Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter 36.
Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #36. Wedding crashers.

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non.

Rating: NC - 17
Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bi, B-Mod, Bond, Death, D/s, H/C, HJ, Humil, Language, M/F, M/M, Minor, N/C, OC, Oral, Preg, Rim, Spank, Violence, Voy, VS, WD, WIP.

Archive: Originals - misc. > Slash – Male/Male.
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism. Please rate if you do not want to leave a review.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance of places and characters to actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Authors Notes: For review replies, comments and thank you's go to: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14530-polinues-marines-the-would-be-mage/
Hey guys.
I know it’s been forever since I uploaded last, but as I said before, I’m getting married in five days, and have been busy with work and planning.
I’ve also been struggling a little with writer’s block, probably because of stress, but now I’ve got the week off from work and most of the things I need to do are done. Now I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.
So, I give you two new chapters, and I hope you’ll forgive me for the wait. And I hope these chapters will tide you over until the next chapter, which hopefully will be up at the start of August.
Until then, thank you all for reading, and hope you enjoy.

Summary: Brigale and Polinues run afoul with a foe beyond their wildest fears.

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Chapter 36. Wedding Crashers.

“You still sore?” Brigale asked, hearing the hiss of pain as Polinues stretched up to smooth out the silk gauze he had just thrown over the line.
With a grimace he nodded, rolling his shoulder slowly.

“The little shit got me good yesterday. The bruise is deep, it hurts down to the bone.”
Brigale nodded and prodded his own black eye just hard enough to make it start thudding dully again.

“So? You think we can get him?”

“Get who?”

“Dipshit, of course.”

“What? Now?”

“Better now than later.”

Polinues darted a quick look from under the shade of his hood at his twin,where he was working at the farther end of the canopy.

“Monkey! Weasel! I want both of you to stop right now, grab that thought by the throat and strangle it, this instance. Because if either one of you so much as dares to even consider finishing that thought, it will, I promise you, end in disaster. And if you so much as entertain the idea of even thinking about acting on that thought, I swear on the Wraith Dragon himself, I will whip you, Brigale Caronar.”
Leyjen’s voice rumbled deep in his chest as he threatened the two friends, his face only centimeters from Brigale’s face as he finished. He turned on Polinues, about to make the same threat, but hesitated for a breath.

“And I’ll spank you until you can’t sit down.”

“Oh, is that a promise?” Polinues asked with his cheekiest grin, making Leyjen sputter and blush.

“You both swore on your lousy little lives that you wouldn’t cause trouble. That right there,” Leyjen pointed at Arlathi, “is trouble. And believe me, if you cause trouble, and Lanja gets her hands on you, you will be begging for me to save your miserable hides.”

Brigale shrugged his shoulders, and Polinues muttered something about obeying, but both had a glint in their eyes that made Leyjen nervous.


It was five days until Samhain, and the entire household was working around the clock to prepare for Lanja’s wedding.
She had been betrothed to the youngest son of a neighbouring Thainknight under Wrailan’s domain, since she was sixteen.

The knight had been blessed with four sons, and his oldest son had married a girl who was an only child, and therefore inherited everything from her father.
Thus Lanja’s betrothed would inherit all of his father’s estates, which made him quite the catch, even though he was a rank below Lanja in social standing.

The young man, Elohaim, was the same age as Leyjen, and had been known throughout the Thaindom for his escapades as a youngster.
Most of those escapades had involved strong drinks, women’s virtues, and his best friend. Many rumours had circulated the countryside about the nature of Elohaim’s and Corin’s relationship for years, and Lanja had come close to ending the engagement soon after it had been negotiated.
It had taken all of Lord Erusher’s cunning and all of Wrailan’s persuasion to get her to change her mind, and Elohaim had come crawling back to beg forgiveness for his follies.

Less than a year later Elohaim had come to the Castle Marines to join the Thaindom’s army.
Wrailan had begged the young man to reconsider but Elohaim had been adamant, claiming that he did not feel worthy of the Lady Lanja unless he be allowed to work his way through the ranks and gain a higher position than his father.
He was signed up for the mandatory five years of service, and it was not until a fortnight later that Wrailan found out that Corin had signed up to the army a few days before Elohaim.

