AN: I apologize for the late release. My workload was doubled all last week and I was too tired to write. This chapter turned out a little Meh, but if I don't post it now, it will never get posted.
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Winds of Change Volume 1: The Oncoming Storm
Chapter 6: Frustration
“To have something in front of you, and lose it, is far more frustrating than to never obtain it in the first place.” –Unforseen dangers of Adventuring
~On the front, in Elvish, was the word for magic.~
Spark’s mind was racing. Magic. It was something he’d always wanted, even though he knew he might never get it. After all, books on magic were worth gold, someone who made coppers a day could never afford one. Hell, we couldn’t even afford regular books. It was worth more than most people in the slums would see in a lifetime.
Carver had stolen it. It was the only way she could possibly have gotten it. It was the only reason that the book was in Spark’s hands now, and it was the reason Carver had been killed. Spark felt, for a moment, an overwhelming desire to destroy it. To burn it to nothing, this thing that was worth someone’s life.
He didn’t, of course. It would be too big a waste, too much of a waste for Spark to stomach. And, he’d always listened to the stories of magic and adventure so closely; he didn’t want to lose what could be his only chance. She died for it. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, he couldn’t destroy the book.
Carver might have been planning to sell it, or she might have been planning to teach him magic. He would never know. The dead don’t come back to life, not even with magic. There were dark magics capable of creating something close to what you wanted, an eternal servant with the appearance and personality of the deceased, but in the end, it was a construct created by you. It wasn’t the real person and it didn’t have a soul, or at least, not that person’s soul. Even demon magic isn’t enough to bring someone back.
Any demon that said otherwise was lying, or if they weren’t, you wouldn’t want the person to be revived. They could, if they wanted and you paid a high enough price, pull a person’s soul from the cycle of reincarnation and turn them into a demon, but it would not be the same person. Basically, you’d be selling your soul to a demon in exchange for damning your loved one’s soul to damnation. No. It was better to wonder, better to expect nothing just in case. Death is absolute, so it’s better to wait for someone’s reincarnation, to hope that you meet again in another life, and leave everything to the fickle mistress called fate.
He was still staring at the black leather book. His hands were tingling where he touched it. Suddenly, he remembered where he was. He was in the outskirts, a place where people die for a few silvers; Gods know what they would do for gold. Once again, he needed to leave this place. It wasn’t safe that day, and it wasn’t safe for him now.
No, this place is never safe. There hadn’t been a real reason for his return. He had just been restless and unsure of his new-found living arrangements. He had obviously not harbored any thoughts of living here by himself. He wasn’t so foolish as to believe that he could survive on his own, or that people would leave him alone just because of his age.
However, this place was the closest thing he had to a home. It was a place that was full of memories. Not all of them were good. No, maybe not even a fraction of them were good, but, painful though they were, they were his. He couldn’t return to this place, but he also couldn’t forget it. He made his decision in a moment. I decided, didn’t I? That I would throw everything away. He wasn’t going to be held back, not by this place, not by anything.
He had planned to make a fire anyway, he already had the kindling. So he burned that place to the ground. He watched as flames enveloped everything. He shouldn’t have stayed to watch, really. Someone was bound to be drawn to the smoke. He couldn’t pull himself away though.
Even damp from the recent rain, it still burned quickly.
Spark held the book tightly clutched to his chest. He felt the presence walking up behind him more than he heard it. He only noticed it because he recognized this person. Doergan put his hand on Spark’s shoulder. So he hadn’t imagined the presence following him through the outskirts.
Doergan didn’t speak. Neither did he try to give any other comfort than the hand on Spark’s shoulder. Spark did not expect it anyway. This was not a sad moment. This was only an ending of an ending. It had already been impossible to return here after Carver’s death. This was just the removal of the temptation the past could offer.
Besides, Carver didn’t need a gravestone. Her body wasn’t there, and her soul was off somewhere waiting to get a new body. Getting attached to the place of her death would only anchor him to this place. The back wall collapsed, bringing down the whole structure. Sparks showered like rain and floated on the wind. There was nothing around for them to catch on fire, so it wasn’t something to be concerned about.
