"I think there's nothing worse than defeat for a new group. And nothing better. Worse because it tells us that our combined strength can fail at times, better because we thereafter strive harder to succeed. However, in our case, the defeat was dire. Berwen, one from our group, had been taken away by those who had despoiled the temple sealed by the First Knights so long ago.
However, we never imagined how dire the consequences would be."
- Excerpt from Hallia's memoirs, 994 AR
Chapter Seven
Many couldn't help but to see the travellers entering the inn.
Some of the villagers vaguely recalled seeing them a good while ago, but even they stared as the group entered. The first to enter was a fit man of average height and stature with a flowing red mane of hair, dressed in the red and gold suit and black cloak usual of many of the sorcerer's guild. He looked around with a disinterested air before entering. With him came a woman, only slightly smaller than he, with brown hair and large eyes. She was garbed similarly, and her looks spoke of self-recrimination and anger.
Behind them came a man and two women. The man was tall, taller than most of the other men in the common room, dressed in partial armour and wearing a sword with the ease of a campaigner. His black hair was cut short, and his piercing gaze seemed to give him a hardness, which contradicted the tentative hand he had put on the shoulder of one of the women. She walked garbed in the garments of a travelling priest, and her fair face was rendered magnificent by the stunning green hair that went far below her shoulders. On the other side came another woman, taller than the male sorcerer, more muscled then any of the women in the village, garbed in leather armour with a sword strapped on her back. The look she gave around was cold and somewhat defeated
Closing the march was a giant. No other word could safely describe him. Although obviously barely full-grown, the man towered over even the tall warrior, broad chested, with thick muscular arms and legs, which could crush bones like twigs if he meant to do it. He was garbed in a traveller's outfit, yet it was perhaps of finer quality than the others. Although his face wasn't handsome, there was softness to it which somewhat made him less threatening than some of the others in the group.
All of them looked sad or angry or both. All of them looked defeated. And most of all, they all carried themselves with strength and resolve. This convinced the villagers to return to their drinks, trying hard not to look at them as they all silently sat at a table.
Phil saw the whole thing from his perspective, saw the peasants gauged him and his friends, and didn't care a wit for it. None, it seemed, did the others as the unusual thick silence lengthened between them. That sort of thing wasn't to the liking of one like he, and so after it had become unbearable, he broke it the only way he knew how.
"We have been...defeated, my friends." he said at last. This, at least, got their attention "However, we must not despair! If we do, we give the enemy exactly what he wants!!" Gods, but that sounded tired and lame. But he couldn't do better at the moment.
Marcus nodded wearily. "You're probably right at that - despair won't change a thing. But the fact remains; we got caught into a fight we probably would have lost to begin with. We were unprepared and -"
"Then let's BE prepared!" this resounding, angry announcement came from Fezra, who banged the table and half-stood. "So we got caught with our pants down! At least we know what we're dealing with here! They're powerful bastards, but I think we could take them one if all of us went in with a good battle-plan!"
"That's assuming we find where they went, and assuming they don't learn too much about what they stole from the temple." Hallia reminded her, sending the waiter away with an impatient wave of her hand. Beside her, Loerik looked sombre and thoughtful.
Marcus nodded vigorously. "Right, that's it. We need to find more information about the Hidden Lores. We wanted to stop them from getting them, but now that they have taken them, our options are limited until we learn what-"
"I don't CARE what they do! Who CARES what they do?!? All I know is that they're certainly going to test them on Berwen!" Fezra cut him off angrily.
That shut everyone up, and settled the pall of defeatism more firmly on their shoulders. Berwen. Probably the member of the group, which kept to herself the more, rarely talking. She had seemed nice enough, however, when she did. And beyond all of this, she had stuck by them all, she had been part of their group. Phil knew they all itched to go get her out of whatever mess she was in with the three sorcerers.
Zashtla, always looking tough and ready, only fractionally inclined her head before breaking the silence. "Although you and Marcus have deduced that Berwen could only have been taken along with them as they vanished with this spell of theirs, it doesn't help us figure out WHERE she is."
"That was exactly my point." Marcus agreed
"It would help if we knew who we were dealing with." Phil reminded them, recalling the hard-taught geography lessons his tutors had crammed into him. "To narrow down our search. Lumeria isn't the largest country, but its still very large, and we don't have the kind of time to make many mistakes."
Everyone considered this for many moments. "Well," Zashtla said at last "I think we're safe in thinking this place they're in hasn't been touched by the war yet, or they wouldn't have the time to learn anything. This means behind the front lines. The southern regions?"
Loerik nodded uncertainly. "The extreme southern regions then. Lumeria's army is falling apart on every front." He winced at Hallia's flinch, but pressed on. "The capital'll soon be under attack. Once it falls, the loss of morale will make everything else crumble quickly enough. I dunno. If they're in the extreme south, near the Great Ridge, they have four to six months."
"Still, that's too much territory to cover. We'd need-"
"Dallomir."
This unexpected burst from Hallia caught them flat-footed. "Who?" Marcus asked tentatively while Fezra looked with dangerous attention.
"The leader of that trio. I saw him, once, years ago. He came to talk with the High Priest in my temple. I'm pretty sure his name was Dallomir." She jumped slightly as Fezra slapped the table angrily.
"And NOW's the time you tell us his freaking name? We already lost a damn weak, and you couldn't find the damn name in all that TIME?!?"
"Well, Fezra. I...I was very young when he visited. A novice, barely entered into the temple."
"Who cares about that?!? You KNEW the name and you took your sweet little time telling us. And now because of your slow-poke memory, Berwen might-"
"LAY OFF, FEZ!!!" Loerik boomed, rising from his seat and putting his face right in front of her, eyes angry. "Don't you DARE put the blame on her! You're acting like a damn bitch because Berwen's been taken, and I understand that! But don't point fingers at us! YOU were the one nearest her when she teleported! What about that?"
Two hardened pair of eyes stared at each other in a silent, angry clash of will, neither backing down. Patrons around the table looked more than uncomfortable about the idea of a sorceress and swordsman fighting near them, but too scared to do much about it. Phil, for his part, hadn't a clue how to disrupt the event. Indeed, he wondered if he could remain impartial if he tried. Ever since Berwen had been taken, Fezra had been extremely hard to live with, and he couldn't help but sympathize with Loerik for snapping at her.
Finally, it was Marcus who did something before the tension escalated into violence. Rising stiffly, he took a firm hold of Fezra's shoulder and tried to get her to turn towards him. When she wouldn't, he narrowed his eyes. "Fez, I think it would be best if we had a talk, you and I." he said.
"Not right now." She muttered, her eyes not leaving Loerik's.
"I INSIST that we do so right this moment, Fezra." he grated, and at that she did turn to him, angrily, ready for a fight or an argument...to face a blank wall in place of a face. She looked back at Loerik, then at Hallia, then back at Marcus, and her eyes narrowed. With a snarl, she moved towards the door, the other man right behind her. As the door closed behind them at last, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. This had been too close.
"I sure hope those two don't kill each other." Zashtla drawled.
"Quite frankly, I hope Marcus doesn't get killed." Loerik muttered, sitting down heavily "Right now, I'm not sure about Fezra. Anyway, we have a name now, so we can probably find his hole. But the question is, what happens when we do find it?"
To that, no one had a ready answer.
* * * * * * * * * *
"That, that, that...big, dimwitted, smelly, sword-waving JERK!! Who does he think he is, telling me to back off?! Lousy swordsman, and lousy dimwitted priestess for not remembering things when she should. I should blast them both, here and now, may be it'd make them more sensible!!"
Marcus waited until the worst of the torrent passed. "Are you finished?" he asked neutrally, keeping his emotions in check. Its didn't really help matters, he found, as she turned away from him and kept on ranting.
"I'm not even beginning to unwind, pal! I thought they actually cared about what's happening to Berwen, but-"
"They do care. You haven't listened to them, have you? Why do you think they're talking about finding those guys, anyway? I think you should consider that before going into such a senseless rage."
"Senseless, is it? Well, you can think it senseless if you want, but as for me, I think that because of Hallia, we're a week behind where we should be, and that's a fact!"
"No, its not! Come on, I know you're much more intelligent than this, I've seen you think things through. Think THIS through!" He said, his temper getting the better of him despite all of his efforts. "You can't expect her to readily remember something which happened for a few moments years ago. It wasn't a very dramatic event. So we're actually LUCKY she found the name only after a week, seeing that we were injured, that we were travelling, and had so much on our minds! I shouldn't even be telling you this! You should have made this conclusion as fast as I did. I think your concern is blinding you, Fezra. Get over it quickly."