Now Elohaim was back, with Corin close behind, and the wedding was going ahead as it had been supposed to four years earlier.
Lanja had been terrorising the entire estate for the past month, and the staff was beginning to get irritated.

Having all of the siblings, including Belnsair and his two children and wife, under one roof for an extended period was also causing strain on the household, and for the five days that both of the twins had been home everyone had been holding their breaths, awaiting the explosion.

The strain was most evident on Leyjen, who had barely slept for four nights now, and his nerves were so taut that he jumped if anyone breathed too loudly around him. He also did not leave Brigale and Polinues unattended for more than a breath when the two teens were awake, and Arlathi was anywhere in sight.


Polinues dipped his hands to his wrists into the scarlet dye, swirling the silk gauze in the liquid until it was soaked, then squeezing the excess water out of the fabric, hung it up on the line.
Brigale had also drawn the short straw when the work had been distributed, his forearms a deep scarlet colour, which reminded Polinues of blood every time he looked at the tyro knight.
Leyjen was busy dyeing the groom’s half of the gauze, his colour was a deep yellowish brown, which Polinues thought looked fantastic on Leyjen’s arms because it complimented his eyes perfectly.

Brigale stood up straight, stretching his back, and with a strange tone in his voice, he glared at Polinues and said,
“Oh, darn it, look Polinues, my bucket is almost empty. I’m going to have to go back to the vat and get some more dye.”

Polinues looked up at his friend, wondering if the dye had gotten to his head, only to be met with a meaningful glare and a nod towards Leyjen.
Polinues looked over his shoulder, and a wicked grin spread over his lips when he saw the older cleric standing a few paces away, with his back to the teens, drinking from a ladle that Thelaura had offered him.

Polinues felt his heart begin to race as he picked up his own bucket and said, far too loudly, earning himself a few stares from people close by,
“Oh, by the Wraith, my bucket is nearly empty too. I’ll come with you, Brigale.”

Together they made their way through the massive tent that had been erected in the courtyard to house the dye work, towards the giant vat at one end and Arlathi.
Leyjen smiled at Thelaura as he begged for a third ladleful, which he got with an equally beautiful smile.

Tilting his head back, relishing the cold of the water in his parched throat, Leyjen suddenly felt his blood run cold, and nearly threw the ladle at Thelaura as he turned around on his heel, screaming across the tent.

“Polinues!”

Arlathi looked up at the shout, just in time to see his twin jerk around to hiss at Leyjen, and Brigale lift his bucket of dye to toss the dregs at Arlathi.
With a shriek Arlathi just barely stepped out of the way of the scarlet dye, and Brigale cursed loudly.

Polinues had his back to his twin, about to shout something scathing at Leyjen for ruining the joke, and Brigale was too slow to stop Arlathi, as he stepped up behind Polinues and emptied his full bucket over Polinues’ head. Polinues gasped as the cold liquid splashed over him, covering him in deep scarlet from head to toe.
Brigale growled at Arlathi, who laughed manically, and Leyjen groaned at the sight, both from despair and because Polinues looked as if he was covered in blood.

“Oh, you’re so dead.” Brigale hissed at Arlathi, taking a step towards the mage’s apprentice, who squealed and took off in the direction of the castle.
Polinues turned around slowly, and with a determined scowl dipped his half empty bucket into the vat, his voice hissing low.
“Fill your bucket, Brigale, let’s get the little shit.”

Polinues stalked out of the tent, ignoring Leyjen’s shouted commands to stop.
Brigale did as ordered, and trailed behind Polinues across the courtyard, Arlathi squealing ahead of them, Polinues peeling his apron and his soaked surcoat off as he walked.

