Chapter Three
Forgotten Yearnings
"Morning! Morning!"
Maxim Horvath opens a single eye. Then closes it just as quickly. It's mid-dawn and the sun couldn't possibly be any brighter. Now, he's blinded and moody. The harsh ground couldn't have been a more uncomfortable place to sleep.
The crone's voice that had awoken him starts up once again, "Now, Maxim, you must get up. Alexandra will get to the top before us and we wouldn't want that."
He turns onto his side and away from the sun. The green sleeping bag that his apprentice had slept in is gone. A small indentation in the earth is the only indication that she was ever there. The sorcerer searches the area around him and sees that everything is cleared up.
The fire. The beds. The brushes around them have even returned to their original places.
"Where is she?"
Iris sits on the ground and wiggles her toes in the soft earth. "She left about an hour ago. Heading for that mountain."
Her arm slips in the air and her finger accentuates the location. His tired eyes remain somewhat closed against the light. Leaning up, his head follows to where she is pointing.
My god.
The mountain stands high and fierce against the rugged terrain. Snow covers the top in a permanent offering to the heavens. The tree line is quite far and seems quite desolate. But what astounds him is the distance from their current spot to the actual mountain. It had to be miles and miles and miles…
"Why does she need to go there?"
He watches Iris search for an answer before she casually counters, "I have to awaken the magic inside of her."
Confused and slightly bewildered at that statement, he continues his questioning with caution, "I do not believe that I understand you, Iris. She already has her magic. I witnessed it yesterday."
"You witnessed Morgana's blood in Alexandra. Just like the magic that you have. It's almost like the difference between using your arms and using your lungs." She explains in a monotonous manner, "You are aware of your arms and use them naturally to kick and move inside the womb. Your lungs, on the other hand, are not the same. You do not naturally breathe in air with your lungs until you have been exposed to air and are forced to take your first breath.
Thinking carefully over this, Maxim quickly forms an opinion over her words. Gathering the knowledge that he was taught both by Merlin and Morgana, he begins to see an explanation. If she is already using magic that is solely derived from Morgana's side than that would mean that she is not-
"Aware of my contribution to her blood," Iris completes his thoughts. "I have to personally bring it out of her if she is to become a powerful sorceress that can utilize both bloods."
"Does she know this?"
The old being shakes her head in a childlike manner, "Nope. She thinks that she gets all of it from me. Does not have a clue about Morgana or Merlin or anything that has happened. I leave it up to you."
"Why have you not told her?"
"Many reasons. Besides, she's going to be your apprentice. I leave it all in your capable hands."
Maxim, suddenly feeling a small bit of disturbance at this new revelation, sits up in his sleeping bag. The ridiculous thing is zipped up and remains taut around him; to his discomfort. Struggling for a moment, his arms lay trapped against his body.
"Why do you use these horrible things?" He protests in dislike.
A giggle touches his ears and the zipper moves down with a buzzing swipe. He glares daggers at Iris as her hand commands the sleeping bag to open. Yet, she continues laughing.
"You better get used to all of this stuff." Her hand falls back down her side once Maxim is freed, "Science and magic go hand in hand. I shouldn't have to remind you of that. Morgana didn't put much stock into science but I know that Merlin did."
"He also thought that humans were quite endearing," Snideness coats his voice as he replies, "Instead of seeing them for the weak and insignificant things that they are."
"Veronica really did a number on you, didn't she?"
His hand gestures with sudden despair at her, "Exactly what does that mean? When did English become such an inconvenient and nonsensical language?"
Iris shrugs noncommittally. "Hey, I'm just trying to get the hang of it all. After today, you and Alexandra are not going to be seeing me for awhile."
Squinting his glance to have a better view of everything, he tries to cease his grumpiness in order to get a proper answer, "Why? Where are you going?"
"You ask an awful lot of questions. I mean, back in the day, you used to be such a know-it-all. I remember being able to ask a question between you, Balthazar, and Veronica; and you would be the first to answer."
