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A Tale of Two Mages: Part 6


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#1 Guest_Ophidia_*

Posted 23 April 2004 - 08:54 AM

An Enjoyable Partnership: A Tale of Two Mages


Part Six

All was peaceful in Keep de’Arnise. Nalia was working on the accounts in the library, enjoying the unusual quiet. Edwin was in the mage lab, rebinding his spellbook in an attempt to make it look a little neater…

NALIA DE’ARNISE, COME HERE RIGHT NOW!

Nalia dropped the quill pen in shock at the sudden noise, and then rolled her eyes and went to find her aunt. Too late: Delcia burst through the door of the library, with a heaving chest and a red face.

“Nalia, what do you think you’re doing, inviting people of that calibre to the Keep?”

“What peop…”

“Don’t you know they lower the tone of the whole estate?”

“Who…”

“I simply refuse to spend any time in the same room as them, and so close to the Ball, too! What were you thinking of?”

“I don’t…”

“Well, I’m not going to meet them, you’ll have to.” She said, and sniffed. “Let’s see how you like dealing with such uncouth…creatures. I’m not even being seen with them!” She bustled out, skirts rustling.

Nalia frowned at the page of accounts in front of her, and got up to see what was happening. She headed downstairs and out into the courtyard. A number of figures in full plate and one gnome were standing around waiting for her. One looked up, grinned toothily at her and waved.

“Hey Nalia!”

“A…Andorel? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this and that. Nice to see you again.”

“Um…yes.” Nalia had been brought up not to lie, but…

Anomen rushed over in a clatter of armour. “My Lady, it is vital we talk to you this instant! Grave things are afoot.”

“Pack it in, Ano, you sound like a bad novel.” Andorel said, lazily picking his nose with a gauntleted hand.

“He is right, though, Andorel. Dark matters abound indeed, and Lady Nalia needs to know about them.” Keldorn remarked, dusting off his road-soiled armour.

“Ok, ok, you’re right. Nalia, fetch that idiot mage friend of yours, and let’s talk. Oh, bring some ale too. And an apple juice for Ano.”

“What do you think…I…well, alright then.” Nalia stuttered, the various different packets of effrontery trying to use her tongue all at once. She nodded at the servants, and they scurried off to do her bidding. “Come into the great hall.”

Edwin?

Edwin? You there?

Edwin!

What is it?
Edwin’s mental voice sounded oddly distant and distracted.

Andorel’s party are here! They say they have news for us. Meet us in the Great Hall.

Edwin’s thoughts gained a distinctly peevish edge. Do I have to?

Yes! Come on, hurry!

Yes, yes, I am on my way.


“Edwin’s coming to join us.” Nalia said to the party. Andorel looked at her oddly.

“How do you know?”

“I just told him to meet us there.”

“How? Did you send a messenger or something?”

“No. Um. We can hear each other’s thoughts, you see.”

“Oh.” Andorel said, and then suddenly grinned. “Bet that’s embarrassing at times!” He said, and nudged Nalia, bruising her slightly. He kicked open the great oaken double doors of the Keep with his foot, and strode in to the small atrium beyond, ignoring Nalia’s wince.

They walked into the hall, and Edwin was standing at the far end, waiting for them. Nalia frowned with worry when she saw him. He was even paler, and seemed to have lost some weight. His eyes were shadowed, and he looked tired. No, no she was just being a worrywart. He never looked exactly healthy, after all. He was probably just worried about his family back in Thay. That must be it.

“Eddie! How’s the magic business? Mucked up any good spells recently?”

Nalia could see Edwin gritting his teeth from here. “No. Learnt any good table manners recently?”

“’Course not.” Andorel said cheerfully.

“Enough chatter, we should get to business.” Valygar said quietly, glaring venomously at Edwin. “You are in danger, mages.”

Kell came in carrying a tray of tankards and one glass. Nalia looked around nervously, and then gestured for everyone to sit down. She noticed Edwin quietly giving the hopefully hovering Kell a gold piece. He’ll never learn.

“What do you mean, danger?”

Andorel took a long swig of his drink. “This is great ale, you know.”

