Wielder of the Flame (9 page)

The shops were soon behind them, being quickly replaced by
different buildings. They passed many storehouses and a lumber yard in the
distance where men were cutting timber into small logs.

“This is the industrial district, all sorts of heavy duty
supplies and equipment for buildings and things come from here. You can also
buy material for ships, sails and large stretches of canvas for tents and the
like.” Soren continued his tour.

After a short while they passed through the Industrial
District and came upon another.

Everything in this district consisted of Inn’s and quarters
for the weary traveler. Some were built magnificently, grand three and four
story manors, with well painted walls and signs shining with gold. Other
structures near the end of the district were only a single story, not very
large or well kept and crowded with small side streets and alleyways. Zildjin
told him it was the Lodging District. Every so often they would come to the
apex of a hill within the city and Marc caught a few glimpses of the waterfront
and docks. It wasn’t till they reached a certain rise that he was able to see
everything up close.

“This is one of the best views of the docks,” Zildjin
commented.

It was truly an impressive sight with all the ships masts
pointing into the blue horizon and the reflection of the many boats in the
water.

The docks were full of as much, if not more, movement than
the city itself.

At the end of each dock there were large stone buildings
with red slate rooftops. Men dressed in luxurious apparel stood in front of
each one. Some were talking amongst themselves in a sociable manner. Others
overlooked their respective vessels they had invested in, making sure
everything was going according to their desires. Men scuttled everywhere along
the harbor like little ants. There were captains yelling orders, men scrambling
to roll barrels or tie off ropes. Some ships were being loaded, others emptied.
There were all sorts of vessels ranging from row boats to clippers, barges to
full blown cruisers. The waters never ceased with movement as the crafts cut
across its surface. The waves continued to crash upon the adjacent beach in a
steady rhythm.

“The one near the end is my shop,” Soren said.

Marc nodded.

They continued to move onward, descending from the vantage
point upon which they had been standing. A row of buildings soon obscured their
view.

They quickly arrived at a road that curved towards another
two spiraling towers and the banner between the buildings had strange symbols
on it that quickly formed into readable English and read: TRANSPORTATION
DISTRICT.

“Coming up on our destination,” Soren said.

Business in the Transportation District must have been going
very well, for many of the buildings were elaborately detailed. There were
marble staircases outlined by ornately carved pillars leading up to many of the
structures. Grandiose statues and fountains overlooked beautiful gardens. A
wide road led up to the castle in the center of the city. As far as Marc was
able to tell, each of the districts had a similar road leading towards the
heart of Kolima. Further along, there were storehouses, vast structures piled
high with goods. Long paths of smooth cobblestone snaked their way from the
storehouses down to the docks, making for fairly quick and easy transportation
of supplies from ships to warehouse.

There were large roundabouts for the wagons to form lines
and unload at the warehouses.

Soren followed a number of wagons into one of the
roundabouts and pulled around the cart, heading towards his intended
destination. He pulled the balkars to stop in front of a building with a large
wooden sign. The Three Ships, was emblazoned in silver upon the wood.

“Right,” Soren announced, “We are here. Boys, I am going to
go in and talk with Jeron. I need you to unload half of those sacks,” He
pointed to the burlap sacks next to Marc, “And those small crates and four of
those barrels. Leave them here by the door and Borse and the rest of Jeron’s
crew will take care of it.”

“Yes sir!” Zildjin replied for the three of them.

“Good, then, when I get back we can head over to The Magic
Emporium.”

“Of course,” Zildjin replied as Soren jumped down.

He headed quickly towards the building, disappearing inside.

“Let us get to it!” Zildjin turned to Sesuadra and Marc.

Sesuadra jumped down and unhooked the back of the wagon. It
came down with a thunk. He then unlatched two long planks from the bottom of
the wagon, providing them with a ramp that went all the way to the ground.

Zildjin directed them what to do and they were soon getting
things unloaded. Zildjin stood on top of the wagon and carefully handed the
things down to Sesuadra who then passed them to Marc who, in turn, placed them
on the ground in front of the building. They had to be careful with the barrels
but it wasn’t long before they were done.

