Fire Sower

by Callie Kanno

Idris could barely process all of what he was seeing. How could he possibly choose a single item among all of the riches?

  On a table to his right there were three stacks of leather pouches in different sizes. The smallest was as large as his fist and the largest was the size of his head. Idris suddenly understood his father’s advice about choosing carefully. It was indeed a great temptation to use the biggest pouch and fill it with gold and jewels, but how would he ever pay such wealth back?

  Having become more accustomed to the sight of the glittering abundance before him, Idris took a deep breath and began his search.

  To his left there was a curious stand filled with tokens hanging on small silver hooks. The tokens depicted pictures of different livestock, along with a number. Idris didn’t know how to read, but he had been taught to recognize numbers. Farmers used numbers far more than any other written symbol.

  He could see that there were many options in regard to animals that could be claimed from the royal stables. One horse or one cow; two pigs or three goats. There were tokens representing sheep, chickens, rabbits, turkeys, dogs, cats, pigeons, and numerous others. There were also a number of exotic animals, such as peacocks or leopards. Idris grinned at the idea of taking home a leopard.

  Even though it made the most sense for Idris to take one of the tokens back to the palace guards and go to the stable to claim his prize, it still did not feel right. He slowly walked away from the stand, wondering if he was making a mistake.

  He wandered among the piles of valuables, occasionally picking up something to inspect it closer.

  There was a filigreed spyglass sitting next to several instruments that Idris did not recognize. There was a vase made of pure crystal. There was a statuette of a man riding a horse.

  Nothing stood apart in Idris’s mind.

  He stopped in frustration, rubbing his eyes, which were tired from the glare of the gold around him.

  How was he to choose?

  Suddenly, he felt something.

  It was almost like a physical tug on his body. He took a few uncertain steps forward, following the pull but almost wanting to resist.

  He didn’t understand what was happening, and that frightened him.

  He continued moving forward slowly, his mind searching for a reason for this strange pull. He wove through the Treasury as if he had always known the path he was taking. At the far end he slowed to a stop, staring at a small doorway hidden to the side of a large display of helmets.

  Even if Idris had walked right in front of the doorway, he doubted that he would have noticed it. Yet, somehow, he had known it was there.

  With a sense of trepidation, Idris walked through the opening into a darkened room. The only light in the room came in from the Treasury, which was not much to see by. Dimly, he could see the outlines of a number of weapons—swords, bows, spears, axes, and other things Idris didn’t recognize.

  His eyes fixed on a single silhouette and his hand reached out to grasp the item that had drawn him there.

  Almost expecting some sort of trap to suddenly snap around him, Idris hurried out of the dark room and back to the light of the Treasury. Then he stared at the doorway for several heart-pounding moments, waiting for something to happen.

  When nothing did happen, Idris began to breathe more normally. He looked down to examine the weapon in his hand.

  It was a polearm, almost like a spear but with a larger head. The shaft was about six feet long, and the wood gleamed with a black lacquer finish. The end opposite of the blade had a pointed cap made of steel with designs etched into it. The metal piece that held the head to the shaft was formed in the image of a dragon, and the blade itself looked like a tongue of flame issuing from the dragon’s mouth.

  The dragon was overlaid with gold, and dozens of tiny rubies were set to look like sections of its scales. The details etched into the figure were exquisite, and the fierce expression on its face made it seem alive. Two glittering sapphires made up the eyes, and the teeth were tiny diamonds.

  Idris stared at the weapon in wonder, amazed at the skill and care that had been put into making it.

  Who are you?

  Idris almost dropped the polearm in surprise. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice that had spoken to him. It was a woman’s voice, musical and filled with confidence.

  Who are you?

  The voice had become more insistent, but Idris hardly took notice of the tone. His mind was whirling with the realization that the voice had slipped directly into his head.

  “I…I am Idris…” he stammered.

  How dare you take hold of me without the permission of my master!

  Idris’s eyes widened as he stared down at the weapon in his hand.

  “Are you the spear?”

  The voice was filled with contempt. I am not a spear. I am a partisan.

  “I am sorry,” apologized Idris. “I am a farmer, and I am not very familiar with different types of weapons.”

  A farmer? scoffed the partisan. Then you have no business touching one of the most famed weapons in the world. Return me to my master at once.

  “Who is your master?” Idris asked.

  He is called Marlais.

  “Marlais Dragonspear?”

  If Idris had not already been shocked by having a conversation with a weapon, this information would have floored him.

  Marlais Dragonspear was a legendary hero, not just in Calaris but around the world. It was said that he defeated the last of the bloodthirsty giants that had terrorized the land. Stories told of his many battles and his glorious victories. There was even a tale that he had fought with Death for the soul of his beloved wife. Such elaborate tales may have been invented by storytellers, but history did say definitively that Marlais Dragonspear helped King Lyndham to found the kingdom of Calaris.

  I suppose he is called that by some.