“About this danger…” Nalia started to say.

“I wonder why it tastes different in different places?” Andorel mused, looking into his goblet. “They use the same stuff, don’t they?”

“Umm, I don’t know. You could ask the servants. They might know. It’s the kind of thing they’d know.” Nalia said anxiously. “What’s this danger?”

“I mean, it’s all, um, vegetabley stuff and the like, isn’t it? Grains and things. So why…”

“Tell us what this danger is, or I will knot your intestines into a Möebius loop that will enable you to drink your beloved ale twice without swallowing!” Edwin snarled, thumping the table as his patience ran out. Nalia glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly.

“I just love your insults, Eddie.” Andorel grinned. “Jan, they’re all yours.”

“Ah yes, right.” Jan said, removing his goggles from his forehead. “Now, have you two ever heard of rakshasa? I know a few stories about them, actually…”

“Jan!” Keldorn warned.

“…But now is obviously not the time for them, sadly. Maybe over a glass of mulled wine on a wintery evening we could chew the fat…”

“Jan, to the point, please.” Anomen said.

“Ah yes, the Rakshasa. Fascinating creatures, they are, very good at illusions, my favourite spell school, actually…”

Andorel banged his tankard on the table, slopping ale over the polished wood. “Stop gabbing and get on with it!”

“Alright, alright! Have you heard of rakshasas?”

“Of course we have” Edwin snapped. “Even the dimmest schoolchild manages to learn of their existence. Two archmages of our vast experience could no doubt write a treatise on their history and current societal means.”

“Umm, I’ve never heard of them.” Nalia said timidly. Edwin sighed in resignation. “Sorry, ‘Dwin.”

“Rakshasas are these immortal part-animal beasties that like eating humans. They cast illusions on themselves to fool people into trusting them. Their party trick is to make friends or families turn on each other, in fact. Now if they tried that with my family, they’d really have their work cut out, wouldn’t they? I think it’d take a good few years to track them all down to cast all their nasty illusions, you know. Anyway, when they’ve caused as much upset as they can they, well, eat the folk. We were hunting a group of rakshasa down in Trademeet for a party of genies who had promised to pay us well…”

“They were also terrorizing the townsfolk and refusing to leave unless we dealt with these evil rakshasa, Jan!” Anomen said pointedly.

“Oh yes, that too. Anyway, we’re not sure how many are in the group, but it’s definitely more than three, led by one called Ihtafeer. He’s a Ruhk, one of their bosses, type of thing. The thing is, they’re headed this way.”

Nalia shot up from her seat. “What?!”

“They’re resistant to magic, which is why we came. We thought that you might need help, see. Though actually, fighting that many rakshasa at once is still a tall order, you know.”

Andorel spat out a mouthful of ale. “Eh, we’ve fought worse. We’ll win, huh?” He thumped Edwin on the back. Edwin glared at him, but Andorel didn’t notice.

“We found out they were headed this way from a dying old lady. She told us they were after something at this Keep…a magic flail, I think it was.”

A Flail…dear Gods, no…

“’Twas the Flail of the Kindred, a powerful artefact the rakshasa use as bait. I remember seeing one of the heads when we were last here.” Keldorn said. He took a sip of his beer thoughtfully. “I presume you have reassembled it? It glows as a beacon to them, beckoning them on, once it is fully remade.”

“N..not the flail. I…put it back together…to honour my father…This is…this is my fault.” Nalia swallowed, going pale.

“N..Nalia?” Andorel asked hesitantly.

Nalia gulped. “This is all my fault!” She stood up, hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles were white.

“Nalia!” Andorel cried in alarm.

She ran out of the hall, the skirt of her mage robe flapping behind her. Edwin slowly rose from the table, sat down again, then stood up again. Andorel prodded him.

“Go after her, you dimwit!”

Nalia ran, ran blindly, up stairs, round corners, through doors, along corridors. One thought echoed through her head:

It’s all your fault.

