Those Who Came Before
Chapter 4
"That the Elmekian-Lumerian War, which lead to the social imbalance and over taxation of the former and to the annexation of the latter, can with ease be said to have been a cornerstone of recent events which lead to the political balance active now - and most probably for years to come - is easy to note. However, what many an historian seem to gloss over is the very real fact that this was not only of social import, but that it was the first time in centuries that the Forbidden Lores have seen usage. This magical Pandora's Box was opened, and although effects are no yet to be seen, this writer shivers to think what could happen if other mages even more nefarious than the ones who unleashed them were to lay hands on such power."
-Rezo the Red Priest, dictated Year 987 after the War of Resurrection
"I don't see your name written anywhere 'round here, sister. So how 'bout turning right around and go bother someone else?"
If it hadn't been for the fact that they feared - rightly at that - the magical punishment which would burst forth from the angry sorceress, Fezra knew that her companions might have told her that she was taking this a little far and that the red-haired, arrogant, self-centered, stupid, moronic little...ok calm down...sorcerer was actually in the right here. He had attacked the bandit's lair first, and so she didn't look particularly bright ranting like this about the unfairness of it all.
Fezra Inverse was as far from stupid as could be. She easily saw how things were. However she was an Inverse before anything else, and that family of wizards were known to be three things not matter the person or the differences in personality: very powerful in magic, very greedy of gold and goods and most dangerous to those who stand in their way, were extremely selective about right and wrong. Meaning that when they wanted something, they were in the right, period.
The others knew that, which was why no one - not Loerik, not Hallia and CERTAINLY not Berwen - said a word. And also why she was stuck in this rising shouting match with that man who had cheated her of her loot and her fun. That he saw fit to dismiss her like some nuisance only added fuel to the fire.
"Listen, you third-rate smart ass! You better behave yourself if you want to keep your pretty face intact!" she shouted, quickly mounting to physical threats. The pretty face in question seemed less than impressed by the threat, however.
"I'm not afraid of some bimbo who can't even gauge the strength of her opponent. These are mine!" he sneered in response, negligently firing a fireball at the fleeing bandit. "And is you want to break my face up, cutie, I hope you got power to back it up..."
"How dare you!" she growled. Never had anyone used that kind of tone with her! No one! She incidentally felt the building of a protective shield from farther off and realized the others had gone to weather this from a safe distance. Some friends!
"...cuz right now, all I see is so much hot air from an immature girl throwing a temper tantrum!" he finished with a smile that seemed even more mocking than before.
And that was what did it. The word HOT AIR seared through Fezra's mind, past all sensible thoughts, and she saw red. She didn't care about the bandits anymore, didn't care about the loot, didn't care about anything except to show this incredible JERK the doom he'd unleashed on him. She called upon her powers, and saw the man in front of her shift more defensively. He'd seen the change. Good.
"If you want to get burned that badly, pretty boy, you got your wish! Come and get it! FLARE ARROW!"
The magical fire streamed towards the man, who invoked his own powers to cast. "FREEZE ARROW!" he bellowed, and a bluish projectile impacted Fezra's attack, neutralizing it. But she was already into her second incantation, manipulating the magic to her will. She put her hands in front of her as the other man staggered back from the near-miss.
"BURST RONDO!" And streams of small, quick projectiles converged on her target. She expected him to throw a magical barrier around him to nullify it, exposing himself further, but he surprised her. Stooping at the moment she cried her spell, he lifted the remnant of a table which had belonged to the bandits and hurled it at the spheres, which obliterated it but left him intact. As soon as he had hurled it, he launched an Elmekia Lance at her as he ran towards her, and she barely had time to erect her own shield. But by the time she could do anything, he was already upon her, his hand flickering with energy. She tried to dodge him, but he was too close, and managed to touch her forearm.
"MANO BOLT." he said, and the energy tore through her, nearly paralyzing her and making her cry out. Still, she was Fezra Inverse, and came from a family of people who had been able to take a hot and still stand. She didn't give him time to hold her in his grip. Fighting the pain, she summoned and shoved a light spell in his face. He immediately recoiled by sheer reflex, and she used that time to gather her thoughts. Away. She must go away. Only a few moments.
Summoning her will she brought the necessary power to her. "RAYWING." she gasped, and immediately flew away, upward, towards the sky. There she saw him holding a hand to his eyes. It wasn't long before the effect faded, but by the time he flew himself to where she was, the effect of the Mano Bolt on her body had passed. As they stared at each other, she couldn't help but smile viciously, but also genuinely.
"Nice trick back there! Maybe you're not that bad after all!"
"Same to you, cutie. Same to you." he answered with a more winning smile.
"Lets get to it!"
"Right at you!"
Then began a battle that happened very rarely indeed. Fezra and the red-haired man went at each other with all of the magical strength within them. The sky shook and thundered as ice attacks and fire attacks streaked here and there. Fireballs impacted on magic shields, wind blasts buffeted the area, burst of magical energy flew here there and everywhere around as two sorcerers battled fiercely, testing their limits at the expense of the terrain around them.
Fezra had never felt so annoyed, so terrified and so excited at the same time. She was the strongest Inverse to have walked the Known World since three centuries at least. She had outpaced all of her teachers, had won countless magical duels. No one had ever been able to stand toe-to-toe with her. No one had been able to give as good as he or she got when she wanted to win at all costs. Like she did right now.
But this man was holding up, giving as good as he got, dodging spells, erecting barriers and using magic at a rate she had never seen. No opponent had ever come close to him in sheer power, no one had ever managed to make her find with all she had. It infuriated her that someone existed who could. Apart from Rezo the Red Priest, she had thought herself beyond all of the others. That illusion was shattered.
But amidst the indignation, amidst the rising fury, there was still this excitement. To meet an equal, after all of her adventures, someone who wasn't awed by her magical prowess, was invigoration, it stirred something deep within her breast, something which flickered and stayed.
The fight continued long, an eternity it seemed to her. Magical spells burst the surrounding countryside asunder, leveling anything in its path. The power involved - even though neither had had the time to call upon the mightiest spells available to black magic - could have killed even a Dragon Lord, she presumed. Yet she was standing, and he was standing, and the only sign of life she could register was the protection field, holding on because of one sorceress and two shrine maidens putting every bit they had into it.
However, the time finally came when she couldn't hold it anymore. Her arms tingled and strained painfully, her entire being shook with fatigue, and she felt - for the first time in her life - the magic slipping through her fingers. In front of her, the man was sweating, his red hair disheveled and damp, gradually sinking to the blasted surface, swaying visibly. She felt he had a good idea, for she felt about to fall down, and from the height she was it wouldn't be good.
So Fezra let go of the Raywing and Levitation spells, sinking to the surface. Only pride prevented her from falling to her knees upon contact, Instead she shakily stared at the man - that annoying, exciting man - and managed a rough, trembling smirk.
"Y-y-you're...n-not bad!" she exclaimed in a gasp. The other's eyelids were dropping, but he nodded at her.
"I...know...you're...pretty good...yourself." he too then managed a tired smile. "I've...never...met...someone...as strong as you. It was...great...to fight you..."
And before she could answer that - if her tired brain had managed coherence enough to answer, the man slumped forward, and fell to the ground, unconscious. She stared at him for many moments before realizing the obvious.
She had won. She could rest now.
She raised her fist upward, ignoring its shaking, and made a bold 'V'.
"Never...underestimate...an Inverse...pal!" she gasped in triumph.
And then she passed out, knocked out cold. And feeling happier in this than she had in many other instances for a long time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Phillionel de Sailune had traveled far more than he should have in his eighteen years of life. During those voyages - that only increased his father's subtle scorn for him - he had seen many sights, fought brigands and gone face-to-face - and hand-to-hand - with more monsters than he cared to count. He also had been on adventures long enough so that, as he was walking back from the farm girl he had just saved her house, he knew the tremors which shook the earth under his feet were anything but natural.
They had a feel to them. Magic. That was it. Intense magic. He had once seen two sorcerers fight in a duel and it had felt similar. But this was bigger. Much, much bigger. Which meant...which meant two sorcerers of the highest level were either fighting each other or an unimaginable monstrosity!
Both thoughts were decidedly alarming, and it caused the young, muscular and not-very-handsome prince to switch his pace from walking to charging in an instant. Trees breezed by as his large legs took him down the road at a staggering speed. All he needed to do was find were the two were fighting, and either help or deal with them. Yes, that was all good.
He never had to strain his tracking skills. The trees soon parted to show him a scene of utter desolation. As he looked around with horrified eyes, he saw that magic had seared nearly everything in a very large area. The ground was scrapped clean of trees, bushes, and grass, leaving only a few protruding rocks, the odd burnt tree stump, the few remains of what had seemingly once been a structure - to what purpose it was now impossible to tell - and the thick clouds of dust. Nothing would grow here for a long time.
