Wielder of the Flame

by Nikolas Rex

  “Can’t talk?” she asked, “Don’t worry, that sometimes happens, I’ll get you just the right drink to cure it. Well, to tell you the truth, whatever I get will always be just the right thing, that’s just how it is in this place, you know? Go ahead, choose a seat, whichever one, I’ll be back with your drink in just a moment.”

  The waitress turned and began to walk away. She glanced back at Marc and motioned at the tables, nodding her head with a smile on her face and said, “Its ok, you can sit down, the chairs won’t bite.” And with that she left, passing through the swinging double doors in the back.

  With an innumerable amount of questions swimming through his head Marc shrugged his shoulders and began to make his way through the tables to take a seat. He found it slightly odd that no one looked up at him as he passed, and it didn’t appear that they were being rude to him in particular, it just seemed that they were very engrossed with their conversations, either that or it seemed as if Marc wasn’t even really there at all, after all, it was a slightly odd place.

  There were many empty tables to choose from but finally Marc decided upon one slightly away from the center of the room but not far away enough to be up against a wall, he was never one to be the center of attention but neither was he someone who liked to seclude himself from the group.

  He sat down and immediately felt comfortable, the chair perfectly fitting his height and form, as if it had been made specifically for him in the first place.

  He grinned, despite all the questions he had, and the fact that he still couldn’t talk, because, he simply just loved it, the lighting, the mood, the quiet conversation, the comfortable chair, the fancy table setting and dinnerware, the roofless view, everything, it was just perfect.

  Marc looked down at his lapel and to the rose pinned there and carefully pulled it off to examine it. It was one of the most vibrant, beautiful red roses he had ever seen. He brought it up to his nose and took a waft, it was more than heavenly. There was a tall thin glass filled with water on the table, perfect to put the rose in, and so Marc did just that.

  As the young man placed the flower into the waiting glass Vanessa was approaching the table, balancing a tray in her hands. On top of the silver platter was a simple yet elegantly carved and designed mahogany wood cup.

  “Here’s your drink, it will help you get your voice back.” She said, lowering the plate so he could more easily reach the drink.

  Marc nodded his head in thanks, since he still couldn’t talk, and took the cup, it too, like the chair, fit the form of his hand exactly. The liquid inside it was a rich cerulean blue, also Marc’s favorite color, and smelled absolutely divine. The drink gave off a different aroma with each sip, which of course was impossible, and yet Marc had found that with magic, pretty much anything was possible. First it smelled like cinnamon, then of petrichor, the earthy smell of rain upon dry earth, after was a hint of the metal of the Sword of the Phoenix, sweet griddle-cakes that Eleanor had made for him, and one more Marc just couldn’t place.

  It was delicious, beyond delicious, it was almost indescribable. It was cold at first, and then warm, almost hot, but not enough to hurt going down his throat, it was just perfect.

  After another long sip Marc set the drink down and looked up at Vanessa who seemed to be waiting for an analysis.

  “It’s delicious,” Marc told her. He was glad to have his voice back.

  “Of course,” the waitress replied with a grateful smile, “I’m glad you like it, I made it.”

  “It’s very good, thank you,” Marc said again.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, “May I sit down?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Vanessa took the seat across from the young man.

  “So—” Marc said after she had gotten comfortable, “Now that I have my voice back—where am I?”

  “Why ‘Roy’s Legendary Inn and Diner’ of course, he owns the place.” Vanessa responded, pointing to the man behind the bar, “Well, co-owns.”

  The man behind the counter smiled and waved at the two of them when he saw the woman motion towards his direction, the white rag swaying back and forth in his hand, then he returned to cleaning glasses.

  After returning a wave and smile to Roy, Marc looked back at Vanessa.

  “Co-owns?”

  “I’m the other owner,” She smiled.

  “Well,” Marc continued, “I understand this looks and feels like a restaurant—but where am I really?”