"When it pertains to magical theory, Iris." She smiles brightly as he speaks stoutly, "I am not a mind reader, such as you."
The gigantic man stands up and begins to straighten himself out. Smoothing his hair back and stretching widely. The bones in his spine crack, one by one. He hears nothing from his sole companion but he knows that she's watching him.
At his full height, he finally is able to have a proper view of her. Something is happening to her and it's incredible. Her hair is moderately streaked with black and is more gray than white. The once wrinkled skin is only slightly lined at the eyes. Instead of a tiny hunch, her back is straight and strong. She's lost years and quickly becomes more of an enigma in his eyes.
"Yes, I'm getting younger." Snaps Iris with a dramatic roll of her eyes, "And it's all because of Alexandra. Bringing her magic forth is going to require a sacrifice on my part."
"Your age?"
Her long fingers clasp together and she warms her throat up before explaining, "I know that no one in the magic world really knows what I am or where I come from. It's meant to be that way and I'm not about to tell you the truth." She teases him and somehow he does feel disappointment at not knowing her ancient secret, "But I'll share a little more than usual with you because we are amicable with one another."
He blinks in surprise. He had never put that much stock into seeing each other as anything more than allies. Even that sounded odd in his mind but he merely nodded for her to go on.
Both of them knowing that she is aware of his thoughts makes him feel a little more awkward while she just looks at her nails before talking sarcastically, "I can hear everything loud and clear, you know? Well, yeah, you do know. But back to what I was saying before."
Her figure rises in the same purple coat from the night before. She faces the sun in a confident manner as though she were greeting an old friend. The light makes her seem even younger and stronger. With the frozen dawn in front of her, Maxim senses the mystery of her increase.
"My magic goes through cycles. When I am a crone, I am at my most powerful. But when I am in my youthful form, I am at my lowest." She whips back to him and warns him with a pointed finger, "Still quite powerful. Just not as much. But if I give these years to Alexandra than she will be able to use both sides of her line."
A fear rises in Maxim and makes him interrupt her without caution, "Does that mean that she could lose her power?"
Iris looks to the ground in thought. Emotions roll across her face. She appears to be thinking quite hard but her voice comes out as soft and calmed, "You are referring to the dangers of electricity. That's how Morgana was destroyed. Well, Alexandra is a little bit different."
"She is immune to such things?"
"Yes. Except not to me. I can take away my presence from her magic. She would still be able to use Morgana's blood but it would weaken her. Greatly."
His hands hold themselves behind his back and he approaches Iris. Walking with his natural grace, his fingers clench and unclench with pondering. She is practically indestructible. What a great asset.
"And just so you know, I am not going to take anything away from Alexandra."
The calculating strength that was inside his eyes leaves as he hears the gentle love in her sentence. He had forgotten that his apprentice is Iris's family and that she might care about her granddaughter's affairs. Maxim had only seen Alexandra as a tool in his plan. It makes him feel a little uncomfortable that he is noticing this at all.
(()()()()()())
The top. Have to make it. Have to get to the top…
It's my mantra. It's my sole purpose for being alive. The most important mission that I have ever possessed.
Pain breaks along my sides. The miles that I have already traveled mark the bottom of my feet with crud and rock embedded in bloody tissue. My lungs have a dreadful wheeze each time I inhale. The metallic tang of blood runs down the back of my throat. Thighs and calves are screaming in their sharp ache.
I don't know when this strange yearning began. It feels as though I have had it my entire life. I must have been just wasting my days so that I could run up these foothills and make my way to the peak of this mountain. Yes, that is it. I am only fulfilling my destiny.
The terrain is so unkind. I will probably die when I reach the top.
That sounds correct.
But still I must go on…
(()()()()()())
He eyes the cave cautiously. The stony opening is widely jagged like the jaws of some nasty creature. The weathered rocks of the structure are tanned and sharp. Maxim does not like this at all.
