“I will leave the rest of you to catch up,” Selene interjected, drawing the attention of the whole room. If Marcius didn't know better, he could have sworn a brief flash of jealousy had flickered across the stoic woman's face.
When she had left, Jared turned back to Marcius, giving him a lewd wink. “Quite the looker, isn't she? You really have been busy!”
Marcius choked. “It's not like that! Anyway, you'd probably be more interested in her. The elves can do things with swords that you can only dream of.”
Jared rubbed his chin. “Is that so? Going to have to get them to show me sometime. You see, they've been housing us at some guest house. Not too bad, but very much under lock and key. Haven't had much of a chance to look around. Have you seen this place? It's amazing. It was the right decision to go with you! Who would have thought that we'd be in an elven capitol!”
Marcius took it all in. It was a pleasure to just hear his best friend's voice. From the familiar way he spoke, to the light of wonder in his eye. Marcius hadn't realized how much he truly missed the blonde swordsman.
“What about Simon?” he asked, for the outgoing not-bard was distinctly not present.
“Hah! Him!” Jared grinned, “He threw a fit when told that he didn't have the authority to come along. Alicia here managed to get me in under the excuse of being her personal assistant! Hah, me, an assistant. Anyway, I'm sure he'll want to hear all about whatever it is that you've been up to. He was insistent on that.”
“Will you stop bending his ear? I'm more interested in figuring out what happened while we were separated, and why it happened. He can hear about everything that lech has been up to after we hear what happened,” Alicia cut in testily. There was a slight cough behind her. “Ah, and this is a teacher from the Academy, Marcius,” she added, seemingly startled at her lack of manners.
The man wore simple robes, complete with a long white beard. A storybook perfect wizard. “Marcius Realure,” he introduced himself as they shook hands. The man's grip was firm and competent.
“Dentaige Keafir,” the wizard responded. “I'm the head of this little journey to Selenthia. I've been meaning to come for a while now, to put in a formal request, so you were a convenient excuse.” He gave an off-kilter grin. “I teach magical theory and you'll probably hate me, but until then, I am pleased to make your acquaintance and ease you into the stringent life of the Academy.”
“Good, I want to learn all that I can.”
The old man laughed, stroking his peppered beard, “Well, you'll certainly get that, until you're sick of it! Though, you'll be on probation for a while, being a rogue wizard. Basic stuff, really. Restricted to where you can go, what you can look up, among a few other things.”
“Rogue wizard?” He had never considered himself as such, but that had been what the Selenthian council called him too.
“Merely a formality, I assure you. We have to keep pretenses up. Your cooperation and your Master's standing with the Academy are well known. Do not worry.”
You are no rogue. We were training by Antaigne, one of the greatest wizards on Faelon. Hardly a rogue, in my opinion, Faerill interjected a haughty lilt to his words.
When did you get so talkative?
I have matured since last we were together, Marc. I have not yet reached my full growth.
Marcius remembered Antaigne's teachings, of how his familiar would continue to alter itself, becoming more of an individual, more of an intelligent being within his own mind. Part of him was frightened at the aspect, but mostly he took comfort in it.
There was a certain measure of contentment that comes from having a sympathetic soul to share your life with, someone with whom you can be yourself, where all social pretenses didn't matter.
By the Gods he had missed Faerill.
Alicia clicked her tongue, clearly irritated, and Marcius realized the older wizard had been talking the entire time. “Instructor Dentaige, I'd like to find out what happened on that boat.”
The older man shrugged, obviously used to dealing with the female Mage's abrasive personality. He sat on the edge of Marcius's bed and indicated for the woman to take over.
And so Marcius relayed his story, of what he remembered, and Alicia's face was grim by the end of it. “So what you're saying is that you have no idea what got you out of bed and into the water? Sounds like magic to me, and not any low magic either. Enchantments aren't easy to do.”
“Alicia,” Jared said, interjecting himself, “The important thing is that he's okay.”
“No, it isn't. Because we don't know who did this to him, Jared,” she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. She began pacing. “No, we have to find who did this, because we can't be sure if or when they will attack again. Next time you might not be so lucky, Marc.”
Marcius felt warmth in his chest, a stirring in the depths. He was surrounded by friends and he had his familiar back. He grinned at Alicia. “It's nice to see you too.”
She blinked and then turned bright red, “Sorry,” she stammered, “I'm not implying that I'm not happy to see you're safe, but. . . ”
That's not exactly fair, Faerril said, sounding put off, she was very worried about you. It is bad when Jared is the voice of reason, but it was so.
“It's alright,” Marcius said, trying to contain his laugh. “I understand.” And he did, truly. He knew enough about the Mage Lady to understand it was just her way of showing concern.
His familiar seemed to be mollified by the admission, giving the mental equivalent of a huff before curling up tighter. “So, what did you guys do while I was away?” he asked, though Faerill had already shown him everything, he felt that he should allow his friends to tell him directly.
