The Story Of Magus Chapter 22
The Day of Destiny Approaches
By ZealPropht
"Dum, da, dee, dum," went the Imp who was the
new door operator for the Fort. He sat on a stool, swinging his feet back and
forth, humming tunelessly. His predecessor had met with an unfortunate accident,
though he never discovered what it was. All he knew was that it had something to
do with the Magus. All day long, the Imp would let people in and out of the Fort
via the two great double-doors that served as the main entrance and exit. He had
taken great care to be polite to them all. It was an honor to be serving such
high and distinguished people. Why, in the past twenty-four hours, he'd let the
great swordsman Slash in and out twice! What greater thrill was there for
someone who would usually spend his entire life living day by day in the forest,
robbing whatever stupid Human happened to stray from the path? But there was one
person he had yet to come across and that was the Magus. Oh, he had seen the
blue-haired warlock from a distance and had always admired him for his powers.
But he always feared that he would meet with the same fate as the former door
attendant. Now, maybe the other Imp had caught Magus on a bad day. Maybe Magus
just had a thing against Imps in general. Whatever it was, it made the current
doorman edgy and nervous and he tried to avoid door-duty as much as possible.
Unfortunately for him, it was during his shift this day that the Magus decided
to come by.
When he appeared at the top of the stairs, the Imp felt
faint. His heart fluttered in his chest madly and sweat broke out on his
forehead. He had already been spotted and it would look bad on his record if he
were to run away as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him. That, and he was
sure that the Magus wouldn't take kindly to a person trying to shirk their
duties. He would probably be killed on the spot. So, when the magician was
closer, the Imp hopped off his stool with as much dignity and professionalism as
an Imp could muster and grabbed hold of the large rings used to open the doors.
Tugging with all his might, they creaked open, allowing a clear exit way. Magus
didn't even seem to notice he was there, which was just as well. But as he
walked through the doors, the Imp heard him say, "We'll be a little faster
next time, won't we." It was a statement, a command even, not a request.
"Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!" the Imp babbled,
falling to his knees and making worshipful gestures to the warlock's back.
"Take care and have a good day, Sir Magus!"
Magus smiled secretly to himself, delighting in the Imp's
discomfort. He knew it was spiteful to tease the little Mystic so, but he was
feeling playful today. Under his arm, hidden by his cape, was a bag of food that
he had taken from the larder. Inside were a couple loaves of thick, dark bread,
a wheel of cheese, jerky, a small jug of cider and a flagon filled with a pint
of ale. No one had questioned him when he had demanded the food be handed over
to his care. If they had dared to ask, he would have coldly informed them that
it was to be his fare while out scouting today. But no one did ask, which suited
Magus just fine. If anyone knew what his true intentions were for the food, they
would lock him in the deepest dungeon they could find and throw away the key. He
had a pact to keep and it was high time he did something more then gripe about
how unwanted it was.
He didn't immediately teleport as he usually did. Instead, he
chose to walk through the forest that surrounded the outside of Ozzie's Fort.
The trees grew thickly together, blocking most of the dim sunlight that
penetrated the ever-present mist that encircled everything like a pale blanket.
The trees themselves were pine and cedar and their fresh, earthy smell filled
his nostrils and cleared his head. Underlying it was the salt tang of the ocean
that lay on the other side of the woods. The forest floor was covered mostly
with pine needles that deadened all sound as he strode purposefully through the
woods. No birds lived this deep in. They preferred to stay closer to the outer
edges of the forest where there was more light. Walking like this gave him a
chance to ready himself to face Cyrus and put on the mask of his former persona.
The innocence of Janus was far removed from the more worldly aspects of the
Magus and he had to draw a careful line between the two. It was becoming more
and more difficult to go back to his old ways, he realized. Now, threats of
violence seemed to accomplish more then mere talking. That was the way of the
Mystics, the way of the Magus. He had to be careful not to slip up and
accidentally revert to his new self while in the middle of a conversation. That
would blow the game right out of the water and leave him in a situation he would
rather never have to deal with. What a sad world it was to have to pretend to be
the person you really are on the inside when on the outside, people see you as
something completely different. Ack! He just confused himself! Everything was so
complicated in this place! How he missed the good old days of his youth, even if
it was filled with milking cows and washing dishes.
At least things made sense back then, he reflected, pushing a
low hanging branch out of his way. It snapped back into place when he let go and
almost hit him in the back of the head. It grazed his hair, leaving a glob of
disgusting tree sap in it's wake. Gritting his teeth, Magus ignored it and
resumed his earlier thoughts. He never had questions about who he was. He had
been a prince, denied his kingdom by a cruel twist of fate. Now, he wasn't sure what
he was. He wasn't a Human, he wasn't a Mystic, he wasn't a prince. What he was,
was deeply confused and drifting in a limbo between all three things. He was a
Magus, though he didn't feel like he imagined one would. The word itself was
ominous and shadowy and seemed like the type of role for a villain. But he
wasn't evil, at least, not the way he saw it. Evil was a state of mind. He
didn't think evil thoughts and while he did some really bad things, he didn't
actually take pleasure in doing them. In his muddle way, Magus figured that as
long as he didn't like doing bad things, he couldn't be considered truly bad
himself. That fact had been his comfort all these long, dark years. The day he
lost touch with that side of his humanity, he would be the Magus completely,
body and soul. That thought scared him very much. He didn't like being some
figure of ultimate power and all-consuming darkness. It sounded more like a part
a creature like Lavos could play. He just wanted to be left alone to pursue his
quest for information on Time Gates so that one day, he might return to his real
home and the people he cared for and who cared for him.
