Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter 44.
Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #44. Bright Beltane Fires II.

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: This was supposed to be up last night, but I had to spend four hours having my hair cut, coloured and highlighted, so… sue me... have fun.
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/

Summary: Second installment: A night of drunken fun is cut short by a sobering act.

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Chapter 44. Bright Beltane Fires II.

Roaring with laughter Owain tumbled backwards off the low bench, landing between Leyjen’s knees, one hand raising the pint mug in the air to prevent the ale from spilling, his right arm swinging towards Brigale’s shoulder to catch himself.
Brigale ducked out of the way, nearly landing face first in the lap of the citizen sitting next him, although he did make a grab for Owain.
Leyjen laughed himself, pulling and pushing until Owain was back up on his seat, Tiensin holding his mug for him while he righted himself.
Hylmir snorted into his own mug, his eyes glazed over with the alcohol, and Polinues patted Owain’s shoulder with a chuckle.

Leyjen scooted forward in his seat and speaking right into Owain’s ear, asked him,
“Have you seen this play before?”

“Yes. But not on the Beltane festival. Back home they usually stage “The Confusion of Pater Corneskus.” But this one is brilliant. I haven’t laughed this hard in years.”

“They stage Pater Corneskus on Beltane down south? I’ve never heard that before.” Leyjen said with a frown, and Owain turned around in his seat, his face unreadable as he answered,

“Yes. Back home they stage Pater Corneskus on Beltane. But they only do it in my hometown. It’s a tradition.”
Leyjen stared intensely at the teen for a long minute, Owain staring back without blinking.

Finally Leyjen relented, and nudged Owain’s shoulder, pointing to the low stage set up in the middle of the theatre square.
“You’re missing the best part.”

Milling through the crowd attending the Beltane festival, once the comedy was over, the group had enjoyed their day immensely, and by now all had reached a state of plesantly buzzed, except for Tiensin of course, although Leyjen had noticed Polinues sneaking half and half’s at the boy.
Squeezing through the crowd in the city square, Tiensin took the lead and started pushing through a large crowd that had gathered around a man who was talking animatedly, waving his multicoloured cape around himself in a dramatic manner.

“Tiensin. Don’t walk so fast. We can’t follow you. Tiensin.” Leyjen tried to catch a hold of the boy, but the crowd parted before them as someone noticed the cleric’s robes, and before they knew it the entire group stood at the front of the large crowd.

In the center of the semicircle there stood a small brightly painted wagon with one side lowered to form a small stage, and on it stood two large men, arms crossed and faces stern. Between them sat a woman, slightly older than Leyjen, her face vague, her eyes staring out into the distance with a glazed look, and behind the chair stood an older woman, who seemed to be the one calling the shots.

“It’s a fortune teller.” Tiensin smiled brightly, as he grabbed a hold of Leyjen’s hand and draped it over his own shoulders.

At the front of the stage the master of ceremonies shouted his sale’s pitch, waving people closer.

Leyjen felt his friends crowd close around him, and then Owain’s voice cut under the noise around them, just loud enough for the friends to hear.
“Now that’s just wrong.”

“What is, master Bronwey?”

“It’s nothing, Tiensin.”

“Don’t treat him like a child. Tell him what you think is so wrong.”

“Look at the woman, Tiensin. What do you see?”

“It’s too obvious that there’s something wrong with her. Why doesn’t anyone do anything?”

“She’s a sideshow. Noone cares about them.”

“What do you mean she’s a sideshow, master Caronar? I think she’s very pretty.”

The five older men looked down at Tiensin, who smiled back with sweet innocence.
Polinues was the first to look back up on the stage, as a citizen climbed up the three steps to the makeshift stage, and paid the announcer.

As the strange woman rose from her chair, with odd flowing movements, her head lolling slowly from side to side, Polinues noticed the beauty that Tiensin had seen immediately.
Despite being so thin that her dress hung on her body in loose drapes, there was an ethereal beauty to her movements, and a serenity in her face that made her look not quite human. But as she advanced on the civilian standing on the stage with her, everyone noticed the vacant stare and it became obvious that the poor woman was not all quite there.

