Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2)

by Callie Kanno

  Aherin’s smile stretched across his face. “I am not sure. It just felt right to do it that way.”

  Cowan clapped him on the shoulder. “Very good, Aherin. Such intuition is essential when using a weapon of power.”

  The captain of the Royal Guard turned to Hildar next and offered her his bo staff. “I know that Fenris is not your partner, but you can still learn much by training with him.”

  Hildar accepted the weapon, but her grip on the staff was weak. She looked at the staff as if she found it disappointing. “It is more cumbersome than I like,” she muttered.

  Idris felt a burst of irritation. “Polearms are just as effective as daggers,” he said defensively.

  Cowan silenced Idris with a wave of his hand. “Do your best, Hildar.”

  She furrowed her brow and tightened her grip on the staff. For several moments she stood very still with her eyes clenched shut. Beads of sweat began to form on her face. She exhaled sharply. “I cannot do it,” she declared.

  “You must try harder,” Cowan said without sympathy. “It will not come as easily when using someone else’s weapon.”

  Hildar closed her eyes again, holding tightly to the golden staff. Idris and Aherin watched with bated breaths, but still nothing happened.

  “Concentrate,” Cowan snapped. “Your magic will be weak if you are weak.”

  “I am not weak,” Hildar almost hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Prove it to me,” her teacher demanded.

  Hildar shot Cowan a venomous glare, but her determination increased. She held the staff so tightly that her hands began to shake. Her face turned red as she held her breath.

  A tiny ball of light sputtered into existence at the tip of the bo staff. It vanished almost immediately, but there was no doubt that it had been there.

  “You did it,” Aherin congratulated her.

  “Barely,” Hildar sniffed with disdain. “I can do better.”

  “Then do it,” Cowan replied.

  Hildar shifted her feet to a bracing stance. She took a deep breath and set her teeth. It looked to Idris that she was clenching every muscle in her body.

  She is trying too hard, Iona observed. She is accustomed to forcing Savion into doing what she wants.

  The flicker of energy appeared again, but just as before, it didn’t last. Hildar swore softly, glaring at the staff. “You said your weapon was willing to work with me, but I can feel him fighting against me.”

  Cowan took back the staff and rubbed it gently with his weathered hands. “Fenris does not wish to fight you, but he will defend himself when he is attacked.”

  “I didn’t attack him,” Hildar hissed.

  “Savion has taught you to force your will on your weapon, but that is not how to create the necessary bond between a weapon and its master.” Cowan shook his head slowly. “Both must be open and vulnerable to the other.”

  Hildar’s eyes widened and she took a step backward. “I cannot…”

  “I know,” acknowledged Cowan, “but you must learn how to.”

  Idris experienced a flash of intuition, moving him to step forward. “Hildar, may I help you?”

  She stared at him with a hint of challenge in her eyes. “Do you think you can?”

  He felt self-conscious as everyone stared at him, but he nodded. “If you are willing.”

  Hildar’s shoulder jerked in a half-shrug. “Why not?” she muttered.

  What are you planning? Iona asked, sounding intrigued.

  Idris moved to stand next to Hildar, holding his partisan between them. “I understand your fear of giving your weapon power over you. I struggled with it from the beginning of our training.”

  Hildar’s light brown eyes fixed on his, and Idris felt for a brief moment that he was speaking to a frightened child. He took her hand and placed it on the shaft of the partisan, next to his own.

  “Perhaps it is too much to ask you to trust a weapon you do not know,” Idris admitted, “but you can trust me. I will not let anything happen to you.”

  A few weeks ago, King Nikolas had been attacked in the Water Palace. The Royal Guards had been called upon to defend their monarch. During the fight for all of their lives, Idris and Hildar had been able to jointly use Iona. Idris was counting on that experience to aid Hildar now.

  Hildar studied Idris’s eyes, looking as though she may be weighing what she saw there. Idris simply waited for her to be ready. He knew that something like this couldn’t be rushed. It was impossible to force trust between two minds.

  “I do trust you, Idris,” she said finally.

  Idris felt his heart leap in his chest. He couldn’t help but smile at his newfound friend. “Close your eyes and try to connect with Iona,” he encouraged her. “I will act as mediator between you.”

  Hildar nodded and did as he suggested. Idris was drawn into the experience with them, witnessing first-hand the struggle in Hildar’s mind. Iona reached out tentatively, but Hildar shied away. Idris felt that Hildar was trying to grasp at Iona’s power from a distance, which simply wouldn’t work.

  Idris closed his eyes and imagined himself standing between Hildar and Iona—the human version of the partisan that Idris had created in his mind. He imagined himself taking Iona’s hand and then reaching out to Hildar.

  “I will not hurt you,” he reassured her.

  Hildar’s mind hovered before his own, flitting back and forth in fearful indecision. Idris could feel the anxiety like a halo around her. Her physical eyes opened, staring at him. Idris looked back at her, keeping his face as calm as possible.

  “Iona will not hurt you, either,” he promised.

  Hildar pressed her lips together firmly and nodded. She closed her eyes. Idris could feel her reaching out to him—not to his weapon. Idris visualized himself as a bridge between Hildar and Iona, letting the power flow through his body.