A roost of bats were disturbed as they hung in the trees and
they fluttered around fearfully until he passed. It took him a few hours, but he
eventually reached the beach outside the woods. The waves lapped against the
sand, making little ripple patterns when they left. A crab was scuttling by and
bumped into his foot. He looked down at it and it looked back up at him, it's
eyes waving around on their stalks. "Shoo," he said, "before I
get it into my head to eat you for supper." But the crab sat there, just
watching him, it's eyes moving in different directions. Shaking his head in
amusement, Magus carefully stepped around it and moved on. When the surf was
gently lapping at the toes of his boots, he teleported to the blackened tree
outside the Guardian camp. His first thought was too look around for danger. His
spell shield was erected and there was no way that a stray arrow could reach
him. When he was reasonably sure that he wasn't going to be made into a
pincushion, he dropped his barriers and settled down to wait. He set his bundle
on the ground next to him, making sure that it was sealed so that no moisture or
hungry little animals could get in. Lord only knew when Cyrus might show up. The
last time he had visited this spot, he had waited for several long minutes to no
avail. For a moment, Magus wondered if Cyrus even came back to this place at
all. Maybe he had forgotten about their promise or never really intended to
follow it up.
"That's ridiculous," he scoffed out loud at his own
worries. "Cyrus wouldn't do that, if only for the simple reason that as a
warrior, it would be his duty to keep an eye on me. I am in the enemy army, and
he would be a fool to not see the potential advantages I could give to his side.
I must be a veritable well of knowledge to him, my inside info just waiting to
be drawn up." Picking up a stick, he commenced to break it into several
smaller pieces. Not a wise thing, he knew, since it made noise and he didn't
want to attract attention to his presence. But he was a magician, after all. He
could take care of himself if the need arose.
"Welcome back, Cyrus," Dane greeted his friend,
clasping his arm warmly. "Palace life agrees with you, it seems."
Cyrus shook his head ruefully, tossing his hair out of his eyes with the
gesture.
"Honestly, I have never been more happy to get away from
a place in my whole life! I was so stifled there! No one really understands the
trouble our kingdom is facing. They all try to pretend like this is a temporary
situation that will disappear the next morning. I was glad to finally
leave."
"How were their Majesties when you left?"
"His Majesty was quite well, but he has been coming out
to fight on the field, or so I heard. Is this true?"
Dane nodded, noting how his friend carefully stepped around
the fact that he had asked about BOTH of their Majesties, not just the King.
"It's true. He's not the greatest fighter in the world, but it does our
hearts good to see him standing down the enemy right along side of us. It's a
nice feeling to know that just because he's the King, he doesn't feel in any way
above us. He's right there with us, willing to die for his Kingdom. I tell you,
Cyrus, it makes a body proud to be serving such a man."
"Aye, that it does, my friend. That it does."
The two Knights moved through the camp as they talked. All
around them were the normal sights and sounds of an army. Troops that were
moving out were striking their tents. Yet others were sharpening their weapons.
Some swords and armor were being repaired by the many blacksmiths that were
being drafted in from all over the kingdom. Several of the younger soldiers and
Knights came up to form a bit of a procession after them. Cyrus was a famous man
to them and they wanted to be as near to him as possible for even one glimpse of
the person who had single-handedly defeated the Frog King and won back the
legendary Hero's Medal. The Medal itself sparkled upon his breast like a second
sun.
"Afternoon, Sir Cyrus," called someone. Cyrus
turned to the left and raised a hand in a brief wave.
"Afternoon."
"How's it going, Sir Cyrus? Enjoy your stay at the
Castle?"
Again, Cyrus turned to the speaker, this time to the right,
and waved. "Everything is fine with me. I had a great time visiting their
Majesties. They send the army their best wishes." And so it went as Dane
and Cyrus meandered around until they finally located Glenn. He was near one of
the cooking fires, stuffing his face as if he hadn't eaten in years. Fredrick
Pendil sat not too far away, watching the young man wolf down his food with a
mixture of disgust and amusement. Glenn was oblivious to anything besides his
bowl of mutton stew, however. Cyrus felt a pang of concern. Did Glenn get enough
to eat while he was around? The green-haired young man always said that he
wasn't very hungry and insisted that Cyrus take his own portions of food as well
as the ones that had been set aside for the Hero. Was he just saying that out of
one of his wild senses of loyalty and responsibility for his friend? And now,
with the food shortage on, that meant even less rations for them both. The Hero
felt a pang of guilt as he thought once again on how he really didn't deserve
such a good friend.
