Firebrand

by Prioleau, R. M.

  * * *

  Upon completion of their chores, the boys’ first lessons began before sunrise. After serving a hearty breakfast, Jarial led them to the study. In the small room was a wooden table and chairs. Two, overstuffed bookshelves lined the back wall with a storage chest between them. The room lacked windows, so the only source of light came from a clay pot in a corner. The magical, blue flame inside was miniscule, but somehow burned brightly enough for reading and writing.

  “This is where you will do much of your work, lads.” Jarial ushered them to the table. “Now, have a seat, both of you.”

  Rorick slid into a chair and fidgeted with his hands in his lap. His nervous eyes followed Jarial, who approached one of the bookshelves and retrieved two tomes.

  Kaijin sat across from his brother and observed the various baubles and miniature statues that lined the topmost shelf. The burning pot enthralled Kaijin. He absently rubbed the singed wounds on his hands—a reminder of last night’s incredible experience. Kaijin’s attraction to fire had damaged the nerves in his fingertips, hampering his sense of touch. But pain was no stranger to him. This small setback had only heightened his other senses. Kaijin felt painful repercussions from injuries others might consider minor.

  Jarial placed a book in front of Rorick. “You are going to begin with the basics. You must learn to comprehend what you have read before you can progress to more advanced lessons. This book contains five hundred terms and definitions pertaining to the arcane arts. I expect you to learn each one.”

  Rorick gulped. “F–five hundred? I can’t do that, Master! It’s too many!”

  Jarial chuckled. “You can, and you will. I don’t care how long it takes, so long as you learn them. You are almost six years old. Being that you are Kaijin’s brother, I have very high expectations of you.”

  Rorick slouched and sighed. He opened the weathered book to the first yellowed page and began skimming over the jumble of complex words.

  Kaijin watched his brother. He spied the first word on the page. Rorick seemed to be struggling with it.

  Kaijin’s eye twitched. How can you not know that simple word, Rorick? After watching his brother struggle a little while longer, Kaijin could no longer remain silent.

  “Abjuration, Rorick,” Kaijin blurted. “The word is abjuration.”

  Rorick beamed at him. “Oh! Thank you, big brother!”

  Kaijin smiled and nodded. The smile faded, however, as Jarial slapped him on the back of the head, causing Kaijin’s body to jerk forward.

  “The more he becomes dependent on you, Kaijin, the less he will learn. Do not help him again. Is that understood?”

  Kaijin winced and rubbed the back of his head. Why is Master Jarial being so mean to Rorick? With a frown, Kaijin said, “Yes, Master.”

  Rorick chewed on his bottom lip and returned his attention to the book.

  Jarial suddenly grabbed Kaijin’s hand and examined the burn wounds on his fingers. “How in the hells did this happen?”

  Kaijin whimpered as the mage’s forceful grip applied pressure to the injuries on his hand, causing the pain to return in waves. “I—I accidentally burned myself, Master!”

  Jarial’s eyebrow arched. “Burned yourself?” He pressed his thumbs firmly into one of the larger wounds, further aggravating the pain.

  Kaijin writhed. “Yes, Master! I swear it! I was trying to move the candle off the windowsill last night before I went to sleep and I accidentally burned myself.” Gods, please let him believe me.

  Jarial looked down his nose at him, his expression stony. “Be more careful next time, then. I want no excuses as to why you can’t write with those ... injuries.”

  Kaijin wiped away his tears and shook his head. “Oh, no, Master. I promise. No excuses!”

  “Good. Because you are going to put those hands to work.” Smiling, Jarial set a thicker tome in front of Kaijin, along with a stack of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. “Seeing as you’ve had an advantage over your brother with your ... independent studies through the years—on which I commend you, by the way—I have an advanced assignment for you. You’ve only begun to scratch the surface. This book details the various forms, classes, and characteristics of magic. You are to read it in its entirety and write a report explaining your views. Describe the strengths, weaknesses, comparisons and contrasting aspects of each class. I expect no less than five pages for this report.”

  Kaijin felt strangely elated to be given such a lengthy, detailed assignment. “Yes, Master!” He promptly opened the book and began reading.

