The Sorcerers of Infinity/20

twenty-first chapter
The Island

The next morning dawned early, and it was cloudy. It seemed like the kind of day that rain would suddenly come in a downpour. The bottoms of the clouds were black and blue, looking much like contusions. The air hung stilly in the air, and the worst part was that it was humid and sticky. It absolutely disgusted the womenfolk, of course. It sickened Tarja especially; it made her normally-straight hair become frizzy and unmanageable.

And as is the nature of Tarja, she headed immediately to the bathroom, with a trail of questions that did not need to be answered following behind her. She closed off the door the moment she was inside.

The rest of them proceeded to go to breakfast, where they sat down to a hot quality breakfast. There was bread, still steaming from the oven, a leg of roasted chicken, and some vegetables to the side. It was not a totally special breakfast, but it would do. They all ate hungrily at it; Vankesa more so, extremely relieved to not have fried fish for breakfast.

They sat away from another group who had arrived during the night. Because of the odd pieces of parchment in that vase, they naturally developed an aversion to people. They did not know who would be working for Syrregain and his ‘side’, so they were careful with who they spoke to. When in private, they spoke of the past month.

It was odd to think that so much had happened just in the past month. So much had been leading up to that moment, and it had taken nearly seventeen years. Garril was thinking this thoroughly. Everything, for about fifteen years, had been going a steady turtle-like pace with some premonitions dropped here and there. And that night at Elbenath set everything in motion.

Then it went peaceful for two years, and he met Ardray, Solnel and Rhylor. The church offered that peace, calm and silence.

Garril cringed when he thought of that night: that odd spell he cast on the priest, and then that strange creature with that one bottomless, staring eye. It was a horrible stain on his memory, having to cast so many spells.

Having to put so much strain on Ardray.

Garril brushed away that random errant thought, and went back to recollecting his memory of the past month. But that was it. Oddly enough, he suddenly started to believe in those obscurely written pieces of paper. Had his life been totally controlled by a prophecy since his birth? He thought of how everything fit neatly into place, and then set in motion. It saddened him a little to know that his life had been nothing but one straight path, never truly swerving off course. Everything was planned—by the Gods—to be precise. Maybe Matti was right. Maybe the Gods really did spend their idle time toying with peoples’ lives. He bristled at the thought, but Matti was not there. His mind went off on a long string of curses that he wouldn’t have let his aunt or uncle hear.

“What’s wrong, Garril?” he faintly heard Solnel beside him ask. Garril did not answer, but merely shook his head shortly. Solnel seemed to get the point.

His reminiscing on the past month suddenly made him feel incredibly weary. As if all of the stress had suddenly been piled on him all at once. He suddenly found even sitting in his seat tiring. What he really needed was time off. Garril knew he was going to be important before he died, but he was still only human, and just seventeen after all.

His weary mind could not grip him to just stay still. He stood directed by the most primitive emotion of wanting, and went over to Artturi.

“Uncle,” Garril started.

“Yes, Garril?” he asked, barely looking up from his plate of food. His constant gulp-swallow made it hard for Garril to clearly voice his opinion at first—but then Artturi smoothed over his long blond hair and looked up. “Yes, Garril?” he asked again.

“I was wondering if we could take a break from this,” he said. All the words came out too fast for him to smoothly piece them together.

“A break, as in...what?” Artturi asked.

“You know... A break from all this prophecy stuff. A break from going around to fulfill this weird riddle.”

It was silent for a while. Seconds seemed to slow into hours as the they ticked by.

“Actually,” Artturi said; “I was about to ask your aunt that same question. The best time to ask her something is after she takes a bath, then she won’t argue because she’ll be so euphoric.” His uncle nodded. “It’s a good idea, I’d like a vacation myself,” he said.

One down, Garril thought. “All right,” he said out loud. “I’ll ask her when she comes out.” And he returned to his seat to finish his breakfast; weariness totally gone.

When Garril had finally gotten around to actually eating his vegetables rather than poking at them, Tarja finally emerged from the bathroom. She had on a long white bathrobe, and she was combing her hair, calmly humming to herself. Garril waited until she seated herself at the table before he decided to ask any questions.

“Aunt Tarja,” he said when she pulled up a chair.

“Yes?”

“How does it sound right now to take a break?”

“A break from what, dear?”

“From all this prophetic stuff. A break from, y’know, just going around and trying to complete this odd puzzle on that piece of paper. A lot has happened in the last month and I think it’d be great to take a break from it all. Everyone really would appreciate it, and I think you would too.” He caught himself before he suddenly was going off into a long wind.

And again, it was silent for a while.

“What kind of break did you say, again?” Tarja asked.

“...A vacation...” Garril said, a little lamely.

Silence. This time, the rest of the group had finally keyed into their discussion, and were paying close attention as to what they were saying. The notiong of ‘vacation’ danced in a shower of bright lights in their minds. Then Tarja stood.

“Why take one now?” she asked mildly. “We’re so close.”

“Close to what?” Garril rebutted. “We don’t know where it will take place, we just know that it will.” Tarja thought about a moment; her visible half-face contorted in thought.

“Well, you are right,” she conceded. “All right, I am all for it.” And she smiled a crooked smile. The group was in unison, when suddenly they started to cheer and bang their fists on the table. The idea of a vacation was great when it was suggested; now it just exploded.

“Where to?” Ardray asked.

“Gerodathia, of course.” Tarja shrugged. “It’s the perfect place to get away, with all of its beaches and all that.

“‘Gerodathia’ is a broad term,” Artturi reminded her; “so where in Gerodathia are we going to go?”

“Definitely nowhere too big,” Garril said. “We’re going on a vacation, but we don’t want any of La Kai’s men to jump us.” “You’re catching on,” Artturi congratulated him with a broad smile. “He’s right. So that leaves Ireun and any of the state capitals out of the question.”

“The littler islands, then,” Rhylor suggested at that point. “There are only a few little villages on the coast there, and it’s really quite a backwater place. We’d stick out to the villagers, but not to anyone else.”

“Why, that’s a genius idea,” Tarja noted.

“You think so?” Rhylor said a little humbly.

“Yes. I think you’re much smarter than people say you are.” She looked out to the group, whose festivities had totally spilled every plate and every utensil on the floor. Not that they minded.

“All right,” Tarja announced now, but to just their group so no one else would hear. “It’s been decided. We’re taking a much needed vacation to Gerodathia. I think if we leave now and head to the harbor on the back road, we’ll get to the harbor in Elytris before the month is out.”

“That’s perfect, Tarja,” Artturi said. “Well you heard her. Let’s go now before we attract much attention.” And as he turned on one heel, the group stood in unison, and started to go after him.

“Wait,” Tarja called; “how about waiting until I’m dressed?”

“You’re a sorceress, aren’t you?” Vankesa called back. “Just”—he made a vague hand motion—“onto yourself.” And with that, he stepped out the door in a manner that exuded finality.

Tarja sighed an unbecoming-sounding sigh and put the money for their stay on the table. She did not seem to notice—rather, she pushed it out of her mind for the sake of time—the mess on the table and floor, and went right out the door.

And queen Anukka sat on her throne again, waiting, never realizing she would not get a chance to kill two birds with one stone, as she had planned.