He didn't understand it fully, but he felt empty while he went on with this tirade. It wasn't usual with him. When Marcus Jaderam went and put someone in his or her place - and he had done that a lot - he did it with arrogance, sometimes with hints of malice. He usually loved telling someone off, to tell that person that she was wrong and he was right. Not this time. This time, there was no arrogance that he could muster. There was no malice either. Just frustration at many days of bad temper directed at everything beside him. Frustration, and that damned, strange emptiness.
He couldn't understand what it could mean - maybe he didn't want to. But he knew that at this moment, which it was irrelevant. There was a problem growing and he felt he was the best to handle it. Hallia wasn't high on Fezra's list right then, Loerik would probably end up fighting her, Phil would be too hesitant, and Zashtla wouldn't know what to say that much. That left him to do this job. He didn't like it, but he had taken it, and he wasn't one to stop until he did what he came for.
When she didn't respond, he took that as his cue to press on. "Ever since the battle, you've looked to us like it was our fault. You told me things - some of them true, most of them not so - and you did the same to the others. In fact, you kept hounding us about our failings and our problems, and not once - not ONCE - did I hear you admit that you had done any wrong." he took a deep breath. This was the punchline. "I think it means that you know you failed, and that you're getting angry at us because you're angry at yourself, at your mistakes."
She didn't look at him, only kept looking at the houses nestled around the inn, at the busy smithy farther off, and at the farmers and peddlers milling about. "How do you know that's what I think?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You told me she was your friend, but I rarely saw you talk to her. Someone as bright as you must have realized how she must have felt. But she's not here to apologize, so how can you relieve your guilt? And then there's the battle. Berwen, you and I fought this...Dallomir. You were the closest to her when things fell apart, and you must know that if someone could have done something, it should have been-"
"STOP!"
He did with a sigh. "I'm only telling you what you already know."
"I know. Just...stop."
Fezra looked at the passing villagers around her for many long moments before leaning against the inn's wall. Her eyes were shadowed, and the sadness felt there was sharp and true. Marcus didn't know what he was about to hear, yet waited, expectantly.
"We never have many friends growing up, us wizards, right?" she asked introspectively "I mean, real friends, with whom we can do anything, share everything. We don't have a lot of those growing up."
He frowned in pained discomfort. He had had friends growing up. Back when he didn't know he had magic in him. When his mother had been alive and well, and he had had a family. A family which had turned against him in the worst possible way, and killed the person who had cared for him the most out of selfish ignorance. Friends he had had. Or had thought so, once. But it had all turned out to be a lie, no?
"You're right. We don't." he finally said, unable to find better words for it.
She nodded. "But you see, that's what Berwen was. A friend. And by that I mean a real one. We've known each other since we were little, we've done all kinds of mischief. We even studied magic together. Yes, she was a friend. And a very good one." her look, which had been wistful, became more sombre. "But, then again..."
"Yes?" he prompted. She gave him a look, then looked away again.
"Then again, I was never able to fully connect with her. She never had what I wanted from someone. She didn't have the same...passion for travelling and adventuring. Nobody did. And then I helped a swordsman and two priestesses escape some freaky mercenaries."
Marcus considered this last revelation. It made sense. Loerik was used to the mercenary trade - although perhaps not by choice - and seemed to take risks when he wanted to. Hallia had her own streak of this born of the Lumerian-Elmekian conflict, Phil was always ready for a challenge, and Zasthla always took whatever came her way calmly. Even he himself liked to undertake ventures into the unknown at times. But not Berwen. She had never struck him as that type of person. And that, perhaps, was why she had been just about ostracized from the band, with newcomers like Phil and he fitting in fast as she remained in the sideline.
That must have been hard to take, he wagered to himself. Hard enough to hold some resentment. Yet, she never seemed to show any. Not that he had looked, or cared. Although it shamed him to admit it, he hadn't interacted with her like he had with the others. He hadn't known her.
"I see what you mean. At least, I think I did. But that doesn't change the fact that it wasn't our fault. Yours or ours. As far as we know, she stumbled near them and got teleported by sheer accident. We'd never have been able to know that this would happen, much less react. After all, we were reacting to the imminent collapse of the passage."
She waved at him negligently. "I know. I know. I didn't want to know it, and I wasted my own anger on the others and on you. Marcus, its just that I...I'm sure that there's something we can do! Something we can do to help her out of there!" Her look was both pleading and determined, full of the willpower he had admired from the first time he had even seen her. He opened his mouth to answer, but was beat to the punch by another voice.
"A confident declaration. And perhaps not an untruthful one. I think that there IS a way to help your friend, from what I've heard, Marcus Jaderam."
Marcus spun around to see two unexpected people standing not too far off, looking at them. The first one he didn't know. A lanky fellow dressed in what seemed to be a more ornate version of an apprentice garb looked out with serious eyes. And next to him...
He blinked as he recognized the young woman. "But aren't you...Narie?" And then he was pushed away with vigour as Fezra came to the fore.
"Narie?!? What the?! What are you doing here?? I thought you were resting at a temple where Hallia left you, way south of here!!"
The young priestess looked back with eyes still broken, but at least holding together now. "Yes. I was, but this man wanted to find you. He comes from Rezo the Red Priest to aid you all."
"Rezo?" Marcus gasped, looking at the serious young magi. "And who are you?"
The man bowed slightly. "Lionel Greysword, Rezo's apprentice. I think that we should enter. Night will fall soon, and winds are chilly these days." he grinned slightly "And I just might have a way to help your friend."
* * * * * * * * * *
Mellinius wasn't one who often allowed himself to entertain any doubts. He shirked them as much as he could, in fact. He was a follower of the philosophy that doubts only led to mistakes, and that mistakes made in doubt often were fatal. All successes came with certainty. That was the way he had always held himself, and so he had risen quickly above other apprentices in the Guilds, and had quickly become a man who followed his ideas without flinching, and a powerful sorcerer.
No, doubts weren't something he entertained. But he had to, these days. After all, he was seeing something unfolding, right outside of his reach, a plot that he wasn't sure would benefit his country, even though its situation was now desperate.
"Make chimeras?" Mellinius grunted "Sir, you can't be serious."
Dallomir only smiled at his sceptical tone. "On the contrary, my dear Mellinius. That is exactly what I propose to do."
Never once had he thought that Dallomir could find the wrong way to handle a problem. In all the time he had known the older mage, things had always come true, solutions had always been found to satisfy everyone. Even during most of the war, he had been composed and controlled in his decisions and his temper, always advising the king and his war council as best as he could. Even the death of his so-beloved wife hadn't affected him too terribly, or so it would appear.
But this. Making chimeras was a practice, which had been used long ago by Lei Magnus as he began the War of Resurrection. He had made himself a cadre of extremely powerful chimeras, which had caused terrible destruction until they had fallen - barely at that - at the hands of the First Knights' combined might. Chimeric research had been completely banned for centuries, and only in the last century had some resumed. Sorcerous circles looked upon most of it darkly. And in Lumeria, such people wanted nothing to do with what they called 'the worst kind of necromancy'.
"The elders will never give us their leave to conduct experiments." he said "Even if it is to save Lumeria. It simply goes against too many of our traditions. They'd never let us have the knowledge you have gleaned."
Seated in a comfortable chair near the tower room's window, Jomekin grinned that twisted cherubic grin of his. "Oh, come of it. Don't you think that these old fools don't have anything better to gripe about? Like, oh, thousands of troops from the Imperial Army pouring down their collective throat?"
"Even so..."
"There is no need for you to be so alarmed, Mellinius." the older mage said easily. "To stop us, they would have to know about it. I don't intend to give them this privilege. This will be my...OUR little project!"
"No notifying the elders?" He had truly never thought of doing that. Wasn't their solution supposed to be for the benefit of the entire nation. Why should they hide it at all. A sick feeling of dread began to see in his bones as the other two looked at him. No fear or uncertainty there. They looked as serene as anyone could hope to look. That's when it fully hit him. They had never intended to tell the elders. All of this talk about the old men having nothing better to do had been for him. To calm him down. To keep his mouth shut.
For the first time - probably far too late - he realized how dangerous a situation he was in.
"Yes. No one. Surely, you understand the necessity of keeping this secret? Imagine if the Elmekians learned of it! It would be disastrous!" Dallomir asserted forcefully. He truly seemed to believe in his excuse. Why did it bother him so much that he did? It did have merits. Yet the look of his eyes - cold orbs - gave everything he said now as easy to second-guess, if anyone dared.
