Lord of Fire: #1 The Fire Chronicles

by Susi Wright

  The workload was merciless, and the weather, with its wintry gales, was becoming almost unbearably cold, even with the fires burning day and night. Timber was becoming much scarcer; they had completely cleared the nearby woodland and the soldiers had to take the carts much further to get enough. After the two Gaian women, Aleana and Rihann, had left this smaller camp, at the urgent request of the physician at Camp One, morale had plummeted, and there had been talk that none of them, sick or well, would last the winter here. During the night, a group of desperate volunteers had given up, cold and tired, stealing an empty wagon to save themselves. The soldier that had been on guard must have also abandoned his post and joined them, for this morning there was no sign of him either. Their only hope for survival through the next few weeks was that the requested wagons would come to transport everyone to Camp One, or even as far as the Capital.

  Fralii applied a fresh dressing to a child’s arm. She had become quite attached to this particular little girl, an orphan who had come in at the beginning of the project and was improving by the day. Her name was Ana. Only eight years old, she was inconsolable when she had arrived, having lost her parents to fire. She cried day and night in grief and pain. She had horrific burns to her arms, only just recovering some movement in her remaining fingers, a couple of which had been burned away. But things looked good for her recovery. Now, all she wanted was to be a nurse herself, anxious to become well so she could learn how. As she gained strength, she would follow Fralii around, wanting to help, though in truth, with bandaged hands, there was little she could do. But Fralii had given her the job of singing to other children to comfort them, taken valuable time to talk to her and encourage her to watch and learn how to nurse the sick.

  Apart from mentoring Ana, Fralii mostly kept to herself but did exchange words with Simban at brief mealtimes, and he was always hovering with breakfast when she rose in the mornings. He still tended their samblars, which spent their days grazing, since no one had time to ride, and helped the soldiers collect wood.

  The Gaian women, apart from their characteristic fewness of words, seemed to have great difficulty communicating with their human counterparts, lacking confidence with the Baramese language, so they kept the short amount of time for talking only with their sisters. When the one with the green eyes and her daughter had left, so went Fralii’s idea to ask about Luminor. Anyway, after what had felt like a very long time, he had made no attempt to contact her, had he? Not even a message. She shook her head to dispel the return of maudlin thoughts. To make matters worse, this morning on rising, she had felt an alarming wave of dizziness which had forced her back down on her pallet for several minutes until it passed.

  She had just been sitting up again, trying to regain equilibrium, when Simban called gently at her tent flap, having missed her at the breakfast fire. He had been immediately anxious as she always rose early, and it had not escaped his notice how thin she had become, how overmuch she worked every day, and how she never smiled as she used to. As her only protector out here, he told himself, it was his duty to watch over her. That he watched her like a hawk, at breakfast, whenever their paths crossed during their daily duties, even finding excuses to seek her out, to bring her water or chew some Prian for her, even if she had two spare pails of the stuff, did not strike him in the least as bordering on worshipful. He resented how the Gaian had upset her so, wondering if it would ever be possible to laugh together again, or ride the hills on their samblars, like they did before he turned up.

  With a steaming mug of tisane in his hand, he called louder the second time, his anxiety multiplying. Then relief washed over him, as she came to the opening. ‘Good morning, Simban,’ she said in her brightest tone. She accepted the tea. ‘Thank you, for this. I am getting spoilt! Perhaps I will demand breakfast in bed tomorrow!’ Simban would have done it, if she asked.

  ‘Are you well, mistress?’ he asked, looking her over, still a little concerned that she seemed to be leaning weakly, her hand on the tent post for support.

  ‘Of course, Simban!’ she assured him. ‘Just slept longer, is all!’ She took a sip of tea, making an attempt at normality, even though her head still swam. And it did seem to somewhat revive her.

  ‘Breakfast is better this morning, mistress! We got some lapin yester-afternoon. The stew has been cooking all night.’ He led Fralii to warm up at the campfire, served her a good helping of the delicious hotpot, and surreptitiously watched her eat the entire bowl. She was secretly struggling against the insidious nausea that now constantly dogged her, but knew she needed the nourishment, so to please Simban, she made the effort to finish the meal, even though her stomach rebelled and she had to fight to keep it down.