Marc’s arms hurt as they finished, but the other two weren’t
complaining. Marc didn’t want to seem weak, so he kept the soreness to himself.

Soren soon appeared from the building.

“All is well! Now, to the magic district we go!”

The magic district was aptly named.

As Soren led their now mostly empty wagon down the road, Marc
could feel something in the air, a sort of quiet buzz, or humming, that
thrummed down, even to his very soul.

It permeated through the architecture of the buildings, the
people who occupied them and those who walked the streets. Many of the edifices
had a design unique to the items sold or services rendered within. One had a
red tile roof, white plastered walls outlined in dark mahogany. An extravagant
garden featuring stone guardians and a pebble walkway made up the front lawn.
Another was constructed completely of bamboo and boasted of having the potions
to cure any ailment, magical or otherwise. Another had designs and symbols
carved into its windowsills and doorway, but no two were quite alike.

Like the rest of Kolima, it too, was busy here. But the
Magic District was so much more colorful and vibrant in comparison to the
others. The diversity of people and attire brought a bright energy to their
various activities. Soren was careful with the balkars as he navigated the
lively crowds.

“Is there actually any wizards here?” Marc asked.

“If there are, they most likely hide it,” Sesuadra said,
“even though the use of magic is not forbidden in Itherin, as it is in
Terragur, it is still not as widely accepted as it was in ages past. People
fear what they do not fully understand. The same applies to sorcerers and
enchantress’s. The Overseer’s Hands are the only open magic users.”

Marc nodded silently.

Two elderly gentlemen in brightly colored robes and leather
belts with silver buckles, both with beards, seemed deep in conversation about
a long metal staff with a figurine atop it, of which one of them was holding. A
small circle of young bald men clothed in red and orange robes were studying
scrolls. A woman with the appearance of an empress, was clothed in an ornate
gown of pastel yellows and pinks. She was carefully boarding a carriage. Three
younger women, similarly dressed, followed after. Each had a small furry
squirrel-like creature on their shoulders and large green books in their right
hands. Other citizens had pets as well. None of them were quite like animals Marc
was used to seeing in his world, though they did posses some similar qualities.
Many were reptilian in nature, a few appeared as some strange cousin to
ferrets, small and covered with fur, quick-like in their movements, and even
others had wings and avian features. Balkars and aldoms weren’t the only beasts
of burden there in the district also. There were some huge creatures closely watched
by their owners, as large as elephants, and numerous dog-like creatures running
loose and wild in the street.

Marc read signs that boasted of exotic dragon tongue,
specially imported unicorn hair, enchanted swords and weapons, wands, staves,
and a variety of mundane things made magical. There were significantly fewer
street vendors as well. Marc figured it was probably because magic was a much
more special and expensive commodity. Only the bravest hawkers and sellers sold
their wares out in the open.

“We are here,” Soren said finally as they pulled up to a
large building.

It was a well built structure of stone and mortar. A wide
and tall stain-glass window stood in the upper center of the front wall
exterior. It depicted a great white tree surrounded by exotic animals, some of
which Marc recognized, dragons, wyverns, and unicorns were among them. It
reminded Marc of the castles from his own world, albeit this one was much
smaller. Above the two great wood carved doors, below the stain-glass window,
were the words
The Magic Emporium
embedded and covered in gold.

Soren jumped down, handing the reins to Zildjin.

“I will let Eleanor know we have arrived, bring the balkars
around back and unload the wagon while you are there.”

“Of course,” Zildjin replied.

Sesuadra jumped from the cart and proceeded to the large
wooden gate at the side of the emporium. Zildjin steered the hefty creatures up
a dirt path and through the gates around back.

Behind the emporium was a large fenced off area like a
courtyard, with several small structures in it. There was a stable, an expanse
of dirt with targets at the end of it, and two other wooden huts. A set of six
steps led up to the rear entrance.

“Here,” Zildjin led the wagon to one of the wooden huts.

