s coat. Marc then pulled out the second brush and applied it with short flicking motions, allowing the bristles to thoroughly whisk the aldom’s coat free of dirt. He started from the neck and worked towards the tail, again avoiding the face, ears, and belly. With the third and softest brush, he was finally able to massage the aldom’s most sensitive areas he had avoided with the other brushes. The aldoms chittered and cooed their approval at the process.

  So focused in his task, Marc was unaware of the passage of time until Cydas returned to the barn. It was late afternoon, well past middag. Marc stood up from grooming Brighteyes. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of the late hour and the lack of nourishment.

  Cydas had had little luck in securing work for the day.

  “There were a few caravans looking for wagon guards, but it was a position more permanent than current circumstances could allow for.”

  Marc nodded.

  Cydas revealed a single coin, “However, an elderly woman gave me this for helping her take her days purchase at the market, back to her home.”

  “It’s something,” Marc replied with an encouraging tone.

  “Let me help you finish up here,” Cydas offered.

  With the work split in half, the two of them were able to finish quickly.

  Not too much later, the rest of the group trickled in.

  Sesuadra had fared only slightly better than Cydas, organizing books at Whiteholt’s only building remotely resembling a Library and record’s keep. Laura had earned a few coins cleaning out a marketplace stall. Mel had a small coin bag, almost full, after helping out at the local apothecary, separating and sorting herbs. The apothecary’s owner had been impressed by Mel’s knowledge. Drake had earned about as much as Mel, fletching arrows at a shop nearby where Puck had found a blacksmith offering work. Puck had brought in more than twice that of Mel and Drake’s earnings combined.

  “It was fun balancing believable smithing work with magic, needless to say he told me he had never seen such masterful work from an apprentice in such a short amount of time in all his days. He practically begged me to come back tomorrow. I told him I was unsure of how long my stay would be here.”

  Zildjin showed up last with a large bag filled with coins, and caked, head to toe, in mud.

  “What happened?” Marc voiced the question everyone was thinking.

  “I know, I know,” Zildjin said, smiling, and wiping mud from his face, “The mud. I was at a nearby farm helping repair a fence when the lagartos broke free and I pretty much spent the rest of the day catching them.”

  “Not the mud,” Marc said.

  “The gold,” Sesuadra finished.

  “Some of it the farmer gave me.”

  “And the rest?” Cydas inquired.

  Zildjin paused for a moment, then looked away, “My medallion.”

  Marc realized, “You shouldn’t have traded it away! It was important to you.”

  Zildjin shrugged, “It was a small sacrifice, for a good cause.”

  Before anyone could say anything else there was a small grumbling sound from Mel’s stomach.

  She turned red, and clutched her middle, embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry,” Marc said, almost laughing, “We’re all hungry too, let’s go eat.”

  “Your speech is strange sometimes,” Mel noted, trying to recover from her embarrassment.

  Marc nodded, still smiling, “So I’ve been told.”

  ***

  After everyone ate at the Inn, they happily paid the Innkeeper for three rooms and retired for the evening. Mel and Laura shared the first room, Drake, Puck and Cydas another, and Zildjin, Sesuadra, and Marc, the last.

  Marc fell asleep quickly.

  It was pitch black when Marc opened his eyes. For a moment he lay there, in bed, trying to figure out what had woken him.

  A figure stood at the un-shuttered room windows, pale moonlight casting cerulean ripples across the wood floor.

  Marc half sat up, reaching for the Sword of the Phoenix nearby.

  “It is I,” Zildjin whispered quickly, sensing Marc’s intentions.

  “What time is it?” Marc rubbed his eyes blearily, “What are you doing?”

  Zildjin was silent but for a moment.

  “It was hot, I was opening the window.”

  Marc found the room to be cold. Was it because the window was now open?

  “Well shut it,” Marc whispered back, “It’s plenty cold now.”

  Zildjin shrugged and returned the shutters to the closed position, locking them in place.

  Marc fell back into bed and closed his eyes, quickly returning to sleep.

  ***

  A knocking sound awoke Marc. It was morning.

