Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  Marc nodded.

  “The other rooms you passed are filled with them, as well as other projects I have been working on.”

  Marad turned back to his work and Marc and the others watched.

  The blacksmith walked over to the table and began to browse. He lifted up one rock, and, holding it in his palm he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Shaking his head he returned the rock to its place, picking up another and repeating the process until he had selected one to his liking. He nodded his head and returned to the anvil. With the selected rock in one hand he brought his other hand over to it and pulled it away. Magically the metal within the rock was extracted, moving visually like liquid but being held by the magic. With the floating liquid form of the metal Marad placed it upon Zildjin’s sword and fused the metal with the weapon. A number of visual deformities appeared upon the blade as a consequence of the transfer and Marad raised his hammer to strike them out.

  Zildjin’s blade slowly began to change from a dull metal gray to a sharp and sleek bright silver. A sort of bluish tint also began to come out until it dominated the silver hue.

  After what felt like a good hour, Marc had finished his breakfast and Marad had finished his work on Zildjin’s weapon.

  “It is done,” Mara said. He took the improved sword and brought it back to its owner.

  Zildjin inspected it carefully, admiring the work.

  “It is lighter, stronger, and more durable,” Marad noted, “You will never have to sharpen this blade again.”

  “Incredible,” Zildjin oohed, “And the inscription. It looks stunning!”

  Marc noticed that the same symbols and figure found on Zildjin’s medallion which he had received from Lanvar was now the blade and parts of the armor.

  Marad handed Zildjin his medallion back, having used it as a guide for the smithing work.

  “I thought you sold it,” Marc noted, pointing to the medallion.

  “I traced it down and got it back while we were resupplying.”

  “Oh, good.”

  Why didn’t you mention that sooner? Marc thought, but forgot about it when Marad spoke.

  “Well,” Marad looked at them, “What next?”

  ***

  They spent almost a full fortnight in Essoril, with Puck’s family, mostly because of Marad’s insistence to work his magic on their equipment.

  Every time someone, usually Cydas, would suggest they quicken their pace onward, Marad would tell them it would not be much longer.

  It was a wonderful time, though, especially since Marc had practically publicly announced his feelings for Laura when he had kissed her in front of Puck’s sister and Mother. He wasn’t afraid to express more of his feelings for her, like holding her hand and giving her other kisses on the cheek. They still did not share stronger kisses in front of others like the one they had shared privately in Terga after the dance, but they were more open with their affections in front of the others.

  Puck’s family was more than kind, especially to Marc. Marc continued to insist they stop using all the formalities of his title around him and though they tried to accommodate his wishes he could tell that he was still being treated special.

  Marad continued to work on improving the gear and weapons of Marc and his friends. Puck spent almost all his time working with his father, learning techniques and improving his magical ability. Some things, however, Marad found he could not do anything with, such as the Sword of the Phoenix.

  “It is already at a level beyond even the enhanced understanding my magic gives me,” Marad stated.

  As well as Drake’s two katanas.

  “There is a strangeness to them, something I have never before seen nor that I can amplify or improve. They are already quite superb in quality. But I would be wary of these,” he told Drake, “I fear that the strangeness I sense in them is not of goodness.”

  He also began to work on armor for each of them. Marc was worried that they would remain in Essoril for months while Marad finished a single set of armor but Marad proved that his magic made him a much better and faster blacksmith than any other. Marad sat down with each of them individually to talk with them about the armor. He told them it was part of the creation process. He wanted to know about them personally, to get to know them better, to get to know their magical abilities. He wanted to know what they were looking for more in armor, flexibility, lightness, durability, quickness of suiting up and dressing down of the armor, everything.

  “I knew it was in my blood,” Marad said one day as he worked.

  Marc stood in the center of the smithery while Puck and Marad fitted a number of light but hardened metal plates over his shoulders.

  “I still cannot believe it,” Puck agreed, “Rynar, one of my great ancestors. And the magic that forged the Sword of the Phoenix runs within me.”

  Marc was impressed with Marad’s work. He took the simple shoulder plate and gauntlet/glove combination that Eleanor had made for him and worked out a full suit of armor that was still light and flexible but extremely durable based on the same design, even incorporating the symbol of the Defiant Dragoons crest. He and Puck spent an entire afternoon sketching and recreating the Phoenix that was carved into Marc’s sword. After they were acquainted enough with the image they worked together to forge the symbol on the chest plate, the checkered kite shield in the background. Little carved flames and other details adorned the armor as well. The overall effect was amazing. The main color of the armor was gold with black streaks almost like fire here and there.

  “Tarenium,” Marad said, “I traded dearly for this from a Relic Hunter. It comes only from the Black Peaks, and is extremely rare. I wish I had more so I could more fully integrate it within your armor, but at least it is present. These streaks of black here,” He pointed out on the armor, “is the Tarenium.”

  The streaks of black were not simply splashed on but Marad had specifically formed them so they worked aesthetically well with the other designs on the armor.