  The dawn was freezing, promising another damp, cloudy day. That was an hour ago, when they had begun their normal duties, Simban following Fralii to tend to patients. Simban, she thought, had seemed more reluctant than ever, this morning, to attend to his own work, hovering over her and chewing far more than his share of Prian before a soldier had finally come to fetch him to help chop wood.

  She was still feeling tired and so cold. As she stood to roll up a soiled dressing, her vision blurred and she struggled to focus. Frustrated, she shook her head and everything seemed to clear again. Throwing the bandages in the collection pail and taking it with her, she turned to exit the tent, picking up the other, half-full of Prian paste, on her way out.

  She almost collided with a man who had been hastily approaching the tent, and stopped in her tracks. It took a few seconds of squinting against the light at the silhouette facing her, before recognition and reaction took hold.

  ‘You! How dare you… just arrive… after all this time!’ She wanted to slap him, but felt dizzy again, her confusion his too. Instead, completely taking him by surprise, she swung at him, pail in hand and broadsided him on the head with it. Prian slopped everywhere, most of it over Luminor’s head, knocking him sideways. She pitched forward in the faint that had been threatening since dawn, and it was pure blind reflex that enabled him to catch her with an outflung arm, preventing her from going face down in the mud. Shocked, dazed, and still seeing stars, he righted himself, pulling her limp, motionless body to his, while he tried to understand what had just happened, against the ringing in his ears, though just a moment of logical thought gave him the probable guilty truth of it. He rubbed the growing lump on his head with his free hand, and wiped the green slime from his eyes. Concerned at her unconscious state, he hooked his left arm under her knees and lifted her into his arms, carrying her back to the volunteers’ tents.

  He was intercepted by a very disturbed Simban, who had arrived back at camp, intending to take Fralii some midday refreshment. ‘What are you doing here? What have you done to her… with your magic? Put her down, before I punch you!’ he threatened. ‘And what is that all over your head?’

  Luminor impaled him with his glare. ‘She is ill! Can you not see?’ Simban backed down slightly from his initial rudeness, allowing that Luminor appeared to be trying to help, though it baffled him why he had Prian all over him. He led the way to Fralii’s tent. Laying her down gently on the coverlet, Luminor dropped to his knees, his hand on her temple, checking for fever.

  Simban, unwilling to surrender his role as her protector, was fussing irritably with the coverlet, arranging and rearranging it over her still frame. ‘Luminor. Go fetch the physician!’ He tried to take the upper hand, and failed.

  ‘You go!’ Luminor countered, not expecting disobedience. He held the younger man’s stare, Simban forced to submission by the scorching power and authority in those piercing green eyes, especially now, when his soulmate was concerned.

  Simban reluctantly left, throwing back over his shoulder a retort: ‘You would not know who to fetch, anyway!’ Then he felt a little childish, as he hurried for the medic, thinking belatedly that by the Gaians’ magic, he perhaps would know!

  Luminor turned his attention immediately back to Fralii, lying still and pale, just breathing
. No physician was needed to see she had collapsed from fatigue. But it seemed more than that. He studied her face, drinking in the sight of her, albeit in this state. It seemed so long since he had looked upon her. She seemed too thin now, her cheekbones angular in her heart-shaped face, dark shadows beneath her closed eyes. The bones of her shoulders and collarbone were prominent, her slight body seeming to disappear into her tunic and apron. How could things have come to this?

  Luminor felt responsible, irked by the fact he had been rendered powerless to prevent it, first by his father, then by duty to the Ancestors, to prophecy, to his people. ‘I am so sorry, Fralii,’ he whispered, caressing her pallid cheek. ‘I am with you now. Please understand.’ He kissed her cold hand and held it, his head bowed, silently supplicating the Ancestors to reward all recent sacrifice with her recovery. He wanted above all else to possess the magic that would let him soothe her soul and heal her body, envelop her in his protective power. That feeling grew of its own accord as he concentrated on his love for her. Suddenly, something sparked between their joined hands, so brief he was not sure if anything had really happened. He was waiting to see if he had imagined the fleeting jolt of heat in his hand, when the breathless, elderly physician arrived, shadowed by Simban, bringing with them an icy blast of outside air.

