Firebrand

Chapter 512: Sleep Unending

Sleep Unending contemporary romance

Martel went to the baths, as did Maximilian; neither of them spoke as they soaked in the hot water. Other students appeared, washing away last night's sleep while chatting merrily. As for the battlemage and mageknight, they left soon after, walking up the dormitory tower quietly. "Goodnight," Martel mumbled, reaching his floor. Maximilian made some brusque noise in response, continuing further up. Soon after, Martel was fast asleep.

***

When he woke up in darkness, Martel struggled for a moment to gather his wits about him. The events of last night came back, but the time spent underground left him confused as to the hour until he remembered it was winter, and the days were short. He had slept from sunrise to sunset, but looking at his Khivan clock, it was not yet fifth bell.

Getting dressed, he found some money and left the castle to buy food. Walking around and enjoying the fresh air compared to the sewers of the catacombs, he went through everything that had occurred. Being above ground and in familiar surroundings, he almost found it hard to believe that the battle with the maleficar and everything had truly happened.

If Eleanor or Maximilian had come to him now and denied anything had come to pass, he would be inclined to simply assume it was all a dream. Part of him almost expected that Atreus would not show up, and that the spellbreaker would have disappeared as easily as he had appeared from nowhere.

But should Martel never see the legendary wizard again, he knew it had happened; they had fought side-by-side with a mage of Archen. Even if others would never know, Martel did.

*** f(r)ee

Fifth bell rang. Martel walked around the Lyceum, enjoying being outdoors despite the cold. He stood on the street by the infirmary gate, waiting. He summoned a flame, providing warmth and some illumination in the fading twilight. People passing by glanced in his direction, but as he stood leaning up against the Lyceum, nobody seemed surprised or bothered by the display of magic.

"Good to see you, friend." Atreus seemed to simply appear out of the dark next to Martel. Instead of the dirty inquisitor robes, he was clad in simple but sturdy travel clothes made from leather.

"Is that why you left the castle? To buy clothes?"

"Mostly to rest. But our good companion, Maximilian, gave me a few of his golden coins. This seemed a prudent way to spend them." The spellbreaker flourished his black cape around him.

Maximilian, that sly fellow; Martel had not noticed him giving Atreus any money. The door to the infirmary opened, and Eleanor stepped outside. Martel thought she looked relieved; perhaps she had also wondered whether the spellbreaker would be present. She smiled at them both. "Shall we go?"

***

They crossed the city northwards to reach the noble quarter. Few words passed between them. While Martel could easily imagine a thousand questions to ask Atreus, it did not seem the right place to ask them out in the open, surrounded by other people on the street; nor did he imagine the Archean wizard would be inclined to answer them. Given the importance of their current errand, what they needed Atreus to do, Martel considered it best not to bother him.

At length, the residence of House Fontaine loomed ahead of them. "It is perhaps best we use the back entrance. It would be difficult to explain your presence to my father," Eleanor admitted. Atreus simply responded with a wry smile, and they followed her to walk around the small estate.

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As they passed through the kitchens, the servants looked surprised and scrambled to get out of the way, bowing and greeting the daughter of the house and her companions. Eleanor paid them no mind, walking on hasty steps to the upper floor and finally her sister's room.

It looked exactly like how Martel had seen it before. A well-furnished chamber as could be expected in a patrician home, and a young girl with brown curls lying on the bed in what seemed like peaceful slumber. A maid sat next to her on a chair, watching the patient.

"Leave us," Eleanor commanded, which the maid did.

Atreus walked forward and took her vacated seat. "What happened to her?"

"An accident. She hurt her head and has not awakened since."

"How long ago?"

"Years." Eleanor's voice quivered ever so slightly. "Since then, my parents have tried all manners of elixirs and potions. Any sign of injury has long since healed, yet still she does not wake."

"Although connected, the mind is still separate from the body. One has healed, the other has not." Atreus exhaled. "This may take a little while." He placed one hand on top of Genevieve's head and closed his eyes.

Moments passed. Martel dared not speak for fear of interruption; likewise, Eleanor did not make the slightest movement or say anything. Knowing all that she had done in search for a cure for her sister, Martel dearly hoped that she would not be disappointed yet again.

"What is the meaning of this? Get away from my daughter!" Both battlemage and mageknight turned around to see the master of the house in the doorway, fuming with anger.

"Father, he is here to help." Raising her hands, Eleanor approached him.

"I have had enough of charlatans! Remove him at once!" As he stepped forward, Eleanor firmly pushed him back. "You dare defy me in my own house?" He tried once more to get past her, but for all his strength, he could not contend with a mageknight. "Guards! Guards!"

Martel took a deep breath. He did not relish the prospect of fighting the legate of the First Legion and his guards in his own house, but it appeared to be necessary. He took a step forward to close ranks with Eleanor, presenting an impenetrable wall.

The first guards appeared, their swords already drawn. Martel raised the wind behind him to push them back and warn them what they faced. They had to know they stood no chance against two mages.

The legate, it seemed, did not care. "Brigands! Rogues and villains, my own daughter among them! Begone, I tell you!" He tried to push Eleanor aside with predictable results.

An outburst of magic behind him caught Martel's attention. He turned around to find that Atreus was on his feet, stepping away from the bed. As for the child, her eyes had opened. She parted her lips, but only a croaking sound appeared, barely audible thanks to the noise in the room. Her second attempt was more successful. "Thirsty."

Lord Fontaine, still being held back by his eldest daughter, froze completely. As for Eleanor, she let go of her father and turned around as well. "Fetch my mother," she told the nearest guard, who nodded and disappeared.

"Genevieve," her father spoke hoarsely, approaching to kneel by the bedside.

Seeing this, along with an expression of pure happiness on Eleanor's face, Martel felt himself choking up. Slipping behind him, Atreus tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the doorway, and he followed the spellbreaker out of the room. "Let us leave the family to their celebration," Atreus suggested, following the route back that had taken them into the house. With one last glance back inside the room, Martel did the same.

***

Atreus did not stop until they had left the estate entirely. Once back on the street, Martel looked at him, a little surprised. "I'm sure if you had stayed just a moment, they would have thanked you for returning their child to them."

"No doubt. And after that, they would ask me how I did it. Where I got the power. Who I am, and so forth. No, I am more comfortable avoiding attention."

Martel could not fault him for that. "But what will you do now? There's so much you could teach us about magic."

Atreus nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. But knowledge was the downfall of Archen. If I taught all I knew freely to the mages of this land, do you think they would treat such knowledge with greater wisdom and care?"

Considering how the Empire had treated him, Martel had his doubts.

"For now, I must be reacquainted with the world where I have lived as a sleepwalker for so long. Perhaps that will enlighten me on what I should do next. After all, I'm still a young man of some three hundred and thirty odd years." He gave Martel a knowing smile that reminded him of Regnar; sly and full of tricks, but certainly a useful friend to have. "Farewell, Martel. I suspect I shall hear your name spoken again by others, and perhaps it will bring me back to you. In any case, know that this old spellbreaker will always be grateful for what you did for him." They clasped hands for a moment before Atreus turned around and began walking away. About as swiftly as the mage had appeared out of legend, he disappeared down the street.

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