  “I have worked everything so that it is light and allows for better flexibility in combat without sacrificing durability or toughness. According to Legend, Tarenium also has special properties specifically regarding magic.”

  “What does it do?” Marc asked.

  “It either reflects magic, or absorbs it.”

  “Which one?”

  Marad simply shrugged, “What is written about Tarenium is not precisely clear in this regard, whether it is by chance, or whether it is the wearer of the armor that decides. In my experience it is by chance, though I guess only time will tell.”

  Marc nodded with a half shrug as well.

  Their time spent eating together was also time spent conversing. They discussed many various topics from the cold weather that was fast approaching, to the rise in prices on goods and services in the area, but what they talked about the most was the mission that Marc and the others were embarking on. Lilis was surprised that a family heirloom, the crystal shard, was such a powerful thing, an actual piece to the Summoning Stone from the legends and histories of Lyrridia. Marad was surprised as well when Puck told them the crystal’s ability to amplify magical powers. Stories that they had simply told briefly they were able to share with much more detail. Lilis and Marad were proud of their son when he spoke of the Bloodcloak soldier he had come upon the opportunity to exact revenge, and had spared instead. Everyone was interested in hearing, in detail, about the light in Kolima and the restoration of the Sword of the Phoenix.

  “We saw the light, even from here,” Lilis said,

  “It was hard to believe,” Marad added, “we did not know what it was, but we saw it.”

  Marc told the story from his perspective, Cydas from his, and Zildjin and even Sesuadra spoke up, describing the scene on that night.

  At other times Marc spoke of the many visions he had had, of Laura, Drake, and Puck. Zildjin and Sesuadra spoke of their experience with the two magical creatures, the Forest Guardian, and the sleek black creature who lo
oked like a small rovaar with less fur. That led to Lilis and Marad inquiring about Soren, Eleanor, and Topar, all mentioned in the story. Zildjin, Sesuadra, with some input from Marc, described their time in Kolima and of Eleanor’s relation to them.

  “We shall send her a message,” Lilis said, “I will let her know that you have arrived in Essoril in safety and that we took you under our protection and care.”

  “She will appreciate it very much,” Marc said.

  After hearing of Zildjin and Sesuadra’s experience Laura brought up her experience with the same creature and her magical vision of Zheund.

  ***

  One of the evenings Marc was heading to the room he was sharing with Sesuadra and when he got there he opened the door without knocking.

  Sesuadra had been sitting at a desk facing away from the door unwrapping his arms but the instant the door opened in one swift hasty motion he stood up from the desk and covered his left arm, which was bare, beneath his shirt and his halfway unwrapped right arm behind his back.

  “Yes?” Sesuadra looked directly at Marc with a look that told Marc all he needed to know, get out.

  “Sorry,” Marc said and began to close the door, “I didn’t know I was interrupting, sorry.”

  Marc shut the door all the way and turned to face the hall. That was strange… Marc thought. But now that he thought about it, in all the time he had spent with Sesuadra he had never once seen his forearms bare, and he Zildjin and Sesuadra had gone swimming plenty of times. Sesuadra had been quick to cover his arms and Marc hadn’t seen anything. Maybe he has some embarrassing scars or something…

  Marc shook his head which was already filled with too many things like Laura.

  ***

  Finally, the day came when Marad had finished a set of armor for everyone in the group.

  “I have accomplished in a fortnight, what would have taken others many cycles to do. I invoke the Exalted that my magic will have made a difference.”

  “It will,” Marc said, “We are all more grateful than words can express. The armor is wonderful, and Lilis, the food is wonderful too.”

  Lilis had supplied them with several days of fully prepared meals as well as foodstuffs for several fortnights after.

  When they all put on their armor, they appeared like the warriors and heroes that fate was calling them to be.

  With the group now fully equipped they were ready to depart.

  It was time to go.

  It was morning, bright and early, when Marc sat atop Redmor, ready to travel on the road once again.

  Everyone else was on their own mount.

  “Be safe,” Lilis said worriedly, “We will keep in contact with Eleanor as much as we can.”

  Marc nodded.

  “May the improvements on your equipment and weapons prove useful,” Marad noted.

  Zildjin nodded, rubbing the medallion now embedded onto the hilt of his sword out of a newly formed habit.

  “Exalted keep you!” Aliyana told her brother, near the back of the group.

  Puck nodded and smiled, “And you too.”

  “I am glad you came back,” Ranasa said, “Even after everything you went through. You are an inspiration to me.”

  “How so?” He finally said.

  “I think if I had been in that situation,” He whispered, “I would have killed him.”

  Puck had not time to reply as Marc finally said.

  “Goodbye!”

  And they were off.

  Chapter Forty Three

  Fallhaven

  On the map, the distance between Essoril and Fallhaven appeared the same as Kolima to Terga.

  And it almost was.

  But the way that time passed with the group traveling as a whole with a single purpose, rather than four traveling with faint direction, seemed very different, much quicker.

