Or at least he hoped there was. If she had a hand in it, he would run her through himself. No one hurt his friends and got away with it.
He discreetly peeked at her out of the corner of his own eye. Wrapped up in her dark brown traveling cloak, bronze hair wet and dark as it clung tightly to her face even under the hood she wore; he did notice that it seemed as if she wasn't nearly as soaked as he was, but he wrote that off on account of being drunk. Secretly, he didn't think she was really responsible for what had happened, but then again, it just might be the lower half of him speaking in conjunction with the alcohol. She was easy on the eyes.
Anyways, he thought it would put his own aspirations on track once more. No doubt they would have to go to Aralene, where the Academy was, to find their answers. A sizable journey no matter how you cut it, something he could easily worm himself into. Killing two drakes with one catapult. He smiled a bit, then immediately felt guilty about it. This was about his friend; first and foremost, and it was an injustice for him to derive any sort of pleasure while his friend was so obviously in grief. Still, he had to get out of this town and the most legit ticket he had still laid within Marcius.
The Mage behind him cleared her throat, obviously annoyed at his pause.
How was he supposed to know that the Mage was such an annoying brat? It was just a little water after all. Though, as he briefly dared to glance up, he realized that it would be prudent to get inside as soon as possible. The storm looked to be picking up. Plus, it had the nasty side effect of sobering him up, which in turn made the flaws in his scheme more and more apparent.
"Follow me, Mage Lady, we're not far now, just another block or two." He put on his best grin, hoping it looked genuine and didn't betray the agitation he felt. The stare she gave him in return seemed to indicate that it was a wasted effort. With slight shrug, he left the safety of the shelter, running into the downpour.
They scurried toward their destination, taking refuge from the relentless rain where they could. The jagged building outline eventually broke into view through the storm, looming over them darkly in the distance.
The Healer's Guild was stationed in remnants of an old castle tower, one of the few relics from the Dark Ages that still remained in Rhensford. Gradually, the building had been added upon and was changed drastically from what it once was, to its current incarnation of today, though it still managed to retain that old world look.
Dilapidated, worn, gray stone made up the base, while newer bricks and mortar became more frequent the higher you looked. Jared often wondered about the structural integrity of the makeshift hospital. It was one of the biggest buildings in Rhensford, which also made it perfect to house those unfortunate enough to need the treatment offered within; a big town needed a big hospital.
Across the thick oak door hung the crest of the Healer's guild, a silver plated knight holding a red staff in one hand and a green sword in the other. They crossed over his chest in the gesture of peace, while behind him was a solid royal blue background.
The guild had been around ever since the fall of the Dark Ages, founded by altruistic men and women intent on providing healing services for those in need; it was a self sufficient body that spanned several countries, including Lorinia and Morlian. Most leaders saw the obvious tangible benefit of a group of people willing to provide relatively free treatment to their ailing citizens, as such the members were generally accorded the utmost respect.
It was not uncommon for the resident guild in a country or area to receive tithes from the ruler either. There was no centralized or governing institution, unlike the Academy, for although they all gathered under one banner, each region was granted autonomy within their area of control. Once every five or so years, they gathered to trade techniques and share news. Jared thought a lot of the other guilds, who were known for a lot of fighting within their own ranks, could have learned a lot from this guild was operated.
As the weary pair entered, both glad to be out of the rain, Jared happily found that the reception room was relatively empty, minus the few bored looking apprentices shifting about. He never liked the various rooms in this building. They all had a drab, depressing feeling about them. Jared couldn't tell if it was the dull lighting from the candles and torches along the sides or if it was perhaps the sterile white walls and plain stone floor that caused it. Nevertheless, it was still better than being outside in a brewing storm. "Ah, Jared, so nice of you to visit!" exclaimed a voice, almost bubbling over with happiness.
Jared inwardly groaned, though he was proud that he showed nothing visible and even managed, what he hoped was, a receptive smile.
