The Final Lesson, page 18
part #1 of The Final Lesson Series
Silence loomed over the region. The crowds dispersed. Solus grew fixated on how many laid quivering under the might of their spirited, hidden Prince. They wouldn’t know, and they would not be saved today from harm. Leilana stepped forward and reached out a hand to Rem’s turned back. His shoulders rose a few centimeters at her contact, and a trivial whimper tore through the silence.
In a swift motion, Rem collapsed onto the pavement, the aura engulfing his hand dissipating. His body fought to mend itself, the teal aura that formulated his healing prowess slipping through his system before spilling out, seizing those that he had dealt harm to. He flexed his fingers and rose to a sit, the bullets dropping from his body as if they never reached him in the first place. His hair sunk over his eyes as he folded his legs. He held up a hand, drawing his fingers closer together as if he were conjuring a fist. Leilana backpedaled, the grimoire slipping from her grasp, her body being lifted from the ground. She tried to call out to him, but each passing second stole her breath. She shakily gasped, clasping her hands around her neck to try and pry away the invisible force, to no avail.
“Rem!” Solus roared. “What are you doing?!” Rem held up his left hand as Solus was rushing to aide her, casting a barrier around the older boy. Solus’s face smacked the wall, causing him to stumble back. He slammed his fists against the barrier repeatedly. “Remiel! Stop this! You don’t know what you’re doing! Listen to me!”
Rem stood, keeping his hands in the air to maintain both sources of power. Leilana managed to glimpse his current state. His vibrant brown eyes were shrouded in an amber haze, his body emanating a shadowy disposition that rivaled the brutes they faced in the past. It was as if he no longer existed.
“You possess knowledge,” he spoke in a gravelly tone, the wave of his words rushing down her spine like chilled water. “I can feel the essence of your grimoire, and the soul of Ennis Erovina teeming within its pages. Without it… you are nothing. Barely fit to be called an Arcana.” He clenched his right hand into a fist before dropping it altogether, sending Leilana to the ground. She let out a few sharp gasps, coughing violently as she rested a hand on her throat.
“Don’t hurt her!” Solus cried out, slumping onto the ground, exhausted from the consistent push towards the barrier. “Rem…!”
No matter how much he tried to fight against the energy binding him, he was no match for a Maester. Born magicless, intertwined with a prodigious Bloodlinch that knew not the limits of his strength versus any form of morality. And now that power was consuming him bit by bit, and all that he could do was watch. He punched the ground underneath his scraped knees, unable to watch anymore.
“What’s your end goal?” Leilana coughed out, “Killing me because you don’t trust me? Or because I’m in your way?”
Rem hovered over her, giving her the chance to speak. She swallowed, unsure of how to piece together her words knowing that his incriminating stare would tear her down in an instant if she worked at convincing him that he had no reason to distrust her. The aura that surrounded him in the forest spoke it so—they were meant to walk a fragile line together. She was gifted with the opportunity to understand him further, and any lost chances would not only affect her pilgrimage but both of their lives. Now that they had met and interacted, they were intertwined.
“No,” he said simply. “I’m only keeping you around because my friend sees something in you, and you happen to carry information that can save my kingdom. Nothing more. If my intention was to kill you, I would have done it long ago.”
Leilana’s heart sank. She knew. She had always suspected that Rem was just dealing with her, but to hear it spoken aloud was gut-wrenching. He would never come to see her as more than some burden that his closest companion had dragged from the ash and grime and taken under his wing.
Rem lowered his right hand and the barrier holding Solus dropped. Solus didn’t hesitate to rush to Leilana’s side, stumbling as he ran, resting his hands on her shoulders and asking after her. Leilana couldn’t face him, her eyes averted towards her dusty hands. Her bottom lip quivered. If she chose to acknowledge him, she would have broken down then and there. She wasn’t strong, or useful enough to warrant a place beside them. All that she was good for was translating the Minsuran text and giving them information on the Orb of Concord. She and Amiria should have traded places. Maybe she would have been able to talk some sense into Rem instead of antagonizing him by presence alone.