Finally, when there was nothing left to burn and little left of the fire besides hot coals, Spark turned towards the silent presence next to him. He brushed the hands off his shoulder and started walking. He turned his head to face Doergan for a moment, seeing him and the faint glow of embers behind him. From this position, it seemed as though the man had stepped out of the flames. Like a Demon King.
“Let’s go back,” Spark smiled wryly. Since there’s no longer anything left for me here…
Doergan followed without a word. He had probably been ordered to follow Spark today. Or maybe he had decided on his own. Spark had been acting a bit strange lately. Were you worried? Spark didn’t ask it. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him, since he didn’t want to get attached.
“I’m going to become stronger.” Spark was stubborn and driven, he wasn’t going to stop here. Perhaps, a different adult would have laughed. Perhaps, someone else would have told him to grieve more and rest, or to rely on others while he was young. Doergan did none of those things.
“Good. Train more.”
To hear his dedication referred to so simply, Spark couldn’t help but smile. So simple, and true. He had no other method for obtaining strength than training and working hard. He would read this book and learn everything it had to offer him. He would study until his eyes felt like bleeding. He would become stronger until he wouldn’t lose to anyone. He would become stronger until he wouldn’t lose anyone.
He carefully blocked out that last thought. His smile felt stiff, like it had been a long time since his last one.
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When they returned to the manor, the lord greeted them at the door.
“Do something interesting?” The same enigmatic smile was plastered on his face.
“Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”
“A lot of things interest me, you know.”
“I said goodbye.” Spark left it at that, still holding the book to his chest. Falriun would probably just ask Doergan later anyway, so there wasn’t much point hiding it.
“I see. That’s surprising.”
“Don’t see why. Lots of people die, you have to say goodbye sometime.”
“It’s not that. I just always thought that the day you said goodbye, you wouldn’t come back.” The lord, as ever, remained unreadable.
“I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go. But if you want me gone, I’ll leave.”
“No, of course not. You make things so much more interesting.” Interesting, Spark was starting to dislike that word. It seemed like the people who found him interesting were more likely to want something from him, or want him gone.
Spark scowled, “Being interesting is bad for my health.”
Doergan quietly slipped out, in a way, preventing Spark’s retreat. Take me with you, dammit!
It was several minutes of forced idle chitchat later before Spark could make his escape. He slowly made his way up to his room-not mine, he reminded himself forcefully. Mari had put more snacks on his bedside. They were still steaming. Mari, at least, had not expected him to leave. Somehow the thought irritated him.
Spark set the book in front of him. His fingers slid over the dark leather slowly, over the small symbol of magic. He reached for the clasp. He took a deep breath, his stomach roiling in anticipation.
The book wouldn’t open. No matter what Spark did, the clasp remained firmly sealed. There wasn’t a lock or any opening mechanism, it was a normal clasp. There should have been no reason for Spark to be unable to open it, but it just wouldn’t come undone. The only explanation Spark could think of was that it was locked by magic.
Spark was starting to hate magic.
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It had been three weeks, three long frustrating weeks. Spark had tried numerous times to open the book. He had asked Doergan, the lord, and even Mari, MARI! None of them knew how to open it. Falriun thought of it as a prank and said that sometimes people made and sold false magic books, books that couldn’t be opened, as the real thing. He had even suggested that Spark give up, since it wasn’t doing any good to obsess over it. Doergan… after he couldn’t open it with strength, he handed it back to Spark. Mari was useless.
He had foolishly allowed his hopes to be raised with the appearance of the book. Only to have them dashed when his goal was right in front of him. It seemed like a god’s cruel joke. Spark had lost so much already. His family, his home, his so-called innocence. Did he have to give up on the future too? Was he undeserving of hope or happiness?
Spark couldn’t help being frustrated and angry. There was a book that could contain the power he’d always wanted on his bedside, and HE COULDN’T OPEN IT. His thoughts as to why he couldn’t open it did not help matters.
Spark, in an attempt to relieve his frustration, put all of his efforts into swordsmanship. When training against a dummy, he attacked ferociously, using all the movements and guiding he’d received from Doergan. These sessions often left him just as angry as before, only a bit more tired.
