Honeymoon in Hillsfar

[Celanus]

Part I

Hastian’s green eyes lifted at the portal’s sudden appearance, and his lips tugged upward into a crooked smile. The portal's effect itself was less than spectacular—a slight sensation of a vacuum, a droning nearly sub-audible hum, and the appearance of a black, paper-thin, jagged void hanging suspended in the air of the inn-room. It was not magic meant to impress. His mentor was far too practical for that. The smile came instead from what the portal would bring: reunion with old friends and cherished ‘family,’ a return to his childhood home, a part of him even welcomed the risk and excitement that the portal promised.

Hastian took a deep breath turning toward the woman that stood at his side. He paused a moment to study the curve of her form, the cascade of dark curls falling past her shoulder, but what truly captured his attention was the tenderness and adoration returned in her eyes. His crooked smile flickered wider and his thumb began to toy absently with the silver gem-set band he now wore on his left hand.

“Aurora …” He spoke his wife’s name in a reassuring tone. “..It’s time.” He offered the woman an open palm, motioning toward the rippling portal.

“I’m ready,” the young woman spoke, and took his hand after shouldering a heavy pack. Together they stepped through the portal, a rush of arcane energy dancing through their nerves like lightning. The scenery around them --a plush and familiar inn-room with soft carpeting, and lit by a crackling fireplace—was ripped away. In its place, the near-indescribable tempest that was the nexus tore past with incredible speed.

Hastian’s eyes glazed over as the chromatic blur fled past. He took the moment to reflect upon the simple letter that had brought both his wife and him to this point. It was a call for aid; a voice from his past that he owed more than could ever be repaid. Girella, leader of the small mage-guild of Hillsfar had taken him off the streets as a youth. She had given him a home and instruction in the art. She had taught him to control and develop the natural talent he possessed. Together they had explored its origin, giving him answers into who he was and the nature of his gifts.

Girella was a fighter; one of the few willing to stand against the corruption and atrocities that took place daily in the city. The some thirty-odd mages under her guidance were her soldiers in the fight, but more than that they were a family. Three of the young wizards of the guild had fumbled in a mission and been labeled enemies to the City of Hillsfar. To shield the others from suspicion, the remainder of the mage-guild had to allow the three to be taken without resistance… or at least appear to.

Girella’s letter had found him quickly. Its course sped to the valley by magical means. Her greeting and well wishes to Hastian had been brief but genuine. Its purpose was to explain the seizure of the three mages, and ask for hard-to-obtain regents that the Mage-Guild needed to see the prisoners freed from capture and secreted from Hillsfar. Hastian’s position as a Magus in the Hands allowed him ready access to such supplies. Without delay he snuck what was needed from the storehouses of Desctrum to his room at the Comfort, and waited to discuss the development with Aurora.

The thought of his wife brought Hastian back to the present. Space and distance warped around the pair as the portal brought them ever closer to their destination. Looking down he found his fingers entwined with hers; the discovery brought a light smile of contentment.

His focus returned to his thoughts. When he had spoken to Aurora of the letter, and of his intent to return to Hillsfar along with the requested supplies, he had expected both her support and her desire to accompany him. He had received both, and despite the danger that they would certainly face on the journey a growing part of him was pleased to have to woman at his side. When they had first met, he had viewed her as a game of social graces to be played with for his own amusement. He had taken satisfaction in knowing that he, an orphan from the streets of Hillsfar, could charm and seduce a girl of noble statue. Their exchanges were a dance of compliments and flattery, yet gave way steadily to more. Secrets shared and the truths they passed bound them gradually to one another. Their mutual affections grew rapidly, spurred by a legion of dangers that surrounded them. Backed into a corner, their partnership tested and proven, they had in a night of madness eloped. Hastian now returned to his family, a new bride at his side. He looked forward to the reunion.

A sudden sensation of deceleration and the returning familiar grip of gravity marked their arrival. The warm walls of the Hillsfar Mage-Guild’s convocation room erupted into their perception. Hastian blinked once, and looked to the room. The ranks of the mage-guild were gathered, mostly young men and women dressed in modest and functional tunics. Many eyes were upon them: the smiling eyes of childhood friends, disapproving stares from familiar rivals, weary eyes of the few who had conjured the portal, even a scornful look of a past lover.

Standing among the rest, yet with an air of command and matronly authority that separated her, stood Girella. Hastian dipped his head toward her in greeting as a smile rose again to his face. His mentor’s face betrayed a moment’s warmth at his arrival despite the circumstances of his return. The line of older woman’s eyes traced toward the joined hands of the newly arrived couple.

“Hastian," came the voice of his mentor, "welcome home.”

[Celanus]

Part II.