Stopping a little ways behind him, Cyrus said, "Slow
down, Glenn, or you'll choke." Glenn nearly toppled over, almost upsetting
the bowl he had balanced on his knees. He set the dish aside and leapt to his
feet. When he saw Cyrus, he ran over to greet him.
"Hail and well met, my dear friend," Glenn beamed.
"I had not expected your arrival to have been so soon else I wouldst have
greeted thee at the mouth of Guardia Forest. I see thou hast returned in better
spirits then whenst thou departed from our midst." He tried not to notice
the way Cyrus blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his head, not meeting his
eyes.
"Yeah, their Majesties were very warm and friendly. I
deeply appreciated their hospitality," the young Hero said softly. There
was a rude snickering behind them and they all turned to see Fredrick polishing
his breast plate with a soft rag.
"Tell me, in what spirits did you find Her
Majesty?"
"Fair, Sir Pendil," Cyrus stated coldly.
"Only fair?"
"You sound surprised," Cyrus noted. "May I ask
why?"
Fredrick shook his head with a small, secretive grin. "I
had not expected Her Royal Highness to have been only fair of spirits when you
arrived. I thought she would have been overjoyed that the great Hero had come to
pay her a visit."
"Watch it, Pendil, or you'll be eating the sole of my
boot as I kick your teeth in," Claudane growled warningly. Glenn gave one
firm nod of his head to say that he was behind Dane one-hundred percent. But
Cyrus put a hand on each of their shoulders to calm them.
"And in what spirits was the Queen in when you
departed?" Fredrick continued as if there had been no interruption. Cyrus'
face was like stone.
"Poor spirits, Sir Pendil."
"Why poor?"
"She knew that I was returning to the battlefield. She
asked that I give her brother her love and her best wishes to the army in the
upcoming battles."
Fredrick gave a mock look of sympathy. "Aww, no words of
love to you, Sir Cyrus? No wishes for the best?" His countenance took on a
sadistic look. "Not even a thank you for services rendered?" That was
too much for Dane to handle. He lunged at Fredrick, shouting obscenities while
Cyrus had to use his whole body to hold him back. Glenn reached out to steady
his friend and got his hand slapped away for his troubles. Dane struggled
against Cyrus again, trying to reach the object of his hatred. Fredrick raised
an eyebrow. "Let him go. I could use a good fight to warm my blood."
"Enough, Fredrick!" Cyrus snapped over his
shoulder, still trying to keep the two men apart. Finally, Dane straightened up
and pushed Cyrus roughly away. He strode up to Pendil and got right in his face.
"This isn't finished between us," he spat before
walking away furiously. Pendil wiped some spittle from his face with the back of
his arm and smiled mildly.
"Was it something I said?"
"You bastard," Cyrus whispered through white lips
that were pressed together in a hard, straight line. "If we weren't in a
war already, I'd kill you for saying such things. How dare you spread such filth
about our Queen! She is the noblest and most caring creature on the face of this
earth and you dare defile her good name with such lurid rumors?" At his
side, Glenn was quaking with fury, too angry to speak. His fingers curled around
his sword hilt and reflexively squeezed the hard metal, itching for the chance
to draw it and carve Fredrick to little bits.
Fredrick shrugged. "It's not my fault the King chose a
harlot for a wife or named a disgraced peasant as a Hero." Glenn could
abide quietly no longer. He stepped in front of Cyrus, head lowered, eyes
blazing, looking like a bull about to charge.
"Stand back, Cyrus, and I shall smite this cur in the
name of Her Majesty." For once, however, he didn't wait for Cyrus' approval
before he spoke again. "Pendil, ere this day is through, I shall see thee
eat thy words using thine own blood to wash it down. I challenge thee to a duel
of arms."
"What are you doing?! You know the army regulations
forbid dueling while the war is on! Glenn, stop!" Cyrus commanded but his
friend was tasting bloodlust in his heart and would not be swayed by reason.
Instead, he nearly ripped his blade from it's scabbard and held it before him,
ready to fight.
"Draw thy sword, if thou be'est a man!"
Fredrick ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "I
don't fight boys, my friend. Come back when you're a real man."
Glenn narrowed his eyes and gave a venom-laden look to the
other Knight. "Then thou art a coward as well as a slanderer. You wanted a
fight and I aim to give one to thee! En guarde!" Now it was Pendil's turn
to look furious. His sword was out in a heartbeat and it clanged against Glenn's
with a harsh, musical sound. The smaller man was forced back a step by the
ferocity of the swing. But then, he tensed his arms and set his jaw, determined
not to lose ground before Fredrick. Cyrus grabbed on to his shoulders from
behind and tried to drag him away. But with his feet set wide apart to brace
himself, Cyrus couldn't budge Glenn a single inch.
