Years Lost and Gained
Part Two
(read Part One first)
“…But Tekuna, we’ve been friends for almost fourteen years now. Surely you can do me a small favour without trying to rob me blind.” Souriin’s voice threatened to break. Talking to Tekuna was sometimes like self-flagellation. This was just one of those days where she did not get precisely what she wanted, and she was taking it out on anyone she could.
“Souriin, you know how close the merchant game is at the moment. If word got out that I was giving you free services, ergo the RMA was giving you free services, it would look like an alliance of trade had been struck, which would create an imbalance of power, which the other trading houses would feel obliged to correct. This would start a trade war, which would eventually crash the continental economy.”
Her voice rose to a crescendo, and her eyes were burning with zeal.  Souriin had to blink twice before speaking again.
“Are you sure this would happen just because I asked you to investigate a name of a woman?”
“Hey, you never know. I wouldn’t have predicted a lizard army attacking us either. Look, stop bugging me. I have more important matters to attend to…”
“Like?” Souriin was now walking at quite a pace in order to keep up. She could be quite nimble when she set her mind to it.
“…Like breathing.” Tekuna stopped suddenly in front of the kitchens, glancing from side to side suspiciously. She pushed Souriin inside, shocking the serving staff into dropping a tray of food.
Quick as a snake, before any liquid could spill, she snatched it in mid-air. With a twist on her heel, she turned to the open-mouthed serving boy “Be a good lad, and deliver this without having to pick it up from the floor. Contrary to belief, grit does not enhance the rabbit stew’s flavour.”
She watched with glee, as the servant turned red and left, mumbling apologies.
“Tekuna, what…”
“Shhhhhh, you are going to give the game away.”
“What game?”
Tekuna rolled her eyes, speaking slowly. “Someone was following us. Either the King, or Annaline is getting too interested in my affairs. They have been stalking me all morning, and I’ve been staying one step ahead of them, leading them in circles.”
“Well, if privacy was all you wanted, why didn’t you just say so?”
Souriin spoke a few words quickly. The hall blurred out of existence, and then his quarters slowly faded in.
“Oh bother,” said a sullen voice to his left. Souriin turned in time to see Tekuna cross her arms and sit on the bed. “There goes a perfectly good morning of skulking. I was about to catch the rascal. If you’ve got nothing else to do, go bother the King. I believe there is a pile of documents waiting for you.”
“Just look at this, please” The air began shimmering. Slowly, out of the rainbows blossoming in the air, an image of a woman appeared. It was fuzzy and her face was badly defined. She wore a loose green skirt, which hugged her hips and blossomed at the floor, hardly revealing the soft leather laced shoes. Her blouse was embroidered in golden elven script (no doubt a poem, which was currently popular). The clearest feature was the amulet on her chest, which glittered brightly in the spell’s light.
“Couldn’t you get a better image. Honestly, she looks decent enough for you to have remembered more,” said Tekuna, sounding disgusted.
“I didn’t see her, and this was all I could get from his mind without arousing his suspicions. He was having some pretty strange fantasies.”
“Focus over here.” Tekuna touched the image and it rippled in the air like a disturbed pond. “No, not there. On the AMULET, Souriin.”
“Hmm, sorry.”
The image quickly returned to its original size, and slowly refocused on the amulet. Tekuna grabbed a stylus and some paper, and began sketching. Something was nagging Souriin, now that he was focused on the amulet. Tekuna finished sketching, her rush becoming frantic now. She folded the page and tore it neatly in half. She inverted the top half, and joined the two again.
“Aha,” she shouted in triumph. “What do you think of that?!”
Souriin could only stare wide-eyed in disbelief, for in front of him, roughly joined at the center was the holy symbol of Hicluin, the god of Time, a god that supposedly did not exist.
Well, this was going to be an entertaining day after all. The dishes were done and it looked like it was going to be a quiet evening for the tavern. Perhaps she could get the place next to the big central fireplace  and curl up. Ezra was not so vicious when she didn't have men pestering and pinching her all day. Maybe she would leave her be, and not kick her awake. Ever since he broke the vase, Bartak was working. They said if he was big enough to cause so much trouble, he was big enough to work in the fields. Ah well, she would have to play alone. She ran past the mirror in the hallway, and quickly stopped to look. She was fairly small for 9, and they told her it was because of her faerie blood. There were still stories on how the hunt for the elf warlock led the posse to her mother's cot, and how her mother gave birth to her, twelve months later. She could see her large, feline, almond eyes start to glisten in the reflection as she thought of her mother on the day she passed away, two years ago.
There was a screech from the kitchen, and Barnabas shot out of the door, trailing a string of sausages.
The fat cook, Ezra, followed him with a wide twig broom, repeatedly flattening the cat with it.
"Damn vermin furball," she screeched with frustration, as Barnabas ducked under the tables, "you cost me more than all the damn cellar rats combined." She gave a final huff of frustration as the string of sausages disappeared upstairs.
"What are you looking at, have you nothing to do?" said Ezra, placing her knuckles on her ample hips. She turned to look at the tomboy child. "Del, how many times have I told you not to play near the coal-shed? Look at you, more like a banshee..."
The tavern door swung open, banging against the wall. The wind blew in and extinguished the candles.
"Close the door, for heave...I beg your pardon, Master Tridian, I did not see it was you," flustered Ezra, visibly shaken.
Del looked up at her, only to be cuffed on the ear. "What are you waiting for, you no good child. Get the door."
Master Tridian, the fat merchant stepped inside, and she quickly closed the door behind him. She looked at the floor, and sighed. It was full of sticks and leaves again. She could feel the words coming.
“What’s this,” screeched Ezra, “you still haven’t swept the place? What are you waiting for!”
She heard some neighing outside. There were at least five other mounted men carrying torches by the porch. One looked at her, and made a cutting motion across his throat, mesmerizing her with his stare. She broke away from his eyes and his half-toothed, scarred smile, and sank down below the windowpane. She could hear laughter, and she was shaking like a leaf.
Master Tridian had made his order, and was looking around the room curiously. The men outside were dispersing.
There was a brief flash of light, and a sound of wind-chimes. They shielded their eyes, and there he was, standing in the torch-light precisely where the woman said he would be. They could see him pretty clearly from their perch on the town council roof. The man coming down the road fitted the description precisely, down to the clothes he wore.
The voluminous winter cloak that enwrapped him would make the shot a bit more difficult, but not impossible.
“Hah, the li’l lady wus right” said the one man to the other. The other man leveled the crossbow, placing the mage’s head between the notches. Slowly he squeezed the trigger.
“Pop. That’s that. Game over, heh, heh.”
“Stop foolin’ round. Dem mages’s wily. We’s just backup. I don’ wanna burn to cinders, cos o’ yer antics”
“Yeah, yeah. If we’re to sit here the whole evening, I might as well enjoy it. Relax.” He waved his hand to signal the others of Souriin’s arrival.
He had almost forgotten the talk with Tekuna, when the letter from her contact arrived. It said:

