Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

The group shuffles around the twins, each casting nervous glances about. "So," the red haired girl comments, rubbing her chin and running her eyes over the sisters, "this is them."

                A slight chill creeps down the Leandra's spine as cradles her arms around herself. The air feels damp, tinged with ice even though there are more bodies.

"These are the famed Ink Mages we've been hunting, yes," Drakkor answers. He shifts his weight and makes some movement with his hands. Suddenly a roaring, heated fire blazes up in the corner. There is no fireplace or holder for the flames to go. They simply rest easily, sending waves of warmth out across the chilly air.

"What are you doing?" Leandra asks, fear springing into her voice. The calm the sisters have tried to produce is leaving each of them now, trickling in greater quantities each time a new facet in Drakkor's plan emerges.

The man called Aramis carefully places his hat upon his head. He casually walks over to the flames, peels back his long gloves, and warms his bare hands in the flickering heat. Hardly any smoke emits it. No one is panicking. No one is running. No one asks any questions. It is as if having a floating fire in the corner of one's basement is the most natural thing in the world.

"There," Drakkor announces, smiling proudly. "It's a bit warmer, yes." He flips his hair back impatiently, offering no clarification as to what is happening.

"He's a Fire Mage," Theodore explains, fidgeting with the large spectacles that have slipped down his nose. The new humidity in the room has made his wavy hair become frizzed. Several strands of the bronze mop have extended with heaviness. "He has control over the flames."

"Shouldn't you be more careful?" the red haired woman asks pointedly. "With your powers waning, we don't know how much control you actually have."

"Nonsense." Drakkor waves his hand dramatically. "I am in complete control."

"You shouldn't waste it," she argues.

"Maren, come now," Drakkor chastises, "where would the fun in that be?" He bends and picks Syd up off of Leandra's lap. He twirls the tome then hands it off to Theodore now, who nearly drops him. Through his spectacles, he stares down at the hollow indentations on the cover and Syd's winding mouth. "Open it," Drakkor commands. He now goes to stand beside the fire. Aramis moves back to the front of the room. A frown has broken his soft face. He glances at the sisters, catches Leandra's stare, then focuses on the ground. He begins fiddling with a gold chain around his neck that could not be seen earlier.

"We have the book," Aramis remarks, still looking down. "We should let them go and be on our way." When his head raises now, his brown hair falls back slightly beneath his hat. The heat in from the fire has plastered droplets of moisture near his temples. He narrows his eyes now as Drakkor comes closer once more. The mage wiggles his fingers and the fire shrinks slightly. He produces a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his tall forehead. Half of a geometric shape is embroidered in the pale fabric.

"Yes," Leandra agrees, nodding. "Take the book. Let us go."

"Leandra," Lorelle hisses. She tries to move her arms but cannot, held down by the invisible bonds Drakkor has implanted when they sat in the chairs.

"Look," Drakkor spreads his hands wide and shoves the handkerchief back where it came from, "I realize we got off on the wrong foot-"

"That's an understatement," Leandra interjects loudly.

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