  Jarial nodded and turned to leave. “I expect to see notable progress in your assignments by lunchtime.”

  * * *

  The first hour passed in silence. Kaijin read his book speedily and was already beginning to write his report. Rorick, however, continued struggling with his assignment. The number of unfamiliar words on each page made his eyes blur.

  So many words, Rorick thought. I can’t even see them anymore.

  Only halfway through the second page of his book, Rorick sighed in frustration. He lifted his eyes off the book and scanned the rest of the room. They soon paused at the burning pot in the corner. His mind reminisced about that terrible day when he’d burned himself. The pain had been unbearable, and he’d sworn he’d never try to touch fire again. And now, seeing the state of Kaijin’s scorched fingertips, Rorick was thoroughly convinced of the wisdom of keeping his distance from the element. Rorick swiveled his eyes from the burning pot to Kaijin, sitting across from him.

  The injuries on his hand did little to stop Kaijin, who scribbled away at the parchment. He appeared oblivious to Rorick’s distress as he continued writing page after page.

  Rorick stared back at his book, attempting to refocus on the words. After several attempts, he gave up. “Can you help me, big brother?”

  Kaijin stopped writing and looked up. “You heard Master Jarial. I can’t do that. Do you want me to get in trouble?”

  “No, but—”

  “You have to try and do this yourself, Rorick.”

  Rorick made a sad face.

  Kaijin pursed his lips. Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh, and then leaned in closer. His voice fell to a soft whisper. “All right. Just this once, but you have to promise not to ask again. And by the gods, don’t you dare tell Master Jarial!”

  Rorick perked up. “Oh no, big brother! I promise I won’t say nothing! I swear it.”

  Kaijin nodded. “Good. Now what is it?”

  “What does this say?” Rorick pointed to one of the words in his book.

  A brief glance of the term seemed to be all that Kaijin needed to reply. “Somatic.”

  “What is that?”

  Kaijin pointed to the definition beside the word. “Well, it says here, ‘of the body, specifically the use of the hands as a component of spells.’ Now do you understand?”

  Rorick followed along with his brother’s reading and slowly nodded. “You’re a good teacher, big brother. I wish Master would let you help me.”

  Kaijin smiled apologetically. He skimmed over a few more terms in the book. “I learned to read this stuff before you were born, Rorick.” He cast a quick glance at the door before scooting closer to Rorick. “Let’s look at this word. Read each syllable slowly.” He pointed.

  Rorick let out a small gasp. He’s really going to help me! Containing his excitement, he concentrated on the word and attempted to read each syllable aloud. “En ... chant ... ment.”

  “That’s very good, Rorick! You read it all by yourself!”

  Rorick beamed. Even he was surprised by his own efforts. “I did!”

  Kaijin helped Rorick with more words for several minutes. When Rorick felt a little more confident, Kaijin let him alone to continue.

  Rorick watched Kaijin resume his writing. Arching his brow, he asked, “Kaijin, did you really accidentally burn your hands on the candle?”

  The question seemed to take Kaijin by surprise. “I, uh ... of course I did. I coul
dn’t sleep with the light from the candle, so I tried to move it, and—”

  “But didn’t it hurt really, really bad?” Rorick widened his eyes. “I remember a long time ago when I got burned. It hurt so bad I couldn’t feel my fingers.”

  Kaijin tried to smile. “It hurts, but ... well ... it’s not so bad now, I guess.” He paused and examined his scorched fingertips. The skin blistered and flaked in some spots, and a small amount of thick, yellowish liquid oozed from one of the open wounds.

  “Why do you like fire so much, big brother?”

  Kaijin paused, appearing deep in thought about something and then gave him a light shrug. “I don’t know, Rorick. Why do you like lizards?”

  “Lizards are fun to play with.” Rorick simpered. “They’re tiny and scaly, and they don’t hurt like fire does.”

