[Mkguild] Marks's Story - Part 4 revised (2/3)

[Prof]

I
expected weary eyes, a gruff voice and the loud bang of a closed door. Well, my
expectations and the outcome never had the best relationship. Obviously my opposite
is wide awake, more than me, in fact. And although annoyed he’s trying at least
to be polite. Plus, he effortlessly drove me into defense. 
 
"Uhm..." not
good, not good. Think faster! I breathe deep and indicate a bow. "My
deepest apologies for disturbing your studies, star-gazer. My name is Mark
and... Well, the lady of the Keep wants me to meet you." Oh great, did you
just say that? You're lucky if he doesn't scream for the guard right now.
 
No yell so far. Actually
he doesn’t do anything besides blinking once for a couple of moments. 
 
“And what brings you
to the conclusion the keep wants us to meet?” Then his hand comes up, reaching
out, intending to shake mine. “Anyways, I am Kindle.”
 
He is not the only one
to blink. Maybe this will not end in another stay in the dungeons. Delighted I grab
the offered hand - and fight down the disturbing urge to scratch him between
his ears (or chase him across the keep).  His paw has a comfortable grip, but his
fingers are definitely slender. "If I’m honest, it's more a wild guess.
You see, I passed your door about ten times this night. Not without a reason, I
assumed."
 
The mouse morph folds
his ears behind his head and gestures to the darkened hall behind him. "Well,
since the Keep led you here, come inside and we can be more properly introduced. 
Do you like the stars?"  So saying, Kindle steps back inside the hall
behind the door, and moves toward an open passage in the back that is even
darker. I follow him into the hallway - with a narrow ceiling, my ears
almost brushing the boards. Surprisingly the feeling I get it is more comfy
than restrictive.
 
My host pauses before
entering the darkened room and chitters. "Could you shut the door? 
You're letting in all the light."
 
"Sure." I
close the door, and although the torches in the hallway out there were dim, the
change in lighting is noticeable. Blessed be my cat eyes, Kindle's lamp is more
than enough to avoid stubbing my toes against one of the numerous stables of
books and/or crates in the passageway. Definitely a man of the sciences.
"If I think about it, I honestly don't know if I like the stars. Actually
this might be the first occasion in a long time for me to look at them."
 
That elicits a short,
quiet laugh from him as he guides me back into a small room which opens out
onto a balcony. The cool October air is pressing into my fur, not an unpleasant
sensation, though. This body was made for it. 
 
The mouse sets his
lamp on the floor and then returns to a small chair in front of the low railing.
"Well, Mark, I am also just beginning to learn more about them.  So
I'm afraid if the Keep wants you to learn about the Heavens, it won't be for a
while."
 
Now I'm here, and I
feel obliged to take a moment and look up to the object my host dedicates his
time to. The stars are wonderful, of course, but... just there. The last time I
felt that uninterested was when I tried out a bow on the shooting range. At
this point I think it is better to try to change the subject. "Somehow I
don't think it is the heavens why I'm here. Can I ask you what you're doing
normally?"
 
Kindle chitters under
his breath as he makes a note on the pad before him. "Mostly I spend my
time on patrols as a field mage.  It's why when I'm back home at the Keep
I like to do something peaceful.  And what of you, Mark; what do you
do?"
 
"Searching",
I reply without a thought. And in reaction to his puzzled expression I add:
"For myself. You see, I lost my memories. Everything before the curse took
me is gone. My only occupation in the last few weeks was searching for clues
about my former, my real life. Dustin meant I should consult a mage. Well,
there was this weird incident last night, and... You’re a mage!" Winded I
stop my ranting. By the gods, I start to sound like Dustin. Self-control, Mark!
 
Kindle turns away from
the stars with a surprised expression, first shocked, and then sorrowful.
"I'm very sorry to hear what happened.  Perhaps I can help a
little.  Tell me what you do know.  And who is this Dustin?"
 
I lift my ears and
mouth corners to give Kindle a reassuring smile. "Dustin is my best friend
here and my host for the meantime. He is age regressed and works as a scout in
Skylarks squad. He can testify everything that happened." I stop for a
heartbeat to collect my scattered thoughts. Where to begin? How about… "Have
you ever rubbed your fur for some time and then touched a metallic
surface?"
 
The mouse runs one paw
through the fur on his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his blue robe as he does
so. "It doesn't work as well with mice as it does with cats.  But I
know what you mean."
 
“You're blessed with your
short fur" I say. "Anyways, imagine the flash enhanced by at least a
tenfold. That's what hit Dustin when we chinked our jars. And after that when
he tried to touch mine with his bare hand. I'm still skeptical, but he
suggested I should search out a mage. In most occasions he is right and I'm
desperate for answers about me."
 
“So, you need someone
to test you for magic abilities, and if there are some, what kind. Am I right
so far?”
 
“This sums it up,
pretty much. Would you be interested?”
 
“Yes, but not yet.”
 
My disappointment is
heavy and something of it seems to seep into my body language, because the
mouse adds: “See, it’s late, Mark. And you are looking like you haven’t found
sleep for a while now. Magic isn’t something you approach tired out. Besides,
there is still this clear, cloudless night for my studies.” 
 
“So how about a
meeting later, say, tomorrow?” I have no intention to let him off the hook,
this is too important. 
 
*****
… “Now tell me what
you see.”
 
I open my eyes and
it’s almost like I lift my lids for the first time completely… 
 
But it’s probably
better I start a little earlier in my narration. 
 
I met Kindle after
lunch, to give us the opportunity to catch up with some sleep. We started with
a relaxed talk, back in his study, in which the mouse tried to elicit what I
know about magic. A repetitive issue, he usually asked questions and I shrugged. 
 
