Today is a struggle.  I mean, really a struggle.  I am tired, and I think it shows.  I am not happy with this chapter at all.  It moves the story forward, although it will get rewritten, I expect next month.  The characters fought against what I wanted and I eventually gave in and just let them have their way.

Still, as long as they keep telling me where to go, I will keep telling their story.  Damn kids, anyway.

Here it is, gentle reader, for what it is worth. I am off to keep writing towards Chapter 4, as I am behind a bit on the word count today. What with the Nutcracker, consoling a friend who needs me, and running a game on Sunday, I need to get ahead. This weekend may not let me write as much as I need to. Grrrr. I need to not stress, or the story will not come out.

So, I leave you tonight with this, such as it is.

Chapter 3:  Power uncontained

“Running away will never make you free.”

– Kenny Loggins

The explosion was deafening, making everyone cover their ears.  Annathon ran to Invictus, yelling something that could not be heard over the fires.  People were running everywhere; some throwing water spells on the fire, others trying to make destroy the air that would fuel the flames higher.

Invictus just stood there, arm outstretched, fingered spread out towards the fire.  His face was covered in sweat, his Will bent on the flames, as if he could will them to go out, just as he willed them to explode as they did.

There is no way I did that.

Before the fire could spread, Annathon waved a hand at the blaze and a great wind followed the gesture to the flames.  It was out in a few seconds, and the wind died as it did.  He stood there looking at Invictus, with a look of confusion and pride.

There is no way he did that.

They stared at each other for a moment, as if they were having a conversation without words, when Invictus finally spoke.

“Master, that was not all my doing.  I controlled the blast…”

“I agree, Invictus, I agree.  Let’s go have a look at the target, shall we?  Perhaps we can shed some light on the matter.”

He walked towards the target, with Invictus close behind, and reached it in in short order.  Damon and the other students were there as well, having stopped their efforts at putting out the now extinguished flames.

Slapping Invictus on the back, Damon yelled, “That was a hell of a blast, Vic!  You are becoming quite the wizard!”

Falling slightly forward from the force, Invictus righted himself before he replied.

“Thanks, friend, but that was not all me.  Something was wrong in the spell, I would guess, as the power was far too high.  I cannot guess what happened.”

“I can, my apprentice, I can.  The target was coated with firemoss.  Who put this here?”

The old man was holding aloft the charred plant in his hands, with a look of concern on his face.  He turned around in circles, showing the moss to the gathered student body, staring at each face, into each young mind.  They could feel his Will boring into them, coaxing their fear, making them cower before their teacher.  He rarely was angry, unless someone did something stupid.

This clearly qualified.

“Not only has someone stolen firemoss from our locked storage area, they have placed enough of it here to set the whole castle on fire.  Had we been standing closer to the target, we could have all been killed. So, I ask again.

WHO DID THIS?”

His voice carried power with it, across the courtyard and into each student.   They felt the voice as a physical thing, as if someone was in their face, grabbing their collar and demanding that they speak.  No one moved a muscle and no one owned up to planning such a dangerous act.

The Wizard turned in one slow circle, evaluating each student as he did.  When he had completed his rotation, he stopped in front of Damon.

“Where is Marcos?”

“I do not know, Master.  He was here before the test.  Shall I go find him?”

“Thank will not be necessary.  I will do it.”

With that, he lowered his head and chanted in a low, guttural voice, as if he had a mouthful of water and was trying to talk through it.  It went on for a few minutes, and while it did, the students just stared at him and waited.  He very abruptly stopped chanting, lifted his head, and pointed toward the second story window of the dorms.

“There.  Bring him to me.”

Damon looked down the wizard’s arm to the window, and saw Marcos face drop out of view.  He broke into run, that carried him like a gazelle across the grounds, his boots clacking on the hard stone as he ran.  Up the stairs he went, and spotted Marcos running out the other side toward the back stairs.  He chased after him, through the hall and around the corner to the stairs.  As he leapt down then, he could hear the door shutting ahead of him, and Marcos’ footsteps receding outside.

“Stop, brother!  The Master wants you!  Stop!” he yelled as he ran after him, opening the door and heading off in the direction of the footsteps.   He began to slow down, as he saw his brother had ended the chase, frozen in mid step, with his head looking back over his shoulder.