After a few days of this, Doergan asked to spar with him.
This was odd. Doergan was the type to teach him through showing him the movements and expecting Spark to replicate them. There must have been a reason for wanting to spar, but Spark was too frustrated to try to figure out the man’s thoughts.
Spark didn’t need to be afraid of hurting the older man; the difference between their strengths and skills was far too great for that, so he didn’t ever hold back. His anger added to his growing strength and he attacked relentlessly.
Infuriatingly, each attack was easily parried. Spark had expected no less, but it was still grating to see that he couldn’t hold a candle to Doergan’s strength.
Doergan, who until this point had only been parrying his attacks, suddenly went on the offensive. One swift turn of his blade slapped Spark’s sword from his hand, and another put Spark on his back. He then repeated the process. Each time Spark got up, he was struck down. If this was a lesson in humility, it was working. Spark’s frustration peaked, even though he’d known the difference between their strengths, the feeling of losing was never a good one.
Finally, Doergan struck him down one last time. He kept the blade at Spark’s neck for a moment before allowing him to rise.
“You fight like beast. You die like beast.” Spark was startled, it was the first time Doergan had spoken during their spar.
“What?”
Doergan took his arm, “This is weak. Will always be weak. Always will be stronger enemies.” Then he moved his hand to the boy’s head, “This strong, use it.”
Spark suddenly felt ashamed. Even though he was frustrated, there was no reason to take things out on Doergan. He had learned that he didn’t have much potential for swordsmanship or the skills that came with it, so when he found the book he had planned to maximize on it. Being unable to open the book had felt like he was being barricaded on all sides. But really it didn’t change things. He still desired to become stronger. If he couldn’t use magic, he had to find something else. He would learn what he could about the sword and use the knowledge he’d been given. If he reached a limit, he could decide what to do about that later. For now, there was nothing else he could do.
The next time he lifted his sword, he was much calmer. “Sorry.”
Doergan looked at him in something that might have been approval. But Spark didn't need anyone's approval, so it didn't matter to him.
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Spark was young, that made him a fast learner. It had been only two months after finding the book and he was confident that he had mastered the basic movements. He wasn’t a beast-man, so there might not be a way to become the strongest swordsman, but that had never been Spark’s intention. From the start, he had wanted to become as strong as was possible for him. It might mean he would have to learn a lot of different things, but if it made him more able to survive then it was worth it.
If he had stayed in that place, he would have learned everything that Doergan had to teach him. He might have become a great swordsman, a knight, a soldier, or an enforcer. But things had already been set in motion. From the moment he picked up that book, or even before that, his fate had been decided.
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It happened one day during training. Doergan was sparring with him as usual. The sun was newly raised. It was a completely ordinary day, until they had an unexpected guest.
As they finished up their spar, something strange happened. Doergan’s hair suddenly stood on end and his head jerked towards the back gate. A man was standing there, a man who hadn’t been there a moment before. Spark noticed a strange pressure coming from him, and, as a breeze blew past him, Spark felt a twinge of fear.
The stranger was wearing a dark cloak and carried a staff taller than Spark. The cloak was billowing out around him. The opposite direction of the wind blowing towards Spark and Doergan.
If Spark had ever held doubts about Doergan’s fighting abilities, they vanished in the next few moments. The beast-man had crossed the yard in an instant. Spark hadn’t even registered the movement before Doergan stood in front of the menacing figure. Doergan’s sword wasn’t swinging towards the stranger, it had already pierced him, or so it appeared.
The sword shattered like glass before reaching the man’s clothing. When Doergan slashed out with his claws, they were deflected, his hands turned bloody from the lost nails. Even still, Doergan continued his assault, but was ultimately unable to reach the man. Doergan showed a level of speed and skill that Spark could never hope to reach. The difference between the strength of members of the Beast tribe and other races was too vast a chasm to be breached by training. But the gap between Doergan and that man was another thing entirely.
