Gildarts, the type of old guy who simultaneously seemed like he was napping and indeed was napping, but also not quite fully. Being that he was aware of his surroundings while his mind was turned almost completely off. The type of security that was a forcefield of awareness that left his body and muscles at complete ease. Placid in a state of serenity, as though always waiting within the calm before the storm.
This hyper-aware napper’s eyes were closed as his neck crooked back at an ungodly angle that it might just snap from the sheer gravity hanging over him. He’d be stiff when he woke up, if he bothered to notice its sensation.
He slept as though he hadn’t nearly blown the entire mission, he slept like he wasn’t claustrophobic in a bumpy truck, and above all, he slept like an old man. Age had taken him for quite a tumble, he had never slept without even the vaguest of dreams before. Somehow, within the silent darkness of his mind.
He wondered what the silence was trying to tell him. He considered the consequences that even finding out would have.
It was hard for Elise to deny that the angle of the elder mage’s neck was taunting her. His jugular hidden under a silver sheen of prickle, next to the same chords that held his aged gruffness. Izzy’s eyes caught her curiously, Elise felt a huff form within her lungs and twisted her chin away icily.
He couldn’t possibly think she’d be that foolish -though she had been caught thinking about it- what Izzy didn’t understand was that she hadn’t been thinking about that but rather, that neck protruding there was a constant reminder of what she was. Something inextricably bound to her fate, but mostly just inescapable for the moments like this when things were supposed to be passing away against time and a neck could not simply be just a neck.
One might think that since Gildarts appeared the oldest, he would be the first to die. Sure, simple survival and human logic may have taken people to that irrevocable fact. However, it was because he was this old (however long that exactly was) and he’d survived this long and proved that he had more fight in them than all of them combined.
Still Elise was running this operation and she appreciated how he did not flex his charisma in a tactic to usurp her, nor doubt her authority. He understood the chain of command.
In the darkness of the night, where thoughts swirled all around. Izzy was next. He should’ve been more angry at Elise, but he was just trying to protect her secret too and allay any suspicion. Therefore, he was not mad. Their gaze had been directed at the veteran warrior. His gaze had wandered to the leonin.
Both the other males could have been brothers, if one was not so very lionlike. Edos slept in a different way, one that made the young Phorteas think that he was not wholly asleep, despite those steady unrapid bellows of air huffing in and out of the cat’s nostrils. Yes, both of them emanated a brutality that stayed with them while they slept. If he had to describe it it must’ve been that of a true warrior’s mark. Words put to it were simply, “You better not fuck with me while I’m sleeping.”
Izzy found an ounce of a smile protruding on his lips at that, he hadn’t found a thought that accurate for awhile. He wondered, even if vaguely if he would ever inherit this quality as he aged. His eyes hovered over Edos’s shoulder muscles, surely forged by eons of pressure and compared them to his own. He had toted heavy tomes in his day but no matter how many books he couldn’t help but to give up his fantasy then and there. Neither of the opposing mages had muscles because of books.
Because of his observation skills, he noticed as Gildarts shuddered himself awake. The mage looked down, placing his fraternal twin hands against his body. As though pressing in stuffing from the stitching of a plush toy. Izzy would not begin to know how very apt this analysis was had he seen beyond the man’s bandaged torso.
The weight of frustration fell against the battlemage’s lips in the uneasy thin line he was getting used to seeing. However, there was something else. Gildarts remained looking down at his torso. Izzy’s gaze eventually followed.
Donned over Gil’s shoulders was a ragged black cloak, a small crack parting down the middle. Between the two lines of fabric each of them saw it. The faint hue of pale light before Gildarts immediately stood up and cast his cape over to mask the entire trace of light.
Izzy had not seen its particular source, however he knew magic when he saw it. Worse still, as the silver-haired mage began to leave from sight there was a flurry of worry in his eyes. Izaneus considered this briefest of expressions, worry from a man who had likely seen it all. Worry felt more potent than fear would have in the man’s dark eyes. For fear would have placed a name on whatever the light was.
This worry however, had left it unnamed.
…
Alone, separated by the open-backed tarped truck, Gildarts let his haunches lean against the back of the metal frame. Gildarts then began to fall into the ferocious fit of a cough that he quickly stifled the sound of.
One that left the remainder of his ribs fighting against his lungs. It went on, he staggered then felt his sitting bones fall against cold metal. It was night, they were the last and one of the few trucks that had made it out. No trucks were behind him, the night gave him ample shadow to lurk in. No vantage point would’ve given his position to the front driver, the corners and size of the truck were too strong.