The sun is only slightly higher than before. Not quite high noon yet but the giant orb is much closer. This slowing of time makes him uneasy. He is already immortal and now time has become even more idle. He has to wonder where he stands when it comes to this temporal situation.
Iris had gone into the cave earlier. She knew that he had qualms about entering and had suggested that he wait outside. He still did not know why they had to come to the top of this peak. It is not the highest peak and is not ideal for any of the rituals that he could think of.
He kicks the dust in boredom. The particles rise off the ground and then retreat back covering his pinstriped pants. Maxim glares at his dirtied pant legs and pauses in his ministrations.
He has not had the opportunity to properly bathe for the equivalent of four days. The idea disgusts him. He hasn't changed his clothes or combed his hair. Now, from a quick assessment of his current situation, it seems as though he isn't going to be accomplishing any of those chores at any moment in the near future.
A small stream of sweat flows past his folded collar. The heat is rising with the sun. Time might be slowed but it has practically no effect on the temperature and he has been standing here for at least an hour.
All that Iris had said to him was that he is to wait for Alexandra. It was mentioned that the woman might need some aid. He is not exactly sure what help he can be to creatures as powerful as these women.
Iris. Someone that is above human and sorcerer but bound by unknown laws that apply only to her.
Alexandra. She holds certain elements of Iris's power and Morgana's potential.
Maxim has anticipation and hesitation, all in one. He has the opportunity to teach someone who could be the greatest Morgania- No, the greatest sorceress ever in history. She could change the world with a nod of the head, if she so chose to do so. The question that stands out in his psyche is, will she?
His ears twitch in detection of a scraping drawl. Steps. One person. Someone that is coming towards this location.
Leaning against the stone wall, Maxim whispers hurriedly, "Saxus simillimus."
Magic rolls through him. He feels his body being spread across the rocks. This stealth charm is quite effective. Although, he hasn't used it in over a few hundred years; he has confidence in it.
Maxim had looked over the layout of the mountain while he was waiting. The ground that leads up to here is steep and quite treacherous. Only high grass and rock cover the area. There's no determined path for hiking, which means that this person must have knowledge of this location. He is fairly certain that it is Alexandra but one can never be too prepared.
The slight tumbling beats slow as they approach. His heart pounds slightly faster in opposition. As the stranger comes over the hill though, the sorcerer breathes with ease. It is her.
Still wearing that cotton cloth. Bloodied feet from the distance and scrapes on her legs from falling in exhaustion. Maxim wonders how she was able to make it so far with no shoes or rest. Her hair is soaked in sweat and coated with grit. He hears her choke than watches as she spits out what appears to be blood and mucus. The rasping pants of her lungs make her chest expand to an abnormal size. He watches and waits.
The almond shaped eyes widen when they see the dwelling. Her feet pick up their pace from dragging to an injured jog. It pains him severely to witness her plight. Yes, he was a swordsmen and a warrior at one point in his past but her struggle seems to be much more demanding in some other worldly way. As though she has lost all sense of hurt or strife. He has seen it before though. Wounded animals act in a similar manner when they are cornered and all that they are concerned with is escaping or killing you.
Deciding that it would be wise to show his self, Maxim steps out of the mirage.
Being only a few feet away from his spot, she jumps in surprise. Her hands rise raggedly in confrontation and her stare is wild in its strength. Her lips are cracked in dehydration and do not seem to allow words to pass.
He swallows any encouraging sentiments that he had planned to say. Her determination makes him feel somehow inferior and bothered. He had no great or dangerous ceremony performed when he took up magic and yet she is near the brink of death for this strange ritual. He almost stumbles when he realizes that he already has this much respect for this stoic woman.
Dropping his gaze to the ground, he steps back in answer to her challenge.
Her feet are soiled. Toe nails are tainted with filth and one of the bigger nails is cracked. He notices but does not feel any criticism for it. Instead, he follows the tracks and sees the reddened steps in the earth. His stomach slightly churns at the prospect of walking on such injured limbs.