Greetings had been exchanged -- warm ones for the most part. None of the Mage-Guild seemed overly surprised that Hastian had chosen to return along with the requested supplies. The news of his marriage, however, had caused a steady drone of whispers amongst his ‘family.’ Hastian caught several good-natured jokes at his expense. The idea of the young sorcerer ‘settling down’ and adopting the responsibilities of a marriage was a much needed source of amusement to his beleaguered comrades.

“Everyone, we’ve important matters that cannot be delayed.” Girella’s voice rose above buzz of gossip. “Gather yourselves to the cell.” The familiar authority of her voice drew Hastian’s attention instantly. He paused a moment studying his mentor. Her dark hair, now touched with a tinge of grey, was worn long and kept back from her face. Her slender frame was clothed in a simple dark gown which did little to mute the inherent aura of confident nobility with which that she carried herself. A strange thought came to Hastian: She looks like Aurora. His face contorted slightly at the notion, as a second thought came to him: … or perhaps it is the other way around. He shook his head and let the idea slip from him as Girella ushered the gathered mages from the room and disappeared from sight.

“The cell?” Aurora spoke teasingly from over his shoulder. She stood with folded arms and a raised eyebrow waiting for an explanation.

“It’s just a nickname.” Hastian turned to face his wife and flashed a grin. “Think of it as a safe room – a secret hide out.” He motioned to the doorway. “Just place your hand on the large red-leather copy of Bigsby’s Manual of Evocation and speak the word ‘Freedom.”

Aurora shifted her weight to one leg, jutting out a hip. “You’re joking?”

“I’m not.” He spoke through a smirk. “Go try it.” Aurora stepped past him following behind the trail of mages as the room cleared. She looked back one last time to her husband, offering a look of amusement before disappearing into the adjoining room.

“You’re giving away our secrets to strangers now?” The accusation drifted softy from the far corner of the room. Hastian turned toward it as the last stragglers cleared the room. The voice belonged to a young woman, tall, blond, sensual. Hastian swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, looking away from the woman. She still looks good. The thought intruded his mind irritatingly.

“She’s my wife, Allia.” He failed to mask the agitation in his voice, the emotion born from guilt and embarrassment. He had known this woman since childhood. Like him, she was brought in an orphan from the streets. Like him, she had been taken under Girella’s wing. Like him, she shared a natural talent for the arcane. As children, they had found comfort in each other’s company. Their similarities lead them to a close friendship, and the friendship had lead, eventually, to a lop-sided romance. The relationship defined by a tug-of-war, she would press for commitment, and he for independence. When his assignment to Sundren was presented, Allia had accused him of accepting in order put distance between them, and perhaps there was a small measure of truth to it. His decision had ended the relationship… badly.

“I was teasing, Hastian.” Allia spoke in a mocking tone. Her slender hands straightened his vest, and she tilted her neck upward giving him a scornful look and a plastic smile. “You’ve grown far too serious since you left.” She hooked her arm to his before he could protest and pulled him firmly into the next room. Allia paused in the doorway, bringing them both to a halt. She placed an obvious and affectionate kiss on his cheek in full view of his wife, locking eyes for a moment with the other woman before slipping away to another room.

“I can’t wait to hear you explain that.” Aurora’s tone was light-hearted, but carried an undertone of jealous annoyance at the display.

“That was Allia.” He gave a lame smile and held his hands up in jokingly in surrender. “I’ll explain later.”

Their hands upon the tome, the pair spoke the command word. There was an unsettling feeling of weightlessness and the stone wall they faced rushed forward and through them in an instant.

“Welcome to the Cell.” Hastian spoke in a low whisper to his wife. The nickname was fitting. The small stone room lacked windows or doors of any sort. For all purposes it was a stone-work box lit only by orbs of arcane light. There was simple furnishings: chairs and a large table that at the current moment supported an equally large map of the city.

“Hastian, the others have their assignments. If you still intend to aid us, I’d ask you join me with the team entering the Gaol directly – after all, you’ve been inside before.” Girella, hunched over the large map and flanked by the other mages of the guild, spoke without looking up.

The words coaxed a smirk from the young sorcerer, recalling his own past capture with levity. “… and Auroa?”

“It seems you both don’t favor being separated. She’ll come with us. I trust she’s capable?”

Hastian paused and let his eyes meet those of his wife His reply was teasingly dismissive "... she's alright.”

Girella straightened, taking her eyes from the table. When she spoke it was in the tone she often has used in disciplining the unruly children of the mage guild. “This is a serious matter, Hastian. Treat it as such."

Hastian found no ally in his wife who stood contrapposto, arms crossed, and wearing a faint smirk of victory at the admonishment. He sighed, "... right then, let's hear the plan."