Privately, Mellinius second-guessed such words. A lot. But only very deeply in the most private recesses of his mind. Outwardly, he nodded in what he hope was a good show of daze and mounting enthusiasm. "Of course. I see what you mean, sir. But what about testing? Won't we need guinea pigs before rounding up those we might choose for the transformation?"
This was a problem, as far as he was concerned. Testing was always wasteful in terms of time and manpower. Failures were extremely costly. To play with livestock in the tests would be enough to get the elders' attention. To play with human lives, it would bring them down on them like a peal of thunder. Still, despite these facts, both sorcerers remained quite serene.
Dallomir took out a small bottle of brandy - from his own private reserves, no doubts - and drank deeply from it before looking back at him with a grin. "There is no need for that either. I've looked at Lei Magnus's scriptures. They are very precise, and should give us quick success. All we need is to test it on one human specimen, and all is done!"
The younger mage shook his head. They were steps ahead of him. Obviously they had agreed on the plans between themselves before calling him. He knew he didn't like what that meant, but did he truly have a choice but to follow on his intended path. What else could he do? Go to the elders and tell them of all they had done. The simple fact that they had gone and taken some of Lei Magnus's devices and scriptures - Hidden Lores all! - would be nothing less than a death sentence. Compared to this certainty, the two in front of him were the lesser of two evils.
"Alright. You've obviously thought this through, sir."
"Indeed I have, good Mellinius. Trust me, nothing will go wrong with the plans I have concocted now."
Now, he truly had those distasteful doubts about that. But he wasn't about to voice them. Instead, he asked about a secondary concern of his. "And who will be the one we will use then?"
At that, Jomekin gave a grin that made his skin crawl and every joint he had hurt. He knew he wouldn't like the answer, but schooled his expression. The most powerful among them only took out a small silver bell, which he rang. Almost on cue, the doors outside the room opened, and in came two of the household guards, carrying a prisoner between them. Mellinius immediately felt the chill within himself increase.
The one they brought was a girl with auburn hair, slightly tanned skin and relatively fit physique, and dressed only in undergarments. Her hands were shackled, one link in the hands of one guard, and a magical inhibitor on her brow. Despite her appearance, she looked at them all with fury in her eyes, drowning the fear she might have felt. He recognized her at once. It was the woman who had been in the group which had fought them so hard a week before, the one who had been taken by Lei Magnus's teleporting spell.
"Here is our very own guinea pig." Dallomir said triumphantly. "She has strong magic, and so should be perfect for our tests. Wouldn't you say, my dear?" he gave the bound girl a grin. All he received was a glare. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to understand how important this will be. You will become a cornerstone, and the beginning which will lead Lumeria to total victory over Elmekia!"
"I swear that, if nothing else, I'll never help you or Lumeria in any way." She said slowly, and then twisted as the headband emitted a strong shock of electricity.
"Ah, I see you've seen that the headband's punch is quite powerful. Don't worry, you will feel it plenty of times. Once every hour, in fact. Guards, take her away to her cell and follow my instructions." The guards immediately tugged the dazed bound sorceress away. She barely resisted it, but managed to give them all a death stare before she was out of the door. Mellinius felt sicker than he'd ever felt in his life. He turned from the closing door to Dallomir, who was still smiling.
"Your instructions? Sir, what will you do to her?"
"What must be done. Lei Magnus was specific: for the spell to work, the receiver mustn't have sufficient willpower to resist. So that is what we will break. By the time we are ready, she will never have the strength to resist the change."
Suddenly, the room felt as colt as the top of a mountain.
And he suddenly wondered if, as he had thought so surely mere moments beforehand, the two men in front of him indeed were the lesser of the evils when compared to the Elders' wrath.
* * * * * * * * * *
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Its all logical, Phil."
"Even if it happens to be logical, and I admit that it sounds so, I refuse to go to the capital. Send someone else!"
It was frankly the first time Loerik had ever seen Prince Philionel so distraught. Normally, he wasn't affected much by plans, or then he'd launch in one grand speech about the group doing what is right and agreeing to whatever was being said in the end. That was just the way he was, it had seemed. But right now, this was different. Not only did he staunchly refuse to follow the plan, he actually looked like a scared deer.
The confusion this change created was general. Even Zashtla looked increasingly puzzled, while Marcus, Fezra and that new boy Lionel were looking in with increasing expressions of frustration. Only Hallia appeared to take it relatively in stride.
"Right." she said, pushing a lock of emerald out of the way "You mind explaining WHY you wouldn't want to go, Phil? I mean, its not like this would be a dangerous place for anybody, especially for you, their-" she stopped, flushed, looked around. Fortunately none of the few patrons still around the common room were paying them any heed - perhaps in light of what had gone on before. "I mean, not for an inhabitant of Sailune."
That was another problem. Although Philionel had told them about his nobility and position, it was unwise to tell of it publicly. After all, who knew what reactions - and potential trouble - would be brought in on them if it was learned the prince himself travelled amongst a band of adventurers? Better safe than sorry.
Phil's large eyebrows fumbled down into an embarrassed frown, and the huge man seemed to wobble in uncertainty. Finally, he muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that, Phil?" Fezra asked in a too-sweet voice "I didn't hear you."
"I said...." the prince hesitated "...I said chances would be I'd meet...my betrothed." He looked at them all as they took this in silently. "And I wouldn't want to do so too quickly, I you catch my meaning."
Loerik was a little stunned by the announcement - Phil was barely eighteen - but unsurprised. He had grown amongst the elves, after all. And the elves, although having magic, arts, and sophistication beyond what human had, they also had traditions more long-lasting than what could be conceived by human minds. They were so set in their old ways that they neither knew nor cared who they hurt in the process of implementing them.
He knew that quite well.
Zashtla, however, hadn't been born amongst the elves or amongst the human upper class, for she let out a dry chuckle, which drew all eyes to her. "So what you mean's that you got a girl off the capital waiting for you? That doesn't sound too bad."
Marcus, however, was more sober about it. "Actually, it could be bad, Zasthla. Sailunean tradition is pretty strong. If Philionel is betrothed to a woman, in his particular case, his family might not want to let him go until they were wedded."
"That's it." Phil agreed "And that would mean waiting for a long time, because of preparations and all of this nonsense." It felt that the prince was clearly against the entire notion. It made Loerik feel a bit closer to the royal personage.
Lionel, who had remained silent ever since he had explained his idea, tapped his temple thoughtfully. "That is a bit unexpected, and I don't readily see how we could work around that. However, the fact which remains is this: this wand," and he showed a thin wand of marble and copper with a small ruby on top " can allow teleportation for a limited number of time. However, what you need even more is a way to counter very powerful magic like those that were stolen. There is a possible answer, unfortunately said to be located in sacred chambers inside the royal castle of Sailune."
"Sacred chambers!" Phil muttered "You're talking about things which belonged to Sai Lune himself! The artefacts you described, they've been kept carefully guarded for nearly a millennia. Almost since the foundation of the Royal House Sailune."
"But not guarded against some like...you, I might guess." Loerik said with a wink.
"We'll need those artefacts, Phil." Fezra said in a voice as close to pleading as it ever had come to. "I know I've been acting like a bitch these days, but I'm telling you - we need that stuff. To stop Dallomir, and most of us, to save Berwen. I know it might land you in trouble with your family, but I'm asking you, please do it. We can't leave her with those creeps."
Please. Of all the words Loerik would have thought he'd hear from Fezra's mouth, this was certainly one of the last. After all, she was a proud member of the Inverse line of sorcerers, a line known for taking what they wanted, sometimes loudly, sometimes arrogantly. Certainly never by pleading. He almost could hear the myriad of Inverse generations turning over in their coffins by the sheer shock of it. This declaration floored Hallia, Zasthla and Phil as well, while Lionel looked at their expression in slight confusion. Only Marcus didn't seem surprised, as he only spared her a sad look before regarding Phil again.
He was finished. There wasn't anybody, it seemed, more right-minded or noble-minded than Phil, no matter with the justice fanaticism and silly speeches. Pleading of that sort, from someone who just DIDN'T plead, was enough to kill any resistance he had left about their plans. He sighed a sigh which seemed to come from the his ankles, and nodded.
"Alright. A warrior of justice never allows another to suffer out of selfishness! I will do it!" he said readily, drawing himself up proudly, even though everyone could still feel his doubts about the matter.
Fezra's shoulders sagged a bit in relief. "Thank you, Phil." Then up they came again, and Fezra Inverse was back in full swig. "Alright then! We got our work cut out for us starting tomorrow morning! Phil and Lionel are gonna go dig us some protection so we can take these bastards, while we're gonna go to Latemba near the Sailune-Lumeria border. So I think we might as well get ourselves some sleep right now." For some reason, she gave him an amused look as everyone agreed and rose to settle down for the evening.