The man hadn’t moved during the entire one-sided assault. He hadn’t flinched, and he hadn’t taken a step back. He looked completely unworried about the person attacking him. Doergan didn’t even register as a threat to him.
Then he raised his hand. It was as casual as a wave. Or maybe, it was like swatting at a fly. His hand didn’t hit Doergan. It didn’t even get close to him, but Doergan was sent flying. He hit the house with a sickening crack and fell to the ground.
At that moment, Spark froze. He felt a fear far greater than anything he had ever felt before. This was a man he could not ever beat. It was obvious, a fact so absolute that it resonated to his very soul. Compared to Doergan, Spark was a fly. Compared to this man, Doergan was a fly. Spark would never gain the strength to beat this man. Not because he didn’t have the will, and not because he wouldn’t train himself, but because he was going to die here.
Doergan twitched, and Spark started moving. Not towards the fallen bodyguard, but away. If Doergan didn’t stand a chance, Spark wouldn’t either. I’ll only get in the way. It was a shallow, selfish thought, and he hated himself for trying to lie to himself. He was scared and he didn’t want to die. That was all there was to it. He knew Doergan couldn’t win, and leaving meant Spark was abandoning him to his death, but Spark had done far worse. In comparison, this wasn’t even a sin. Even if Spark hated himself for his fear, he would struggle to live on.
He should have realized it was useless. He didn’t even make it five steps before the man was in front of him. Still unruffled, still calm, the man looked as though he hadn’t even moved. Spark didn’t even have time to stop himself from running into him. The man grabbed onto his shoulder, and Spark’s mind went completely numb.
It was as though every thought of survival had been emptied out of him. All of his emotions had been dampened. Spark knew he should feel fear, and that he should want to move away, but he wasn’t able to do it. He couldn’t even get his body to twitch. It was somehow worse than the paralysis he’d suffered on that day. Unlike that time, when he knew that he couldn’t do anything, he felt like he SHOULD be able to do something, and his body just wouldn’t obey him.
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Utter hopelessness. Just being touched by the man had completely shut down his body. There was no point in resisting the inevitable. He couldn’t even hope for this man’s mercy. The man was mumbling something, but Spark couldn’t make it out.
He noticed, vaguely, that he had fallen to his knees in front of the man. He also noticed, even more vaguely that Doergan had risen, had thrown himself towards them. Doergan wasn’t stupid, he must have realized he couldn’t win. Unlike Spark, Doergan might have the ability to escape. So why are you still fighting? The man raised his hand again. It was such a simple motion, really.
Doergan fell. It was as though his body had been stepped on by a giant, he fell flat and even sunk into the ground a bit. Spark could see Doergan’s eyes, see the fierce expression that proved he wasn’t about to die. Spark felt a bit of energy come back to his body. Doergan clenched his hands, pressing his bloody fingers against the ground as he struggled to rise. Are you an idiot? Just stop. You can’t keep fighting if you’re dead. If it was me, I would definitely run away.
Suddenly, there was a hand on Spark’s neck. He was pulled up to face the one who had so easily defeated his teacher. The man’s face looked no older than his mid-thirties, but his eyes looked ancient. He stared at Spark, as though he could see the depths of his soul. His staff was standing next to him. It stood straight up without even being stuck into the ground.
“Ah, so it’s you.” The man’s voice was gruff and gravely as though from disuse. Spark’s hair stood on end. He heard Doergan growl.
This man was too powerful for him to beat, Spark knew that. But, because he remembered what happened the last time he was helpless and decided to give up, he didn’t remain still. This time, he wouldn’t obediently let himself be killed. Even if he died, he wanted his murderer to suffer for it.
Spark headbutted him. Though unhurt, the man grunted in surprise.
“Look-I’m not here to-” He reached for Spark’s face, so Spark bit him.
“Did you just bite-?”This time, the man pulled his hand back with a look of incredulity. But it gave Spark a bit more distance, so he kicked the man between the legs.
“Would you just list-” Spark, ignoring the man’s words and the pain that surged through his leg at the contact, continued to kick him. The man released him and he fell to the ground again.
