FIFTY-THREE

            Folken Lacour could hardly believe that a week ago he had felt like the happiest man on the face of Gaea when he and Jindra had been quietly married and then spent a blissful afternoon making love and planning their future together; and yet in the span of six days, his life had been reduced to a shambles and was continuing to slide even further down by the minute – or so it seemed.

            First had been Jindra's confrontation with her parents over their marriage – Folken still berated himself for not being at her side when she broke the news to them.  He had not wanted her tell them at all, at least not until it was time for them to leave Zaibach.  But Jindra had insisted, saying that she didn't want to hide it from them and that they deserved to know the truth.   She truly had believed that once the initial shock of the announcement wore off, that Erich and Doreena Roh would accept the marriage – and their new son-in-law.  Jindra had been devastated by her parent's reaction and although she did not say it aloud, Folken believed that perhaps she was regretting her decision to secretly marry him.  When he tried to broach the subject however, Jindra had become angry with him for even suggesting it; but he had seen it in her eyes – and it had hurt him deeply.

            Second had been his discovery of the cause for the accident that had taken Coren Roh's life.  The fact that he had designed the mechanism that had malfunctioned and caused the explosion, made him burn with shame and guilt.  Coren had been the first true friend that he had made in Zaibach; and if it had not of been for the young cadet, Folken and Jindra never would have met one another and fallen in love.  Knowing that he would eventually have to Jindra about his discovery and his part in her brother's death haunted him, and he dreaded what her reaction to the news would be when it finally broke. 

            Third had been his encounter with Anton Lefebvre.  Never had Folken seen as much hate and anger in one person as he had seen in that dark-haired man.  The fact that Lefebvre seemed to know something about the guymelef explosion, and had made insinuations regarding Folken's part in the scheme had scared the outlander immensely.  Knowing Anton's feelings for Jindra, the young man would waste no time in going straight to her father with the entire story should he ever discover enough to prove his claim.

            Juri had sworn Folken to silence once he had presented his findings to the older man—and Folken knew that Juri would never betray such confidential and explosive information; but the young apprentice began to suspect that there was a traitor in the tower, someone with intimate access to the investigation. With only Marco and Garufo being the other members of the group, Folken's obvious first choice would have been Garufo – the man was conniving and had no scruples; but more importantly, Folken really didn't want to believe that Marco could be a traitor.  The older apprentice had become his friend and confidant; but as he thought more and more on Marco's strange behavior over the last week, Folken found that it troubled him greatly.

            Next, but not wholly unexpected, had been a summons from Jindra's father demanding to see him.  Erich Roh's tersely written message was delivered to Folken's quarters just after he had returned from breakfast.  As he read the short missive, he felt his heart sink even further.  The man's words were short and to the point – and he expected to see Folken in his office at two o'clock that afternoon.  Folken wondered if Jindra would be there as well; but for her sake, he hoped not.  No doubt he and Erich would be saying a lot of things to each other that perhaps, would be best that she did not hear.

            Folken fidgeted and paced the morning away, unable to calm his raging nerves.  When the bell tolled for lunch, the young man ignored it; his stomach was so tied in knots that the mere thought of food made him feel queasy.  When the small clock on the table in his front room struck one o'clock, Folken went into his bedroom and hurriedly changed his clothes – although the thought of turning up at Erich Roh's office in his sorcerer's robes did appeal to him a strange, twisted way.  He could well imagine the gossip that would be going on at the trade office if a sorcerer from the black tower came to visit the Vice-Secretary in his office privately.  But he quickly shook the thought from his head as he slipped on a pair of dark gray trousers and stuffed in the tail of his shirt before buttoning them up.  After he completed his change, he took a long, dark blue mantle from the wardrobe and draped it around his shoulders, letting it trail down his right arm to help cover his metal hand.  Surveying himself in the small wall mirror, he thought that he looked respectable and presentable enough to appear before Jindra's father.  As he turned from the mirror, his gaze lingered on the dark wooden case sitting on the chair next to his bed.

            On impulse he quickly unlatched the lid and lifted it up.  His eyes immediately strayed to the gleaming sword nestled on its bed of dark green, and his fingers lingered on the finely crafted blade.  But what he really sought was the gold ring that was lying next to the hilt of the sword – his marriage ring.  Taking the ring that Jindra had given him, he placed it on the third finger of his left hand.  As he looked at the dragon-engraved band, he started to feel better – as if there was some bit of magic within it that gave him a feeling of inner calm and renewed confidence.  No matter what he says or does, Jin is my wife – and I plan to make sure that it stays that way.

            After closing the lid on the wooden case, Folken took a deep breath to steady his nerves; then he quietly left his room and made his way towards the hidden passageway that he had discovered out of the tower.

