Zephelia

“I know what I have done is wrong. I should have tried to save more. Yet, for this, it may not matter. We have magic on our side, and our King intends on having a peace treaty with our closest neighbors. We traded with them during his father’s reign, we hope that they will still be kind.”

“You don’t understand. Magic doesn’t matter. They’ve got it too! And numbers really don’t count for much. They decimated us the last time we tried to trick them into fighting us. What makes Dacre think it will be any different this time?” Rowan countered.

“Without them being able to, for lack of a better word, respawn, we could crush them. What destroyed you last time was that it didn’t matter if they died, because they could come back as many times as they were needed. The magic, us mages can handle. We will try and deflect the spells they cast with some of our own. Yet, before we do anything, am to take His Highness to Delorn and ask for assistance. We will be back before the night if all goes well.”

Rowan wasn’t sure about this, but Martin seemed very confident. But, confidence could blind people. Yet, he believed Martin had confidence because he believed it would work. Also from what Rowan had observed of Martin, his love of human life would not allow him to believe in something that would cause massive death. Especially after the last battle. “This whole thing was just to explain it to me then? There’s nothing I’ve got to do?”

“No. I just thought it would be better to get rid of all your questions, comments, and complaints before we started. Once the operation begins, we must be ready for immediate retaliation. Every second will count. Now, goodbye,” Martin said, and in a millisecond he was gone and replaced with a small orb of light that whizzed away from them and went to Dacre’s tent, before zipping back and zooming above the trees.

“Now what?” Rowan asked.

“oh, no. We are not going to get into the “what can I possibly do when I am so bored” conversation again. There’s got to be plenty for you to do. Go run and frolic or something," Lewis replied hastily.

“Fine. But I’m not going to frolic. That’s too girly and frilly,” Rowan said with disgust.

“I know, I know.”

“I’m going to go and be bored somewhere else, care to join me?” Rowan asked.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could take me back to Nathan. I think the bandage on my arm is getting a little loose. Go have fun pestering people, I’ll be done soon enough. How about you come back and get me around dinner time?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Let’s go,” Rowan agreed. He didn’t know why Lewis would want to stay cooped up in there. But, he didn’t want to push it. There had to be something he could do between now and dinner time. He felt the light touch of Lewis’s fingertips brush his elbow, and he walked off to the medical tent. He hoped Dacre had a plan for all the people who wouldn’t be fighting. There was no way Lewis could be anywhere near the fighting without being cut down. Maybe, if Delorn proved friendly, he could persuade Martin and Lewis to let Martin take him tot he city, along with anyone else in the camp who would be unable to join.

“Hey, Rowan! Lewis! You’re back earlier than I expected,” Nathan greeted them.

“i thought my bandage needed redressing. I was hoping you could fix them for me,” Lewis said.

“Yes. You can come back later if you want, Rowan,” Nathan suggested.

Rowan nodded and left, leaving his friend in Nathan’s care. He walked around the camp ground, but found nothing that really pricked his interest. The only people around here were those hand picked by Dacre because they would be of use to him later. There was no one to insult, unless one counted Kiro, but Rowan had no desire to go to him at this minute. Hopefully, he would be killed in the upcoming battle. But, he probably wouldn’t. From what Rowan noticed, the man was like a freaking cockroach. He just wouldn’t die. Sometime, that desperately needed to be fixed.

I am reading those Frankenstien books you told me about. They’re neat, not in my top 5, but good nonetheless. I’m on the third one. And the stinking things keep on crawling into my dreams, like two or so nights ago, Duecalion killed me, marking the first time I can remember dying in a dream.
—
“If your Highness wishes it, I can show them to what must be done. Explain it to them, and such,” the mage closest to Dacre asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that snuck in.

Dacre clenched his jaw, “I seem to have forgotten my stature. I am King. Even here, in this blasted forest. You have already been given a second chance… You’re lucky I need you, Ature, or I’d have hung you for your insolence.” ((Really. Really? That’s it. Gosh, you are retarded Dacre.)) He watched his words sink in. But, they did not. Rowan didn’t care. To him, what Dacre had said was that he could say anything he wanted, becasue finally, he was worth something.

“Whatever,” Rowan shrugged and followed after the kindly mage. They left the tent and went to an open feild behind the main tents. The grass was lush there, and there were no flowers. Just a natural grass field.

“Our discovery that was mentioned earlier,” the mage siad, sitting crosslegged on the ground. Rowan followed suit, and without grace. Lewis wobbly got to the ground too. “Was with great labor. In fact, even because of theat, none of us are entirely sure if it will work. Especially considering everything on the key points to the door of the Dead, whose proper name is most definitely not Doomsdoor, its Acyrpha. It takes its root cryph from what all the simple magicians call the Pure Language. But there is no way I’m getting into its real name. Far too complicated. Pure Language will have to do.”

