Wicken Tales Chapter 12: Marceline

By Tyler Golec,

Fire on the Sand

“I can’t remember a time when this horizon was not filled with white sails in the waves,” Marcy’s grandfather said looking out into Azbier harbor. At the very edge of her vision Marcy could see the Island Ishbier. Its brown peaks stretched – dark mountains in the sea.

“Marceline, are you listening to me?” Her grandfather asked.

“Pep Pep, its Marcy!” She scolded her grandfather.

He laughed. “Macy it is then, as I was saying these waters have always sustained us and the number of sails in the water shows the strength of the Empire.”

“Pep Pep, can we go sailing?”

“We went sailing yesterday.”

“I want to go to Ishbier,” Marcy requested.

“That’s a two day trip,” her grandfather said

“We can stay in the mountain springs!”

“I guess your parents won’t return for another three days.” The old man couldn’t deny the raven haired daughter of his own beloved daughter.

“Great!” Her bright green eyes lit up. “I will go let Willian know to prepare Lune,” she said as she ran down the path.

Marcy darted through the traffic around the harbor yard till she burst through onto her family’s private pier. Her target was the long lean luxury long boat, Lune. Willian was on the pier to greet her.

“Get ready, we’re sailing for Ishbier. Pep Pep and I are going to the hot springs.”

“Should we be expecting the old man any time soon?” Willian asked with a smirk. He was a young sailor. Her mother had hired from under the hands of the imperial navy for her private naval arsenal. ‘A past time’ her father had called his wife’s naval force. He would have nothing to do with it.

Marcy laughed.

“I’ll get the crew ready, they’ll be itching to do some sailing.” He looked to the sky. “The wind is eager; like a farm girl at sea.”

Marcy didn’t quite understand what Willian was trying to say. “Willian, have you ever been to the university on Cratian?”

Together they walked onto the boat. “I have,” He answered her question.

“Tell me everything about it, I think I’ve decided to become an observer,” Marcy stated.

“That’s a pretty mature decision for a nine year old.”

“You can join the university at ten.”

“Have you talked to your parents about this?”

“Not yet, but it’s what I’m going to do. Tell me about the university!” Marcy said again.



It had been eight years since Marcy had seen her mother’s personal long boat. It actually wasn’t the same boat, but the intent was the same. The crew had changed very little.

“It was nine years ago that a tiny girl told me that she was going to become an observer.” Willian was still Captain and still young. “Tiny girl was right.”

She was still in her Observer robes: thick and white tones. He was dressed loosely as a respectable Sea Captain would. The crew worked around them.

“So what did they teach you?” He asked.

“Much, why so curious?” She asked.

“Because curiosity, lust, wealth, and the sea are the four forces that keep me alive,” he said as if reciting poetry. “You look like your mother.”

“I think observers would bore you, sea captain,” She responded.

“Perhaps,” He said as they reached the front of his ship.




She was Marceline, daughter of Vorouss and Danciel, the lords of the Isles. She was an observer. She opened her eyes and addressed her peers. They patiently listened to what she had to say.

“Did you have a witness?” Observer Ellen asked. She was likely the eldest in the room.

“Yes,” Marcy said.

Observer Ellen nodded.

“So, what shall we do?” Asked Zhazon the more platinum than and grey older Observer. “He will terrorize that wild eastern country.”

“Marceline, have you thought on this?” Observer Serra asked.

“Our military will not challenge him,” Marcy responded. “We are also so far away.”

“We can hinder him in other ways.” Zhazon said. “He will have opposition. The Wicken Men are there, they will know.”

“I would hate to rely on a pack of silver slingers to deter a fallen angel,” Ellen murmured softly.

“Wicken Men?” Marcy asked.

“Silver Slingers,” Ellen murmured harsher this time.

“Monks of the trinity command a guard of Fae touched fighters.” Zhazon explained. “Good fighters, and smart.”

“Let’s help them then,” Marcy said.




It had been easy to separate Tarabel from the taint inside him once the complete force of the Faeries attack had begun. She or another would manipulate the lost Arae’s dreams and bring him to the isles. That was for the future though.

Now Marcy and thirteen other Observers held onto the taint that had controlled Tarabel and strengthened him. They became aware of a foreign consciousness so distance that its strength defied anything that they understood.

The power was passively stripped from them by this consciousness. Then the consciousness used the power. They were all returned to their minds. Marcy found herself crunched on the ground trembling. Others surrounded her in the same or worse shape.

“What was that?” Marcy asked.

“That was Disinner,” Zhazon said. “He is opening the gate, again.”


In desperation Marcy had given her mind once again to the Observatory. Her mind leapt across the sea then the continent. She was weak, and needed to find someone strong. The Wicken were distracted on the coast, their minds not right enough for contact. The monks at the Monastery were distracted and would not open to her.

She found one. A witch. She was not far from the Wicken. She was powerful enough for Marcy to touch.

“Hello?” Marcy spoke through a clumsily formed connection.

“Who are you?” The witch asked.

“I am Marceline from Azbier,” Marcy said. “I must warn that Hell has opened its gates again.”

“I know,” The witch said. “Belragh is in the Fae with three Draegon and another.”

“You are strong,” Marcy said. “We observers handle a different power and can see all. We wish to give aide to you. Trust me let me show you.”

“Fine, but I feel how weak you are,” The witch said. “Don’t test me with anything. My name is Rylah.”

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