The older woman stepped in front of the chair, ready to grab the younger woman if anything were to happen.
Entranced the six friends and the citizens around them watched as the woman reached out and placed her hands on either side of the man’s face.
The crowd went quiet, and everyone waited with bated breath.

For a few moments nothing happened, then suddenly the woman spoke in a halting wheezing voice, the sound reminding the clerics of a patient dying from a lung disease.
“Great fortune awaits you, if you only dare to go after it.” She said, and the man on the stage with her crumbled to his knees, rasing his arms to the skies in worship, tears streaming down his elated face.
The two enormous guards stepped forward and helped the man off the stage while the older woman helped the fortune teller back to her chair.

Leyjen gasped at the sight and muttered to his friends,
“That’s not a fortune teller. She’s a prophetess.”
The four clerics all stared up at the stage with renewed wonder while Brigale and Owain looked at each other puzzled, and shrugged. Neither knew the difference.

“I want to go up there.” Tiensin said quietly, digging through his coin pouch for a drakat. Leyjen found one in his own pouch and handed it over to Tiensin.

“Be careful. You might not like what she shows you. This is at your own risk.” He said as he handed Tiensin the coin, and the boy smiled bright eyed as he turned towards the stage.

The crowd went silent as the slender teen climbed the steps to the stage, and the master of ceremonies hesitated when Tiensin handed him the coin.
When Tiensin spoke quietly and pointed to Leyjen, who nodded back, the announcer accepted the payment and led Tiensin to the center of the stage.

“Don’t speak, don’t touch her, and close your eyes.” The announcer said, and left Tiensin alone.

Close up the woman looked to be only a few years older than Leyjen, emaciated and obviously mentally handicapped.
Suddenly Tiensin did not feel quite as confident and slightly disgusted with himself, as he noticed that the people on the stage were obviously using the young woman for their own gain.

Slowly she made her way across the stage, cold skeletal fingers wrapped around the back of Tiensin’s neck and he closed his eyes.
A pain shot through his head, like a piercing point from the woman’s hands, for a moment every muscle in his body went stiff, and the woman spoke to the crowd.
“If you let your fear lead you, all will be lost.”
Crumbling down to his knees Tiensin hid his face in his hands and sobbed,
“Thank you, ma’am, thank you.”

The two guards raised him to his feet with amazingly gentle hands and lead him to the edge of the stage. Tiensin stumbled down the steps, crashing into Leyjen’s arms, his thin chest heaving.
Leyjen forced the teen to look up at him, and was surprised at the bright smile that shone through the tears.

“What did you see? Was it good?” Hylmir asked, but Tiensin only nodded, unable to speak.
Without another thought Hylmir pulled a drakat out of his pouch and marched up the stage.
The ceremony was repeated, the woman placing both hands around the top of Hylmir’s head, and to some standing closest to the stage it seemed like Hylmir’s face went ashen, the skin suddenly taut over the bones and his eyes paled.

“Greatness only comes with selflessness.”
Then the cleric sank down to one knee, clasping his chest with a pained whimper. The woman let go of him, and Hylmir looked up with a serene face.
“Selflessness is a great sacrifice.” He said quietly, rising on unsteady feet.

The crowd parted for him as he stepped off the stage, and the four friends watched as Hylmir sank down on a bench at the outside of the crowd, Tiensin sitting down next to him, stroking his back gently.

“Alright, now I’m curious.” Owain said, and ducking under Leyjen’s restraining arm, paid the drakat and took his position on the stage.