  Kaijin smiled. “Well, fire is fun to play with. Sometimes it’s not tiny, it’s never scaly, and sometimes it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  Rorick chortled. “Papa always says you’re strange ’cause you like playing with fire.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Kaijin’s smile quickly faded, and he glanced down at his report. “Look, let’s get back to our assignments, all right? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Try your best with reading those terms and definitions, Rorick. Remember, practice makes perfect.”

  Rorick smiled sheepishly and slumped down in his chair. His eyes scanned the pages of the book while his mind pondered his brother’s words.

  * * *

  The boys broke for lunch a few hours later. Kaijin was the first to make his way to the kitchen, followed by Rorick, who dragged his feet, exhausted.

  Once the boys were seated, Jarial set a plate of mixed fruit slices in the center of the table. “How are those assignments coming, lads?”

  Rorick reached for a large, juicy apple slice and stuffed it in his mouth, ensuring that he wouldn’t be the first to speak. Rorick eyed his brother expectantly, his cheeks bulging with apple.

  “I’m working on my report now, Master.” Kaijin grinned. “It’s such an amazing book. I didn’t realize there were so many different types of magic.”

  Jarial nodded and took a long sip of cider from his mug, hiding his amused smile. “Over time, as your lessons progress, you’ll learn how to manipulate the different forms of magic.”

  “How long will it take, Master?” Kaijin helped himself to some pear slices.

  Jarial shrugged. “Everyone is different. But at the rate you’re going, I’d say in a few years. Dedicated children like you are rare.”

  Kaijin raised his head and smiled broadly.

  Rorick swallowed his mouthful and watched the exchange in silence.

  “And how about you, Rorick?” Jarial’s eyes shifted to him.

  Rorick blinked and stuffed more apple slices in his mouth.

  Jarial’s face hardened. He crossed his arms.

  “Rorick, stop doing that.” Kaijin pushed the plate of remaining fruit out of his brother’s reach.

  Rorick gazed pleadingly at Kaijin. Finally, his eyes downcast, Rorick gave in and swallowed his portion. He mumbled his response incoherently.

  “What was that?” Jarial raised a brow at the sulking boy, as if he neither heard nor understood.

  Rorick took a deep breath of frustration. “There are too many hard words!” He glared at them.

  Jarial huffed. “No one said this was going to be easy, Rorick. You are almost six years old—certainly not too young to learn. Kaijin is advanced for his age, and I thought you would be, too. Perhaps I should find an alternative method of teaching you the basic concepts.” He took another sip of his cider.

  Rorick frowned. “Why can’t I do the same stuff Kaijin’s doing?”

  “Because you and Kaijin are on completely different levels of learning. You’ve yet to give me a reason why I should take you to that next level when you are struggling with the very basics.”

  Rorick’s frown deepened, and he stared down at his lap.

  Kaijin reached across the table to tap Rorick’s hand. “Hey, you’re doing great, Rorick. Remember that word you read all by yourself? You didn’t even need my help for that one.”

  Jarial slammed his fist on the table, startling the boys. “Have you been helping Rorick, Kaijin?”

  Kaijin’s heart raced. He shook his head slowly. “Uh ... N–no, Master.”

  “‘No’?”

  “I just watched him read the words, Master. I didn’t help.” Kaijin tried his hardest to maintain a stern face. He felt a lump forming in his throat.

  “He didn’t help me, Master!” Rorick shook his head quickly. “I read a word all by myself! It was easy! I read each syllable like he showed me, and—”

  “Rorick!” Kaijin glowered at his brother.

  Rorick promptly cupped his mouth with both hands. “Uh oh ...” His voice was muffled.

  Jarial scowled. “I think an extra hour of chores tomorrow will suffice, Rorick.”

  Rorick groaned.

  “Two hours extra for you for lying to me, Kaijin. And no lunch, either, for thinking you could get away with it.”

  Kaijin gaped at Jarial. “But, Master—!”

  “Do not argue with me, boy!”

  Kaijin sank back into his chair and frowned.

  Rorick scrunched his face as though he was about to cry. “Master, it’s my fault!” he pleaded. “I don’t want Kaijin to get in trouble, please, Master!”

  “No.”

