Chapter 17-Love
Irgen jumped, as he felt
a cold hand press against his face. He
opened his tightly compressed eyes, to gaze at this newfound disturbance. A blurry picture of a large white object
appeared in front of his face. He
blinked, clearing his eyes, and found the object to be a hand. It withdrew itself as he eagerly sat up. He looked around and found that he was under
crisp, clean, white linen sheets. Around
him he noticed a couple of other beds with the same white sheets, although he
could not tell what was in them. And in
front of him, was a great crowd of people, but the most familiar to him, and
the one to whom the hand belonged, was his mother. A feeling of relief flooded him. He had only had a dream, a mere nightmare,
now he was safe.
“About time you woke
up. We’ve been waiting hours for you two
to wake.” Jennifer smiled; she was
unable to conceal her happiness that he was ok, in her playful reprimand. He looked at her and questions flooded into
his mind.
“What happened? Did we win?
How did we get back here? And
where is here? Is Idus alright?” His exuberant attitude towards the questions
died down as he pensively asked the last one.
“Hmmmmm…Well that’s a lot
of questions, but to start with the last one first. Alright.
Idus is… Well, to tell you the
truth we don’t know how Idus is. His
condition is stable, he is breathing, and he has a pulse, but…I am afraid he
has done something which no other mage has ever done before, and he is paying
dearly for it.” She looked at Irgen with
a depressed dejected face. “We do not
know how he even survived this long.
Although, I think you may have the answer to that.” She looked thoughtfully at him before
continuing. “As for your other
questions, you are on the fifth floor of The White Citadel. It is what we use primarily as our hospital
wing. You are here because we carried
you here along with the other wounded.”
Her eyes moistened as she said this.
She sniveled before going on.
“We did, how did you word
it, oh yes, win the battle, if you can place a victory sticker on any loss of
life. And, to tell you what happened… Well, maybe you should ask your father.” She turned and Irgen’s eyes bulged. Before him in the crowd of people, was a tall,
familiarly handsome man.
He looked to be a couple
inches taller than Irgen. He had Irgen’s
dark brown hair, but his eyes were the same as Idus’. They were the same deep blue, but in them was
a look of unfathomable agony. A strong
prominent chin was the only remaining testament to a smooth handsome face. His cheeks had gruesome cuts and what looked
like burns in them. He had large black
shadows around his eyes. Irgen felt a
shiver go through his body as his father suddenly reached for him and showed
his grisly arms. They too were deformed
in an inhumane manner. Deep gashes
plagued his skin, and where the hair on his skin once was; only little red
spots of blood remained. It was André,
Irgen’s father.
As the hand reached for
him, Irgen shrunk back in revulsion, but then a feeling of pity came over
him. After all this was his father. He looked at him and somehow, at that moment,
he found love for a father who had never been there for him. He looked at that poor, wretched soul, and he
found compassion enter his stiffened body.
André’s calloused hands touched his, and he felt a bond begin to grow
between himself and his father.
A graceful smooth bass
voice rang out. Irgen thought it was a
lot like Blackington’s. “My,
Son...” His father stopped, unable to
continue. Tears flowed down his scarred
cheeks as he gazed at Irgen. Irgen
brushed a hand over his face as he felt wet tears run freely, down his own
face. The room was utterly silent, as
the pair gazed at each other for a long time.
Then Irgen reached out and the two hugged in a tight embrace. An embrace, which Irgen had never felt, from
a father he had never known. Sobs broke
the silence at this touching show of affection.
After a long moment they
separated, and André cleared his emotional throat. “Irgen, there are few instances in which what
needs to be said, has already been said, but I deem that this is one of those
times. Forgive me if my simple greeting
did not seem eloquent or indeed, adequate for the moment, but all too often
life is built on the simple things of life.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He slowly opened his eyes as he spoke
again. “You have asked for the one thing
which I am loathe to give you. I cannot
tell you my arduous tale until I understand yours… Irgen, what happened tonight between you and
your brother?” He looked searchingly at
Irgen beneath his half opened eyes.
Irgen looked back
dumbfounded. All the memories of the
past night flooded back to him. He
thought of the fight. He thought of his
brother’s fury, and finally he thought of the strong link between the two of
them. “I don’t know what happened.” He said quietly. “It was as though the two of us became
one. I-I felt as though I shared his
energy, and he shared mine.” He looked
confusedly at André.
“Hmmmmm…” André looked at Blackington with raised
eyebrows, before addressing Irgen. “Do
you know what Idus did tonight?” Irgen
shook his head, “he conjured something so terrible that it was sucking his very
life energy dry… He conjured a lightning
bolt, and worse than that he conjured one to kill two people. You see Irgen; you two are conjurers, while
everyone else in this room is a mage…”
He hesitated, pondering what to say next. “We, were all like you at your age… although
less than you… There have been many
strange events occurring over the past few years which we have had no
explanation for, and not the least of these is you two.” His eyes began to glitter as the sadness
began to leave them.
“I will explain later when
Idus comes to, as I’m sure he will, now that I have heard what you said. You see Irgen conjurers like yourself have
one element which is bonded to your very life.
You have fire running through your veins, while your brother has air,
and more particularly lightning. Every
other Knight except you and your mother, have water, while your mother has the
power of the earth in her veins. It is a
long tale as to why this has occurred, but all will be explained later.” He gazed at Irgen as though trying to infuse
him with patience. He sighed as he saw
how keenly Irgen was paying attention.
“Conjuring is a very hard
art to learn, most study their whole lives and never find a way to truly
control their element. You see,
conjuring takes strength from inside of you.