What an affront to Sailune! This couldn't go unpunished!
Frantically, he looked around for clues to whoever had done this, instead of meting out fair but stern justice on them, pacifist ways be damned this time! However the area seemed deserted, he scoured it, picking remains here and there, shivering as cracks in the ruined ground showed the power that had been used here. Nothing else was forthcoming, however. Beginning to feel somewhat defeated, he was about to turn back from his search and look elsewhere when he heard voices.
Blinking, astonished, he strained to hear, to locate who was talking, and finally saw where those speaking were. Under a rocky ledge were a number of people, walking and stooping over prone forms. Not knowing if these were the defilers - justice demanded he doesn't attack people who could, after all, just be travelers investigating or such - he approached them cautiously, until the mutterings he heard could be comprehensible. Hiding behind a large rock, he listened closely.
"...don't care that not one got killed. We could've! And all because Fez and another wise-guy sorcerer decided to go on a full-blown ego trip!." A rough female voice said in frustration.
"You're right, but we're not dead and they didn't force us to stick around, did they? We chose to stay and take part of the responsibility." Said another female voice, gentler and yet more commanding.
"I don't think Fezra intended to go this far. She usually..." a third voice interjected swiftly.
"Who gives a copper coin what Fezra usually does!" a male voice this time grumbled with a spiteful undertone. "She let her damn pride get in the way of common sense, and know we have a chunk of cleared forest. Cleared! Man! Its completely burned out! And we let this happen, damn, dung, and bloody bones!"
Phillionel nodded to himself. Satisfied. Obviously, these people had something to do with what had occurred here, and he would be damned if he let these foul curs escape justice. He felt his blood boil at the thought! To think these miscreants though that they could ravage his country, the lands he had sworn an oath to protect! It was too much! It was beyond endurance! It had to be remedied at once!
Carried by the wind of his righteous thoughts, Phillionel jumped on top of the rock, startling the tired people beneath it. He could see them well now. A brunette wearing sorcerer's garb and a young woman in dirty beige were hunched over the prone bodies of two other magic wielders - AHA! The curs in question! - while a slight woman with green hair and a muscular woman were arguing with a man dressed in armor and having the looks of a mercenary about him. Bandits probably! The thought fueled his course of action, and he pointed at them as they looked up, tensing and then blinking.
"Foul brigands of unknown origins, dark spreader of misfortunes!" he intoned sternly to the stunned assemblage. "You have fouled the lands of Sailune and used dark arts to shape it to your will, but it will avail you not! I, Phillionel de Sailune, Prince and Heir, will cleanse you and your act with the strength and purity of justice." Doing that, he took a pose that he thought would incline those below to despair and beg forgiveness. If they did, he would be more lenient.
Instead the three kept blinking up at him, until they turned to each other.
"None of that makes sense." the man said, pointing at Phil and scratching his black hair with the other hand. The green-haired girl and muscular woman both nodded at him.
"Seems like this guy's gotten whacked somewhere." the warrior woman muttered.
"Besides, I don't think someone like the young Prince of Sailune would look so..."
"Ridiculous?" The man supplied.
"Now hold on here!" Phil cried in dismay, sensing that he wasn't being taken seriously at all. "If you think I shall stand here and suffer your abuse, you are all gravely mistaken. TASTE THE POWER OF JUSTICE." he bellowed, jumping high and upon the five conscious and two unconscious people, aiming at the three who had been so impolite to him. "SUPER LOVE AND PEACE AND VALENTINES KICK!"
The kick was well-aimed, filled with righteous power which would, he knew, have crushed the opponents and made them feel deserved pain. The thought both shamed and thrilled his spirit as he bore down on the curs...
...and came flat as the curs in question, not waiting for the kick to arrive as they should and as mist evil-doers had the chronic politeness to do, scattered from their position. Which did that Phillionel drove deep into the ground, showering the area with dust and rocky debris. He coughed and shook as he regained his balance, muttering to himself, before executing a majestic back flip in which he managed to land on his feet - but with which he nearly killed himself. He tensed for battle, ready for anything.
But he was still too disoriented to dodge when the man - a large one, if not as large as he was - swiped his blade and stopped it just against the prince's skin, not drawing blood. A deliberate show of tremendous skill and a challenge. He glared at the black-haired man who was threatening him, and saw that the sorceress held a ball of fire ready to fling if he tried anything harsh.
He drew himself up. "You appear to have won, cur!" he growled "But if you think that the strength of justice and the pride of Sailune will be extinguished so easily...!"
"Whoa, you sure talk a lot." the green-haired woman, who was the only one of the three who looked non-threatening, snapped. "Now if you'd just SHUT UP for a minute and let us explain, you'd understand WE had nothing to do with this!"
His look must have betrayed the disbelief he felt inside. After all, with this devastation around and all of the sorcerers present, it had to be them who had done this act, or at least the two unconscious ones. The green-haired woman sighed.
"Prince Philionel, I give you my word as a Shrine Maiden of Lumeria that we speak the truth." Saying this, she bowed and showed him a golden chain on which the symbol of the Lumerian church was crafted. Phil's eyes widened, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He didn't believe they had nothing to do with what had happened here - the facts all seemed to point to them as of now. Yet, he was a devout follower of the Church of Ceipheed, and by his vows as a man and follower of justice, he had to believe the pledge of a Shrine Maiden.
Obviously seeing his new expression, the swordsman and sorceress removed their weapons from sight, not without giving them an expressive warning that they would be ready to use them if he tried anything. He took a deep breath.
"Very well." he said sternly and indulgently "I am willing to overlook things in regards to your oath, madam. But I will need a very good explanation!"
The people around him rolled their eyes, shook their head and made it clear that they couldn't believe him, the man even throwing in a sentence in a language Phil didn't recognize. At long last the woman spoke, just as solemnly.
"Very well. For the last month, we have worked to reach your kingdom in the hopes of finding safety. However, a few days after we..."
* * * * * * * * * *
Jomekin was feeling happier than he had in months.
It wasn't very surprising, since for the last months he had been conducting secret research while hearing of the Kingdom's defeats piling up next to Elmekian might. It certainly hadn't rejoiced him to learn that the country which had birthed a magi as gifted as he was so weak, but that he could have lived with. However, to learn as much information as he could, he had had to act like he looked - like a child, a damnable CHILD! - to deceive and poke around where a grown man would have been watched. That he had learned enough to find the exact location of the place the First Knights had sealed some of the Forbidden Lores hadn't helped his mood. In fact he had worked to show a considerable restraint not to kill a guard as he patted his head. Oh, he wanted to kill those people, every single one of them - he would he would- but not now. No matter how much it burned.
Jomekin was a freak - he knew it as well as anyone. Past twelve, he had been unable to grow, being caught in a state of pre-adolescence. It was an unthinkable process, which hinted at something beyond the simply magical - a curse or a stigma of bad luck. Consequently he had been shunned, locked out, reviled by the entire village he lived in. With each dark look, his bitterness grew. With every jibe, his hatred soared. Soon it was more than he could bear, and he managed to latch on to the only thing which might help him - magic. Turning away from the magic of the priests and the teachings of the shamans, he had made his home in the Lumerian guild. There, he had found that he had a natural talent - the sole thing that brought him real joy -and had met Dallomir, who had become his mentor.
Under the older, powerful mage, he had learned much about the world, and had first learned of the truth behind the end of the war of resurrection - that the First Knights, the sainted heroes who had supposedly allowed humanity to rebuild civilization - had willingly castrated Black Magic. Cowering before the thought of a new Lei Magnus - they had stored much of the great spells the greatest Sorcerer who ever lived away. It had rankled him. Deeply. Sailune the Wise, Gabriev the Blademaster, Falana of the Five Winds, and all of those legendary figures had deprived humanity of so many possibilities...
...possibilities like manipulation of reality. Like teleportation, mind reading. And means to change bodies.
The bastards. The damn bastards. They had done this to him! If they were alive, he would hunt and kill each of these cowards!
From the moment he had known the extent of Ceipheed's deceit, of the betrayal those who had arrogantly sheppard mankind from the brink back to ever-increasing prosperity had committed, he had understood Dallomir's point of view. It was their duty to find the Forbidden Lores, to give them back to those who deserved them. Oh, they wouldn't just give the knowledge away, of course. They would first use it to help those who needed it - like Jomekin and anybody like him, and then increase their knowledge so that they could wield the Black Magic powers which had all but died with Falana, Lei Magnus' lover and the last who had known how to use the Forbidden Lore Spells for so many centuries.
