by Luna Lais
"What do you mean?" she smiled impishly.
He groaned in frustration, if he ever met the fates he was going to kill them. "You have had the potion for three days convinced you would never drink it. After speaking with me for less than five minutes you decide to gulp it down without a second thought."
"You are very persuasive." She said in response. "Besides I wanted answers and you wouldn't give them to me."
"Well now you have them," he said pulling himself up to stand. "By the end of the day you will know everything I know."
"That little potion will do all that?" she asked not believing a word he said.
"That and more, within a month you will know my every thought. Everything I say, do or feel you will be aware of. I of course will know the same of you." Kale paled at his words. He smiled already he could feel the magic working through him.
"Careful of your thoughts my dear." he said causing her to look at him.
"What else?" she asked obviously disheartened at his words.
"As I said before our life forces will become intertwined. He caught her chin with his hand. The effects will last until I complete my task. It could be a month or it could be in a hundred years. Regardless of how long it takes you will not age another minute." He ran his finger across the smooth contour of her chin. Already he could feel his fingers not just on her chin, but the sensation of having his finger run down her chin from her perspective. "You also will not be able to die once the potion is done with its work."
"What do you mean I can't die?" she asked softly. She knew his fingers were on her face she could feel them, but she felt more. Her fingers also felt as if they were on her face running along her jaw line.
"It will be impossible for you to die. Pain you can feel, but death can not claim you until my task is complete. Your life is mine to use and will not be returned to you unless I am successful. Nothing can change that except the death. Your body could be completely consumed by flame and while you would feel the pain of your flesh burning, your body would remain whole." He saw the disbelief behind her dark eyes. It really did not matter if she believed what he said or not, once the full effects of the potion began working all her doubts would be gone. "I need to go now," he said turning for the mountains. "You should go home and prepare for our journey. I will keep in touch."
"How?" she asked.
"All I have to do is think a thought and you will be aware of it." He saw and felt the shiver run down her spine at the thought. She let him walk away this time. He could feel her tears running down his face.
Chapter 44
Lissandra, Darien and Makren had risen before the sun to see Eranen off. His leaving was hard on Lissandra. Eranen was leaving by himself. His Hikiran guard Duncan was be left behind with strict orders to protect Lissandra. Darien had given Eranen all the protection he could. Not being able to spare any troops he gave Eranen the medallion his brother Jimreth had worn around his neck. The medallion would protect him in Calandoria and give him complete authority over any Calandorian forces he came across in case his needs warranted it. Makren saw him give Lissandra a tender kiss before whispering something in her ear that had immediately caused tears to fall from her eyes. He did not know what words passed between them. Eranen wiped a tear from her cheek before mounting his horse. Makren envied the man. How he wished he could leave the castle. All they could do now was wait and prepare the best they could for what was coming. It was going to be a long winter, he sighed to himself and autumn had just begun. He had to find something to occupy his time or he would go mad before spring arrived.
Makren shook the memory of the morning's events from his mind. He had come to the wall to avoid distractions and now he was making his own. Makren looked back at his palms. He had to learn this. He remembered seeing Descartes light torches from across the room. Makren wanted to throw fireballs across a battlefield. He closed his eyes concentrating on the words.
"Makren" he turned at the sound of her voice. She was walking towards him. The look of despair on her face made his chest tighten. He had seen that look only one time before. The night she had told him of how she had gotten her scar. It started at her hair line just below her ear and moved down the whole of her face just along her jaw line. A constant reminder of her vanity she had called it. He knew the details of how she received the scar. To him it was a constant reminder of the predators in the world who preyed on the innocent. He had made a vow to himself to do all within his power to find those particular predators and make sure the paid for their crimes.
"What is it?" he asked calmly when she had finally reached him. Her eyes were puffy and red she had obviously been crying. Rage instantly filled him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Instinctively he moved his arms around her in comfort. "Who hurt you," he whispered softly against her cheek. She turned her face to look into his soft gray eyes. "I hurt myself." She said, "and I hurt you."
Makren lost himself in the depth of her brown eyes. He would happily gaze into them forever if he could. What he saw in them had brought him more peace than he had ever known.
"Did you hear me," she asked.
"Yes, I just want to look at you for a minute, and then we will talk or argue whatever you want. Just give me this minute to hold you." She smiled at him. That big beaming smile that was Kiala.
"Hold me later," she said as she brushed her lips against his. Makren needed no further encouragement. He tightened his hold her and captured her lips with his own. He did not care what had caused this change in her. He was going to drink his fill before she turned away from him again.
The kiss lasted for eternity. That one moment was theirs perfectly frozen in a paradise of their own creation. When Makren did finally pull away from her she was moaned with disappointment. "Makren," she whispered breathlessly. He placed a few more gentle kisses on her lips before acknowledging her words.
