InuYasha Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ The Call of the Magi ❯ ch. 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Ch 2

 

Sorry? His master allowed for his murder and he said he was sorry? Magan's anger pulsed through his body in waves. He wanted to shout, demand an answer of his master, but he could not make a sound in this strange repetition of the past.

Magan began moving toward Idarolan, his body moving of its own accord. He felt his lips move, and a voice not his own came from his throat. "Idarolan, you seem to be forming a habit of killing off your students," spoke a cold voice, a slight elven accent coming out in his words. Magan immediately recognized the voice as that of the elf he had just been speaking with- finally realizing that he was reliving the elf's memory. Idarolan whirled to face him, his keen elven eyes searching Magan's face, trying to identify him.

"Who's there?" Idarolan demanded. "Why have you come?" He stepped toward Magan. Magan stopped moving.

"Do you not know?" the voice asked, devoid of emotion. Magan's hands rose to his head and he pulled back his hood. "You always were blind for an elf, old one," he said.

"Elphidel!" the red robe hissed, flinching back. "You would show your face here?" Idarolan's words were filled with venom.

"I have come for the boy," Elphidel said simply, as if explaining a basic fact to a mere child. Magan stalked toward his own motionless body on the ground, his movement once more uncontrolled. Before he could reach his destination, Idarolan imposed between them. "Move old man, you are in my way," Elphidel said impassively. He took a step to go around the elder elf, but once again Idarolan stood in his way.

"Keep away from him!" Idarolan commanded as he held out his hands, preparing a spell. "You can not have him! Be gone!" Idarolan's voice slipped into a chant, as he prepared a spell to incinerate Magan as he approached.

In a flurry movement, a dagger flashed forth from Magan's hand, imbedding itself into Idarolan's throat. Blood spurted from the wound, and Idarolan's eyes grew wide as his chanting gave way to a gurgling sigh. He fell heavily to the floor and lay still. Magan's blood ran cold as the impact of what he had just done reached his mind. He tried to reach out to his master, knowledge of his betrayal forgotten- but his movement brought him to where his own dying body lay.

As he reached out to touch the body, the world dissolved before his eyes as a mist under the high noon sun. Magan could see nothing but a black haze before him. The image of a dragon formed slowly from the darkness. The sight startled Magan, and though he knew it was not real, he reached out as if to touch the magnificent beast. His hand passed through the dragon's head, stirring the air and destroying the vision.

Light burst through the darkness, though it did not blind him, as though he had never been thrust into the blackened mist. He was no longer in the tower, but stood in front of the elf that had shown him the vision of the past. Elphidel. Elphidel lowered his hand from Magan's face, and began to turn away as if to leave.

“You,” Magan's voice was little more than a whisper, “You killed him?” He stared at his hand, envisioning Elphidel's dagger once more in his hand.

“I had almost thought you would have been happy,” Elphidel said, pausing at the doorway. “He did try to kill you, you know.”

“My master would never try to kill me,” Magan denied, even as he flexed the muscles that released his dagger bound to his forearm with an intricately designed leather thong. “Lies! You've shown me lies!” Magan yelled, and leapt forward, the dagger thudding to his hand as he went. Elphidel moved only his hand, placing his closed fist right in the knife's path- extending just one finger like he was pointing. Magan's dagger was jarred from his hand as he struck, and pain flew up his arm as if he had just attempted to stab a brick wall. He staggered back staring at Elphidel, his hand tingling from the impact of his blow, watching his dagger quiver on the floor.

“Don't do it again,” the dark robed man said coldly, a trickle of blood running down his extended finger. “I didn't come there specifically for your benefit- you were just lucky. It would suit my purposes just fine to kill you now.” Elphidel whirled and was gone. Magan swore violently after him- and made to follow.