"But soon.," he couldn't help but mutter "Soon we will be able to uncover those secrets, and I will find my cure!" this pleasant thought was cut right through the middle by a scoff. He frowned and looked right into the face of Dallomir's other man, Mellinius. The man had ridden right beside him while their mentor had ridden slightly ahead, not saying a word, which suited Jomekin fine.
"What do you want, Mel?" he asked darkly. The other man looked at him with mixed pity and scorn. How he wanted to fireball that expression to oblivion! But he restrained himself masterfully.
"Nothing. I just find it odd that you would put your cure before the well-being of the kingdom."
He truly didn't like Mellinius. He was so damn loyal to the 'higher ideals' of the realm and the guild that he failed to see anything else. Obtuse, narrow-minded, tactless fool! But Dallomir trusted him, and the man HAD good magical aptitude. Still, he couldn't believe he was stuck with this nitwit!
He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. "My cure was my main goal ever since I stopped growing. Everything is second compared to that." he said with that tiny, childlike voice - the voice he had lived with far longer than he should have. He was older than Mellinius! He should be treated with respect! He should... he calmed down, forcing the thoughts to stillness.
The younger - but DAMN DAMN DAMN older-looking - man shook his head in what seemed like faint disgust. "I knew you were selfish, Jomekin, but this, to put yourself before our people..."
"Carefully, carefully, carefully, Mellinius." he cut off darkly, his anger breaking his voice "You think you can go and judge me? Don't you dare! Don't you dare try! Because you don't know! And those who don't know should just SHUT UP!"
"Is that a threat?!?" the other man said, his eyes wide. Not bright, was he. He smirked.
"You bet it is. So careful. And keep your mouth shut tight."
"As much as your discussion seems to be quite entertaining, gentlemen, I believe you should come and see this!" their mentor's voice came to them excitedly. The two men who followed the arch wizard exchanged a glare, then trotted their horses to where Dallomir waited, looking at them and then just ahead with light in his eyes - a lust no one cared to understand and which sometimes made even Jomekin stagger mentally.
As one, they looked in the direction they had to look. And the child-bodied sorceror felt his heart soar at the sight before them. He had been right!
Before them were ruins. But not just any ruins. Long ago, this place had been the home of of many Elves, powerful wizard of White Magic whose knowledge and spells alleviated the suffering in the world in a way that even the most devout of the human priests of today couldn't fathom. It had been them beyond all others who had taught humans of the flow of the magic, and how to use it to their will. Centuries upon centuries of peace had reigned over this region.
But then Lei Magnus, the most powerful human wizard who ever lived, complete master of White, Black and Shamanist magicks, lost his soul to the Shabranigdu Shard buried deep within him. He became malevolent, destructive, intent on erasing the arts which might stop his deranged invasion. Even before Shabranigdu emerged, he had struck the great gleaming Salvaloim Temple. The great Elven Priests had fought, but their magic, so strong in healing, could do little to stop the hurricane of death the former First of the Five Wisemen had become. The temple fell, and was partially destroyed by mighty blasts of magical power.
Soon after, the world had gone to war against Shabranigdu and his hordes.
Time had passed since that war ended, and the eight who were now the legendary First Knights had long departed. Centuries had passed since this place and this overgrown road, located deep within the wild woods of Sailune, had been thread upon, and it showed. Little could be seen of the crumbling temple - a carved, crumbling statue here, part of a column there, almost all of it was covered by the trees and the brushes.
Except one place.
Before them, immense and intact after nearly a millennium, stood the Marble Gates of Salvaloim, great gates of the purest white, ten times the size of a man and twenty times as wide. Sealed long ago by the combined might of Sailune, Gabriev and Falana.
Dallomir looked at the gates with an almost perverse yearning. "Gentlemen," he said as if in a dream "It would appear that we have arrived."
Mellinius looked around bleakly, seemingly unimpressed with the door. "I sense much sadness and death around here."
"But such power!" Jekomin said. "Now I...WE will get what we want from the power stored here!"
"Yes! Yes! Power! For the greatness of Lumeria and the Guild!" Dallomir said triumphantly, still staring at the huge gates.
And although the words he used appeared proper, Jekomin shivered again. He wanted his cure, that was why he was here?
But WHAT did DALLOMIR want?
* * * * * * * * *
Marcus awoke from a deep yet fitful dream, similar to the one which had plagued him ever since he had been a child, to find himself in a room he didn't recognize at all. It was, to say the least, a novel and relatively unpleasant development. Consequently he surged upward to sit up, then proceeded to collapse on the spot. Damn, did he feel weak right now! He'd never felt anywhere near like it before.
Knowing that leaving the room wasn't the most sensible thing at the present. He inspected his surroundings. Wooden ceiling with the slightest signs of age. Bare, whitewashed walls, simple wooden furniture, a chair on which all of his clothes were...
He stopped at the clothes, blinking, his mind reaching a rather embarrassing confusion. He looked beneath the sheets. Yup, nothing on there. He was as naked as a cursed slug. The thought that whoever had put him here had stripped him completely made him feel anything but good. He couldn't really be angry, he had needed a safe haven after that horrendous battle, but still...
He was jarred of his squirming musings when the door creaked open. Years of solitary research and field testing and adventures made him tense up at once, ready to call on whatever magical reserves had been restored by his rest if the need arose. However, the visitor wasn't anybody he could even assume to be an enemy. Dressed in white clothes, a woman of greenish hair entered the room. A priestess obviously. Upon seeing his cautious look, she gave a start then smiled softly.
"You're awake! Amazing! Fezra hasn't budged yet." she said.
He coughed, raising an eyebrow. "Fezra?" he inquired more weakly than he intended. "Who's...wait...is she that crazy sorceress who fought against me?" he stated more than he asked, for the answer seemed to be a taken.
"Yes. She's sleeping, being tended to by others in our group. I don't expect her to wake just yet. In fact I didn't expect you to do so for a while yet."
"I'm full of surprises." he said with a charming smile, his ego flattered by both the praise and the prettiness of the woman. He didn't find her as beautiful as the whacked woman he'd fought, but it appears the group had some quality female flesh in it!
Just then, however, a man entered, holding a tray laden with food. He had also been part of the group he'd seen edging backward from the fight. Arrayed in armor covering his shouldrers and torso, he was a sight - a man of strong muscle, raven hair and dangerous eyes. He was exhuding the titles 'swordsman' and 'mercenary' all rolled into one. And the hardly subtle warning look he gave Marcus made him swallow his winning smile and decide not to pull moves on that priestess.
"So, he's awake, huh?" The fighter said gruffly.
"Well, his eyes are open and he's speaking. I think that qualifies as being 'awake'." the priestess answer in irritation. The tone lacked anything confrontational in nature, though. There was something there, or at least the beginning of something. And the warrior had told Marcus he better not do anything to ruin it.
He wouldn't. It wasn't really his style. Besides, he didn't find her as interesting as the memories he had of that beautiful, powerful and dangerously temperamental sorceress he had fought.
"The woman...the one I fought. Her name is Fezra?" he asked.
"Yes. Fezra Inverse. You should eat now."
The family name hit him like a lightning bolt. Inverse! INVERSE! A name which carried great weight amongst anyone who knew anything of the black arts. The Inverse family was known as one of the most naturally powerful, with members of this family emerging rather frequently in Guild history. Vedrian Inverse, who founded many guilds. Ashra Inverse, who became the wisest and greatest wizard of her time. And Zerios Inverse, the Fourth of the Five Wisemen. Power, temper, intelligence and greed. It was a flamboyant and formidable line.
He chuckled to himself in disbelief. "An Inverse. No wonder she was so strong. And you are?"
The priestess smiled as she took the food tray from the warrior, then proceeded to install it on Marcus's lap. "My name is Hallia Servales. And this hunk of muscle," she said with a jerk towards the warrior, "Is Loerik Gabriev."
Marcus, who had taken a sip from the water goblet on the tray, nearly choked on it. "G-Gabriev?!? But that's...I mean...that's..."
At his fumbling words, the swordsman actually relaxed, the ice broken as far as he was concerned. "If you're asking if I'm from the family descended from the First Knight Gabriev and from which the legendary Swordsman of Light emerged, you're right. The Swordsman of Light's my grandfather, as far as I know."
"Loerik's got the Sword of Light, now." Hallia added. Loerik gave her a look and she smiled. "What? He'd have known sooner or later!"
The warrior shook his head. "You're as insufferable as Fez sometimes."
"I know." she said. And they exchanged a look worth a thousand words. Yes, there was definitely something going on here.
"Well...err...this is fascinating." he thought quickly. "Fezra's power is great, you're the Light Swordsman, other magic-users....quite a powerful group." he looked at them both. "If I may, I think I might need help from a group like yours for my purposes."