  ‘Poor little Fralii! I was half expecting something like this! She would not heed any of us!’ The doctor panted with the exertion of hurrying from the far side of the camp. He approached the pallet. ‘And Simban… tells me you are… Luminor?’ He felt Fralii’s pulse and forehead. ‘But, pray, tell me why you have Prian all over your head? Are you injured?’ The irony was not lost on Luminor, prompting a small, mirthless smile at the throb in his temple. Injury and salve together.

  ‘She hit me with a pail of the stuff!’ he complained, pointing to the visible egg-sized lump on the side of his head. ‘I do not know why!’

  ‘I know why!’ interjected Simban, looking pointedly at Luminor.

  In truth Luminor supposed he did know, but was not about to admit it to anyone else. He did not blame her reaction, just did not expect it. It was so difficult to predict what a person might do when in the throes of confused and conflicting emotions, especially polar opposites like love and hate. It could have gone either way. And the violence of the reaction was purely circumstantial, he thought.

  The doctor produced a bottle of tonic from his voluminous tunic. ‘She is exhausted, but is also suffering a mild poisoning from ingesting too much Prian, I think. Lift her up, Luminor. Let us see if we can get her to swallow a sip of tonic, it will cleanse her body of toxins,’ he instructed. ‘I have seen two other severe cases in the volunteers since last week. Many others are reporting mild nausea. It seems the herb is a great deal better outside the body than in!’

  Luminor agreed, ‘Yes. It is not for eating.’ He gently put his arm under Fralii’s head and shoulder, lifting her so they could administer some tonic. She stirred, giving the doctor an opportunity to tip the bottle and dribble some of the liquid between her lips. Luminor lightly massaged her throat to make her swallow. It seemed to work, and they laid her back down. She stirred again but did not regain consciousness.

  The physician stood stiffly up. ‘Well, first get her warm, then the tonic must be repeated as often as possible. I can really do no more, I have so many other patients!’ He looked back at Luminor on one side of Fralii, Simban on the other, adding in a cautionary tone, ‘She will live. If it is really necessary for her to have two attendants, it would be a good idea if you both co-operated on this!’ leaving them to sort out the obvious rivalry.

  The two men regarded each other assessingly, each considering some form of truce, for Fralii’s sake. It still irritated Simban that the Gaian would not leave Fralii’s side for a moment. Neither would he. He had suggested several times, to no avail, that Luminor go clean himself up as the Prian would have become sticky and uncomfortable. But they had come to a compromise of sorts, knowing that a small brazier and wood had to be fetched. One of them went to fetch the brazier and returned quickly to keep watch; the other went to gather tinder, likewise making all haste to return.

  The small fire had been burning next to Fralii’s pallet for some hours, though it seemed to be doing little to warm her. They had, in turn, been out again briefly to fetch wood, each bringing back armfuls to avoid leaving too frequently, amassing quite a pile in the corner of the tent.

  Luminor, however, had insisted that he alone administer the tonic. Simban had, at that moment, felt almost grateful to even be allowed to stay; the Gaian’s authoritative stare brooked no resistance. Simban resented how he could do that. And so the uneasy vigil continued.

  Luminor’s elation at setting eyes on Fralii this morning had quickly turned to deep concern ever since, and with that had come odd and intermittent waves of a feeling in his gut, similar to the power he felt in the adder’s lair, but manifested by elusive surges of heat to his hands. He contemplated the meaning of it; enlightenment was always key in the higher skills. And ironically, the supreme power over Fire, the most volatile and difficult to control, was the only skill he was afforded no instruction whatsoever. His father had only warned him that all application and development of it would come from intuition alone. His connection to Fralii seemed particularly to elicit the feeling from him, now manifesting itself in various odd ways. For instance, each time he had stared in annoyance at Simban, he struggled to control the surge of ethereal heat of mysterious origin, but it had caused Simban’s submission to his will. In these moments, he admitted, he quite enjoyed this power over the human. He grinned to himself as Simban turned his back to top up the brazier.

