Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2)

by Callie Kanno

  “And once that is done?” prompted Gavril.

  Once that is done, the true war will begin.

  Calaris’s words hung in the air. The five companions looked at each other with grim expressions on their faces. Idris didn’t have much by way of formal education, but he did know that the time leading up to Marlais Dragonspear had been filled with war and conflict. Not just in the land that would be named after the dragon before them, but across the entire continent.

  These five will begin the battle against the darkness, Calaris went on, but it will end with you.

  Her glowing eyes turned to Idris. He knew that in this dream he was standing in the place of Marlais, but somehow he also knew that the dragon wasn’t speaking to the long-dead hero. Calaris was speaking to Idris.

  “Me?” he whispered.

  The dragon nodded. You must prepare for what is to come. The Flame of my Legacy must purge the evil that poisons the world, and your hand must direct it.

  “I do not know how,” Idris exclaimed in a shaking voice.

  Calaris’s expression was kind, but firm. You must learn. Iona will teach you; your heart will teach you. Trust the friends who fight at your side, but beware those whose words do not match their actions. They will betray you in the end.

  “What if I fail?” Idris wondered quietly.

  You must not fail, Calaris insisted. The darkness must be destroyed or all will be lost.

  Idris felt small in the face of such a charge. He was barely a man, come of age for less than a year. How could he end a war that began centuries before he was born? Even if Iona taught him everything she learned while with Marlais Dragonspear, how could one person stand against a world of darkness?

  The power of darkness is an illusion, Calaris interrupted his thoughts. It seems overwhelming and without end, yet it flees before the smallest candle. You bear a beacon brighter than the sun. The darkness cannot win against you unless you cease to fight.

  Idris looked down at the partisan in his hand. “I know that Iona is powerful, but I do not know how to bring her to her full potential.”

  A small smile curved the edges of the dragon’s mouth. The tools I have given are, indeed, powerful. However, that is not the beacon of which I speak.

  Idris frowned. “Then what do you mean?”

  You will learn to recognize it in time.

  He felt a surge of dismay. He leaned forward, speaking more urgently. “How can I prepare for the war if I do not even know how you want me to fight?”

  Trust in yourself, young warrior. You were chosen for this task just as surely as Marlais was chosen for his.

  “I am only a farmer,” Idris cried with a hint of anguish.

  As are we all.

  With that cryptic statement, the dream dissolved around Idris. He awoke with a start, finding himself sitting once more in the cavern where he had fallen asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Broken Bonds

  Kurag awoke everyone once the sun had finished setting. They left the hidden cavern under the cover of darkness, moving as quickly and quietly as they were able.

  Idris found himself lost in thought as the group of travelers climbed down the mountain and made their way to Koyo. It was less than a day’s ride to the city, leaving Idris plenty of time to think but without the necessity of conversation that a longer journey would have brought.

  His thoughts swirled around the dream he had had. He could see the faces of Marlais’s companions, the glittering items of power that they had each held. He could hear the dragon’s voice speaking those ambiguous words.

  As are we all.

  What did Calaris mean by that? She obviously didn’t mean it literally, for even in her time not everyone had been a farmer. As far as Idris knew, there had never been a time when everyone had been a farmer. So, what did she mean?

  Iona’s voice sounded in his head. You seem worried. What is wrong?

  Idris’s brow creased. Did you not see my dream?

  No, Iona replied simply.

  His frown deepened. I wonder why that is.

  Do not put too much thought into it, Iona said with amusement. While we share many things, there are still thoughts and experiences that are private to each of us.

  But you were there in my dream, Idris argued.

  Iona chuckled softly. So? Just because you dream about someone does not mean that they were actually present in your dream.

  Idris stared at the reins in his hands, feeling somewhat sheepish. I thought it would be different for you than for other people.

  It is, generally speaking, acknowledged Iona. However, dreams follow their own sets of rules.

  Idris looked away, over the darkened grasslands through which they were riding. I dreamed about Calaris.

  You miss your home, Iona said in a knowing voice. That is understandable.

  Idris shook his head. No, not about my home. I dreamed about Calaris the dragon.

  A brief pause followed. I see, Iona finally said.

  He visualized the dream, actively trying to share it with his partisan. He could feel Iona’s emotions swooping up and down as she experienced what he had seen. She felt a surge of joy being with her sisters again, followed by the sharp pain of remembering that Ismene was now gone. She was happy to see the faces of Marlais’s companions, and excited that Idris stood in the place of her former master. Yet, it was followed by the sorrow of knowing that all of the people she had known were long dead.

  When Idris began to recall the message from Calaris, Iona’s emotions became even more complex. He wasn’t certain he could accurately identify what she was feeling.

  How could you have seen all of this? Iona murmured.

  Idris’s stomach did a small flip. You mean that really happened?

  Most of it, Iona confirmed. There are slight differences. And Calaris’ message to you is different than what she said at the time.

  Idris blew out his breath, passing his hand over his eyes. What does it mean?

  Iona’s tone became wry. I think Calaris was rather clear in what she said.