The tall man frowned, folding his arms. "Purposes, wizard? I've been fighting a war for three years and I've seen the way that word is used."
Marcus saw the priestess flinch ever so slightly and wondered. A war for three years? "You were involved in the Elmekia-Lumeria war, weren't you?" he stated. At Hallia's downcast eyes, he saw he had hit the mark. "You were involved, and on the side of the Lumerians."
"No. I was a priestess in the Lumerian Royal Army." Hallia rectified in a voice filled with anxiety and sadness. "Loerik was..."
"He doesn't have to know the details of what we did!" The swordsman snapped, and didn't moderate his tone even though he hesitated when she looked at him in an angry and hurt face. "Right now I'd like this guy to tell us what he wants with us!"
In many ways, Marcus couldn't quite disagree with the intent of the taller man, though he might find the means a little harsh. After all, he WAS digging where he shouldn't, all the while telling them that he needed their help without going on to explain the details. However, there was also the fact that the warrior had snapped his retort BEFORE he could say anything. Taking all this into account, the young sorcerer decided that caution was the better part of valor.
"You're right." he said at length. "You're absolutely right, and I intend to explain it rightr now, if you'll let me." he couldn't help but give that last a sardonic edge. The swordsman's eyes flashed briefly, but that quickly gave way to a grin.
"Sorry." he said, spreading his hands "Lets just say that the past few weeks have been even more tiresome than anything previous."
"That's true." Hallia added with a sigh charged with many - although controlled - emotions. Then she raised her head as though a thought had just struck her. "Reminds me...perhaps you could go and get the prince here? I'm sure he'd like to listen to whatever this guy has to say...if its important." she gave a questioning look.
Prince? What was that about a Prince? Marcus banished the thought at once. There was no time left for wondering. He had gathered clues along the way, piecing things together from the rumors of the Guild and the information he personally gathered at the library. He knew something might happen if he didn't reach Salvaloim Temple quickly. If need be, he'd go it alone, but these people - who seemed rather aimless - might be a great boon to him if fighting broke out.
Thoughts of the fair, dangerous sorceress emerged, and he inwardly grinned to himself before resuming a business face. He looked down at the food and picked up the loaf of bread. Munching on it, he finally faced the other two.
"Gather anyone you want. Then I'll tell you my story."
* * * * * * * * * *
"You should have waited for me to wake up before going on this thing!"
"We've been over this time and time again, Fez! You were still out cold when he told us about this thing the Lumerian sorcerers want to do. We took a vote and unanimously decided to go!"
"NOT unanimous! I was unconscious!"
"Enough of this! The only reason you're getting all hot about this is because we didn't take your advice and because of that you're acting like a child. Sometimes, you really...ahh!" with that huff, Hallia kicked her horse into a trot, and went to join the other just ahead, leaving Zashtla alone bringing in the rear. The swordswoman sighed when she saw the sorceress' eyes fix on her.
"And why didn't you say anything?" Fezra asked, still turning to glare at Hallia's receding back but mostly focusing on her.
She raised an eyebrow. "There was nothing to be said, Fezra. Why don't you relax for a bit?" she asked, knowing very well that her advice wouldn't be heeded - the woman never heeded anyone but herself. Nor, she reflected with some wry amusement, did Zashtla herself.
"I don't like this. I mean, this guy could be leading us into a trap or something." the uncertainty in her voice immediately told the warrior how little the powerful sorceress believed in that. She coughed in embarrassment, then set her face in stubborn lines. "I just don't feel like he's playing on the level with us."
Zashtla had to nod at that. She had reservations about the man's story herself, and had given voice to some of her concerns to the others. She didn't believe that the red-haired man wished them any harm, but it was clear that the temple they were searching, a legendary temple this Marcus claimed to have discovered the rough location of, with its rogue bamd of sorcerors trying to access it, was full of subtle holes. Still, she followed, partly because she had seen the worry in the younger man's eyes, and partly...
She sighed. The real reason for she following was that, for the first time in her life, she felt she had some kind of purpose, people she had actually started to grow attached to. Sullen Berwen with her exasperation fits, deadly, happy-go-lucky Fezra, the somber yet kind Loerik and the proud, strong-willed Hallia. Even the silent, shy and fearful Narie had become a sort of part of her being. She couldn't understand it, couldn't understand that for all of her years as a lonely mercenary, with her memory fuzzy from an event she could never recall, she had actually become part of something greater than herself. She hadn't been for a long time.
But once...once she had been...in Kalmaart...there was...there was someone, someone who did something...he was...he was...
"One thing's for sure, it will sure come in handy to travel with the Crown Prince of Sailune himself!" Fezra stated loudly, stopping all attempts at recollection for the moment.
More angry than she would want to admit at the rude interruption of her train of thoughts, Zashtla briefly considered throtling or knocking out the auburn-haired sorceress before dismissing the idea entirely. Not that she feared either Fezra or the other if it came to something so drastic - she was too near to react and they were to far to help - even if they really DID want the sorceress to shut up. She didn't stop because of that.
She stopped because she was seized with the futility of wondering what her past was, what she had done past the last five years or so. Her name, her skills with a blade, that was nearly all she had left of her old self. It saddened her, angered her, sometimes terrified her, and so she always tried to remember, to let go shortly after.
Trying not to show the depression in her heart, she answered her friend. "The prince's help greatly speeded up matters in securing horses, but I don't think he wants to flaunt who he is here. The king and he..."
Fezra waved an hand negligently. "...are on very bad terms. I know, and I think half of the world knows by now. Still, it might be useful for us, you know, to get cut prices on food, lodging, all that stuff. We could get the best food, the best rooms in inns too, in a snap."
"You're so greedy."
Fezra gave her a cheeky grin. "Me? Greedy? No way! I'm only a very practical, fragile, sensitive young woman!"
Hearing Fezra Inverse, one of the toughest, smartest, temperamental - and most reckless - woman she'd ever met, give herself qualities like 'fragile' and 'sensitive' actually broke her from her gloomy thoughts, and she grinned slightly. This always happened these days. If Fezra's big mouth didn't cheer her up, a long talk with Hallia calmed her, or a sword fight with Loerik thrilled her. She couldn't find the time to mope about what she had lost. Which, in clear hindsight, she definitely voted as a good thing.
And only for that, it made those people all the more dear to her heart.
"Anyway, now that I think about it..." Fezra mused excitedly.
"Improvement from this morning." she interrupted with a smirk. The sorceress turned a mock-glare towards her.
"Watch it, Tala!" she said good-naturedly, shaking a finger. "I bit when I get angry at people! As I was SAYING... this temple could be a great adventure, assuming this GUY really knows where the thing is. I don't." she paused, her eyes lighting up a bit more. "Still...Salvaloim Temple! What a blast it would be!"
Zashtla gave her a confused look, and Fezra blinked. "You don't know about it? I mean, about the Elves being there, Lei Magnus destroying it, the First Knights and the sealing?"
"Only small bits at the campfires. We mercenaries are so occupied by living day-by-day...greater events have no real meaning to us."
Fezra nodded with a sober look. "I see. Then...why do you follow us?"
"For the same reason you do - because this group, as crazy as it can be, is pretty fun to adventure with!" she couldn't help but grin again at that, wider than before.
At this, the young sorceress threw her head back and laughed, her voice carried far and wide and even causing the others ahead to give her looks ranging from irritation to casual amusement to blank astonishment depending whom was concerned. She laughed truly, her luxuriant auburn hair dancing with her mirth. She got it back under control quickly, but the smile, and the glees, remained easy to see.
Yes, that was the life she had missed. Friends. Friends to give some sort of purpose to herself. For although she had never told the others this, although she'd put up the image of a woman who, unlike poor Narie, had put up with what the mercenaries - and HIM in particular - had done to her, it was anything but the truth.
She had put up with it...because it gave her a sort of twisted meaning, something to latch on to. She had been glad for that. Now, she was far too ashamed to talk of it.
But at least now she had something tangible. She had a true life. Not some unremembered past and dark future, but a very promising present!
It was nice to understand that something in her life would be tangible. She had no intention of letting it go to waste.
* * * * * * * * * *
"And so your pawns are on their way."
"Not pawns...merely unwitting allies."
"As you say, its all semantics to me. And do you believe that these adventurers will be able to stop the catastrophe at hand."
"I have done all I can so that they could do so. I manipulated enough events to bring them together. The rest is up to them. I cannot do more than watch now."
"Truly? And what about the other matter, the other darkness, the thing which we have both seen in our dreams?"
"...of that event, and its conclusion, old friend, I have no knowledge. When we know more, perhaps we could do something. Right now, however, let us watch. Events are about to start unfolding."