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            Folken slammed his metal fist against the wall of the damp, dark tunnel.  The young man was so angry that he just wanted to shout out his rage for everyone and anyone to hear.  His meeting with Erich Roh had gone from bad to worse in the space of just a few minutes and had continued on a downward spiral until Jindra's father had threatened to have him thrown out.  Folken still couldn't figure out how things had turned so ugly so fast – not that he had expected the man to welcome him with open arms; but the anger that had been in Erich's eyes and on his face had put the young man on the defensive just as soon as he had stepped through the office door.

            Erich had immediately started in about how Folken had tricked Jindra into marrying him; how he had plied her with false promises of love and happiness; and how the outlander had preyed on her innocence and then seduced her – ruining her reputation and her future.  The man's face was livid and his eyes had been blazing as he threatened Folken with all sorts of punishments and revenge.  Folken watched as Erich had pulled copies of their marriage documents, that he had obtained from the registrar's office, from his desk.  Then he watched, stunned, as the man proceeded to tear them apart and throw the shredded remains at the young man's feet.  Jindra's father then told him that he had retained a civil litigator to inquire about having the marriage annulled or if that were not possible, then having it legally dissolved through a divorce.  Either way, Erich promised him that he would make sure that all ties between Folken and his daughter were broken and he would make sure that Folken never saw Jindra again.

            The more that Erich Roh ranted on, the angrier Folken grew.  He could feel a cold rage building within and he clenched his fists so hard that he was afraid he would once again draw blood with his fingernails if he pulled them any tighter.  Unclenching his fist, Folken had rubbed at his marriage ring with his thumb, hoping that the reassuring feeling from earlier would once again settle over him, but it did not return.  When Jindra's father stopped for a moment to catch his breath -- that was when Folken had finally let his temper loose.  Even as the words left his mouth and the anger blazed in his dark eyes, he knew that it had been the wrong thing to do – but he couldn't stand there any longer and let Erich Roh berate and belittle him and tell him how his future was going to be.  He refused to let the man bully him and he wasn't going to just stand aside and let Jindra's father sever his marriage without a fight – and Folken had told him so, in no uncertain terms.  He had looked Erich Roh right in the eyes and told him that Jindra had married him of her own free will and that he would never give her up – that he would fight to keep her and that he didn't care what kind of threats the man made or how many judges he dragged in; he would not allow him to break up their marriage.

            He had watched as Erich's face turned a dark shade of purplish-red as the man had let loose with a string of curses that would have made even the most hardened sailor or soldier blush.  It was about then that the older man had ordered him out of his office, or he would have him bodily thrown out in the street.  Gathering his courage one last time, Folken calmly looked at Erich and said, "Forcing Jin to dissolve our marriage against her will is only going to drive the two of you farther apart Mr. Roh – don't make her have to choose between us, it's not fair to her.  Don't' force her to make that choice – because in the end we'll all lose."

            Erich had looked at him, his jaw tightly clenched in anger.  Without another word, the older man had opened the door to his office and then sat down in the chair behind his desk, and turned to face the window behind him.  Knowing that he was being dismissed, Folken had silently departed.  As he hurried through the myriad of smaller offices and towards the front doors of the building, Folken barely noticed the whispers and looks that followed in his wake.  When he stepped out onto the street and into the bright sunlight, he blinked his eyes; and at last realized that he had been crying.

            As he made his way through the darkened tunnel, the torch in his hand feebly illuminating a path that he knew by heart, Folken once again cursed his temper and quick tongue.  As he made his way up the rough, mossy steps towards the hidden door back into the tower, he counted how many days were left until he and Jindra would board the trade ship that would take them away from Zaibach.  Seven days – and they can't come soon enough.

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            Feeling weary and defeated, Folken returned to his quarters only to find a note from Juri Selanne tucked under his door.  As he broke the seal and started to unfold the single page, all he could think was: What now?  Quickly scanning the short paragraph, Folken's eyebrows crooked with a puzzled expression.  The older man had requested that Folken come to see him in his quarters just as soon as possible.  He probably wants to chew me out some more – or else he's told Dornkirk . . . like I need that on top of everything else . . .

            With a heavy sigh, the young man looked at the note and then stuffed it in his coat pocket.  Sorry Juri, but you're just going to have to wait a little while longer; there's something else I need to do first.

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            "Marco – it's me."  Folken rapped on the door and waited.  After a minute or so with no reply, he knocked again. "Marco?"

            "Yeah, yeah – I'm coming;" came the slightly muffled reply from the other side of the door.  Folken stepped back as he heard the doorknob turn.

            The door cracked open and Marco's face looked pale in the shadowed darkness of the room behind him.  "Well, well; look who it is – the happy bridegroom himself . . ."

