((This is a story I've only just begun to write. It's a complete work in progress, the only thing I have down for it in fact is setting, main character, and genre of the story. Everything else shall develop as it goes and so far I like how it's turning out. Chapter One is pretty uneventful but it's mostly a way for me to get a feel of the characters and the area, hopefully the next ones will be a lot better. Hope you enjoy the read, there isn't a specific plot line to this yet either so everything is basically from scratch! The picture below, by the way, I drew from scratch, so no copy cats please, thank you :3
Hope you enjoy! Also, I'm willing to listen to plot and character suggestions. Mind, they may not all be accepted, but input is encouraged ^.^))
(http://www.iaza.com/work/120527C/iaza14678098532600.jpg)
No matter how many times he tossed and turned, the rough shaking that took over him just would not go away.
With the first few seconds of waking from a deep slumber, he had thought the source of such shaking was the result of
an earthquake, in which case he just pushed away from mind and tried going back to sleep while it passed. However,
this was not the case, unless for some reason the earthquake had magically developed a voice.
"Malen! Malen! Wake up Malen!" it kept saying. Honestly, Malen wouldn't be all that surprised if the earthquake
could speak and at the moment wished it was the case, but this voice was familiar, all too familiar. Slowly he drew the
covers closer to his nose and kept his eyes shut, but there was no fooling the source of the voice, either that or it was
just too persistent.
"Malen!"
"Alright, I'm up," Malen mumbled drowsily, moving the covers away reluctantly along with the hand that had been
shaking him. Pulling his legs over the edge of the bed, Malen saw that at least his waker had so kindly and thoughtfully
lit the candle on the bedside table for him. "What do you want, Jemly?"
"I need you to take me to Section 10 of the Library."
Malen stared at the young man, perhaps about the age of 19 or so, with a look that spoke disbelief. Jemly stared
back with grey-green eyes innocently. "You want me to what?" Malen finally voiced his thoughts, running his hand
through smooth, dark brown hair tinted red.
"Take me to Section 10."
"Go there yourself."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because the guard won't let me, it's closed off to apprentices, remember?"
"Well then why were you trying to go in there by yourself?"
"But you- You asked- Gah, nevermind, can you take me please?"
"Might as well, you got me up," pushing himself away from the bed, Malen placed his traditional magician robe,
colored rather a plain dark, chocolate brown, over his nightshirt. The apprentice was already in his light grey colored one
with black lining along the hems, and by the dark circles under his eyes he hadn't gone to sleep yet.
The two were soon out the door walking down one of the many hallways of the Magik Tower, shoes echoing
through the empty space and bouncing back at them. Malen released a yawn and asked abruptly, "So what's so
important that you couldn't wait until morning to do this?" During the whole thing, the Mage's voice remained indifferent
and calm, not even a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice though he may feel it at being woken up. Jemly answered,
"I put in a lot of studying in today and I'm not about to stop. I think I'm finally near completing that spell.
"Well, it's no good if you're not getting enough sleep," Malen returned, not so much as a hint of interest or curiosity
reflecting in his steel-blue eyes. Jemly took no notice of it. "I tried a few times but my mind is restless, even as I close my
eyes I can think of nothing but how to do the spell right. Formulas, recipes, pronunciation... Soon I'm up again to give it
another go."
The wizard and apprentice were by now in the main Library, which contained sections 1-9 for everyone to use. They
were just passing 9 when the entryway to Section 10 came within view, the guard (another fellow mage) spotting them.
He stood to attention and cast Jemly a suspicious, untrustworthy glance, but once he saw Malen he stepped aside and
half-bowed respectfully. Malen gave a nod in greeting in his direction, saying to Jemly, "Alright, now what's the book
you're looking for?"
Jemly was still an apprentice of the tower for sometime and will be awhile more, though Malen himself wasn't that
much older than him. Magik just came as a gift to him, learning it more easily and quickly than most. Still, he wasn't
exactly a Master Mage, though neither was he weak. It mattered not what category others placed him in, Malen just
loved being around it and being able to use it, which could be why he'd gotten so far. Like Jemly, others forced-fed their
minds the knowledge books contained, seeming to learn it all more slowly than the other way around though some
managed to do it as such. Still, Malen didn't handle his magik carelessly, he had complete control of it and knew his
weaknesses and limits. Magik was a very dangerous subject, it was why this tower was built in the first place. Mages
were able to learn how to control their gifts, but if something were to happen the tower kept them trapped inside,
protecting those outside it's walls, and vise versa.
"You said 90042BA, correct?" Malen called down to Jemly from above the ladder he was using, selecting a book and
beginning to slide it out.
"No, 90045BA."
"Oh..." The Mage placed the selected book back and ran his fingers along the spines, grasping another. "Here we
are," he pulled the book away and turned to hand it down to the apprentice, pausing halfway as his eyes caught the
title. Jemly waited below expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
"This is a book about Fire Spells."
"Yeah, so?"