Rowan yawned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I always seem to get on these tangents. Please, forgive me.” The mage stretched out his hand to Rowan. “Let’s restart things. My name is Martin. how nice to meet you.” He shook hands with Rowan then grabbed Lewis’s hand and shook his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Lewis grinned. “How do you do, Martin?”

“Very well thank you,” Martin replied. “Okay, now let’s get started, what do you say?” ((From here on out may contain incorrect information, and not enough of the right information. Bare with me until it gets reworked.))

“Yah, I guess. Explain it first though,” Rowan told him.

“We think we can move the door from the castle to here. Their leader won’t be in it, he’s out pillaging or something. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. All that does matter is that all the elements are the same. We’ll do it at night, you say it, and so on and so forth. Except, instead of caring about opening the door, becasue when it gets hereit will already be opened from last time, we’ll deal with closing it. That is the hard part. To keeep the door closed, the key must be destoyed. And, it must be closed from the inside. The one who does that will be stuck on the other side forever. We have no idea how to open it again, because once the door closes, it sinks back into the ground.

“The person to do that would have to be brave beyond all measure. We do not have a set person to do tit. So, do not think it must be you. Though, if you patronize Dacre any more, he will most likely have you both shoved in,” Martin explained.

“That doesn’t sound like fun…” Rowan said.

“Of course not. No one knows what the land of the Dead looks like,” Martin agreed.

“But, that won’t get rid of the skeletons that are already here,” Lewis mentioned.

“No, it will not. You are completely right. We’ll have to fight again.”

“We don’t have enough people though. You killed your own natives,” Lewis said, condemning Martin with no remorse.

“I know what I have done is wrong. I should have tried to save more. Yet, for this, it may not matter. We have magic on our side, and our King intends on having a peace treaty with our closest neighbors. We traded with them during his father’s reign, we hope that they will still be kind.”

“At least I am having fun,” he said lightheartedly.

“Whatever. Just eat your stupid mush!” Lewis told him.

Rowan quickly scarfed down his food and they gave thier plates and forks back to the chef who gave them a funny look the whole time.

Rowan took Lewis back to his own tent at the edge of the encampment. “They even gave me my own tent. Isn’t that kind of them?”

“Of course. Let me guess, it’s horribly ugly?” Lewis asked.

“Yep,” he replied. “Hey, wanna test the enchantment? I bet there might not even be one,” Rowan suggested. Doing something stupid and reckless was always more fun.

“Um, sure, I guess there is nothing else to do,” Lewis shrugged. Rowan was only mildly surprised by the answer. Since ther was really nothing Lewis could have been doing, it only seemed normal he would tag along.

Rowan was getting up when there came a whispering in his head. It was like an eel slithering through his mind. He put his hands to his ears in an effort to stop the intrusion, it did’t work. The voices came as soft hisses, sounding like a multitude whispering all at once. “Come, Rowan. It is time for your ob,” it said. He scratched at his ears.

“What’s wrong?” Lewis asked. “Aren’t we going to go check tis enchantment of yours?”

“No, I don’t…well, we still could. It’s just that I got this message in my head. It was really weird, and it wanted me to go back to Dacre and held with whatever I’m supposed to be helping with.”

“Should I be worried that you’re hearing voices?”

Rowan glared at him, “No.”

“Then, you should go then. I’ll come with you. This might actually be a good thing. At the least, we’ll listen. We can have a common enemy of the creatures, and then deal with Dacre once that’s done.”

“You are far too logical for you’re own good. I’d rather stay here,” Rowan muttered. “If you had said that about Kiro, I would have thought you were insane as well as blind.”

“No, I’m not insane. I’m quite positive both Dacre and Kiro will get what’s coming to them,” Lewis said with a feral smile Rowan didn’t believe he had ever seen Lewis use. before.

“Good. I guess. Now come on, let’s go and get this finished with,” and Rowan and Lewis walked to Dacre’s tent. “It’s giant and purple, and horribly oppulant. Stupid little flags too,” he mentioned to Lewis as they entered.

Rowan waited inside with Lewis following. Inside the room didn’t look like one thing had changes. The moral mage was there, as well as the impatient one. Dacre was at the head of the cluttered table and when he saw them, he waved them forwards.

“I didn’t call for two maggots,” he said pointedly, starring at Lewis.