The prophetess placed one hand on Owain’s right cheek, the other on the side of his neck, and after a moments silence she spoke.
“You must choose, or lose your life.”
Owain grabbed the woman’s wrist, and grunting he crumbled to his knees, bracing himself on his arm before his face hit the deck.
He gagged loudly, his eyes wild with emotion, and he pushed the guards away as he rose and jumped off the stage. He shoved his way through the crowd and found a seat by Hylmir and Tiensin, his face ashen.

Before Leyjen even noticed him Brigale was up on the stage, the woman already had her hands on either side of his face, and the knight’s black eyes squeezed shut, his lips pressed together to try and contain his laughter.

“You will face the option, but your heart has already made its choice.” Said the woman, and Brigale tore out of her grasp with a roar.
With the speed of a trained knight Brigale drew his sword, in the same movement he grabbed the woman by the front of her dress and poised the glistening point of his blade at her throat.
The knight’s black eyes were shimmering with tears, and his face contorted into a mask of pure rage.

The guards, the old lady and the announcer all made a move to stop the knight, but Leyjen noticed the prophetess make the slightest movement with her hand to halt all four of them.

Jumping up on the stage Leyjen called out for his friend, but Polinues was already by Brigale’s side.

“Brigale. Easy. Put down your sword. Easy.” Polinues spoke quietly, laying gentle but firm hands on Brigale’s arm and shoulder, forcing the knight to look at him.
Every muscle in Brigale’s body was trembling, and Polinues shrank back from the fierce hate that blazed in the black eyes. Brigale pushed the two clerics away from himself and stormed off the stage, sheathing his sword as the crowd parted before him.

Leyjen stepped down as well, certain Polinues was following behind him.

“The price is a drakat.” The announcer said loudly, eyeing Polinues with a glint in his eyes, and with his heart hammering in his throat Polinues fished the coin out of his pouch.

Leyjen turned just in time to see the prophetess slide her hands underneath Polinues’ hood, on either side of his neck, and with a silent gasp he lunged himself at the stage.
He was too slow.

“The Gods have given you the burden of the world.” The woman wheezed, and the bloodcurdling scream that erupted from Polinues’ chest made women cringe, children cried out and the men startled badly.

The slender cleric threw his arms out to the sides as his entire body arched backwards and he fell to the stage with a thundering crash.

Crawling across the stage, reaching out for Polinues, Leyjen imagined he could see blood seeping through Polinues’ shirt, where the teen clutched his chest with painful sobs.

“Polinues? Do you hear me? Polinues?” Leyjen asked as he pulled Polinues up to a sitting position.
The dark grey eye was glazed for a few moments, then blinking the tears out of his lashes Polinues nodded.

“I’m alright. Help me up.” He whispered, and standing on shaking legs he stepped down from the stage to sit down by his friends.
Leyjen stopped at the edge of the stage, and turned around slowly.

There was a strange tug in his soul, a feeling that he should know, but it was just vague enough for him to be uncertain.
He fished a drakat out of his pouch and flipped it at the announcer.

“Show me my future, prophet.” He said loudly, making the gathered citizens gasp and crowd a little closer to the small stage. Leyjen noticed a smirk on the announcer’s face, and recognized it as the avarice of a money-grubber.

The mentally handicapped woman stumbled across the stage, her two guards wary and her handler nervous.
Sliding long cold fingers around the back of Leyjen’s neck she turned her vacant stare to Leyjen’s left shoulder, but he stared back instead of closing his eyes.
The gathered crowd held their breath, but nothing happened.

The woman blinked her eyes a couple of times, and Leyjen saw through the charade. She turned her earth brown eyes to meet his and a small smile spread over her lips, one thumb stroking softly behind Leyjen’s ear.

“I have nothing to show you, my Lord. You already know your fate.” She spoke in a soft voice, slight fear flickering in her eyes.

“Yes, I do. Then show me your true name.” Leyjen answered, the edge in his voice a little harder than he intended, as he placed his own hands on either side of her face. Both grunted in unison, eyes squeezed shut and a grimace of pain spasmed across their faces, to Polinues alone it seemed that man and woman had grown immense black wings and an aura of darkness shone out of their bodies.
He blinked and the image was gone.