  Idris had so many questions rushing through his head he didn’t know where to begin. “What was he like? Were you his magical spear? Were you with him when he battled the giant?”

  The voice became rather testy. I told you, I am not a spear. And why do speak of him in the past tense?

  “Marlais Dragonspear lived hundreds of years ago. He is long dead,” Idris said carelessly, eager to ask more questions.

  You lie, said the voice quietly.

  Idris was taken aback. “What?”

  You lie!

  “Why would I lie about something like that?” he asked the partisan.

  There was no response.

  “Hello?”

  The silence seemed almost deafening, and Idris wasn’t sure what to do next. He briefly considered putting the magical weapon back in the hidden room, but something deep within him rejected the idea.

  He may not understand why, but he was meant to take the partisan with him.

  Not knowing what else to do, Idris walked back to the entrance of the Treasury and pushed the door open. The palace soldiers were waiting for him, and they waved him over to the table.

  “A spear?” asked one of the soldiers, his quill ready to make a note on a slip of parchment.

  “She said she was a partisan,” Idris answered.

  “What?”

  The soldier looked up sharply and took the partisan from Idris’s hands. He only had to glance at it and his eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked harshly.

  Idris felt his heart beating faster, and he wondered if he was in trouble. “I found it in a room near the back.”

  “How did you find that room?”

  “I do not know. I was led there…” Idris tried to explain.

  “Led there?”

  He made a helpless gesture. “Something inside me took me there.”

  Idris didn’t have any other explanation, and he wasn’t sure if the soldiers believed him. They were all staring at him so intensely that he felt uncomfortable.

  After several moments, the palace guards began conferring wit
h one another in low voices. Idris could only hear a murmur, and so he had no idea what they were saying. Before too long they seemed to come to some sort of agreement, and the soldier who had been questioning Idris turned back to the boy.

  “It is rare that one is drawn to that room. Only the one who is meant to wield a magical weapon can find the room and remove an item from it. If you have brought out this partisan, then it is meant to be yours.”

  Idris felt a twinge of doubt. The voice of the partisan certainly didn’t want anything to do with him.

  The soldier went on. “However, there is a condition to go along with such a choice. You will be offered the opportunity to train as a member of the Royal Guard—an elite group of soldiers dedicated to the personal service of the royal family. If you wish to keep the weapon, you must go through the training and serve the king for the rest of your life.”

  Idris’s chest constricted and he had difficulty taking a breath to speak. “What if I do not want to be a soldier?”

  The palace guard shrugged. “Then this weapon goes back to the Treasury and you go on your way.”

  “Do I get to pick something else from the Treasury?” asked Idris.

  “No.”

  The soldier turned and began writing on the slip of parchment. He spouted more instructions as he did so. “The partisan will be kept here for safekeeping. If you choose to train as a member of the Royal Guard, you can reclaim it. You will first go through the same basic training as the army recruits, and then you will begin your specialized training with other members of the Royal Guard. The next training cycle begins in twenty days, and the following cycle begins exactly a half year after that. If you choose to reclaim the partisan, return to the palace by then.”

  The soldier walked over to the wooden door that led to the waiting room. He held it open for Idris to pass through.

  Idris was so stunned by the events of the past hour that he could barely believe that they had actually happened. He walked back to the waiting room mechanically, feeling dazed and overwhelmed.

  His father appeared before him with a smile on his face. “Well, what did you pick?”

  Idris was speechless. How could he explain to his father what had happened?

  Chapter Four: Home Again

  The journey home was a strained one. Idris couldn’t fault his father for the stunned silence that persisted most of the way. After all, Cadell had never had any reason to believe that his eldest child would ever choose a life away from Rest Stone Valley. Idris had always made it perfectly clear that he loved their home and wanted to stay.

  Idris didn’t know what to make of the situation himself, and he was glad for the opportunity to sort out his thoughts and feelings in quiet.

  Would he reclaim the partisan?

  The partisan itself didn’t seem too keen on the idea of being used by a farmer. And while it was true that Idris would not be able to get anything else from the Treasury, he didn’t necessarily need anything. He could continue to work on his father’s farm and earn a living easily enough that way.

  He had every reason to stay in Rest Stone Valley.

  Then why did he feel so uneasy about the decision?

  The whole family was waiting for them when they arrived at the modest home at the edge of their farm. Idris’s siblings were raking their eyes over him and his pack, trying to catch a glimpse of what he had brought back from the Treasury.

  “I see you did not bring back a cow or some pigs,” his mother said with a smile. “Did you choose gold, like your father?”

  She noticed Cadell’s somber expression and the smile faded from her lips.

  “I think you have something to tell your mother, Idris,” Cadell prompted his son.

  Idris had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. It was bad enough to have his mother looking at him so intently, but all of his siblings were staring as well.

  “I have been offered a place to train as a member of the Royal Guard,” he said in a subdued voice.

  Prydwen’s eyebrows shot upward. “The army?”

  Idris shook his head. “No, not the army. They are a special group of soldiers who serve the royal family personally.”

