Secrets >Private< theshiv3rling3rs

[Secrets]

“There is nothing else.” The voice was desperate, words hissed through clenched teeth. There was a gutteral cry followed by a low sizzling sound. A snap of fingers and then a puff. The whole process had taken less than a few minutes, leaving a ragged man scowling at the steaming blood that had sprayed across his body. He knelt down where the demon had been and held his palm over the scorched cobblestone. Red light brightened over the blood and curled upward, tendrils soaking into the magician’s palm.

“Nothing else,” he whispered and clenched his fist, swaying into a stand. The red light moved sluggishly up his arm and stopped at his shoulder. It swirled underneath the magician’s skin and he closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. The pain sent him back to his knees; the light etched itself into his skin, smoke rolled into the air.

Strength surged through him and forced him back to his feet. His back slammed against the bricks of a building and he bit his tongue. He spit a glob of red. “Information, maybe not, but strength.” He flexed his fingers and pulled his cloak over his body. His fingers twitched and his hood swung over his white-silver hair, darkening the angles of his face.

The magician stumbled through the streets. The passerby were far and few, most already in bed, dreaming a poor man’s dream. His footsteps were quiet agains the cobblestone, but he shrunk in on himself, feeling watched. His gaze flickered; the glow of an apparation stood a few feet away. “Let me be,” the magician warned tiredly. The ghost did a pirouette then disappeared. He stared at the spot a few moments longer, shook his head, and continued his way through the streets of the city.

The door opened for him as he approached and shut behind him as he sauntered inside. The shop was quaint, organized. The only clutter was one small section in the back where tattered spellbooks lay open, green and gold ribbons marking pages that swirled with a myriad of archaic symbols and illustrations. The candle wicks that resided in melted distortions of once-candles lit as he sat down to flip through one of the books. His fingers trembled. The night outside turned to day.

His bleary eyes opened, one gold and one green. Sunlight slanting in through the windows of the front door made him squint. He pushed himself up off of his chair and opened the back door of the shop. Emerging around thirty minutes later looking more clean-shaven and washed-up with a light in his eyes, he made himself busy with reorganizing the shop. He counted the books on the shelves, counted his stocks of herbs and supplies, rightened up his parchment and pencils, but mostly he stayed away from his desk and away from the items locked in the bottom drawer. Once in a while his hand would subconsciously go to touch the key that dangled off of a leather cord around his neck, and consciously he would then curl his fingers and drop his hand.

There was a knock on his door at quarter after eleven. “Coming,” the magician said. The door opened as he crossed his hands over his chest. Standing before him were two men: one short and stocky, the other tall and skinny. They both had blue eyes, cold and bitter. The magician tilted his head to the side. “Yes?” He raised a brow. They were taking him in, he knew that much. Many magic folk had trained their eyes to look past the natural glamour of magic and see the world as it was, and some mortals were gifted with such a sight, but most, ah most, were blinded by their own ignorance. These two dolts were no exception, but the magician knew their skin was prickling, knew that their sixth sense was screaming that they were in the presence of something powerful, of something dangerous. Their eyes went to the tattoos on the magician’s arms. He pulled his cloak around him.

“Is this the residence of Sorcerer Pendragon?” the stocky one said.

“It is,” he said and rubbed his temples. Queen’s men, no doubt. What could she possibly want now?

“And are you Mr. Pendragon?” the thin one said.

“I am.” They looked at each other. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your presence is requested in the Queen’s court this evening. She would like her most…trusted sorcerer to see her for an urgent mission.” A strange request out of the blue. Interesting. Very interesting. He wondered for a moment if there were something else and dismissed the idea for later. The stocky one held out a scroll, which the magician took with flourish.

“Sign on the bottom, Mr. Pendragon.” The magician held the parchment in one hand and used his other to press his palm against the bottom line. “Mr. Pendrag—“ one of them started and then cut off as flames licked at the magician’s fingers.

“Mordecai, if you’d please. Mr. Pendragon was my father.” He held out the paper to them and then snorted. “Please, it’s not going to bite you. That’s a sorcerer’s signature, that is. Now leave and give Your Highness my regards. I shall see her this evening.”

