The Fenimeldiyaan: Rogue Time - Chapter 8

Ben waited patiently. He did not mind waiting for Will, but waiting here was not entirely safe. The men were still laying unconscious, and Ben suspected them to wake up any moment. When they woke up, they' surely ruin this fine feast Will was preparing. Ben bit his lip and then sighed. He might as well get rid of them.

It took a great deal of effort, but when Ben had finished casting the men to some other place in who knew where, Will was back. Back with a sack of food.

He laid it out on a rock, revealing smoked meat, several loaves of breads, freshly picked vegetables, jellied fruits, a bottle of wine, and several cheeses. Already the flies in the graveyard attacked the food in attempt to destroy it.

"Keep the bugs away," Ben said to the spirits lurking over his shoulders. He then dug into the food as if he were starving, which indeed he was.

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Iereth ran after Andreas, remembering him as the man who carried him before. Iereth was not sure where he was going, but he made sure to always be able to see Andreas's back. Whenever a soldier appeared, he prepared his sword, but Dorrie usually shot a blast of energy at them before they got within reach.

Somehow, every time she did that, though, he felt himself get tired. Maybe, the magical energy had another affect on those around the caster. Iereth wasn't sure. Thankfully, he was very good at keeping awake despite his exhaustion.

They soon reached the tower, only to meet several guards. This time, Andreas cast another spell, freezing them in their place. Iereth watched as the man broke down the door, and Dorrie moved past him, into the tower's cell.

Compared to these two, he was a novice at magic. He could not cast the simplest spell properly. Not in this environment. Sighing, Iereth followed the two to save the girl.

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There the dragon flew! It's red scales gleaming like rubies! Lias watched the dragon's fleeting form in awe. He then looked at the approaching men and hissed. They ruined his opportunity to converse with the dragon. Now, he had to track down the magnificent creature's scent and hope it didn't go off too far.

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Will didn't even want to ask where the sleeping men had gone. He devoured the food he'd--erm--relinquished from a random house. After he had finished, he sat back, sighing in contentment; his ribs seemed to be perfectly healed, giving him a feeling of relief.

The feeling didn't last. Now that his hunger was satisfied, he had to wonder where Rachel and Iereth were. Tucking his knees to his chest, he rested his chin on them. He still didn't even know where he was, but he was beginning to suspect that Ben had other people around him he could talk to--people Will couldn't see. And that made him wonder if Ben could help him. "Ben," Will said carefully, "I need your help looking for my friend. His name is Iereth Rivensteil." He proceeded to give Ben a thorough description of his friend.

He figured it would be easier to explain his friendship with Iereth than with Rachel. That was where it got complicated.

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River continued sobbing. She didn't even notice that the sorcery ward around her arm shattered as she watched her brother die before her eyes for the hundredth time, or that when she screamed silently, every piece of glass--including the windows in the castle--shattered into a million pieces.

Or, that, most disturbingly of all, the word "murderer" was etched into the wall hundreds of times.

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Dorrie waddled into the tower cell, her eyes wide as she stared at the walls. The glowing words still had remnants of River's power in them. Andreas pushed past her, going down beside River. She was curled up in the corner of the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was no reaction when Andreas touched her shoulder. Her skin was burning up, and she shivered from fever.

Iereth hovered next to the door anxiously. "We need to go," he said. "There are more soldiers coming."

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Elaine leaned her head against the tree she sat next to, closing her eyes. Now that she had a chance to breathe, to relax, she found that she couldn't. Elspeth was huffing, trying to get comfortable across from her, and horrible thoughts were plaguing Elaine. What if Andreas died? Or Gerald and Morgan? What could she possibly tell Elsa?

Still trying to hide her tears, Elaine didn't even realize that she'd fallen asleep.

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Gerald was hanging upside down. As if that wasn't bad enough, they'd chained him to the ceiling by his bad leg, making it ache all through his body. He couldn't even move--he was cocooned in chains, swaying slightly with every movement. A thin line of blood oozed down his arm, where one of the torturers had cut him with a thin and painful razor and told him gleefully that he could look forward to nine-hundred and ninety-nine more.

