It was by far the worst storm Miklos had ever set his eyes upon.
In a manner which completely baffled him, streaks and razor-sharp arcs of lightning rained down from the sky akin to an enormous blistering downpour, and every simultaneous thunderclap that followed had him jumping out of his skin in fright. If Orichon's members were alarmed by the frenzied weather ravaging all around them, they gave no indication whatsoever. The spontaneous booms and crackles weaved their way into conversations and dissipated, no more than ghostly whispers in the shadows of passageways.
Most disconcerting of all, was that the swift change in weather came without warning, and it occurred to Miklos that anyone caught outside could very likely meet a shocking, electrifying fate. He tried not to dwell on that thought.
A little while ago, Miklos's appointed babysitters had given him a speedy tour around the first level of the guild, displaying their utter lack of ability to stay still for more than a few minutes. They had bulldozed him from one area to another, covering the circumference of the volcano in less than the amount of time Luca would have required to hurl a string of insults at some poor, unfortunate soul.
The general layout of Orichon, however, was simple and straightforward enough. With the dining hall set firmly in the middle, everything else faced and surrounded it along the basalt walls - sparring arena, kitchen, armory, and a rather large storeroom with an odd collection of furniture and items he was warned from fiddling around with.
At present, Miklos was seated at a table situated by the side of the sparring arena, feeling somewhat. . . lonesome. Awkward. Unsettled. Leo and the others had made an abrupt beeline towards the guild's kitchen after depositing him there, grumbling about something regarding 'meal duties' and that 'Balthazar will have our hides' should they fail to turn up in a timely fashion. Except for a few individuals who had let curiosity get the better of them, no one else approached Miklos, and he was well-aware of the reason: the habitual scowl etched on his face designed to ward off unnecessary attention was also a deterrent to people with the best of intentions.
Although, he wouldn't have minded company.
Worrying at the last remnants of his venom wounds with a finger, he found himself unable to shake off a persistent feeling of disorientation and confusion that had been weighing on his mind ever since he assumed the identity of the dead boy. A pertinent question remained unanswered; an identity left unclaimed. Outside, the lightning storm shook and jarred his thoughts with every bestial rumble, making it difficult to think - and he was already feeling jumpy enough.
So far, Miklos had been successful at restraining from glancing out the arch window to his right, blissfully ignorant of the carnage that the storm had been cooking up. When he finally did, half out of curiosity and the other half - sheer compulsiveness - all he could manage was a poor attempt at trying his utmost best not to gawk like a fool.
Roughly three miles away where the plains morphed into dense jungles, black clouds overhead were pulled forcefully apart. A thick column of water broke through, slamming down onto the earth and obliterating most of what had been thriving there mere moments ago. Where it hit the ground, gusts of wind blasted outwards and sent trees within a ten meter radius reeling back.
Miklos felt his heart pound in his chest. Surely, Orichon must have a shrine dedicated to Byrus, the god of calamity and disaster. That was the least they could do to cope with such atrocious weather hazards, even if it meant pouring their faiths into a deity to salvage hope where there was none.
He supposed.
"Rather frightening, isn't it?"
Miklos jumped, whipping his head away from the window. His pale-grey eyes focused on a man, possibly in his forties, who now sat facing him. Silence ensued as the man studied him with mute interest; eyes twinkling in amusement. For the third time that day, Miklos shifted uncomfortably where he sat.
Great. What do you want from me? was his immediate thought.
He stared at the man wearily. Under normal circumstances, one would have been offended by Miklos's slightly-less-than-hostile expression. However, the stranger only smiled kindly at him, and a feeling of warmth settled over Miklos. He softened a little.
"I don't suppose you'd like to know why we have such bizarre weather here? Though, that will be in lesson two."
Miklos wanted to say no, not really. Instead, he settled for a "Maybe,-"
"-sir," he instinctively added upon noticing the man's distinct attire. Smooth, elegant cobalt-blue robes covered an athletic build, tightened at the waist with an ornate leather belt and with a thin cloak draped over the shoulders. Miklos was well-acquainted with the concept of nobility, and he recognized status when he saw one - even in the Wildlands.
The man laughed - a hearty, genuine gesture that made taut the laugh lines which were partially concealed by the fuzz of his clean-cut beard.
"Well, alright. Could you perhaps tell me your name then?"
"Miklos. . . sir."
"Miklos," the man affirmed. "Who brought you here?"
"Luca-"
"-Reionne and Krea?" he finished for him. For a moment, Miklos thought he saw pride flash across his face.
