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.
"They have a point," Aramis agrees, inching away from Drakkor again. "You've broken into their home, stolen their things and themselves. Now you wish for them to help you."
"Help?" Lorelle poses the question, focusing on the word with mingling fear and curiosity. Where Leandra would gladly make an exit, leaving Syd behind in the hopes of freeing herself and her sister, Lorelle is intrigued. She thinks of all she has learned just in the short span she has come to know Drakkor and these people. What questions could they answer? What explanations could be given? For so long, the girls have lived in solitude, surviving only by depending on each other, distrusting of the damaged world around them. Here is a chance to gain insight from people similar to them.
"Yes, my sweet," Drakkor answers, ignoring Aramis's barbed jabs. "You're here to help me with something only you two can. Wouldn't you like that?"
"No," Leandra replies flatly, earning escaped chuckles from Maren and a dulled grin from Aramis.
"And you both feel that way, do you?" Drakkor asks, eyes widening to show their bronzed color clearly. He steps closer to Lorelle.
"Leave her alone!" Leandra demands, desperately trying to kick her feet out.
"Don't you want to know who you are? What you are?" he continues in a dreamy voice, laying endless possibilities at their feet.
"I am a bit curious," Lorelle admits quietly.
"As am I," Drakkor agrees. Their eyes meet with intense interest. Both parties, it seems, are just as intrigued by the other. "Tell me how to make the book speak."
"You don't know?" Leandra asks skeptically. "You really don't know? You know so much about everything else!" she accuses.
"Aramis," Drakkor calls, eyes still focused on Lorelle, "gag her." He inclines his head toward Leandra.
"I don't think so!" Leandra shrieks, struggling to move.
"I won't," Aramis replies levelly, crossing his arms. His hands are now bare. The gloves have been laid down on the desk behind Theodore who continues to struggle with Syd.
"Ah!" he suddenly yells with excitement. "I think I've just got it." Time seems to stand still for a moment, with each person staring at someone else. Then, it resumes with intense energy. Drakkor is standing over Theodore, manically wringing his hands. His eyes are alive with a brightness that had not yet been revealed. Maren moves toward Leandra, with a crude rope from her belt, but Aramis intervenes, raising his hand to block her assault. She sighs heavily but retreats beside Drakkor, just as interested in the book as she would have been using the rope to gag Leandra. Aramis remains fixed where he stands.
"Get your filthy hands out of my mouth!" Syd grimaces, gagging with his mouth now open.
"How did you do it?" Drakkor asks.
"I rubbed his spine..." Theodore's spectacles shiver down the bridge of his nose, but he doesn't move to fix them. Syd's flapping mouth has caused him to nearly topple out of his captor's hands. It takes an effort to hold him still. The power the book is emitting is continually growing, and he can now talk without the actual spine rub. The twins wonder how he had kept his mouth shut on his own for so long.
"Give me him." Drakkor takes Syd again. "You there?"
"What do you want?" Syd growls.
"You're Sydney Whitewood, then? Keeper of the old ways and ancient texts?"
"I'm not saying anything," Syd growls, but Drakkor shakes him roughly.
"Speak, please, this is of the utmost importance." His words are desperate, as if he actually needs the book to reply like he needs air to breath. Behind them, the fire's flames flare up threateningly. Syd visibly gulps.
"Who's asking?" the book inquires with less gusto.
"Your new master."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
A day has passed, and the sisters are still trapped inside Drakkor's mysterious floating townhouse. They have been relieved of the confinement of the basement and are free to roam the halls of the estate so long as they do not disturb the last room at the end of the hall on the second floor. This, Theodore has explained, is Drakkor's chamber. There is some special enchantment that keeps most things out. The mage has locked himself inside with Syd. He has not come out since fleeing the downstairs. He left them with a strange smile plastered upon his wrinkled face. He nearly skipped up the stairs. Upon fleeing the dank space, the bonds holding the sisters were lifted. The fire went out.
All Leandra wishes to do is escape, find a flimsy hole in the board, a loose brick. Break one of the beautiful stained glass windows, but the air of enchantment is thick here. The doors will not budge. The windows cannot be broken. Theodore has taken up to giving them a tour of the shifting house, eagerly answering their questions and explaining things as best he can.