He wondered if his need for fresh air had called attention to the anomaly the kid saw, or if it garnered more anger from Elise. Still, he’d checked the surroundings before creeping into the gentle chill of the night.
Now, certain no one was watching, he faced away from their stashed position inside, finally able to behold the patterns of light that protruded from his scars. They glittered unfiltered as he lifted his robe away, like incandescent Kintsugi. The light parting through the healed flesh of old scars.
One burned stronger than the others, beneath the muffling gauze. The glow of the old vow he had never broken despite the war time had waged on him. His tattoo, the one that lay at the top of his peck just over his heart. Fingertips curled to peel back the layers of fabric away, to see the full truth of this unnatural and mystical glow.
It was bright azul, much like a spell-caster’s glow and it would’ve been beautiful under any other circumstances. If he had known what was going on with his body. Not knowing made the pale illumination burn like a wretched omen. There was a tingling sensation and then the undefined light vanished as soon as it had appeared.
His jaw clenched even more that the light had stopped. No sigh of relief, instead the mage pulled his chin slowly up and looked at the moving treeline of possibilities among the unending twirl of road. Who could be out there? Who was watching him? Cursing him? What did they want? How many times would God send someone to steal his soul?
An exhale of steam blew into the night air and the truck’s motion chucked the slaps of semi-warm air back into his face.
The notion that the light could’ve been some sort of prophetic telling of his fate, or his very demise calling him back from another realm seemed foolish but it was the first clue his mind arrested. His teeth grit against the unanswered why that he tasted with bitterness on his tongue. Somehow, he felt it was all connected.
The man of little possession pulled out a small piece of wood from his baggy shorts’ pocket. His fingertip ran over the inscription. There was no sensation of magic from the word he couldn’t let go. However, somehow, the word marked him as did the wrinkles on his face.
Everything he had ever touched knew him as a stranger. He began to cast a look over his shoulder, his honey radiant eyes were dismal and lonely. Soon, this group would forget his name too.
A thorn pricked his mind as the glance he’d cast back to them netted him a single set of eyes.
It was the boy. Peering through the tarp, just a few feet away, their shoulders were near adjacent to one another. Gil was unsurprised, since he’d been the only one to notice the glow. Of course the young man’s curiosity might carve his mind with enough questions to push him to come out in the total dark.
He did not turn around, in the old-timer’s experience the questions always came regardless.
…
Izzy’s eyes had left Edos who had fur that was left unruffled by the sudden movement, nor even a few twinges in his slumbering slits of eyes. The blond spellcaster had exchanged a look at Elise, who he could see from her eyes had not seen what he had.
Before he had realized he had, he stood up. Then followed him out the back. Initially unsure what Gil was intending to do out there, or if he’d jumped off the truck completely.
Silence clung to the unease of the night as it seemed even in waking, even under the crumble of earth beneath them. The mage was a hyper-aware force of nature and his eyes had peeled into the boy’s very existence the second he’d even considered nearing the outside. Not that Iz was trying to be stealthy, however he had hoped to at least be unnoticed so his presence wouldn’t feel so intrusive to the old man’s solitude.
Gildarts leaned his back against the truck, having seen the boy and not bothering to twist his whole head around again.
It wasn’t an entirely cold shoulder, even still Iz had a tough time getting out all the words he meant to say. “What’s…”
“Wrong with me?” Gildarts answered with a bit more frustration than the youth was expecting. His disgruntled words seemed to lack a target and instead painfully oozed between them.
Iz would’ve gone with, ‘What’s with those lights? You know, the ones coming out of your skin?’ but hadn’t managed to get very far with this thought. Worse still, it seemed to be a sore spot for the old man. This had already started out poorly.
Gildarts exhaled a cold spray of fog again, he hadn’t meant to snap to himself with the kid around. No matter how he tried to justify it within himself, he couldn’t. So instead, he opted for penance, the truth he didn’t want to tell, let alone admit to a fellow wizard.
“I’ll share the little I know about my condition, but only under a few simple terms. It just depends how curious you are about it,” Or how much you want to know the truth about me.