  “It is working,” Hildar breathed.

  Once Hildar had control of the stream of energy, she worked effortlessly. She formed a ball in the air faster than either of the other two had, sending a surge of fire shooting over the ocean water. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she let go of Idris’s partisan.

  “I did it,” she exulted.

  Cowan grunted, but did not congratulate her. “There is still much work ahead of us,” he warned. “You should be able to conjure the attack without needing to gather energy first—that is your goal.”

  “How?” Aherin asked.

  “Just by getting faster,” Cowan explained. “The two actions eventually become simultaneous.”

  He pointed his staff at the water, sending a bolt of lightning crackling through the air. There had been no hint of preparation on his part. One moment he had been talking, the next his weapon had unleashed its power. Idris and Aherin grinned at each other eagerly.

  “Get to work,” Cowan ordered. “I want all three of you to be proficient in this attack by the time we reach our destination.”

  Chapter Four: Yearning

  Idris was exhausted. The necessity of his role as a bridge between Iona and Hildar had meant that he had spent the day working twice as much as anyone else. He felt wrung out like a wet rag.

  He had crawled into his hammock hours ago, falling asleep instantly. However, his body had awoken him with the need to relieve himself. Grumbling to no one in particular, Idris stumbled out to the deck to find a private opening to the ocean water.

  Once Idris finished his business, he started back to the cabin where he slept, but the sound of an urgent voice caused him to slow to a stop.

  “Just listen to me!”

  “Keep your voice down,” hissed a second person, “or I am leaving this instant.” Idris recognized the voice as Hildar’s.

  “No, wait,” pled the first voice. “I have been waiting to talk to you since you arrived.”

  “Then you wasted your time, Lennon,” Hildar snapped.

  Idris could see their shadowy figures standing by the railing at the back of the ship. Hilda
r had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as if she had come out from her room with little warning. She turned back in the direction of her cabin, but Lennon reached out and grabbed her shoulders. Idris felt a jolt of adrenaline enter his system. He stepped forward to assist his friend.

  Lennon leaned down and kissed Hildar.

  Idris came to a sudden halt, his mouth agape, staring at the pair with wide eyes. He backed up hastily, hiding himself from their view. The last thing he wanted was for them to see him intruding on their private moment. He needn’t have worried, though. They both seemed oblivious to their surroundings.

  Hildar gently pushed Lennon away. “Please, no…”

  “Why?” he asked with desperation in his voice. “Your father is not here to stop us.”

  Hildar stepped away from him, shaking her head. “I do not need my father to keep me from making mistakes.”

  “Mistakes?” Lennon repeated faintly. “Is that what I am to you?”

  “Yes,” Hildar answered coldly.

  Lennon closed the distance between them. “That is not what you said to me when we last saw each other.”

  “I know,” admitted Hildar, “but I should have. I should have told you the truth instead of letting you believe in a lie.”

  “A lie?”

  “That I care for you,” Hildar explained ruthlessly. “That we have a future together. We do not, Lennon. We never did.”

  Lennon backed up slowly, shaking his head. “But, you said…”

  “I said what you wanted to hear,” Hildar interrupted. “I was angry at my father and I used you to enrage him.”

  “I do not believe that,” Lennon choked.

  Hildar stood stiff and proud as a statue. “I cannot force you to believe me, but it is the truth.”

  “It cannot be true,” Lennon insisted. “You cannot have been lying since we were children.”

  “I considered you a friend back then,” Hildar agreed, “but I had so few playmates. Anyone would have filled that place for me.”

  Idris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew that Hildar could be haughty and harsh—he had been on the receiving end of her foul moods more often than he cared to remember—but he was astounded that she could be so unfeeling. Could she not hear her own words? How heartless and abusive she sounded!

  If Lennon was hurt by her callous attitude, he didn’t show it. He shook his head stubbornly. “I know you, Hillie. You only talk like that when you are afraid.”

  “Why would I be afraid?” Hildar asked in an incredulous tone.

  “Because you do love me,” Lennon answered, “and you think that makes you weak.”

  “You are a fool,” Hildar muttered, glaring at the deck.

  Lennon stepped forward and took her by the shoulders again. For a moment it looked as though she would lean into his embrace, but she straightened her back and pushed his hands away.

  “I am not afraid,” she said firmly, “I am just tired of pretending.”

  Lennon made an angry sound in his throat as he turned to grasp the ship’s railing. A heavy silence fell between the two figures, and Idris thought it would be a good time for him to sneak away.

  “There is someone else,” Lennon grated. “That Idris fellow you are traveling with.”

  Idris almost tripped over his own feet, stopping his forward movement. The idea of Hildar being in love with him was so ridiculous that Idris would have laughed if he hadn’t been hiding.

  “You are an idiot,” Hildar scoffed.

  “I saw the two of you this evening,” Lennon insisted. “You were holding his hand while you practiced.”

  Hildar’s voice became defensive. “He has been helping me with my training. We were seeing if I could hold the partisan on my own.”

  Idris doubted that Lennon understood what Hildar was saying. How could anyone know what it was like to wield a weapon of power unless they had done it themselves?