_______________________________________
Chapter 4
"That the Elmekian-Lumerian War, which lead to the social imbalance and over taxation of the former and to the annexation of the latter, can with ease be said to have been a cornerstone of recent events which lead to the political balance active now - and most probably for years to come - is easy to note. However, what many an historian seem to gloss over is the very real fact that this was not only of social import, but that it was the first time in centuries that the Forbidden Lores have seen usage. This magical Pandora's Box was opened, and although effects are no yet to be seen, this writer shivers to think what could happen if other mages even more nefarious than the ones who unleashed them were to lay hands on such power."
-Rezo the Red Priest, dictated Year 987 after the War of Resurrection
"I don't see your name written anywhere 'round here, sister. So how 'bout turning right around and go bother someone else?"
If it hadn't been for the fact that they feared - rightly at that - the magical punishment which would burst forth from the angry sorceress, Fezra knew that her companions might have told her that she was taking this a little far and that the red-haired, arrogant, self-centered, stupid, moronic little...ok calm down...sorcerer was actually in the right here. He had attacked the bandit's lair first, and so she didn't look particularly bright ranting like this about the unfairness of it all.
Fezra Inverse was as far from stupid as could be. She easily saw how things were. However she was an Inverse before anything else, and that family of wizards were known to be three things not matter the person or the differences in personality: very powerful in magic, very greedy of gold and goods and most dangerous to those who stand in their way, were extremely selective about right and wrong. Meaning that when they wanted something, they were in the right, period.
The others knew that, which was why no one - not Loerik, not Hallia and CERTAINLY not Berwen - said a word. And also why she was stuck in this rising shouting match with that man who had cheated her of her loot and her fun. That he saw fit to dismiss her like some nuisance only added fuel to the fire.
"Listen, you third-rate smart ass! You better behave yourself if you want to keep your pretty face intact!" she shouted, quickly mounting to physical threats. The pretty face in question seemed less than impressed by the threat, however.
"I'm not afraid of some bimbo who can't even gauge the strength of her opponent. These are mine!" he sneered in response, negligently firing a fireball at the fleeing bandit. "And is you want to break my face up, cutie, I hope you got power to back it up..."
"How dare you!" she growled. Never had anyone used that kind of tone with her! No one! She incidentally felt the building of a protective shield from farther off and realized the others had gone to weather this from a safe distance. Some friends!
"...cuz right now, all I see is so much hot air from an immature girl throwing a temper tantrum!" he finished with a smile that seemed even more mocking than before.
And that was what did it. The word HOT AIR seared through Fezra's mind, past all sensible thoughts, and she saw red. She didn't care about the bandits anymore, didn't care about the loot, didn't care about anything except to show this incredible JERK the doom he'd unleashed on him. She called upon her powers, and saw the man in front of her shift more defensively. He'd seen the change. Good.
"If you want to get burned that badly, pretty boy, you got your wish! Come and get it! FLARE ARROW!"
The magical fire streamed towards the man, who invoked his own powers to cast. "FREEZE ARROW!" he bellowed, and a bluish projectile impacted Fezra's attack, neutralizing it. But she was already into her second incantation, manipulating the magic to her will. She put her hands in front of her as the other man staggered back from the near-miss.
"BURST RONDO!" And streams of small, quick projectiles converged on her target. She expected him to throw a magical barrier around him to nullify it, exposing himself further, but he surprised her. Stooping at the moment she cried her spell, he lifted the remnant of a table which had belonged to the bandits and hurled it at the spheres, which obliterated it but left him intact. As soon as he had hurled it, he launched an Elmekia Lance at her as he ran towards her, and she barely had time to erect her own shield. But by the time she could do anything, he was already upon her, his hand flickering with energy. She tried to dodge him, but he was too close, and managed to touch her forearm.
"MANO BOLT." he said, and the energy tore through her, nearly paralyzing her and making her cry out. Still, she was Fezra Inverse, and came from a family of people who had been able to take a hot and still stand. She didn't give him time to hold her in his grip. Fighting the pain, she summoned and shoved a light spell in his face. He immediately recoiled by sheer reflex, and she used that time to gather her thoughts. Away. She must go away. Only a few moments.
Summoning her will she brought the necessary power to her. "RAYWING." she gasped, and immediately flew away, upward, towards the sky. There she saw him holding a hand to his eyes. It wasn't long before the effect faded, but by the time he flew himself to where she was, the effect of the Mano Bolt on her body had passed. As they stared at each other, she couldn't help but smile viciously, but also genuinely.
"Nice trick back there! Maybe you're not that bad after all!"
"Same to you, cutie. Same to you." he answered with a more winning smile.
"Lets get to it!"
"Right at you!"
Then began a battle that happened very rarely indeed. Fezra and the red-haired man went at each other with all of the magical strength within them. The sky shook and thundered as ice attacks and fire attacks streaked here and there. Fireballs impacted on magic shields, wind blasts buffeted the area, burst of magical energy flew here there and everywhere around as two sorcerers battled fiercely, testing their limits at the expense of the terrain around them.
Fezra had never felt so annoyed, so terrified and so excited at the same time. She was the strongest Inverse to have walked the Known World since three centuries at least. She had outpaced all of her teachers, had won countless magical duels. No one had ever been able to stand toe-to-toe with her. No one had been able to give as good as he or she got when she wanted to win at all costs. Like she did right now.
But this man was holding up, giving as good as he got, dodging spells, erecting barriers and using magic at a rate she had never seen. No opponent had ever come close to him in sheer power, no one had ever managed to make her find with all she had. It infuriated her that someone existed who could. Apart from Rezo the Red Priest, she had thought herself beyond all of the others. That illusion was shattered.
But amidst the indignation, amidst the rising fury, there was still this excitement. To meet an equal, after all of her adventures, someone who wasn't awed by her magical prowess, was invigoration, it stirred something deep within her breast, something which flickered and stayed.
The fight continued long, an eternity it seemed to her. Magical spells burst the surrounding countryside asunder, leveling anything in its path. The power involved - even though neither had had the time to call upon the mightiest spells available to black magic - could have killed even a Dragon Lord, she presumed. Yet she was standing, and he was standing, and the only sign of life she could register was the protection field, holding on because of one sorceress and two shrine maidens putting every bit they had into it.
However, the time finally came when she couldn't hold it anymore. Her arms tingled and strained painfully, her entire being shook with fatigue, and she felt - for the first time in her life - the magic slipping through her fingers. In front of her, the man was sweating, his red hair disheveled and damp, gradually sinking to the blasted surface, swaying visibly. She felt he had a good idea, for she felt about to fall down, and from the height she was it wouldn't be good.
So Fezra let go of the Raywing and Levitation spells, sinking to the surface. Only pride prevented her from falling to her knees upon contact, Instead she shakily stared at the man - that annoying, exciting man - and managed a rough, trembling smirk.
"Y-y-you're...n-not bad!" she exclaimed in a gasp. The other's eyelids were dropping, but he nodded at her.
"I...know...you're...pretty good...yourself." he too then managed a tired smile. "I've...never...met...someone...as strong as you. It was...great...to fight you..."
And before she could answer that - if her tired brain had managed coherence enough to answer, the man slumped forward, and fell to the ground, unconscious. She stared at him for many moments before realizing the obvious.
She had won. She could rest now.
She raised her fist upward, ignoring its shaking, and made a bold 'V'.
"Never...underestimate...an Inverse...pal!" she gasped in triumph.
And then she passed out, knocked out cold. And feeling happier in this than she had in many other instances for a long time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Phillionel de Sailune had traveled far more than he should have in his eighteen years of life. During those voyages - that only increased his father's subtle scorn for him - he had seen many sights, fought brigands and gone face-to-face - and hand-to-hand - with more monsters than he cared to count. He also had been on adventures long enough so that, as he was walking back from the farm girl he had just saved her house, he knew the tremors which shook the earth under his feet were anything but natural.
They had a feel to them. Magic. That was it. Intense magic. He had once seen two sorcerers fight in a duel and it had felt similar. But this was bigger. Much, much bigger. Which meant...which meant two sorcerers of the highest level were either fighting each other or an unimaginable monstrosity!
Both thoughts were decidedly alarming, and it caused the young, muscular and not-very-handsome prince to switch his pace from walking to charging in an instant. Trees breezed by as his large legs took him down the road at a staggering speed. All he needed to do was find were the two were fighting, and either help or deal with them. Yes, that was all good.
He never had to strain his tracking skills. The trees soon parted to show him a scene of utter desolation. As he looked around with horrified eyes, he saw that magic had seared nearly everything in a very large area. The ground was scrapped clean of trees, bushes, and grass, leaving only a few protruding rocks, the odd burnt tree stump, the few remains of what had seemingly once been a structure - to what purpose it was now impossible to tell - and the thick clouds of dust. Nothing would grow here for a long time.