"I'm not going to let you practice Fire Spells in the Library."
"I'm not going to do them in here, in fact I won't be trying them at all, they're part of my research."
Malen stared back at him, suggesting he wasn't buying it. Jemly let out an exasperated sigh. "Does this mean you're
not going to let me use the book?"
"No, it doesn't, but I'll be supervising you." He handed the book to the apprentice.
"Is that suppose to be a punishment?" he questioned as he accepted it.
"Yes, for me," Malen made his way back down the ladder and gestured for Jemly to lead the way. He obliged, rather
eagerly, and they were soon out of Section 10 and headed toward Section 5.
"Wait until I've told you what I've learned," the apprentice pulled out a seat for Malen, who plopped himself right
down and leaned against it wearily, only half listening to what the young man was saying. "Alright, but make this quick. I
need to get back to bed."
"Right then, well the first thing I noticed that was wrong was that there was too much Spice Wood powder, which
was strange because one would think it'd be strong enough, but instead it backfired because the LillyStem..."
The words came on and on with no end in sight. Malen rubbed both hands down his face in misery as the realization
of a sleepless night dawned on him. Somewhere along the sea of words he must have drifted off, because the shaking
had taken over again and was calling out his name, less patiently than before.
"Sorry, sorry..." he muttered with a shake of his head, sitting more upright. Jemly looked down at him with irritation
plastered upon his features, his dark black hair almost lost in the shadows behind him, giving him the impression of being
bald. This observation caused a sappy grin to settle across Malen's visage, only burning the annoyance within the young
apprentice. The Mage knew that he was only keeping his temper back now for respect reasons, and he quickly
vanquished the grin.
"What was so funny?" Jemly demanded.
"My dream," he answered. "I was dreaming about a dancing flamingo." Odd excuse, but he supposed it would do.
To bad Jemly didn't think so, Malen had thought it would at least calm the lad down a bit. Come on, who couldn't smile at
the idea of dancing flamingos? "You were saying?"
"What does it matter?" Jemly's mood had suddenly changed, his voice sounding that of defeat as he dropped the
book noisily on the table and flopping into his seat. "You won't listen anyway, and I'll just get it wrong."
"Come, now, that's no way to be thinking. Go ahead, I'll listen this time, after all you've put so much work into this."
"Easy for you to say," the apprentice snapped. "It all comes so easily for you. You don't even have to take the test
every year now and I've taken it four times, and still barely pass with a passing grade. While you're learning the real deal
stuff and I'm stuck here learning the kiddy tricks. I spend every waking hour studying and getting better, I work twice as
hard as most here yet I'm still moving inch by inch. Why am I not improving?"
Malen slowly shifted his form so he sat more at attention, sighing inwardly as he heard the words. There was no
point in trying to comfort him, if Jemly really did want to improve he needed to learn the truth. "Magik isn't like school
work, Jemly," he began. "You can't simply just study for a certain amount of time and know it. Magik is a passion, an art
almost. You can't force yourself to know it, you just have to let yourself. Let it come flowing to you, take it one step at a
time. If you're having trouble with one subject, go to another and come back to it later, everyone has a different style
and can't learn some like others can. Find what your more suited for and use it to your advantage. It'll take time, much
more time, and immense patience. But once you get the hang of it, you'll begin to learn and even teach much more easily.
Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Jemly gave a light nod, looking a bit disappointed but resolved nonetheless. "I suppose so.."
"Good. Now, how about you pick that book up and we can begin, hm?"
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"Malen? Malen, why are you asleep? Wake up!"
This time the shaking was much more merciful as it shook him gently back and forth, the voice light. The lists of
ingredients that had been rolling in his head vanished in an instant as he opened his eyes, relieved that he still
wasn't stuck in the library with Jemly anymore. No, he was now in one of the many spell rooms of the tower, sitting
at a table with a young woman around his own age with dark, almond brown hair and matching eyes sitting across
from him. The robe she wore was a dark, purple color that made him think of rose petals the way the fabric looked
soft and smooth. Pulling away a sheet of paper that attached itself to his cheek, Malen rubbed sleep out of his eyes
as the sounds of scribbling pens to paper reached his ears from the wizards around them, threatening to lull him
back to sleep again. Jashlyn shook her head.
"Jemly keep you up again?"
"Yeah... I was up all night with him helping him practice that spell of his."
"You should learn to say no. He can't keep doing this to you."
"As I recall, you were the same way. You hardly ever let me sleep."
"That was when we were apprentices, though, now we're full fledged wizards and able to continue on to more
important things."
Malen held up the piece of paper that had recently been his pillow and held it in front of his companion. "Like
learning how to make fizzy drinks from water?"
Jashlyn swiped the paper away in mock annoyance, sending him a scowl. "It could be useful! If we study hard
enough, we may be able to use it to make the simplest yet most useful concoctions yet, it may even power one's
mind to reaching higher levels of intelligence and/or concentration to perform or even create the most powerful
spells. Just think of the possibilities!"