  No, Idris argued, she was not clear at all.

  It is simple, the partisan explained. If you do as I say, all will be well.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at her words. That is not what Calaris said at all.

  Perhaps not in those words exactly, Iona grudgingly admitted. But it is still sound advice.

  Idris shook his head. It is terrible advice, he said with a smile.

  He could feel her indignation flowing out in waves. When have I ever given you reason to doubt my judgment?

  There was that fight at the well, Idris pointed out, when you wanted to set Meic and his friends on fire.

  That had been early on in their relationship, before Idris and Iona had become friends. There had been many tempestuous moments between them where they didn’t agree at all, but that one stood out above the rest in Idris’s memory.

  Iona’s voice sounded as if she was smiling. I was not going to set them on fire. Just…singe them a bit.

  Idris laughed out loud, causing his traveling companions to glance at him quizzically. He immediately felt self-conscious, giving them an embarrassed smile. “Sorry,” he muttered, clearing his throat.

  Princess Lenora appeared to find his outburst encouraging. She nudged her horse forward, moving to ride next to Idris. “I am glad to see you in a better mood,” she said to him quietly. “You have seemed so somber this night.”

  Idris didn’t feel like talking to her, but he knew it would be rude to ignore her. He compromised by giving a brusque sort of grunt. He inwardly cringed at how it sounded to his own ears. He knew he was still being rude.

  Lenora lowered her head, staring at her horse’s mane. Her expression looked sad as she spoke again. “Are you angry with me, Idris?”

  He found himself at a loss for words. How could he tell her that it wasn’t anger he felt, but disappointment? He felt foolish wanting to tell her that he had expected her to be better than manipu
lating Captain Cowan into agreeing to let her join the group. He had only known her for just over a week. He hardly knew her, and had no right to expect anything of her.

  Yet, even knowing that, he did. He did expect more of her. He held her up to the standard of perfection that he had created in his mind of her. It wasn’t that she was a princess—he knew all too well of the mistakes royalty could make. It was that she had expressed to him her dreams of being more than her title. She understood what it was like to be judged by her position, just as Idris did. She had shown that she could be kind and understanding, but then treated Cowan with a clear lack of respect.

  Idris glanced over at Lenora to see that her blue eyes were fixed on him. His expression must have given her the answer to her question. “No,” she murmured, “not angry. The emotion you feel is much more painful. You are disappointed with me.”

  “I am not,” he denied in vain.

  “Is it because I do not always act the part of a royal princess?” she asked. “Do you expect me to be more dignified?”

  Idris shook his head. “I do not expect anything of you.”

  “Then why do you act as though I have lost your friendship?” Lenora pursued. “You can barely look at me.”

  “I thought you were different,” Idris finally blurted.

  Lenora’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Different?”

  He sighed, speaking in a quieter tone. “I have spent the last several months in the presence of royalty and nobility. I have seen the way they manipulate others to get what they want. But you…you were a princess that wished she was a kitchen maid. I thought that made you different from the others.”

  Lenora’s voice became stiff. “You think I am manipulative?”

  Idris felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t believe that she was offended when she was the one who had insisted on finding out why he was upset. “You have been manipulating all of us since the moment we met you,” he grated. “All so you could escape your privileged life and go on some sort of adventure.”

  “That is not what this is about,” she snapped.

  “Well, forgive me if I find that difficult to believe,” Idris retorted.

  Lenora huffed angrily and jerked her horse’s reins. The poor animal swerved away from Idris’s mount, taking the princess away.

  Hildar moved her horse closer to Idris, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “Lovers’ quarrel?” she suggested with sarcasm.

  “I do not love her,” Idris shot back. “I could never love someone like that.”

  “Not enough cow dung on her boots?” Hildar said acidly.

  Idris’s anger burst from the tenuous hold he had on it. “Why not go find another sailor to kiss?”

  Hildar’s expression was as though he had slapped her. She paled visibly, her mouth silently working. Then, pressing her lips together, she wheeled her horse and galloped far ahead of the group.

  Kurag, whose long-legged strides easily kept pace with the horses, moved over to take her place next to Idris. He gave a low whistle. “It is quite impressive that you were able to drive away two women in as many minutes.”

  Idris ground his teeth together. “Please go away.”

  “I will,” Kurag assured him, “but first lend me your ear.”

  The Forger took Idris’s silence as acquiescence, lowering his voice so that his words could only be heard by the young man riding next to him. “I do not claim to have wisdom, but I have learned some important things during my long lifetime. The most vital of those lessons is of the necessity of the bonds we create with those around us.”

  Idris made a voiceless noise of frustration. “I am not in love with Lenora,” he insisted.

  Kurag held up a calloused finger. “I am not speaking of love alone, young one. There are many kinds of bonds between living creatures, all of which must be treated with care. Even the bonds we form with enemies serve their purpose.”

  The indignation Idris felt slowly faded, leaving behind the feeling of being lost. He turned to the Forger, seeking the advice that he normally would have gotten from one of his parents. “I do not want to have enemies,” he said, sounding wistful.