What an affront to Sailune! This couldn't go unpunished!
Frantically, he looked around for clues to whoever had done this, instead of meting out fair but stern justice on them, pacifist ways be damned this time! However the area seemed deserted, he scoured it, picking remains here and there, shivering as cracks in the ruined ground showed the power that had been used here. Nothing else was forthcoming, however. Beginning to feel somewhat defeated, he was about to turn back from his search and look elsewhere when he heard voices.
Blinking, astonished, he strained to hear, to locate who was talking, and finally saw where those speaking were. Under a rocky ledge were a number of people, walking and stooping over prone forms. Not knowing if these were the defilers - justice demanded he doesn't attack people who could, after all, just be travelers investigating or such - he approached them cautiously, until the mutterings he heard could be comprehensible. Hiding behind a large rock, he listened closely.
"...don't care that not one got killed. We could've! And all because Fez and another wise-guy sorcerer decided to go on a full-blown ego trip!." A rough female voice said in frustration.
"You're right, but we're not dead and they didn't force us to stick around, did they? We chose to stay and take part of the responsibility." Said another female voice, gentler and yet more commanding.
"I don't think Fezra intended to go this far. She usually..." a third voice interjected swiftly.
"Who gives a copper coin what Fezra usually does!" a male voice this time grumbled with a spiteful undertone. "She let her damn pride get in the way of common sense, and know we have a chunk of cleared forest. Cleared! Man! Its completely burned out! And we let this happen, damn, dung, and bloody bones!"
Phillionel nodded to himself. Satisfied. Obviously, these people had something to do with what had occurred here, and he would be damned if he let these foul curs escape justice. He felt his blood boil at the thought! To think these miscreants though that they could ravage his country, the lands he had sworn an oath to protect! It was too much! It was beyond endurance! It had to be remedied at once!
Carried by the wind of his righteous thoughts, Phillionel jumped on top of the rock, startling the tired people beneath it. He could see them well now. A brunette wearing sorcerer's garb and a young woman in dirty beige were hunched over the prone bodies of two other magic wielders - AHA! The curs in question! - while a slight woman with green hair and a muscular woman were arguing with a man dressed in armor and having the looks of a mercenary about him. Bandits probably! The thought fueled his course of action, and he pointed at them as they looked up, tensing and then blinking.
"Foul brigands of unknown origins, dark spreader of misfortunes!" he intoned sternly to the stunned assemblage. "You have fouled the lands of Sailune and used dark arts to shape it to your will, but it will avail you not! I, Phillionel de Sailune, Prince and Heir, will cleanse you and your act with the strength and purity of justice." Doing that, he took a pose that he thought would incline those below to despair and beg forgiveness. If they did, he would be more lenient.
Instead the three kept blinking up at him, until they turned to each other.
"None of that makes sense." the man said, pointing at Phil and scratching his black hair with the other hand. The green-haired girl and muscular woman both nodded at him.
"Seems like this guy's gotten whacked somewhere." the warrior woman muttered.
"Besides, I don't think someone like the young Prince of Sailune would look so..."
"Ridiculous?" The man supplied.
"Now hold on here!" Phil cried in dismay, sensing that he wasn't being taken seriously at all. "If you think I shall stand here and suffer your abuse, you are all gravely mistaken. TASTE THE POWER OF JUSTICE." he bellowed, jumping high and upon the five conscious and two unconscious people, aiming at the three who had been so impolite to him. "SUPER LOVE AND PEACE AND VALENTINES KICK!"
The kick was well-aimed, filled with righteous power which would, he knew, have crushed the opponents and made them feel deserved pain. The thought both shamed and thrilled his spirit as he bore down on the curs...
...and came flat as the curs in question, not waiting for the kick to arrive as they should and as mist evil-doers had the chronic politeness to do, scattered from their position. Which did that Phillionel drove deep into the ground, showering the area with dust and rocky debris. He coughed and shook as he regained his balance, muttering to himself, before executing a majestic back flip in which he managed to land on his feet - but with which he nearly killed himself. He tensed for battle, ready for anything.
But he was still too disoriented to dodge when the man - a large one, if not as large as he was - swiped his blade and stopped it just against the prince's skin, not drawing blood. A deliberate show of tremendous skill and a challenge. He glared at the black-haired man who was threatening him, and saw that the sorceress held a ball of fire ready to fling if he tried anything harsh.
He drew himself up. "You appear to have won, cur!" he growled "But if you think that the strength of justice and the pride of Sailune will be extinguished so easily...!"
"Whoa, you sure talk a lot." the green-haired woman, who was the only one of the three who looked non-threatening, snapped. "Now if you'd just SHUT UP for a minute and let us explain, you'd understand WE had nothing to do with this!"
His look must have betrayed the disbelief he felt inside. After all, with this devastation around and all of the sorcerers present, it had to be them who had done this act, or at least the two unconscious ones. The green-haired woman sighed.
"Prince Philionel, I give you my word as a Shrine Maiden of Lumeria that we speak the truth." Saying this, she bowed and showed him a golden chain on which the symbol of the Lumerian church was crafted. Phil's eyes widened, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He didn't believe they had nothing to do with what had happened here - the facts all seemed to point to them as of now. Yet, he was a devout follower of the Church of Ceipheed, and by his vows as a man and follower of justice, he had to believe the pledge of a Shrine Maiden.
Obviously seeing his new expression, the swordsman and sorceress removed their weapons from sight, not without giving them an expressive warning that they would be ready to use them if he tried anything. He took a deep breath.
"Very well." he said sternly and indulgently "I am willing to overlook things in regards to your oath, madam. But I will need a very good explanation!"
The people around him rolled their eyes, shook their head and made it clear that they couldn't believe him, the man even throwing in a sentence in a language Phil didn't recognize. At long last the woman spoke, just as solemnly.
"Very well. For the last month, we have worked to reach your kingdom in the hopes of finding safety. However, a few days after we..."
* * * * * * * * * *
Jomekin was feeling happier than he had in months.
It wasn't very surprising, since for the last months he had been conducting secret research while hearing of the Kingdom's defeats piling up next to Elmekian might. It certainly hadn't rejoiced him to learn that the country which had birthed a magi as gifted as he was so weak, but that he could have lived with. However, to learn as much information as he could, he had had to act like he looked - like a child, a damnable CHILD! - to deceive and poke around where a grown man would have been watched. That he had learned enough to find the exact location of the place the First Knights had sealed some of the Forbidden Lores hadn't helped his mood. In fact he had worked to show a considerable restraint not to kill a guard as he patted his head. Oh, he wanted to kill those people, every single one of them - he would he would- but not now. No matter how much it burned.
Jomekin was a freak - he knew it as well as anyone. Past twelve, he had been unable to grow, being caught in a state of pre-adolescence. It was an unthinkable process, which hinted at something beyond the simply magical - a curse or a stigma of bad luck. Consequently he had been shunned, locked out, reviled by the entire village he lived in. With each dark look, his bitterness grew. With every jibe, his hatred soared. Soon it was more than he could bear, and he managed to latch on to the only thing which might help him - magic. Turning away from the magic of the priests and the teachings of the shamans, he had made his home in the Lumerian guild. There, he had found that he had a natural talent - the sole thing that brought him real joy -and had met Dallomir, who had become his mentor.
Under the older, powerful mage, he had learned much about the world, and had first learned of the truth behind the end of the war of resurrection - that the First Knights, the sainted heroes who had supposedly allowed humanity to rebuild civilization - had willingly castrated Black Magic. Cowering before the thought of a new Lei Magnus - they had stored much of the great spells the greatest Sorcerer who ever lived away. It had rankled him. Deeply. Sailune the Wise, Gabriev the Blademaster, Falana of the Five Winds, and all of those legendary figures had deprived humanity of so many possibilities...
...possibilities like manipulation of reality. Like teleportation, mind reading. And means to change bodies.
The bastards. The damn bastards. They had done this to him! If they were alive, he would hunt and kill each of these cowards!
From the moment he had known the extent of Ceipheed's deceit, of the betrayal those who had arrogantly sheppard mankind from the brink back to ever-increasing prosperity had committed, he had understood Dallomir's point of view. It was their duty to find the Forbidden Lores, to give them back to those who deserved them. Oh, they wouldn't just give the knowledge away, of course. They would first use it to help those who needed it - like Jomekin and anybody like him, and then increase their knowledge so that they could wield the Black Magic powers which had all but died with Falana, Lei Magnus' lover and the last who had known how to use the Forbidden Lore Spells for so many centuries.
