Jared remembered the vacant stare that stole the knowing smile that had so often graced his friend's face when he had first found him. He had seen that look before, and the implications frightened him. It was the same look he'd seen on the survivors' faces when the oggrons went on the warpath only a few years earlier.
Oggrons were huge, gray skinned humanoids that averaged at least fifteen hands tall, with rippling corded muscles and speed that was unexpected by something their size. They gathered together in a tribal society that emphasized strength and the glory of battle.
Ironically, most of the time the tribes got along relatively peacefully with their surrounding neighbors, despite the old saying: "The only thing quicker than an angry oggron is his temper." But, inexplicably and often without warning, the oggrons would periodically stretch the taut animal hide over the war drums, sharpen their weapons to a fine killing edge, and begin the relentless march of war and bloodshed on all who crossed their path. It usually took the combined forces of the King and various local militias to eventually quell the angry oggrons, scattering and forcing them into hiding. Then the vicious cycle would begin anew.
Jared, accompanying his father, had seen the grim aftermath of an oggron raid. It was a small, outlying village, formed primarily of farmers and their families. The kind that sprang up as an intermediate between two large cities, serving as a last stop before travelers had to depend on their own wits and ingenuity.
Jared could still remember riding up on the scene beside his father; the burning wreckage that had once been the houses, bodies strewn haphazardly like forgotten rag dolls, and the heart wrenching wails of the still dying.
It was something Jared would never forget, ingrained in his mind's eye for as long as he lived. He still woke up during the middle of the night occasionally, shaking and sweating at the memory his subconscious wouldn't allow him to forget.
But that look in Marcius's eyes, it was the gaze of a broken man. Someone on the verge of giving up, thrown off the path of life without anything to guide him back. No, Jared resolved, he would not let his friend be drawn into the emotional trap of sorrow, like a fly being slowly tied up in a spider's web. Once one fell fully into the world of despair, it was near impossible to escape.
By virtue of still being alive, both Marcius and those survivors still had hope, Jared knew. The wounds would eventually scab over and become scars, healed but no doubt tender for many years to come. The trick to surviving the ordeal was keeping your head above the water, taking each day as they came, and slowly plodding forward until you could finally cast off the yoke of guilt and self-pity. Jared silently promised himself to be there as a lifeline for Marcius. He would keep the darkness from claiming his friend, by force if necessary.
Jared shook his head clear of the macabre thoughts, instead focusing his attention on the conversation in front of him.
❧ ❧ ❧
"If it wasn't the Academy, then who was it?" Marcius was saying to Alicia, both of them having long forgotten Jared.
"I am telling you that it isn't the way the Academy works. I agree that something strange is going on, but those Inquisitors, if they really were Inquisitors, were not on orders from the Academy."
"How do you know that? Who else can pull their strings other than the Academy?"
"I don't know, Marcius!" Alicia threw up her hands in exasperation, all the talking in circles was starting to fray her patience. "I'm just as curious as you are! I came here under the assumption that I would just be getting a magical contract signed, that way some rogue wizard, that I don't even know, wouldn't go hog wild and blow up a town. I certainly didn't intend to stay here almost three damn months! The contract was a magically bound thing, guaranteeing the Academy would leave him alone as long as he upheld his own part. If either of them broke it, the parchment would dissolve into nothingness, breaking all promises. Both parties would know the instant it was destroyed."
"Since the contract is still intact," Marcius said, finishing Alicia's path of logic, "The Academy could not have had an actual hand in it."
Alicia nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. Finally this was going somewhere! "Still doesn't answer a few questions though," Marcius continued, getting up to stretch. He was trying his best to control the anger he felt toward this woman. He felt instinctively that somehow she must have a hand in this. "Why would they wait this long to get a binding contract? Big coincidence, I would think."
"Well, we have a lot of things on our agenda. Too many things, really. Perhaps it was a lower priority since we had not heard of him in so long?"
"Perhaps." Marcius gave a deep sigh, looking down at his father he felt as if a great weight was pressing down on him, closing around like a vice. "What about my father? Was it a spell, or just a freak circumstance?"