"Tea."
"What?"
"Tea," Malen waved a hand before the table as if pointing out a very obvious though interesting point. "Boil
water, add your most desirable flavored leaves in, and there you have yourself a powerful concoction. You should
give it a try, it even helps you sleep. There's also meditation, taking a walk and getting some fresh air, reading...
there are all sorts of things to do to power one's mind without having to give someone a drug."
"It's not a drug," Jashlyn said, though halfheartedly as she crumbled the paper up. Tossing it over her
shoulder she gestured to all the other piles of paper, scrolls, and books. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best
subject to pick from but look at how far we got with others."
"Maybe I should assign him a tutor...
"Malen!"
"Hm? Yes?"
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Sorry, was thinking about Jemly still. I think perhaps he needs a personal trainer, someone with more time
and experience than me. Maybe that'll help him..."
A soft sigh escaped pass Jashlyn's lips, her expression becoming softer as she rose from her seat and gently
took the bowl of mashed power and the tool used to make it from Malen's hands. He hardly seemed to notice.
"How about you go for a walk and get some of that fresh air? I'll finish up here," she said to the wizard, Malen
blinking his eyes a few times as he realized he was being spoken to again. "Alright," he willingly agreed, if with a
bit of hesitation. Pushing back the chair away from the table, he made his way to the door.
"I wonder if dancing flamingos show up during the day..."
~*~*~*~*~
The woods surrounding the tower were quiet this time of day, only the singing of the birds keeping total
silence at bay. The trees, grass, flowers, everything the sun touched seemed to dance with the soft yet illuminating
light, though one would suspect as such for a summer's day. The weather was pretty decent, hot for a robe but a
cool breeze relieved some of the heat building up within him, though he was already used to it.
Malen walked along beside a small creek, the sound of the bubbling water running over rocks always soothing
him. How nice it would be to travel like the water, taking its journey anywhere the earth will allow it. Where did it
start and where did it end? Where did it all come from and where was it going? It made him think of magik, weren't
the two a lot alike? Where did magik truly come from, and what true purpose did it serve? Did it just flow in streams
of it's own, places that the naked human eye could not see, and like water, found it's way inside people?
It was a rather interesting thought to dwell upon, but Malen had the misfortune of being within earshot of
thudding hoofs, snapping branches, and loud shouts. The idea was gone. Sighing aloud in disappointment, Malen
turned to the direction of where the sounds came from, simply waiting for them to reveal themselves while he
rested his arms within his robe sleeves. Malen didn't have long to wait, the horses that were the source of the
noise emerged from the woods, their long powerful legs snapping branches in their path. Armored men were upon
their backs, carrying an assortment of packs, swords, spears, bows and arrows, and other equipment. They ceased
their run in the same clearing the wizard stood, reigning back their horses in a rather dramatic manner as the
graceful beasts whinnied and neighed. When the hooves touched ground again they shook their manes and
snorted, breathing heavily from their long run. The men remained on their backs, looking around the area almost
critically. They seemed to not have noticed Malen.
Soldiers... The wizard thought grimly. They were basically the underdogs of the Knights, honorable men
that fight for justice and protecting the innocent, something that Malen couldn't help but admire even if most of
them weren't quite fond of Mages. The Soldiers of the town that was close by the Tower, however, were exact
opposites of the Knights. Ignorant, selfish... they only performed deeds mainly to try and impress those around
them, demeaning toward everyone but themselves (and the knights and royalty/nobles). They consider themselves
knights most of the time though would never say so aloud, in many ways it was amusing but after awhile they
became a nuisance.
Even now Malen could see that they were waiting for him to address them, their eyes straining from flickering
over to him in acknowledgement. A few were rather having a hard time at this, you could see the concentration and
strain upon their visages as they kept their gazes averted. Usually the mage would make a game of it and see how
long it would take until they finally gave in and would be forced to notice him, but today he wasn't really in the
mood.
Clearing his throat, he called out, "Greetings fair men, what brings thee to the humble forest of our grand
Magik Tower?"
One of the men, whom Malen considered the one in charge of the group with blond hair and dark eyes, riding
a white stallion with patches of grey mingled in, blinked as if surprised, catching sight of the wizard and casting him
a look that suggested distaste.
"Ah, so you are one of the mages of this Magik Tower?" He said in what he had probably assumed was a
strong, admirable tone of voice, but to Malen it sounded dull. He did manage to sound bored, though.
"Indeed I am."
"Good, good. I have been sent here to search for a mage known as Malen, a man has a request for him that
he hopes he will accept. Unfortunately the tower cannot be found by... non-mages, so we had been wondering
these woods for quite sometime now. May you take this message to Malen and send us word if he accepts or
declines?"
"No need," Malen answered, a look of interest settling over his visage now with curiosity seeping into his
voice. "I am the one you are searching for, Malen. What is the request?"
Seeming rather relieved, the man rummaged through his belt and brought forth a scroll tied in a simple ribbon.