Jared ran a single hand through his blonde hair, letting loose a long breath. “Marc, it was hectic when we lost you, not going to lie. Your familiar was going crazy and we weren't much better. Eventually, and it was Alicia that came up with it, we decided to just head to Aralene, to the Academy. She figured that since your familiar was alive, that meant you were, too. And if you weren't hurt, you'd eventually wind up there.”
The blonde man shrugged. “In the end, she was right. We were there when the elven messenger came with the news that you had been captured. Just in time too. Your familiar was getting pretty weak. I wasn't aware that it needed portions of your blood. If it wasn't for that vial that the messenger had on him, I don't want to think what would have happened.”
Jared was kind to me, as was Alicia. You have good friends. Without them, I wouldn't be here now.
Marcius nodded, not even wanting to try and process what would happen to him if he lost the familiar that mattered so much. He rubbed the small patch of rough scales under Faerill’s chin absently.
“Anyway, Marc,” Jared continued, “How are you feeling? Well enough to travel? We've been here too long as is. They were expecting us back over a seven day ago.”
Marcius looked around, surrounded by his friends, his familiar on his chest, and found that besides being a little tired, he felt pretty good. “I think so. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible,” Alicia chimed in. “We initially gated to the outskirts of the Selenthia forest to get here, since the majority of it is warded against magical intrusion, and whatever isn't is warped by the influx of nether. We won't be porting back, though. We can't risk you, so we'll have to take the long way. I'd like to get started as soon as you're able to.”
I missed you. Faerill said, crooning lightly, sending a wave of contentment to Marcius. We must become better, so this never happens again. You are important to me and together we are one. There is nothing we can't accomplish.
Marcius agreed and looked up at Alicia, fire burning in his veins, “I'd like to leave as soon as possible, but there is one stop I must make.”
❧ ❧ ❧
“What is this?” Velynere asked, holding up the blackened gem.
“It’s what we found at that tower in the Myst.” Marcius l
eaned back in his chair. “I brought it and the amulet back.”
“Obviously,” the elf said, shrugging as he placed it carefully down on the table.
“Our bargain still stands?”
“Well, I suppose. The gem itself is useless. It has no power now. Now the amulet is another matter. It was difficult to make. I appreciate you bringing it back.”
“So, is that a ‘yes’?”
“Aye, I’ll honor our bargain. You brought back exactly what you found.” Velynere raised an eyebrow, “I hear you go to the Academy now?”
“Yes, Selene and my friends wait outside the gates. I just wanted to get rid of those two things,” Marcius said. “It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.”
“I heard little of the tale.” The elf smiled, though his eyes were dark, “One day I’ll ask you to tell it to me in full. Do you have anything else on your mind?”
Marcius stared at the elf. There were a flood of questions he wanted to ask. Was the elf responsible for the attack outside the tower? How much did he really know? Why did it feel as if Velynere was hiding something? What was it that happened to him in that arena? How could he use magic without his familiar?
But it was the eyes, those pitless traps within that sunken dead face that dispelled any thoughts of asking them. What, really, could the thing in front of him say that would matter in the end? Nothing.
The only place he would find what he sought was now within his grasp. The Academy.
Marcius stood, heading to the door and away from the abomination in front of him. Exposure to Velynere did little to rid the malicious aura the unnatural product of magic exuded. He decided to take the hint his senses were telling him.
“Marcius,” Velynere intoned, “Wait a moment.”
As Marcius turned around, a flicker of movement caught his attention and he reflexively caught the tiny object the elf had thrown. It was the gem. He looked at Velynere.
“Take it,” the elf explained. “At the very least as a souvenir of your time in Selenthia. As a reminder of things lost and gained. Who knows, might be a good fortune charm.”
Marcius considered it, and then nodded, tucking the gem in his pouch. He would do just that. It would be a shame to walk away from everything empty handed.
❧ ❧ ❧
“Does he have the catalyst?”
“Aye, now we just have to wait for him to develop.”
“I've been waiting for a long time.”
“The tear needs time to work. You can wait a little longer.”
The sunlight dappled through the leaves above, the tiny trails of pollen swirling about the early morning air. At the edge of the forest, a group of people were gathered.
One had sloppy brown hair and carried himself with the hopeful clumsiness of a person trying to act beyond his age. Next to him, a blonde man slowly continued at a leisurely gait, confidence accompanying every action.
Behind them, two women conversed with the wary touch and feel of predators testing boundaries. The pale one was an elf, the tips of her pointed ears barely revealing themselves through the strands of her wispy blond hair, while the other was the opposite, human and as fiery as her vibrant copper locks.
Bringing up the rear, seemingly amused at the whole thing, was an older man, bald of head and long of beard, who acted like he had all the time in the world. This, most likely, was true in the immediate sense.
“This is the edge of our lands,” Selene said as they finally broke through the treeline to the plains beyond. “This is where I leave you. Are you sure you'll be alright beyond? I have heard tales of bandits and such among human settlements and roads.”
The three of them looked at each other, sharing a silent understanding. “Well,” Alicia said, choosing her words, “There's always the threat of bandits, but we have two wizards. There is little to fear, but thank you for your concern.”
The elf nodded, not catching the exchange. “Then I'll take my leave. May Avalene protect and watch over you all.”