Loerik stayed and chatted with Marcus, who was a very late-sleeper and probably would take a walk before he went to bed, then went to seek his own room. When he found it and entered, he expected to find it empty. He certainly did not expect someone, and even less so that it be Hallia. What truly sent him into inner turmoil was the fact that she was dressed for sleep. He checked the number of his room. It was the right one. Still, not knowing what he should do or say, he was about to go back down and take the walk with Marcus when she spotted him in the doorway. She didn't seem surprised to see him.
"Come in, Loerik! Don't stand there like some cracked statue!" she said, beckoning him inside. As if on automatism, he stepped forward and closed the door.
"This...this...err....t-this is my room." he finally choked out. She nodded. Nodded! As if it was normal for her to be here!
"Yup. And its mine, too!" she announced.
This sent him into an embarrassed spluttering. Not that he minded the woman's company. He felt...lots of things for Hallia, although he wasn't about to force the issue on some of them yet. He certainly hadn't wanted to face them so directly, not so soon. Yet he found himself looking at her form, admiring her. Shamed at his acting, wondering what his father would think of the whole thing, he looked away. Ironically, she laughed softly as she saw him squirm.
"Fezra was right - you're too sweet to do anything, you big swordsman." she winked as he looked at her in surprise. "It was Fezra's idea that we shared a room. Two beds, mind you. To put things into...perspective."
Perspective? If he ever found sleep that night with knowing she was near, he was hoping he was going to kill Fezra in his sleep. And even then, he was in half a mind to go do it right now! Still, there was nothing to do but to endure it right now.
"So...I take the left bed." he finally squeezed breathlessly.
"Fine by me." she gave him another smile "And if worse comes to worse, don't worry. I won't hurt you."
And he knew that, if only for that sentence and its implications, he was going to be having a hard time getting some sleep, What was he doing with such a band of crazed people anyway!?!
* * * * * * * * * *
There was a realm, which few humans had entered, except for some of the most powerful sorcerers, which appeared amongst the millennia. Sometimes an elf came, every few hundred years, but they were usually there purely by accident, or else they didn't understand exactly where they were. Elves. A powerful race of the prime material plane, which controlled the lands before the dragons came, and before the humans rose to sentience and civilization. Beings of purity and supreme arrogance all melded together, shepherding the world as best they could.
Xellos had found being amongst them tedious, not to mention boring. There was no life there, there was no excitement.
That was when he had noticed the emerging humans. At first only a few packs of primitive hunters, they had been taken under the elves' wings and taught the basic principles of civilization. Once they had, they adapted quickly, and well, multiply far too quickly for the elves's liking. The Mazoku Priest-General wagered that, if the War of Resurrection - as the Failed Awakening was known amongst humans - hadn't come along, the humans might well have been in serious trouble. Instead, they survived the War, and adapted as marvellously quickly as before. This time, however, the elves were diminished to mere remnants, and the dragons had largely gone into isolation, they had the lands to themselves.
That's when the real fun had begun. Change, conflicts, births, deaths, always moving, always trying new things, the world of humans had emerged. Oh, not as impressive as the elven civilization had been at its peak, not quite yet. But so refreshing nonetheless! Walking through a human city was never dull, and could still be invigorating after hundreds, thousands of times. Moreover, there were plenty of negative emotions - humans were so much more violent than elves - to feed him aplenty. And many pure-hearted people to play tricks on.
Yes, Xellos really liked the human world, probably because it was so flawed and tumultuous. It had brought him a sort of pleasure, he supposed. As he walked the halls of the astral castle that belonged to his mistress, Xellas Metallium, he was reminded that it had been penetrated many times by humans who knew exactly what they were doing. Easy to kill at first, but more and more challenging. Another reason to like them, as far as he was concerned.
"You are pondering humans again, are you not, Xellos?"
He turned and bowed to the person who commanded his powers and life. Xellas had appeared in her human shape, golden-haired and extraordinarily beautiful as humans saw things, dressed perfectly. She seemed ready to walk into a king's ball, or to carry an entire flock of male nobles to do her every whim. But that was the way she wanted to be seen. After all, Xellas liked power, and this was the appearance of a human woman who had exactly that.
He bowed his head slightly along with his body. "Yes, my lady. I must admit that I was doing just that." Not like there was any use in trying to lie to her, unless one wished to see one's life shortened considerably. "They are a fascination people to watch and play with."
She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "A thousand years, hundreds of human wars, you have seen the ups and downs of the Race of Mankind for so long. Don't you ever get tired of them?"
He grinned his infamous grin, the one that always annoyed everyone around him except for his mistress. "Oh, never! They have never given me time to be bored. There's always a few humans daring things, always a few humans putting the world on the edge of chaos."
"Humans have always swung between the Mazoku and the Ryozoku, between darkness and light. They have no focus, but seek one all their lives. No wonder they are a race of chance." she looked at him again with an amused expression. "They are perfect for you, aren't they?"
"I will not deny it. They are most satisfying."
Her face became colder, more inquisitive. "On the subject of humans, I trust your doings have bore fruit?"
In truth, he didn't really want to broach that subject. But, seeing he had little choice in the matter, he simply continued with the same cheer as ever. Beyond the strange columns of the halls, shadows stirred, lesser mazoku probably, afraid to show themselves. "I have made contact with the group. It is rather remarquable, to feel parts of these familiar auras gathered together. Two of them, powerful sorcerers both, hold parts of Falana. The Prince of Sailune has parts of the founder of his dynasty, and the warrior...the warrior is both Gabriev with...with traces of the highest elven blood." She looked at him with increased interest.
"The highest of the elven blood. Do you mean there is Prossellian noble blood in the swordsman's veins?"
"His natural dexterity, endurance? It couldn't be anything else. They are, I must say, a most impressive group."
"As we wanted it to be. Now, of more import is the matter of the mages who stole the Lores. Have they decided to go through with the transformation ritual?"
And there was exactly the part he truly didn't care about. He didn't know why he cared if chimeric experiments were undertaken. After all, chaos often resulted, and didn't his entire race thrive on chaos? Yet, for some reason, thinking of the possibilities didn't please him like it had pleased him to sow chaos with the elves. Perhaps it was because he found natural human chaos sufficient? Or was it something else? He truly hoped not - it would only bring him trouble if it were.
Still, his mistress had asked him a question, and to her if to nobody else, he was diligent in his answers. "Yes, mistress. They are going to use the procedure very soon. Within the next few weeks, most probably. They have little time to waste, considering their situation."
Xellas smiled widely, showing canine teeth that didn't belong with the rest of the pleasing human face. "So, they are going to attempt to do what only Lei Magnus had ever been able to do. A millennia has taught mankind much arrogance."
"They might very well succeed, with the detailed instructions they found."
"Detailed instructions that we LET them find, rather. They do not know, however, that one or two elements were subtly changed in the overall formula. Which will bring us the opening we will need."
Xellos was the only one who knew of Xellas' plan, or enough to piece the rest together at any rate. It was brilliantly put together, strung over the space of decades instead of years. The other Mazoku Lords - especially Dolphin and Gaav - were too shortsighted, and their schemes had always failed because they had tried to do too much too quickly. It would not be so here.
And finally, the pieces were starting to come together. The Sword of Light had reappeared, and given added power by the elven blood, which ran through its newest owner. Humans with power nearing Lei Magnus and Falana of the Seven Winds had risen again. All was poised on a humanity which had regained much of the power of the old days, yet had none of the wariness and care of those who had fought Xellos' people nearly one millennia ago.
Furthermore, they no longer had the aid of the Dragons and the Elves. Where mankind had prospered and claimed most of the lands, the elves and dragons had gone into isolation, with few seen outside Mipross or the Katato Mountain Range. There would be no other Triad Army. Mankind was alone. However, certain events had to happen before the Mazoku could try again to control the material plane.
"This is only the first step, Xellos." Xellas told him "Only the opening moves against the humans. We will stay in the shadows for many years yet. Watching, gauging. And, in the case of this little experiment, subtly interfering."
"Indeed, Mistress. I am excited at the prospect."
"As we should all be, Xellos. As we should all be!"
___________________________________________________
Prossel : Before the War of Resurrection, Prossel was the most powerful of all the Ancient Kingdoms. It had the greatest mages, the most advanced culture, and the largest army, and dominated the entire continent. The War, however, would take a heavy toll on it, as the Mazoku Hordes would savagely attack it in order to decrease its strength. Despite all of this, the realm was instrumental in creating the Triad Army that so successfully held back the Mazoku for so many years. However, the nearly forty years of hardship would destroy most of its people, so that only a fraction remained of the great realm when all was over. This fraction united under a new monarchy, and founded a new Kingdom - Mipross.