Gerald wasn't wonderful at math--not when there weren't gold pieces involved--but he knew nine-hundred and ninety-nine of anything was a lot. All this because he had been trying to do the right thing; rescue an annoying mage and a Carpathian.

Nothing he did ever went right. Now all the blood was rushing to his head and making it pound mercilessly. Sweat poured down his face, making his hair stick to it.

The only good news was that they had taken the gag off. Probably so they could hear him scream for mercy, he thought grimly. Whatever the reason, he knew he couldn't tell them what they wanted to know because he didn't know anything about Albion or Hindustan.

Which meant he could look forward to more wonderful and painful tortures.

Oh joy

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Morgan blinked. The ground felt odd beneath him, not hard and uncomfortable like he had expected. Sitting up, the first thing he saw was a sword pointed at his throat. That wasn't even the worst of it. He was in the middle of legion upon legion of Hindustani soldiers, all staring at him. At the point of the army stood the Rajah. "Jaek," Morgan growled, both with his mind and his voice. She had tricked him.

One of the soldiers went to grab Morgan's arm and haul him to his feet. The physical contact angered the mage, and he snarled at the soldier, flames erupting all over his body. The man reared back with a cry of surprise, and Morgan shoved his way through the crowd. Those unwise enough not to move out of his way got burned.

The men in front of the Rajah--about three lines of them--refused to move out of Morgan's way, in spite of the blazing heat. Morgan drew his rapier. "Rajah!" he yelled. "This is for trying to kill my friends." He hurled the rapier with deadly accuracy.

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Rachel felt horrible. She could barely muster the effort to open her eyes. Ramsey gently tilted her head up, giving her water, but she didn't really want it. There was a horrible knot in her stomach. She felt cold, though her skin was hot to the touch, and she was shivering uncontrollably.

She began to wonder if she might have injured herself. Rachel had never tried to use the magic on more than a few people; was it possible that she had overextended herself? She could hardly even bring herself to move from where she lay, wrapped in a blanket. A surge of affection shot through her. Ramsey barely even knew her, yet he was taking care of her like she was his own child.

It had been so long since she had felt a fatherly affection, and it brought tears to her eyes. She slipped her hand into Ramsey's, feeling too weak to do anything else. She wanted to say something--anything--but her voice wouldn't work. Her head swam.

For a moment, Rachel wondered if she was going to be sick. Then she drifted back into unconsciousness and could wonder no longer.

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Andreas smoothed River’s fevered brow, trickling small amounts of healing energy into her. Tears fell down his cheeks and soaked into his moustache. He recited a prayer cycle in his native Carpathian dialect, barely aware of Dorrie inspecting the glowing vestiges of River’s power which remained on the walls of the tower. However, Iereth’s urgent warning about more soldiers approaching jolted him back to full consciousness. He picked River up, cradling her tenderly in his arms, and hurried over to the door.

“I won’t be able to fly now that it be light outside” he remarked. “We’ll have to risk a translocation. I warn ye, with all the odd glitches in the equations and pathways of power, there be no guarantee where we’ll end up. If any of ye have a better idea for getting us out, let’s hear it”.

Iereth shook his head. Both men glanced over at Dorrie, who was attempting to absorb power from one of River’s glowing etchings. “I had no problems translocating” she declared triumphantly, giving a slight cackle, along with one of her trademark toothy grins.

“Alright then, so be it” Andreas said, taking hold of Iereth’s arm. “Dorota, ye’ll need to merge with me to get the pattern for where we be going. Then ye can translocate yerself along with us”.

Dorrie grinned and moved closer to the little Carpathian, intrigued by the thought of merging minds with him. “Friends call me Dorrie. And if we be merging minds, I’d like to think that I’ll be doing it with a friend”.

Andreas nodded and placed one hand on the side of her head, using the other to keep hold of the still unconscious River. He then initiated the mind merge.

Dorrie could not help feeling disappointed. The only thing which she could pull from the Carpathian’s mind was the translocation pattern for a patch of waste ground close to a small copse. His private thoughts and personal memories were locked down tight with a bewildering series of multi-layered fluid time equations which she could not hope to solve, even without the threat of more soldiers arriving soon.