Her gaze flickered over to Marcius, and she opened her mouth, but decided against it at the last moment. The elf gave a curt nod, turning back and beginning to fade into the forest.
“Marc, what are you doing?” Jared hissed. “Go after her and say something.”
Marcius didn't need to be told twice, running after the elf without looking back. He had lost track of her momentarily in the thick foliage. “Wait!” he cried out and it was with no small measure of relief that after a few feet he nearly stumbled into her, apparently waiting for him.
“Thank you for waiting,” he said awkwardly, trying to order his thoughts. “I just wanted to talk to you before I left.”
Her eyes flicked from him to where his friends were, beyond the curtain of trees and bush. “You waited until the absolute last moment,” she said with just a hint of reproach.
Marcius noticed the way her hair hung down about her face, a curtain of moonlit blonde. His hand made its way to her face on its own accord, tucking a distracting strand back over her ear. The elf looked at him in surprise and like a burnt child, he pulled back his hand.
“I just wanted to say that I'm going to miss you,” he stammered, feeling silly. But he continued anyway, like the inevitability of a sinking ship. “I have a lot to thank you for. You fought for me, sacrificed for me, protected me from myself. And I'll never know if I'll see you again when I leave here. . . but I'd be honored if I could leave knowing we were friends.”
There it was, the cards were out on the table. She stared at him, her head tilted, and Marcius held his breath, uncomfortably aware of how close they were to each other.
“Friends?” she asked absently, and for the first time Marcius realized that he was taller than the elven woman, a fact that he overlooked, so forceful was her presence. “I've never had someone who I could call a friend. I've had subordinates, superiors, teachers, and many other things, but never a friend. One, such as I, one with no fate, is not supposed to have such things. In fact, it is said that one without a fate shouldn't be allowed to live.”
Her eyes locked onto his. She stole his breath. “And yet,” she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil, “Here I am, clearly alive. Is it wrong to want a friend? Is it wrong to be shunned because Agliarna was silent? What does it mean? All I know is that I see you, with the warmth of those you call your friends, and I am jealous. And that makes me feel terrible, because I should not begrudge you for having what I do not.”
“Then let me, and my friends, show you. You'll always have a place with us. . . if that is what you want.”
The elf shrugged, nonchalant, “They do not even know me. You don't really know me, for the matter.”
“Friendship isn’t about knowing someone. It's about wanting to know someone and being willing to accept whatever it is that you find, good or bad. It's easier to walk side by side than alone,” he responded, repeating something he had heard his father say once.
She looked away, at her feet. “All I do know is that I will miss you too. It is strange. Humans were never something I thought much of. But,” and her voice had a slight tremor to it, “I did enjoy our time together. I'd be lying to say that it was only for the requirement of duty that I took you out to go fishing.”
Marcius grinned, relieved. “Then friends?”
Again their eyes met and he was lost in the sheer depth of her gaze. “Aye, Marcius Realure. Regardless of the war and what happens, as long as Seleniale Destane Liarne resides within Selenthia, you will always have a friend here.”
He smiled, elated, and his body reacted, moving even as his brain screamed for it to stop. His hand came up, cupping her chin and he bent forward, drawing her into a kiss of the likes he had never done before. Electricity ran through their bodies and he couldn't stop himself from deepening it, enjoying the feeling of her soft lips pressed to his.
Selene had stiffened, but she hadn't pushed him away either. Her lithe body against his, her scent filling his senses, it was all too much
. Eventually, and it came too quickly by Marcius's estimation, they had to come up to breathe, their faces mere inches from each other. A myriad of emotions were dancing in her eyes, but he noticed with no small measure of relief that anger didn't seem to be among them.
“Sorry, but I had to do that before I left,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “I had to know. . . ” How could a woman affect him so? Never had he dealt with someone whose mere presence was a trial to his self control.
He could see the inner conflict behind those windows to her soul, and decided that it was his cue to leave. His heart protested, screaming the entire time, but his rational mind knew it would never work. They came from two different worlds, but he just needed to know if there was anything there, if there was even a hope, a spark.
What he had found was a raging fire and he had to get away, lest it consume him. The kiss had been a mistake. He knew that now. It had opened many doors, and shown him what could have been. Shown him what he could not have.
He turned away, stopping a brief moment to look over his shoulder. Selene stood there, looking lost and confused and so very beautiful. The wind had picked up, billowing her long hair out, and her face was flushed a delicate pink.
He shot her a single look. “I'm sorry,” it said.
It took all of Marcius's self-control to turn away.
With a heavy heart he walked back to his friends, back to his life, and toward his future at the Academy.
Epilogue
It ran along the battlement, its strong limbs accurately navigating the nooks and crannies, threading through them like a practiced needle. Every footfall was unnaturally silent, little more than hissing in the dark. It paused against a wall, the nose sniffing, widening, and as it picked up the scent of its prey, it smiled, the thick muzzle pulling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. A thick purple tongue flickered out, wiping back the thin film of saliva that had formed on the ivory incisors.
A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) Page 46