Before Spark could even try to run, he felt an enormous pressure fall over him. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He was pushed into the ground, like Doergan. His face pressed into the dirt, and every rock under him felt like knives against his skin.
“Damn, this is not going as planned.” He made as though to reach for Spark again. “Guess we’ll just have to do it the hard way.”
“I’d have to ask you to step away from that child.” Lord Falriun demanded. Spark had never been happier to hear the man’s voice. He couldn’t see him from his position, so he had no idea that the lord’s ever-present smile was missing.
“Ah, I see. Is this yours?” There was a curious, amused tone to the man’s voice now.
“Step away.” Falriun’s voice was perfectly even.
“I’m not an enemy. Let’s discuss this like gentlemen, shall we?” The man’s hand fell onto Spark’s shoulder. Immediately, the pressure vanished and Spark let out a small whimper of relief. That strange numbness ran through him again, so he didn’t resist when he was picked up a put over the man’s shoulder. Then the man strode towards the manor as though there was no question of being let in.
The next several moments for Spark contained nothing but the darkness of the man’s cloak against his face, and the feeling of a hand across his legs keeping him balanced.
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The man sat on the sitting room sofa, putting Spark’s unresisting form next to him. Lord Falriun sat in nearby chair. There was no offer of tea or food, nor was there a request for it. Mari had gone to tend to Doergan’s wounds, so she was absent.
“Now, let’s get down to business.” The stranger said. “I am not an enemy.”
“You attacked my guard.”
“He attacked me.”
“And did Spark also attack you then? I don’t know what you did to him, but you obviously did something.” Falriun’s voice was cutting.
“Spark? Ah, the boy. Well… not quite. I only did it so he would be more compliant, you know.” He touched Spark’s shoulder again and that numbness went away. Spark immediately tried to jerk away from him, causing the man to sigh and then invisible somethings wrapped around Sparks body. They weren’t entirely invisible, they caused small distortions in the air, but it would be hard to see them if you weren’t looking. It was entirely unpleasant, more so when his mouth was covered too.
“I can’t have him attacking me,” the man continued. “He might hurt himself.”
“Is there a reason you can’t just let him go?” Spark could do nothing but spectate as the two men talked. The part of him that wasn’t terrified was infuriated.
“Well, he’s the reason I’m here. It would defeat the purpose of tracking him down if I let him escape, and I’d never live it down.” The last part was a mumble.
“Why exactly did you track him down?” Spark didn’t understand why Falriun bothered trying to get information from the man. There was no point to it.
“Ah-that’s the important part; let’s get this over with then.” He cleared his throat, “I am called Gale, and I am an Archmage. As for why I’m here, the boy has something that belongs to us-me.”
“And what’s that? I’m sure he didn’t steal anything from you, or if he did it wasn’t intentional.” Falriun started off strong, but the end of that line was oddly strained.
“No, he didn’t steal it. It came into his possession, as they all do. It was Fate.”
“Fate?” Falriun tensed.
“That’s right, but it’s not important right now. What’s important is that I need to take him with me.” Spark was starting to get worried, strangers talking about fate was never a good sign.
“You haven’t explained anything yet, and you’re not taking anyone anywhere.”
Gale sighed, “You’re not exactly able to stop me, but I suppose it’s your right as the boy’s father.” Spark violently protested this through the gag. That man was definitely not his father, he didn’t even like the man, except when he was saving Spark, that is.
“Not his father? Is he a slave then? I guess my joke about belonging to you wasn’t far off. Well, if he’s yours, then that makes things easier. How much for him?”
“Spark is not a slave.”
“Well if he’s not your son, and he’s not your slave, then what is he to you?” Gale had turned expressionless, his eyes hidden in the shadows from his cloak.
“Not so much mine, as something I've taken a liking to.”
Gale snorted, “Of course you did. And I’ll bet that beast-man did too. Utterly predictable. Things are never simple are they? Have a job, do it. But nooo, people have to keep interfering.” He was muttering again. “Well, it changes nothing. I’m taking him back with me.”
“I think I said it before, but you’re not taking anyone anywhere until you explain.”