  Sesuadra and Zildjin were gone, probably already downstairs eating first meal.

  “Just a second,” Marc said, standing up quickly.

  Why didn’t they wake me? It’s like they’re always letting me sleep in. Is it because of my title? He thought as he quickly got dressed.

  He went to the door and opened it.

  It was Laura.

  She was holding a small piece of parchment in her hand, facing Marc, for him to either just read it, or take it and read it.

  Marc took it to read it.

  A gift, to the new Wielder of the Flame and his companions, to help you on your journey.

  - A friend

  “What is this?” Marc said, emphasizing the last word.

  “We found it this morning, along with a very large purple bag of coins.”

  “What?”

  “That is not all,” She continued, “When Cydas went to check on the aldoms this morning, he found identical bags of coin in every stall, and two in the balkar’s pen.”

  “A friend?” Marc questioned, “What friend? Who?”

  Laura shrugged.

  Marc indicated he was going downstairs, Laura moved to let him pass and walked alongside him, descending the stairs to the Inn common room.

  The group sat at the largest of the tables there, which was piled with food.

  Everyone was eating hungrily, after last night’s meager dinner.

  They stopped briefly as Marc and Laura approached and sat down.

  “Well,” Marc said, addressing the group, “Looks like we have a friend with a vested interest in our mission, does anyone have any idea who?”

  They all shrugged.

  “Should we keep it?” Puck asked, referring to the wealth. The poor kids bruises were still deep in color, but at least they were smaller than before.

  No one said anything, waiting on Marc’s decision.

  Sometimes Marc wanted to just shrug, and let someone else decide.

  Who had given them the money? Why so much? And how? And why the secrecy? What would the consequences of taking the money be? The anonymous giver had said it was a gift, did that mean the giver did not expect anything in return?

  “We’ll keep it,” Marc said finally, “But only as much as we need for our supplies. The rest we’ll give back.”

  “To who?” Zildjin spoke up.

  “Tis true,” Cydas added, “We know not to whom we should return the coin.”

  Marc mulled it over.

  The group continued their meal as Marc thought.

  After first meal was over and the group was finishing their drinks Marc spoke.

  “After we’ve purchased all the supplies we need, we’ll hire a small caravan of go
ods to travel back with Mel, wagon guards and all, to make sure it gets there safely.”

  “Terga has already received much coin from us,” Zildjin pointed out.

  “Coin, yes,” Marc replied, “But not supplies. Terga was terrorized by those monsters long enough and could use the help, right Mel?”

  Mel nodded, in full agreement with the idea, “Terga was once a thriving center of trade and a place for rest for the weary adventurers traveling through Rawson’s Pass. A caravan of supplies would be greatly welcomed. And I would feel much safer traveling home with company than alone.”

  “It’s settled then,” Marc concluded, “Let’s go to the market.”

  ***

  They all stood at a crossroads, a fair ways from Whiteholt, Marc with his group pointed towards Essoril, and Mel at the head of a small wagon train headed down a road with a sign that read: Rawson’s Pass.

  Each wagon was filled with supplies and lead by a single balkar and driver. A guard sat at the back of each wagon as well.

  It had been an exhausting few days in Whiteholt, gathering everything together, hiring the wagon guards and drivers, and purchasing balkars, but in the end, they had done it, and had used almost every single coin in doing it.

  Mel was saying her goodbyes.

  Finally she turned to Drake and said, “I have tried hard at playing for your affections,”

  Drake looked everywhere he could to avoid her gaze.

  “But it appears that you cannot return those feelings to me.”

  Drake put a hand to his forehead, still looking down and said, “I am sorry Mel.” Clearly embarrassed and out of his comfort zone.

  She leaned forward and gave him a hug, then kissed him on the cheek.

  She whispered something into his ear that only he could hear, then she withdrew.

  “Exalted keep you,” She said to everyone, “All will be well.”

  They each gave her a farewell hug.

  “All will be well,” they replied.

  “I will miss you,” Laura said.

  Mel rolled her eyes, “Spend your time with Marcus, it is clear you two wish to court each other!”