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Alixander Fey -> The Blade Reborn (5/21/2009 23:08:52)
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The Blade Reborn
Chapter 1
Aiden Vayne hesitated at the edge of the forest, sweeping his gaze across the vast expanse before him. To the south, verdant grass gave way to a sea of golden wheat. Eastward, far past Danbury and The Fork, towered the Blunberg Mountains, the home of the Wizard’s Keep where his brother and grandfather studied. North, he saw only the looming darkness of a storm.
A soft hiss, a low whistle, wafted through the air. Aiden glanced over his shoulder and spotted Daniel and Merek, two members of the Forest Guard. They wore cloaks caked in dirt and leaves, heavy with the stench of sweat and animal urine. When they saw him, their backs snapped rigid as their hands struck their hearts in salute.
“Captain Vayne,” Daniel said. “How goes the watch?”
Aiden smiled and returned their salutes. “I’m not on duty, guardsmen. I’m here to meet someone.”
“Your brother, Captain?”
“And my grandfather,” he said with a nod. “They’re coming back today.”
Merek nodded and shot a glance towards the forest. “Good luck, Captain. We’ll return to our watch.”
Both men smiled beneath their heavy cloaks as they faded into the forest. Aiden lost sight of them and returned his attention to the field beyond. He waited, desperate, hoping to see two robed figures at the edge of his vision, but none came.
Where was Marcus? And Grandfather? “Your letter said you’d be here hours ago!” he shouted to the empty field. Embarrassed, he glanced over his shoulder again to see if Daniel and Merek had heard him. The Forest Guardsmen were invisible against the backdrop of the Havenwood.
Fingering the blade at his side, Aiden paced across the border between the forest and the field. He could see the snaking trail of the Wizard’s Highroad as it ambled towards the Blunberg Mountains, but it was abandoned.
Drawing his sword, he carved a line in the dirt. His blade looped in a lazy ribbon, then rose from the sand to inscribe the likeness of a triangular six over the ribbon. He finished the symbol with two nicks in the open space in the ribbon’s loop. The strange glyph was a spellform Marcus had taught him on his last return home. The young wizard claimed the marks stood for the footwork and swordplay of an experienced soldier, and of total determination to win at any cost. With a flick of his wrists, Marcus had enchanted the spellform and made it glow.
Drawing the magic himself made Aiden uncomfortable at first, but after Marcus left he used it to remind himself of his brother. Sometimes he pretended he had the magic to use the spell.
He heard a rustle in the trees behind him and spun, raising the sword and kicking his feet to cover the spellform. Marcus would be displeased to know he had written it so openly.
The rustle in the trees grew loud enough that he knew it wasn’t a member of the Forest Guard. Still, he called aloud, “Merek? Daniel?”
No one answered. Instead, a woman stepped into the clearing, wearing a black, sleeveless dress that rose to the nape of her neck in a square collar. Her eyes locked with Aiden’s and she smiled, dropping the small cloth bundle in her hand and running into his arms.
Stunned, Aiden barely lowered his sword in time to avoid stabbing the woman in the gut. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to the base of his neck. “Aiden, why did you sneak out so early?”
Aiden stepped backwards, escaping from the woman’s embrace and straightening his armor. He bent down and met her eyes, intending to ask, “Who are you?” But when he met her gaze, everything changed.
Purple fire flaired in her eyes as she reached up to caress his face. Aiden understood; this was Shea, his wife. How had he forgotten? It must have been a trick of the light, or perhaps he had crushed a medicinal herb here in the forest and inhaled the fumes. Her fingers inched ever closer, and memories blossomed in his mind; their wedding, their first night together, their home, their friends and neighbors. Yes, of course. Shea was his wife.
Then her fingers brushed against his cheek, and a new wave of feelings flushed through him; immorality, depravity, infidelity. Her touch was wrong.
Why?
Before Aiden could reason the answer to his question, she rose on the tips of her toes and kissed him. “Sweetheart, you need to come home.” The kiss worked two magics at once; one washed away the feeling of wrongness, the other reinforced it. The first magic won out, and Aiden clasped her hand in his.
“What’s wrong? I’m waiting for my brother and my grandfather to get home.”
“I know,” she said in a whispered. “But you need to come home. The storm’s coming in, and I don’t want you caught in it.”
Aiden spun and looked behind him; indeed, the billowing column of grey clouds loomed much closer now than it had only minutes before. How could a storm move so quickly? Before he could voice his question, Shea grasped his hand again.
“And I got a letter from your grandfather!” she said. “I didn’t read much of it but he said he would be delayed. He wanted you to find something for him.”
“Well why didn’t you say that at first?” Aiden asked. Taking her hand, he strolled onto the
Wizard’s Highroad and turned towards New Haven. They followed the dirt path until they reached the outskirts of the walled city, where members of the City Guard let them through the gates.
Aiden Vayne and his wife sat in the parlor of their small home as the storm raged overhead. Curled before the fire, they shared a
dinner of beef and vegetables from their private garden. Shea kept her body pressed against his at all times, mumbling something about keeping her soldier warm in the rain. Aiden divided his time between the food and his wife; he found himself lost in her beautiful gaze. Something about the way she looked at him, the way she held him, the way she kissed him, hazed his senses like a drug. And like an addict, he refused to give up his drug. More than once she had to push him away to finish a sentence.
“Focus, my love,” she was saying as he pressed his lips to her neck. “The letter. You need to read the letter.”
Something snapped inside Aiden. Letter. Grandfather. Wizard. Of course. He reached over and snatched the parchment from her hand.
“My dearest Aiden,
“Your brother and I will be late returning from the Wizard’s Keep. We have spent much time researching several arcane subjects that many of my contemporaries dare not contemplate. Marcus misses you terribly, but our work is too important to abandon yet.