“Then you should get rid of the fat pig over there,” Lewis retorted, pointing to Kior. Rowan waised his eyebrows, impressed by Lewis;s heigtened hearing. he was just now that he had tried to listen carfully, able to discern the creaking of Kiro’s chair.

“Ha! And I thought you may have had the makings of a respectable maggot. It’s always hard to find suc people among the scum they are surrounded by,” Kiro began. Rowan sighed, ready for a ling winded speech. He had heard they were unbearable. In fact, there had been a myth going around that someone had slit their own wrists while listening just to get away from it. “But, now I see that you will never be what you could have. Of course, that must be something that just you never would have been able to attain. As I told the scum standing next to you, you little vultures do not deserve sight. I am simply overjoyed by this turn of events with you-”

“SHUT UP!” Lewis shouted. Counting as probaly the seventh time Rowan had ever heard him get this loud.

Kiro just laughed, like metal grating against metal.

“Calm down everyone,” Dacre said, his eyes gleaming. It looked like he was ready to laugh at the proceedings, and only by extreme force was he not.

“I will do nothing if me and my friend are insulted again. You’ll have to go and find someone else.”

“There is no one else,” came a quiet reply from a scribe.

Dacre swiftly turned his head to the scribe, glaring. The scribe looked to his feet.

“If your Highness wishes it, I can show them to what must be done. Explain it to them, and such,” the mage closest to Dacre asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that snuck in.

“Then hold on. We’re already cookin’. Wait like e’eryone else.” And the cook went back to chopping.

Rowan led Lewis over to a fallen log not too far away from the kitchen. “That cook,” Rowan said, “he’s crazy looking. He’s got hair like a freaking lion, and a super red face. Then, there’s this little kid. Same red hair, puffy, super curly, and looks to the chef as if he’s some kind of god. It’s hilarious.”

Lewis nodded, grinning slightly. “I bet he would enjoy your description of him.”

“No doubts there. I described lion-man’s very essence. No one could be angry at that,” he said sarcastically.

“Let’s test that theory. What’s my true essence, hmm? And if it makes me mad, you’re full of crap,” Lewis smiled, “just like I always knew.”

“Am not. You, my friend, are a weirdo who would rather be inside reading books all day than go out with his friend and have a good time. Not that you’re not an all around good friend though, too,” Rowan said. That wasn’t Lewis’s true essence. Rowan didn’t think it was really possible to really sum up an entire person with words. Maybe Lewis could if he memorized a dictionary. But, for him, people were just too convoluted, and he didn’t have the vocabulary.

“Yep, you are full of crap Rowan Alevi. How did I ever become your friend?” Lewis joked.

“Come on! You can’t say that made you mad. I called you an all around good friend who should get out a little more. There’s nothing insulting about that!”

“You just don’t understand. Here. let me put it straight for you. Your description of me was that I should change me. Then you added a little compliment that was supposed to make it all better. Hell, Rowan, it didn’t. I’m crying on the inside now, you big jerk,” he pushed Rowan playfully on the shoulder.

Then, there was a great clanging, and both turned their head toward the kitchen. A magically amplified voice yelled out, “Lunch! Come ’n get it while its warm!” Magic? Rowan wondered, thinking of how odd it seemed for a chef to know how to use it, and on cue like that.

But, it was merely a passing thought, and he and Lewis walked quickly over to the kitchen. They were given a plate of food and a warning that if the plate was not returned when they were done that they would become the next course.

“It’s like some potato mush with…erm… looks like deer and some weird vegetable,” Rowan told Lewis, giving him a fork.

“Okay,” Lewis replied before eating.

They stuffed themselves. Especially Rowan who could only remember the last time he had eaten was when Trevis had gien him the apple last morning. He corrected himself, he didn’t even know how long ago that was, since he could put no judgement of time on how long he had been recovering from the poison.

When he asked for seconds, the lion man looked at him in the eyes. It began to get uncomfortable, and Rowan rubbed the back of his neck and said, “So..can I or not?”

“I don’t normally give seconds. You should be happy I am not used to makin’ food for such a small amount of people,” and he gave a mighty shake of his head. “I’ll give you more. Let me have your plate.”

With his steaming plate of seconds, Rowan sat across from Lewis again and said, “I’m special. He gave me seconds!”

“You’re such a little kid. Little things excite you far more than they should,” he said while trying to find a bite on his plate. He had finished mot everything, and only had a fwe bites left.

He grabbed his blankets and shook the dirt off them, then got back down to the ground and attempted to sleep. Instead he found his mind wander to distant memories. Old stories his mother passed down to him about goblins and elves, as well as when she had attemted to teach him how to sew. He recalled with a small smile the look of horror that infected his father when he had shown him what he had made that day with his mother. His father had marched straight to him mother and forbade his son from learning anything to girly, lest he be teased as a queer. Rowan hadn’t know what a queer was at that time, but it didn’t matter, for after his father had made the order and kissed his mother upon the head, all sewing lessons stopped.

