FIFTY-SEVEN
Jindra Roh Lacour looked down at the two notes, one in each hand. Why did he send two? Both notes were from her husband, delivered within an hour of each other. The one in her left hand had been the second of the two and as she glanced down at it, she thought that the handwriting was a bit sloppy – as if it had been written rather hurriedly. Folken's usually precise, but slightly slanted scrawl covered the page in her right hand. As she reread the second note, she smiled. Of course, he probably didn't think he would be able to get away and meet me – that's why he sent this one.
The second of Folken's notes had been to ask his wife to meet him in the park – in their special place a little later that afternoon. Jindra frowned when she got to the part where Folken said he had something "very important" to talk to her about and that she should make every effort to meet him. He's probably mad at me for telling Mother . . . but even he has to see that it's better this way – no secrets, no lies. She sighed; well at least he's agreed to come and see my parents again . . . She regarded the first note. I know this isn't going to be easy for any of us, but it's all for the best.
Shaking her head at the impossibility of husbands and parents, Jindra refolded the notes and started up the stairs to her bedroom. Maybe I should change . . . the dark blue with the silver scrollwork – I know Folken likes that one . . .
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Folken Lacour was about to open the door to his quarters when Marco Dimetra called to him from down the hallway. Opening the door, he waited for the other man to join him. "Marco – what's up?"
"That's what I want to know." The dark-haired man replied, his manner almost cold.
The other man gave him a puzzled look, "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you? Come off it Lacour, do you . . ." Marco stopped in mid-sentence as a voice sounded in the adjoining hallway. "Do you think I'm a complete idiot?"
"Of course not – but I don't have a clue about whatever it is that you're talking about."
"I just bet you don't," the older man spat out harshly.
Folken shook his head, the puzzlement plain on his face. "Look Marco, why don't you stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."
Marco glanced up and down the hallway before he spoke, his voice a whisper. "The accident," he watched as the color drained from Lacour's face and he swore. "Good gods . . . "
The younger man looked at his friend with sad eyes, "Marco . . . " He turned away for a few moments as he shut the door to his quarters. "We – we shouldn't talk about this here . . ."
Folken glanced at the pained look on Marco's face as he stepped past him and started towards the stairs. With a weary sigh, the dark-haired man followed.
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The two apprentice sorcerers quickly made their way out of the main hall and walked towards the small wooded area that separated it from the guard's quarters. It was Marco who brought them to a halt. Stopping, he grabbed Folken by the sleeve, forcing the other man to stop as well. Marco's voice was harsh. "I want you to tell me the truth Folken – I want you to tell me that it's not true, and that it's nothing more than a pack of vicious rumors."
Folken swallowed; I wish I could my friend – I really do. "How much do you know, Marco?"
His companion regarded him for a moment before answering. "Only what I've heard – that there was a design error in the 'melef . . . and that the military doesn't know anything about it."
"Who told you? It was supposed to be kept confidential."
"C'mon Folken, you know how this place is." He replied a little harshly. "So, is it true?"
Lacour didn't answer, but the look on his face said it all. Marco tipped his head back and took a deep breath, "Gods above and below . . ." He lowered his head and looked at his friend with sad eyes, "I didn't want to believe it . . ."
The younger man dropped his eyes unable to bear the look on his friend's face.
Marco swore under his breath and nervously ran his hand through his long dark hair. "So what happened?"
The other man turned away, "The weapons trigger . . . there was an error in the wiring schematics . . ." He heard Marco let out a deep breath. Folken turned back around to face the other man. "It was my design – it was my error." His voice fell to a whisper, "I killed them Marco – both of them – just as if I had stabbed them in the heart with my own sword."
"Gods above and below . . ." Marco's eyes widened as he looked at the outlander. "But . . . Jindra's brother - -?"
"I know," Folken bit back the sorrow and guilt he could feel building – he thought that he had conquered most of it, but now it was as if he had just made that horrible discovery all over again.
"Good gods . . . her brother . . . but you – she seemed to be alright when I saw her the other day. She should have been devastated."
Folken looked away quickly, the guilt on his face unmistakable.
Marco swore again, this time more loudly. "She doesn't know . . . you haven't told her!"
The outlander shook his head, "I-I-I only just discovered it . . . after – after I returned to the tower."
"And you still haven't told her? It's been almost a week – why haven't you told her?" Marco's eyes blazed and his voice was harsh with anger.
"Why the hell do you think Marco?" Folken's voice cracked with emotion, "How can I tell her that I'm responsible for her brother's death?" He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I love her so much . . . I-I don't think I could bear it if she left me; and that's exactly what will happen when she finally does learn the truth."
"So what – you were just going to pretend that you didn't know anything and then eventually break the news to her when you thought it wouldn't matter anymore? When you had taken her away from her family and made sure that she had nowhere to go even if she did leave you." The dark-haired man spat at him. "I swear Lacour; you have to be the most despicable and cowardly bastard I've ever met in my life." He turned away from the other man. "I can't believe you . . ."
"And you're so perfect and selfless?" Folken's eyes blazed in anger, "What's it to you anyway, Dimetra? Why are you so concerned about . . ." He broke off speaking as he caught a glimpse of someone in the hedge behind Marco. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
Both men looked at the hedge as it rustled in response. With a malicious smile on his handsome face, Anton Lefebvre stepped out.