  The woman smiled, nodding her head, “I knew you were different from the moment I saw you Marc. You are very intelligent. Many people don’t ask questions or catch on so soon. But I can see you have a strong purpose of mind, a good heart and determination, that’s good. This place is merely a transitional one, a place for us to talk, so you wouldn’t feel too intimidated, or overwhelmed. We know you’ve been through so much. Does that make sense?”

  “Sort of,” Marc answered, “But— I mean, it doesn’t exactly answer the question. Where exactly is ‘here’, what exactly is this place?”

  Vanessa paused, taking a slow breath and then letting it out. Suddenly she was changing, morphing into something Marc recognized.

  A black cat.

  It winked at him and he immediately understood that Vanessa was the black cat that had taken him from Earth, given him the Sword of the Phoenix, and brought him to Lyrridia.

  “You,” Marc whispered.

  The cat nodded and suddenly it was gone with a whisper of smoke and Vanessa reappeared.

  “Then Roy must be, well, whatever you would call him in his other form; a majestic, otherworldly lion-elk?”

  Vanessa smiled, “He has an inclination to the ostentatious at times. Some in Lyrridia who have seen him have called him Guardian of the Forest, a title I see fit for him in that form.”

  There was a moment of quiet as Marc took another sip of his drink.

  “I hope you can understand, the way that things have happened, the smoke and mirrors, the elusiveness. Roy and I are not doing it on purpose. There are universal laws by even which beings such as we, are bound. ”

  Marc frowned at that statement. He had hundreds of questions and wanted specific answers to all of them.

  “I wish I could speak plainly with you, but you must ask me questions. It is the way of things. I will answer as best I can, but I cannot promise you will be satisfied with the answers, or that you will fully understand them, as they will most likely be multi-faceted.”

  Marc nodded then, accepting her statement. He thought for a moment about what he should ask first, and then began.

  “Why me?”

  She motioned with her hand for him to expand on the question.

  “Why did you appear to me that day at the park when Victor and those idiots were ganging up on me?”

  She motioned once more for elaboration.

  “Had you been watching me the whole evening?”

  She nodded with an expression on her face that read you’re exactly on the right track.

  Picking up on the subtle hint, Marc continued.

  “More than just that evening?”

  She nodded again.

  “A lot? The whole week?”

  She made the same gesture with her hand indicating, more, more, more.

  “A month,”

  She shook her head no and motioned with her hand again more.

  “A year? Several years?”

  She finally nodded her head yes.

  Marc didn’t know exactly what to think about that. On one hand, growing up in a society where privacy was very nonexistent in much of one’s life had desensitized him to such surveillance. But to think that Vanessa had observed him for several years, to what end?

  For this. He thought.

  Vanessa shifted slightly to speak and Marc had the feeling that she could very much read minds, or, that she could discern his thoughts through his subtle facial expressions, but most likely she could read minds.

  “You were chos
en, Marcus. It wasn’t random chance. I didn’t intervene that day out of pity, or desperation. Roy and I made a deliberate choice, a careful choice. We do not judge as others do, looking only upon one’s outward appearance, and actions, but we look upon the heart.”

  It was Marc’s turn to nod, which he did for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But why didn’t you appear to me as you are now, speak to me, person to person, explain it all in a much better fashion. If I knew then everything I know now. The dangers of Lyrridia, the pain,” an image of the Fae One’s burning at Tremos’s hands flashed before his eyes, “The responsibility that would be placed on my shoulders? I don’t think I would’ve pulled the Sword from the stone.”

  Vanessa tilted her head slightly.

  “Earth is not our world,” She explained, her voice patient and kind, “Our powers are greatly limited there, and I could not have appeared to you as I am now. I did the best I could with what I had.”

  Marc was stunned by the implication of her statement and he tried to hide it by taking another sip of his drink. It was cool this time, calming him.

  “Not your world? So Lyrridia is your world?”