"The answer is yes," he said moving his lips along her cheek, "regardless of the question." He could feel her smile beneath her lips.
"Come with me," she whispered in his ear. Makren shook his head and began kissing her neck. "I am not ready to let go of you yet." He mumbled.
She laughed against his neck before continuing. "Then carry me, but let's go inside." Makren stopped his kisses and looked into her eyes. They were no longer red and puffy. They were glazed over with desire. He felt his body tense at her look.
"Go where," he asked.
"To your room will be fine," she said taking his lips again, "It's closer than mine."
Makren gently lifted her legs so she was cradled in his arms. He carried back to the stairs that lead down into the castle his lips never leaving hers. They were oblivious to the others in the castle who might witness their embrace. He carried her to his room just like she had asked. Once in the room he let her feet gently slide to the floor. She smiled at him before moving to the door and sliding the bolt in place to ensure there would be no interruptions. Makren watched her move from the door and then around behind him. He said nothing. He didn't want to break this spell. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and placed a kiss on his shoulder before resting her head against his back. He caught her hands with his and rested them over his heart.
"I love you," she said squeezing him tighter. "I love you to" he said turning around in her arms so he could face her. She saw the intense look in his gray eyes she met them with one of her own. She pulled one of her hands between them to halt his actions as he bent to kiss her again. "Not yet, " she said. Makren groaned in frustration. Even now he was fighting with his body not to push her too far.
She could see the desire in his eyes. See him fighting it for her. "I want you to make love to me Makren" she whispered the words, but to him it was like an explosion going off in his head. She was unsure by the look in his eyes how her words had effected him, but she felt the tension leave his chest beneath her hand. "Before you do I want you to know I will not marry you, maybe someday," she said desperate to keep him f
rom turning away from her. "For now I can be your wife here," she said lightly touching his chest with her hand, "and here" she took his hand with her other and placed it on her own chest. "That's all I can give right now."
Makren gently moved a finger over her brow and down her cheek. He leaned his head closer to hers until his lips were just a breath away from her own. "It will be enough for now," he whispered, "more than enough." He gently took her lips with his sealing their agreement. For whatever time the fates allowed them, they would be each others. He vowed to himself he would always cherish her in this life and the next.
Chapter 45
Moran looked at the city sprawling before him. It was the most wondrous site he had ever seen. It had taken him just over two months on foot to make it from Tormi the capital of Pearoandorn to Roradan the capital of his beloved Calandoria. It had not been an easy journey to make without being captured by one of the many sects in Pearoandorn battling for rule. Moran only hoped that Calandoria had not yet been attacked. Urging his feet forward Moran continued towards the city. He had to see the king and he time was running out for him. He had not made the journey completely unscathed. Two nights before three men had set upon in while he slept. Moran did not know if they searched for food or gold. He had neither and that enraged them enough to try and kill him. He had eventually dispatched his attackers, but not before one put a blade in is shoulder and another hit him in the head with a log. Moran felt himself tilting, it was sheer will alone that kept him on his feet. Just a little further then if death wanted him he would gladly go. The throbbing in his head was harder, his strides shorter. He had made it this far Moran thought. He could see the city gates. No doubt the guards could see him as well. I could rest for just a few minutes he thought even as he stumbled to his knees. His one good arm did not have enough strength to hold his body up. He slammed into the road face first, and then the darkness came.
Darien sat by the bed watching the healers work on Moran. Lawwe sat next to him obviously distraught over his sons injuries. A merchant entering the city had found Moran lying in the middle of the road late last night. The healers had been with him since then. Moran had not woken once in all that time. Darien was worried; it was not a good sign that he had not regained consciousness. Darien was not just worried for the man, but for what his condition meant to Calandoria. He had sent Moran on a peaceful mission. Why was he returning home near death? No horse or packs of any kind where found near where Moran' body was discovered. He had been traveling on foot. Members of the Calandoria elite guard did not travel on foot unless the king himself was walking.
"We have done all we can do, Sire." One of the healers said bowing to Darien. "We will return later to change the bandages and to make sure he is comfortable." Darien nodded to them dismissing them from the room.
"Who could have done this?" Lawwe asked still in shock at seeing his son's injured body lying in the bed.
"We will have to wait and ask him." Darien said rising.
"You heard the healers," Lawwe said rising also. "There is nothing more they can do for him."
"Yes," Darien said placing his hand on Lawwe' shoulder. "I heard them say they would return to change his bandages later. Would they bother with a man, if they did not expect him to live through the night? Every day he lives he will get stronger and soon he will come back to us"
"Do you believe that, truly," Lawwe ask desperate to have someone share in his hopes.