"Where is she?"
He hadn't been expecting such a tiny whisper of a voice. It is so weak that momentarily he mistakes it for the wind. However, as he looks back at her weary face; he recognizes her as the source.
"She is in there." Maxim responds straightforwardly with not an ounce of attitude, "She is waiting."
The seeking sorceress bends over and holds herself up by leaning forward on her knees with her arms. The act is so sudden that he steps forward preparing to catch her. Looking as though she's going to be ill with exhaustion and unable to move, Maxim asks calmly, "Would you care for some assistance?"
Her head moves side to side in refusal. The dark hair covers her features as she drops her head forward. Her lungs still wheeze and he is quite curious about if she is actually going to make it. Surprising the woman and himself, Maxim suddenly finds his hand touching her bare shoulder.
A grainy film that had been coating her skin slides across the palm of his large hand. He had been expecting to feel the flame of a heated body but instead all he encounters is the clamminess of one ready to collapse. Her frame is shuddering from the burden of holding herself up. It quietly stuns Maxim that he can sense it through touch but cannot see the uncontrollable tremors on the outside of her. Alexandra does not appear to notice his gesture. For a moment, he wonders if this venture has broken the seals of her sanity until he finds her own hand upon his.
Her dry palm lays heavily on the top of his limb. Her fingers do not hold onto him. No pressure is even pushing down upon him. In fact, if he were not standing there and seeing her reach for him; it would not appear as though she were even touching him.
The nails are trimmed short and rimmed with dark crud. Her skin feels heated and cool at once. The dripping sweat from her hand falls onto him and he shivers as a small breeze hits the slickened juncture between them.
"I told you that I don't ne-"
She falls before he could catch her. Her frame collapses solidly into the ground. Legs splayed and arms flung out. The orange wrap is opened and reveals her to him.
Her hipbones jut out. Her body isn't emaciated but he would hardly deem her as fine boned. If anything, the strong abdomen has what one would call "baby fat." It almost gives her a girlish appearance as though she were still a woman of twenty years. Long legs of hard muscle, Maxim observes this from the bloodied feet and all the way up to her lower body.
A small breath rips its way from his mouth and awakens him to what he is doing. He is admiring her. Not in an insulting manner of crude lust or perverseness. Whatever her profession is, it has kept her in remarkable shape. But he is in actual admiration of a female specimen.
Maxim actually feels himself retreat. He steps back and takes himself away from the scene. He gazes across the desert instead and tries to bring back some spark of himself from beyond the ages.
Battles and duels between himself and other sorcerers spring up like acrid fumes from nostalgic wine. Creatures that have long died off trample through his thoughts. Spells and potions that he once studied while in Merlin's care still remain as though he were discussing them with his old master even now. Then that last bit of mental cargo unfurls itself to his mind's eye.
Veronica.
Slowly, Maxim glances back at Alexandra. Collapsed and broken on the hot ground. Her long limbs and dark skin that do not bear any similarity to his beloved. Yet, seeing her in such a delicate and vulnerable state only serves to remind him that he has never seen Veronica as so; and he never will.
Only Balthazar will witness and experience all that he, Maxim Horvath, has fought so long to share in. The love of Veronica. The only woman that has ever enamored him in any fashion.
"Geez, you just going to let her lay there in this heat?" A young woman's voice berates through the sun and boiling temperature.
He sees Iris standing in the craw of the cave. Her face and body radiating even more youth than before. The brown eyes speak with nothing but seriousness and silent respect as she gestures to him to bring Alexandra.
He had expected a reprimand for not covering the woman out of respect. Yet, as he makes eye contact with Iris before she goes back into the dwelling, a small teasing spark is in her smile. As though she knows that he would not take advantage of her granddaughter, Maxim stills feels as though she has caught him in a very inappropriate situation.
But all guilt flows away from inside as he kneels down to collect his student.