However, we never imagined how dire the consequences would be."
- Excerpt from Hallia's memoirs, 994 AR
Chapter Seven
Many couldn't help but to see the travellers entering the inn.
Some of the villagers vaguely recalled seeing them a good while ago, but even they stared as the group entered. The first to enter was a fit man of average height and stature with a flowing red mane of hair, dressed in the red and gold suit and black cloak usual of many of the sorcerer's guild. He looked around with a disinterested air before entering. With him came a woman, only slightly smaller than he, with brown hair and large eyes. She was garbed similarly, and her looks spoke of self-recrimination and anger.
Behind them came a man and two women. The man was tall, taller than most of the other men in the common room, dressed in partial armour and wearing a sword with the ease of a campaigner. His black hair was cut short, and his piercing gaze seemed to give him a hardness, which contradicted the tentative hand he had put on the shoulder of one of the women. She walked garbed in the garments of a travelling priest, and her fair face was rendered magnificent by the stunning green hair that went far below her shoulders. On the other side came another woman, taller than the male sorcerer, more muscled then any of the women in the village, garbed in leather armour with a sword strapped on her back. The look she gave around was cold and somewhat defeated
Closing the march was a giant. No other word could safely describe him. Although obviously barely full-grown, the man towered over even the tall warrior, broad chested, with thick muscular arms and legs, which could crush bones like twigs if he meant to do it. He was garbed in a traveller's outfit, yet it was perhaps of finer quality than the others. Although his face wasn't handsome, there was softness to it which somewhat made him less threatening than some of the others in the group.
All of them looked sad or angry or both. All of them looked defeated. And most of all, they all carried themselves with strength and resolve. This convinced the villagers to return to their drinks, trying hard not to look at them as they all silently sat at a table.
Phil saw the whole thing from his perspective, saw the peasants gauged him and his friends, and didn't care a wit for it. None, it seemed, did the others as the unusual thick silence lengthened between them. That sort of thing wasn't to the liking of one like he, and so after it had become unbearable, he broke it the only way he knew how.
"We have been...defeated, my friends." he said at last. This, at least, got their attention "However, we must not despair! If we do, we give the enemy exactly what he wants!!" Gods, but that sounded tired and lame. But he couldn't do better at the moment.
Marcus nodded wearily. "You're probably right at that - despair won't change a thing. But the fact remains; we got caught into a fight we probably would have lost to begin with. We were unprepared and -"
"Then let's BE prepared!" this resounding, angry announcement came from Fezra, who banged the table and half-stood. "So we got caught with our pants down! At least we know what we're dealing with here! They're powerful bastards, but I think we could take them one if all of us went in with a good battle-plan!"
"That's assuming we find where they went, and assuming they don't learn too much about what they stole from the temple." Hallia reminded her, sending the waiter away with an impatient wave of her hand. Beside her, Loerik looked sombre and thoughtful.
Marcus nodded vigorously. "Right, that's it. We need to find more information about the Hidden Lores. We wanted to stop them from getting them, but now that they have taken them, our options are limited until we learn what-"
"I don't CARE what they do! Who CARES what they do?!? All I know is that they're certainly going to test them on Berwen!" Fezra cut him off angrily.
That shut everyone up, and settled the pall of defeatism more firmly on their shoulders. Berwen. Probably the member of the group, which kept to herself the more, rarely talking. She had seemed nice enough, however, when she did. And beyond all of this, she had stuck by them all, she had been part of their group. Phil knew they all itched to go get her out of whatever mess she was in with the three sorcerers.
Zashtla, always looking tough and ready, only fractionally inclined her head before breaking the silence. "Although you and Marcus have deduced that Berwen could only have been taken along with them as they vanished with this spell of theirs, it doesn't help us figure out WHERE she is."
"That was exactly my point." Marcus agreed
"It would help if we knew who we were dealing with." Phil reminded them, recalling the hard-taught geography lessons his tutors had crammed into him. "To narrow down our search. Lumeria isn't the largest country, but its still very large, and we don't have the kind of time to make many mistakes."
Everyone considered this for many moments. "Well," Zashtla said at last "I think we're safe in thinking this place they're in hasn't been touched by the war yet, or they wouldn't have the time to learn anything. This means behind the front lines. The southern regions?"
Loerik nodded uncertainly. "The extreme southern regions then. Lumeria's army is falling apart on every front." He winced at Hallia's flinch, but pressed on. "The capital'll soon be under attack. Once it falls, the loss of morale will make everything else crumble quickly enough. I dunno. If they're in the extreme south, near the Great Ridge, they have four to six months."
"Still, that's too much territory to cover. We'd need-"
"Dallomir."
This unexpected burst from Hallia caught them flat-footed. "Who?" Marcus asked tentatively while Fezra looked with dangerous attention.
"The leader of that trio. I saw him, once, years ago. He came to talk with the High Priest in my temple. I'm pretty sure his name was Dallomir." She jumped slightly as Fezra slapped the table angrily.
"And NOW's the time you tell us his freaking name? We already lost a damn weak, and you couldn't find the damn name in all that TIME?!?"
"Well, Fezra. I...I was very young when he visited. A novice, barely entered into the temple."
"Who cares about that?!? You KNEW the name and you took your sweet little time telling us. And now because of your slow-poke memory, Berwen might-"
"LAY OFF, FEZ!!!" Loerik boomed, rising from his seat and putting his face right in front of her, eyes angry. "Don't you DARE put the blame on her! You're acting like a damn bitch because Berwen's been taken, and I understand that! But don't point fingers at us! YOU were the one nearest her when she teleported! What about that?"
Two hardened pair of eyes stared at each other in a silent, angry clash of will, neither backing down. Patrons around the table looked more than uncomfortable about the idea of a sorceress and swordsman fighting near them, but too scared to do much about it. Phil, for his part, hadn't a clue how to disrupt the event. Indeed, he wondered if he could remain impartial if he tried. Ever since Berwen had been taken, Fezra had been extremely hard to live with, and he couldn't help but sympathize with Loerik for snapping at her.
Finally, it was Marcus who did something before the tension escalated into violence. Rising stiffly, he took a firm hold of Fezra's shoulder and tried to get her to turn towards him. When she wouldn't, he narrowed his eyes. "Fez, I think it would be best if we had a talk, you and I." he said.
"Not right now." She muttered, her eyes not leaving Loerik's.
"I INSIST that we do so right this moment, Fezra." he grated, and at that she did turn to him, angrily, ready for a fight or an argument...to face a blank wall in place of a face. She looked back at Loerik, then at Hallia, then back at Marcus, and her eyes narrowed. With a snarl, she moved towards the door, the other man right behind her. As the door closed behind them at last, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. This had been too close.
"I sure hope those two don't kill each other." Zashtla drawled.
"Quite frankly, I hope Marcus doesn't get killed." Loerik muttered, sitting down heavily "Right now, I'm not sure about Fezra. Anyway, we have a name now, so we can probably find his hole. But the question is, what happens when we do find it?"
To that, no one had a ready answer.
* * * * * * * * * *
"That, that, that...big, dimwitted, smelly, sword-waving JERK!! Who does he think he is, telling me to back off?! Lousy swordsman, and lousy dimwitted priestess for not remembering things when she should. I should blast them both, here and now, may be it'd make them more sensible!!"
Marcus waited until the worst of the torrent passed. "Are you finished?" he asked neutrally, keeping his emotions in check. Its didn't really help matters, he found, as she turned away from him and kept on ranting.
"I'm not even beginning to unwind, pal! I thought they actually cared about what's happening to Berwen, but-"
"They do care. You haven't listened to them, have you? Why do you think they're talking about finding those guys, anyway? I think you should consider that before going into such a senseless rage."
"Senseless, is it? Well, you can think it senseless if you want, but as for me, I think that because of Hallia, we're a week behind where we should be, and that's a fact!"
"No, its not! Come on, I know you're much more intelligent than this, I've seen you think things through. Think THIS through!" He said, his temper getting the better of him despite all of his efforts. "You can't expect her to readily remember something which happened for a few moments years ago. It wasn't a very dramatic event. So we're actually LUCKY she found the name only after a week, seeing that we were injured, that we were travelling, and had so much on our minds! I shouldn't even be telling you this! You should have made this conclusion as fast as I did. I think your concern is blinding you, Fezra. Get over it quickly."