            Folken arched his brow at the other man, "Why don't you say it a little louder Dimetra – I'm not sure that everyone on this floor heard you."

            The dark-haired man looked a little sheepish, "Hey, lighten up – there's no one around anyway, never is this time of the day."  Marco held the door open for Folken to enter.  The older man raised his eyebrow as he took in Folken's civilian clothes, "So, where have you been on this fine afternoon?  In the company of that enticing little wife of yours, no doubt;" he closed the door.  "Juri had one of his servants here looking for you . . ." Marco motioned for Folken to sit down.

            "I know -- there was a summons waiting for me when I got back.  I needed to see you first though."

            Marco took a seat across from Folken, "You didn't answer my first question; and from the look on your face, I think it's safe to say that you weren't with Jindra – not unless the two of you had one hell of a knockdown, drag out fight."

            Folken snorted and shook his head, "I wish  . . . but no . . . I just got back from spending the most hellish hour of my life with my new father-in-law."  His tone was sarcastic and cold, "During which time he called me every name that he could think of, and practically accused me of using my evil sorcerer's powers to lure his daughter in so that I could seduce her and ruin her life."  The young man sighed, "Needless to say, if Erich Roh gets his way – my marriage will be over before it even gets a chance to start."

            "Gods . . ." Marco breathed.  "How did he find out?  I thought that you two were going to keep it a secret until it was time for you to leave?"

            "We were," Folken replied.  "But Jin . . . she didn't want to hide it from her parents -- she thought that they deserved to know . . . so, she told them.  I knew she was going to – we had already discussed it; and I was supposed to be there with her, so that we could do it together . . ." He looked away from his friend, "But . . . as usual, I wasn't there for her when she needed me and all hell broke loose."

            "Man – I'm sorry . . . how's Jindra holding up?"

            "She was devastated of course – I think that she really believed that her parents would come around and accept us.  I tried to warn her, but she was just so set on the idea that she wouldn't think otherwise."  Folken sighed again, "Why is it that everything I touch ends up going to pieces?  You're supposed to be happy when you get married – not crying and arguing with people over it.  I swear; I can't wait until we leave here – I'll be the happiest person you ever saw once there's a few hundred miles between me and Zaibach."

            "The two of you are still planning on leaving?  But what about Jindra's parents – if they feel so strongly about your marriage – they aren't going to let the two of you just take off."

            "We are going," Folken replied.  "I . . . I told Jin that I'd understand if she couldn't leave her family – if she wanted to end our marriage . . . and she give me an earful.  I thought she was going to beat me senseless for even suggesting it.  But I could see that she was having second thoughts about what we did – I think she's sorry that we got married the way we did . . . although as upset as she is over what's happened, she says she loves me and still wants to go away with me."

            He was silent for a moment; but when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained.  "I don't know, Marco . . . she's giving up so much for me . . . her family, her friends, everything that she knows -- I just wish that it didn't have to be like this.  I don't want this to become an irreparable rift between her and her parents . . . it's going to be even harder for her once we leave here – she won't be able to come back here and see them . . . and it may be quite a long time before they can come to Palas to visit her."

            Marco regarded the other man for a few moments.  "If you're asking me if I think that the two of you did the right thing, then I really can't answer that – only the two of you can.  Anyone can see how much you and Jindra love each other – how much you belong together . . . but is it worth all the pain and heartache?  I don't know . . . I guess it depends on how much you want to be with each other – how much you're willing to sacrifice to be together." 

            He looked away from Folken, his eyes towards the half-shrouded window.  "I'm the wrong person to ask about this kind of stuff, Folken," he turned his dark eyes back to the other man's face.  "I've never really been in love and even if I had been – it would be different for me; I wouldn't have to deal with marriage and families – I'd just have to worry about the pain afterward if it didn't work out.  No annulments, no divorces – just going your separate ways and on to the next person."

            Folken gave him a puzzled look, "Sometimes Marco, I haven't a clue what you're talking about.  I can't believe that you'd take a woman like she was your wife, with out marrying her; and then just toss her aside when you got tired of each other?  That's a pretty callous attitude . . ."

            Marco sighed and shook his head, "It's not like that Folken . . . I-I . . . look I really don't want to get into this with you right now – I'm not sure you'd understand and I don't have the patience to try to explain it; so why don't you just leave it alone, okay?"  His voice sounded harsh and a bit weary.

            The pale-haired man looked at him for a moment and then slowly nodded his head.  "Sure . . . okay."  Trying to dispel the gloomy atmosphere that had crept into the room between the two men, Marco gave Folken a smile, "So what did you need to see me about – what's so important that you've left Juri Selanne waiting -- stewing in his juices -- for little old me?"