Arlathi tore through the entrance hall, down the back stairs, through the laundry rooms, but Polinues was hot on his tail, with Brigale only a step behind.
Arlathi tried to find a place to hide in the bathing halls, but Brigale sniffed him out, so he ran up the servant stairs, through the library, down the galleria and through the entire length of the twins’ rooms, up the back stairs to the third floor and down the grand stairs again, to the second floor. Polinues and Brigale followed him like hounds, buckets full of scarlet dye in hand, and murder in their eyes.

Finally Arlathi came to what seemed like a dead end, a small dressing room at the end of the south wing, the windows covered with thick velvet curtains, and almost empty of furniture except for a small wardrobe and a few low stools along one wall.
Brigale chuckled low in his chest as he stalked through the doors, Polinues hunching his shoulders, preparing to strike, both teens completely focused on their cornered prey.
They glanced at each other and Polinues chucked the contents of his bucket in Arlathi’s direction.

The younger twin dove out of the way, Polinues screamed and Brigale emptied his bucket into the air as Polinues shoved him to the side.
Half of the contents landed on Arlathi’s backside, the rest splattered over the canary yellow silk dress that stood in the middle of the room, already soaked by the bucketload that Arlathi had avoided.

Polinues gasped, a strangled heartbreaking sound which drowned in Arlathi’s manic laughter.
Brigale could hardly breathe as his mind finally registered where they were standing, and he felt every muscle in his body go limp as he realized Arlathi had deliberately led them there.
Polinues crumbled down beside him, trembling and moaning in fear, hands clawing at Brigale’s arm, his eyes streaming tears, watching the scarlet dye leaking down the dress, colouring it a dim orange.

“Oh, you two are so dead.” Arlathi squeaked as he scrambled out of the room, his laughter echoing behind him, and Brigale tried to pick Polinues off the floor when the sound of running footsteps came down the hallway outside.
Lanja and two of her maids came bursting through the doors, Arlathi’s painfilled screams echoing in the hallway, and Leyjen followed in the women’s wake only moments later.

Lanja’s dark grey eyes went impossibly round with shock as she took in the damage to her wedding gown, and Brigale physically picked Polinues up, dragging him towards Leyjen, beggin forgiveness with every step.

“Shut the fuck up, get out of here now, run you shit.” Leyjen urged the teens, waving them past the infuriated knight’s daughter.

Polinues was crying like he had witnessed the murder of a loved one, his voice shattered with pain as he moaned to his sister,
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

Lanja whipped around almost too fast for them to see, and the small room sang with the sound of her palm against Polinues’ cheek, Polinues crying out in pain as he stumbled back from her.
Leyjen grabbed the teen around the chest and dragged him out of the room as Lanja screamed and raised her hand for another slap.

“Run. Outside, as fast as you can. To the Grove, right now. I’ll meet you there.” Leyjen told the two teens, then turned around to face Lanja’s wrath.

For once in his life Brigale did not need to be told twice, and started running as fast as his legs could carry him. He half dragged, half carried Polinues through the castle, out the back, through the garden gate, and to the willow grove, where they collapsed on the ground.
Polinues cried desperately, cupping his bright red, swollen cheek, while Brigale cursed Arlathi with every breath, twining together every curse he had ever learned in his mother tongue as well as in Far’yoin.
They could hear the commotion from the castle grounds, the echoes of his sister’s screams carried on the breeze.
The teens sat down and awaited the darkness in silence, both certain that this would be the end of them.

Polinues was skipping stones on the water, while Brigale snored, propped up against a tree root, when Leyjen came strolling up the path, carrying two knapsacks, a sack and their winter cloaks.
Polinues kicked the tyro knight awake, and the two of them stood close together, like prisoners awaiting their death sentence, as Leyjen entered the grove.

“You’ve been pardoned. As long as you stay away from the castle until the wedding day. If you show your faces before then she’s going to skin you alive, and have a coat made out of your hides. Then she threatened some other rather nice tortures, but I stopped listening.” Leyjen smiled, though his eyes were blazing with anger.
Polinues looked at the ground when he spoke, feeling like he had failed Leyjen once again.

“I’m sorry. I was just so pissed at him that I didn’t think he’d do something like that.”