Malen accepted it, carefully removing the ribbon and unfolding the scroll. The writing was neatly written by a careful
hand:
Salutations to the one known as Malen,
I have heard a great deal about you, your dedication to your work and your rising progress of the magical arts is
quite impressive for someone of your age. Most have come to you for advice and suggestions, further building my
confidence in trusting you with this task. I have sent you a bag of the necessary equipment you will need should you
accept, which will be handed to you after you have read this message. All I simply wish for is for you to study what will be
explained in the bag. I believe you will be interested especially if the rumors about your curiosity are true.
There is no deadline for this task, all I ask is for you to stick to it as often as you can and for regular reports. You are
allowed to decline in the future if you accept now, just return the bag and all the notes (every single one) you've taken
during the time to these soldiers. They'll know what to do with it from there.
Thank you for your time.
There was no name on the paper, only an odd seal at the very bottom. The seal was nothing more than a black
feather with a silver line tracing one side of it. When Malen glanced up from the page, the bag explained in the letter was
being dangled before him, the soldier behind it looking rather impatient.
"Well?" he said in a gruff voice. "What is your answer?"
Malen didn't say right away, much to the soldier's annoyance. It all seemed very odd to the wizard, how could he be
requested personally and by someone he didn't even know? "Who gave you this letter?" He asked the horseman. He
shrugged. "He was wearing a cloak, his face was covered. He didn't give a name."
Well, it didn't hurt to look, right? If this was something that involved magik, it wouldn't be too far out of the ordinary
for this stranger to have heard of him and have complete secrecy, perhaps they were trying to hide it from someone. Still,
Malen was wary, but his curiosity was winning over. Reaching out, he took the bag.
"Tell them I'll give them an official answer a week from today," he told the soldiers. "Tell them to send someone
here in this exact spot to receive the answer, and in the mean time I'll begin looking it over."
The soldier nodded his head stiffly in reply, obviously not enjoying being the messenger boy. After that the two
stood in silence, neither one moving. Puzzled, Malen voiced out his thoughts. "Is there anything else..?"
"No."
"Oh..."
More silence.
Finally Malen gave a sigh, not bothering to hide it out of politeness. He had really hoped to continue his walk and
return to his thoughts, but the soldiers seemed to be against that. Shouldering the bag and placing the scroll in one of
the many hidden pockets within the folds of his robes, Malen turned to leave. "I suppose I'll go then," he replied, waving
a goodbye to the soldiers. He was stopped by the "leader".
"What are you doing?"
"Um, walking," he answered, pausing in his steps to glance back at them. "You all seem pretty eager for me to get
this started so I might as well-
"Walking?" the soldier rudely interrupted him. "Can't you just teleport?"
"Well I suppose I can if I wanted to-"
"Yes, don't you mage fellows always vanish in a puff of smoke or thin air?"
"Sometimes-"
"Then why don't you do that?"
Pursing his lips in rising annoyance at being unable to finish a proper sentence, he gestured in one direction and
answered in a crisp voice, "It's not that far, I can walk it. We wizards aren't so lazy as to use magik for our everyday
needs."
"Now then, since my walk had been ruined, I shall be on my way. Remember my message, I'll have an answer a
week from today at this same exact location. Good day to you, good sirs," Malen, his voice hinting mockery, gave a deep
bow to the group and turned away before he could be interrupted, or lashed at, again.
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Dusk fell lightly on the Tower’s orchard, a breeze passing by to relieve those who have endeared the heat of that day,
rustling the leaves that hung snug on the branches of the trees. Fireflies glided gently on the air, moving in gentle, lazy
movements as they were in no rush to get anywhere, the light they cast soft and warm. It was a peaceful scenery with
an equal aura, but Malen’s mind was a storm of restless thoughts.
The wizard sat upon one of the many benches scattered (in an organized matter, of course) around the area, arms
folded within the wide sleeves of his robe and hood covering his features from the world. Distant eyes paid passerby’s
and the lovely scenery no mind, completely unaware of them all. Malen was deeply troubled. An unsettling feeling had
come over him since the passing weeks of that first day he received the mysterious letter, the words repeating in his
mind over and over again. A week from that day he did give an answer to the mysterious person who sent it, which had
been yes, he will accept the task. Since then he had been in deep study, the subject had caught his interest instantly.
But the deeper he went the more troubled he became, and less willing to go further. It was just that morning he sent
another letter of his progress to the “Cloaked One”, as Malen referred to them as in his mind, and it was only recently he
had his nose buried in the books and papers that had come with the bag. The information swam and flew through his
mind even now, it fascinated him and sent his heart beating in a way he never experienced before with any subject
involving magik. What was strange was that it all had been in different writing, with relic-like runes and symbols. Malen
never recalled seeing them anywhere before, but as soon as his eyes laid on them he understood each one instantly.