She broke from the merge, trying hard to conceal her frustration. “I got it” she rasped. “I’ll see ye there”. Without waiting for the others, she translocated away.

Despite the fact that Dorrie had left before them, Andreas, River and Iereth arrived at the intended location ahead of her, and they were not alone. With them were an elderly woman in a floral robe and a rather attractive younger woman with red hair and silver eyes. They were all talking at once in animated, excited voices, mentioning names and places which were mostly unfamiliar to her.

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It was full daylight by the time Andreas arrived in the Hindustani Capital. The last part of his flight had been tricky and he had felt the power of his cloak waning when the first rays of early morning sunshine rose over the horizon. He had landed on the outskirts of the Capital, pausing only to get his bearings and reach out with his enhanced senses for any traces of Gerald’s and Morgan’s mind signatures.

Both signatures came from the direction of the Royal Palace. He pulled the hood of his worn-out grey robes over his head, obscuring his face, before setting off along the main road which led to the inner part of the city, where the palace was located. The Capital was a marvel with its elaborate architecture and wide, paved streets. The tall elegant spires on some of the buildings reminded him a little of the dazzling crystalline structures in the beautiful Southern Virian city of Shintillah. While he walked along, he sang “Happy Wanderer”, one of his favourite songs.

“So why not be a happy wanderer

Try it if ye dare

Be the fool in the ragged clothes

Live without a care …”

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In the form of one of the Rajah’s trusted advisers, Jaek watched the unfortunate Morgan, waiting for the moment when he unleashed his dark powers on the legions of fierce Hindustani warriors. The moment would come. It was inevitable. When it did, she could not help feeling surprised by the sheer force of the spell which he cast. The rotund sorcerer’s body burst into flames, burning anyone who came too close to him. He strode through the rows of warriors, anger radiating from him along with the intense heat of his mage-fire.

Jaek forgot to breathe for a moment when she saw Morgan raise his hand and aim his rapier at the Rajah, using it like a spear. She reacted immediately, using her Chronomage powers to full effect. Time seemed to stand still and the rapier hung in the air as if waiting for permission to finish its flight.

At that moment, Jaek’s concentration wavered, disturbed by a familiar and most unwelcome mind signature. How could he be here? He was in Albion, rescuing yet another lost cause. Skilled, resourceful and cunning though he was, surely even the devious little Carpathian could not be in two places at the same time?

Time resumed its usual course and the rapier landed in the Rajah’s bare chest with a sickening thud, burying itself deep.

Heedless of the flames, the warriors converged on the fallen figure of their esteemed ruler. In keeping with her role as adviser, Jaek was by the Rajah’s side in an instant, inspecting the wound and using her powers of sorcery to stop the flow of blood. She had not intended for Morgan to succeed. Clearly she had underestimated him.

When she looked up from tending to the injured Rajah, Morgan was gone, along with the mind signature of the wily Carpathian. Frustrated, she shoved two Hindustani warriors out of the way and ran to the palace to summon the Rajah’s Grand Healers.

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"What the...?"

Elspeth bolted upright, her spectacles nearly falling askew on her bony nose. From below, Silvereye began to stir, finally awakening from her age-old sleep. Elspeth gave her a pitying glance before eyeing the newcomers.

There was Andreas again - Elspeth didn't know or care whether this one was the original or the copy. He had arrived along with three people that Elspeth had never seen before. She narrowed her eyes, looking them up and down.

The first was a very short young lass, and she was draped across Andreas' arms, looking to be completely unconscious. Elspeth wrinkled her nose; she had no meat on her bones to speak of. She looked to be in her early teens, but was so skinny it was hard to tell her definite age. The girl's face was masked by a multitude of brown curls.

The second newcomer was a fair young man with dark hair and silver eyes. At this revelation, Elspeth glanced back at Elaine, but the two of them were different enough that the old woman couldn't tell whether or not they were related.

As for the third newcomer...

"What ye be staring at?" A rather plump woman demanded. She wore leather from her neck to her ankles, along with a shabby cloak. Elspeth was taken aback by the question; usually she was the first to utter such a forward statement. The elderly woman straightened her shoulders, adjusting her robe and staring the newcomer down. Elspeth could outlast anyone in a staring contest; dragons didn't need to blink.