“A book found him, so he’s going to become a mage. In order to do that, he has to come with me.” Spark’s heart started racing. His irritation over the fact that the men were talking about him like he wasn’t even there, disappeared. A mage?
“A book? The book on magic? What makes it so special that you have to resort to kidnapping the person who has it? It didn’t even open.” Magic books may be rare, but they weren’t THAT rare.
“That is a secret not meant for you.”
“Still, did you really think I’d hand him over after you hurt my bodyguard?” Falriun smiled, ambiguous as ever.
“I didn’t hurt him, he hurt himself. Not my fault he suddenly attacked without warning and hit my defenses. Besides, I would prefer for you to hand him over, but it’s not necessary. I’m taking him one way or another.”
“You’re assuming a lot, thinking you can take him from me.” Falriun stood, emitting killing intent so strong that it felt like it was leaking out of him.
“Ah, if you think your [Aura] will do anything against an Archmage, you’re the one assuming too much.” Falriun looked surprised at the words.
Gale continued, “That may have worked on those magicians you faced as an adventurer, but it’s impossible to disrupt an Archmage’s spellwork with something like that. Observe.” Gale suddenly materialized a fireball on his palm. “You see? Nothing.” Then he threw it at Falriun.
The lord braced himself, but then jerked in shock when it wrapped around him rather than hitting him. “What the-”
“Yes, yes, you’re very surprised. Blah blah blah Archmage blahblahblah very powerful, you get the idea. Now that we’ve established that your feeble skills are no match for my magic, we should get back to the task at hand.” Gale suddenly looked back at Spark and frowned.
“I AM going to take him. Even if I have to leave both of you [Bound]. I’ve wasted enough time as it is and I’m running late. Boy, say your goodbyes and get your book and other things. You have until sunset.”
“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re resisting so much. Most people would kill to have lessons from an Archmage, and yes, I mean that literally. You’re being offered so much power and trying to reject it.” The man stood up, and the bindings fell from Spark and Falriun both.
“Oh, and before I forget, don’t bother trying to fight. I’m already in a bad mood; it costs me nothing to destroy this place and everyone in it. The only person I need is you, after all.”
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Spark sat on his bed with the book in his hands. He had a choice to make. He could choose to run away, depend on the ring to conceal him. He could spend his lifetime running even if it was cowardly. Mari, Falriun, and Doergan might be in danger if he did, but he might be able to save himself. Or he might be caught and end up dead. He didn’t have anywhere else to go either.
He couldn’t use the book without the mage, which made it useless to him as he was. He looked at the fireplace. He could throw it in, that would be the end of it, of all of it. There would no longer be a point if he didn’t have it.
But this was the book that Carver had given her life for. This was the reason she died, the reason Spark became a killer, and the reason Doergan was hurt. None of these things would be taken back by getting rid of it.
He had always loved the idea of magic. It seemed idealistic now, naïve. He remembered how Gale had flung Doergan away without even touching him, Doergan slashing at Gale and only damaging himself. He remembered that pressure that had forced them both to the ground.
It was the ability to defeat an enemy without letting them get close to you. Being able to crush an enemy’s spirit without even raising a hand against them. To force them to kneel at your feet at a gesture. To be completely unstoppable and untouchable, it was power in its purest form.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t want it.
This person had hurt Doergan, had threatened to kidnap him. He definitely couldn’t be trusted. That was alright though, because Spark had decided not to trust anyone. Not Falriun, not Doergan, not even Mari. Even after all they’d done for him, he still didn’t trust them. All this time, part of Spark had just been waiting for them to get rid of him.
At the very least, I won’t get attached to that bastard. And it’s not like I have anything to lose. He wasn't attached, after all.
He left the room.
Standing outside the door, leaning against the wall, was Doergan. Spark didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He held the book tightly, his knuckles whitening around the binding. Doergan didn’t speak either. There were bandages around each finger; it would take weeks for his claws to heal. His head was likewise bandaged from the wound he’d suffered being thrown against the manor.
Spark knew full well what he was doing. This was another betrayal. The first was when Spark had left Doergan to die. Now, Spark was choosing to go with the person that had given Doergan those wounds. He was choosing magic over the sword. They should never have expected anything else from him. It’s not like he was family.