"Glenn, don't be stupid! If the Knight Captain sees you,
you're sure to be punished. This dog isn't worth getting demoted over. Let it
rest! He'll get his own back in the end," the Hero begged. Already a group
of people were forming around them to watch whatever the commotion was. That
would be sure to draw the attention of their commanding officers and, worse, the
Knight Captain.
"No, Cyrus," Glenn argued, shaking free. "This
is how it must be. He hast dared to offer insult to you and to the Queen. For
that, he must pay the ultimate price!" Pendil sneered at the words and made
a gesture.
"Bring it on, boy! Let's see what they taught you in
basic training!" He raised his sword and Glenn did so as well. They lunged.
Their blades locked in a deadly struggle, the crowd cheering and jeering at
them. Suddenly, from out of seemingly nowhere, a third sword drove straight down
between them, knocking both Glenn and Pendil's weapons from their hands. They
landed in the dirt, creating a small cloud of dust on impact. Cyrus twirled his
sword and sheathed it, glaring.
"Isn't there enough fighting going on without us going
at each other's throats like rabid animals?" he shouted. Before he could
say anything further, a ripple ran through the crowd and a space parted to allow
a flash of gold to walk through. It was the Knight Captain.
"What is going on here?" His voice was soft but
carried through the suddenly still air like approaching thunder. "This had
best not be what methinks it to be. Thou knowest full well the penalty for
dueling whilst the war is on." No one said anything as the man swept his
gaze over everyone before letting it rest on the three guilty men. "Speak
up now. Who started this?" Still no one spoke. The old Knight's mustache
quivered. "If no one speaks out, this whole section shall be punished,
guilty or no."
"We were only practicing our technique," Fredrick
lied smoothly, retrieving his sword from the dust and wiping it clean with his
gloved hands. But his plan to escape punishment was foiled when the Hero opened
his mouth and spoke.
"It was me, sir," Cyrus said, stepping forward
while sheathing his sword. "It was my fault. Sir Pendil and I had a
disagreement and things got a little heated between us."
"Cyrus," Fredrick hissed through his teeth,
"are you mad?! Do you want to get demoted?"
"No!" Glenn protested, coming to stand beside his
friend in an almost protective fashion. "'Twas not the Hero's fault. He is
too good to take the blame when the fault lies with me. 'Twas I who was arguing
with Sir Pendil and I initiated combat. Sir Cyrus only drew his sword to prevent
us from further fighting. He hast done no wrong. I will take whatever punishment
awaits me, but I ask that you please spare him." People snickered and
elbowed each other in the crowd, whispering things to their friends while giving
Cyrus and Glenn some wicked grins that let on to the crude nature of their
thoughts. The Hero felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks.
"Glenn, shut up!" Cyrus growled under his breath to
his friend from the corner of his mouth, giving dark looks at the crowd.
"I'm trying to get us out of this mess." He turned his attention back
to the Knight Captain who was twirling his mustache between the thumb and index
fingers of his left hand as he thought of what to do. When at last he reached a
decision, he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Fall in line, gentleman," he said. Fredrick laid
his sword next to where he had been sitting earlier and hurried into place by
the other two knights. They all stood at attention, chins raised and chests
puffed out, looking straight ahead since it was improper to meet the eyes of
their commanding officer. "The facts thou hast presented me are unclear and
I wouldst not like to let those guilty go unpunished. However, I also do not
wish to punish an innocent unjustly. Since this be the case, my judgment shall
be less harsh in this matter. No demotion shall take place." He paused for
the collective sigh of relief that passed through the still assembled crowd.
When it was quiet again, he continued. "But the fact remains that
un-permitted dueling has indeed taken place. Of that, I am certain. Whether it
was between Sir Cyrus and Sir Pendil or between Pendil and Sir Glenn with Sir
Cyrus being an attentive bystander, you three must face some form of consequence
for thy actions. Tonight, the three of you shall stand watch and take double
duty shifts. Perhaps a night without sleep shall serve as a reminder that rules
were not made to be broken, but to be followed as prescribed in the Knight's
Code." He let his words sink in for a moment and then said,
"Dismissed."
Seeing that no more action was to come, the crowd dissipated,
leaving the three men alone as the Knight Captain walked away. Glenn sighed and
bent to pick up his sword, something he had neglected to do earlier. Pendil
glared and looked like he wanted to foam at the mouth. "Well, this is just
great! Thanks a lot, Sir Hero!" he snarled, walking back to his gear and
flopping down on the ground beside it. "Why did you have to go and tell him
the truth? We could have all avoided guard duty tonight if you had kept your
stupid mouth shut!"
"And if you hadn't opened yours to begin with, this whole
event never would have happened at all!" Cyrus shot back with equal
ferocity. "If you want someone to blame, don't look at me or Glenn."