How could she do this to everyone? As a child, she had hidden the various heads of the flail, so that she could study them, fuelling her burgeoning interest in magic.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

Her father’s death had been the result. When the trolls had invaded the Keep, he had tried to reassemble it, to defend himself against them.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

Of course, he couldn’t find the pieces. So, the trolls had cornered him, and ripped him apart with their claws. Andorel and his party had defeated them, eventually. Nalia had been the first to find the corpse. She remembered it in flashes, disconnected images- a hand, a splash of blood, his face…oh, his face…

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

For the sake of magical power, she had killed her father. Her breath rasped in her throat.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

She had killed him.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

She had killed him.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all your fault

Then she had reassembled the flail, to honour his memory. She had placed it on a purple cushion in the Keep’s private chapel.

it’s all your fault it’s all your fault it’s all YOUR FAULT!

The rakshasa had sensed it, and come to kill them all. And it was all her fault. Her fault for being too greedy. Her fault for being obsessed with magic. Her fault for putting power first. One mistake after another. Her fault.

She tripped over the edge of her robe, and fell flat on her face. Propping herself up, she looked around, trying to figure out where she had got to. The Flail gleamed in front of her on its pedestal. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she sank to her knees in front of it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m sorry, Father, I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “If only I had known…if only…”

“And what then?” A quiet, accented voice said behind her. She turned around and stood up. Edwin stood behind her, his red robes fluttering slightly.

“Can you ever forgive me, Edwin?” She asked him, standing up shakily, rubbing bruises. “I’ve put us all in danger. I might have killed us all. All for magic.”

Edwin smiled sadly. “I believe that when it comes to placing our lives in mortal danger, I am still far ahead of you, my dear Nalia.”

Nalia’s hands flailed around as she gestured wildly. “But…but…I did it all for nothing. I tried to get power…I wanted magic, spells.” She shook her head and hastily rubbed the tears away. A de’Arnise did not cry. “It’s true what they say. Power corrupts. Magic is too dangerous. Maybe…maybe I should stop dreaming of being a mage, I don’t deserve…”

Edwin suddenly gripped her chin gently and turned her head towards him. His thin hands were surprisingly warm and soft. He stared into her eyes. “Never regret using your talent, Nalia de’Arnise. You were born to be a mage, remember that. Power does not corrupt- the corruption is either there to start with, or it is not. Power merely brings it out if it is present.” Edwin looked oddly solemn for a second and continued as if talking to himself. “The power of magery merely amplifies what is already there.”

“If…if I hadn’t hidden the parts of the flail, though…”

Edwin snorted, and his dark eyes took on their usual sarcastic glint. “Yes, what then? Your father faced four giant trolls, Nalia. What difference would a stick of metal have made, hmm?”

“None…I, I suppose, but…”

“And if he had assembled it, isn’t it logical that the Keep would have faced the rakshasa while still recovering from the trollish invasion, and thus utterly unable to defend itself?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Nalia sighed, and blinked her watery eyes. “Th..thank you, ‘Dwin. You’re…very helpful. You understand, I suppose, what it’s like.”

“Yes,” Edwin replied, “But magery is a great gift, a dangerous one, but one you should be proud of. Never lose sight of that: you are gifted in a way many only dream of.” If only they knew the price magery can cost…

“Thank you, Edwin.” She whispered. Edwin cautiously placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she gratefully put her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her gently.

Slowly her breathing slowed down, and her heart calmed. She looked up at Edwin and smiled slightly. Their eyes locked.

“You’re a real friend, ‘Dwin.”

Edwin smiled hesitantly, blinked thoughtfully, and lowered his head towards her. She looked up at him, unable to look away. A shiver ran down her spine, and she felt a new yearning fill her, a thirst, a need. Closer…closer…but Edwin suddenly pulled away, and looked around in puzzlement, as if he had never seen the chapel before.

“What was I…?” Edwin shook his head, as if confused about something, and pressed a hand to his temple. “I am sure I…no, doesn’t matter.” He abruptly turned and left the chapel, leaving a very puzzled Nalia behind.

Edwin? She called.

Edwin?

But there was no reply. Nalia bit her lip, shivered, and paced thoughtfully out of the Chapel.




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