“It is urgent that you meet me soon.
With immortality as the price, trust nobody.
Tridian.”

He had almost given up on the legend, and here it was, surfacing again. Of course, he would have discounted the tale, had it not been for that symbol of Hicluin, or the dreams he had been receiving recently.

He had spent many months trying to forget her, and now the goddess Egreera was back, always calling, always beckoning, so far away. She looked older, more tired. It was as if she had aged. She whispered in his dreams that the wars and the troubles all related to one thing. She was passing on. The druids were gone and she could not heal herself, or the land, which formed her body.
At first he screamed at her, accusing her of abandoning him, of being there only if she needed something. She looked surprised, as if she was confused, but then her light washed over him, and it was like he was back in the cradle, all warm and safe. He spent many nights confiding in her while she patiently listened, and when he finally asked for her forgiveness, she said that none was needed, that we all felt alone and abandoned sometimes.
He broke out of his reverie with a start, and almost fell over a sooty child. The little girl was dragging an overlarge bucket down the road towards the inn. She toppled, splashing water and sat hard on the road. She was a very pretty child, but she had torn clothes, and twigs in her hair, giving her an appearance of a woodland nymph.
“I’m sorry, sir. I should look…”
“No child, I should look where I’m going. Here, let me help you up.” She was very light, and very lithe.
“We have to talk to this bucket, or you’re going to break your back.” She was staring silently, watching him suspiciously with overlarge eyes.
“At nath intble minarith saminaar….tell” intoned Souriin. The bucket lifted. “Go on, tell it where you want it. The child was staring with an open mouth.
“Go on, don’t be scared. Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”
“It’s Del,” she said, her eyes never leaving the bucket. “Come here, Mr Bucket.”
 The bucket moved obediently towards her. She squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “Follow me.”
The girl waved to Souriin, and a smile burst on her face. He waited until she pranced around the corner with the bucket chasing her in the air.