He didn't understand it fully, but he felt empty while he went on with this tirade. It wasn't usual with him. When Marcus Jaderam went and put someone in his or her place - and he had done that a lot - he did it with arrogance, sometimes with hints of malice. He usually loved telling someone off, to tell that person that she was wrong and he was right. Not this time. This time, there was no arrogance that he could muster. There was no malice either. Just frustration at many days of bad temper directed at everything beside him. Frustration, and that damned, strange emptiness.
He couldn't understand what it could mean - maybe he didn't want to. But he knew that at this moment, which it was irrelevant. There was a problem growing and he felt he was the best to handle it. Hallia wasn't high on Fezra's list right then, Loerik would probably end up fighting her, Phil would be too hesitant, and Zashtla wouldn't know what to say that much. That left him to do this job. He didn't like it, but he had taken it, and he wasn't one to stop until he did what he came for.
When she didn't respond, he took that as his cue to press on. "Ever since the battle, you've looked to us like it was our fault. You told me things - some of them true, most of them not so - and you did the same to the others. In fact, you kept hounding us about our failings and our problems, and not once - not ONCE - did I hear you admit that you had done any wrong." he took a deep breath. This was the punchline. "I think it means that you know you failed, and that you're getting angry at us because you're angry at yourself, at your mistakes."
She didn't look at him, only kept looking at the houses nestled around the inn, at the busy smithy farther off, and at the farmers and peddlers milling about. "How do you know that's what I think?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You told me she was your friend, but I rarely saw you talk to her. Someone as bright as you must have realized how she must have felt. But she's not here to apologize, so how can you relieve your guilt? And then there's the battle. Berwen, you and I fought this...Dallomir. You were the closest to her when things fell apart, and you must know that if someone could have done something, it should have been-"
"STOP!"
He did with a sigh. "I'm only telling you what you already know."
"I know. Just...stop."
Fezra looked at the passing villagers around her for many long moments before leaning against the inn's wall. Her eyes were shadowed, and the sadness felt there was sharp and true. Marcus didn't know what he was about to hear, yet waited, expectantly.
"We never have many friends growing up, us wizards, right?" she asked introspectively "I mean, real friends, with whom we can do anything, share everything. We don't have a lot of those growing up."
He frowned in pained discomfort. He had had friends growing up. Back when he didn't know he had magic in him. When his mother had been alive and well, and he had had a family. A family which had turned against him in the worst possible way, and killed the person who had cared for him the most out of selfish ignorance. Friends he had had. Or had thought so, once. But it had all turned out to be a lie, no?
"You're right. We don't." he finally said, unable to find better words for it.
She nodded. "But you see, that's what Berwen was. A friend. And by that I mean a real one. We've known each other since we were little, we've done all kinds of mischief. We even studied magic together. Yes, she was a friend. And a very good one." her look, which had been wistful, became more sombre. "But, then again..."
"Yes?" he prompted. She gave him a look, then looked away again.
"Then again, I was never able to fully connect with her. She never had what I wanted from someone. She didn't have the same...passion for travelling and adventuring. Nobody did. And then I helped a swordsman and two priestesses escape some freaky mercenaries."
Marcus considered this last revelation. It made sense. Loerik was used to the mercenary trade - although perhaps not by choice - and seemed to take risks when he wanted to. Hallia had her own streak of this born of the Lumerian-Elmekian conflict, Phil was always ready for a challenge, and Zasthla always took whatever came her way calmly. Even he himself liked to undertake ventures into the unknown at times. But not Berwen. She had never struck him as that type of person. And that, perhaps, was why she had been just about ostracized from the band, with newcomers like Phil and he fitting in fast as she remained in the sideline.
That must have been hard to take, he wagered to himself. Hard enough to hold some resentment. Yet, she never seemed to show any. Not that he had looked, or cared. Although it shamed him to admit it, he hadn't interacted with her like he had with the others. He hadn't known her.
"I see what you mean. At least, I think I did. But that doesn't change the fact that it wasn't our fault. Yours or ours. As far as we know, she stumbled near them and got teleported by sheer accident. We'd never have been able to know that this would happen, much less react. After all, we were reacting to the imminent collapse of the passage."
She waved at him negligently. "I know. I know. I didn't want to know it, and I wasted my own anger on the others and on you. Marcus, its just that I...I'm sure that there's something we can do! Something we can do to help her out of there!" Her look was both pleading and determined, full of the willpower he had admired from the first time he had even seen her. He opened his mouth to answer, but was beat to the punch by another voice.
"A confident declaration. And perhaps not an untruthful one. I think that there IS a way to help your friend, from what I've heard, Marcus Jaderam."
Marcus spun around to see two unexpected people standing not too far off, looking at them. The first one he didn't know. A lanky fellow dressed in what seemed to be a more ornate version of an apprentice garb looked out with serious eyes. And next to him...
He blinked as he recognized the young woman. "But aren't you...Narie?" And then he was pushed away with vigour as Fezra came to the fore.
"Narie?!? What the?! What are you doing here?? I thought you were resting at a temple where Hallia left you, way south of here!!"
The young priestess looked back with eyes still broken, but at least holding together now. "Yes. I was, but this man wanted to find you. He comes from Rezo the Red Priest to aid you all."
"Rezo?" Marcus gasped, looking at the serious young magi. "And who are you?"
The man bowed slightly. "Lionel Greysword, Rezo's apprentice. I think that we should enter. Night will fall soon, and winds are chilly these days." he grinned slightly "And I just might have a way to help your friend."
* * * * * * * * * *
Mellinius wasn't one who often allowed himself to entertain any doubts. He shirked them as much as he could, in fact. He was a follower of the philosophy that doubts only led to mistakes, and that mistakes made in doubt often were fatal. All successes came with certainty. That was the way he had always held himself, and so he had risen quickly above other apprentices in the Guilds, and had quickly become a man who followed his ideas without flinching, and a powerful sorcerer.
No, doubts weren't something he entertained. But he had to, these days. After all, he was seeing something unfolding, right outside of his reach, a plot that he wasn't sure would benefit his country, even though its situation was now desperate.
"Make chimeras?" Mellinius grunted "Sir, you can't be serious."
Dallomir only smiled at his sceptical tone. "On the contrary, my dear Mellinius. That is exactly what I propose to do."
Never once had he thought that Dallomir could find the wrong way to handle a problem. In all the time he had known the older mage, things had always come true, solutions had always been found to satisfy everyone. Even during most of the war, he had been composed and controlled in his decisions and his temper, always advising the king and his war council as best as he could. Even the death of his so-beloved wife hadn't affected him too terribly, or so it would appear.
But this. Making chimeras was a practice, which had been used long ago by Lei Magnus as he began the War of Resurrection. He had made himself a cadre of extremely powerful chimeras, which had caused terrible destruction until they had fallen - barely at that - at the hands of the First Knights' combined might. Chimeric research had been completely banned for centuries, and only in the last century had some resumed. Sorcerous circles looked upon most of it darkly. And in Lumeria, such people wanted nothing to do with what they called 'the worst kind of necromancy'.
"The elders will never give us their leave to conduct experiments." he said "Even if it is to save Lumeria. It simply goes against too many of our traditions. They'd never let us have the knowledge you have gleaned."
Seated in a comfortable chair near the tower room's window, Jomekin grinned that twisted cherubic grin of his. "Oh, come of it. Don't you think that these old fools don't have anything better to gripe about? Like, oh, thousands of troops from the Imperial Army pouring down their collective throat?"
"Even so..."
"There is no need for you to be so alarmed, Mellinius." the older mage said easily. "To stop us, they would have to know about it. I don't intend to give them this privilege. This will be my...OUR little project!"
"No notifying the elders?" He had truly never thought of doing that. Wasn't their solution supposed to be for the benefit of the entire nation. Why should they hide it at all. A sick feeling of dread began to see in his bones as the other two looked at him. No fear or uncertainty there. They looked as serene as anyone could hope to look. That's when it fully hit him. They had never intended to tell the elders. All of this talk about the old men having nothing better to do had been for him. To calm him down. To keep his mouth shut.
For the first time - probably far too late - he realized how dangerous a situation he was in.
"Yes. No one. Surely, you understand the necessity of keeping this secret? Imagine if the Elmekians learned of it! It would be disastrous!" Dallomir asserted forcefully. He truly seemed to believe in his excuse. Why did it bother him so much that he did? It did have merits. Yet the look of his eyes - cold orbs - gave everything he said now as easy to second-guess, if anyone dared.
Privately, Mellinius second-guessed such words. A lot. But only very deeply in the most private recesses of his mind. Outwardly, he nodded in what he hope was a good show of daze and mounting enthusiasm. "Of course. I see what you mean, sir. But what about testing? Won't we need guinea pigs before rounding up those we might choose for the transformation?"
