|
|
| |
|
| ||
|
|
|
Chapter Four
A warlord's life is never boring, thought Max as he trudged
along the path leading to Castle KAAT'N. It was only about two days'
march away from the treehouse, but Max hurried a bit more than
necessary. He could hear Fflewdurr grumbling under his breath about the
walk, but smiled to himself at his resistance to the ennui of the
journey. Someone remind me why I ever signed up for this job.
His moment of resentment fled, though, when an image of Livonya's face
came to his mind. Yup, that's why.....for her.
They had reached the edge of Deep Shadow just as dusk was falling.
Fflewdurr immediately began to set up camp, starting a small fire as the
sun slipped past the horizon, coloring the sky lavender, then purple,
then a deep blue, then black. Max looked up at the stars, nearly
feeling the inky darkness of the night. For you, my dear
Liv....for you.
Late in the night, Fflewdurr sat awake, on watch. Max was resting
peacefully. This isn't my quest he thought. He picked up his
things, careful not to disturb Max, and set out into the night on his
own.
After fixing the stranger up in her bedroom, Livonya surveyed his
wounds. Despite the fever ravaging his body, he was full of
miscellaneous scrapes, scratches, and bruises. Methos lounged in the
doorway, feigning disinterest but keenly aware that something was about
to happen.
The first spell Livonya tried was a basic Heal spell. Nothing too
fancy, but it would get the job done. She took the stranger's hand,
closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Methos watched, fascinated, as a
white glowing light spread from Livonya's palm down the stranger's
forearm. The bruises, cuts, and scrapes healed instantly as the light
spread over them.
Livonya completed healing all of his external wounds as Methos stared
in rapt fascination. Any pretense of trying to be disinterested was
dropped now, as he got a small glimpse into the power this beautiful
woman held. She's even more amazing than I thought, he said
inside his mind. As he spoke these words to himself, though, Livonya
opened her eyes, set the man's hand down, and tried to stand up.
Apparently, the spell was rather strenuous for her, and she nearly
collapsed on the floor. However, Methos managed to sprint across the
tiny room and catch Livonya before she fell.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, aware that it was a redundant
question.
"Just...tired," she said weakly, though it was far from the truth. The
Heal spell had done nothing to her but drain her mana supply for a
little while - it certainly had no effect on her energy. As she clung
to Methos, feigning exhaustion, she thought, Man, I can't believe
that WORKED!
Using a bit of his own magic, Methos managed to get Livonya to the
couch in the living room, where he put her on the couch as gently as
possible. He brought her a cup of the ever-present chamomile tea, and
she graced him with another one of her smiles that made him melt.
Literally. He had to sit down to keep from falling over.
"So, now what do we do?" Methos asked, taking a sip of the
still-too-hot tea and scowling as he burned his tongue.
"We wait." Livonya replied, stirring her tea in an effort to cool it
off without using any of her magic, which was supposedly used up from
healing the stranger. Speaking of which, a thought came to her mind.
"What did you say his name was?"
"Zedd. Marvelous fellow, if a bit crazy at times," Methos replied,
sounding a bit odd.
"How do you know him?" she asked, not hiding her curiosity.
"Eh? Me, know him? Not on your life. Just met him once. Used to be
the captain of a ship. The "Teal Oar" or something like that. It had
pulled into port for the night, and we, uh, got drunk together. Quite
marvelous tales that man can tell."
"So that's it? You only saw him that once?" Livonya looked
exasperated. "I find that hard to believe."
"Darn, and I was so hoping, too..." Methos stared off into the empty
air.
"What's that?"
"Um, uh...'It was a short hop off the stool'? No, no, 'it was so
boring, too.' Yes, that's it. It was pretty boring."
Livonya stared into Methos' haunting eyes. She could tell he was no
longer even focused on the subject. Typical, she thought. I
finally start to learn something of this stranger's past, and Elrohir
clams up. I suppose he has his own hidden agendas, I guess.
"Want some more tea, El..Methos?" she offered.
"El Mariachi! Ariba, Ariba! Aye yai yai yai yai! Yes, please!"
Livonya got some tea for Methos and herself, and sat back down and
talked some more.
After about half an hour of talking with Methos about various other
things, Livonya decided that it was time to go check on the
newly-named-to-her Zedd. Methos was a bit surprised at her sudden
recovery, but Livonya dismissed those thoughts with another smile. All
conflicting ideas instantly fled Methos' mind as he basked in the glow
of a beautiful smile meant just for him.
As Livonya approached the room, she quickened her pace.