The mage thought it strange at first, he asked about the strange relics in his first progress report of that day to the
Cloaked One. A response had come a few days later, the first and only one for since then the Cloaked One never replied
back to his letters. It simply said the relics were ancient and there was little known about them, but to keep up the good
work and do not expect anymore responses for sometime as they were busy with other things and they’ll get back to him
as soon as possible. This only furthered Malen’s suspicion of them that did not improve after the following days.
“Malen?”
The world suddenly became visible, reality was slipping back to his vision as if he were waking from some deep
dream. It took the mage a moment to realize where he was and what had stirred him from his trance, blinking repeatedly
and glancing about confusedly until his eyes settled upon a familiar face.
“Oh, good evening Jashlyn. What brings you here?”
“I should ask you the same thing…” her voice was almost alien compared to the usual chipper, stern tone that
always followed it, her head tilted as she tried to glimpse inside Malen’s hood. “You’re hardly out at this time, I usually
find you in your room or the library. Why the sudden change?”
Malen raised a hand to push back his hood, forgetting it was there in the first place. He was still blinking away the
thoughts that threatened to take hold of his brain again, the words barely processing through his mind. How long had he
been out there? “I suppose I’ve overworked myself,” he said after awhile, scratching absently at the back of his neck. “I
just needed some fresh air and space, needed to think of something else for a change.”
“Bet it’s not helping, though, is it?” Jashlyn sat herself down on one side of Malen, gazing back at him in that
“matter-of-fact” expression of hers. Malen nodded to confirm it. “Is it that little project of your’s?” she inquired further,
again followed after by a nod. Suddenly she took the mage’s chin in her hand, turning it this way and that as she
squinted her eyes as if searching for something. “Geez, you have bags under your eyes darker even than Jemly’s!”
“That bad?”
This time it was she who nodded. “Maybe it’s time you give up on it and send it back. The letter said you could
decline the offer anytime, right? I hate seeing what it’s doing to you,” concern was etched into her voice and reflected in
her eyes, which he was forced to stare back at. Malen released a deep sigh and gently pushed his friend’s hand away,
shaking his head.
“It did, but I cannot simply decline it.”
“Why not?”
Yes, why not? It was something he himself thought about for sometime now, a deep sense of urgency telling him to
send it back and have nothing more to do with it. Being one who had experience with magik, Malen knew such instincts
and feelings were important and should be listened to right away. Yet each time he became certain about
sending it, as soon as his eyes looked upon them again he was once more reading through the text when his hands had
been about to put them away. It was odd, a whole other part of him was set upon keeping the equipment and dig
further into it’s history and knowledge. Every time he wanted to pull away he was drawn back, if he managed to put a
book or paper down it was soon back in his hands to be read over again. It was only through needs of food, water, fresh
air, and the like that would manage to get him completely away. At one point Malen suspected some sort of enchantment
that was on the equipment, but looking through them he saw no signs of such a thing and after a few test spells and
chants he confirmed the papers and books were completely clean. It was indeed himself that was obsessed with it, but
for what reason he could not guess.
“I just can’t.”
“Well that’s not really much of an answer, or a valid reason,” Jashlyn slumped back on the bench heavily, frowning
deeply. The two allowed the silence to engulf them, though Malen wanted to hear his friend talk in that manner of hers
and maybe get him to snap out of whatever it was he was in. But a word didn’t come forth, he racked his brain for
something he could say that’ll start things up but only facts, notes, symbols and runes, everything but a conversation
starter came up to mind. Finally, Jashlyn sighed.
“I should go,” she turned to him, the frown softened though still hinting worry. Her voice was also unnaturally quiet.
“I have some things to take care of. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I think you should go and get some sleep as well,
maybe put up your research and take a holiday tomorrow.”
Malen merely nodded, his eyes becoming distant again. That wasn’t right, why wasn’t he looking back to Jashlyn
and giving a proper answer? How bothersome, the thoughts could hold off just long enough to say goodbye to her.
Though he was thinking this he remained how he was, tongue still. Jashlyn lingered for a few more seconds, then was
gone.
The night was growing denser and denser as time ticked away. Fireflies became fewer as they themselves started
to settle down or explore, crickets filling the night air with their song. Malen tried to focus on these, and for awhile it
worked. Sleep was creeping up on him, adrenaline wearing thin after the long days of relentless study. Soon his deep
green eyes, flecked with blue, began to droop. A yawn escaped him. Finally the mage rose, dragging his feet in the
direction of the tower and to bed.
~*~*~*~*~
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“Ngh…”
His entire side was sore, or was it his entire body? No, it was his right side, but his left arm wasn’t feeling so great either. And his head was pounding, and his neck stiff. Actually, yes, scratch that, it was his entire body save for his left leg.
With a low groan, Malen reluctantly opened his eyes. The shapes and colors before him connected to his fuzzled brain as a puzzle, none of it made sense or was familiar to him. He tried blinking quickly a few times to clear his vision, which helped a bit as some familiarity was returning. Eventually he realized that he did recognize the objects that were his table and chair, just sideways and further down because for some odd reason he was laying on the floor.