  “Lyrridia is a name given to a realm upon the lands surrounded by ocean that make up a part of our world. Our world cannot be said in your tongue. But Gaia is an acceptable alternative. For Gaia is life and creation, and we created Gaia.”

  Marc couldn’t believe he was sitting in the presence of a goddess, for what else could she be, to claim ownership of a world. To admit to creating one.

  She smiled, a kind and reassuring smile and nodded, “Yes. We are known to the people of Gaia as the Exalted.”

  It was a simple statement. One that needed no clarification. She had read Marc’s thoughts and confirmed his deduction.

  He was immediately uncomfortable and shifted nervously in his chair. He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. His brain couldn’t handle it. If Roy and Vanessa were the creators of Gaia, as Vanessa called it, then logic would dictate that there was a creator, or creators for Earth as well.

  “Yes,” Vanessa spoke softly, knowing fully of Marc’s struggle to comprehend.

  Marc suddenly felt unworthy to be sitting there, with Vanessa, as if he was somehow violating some law. He thought about all the bad things he had done in his life.

  Vanessa shook her head, “Do not worry Marcus. You would not be here if you could not be.”

  Marc let out a breath.

  “I am sorry, Marcus. It is too much for one so young to have to take in, but Roy suggested that maybe if you had a better understanding, saw a glimpse of what we see, that you would be better able to face your coming trials.”

  “I,” Marc stuttered, “I just, I have so many questions.”

  Vanessa nodded, “Take some time, but not too much. Even the most heroic and noble of souls can only endure so long in the presence of the Exalted, especially after everything you’ve gone through, it might be too much.”

  She paused.

  “I’ll be right back with your food,” Vanessa finished, standing up.

  Marc realized just how famished he was.

  “It will help to eat. In the meantime, think of the remainder of your questions.”

  And with that she left, disappearing again through the double doors. Roy caught Marc’s gaze and gave the young man an encouraging wink and thumbs up.

  Marc nodded his head in silent thanks and returned his attention to his drink, letting his thoughts begin to flow. The quiet atmosphere of the restaurant was perfect for contemplating; the lights were dim, the conversation light, a low undertone of eating, all were a part of the calming symphony that played in the background of Marc’s mind as he began to dig through his memories and sort through his thoughts.

  As he pondered he realized what aroma from the drink seemed most familiar to him. It was of vanilla, a smell that immediately linked his mind to Laura. His first real date. His first real dance. His first real kiss.

  He realized that Laura was his first real love, and he wanted to be by her side most of all. If that meant stopping Tremos first, then he would do it.

  He realized also, then, that Roy and Vanessa must be in real trouble, if they were turning to someone like Marc and the others for help.

  Vanessa returned with a tray of food, setting Marc’s portion in front of him.

  The plate contained a succulent cut of medium-rare roast beef on a bed of the fluffiest whipped mashed potatoes lathered in gravy. A flower of steamed broccoli and row of green beans, buttered, salted, and peppered, sat next to the main dish, just far enough away to steer clear from the gravy. It was a delicious sight and Marc picked up his utensils to start his meal when he paused.

  “Uhm,” he said, somewhat nervously, “Should I say a prayer first, or something?”

  Vanessa gave a small laugh, “The rituals of Earth are not the same as those found here in Gaia. Every Exalted have their own ways and their own paths for their own worlds, though it is true we all abide by the same universal laws. You, also, being of Earth, are not compelled to follow the ways of Gaia. However, if you still feel so inclined, it is always nice to give thanks to one who provides another with gifts.”

  Marc nodded, “Thank you Vanessa, for the food.”

  “You are quite welcome Marcus. Now, ask your questions and eat, for your time to transition draws near.”

  “Very well. Most of my questions are about Tremos. Who is he? What does he want? How has he become so powerful? Why was Irroth, another Wielder of the Flame, like me, unable to stop him? The Oracle already explained some, but not all.”