He entered the inn. It was almost empty. He looked around, and spotted Tridian eating by the fireplace. There were three other people in the inn, talking quietly by the kitchen doors. Tridian clapped his hands, and they got up and left.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Draco,” said Tridian, bowing. “Please join me.” He pointed at the chair opposite to him, and he sat down with a grunt.
“That was a very ominous note that you wrote me, Tridian. I hope that you can explain it.” The fat-man had a funny expression on his face. Normally people constantly followed Souriin’s movements, as if worried that he would do something unexpected. Tridian sat back, his eyes steady, a smirk on his face revealing a strange confidence.
“My Lord, what I wrote is true. I have discovered Ith Nai’shell, or as we say in common: the Font of Eternal Youth. I know where it is. I know how to get to it. I know how to get past the guardians.”
Souriin shifted in his chair. He had not given his age too much thought, but he knew the difference between 43 and 34, and the stiffness in his joints had not been noticeable ever since he took his only Potion of Longevity.
“I thought Tekuna asked you to look into the symbol, and not legends of immortality.”
“My Lord, the two are related. You see, several months ago we hired a band of mercenaries. They were reliable, and had worked for us before, guarding precious cargoes on the trips between Pirs and Meldora…”

The bucket was strange. She had poured the water into the cauldron to warm it, when it spoke to her. It told her its name was Esse-woopy-selly-somethingorother, and that she should not be scared. She could not remember its whole name - it was too long, so now she called him Esse. He seemed to like her, and she told him that he could be her bestest friend in the world, except that she would propably have to give him back sometime, seeing as he belonged to Ezra and all. He told her that he had not always been a bucket, and that he would come with her just as soon as he could. She told him he was a silly old bucket, but that she liked him anyway. Now here she was, sitting in her friend, floating outside of the window and listening. The nice man was sitting facing away from her. She was in deep shadows so she was sure Tridian could not see her. The stranger had a pretty beard, and beautiful jet-black shiny hair.
“… and so what you are telling me is that the set of 12 Longevity Potions is but a sample from the font?”
“Yes, my Lord, and quite frankly, I do not know how the man held together long enough to carry these so far. You did not see the lichen grow from his eyes sire. Quite horrible.” Tridian pushed the rest of the food away from himself with a shudder.
“So they are an adventuring band, much like the one I used to travel with. Do you know who they are working for? What does the symbol mean?”
“We have tried finding out more, but I think they have a mage amongst them, and he discovers our agents every time. They are simply turned away. As to the symbol, I have not found any references.”
Tridian was drumming his fingers on the table. The nice man sat quietly, thinking. She noticed some movement outside the window around the corner. Tridian nodded ever so slightly in that direction.
She could hear a whisper of a strange language, like the nice man used when he made the bucket alive, and caught a glimpse of movement…
The offer sounded good, perhaps too good. They obviously needed the expertise of a mage. Naturally, the threat was greater than what they stated, but that was not the greatest problem. The reward was perhaps not true immortality, but a very long life indeed. Perhaps one to rival the elves themselves. The font would be a terrible temptation to everyone. Wherever it would rest, it would have to be guarded more carefully than life itself. Rumors would spread about it, and wars would start. Perhaps it was best to…
“Souriin, please help me…I need you”
…The goddess was speaking in his head again. He felt the warmth - now so familiar - enshroud him, and he found himself unable to refuse. Suddenly, he knew he did not want to refuse her.
“Fine,” he said, and it was as if a weight lifted off his chest.
“…Fine,” said the nice man. She could see the person at the other window. She was a pretty woman, in a beautiful dress. She stopped gesturing and whispering, and smiled at Tridian. He nodded once again.
“My Lord?” he asked.
“Fine, I will accompany your group, and help them get the font.” said the nice man looking up. “but on one condition. You will extract as much as you can in one week’s time. Then you will give it over the Egreeran priesthood.”
Tridian visibly winced. “My Lord Draco, I value your aid, but that is highway robbery. At least a month.”
“Two weeks, and that includes my cut.”
“Deal.”
“I’ll contact you in ten days time. Be ready by then.”
“With pleasure, my Lord”
There was a popping sound, and the nice man was gone.
Tridian took a deep breath, and exhaled. He wiped the sweat from his brow and laughed out loud. “My lady, you can come in now. He’s gone.”
“Well, we got him,” she said, entering through the front door. “See Tridian, even a lion can be tamed if you use the right approach.” Del could see her step through the doorway. She looked distracted and irritated. She was also very pretty, and regal.
Tridian barked again in laughter, “Watch out that he does not bite back. I have been warned time and time again about him. I must say though, that whatever trick you pulled out of your bag worked to perfection. I’ve never seen a man bolt upright like that.”
She stretched out on the armchair, curling a lock of hair around her finger, “Yeah, perfect. Just perfect.”
She looked irritated, “Remember Tridian, a single whisker falls from his head and you get nothing. Understood?”
Tridian’s expression soured, “Yes, my lady, but in order to accomplish that, I’ve had to offer more money.”