Part of him wanted to add, "You started it!" but he realized that
would have made him look just as childish. Instead, he turned his attention to
Glenn. "As for you, what by hell were you thinking?!"
"I...I..." Glenn began, trying to find the right
words. "I was only trying to defend the honor of the Queen and that of my
closest friend." But Cyrus made a sharp, cutting motion with his hand.
"That is no excuse! A lot worse could have happened
today besides being assigned a long watch. You acted rashly just now, and
frankly, I'm embarrassed to think I trained you. I taught you better than this.
Emotion is a good thing, but not when it clouds your thinking. Had you acted
that way against the Mystics, you'd be dead faster then you could blink."
"I'm sorry," the young man said softly. Cyrus fumed
a bit in the silence that followed Glenn's words before remembering another
topic to discuss.
"And I don't need you to defend me. Do you know how
embarrassing it was to stand there and listen to you plead with the Knight
Captain to let me off the hook? By doing that, you made both of us seem less the
men that we are. I'm old enough to take care of myself. I was doing it long
before I ever met you. I don't need a baby-sitter to shelter me all the
time."
Glenn sat down and picked up his bowl from where it had
overturned in the dirt. He regarded the mess silently for a few seconds before
tossing the dish none-to-gently into the wash basin for some unlucky squire to
clean later. Raising his eyes, he matched Cyrus' chilly gaze. "My duty is
to defend the Kingdom from evil, wherever it my lurk and in whatever form it may
take. Even if it means my disgrace, I shall never allow harm to come to the
Royalty or to my friends. Hast thou forgotten why we serve? Wilt thou allow such
things to be said against thee or thy Queen? If thou wilt not defend her or
thyself, then I shall do so, with or without thy consent. You may be the Hero,
but you do not control mine actions. I am sorry that thou has to suffer
punishment with me, but t'would not have happened had thou not interfered."
Glenn held up his sword for inspection, lightly fingering the edge to test for
sharpness, ignoring Cyrus' continued presence completely.
Cyrus watched him a moment longer before spinning on his heel
and storming away. Glenn gave one look after him that he didn't see. Now that
the Hero wasn't looking at him, Glenn let his real feelings surface once again.
Hurt and anger warred for dominance in his eyes, despite the pridefull set of
his jaw. This was the second major fight they had ever had. It seemed as if all
the grand illusions he'd had about Cyrus were being stripped away one at a time.
A strange thought struck him suddenly. It came unbidden to his mind and gave him
pause to think about it. Did he want a friend in Cyrus, or an idol? He suspected
that he wanted the former but was acting as if he wanted the latter. He had
always put Cyrus on a pedestal and with each passing day, the godly glow on his
golden image was wearing off to reveal the plain truth underneath. Maybe Glenn
struggled so hard to defend his friend because he didn't want any more of his
illusions to be swept away by cold, hard facts. He didn't want to believe that
Cyrus was just an ordinary person, like himself or any of the millions of Humans
alive on the planet. Cyrus was a hero, but in name and deed only, not because he
possessed some special, divine powers that separated him from everyone else.
Glenn knew, deep inside, that was what he had been looking for. He was trying to
make Cyrus out to be something he wasn't. No man on earth was a God, Cyrus least
of all. His power came from the heart and the goodness of his spirit.
Unfortunately, such goodness and strength of spirit was enough to keep Glenn
debating the issue. Shaking his head, he closed his mind to such thoughts and
continued to inspect his blade.
If he doesn't show up soon, Magus thought to himself, I'm
going to go mad from the boredom. He had already hummed every tune he had
ever heard in his life, repeated casting formulas to himself for his spells,
even played a dangerous game involving stabbing a knife between spread fingers
while his eyes were closed. Even that bit of danger grew thin and lost his
interest. By some miracle, he managed to survive the game with all fingers
intact. He was about ready to go scare up some harmless woodland animals to have
target practice with but chuckled that it was just too cruel, even for him. That
was when his keen hearing picked up the sound of something heavy and armored
moving through the trees in his direction. Jumping to his feet, he nervously
adjusted his gloves and flexed his fingers, calling a Shadow Bomb attack to
mind. It was one of the highest Tech spells he knew at the moment, having never
figured out how to duplicate his ShadowLance attack that had devastated Flea so
long ago.
Magus could see by the flicker of silver armor between the
trees that this was indeed a Knight. Whether it was Cyrus or not remained to be
seen. The magician waited in tense silence, resisting the urge to flex his
fingers. Such a move would only give away his position all the more. But his
fears were for naught as the Knight came closer and he detected the Hero's Medal
on the man's chest. Releasing his tightly clenched will and disarming the spell,
Magus relaxed. He assumed a more lighthearted expression from the scowl that
seemed to be settling permanently on his lips. As the Magus, he might frown, but
as Janus, he had to be a different person completely. Cyrus must not be allowed
to notice the change in his mannerism. "Greetings, Knight of the Realm.
It's about time you showed up," he said, letting his presence be known.
Cyrus jumped a bit, startled.