You have heard, no doubt, about the laws of conservation of mass and
energy. Conjurers do not have the same
laws. They are different in their very
make up. You see, Spartans have found
that when a tiny nucleus of an atom splits, an enormous amount of energy is let
off into the atmosphere. The energy
released equals mass times the speed of light squared. Now with conjurers it is…Well…Different.
Conjurers do everything
in terms of energy. They can use a tiny
amount of energy and create an object with immeasurable mass, but in order to
create an object with a huge amount of energy, a huge amount of energy is
required to create it. For example, I
can fill the whole castle grounds with water and not even break a sweat. This is possible because only a small amount
of energy is required to control something that already exists, but a lightning
bolt is an entirely different matter, because you are transferring part of your
own energy outside of you. You are not
just exerting force within your body and using energy. No, instead you are getting rid of it
entirely, you are pushing it outside of your body, and this in turn creates a
drain on a person’s body.
Few can withstand the
physical drain on their bodies. That is
why it is so amazing that Idus is still alive.
There are very few Lightning Conjurers in the world today because of
that fact. They stretch themselves too
quickly and end up paying the ultimate price.
Their energy leaves them, and they kill themselves.
“But if that’s the case,
then why is Idus still alive?” Irgen
interjected.
“Don’t you already
know?” Thomas exclaimed incredulously
from the background. “Dear me!” He said as he scratched his chin. “It has to do with your link of course. You said it yourself; you said it was like
you were one. It seems that you shared
your own energy with your brother. You
saved him.” His last words rang out,
creating a hollow silence. André finally
broke it with a whisper, although it seemed as though he was talking to
himself.
“Yes, and it is an
incredible feat. I have never heard the
likes of it before. You two are truly
remarkable. Neither of you are sixteen,
and yet you can both use magic. This in
itself would be extraordinary, but there is more. This…This link allows you to perform deeds
that would be impossible for any other mortal man.” He gave Irgen a scrutinizing look. His eyes dug through his soul. He squirmed beneath the glare. After a while he got to a point where he
couldn’t stand it anymore. He let loose
the one idea which had been threatening to burst inside of him since his father
had started speaking.
“But I don’t feel
extraordinary!!! You said it yourself
you’re all “Mages” and I’m only an insignificant conjurer! Why are we different! Why are we Special?” He finished with an earsplitting scream.
André relaxed his glare
and his war-torn face broke into a smile revealing glittering, brilliantly
white teeth. “All will be told in time,
Irgen. Do not get frustrated with
me. But in order to begin we need Idus
to be awake. Besides I think enough has
been said tonight. Eat, and regain your
strength. Tomorrow is a new day.” The crowd got up and left as food appeared
magically on a table beside Irgen.
The last one out of the
room was Jennifer. She looked at Irgen,
and he heard a voice in the back of his mind which uncannily resembled
hers. “Irgen, get some good rest. Remember patience is a virtue.” And with a flick of her black hair she disappeared
out of the doorway.
Frustration swept over
Irgen as soon as everyone left, why couldn’t he ever have the answers? He had been swept into this world of wizardry
forcefully; his very brother’s life was in jeopardy, and yet he did not know
anything about the world he was in.
Thinking thus, his thoughts were interrupted, and Irgen began to feel
famished. Hunger swept over him as he
eyed the food next to him. His
mouth-watered as he looked at a huge slice of juicy prime-rib lying on his
plate. Next to it was a heaping pile of
mashed potatoes and gravy. He ate the
heavenly food hungrily and drank from a glass of water which, no surprise,
magically refilled itself.
When his hunger had been
finally sated, he decided to go and examine the rest of the beds. To his left was Idus’ bed but to his right
was a row of other beds each with someone in them. The first two beds contained two of the
Knights who had slept with them the night before. They were either soundly asleep or unconscious,
Irgen couldn’t tell which. The man Thomas
had called Harold had a large bandage tied around his forehead, where he
appeared to have been struck. The other
man’s leg dangled in a sling holding it above him. It was thickly bandaged with a hard blue
substance. Irgen looked at it for a
while before something caught his eye in the next bed. Something dark stood out against the soft
pillow. He walked towards it, intrigued
at what it might be.
Before he knew what he
was doing he was reaching for the covers.
He pulled it back and gasped as a gorgeous, young, slender woman was
revealed. She was wearing a long white
gown which clung to her slender, shapely figure. Her silky black hair was draped sleekly over
her well-formed shoulders. Her closed
eyelids augmented her attractive soft face.
Pretty black eyelashes extended from her face at an exquisite
angle. She was the most beautiful woman
Irgen had ever seen.
All of a sudden, Irgen
felt out of place. His movements seemed
strangely klutzy. He had always thought
his movements were uncommonly graceful and smooth. But now, as he looked at this stunning woman
before him his feet turned to lead. His
nervous system was breaking down before his very eyes. He lifted his lumbering arms upward and found
that his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
Hurriedly he lifted his now club arms and smelled himself. The fragrance of fresh rain filled his
nostrils. He calmed down a little, and
sighed with relief. He must have been
washed while he was unconscious.
He looked up, and it was
only then that he noticed her irregular breathing. Indeed, now he noticed her lips were pale
purple. He surveyed her, now looking at
what could have caused this. As he
looked, he found to his horror a large bandage covering her right side. Not knowing what he was doing, he reached for
the bandages, but he never got to them, because at that moment footsteps
sounded threateningly behind him, and he heard a deep voice say. “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”
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