“Excuse me,” came the hesitant voice of a woman from outside the room- and Magan hung suspended in mid stride. “Are you…hungry?” she asked carefully as she entered. Magan noted that although he had heard her refer to the night blue robed Elphidel as `master' when he first awoke, she herself wore robes as white as untouched snow. A curious pallid blindfold was wrapped around her eyes- as though she could not bear the light of day. Her bright red hair flowed like liquid crimson down around her shoulders, with short cut bangs hanging to her brow. She held a basket of bread seeming just removed from an oven. Magan choked on a rather crude retort to such a kind, simple question. His anger was not directed toward this girl, he reminded himself.

“Not at the moment,” he said, though the smell of the fresh baked bread made his stomach beg to differ. “Might I ask your name?” he managed, driving away thoughts of both his anger and his hunger.

“Its Amberyl,” she said more warmly as she moved closer toward him.

“Careful!” Magan cried as he leapt forward, swiping his dagger from under her falling foot with his own. “Have a care, woman! That could have hurt, you know,” he said, quickly snatching up the blade.

“Well I couldn't see-” she started in a feeble explanation.

“Then uncover your eyes!” Magan lashed out in irritation spawned from his earlier rage. Amberyl stilled, and Magan's breath caught as he realized that she could not remove the cloth-- not really. She was blind.

“What good does it do the lame to own a traveling cloak?” she asked bitterly, “Or the blind to look about?”

“I'm sorry,” Magan said, cursing himself for his lack of self control, and sat down on the bedside. He pulled up his sleeve, trying to replace his dagger in its bindings with one hand. It slipped from his grasp. He swore, pulling his forearm back before the blade cut his wrist. Amberyl sighed and moved beside him, placing the basket of bread at the foot of the bed.

“Let me help.” She held her hand out, waiting for him to hand over the dagger. Magan hesitated before he gave the blind girl his knife. It seemed odd to trust her to bind it to his arm with her eyes `closed'. “Don't worry,” she said. “I've done it once or twice for my master- although he doesn't seem to need my help- I have only done it once or twice.” Magan didn't find her words too reassuring, but if he survived the encounter he was sure he wouldn't feel so bad about his quick tongue. Carefully she felt the bindings, measuring them up before positioning the knife in place.

“You refer to the elf, Elphidel, as `master',” Magan said as she worked. “Are you… also a magic-user?”

“No,” Amberyl said, frowning in thought as she tied the leather strings. “I don't know why I call him master. I must have fallen in the habit sometime after he… found me.” Amberyl opened her mouth to continue, but closed it just as quickly without making a sound. She rose, reaching for the bread basket behind her.

“Wait,” Magan said, grasping for her hand. “Found you?” he prompted gently as he stood.

“Found me.” Amberyl said with finality. “Same as he found you.” For a moment he stood there, holding her wrist while looking into her delicate face. He released her abruptly, turning away.

“Found me?” he questioned bluntly to the windowless wall. “Or happened across me while searching for my master?” Amberyl flinched.

“Magan, he saved your life.”

“And he took the life of my master!” Magan yelled, filled with sudden anguish over Idarolan's death. “I'd switch places with him in a second,” he said. “He didn't deserve to die. Not like that. He was a good man. Always there, if not always watching.” Magan stood trembling, trying to gain control of himself. “And Elphidel murdered him. Stuck him with a knife, and tried to tell me he did it to save me!”

“You are so thick, you know that? Is that really what you think?” Amberyl asked accusingly. Magan ###### his head, dumbstruck by the question.

“Of course that is what I think!” he snapped, quickly recovering, “I saw it with my two eyes!” He wondered of how Elphidel could bear the company of such an incompetent person. Then he remembered that she had no idea what had really happened in this room before Elphidel had left. “Your master, Elphidel, was in my chamber,” Magan began, making a slashing gesture at the surrounding room as he spoke; letting his hand drop when he remembered that Amberyl couldn't see it. “And he showed me what happened after my test-- through his own eyes.” Magan paused momentarily, shuddering. “He told me that he had come for my master, though. Not me.” Magan grunted. “He also made it clear that if I wanted to argue the point, he'd split me down the middle.”