"Elspeth," Andreas mumbled a greeting, bowing deeply. "Elaine."

Silvereye nodded, smiling at the people Andreas had brought with him. "Welcome back." Elspeth could have sworn she saw the traces of tears on Silvereye's cheeks, but she didn't inquire further. One's feelings were one's own problem, in Elspeth's opinion.

"Where've ye been?" The old dragon hissed. "We've been waitin' an' waitin'-"

"This be River Meer," Andreas broke in. "Ye heard me talking about her." The Carpathian smiled gently at the girl, brushing the hair from her eyes. "And these two be Iereth and Dorota."

"Call me Dorrie. We all be friends here." Dorrie glanced back at Elspeth, who finally broke free of her trancelike state to give a curt nod. Elspeth didn't care to shake hands; that was a human tradition.

"Pleased to meet you," Elaine smiled.

"Now, not to cut these introductions short, but River here be needing healing."

Elspeth glanced at the girl in Andreas' arms. "Don't look at me."

"We ain’t," Dorrie muttered, kneeling down as Andreas placed River on the grass in front of them. "Now, let's see what we can do."

The boy called Iereth took a step back, allowing Andreas and Dorrie to take the lead. Elspeth eyed him with suspicion. Maybe he didn't know magic, like she and Silvereye. Elspeth couldn't be sure.

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Ramsey frowned, gently lowering Rachel's head to the ground again. He'd bundled up his shirt to act as a pillow for her; a headache wouldn't do, not after what the girl had just done. Because of her, he was free of the net. Because of her, he hadn't been subdued and taken to the Hindustani capital.

The elderly dragon smiled tenderly at Rachel. Ideally, he should be getting back to Elspeth, or at least continuing his search for Elaine's friends. But there were more pressing matters at hand: Ramsey would make sure Rachel was safe, no matter how long he had to wait for her to wake up.

A sudden aura reached Ramsey's senses, and he recognized the telltale reptilian scent.

The snake-man. And he was getting closer.

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To put it simply, Iereth was rattled. River's cell reminded him too much of his own. The word murderer sank deep in his thoughts, stirring past memories of his mother's death. He wanted to help the girl and heal her, but he was too much at doubt. If even a trace of the magic cast on her were to rebound on him, he'd fail the spell. Again.

Iereth blushed, thinking of Will and Rachel. They needed to be found. He glanced at the other two who were healing River and then at Elaine. She had silver eyes just like him, and maybe, just maybe, she had similar magical abilities. In that case, she could be really helpful.

"Elaine, was it?" Iereth asked. The girl nodded and rubber her eyes, seeming a bit groggy.

"Could you help me with a spell? I just need you to remember the outcome... my knowledge will not do us any good."

"A spell?" The girl seemed doubtful, but Iereth was sure he could do this spell properly.

He stepped away from the others, bringing Elaine with him. Then, he closed his eyes and remembered the words. He opened one to quickly warn Elaine. "Do not worry about anything, and do not make a sound."

He then placed a hand on Elaine's forehead and breathed in deeply before he began the chant. At first, his voice was quiet as he said the words to prevent any backfires, consequently it was a curse that would turn both his and Elaine's hair purple.

He continued chanting, and his voice gained volume as the magic worked its way, creating a mental map in both his and Elaine's mind. Then, they found Will. On the border between Hindustan and Albion.

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Ben nodded. "Iereth Rivenstiel..." the name sounded strange, but it was more than helpful. Ben looked at the fatter ghost of the bunch, a gossiper in spirit, over his shoulder. "Find him."

The ghost bobbed her head before vanishing into thin air. Grinning, Ben looked back at Will and asked him several questions until finalky, the ghost returned with a wide smile, "He is in the capital of Albion, searching for his friend."

Ben nodded. "Your friend's in the capital of Albion... you don't wish to go there do you?"

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Lias slithered into the small clearing, coming face to face with a man. Lias licked the air and tasted the scent of power coming from this man as well as that flowery scent of the girl behind him. Grinning, he transformed into a human and held out a hand, a proper greeting amongst men so he heard.

"The name is Lias," he said. Never before had he been so excited to see another monster in a man's form.