Solus looked to Rem, his eyes darkening as he stood from his spot before Leilana. “Remiel.” The animosity hindering Solus’s usually calm tone rose awareness in Rem. “I thought that you were above something like this.” That was the last thing he wanted from Solus. He was the one supporting him throughout everything—without him, there was no chance of survival.
“W-What did I…?” Rem reached up both hands to touch his face, to make sure that his mind and body were still intact. “I… don’t… what’s…?” He tripped over his words, his mouth dry, his stomach twisting into knots. What was this? Where was he? What had he said? Why couldn’t he remember? Solus had seen this expression before. Rem became distraught whenever he was mentally suffering, and over the last few days, he was nothing but such. “…Sol…”
Solus extended a hand towards Rem, his expression unchanging. “We need to leave now, Rem. It isn’t safe here anymore. I can get us someplace better. We just have to move forward.” Rem reached out his hand, but before he could take a single step, his knees buckled under him and he once more collapsed, his energy depleted. Solus grabbed his arm before he impacted, holding him in place. He carefully wrapped the limb around his shoulders and pulled Rem to his feet, supporting him.
Leilana remained planted on the concrete a while longer, her mind working to gather herself and wrap her head around Rem’s words. Had he really meant them? Or were they some farce conjured up from his rage-plagued mind meant to draw out her inner weakness? Was she reading too far into what had corrupted him?
“Leilana,” Solus began, “I don’t think he meant it. At least, I hope that he-”
“It’s all right,” she told him, jumping to her feet. “I’ve come to know how Rem can be.” She started ahead. “The marketplace, right? That is where we’re to meet your informant?”
“U-Uh, yes, that’s correct. Wait a moment, I’ll be right with you.”
There were some things better left unsaid, even to those that allowed their thoughts to waver and wander under the pressures of newfound information. Solus could only hope that Leilana wasn’t someone that carried on in the face of overwhelming statements like Rem seemed to. The words would carry on alongside her until they rose to the surface again no matter how much that she tried to hide them in the crevices of her mind.
How much pain could one face before they cracked?
Lancett hated Amiria. He wanted to believe that he did. He blamed her, but every time that he considered tossing the thought around the playing field, he felt guilty. The instant that he visualized her face, he didn’t envision a mien of detestation; all that he thought of was the innocent and modest girl that Amiria Farone used to be. She was scared and timid, but she found reasons to smile. She was still residing inside of her tortured soul somewhere, wrought with the idea of destruction cornering her.
Destiny could always be defied. That was what Kosmin had wanted her to understand when he addressed his reading to her, but the effects of the Tower card were already well in play now that Amiria had played her role in this pilgrimage of totem collecting. She had ultimately taken herself out. The idealism that her predetermined fate was going to swallow her whole was swinging through the air like a pendulum and pounding against her frail body.
Lancett found himself in a sizeable farming town called Linarus to the far east of Paluna. It took him about twenty minutes to scan over the area, greeting some people as he walked, feigning his usual smile. No matter how grateful he was for the opportunity to travel, he was inclined to make the journey alone, and it was tedious to consider. From every corner of the open fields, herbs were lining the paddies. The faint aroma of antiseptic overtook his senses, but it was soon overpowered by another scent: peppermint. It eased his conflict, if only for a moment.
“Come on, we have to at least try and collect some leaves!” Up ahead he spotted two young men, one with long red hair tied into a ponytail, the other with neck-length black hair, glasses, and what Lancett swore were horn nubs on his scalp. “I can make some peppermint tea from scratch this way!” The voice had stemmed from the redhead, who was carrying a peculiar accent. He had elongated the ‘I’ in his sentence and in his haste, had also stumbled a bit over some of the vowels.
“We don’t have time for this,” the boy with glasses pressed. “We don’t even know where we are, and here you are worried about tea.”
The redhead scoffed, shifting his weight to the left side of his body. “What, calling me a drug addict?” His friend smirked before walking ahead of him.
