by Peter Last
Finally there was a lull in the conversation. Apparently the surrounding people had run out of stupid questions to ask, and Josiah was left to eat in peace. He ate as quickly as possible, not wanting anything to tie him to this place longer than was absolutely necessary. After he was finished with the meal, he sat back and began to scan the crowd. It was a lot more fun to people watch with a friend, but doing it solo was still better than listening to whatever droll subjects the council members around him were talking about.
Josiah's eyes settled on a section of tables where the cadets of both academies had congregated for the banquet. They were talking and laughing and, by all appearances, having a much better time than he was. With the events of the past week, he hadn't had much time to think, but it suddenly occurred to him that the young men and women sitting out there were his best friends in the whole world. He had fought side by side with them, trusted his life to them, and come out the other side with them. If fire forged stronger steel, combat forged stronger friendships, ones that words simply couldn't describe.
His eyes scanned the cadets one at a time; and he thought of all of the times over the past several days that he had come to rely on them. Cirro was the first to come to mind because they had fought side by side for almost the entirety of the battle or 'war' as it was starting to be called. Every time that he had turned around, Cirro had been there helping him or defending him. Their friendship was certainly stronger than it had ever been.
Besides Cirro, the host of new friends that he had made was astounding. Timothy and Vladimir, Senndra, Rita, even Lemin was, in his mind, counted among his friends. These and countless others had stood with him through thick and thin over the last several days, and what they had accomplished had been amazing. Being victorious against an army of dwarves was impressive in and of itself, especially considering the size of their force, but to defeat them so completely went beyond all expectations. Granted dragons had played a very important role in the victory, but the actions of the soldiers could not be discounted. The event had, however, given Josiah a new respect and appreciation for dragons as assets in a battle.
If there was one thing that Josiah placed above all else, in this encounter, it was the new appreciation and knowledge that he had of Elohim. While most people professed to follow Him, Lemin was one that actually did with all of his being. The elf had been convincing on the subject to say the least and Josiah knew that he would be pursuing it more fully in the weeks to come.
Just as Josiah was getting comfortable, out of nowhere, the questions began again- more stupid questions from people that didn't know a blasted thing. Oh well, perhaps, contrary to his first impressions, they were actually trying to understand some of this so that they could make better decisions in the future. At least, he could only hope. Otherwise all of this talking would become completely useless. With an internal sigh he began answering the questions again, seeing the rest of his night disappearing before his eyes.
******
Timothy was having a great time at the feast, cramming his mouth with food and swapping stories and jokes with the soldiers around him. Though he scarcely realized the transition, many of these people had become his best friends over the past several days. He looked to where Vladimir was seated on the other side of the table and several seats to his right. Shared experience and facing death together seemed to bind people faster than years of training together ever had a chance to do.
Timothy looked down to where Lemin, though he was a Commander, sat among the rank and file of the army, laughing and joking with them. That was an instructor that he would have to pay more attention to and spend more time with in the future. He knew how to take control of his men in battle and maintained their respect for him, but at the same time managed to keep a certain familiarity with them. It was a skill that most officers lacked and yet, one that was almost necessary for a good command presence. Not to mention that the elf was a master magician and could certainly teach Timothy a thing or two.
Timothy also realized with a certain amount of surprise that he considered the elf to be one of his friends. He would still feel awkward exchanging jokes with him and the feeling of respect toward the instructor still remained, but something was different now. Lemin was relatable now, unlike most other instructors at the academy. Lemin had stood with Timothy against hordes of enemies and together they had been victorious. They had watched each other's backs and saved each other's lives on multiple occasions. And they were both magicians, a connection that few shared with the elf. It would be a strange friendship Timothy knew, but it was one that he definitely wanted to continue.
Timothy allowed his eyes to continue to wander, and they came to rest on Senndra, a girl he had gone to school with for several years and yet hadn't really paid much attention to until recently. During the past few weeks, they had become better acquainted, but now, like a blow to the head instantly reorganizing his thoughts, he saw her differently. He hadn't realized this before, probably because he always saw Senndra with Rita, who was admittedly the more attractive of the two, but Senndra was quite pretty. Add to that the fact that she had an incredible personality, was smart and funny, and had a million other traits that Timothy appreciated and suddenly he had a funny feeling in his chest.
Timothy had never been in love before, nor did he believe in love at first sight. On the other hand, it wasn't like he was seeing Senndra for the first time, though in a way it felt like that was the case. He told himself that he shouldn't feel anything for her, but the feeling that had appeared only a few moments ago grew stronger as he thought more about her. He had to admit to himself that he liked Senndra, but that didn't mean that she had any feelings for him. As far as he knew, she saw him as nothing more than a friend.