Each member that Drakkor has collected has been sought out to serve his over-reaching purpose. He has lived centuries, using his powers freely. He has lived so long he hadn't thought he would ever run out. But he now he is. A new weakness has emerged, stripping the mage of his most powerful spells and aging him drastically.
Every member has a specific talent Drakkor seeks, trying to aid him with his search for a cure and immortality once more. Theodore is gifted with a keen knowledge of gemstones, their meaning, and their spiritual healing powers. Maren is a scale stealer: a thief with the quiet skills of burglary so stealthy she can strip the scale cleanly from a dragon itself. Aramis is one of the seven master swordsmen that roam the Mirror Lands.
There is another member of their team named Jonas who has yet to show himself. Supposedly he's been sent out on some important mission by Drakkor. It's been described in vague terms, but just from what they've overheard, the sisters can guess it involves an assassination of some enemy.
"And you don't really know when this Jonas will be back?" Leandra asks Theodore as they stroll down the spiral staircase and into the draft parlor room. The brick fireplace has been lit. It casts the two lonely chairs in eerie shadows, their silhouettes shifting curiously like the side of a mountain.
Theodore repositions his spectacles. "That's right," he agrees. "Then we'll be heading out. We'll probably go to the east, in Helia around Aron or something." The twins give him blank look.
"We don't get out much," Lorelle admits as she rubs at her arm sheepishly.
"I never used to." Theodore shrugs his shoulders. "Until I met Drakkor that is."
"How did you get involved with that... lovely human being, Theodore?" Leandra asks sweetly. She brushes her long ratty hair off of her slim shoulder. They still wear their tattered clothing from earlier with their hair in tangled messes due to the traveling.
"Please," he replies, "Call me Teddy." His cheeks pinken at the words, but he continues. "Drakkor found me at the academy. I've been studying gems for years, read countless tomes on them, but had never stepped outside of those books," Theodore admits. "Lured by the promise of adventure, I accepted Drakkor's offer to travel with him in this." He gestures around. "I suppose that's why we're all here, looking for an adventure."
"I'm not," Leandra huffs. She crosses her arms. "I'm just looking for a way home."
"Why does he need us for?" Lorelle asks. She steps around her glaring sister. Clearly she is mystified by this whole concept. She has always been the dreamer of the pair.
"Something to do with the legends," Teddy offers weakly. He readjusts his frames again. The twins notice it is a habit he falls to when he is nervous about something. "You record them in that book correct?"
"Yes," Leandra answers warily. She wraps her arms tighter around herself.
"Well," Teddy glances around to make sure there is no one listening, "Drakkor needs one of the legends. He's hoping one will leap out at him and offer some kind of power-"
"The Five Relic of Asterlyn!" Lorelle exclaims. She and her sister share a concerned look. They have a brief silent conversation with their identical eyes, one of the perks of their unique connection. Lorelle turns back to Teddy again. The twins have evidentially decided to tell Teddy about the relics.
"They were made by the Seeker," Leandra says carefully, "and are very powerful." She knows that Drakkor has most likely already discovered the legend within Syd's pages. Although the sisters have recorded hundreds there, that one is the most recent. He would have no trouble locating it.
Teddy blinked in confusion. "The Seeker?" he asks. "Never heard of him."
The twins are not surprised. The histories are not well known by most anyone anymore. It is why they must record them all. They need to leave this place. They need to write down the next legend. Since drinking from the waters of the Lake of Lost Memories, they still receive the brief flashes of the war torn land, a bloody crown, and two enormous armies. The visions will not fade or completely come together to form the story until they put pen to paper. That is the magic of it all, where the origin of Ink Mages comes into play.
Speaking of magic... Lorelle glances at Leandra. She is staring at her sister's face. Both know exactly what question they want to ask next. Lorelle inclines her head, and Leandra nods. Her turn to bring something up.
"What was all that rubbish Drakkor said about drinking from some glass?" she asks Teddy. He bites his lip.
"I'm not well versed in that lore," he admits. "I've just heard Drakkor talk about it briefly. "Something to do with forgetting memories..."