The explanation for the soreness was solved, though that added a couple more questions as he forced himself to sit up. Gently the mage placed a hand to his throbbing head, holding it as if to keep it from falling off. Thinking proved to be a difficult task in this state, nothing returned to mind to explain what had happened last night. What time was it now? Malen’s eyes flicked over to the single window in his room. The curtains were withdrawn as always, inviting the sunlight through and brightening up the area, an occasional shadow slipping in as a bird flew by. Judging the strength of the lighting and temperature, it had to be a little over noon. Had he slept the entire morning away?
A knock at the door caused him to start, cringing at the pain it caused. The knock came again. Malen rose himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as he made his way to the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes while doing so. Though, somehow, he had a strange déjà vu feel, and part of his mind seemed to recollect a memory of answering the door last night. It somehow felt important…
The door revealed the confident face that was his friend, Jashlyn, though it took a moment for that fact to register in Malen’s mind. “Malen!” she greeted immediately, her voice hinting that she was there on business matters. “Good, you’re up, I came to re- Malen!”
The sudden rise in volume and look of anger that had come over Jashlyn caused the mage to start again. “What?”
“What did I tell you!”
“What do you mean..?”
Brows scrunched together and frowning deeply, Jashlyn leaned forward and reached out toward her friend’s cheek, detaching something from it and now waving it accusingly at him. “You spent the whole night studying again, haven’t you? After I told you to get some sleep.”
Malen stared at the piece of paper in puzzlement, his mind still foggy from the events. “I… um… I think so… Yes, I did. But I can’t remember what I did exactly or what I learned to be honest…”
A sigh passed Jashlyn’s lips as she released the paper to glide back into the room. “No wonder you look like hell. I told you you needed sleep, how are you going to stay focused for the meeting tonight?”
“There’s a meeting tonight?”
The look that had come over Jashlyn sent a flicker of fear through the mage; her expression became hard, lips drawn into a thin line of worry and her eyes speaking dread. Very little could cause a reaction like this from his friend, and the rare times it did it had to be something important. “Jashlyn… what is it?”
“I-it’s Jemly… He’s gone missing.”
The words took a moment to register, but when they did Malen could hardly believe it. “Missing? Impossible, no one can get rid of that man if they tried crossing the entire world,” he exclaimed, frowning. “He was just here last night.”
The look remained upon Jashlyn’s visage, apparently not taking the mage’s statement seriously. However, there was a light of interest at the mention of Jemly being about recently, but it was a small kindle of hope. “I know, I thought he would show up eventually to bug some poor soul, but he hasn’t. No one had seen him since his return to the tower, which was late last night. It’s almost evening now.”
A sinking feeling occupied itself within Malen’s stomach. It was true he hadn’t eaten anything for awhile, but he doubted it was because of that. “Who saw him last?” When the question was asked, Malen’s voice had become hollow, eyes darkening. The news had shocked him enough into complete awareness, memory replaced the deep fog that had surrounded his mind and now filling the puzzling edges. Yes, Jemly had been here last night. It was him Malen was answering the door to. The strange package, who he got it from… then what happened afterwards. Was this somehow connected?
“Well, before you told me you saw him last night, it was one of the guards who was posted around the tower’s door,” Jashlyn answered. “As I’ve said, he came in very late when most of us were asleep. No one said that they had seen him in the tower because the halls were mostly empty, so we weren’t sure if he had gone missing before actually entering. But with your news, we now know. But that could mean…” She trailed off.
“It could mean that whoever is responsible for this, if it was caused by someone, had been inside the tower…” Malen finished.
Jashlyn swallowed nervously, but she shook her head. “No, not possible. No one can enter here unless they were a mage, and if it were one of us someone would know.” Though she said the words, Malen could see it in her eyes that she only half believed them.
“I need to think,” the mage said vaguely. “When’s the meeting?”
“Well, we’re starting it as soon as possible but they’re giving everyone about twenty minutes to finish what they’re doing and to make it.”
“Alright, I’ll see you there.” Before Jashlyn realized what was happening, Malen had shut the door in her face. He felt bad for doing it, and did it as gently as he could to avoid hitting her in the nose or anything if she had reacted to step forward to stop him, but he had to clear his mind and think things through.
Jemly was missing… Malen had always wanted the young apprentice to leave him alone, but this was a bit extreme, wasn’t it? Surely this couldn’t be caused by the fact that whomever had given Jemly the package to give to him was now going to get rid of a “witness”? Malen shook his head at the thought, it was ridiculous. Perhaps everyone was getting worked up for nothing, knowing Jemly he had probably been out practicing some sleep or knock out spell and had cast it accidentally on himself. It was a thin possibility to hang on to, but if it were true someone would have been able to find Jemly by now if he were close by… Even the apprentice wouldn’t wonder off far from the mages sanctuary and safety that was the Tower.