This was a problem, as far as he was concerned. Testing was always wasteful in terms of time and manpower. Failures were extremely costly. To play with livestock in the tests would be enough to get the elders' attention. To play with human lives, it would bring them down on them like a peal of thunder. Still, despite these facts, both sorcerers remained quite serene.
Dallomir took out a small bottle of brandy - from his own private reserves, no doubts - and drank deeply from it before looking back at him with a grin. "There is no need for that either. I've looked at Lei Magnus's scriptures. They are very precise, and should give us quick success. All we need is to test it on one human specimen, and all is done!"
The younger mage shook his head. They were steps ahead of him. Obviously they had agreed on the plans between themselves before calling him. He knew he didn't like what that meant, but did he truly have a choice but to follow on his intended path. What else could he do? Go to the elders and tell them of all they had done. The simple fact that they had gone and taken some of Lei Magnus's devices and scriptures - Hidden Lores all! - would be nothing less than a death sentence. Compared to this certainty, the two in front of him were the lesser of two evils.
"Alright. You've obviously thought this through, sir."
"Indeed I have, good Mellinius. Trust me, nothing will go wrong with the plans I have concocted now."
Now, he truly had those distasteful doubts about that. But he wasn't about to voice them. Instead, he asked about a secondary concern of his. "And who will be the one we will use then?"
At that, Jomekin gave a grin that made his skin crawl and every joint he had hurt. He knew he wouldn't like the answer, but schooled his expression. The most powerful among them only took out a small silver bell, which he rang. Almost on cue, the doors outside the room opened, and in came two of the household guards, carrying a prisoner between them. Mellinius immediately felt the chill within himself increase.
The one they brought was a girl with auburn hair, slightly tanned skin and relatively fit physique, and dressed only in undergarments. Her hands were shackled, one link in the hands of one guard, and a magical inhibitor on her brow. Despite her appearance, she looked at them all with fury in her eyes, drowning the fear she might have felt. He recognized her at once. It was the woman who had been in the group which had fought them so hard a week before, the one who had been taken by Lei Magnus's teleporting spell.
"Here is our very own guinea pig." Dallomir said triumphantly. "She has strong magic, and so should be perfect for our tests. Wouldn't you say, my dear?" he gave the bound girl a grin. All he received was a glare. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to understand how important this will be. You will become a cornerstone, and the beginning which will lead Lumeria to total victory over Elmekia!"
"I swear that, if nothing else, I'll never help you or Lumeria in any way." She said slowly, and then twisted as the headband emitted a strong shock of electricity.
"Ah, I see you've seen that the headband's punch is quite powerful. Don't worry, you will feel it plenty of times. Once every hour, in fact. Guards, take her away to her cell and follow my instructions." The guards immediately tugged the dazed bound sorceress away. She barely resisted it, but managed to give them all a death stare before she was out of the door. Mellinius felt sicker than he'd ever felt in his life. He turned from the closing door to Dallomir, who was still smiling.
"Your instructions? Sir, what will you do to her?"
"What must be done. Lei Magnus was specific: for the spell to work, the receiver mustn't have sufficient willpower to resist. So that is what we will break. By the time we are ready, she will never have the strength to resist the change."
Suddenly, the room felt as colt as the top of a mountain.
And he suddenly wondered if, as he had thought so surely mere moments beforehand, the two men in front of him indeed were the lesser of the evils when compared to the Elders' wrath.
* * * * * * * * * *
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Its all logical, Phil."
"Even if it happens to be logical, and I admit that it sounds so, I refuse to go to the capital. Send someone else!"
It was frankly the first time Loerik had ever seen Prince Philionel so distraught. Normally, he wasn't affected much by plans, or then he'd launch in one grand speech about the group doing what is right and agreeing to whatever was being said in the end. That was just the way he was, it had seemed. But right now, this was different. Not only did he staunchly refuse to follow the plan, he actually looked like a scared deer.
The confusion this change created was general. Even Zashtla looked increasingly puzzled, while Marcus, Fezra and that new boy Lionel were looking in with increasing expressions of frustration. Only Hallia appeared to take it relatively in stride.
"Right." she said, pushing a lock of emerald out of the way "You mind explaining WHY you wouldn't want to go, Phil? I mean, its not like this would be a dangerous place for anybody, especially for you, their-" she stopped, flushed, looked around. Fortunately none of the few patrons still around the common room were paying them any heed - perhaps in light of what had gone on before. "I mean, not for an inhabitant of Sailune."
That was another problem. Although Philionel had told them about his nobility and position, it was unwise to tell of it publicly. After all, who knew what reactions - and potential trouble - would be brought in on them if it was learned the prince himself travelled amongst a band of adventurers? Better safe than sorry.
Phil's large eyebrows fumbled down into an embarrassed frown, and the huge man seemed to wobble in uncertainty. Finally, he muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that, Phil?" Fezra asked in a too-sweet voice "I didn't hear you."
"I said...." the prince hesitated "...I said chances would be I'd meet...my betrothed." He looked at them all as they took this in silently. "And I wouldn't want to do so too quickly, I you catch my meaning."
Loerik was a little stunned by the announcement - Phil was barely eighteen - but unsurprised. He had grown amongst the elves, after all. And the elves, although having magic, arts, and sophistication beyond what human had, they also had traditions more long-lasting than what could be conceived by human minds. They were so set in their old ways that they neither knew nor cared who they hurt in the process of implementing them.
He knew that quite well.
Zashtla, however, hadn't been born amongst the elves or amongst the human upper class, for she let out a dry chuckle, which drew all eyes to her. "So what you mean's that you got a girl off the capital waiting for you? That doesn't sound too bad."
Marcus, however, was more sober about it. "Actually, it could be bad, Zasthla. Sailunean tradition is pretty strong. If Philionel is betrothed to a woman, in his particular case, his family might not want to let him go until they were wedded."
"That's it." Phil agreed "And that would mean waiting for a long time, because of preparations and all of this nonsense." It felt that the prince was clearly against the entire notion. It made Loerik feel a bit closer to the royal personage.
Lionel, who had remained silent ever since he had explained his idea, tapped his temple thoughtfully. "That is a bit unexpected, and I don't readily see how we could work around that. However, the fact which remains is this: this wand," and he showed a thin wand of marble and copper with a small ruby on top " can allow teleportation for a limited number of time. However, what you need even more is a way to counter very powerful magic like those that were stolen. There is a possible answer, unfortunately said to be located in sacred chambers inside the royal castle of Sailune."
"Sacred chambers!" Phil muttered "You're talking about things which belonged to Sai Lune himself! The artefacts you described, they've been kept carefully guarded for nearly a millennia. Almost since the foundation of the Royal House Sailune."
"But not guarded against some like...you, I might guess." Loerik said with a wink.
"We'll need those artefacts, Phil." Fezra said in a voice as close to pleading as it ever had come to. "I know I've been acting like a bitch these days, but I'm telling you - we need that stuff. To stop Dallomir, and most of us, to save Berwen. I know it might land you in trouble with your family, but I'm asking you, please do it. We can't leave her with those creeps."
Please. Of all the words Loerik would have thought he'd hear from Fezra's mouth, this was certainly one of the last. After all, she was a proud member of the Inverse line of sorcerers, a line known for taking what they wanted, sometimes loudly, sometimes arrogantly. Certainly never by pleading. He almost could hear the myriad of Inverse generations turning over in their coffins by the sheer shock of it. This declaration floored Hallia, Zasthla and Phil as well, while Lionel looked at their expression in slight confusion. Only Marcus didn't seem surprised, as he only spared her a sad look before regarding Phil again.
He was finished. There wasn't anybody, it seemed, more right-minded or noble-minded than Phil, no matter with the justice fanaticism and silly speeches. Pleading of that sort, from someone who just DIDN'T plead, was enough to kill any resistance he had left about their plans. He sighed a sigh which seemed to come from the his ankles, and nodded.
"Alright. A warrior of justice never allows another to suffer out of selfishness! I will do it!" he said readily, drawing himself up proudly, even though everyone could still feel his doubts about the matter.
Fezra's shoulders sagged a bit in relief. "Thank you, Phil." Then up they came again, and Fezra Inverse was back in full swig. "Alright then! We got our work cut out for us starting tomorrow morning! Phil and Lionel are gonna go dig us some protection so we can take these bastards, while we're gonna go to Latemba near the Sailune-Lumeria border. So I think we might as well get ourselves some sleep right now." For some reason, she gave him an amused look as everyone agreed and rose to settle down for the evening.
