Mey rolled her eyes. He was so dramatic sometimes, but she still smiled at how he called her ‘kid’. She was about thirty years his elder. With the elven blood that ran in her veins, she would outlive him by about eighty years. A pang of sadness at this thought gripped her chest. She pulled on his arm to get him moving.
As they exited, Garrin managed to slip the waitress three of the gold coins they had just acquired. Once outside, he was all business, bringing himself back to the job at hand and forgetting all that had transpired inside the tavern. His eyes were scanning their surroundings.
“I think we should split up again.”
Mey nodded. “I was thinking the same.” She switched to hand signals. Anyone watching would expect you to have it.
Garrin signaled back. You head toward the docks, I’ll move through town for a bit. If I’m not there in twenty minutes, go ahead and collect. He gave her his most genuine smile and winked. “Meet me back here if you finish up before I do.” He turned and slipped around the building. She blinked only once and then she could no longer see him.
Sighing, she turned to make her way toward the dockside. An inkling of fear crept up from the depths of her insides. She swallowed hard and pushed it back down. The feeling was gone before she had a chance to wonder at where it had come from.
TWO
The wait was excruciating but wait she did. She moved along the dock until she found the designated spot: third post from the intake building, then twenty paces out.
“I’ll take my wares.” The words startled her.
Not letting the mage know he had startled her, she lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll take my money.”
Mage and thief stared at one another for a moment, each challenging the other. A smile slowly cracked the stone features of the mage. “Of course.” He reached within his tunic and pulled out a pouch. It jingled as he handed it over. Mey took it as she held out the box containing the mask with her other hand. As soon as his fingers brushed hers, she felt a sensation of falling. The familiar surroundings of salty air and lapping waves seemed to melt away, revealing someplace not quite as comfortable; an alleyway. The litter and stink of rotting food was as real as the beating of her heart. She looked around, frantically scanning the surroundings. There were people; lots of them. They passed and crowded her, but never looked at or acknowledged her presence, as if she didn’t even exist. A soft, whispering voice broke into her mind. “Your friend looks to be in some trouble.”
Her head snapped around and she scanned the crowd. In the middle of the fray, she saw Garrin’s face. Strong will and determination showed in his set jaw and hardened eyes. He held his sword in a defensive stance. Too many, she thought. There are too many of them! She tried to move forward, to reach her friend and offer some aid. She was held fast. She fought to raise her leg but it was as if someone were holding her feet firmly in place. “NO!” she screamed, but nothing sounded in the mass of people around her.
A quiet voice sounded in her mind. “You cannot do anything. What you are witnessing has already taken place. There is no preventing what has already passed.”
Her eyes widened as she took in what was transpiring. They were going to kill him! She fought against the vision with every fiber of her being. A trick! she told herself. A lie! This isn’t real! “Garrin…Garrin, can you hear me?” But the scene played on. Massive men drew closer to the slight figure, now backed against the wall. Fierce eyes darted from one to the next, defying them, daring them to try something. Garrin shifted from foot to foot, balancing himself and measuring the odds. As quick as lightning, he sprung upward, grasping a low eave and heaving himself over to jump clear of the men. Mey’s heart leapt with him.
Time seemed to slow as she watched the men jab, slash and reach for Garrin as he passed over them. As he landed, one of the men turned and Garrin’s eyes went wide. A range of emotions passed over his features: pain, fear, regret, pride, anger. Mey let out an anguished cry; the sound breaking the rapt silence between the mage and herself. Screaming, she turned toward the voice in her ear and forced all of her hatred and anger at the mage. He flew back with the force of the blow, surprise evident on his face. She closed her eyes, and the sensation of falling returned. Everything seemed to swim together.
When she opened her eyes, they were on the dock once again. She heard a muffled grunt as the mage struggled to his knees and finally to his feet. His hands were covering his head and he shook it frantically to clear it.
Mey was vaguely aware of his footsteps cautiously approaching. She felt him lean in to her and heard the fierce whisper of his voice. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Ignoring his question, she asked her own. “Why? Why show me? To what purpose?”
“I don’t choose the vision.”
“It’s not real,” she said through clenched teeth, ignoring his cryptic response.
“Yes, it is real.” He stepped in front of her. “Now, how did you do that? How did you throw me out of my own spell? How?” She turned her green eyes toward him then. He shuddered.
“I don’t know!” She spat the words at him. “And even if I did, I would die with that knowledge rather than reveal it to you!”
He dropped his hand and as he looked into her eyes, a spark flared there. The tiniest bit of light, but it was there! He looked closer at her face. Beautiful, haunting, frightening. He took a step back. “The alleyway - behind the Twisted Twig.”
Mey blinked. The spark disappeared, almost as if it were never there. She stared at the mage for only a moment longer, and then she was gone. He followed her movement with his eyes, and wondered to himself. He marveled at the feeling that gripped his heart. She’s the one. It frightened him.
**********
Mey ran through the streets, heedless of anyone or anything. The only thing going through her mind was Garrin. Was it true? He was the closest thing to family she had. Emotions hung on the fringes of her heart, threatening to overtake her at any moment. She fought them and pushed them away. After all, she wasn’t certain yet.