His conclusion as
expected: “We better start at the beginning.
 
“I took the liberty to
use my mage sight on you. There might be some talent in you, but we have a lot
of work to do before we know if that’s true. And even more than that to determine
what sort of mage you might be.”
 
Our first step, to
wake my own mage sight, if any. The concentration- and focus exercises the
furred mage showed me felt comfortingly familiar. Automatically I reached into
my belt pouch to retrieve notebook and pen, breaking concentration on the way.
The ink was already uncorked until I noticed Kindle’s baffled expression. 
 
I produced something
between laugh and an embarrassed cough.  “Erm, sorry. I made it a habit to jot down practically everything that
could give me a clue about my life so far. A note about each activity I try
out, and if it feels like I’ve done it before - or not. Guess that went a
little overboard.”  
 
“You
don’t have to apologize, I understand” he assured me. “Just let it rest aside
for the time being. I could give you pointers when you write it down later.”  
 
Back to
the present moment. I have vast difficulties to describe what I’m seeing when
I’m using my mage sight. Nothing beyond the mundane reveals itself with a
distinctive shape or color. 
 
No,
that’s misleading. Actually everything is clear and defined – until I try to
compare it with the non-magical world, then it slips my grasp. 
 
So I see
these… shapes and at the same time feel them somewhere behind my eyes. A
mixture of almost-seeing and almost-sensing. I guess I lost you here, at the
latest. Well, it may sound harsh, but get your own magic eye and you might
understand, or not, depends on your personal approach to magic. 
 
Also,
that proves there is some magic talent hidden in this fuzzy hull. I now have a
direction where to head in my further investigations! I can’t help it, I jump
up (almost bashing my head on the low ceiling), snatch Kindle in a hug, ignore
his startled yelp and whirl in a silly dance through his study. To this I yell
the joy of my conquest at the top of my lungs – and gather a good share of
spider webs with my ears on the way.
 
Eventually
I come to my senses and the constant stream of “Thankyouthankyouthankyou”
trickles down to a lone, mortified “Uhm, sorry.” Carefully I set him back to
his feet and straighten his disheveled clothing a little. A task I end as
quickly as I started it (stop it; he’s a grown man, for god’s sake!). 
 
The
mouse takes it with reasonable countenance. “My my, aren’t we excitable today.”
He smirks. “It is encouraging to see you have enough vigor left to go to the
next step. Shall we?” 
 
What
else could I do than eagerly agree? 
 
*****
 
Frustrating
hours went by; an emotion that made itself a constant acquaintance of mine. You
learn either to deal with it or you go totally bonkers. I’m still here, though
(alongside with comrade frustration) with a mind in fairly intact state. But
fighting it is tiring. The more for my teacher, who seems not as used to
failure. He doesn’t speak it out, he is too polite to do so, but his body
language betrays his doubt. 
 
“I think
we should stop here.” I have feared this moment, it’s not the patient: “Try it
again.”, like the previous times. It hurts, but he’s probably right. Weird
dreams and dancing sparks don’t make me a…
 
“Maybe
we are storming too hastily in one direction.  You seem to be bogging down.” 
 
With
most other people these words would have been the intro to a lame excuse to end
the torment and resume it “somewhere else” (read: never). Not with Kindle; his supportive
smile and his scent tell me of his determination (and of healthy diet, why’s my
mouth suddenly watering?). This mouse hasn’t given up yet. 
 
“Fire
and air are avoiding your grasp, that’s vexing, nevertheless let’s try it with
something less likely instead. After the phenomenon you described I surmised an
affinity for one of those elements in you. Also, it is easier for most pupils
to imagine themselves lighting a candle or summoning a gust of wind. That's the
most basic magic, the sort you'd find at carnivals.  But it might have
come across the wrong way.  My apologies Mark, no offense was intended.” 
 
“None
taken” I answer, already acquainted to his sharp tongue. “Please continue.”
 
“Earth
is a sturdy, some might say stubborn element”, the mouse declares. “Reluctant
to let itself be manipulated. It takes less finesse, but more force to get a
grip on it. A novice’s store of power is slim, so training with this element is
usually scheduled for later lessons. But you, on the other side, are no
beginner.”
 
He
places a pebble on the table. “See what you can do with it. And take your
time.”
 
And take
your time. I suppress a groan. This phrase has seen a lot of use during the day, worn thin in a lot of places.
Breathing in, breathing out I focus on my mage sight. With intensity, born out
of pent-up anger I reach out to the smooth piece of stone before me...
 
What the
daedra I’m doing on the floor?
 
And
who’s the idiot who’s lifting my eye lid to let the searing daylight flood my
head? 
 
Wait a
moment, why are my eyes closed? Am I sure I’m not sleeping? Positive, forehead
hurts too much. I’m awake, if you stretch the definition a tad. 
 
A warm
glow appears within the pulsating pain and spreads from there, soothing the
ache and driving away the fog from my mind. 
 
“Mark? Can
you hear me?”
 
Now I
do, finally able to identify this buzzing sound as a high-pitched voice.
Kindle. The touch on my forehead is his hand and the warm sensation must be a
healing spell. Magic can be a handy thing. 
 
“Kindle,
why am I lying on your floor?” A moment later I add: “It is your floor, right?”
 
“It is.
You and my floor are now officially introduced.”
 
My eyes,
a moment ago perfectly comfortable being half lid are open in a heartbeat.
Stunned I’m gaping at the mouse, who himself seems surprised about this snarky
comment. 
 
I can’t
help, I just have to laugh, then wince because it makes my head hurt anew, and
then laugh even more. “By the gods, mouse, are you sure you don’t know Dustin?”
I giggle. “To get back to my first question: What happened?”
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