"Janus? Long time, no see." Cyrus' expression said
that he felt upset over something but he managed a cheery smile anyway.
"How goes it?"
"Could be better, could be worse," Janus replied.
Bending down, he picked up the bag of food and came over to hand it to the other
man. "Here, take this."
"What is it?" Cyrus asked curiously. His thick
gloves made it hard for him to undo the various knots that had been put in the
drawstring to keep it closed. But finally he won out and the treasures were
revealed. "Oh, Janus," he breathed, a look of true happiness crossing
his face. "Thank you!"
Janus couldn't help but share in the moment by smiling. He
was happy that he had made his friend happy. It made him feel good about himself
for a change. "This is just a small token of my friendship. It must be nice
to see real food again and not the common stuff they must feed you around the
campfire." A spasm of guilt flashed in the magician's eyes. "And it
belongs to your side anyway." That effectively brought down the moment and
they stood awkwardly, neither knowing quite what to say. Finally, the Hero
sighed and drew the bag shut, knotting the drawstring once more. He held it out
to the wizard.
"The gesture is noted and I really appreciate the
thought, but I cannot accept this. It wouldn't be right."
Janus narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What's the
matter? You seemed pleased five seconds ago and now you say you don't want
it?" A bit of Magus' temper leaked through. "Do you have any idea how
much danger I put myself in to steal that stuff and get it out here to
you?" Inside, a struggle was going on between his Magus persona and his
Janus persona. Anger, violence! screamed his dark half. How dare this
ungrateful twit decide not to accept my gift?! I'm risking a lot for him and he
treats me like this, with so little disregard? But his calmer, brighter half
was blocking the exit, preventing his dark side from springing to the surface. Before
you fly off the handle, try and see where Cyrus is coming from, it said,
fighting to hold it's wicked counterpart in check. The Janus side finally won
out and his darker half slunk back to the shadows to sulk.
"It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to
do for me," Cyrus was saying, oblivious to the battle of Light versus
Shadow that had waged briefly in his friend's soul. "It's just
that..." He trailed off. How could he explain? "It's like blood money,
Janus. It's something that your side won through a lot of bloodshed and lives
lost. When I look at this bag, I start wondering how many of my friends and
fellow Knights have died in vain to protect this food if you are now giving it
back to me?"
Janus scoffed. "Oh, come now. You're being utterly
foolish. Food is food. The people who protected the caravan that the Mystics
stole it from are dead. There is no changing that. Even if I took the food back
now, that wouldn't change anything. At least this way, part of what they died
for was worth while. By keeping yourself strong, you may one day get the chance
to avenge their deaths. Don't you think that their spirits would want you to use
this gift rather than let it go back into enemy hands?" His dark side made
snarky comments about stupid Human sentimentality but was beaten into cringing
submission by his light side.
"I suppose that is the truth, but it still makes me feel
guilty. I have other friends who are going hungry so it's unfair for me to
accept this. No, I'd rather stick it out with my men then to get special
treatment." Cyrus firmly placed the sack back into Janus' hands and stepped
back.
"Fine, if that's the way you want it," Janus said
with a shrug. "I think you're being terribly unreasonable about this, but
who am I to tell you what to do? You don't need me to tell you what's right or
not." Janus noted how Cyrus' face darkened at those words and he
immediately felt bad, though he had no idea why Cyrus might be upset.
"Was that all you came here for then?" Cyrus asked
before Janus could make any comments about his current emotional state. Janus
blinked and looked at the bag in his hands.
"Yeah, I guess so. I know that Lord Ozzie would rather I
spy on your army then help it, but I draw the line as to what I do in my free
time," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't seem to help,
though.
"Then you'd better get going. Patrols are due to be
heading this way right about now. If they saw you here with me, I'd have to
arrest you. That would probably lead to fighting and I really want to avoid
that."
"Me too. Killing people wears me out." Janus bit
his tongue as soon as those words were out of his mouth. Idiot! Why did you
have to go and say that? The snarky part of his brain snickered at his slip
and marked a point on it's invisible scoreboard. "Cyrus, I'm sorry. That
was uncalled for."
"Yes, it was," came the tight reply. "Now
go." The Knight began walking away, leaving Janus to do whatever he wanted.
Those words had hurt the young man deeply and Janus knew it. For the life of
him, the magician had no idea why he'd suddenly been so easy with his comments
when before he had been so closed mouthed about everything. Janus scowled and
teleported back to the Fort. He had been doing that a lot lately. In fact, he
reflected as he looked up at the uneven towers and windows, he could probably do
it in his sleep.
Sounds of metal clanging reached his ears. Magus looked
around but saw no movement in the recent vicinity. Following the sounds, he
circled around the side of the central tower and stopped to watch the madness.