It doesn’t matter anyway, they’re used to kids coming and going. They'd find another charity case soon.
Spark closed the door behind him.
Doergan reached for him. Spark bowed his head, half expecting to be hit.
Doergan put his hand on Spark’s head and stroked it for a moment. Then his other hand held out something. A belt with a dagger and sheath attached.
Doergan didn’t force him to take it, and he didn’t shove it into Spark’s chest. This was another choice, one for Spark to make on his own. He took it. He knew it was wrong. He had already decided to throw everything away for power, he shouldn’t be accepting this. Not from this person, not from anyone. This was a betrayal. Spark had betrayed them after they tried to protect him, so why?
“Become strong.” Doergan left it at that, removed his hand from Spark’s head, and walked away. Spark couldn’t say anything. His throat hurt. He had no idea why. He wasn’t attached.
The others were waiting for him by the door. Mari, Falriun, and Sherry were all there. Mari was crying and she hugged him. Falriun put a hand on his shoulder for a moment, and smiled the smile that Spark had always hated before putting an arm around Mari.
Falriun had already spoken to him earlier. Had told him he didn’t have to leave and they could figure something out. Spark didn’t believe him.He didn’t want to believe him. He was better off on his own, only relying on himself. He didn’t want to be in debt. He’d said he would go, and he was going to become a mage.
Sherry bent down in front of him and put her hands on his cheeks. She was dressed for work, so this position displayed more cleavage than could be considered appropriate. It forced Spark to look up at her, the first time he’d raised his gaze since leaving that room.
She looked at him somberly for a moment, and then she grinned mischievously and pulled him into her breasts. He sputtered at the unexpected movement and barely resisted pushing her away. She whispered next to his ear.
“If he gave it to you, he wants you to have it and feels that you deserve it.” Spark stopped struggling. “It was the smart thing to do. I’m the same. I don’t like to put all my eggs in one basket.” Something clicked in Spark’s mind. The reason Sherry didn’t choose to work for Falriun, why she played the part of a toy for people with money. She also didn’t trust anyone.
She pulled him back away from her breasts, apparently satisfied that she’d suffocated him enough. Then she smirked at him. It was seductive and amused. Then she kissed him on the mouth.
Spark jerked away and wiped his mouth. She was laughing at him, this woman.
“Why did yo-”
“To make sure you don’t forget about us, one never forgets their first, after all.”
He was blushing when he went out the door. He walked towards the gate slowly, to where the mage was waiting for him. It hurt. It was a different pain from Carver. Carver had been killed, she’d been taken from him, and in some way, she had abandoned him by dying. This was different. These people were different. He was the one abandoning them. He was going to pursue power. He felt like he’d been gutted, an awful ache pulled at his stomach. He tried to pretend that it was his stomach complaining about leaving a place that gave him good meals. Besides, they would have abandoned him too eventually. He wasn't attached, and neither were they.
He took a deep breath. He’d promised to throw everything away. He looked at Gale. He would take everything this man had to offer him. He would learn magic and gain the power he wanted. He would become as strong as this man. No. He would become stronger. If only so that he would never experience helplessness again. If only so that he would never have to run away again.
The ache was getting worse the farther he got, but something had started burning in him. The mage turned away when Spark reached the gate. He started walking away, just expecting Spark to follow. Spark took one last deep breath and followed him.
His steps didn’t falter, and he didn’t look back.
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AN: Yeah, it got a little awkward in the middle. Sorry about that. For those of you worried about the MC getting a little weak... he is still only 9 and is very unstable. His character will change a lot during training. As for him being a bit too mature... I'll do a writer's cop-out and call it a racial trait.
Next chapter is a "lore of the world" type, so no plot progress, but you'll be able to see Race and World information that would just be too awkward to introduce through exposition. I hope to have it up in a few hours. I'm going to watch my recording of the Doctor Who season finale, then I'll get around to coding it.
And, to answer some questions, Yes, there is a magic system and an adventuring system. To be introduced later.
Questions, comments, and ratings are appreciated.
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