Leyjen’s hands slipped down to the woman’s shoulders, and gentle he kissed her forehead, the vacant stare back in her eyes and the strange movements returned as she backed up towards her chair.
Leyjen nodded to the prophetess and her servants as they all bowed deeply to him.

Holding his head high Leyjen left the stage, the crowd parting before him with reverent fear. As soon as he was through the people pushed in around the stage and a big ruckus erupted, the announcer shouting over the noise to regain some control of the people who wanted their fortune told.

Leyjen stopped infront of his friends and quietly said,
“Come on, lets go to the tavern. It looks like we could all use a drink.”

Sitting around the small table, each nursing their own drink, Tiensin wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of the half and half that Polinues had mixed him, the group eyed each other suspicously.
A second round was brought to their table, and Leyjen watched the blush of alcohol rise in Tiensin’s cheeks.

“So, do we want to talk about this?” Leyjen asked, unprepared for the violent reaction.

Brigale slammed down his pint and growled,
“No. No, we will not talk about this. Never. This was a stupid idea, and I don’t want to remember it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes it was. I’m with Brigale. I don’t want to remember.”

“Mine wasn’t very bad. Mine was rather good actually.”
The older men all silenced and turned their faces to little Tiensin, now a little red faced with shyness and alcohol.

“How so, Tiensin? What did you see?” Hylmir asked, and the four men leaned over the table to hear the slurred quiet voice.

“I saw myself as a grown man. Only a few years older than master Shaoir is now. And I was a cleric, but I wasn’t in the Temples. I was working with the Regency in Alyhandra. Laws had been passed in my name. I was working with them to better the lives of children like myself.”

“What do you mean, laws passed in your name?”

“Children like what, Tiensin?”

“When I was younger… For two years a man at the Temples, a stable hand, molested me. And I know for a fact that there were at least three other boys that he did the same thing to. But we have noone to talk to, noone to protect us. I found Leyjen and Polinues and they helped me, but what of the other three boys? Who speaks for them?”
Tiensin sniffled slightly, looking away from the inquisitive eyes, but Hylmir placed a hand on his shoulder, while Brigale and Owain gasped quietly with shock.

“But you see, I saw myself all grown up, and helping children like myself. There were child protection laws, and child labour laws and even a charter prescribing the proper procedures to question molested children, and how to prosecute their offenders. And I was surrounded with great friends and wonderful colleagues, and my life was fullfilled.”

“That is a good vision.”

“It is. What did you see, Hylmir?”
The cleric looked away, eyes trailing the crowd around them as if he was looking at faces he was already familiar with.

“I saw myself dying.”

“Oh, wow, that’s fantastic.”

“Shit, Hylmir, how does that count as good?”

“Fuck this.”

“It isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I am not happy with knowing exactly how I will die and when. But what was good about the vision was what I remembered as I lay dying.”

“What were you remembering?”

“I was an old man, and I was dying from a plague, that had ravished the entire Tharsirium Valley. But what I was recalling… I was a High Cleric of the Temples in Tharsiri, having taken over the position from you, Leyjen, after you… left. I had served you as First Temple Cleric. The Temples were restored to their former glory, the influences of the Golden Magi had been eradicated to their roots, and together we had brought the Temples back from near ruin. The coffers were overflowing with wealth, the funds were being used to educate and care for the poor and the sick, and our numbers were greater than ever. The clerics were there for their faith and not their worldly pleasure. Even the hierarchy of the Chaste had been broken. The wealth of my faith was richer than I had ever seen it. And even though I was dying from a plague, I was content in the knowledge that I had invented a vaccine that was being used to save my people right at that moment. It may have been too late for me, but my life had been fulfilled. And I was not dying in some plague ridden, infested tent outside the Temple walls. I was resting in a private chamber in the Healing Halls, in a soft bed, all of my most trusted advisors and closest friends gathered at my bedside. That is what was good about my vision.”