Senndra turned to look in Timothy's direction, and their eyes met. He was flustered, but was determined to not let it show on his face. He raised his glass slightly to acknowledge her and was about to look away when she motioned with her head. The movement was very slight, but somehow he knew what it meant anyway: Let's get out of here.
Timothy was taken aback for a moment, then rationalized it. He was just interpreting it like he wanted to interpret it. But, he didn't even want to see it that way. She was just a friend, he told himself, a friend and nothing more. The way his heart was pounding in his chest seemed to disagree. He squinted in a quizzical fashion and shrugged his shoulders slightly to let her know that he didn't understand what she was trying to convey.
Senndra’s motion was again slight, but this time she used her hand. Again the meaning was unmistakable: Let's get out of here. Timothy actually started to sweat. He, who had held his own against legions of dwarves, who had personally dispatched scores of the enemy, who was not frightened in the most dangerous of circumstances, sweated at the thought of being alone with Senndra Felling. He gave a slight nod to indicate that he understood what she was conveying and stood up from his place at the table. He had a lame excuse prepared to explain his departure, but no one noticed.
Senndra met him about twenty yards from their table, grabbed his hand, and started through the crowd. They moved north until they had broken out of the drill field and away from the people. Senndra released Timothy's hand, and they walked in silence toward the northern wall of the city. Timothy took Senndra’s hand as they climbed a set of newly assembled stairs that led to the top of the wall. They sat on some boxes that were by the parapet and looked to the north. By now the sky had darkened considerably, and the moon was just beginning to rise.
“It’s beautiful,” Senndra said, motioning to the landscape in front of them. Timothy looked out and saw that the word beautiful was about the only way to describe the scenery before him. The moon bathed the plain and mountains in a pale light that made even the foreboding Mt. Nebal look pretty. Timothy looked at Senndra and said the first thing that jumped into his head.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“How long did it take you to come up with that?” Senndra asked and
pulled her hand from his. She gave a small laugh and added, “I mean, I don’t want to be cruel, but that was a pretty pathetic attempt at a compliment.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to make my next one better, won’t I?” Timothy said.
“You’re a smart person, so I’m sure that you’ll be able to,” Senndra assured him.
“Well, it’s not going to be too hard for me,” Timothy said. “I mean, it’s actually hard to think of an insult for you.”
“You mean you can’t think of anything that you don’t like about me?” Senndra asked. When Timothy nodded she laughed. “I know you must be talking about someone else because there are lots of things wrong with me.”
“Well, you just point them out to me and I’ll be sure to insult you with them,” Timothy said.
“I think that I would rather you not know what they are,” Senndra decided. “You’ll just have to figure them out for yourself if you want to know.”
“Forget what I just said, I've got one,” Timothy said. “You like to be hard to get along with.”
“That’s very perceptive of you,” Senndra laughed. “If I can continue to convince you that that is my worst vice, I’ll be doing well.”
“I don’t know about that,” Timothy disagreed. “There are very few things in this world that I hate more than someone who is hard to get along with. I don’t know why, but I just can’t stand someone like that.”
“If you hate me so much, why haven’t you left yet?” Senndra asked coyly.
“I don’t know,” Timothy answered. “I guess I must think that there's a chance of changing you. Also, you actually put up with me, so...”
“You know what I think?” Senndra asked. “I believe that you don’t actually hate people that are hard to get along with. I think you like it when I am being difficult.”
“Now you are the one who is being very perceptive," Timothy said. “I don’t know if I can handle a woman with as much insight as you have.”
Senndra gave a small laugh and leaned her head on Timothy's shoulder. They sat there together for a long time, talking about nothing and at the same time talking about everything. The moon was almost straight above them when they climbed down from the wall and walked across the city to the south wall. They exchanged a word with the soldiers who were guarding it and passed through to the area that contained the military camp. When they reached Senndra’s tent, they said goodnight, and Senndra entered the cloth dwelling. She quickly prepared for bed and slid between her blankets, all the while thinking about Timothy. He was not like the other boys her age; rather he seemed to be more mature and courteous. She fell asleep thinking about him.
Timothy strolled back to his tent. When he reached it, he looked one last time at the moon before passing inside. In no time he was rolled up in his blankets and drifting off to sleep very rapidly. That night he dreamed about Senndra Felling.