"Reionne?" he raised a brow. Understanding dawned. "Oh, Rei."
"I did give her that name myself, but you'll never catch her using it." The man sighed.
Miklos was caught by surprise. "She's your - I mean, are you Rei's father?" As far as he could tell, they bore not even the slightest physical resemblance to one another.
"Why, no." He smiled, waving the notion aside with a hand. One finger was adorned with a silver ring, although no engravings of any sort could be perceived. Just a plain old band of metal.
"Speaking of which-," The man peered at Miklos. "-where are they?"
"Rei's at the infirmary, sir."
"Hmm. Venom burns, I presume?' He must have inferred as much from the fading wounds on Miklos's face. "And the others?"
"Uh, I don't know where they are."
"That's alright," he reassured. "Could I have you do me a favor, Miklos?"
No, not really.
"Yes, sir."
"I'd like to have a word with the four of you and preferably before dinner, so please fetch them for me."
"I will, sir," Miklos nodded half-heartedly. He got up to go.
"Wait one moment, child." The man chuckled. "I wasn't quite done."
Miklos let himself fall back onto the bench. What now? he groaned inwardly, before it occurred to him that he still hadn't a clue who the stranger was. He thought to ask for a name, but the man was already speaking.
"There is one thing of great importance that a mage ought to know by pure instinct alone. Can you tell me what that is?"
For a while, Miklos stared at the man dumbly.
Then, something snagged within him, and comprehension surfaced. He felt a keen, familiar sense of awareness deep in his gut that weighed like baggage whenever the use of magic was involved, and acted as a firm reminder of the limitations of a mage's capabilities. Even as he spoke the words that followed, a mixture of trepidation and uneasiness clammed around Miklos's chest. It was an inevitable fear that plagued the hearts of his kind as much as it was a primal instinct that kept them aware - and alive.
"We'll die if we deplete the magic within us," Miklos answered quietly.
The man seemed satisfied with his response.
"Good. Pray you remember that always-," he smiled grimly, "-and that concludes lesson one."
He rose from his seat.
"Welcome to Orichon. My name is Loric Ventris, and I am the master of this guild."
---
The set of stairs wedged between Orichon's south entrance and the sparring arena brought Miklos to the second level. Here, the architecture took on a dungeon-like appearance and the ceiling stooped lower, but he found the peaceful tranquility in the air rather pleasant as opposed to the general hubbub downstairs.
Miklos surveyed the area with avid interest. It seemed that a single hallway running one full circle provided access to pockets of large spaces built into the volcanic rock, and he assumed those to be partitioned sleeping quarters. As per Loric's instructions, Miklos turned right and proceeded down the hallway with small, tentative steps. Orichon members passed by him with nods and half-smiles which he felt obliged to return out of courtesy.
Two pillars later, the doors of the infirmary came into view on his left. A signage read:
INFIRMARY
On-Duty : Leina
Hesitantly, he budged open the double doors and they opened with a grunt.
Inside, the area was dimly lit by oil lamps placed on metal stands. Small arch windows high up on the walls brought air in, and Miklos saw that the large L-shaped room was neatly segregated into three different functional areas. To his left, two rows of beds propped against the walls occupied the bulk of the infirmary, leaving ample space to walk in the middle. Tall wooden cabinets filled the stretch to his right, and at the farthest end facing the door, a work space sprawled.
The woman who sat there regarded Miklos with raised brows, looking at him expectantly as though she were waiting for him to speak. He figured that she had to be at least sixty-over, her withered hair falling in a tangled mass of graying brown around her face.
Miklos cleared his throat.
"Just. . . looking for Rei." He gave a weak smile and glanced nervously towards the beds. For an old lady, her eyes sparkled with an uncanny intensity that Miklos thought was more than a little eerie.
He spotted Rei sitting on one of the beds, immersed in a book with her back against the wall. Her long auburn brown hair had been half-heartedly pulled back into a low ponytail which hung loosely to one side, while much of her unconfined, tousled fringe was left to hover freely above her grey eyes and over the sides of her countenance.
Clearly, up-keeping any semblance of fastidiousness in her appearance was the least of her concerns.
Just as he was about to make his way towards her, the audible clopping of a walking stick against stone approached Miklos. The old lady was advancing towards him, and Miklos did not like the glean in her eyes.
Whack!
He never knew old ladies could hit that hard.
"Oww! Hey!" Miklos complained. "What was that for?"
"Vher are yvor manners, boy?" she made little clicking sounds with her tongue. "Naut even a gud wevening?"
