A Chorus of Fire

by Brian D. Anderson

  Frustrated, she threw back the blanket and donned her robe and slippers. She would go to the courtyard. She would unravel this mystery if it took forever.

  You don’t have forever, warned the voice in the back of her mind.

  In the practice yard, the air was cool and the stars obscured. A faint flicker of distant lightning, followed by a soft rumble of thunder gave the stark gray stone of the circular walls a menacing appearance. Mariyah sat in the center, crossed legged, hands in her lap.

  What am I missing?

  Aylana said that she been shown all that was required. Mariyah went back over her failures, one at a time. Unable to use elemental magic, there had been no defense. But then how did Aylana use it? Did she know a way to bypass the wards? That seemed the likely answer. But it didn’t solve the riddle.

  After an hour, the first raindrops began to fall, the darkness broken by intermittent flashes of lightning. No closer to her goal than before, Mariyah pushed herself up and went back inside.

  This part of the enclave was where most of the texts were kept. There was a second library that held the rarest editions stored in a secure vault below, where one needed special permission to enter. It was late, well past midnight, yet students were still wandering about. Mostly they were in pairs, discussing the day’s lessons or trying to figure out a problem given to them by their instructor.

  Perhaps the answer lay waiting to be found in one of the thousands of books, she considered. A single line of text that might help her uncover the secret that eluded her best efforts. Though searching them all would take a lifetime.

  As she rounded a corner that led to the primary book repository, she saw a young man staring at a model of the Wheel of Ascension affixed to the wall. It was similar to the one in Felistal’s chamber but made from polished blue marble with the runes around the edge in white inlay.

  He glanced over as Mariyah passed and nodded politely, then returned his attention to the wheel, cursing under his breath.

  “Are you all right?” Mariyah asked.

  The youth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That would depend on how you look at it. You wouldn’t happen to know the secret of magic, would you?”

  Mariyah cocked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  “I am, actually.” He reached up and touched the symbol of the fourth ascension. “Master Burona says that unless I can give him a satisfactory reply by the end of the week, I’m finished here.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Third ascension,” he said, not really speaking to Mariyah. “That’s all I’ve accomplished in three years. Third.”

  “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m only at third myself.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “But you were in the transmutation yard. I saw you.”

  “I’m not doing very well,” she replied, not wanting to offer an explanation that might lead to uncomfortable topics. Transmutation was the final step before reaching the eighth ascension. “I have no idea why I can’t do it. I guess we’re in the same situation.”

  He turned back to the wheel. “My sister reached seven. My cousin, six. I can’t go home a three. My father will disown me.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me exactly what you’re supposed to know. Maybe I can help. How did your instructor pose the question?”

  Again he touched the rune, tracing it with his finger. “‘To reach the fourth ascension, you must know from where all power flows. Solving this mystery is your only way forward. It is a secret all Thaumas must learn, or they must abandon the quest. So I ask you: What is magic?’”

  “I can see why you’re struggling,” she remarked, her eyes drifting to the wheel. “So far as I know, no one really knows what magic is.”

  He stepped back and threw up his hands. “Exactly. It’s impossible to answer. If he wants me to leave, why torture me? Just tell me to go.”

  “Is Master Burona known to be cruel?”

  His posture deflated, his voice weak, he replied: “No. He’s a kind and patient man. If he says there’s an answer, there must be one.”

  What is magic? Felistal’s explanation of magic had been vague. Veils and realms. But nothing of what it was.

  She repeated Master Burona’s words in her mind several times. “If you can’t find an answer, what will you do?”

  “What can I do but go home?”

  “He said you can’t reach the next ascension without the answer, right?”

  The young man nodded.

  “But the ascensions are reached through tests of knowledge, not wisdom. Shouldn’t it be a simple matter of seeing that you can cast the required spells? That’s how it was with Lady Camdon.”

  “That’s what it’s been like until now,” he confirmed.

  Her training had been quite different from what she would have received at the enclave. Loria’s methods were loose—though not disorganized. The spells Mariyah had learned ranged in difficulty from the very basic lights of glamor to great molten towers of heat and flame that a student wouldn’t normally learn until the sixth ascension. Of course, her needs were different from those studying here.

  “What is magic,” she muttered, her own quandary temporarily forgotten in favor of this new puzzle.

  The two stood in the corridor staring at the wheel.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “Mariyah.”

  “I’m Deran.”

  She gave a smile and a nod, then continued staring at the wheel. “Life? No. That’s too easy. Thought?” She waved a hand as if to swat away stupid ideas. “Power. That much is true. But what kind of power?”

  “It rises from the earth,” Deran said, joining in with the musings. “But also falls from the heavens above.”

  “The heavens? I’ve always imagined it was clinging to the air around me, not falling from above.”

  Deran knitted his brow. “Clinging? Really? That’s not what I imagine when casting.”

  One of the first things a Thaumas was taught was to picture the source of magic flowing into their body from the world around them. It was what gave spells form and cohesion.

