SIXTY
"Gods above and below, Dimetra . . . I never believed you were a genius, but how could you have been so stupid?" Juri Selanne shook his head and sighed as he regarded the dark-haired man sitting before him.
Marco Dimetra squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments before looking back up at the other man. "Please Juri . . ." the young man's voice sounded strangled. "Please – you have to help me . . . "
Selanne raised his brow at the man's words. "Just what makes you think that I have to do anything for you?"
Marco felt his heart sink at the tone of the other man's voice. Going to Juri Selanne had taken away any pride that the young man thought that he had left, and he was willing to go down on his knees and beg the sorcerer for his help if need be.
The dark-haired apprentice had thought long and hard into the night, drinking his way through several bottles of wine, before scrawling out a rambling note begging Selanne to meet him in at the small inn where he had taken refuge. That Juri had even shown up was a surprise; and when the older man stepped through the door and into Marco's shadowed room, the young man had felt a sense of relief and hope wash over him.
Dimetra haltingly told Selanne an abbreviated version of the events that had transpired over the past year – from Folken Lacour's secret relationship with Jindra Roh, to the couple's eventual marriage and his own part in making it happen; and how Garufo had used him to betray Lacour to Anton Lefebvre. Almost on the edge of tears, Marco had told the older man of his abuse and punishment at the hands of the other sorcerer; and that he had only agreed to help Garufo in his scheme to ruin Folken because he couldn't bear it any longer. After he finished, the young man had taken several long draughts from yet another bottle of wine as he waited for Selanne's reaction and reply.
Despite all his years in the tower, Juri Selanne had a reputation for being a fair man – he very rarely spoke out against anyone and usually kept his personal opinions to himself. It was the older man's knowledge and design skills that had guided him through the ranks of the tower and into a position of some power and influence. Juri had been the third sorcerer that Marco had served under during his time as an apprentice and he had been the most patient and to a certain degree, understanding. Although the man had never approved of what Dimetra was or how he chose to spend his personal time, Selanne had always treated him equally when they were among the other apprentices.
Looking at Juri Selanne's expression as he regarded him, Marco knew that if Juri refused to help him then he was doomed. The young man held no illusions that if he returned to the tower, that his life would be forfeit – Garufo would see to that; and his demise would be neither quick nor painless. If he thought that the cruelty that he had suffered at the man's hands in the past few weeks had been bad, the dark-haired man was doubly sure that Garufo would make sure that he suffered greatly before he died. Selanne was his last chance – his lifeline – and Marco would do anything to gain the man's help.
The dark-haired apprentice felt the tears well in his eyes and he desperately tried to hold them back. "I've made some horrible mistakes, Juri, I know that. But . . . but I didn't have any choice. Garufo would have killed me . . . it didn't seem like such a hard thing to do at first, but . . . but I got to know Folken and when I tried to tell him that I couldn't do it . . ." Marco trailed off as his voice shook with memories of what Garufo had done to him when the young man had tried to escape from his clutches.
Taking several deep breaths to regain his composure, Marco tried once more. "Please Juri . . . I'll get on my knees and beg you if that's what you want. It's not like I have anything left to lose . . . just please, please don't let him get me – kill me yourself if you want, at least I know you won't enjoy it and make me suffer." Unable to hold them back any longer, the tears started down the young man's cheek. "Maybe I should just go to Folken – I know he probably can't wait to run me through." Marco bent his head and continued to weep.
Juri Selanne sighed and shook his head. The older man had always found Garufo to be a sadistic cunning man; a man who would use anyone and any means to advance his position within the tower. The man's love of inflicting pain as a means to sexual gratification was well know and made Selanne sick to his stomach to think of it. He wondered how many other young men Garufo had taken and broken, just as he had done to Marco Dimetra; and as he looked at the crying young man in front of him, the sorcerer made his decision.