"But soon.," he couldn't help but mutter "Soon we will be able to uncover those secrets, and I will find my cure!" this pleasant thought was cut right through the middle by a scoff. He frowned and looked right into the face of Dallomir's other man, Mellinius. The man had ridden right beside him while their mentor had ridden slightly ahead, not saying a word, which suited Jomekin fine.
"What do you want, Mel?" he asked darkly. The other man looked at him with mixed pity and scorn. How he wanted to fireball that expression to oblivion! But he restrained himself masterfully.
"Nothing. I just find it odd that you would put your cure before the well-being of the kingdom."
He truly didn't like Mellinius. He was so damn loyal to the 'higher ideals' of the realm and the guild that he failed to see anything else. Obtuse, narrow-minded, tactless fool! But Dallomir trusted him, and the man HAD good magical aptitude. Still, he couldn't believe he was stuck with this nitwit!
He tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. "My cure was my main goal ever since I stopped growing. Everything is second compared to that." he said with that tiny, childlike voice - the voice he had lived with far longer than he should have. He was older than Mellinius! He should be treated with respect! He should... he calmed down, forcing the thoughts to stillness.
The younger - but DAMN DAMN DAMN older-looking - man shook his head in what seemed like faint disgust. "I knew you were selfish, Jomekin, but this, to put yourself before our people..."
"Carefully, carefully, carefully, Mellinius." he cut off darkly, his anger breaking his voice "You think you can go and judge me? Don't you dare! Don't you dare try! Because you don't know! And those who don't know should just SHUT UP!"
"Is that a threat?!?" the other man said, his eyes wide. Not bright, was he. He smirked.
"You bet it is. So careful. And keep your mouth shut tight."
"As much as your discussion seems to be quite entertaining, gentlemen, I believe you should come and see this!" their mentor's voice came to them excitedly. The two men who followed the arch wizard exchanged a glare, then trotted their horses to where Dallomir waited, looking at them and then just ahead with light in his eyes - a lust no one cared to understand and which sometimes made even Jomekin stagger mentally.
As one, they looked in the direction they had to look. And the child-bodied sorceror felt his heart soar at the sight before them. He had been right!
Before them were ruins. But not just any ruins. Long ago, this place had been the home of of many Elves, powerful wizard of White Magic whose knowledge and spells alleviated the suffering in the world in a way that even the most devout of the human priests of today couldn't fathom. It had been them beyond all others who had taught humans of the flow of the magic, and how to use it to their will. Centuries upon centuries of peace had reigned over this region.
But then Lei Magnus, the most powerful human wizard who ever lived, complete master of White, Black and Shamanist magicks, lost his soul to the Shabranigdu Shard buried deep within him. He became malevolent, destructive, intent on erasing the arts which might stop his deranged invasion. Even before Shabranigdu emerged, he had struck the great gleaming Salvaloim Temple. The great Elven Priests had fought, but their magic, so strong in healing, could do little to stop the hurricane of death the former First of the Five Wisemen had become. The temple fell, and was partially destroyed by mighty blasts of magical power.
Soon after, the world had gone to war against Shabranigdu and his hordes.
Time had passed since that war ended, and the eight who were now the legendary First Knights had long departed. Centuries had passed since this place and this overgrown road, located deep within the wild woods of Sailune, had been thread upon, and it showed. Little could be seen of the crumbling temple - a carved, crumbling statue here, part of a column there, almost all of it was covered by the trees and the brushes.
Except one place.
Before them, immense and intact after nearly a millennium, stood the Marble Gates of Salvaloim, great gates of the purest white, ten times the size of a man and twenty times as wide. Sealed long ago by the combined might of Sailune, Gabriev and Falana.
Dallomir looked at the gates with an almost perverse yearning. "Gentlemen," he said as if in a dream "It would appear that we have arrived."
Mellinius looked around bleakly, seemingly unimpressed with the door. "I sense much sadness and death around here."
"But such power!" Jekomin said. "Now I...WE will get what we want from the power stored here!"
"Yes! Yes! Power! For the greatness of Lumeria and the Guild!" Dallomir said triumphantly, still staring at the huge gates.
And although the words he used appeared proper, Jekomin shivered again. He wanted his cure, that was why he was here?
But WHAT did DALLOMIR want?
* * * * * * * * *
Marcus awoke from a deep yet fitful dream, similar to the one which had plagued him ever since he had been a child, to find himself in a room he didn't recognize at all. It was, to say the least, a novel and relatively unpleasant development. Consequently he surged upward to sit up, then proceeded to collapse on the spot. Damn, did he feel weak right now! He'd never felt anywhere near like it before.
Knowing that leaving the room wasn't the most sensible thing at the present. He inspected his surroundings. Wooden ceiling with the slightest signs of age. Bare, whitewashed walls, simple wooden furniture, a chair on which all of his clothes were...
He stopped at the clothes, blinking, his mind reaching a rather embarrassing confusion. He looked beneath the sheets. Yup, nothing on there. He was as naked as a cursed slug. The thought that whoever had put him here had stripped him completely made him feel anything but good. He couldn't really be angry, he had needed a safe haven after that horrendous battle, but still...
He was jarred of his squirming musings when the door creaked open. Years of solitary research and field testing and adventures made him tense up at once, ready to call on whatever magical reserves had been restored by his rest if the need arose. However, the visitor wasn't anybody he could even assume to be an enemy. Dressed in white clothes, a woman of greenish hair entered the room. A priestess obviously. Upon seeing his cautious look, she gave a start then smiled softly.
"You're awake! Amazing! Fezra hasn't budged yet." she said.
He coughed, raising an eyebrow. "Fezra?" he inquired more weakly than he intended. "Who's...wait...is she that crazy sorceress who fought against me?" he stated more than he asked, for the answer seemed to be a taken.
"Yes. She's sleeping, being tended to by others in our group. I don't expect her to wake just yet. In fact I didn't expect you to do so for a while yet."
"I'm full of surprises." he said with a charming smile, his ego flattered by both the praise and the prettiness of the woman. He didn't find her as beautiful as the whacked woman he'd fought, but it appears the group had some quality female flesh in it!
Just then, however, a man entered, holding a tray laden with food. He had also been part of the group he'd seen edging backward from the fight. Arrayed in armor covering his shouldrers and torso, he was a sight - a man of strong muscle, raven hair and dangerous eyes. He was exhuding the titles 'swordsman' and 'mercenary' all rolled into one. And the hardly subtle warning look he gave Marcus made him swallow his winning smile and decide not to pull moves on that priestess.
"So, he's awake, huh?" The fighter said gruffly.
"Well, his eyes are open and he's speaking. I think that qualifies as being 'awake'." the priestess answer in irritation. The tone lacked anything confrontational in nature, though. There was something there, or at least the beginning of something. And the warrior had told Marcus he better not do anything to ruin it.
He wouldn't. It wasn't really his style. Besides, he didn't find her as interesting as the memories he had of that beautiful, powerful and dangerously temperamental sorceress he had fought.
"The woman...the one I fought. Her name is Fezra?" he asked.
"Yes. Fezra Inverse. You should eat now."
The family name hit him like a lightning bolt. Inverse! INVERSE! A name which carried great weight amongst anyone who knew anything of the black arts. The Inverse family was known as one of the most naturally powerful, with members of this family emerging rather frequently in Guild history. Vedrian Inverse, who founded many guilds. Ashra Inverse, who became the wisest and greatest wizard of her time. And Zerios Inverse, the Fourth of the Five Wisemen. Power, temper, intelligence and greed. It was a flamboyant and formidable line.
He chuckled to himself in disbelief. "An Inverse. No wonder she was so strong. And you are?"
The priestess smiled as she took the food tray from the warrior, then proceeded to install it on Marcus's lap. "My name is Hallia Servales. And this hunk of muscle," she said with a jerk towards the warrior, "Is Loerik Gabriev."
Marcus, who had taken a sip from the water goblet on the tray, nearly choked on it. "G-Gabriev?!? But that's...I mean...that's..."
At his fumbling words, the swordsman actually relaxed, the ice broken as far as he was concerned. "If you're asking if I'm from the family descended from the First Knight Gabriev and from which the legendary Swordsman of Light emerged, you're right. The Swordsman of Light's my grandfather, as far as I know."
"Loerik's got the Sword of Light, now." Hallia added. Loerik gave her a look and she smiled. "What? He'd have known sooner or later!"
The warrior shook his head. "You're as insufferable as Fez sometimes."
"I know." she said. And they exchanged a look worth a thousand words. Yes, there was definitely something going on here.
"Well...err...this is fascinating." he thought quickly. "Fezra's power is great, you're the Light Swordsman, other magic-users....quite a powerful group." he looked at them both. "If I may, I think I might need help from a group like yours for my purposes."