"Why not just check the room he was in?"
Her answer dumbfounded Marcius, "What do you mean?"
"Magic disturbs the nether in the area it is performed in. The stronger the spell, the more it is disturbed. Like a person that walks through a pond, kicking up silt that betrays his passage." The light of understanding banished Marcius's doubts. "Whatever it was, if it was a spell that did this, it did not simulate insanity. I detect no such enchantments on him. If it was a spell, it was terrible enough to cause it."
"And what would you do if it was a wizard that had done it?" Jared asked, cutting off Marcius's angry retort. The blonde man suddenly found himself the focus point now, all eyes turned on him.
"Explain," Marcius replied tersely, his anger still not played out and needing an escape route.
"Well, if it was a wizard that did it, what would you do about it?"
Marcius opened his mouth to reply, but just as quickly closed it. "Truth be told," he grudgingly admitted after a few moments, "I've never considered that."
Jared smiled, "Well, I've got an idea." And his friend's eyes lit up while Alicia's responded with a look of blatant suspicion. Jared held up his hands to forestall any immediate questioning. "But, I doubt you're both going to like it. It's a shaky plan at best, but it's the only option I can see."
So around the three gathered, listening to the blonde swordsman's idea long into the night and the wee hours of the morning, while the storm unleashed its rage on a sheltered Rhensford, the pitter-patter echoing on the rooftops and streets.
❧ ❧ ❧
Marcius lifted up his hand to block the afternoon sunlight streaming into his clear gray eyes, the outline of Rhensford shimmering in the horizon. It had been a full week and a half since the storm battered the region, yet the ground was still muddy and the humidity uncomfortably thick, hanging about like an unwelcome visitor.
From his vantage point high on top of a grassy hill, Marcius tried to discern the individual buildings of the town that he had called home, but the distance was just too great. Rhensford looked beautiful, with the sea serving as a glittering backdrop, and the town blended together in a single artful masterpiece of soft shapes and sparkling colors.
It was hard to believe this would likely be his last time viewing the port town for probably a long time.
"A copper piece for your thoughts?" Jared said, joining his friend and admiring the view himself.
"Just saying goodbye to my home," Marcius responded, a slight sigh escaping his lips.
"Worried about Clarissa and Lars looking after the business or your father?"
Marcius was instinctively shaking his head before he even thought out the question. "Clarissa has my father's best interests at heart, and Lars is an old family friend who knows trading well. The estate is in good hands for when I come back."
"If you come back?" Jared asked, voicing the thoughts Marcius had been thinking.
Marcius merely nodded. "You know, you didn't have to agree to my suggestion," Jared pointed out, as much to acquire his friend's opinion as to alleviate the sense of guilt in his stomach.
"No, you're right. There is nothing in this town anymore. For me at least. If I stayed, I'd be living an empty life, doing something I don't want to do. Perhaps I can continue my training. . . " The thought struck Marcius at that moment. "Speaking of which, how did you get permission from your father to accompany a wizard apprentice?"
Jared gave an awkward grin, suddenly becoming very interested in the back of his hand. "Whoever said I got permission?"
The both of them got a laugh at that, chuckling as they watched the glittering town.
"Hey you two, going to sit around all day looking or are we going to get moving?" The voice of Alicia interrupted, drifting lazily up to them from the base of the hill. "I'd like to reach Harcourt within the next two weeks if possible."
With a resigned sigh, Marcius, throwing Rhensford one last furtive glance, trotted down the hill along with Jared to join their newly appointed traveling companion.
Marcius ran his fingers through his own unkempt sandy brown hair as he regarded Alicia. His feelings were torn several ways on the subject. On one hand, the physical side of him could not deny how attractive she was. But at the same time, as he allowed that thought to take hold, the dark recesses of his head reminded him that perhaps somehow she had a hand in Antaigne's death and his father's mental collapse. The ensuing anger at the lie seemingly in front of him would then be pushed out by the fact that she was enjoyable to talk to.