  “Oh, he is your teacher, is he?” Lennon mocked.

  Hildar spoke through gritted teeth. “No, he is my peer.”

  “And lover?” came the challenging question.

  Idris’s face burned. In the village where he grew up, such relationships outside of marriage were scandalous. He knew that attitudes in the cities were less…restricted…but the idea still made him squirm uncomfortably.

  “If I am above such a relationship with you,” Hildar shot back, “then you should also assume that I am above a relationship with a farmer.”

  “He is not a farmer,” Lennon argued.

  “Yes, he is!”

  The sailor shook his head. “He is a Royal Guard, like you. I may never be good enough for you, but he is now.”

  Idris’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the young man. He never would have thought that a handsome and well-placed person such as Lennon could ever be envious of a simple farmer—even if that farmer was now a Royal Guard.

  Hildar made a sharp gesture with her hand. “This conversation is pointless,” she snapped. “Even if I took a dozen lovers, it would have no bearing on you. I do not love you. I never have, and I never will.”

  Lennon stiffened at her words. Idris could see that he finally believed what Hildar was saying. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling with anger. “I hope you do take a lover,” he rasped. “And I hope he treats you the way you have treated me.”

  Lennon stormed away in the opposite direction that Idris was hiding. Idris breathed a silent prayer of relief that he hadn’t been discovered. He genuinely felt he would rather jump into the ocean than have Hildar know that he had been listening to her private conversation.

  Idris was about to sneak away when another sound arrested his movement. He looked over his shoulder to where Hildar was still standing. She faced the ship’s railing, holding on to it for support. Her head was bowed low and her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

  Hildar was weeping as though her heart was broken.

  Chapter Five: Lonely Warriors

  Idris found himself watching Hildar and Lennon closely the next morning. Neither of them would look at each other for any reason. Lennon went about his duties as if he didn’t have time to think about anything else. Hildar excused herself from their morning meal, declaring that she needed to check on the horses.

  Idris watched her leave with a furrowed brow. “Aherin,” he began slowly, “I know Royal Guards are allowed to marry, but what about other relationships?”

  Aherin followed the line of his gaze with a startled expression. “Are you and Hildar…?”

  “No,” Idris exclaimed, waving both hands. “No, nothing like that. I was just wondering.”

  “Relationships between Royal Guards are discouraged,” Aherin started. “Not that there is much opportunity for that, in general.”

  “But what about with other people?” Idris pressed.

  A grin spread across Aherin’s face. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  Idris’s cheeks began to grow warm. “I…well, maybe someday.”

  Aherin nudged him with his elbow. “I am just teasing, Idris. No need to be embarrassed.” He grew thoughtful. “It is not forbidden, but it is certainly difficult. Protecting the royal family fills our every waking hour. I personally feel that soldiers should not have families.”

  Idris recalled hearing Aherin express that opinion before. He leaned forward. “Are any of the members of the Royal Guard married?”

  Aherin’s eyes narrowed and he scratched his chin. “Roth is married and has a son. He rarely sees his family. They live with Roth’s parents in Crest.”

  Idris knew little about geography, but he recognized the name of the biggest city in the Hills Province. Those who decided to leave Rest Stone Valley often ended up in Crest.

  “Why have a family if you never see them?” Idris wondered softly.

  “I think he did it for his father’s benefit,” Aherin mused. “Roth is the only son of the Duke of the Hills Province, so having a son himself provided his father with an he
ir.”

  “What if Roth’s son becomes a member of the Royal Guard, too?” Idris posed.

  Aherin shook his head. “Roth’s son is a grown man now, so there is no fear of that happening. Besides, wielding a weapon of power is not hereditary.”

  I wonder why, Idris thought to himself.

  Because integrity and talent are not hereditary, Iona responded.

  I suppose that makes sense, Idris admitted.

  Of course it makes sense, Iona said in a short tone. I know what I am talking about.

  Hildar returned from checking on the horses, hurrying to the solitude of her cabin. Lennon caught sight of her as she went by, causing his face to stiffen with momentary anger.

  How difficult it must be to love, Iona sighed with amusement.

  Idris smiled. You say that as if you have never loved.

  I have not.

  He shook his head. That is not true. You loved Marlais.

  Idris could feel the entertainment rolling from his partisan. Not in that way, Iona chuckled. I loved him as one would love a family member.

  You have never loved romantically? Idris asked Iona as he finished his morning porridge.

  She snorted softly. Romantic love is for those who wish to procreate. A weapon does not have that need or ability.

  Idris frowned at the partisan. Love is for more than just procreating.

  He got the sense that if Iona had shoulders she would’ve shrugged. Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, I have no use for it. I doubt I could feel it even if I wanted to.

  He mulled over her words. “That is sad,” he said quietly.

  Aherin looked over at him. “What is sad?”

  Idris quickly shook his head. “Nothing. I mean, I am just talking with Iona.”

  Aherin grinned. “If you are not careful, people will start to think you are crazy,” he teased.

  If they do not already, Iona added.

  “Very funny,” Idris muttered, getting to his feet. “Let us get to our training.”