  Idris’s brothers all made sounds of awe and envy, but his mother continued to look confused.

  “Why were you offered this position?”

  Idris shifted from foot to foot. “Because… I chose a… weapon. A special weapon that has magic.”

  Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.

  “Why did you choose a weapon?” demanded Adwen. “That does not seem like a smart choice at all. You cannot use it on a farm.”

  He smiled at his sister’s innocent straightforwardness. “I did not mean to,” he explained to his entire family. “I was trying to decide what I wanted when I felt this pull on my body. I was drawn to the weapon, and I knew I had to take it. The palace soldiers said that was why I could train to be a Royal Guard. Only the people meant to use those special weapons can find them and take them.”

  “Where is it?” asked Rolant. He was only nine years old, and he was clearly having a hard time containing his excitement.

  “I was not allowed to bring it home,” said Idris. “I can only have it if I go and train to be a member of the Royal Guard.”

  “Is it a sword like Meic’s?” asked Osian.

  “No,” answered Idris. “It is a partisan.”

  Deri looked just as excited as Rolant, even though he was three years older. “What is a partisan?”

  “It is kind of like a spear, but with a blade for the head.”

  His siblings all grinned, but Idris found that he couldn’t share in their enthusiasm. He looked into his mother’s brown eyes and saw a mixture of emotions that he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad.

  “I do not have to go,” he said softly. “I could stay here and work on the farm.”

  “Would you get to choose something else from the Treasury?” asked Elain.

  Idris shook his head. “No, my choice is already made.”

  “That does not seem fair,” she complained. “If you stay here then it is like you did not get anything at all.”

  “That is probably the point,” Cadell said abruptly. “They are trying to force you into joining the Royal Guard.”

  Idris looked at his father and saw something ugly in his expression. Cadell was not one given to anger, but there was plenty of it on his face as he turned and stalked out of the house.

  Prydwen clapped her hands to get the attention of her children. “Well, back to work, my darlings. There is still plenty of daylight, and still much to do.”

  They all scattered, going about their various tasks, and only Adwen was foolish enough to whine about it.

  Idris’s mother put her arm around his shoulders and looked up at him. “How tall you are getting,” she commented distractedly.

  He tried to smile, but his facial muscles didn’t cooperate. He looked at her with pleading eyes and asked, “Mother, what should I do?”

  It was a question he had asked countless times throughout his life. She always seemed to have an answer for him, even if it involved him figuring it out on his own.

  “What do you want to do, love?”

  Idris shrugged unhappily. “I do not know. I always thought that I wanted to stay here and work on the farm. I love our home and I love the work. I never wanted anything else until I touched that partisan.”

  Her brow furrowed slightly. “What did you feel when you picked up the weapon?”

  He paused, searching for the right words. “I wanted to be extraordinary. She told me that she had belonged to Marlais Dragonspear, and I wanted to go out into the world and become just as famous as him.”

  Prydwen frowned. “She?”

  “The partisan,” Idris explained. “She spoke to me.”

  His mother considered this unusual information for several moments before she spoke. “Idris, magic is not common in our world. Most of it died out w
ith the warriors of old. If you are one of the few who are able to use such power, then you have a responsibility to try and make our world a better place.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “You want me to leave?”

  She laughed. “Of course not, my darling. I want you to stay with me always, but that could never be. You have become part of something greater, and it is my duty as your mother to help you reach your potential.”

  For a moment Idris felt happy again, but then his heart fell. “What about Father? He does not want me to go.”

  Prydwen brushed her hand against his cheek. “Just tell him what is in your heart. He will understand.”

  Idris knew that it would be better to talk to his father sooner rather than later, so he gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out of the house in the direction Cadell had gone.

  The first place Idris looked was in the barn, and he was relieved to find his father there. He didn’t really want to wander all over the farm looking for him. Cadell was up in the hay loft when Idris walked in. He knew that his father had seen him, but he went on feeding the cows with unnecessary energy. Cadell stabbed at the hay with his pitchfork and flung it down to the stalls below.

  “Father, may I speak to you?”

  “It took us a day and a half to come home from Marath,” his father pointed out. “Why did you not speak to me during that time?”

  Idris looked down at his worn boots and scuffed the dirt on the ground. “I was trying to sort things out. Everything happened so fast.”

  Cadell leaned on the pitchfork and gazed down at his son. “That they did.”

  “You know I love this farm,” Idris said, looking up again. “I never wanted to leave before, but now…”

  He didn’t know how to go on.

  “Now you feel the call to greater things,” Cadell finished for him.

  Idris felt it would be disloyal to his home to agree, but he knew that his father was right.

  Cadell climbed down the ladder from the hay loft and stood before his son. “Do you not see the danger of your position? The king is trying to force you into accepting the role of Royal Guard. That is why it is not an option to choose something else from the Treasury. It is either serve the king or get nothing at all. The king wants control of all magic in the kingdom, and by choosing the life of a Royal Guard you are letting him decide your fate.”