Wielder of the Flame by Nikolas Rex Page A

up from
her embrace.
    “And you,” Her voice was grandmotherly and kind, “You must
be Marcus.”
    He nodded.
    “Come here,” She motioned for him to draw nearer.
    He didn’t know what to do so he stood there frozen for a
moment.
    She motioned again.
    He drew close and she embraced him.
    He felt comfort and warmth. He could not remember the last
time someone hugged him. He felt safe, protected.
    “Soren has told me everything. You are more than welcome
here.”
    She hugged him again.
    “Thank you,” was all he could say back.
    “None of us know what it means.” Soren broke in, referring
to the conversation he had been having with Eleanor before the boys had come
in, “But I believe that I may be able to find some answers, I have some things
I need to do as well, that is why I must go.”
    Soren stood up from the table and pushed in his chair.
    “Where are you going?” Zildjin asked.
    “To Belwick,” Soren replied.
    “That is where you grew up, right?” Zildjin said.
     “Yes, I grew up there. My father is the Curator of the
Kinyrr and Shadowhand Library, if there is anything written of those beings who
appeared to us, and of your appearance here, Marcus, than my father will have
read it, I am sure of it.”
    “You do not mean to leave this moment, do you?” Eleanor
asked.
    “I mean to leave at first light,” He replied, “I must put
some things in order at the docks, close it up, then I will be ready to sail on
the morrow.”
    “But you have just arrived from such a long journey, and The
Gathering—” Eleanor began to protest.
    “—will be a fine celebration I am sure,” He said soothingly,
“But I feel this is something that should not wait. They were beings of ancient
magic Eleanor, as impossible as that may seem we saw them with our own eyes.
And Sesuadra had dreamed of Marcus before—” He finished as if he himself could
not believe his own words.
    Sesuadra and Zildjin nodded as Soren spoke.
    Eleanor nodded as well, “It is hard to believe,” she paused,
recalling an old saying from her childhood, “but, by the mouth of three shall
the truth be as stone.”
    She looked Zildjin and Sesuadra in the eyes, ruffling their
hair with her grandmotherly hands. Then she looked at Marc.
    “You boys are in need of a wash.”
    Soren smiled, “They are indeed,” he stated.
    He came over and embraced Eleanor, “Stay well Eleanor,”
    “I will,” she replied, “Travel safely, and take anything you
need before you go.”
    “Thank you for your generosity,” He said, taking a step
back, “You boys take care of Eleanor here.”
    “Yes sir,” they replied.
    Soren bowed his head and waved a final goodbye as he retreated
through the rear doors.
    Eleanor turned to the boys.
    “Zildjin and Sesuadra, I have some things for you, but not
until after you have washed up. Zildjin, to the wash first. Sesuadra, how about
you show our new guest around the shop until Zildjin finishes? Then you can
wash up. Then Marc, I will try and find you some clothes while you get cleaned
up.”
    She rubbed the fabric of his shirt between her fingers, as
if unimpressed by the quality of the fabric and handiwork. She nodded her head
in a way that said, not to worry child, I will put this right.
    Sesuadra headed towards a main hall while Zildjin headed
towards one of the rooms. Eleanor followed Sesuadra and Marc.
    Sesuadra pushed open two large wooden doors at the end of
the hall. They entered into a small crowded room with a smaller door. The room
had a desk and a few chairs, some more bookshelves filled with rolled canvas,
books, and ink wells and quill pens. Two windows lit the room. They opened
another door at the opposite wall and walked into the reverse side of a
storefront. A counter was in front of them with the rest of the store filling
the large room beyond.
    Inside it was dim, the only light shone through a few
windows high on each wall, but mostly from the main stained-glass window,
casting everything in