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Elaine stepped back from Iereth, watching him carefully. "Did you do it?" she asked. He nodded, pulling at his hair and looking ruefully at the deep indigo. Elaine giggled, pulling a curl of her own to look at. "It's better than brown," she admitted. Then she tossed it back over her shoulder. "I'm glad I could help you."

Elaine walked back over to the others. They looked at her in surprise when they saw her purple hair, but nobody made a comment. The girl, River, was crying, and judging from her face, she had been crying for some time. It tore at Elaine's heart to see the young girl like that, and she knelt beside her as Andreas and Dorrie worked at healing her torn-up back. Stroking the girl's hot forehead, Elaine hummed a little, the lullaby her own mother had sung to her when she was a child. And that Elaine in turn had sung to her son, Joseph. The girl's tense body relaxed at the sound. It was as if the rest of the world didn't matter. The girl didn't even flinch as Dorrie and Andreas tended to her back. Slowly, the tears stopped flowing, and River relaxed. Soon, she was sleeping peacefully.

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Will crossed his arms as he thought. The Albion capital wasn't the best place for him, that was for certain, but what if Iereth had accidentally sent himself there and gotten caught? He grimaced. "I'll go if I have to," he answered. "Which I do." He picked up the remainder of their meal, stuffing it back into the sack. It was only when he set off that he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was or which direction Albion was in. He definitely didn't want to wander into Hindustan--he was so obviously an Albionite, he'd only get himself killed.

Turning back to Ben with a well-concealed sigh, Will added, "I think I'm going to need some help. My sense of direction is completely terrible, and I don't even know where we are. If you come with me, I can get more food along the way if we need it. Will you help me?"

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Gerald's situation had taken a turn for the worse. Something must have happened. The inquisitors were no longer cheerful and explaining. They had slashed Gerald's arms, legs, and torso numerous times, warned him they would be back, and left him alone. Blood poured down him, staining his clothes and dripping on the floor. It was ... uncomfortable, to say the least.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was in a great deal of pain. This was by far the worst position he'd ever found himself in. And what was worse was that he had no idea how to get out of it. The blood was rushing to his head, dizzying him, blurring his vision, making it impossible to think anything but, Andreas, why the devil are ye leaving me like this?

A sound. Even in the delirium of pain, Gerald heard it. He forced his eyes open, seeing a disoriented young man only a few feet away from him. Turning around and around, the boy's grey eyes finally settled on Gerald. Gerald's blood froze. He knew the boy. But it couldn't be ... could it?

No. He was dead. Gerald had buried him in an unmarked grave himself. And yet, the resemblance was uncanny. "Are you alright?" the boy asked, running a hand through his blond hair anxiously. "No, that's a stupid question. Here, let me help ..."

The boy reached for the chains, but Gerald jerked away. "No! Stay away," he growled.

"It's alright," the boy said soothingly, like he was talking to a wounded animal. "My name is Cliff. I won't hurt."

"Ye ain't real." Gerald's breath was coming faster. The boy's name confirmed it. "Leave me be!" There could only be one person who would bring Cliff back to torment Gerald. "JAEK!"

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Morgan was disoriented again. How many people were dragging him around via translocation? It was getting annoying. Looking up, he met the eyes of Andreas, concerned, friendly. Morgan dusted himself off as he stood up, unwilling to look Andreas in the eye. Then he remembered, his head jerking up. "You should be in prison!" he blurted out. But if he wasn't ... and he looked unharmed ...

Oh no.

Andreas looked confused, and Morgan grabbed his own forehead. If Andreas was here, and well, it meant that he had never been in prison in the first place. Which meant that Jaek had lied to him, and he had killed the Rajah ... in cold blood.

"Tis good to see ye, Morgan." Andreas's voice was quiet.

Did he know? Did he know how many times Morgan had tapped into his darkness since he'd been taken from the castle at Albion? Grimacing, he turned to Andreas, but the man was already speaking again. "This place be interesting, ain’t it?"

"I want to go home." Morgan's voice was dull. "I want to leave this cursed place and go back to Vordelle." He had to tell Elsa, had to tell her what Gerald had done. She deserved to know.