She slowed as she approached the entry to the alleyway. There she stopped and listened. Not a sound; not even the usual sounds of rodents and animals prowling the trash at the back of the shops. Peering in as far as she could, Mey strained to see something, anything. Was that something on the ground? She blinked and tried to focus. Fear gripped her stomach and twisted it so tight she nearly lost her footing. Hesitantly she entered the shadows, keeping enough presence of mind to blend herself into her surroundings, keeping as quiet as possible.
Tears started to form in her eyes as she approached the dark stain. Her heart was telling her it wasn’t Garrin’s blood, but her mind was insisting on accepting the reality of the mage’s vision. She looked down. There were rust-colored spots on a canvas that was draped off to the far side of the building. She choked back a sob that threatened to give her away to anything or anyone that might be nearby. With shaking hands, she reached down to move the cloth aside. As the cloth slid slowly away, she closed her eyes, readying herself for what she would reveal. She opened her eyes and squared her stance, pulling strength from the memory of his voice. She looked down. Nothing but trash. A gasp escaped her, as if all the wind had been knocked from her lungs.
Quietly, she knelt and reached out. She touched the dark stain on the cobbled ground and mouthed his name, “Garrin.” She let the tears come. She couldn’t deny what was right there in front of her face. They must have dragged him off, planning to dump his body unceremoniously in a place no one would ever find. He didn’t deserve that, not Garrin – the brother she never had. She let her wounded heart open and spill forth the poisonous emotions that had been held at bay. She bowed her head and sobbed silently for a very long time. All the questions that would go unanswered ran through her mind, along with all the promises and all the dreams that had gone unnoticed by the fates. Her heart longed for him to embrace her with his strong, comforting arms. That she would nev
er again feel his comforting embrace cut the wound deeper.
Mey stood, turned and walked from the alley, not once looking back. She walked away from the only life she was comfortable with, striding slowly into the unknown future. Losing Garrin was like losing her father all over again. Of course, she wasn’t entirely sure if her father was truly lost. She stopped before stepping into the street beyond. She made a silent vow then and there to recover at least part of all she had lost in her lifetime. If she couldn’t find her father, she would at least piece together his legacy. The only thing in this world that was left to her to claim.
**********
Mey thought about how Garrin’s body should be burned on a pyre outside the city. Some of the races still believed in putting people in the earth after death. She always honored her elven heritage in the belief that once dead, the body belonged not only to the earth, but to the sky, the sun, the wind, and the water. Burning the body released the soul so that it might fly to every end of the world and become part of all that exists. Garrin wouldn’t have minded. He’d always said that after he was dead, he wouldn’t care.
She felt lost with him gone. They had been together for so long now that she couldn’t really remember a time without him. But there had been a time without him. A very long time; after all she was eighty years old. Nearly twenty years with Garrin was a drop in the bucket when put in terms of elven life. She did not age as slowly as full elves, but she aged slower than humans. She always knew she would outlive Garrin, but this was too soon.
The days swam by endlessly and the nights only brought loneliness. It seemed an eternity had passed in the few days after losing Garrin. Mey stayed in a small room above a tavern that looked as though it would tumble to the ground with one good gust of wind. A place Garrin had proffered. She spent most of her time in the large open room downstairs that served as the tavern’s common room. She watched the rabble that drifted in and out, saw the seedy dealings pass between them, heard the contracts made on some poor soul’s life and more than once was approached by the dirty, crude and foul-smelling patron who thought her an easy target for a night’s romp. For the most part, she sent them on their way with harsh words and threats of a short life if the inquiry were to go any further.
There was an unlucky one, however. He had looked a lot like one of the men that had followed her and Garrin that night. Suddenly, revenge seemed very sweet. She played into his hands, letting him think he was going to enjoy a night of special attention. She caressed his stinking face and kissed his foul mouth without ever once pulling away; leading him the whole time to believe she was only there for one purpose.
She took him up to her room. He was all too eager and full of the strong spirits that this place served. They entered the room and she was quick to lock the door behind them. She turned and smiled at him. If he could have guessed what was behind the smile, he would have run as fast as he could and very far away.
**********
A couple of weeks later, as she sat, sipping, but not really tasting, the wine in front of her past events of her childhood plagued her. Time went on and eventually she found herself thinking of the mage. An image of him burned into her memory; the eyes, crystal blue, bluer than any she had ever before seen, haunted her. She saw truth in those eyes. A truth Mey wasn’t so sure she was ready for.
Lost in her reverie, a voice, vaguely familiar, tore her from her thoughts and she shuddered. “The elf, Moonshadow. Where is she?” She looked to her right, where the voice seemed to have come from and instinctively hunched further back in the shadows. No one was there. In fact, no one was within more than ten or so strides from where she sat. She listened more intently and focused on the voice. “I have business to discuss with her. I know she’s here. Tell me where I can find her.”