  Kurag chuckled. “That cannot be helped. Even the greatest among us have those who resent them.”

  Idris sighed. “Well, if I cannot avoid having enemies, what does it matter if I make others angry by speaking my mind?”

  “One should never actively try to drive others away,” Kurag replied, “even in the name of honesty.”

  “Are you saying I should lie about how I feel?” demanded Idris.

  “No,” Kurag answered. “I am saying that you should not say things that are designed to hurt, even if they are true.”

  “What does it matter, if I am going to make enemies anyway,” Idris muttered to himself.

  The Forger reached out to pat Idris’s horse on its neck. “The bonds we have with our enemies play a part in shaping who we are, even if we would wish to be without such influences. However, the bonds we share with family and friends are the most important we will ever have. When harming those bonds, we harm ourselves.”

  Idris’s gaze turned to Lenora, then to Hildar. He knew he had hurt both of them, and he suddenly felt ashamed. With Lenora, he could have told her how he felt without resorting to accusations. And with Hildar, he could’ve ignored her petty jabs.

  “They hurt me, too,” Idris pointed out defensively.

  Kurag nodded. “Yes, we often hurt the ones we care about. We let them see who we are, without the pretenses we show to the world. That much honesty makes the pain of hurt go so much deeper than it would otherwise.”

  “Exactly,” Idris said forcefully.

  Kurag raised an eyebrow. “But the same goes for them. They have allowed you to see them when they are vulnerable. They have shown you parts of their true selves. They have trusted you by forming a bond of friendship.”

  His words brought Idris’s mind to an abrupt halt. All of the self-justification that had supported Idris’s thoughts suddenly fell away.

  “I am not saying that they were not in the wrong,” Kurag went on, “but you should keep in mind that willfully breaking the bond of a friendship brings more harm to one’s soul than a world full of enemies.”

  With that, Kurag walked away, leaving Idris alone with his thoughts.

  The young man didn’t have long to muse over his situation, though. The group rode out of the large valley through which they had been crossing, bringing to their sights a circle of lights twinkling in the night. Idris recognized them as torches atop a city wall. Lenora lifted a slender hand and pointed. “Koyo,” she said unnecessarily.

  Captain Cowan nodded. “If we hurry we can reach the city before it gets too light.”

  Dawn was already approaching, filtering away the darkness bit by bit. It was difficult to see many details, but Idris attempted to study Koyo anyway. The city appeared to be built on a steep hill, overlooking twin lakes. As they drew closer, it became apparent that there was something surrounding the city’s lighted outer wall.

  “What is that?” Idris frowned.

  “What?” Aherin asked.

  Idris pointed at the sprawling land surrounding the city proper. “Those dark patches.”

  Cowan was the one to answer his question. “They are villages that have been built up against the wall of the city.”

  Idris nodded slowly. “Oh, so it is an extension of the city.”

  “They are not part of Koyo,” Lenora disagreed quietly. “The city is contained within the outer walls.”

  “Why does that matter?” Aherin inquired. “The city border could easily be changed.”

  “It matters to those living in Koyo,” Captain Cowan replied.

  “Elitists,” Kurag snorted with derision.

  To Idris’s surprise, Hildar was the one to defend the city’s philosophy. “The leaders of Koyo did not ask for those people to build homes there. How can they be expected to provide protection or amenities to those who ignored prope
r protocol?”

  “Exactly,” Lenora agreed. “If they wanted to live in Koyo, they should have moved into the city. Instead, they decided to live outside the city limits to avoid some of the laws in place within Koyo. As a result, they are considered outsiders.”

  “Perhaps they could not afford to live in city housing,” Idris pointed out sharply.

  Lenora turned her gaze on him, looking calm and unattached. “Then they should reevaluate their priorities and find a way to live within their means. Elsewhere, if necessary.”

  “She does have a point,” Aherin said apologetically.

  Idris couldn’t believe his ears. How could they be so unfeeling? They had no idea what it was like to live in poverty.

  Neither do you, Iona reasoned.

  Idris experienced a jolt of indignation. What do you mean?

  You may have grown up on a farm, but you have never been impoverished, explained Iona. Your family has always had plenty of food and warmth.

  Yes, and I know how much work it is for that to happen, Idris defended warmly.

  Iona’s voice sounded amused. The vast majority of people know the work involved in earning their own living. Few people truly know what is involved earning someone else’s. You seem upset that Lenora does not know how much work goes into running a farm, but do you know how much work goes into running a kingdom? Is it fair to say that her father knows less about hard work than your father? I think it would be more accurate to say that they simply know about different kinds of hard work.

  Idris mulled over Iona’s words. She had a good point, even though he didn’t particularly feel like admitting it. It was easy for him to point out that the others had led privileged lives, but in a way, Idris had as well. He had never gone without food or clothing or shelter. He had been loved and respected by everyone in Rest Stone Valley—save for a few, such as Meic. Wasn’t he just as unqualified to understand those struggling to make a living in a city that treated them as outsiders?

  Your attempts at empathy do you credit, though, Iona added gently. It is a vital characteristic for people to cultivate.