"And that's not even the half of it," a smooth voice echoes behind them. The twins spin around to find Aramis emerging from behind the doorway that leads into the basement. He nudges it shut and leans against it. His hat has been removed, allowing the fire in the grate to flicker across his face. There are faded lines there, but not many.
"What do you know of the glass?" Leandra inquires. She studies his face for signs of lying but believes she will find none. In their brief interactions, the man has seemed open and friendly enough. Recalling what she's learned of his past and prestige... her gaze travels to his plain belt. There is a holster for a sword, but no weapon resides there. Could it be true that he is a fabled swordsman? One of a supposed seven masters?
"I don't know much about that," Aramis offers. "Only what I learned at the academy coupled with what Drakkor's told me."
"There must be a legend about it," Lorelle concludes. Her eyes dart around in inquisitive enthusiasm. "Perhaps the lake will show it to us."
"Probably not going to happen," Leandra remarks cynically. "We're going to be stuck here for the rest of eternity."
"Most likely," Aramis agrees amicably. A small grin flashes in his face. "Drakkor has been speaking of you two for quite some time. You're his last hope."
"He already has our book," Leandra points out with a wave of her hand, "why can he not let us go?"
"You're part of a much larger picture would be my guess." Aramis straightens and begins walking toward the fireplace, his hands stretched out towards the warmth. "You know to be a Fire Mage, Drakkor keeps this place as cold as a damn icebox." He rubs his hands together before the dancing flames as he had when they'd all been downstairs.
"Drakkor appears to know all," Leandra concludes cynically. She moves to retrieve her sister's hand. She wants to leave this room. Aramis's sudden arrival has made her grow slightly uncomfortable.
"He wishes he knew all," Teddy corrects gently. "He only knows some things because he's lived for centuries."
"Yet, he does not know the Legend of the Five Relics of Asterlyn," Leandra huffs. She grips her sister's fingers between her own and mouths that she is leaving with her, but Lorelle turns back to Aramis.
"Drakkor said he'd drank from the glass," she says. "Is that why he can't remember the legends even though he's live for so long?"
Now it is time for Teddy and Aramis to have a silent conversation with their eyes. Teddy's forehead creases as Aramis's gaze narrows. "Drakkor's a mysterious man. He's seen a lot of things and has chosen to forget most of them," he states simply. It seems clear that although he may not trust the mage, he does have some respect for Drakkor. "His reasons are his own."
"So, he drank voluntarily?" Leandra scoffs. "Why would someone want to do that?"
"You'd be surprised," Aramis says darkly, "what someone would do to forget everything that made them what they are." His gaze wonders off to absently stare at the dark walls around them. He seems to study a jagged crack.
"Have you drunk from the glass?" Lorelle wants to know suddenly. She's intrigued by the glass and wants to know more.
"It's forbidden," he says, moving his eyes to rest upon her face. A sadness covers his features like a coarse blanket. The starkness of it makes her heart ache. She wonders what has happened in his past to make him so melancholy. "As one of the Seven Swordsmen, we are required to know the story of how the Order of the Octave came to be and how the Swords were formed. We had to recite the story every morning by memory. It's an old practice, one used only by the Seven Swords that has been passed down through generations. The practice isn't used by most organizations anymore, but the tradition is sternly followed by us. It's the one story we're not allowed to forget, one we must memorize by heart at our induction. I know no other legend truly but ours. I was never taught the other histories."
"What exactly is the Order of the Octave and the Seven Swords then?" Leandra asks. She too is intrigued by this, her natural inclination towards stories bleeding through.
"Well," Aramis remarks as he lowers himself into one of the chairs by the fireplace, "I can tell you if you'd like." His eyes briefly meet Leandra's in hesitation.
"We have nothing but time." Leandra tugs her sister into the other chair, both sharing it with a little discomfort, but their eagerness to listen overcoming that obstacle. Teddy crouches down into a squat before stretching his legs out and settling in. The three turn to Aramis as he begins the tale.
"Imagine this," he conjures, "magic coats the land like a dense fog..."
So, what did you guys think? Will the sisters be able to get out of this? How are you liking the characters of Aramis and Teddy so far? Please let us know below! We love any comments or suggestions you have about the story! Also, don't forget to vote if you enjoyed this part. And as always, thanks so much for your support! :)