Malen’s eyes drifted to something on the floor, and a shudder went down his spine. There, gleaming ominously like a black hole waiting to suck him in, was the stone slab. But the runes that had been on it were all gone. Even the ones he drew himself. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach had tightened. The rest of last nights events replayed in his mind; the flashing light, dancing runes, climbing up his arm. The pain.
Swallowing, Malen slowly lifted his left arm, pulling down the long sleeve of his robe. A silent sigh escaped pass his lips, there was nothing on his skin to indicate last night’s events. Carefully he began to pull down the sleeve to re-cover his arm, and that’s when he saw it. As the mage went to replace the sleeve, he had turned his palm (which he had facing away from him) over, and he froze. A thin, black line had traced itself over the surface, overlapping most of the natural lines. Rigidly Malen brought the hand closer to his face for inspection. There, imprinted neatly on the center of his palm, was the rune that had been on the center of the black slab.
~*~*~*~*~
“Now that everyone seems to be here, it’s time to get this meeting underway,” announced one of the Elders.
The room (placed around the center of the tower and nothing much but a circular, empty place save for chairs and a few banners, and no windows) was crowded with the mages that lived within the tower. All along the circular wall were lined stairs of chairs, sectioned off from one another by mid-height walls. The first two on the left and right of the doorway were mainly for the newbie’s of the tower. Next to each one of those were where the apprentices sat, then next to them were the average mages, meaning they were well experienced but either they still didn’t have full control of their abilities or their gift was limited. Next to them was where Malen was sitting now, a section of mages that were very well gifted, experienced, and wise enough to do further research of the magical arts to come up with spells of their very own and to teach those Junior to them. These mages had much more freedom because they had the knowledge and sense of what they’re doing, if they know something is too dangerous or beyond their power to control they simply don’t do it. Sitting their now, Malen felt uncomfortable, and it took all his willpower to keep from fidgeting in his seat. His left palm, which was hidden within his sleeved, burned as if the rune mark was trying to burn through the thread to reveal itself and expose it’s owner as a fraud.
Next to these two sections, right in the middle and directly opposite of the doorway, were the Elders. The rulers and lawmakers of the Tower and the use of magik itself. With each section, it was raised slightly by a few feet from those below you in rank, for instance the newbie sections were of normal height. The apprentices were raised a few feet higher, then the sections next to them were added a few more feet, and so on, making the Elder’s higher than the others that it caused a “stair” affect. One of the Elders stood now to address the audience, his voice intensified by the echoing of the large room. Normally the oldest Elder was in charge of this, but the old mage, though still strong and healthy, was unable to perform the task. His voice just wasn’t strong enough. Instead he spoke quietly to the younger Elder, who repeated them for the gathering magik users.
“Most of you may already know why you’re here,” the Elder Speaker began. “For those of you who don’t, allow me to fill you in. There is one among us who is missing, and who has been absent for nearly 24 hours. This is a serious case for us, for mages have many enemies. The reason we are addressing this issue now is to prevent it from becoming worse in the future, this could be nothing but we cannot risk that. Over our long history, mages have been killed out of mistrust of others, and we hope this hasn’t become the fate of this poor soul.
The name of the one who is gone is a fellow apprentice, Jemly. We have gathered you all here in the hopes that you have seen or heard from him recently. Do any of you have any news or information that can help us locate the mage?”
Almost immediately Jashlyn darted up, whom was sitting next to Malen, declaring in a clear voice, “I have found something out just recently. My friend, Malen, here,” she placed a hand on the mage’s shoulder, and he was glad his hood covered his face, “has told me that Jemly came to visit him last night.”
The Elder Speaker looked in their direction with a pleased look, smiling. “Ah, this is fortunate news. Tell us, Malen, what was Jemly seeing to you about last night?”
Upon the urging of Jashlyn, who sat down again, Malen reluctantly rose from his seat, face burning with guilt. He took a moment to keep control of his voice, clearing his throat to make it seem like he was preparing his tale. “Jemly did come to see me last night, it was already late and I had been just about to head to bed. I was up taking some notes and such, which was why I hadn’t been asleep already. Anyway, I answered it and he had a package for me. He wanted to come in and see what was inside it, wanting to help if it was something important, but I was already tired and I sent him on his way. Nothing more happened.”
“A package?” The Elder Speaker arched a brow. “How did Jemly come across it?”
Malen swallowed, hand clenching over the rune within his sleeve. “I had asked him about it, he told me that on his way back to the tower the messenger usually in charge of the task had given it to him after Jemly told him who he was and where he was going.” It wasn’t particularly a lie, but neither was it a complete truth. Malen couldn’t bring himself to give the full tale, who knew what could happen if the Elders knew what Malen had been doing, and whoever the Masked One was was strict on keeping his task a secret. But he could feel Jashlyn’s suspicious eyes tearing holes through him, he could never pull one over her.
“A messenger delivering a package so late?” The Elder Speaker now had both eyes rounded in surprise, confusion coating the dark irises. “What were they bringing that couldn’t wait for daylight?”