“Oh I… Didn’t mean to come off-” Izzy began, “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I was just concerned.” And okay, yes a little curious about magic lights coming out of your also very magical body. “If you don’t want to then-”
The elder light out a long sigh, one that matched that of a school-teacher who’d been teaching long past retirement. The unspoken terms were a bit inferred, the separation from the group even by a tarp and his hushed voice noted the confidence of a secret within his whisper to Izzy. “I don’t know what they are. I feel like I should, but I don’t.” His words were cautious, not quite full of shame but embarrassed enough Iz could tell he didn’t want to utter them a second time.
“Huh.” Iz blinked, no questions were asked and no root answers given. This was the dissatisfaction of education, folks. “Well uh, I could take a look at them if you want?”
“Perhaps another time,” Gildarts uttering soundlessly, respectfully declined.
Izzy tried to put himself in the battlemage’s position. Not quite hostile, however certainly closed off. He tried to imagine being an elite battlemage, in the way Gildarts seemed to walk without any arrogance, but hardly omitting his ego told of some sort of code or respect. To be both wise and gutsy, as well as suave and still despite it all, not knowing who’d cursed him. Perhaps over his lifetime he’d netted too many enemies. Imagine that, on top of this, not knowing what they had done to him at all. Certainly, it would be a sore spot for anyone, let alone a seasoned mage.
But now, Izzy knew what the mage was seeking. At least he had questions that could eventually lead him to where to look.
Gil knew it was connected, somehow to that building. Somehow to the murder he’d stumbled upon but couldn’t stop. That there was a plot looming above him, surrounding him like a black hole threatening to suck him in, not only was his fate eventual but unfortunately it was happening whether or not he walked faster toward his demise or away from it.
He had the haggard look of a man who had read all the books he had wanted to in his lifetime, yet life was still reading to him. The sound of everything happening was deafening to the youth of the world. Ample ears of a hound on a case were those of discernment.
However, there was something on his mind. If he was rendered useless and could no longer chase the ghostlike clues, would he die with the mystery unsolved? He thought of his face, first in the pool, then in the bathroom. Every time he saw his new reflection he wanted to look away. Every time he saw himself, he saw what the world must think of him.
…
A small amount of time lapsed in the silence between them.
Who’re we supposed to meet now? The dragon? Or was it someone or something else? He wasn’t sure, the plan was loosely going accordingly. However, his mind was blurring still from the disarray within. He could only anticipate within moments these days, especially given this unexpected wrench in his day.
His magic was growing stiff in his cold body brushed by the night, he stretched out an arm and felt the warmth of motion flood across his torso. The prod of an instinct tanged at his surroundings. The appraisal was quick and divisive. They hadn’t been noticed, so then, something was amiss or changing.
“We’ve got to go.” Gildarts said mid-stretch looking undisturbed and grabbed the back of Izzy’s night-shaded cloak and without a second word, tugged.
Izzy with the shock clogging his airways held the question, “What?” in his mouth as Gildarts launched into an ungodly jump away from the truck. One similar to the gravity jump he’d done earlier perhaps. It hadn’t swayed the truck as they wagged across the sky in a long arc.
Izzy sensed a bolt of worry as their two sets of feet stamped into the ground. Had Gildarts set a trap to try and isolate him from the party? Was he really being kidnapped? Could he manage to defeat the battlemage on his own?
Gildarts however, was not looking at Izzy, his dark gaze shrouded now by the stealth of a nearby tree limb while the youth was struggling to balance in his sudden place on the barky bough.
Pine needles tickled his nose and the Phorteas youth saw Gildarts return a random piece of wood into his pocket. Suspicion solidified, however as it did, Izzy’s pale gaze pulled away from the harsh intensity of the battlemage and noticed their former truck pulling into a large lot bordering the edge of a cave at the base of an equally rocky mountain.
“Now, what do you think about that? We’ve arrived.” Gil announced ominously, Iz caught the gleam of excitement in his highly focused amber eyes.
“What about the others?” Izzy mouthed, feeling grateful Gildarts hadn’t plucked them away with the attempt to grinding him into the earth he’d formerly rattled.
“They’ll find their way out. We’ve got a good vantage point here for now and unfortunately because of my woes, we’re separated yet again. Still, we can keep a birds’ eye view, count how many trucks made it this far and well, appraise our chances that all that we’re waiting for is inside. One interesting thing to note, that’s a natural cave. Maybe their ungodly trucks can’t make it through the mouth of it.” Gildarts smirked at this, a petty trouble he never had to deal with and still an inside joke, party of one. Doors.
Izzy knew he was right and he also knew, Elise was either biting her lip, rolling her eyes, or kicking the duo in her mind right now.