“Cannot say for sure, really. Hurry up now, the others are waiting for us.” The redhead was quick to give chase, the two walking past Lancett, who gave them a passing look as the scarlet hair brushed past his face. The two young men locked gazes before the redhead smiled, continuing after his friend. Lancett couldn’t help but grin. Those two seemed to have definitive character, that was certain.
He went on his way, the paddies and naturistic atmosphere evolving into wood-crafted homes and lanterns. The houses aligning the open space were all fair-sized, the citizens contagious in the art of simplistic merrymaking. The sun was setting off in the west; they shared this trait with Paluna, lighting tea lamps to illuminate their closed-off world to the public. Groups of three at a time emerging from a building composed of brick and stone, a complete contrast to Paluna’s straw huts. At least this place could survive a torching session. Their laughter was hearty and flamboyant, their speech nonsensical, and he could practically taste the liquor in the air. Some emerging from the building didn’t seem much older than he was, and they were all content with how they were spending their nights.
Maybe he could unwind.
He pressed his hand to the door as he entered. Upon arrival, the all-encompassing sound of lutes occupied the room in tandem with laughter and mindless chatter. There were several tables and barstools, kegs full of beer set off to the side of the shop. He couldn’t make out what the citizens of this town were discussing amongst themselves, but it was far from his place to intrude. Glasses were clinking in every direction, each one filled with an array of colors and mixed fruits, some with straws to further blend the mixture, some taken straight from the cup. Brave souls, he thought.
He had never touched alcohol before, and he almost wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
“Come on, take a load off!” Kindall’s voice broke through the cracks of his weary mind. He could almost see him grasping a bottle of liquor with a careless grin. “Take a risk! Have a drink with me!” Lancett nearly broke down recalling it. He had always rejected him. Always. And he never knew why he had because there was no harm, no foul, and certainly no risk in a single drink.
Kindall would steal bottles of red wine used for cooking and chug it straight. When he grew tired of the mundane taste over the course of a few months, he experimented with a variety of liquors before he upgrading to vodka. All that it took him was a good four sips. It was powerful enough that before it was used in Hinju’s meals and burned out to create a soft palette, one bottle of eighty-proof could knock them both out in half an hour.
By the Warlords, nothing was going to feel the same without hearing his stupid laugh…
“You look like you could use a stiff one,” a medium-high pitch called out, causing him to jump.
At the counter stood a girl with red hair braided down the middle of her back, a few strands of her bangs hanging over her sky-shaded eyes. She was cleaning out a glass with the apron around her waist, droplets of sweat on her forehead visible under the reduced lighting. She smiled, and Lancett blushed. The gesture wasn’t overly comforting, but it was clear that she wasn’t just fetching for him.
“What’s your fancy?” Like others in the tavern, she carried an accent, but hers was shrouded under the guise of a more professional atmosphere. “You a lightweight or a madman with your booze?”
“I don’t drink,” Lancett admitted, leaning over the counter to get a closer look at her. She was almost shocked, not by his behavior, rather his words. “What do you recommend for a newcomer?”
“Why, that depends how drunk you want to be,” she replied, tapping his nose with her index finger once. “I’ll set you up. You won’t even be able to taste the alcohol. First one’s free for weary travelers.” He watched her return to the myriad of glasses, bottles, and fruits lining the back counter.
“You know I’m not from here?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged, continuing to smile while mixing up the drink, refusing to let him see what she was adding no matter how much he turned his head. She always seemed to move the glass just out of his view and didn’t even grab anything while he was watching. That made him a tad nervous.
“It’s not a big town, and it’s rare to see different faces. You stand out enough.”
“That’s it?” He almost laughed but withheld it by clearing his throat. “I thought you would give some grand speech about how travelers are always in and out, trying to mooch free drinks off you.”
“Oh, trust me, that happens less than you think. Then again, those same travelers tend to stop messing around and work on what is more important: resting.” She rubbed her middle finger and thumb together over the glass while staring at him. “And trying not to lose their money buying drinks, of course.” She set the glass down in front of Lancett.