“What is this?” he demanded, as he walked up to his statue-like brother.

“I have him, Damon.  Go get Master Annathon.”

Damon looked to the voice, and saw Invictus, once again with his arm out in front of him, pointing at Marcos and staring at him intensely as he slowly walked closer.

“Dammit, Vic, when did you learn that?  Show me later?”

They smiled at each other for a moment, like two kids that had just caught a bug that they thought was cool.  After a second, Damon shook his head, and started off to find the old wizard.  Vic waited for him to leave and then closed the gap on Marcos, his smile fading.  He leaned in to Marcos ear, laying his hand on the frozen boy’s shoulder.

“I am done being your servant, Marcos.  I can stop any thing you do to me now.  My Will is stronger than your malice, and I will suffer no more of your bullying.  Not on me, or anyone.  You will need to go back to torturing rats for your pleasure, like you did before I came around.

I will do far worse to you if I hear of you harming anyone else.”

Invictus leaned back as he heard footsteps coming closer.

“I dare you to test me, Marcos.”

Annathon, Damon and then the rest of the students came around the corner to see Invictus standing quietly before the immobile figure of Marcos.  He stood with his hands behind his back, turning as the class approached to face his Master.  He bowed his head slightly, and gestured to his trophy.

“Release him, Invictus.  Now.”

Invictus lowered his hand, looked at Marcos for a second, and then walked to stand beside Damon.  Marcos began to move suddenly and fell to the ground in a heap.  He started to get up and continue his run, when the Wizard spoke again in a softer voice.

“Marcos.  Come with me.”

Marcos looked at him, looked at Damon and Invictus, then stood and brushed himself off.  He walked straight to Invictus with a murderous look in his eyes.  Damon stepped in front of him, holding up a hand to stop Marcos advance.   Marcos stopped before his brother and stared.

“Marcos!  Come. With. Me.”

The master’s voice was strong but soft, compelling Marcos to follow.  He started to walk with Annathon, and suddenly turned back towards Invictus and hurled a small object at him.  Damon moved to catch it, but Invictus yelled, “NO!”

Just in front of Damon’s hand, it froze in midair.  Moving quickly up past him, Invictus enclosed it with both hands.  Chanting under his breath, he moved his hands outward as the imprisoned rock exploded into flames.   The flames licked around the young wizard’s hands, but none of it escaped far.  Sweat poured down his face as the fire went out.  He came to a proud stance, letting his arms fall to his sides, and faced Marcos.

“Never again, Marcos. I am no longer weak.  Your torment has made me strong.

I suppose, I should thank you.”

Invictus mouth pulled up into a smirk.  Damon stared at Marcos with the frown his father wore, and began to advance on him.

“You could have killed us both. That was too far, brother. ”

“Brother?  You call me brother? You never treat me like a brother; only use the word to make me another pet of our father like you.  ”

“Our father loves us both.  Only you want his love all to yourself!”

“How can he love me, when he gives it all to you?  And, as for brother, this brat can take my place.  I have had enough of this pathetic family.”

With that, he turned and strode out past the class into the courtyard.  Damon ran after him, but when he closed in, his brother turned with a knife drawn.

“Leave me alone.  Brother.”

He nearly spit out the last word, with a contempt that was unmistakable.

“Father will hear of this.  You will not be allowed to leave.”

“Try and stop me.”

As Marcos backed away, and Damon begins to follow him, he hears Invictus’ clear voice.

“Let him go.  If you make him stay, someone will die by his hand.”

“But, he is my brother,” Damon interjected, turned to his friend, “and I cannot just let him leave.”

“Would you chain him up?  Put him in the dungeons?  If he chooses to leave, he will leave and nothing you can do will stop him.  Let him go, Damon.  Let him go.”

With that, Marcos put the knife away and turned to walk away.  Over his shoulder, he cast back the words, “Good bye,” as though they were so much trash to be tossed away.

Damon stared at Marcos’ back, as he disappeared through the gates, the Invictus slowly moving up behind.  He placed his hand on Damon’s shoulder and stood silently next to his friend.  Damon turned to him, and spoke, in a voice barely loud enough to hear.

“But, he is my brother.”

His friend just nodded, with a face that expressed “I know,” and “I’m sorry,” all at once.  They stood there together, staring at the open gate, quiet and unmoving for a time.

Marcos was gone.