Folken gasped as if he had just been punched in the stomach and he felt as if he was going to be sick. Laughing, the former cadet turned and took off towards the front gate.
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"No . . ." the word was barely a whisper as Folken Lacour slid to his knees, a sudden weakness overtaking him. "No – gods, no;" his voice cracked and he felt the tears well up in his eyes.
Marco swallowed as he looked at the pain-etched face of his friend. What have I done? He knelt down at Folken's side. "Folken . . .?"
"It's – it's all over Marco . . . " His voice was a choked whisper.
"Folken . . ."
The younger man looked up at his companion, his eyes haunted and tear-filled. "I've lost her . . ." Folken dropped his eyes and let out a mournful sound that was something between a sob and a sigh.
Marco felt the guilt wash over him in a torrent and he closed his eyes against the pain. I'm the despicable one – the coward . . . he never asked me for anything more than my friendship . . . he's the only person in this godforsaken place who ever gave a damn about me . . . He sniffed back tears of his own; I-I can't – I can't do this! I don't care – damn Garufo to the nine hells; but I can't do this!
"Folken," the older man reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. "Folken – look at me." He waited patiently for the other man to regain his composure and do as he was asked. After several minutes, Lacour's wine-dark eyes looked up at him.
Marco took a deep breath to steel himself. "He hasn't won Folken – not yet anyway. Go to her – go to Jindra and tell her the truth. She loves you . . . I know it won't be easy, but at least give her the chance to hear the truth from you." He gripped the younger man by his shoulders and looked intently into his eyes. "If you don't, then you're just handing her over to him . . . after all the two of you have been through, you can't let him just take her without a fight."
Folken looked at Marco for a few moments unwilling to let the other man's words sink into his pain-filled heart. "But it's too late – I'll never get to Jin before he does. I don't even know where she is."
"Damn it Folken – listen to yourself! Do you want Lefebvre to win? You've told me how much you love her – how much you need her; well you stupid jackass – if you don't try to do something then you will lose her!"
Lacour's eyes clouded with puzzlement, "H-How did you know his name?"
Marco bit his lip as he realized his mistake. He saw Folken's eyes widen, as if in understanding. "Good gods Marco!"
The outlander suddenly reached out and grabbed the dark-haired apprentice by the lapels of his coat. "Y-You knew it! You god-damned bastard! You knew it." He roughly pushed Marco backwards as he let go of him, and the older man sprawled to the ground. Lacour angrily got to his feet.
"You set me up – you knew he was there the whole time." Folken clenched his fists as his eyes blazed with anger and hatred. "Have you been feeding him information all along? Was this the plan from the very beginning – that day that you first saw Jin and I together, it wasn't a coincidence was it?" Reaching down, he grabbed Marco by his jacket once again and hauled him to his feet. "To think that I was stupid enough to ever trust you -- that I could ever expect to find friendship in the black tower! Why, Marco -- why?"
Marco's voice was a whisper, "I-It wasn't – it wasn't Lefebvre." He swallowed, "I-I didn't have any choice Folken . . . I didn't want to – you have to believe me. But I – I couldn't . . ." The older man visibly shuddered, "I couldn't take anymore – I couldn't . . ."
Folken gripped Marco tighter and shook him, "Who Marco – who was it?"
Dimetra shook his head wildly, "I-I can't . . . please Folken – I can't . . ." he almost sobbed.
The outlander could see the pain and fear etched on Marco's features and he let go him, roughly pushing him away. "Get out of my sight you bastard." He said as he turned away from the other man.
"Folken . . ."
"I mean it Dimetra. If you value your life – then you'll get the hell out of here right now!" Folken took several deep breaths as he tried to control the rage that threatened to explode from within.
The dark-haired apprentice looked at the other man's back for a few moments. "The park – that's where he's headed. Jindra is supposed to be there – she thinks she's meeting you."
With one last look at his former friend, Marco Dimetra turned away and slowly walked away towards the main hall, his eyes filled with tears and his heart broken and in pain.
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Folken heard Marco walk away; and when he was sure that the other man was out of earshot, he let out a rage-filled growl – all of his anger and hurt melding into an almost inhuman cry that startled the birds from the trees. As his tears ran unchecked, Marco's words haunted him ". . . after all the two of you have been through, you can't let him just take her without a fight."
Clenching his fists, Folken took several deep breaths as he tried to calm down and get his emotions under control. He's right – the damn bastard. She'll probably hate me afterwards anyway . . . but I have to at least try. I can't lose her – I can't! After several minutes, his breathing started to return to normal and he slowly unclenched his fists.
Taking one last deep breath, Folken closed his eyes. Please . . . please let me find the strength to do this. Opening his eyes, he straightened his back and started towards the front gate. He had only taken a few long strides, when he had a sudden thought. Turning, he quickly ran back into the main hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he returned to his quarters. Opening the door, he hurried into his bedroom.
Folken adjusted the scabbard that rested on his left hip. He reassuringly gripped the hilt of the sword with his hand, the gold band on his third finger flashing in the sunlight. I'll be damned if I let him have her without a fight. Once he was through the gate and out on the main street, the pale-haired outlander broke out into a run. Anton Lefebvre will have to kill me before he takes Jin away from me. As he made his way down the street, Folken Lacour only hoped that he wasn't too late; and that his wife's love for him was strong enough to overcome yet one more heart-wrenching hurdle.