  “I don’t think it matters how you see it,” she said. “Only that you do. It’s like glamor, I think. You have to first be able to … see it … before it’s … real.” Mariyah’s heart fluttered and she clapped her hands together. “That’s it. Sweet spirit of the ancestors, I get it!”

  “What do you get? The riddle?”

  “Yes,” she replied, barely able to prevent herself from bolting off and finding Aylana. “I mean … well, yes to both.”

  “Tell me. Please. I’m not ready to go home. Not yet.”

  Mariyah forced herself to calm down and took Deran’s hands. “You’re not going home. When you see Master Burona, just tell him what is in your heart.” Deran affected a confused expression. “What is magic to you? What does it mean to you? To your life? To your future? He’s asking you to look inside yourself. You are the source. The power is within you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then twirled on her heels. “You’re going to be fine,” she shouted, running full tilt down the corridor. “You’ll see.”

  The rain had soaked her to the skin by the time she’d passed through the central garden and entered the building that housed the students and instructors. Aylana’s room was a few doors down from her own quarters. She would be asleep, but Mariyah didn’t care. This could not wait. The door across from hers opened as she passed, and Milani poked her head out. Mariyah had insisted Milani be given her own room after their first night, Milani’s snoring being intolerable.

  “What happened?” she shouted after her.

  “Nothing,” Mariyah called back. “Go back to sleep. We’re leaving in the morning.”

  Aylana’s door was locked; otherwise she would have burst in. Instead she banged rapidly until she could hear the woman cursing from inside.

  The door opened abruptly
. Aylana looked furious. “Are you mad, banging on my door at this hour?”

  “I understand,” Mariyah said, unable to contain her excitement. “I know what I was doing wrong.”

  Aylana’s features softened, replaced by a weary smile. “That’s wonderful. But you could have told me this tomorrow.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  Aylana breathed a sigh. “Very well. Come in. Show me what you have discovered.”

  Mariyah entered her chambers, taking note of the sparse furnishings and meager décor: a few personal items here and there, a single bed, a chair and small table, and an old dresser.

  Aylana moved to the far side of the room, pointing to a spot a few feet opposite. When Mariyah was in position, she held out one hand. “Are you ready?”

  Mariyah flashed a broad smile. “Definitely.”

  With a wave of two fingers, the dreaded ribbons sprang forth, moving much faster than it had in the courtyard. And in close quarters, Mariyah had little time to react. But she knew precisely what to do.

  She pursed her lips and blew. At once, the ribbons froze in place, as if her breath had turned them to ice.

  Aylana nodded approvingly. “Impressive. But the spell remains.”

  Mariyah extended her arm. “I wanted you to get a good look first.” She snapped her fingers and the ribbons shattered, vanishing into tiny puffs of smoke as the shards struck the tiles.

  Aylana smiled. “Then you have found what you came here to find. I suppose we’re finished, you and I.” She started toward the bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I haven’t the stamina of youth.”

  “Of course.” Mariyah bowed, pausing at the door. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did to me. But I want to thank you regardless.”

  Aylana slipped into bed and dimmed the lantern. “You are quite welcome. Don’t forget to see Felistal before you leave. He’s usually up at this hour, if you’re planning an early start.”

  Mariyah exited the room and stood outside the door for a moment. Part of her wanted to forgive Aylana; to give salve to the pain that dwelled in her heart. But she couldn’t. She pressed her hand to the frame. “Even if I can’t forgive you, I hope you can forgive yourself.”

  Back in her room, Mariyah changed out of her damp clothes before going to find Felistal. Her mind drifted to Lem. What would he think of her? She was not worried about his knowing she was a Thaumas. Lem was far too kind and understanding to hold that against her. And by now, he’d lived in Lamoria long enough to know that magic was not as evil as they had grown up believing. But he knew her heart. He would see how hard it had become. She could not forgive Aylana. In a way, she had never really forgiven Loria. So much anger and darkness surrounded her at all times—even when she was happy. He would see it. There would be no way to hide what she had become. It wasn’t a question as to whether he would love her; Lem’s devotion was absolute. But should he? Through his love, would she drag him into darkness as well?

  No. He will lift you from yours. He is a light. A beacon in the mist. If there is anything truly good in this world, it’s Lem.

  As Aylana had told her, Felistal was awake in his private study, reading beside the fire with a glass of brandy in hand. He glanced over the edge of his book and chuckled softly.

  “So you found it, did you? The secret to transmutation?”

  “How did you know?”

  Felistal placed the book in his lap and gestured for Mariyah to sit. “Every student who has come through here has the same look in their eyes when they learn it for the first time. Now do you understand why you couldn’t be told?”

  “Because the power must seed itself,” Mariyah answered. “Otherwise it could never take root.”

  He halted mid-sip. “I’ve never heard it put that way, but yes. Many have tried to tell students the answer to the mystery, and it always ends with failure. Their power is stunted—diminished.”