[theshiv3rling3rs]

"My lady." The sound of one of the servant's rough, hoarse voices woke her up from a deep slumber. Esme sat up, wearing a large white shirt that pooled at her wrists. Her silky, lightly curled golden brown hair fall to one side of her face and she sighed gently. She glanced outside, staring out the window at the gray sky. Was it morning? It hardly looked like it. Then, as if she'd demanded the sun come out, it peeked from the gray clouds. She winced when the sunlight touched her mossy green eyes, allowing them to glisten beautifully. "My lady, the Queen asks for you." "Alright. I'll be there in a moment." She called, voice still groggy from sleep. Then she got up, white shirt sticking to her body and enforcing her physique: Her rather full breasts and curvy waist. Her slender, smooth legs moved under her, feet padding on the stone floor as she walked to her wardrobe. What did the Queen want with her today? More practice? She had no idea why she'd taken so much interest in her..She was hardly the powerful witch the Queen thought she was.

"My Queen." Esme bowed before her in a deep purple mage's robe. Her golden brown hair complimented the color wonderfully as it cascaded down her back, some of the strands brushing her chest as she bowed.

"Esme. Rise. I have a task for you, and not a word of disapproval when I tell you."

When the Queen explained what she planned to do with her, despite her warning, she quickly voiced her opinion.

"What! " The natural crack to her voice sounding at the high pitch. "You can't be serious . I don't need anyone to teach me magic. I can learn myself!"

"You don't have a choice in the matter. You will arrive in my court this evening to hear the mission and meet your Master."

Esme flinched at the word. Master? If he thought she'd bow to him and do some other crazy nonsense, he had something else coming. She bowed to no man. As far as she was concerned, men were pigs.

"Dismissed."

Esme just locked her jaw and bowed respectfully before walking out, hair swaying as she turned the corner and pushed the doors open to leave, crossing her arms as soon as the doors closed behind her and glaring at the hallway in front of her. She couldn't be serious.

[Secrets]

Mordecai couldn’t find his shoes. He knew where he’d left them, knew that he always kept them in the same spot, had always kept them in the same spot since moving into the building, but he was blanking. He balked, fingers pausing as he closed one gold and one red eye. His teeth gritted and he rubbed his temples. It was maddening for this to be happening right now. He opened his eyes. His vision fragmented.

Rounded fingernails touched his chin. He opened his eyes and started at the face in front of him. Jerking backwards, he looked away, biting his lower lip. “Lysandre,” he murmured. “Where did you go?” The woman’s form was hazy around the edges, but Mordecai didn’t notice. She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around his neck. Her body was warm against his. “Lysandre,” he said again and pulled her tight against him by her waist. “You came back for me.”

And then his arms were empty. Mordecai scratched the back of his head, wondered for a moment what he was forgetting. Realization dawned on his face and he fished his shoes out from underneath the cupboard by his bedside. Upon slipping them on his feet, he adorned a black cloak. With a flick of his fingers, the lit candles on his workspace sputtered and puffed. Smoke curled up toward the rafters. He shut the door to the shop behind him and swept two fingers against the wooden door. On the other side, the lock clicked into place.

The cobblestone streets were scarce. Mordecai’s stride lengthened as the sun continued to set. He didn’t want to be late for the Queen. As much as he was starting to loathe her antics and her lust for power (greedy bitch was going to get herself killed with the amount of power she was stealing), he had to admire her composure. The citizens and even the noblemen of the city were oblivious to the Queen’s ambition. Well, most were anyway. Although Mordecai supplied His Highness with elite spells and powerful magic, he did the same for the Resistance. The Resistance: a band of equally ambitious people who sought to cleanse the kingdom of the Queen’s reign. Mordecai was still on the fence, not swaying either way. Although he didn’t fancy having to answer to the Queen, he didn’t know enough to make a definite move either way just yet.

Whichever move he made would be the right one. Screw morals. Mordecai was siding with the winner and the winner only.

He was stopped at the outer walls of the Queen’s castle. Three guards accompanied him on his way inside. The grandeur building glistened in the dusk atmosphere; sunlight spilled through stained-glass windows, marble floors glittered with fresh polish, and intricate draperies hung off the walls. It was spacious, with high-ceilinged walls and echoes that bounced from their footsteps. Mordecai felt on edge.