Debera, an old flame of his, was the owner of that voice and unlike him, she wore a genuine smile that was just bright as her tone. The healer was sitting down and drinking a cup of what Jared guessed was tea. With legs crossed, she regarded Jared with glittering brown eyes. She wore the standard healer's garb. A dark blue unbuttoned vest that held most of the tools of her trade in the various pockets that lined it, which went well with the clean white shirt underneath (a fact that proved that not much had happened today.) Earth brown trousers, that fitted the form a bit too well, showed off obviously well toned legs that were used to hard traveling and work.
A pin was buttoned on her vest, the crest of Healer's guild, only Jared noticed something was amiss. Instead of the normal crest, this one had a gold bar that ran across the bottom. This could only mean one thing. "Congratulations on the promotion, Deb."
Debera beamed back at him. She was attractive, Jared had to admit, and at one time he could have claimed they had been together as something more than just friendly acquaintances.
But she wanted more than Jared could give, and he didn't intend on staying in Rhensford. The last thing he needed was something anchoring him here. So he had cut it off, but it was evident at the way she stared at him, as if she was devouring his body, that some flames still smoldered under that calm exterior of hers.
"Oh, it's not a big deal." It was obvious that she was fishing for compliments by downplaying it. One did not have to be a member of the Healer's guild to understand how significant that single gold bar was. It indicated that she had finally graduated from apprentice to that of journeyman.
"It sure is! All that hard work finally paid off, huh?"
She nodded and a slight blush, barely visible in the candle lit reception room, crept on her cheeks at his compliment. "So," she now switched to the no-nonsense voice of a professional, "What business do you have here? I'm going to assume it's not just to see me?" The eyes told him she wouldn't have minded if that was the case.
"No, unfortunately that is not so. Is Marcius Realure here? He should have come to check up on his pet, I was to meet him."
"Yes, he's right inside, what about your. . . friend?"
It was then that Jared felt the twinges of self-consciousness set in. He knew how ridiculous both of them must look right now. Wet from head to toe, dripping on the cold stone floor and no doubt his cheeks still carried the rosy sheen effects of alcohol. He also sported a black eye from his scuffle with Marcius, which didn't help. He was a mess.
Debera's body language showed something else. Was it jealousy? The rest of the apprentices discreetly edged closer, this would fuel their gossip for days to come.
He looked over to the Mage, pleading with her to silently to help him out. Last thing he needed was a jealous girl within the Healer's guild. Jared also noted that despite the slight drunkenness that still swam about his head, his initial observation had been correct. The Mage was indeed drier than he was, much drier in fact. There was only a small puddle about her feet, while it looked like he had carried the entire Gaellec Ocean in the room.
Thankfully, Alicia had understood his plea and intervened.
"I'm here to see Master Marcius as well. This young man was kind enough to show me the way. I'm rather new to the town, so I did not know the way. How fortunate for me to find someone with the same destination as me! I do believe I might have been a burden to him though, he was in a great hurry to reach here, you see."
Jared made a mental to note to thank the Mage later as Debera's face visibly relaxed. "Ah, well, follow me then. Though there is a complication that I must warn you about, an incident concerning his father." He did not miss the stern set of her jaw at those words, nor the slight tremble in her voice.
His stomach lurched as they followed the woman into the connecting hallway, the way she had said 'incident' implied that something horrible had occurred. More bad news? What was Marcius's father doing here?
Chapter 11
"How am I to know you didn't have a hand in what happened?" Marcius asked Alicia for what seemed the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. Still, Jared had to admit, it was a definite improvement over the screaming match earlier when Marcius had descended on the Mage like an angry mother drake defending her nest.
If the whole infirmary didn't know they were wizards, Jared would be surprised. The swordsman was relatively happy though, for the two were talking rather amiably now, all things considered. Furthermore, no one was blown up.
In Jared's mind it was a smashing success.
Still, it didn't stop the observant blonde swordsman from noticing the vestiges of shadow that gathered around his friend's deep gray eyes. Though Marcius tried to hide it, the pain and suffering of the past few days haunted him in the depths of his mind. He would occasionally lapse into it during the brief lulls in conversation, or whenever he glanced at his father, bedridden and riddled with sedatives to keep him calm, at his side.