  Mornings consisted of breaking down camp, cooking first meal and eating it. Days consisted of travel on the road, and off it when it seemed the faster choice. Afternoons were spent training with Drake. They suited up in their new armor and realized that their improved weapons needed some getting used to, especially since most had been lightened. Evenings were spent making camp, sitting around the fire and talking, and nights were spent sleeping.

  The group fell into a routine, each with their own duties to fulfill every day and night.

  The weather and land began to change as they traveled as well. The trees grew in larger thickets, the underbrush thicker and fuller than before. A chill took to the air, a coldness that was beginning to overtake the nights.

  Marc and Laura shared only a few kisses when no one was looking, and held hands when they were.

  Marc found himself wondering sometimes about customs and if he was acting appropriately or not towards Laura. He recalled the celebration in Terga, and how Zildjin had asked Laura to dance. Was there something special he should be doing, or something he shouldn’t do? Marc never really had had a superb set of adult role models in his life and so he had set about trying to create his own set of morals and standards to live by pieced together from his observations of those around him outside the home, Most of the time he simply went with his feeling towards Laura. Things just felt right with her.

  The map was an incredible help. With its powerful enchantment they were able to navigate off-road terrain with unprecedented accuracy. Even on things to small degrees such as fallen trees blocking a path, they could circumvent by following alternate routes, saving hours and even days of their time that they would have wasted backtracking and exploring.

  “I’m not going to go easy this time,” Marc said one afternoon as he stood a fair distance away, facing Drake.

  Marc had the Sword of the Phoenix drawn but not ignited, Drake had both of his katanas unsheathed as well. Both were in defensive stances. They were both suited up in the armor Marad had made for them.

  Sesuadra and Zildjin were sparring off to one side and Cydas and Puck were sparring off to the other side. Laura was sharpening a dagger while watching Marc and Drake spar.

  “So you have been going easy every sparring session until now?” Drake said.

  “Well,” Marc looked left then right, “No.”

  Drake gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, not believing Marc.

  “I just mean now I’m really going to try my hardest to best you.”

  “So you have not been trying your hardest all the other—”

  “Just,” Marc said, half-frustrated, “Let’s start already.”

  “I have been ready this whole time, simply waiting on you.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  Marc released the magical flames and let the golden aura alight around him.

  Instead of opening his mouth with a battle cry and charging forward he simply advanced towards Drake with slow but steady steps, one foot after the other, the Phoenix Blade in front of him, poised to strike.

  Marc brought the Sword of the Phoenix in a rapid low swinging arc moving upwards. Drake had never seen Marc move so quickly.

  Drake was able to counter with one of his katanas but just barely, and brought the other in a forward stabbing thrust. Marc swung his left arm and deflected the slightly long curved blade away. Marc then pushed the Sword of the Phoenix up, driving the hilt towards Drake.

  The two then engaged in a lightning fast exchange of strikes and parries. Laura watched in surprise at Marc’s sudden increase in speed. The fire on the Phoenix Blade was nothing more than a blur of light followed closely behind by Marc’s equally quick footing.

  The two dodged and ducked, spinning and twirling, each clang of the swords grew quicker and louder.

  Marc felt himself finally gaining the upper hand against Drake. Marc spun the Phoenix Blade around in a mighty blow, connecting with one of Drake’s katanas. Marc twisted his weapon, using the hilt to spin the katana around and yank it out of Drake’s grip.

  Drake spun and dodged, ducking away from Marc in surprise.

  Marc kicked the fallen k
atana away.

  “Just one sword now,” Marc said, “fairly even odds now, I always thought you had the better chance with two swords.”

  “Less talk, more fight,” Drake replied coldly.

  The others began to stop their sparring and turned their attention towards Marc and Drake.

  Now each with a single weapon Marc advanced once more towards Drake.

  Marc allowed the fire to flare on the Phoenix Blade, demonstrating his gaining the upper hand.

  Drake shook his head and advanced as well, not remaining still like he usually did.

  After a number of tension filled steps Drake finally charged forward with a downwards strike.

  Sparks flew as Marc lifted the Phoenix Blade and parried the attack.

  Marc could feel a fierce strength from Drake that hadn’t been in any other strike up until that point. Marc pushed Drake’s katana away and thrust the Phoenix Blade forward. Drake countered and the two swordsmen were at it again with several strikes and blocks. Without really thinking about it Marc began to draw more and more from the power and the aura around him began to grow.

  Dirt and loose pebbles around them began to be flung away purely from the magical aura permeating from Marc and the Sword of the Phoenix.

  Sweat flew in great drops from Marc’s forehead and nose but he had no free moment to wipe his face.

  Strike, block, counterstrike, parry. Blow after blow the fight continued, neither relenting.

  Marc felt his lungs begin to complain, struggling to draw breath.

  “Drake!” Marc said almost breathlessly, at a volume only he and Drake could hear, “Drake!”

  Marc thought he saw something, a darkening of Drake’s face, almost like a computer when it glitches for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone.

  Drake’s attacks suddenly became quicker somehow, strengthened to a degree Marc had never seen. Drake did not seem to be a young boy any longer, his appearance a deception somehow.

  One hit, barely blocked, then a second.