  “I see the truth of it. Illusion made real. The power of imagination, woven into the fabric of magic itself. That was what Loria and Aylana meant when they said I already had all I needed. I knew how to create glamor. But I couldn’t make the connection—that if glamor is magic, and magic is real, then glamor is more than illusion. Or at least it can be. That was why I couldn’t stop Aylana’s attacks. They were mere glamor up until they touched my flesh; then they transmuted into reality.” She leaned her elbows on her knees. “To think of the wonders one could create…”

  “Be careful,” Felistal said. “Like all magic, transmutation takes a toll. Too much too soon can be harmful. Every Thaumas has limits. See that you don’t exceed yours.”

  “If I’m to stop Belkar, I need to know what they are.”

  “True. Still, I urge caution. I’ve seen what happens when the boundaries of power are crossed. It leaves the wielder broken in both mind and body. It’s a wound that once inflicted, never heals.”

  “I’ll be as careful as I can,” she promised.

  “Good.” He drained his glass and smacked his lips. “So I suppose this means you’ll be leaving?”

  “Yes. First thing in the morning.”

  “Then this is goodbye.” There was a cracking of joints as he pushed himself from the chair. Crossing over to a nearby cabinet, he removed a locket from a silver box. “There’s usually a ceremony involved. But as time is an issue, this will have to do.”

  Mariyah stood and allowed him to place the chain around her neck. An examination revealed the symbol of the twelfth ascension in rubies on one side, the wheel of ascension on the reverse.

  “What does it mean?” she asked.

  “It means you are no longer a student,” he replied. “Not in the traditional sense. While your knowledge is still lacking, you understand all you need in order to achieve your potential.”

  Mariyah looked back at the pendant, then at Felistal. “But the tests … I’ve only reached third ascension.”

  Felistal shook his head, laughing. “The tests mean nothing. People need goals. Something to work toward. They’re useful in keeping a student focused. But no master can tell you who you are or what you can accomplish. That is for you to discover, and you alone.”

  His words stirred something inside her. A sense of confidence, of pride. “I think I’ve known this all along. I can’t say how or why. But it’s true.”

  “Of course you knew. We all know. For most, the part of a person that is self-aware remains largely ignored. They see the world as a series of limits and boundaries. If there was one lesson Kylor wanted to pass on, it was that the world is limitless—a land of infinite hidden wonders begging to be discovered. Our body may have limits. But the boundaries of life are of our own creation, nothing more.”

  Mariyah felt a sudden wave of affection for the old Thaumas wash over her, and she gave him a warm embrace. “Thank you.”

  “Thank yourself,” he replied, once Mariyah had stepped away. “Not me. You have endured much to come so far. More than I could have. And the road ahead promises more hardship. Much of it you will have to face alone. But I truly believe you have the strength.”

  She gave him a respectful bow. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me. But I have to admit, there are times that I don’t feel as strong as everyone keeps telling me I am.”

  This drew a soft laugh. “That in itself is encouraging. The boastful and arrogant are never as strong as they claim. They hide their fear in a cloak of bold words and lies. It’s people like you, Mariyah—people who struggle with doubt, people who are not afraid to admit their own weaknesses—who possess genuine courage. They overcome fear. They do not pretend it doesn’t exist. Only a fool would do that.”

  Mariyah slipped the locket beneath her robes, and a cold tingle shot up her arm. “It’s charmed?”

  “Yes. I made it when I was a lad, not long after I was accepted here. It was to be placed with the relics upon my death, but I think it will serve you better.”

  “What does it do?”

  “When you
are in need, it will call to the person closest to your heart. You need only hold it in your hand and concentrate.”

  “Can I speak to him?”

  Felistal smirked. “Him?”

  Mariyah felt a flush rise in her cheeks. “I mean, can I speak to whomever I call?”

  “I was a clever youth,” Felistal replied. “But not that clever. The person you call will know to come. They will feel your need. But you cannot speak to … him … directly.”

  “Thank you.” She was tempted to try it then and there. But it would be some time before she could. Still, it was comforting to know that she could find him. Or more accurately, that he could find her. She kissed Felistal’s cheek. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

  He placed a finger to the side of his nose. “I think I might have some idea. I wasn’t always an old man.” He gestured to the chairs. “If you’re not in a rush to get off to bed, I would certainly enjoy some company for a time.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Mariyah held the locket tightly for the next hour as Felistal regaled her with stories of the ancient Thaumas. She knew that she should turn in for the night. But Felistal appeared pleased to have company, and was obviously disappointed when a series of yawns slipped out to say she could not stay awake much longer.

  “It may be some time before I see you again,” Felistal said, as he opened the door to see her out.

  “Not too long, I hope.”

  “Indeed. Tell Loria she is missed.”

  After a final bow, they parted company. Milani was already packed and waiting in her chambers, feet propped on the table and a blanket wrapped snuggly around her thin frame.

  “About time,” she said, drowsily. “I was getting worried.”

  “Nothing can hurt us here,” Mariyah said, as she allowed her robe to fall from her shoulders and kicked off her slippers. “Not even Loria’s manor is more secure.”

  “If you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you might not be so sure about that. Nowhere is completely safe.”

  Maybe not, she thought. But this is as close as I’m likely to get.