“It has come to my attention that your father left you something before his death. I no nothing of the item or its nature, only that your father had researched this same topic I now study, and that the item he gave you pertained to this research. It may be the key we are searching for, or it may be just another part of the puzzle.
“Since you lack the gift, I understand that your father might not have explained this item’s nature to you. But you must try to remember. I’m sure he gave it to you. He would have described the item as priceless and insisted that you hide it far from his sight and never retrieve it until direst need.
“I can assure you that the need is dire. Please, find this item that your loving father entrusted to you. He made a wise choice trusting you for its safekeeping, because I can feel through my spells of diving that the item is still hidden.
“If you can have the item waiting for my when Marcus and I return, I would be most grateful. Marcus is looking for men to fill his Wizard’s Guard.
Your loving Grandfather,
High Wizard Vayne”
Aiden dropped the letter and let his head fall to the wooden floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and contemplated the meaning of his grandfather’s strange words.
“Aiden? What does it mean?” Shea tugged at his tunic, pressing her chin against his chest as she spoke.
“It means Grandfather spoke to my father before he died and never told me. My father… he said I was the only one who knew
about the ah… item he asked me to hide.” Tousling his hair, Aiden sat up and pushed his plate aside.
“So this is for real?” Shea sat with him, keeping her body firm against his. “You really are hiding some powerful magic book or something?”
Aiden shook his head. “I can’t tell you about it. But… yes. My father gave me something to hide before he left for his final war. I hid it, and I’ve never been tempted to find it since.”
“Well, you’ve got to find it now. Wizard Vayne asked you to.”
Pausing, Aiden met his wife’s eyes. “I’m not sure I’m going to do what Grandfather asked.”
“Why?” Shea’s large eyes widened more with worry. “Why would you disobey your grandfather?”
Escaping from his wife’s firm grip, Aiden stood. He folded the blanket neatly and set it on the couch, then helped Shea to her feet. Gathering the plates of food, he led her into the kitchen and collapsed at the kitchen table, still holding the plates. “Because… Grandfather doesn’t know enough. He doesn’t know what my father told me about the secret I’m keeping.”
Shea slid into a seat opposite him. “And what did he tell you?”
Aiden laughed. “Foolish things. Wizard games. ‘It can heal our land, or destroy it.’ Things like that.” He paused and met his wife’s
eyes again. For a moment, he lost himself in her loving gaze. “Then he told me that the secret was for me and me alone. He told me never to tell anyone about it, even Grandfather.”
“Then how does Grandfather know?”
Dropping his head to the table, he reached forward and clasped her hand in his. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know. Maybe… my father had to get his secret from somewhere. Maybe Grandfather found information about it that predates my father’s knowledge.”
Shea ran her hands through Aiden’s hair. “Talk to me, Aiden. What is it? A book, a scroll, a spell?”
Her husband glanced up just long enough to meet her gaze. “I can’t tell you. I’m oath-bound to keep it a secret until I remove the item from its hiding place.”
“Oath-bound? As in, magic?”
He nodded. “I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. All I can call it is ‘father’s secret,’ or ‘the item,’ or even just ‘it.’ My father cast a spell that prevented me from revealing it’s identity until I pulled it from the hiding place I chose.”
“Well, let’s go find it! Your grandfather wanted you to have it by the time he arrives!”
Aiden grunted and gestured towards the window, where rain pattered against the window. “Can’t go treasure-hunting in this weather, can we?” He pushed his chair away from the table and returned to the parlor. Shea followed him, rubbing the tense muscles of his shoulder with the palms of her hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked when he stopped at the threshold into their bedroom.
Aiden sighed and placed a hand on each side of the door frame. He dipped his head to the floor and stared at his feet. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just not sure how to tell my grandfather I didn’t trust him enough to obey him.”
High Wizard Vayne stood on the front porch of Aiden’s house, staring at the very storm the Castle Guardsman thought he saw. He heard the creak of the door as Marcus motioned for him to enter.
“The doctor said we can see him now,” the younger wizard whispered.
Broman Vayne followed his grandson into the back bedroom. There, he saw his other grandson, Aiden, lying on the sweat-soaked pile of sheets and blankets some would call a bed. The swordsman’s muscled body heaved with every breath, betraying the torment torturing him in his slumber.
When Marcus, the doctor, and Aiden’s wife stepped away, Broman rushed forward and knelt by his grandson’s side. He placed one hand on each temple. Then, expanding his gift, he searched the man for traces of magic.
He found—not a trace—but a firestorm of magical power surrounding his grandson. The arcane strength forced Broman back, forbidding him even the chance to study it and discern its nature. He released Aiden’s head and staggered backwards, breathless.
“What did you find?” Marcus whispered.
“It’s magic,” he said. “But that’s all I can be sure of. I didn’t get a change to study it. There’s a gift-ward keeping my senses out.”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Marcus disappeared out the door. “I’ll find a spell to break the ward,” he called as he disappeared into other parts of the house.
Aiden’s wife stepped forward and placed a hand on Broman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Grandfather? Do you know what’s
happening?”
The High Wizard stood and wrapped the woman in his grandfather hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and wept. “I don’t know, child,” he said at last. “Someone’s cast a spell on him. That’s all I know.”
She pulled away and stared into his eyes, dazzling him with the sapphire intensity that had amazed the old man since Aiden had first introduced them. “Can you break the spell, Grandfather? Can you help him?”
Broman hugged her again and murmured, “I wasn’t promoted to High Wizard just to watch my grandson suffer at the hands of another magician. I’ll break the hex if I have to use every spellform in the Wizard’s Keep. I promise you.”
When she heard his words, she buried her face again and cried.
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