Beginnings (Part 2)

As he made his way up the path, the long cool grass brushed against his legs. The last few dwindling rays of sunlight filtered their way through the tree trunks, creating tiny orange streaks and spots amongst the shadows of the darkening forest floor. 

Orin was a few paces ahead. Even in the dark it was clear where they were going. There were only a few spots along the river where the ritual could take place, where the current was light enough to appear still yet the water was still deep enough for the neophytes to completely submerge their young lithe... Melratiue had to shake his head to interrupt the distracting thoughts.
He just needed to focus. Focus on not getting caught, and probably beaten for breaking more than a dozen rules. Not the least of which was the indecency of peeping at those of the opposite gender. 

Why was he going along with this foolish endeavor, perhaps he was indeed as [curious] as his carefree friend leading the way. He'd never admit it to Orin, but he envied the younger boy's ability to act without giving thought of the consequences. Mel's spirit name had "marked" his life as one destined for great things but the only thing great was the lofty expectations and harsh scrutiny from the elders. His extra lessons were interesting enough but it felt wasted on him when he was probably just going to need to take over his father's business in the next couple years. Being a fletcher and bowyer was important for the prosperity of the village, the hunters needed the best equipment to keep the people fed and clothed, and Melratiue did not mind working with his hands; it was just so… dull!

His attention shifted back to his partner in crime. Orin had stopped and was searching a thick wall of vines next to the trail for something. He waved to bring Melratiue closer, "Can you give us a light? I need to find the gap through to the bank."

Narrowing his eyes, Mel looked at his friend skeptically. Neither boy had grabbed a lantern or torches, and sunstones, small orange-red stones created with alchemy which glow brightly when struck, were very rare and expensive this far from the big cities.
"I'm sorry? What light, I don't have-"

"Oh come on", Orn interrupts, "I know what you've been practicing. I wanna see." The young boy was grinning and seemed to be quite pleased with himself.

Melratiue shifts uncomfortably, how did he know? During one of his extra lessons he had discovered a strange old book on the shelf of the old apothecary's house. It was, he assumed, a recipe book, but turned out to be an actual book of spells. Real magic spells. Most of the notes and diagrams in the tome appeared to be scantly legible gibberish, and made his eyes and head ache if he stared for too long. After a few nights asking his tutor about the basic theories of magic, which he assured her was completely academic curiosity, as well as sneaking a few more glances at the book and its contents, more and more seemed to make perfect sense. He had copied a few of the pages he could understand and practiced when he thought no one was watching. 

Looking at his grinning companion, it seemed that he underestimated the younger boy's ability to sneak around. Mel tried falteringly to object once more, "well, uh. Can you not find the way through without light? I mean, someone will see us if I mess it up."

"You worry too much Mel-rat. Let's see what you've learned from the old witch. It'll only be for a moment. Just a second, please." it wasn’t like Orin to say please to anyone but his parents. 

Melratiue hesitated a second more, he wanted to find a fault with the request but part of him wanted to show off.
“Fine” he sighs, giving in, “Just, stop calling me that.” He points to the thicket as he pulls a black handkerchief from his back pocket. “Pass me a large leaf.”

Taking the leaf in hand and readying the kerchief in case he got this wrong, Melratiue closes his eyes and recalls the first page of the book. The notes on word choice, intonation, volume and other minute details of the spell flash into his mind and roll around his thoughts like a cloud in the wind. He opens his mouth, blowing out a breath and allowing the wind in his mind to escape.

“Lighthgil”[Light], the word was simple but contained power. His voice, overlayed with a peculiar ethereal tone, carried this power into the leaf causing it to begin glowing. Opening his eyes, he watches the faint glow rapidly brighten until it was like holding a flameless lantern in his hand.

“Wow.” was all his friend could say. It was as speechless as Melratiue had ever seen him. He knew it was one of the simplest of spells, and the whole process had taken only seconds, but Melratiue felt a tinge of pride. As well as relief nothing had caught on fire this time.

He quickly wrapped the leaf in the handkerchief, hiding most of the light, and began directing the glow towards the ground.
“Come on Orin, let’s find the gap through the thicket and be done with this. Our parents will notice we’re missing before too long.” Melratiue got down low to start carefully examining the thorny underbrush.

Snapping back to the task at hand, Orin smirks, rustles through the base of the bushes and, in suspiciously short order, pulls aside two branches to reveal the barely two-foot wide hole he and Melratuie had cleared, and many subsequent children had maintained, in the dirt and thorns. It wouldn’t be long before they were too big to squeeze through this gap, but Orin wasted no time worming his way through then helping pull the less nimble Melratiue to the other side. Dusting himself off on the other side, Mel managed a half smile and to pat his friend on the shoulder,

“Come on, l-let’s get this over with quickly, please."

---------------------------------

This was such a waste of time. Melrath stood, unamused, in front of the entrance to the tent at the top of the hill where the “great minds” leading this army had gathered for their war council. The two spears crossed over the door barring his entry were held by two particularly large guards, wearing armor of higher quality, and expense, than any of the rank and file marching below and decorated with a markedly different livery.
“Wonder which of those blowhards these private soldiers belong to. It’s like they’re trying to find ways to upset me,”  he muses to himself before he tries pleading his case again. 

"The war council is awaiting my arrival. I -."

“Sorry, officers only. The council has already begun. Move along, sir.” The human battlement on the left interrupts, repeating his instructions a second time. Standing almost as tall as the armoured gorilla, Melrath could see the smirk in the guard’s eyes through the visor of this helmet. “This bastard is enjoying this!”

“Look, I know this is an officer's tent. Your officers asked me to be an adviser for the council. Now, if you would please let me pass, I am already late.” Melrath's voice boomed but he did his best to mask his annoyance. It would do no one any good if he reduced this cretin to ash, though it might make him feel better.

Neither of the men moved, the dim-eyed dullard continued to stare mockingly as his partner cleared his throat and explained, "We are under orders to keep all civilians out. Our lord told us y-”.

"This staff is my badge of office." It was Melrath's turn to interrupt. Striking the ground with the end of his staff creates a small burst of air and a rumble in the ground. "In accordance with the meritocratic system Lords Perwynn and Vastberaden are trying to establish, I am of higher rank than whomever your master is. Now, kindly allow me through or I shall advise the leaders of this rebellion to place you on the front line the next time we encounter something more threatening than a pack of feral goblins."

The guards exchange a worried glance while maintaining a shaky grip on their spears.

"You lads had better let him pass, I'd hate to see what sort of beast he might turn you into. Sir Thunderborn is here on my invitation and I'd hate for him to put his talents to waste before the real battle has begun." The deep, commanding voice coming from behind the guards held a calm but powerful presence.

"Lord Vastberaden," The two immediately step aside and stand at attention allowing Melrath to see through into the entryway. There stood the lord martial of the whole Unified Army, wearing a simple steel cuirass which was largely unadorned. His cleanly trimmed dark chestnut hair, and matching mustache, were left uncovered by helm or cloak. And although the man was at least a foot shorter than the other three standing at the entrance, the aura of confidence in his eyes was no less intimidating.

"It's good to see you again Mel. We tried waiting for you, but the nobles seem to have forgotten their manners, well, in their manors." The lord chuckles.

Not in the mood for pleasantries, Melrath stomps past his old friend.

"No," the thought crosses his mind, "friend may have been correct at one time, but not at this moment. Now it felt more like an ally of convenience, mutual acquaintance, or maybe an unfortunate obligation."

Without making eye contact he huffs, "Let's just get this over with."