"I do," Darien replied. "He is after all my best man and I have a lot of men."
Lawwe beamed with pride, "He is indeed that."
"Come we have soldiers to ready for battle." Darien knew neither needed to help with the men. There were more than enough generals in his army, but he also knew Lawwe needed a distraction from this room. Lawwe killing himself with worry would not help make Moran heal faster. His life was in the fates hands now.
As they were leaving the room Makren passed them on his way in. Moran had been Makren's best friend as a boy. He, Rachel, and Makren had run the halls of this castle as children getting into as much mischief as possible. At least until Makren was taken prisoner. Now Rachel was dead and Moran would follow soon. His injuries to serious to be healed before his body gave out. Makren wondered how many of those he cared for would find their grave before him. He had been the only one of them destined to die young.
"How is he," Makren asked seeing their grim faces.
"Alive, but just." Darien replied softly.
"The healers have just left," Lawwe said, "but they will be back later to tend to him more."
Makren made no response to Lawwe' remarks. The look in Daniels eyes had told him all he need to know. His friend was dying. "I am going to sit with him for a while," Makren said. He told Darien with his eyes he was going to say goodbye to his old friend.
Makren entered the room and studied the unconscious man before him. Moran really had not changed much since they were children. His hair was still the darkest shade of red he had ever seen. His face was more mature, but it still held much of the boy he had been. Rachel had been in love with him. Not as a child, but as a woman. She had tried to hide her feelings, but Makren knew. Neither had ever done anything to bring attention to their feelings, but Makren saw things in Rachel only he knew the meaning of. He remembered Moran pleading with him to remain at the castle to protect them even after he had sent all the other guards out to search for Lissandra. Makren had denied his request. Perhaps if he would have let Moran stay Rachel would still be alive. At least Rachel wouldn't be alone anymore now. Moran would watch over her until Makren arrived.
Makren walked over to the man who was practically a stranger to him now after all these years. He placed his hand on his forehead and softly whispered. "org jouse." It was an ancient language Makren know very little of. The words meant good journey. At least that is what the priest in the Realm of the Sun had taught him. He had watch many times as the words were said over the dead bodies of the children that did not survive Descartes training.
When Makren tried to pull his hand away from Moran forehead he found he could not. Some unseen force held it there. He felt his fingers slowly start to tingle, they same way they did when he made the little flame appear in his palm. Makren tried desperately to move his hand and then stopped when it would not budge.
He calmed himself and steadied his breathing. He closed his eyes concentrating on the magic flowing from him into Moran. He did not know what he was doing or even how he was doing it. Something deep inside of him urged him to continue. Makren could feel Moran' life force. He could see it in his mind. He could see the damage, but more importantly he knew he could fix it. Without knowing how it was possible Makren began repairing Moran with his mind. He shaped the life force to how he imagined it should look. His own energy waning and entering the other man's body.
When at last he was able to pull his hand away from Moran' forehead he crumpled into the chair closest to the bed panting heavily. He looked at the bed to see Moran sitting up staring at him. "You brought me back," he said in amazement.
Makren could only nod; he had no idea what had happened. "Thank you old friend, Thank you."
Makren continued to stare at the man sitting in front of him. Moments ago the man was on the brink of death, now he was fine.
Moran considered Makren's behavior odd considering the remarkable thing he had just done. The ache in his head was completely gone. Moran flexed his arm and rotated his shoulder. If felt better than it had in years. He turned back to Makren. "I need to see your brother at once." He said urgently.
"I'll get him," Makren said looking for any excuse to leave the room. "Stay here and dress," he told Moran as he quickly went through the door.
Darien, Lissandra and Kiala waited for Makren in the second floor sitting room. No one had seen him since he left Moran room that morning. A guard posted just outside the Moran' room had been instructed by Makren to get Darien at once. He had not been seen since. Kiala was worried it was not like Makre
n to leave the castle without saying a word to anyone. It hurt that he hadn't even come to her.
It was getting late and when Makren had not returned by dinner Darien had sent patrols to look for him. So far none had found him. Darien had spent most of his morning speaking with Moran. The story Moran told him was inconceivable. Someone was plotting war between Pearoandorn and Calandoria. Not just plotting Darien thought, someone had started a war. It was only a matter of time before Pearoandorn united and began marching towards Calandoria. What better way to secure a throne than to rally the people together against a mutual foe. Darien had no choice he would not allow an army to invade his land. Even now his men were preparing to march to the border. He had decided to take Pearoandorn before they could organize. Darien still couldn't believe King Maeorus was dead. They had been friends. Darien had spent three years fighting at his side to ensure he ruled Pearoandorn. How could anyone believe he would send an assassin to kill him?