******
Those days were some of the happiest for the cadets of both academies at Saddun; however, all things must come to an end, even those that are the best of this life. The dignitaries left Saddun and were followed shortly by the cadets of the Academy of Belvárd. The ogres stayed longer to prevent a repeat attack; however, none was forthcoming, and they returned to their forest in short order. A portion of the elves stayed after all the others had left, convinced that there would soon be a threat to the security of Magessa. They waited for half a year and more, but their vigilance appeared to be unnecessary. Eventually, even they returned to their home in the forest across the mountains.
Peace had returned to Magessa by all outward appearances; however, Mt. Nebal, the dwarf fortress, still stood ominously to the north of Saddun while to the west, the black shadow of Volexa Temp marred the landscape. At the center of Volexa Temp stood a black tower that pointed to the heavens before branching off near its summit. In this tower resided Molkekk, bane of Magessa, who was loath to see any free nation. To be sure, he wanted nothing more than to cast his shadow over the nation to the south of him, but he knew full well that the dwarves had been foiled in their attempt to capture it. Therefore, he determined to wait and watch for the time when he would be able to complete the task that they had started.
Epilogue
Darkness engulfed the room. The wizard swept across the only illuminated section of floor toward a large glass orb resting on a massively ornamented pedestal. Although his face normally boasted a look of smug satisfaction, it showed only fear now. Sweat stood out on his bald head and even his expansive robes seemed diminished somehow. News of the “Dwarven Failure” as it was already being referred to had just arrived and it was the wizard’s job to deliver it to the dark lord. Given the nature of the news, this would probably be the last time he brought any news, and he knew it. His hand shook as he placed it on the orb as if to scry some distant location.
“Why are you here?” a deafening voice boomed from every corner of the room at once.
“My lord Molkekk, I am afraid I have some bad news,” the wizard said. His face had gone completely pale now, and he waited for Molkekk to respond. When there was nothing but silence, he continued. “The dwarf army that you sent to breach the northern defenses of Magessa has failed.”
There was a blanket of silence for a moment.
“And what of the magicians?” Molkekk finally asked. “Were they harmed in the process?”
“No my lord,” the wizard answered. “He did an excellent job of making sure that they were not.”
“I know that he would like nothing more than to run away from all of this and yet he stays,” Molkekk said. “Apparently the leverage is working. They are still in good health, are they not?”
“Yes my lord,” the wizard answered.
“With the dwarves’ defeat, our position has become more tenuous,” Molkekk said. “We will need to remove some of our assets from this place. You know where to take them?”
“Yes my lord,” the wizard said. After a moment he added, “Will I be moving his family?”
“Yes,” Molkekk said. “Anything that is not a direct military asset will be moved.”
“Understood, my lord,” the wizard said, bowing. “Is there anything else that you require?”
“It was your counsel that convinced me to hire the dwarves,” Molkekk boomed. “You have failed me, but are too great of an asset to wipe away for one mistake. Nevertheless, I do not wish to see you again. You will accompany the assets and stay with them to protect them.”
“Yes, my lord,” the wizard said, happy to escape with his life.
“And wizard,” Molkekk said, stopping his underling in his tracks.
“Yes, lord Molkekk,” the wizard responded, slowly turning around.
“I would not kill you for a single failure, but do not make a habit of it,” Molkekk said. “Fail me again and I will dispose of you.”
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About the Author
Peter Last was very nearly born in an elevator and has continued to be unconventional ever since. He is the sixth child in a large family and has had a conservative upbringing by Yankee parents living in the south. Despite having been homeschooled from kindergarten until twelfth grade, Peter has an expansive social life and has never been locked in a closet. He began writing his first novel, Guardians of Magessa, at the age of eleven, receiving great encouragement from his family in the form of compliments such as “Your book is actually not that bad!” Now, eleven years and several massive rewrites later, Peter is finally ready to release his brilliant work to the world. He is currently slogging his way through his fourth year in college, doggedly working toward a degree in Civil Engineering and promi
sing himself he will have more time next semester. In the little spare time he has, Peter writes a blog (www.peterlast.com) where he posts short stories, reviews books and movies, and addresses a mixture of serious and absurd topics, from global warming to pencil sharpeners. Peter’s other hobbies include drawing, dabbling in amateur film directing, and discharging powerful firearms at shooting ranges. Between school, his social life, and his hobbies, Peter has been forced to cut back on unnecessary activities such as sleeping. At present, he is busy with his series, The Birthright Chronicles, of which Guardians of Magessa is the first volume.
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