            "I-I need to ask you a favor . . . I need you to do something for me."  Folken hesitated as he spoke.  "I need you to take a message to Jin for me."  He saw a flicker of something in Marco's dark eyes, but then just as quickly it was gone.

            "I'd really like to help you out Folken, but . . . "

            "What's wrong – I thought you wanted to help us?"

            "I do – I did . . . – it was fun; all the secret plans, the subterfuge -- spy stuff, you know . . . but I really don't need any trouble courtesy of Jindra's father – I've got enough problems of my own without some outsider causing more for me."

            "What kind of problems?" Folken's brows quirked in puzzlement, "What's going on?"

            "Nothing," Marco shook his head.  "Just my usual – Marco the lay-about; Marco the laziest apprentice in the history of the tower; Marco the pretty-boy tart . . . I can deal with all that; but I don't need Juri or someone else breathing down my neck because I got mixed up in something that could end up putting me out of the tower or worse."  He looked away and Folken could see the blush that crept up his face, "I-I don't want to be involved if they find out about you and Jindra . . . and I especially don't want to be the reason that it might happen."

            "What do you mean?  Has someone been asking questions about Jindra?  Have you heard something?"  There was anxiety in Folken's voice.  "C'mon Marco, if you know something, then please – tell me."

            Once again he saw something flash in Marco's dark eyes.  "Relax, I didn't mean it like that . . . it's just that – well if Jindra's old man is as bent out of shape as you say, then how do you know he won't bring the tower down on you – just to get her away from you?"

            "He's not stupid Marco; he wouldn't risk exposing Jin like that – she'd be in just as much danger as I would.  I'm pretty sure I won't have to worry about that."  Folken was silent for a moment; but his gaze lingered on Marco's face while he thought.   What's the matter with him?  I know that something happened the day that Jin and I got married . . . he looks like he's scared.  I wish he'd confide in me; especially if he knows something.  "Look Marco, I just need you to do this one last favor, please?  I can't risk going to meet Jin right now – I've received two messages here in as many days; someone is bound to get suspicious.  I won't ask you for another thing, I promise." 

            Marco gave him a long look and then sighed, "Alright, just this one last time."  He saw the hurt in the other man's eyes and he suddenly regretted his words and the tone of his voice.  Trying to smooth things over, Marco's gave Folken a rakish smile; "Hey, anything to spend a little more time in the company of that lovely and beguiling little bride of yours.  A bit more of the old Dimetra charm and she'll soon see the error of her ways and finally toss you off for me."  He gave his companion a wink, "I'm much better suited to her than you anyway – you're way too tall for one thing . . ."

            "Marco!"  Folken cut him off, an exasperated sound in his voice.  "Can't you be serious for five minutes?"

            The dark-haired man tried to give him a wide-eyed look of innocence, "Who said I wasn't being serious?"  Folken arched his brow at him.  "Alright, alright – who knew you were the jealous type Lacour?  Although if I had a pretty little wife like that waiting for me . . ."

            Folken growled, "Marco . . ."

            The other man smiled and laughed.  "You're such an easy target Folken – it's just too easy to resist."  He sobered a bit and his voice sounded serious once again, "So, what about this message that you want me to give Jindra . . ."

            Folken scooted forward in his chair and started to layout his plan and the message that he needed Marco to deliver for him.

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            ". . . you're to see the girl when?"

            "I-In the morning – t-tomorrow;" stuttered the dark-haired man, his eyes downcast.

            "This does change things a bit – nothing that can't be compensated for, but it is damn inconvenient."  The man tapped his chin with his forefinger as a thoughtful look came across his face.  "But actually, it's given me an idea."  He laughed. "Yes, a most brilliant idea." He reached out and stroked the dark curls of the man kneeling in front of him.  "And you're just the person to help me put it in motion, my dear little Marco."

            Marco felt the welling of tears in his dark brown eyes as the man gave him a cold, predatory smile.  "Yes, you're just the one . . ." The man's hand moved to tangle in Marco's long hair.  "You've done well – very well."

            The man laughed and grabbed a handful of dark hair, jerking Marco's head up.  He smiled as he saw the spark of tears from the pain in the apprentice's eyes.  "You cry so beautifully Marco . . . you don't know what it does to me when I see the glitter of tears in those handsome eyes of yours . . ." 

            Marco could hear the breathlessness in the other man's voice and he shivered in fear.  "Yes, tremble for me Marco . . . writhe and cry for me . . . you know how I love it when you beg . . ." The man laughed again, his voice hoarse with arousal, "Now for your reward my dear sweet boy . . ."

            Marco Dimetra cried silently in shame and pain; hating himself for his weakness and fear – but mostly for his betrayal of the only friend he ever had.