The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

Chapter 8

For now, he wished to be alone with his thoughts, but he couldn't risk offending the Halfling. He sat next to her, patting her back. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. Perhaps, he already has a sweetheart."

Janessa's eyes widened. "I never thought about that. But he's much too young for that. He's only eighteen."

Mern fought back a smile. "But wouldn't he be too young for you, then?"

Janessa wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Of course, not. I look younger than him."

"Ah, I see. My apologies, I didn't think it through." Young love, he mused, what a pain in the ass it was.

"Of course, if there is another woman that would explain a lot." Janessa's face changed from one in thought to one of action. "I got it!" She leapt off the bed and ran for the door. "Wait 'till I tell Viola!"

In her haste, Janessa almost forgot about Mern. She turned back to face him with an embarrassed look on her face.

Knowing what was coming, Mern waved her off with a smile. "Go on, indulge yourself. Oh, could you tell Viola I'd like to see her in about an hour for her studies?"

Janessa smiled. "Sure thing. She's probably done with her books by now." Without another word, the door closed behind the Halfling leaving the old man alone with his thoughts.

Through magical means, not entirely his own, Mern managed to outlive even the longest lived Elves by nearly fifty years while keeping his own faculties. Never one to trust his fate to the abilities of others, it took him some time to trust in a spell he came across four hundred years earlier. The mage was about Viola's age and Mern was about sixty then, maybe a little younger. He couldn't remember his own age after all these years.

Try as he might, Mern couldn't remember the mage's name, but the spell the young man created was a masterpiece. Mern heard of the young man through several of his peers as a mage with a reputation as a scholar with limited ability. It'd been the first moment Mern ever knew of where a mage with limited power had developed such a powerful and useful spell.

Curiosity is a terrible temptress as it's capable of swaying even the stoutest of hearts along the path of their destiny. While he believed it couldn't alter one's preordained path, Mern was a firm supporter that it was there to make one's life hell. That was how he held his greatest weakness: as an annoyance to be treated with as much contempt as one could sustain. After all, it was curiosity that brought his attention to such a spell. A simple traveling spell that, if done correctly, would allow the user to travel to other plains of existence. It was believed time flowed differently on other plains — in some, an instant could equal years in their current one. Mastering such a spell would allow one to become immortal. He only had to be on that plain for mere moments as needed.

Escaping the ravages of old age and death had a certain appeal to Mern. He saw friends and colleagues whither and die. It was a fate that caused one to question their faith in another world, an afterlife, as some called it. No, Mern liked the world he was in, and he was wiling to do whatever it took to remain there. With that thought process, he sought out the young mage.

The trip hadn't been difficult with the ice and snow of winter nearly gone. Paths and roads that were impassable just a month earlier were open to travelers. Spring was always Mern's favorite time of year as the land renewed itself, much like a child learning to walk. Before too long, it'd grow into something entirely different. Until then, he intended to enjoy himself. He could still smell the roses and tulips he passed on his journey; entire fields of them in some places where they could grow wild without the threat of humans plucking them to showcase their beauty. Such a wonderful time of year to begin a journey, one he believed would lead to the grandest gift of all.

Mern remembered the joy he felt while making his journey. In fact, everything passed quicker than he wished during his trip. With one to two hundred souls living in the farming village of Feloria, the village wasn't used to seeing travelers. He'd been surprised to hear of a mage in such a small community in the middle of nowhere, but despite his questions, he wasn't one to turn down an opportunity provided to him.

The young mage had been discovered by another traveling magic user — one of the white robes believing it his duty to inform others of a young upstart claiming the impossible. Being the highest of his order, the white mage insisted it was impossible for a low level brown robed mage to cast, much less create such a spell. Mern had pointed out the boy either was apprenticing to a powerful archemage or he'd been misled by one of the elders. Upset at having his opinion challenged, even so politely, the white robed mage left Mern alone and retired to his room. Mern, of course, ignored the huffing display by the indignant mage and weighed the possibilities. Surely, a lad such as the one described to him had a powerful master. Mern simply refused to believe such a story was made up no matter how incredulous it sounded

Those memories, as well as others, swelled in the old mage's mind while he sat in his room. Strange, he thought, that I can remember every detail except for their names. Why did the names of both magic users elude him so? Irritated, Mern shook his head and laid down on the soft bed for a short nap. He decided it wasn't important and closed his eyes. Even as he drifted off to sleep, the village of Feloria took root in his mind and he began to dream.

Author's Note: Hope you're enjoying reading. See you next week for chapter 9. :)