The tall man frowned, folding his arms. "Purposes, wizard? I've been fighting a war for three years and I've seen the way that word is used."
Marcus saw the priestess flinch ever so slightly and wondered. A war for three years? "You were involved in the Elmekia-Lumeria war, weren't you?" he stated. At Hallia's downcast eyes, he saw he had hit the mark. "You were involved, and on the side of the Lumerians."
"No. I was a priestess in the Lumerian Royal Army." Hallia rectified in a voice filled with anxiety and sadness. "Loerik was..."
"He doesn't have to know the details of what we did!" The swordsman snapped, and didn't moderate his tone even though he hesitated when she looked at him in an angry and hurt face. "Right now I'd like this guy to tell us what he wants with us!"
In many ways, Marcus couldn't quite disagree with the intent of the taller man, though he might find the means a little harsh. After all, he WAS digging where he shouldn't, all the while telling them that he needed their help without going on to explain the details. However, there was also the fact that the warrior had snapped his retort BEFORE he could say anything. Taking all this into account, the young sorcerer decided that caution was the better part of valor.
"You're right." he said at length. "You're absolutely right, and I intend to explain it rightr now, if you'll let me." he couldn't help but give that last a sardonic edge. The swordsman's eyes flashed briefly, but that quickly gave way to a grin.
"Sorry." he said, spreading his hands "Lets just say that the past few weeks have been even more tiresome than anything previous."
"That's true." Hallia added with a sigh charged with many - although controlled - emotions. Then she raised her head as though a thought had just struck her. "Reminds me...perhaps you could go and get the prince here? I'm sure he'd like to listen to whatever this guy has to say...if its important." she gave a questioning look.
Prince? What was that about a Prince? Marcus banished the thought at once. There was no time left for wondering. He had gathered clues along the way, piecing things together from the rumors of the Guild and the information he personally gathered at the library. He knew something might happen if he didn't reach Salvaloim Temple quickly. If need be, he'd go it alone, but these people - who seemed rather aimless - might be a great boon to him if fighting broke out.
Thoughts of the fair, dangerous sorceress emerged, and he inwardly grinned to himself before resuming a business face. He looked down at the food and picked up the loaf of bread. Munching on it, he finally faced the other two.
"Gather anyone you want. Then I'll tell you my story."
* * * * * * * * * *
"You should have waited for me to wake up before going on this thing!"
"We've been over this time and time again, Fez! You were still out cold when he told us about this thing the Lumerian sorcerers want to do. We took a vote and unanimously decided to go!"
"NOT unanimous! I was unconscious!"
"Enough of this! The only reason you're getting all hot about this is because we didn't take your advice and because of that you're acting like a child. Sometimes, you really...ahh!" with that huff, Hallia kicked her horse into a trot, and went to join the other just ahead, leaving Zashtla alone bringing in the rear. The swordswoman sighed when she saw the sorceress' eyes fix on her.
"And why didn't you say anything?" Fezra asked, still turning to glare at Hallia's receding back but mostly focusing on her.
She raised an eyebrow. "There was nothing to be said, Fezra. Why don't you relax for a bit?" she asked, knowing very well that her advice wouldn't be heeded - the woman never heeded anyone but herself. Nor, she reflected with some wry amusement, did Zashtla herself.
"I don't like this. I mean, this guy could be leading us into a trap or something." the uncertainty in her voice immediately told the warrior how little the powerful sorceress believed in that. She coughed in embarrassment, then set her face in stubborn lines. "I just don't feel like he's playing on the level with us."
Zashtla had to nod at that. She had reservations about the man's story herself, and had given voice to some of her concerns to the others. She didn't believe that the red-haired man wished them any harm, but it was clear that the temple they were searching, a legendary temple this Marcus claimed to have discovered the rough location of, with its rogue bamd of sorcerors trying to access it, was full of subtle holes. Still, she followed, partly because she had seen the worry in the younger man's eyes, and partly...
She sighed. The real reason for she following was that, for the first time in her life, she felt she had some kind of purpose, people she had actually started to grow attached to. Sullen Berwen with her exasperation fits, deadly, happy-go-lucky Fezra, the somber yet kind Loerik and the proud, strong-willed Hallia. Even the silent, shy and fearful Narie had become a sort of part of her being. She couldn't understand it, couldn't understand that for all of her years as a lonely mercenary, with her memory fuzzy from an event she could never recall, she had actually become part of something greater than herself. She hadn't been for a long time.
But once...once she had been...in Kalmaart...there was...there was someone, someone who did something...he was...he was...
"One thing's for sure, it will sure come in handy to travel with the Crown Prince of Sailune himself!" Fezra stated loudly, stopping all attempts at recollection for the moment.
More angry than she would want to admit at the rude interruption of her train of thoughts, Zashtla briefly considered throtling or knocking out the auburn-haired sorceress before dismissing the idea entirely. Not that she feared either Fezra or the other if it came to something so drastic - she was too near to react and they were to far to help - even if they really DID want the sorceress to shut up. She didn't stop because of that.
She stopped because she was seized with the futility of wondering what her past was, what she had done past the last five years or so. Her name, her skills with a blade, that was nearly all she had left of her old self. It saddened her, angered her, sometimes terrified her, and so she always tried to remember, to let go shortly after.
Trying not to show the depression in her heart, she answered her friend. "The prince's help greatly speeded up matters in securing horses, but I don't think he wants to flaunt who he is here. The king and he..."
Fezra waved an hand negligently. "...are on very bad terms. I know, and I think half of the world knows by now. Still, it might be useful for us, you know, to get cut prices on food, lodging, all that stuff. We could get the best food, the best rooms in inns too, in a snap."
"You're so greedy."
Fezra gave her a cheeky grin. "Me? Greedy? No way! I'm only a very practical, fragile, sensitive young woman!"
Hearing Fezra Inverse, one of the toughest, smartest, temperamental - and most reckless - woman she'd ever met, give herself qualities like 'fragile' and 'sensitive' actually broke her from her gloomy thoughts, and she grinned slightly. This always happened these days. If Fezra's big mouth didn't cheer her up, a long talk with Hallia calmed her, or a sword fight with Loerik thrilled her. She couldn't find the time to mope about what she had lost. Which, in clear hindsight, she definitely voted as a good thing.
And only for that, it made those people all the more dear to her heart.
"Anyway, now that I think about it..." Fezra mused excitedly.
"Improvement from this morning." she interrupted with a smirk. The sorceress turned a mock-glare towards her.
"Watch it, Tala!" she said good-naturedly, shaking a finger. "I bit when I get angry at people! As I was SAYING... this temple could be a great adventure, assuming this GUY really knows where the thing is. I don't." she paused, her eyes lighting up a bit more. "Still...Salvaloim Temple! What a blast it would be!"
Zashtla gave her a confused look, and Fezra blinked. "You don't know about it? I mean, about the Elves being there, Lei Magnus destroying it, the First Knights and the sealing?"
"Only small bits at the campfires. We mercenaries are so occupied by living day-by-day...greater events have no real meaning to us."
Fezra nodded with a sober look. "I see. Then...why do you follow us?"
"For the same reason you do - because this group, as crazy as it can be, is pretty fun to adventure with!" she couldn't help but grin again at that, wider than before.
At this, the young sorceress threw her head back and laughed, her voice carried far and wide and even causing the others ahead to give her looks ranging from irritation to casual amusement to blank astonishment depending whom was concerned. She laughed truly, her luxuriant auburn hair dancing with her mirth. She got it back under control quickly, but the smile, and the glees, remained easy to see.
Yes, that was the life she had missed. Friends. Friends to give some sort of purpose to herself. For although she had never told the others this, although she'd put up the image of a woman who, unlike poor Narie, had put up with what the mercenaries - and HIM in particular - had done to her, it was anything but the truth.
She had put up with it...because it gave her a sort of twisted meaning, something to latch on to. She had been glad for that. Now, she was far too ashamed to talk of it.
But at least now she had something tangible. She had a true life. Not some unremembered past and dark future, but a very promising present!
It was nice to understand that something in her life would be tangible. She had no intention of letting it go to waste.
* * * * * * * * * *
"And so your pawns are on their way."
"Not pawns...merely unwitting allies."
"As you say, its all semantics to me. And do you believe that these adventurers will be able to stop the catastrophe at hand."
"I have done all I can so that they could do so. I manipulated enough events to bring them together. The rest is up to them. I cannot do more than watch now."
"Truly? And what about the other matter, the other darkness, the thing which we have both seen in our dreams?"
"...of that event, and its conclusion, old friend, I have no knowledge. When we know more, perhaps we could do something. Right now, however, let us watch. Events are about to start unfolding."
_______________________________________