Something's going on here, she thought. Something just doesn't
feel right.
She entered the room, and saw Zedd just beginning to open his eyes.
Livonya rushed over and took his hand, the same one that she had taken
to heal him. His eyelids flickered, then opened to reveal eyes the
color of a cloudless summer sky, and full of instant recognition.
Oh my God.... thought Livonya as she brought her left hand up to her
mouth, and a thousand memories hit in the span of a moment.
A chance meeting that grew into so much more. Not needing to ask
"getting-to-know-you" questions, because they'd all been answered.
Talking together until all hours of the night. That first day together,
in the company of those who didn't care, all insignificant. Knowing
what the other felt, thought, hoped, dreamed, all over hundreds of miles
without a single word being spoken. A hug, a touch, a thousand dreams
shared. Consolation for life's troubles sought in the mind of the
other.
A friendship so strong that even death couldn't tear it apart.
Methos watched in wide-eyed amazement as Zedd opened his mouth to
speak. The sound so weak, barely loud enough even for Livonya to hear,
though she was right next to him. Zedd whispered one word....
"Livonya..."
...and lost consciousness again.
Elrohir's back, thought Livonya, as she reclined on her living
room couch. But he can't be back! He DIED!!
Methos, realizing that Livonya was in no mood whatsoever to deal with
anyone, even him, chose wisely to retreat into the relative safety of
his room. Flute music, soft and apprehensive, began floating through
the door.
Livonya's mind raced, considering every course of action that Elrohir
could have taken before dying. The stranger really was Elrohir; that
she was sure of, more sure of than anything else in her life. The only
question left was how? How did he manage to survive?
Her thoughts were broken, however, by a yowling scream from next door.
Livonya leapt up off of the couch, stormed to the nearest window, and
saw one of Slayer's elf "buddies" on the porch. He had his head tilted
back and was howling at the moon. What mind-altering chemical have
they discovered now? she thought. As if beer and setting
bushes on fire wasn't bad enough....
Livonya returned to her couch, reflecting on the events of the day.
The destruction of all of Slayer's stuff weighed heavily in her mind.
Why DID I do that? she pondered. He was bothering me...but
that still doesn't mean it was entirely justified. I guess...he
deserved it.
As she thought the last words, Livonya felt something give way in her
mind, something she hadn't felt in quite a while. Something
unfamiliar...but not entirely alien. More like something that had gone
unused for quite a while.
She recognized the feeling almost immediately. It was a feeling of a
non-existant wall caving in. A feeling of a drop of air hitting a wall
of stone..and leaving a tiny, microscopic crater. A weakening of
self-imposed mental barriers...left closed at the end of the last Atog
War.
"I know exactly what is happening..." Livonya whispered to herself.
"... and I can't stop it."
How long do I have? Two, maybe three days? How long before it
snaps? she thought, as the invisible, individual drops of air
gradually increased. I've got to get Methos out of here. He can't
stay...it's not safe for anyone. Not even for me...
A soft rain of air, tiny droplets of pure thought. All clamoring to
leave, but more annoying than unbearable. And that will come soon
enough... Livonya thought. I only hope Elrohir is well enough
to travel...he's going to need to. And soon.
The motionless figure waited a few moments, and then Livonya went out
the door. He had feigned unconsciousness. Bland sunlight filtered
through tree leaves to his small room. Days, months, a lifetime ago he
had been here. Or was it much longer? He couldn't tell. He had gone
so far, done so much, lived the lifetime of hundreds. But here, on this
plane, it had all began.
He remembered Livonya from long ago in his youth. The two had been
close friends. He saw it in her eyes. She had recognized him in his
own. He wasn't puzzled by this, it was to be expected. Eyes always
tell the truth, whether you want to hide it or not. All it had taken
was a glimpse, and she knew who he was.
Who am I? he thought. After all the time, and all the
wandering, have I really discovered who I am yet? Perhaps he would
never know. Perhaps he would never want to know. Perhaps I already
know.
He eased himself out of bed and walked to the window. Gazing out, he
could see two more treehouses, one was apparently Max's (another friend
he hadn't seen in ages), but the other seemed newly constructed and was
a painful eyesore compared to Liv's and Max's much grander homes.
Someone who just wants to be part of the crowd he guessed. His
arms and back began to hurt him, remnants of the attack on him a few
days ago by several goblins several miles north of Livonya's. She had
provided medical assistance, and healed his wounds, but he knew it was
something worse. Goblin Fever. His body was now whole, but his
mind? Soon it too would become affected. Livonya had sent Max and
Fflewdurr to some place called KAAT'N to find an antidote.