Malen bit his lip, realizing his mistake. “It was a book I needed for my research,” he answered. “I had requested it to be brought as soon as possible because it was essential. I didn’t think they’d take it so literal.”
Apparently the reply was good enough, for the Elder questioned him no further about it. After being interrogated for about ten minutes, being asked things like if Jemly’s behavior was odd, if he said something off, if he remembered anything else that could be important, Malen was finally allowed to sit back down. Others were asked if they had seen or noticed Jemly walking through the halls, if they knew if he return to his dorm or went elsewhere, but none couldn’t provide any valid answers. Some offered useful tidbits and suggestions, but Jemly’s whereabouts remained a mystery.
When they were finally permitted to exit the meeting, the moon was hanging high in the sky. Malen was staring up it now, arms still within the folds of his sleeves as he stood in the center of the courtyard. Around him, the magik users gathered in two’s to three’s to five’s were speaking together in hushed voices about the meeting and the strange disappearance as they made their return to dorms, speaking in a range of fear, humor, urgency, and uncertainty.
It was about when they all left that Malen was tugged roughly on his shoulder and forced to turn to a very stern looking Jashlyn.
“Out with it,” she commanded. “I know you know more than you’re letting on. Why are you keeping it to yourself?”
“Owe…” Malen grumbled, rubbing the shoulder she pulled. “Being polite won’t hurt you you know.”
The sharp glare made Malen take a step back. “Alright alright, sorry. Was just trying to lighten the mood a bit,” the mage sighed heavily, returning his hands into the folds of his sleeves. “But seriously, keep your voice down and if you’re going to be making faces, you might as well pull your hood up as well.”
Being around each other for so long, Jashlyn immediately understood the silent code. She kept her face stern, but when she spoke she took care that her voice wasn’t as loud. “Alright, so what’s going on?”
“The one who gave the package to Jemly… it wasn’t a messenger. I don’t really know who it was, but Jemly had said they were wearing a cloak like a mage and kept his face hidden,” Malen answered, turning slightly so he was looking up the moon again. Jashlyn understood his concern immediately. “Are you saying that the one who gave Jemly the package… they could be the one who gave you that assignment of yours, or at least someone who works for them?”
A very light movement of Malen’s hood showed he nodded.
“So you think that, somehow, it’s connected to Jemly’s sudden disappearance?”
This time it was a very light shrug, though lowering his head from the moon and glancing over his shoulder, Jashlyn saw his worry reflected in his eyes.
She sneered, shaking her head. Wither this was a real reaction or a way to throw off any unwanted eyes wasn’t clear. “It can’t be that. I know they were keen on keeping that subject all secret and everything, but they wouldn’t just hand Jemly a package if they really didn’t want anyone else knowing about it. They could of just waited for you.”
“Well, it was a pretty important package…” the words slipped out before Malen even realized he said them.
Jashlyn looked to him in puzzlement for a moment, then her eyes widened in realization. “That’s what you were working on last night!” she nearly forgot about keeping her voice low, her hand raised to point accusingly at her friend. “I thought for sure you were done with that project! Why didn’t you just pack it up and send it back?” Then she blinked as if another thought crossed her mind. “That package… You don’t mean that you’ve finished it? Have you? Was that why they sent it to you?”
He couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt, the fear, it was rising within him, the constant badgering of everyone wanting to know something from him driving him over the edge. “Enough with the questions!” Malen snapped, his voice almost a desperate whisper. He never felt so paranoid, after what happened to Jemly every shadow in the courtyard seemed like a cloaked figure just waiting for him to slip up. The remark was enough to keep even Jashlyn silent, for the mage hardly ever became angry. “I told you what I know and that should be enough for you. I can’t tell you anymore, I shouldn’t even have said as much as I did. I regret letting you in on this project in the first place. I should have known better, I should have seen the signs. But I didn’t, and Jemly’s gone. I can’t say anymore, for fear of the same fate befalling you. Now I have to leave, I’m going to bed and upon tomorrow morning I’m going to find out where this stranger who’s assigned me this task lives to find out what’s going on and if they’re responsible for this.”
Malen once more turned on his heel, but instead of gazing up to the sky he was making his way back to the Tower. Jashlyn, however, was quick to reach for a hand to stop him. “Wait, Malen! You don’t know who this guy is, and if he is responsible he could be dange- What’s this?” Her grip tightened on the wrist, Malen’s left one. The mage’s heartbeat quickened as he tried pulling it away from her, but Jashlyn kept her hold on it and brought the palm close for inspection.
“Malen, what is this?” Her voice was hushed. Disbelief, even a hint of fear of what the answer was, came across her eyes.
With another tug, Malen managed to free his hand. “I’m sorry, Jashlyn,” he said, his own voice now barely above a whisper, hollow-like. “I made a mistake, and I need to fix it. Before something else could happen.”
The mage quickly turned away from his friend, walking at a brisk pace to return to the tower. Jashlyn remained where she was, watching him go until the door closed behind him, shutting him from sight. What had he gotten himself into?