Rowan chuckled softly to himself, knowing that somewhere in the back of his mind were all the knowledge he needed to sew rather well. No matter the manly things his father had taught hi to get rid of the skills he might have picked up.

Now that the nightmare was away from him, and in its place were happy memories, he found sleep no longer alluded him. He slept fitfully the rest of the night.

The next morning he went straight back to the medical tent to check on Lewis. He found him and the nurse talking. The nurse was describing the trees that stood guard around the tents, and really was doing quite a swell job at it.

Rowan came over, “Good morning,” he said to them both.

Lewis grinned, “Hey. I hear there was a beautiful sunrise this morning if you could see it from between the trees.” The nurse nodded, obviously having told Lewis about it.

“I wouldn’t know. You know me, if no one wakes me up, I’ll get up a few hours before noon. I was wondering if you wanted to do something today. It would probably be nice to get out of this tent, don’t you think?” Rowan asked, not that he reallly knew what to do, but it would be better than staying in there with the nurse constantly hovering over him.

“Sure,” Lewis replied.

“That would be good for him,” the nurse said also.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He didn’t care if the nurse minded or not. It wasn’t his decision anymore. And it wasn’t as if he was Lewis’s warden. “Good. C’mon,” he started to walk out of the tent, when he noticed Lewis wasn’t following him. He had shakily gotten off his cot, but he had not gotten any further.

The nurse piped up in explanation, “For some reason a remedy I tried only worsened his vision,” he was looking down at his feet. Rowan caught what he was saying. A attempt at stopping the sickness hadn’t helped one bit.

“He was only trying t help,” Lewis defended the nurse.

Rowan sighed and walked back to Lewis and the nurse. He glared at the nurse, “Well, he should try harder next time.” He took Lewis’s arm.

“No, no, I can walk on my own,” Lewis shook his arm out of Rowan’s hand.

“Okay then, show me,” he said skeptically. He walked slowly towards the exit. He felt a light touch on his arm, above his elbow. He barely noticed it. He stopped and turned to Lewis, impressed.

“See? Nathan showed me. I could have followed you by the sound of your footsteps, but I haven’t gotten enough practice in that yet,” Lewis said, his pride for himself completely evident.

Nathan, the nurse, partly redeemed himself then. But it still didn’t change anything. “That’s really neat.”

“Thank you,” the nurse said. Nathan, is what his name is, Rowan reminded himself. “My yonger brother is, well was, blind. He started doing that when he was young. I figured I’d show Lewis.”

“Was?” Lewis asked, worried. “When did he die?” he asked, as if he already knew about Nathan’s brother. He probably did, Rowan thought, they had spent a lot of time together being chummy. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t jealous.

“Think about it Lewis. Dacre only brought the people that would be needed. I was lucky to even be brought along,” Nathan spoke sadly.

Lewis nodded, “Of course. How foolish of me, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Now, go on. Have fun. But it you open that cut on your cheek again, I am not going to be happy,” Nathan admonished.

“Okay. Let’s go Rowan,” Lewis said, walking when Rowan walked.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” Rowan said once they were a safe distance from the tent.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous!” Lewis exclaimed incredulously. “I’m only being kind to him because he was kind to us. You never know, he may be our ally if it comes to it.”

Rowan laughed, a little uncomfortably. He did not think he was that jealous. But, if he was, he’d have to knock that off.Lewis was right, he could be a potential ally. “I’m not jealous. I wish you could have seen I was smiling while I said that.”

“You’re lying.”

“Rowan sighed, “Okay, I was. Sorry. I’m not going to make any excuses.”

“Good, because I won’t take any. Take me to the kitchen please. I’m hungry.”

The kitchen was not in a tent, as it would have been a fire hazard, and a big fire in a forest was never a good idea. The chef was a rotund, red faced individual with fiercly curly red hair. At the moment he and a young boy were chopping potatoes in preparation of lunch.

“Hello..We’d like some food,” Rowan siad. At first, he was unsure of what the right thing to say should be, but in the end, he found nothing to say. He favored being direct anyways.

The cook looked up, he leaned the blunt edge of the butcher’s knife on his shoulder. “For two?”

“No, for ten,” Rowan whispered to Lewis. Lewis chuckled. “Yes, please,” Rowan told the chef.

“Then hold on. We’re already cookin’. Wait like e’eryone else.” And the cook went back to chopping.