Loerik stayed and chatted with Marcus, who was a very late-sleeper and probably would take a walk before he went to bed, then went to seek his own room. When he found it and entered, he expected to find it empty. He certainly did not expect someone, and even less so that it be Hallia. What truly sent him into inner turmoil was the fact that she was dressed for sleep. He checked the number of his room. It was the right one. Still, not knowing what he should do or say, he was about to go back down and take the walk with Marcus when she spotted him in the doorway. She didn't seem surprised to see him.
"Come in, Loerik! Don't stand there like some cracked statue!" she said, beckoning him inside. As if on automatism, he stepped forward and closed the door.
"This...this...err....t-this is my room." he finally choked out. She nodded. Nodded! As if it was normal for her to be here!
"Yup. And its mine, too!" she announced.
This sent him into an embarrassed spluttering. Not that he minded the woman's company. He felt...lots of things for Hallia, although he wasn't about to force the issue on some of them yet. He certainly hadn't wanted to face them so directly, not so soon. Yet he found himself looking at her form, admiring her. Shamed at his acting, wondering what his father would think of the whole thing, he looked away. Ironically, she laughed softly as she saw him squirm.
"Fezra was right - you're too sweet to do anything, you big swordsman." she winked as he looked at her in surprise. "It was Fezra's idea that we shared a room. Two beds, mind you. To put things into...perspective."
Perspective? If he ever found sleep that night with knowing she was near, he was hoping he was going to kill Fezra in his sleep. And even then, he was in half a mind to go do it right now! Still, there was nothing to do but to endure it right now.
"So...I take the left bed." he finally squeezed breathlessly.
"Fine by me." she gave him another smile "And if worse comes to worse, don't worry. I won't hurt you."
And he knew that, if only for that sentence and its implications, he was going to be having a hard time getting some sleep, What was he doing with such a band of crazed people anyway!?!
* * * * * * * * * *
There was a realm, which few humans had entered, except for some of the most powerful sorcerers, which appeared amongst the millennia. Sometimes an elf came, every few hundred years, but they were usually there purely by accident, or else they didn't understand exactly where they were. Elves. A powerful race of the prime material plane, which controlled the lands before the dragons came, and before the humans rose to sentience and civilization. Beings of purity and supreme arrogance all melded together, shepherding the world as best they could.
Xellos had found being amongst them tedious, not to mention boring. There was no life there, there was no excitement.
That was when he had noticed the emerging humans. At first only a few packs of primitive hunters, they had been taken under the elves' wings and taught the basic principles of civilization. Once they had, they adapted quickly, and well, multiply far too quickly for the elves's liking. The Mazoku Priest-General wagered that, if the War of Resurrection - as the Failed Awakening was known amongst humans - hadn't come along, the humans might well have been in serious trouble. Instead, they survived the War, and adapted as marvellously quickly as before. This time, however, the elves were diminished to mere remnants, and the dragons had largely gone into isolation, they had the lands to themselves.
That's when the real fun had begun. Change, conflicts, births, deaths, always moving, always trying new things, the world of humans had emerged. Oh, not as impressive as the elven civilization had been at its peak, not quite yet. But so refreshing nonetheless! Walking through a human city was never dull, and could still be invigorating after hundreds, thousands of times. Moreover, there were plenty of negative emotions - humans were so much more violent than elves - to feed him aplenty. And many pure-hearted people to play tricks on.
Yes, Xellos really liked the human world, probably because it was so flawed and tumultuous. It had brought him a sort of pleasure, he supposed. As he walked the halls of the astral castle that belonged to his mistress, Xellas Metallium, he was reminded that it had been penetrated many times by humans who knew exactly what they were doing. Easy to kill at first, but more and more challenging. Another reason to like them, as far as he was concerned.
"You are pondering humans again, are you not, Xellos?"
He turned and bowed to the person who commanded his powers and life. Xellas had appeared in her human shape, golden-haired and extraordinarily beautiful as humans saw things, dressed perfectly. She seemed ready to walk into a king's ball, or to carry an entire flock of male nobles to do her every whim. But that was the way she wanted to be seen. After all, Xellas liked power, and this was the appearance of a human woman who had exactly that.
He bowed his head slightly along with his body. "Yes, my lady. I must admit that I was doing just that." Not like there was any use in trying to lie to her, unless one wished to see one's life shortened considerably. "They are a fascination people to watch and play with."
She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "A thousand years, hundreds of human wars, you have seen the ups and downs of the Race of Mankind for so long. Don't you ever get tired of them?"
He grinned his infamous grin, the one that always annoyed everyone around him except for his mistress. "Oh, never! They have never given me time to be bored. There's always a few humans daring things, always a few humans putting the world on the edge of chaos."
"Humans have always swung between the Mazoku and the Ryozoku, between darkness and light. They have no focus, but seek one all their lives. No wonder they are a race of chance." she looked at him again with an amused expression. "They are perfect for you, aren't they?"
"I will not deny it. They are most satisfying."
Her face became colder, more inquisitive. "On the subject of humans, I trust your doings have bore fruit?"
In truth, he didn't really want to broach that subject. But, seeing he had little choice in the matter, he simply continued with the same cheer as ever. Beyond the strange columns of the halls, shadows stirred, lesser mazoku probably, afraid to show themselves. "I have made contact with the group. It is rather remarquable, to feel parts of these familiar auras gathered together. Two of them, powerful sorcerers both, hold parts of Falana. The Prince of Sailune has parts of the founder of his dynasty, and the warrior...the warrior is both Gabriev with...with traces of the highest elven blood." She looked at him with increased interest.
"The highest of the elven blood. Do you mean there is Prossellian noble blood in the swordsman's veins?"
"His natural dexterity, endurance? It couldn't be anything else. They are, I must say, a most impressive group."
"As we wanted it to be. Now, of more import is the matter of the mages who stole the Lores. Have they decided to go through with the transformation ritual?"
And there was exactly the part he truly didn't care about. He didn't know why he cared if chimeric experiments were undertaken. After all, chaos often resulted, and didn't his entire race thrive on chaos? Yet, for some reason, thinking of the possibilities didn't please him like it had pleased him to sow chaos with the elves. Perhaps it was because he found natural human chaos sufficient? Or was it something else? He truly hoped not - it would only bring him trouble if it were.
Still, his mistress had asked him a question, and to her if to nobody else, he was diligent in his answers. "Yes, mistress. They are going to use the procedure very soon. Within the next few weeks, most probably. They have little time to waste, considering their situation."
Xellas smiled widely, showing canine teeth that didn't belong with the rest of the pleasing human face. "So, they are going to attempt to do what only Lei Magnus had ever been able to do. A millennia has taught mankind much arrogance."
"They might very well succeed, with the detailed instructions they found."
"Detailed instructions that we LET them find, rather. They do not know, however, that one or two elements were subtly changed in the overall formula. Which will bring us the opening we will need."
Xellos was the only one who knew of Xellas' plan, or enough to piece the rest together at any rate. It was brilliantly put together, strung over the space of decades instead of years. The other Mazoku Lords - especially Dolphin and Gaav - were too shortsighted, and their schemes had always failed because they had tried to do too much too quickly. It would not be so here.
And finally, the pieces were starting to come together. The Sword of Light had reappeared, and given added power by the elven blood, which ran through its newest owner. Humans with power nearing Lei Magnus and Falana of the Seven Winds had risen again. All was poised on a humanity which had regained much of the power of the old days, yet had none of the wariness and care of those who had fought Xellos' people nearly one millennia ago.
Furthermore, they no longer had the aid of the Dragons and the Elves. Where mankind had prospered and claimed most of the lands, the elves and dragons had gone into isolation, with few seen outside Mipross or the Katato Mountain Range. There would be no other Triad Army. Mankind was alone. However, certain events had to happen before the Mazoku could try again to control the material plane.
"This is only the first step, Xellos." Xellas told him "Only the opening moves against the humans. We will stay in the shadows for many years yet. Watching, gauging. And, in the case of this little experiment, subtly interfering."
"Indeed, Mistress. I am excited at the prospect."
"As we should all be, Xellos. As we should all be!"
___________________________________________________
Prossel : Before the War of Resurrection, Prossel was the most powerful of all the Ancient Kingdoms. It had the greatest mages, the most advanced culture, and the largest army, and dominated the entire continent. The War, however, would take a heavy toll on it, as the Mazoku Hordes would savagely attack it in order to decrease its strength. Despite all of this, the realm was instrumental in creating the Triad Army that so successfully held back the Mazoku for so many years. However, the nearly forty years of hardship would destroy most of its people, so that only a fraction remained of the great realm when all was over. This fraction united under a new monarchy, and founded a new Kingdom - Mipross.