“Oh, yes?” she asked, getting up again, “and how exactly does that interest me?”
“I just thought…”
“Tridian,” she snapped, “if you just thought less, and did more, you would not be working for me, right? So while you ARE working for me, do as I ask.”
There was a sound of chimes, a great vortex of light appeared, and the lady broke into butterflies that flew in all directions and disappeared.
Tridian sat back folding his hands on his chest. “And you, my lady? I wonder what cat got into your bag. I only hope for both our sakes that it wasn’t him, or we’re both going to pay…”
Something was nagging him. There was a pull on him somewhere. Souriin concentrated, and he blinked in surprise. What was he thinking! The link to the Invisible Stalker was still present. The creature had not vanished as it was supposed to after carrying the bucket, and was still present with the child! He had to get there quickly before it was too late.
“Whee, hee, hee” shouted Del, seemingly flying about the barn. “Do it again, do it again!”
She lifted towards the rafters, slowed down, zig-zagged the cross-beams, and plunged with a scream into the hay in the hay-loft. A second later, she emerged wide-eyed and sputtering, and with a great squeal rocketed towards the floor, a trail of straws following in her wake.
Suddenly, she felt terribly scared. No, it was her friend that was terribly scared. It was sometimes difficult to separate her thoughts from him.  Esse’s summoner was coming, and he was going to make her friend dead, just like her mom. No, never. They would run away together, she thought aloud. They would never take him away from her. It was too much for her, and she burst out crying, her friend’s misery adding to her own. The barn door squeaked and burst open, and she screamed and screamed…
“Dear gods,” thought Souriin, “Please don’t let me be too late.”
He could feel the elemental’s presence nearby. It was inside the barn, hopefully with the child. He could hear sobbing now. All reason fleeing, he spoke the incantation to unbar the entrance, and another to fling the doors aside with winds.
Everything slowed down as it always did when his blood started to flow. Gather information, analyze, and take action. The girl was floating 12 feet above the floor, and she was screaming like she was in great pain. Her hair was disheveled and she looked like she had been tossed around severely. The potion from the Church of Rotan allowed him to see the monster clearly. Its tentacles of air were woven about her like a cocoon of spider webs. He started the enchantment to take her to safety, but it was a slow one. He could see the creature drop her in the hay, and an arm hit him in the chest with a force of a mace, knocking him over and driving air out of his lungs. The spell fizzled and popped, and then it misfired, magical energies releasing in flames that shot up to the rafters. The hay lit up in an instant, and he heard another shrill scream from above.
The creature reacted with grace and speed that was unnatural to observe. It dove into the hay, scattering fire and wood, and with a boom, it burst the ceiling, fleeing outside. Flames shot even higher, and the only escape was back through the door. The creature was outside, standing between the girl and him. She was crying openly now, but he could not see clearly through the creature how badly she was hurt.
With a whiplash, it shot towards him, but he was ready now.
“Mantessa illia toh,” shouted Souriin, sprinkling silver in a sweeping circle.
It reached him screaching like steam, and deflected off the barrier with a boom of compressed air.
He was already shouting another incantation. He followed its movement across the sky, and released the pent up forces. It froze in mid-air, it’s tentacles strangely still.
Something hit him from behind, and he spun around, ready to summon missiles to give himself space.
The little girl was still sobbing, but was stubbornly, repeatedly hitting his leg.
“Stop it. Stop it. You’re hurting him. I thought you were nice, but you’re an evil, evil man. I won’t let you kill him. I won’t let you kill my friend.”
What the hell was going on?
“Stop, I’m not going to hurt you. Stop it, I said. I’m not going to hurt anyone. Hold on.” He held her closer and looked around. The barn was blazing out of control, and everyone was running around aimlessly. Some priests were gathering outside, forming a circle. This seemed to calm most people, who joined them in frantic prayer. Suddenly, everything went quiet, and water materialized in the air, slowly extinguishing the fire, and sending billows of smoke into the sky. People started cheering.
He looked the girl over. She had a glazed look in her eyes, but apart from singed hair, she appeared to be unhurt. This was getting stranger and stranger.
Souriin sat down heavily on the ground, and looked directly into her eyes. “I think you would better tell me what happened from the beginning. Will your friend behave? Good. Then I will let him go. Somehow, I think I got this all wrong. Here, let me wipe those tears. Hush now, everything will be all right.”
He could see the priests approaching. This was the hard part.
So, they were trying to trick him, use him, and then capture him, and yet seemingly not kill him. Why? Who were they? The symbol could not just be a coincidence. He would just have to play along. Too bad the child could not be clearer. She was too scared to remember much. He was not too sure what to do about the Stalker, and he had never seen a case where one of these creatures saved a life out of concern, but it seemed genuinely protective of the girl. She would be far better off at the University kitchens. So, they were trying to catch him. At least now he had forewarning. At least now he could prepare. Perhaps, if things turned out right, he could even gain himself a small chunk of immortality…

End of Part Two

(Now read part three.)