  But, more importantly, he instinctively felt he could somehow warm Fralii, just because he wished it. This pull was increasing with every passing, anxious hour. He wanted to try something, wondering if he could bring heat where there was none, not caring if it was obvious to the other man.

  Decisively now, he picked up her cold hand, the beating of his heart speeding with his desire to help her, hoping he could control the situation. He suspected it could be dangerous, so he focussed carefully. Immediately his awareness flicked back to the Ancestors, and to the Eternal Flame they tended, before rushing forward to the present, bringing with it the warmth from that fire, into his core. This aspect of the power was unfamiliar, although connected—precarious, but not quite as volatile as the energy that had come to him in the cave. It took a few moments to balance it within himself, as it surged in waves towards his fingers. Retaining his focus, peripherally aware that Simban was regarding him suspiciously, he carefully directed the heat through his touch. The initial rush ebbed to an even, gentle flow. Once settled and in control, Luminor chanced a glance at Fralii’s face. More than mere hope, he now instinctively expected this would revive her. A few minutes passed, as the steady trickle of warm energy continued. Luminor did not miss the rosiness appearing in her cheeks.

  Neither did Simban.

  When their eyes met, Simban raised his eyebrows in question, suspecting there was magic afoot. Luminor gave a slight nod, then returned to studying Fralii. She pleased them both by stirring, Simban confirming to himself something he was reluctant to believe, by feeling her arm and forehead and finding them so much warmer than a few moments ago, and unnatural heat emanating from Luminor’s entire body. He wondered if all these Gaian people had as many talents as this one. No wonder the government wanted the Alliance!

  Fralii slowly began to turn her head from side to side. Her eyes flew open. With a gasp, she pulled her hand from Luminor’s, as if burned, shocking him with the abrupt loss of contact. Both men jumped to their feet, ready to attend to her in any way. Both stared at Fralii, waiting for her reaction. She looked first at Luminor with an expression of mild shock, rubbing the hand that had become quite red and hot, then at Simban, more kindly, before returning her bewildered gaze to Luminor.

  He had stepped back a couple of paces defensively, even though she held no weapon, r
emembering what happened last time she saw him. She was still utterly confused and therefore unpredictable.

  He was more concerned he had burned her with the heat. ‘I am sorry, Fralii! Are you hurt? I only meant to help,’ he explained.

  She blinked a few times, then appeared to be trying to focus, as if her eyes were playing tricks. Mesmerised, Luminor just drank in the glorious violet of those eyes, blessedly open and awake.

  She attempted to speak, coughing, her throat was so dry. Both men almost knocked heads in their rush to give her a sip of water. Luminor, of course, won the right. She tried again, slightly slurring her speech. ‘What in heaven… is that all over… your head? It looks like Prian!’

  Luminor realised he had forgotten all about the paste starting to congeal in his hair and a mask on his face. Glowing green eyes in a green face must have been an alarming sight to Fralii on regaining consciousness.

  ‘You hit me, with your pail of the stuff! Do you not remember?’ he taunted. She looked away, trying to recall, then remembering the anger, decided with a sigh that she was too tired to feel anything right now, and promptly fell asleep.

  ‘You have frightened her back into a faint, you look just like a demon! I told you to wash!’ accused Simban.

  Luminor was fast losing patience with this sullen boy, if indeed he had any for him in the first place! He levelled him a glare that brooked no nonsense, enunciating as if to a child, ‘She is now… asleep… not unconscious… It is different. Have you not been nursing the sick here… to know this?’

  Simban checked. Her breathing was deep and regular, her face still rosy, and then she turned to make herself more comfortable, before settling again. Chagrined, Simban sat back on the stool, admitting to himself alone the truth, which was that this strange warrior had revived Fralii with his very touch. Who could compete with that?

  Observing the signs of defeat in the younger man, Luminor relented. ‘Simban, I thank you. You have been a good protector.’ It was easy to pick up Simban’s deep affection for Fralii. Who could blame him? He had been a loyal friend, and it was obvious he would be more, given the chance. ‘Do not worry. She will recover.’