  Marc ate as Vanessa spoke. The food was simply mouth-meltingly divine, and it helped him not feel so tired.

  Vanessa nodded, “To answer these questions I must first enlighten you of Gaia. The heart of Gaia is Tanris, known also as Crystal of the Great Dawn, the Summoning Stone, and many other names. Not only is it the heart of Gaia, but it is the heart of all magic within Gaia. Tremos, one of our most gallant of creations, and once a worthy member of the Ascendant Sages, sought to abuse the power of Tanris, seeking to raise himself up among the Exalted without first walking the paths of understanding and experience that all must walk in their journey of life.”

  “Why didn’t you and Roy just stop him?” Marc said between gulps.

  “Free will is the greatest gift we have given to our creations.”

  “Am I free to choose?”

  Vanessa nodded, “Of course.”

  “So what happens if Tremos gathers the remaining pieces?”

  “Do you remember your time on the planes of shimmering silver as far as the eye can see?”

  Marc nodded.

  “That is the Gateway Realm, or I should say, it used to be. When the Sword of the Phoenix struck Tanris, the blade was hurtled through the Gateway Realm of Gaia, breaking the Gateway Realm, and tore through the fabric of reality to pierce the Gateway Realm of Earth, also breaking Earth’s Gateway Realm, and somehow linking both worlds together. We believe that when Tremos reunites Tanris as a whole, the Gateway Realms will be restored and Tremos, with Tanris under his control, will be able to channel the heart of all magic through him, attaining his original purposes. With this power, and the Gateway Realms restored, Tremos will be able to overpower Roy and I, and conquer Gaia. After he has done this, he will be able to conquer Earth, and then from there he will become an unstoppable force. We do not know how far he will be able to bend the universal laws, or if he will be able to break them. But we cannot let him try.”

  “And you cannot stop him either, not directly.”

  Vanessa shook her head, then looked Marc straight into his eyes and was about to speak when a deep baritone voice sounded from off Marc’s right, making the young man turn at the sound.

  “No Marcus,” Roy said, placing a massive hand on Marc’s chair, “But you can. You, and the other young ones. We have faith in you.”

  “One last question,” Vanessa said.

  “What is the Phoenix ins
ide the blade?”

  “He dwells within the blade no more, but within your soul,” Roy answered, “His name was Canicus, but will not be so with you. You must ask him when next you encounter him.”

  “Now, child,” Vanessa spoke, her voice one of soothing, “Your time of choosing has come. It is time to leave this place.”

  Marc looked over at the large gold-lined door in front of which he had been standing when he first arrived to this place.

  “Through that door is regression. If you choose to open it, you will return from whence you came, to Earth. Canicus will enter once more into the Sword of the Phoenix and I will begin my search for another Wielder. You are free to choose this path Marcus, we will not stop you. The burdens of this calling will be lifted from your shoulder and your memory of your time in Lyrridia will be gone.”

  “But Tremos won’t stop his mission,” Marc immediately replied.

  Vanessa nodded, Roy did as well.

  “If you so choose, the obligation will no longer be yours, you will be free from the responsibility of anything that happens regarding Lyrridia.”

  “But I have that responsibility now.”

  They nodded again.

  “Where then, if not through that door—” Marc began but stopped when he saw the stairs.

  Vanessa nodded.

  “Choose wisely Marcus. Remember that we did not elect you without great consideration. As I said before, you have the most noble of souls, and a powerful heart, if it were not so, you would not have been able to draw the Phoenix Blade from the stone in the first place.”

  Roy stood beside Vanessa, placing his hand on her shoulder as if to say you cannot persuade him further, this must be his choice.

  Marc stood up from the table.

  He looked to the door for only the briefest of moments before carefully pushing his chair away from the table and making his way to the stairs.

  He didn’t stop to look back. He quickened his pace. The room seemed to extend forever. He broke into a light jog, then a run. He planted his foot on the first step and began to take them two and three at a time, springing upward with his momentum.