  “Master ...” Kaijin slowly raised his head. His concern for his brother intensified. There was a mix of anger and sadness in his mind. The last thing he wanted was for Rorick to give up. “Can I please just help him with the definitions, at least?”

  Jarial sneered and slapped the back of Kaijin’s head. “I said ‘no.’ Do not ask me again.”

  Whimpering, Kaijin rubbed his stinging head. He refused to cry in front of his brother.

  Rorick sobbed, instead. Kaijin tried to smile reassuringly at him. “It’s okay, Rorick. Don’t cry. Remember what Papa said? ‘Only little boys cry.’”

  Rorick sniffled, rubbed his eyes, and nodded slowly.

  Jarial huffed. “Touching.”

  Kaijin acknowledged Jarial’s detached comment, but did not reply. He had faith in Rorick, but deep inside, he was also afraid—scared that he would end up leaving his younger brother behind.

  After lunch, the boys returned to their assignments. Kaijin continued writing his report while Rorick’s frustration persisted as he tried to read the first few pages of his book.

  Kaijin’s hand cramped from having furiously scribbled ten pages. He returned the quill to the inkwell and sat back in his chair, watching the ink dry on his last parchment. His eyes scanned the rest of the room, and he pondered what else to add to his report. He glanced at Rorick who had dozed off, his head resting between the pages of his book.

  Kaijin chuckled and gave his brother a gentle shake. “Come on, Rorick. You can’t expect to learn magic like this.”

  Rorick murmured and stirred. His sleepy eyes cracked open and stared at Kaijin. Frowning, he resumed reading.

  Kaijin’s gaze wandered to the burning pot in the corner. The sight of the blue flame intrigued him, sparking a memory of a similar flame he’d seen years before in the marketplace. Unable to contain his curiosity, Kaijin rose from his chair and approached the pot. Smiling at the flame, he reached out to touch it. He stared deeply into the bright, flickering voids, as though searching for something in its magical veil. He ran his hand along the top of the blaze and watched as it licked between his fingers.

  “Kaijin!” Rorick’s chair creaked as he shifted. “You’re gonna burn yourself! Didn’t Mama and Papa say not to play with fire anymore?”

  Kaijin was too enthralled to heed his brother’s warning. The flame singed his skin, re-opening old and current wounds and creating new ones. Kaijin hissed, immediately retracted his hand, and attempted to nurse away the pain.

  “See? I told you.” Rorick point
ed an accusing finger at him.

  The door to the study creaked open, and Jarial poked his head inside. “What’s going on in here? You should be working on your assignments, not talking.” His eyes shifted to the corner of the room, and he scowled. “Kaijin! By the gods! Get away from there!”

  Kaijin spun around upon hearing his master’s barking voice.

  Jarial stormed over to him. He crossed his arms and glowered. “What in the hells were you doing, Kaijin?”

  Kaijin discreetly hid his wounded hand behind his back. He kept silent and cast his eyes downward, attempting to hide the painful expression marring his face.

  “Answer me, Kaijin. Now.”

  Kaijin winced. It wasn’t at Jarial’s tone growing darker, but at the surge of pulsating pain that coursed through his hand. He felt something sticky and warm between his fingers. He was certain it was blood.

  Jarial yanked Kaijin’s hand from behind his back. The burn reached nearly to the muscle with spots of blood and yellowish seeping liquid covering the most severe areas.

  “Playing with fire again?” Jarial narrowed his eyes.

  Jarial gripped his hand exclusively on the injuries, causing greater pain. Kaijin was unable to speak, his body in a state of shock.

  “Come with me.” Jarial grabbed him by the arm. He dragged Kaijin to the kitchen and sat him at the table.

  Kaijin stared at his injury, frowning.

  “How many times are you going to burn yourself?” Jarial said. “Or do you like the way that feels?”

  Kaijin wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical, but he kept silent, regardless. Part of him found pleasure in the pain the flames wrought, and something about the pain made him feel rejuvenated.

  When Kaijin didn’t respond, Jarial just sat and scrutinized him for a moment. “Tell me what you find so fascinating about fire.” The aggression in his voice was replaced with curiosity.