2009-08-13: Peering into the Past
Dexter’s brow creased in worry.
Across from him sat the elder mage Sutek, his constant companion in their self-imposed exile from Britannia. Not exile, he thought, bitterness welling up, but their flight. After Moonglow’s devastating events Sutek had latched onto the younger mage and the injured stranger, rushing them into hiding.
But why?
Sutek let out a soft groan – he had been hunched over the scrying pool for hours now, eyes unblinking, locked in an endless stare with nothing. It had given Dexter plenty of time to consider their plight, and the recent freedom they had found in the resistance movement.
The “why” had become obvious when Cascas men had come for him: not guards, he remembered, no, these were people who ended… threats. He shivered, recalling their dark armor as they surrounded him in the small, cramped home. He remembered slamming into a chair, rocking back, the knife at his throat, the questions –
Sutek had gotten him out then, and they hadn’t looked back.
The third member of their trio, Sutek called him Hawkwind, was still unconscious. Then again, Dexter wasn’t sure the word applied to… him. He looked human, but the vision of the glorious personage he had seen inside the rift persisted in his mind. He could still see the white robe, the burning eyes, and the pillars of fire he had unleashed on the Shadowlords so long ago.
Yet this was no immortal, at least, not anymore. All Dexter saw was the husk of a mortal man laid across a stained bed, propped up by pillows smuggled to them by loyal sympathizers.
Dexter turned back towards the bowl just in time. It came on quickly, without forewarning, as magic flowed into the bowl and out from it, enveloping the tent in a diffused glow. A light blossomed beneath the surface of the rippling liquid mirror.
And then Sutek could see.