Lancett picked up the glass, examining its contents. He detected a faint hint of vodka masked under the teal color. “What is in this?”
The girl glanced up at the ceiling, not sure if she should surprise him. In the end, she told him, “Strawberry-flavored vodka, blueberries fresh from the trees, and in your honor, a spritz of gin.” She rested a hand on her hip, gesturing for him to move along. “Have a taste, let me know what you think.”
Lancett lifted his shoulders before exhaling, putting the glass up to his lips and chugging down a few sips. He coughed in surprise, but within seconds, he was drinking more until the concoction was half full. The girl rested her chin on her hand, leaning over the counter.
“So, now that you’ve had my free drink, what do you think of it?”
Lancett blinked a few times, his eyes darting around the room, his vision unsteady. Maybe he drunk too fast. “It’s, uh… it’s kind of strong.” He wasn’t slurring his words just yet, and he still felt like he could concentrate his thoughts. He didn’t draw his attention away from her, continuing to drink the concoction slowly. “It’s good. Makes me feel a little weird. Is that supposed to happen?”
“What do you feel?”
“Um…” Some of the liquid dripped down his chin, and he held up a hand to catch it before it hit his shirt. “I forget.”
“My name is Sien Kaiser,” she told him. “What’s your name?”
“Lancett Lune,” he said reluctantly, lengthening the ‘u’ in Lune by a half-second longer than intended. “I’m a Maester. I like magic. I like to fight. And I like this drink a lot.” He drank the rest of the mixture before setting down the empty glass, which clanked loudly against the table. “And you’re really pretty.” Sien giggled. Seeping in already.
“Lancett Lune,” she repeated. “‘Keeper of the Moon.’ I like it. It suits you well.” He pointed an index finger at her and closed his eyes, nodding. The gesture made his head spin, and he placed his hand on the table to steady himself, blinking a few times before grinning sheepishly.
“Thaz wha people say.” His words were blending, but he didn’t mind. “A lot of peoples out there call me Lance. My bud Kindall got ‘em hooked on it.” He slammed his hands on the table, but she didn’t even flinch. “It’s nuts! But then again, he was kinda nuts. But I like yer name better. Sien Kaiser. You sound like a palette of cataclysm on rye.”
She tilted her head to the right, chuckling nervously before taking a step back from the counter. “I don’t think comparing me to food is the right way to flirt. That didn’t make any sense.”
“I’m a shitty flirt!” he laughed. “I can’t even get the girl I like to acknowledge me, she’s always so serious and focused on herself! It’s selfish, but it’s attractive to see how passionate she is. Like a doll!” She was noting his actions and reactions to everything that she was saying, writing them down on a napkin, humming a bit. “Whatcha doin’ there?”
“Lancett, tell me something about yourself that you haven’t told anyone else,” she said simply, not looking up from her notes.
“One time I brought a girl to play, and mom made goat’s milk,” he spoke without hesitation.
Sien glanced up at him. “Goat milk? Sounds like it’d be thicker.”
“Yeah-yeah, but ‘sa lil’ sweeter when done right. I gave her what was in the barn without telling my folks since they made it fresh every day, and right after that, she started sweating and coughing and throwing up. She had to stay the night.” He scratched the side of his face with his index finger, blushing a bit. “Turned out the milk wasn’t fully churned. Girlie left me hanging.”
“Wow,” Sien mumbled, “You are a terrible flirt.”
Lancett rested his head on the table. “I also like to write… I try to write poetry…”
“Oh? So, you’re a poet? Is that what you would be doing if you weren’t a Maester?”
“Not good ‘nuff. Plus, got a pilgrimage to work on, too many people to meet, girl to find… totems to try and seek out…” He yawned, shutting his eyes, dozing off at his spot on the table. “Warlord to be…” A light snoring reached Sien’s ears, and she watched as people began to file out of the tiny tavern until it had emptied, guided by a girl with dark brown hair.