“Neither of us did. Hell, I didn’t even think he was smart enough to think of something like that.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately for the two of you, the little shit is smart enough to think of ways to get you two into more trouble than you can imagine.”

“What about Arlathi? Did he get off without a word?”

Leyjen burst into laughter, holding his stomach as he doubled over.

“Arlathi? By the Dragons, he’s in more trouble than you two are. He’s on house arrest. He’s confined to his room until the wedding day, and can only leave it to go bathe and such, and then with two escorts, who are under orders to not take their eyes off him at any time. He can’t even take a shit without them watching him. Lanja wanted to send you all away, and not let you attend the wedding, but your father pleaded your case.”

“Father? He changed her mind? For us?” Polinues stared at Leyjen with surprise, and the elder cleric smiled softly.

“Yes. Your father wants you all to attend the wedding, it’s only proper for all the brothers of the bride to attend. But there will be conditions. You and Arlathi will be seperated, as far away from each other as is geographically possible. And you will have to swear on your lives that you will not disrupt the ceremony or the feast.”

Brigale and Polinues both nodded their consent and swore that they would not ruin the big day.
“But what are we supposed to do until then? Camp out in the forest, or what?”

“You remember the little hunting cabin down by the Black River? We’re going there. You two take your packs and get moving. I need to go back the castle and get my pack, and some food. Berkir, your father’s retainer, is coming with us. He’s there to keep an eye on us, and to help me carry the provisions. Follow the lower path, through the forest and do your best to not delay on the way. If you don’t then you should get there before midnight. I don’t feel like going chasing after you guys in the forest in the dead of night. Not at this time of year.”

The teens nodded, and Leyjen left them in the grove, jogging back to the castle.
Upending the sack that Leyjen had brought Polinues found their winter boots, gloves and hats, and quickly the pair got dressed, shouldered their knapsacks and started walking.

Polinues turned towards the family cemetery without a second thought, but Brigale followed reluctantly.
As they neared the gates to the graveyard, Polinues bent low over the path, and started picking up pebbles, discarding one after the other until he finally made a satisfied tone in his throat and righted himself with a smooth round stone in his hand.

“Get one too, Brigale. You can’t pass through empty handed after nightfall.” Polinues said off handedly, making the tyro knight flinch.

“What do you mean? We’re not passing through the graveyard. Can’t we go around it?”

“Around it? That’s nearly a kilometer. It’s much quicker to pass through, and we come out on the other side a few meters away from the lower path. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.”

“It’s not the dark I’m afraid of. It’s the graveyard. I hate it. There’s something unnatural about it.”

“Don’t be stupid. But don’t forget to take a rock.”

“Why do I need a rock to walk through the graveyard?”

“It’s for the gatekeeper.” Polinues answered nonchalant, and walked on ahead, making Brigale shiver.
The young knight bent low over the path, and found a small smooth rock that he stuffed into his pocket.

A grey mist hung over the path through the graveyard as they entered, swirling around their feet as they walked in silence, Brigale unusually close to Polinues’ side, his fingers tight on the round stone in his pocket.
The cemetery was completely silent, nothing could be heard except the soft footsteps of the two teens, and the gentle lapping of waves on the shore just below the bottom most graves. As they rounded a corner an owl hooted in a nearby tree, making Brigale jump. Polinues chuckled as he felt the knight’s hand gripping his arm tightly.

“You really are afraid of the dark.” He said as he shook Brigale’s grip off his arm.

“It’s not the dark, I told you. It’s the graves. I have this nightmare sometimes, where all the dead people crawl out of their graves and come after me. It’s made me a little wary of burial grounds. And you’re not helping with your stupid story about a gatekeeper. I know there isn’t a gatekeeper or a groundskeeper here.”

“I didn’t say he was an actual person…” Polinues trailed off, craning his neck to see over Brigale’s shoulder.
The knight spun around with comical speed, but only saw what Polinues saw.
A pale shadow slipping down another path towards the lake’s edge.

“Leyjen? Where are you going?” Polinues shouted after the shadow, Brigale tried to stop him, but the novice brushed him off, as he darted after the shadow, still calling Leyjen’s name.