"What?" Miklos demanded, wrinkling his brows in confusion. What did she say?
"Stupit child."
That much he comprehended.
"Git 'ere. Lemme see yvor face."
He didn't want to, but his head protested against the possibility of another hit and so his feet obliged. Trying not to recoil, Miklos let the old lady pull his face towards her while she scrutinized it with squinted eyes.
"Wenom burns, ey? Tis ain't as bad as Rei's, but a lil' healing balm won't hurt ye," she rambled. "Oyi Rei," she called.
Rei looked up from her book. She had been so entranced by its contents that she only just now registered Miklos's presence.
"Yes, Leina?" Rei cocked her head.
"Tis ze child yvou bvought back?"
"Yes," came the reply. Rei shot Miklos a questioning look. It read: What are you doing here?
"Ahh, yes, yesss. As I thwought." Leina nodded, then turned to address him. "Yvou!"
"What?" Miklos grumbled.
"Go sit zere," she ordered, pointing at a bed beside Rei's. When Miklos didn't budge, she prodded him along with her walking stick, and he couldn't help wondering if this was why Rei had tried to avoid the infirmary like the plague. There was one other occupant, but he was fast asleep. As Miklos passed by him to get to his appointed bed, a series of dry, hacking coughs erupted and sent his body into a bout of violent fits. Miklos quickened his footsteps.
Back at Leina's work space, the old lady was mixing various concoctions furiously.
"Well?" Rei asked when he approached. "I sincerely doubt you came here to get treated."
"Loric wants to see us before dinner," Miklos said drily. "I don't know where Luca and Krea are, so you help me get them."
However, Rei had other things in mind. Instead of responding to Miklos's words about the summons, she switched the subject by indicating at his arms. Instinctively, he knew without so much as a single glance down that his wounds were now nowhere to be seen.
"Our bodies absorb natural magic from the environment at a far quicker rate than what normal humans are capable of," she explained. "We heal faster. We have greater stamina. You, on the other hand, supersede even the physical constitution of a regular mage."
"Also," Rei added, pinning Miklos with the same intense stare that she given him before, "I am inclined to believe that you are fully aware of your abilities. You don't seem the least bit surprised by how quickly your wounds have healed by themselves," she voiced her observations. "Am I right?"
Her expression told him that she wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I do know." Miklos admitted, shrugging.
Rei raised her brow and he could tell that she was waiting for him to say more, but nothing else filled the space between them.
Moments of silence passed.
"We should get going," Rei decided. Her words were casual, but there was something about her tone that was laced with a certain sense of dread and apprehension. As she stood to go, Miklos caught a pained look that fluttered across her features.
"Blasted spiders, really," she growled under breath.
"Give me your hand," Miklos muttered.
"Whatever for?"
"Just give it!"
She did, but not without giving him a look that said: try anything funny and I will blast you to bits.
Ignoring her searching stare, Miklos inhaled sharply and focused. Then, his pale-grey eyes shimmered, shifting into a deep golden hue as he allowed his magic to infiltrate Rei's arms, and she shuddered involuntarily. The magic tugged and pulled at the impurities from within. In a blink, Miklos whipped them out by drawing his hand away from hers, and a familiar, tingling sensation enveloped his arms where red welts were forming as rapidly as those on Rei's were disappearing.
His eyes returned to their normal color. A hot flash of burning pain ensued, and Miklos spent the next few seconds clenching down on his teeth. When the worst of the initial pain had subsided - somewhat - Miklos said hurriedly:
"That's for, uh, saving my life. Now we're even, got that?"
He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he glanced away, scowling. Out of the corner of his eye, Rei shifted her gaze back and forth between her arms and Miklos's with an expression that was more disturbed than grateful. For a while, she was deathly silent as if contemplating something.
"You are the second person I've come across with that sort of ability," she muttered darkly.
Before Miklos could ask who the first was, Leina returned with a bowl in hand.
"Vhat is dis?"
She had noticed the change in her two patients the last time she left them, and she scrutinized Rei's blemish-free arms with new-found interest and suspicion. Abruptly, she then turned to Miklos and started slapping spoonfuls of a thick, viscous mixture on his brand new wounds. Much to his surprise, the burning simmered down.
"Oyi. Anywone care to explain to tis lil' ol lady 'ere?" Leina demanded.
There was an uncomfortable silence as both Miklos and Rei waited for the other to speak. Eventually, Rei obliged.
"It seems that we have acquired our first healer in a long while," was all she said.
She didn't look too pleased.