The four friends bowed their heads, drowning their aching hearts, then Owain spoke.
“But aren’t these self fulfilling prophecies?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Now Tiensin has a direction to aim for, his life has a goal to fulfill. Will he not just strife to reach the position that he saw himself in. So, it’s self fulfilling in the sense that if he had not had this vision, would his life still go the same way? The same for Hylmir. He’s not the most pious of clerics, but now he has hopes of becoming High Cleric. So, won’t he just adjust his life so that he will reach that position.”

“High Cleric is not something you aim at reaching. It is a position that is given to you. Like he said, he remembered serving me as a High Cleric. I have no wish to become High Cleric, and yet he saw that. So, how can that become a self fulfilling prophecy?”

“What did you see, Leyjen?”

“You spoke first, Owain. Tell us what you saw, and I will tell you mine.”

Owain looked away, his eyes dark and stormy.
“I saw war. Brother fighting brother. And they were forcing me to choose a side. I cannot do that. The moment I made the decision to save my family, I knew that I was destined to become an executioner like my father. In that moment I swore to myself that I would never raise a weapon against another man. I swore to never deal death to any man without a fair trial, just judgement and a sentence. I cannot do that. I will not choose a side.”

Brigale slammed his tankard down on the table and grumbled.
“I saw war too. Brother fighting brother. I watched him plunge the dagger into his chest. I can’t… I’ve seen too many brothers die. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He drained his tankard in a large gulp, slamming it down on the table so hard it groaned, and rising to his feet, he blared over the table,
“I’m going to the brothel. If anyone cares to join me, you’re welcome to. I’ll see you in an hour or two.”

Noone objected as the knight strode away, and they quietly thanked the barmaid as she brought another round to their table.
Owain broke the silence, looking at Leyjen with inquisitive eyes.
“So, Leyjen. What did you see?”

“I saw nothing. I saw her true face, that is all.”

“What? How can you not see anything?”

“My destiny was set in stone a long time ago. I know what my fate is, and therefore there is no need to show it to me. Instead I saw her true face.”

The others sat quiet and stared at Leyjen, waiting for him to elaborate, but he only stared back, his face blank. Suddenly he turned to Polinues and lifting the teen’s head slowly, asked with great concern,
“Polinues? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Polinues tried to pull away, but Leyjen held him still.
“I saw war too. I was fighting a knight in black armour. It’s a nightmare I’ve had many times. Only this time it was more real and frightening than ever before. I was fighting alongside a mage, a woman with raven hair. I’ve never seen her before, but in the vision I had known her for many years. My brother, Arlathi, was fighting alongside the black knight. Arlathi cast a spell that stunned me for a moment and threw my mage off balance. The knight grabbed the woman and threw her over the cliff. I lay there on the edge and watched her crash on the rocks below. The knight then shouted that now it was my turn to die. I reached for my sword, but as I looked up, I hesitated. The knight plunged his sword through my chest, and in that moment I knew that the war was lost. I had failed, and because of my failure the world would be plunged into darkness and chaos, ruled over by evil and malice. Because I hesitated. Because I failed.”

Leyjen draped an arm over Polinues’ shoulders and squeezed him close.

“You will not fail.” He whispered into the thin linen cowl, kissing Polinues’ head through the material.

Owain drained his tankard and with a sigh said,
“Well, this has been a pretty disastrous ending to an otherwise brilliant evening. So, if you lot don’t mind, I’m going to find a seat by the bar and see if I can get anywhere with that delicious barwench.”
He bowed his head to his friends, as he winked at the redhead behind the bar.
Tiensin snickered into his half and half, which Leyjen was pretty certain was more like twenty-eighty by now, and Hylmir waved for another round.
Polinues dug around in his belt pouch for some dice and the four of them sat around, drinking and playing dice for matches the rest of the evening, accepting a couple of games for copper pieces from the men sitting at an adjacent table.