Brigale growled as he chased after Polinues down the path, until they reached an overgrown portion of the graveyard.

“Where’d he go?” Brigale asked, with a slight tremble to his voice.

“I don’t know. I thought I saw him go that way, but now he’s disappeared. And the path is gone too.” Polinues said, looking at the ground infront of himself, the frozen grass glittering in the moonlight as the white moon rose slowly over the lake, but no path could be seen.

“Come on, let’s get a move on… What’s that.”

Brigale cut himself off as he turned to leave, his eyes catching a glimpse off something under a large roganwood that grew right at the edge of the cemetery.
The two teens carefully made their way across the frozen ground, until they stood in the shadow of the tree, the shadow cast by its foliage deep and yet comforting.
In the darkness they found an ancient headstone, covered in vines, the lettering faded and overgrown with lichen.

Brigale pulled out his dagger and chipped away at the growth, Polinues helping by ripping the vines away with his bare hands. Once they had a portion of the lettering uncovered, Brigale reached into his pack and produced a a small storm lantern.
After a few tries he got the candle inside lit, and together they bent over the headstone, trying to make sense of the lettering.

“I don’t remember having seen this stone before. I didn’t know there were such old graves here. I thought this burial ground had only been in use for seven generations.” Polinues said quietly, as he traced his finger along the engravings.

Brigale knelt on the grave, shining his meager light on the ancient writing as he scraped away more lichen.

“The year three thousand, three hundred and six. Wow, that’s more than a thousand years ago. How many generations is that?” Brigale exclaimed, his eyes going round with the enormity of the number.

“Twelve, thirteen generations or so. If the average lifespan is about eighty years… yeah, it should be about twevle or thirteen. But he can’t be related to me. No way someone who died that long ago would still have a direct lineage.”

“Why not? Let’s see if we can uncover the name and then we’ll see.”

Brigale worked his dagger through the lichen encrusted lettering, Polinues holding the lamp steady as the knight worked.
After some time a large chunk of the growth fell away and Polinues gasped.
“It’s written in the Olde Tongue.”

“What’s that?”

“The old texts are all written in the Olde Tongue. Magic, religion, law, it’s all written in the Olde Tongue. That’s what we spend hours transcribing at the Temples. Hardly anyone except the clerics, and a few mages, read the Olde Tongue these days so we’re transcribing every piece of writing there is… It’s said that the Aaenda and the first races all spoke it. But that was hundreds of thousands of years ago, not a thousand. Why would they write his headstone in it?”

“Can you read it? What does it say?”

“Hang on… give me more light. Peolinius Dargorin Marines of Tharsirium… it can’t be…” Polinues trailed off, his eyes growing round with surprise, a sound coming from the path startling both teens, and Leyjen answered as he appeared out of the fog,

“And yet it is. You did not misread it, Polinues.”

“You mean to tell me that the grave of the great archmage Peolinius Dargorin is in my family’s cemetery? Why? Why would they bury him here?”

“Didn’t you read his name, stupid? He’s your ancestor.” Brigale slapped the back of Polinues’ head for emphasis, and Polinues drew a harsh breath as the words sank in.

Leyjen nodded when understanding finally dawned on Polinues’ face.
“Yes, Polinues. He’s your ancestor.”

“Are you kidding? Fuck, I’m descendant from the greatest archmage of all times?”

“A direct male line, Polinues. Peolin Marines was the one who restored the house of Marines and married the daughter of Knight Marines of Tharsirium. Peolinius was their youngest son.” Leyjen brushed vines from the headstone, his hands gentle, almost like he was caressing a loved one’s face. Polinues gaped while Brigale whistled low and long.

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive. And humbling. I’ll never be as great as he was.” Polinues mumbled, the look of shock crumbling to defeat as the realization sank in.
Brigale patted him on the back in reassurance, then ruined his own efforts when he noted the dates on the headstone.

“And yet he died when he was only thirty three. You’re almost halfway there already, Polinues.”