Sesuadra jumped down and opened the hut, it was a storage
shed.

Marc hopped out of the wagon as well.

They formed another train and quickly finished unloading the
rest of the supplies. Marc’s arms flared with pain as they finished, it had
been awhile since he had done a good bit of heavy lifting. His whole body felt
sore from the wagon ride as well. He brushed his fingers on the sword hilt at
his side and felt a small surge of warmth spread up his arm. It was a good
feeling. Neither Zildjin nor Sesuadra showed any sign of fatigue. Marc imagined
they did this all the time.

Zildjin led the balkars to the stable. Marc watched as he
spread handfuls of a pungent smelling spice across the stable. Sesuadra
shoveled large clumps of feed into a trough which the large creatures quickly
bowed their heads and ate out of.

Marc felt a little awkward just watching, but was grateful
they didn’t ask for his help, his arms hurt.

They soon finished and came over to Marc.

“Let us go inside, Soren must be talking with Eleanor,”
Zildjin patted Marc on the back, “You will like it here, the shop is quite a
sight inside, Eleanor has a vast collection of baubles and things.”

Marc didn’t know what to say in reply so he just nodded his
head.

They walked up the small steps and opened the rear doors.

Marc followed the boys inside.

A short hall led to a large chamber room. A set of stairs
led to a loft and there were a few other hallways and doors leading to other
rooms. The decorations and items in the large space indicated it to be a living
area. A spacious kitchen lay to the right next to a large fire hearth and
stove, which jutted out of the furthest rock wall next to cabinets which must
have been filled with food and cooking equipments and other supplies. The
entire room smelled like freshly baked bread, cinnamon, and fresh air.

The polished wood floor was covered with furs of different
colors and shagginess. The walls were decorated with tapestries of fancy and
artistic colors and designs. A desk sat in one of the corners, piled high with
leather bound books, scrolls and littered with feather pens and ink wells.
There were several large windows, their shutters open, letting in the bright
sunlight. In the center of the room a number of wooden chairs were arranged
around a sizable, ornate wooden table.

Soren sat at the table next to an older woman.

Both turned as the boys entered.

The woman stood with an expression of relief and joy on her
face.

“Zildjin, Sesuadra, my boys, home at last!”

The old woman looked to be in her early fifties. She had
warm brown eyes, a kind smile, and long silky gray hair braided into a large
bun. She wore a long gray blue dress laced up on both sides with a large fancy
silver adorned belt around her waist. The sleeves of the dress were white with
blue cuffs. The cuffs were embroidered with silver thread in meticulous details
of intertwining tree branches. The collar of her dress came up past her neck
and pointed upward. She wore long blue boots with silver buckles and blue
leather lace.

She took both of the boys in a warm hug. She looked up from
her embrace.

“And you,” Her voice was grandmotherly and kind, “You must
be Marcus.”

He nodded.

“Come here,” She motioned for him to draw nearer.

He didn’t know what to do so he stood there frozen for a
moment.

She motioned again.

He drew close and she embraced him.

He felt comfort and warmth. He could not remember the last
time someone hugged him. He felt safe, protected.

“Soren has told me everything. You are more than welcome
here.”

She hugged him again.

“Thank you,” was all he could say back.

“None of us know what it means.” Soren broke in, referring
to the conversation he had been having with Eleanor before the boys had come
in, “But I believe that I may be able to find some answers, I have some things
I need to do as well, that is why I must go.”

Soren stood up from the table and pushed in his chair.

“Where are you going?” Zildjin asked.

“To Belwick,” Soren replied.

“That is where you grew up, right?” Zildjin said.

 “Yes, I grew up there. My father is the Curator of the
Kinyrr and Shadowhand Library, if there is anything written of those beings who
appeared to us, and of your appearance here, Marcus, than my father will have
read it, I am sure of it.”

“You do not mean to leave this moment, do you?” Eleanor
asked.

“I mean to leave at first light,” He replied, “I must put
some things in order at the docks, close it up, then I will be ready to sail on
the morrow.”