When he had last been on this plane, the plague was running out of
control, leaving the surviving wizards of the Atog War to discover an
antidote. It was a long time ago, and yet with all the temporal
distortion he had undergone, he had returned just weeks after his
departure, lifetimes older and maybe wiser, but most likely more
off-kilter than before. This treehouse had been one of the last things
he had seen before he went off into the forest and planeswalked out for
good. Why had he been here?
Liv was having a difficult time with a band of atogs. I had been
lurking around Deep Shadow for some time, when I found Liv's new place.
Upon my approach, I noticed that she and Max were dispatching a random
band of atog survivors, and I helped them out by killing several atogs.
"Call me §," I had told them. Why had I told them that?
The stranger sighed. He was weak, drained. His search for more of the
World Spell had drawn him here. He had yet to find the elusive spell,
even after all this time. He reflected on his past adventures, the
follies and triumphs. The sun began to set, cascading through the
leaves of the tree, leaving filtered sun-rays to carve their path across
his walls, floor and ceiling. There was always a beauty to this
nature we live in, he mused. Too bad it is often wasted.
As darkness fell, his mind was flooded with images. Faces from his
youth, long now in his past. Something he had returned to. Places he
had called home, a life long since lost. Friends long separated from
him. He knew there was a reason he left, but could not remember it. A
veil of blood rage settled on him. He tried not to let it out, but it
overtook him. He locked his powers away, deep into his mind. It was a
skill he had learned long ago, to escape detection by those who hunted
planeswalkers. Now, it was to protect Livonya and Methos, who could
potentially be destroyed by a random burst of energy while he was in his
maddened state.
He clenched his fist, and stared into the growing darkness. Tears of
pain streamed down his face. Painful memories, painful injuries.
For one man, it was a bitter homecoming.
Elsewhere, many miles away, Max trudged on in his quest. He had awoken a few days earlier to find that Fflewdurr had fled. He was quite miffed about the circumstance, but got over it fairly well. If he couldn't trust his companion, he had to rely on himself. He knew he was near the end of his quest already. He had followed the map Livonya had given him, and it led straight to KAAT'N. Now, as dusk fell, he gazed into the distance, and judging by the map and what he saw, his heart and mind were struck a mighty blow. KAAT'N no longer was there. Oh man, what's Liv gonna say about this? He sat down and pondered what to do.
Back in Livonya's treehouse, Methos busied himself playing another song
for Livonya. She sat on the floor, and both were having the time of
their lives; Methos singing, and Livonya humming along. She'd laugh
when he missed a tune, and he gave his sly smile. Despite what the two
of them were doing, Livonya was terrified inside. She had seen the
stranger known as Zedd, looked into his eyes. For weeks, she had
believed that Methos was Elrohir, but now that belief was destroyed.
Elrohir lay in the nearby room, unconscious. Her heart fluttered
wildly. He's dead! I felt him die! How can he be here, now?
she thought. Her confusion was nearly tangible. He is Elrohir, I
suppose. Secretive, crafty, not prone to give anyone an idea what he's
thinking. But death? How did he survive that? And who is Methos, if
not Elrohir?
"Methos, I think I'd better go to bed. After healing Zedd, I'm
exhausted." More than you could realize, she thought, mulling
over the shock of what she knew was coming in the next few days. She
turned to leave, but Methos grabbed her arm.
"Zedd, schmedd." He stared into her eyes with a strange earnesty.
"That's not his real name. You didn't need to heal him, you can't heal
him completely. He didn't really need your help, yet you gave it
willingly. Ask yourself why. You know who he is, now. Livy, he won't
want to stay here. He certainly won't wait for Max and Fflewdurr to
return with a cure."
Livonya choked back a sob. Methos had rarely, if ever been in such a
serious mood, and it frightened her that he spoke the truth, every word.
She was more confused than ever.
"Hey Liv, wanna play Jenga?" Methos asked nonchalantly. Methos' moment
of lucidity had vanished.
"No! Not right now. I...I really need to get some sleep now, Methos.
If you don't mind."
"You're sure you don't want to be wooed to sleep by the greatest bard
in your treehouse?" He asked with a wry smile.
"Go to bed, Methos."
"Okay. Da, da, da da dum dum, da da da da, dum de doo...Doo doo doo,
doo doo doo, doo doo doo, DOO DOO!"
"What's that, Methos?"
"Hmmm? Impossible to say what our mission might be..."
With that, the occupants of the treehouse turned in for the night.