“Oh, dear,” Amberyl sighed, seemingly unphased by Magan's angry tirade. “He seldom makes death threats, actually. Just what did you say to him?”

“Ah, well, I sort of tried to stab him,” Magan said, feeling slightly sheepish.

“You did what!?” Amberyl's voice rose several octaves. “You're lucky to be alive, you idiot! And after he saved you from a conclave of murderous wizards-” she half yelled.

“I didn't ask for his help!” Magan interrupted, his temper flaring once more. “And my master would never try to kill me!”

“Oh? Maybe Master should show you again, then. You seem to have forgotten what had transpired,” Amberyl said in icy tones. She shifted her head to one side, as if listening intently to a soft noise. “And besides,” she continued coolly, “He wishes to see you again, for some reason I could never fathom.”

“Your master is a liar!” Magan hissed. “And if I never see his face again so long as he and I both live, it'll be too soon.” Magan promptly fell onto his bed, nearly upsetting the basket of bread at its foot. “Wasn't your master calling?” he asked pointedly, trying to get rid of her. Amberyl opened her mouth; and- saying nothing- shut it with a frustrated noise.

“I will be leaving now,” she announced, turning away from Magan.

“How it rends my heart,” he said acidly. Amberyl stalked quickly away from him. Magan bounced up from the bed with a shout as he saw her heading quickly for the wall beside the door. His warning was a little late. Amberyl jarred backwards, unbalanced, as she walked completely unprepared into the hard wood wall. Magan caught her before she hit the ground.

“Maybe the door would work better,” he observed cynically.

“Shut up,” she said abstractedly as he helped her rise. Her nose tingled, and she felt slightly unbalanced.

“The door is that way,” Magan said, turning her to face the right direction.

“I know that!” she snapped. Magan let that pass. “I was just upset, that's all.” Her face was flushed from embarrassment. Magan backed off.

“I don't suppose you want the bread?” he inquired in an offhand manner.

“Ah, yes, please,” she mumbled shamefacedly, extending her hand for the basket.

“Never mind. I'll carry it,” Magan offered with a small sigh. Amberyl accepted his subtle apology, smiling faintly.

“Magan,” she started hesitantly as he moved towards the door, “may I have your hand?” He took her outstretched hand, and led her out the door.

“Now, where are we going?” he asked.

“Somewhere outside,” Amberyl replied. “It's nice out today, and I plan on having a fine meal out there.” At the word `meal', Magan's hunger returned like fever.

“I really think I want to join you,” he said, as he stared hungrily at the bread in his hands.

“I think that would be just fine,” she said, detecting his hunger.

“What is there?” Magan asked eagerly. Amberyl paused, pulling him to a stop. Her brow furrowed in thought.

“Actually, you could have almost anything you want,” she said. “Everything from greens to roasts.”

“For lunch?” Magan exclaimed, unused to such a royal menu. “Even chicken? Or soup?”

“You could even have roast llama, if you really want,” Amberyl said in an amused tone as she resumed her slow pace.

“Where do you get it all?” Magan inquired.

“I honestly don't know. But I do have to prepare it,” she warned, “So I would prefer if you didn't choose roast llama.”

“I really don't care right now, Amberyl,” Magan said blandly. “I just need food.”

“Oh? That hungry?” she asked with feigned surprise. “You weren't an hour ago.”

“What?”

“You didn't want the bread I had with me and hour ago. The stuff you're holding in your hand,” she added, as if he might have forgotten what bread was.

“No. I said I wasn't hungry- not that I didn't want any. There's a difference.” Magan inhaled the scent of the loaves he carried, which- although no longer warm- smelled delicious. “Either way I lied,” he admitted. Amberyl laughed lightly.

“Ok, here's where I turn left-” Amberyl motioned down off to her left side, to a door slightly ajar “-and you go strait. That way,” Amberyl pointed unerringly down the hall at a wooden door on the far side. Magan gave her a quizzical look, regardless of the fact that she couldn't see it. He pointedly raised his hand- the one that was holding hers.