Slash was waving his arms in the air, shouting commands while the Henchs he was
apparently training bashed at each other. "Keep that shield up! You should
have blocked that, you nitwit! No, no, no! Who taught you to fight? Your
grandmother?" Tossing his hands up in disgust, Slash made a growling noise
deep in his throat. "You're all hopeless! I've never seen a bigger bunch of
losers in my whole life! Take a ten minute break and then I'll show you just how
sword fighting is really done!" The Henchs groaned and fell over where they
stood, completely exhausted.
"I think you drill them too hard, Slash," Magus
commented. Slash jumped, startled, but then his look of surprise changed to one
of anger.
"I think you need to mind your own business," he
hissed, walking over to a table that held a variety of swords on it's surface.
The blue swordsman began sorting through them, testing the balance by swinging
them a few times in the air. "I don't need you to tell me how to train my
men. I've been doing this since before you were born."
"I know, and it shows," Magus nodded. Slash looked
over his shoulder at the young man, trying to decide whether he was being picked
on. But Magus kept his face neutral as he came to stand next to Slash. He hefted
an ornately built broadsword and grunted at the weight. Slash's mouth curled
upward in derision.
"You'll break your wrist the second you try and swing
that thing," he murmured. Magus gave him a contemptuous look
"Maybe an ordinary person would, but I have magic as my
ally." Casting a minor levitation spell on the sword, the heavy blade
suddenly became light as a feather in his grasp. Smiling, he handed it over to
Slash who turned it over a few times. The swordsman examined it closely for a
moment or two then suddenly swung at Magus' head. The blade clanged harmlessly
against the ever present magical barrier the magician had erected. Magus raised
one delicate eyebrow as Slash returned the sword to him. "What was that all
about?"
"I was testing the coordination between sword and
arm," the blue man explained, rubbing his shoulder. "You may have
managed to counteract the weight, but you didn't compensate for the force behind
it. You swing that thing and it'll drag you across the battle field. The worst
possible scenario is that you swing and it yanks your arm out of it's socket.
Inside, it's still a heavy sword, no matter what spells you cast on the outside.
That's the difference between magic and sword fighting. Magic is too easy while
the other takes muscle and skill."
"Whatever, Slash. It's not like I really care,
anyway." Magus dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. "So,
what exactly are you doing here with all these Henchs?"
"Night raid," Slash replied, looking over yet
another sword. "Ozzie asked me to drill the troops to get them warmed
up." Magus nodded, though his face showed rapt disinterest. He was
preparing to leave when Slash called after him. "Our esteemed leader was
looking for you, by the way. He wasn't too happy to find out you had run off
someplace without telling him or myself where you were going. What are you up
to, Magus?"
The magician sniffed. "I don't see that it's any of your
business what I do on my off hours. But if you must know, I was scouting. I told
Ozzie I was going to do so last night. I'm surprised he has such a bad
memory."
"It's not too hard to forget conversations with you,
Magus. You rarely say anything of importance," Slash replied, setting down
the sword and turning to lean against the table while facing the magician.
"I'll ignore that remark for your benefit. Ozzie might
dislike it if I bump off his only remaining lieutenant."
"Don't make threats you can't back up," the blue
swordsman scowled. "So, what were you really doing out there today?"
"Are you deaf as well as ignorant? You heard what I
said. I won't waste my breath repeating myself."
"Scouting, right," Slash said in obvious sarcasm.
"You might fool Ozzie with your show of loyalty, Magus, but don't talk to
me as if I were stupid. At least afford me that respect. You expect me to
believe that you went scouting with that big old bag? What's in there,
anyway?"
Magus grip tightened a fraction on the canvas sack he held
but he forced himself to open it so Slash could reach in and rummage around.
"See? Nothing illegal, just some snacks for me while I was out."
"Oh, please! You've got to be kidding me! You
can't possibly eat all this food by yourself." The swordsman's voice was
muffled by the cloth since he had stuck his whole head in the bag as well. He
withdrew himself and glared suspiciously. "I'd say that there is enough in
here for two people. It's almost as if you were planning to meet someone...and a
Human at that."
"Well, it looks like my secret is out. I'm having a
secret love affair with a wench from Truce." He had the satisfaction of
seeing Slash's mouth hit the ground and his eyes bulge.
"But...you...I..." the blue man started before
finally choking off in disbelief. At last he settled on, "With a Human?!"
"Why not?"
"Why not do a tree?!" Magus blinked and then gave
Slash an odd look. "I've heard of Mystics going for the exotic before now,
but...Argh! It's just sick, I tell you! Sick! Couldn't you have at least stayed
to something resembling your own kind, Magus?"
Seeing that his plan was swiftly going downhill, he sighed and
shook his head mournfully. "Some people are so intolerant," he said
with mock sadness. Slash made another sound that was half a gurgle of disgust
and half a cry of disbelief. "Don't worry your pretty blue head, Slash. I
was only joking."
"Jeeze! You have the nastiest sense of humor I have ever
come across. Ugh, now I have bad images in my head. I can never look at another
Human the same way again without a mental picture of you to go along with it.