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His elbow propped on the arm of the chair, Folken Lacour pressed his fist to his forehead and closed his eyes. The slow throbbing pain behind his eyes had started after he had left Marco Dimetra's empty rooms the night before, and as he had sat brooding and thinking through the night, it had not lessened. Right after daybreak, the young outlander had resumed his search of the tower grounds for the missing apprentice but to no avail. The most that he had been able to discover was that Marco had hurriedly left through the front gate the afternoon before and had not been seen since. Despite his anger over the dark-haired man's betrayal, Lacour found himself wondering if Marco were alright. The young man still could not shake the terrified look on Dimetra's face from his mind; and the more he thought on it, Folken began to believe that the other man had fled in fear of his life.
Sitting back in the chair, Folken let his hand fall into his lap as he titled his head up and against the chair back. He felt completed drained, emotionally and physically. He had not eaten since breakfast the day before and had not slept at all during the night. His mind was nothing but a chaotic mess, as all the events in his life from the past three years swirled through it. Every joy and every sorrow that he had experienced since coming to Zaibach had been relived as he sat in the darkness of his quarters, oblivious to anything else around him. Yet always his mind would return to the same two things – Jindra and Marco – the both of them looking up at him with haunted, tear-filled eyes; and more than once, Folken found the wetness from his own tears coursing down his cheeks.
It was some time later when the young outlander fell into an exhausted, but fitful sleep.
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Letting the drapes fall closed, Jindra watched the carriage as it pulled away. Doreena had been on the verge of canceling the standing afternoon tea invitation to stay home with her daughter, but Jindra had finally managed to convince her to go on without her. The young woman wasn't up for company and she wanted nothing more than to be alone while she struggled to sort out her feelings regarding both her new husband and the accident that took her brother's life.
With a weary sigh, Jindra curled up on the sofa and leaned her head on the armrest. Looking into the flames in the fireplace, she let the warmth settle over her while she thought. Closing her eyes, the young woman felt the tears as they welled and she let them fall unheeded – all the sadness and betrayal that she felt washing over her like a wave.
What am I supposed to do now? Gods, I hate you Folken – how could you do this to me?
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The items on the desktop hit the floor with a crash as Garufo's arm swept them aside. His anger burning in his dark eyes, the sorcerer turned away from the desk and looked out the window. His plan – his wonderful, carefully orchestrated plan to bring down Folken Lacour looked like it was on the verge of unraveling. True, the girl had fallen into Anton Lefebvre's hands and had learned that her lover had been responsible for her brother's death; but she had also seen through the former cadet's intentions and turned against him. Marco Dimetra had also inexplicably disappeared after nearly ruining the entire scheme and Garufo had been unable to discover his whereabouts as of yet.
So many loose ends . . . the man shook his head. Loose ends were something that Garufo hated, and he was especially worried now; for despite her reaction, Garufo feared that Jindra Roh would eventually forgive Lacour and perhaps try to mend their broken relationship. With Dimetra running loose, that possibility seemed to grow. No doubt Dimetra would be able to convince the girl to do just that, were he given half the chance to tell her what had really happened.
Anton Lefebvre had also become another loose end that had started to fray and Garufo had serious doubts about the young man's sanity anymore. Lefebvre had become quite unpredictable in recent weeks, his drinking becoming heavier and his obsession with Jindra Roh even stronger. After the girl's blatant rebuff and condemnation, Anton's behavior had become even more erratic – not that Garufo hadn't goaded him and used it to his advantage – but the sorcerer knew that Lefebvre would have to be taken care of sooner or later, when his usefulness had finally come to an end.
Lefebvre . . . Demitra . . . Jindra Roh . . . yes, loose ends that would have to be tied up and quickly. As he looked down into the courtyard below him, a cold predatory smile began to spread across his face as a plan started to form in his mind.
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Author's Note: Wow – look, I'm not dead after all. This has been a long time coming, I know; but unfortunately the "real world" hasn't been too cooperative where my writing has been concerned. Between work, hockey season, and getting involved in an on-line RPG (and ending up being one of the co-mods), it seems like I just haven't had the time to write. Hopefully, things are back on track and I'll be trying to finish this monster and add to some of my other fics. Thanks to everyone who has been reading; and although this is only one chapter, the next one won't be too long in coming.