“And can you tell me why I'm leading you down these halls?” he asked, slightly put out. Amberyl didn't seem to understand the question. “`That way'? Amber, you're pointing down these halls at things far away that you can't see, and you have me leading you through doorways.” Magan sighed. “I feel abused.”

“Oh!” Amberyl exclaimed, catching on at last. “I actually was dizzy after I ran into the wall, Magan,” she assured him.

“But you ran into that wall on purpose, didn't you?” Magan accused.

“Well- I-… I was distracted and-” Amberyl stuttered by way of explanation.

“Come off it,” Magan interrupted her. “I know you did it on purpose to get me to stop acting like an ass.”

“Well…” Amberyl shrugged, smiling winsomely.

“So we're holding hands because…?” Magan left it hanging, somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh!” Amber snatched her hand away. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” she apologized nervously.

“It didn't bother me at all,” Magan said, contradicting her quickly. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence. Magan cleared his throat. “I go through that door in front of us then?” he asked in as casual a manor as he could manage.

“Um,” Amberyl seemed unsure, as if she had lost her bearing on direction. “Hang on,” she said. She nodded after a moment's reflection. “Right. Through the darker one.”

“Darker?”

“The darker door,” she explained.

“I could see that,” Magan said, faintly exasperated. “But how could you see it?” It seemed that every time she turned around, Amberyl seemed to forget she was blind.

 

“Oh, Elphidel told me for some reason,” Amberyl accounted. Magan twitched at the name. Amberyl appeared to have anticipated his response, and quickly continued. “For as long as I've lived here, Master has always described everything to me. If I ask him where the door is, he'll tell me where it is, how big it is, what color it is, whatever.”

Amberyl sighed. “I could almost envision the entire manor. Even the painting somewhere over there-” she waved her hand around to her right, locating the picture quite accurately, “-is well known to me. A blue frame- wooden- encompassing a fairly beautiful portrait of Lady Listelle. She has long, blonde hair, and a pretty, dimpled smile. The dress she is wearing is a quite becoming shade of red, is it not?”

Magan could only stare in stunned amazement. “You've quiet a memory there,” he managed. Amberyl smiled sadly, her lips trembling.

“But all I wish… is to see it.” Her voice held a quiver in it. She suddenly turned and fled back down the hallway, weeping.

“Amberyl!” Magan leapt after her. If she ran into anything at this speed… Magan tried without success to catch her. Amberyl skidded into a door, flinging its latch wide open. She darted inside and slammed the door shut, bolting it. Magan gaped. This girl was blind!? Damn she could run! He tried the door, but it didn't budge. Through the heavy wood Magan could hear the faint sound of sobbing. Frustrated, he called the Staff of Magius, summoning it to his hand. He placed the butt of the staff on the lock, and it clicked open.

“There was a reason she locked that door, you know,” came the cold voice of the elf, Elphidel. Magan whirled to face him, unconsciously bringing the staff up in a defensive position. “Put away your staff, Magan. I've not come to kill you.” He threw the words out so indifferently in his emotionless tone that Magan got the chilling idea that Elphidel often had to give people this assurance. With a flick of his finger, Elphidel bolted the door behind Magan.

“That was…strange,” Magan observed casually, forcing himself to relax.

“There are other forms of magic besides your own,” Elphidel said.

“I'd noticed.” Magan compelled himself to be civil. He would give a chance to the man Amberyl respected before he truly judged him. “I had been planning on enjoying some lunch,” he said. “But I see my company has fled me.”

“You must be a truly loathsome fellow. Amberyl can stand anyone's company.” Magan's eyebrows rose.

“Humor, Elphidel? You? Somehow you struck me as a cold sort of man.”

“Don't try my patience,” Elphidel said coldly, “If I didn't need you, I'd have killed you already. You are quite annoying.”

 

 

 

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