Gross!" Turning to his men, Slash shouted desperately, "Break's
over!" As the Henchs reluctantly got to their feet, as he drew Slasher from
it's sheathe. "Maybe a good fight will clear my head...Think good thoughts
Slash, good thoughts. Flea naked! Flea naked!" Magus rolled his eyes and
shook his head, leaving the bag on the table with the weapons. He no longer had
use for the food and he knew that with a bunch of hungry Henchs around, it
wouldn't go to waste. With a heavy sigh, he went off to go find what Ozzie
wanted this time. Knowing him it could only mean one thing: trouble.
Magus stopped in front of Ozzie's private chambers and
carefully reviewed the lie he'd made-up about his whereabouts that afternoon
before walking in. While the dark magician had seen some weird and truly awful
things in his lifetime, he never once imagined he'd be seeing something like
this. There sat Ozzie in a big sunken marble bathtub that was set into the
floor. He had a bar of soap in one hand an a back scrubber in the other and was
surrounded by fluffy white bubbles. The site was too much and Magus busted up
laughing. Ozzie gave a shout of surprise and outrage before hurling the soap as
hard as he could at the young mage.
"Haven't you heard of knocking?!" the green Mystic
demanded as Magus easily caught the slippery bar with his rough leather gloves.
The young man's lips were twitching as he fought to contain another peel of
laughter that threatened to escape as he handed back the soap. Ozzie snatched it
back and it immediately shot out of his grasp and into the water with a small
splash. "Damn it to perdition!" Using a hand to grope for the elusive
bar, he asked, "Just what the hell do you want? Can't you see I'm in the
middle of a bath here?"
"Slash said you were asking about me," Magus
replied, seating himself on thin air as if it were a solid chair under him.
Ozzie finally located the soap and carefully began to lather up his backscrubber.
"No, I didn't. You said you were going scouting today.
You told me that early this morning. I may be getting old, but I'm not THAT old
yet."
"Hmm. Interesting," Magus murmured to himself. So,
Slash had lied to him. He was pumping him for information on his own. Or was he?
The magician's eyes narrowed as he watched Ozzie proceed to wash his back. It
wouldn't be the first time the green leader had been doing background checks on
his stories. "If you don't need me then, I'll go practice my magic,"
he said at last, keeping a tight reign on his temper. But Ozzie waved him to
stay seated.
"Wait a second. Since you're here, I might as well give
you your next assignment. I take it you know about the night raid we're making
tonight."
"Yes, Slash was kind enough to inform me about it when I
came back."
"I'm glad. I want you to accompany him out. I've decided
that since these hit and runs are working so well, I really want to go all out
tonight. I need your firepower out there to soften the Human troops up a bit for
Slash and the boys." Magus opened his mouth to protest but Ozzie glared at
him in such a way that made him think better of it. Powerful he might be, but he
certainly couldn't tolerate Ozzie pulling the "stern father" routine
on him, as he called it. "Don't even think about arguing with me. You made
me a promise that you wouldn't sass me when I gave you an order if I gave you
the library. Remember that?" Magus made a frustrated sound in his throat as
he leapt to his feet and stormed towards the door. Ozzie smiled after him.
"You can get the details from Slash on where to meet and so forth."
"One of these days, Ozzie," Magus growled
threateningly as he slammed the doors shut behind him. But the Mystic leader was
not upset by the flash of temper his fledgling was showing. He was caught and no
amount of wheedling would get him out of the deal they had made. Humming off
key, Ozzie lifted a foot out of the water and began scrubbing between his toes.
Meanwhile, in another part of the world...
Two children studied the sky from the mouth of their
cavernous home on one of the highest peaks of Denadoro Mountain. Their usually
carefree faces were streaked with lines of worry. Their eyes were old and wise,
thus proving that these were no ordinary little boys. Masa looked at Mune.
"Do you feel that?"
Mune nodded slowly. "The Winds are hushed. They don't
sing like they used to. What do you make of it?"
"I'm not sure. Something important is going on in this
land, something big."
Mune sniffed the breeze and wetted a finger to test the
direction it was blowing. "Is the war over do you think?"
"No. It's something else."
"What else could it be?"
"I don't know. I think it could be...destiny."
Mune blinked and gave his brother a sideways glance.
"Does destiny exist? Am I an unstoppable stream upon which mankind is but a
leaf caught in the current? Or am I a road with many paths and one may choose
the direction one travels of their own free will?" Mune looked proud of his
achievement of sounding mystical and philosophical.
"If you talk like Doreen again, I think I'm gonna sock
you," Masa snapped peevishly. "This is no time for word games, Mune!
This is serious."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"Am so."
"Liar! You are not!"
"I am too!"
"Not!"
"Too!"
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
The squabbling degenerated into silence for a few minutes
before Masa said, "I guess we'd better get ready. Our new owner is coming,
whoever that might be."
"Do you think our new owner will like to ride the Wind
too?" Mune asked curiously, cocking his head to one side. Masa smiled.
"That, we can only hope."
.