They stopped in front of a set of golden double doors. Mordecai cocked his head to the side, amusement lightening his features. There was a symbol on the front of the door; a thin veil of magic coated the outside. He recognized the spell immediately. It would render his powers useless upon entering the room. Of course it was a safety precaution for the Queen, but Mordecai was not about to walk into a meeting with Her Highness unprepared.

He touched the pendant on his neck and dipped his head. The guards opened the doors and missed the flickering blue light in his palm. By the time they turned back around, it was gone. The air in the threshold shuddered when he stepped through the magic barrier. “Ah, Master Pendragon. Thank you kindly for coming on such short notice.”

“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty,” Mordecai said and bowed. His cape fluttered around him. “And please, you know you can call me Mordecai. Pendragon was my father.”

“And so he was,” she said slowly. She rose from her throne, raised a hand to clasp at the royal crest that hung from her neck. “I have a task for you, Magician. You are the most powerful trustee I have at my disposal and I need you to fetch something for me.”

Mordecai raised a brow. “As a dog were to fetch a bone.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said with an apologetic smile. “You are to find this item for me. It is of the utmost importance.” She walked over to the edge of the room and peered out a window as tall as she. Her fingers clicked against the glass. “Accompanying you will be one of my daughters. You will train her as you travel; show her life outside of these sacred walls. When you return, she should be a full-fledged mage and you will have in your hands the item.”

“And what is this item, My Lady?”

The Queen’s smile deepened. “It is a goblet. You may have heard of it?” He knew immediately what she was referencing and admittedly, he had not been expecting this as her request. The Goblet of Ahkmed, one of the three most powerful wizarding tools in the world. It came from legends. He knew the legends, the lore, but that’s all they were! No such device could have been crafted, nevermind used; magic tied directly to the forces of nature. Using one of the three items threw it out of balance, created chaos, or so the stories said.

“There have been whispers,” he said. “When do I begin this quest?”

She angled her face toward the window again and looked outside. “Horses are waiting for you and my daughter outside.”

Mordecai turned on his heels. “And Mordecai.” He stopped. “Choose wisely.”

[theshiv3rling3rs]

Evening arrived and Esme walked towards the Queen's court. Each step feeling heavier than the last. Whatever this "quest" was... She wanted nothing to do with it. Especially not if she had to learn from a man that she'd never met or spoken to before. All she knew was that he was a powerful sorcerer.. There were many sorcerers. She knew most of them by name and found herself watching some of them out of admiration. This "Mordecai" man, however. She'd never heard of him. Apparently he--
"-Oof!" She'd bumped into someone and his books fell to the floor.

"Oh.. I'm t-terribly sorry, my lady." He was a young, quite obviously a scholar by the looks of his spectacles, Librarian robe, stack of books and various scrolls that were now sprawled over the stone floor.

"It's quite alright, it's my fault really."

Esme bent down and helped the old man with his books, then handed him his glasses. When she noticed a crack in the lens, a tinge of guilt touched her heart.

"It's alright, my lady. I'm sure I can still see out of them."

"No..I..Wait. I know there's a way to fix these." Then she closed her eyes and ran her graceful fingers over the lens of the glasses. After a moment, the crack slowly disappeared from the lens leaving a gentle spark when it fixed. She peeked with one eye at the glasses and when she saw they were fixed, she smiled brightly and handed him the glasses. "Thank you, my lady!"

"Of course." Esme replied, her smile softening. Then she turned around and walked off towards the court.

Just in time. The queen had begun to explain what exactly the quest was. "It's a goblet, you may have heard of it?" There was no way she was talking about the Goblet of Ahkmed... That goblet was nothing more than a legend! Hardly anything short of a myth! This was a fool's errand! Was she trying to get them killed? Bloody hell she's lost her bloody mind....

Despite the ring of profanities that swirled in Esme's mind, she had to go. She didn't have a choice in the matter and the queen made that very clear the first time. Esme left the Queens Court and sighed softly when she saw the horses. The queen was still talking to the Sorcerer, but she'd heard all she needed to hear and that was quite enough.

When he opened the door, he would see a woman with a fitted purple robe and Golden brown hair cascading down her back. She'd be petting one of the horses and staring at the gates in front of her. She was pouting as she glared at the gates, mossy eyes glistening. She hated this damned castle, but she'd rather stay here than go to chase some myth and ride through some bloody Godforsaken forest!