Puzzlement clouded Mey’s face. She had no business with anyone. In fact, the only job she had taken since Garrin’s death two weeks earlier was petty thievery. Lifting a purse here and there, acquiring a wanted item for someone who claimed it was his to begin with; just enough to get her by. The last of those had been days ago. She had spoken to no one else of any business.
A strange sensation crept into Mey’s head. Twisting and writhing its way deeper into her mind. She pushed at it with a force that seemed to rise within her.
The voice resounded in her mind as she tried to determine how she knew it and from which direction it had come. She scanned the room with keen eyes, looking for its source. Then she saw him. Her eyes narrowed and anger began to bubble deep within. She let the energy of that anger fill her. As if she had tapped him on the shoulder, the mage turned, with some confusion, and looked directly at her. The smile that spread across his face was as repulsive as it was intriguing. “Ah, I have found you.” As she locked onto his gaze, she realized this time the voice was in her mind. She let out a gasp of surprise. Only one other had communicated with her this way, and he was miles away, in Orphana, the elven homeland in the south. The mage’s smile twisted further upward with the indication that he knew the thoughts in her mind.
He began walking toward her, slowly, and with purpose. Mey instinctively placed a hand on the hilt of a dagger. She felt trapped, like an animal snared. Her mind fought desperately to free itself. As suddenly as it started, she felt him let go. When she looked up, he was sitting in front of her.
He peered intently into her eyes, his face alight with a mix of both surprise and curiosity. “Interesting,” he murmured. “You have once again managed to break the bond between myself and my spell. And the light was brighter this time.”
“What light? What do you want from me? You got your precious mask,” she said. “Why do you keep following me?”
He looked at her, as if only just noticing where he was. “Oh, yes. I sought you out because I need your help.”
“I want nothing more to do with you. Leave me alone!” Mey started to stand, but quicker than the eye could trace, his hand snaked out and held her arm fast. She froze. The touch set every nerve ending in her body on fire. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Remove your hand.”
He held her a moment longer, searching her face. Slowly, he released his grip and let go of her arm. “Let us start again. Please…sit. I will explain.”
Mey straightened and looked at him warily. She spoke quietly. “I don’t know what power this is that you possess. I don’t trust it. A very dear friend of mine is dead because of a job you commissioned. I will promise only to listen to your proposal.” She sat back down in the chair across from him and gestured for him to continue.
He was silent for a moment. “My name is Thom Uray. I was sent from the Mage’s Circle to locate the person who can collect the Heartstone of the Idylic; the essence of dragonkind that the world is so desperately missing. It is rumored that creation itself is caught in the facets of its surface. Since time began, the Idylic was kept with the creatures of dragonkind. These creatures were entrusted, by the creators, with the safe-keeping and well-being of the world. Throughout history, one has been designated to sit and keep watch--“
“I know the history of the world,” Mey interrupted. “Do you have a point or am I subject to continue the studies I left behind as a child?”
“Very well. When the last Keeper was forced from this world, she shattered the Idylic and scattered its pieces to the far corners. Through the years, the Mage’s Circle has dedicated itself to preserving the history of dragons. The prophecy says that one day, one of their own lineage will be recruited to find the lost Heartstone and bring them back together. This chosen one has the power of the dragons.”
“So what do you need my help with? I am no mage. And I have never been privy to anything the Mage’s Circle has done before.” Bitter sarcasm dripped from her words like acid.
“Before the Keeper left our world, she forced the only true dragon left here to make a choice. It is said that this dragon had fallen in love with an elf. She was given the choice to be with the man she loved and become tied to this wor
ld in mortal form or to join her kindred and leave this world forever. The dragon chose a life with her elven love. The power of her ancestors has lived on in her line.”
“Mage, you have five more seconds to get around to what this has to do with me. You have done nothing but rant of the torn Idylic and the choices of a race that died out centuries ago. If this was entrusted to the Mage’s Circle, what use is this to me?” Mey’s eyes held the warning that if a point was not reached soon, the mage may very well meet the creators he spoke of.
The mage smiled as he continued. “No one has encountered dragonkind for hundreds of years. Not until, on a dock, several nights ago, a half-elven thief used the power of her ancestors to break a mage’s spell.”
Mey’s eyes widened with every word he spoke. The realization that he was speaking of her took a moment to register. When it fully did, the ridiculousness of his statement struck her. She began to chuckle. The laughter hit her with such force, she couldn’t stop. It felt good. All the pain, the frustrations, the lack of sleep in the past few weeks, came out in that laugh. She let it go, let it cleanse her spirit of all the negative presences. Tears sprung to her eyes and between gasps, she managed to speak. “You can’t possibly…you think I…”
The stricken look on the mage’s face made her laugh harder. He actually believes this! she thought in wonder. People were beginning to turn and look their way.
“Please,” he hissed, “you are attracting unwanted attention!”
But she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t felt this much like herself in days. She continued to laugh, not even attempting to stop it. Anger boiled to the surface of the mage’s eyes. They flared and color blossomed in his cheeks. He stood, shoving the chair back without heed to anyone behind him.
Reborn (The Dragons of Cantor Book 1) Page 2