“Brigale. You can’t say something like that.”

“What are you saying? That I’ll die when I’m thirty three? Shit, you’re encouraging.”

“No, you won’t die. It’s not like you’re him. Oh, Hell I have no idea what I’m trying to say.”

Leyjen laughed, shaking his head and waving them to follow.
“Come on you two. I want to get to the cabin before daybreak. And at this pace we won’t get there before next week.”

“Where’s Berkir? I thought you said he’d be joining us.”

“Berkir took a wagon to the forest by the main road. He’s not going to stay at the cabin, so he’s bringing the supplies and then going back to the castle.”

“Why?”

“Oh, Cooksie went up in a holler when Berkir told her, and then there was something about the Kobold of Black River falls or whatever. I’ve gotten to the point where I just stop listening when Cooksie brings up one of her old superstitions. Or new ones for that matter. So to appease Cooksie Lord Wrailan said Berkir didn’t have to stay with us.”

“Oh, wow… Poor Berkir. With a wife like Cooksie it’s amazing the guy is ever let out of the house.”

Brigale snickered at that, while Leyjen gave Polinues a glare, but the smirk tugging at the cleric’s lips gave him away. Polinues pulled up his most cheekiest grin and the three of them laughed even louder.

“Hey, Leyjen? What were you doing down there by the old graves anyway?” Brigale asked as they reached the main path through the cemetery, making Leyjen jerk to a halt and turn around far too quickly.

“What do you mean? I found you two down there, remember. I heard you calling my name from down there, so I followed. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

“But we saw you going down that path. That’s why Polinues followed you.”

“What? Hang on, what exactly did you see?”

“I don’t know, really. I saw a shadow passing down the path, a figure in robes, and I just assumed it was you.”

“You stupid idiot. It could have been anyone, and you just go barging after them like nothing matters. Sometimes you’re so fucking stupid, Polinues.”

Leyjen growled in anger, and stomped on ahead of the teens, making Polinues elbow Brigale in the ribs with a hiss,
“Thanks a lot for that, you moron.”

Brigale exclaimed, rubbing his sore ribs, but followed close behind.

They caught up with Leyjen by the south gate, where the cleric was kneeling by an old tomb just inside the gate.
A pile of rocks stood on the lid, and the ground around the tomb was littered with small piles of pebbles.
Leyjen was trying to balance his flat round pebble on the pile on top of the tomb as the teens approached him. With a satisfied grunt Leyjen jumped back from the tomb, the pebble wobbling slightly before it settled, and Leyjen bowed to the tomb.

Polinues went next, adding his pebble to the pile on the opposite side of Leyjen’s pebble.
Brigale stood behind him feeling awkward and unsure since he had never observed this custom before, seeing as how he avoided the burial grounds after dark at all cost.
As he rose to his feet, his pebble perched at the top of the pile, Brigale began to turn away without bowing to the tomb, only to be startled by a rustling sound to his side.

He looked around quickly, and gasped.

On the further side of the tomb there stood the shadow that he and Polinues had chased down to the ancient grave of Peolinius Dargorin.

“Uhm, Leyjen. That’s what we saw, when we thought it was you.” Brigale’s voice came out much more shaky than he intended, and with his heart hammering hard in his chest Brigale bowed to the shadow.
The shadow bowed to Brigale, and for a moment Brigale glimpsed the man that it had been.

Leyjen and Polinues watched the tyro knight intently, both of them noticing the pale whisp of slightly denser mist, that looked a little similar to a man, as Brigale bowed to the tomb.

Brigale stared at the archmage’s black robes and the massive longsword hanging by his hip, a silver belt woven around his waist.
The face was lined with worry and grief, yet he was youthful, his silver grey eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
For half a heartbeat Brigale felt as if he was being given a glimpse of the man that Polinues would one day become, the impression made even stronger by the soft grin on the ghost’s lips.

The image disappated almost the moment it appeared, and Brigale stumbled back from the tomb. With his heart hammering in his chest he turned to his friends, and hurried out of the gate, Polinues and Leyjen following him close behind.