“But you have just arrived from such a long journey, and The
Gathering—” Eleanor began to protest.

“—will be a fine celebration I am sure,” He said soothingly,
“But I feel this is something that should not wait. They were beings of ancient
magic Eleanor, as impossible as that may seem we saw them with our own eyes.
And Sesuadra had dreamed of Marcus before—” He finished as if he himself could
not believe his own words.

Sesuadra and Zildjin nodded as Soren spoke.

Eleanor nodded as well, “It is hard to believe,” she paused,
recalling an old saying from her childhood, “but, by the mouth of three shall
the truth be as stone.”

She looked Zildjin and Sesuadra in the eyes, ruffling their
hair with her grandmotherly hands. Then she looked at Marc.

“You boys are in need of a wash.”

Soren smiled, “They are indeed,” he stated.

He came over and embraced Eleanor, “Stay well Eleanor,”

“I will,” she replied, “Travel safely, and take anything you
need before you go.”

“Thank you for your generosity,” He said, taking a step
back, “You boys take care of Eleanor here.”

“Yes sir,” they replied.

Soren bowed his head and waved a final goodbye as he retreated
through the rear doors.

Eleanor turned to the boys.

“Zildjin and Sesuadra, I have some things for you, but not
until after you have washed up. Zildjin, to the wash first. Sesuadra, how about
you show our new guest around the shop until Zildjin finishes? Then you can
wash up. Then Marc, I will try and find you some clothes while you get cleaned
up.”

She rubbed the fabric of his shirt between her fingers, as
if unimpressed by the quality of the fabric and handiwork. She nodded her head
in a way that said,
not to worry child, I will put this right.

Sesuadra headed towards a main hall while Zildjin headed
towards one of the rooms. Eleanor followed Sesuadra and Marc.

Sesuadra pushed open two large wooden doors at the end of
the hall. They entered into a small crowded room with a smaller door. The room
had a desk and a few chairs, some more bookshelves filled with rolled canvas,
books, and ink wells and quill pens. Two windows lit the room. They opened
another door at the opposite wall and walked into the reverse side of a
storefront. A counter was in front of them with the rest of the store filling
the large room beyond.

Inside it was dim, the only light shone through a few
windows high on each wall, but mostly from the main stained-glass window,
casting everything in multicolored hues. The tall ceiling was supported by
stone pillars and large wooden beams. Its sizeable interior was filled with
rows and rows of items carefully set up on display, wall to wall. The entire
shop smelt of subtle hints of dust and age and a stronger scent of metal, which
came from the assorted suits of armor and weapons aligning one wall.

Standing by the counter was a large figure, a good seven
feet or so, whose appearance caught Marc completely off guard. So far he had
seen many strangely dressed humans and some bizarre creatures but never had he
seen something like this. It was as if a Siberian tiger had half melded with
the body of a person, retaining its fur and animal head and features, but
taking the human stature, standing upright on its hind legs. It had shiny metal
armor covering its right shoulder, metal studded leather bracers, and metal
anklets. A thick leather metal studded belt was wrapped around his waist and a
green loin cloth hung down to its knees.

The figure turned as they came in.

“Topar, this is our new guest Marc.”

The tiger man bowed his head.

Marc, not knowing really what else to do, bowed his head as
well.

Eleanor went to a book on the counter.

“Follow me,” Sesuadra said, “I will show you around.”

They walked down the aisles and turned down the first one.

The tall creature Eleanor had called Topar seemed to watched
Marc warily.

There were counters filled with vials and flasks filled with
strange colored liquids, some vibrant, some translucent, and even some glowing
softly. Others featured scrolls with simple labels like
Heavenly Summons
,
Enchanted Stone
,
Ice Charm
, and ones with strange titles like
Aeon
Cinedar
,
Iretara Loremagus
, and
Akril Darkring
.

As he turned down another aisle he saw Zildjin behind the
counter talking with Eleanor and Sesuadra was headed through the open doorway
in the direction of the living quarters. Zildjin was wearing a fresh white
shirt, leather jerkin, and brown loose breeches, his feet bare.