Solar Flame

Chapter Three

In the musky room of one of the academy's towers, a semi-circle of elder teachers sat deckled in traditional robes or warrior's uniforms of muted colours, aged by the many years within the confines of this school, teaching their charges.  Their bickering was masked through the exchanges of proprieties and the rigorous formalities of disciplinary proceedings.  The subject himself- Matthieyl- was hardly paying attention.  His thoughts instead remained with her. Emelie. The pair had already missed many moments in the last fourteen years.  He did not want to miss another second to a council for which he already knew the outcome.  

He had apparated to the front of the academy's castle walls where he was met by an onslaught of healers.  They had been prepared for the worst- boxes of bandages, gauze, suture kits, potions, and books of medical spells.  Luckily, she was  only unconscious from the fall, and it was predicted that there was some severe mental exhaustion from mass use of her untrained abilities.  It has stung his pride a bit in knowing that the Academy had expected worse results.  Hadn't he proved himself many times before?  But a bitter thought had come into the back of his mind- he had failed to protect her all those years ago. 

All of his training over those fourteen years had been dedicated to her.  Through every challenge, frustration, mission, Matthieyl's motivation was solely placed on bringing her back to him.

The healers hustled in attempting to get her onto a stretcher, but he wouldn't hear of it.  Pushing them aside with his elbows, he continued to carry her up the castle's stone steps, through the hallways, and gently placed her on a cot in the dimly lit infirmary.  The begrudging healers now were able to knock him aside, and promptly a council member whisked him away.  All the way up the tower the member hissed under his breath disapprovingly about not following orders. 

Matthieyl's brain could not stop replaying the moments before Emelie had hit the ground, especially when their eyes met...those bright green eyes that had not changed from all those years ago.  

"Matt. Matt! MATTHIEYL!" he heard, turning his head towards the sound.  He saw the glowering eyes of the twelve council members which faced him, and the one bemused face of Proffessor Rakyiel.  His wrinkles from decades-old smile lines reached his dull-blue eyes, and the wisps of his greying hair stuck up in a way that matched the amusement Matt could see from his facial expression. 

"Sorry, yes sir?" he asked, watching a knowing grin creep wider.

Rakyiel continued in a soft, patient tone, "do you agree with the charges the council brought up against you?"  Matthieyl knew the correct answer was, and would always be yes.  He had been in this position many times before.  It wasn't because he was up to mischief, as many of the other males his age.  He was just determined and motivated to do what he thought was right, and obtain what he desired.  And that was Emelie, and for her to be safe.  However, he could see their point in the murder of Captain Zwandor.  He had, in fact, only been cleared for saving Emelie.  The weapon was supposed to only be for protection.  ...They must not have known he had used their fists.  Better that information stayed to himself, otherwise there would be talk about mental discipline practice (more homework and classes), which was the last thing he wanted now that Emelie was back with him. 

Matthieyl looked around at each professor in the semi-circle surrounding him in turn.  The candle light flickered across the stone walls and with each breath, dust stirred about in the air. Some of the professors scowled at him, while others nodded to themselves in agreement, knowing they would have made the same choice if they were in his position.  Still a select few others looked as Professor Rakyiel, constantly amused by Matt's decisions and antics.  

"Yes," he answered solemnly, playing his part dutifully.

"And you know the potential penalties that could arise from this? You could be suspended, expelled, and if the higher court felt inclined, made rouge.  Not to mention the Leagues of the Dark Knights could attempt to exact vengeance, putting all of us in danger-"

"As we already, were-" Professor Rakyiel interrupted. 

Professor Saykelli swept her greying blonde hair behind her ear in annoyance, frustrated by Rakyiel's sure redemption of Matt, and the sting of the dismissal.  She was constantly pushing for more severe punishment for those whom she deemed unruly.  It seemed to increase her anger that he was one of Rakyiel's favourites.  

Rising to his feet, Professor Rakyiel continued. "Everyone here knew previously the potential danger in sending Matthieyl to collect Emelie.  Personally, I am impressed he did not let his emotions run more rampant, considering the circumstances  Let us also not pretend the Dark Knights may immediately turn towards the Academy.  We all know that the First Line Warriors took out the remaining troop as soon as Matthieyl disapparated with Emelie".

Matt tried not to let the shock and betrayal run across his face.  Although the first line did not work directly for the Academy, they were allies, and would have been contacted prior to asking Matt to accept this mission as a precaution.  Twelve years later and he was still not trusted.  

Taking a gentler tone once more, Rakyiel made a sweeping turn to face him.  "Matt, I expect you to learn to contain your emotions in the times to come, especially regarding dearest Emelie".  A soft blush creeped across his cheeks; he had been foolish to think Rakyiel did not know about how Zwandor had truly died.  Rakyiel knew him better than anyone.  "In as much, I expect you know you will be personally responsible in preparing her for, and helping her with her studies.  We do not have much time before the Brother continues with his plans.  There is also the matter of the bond which I am sure we will discuss later in private".  With a nod he concluded, "you are excused," to the exasperated sighs of Professor Saykelli.

Matt could not help slipping a boyish grin in Rakyiel's direction, and then practically sprinted down the coiled stairs of the small tower toward the infirmary.  Bursting through the doors, he pushed once more past the healers and through the curtains which sectioned her off. 

He could not help but be momentarily enraptured by her beauty.  Matt could see remnants of the little girl he had seen that tragic summer day: blonde hair splayed across the pillow, freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose, long eyelashes gently brushing her cheek.

Before the healer's could hold him back, Matt jumped onto the bed and curled himself around Emelie, vowing to never let her go again if she would let him. 

He fell asleep to her even breathing and the warm sparkling of his nerves wherever their skin met.