Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2)

by Callie Kanno

  “Firespring?” Idris interrupted. “I thought it was called a Wellspring.”

  “Wellspring is the general term,” Kurag explained patiently. “Each kind has a specific name as well.”

  “How many different kinds are there?” Aherin asked eagerly.

  “Hush,” Hildar hissed at him. “Let Kurag continue with his story.”

  The Forger gave her hand a squeeze before going on. “My father and mother were both Forgers of great skill. We have strong family bloodlines, which matters in our craft. My father was a direct descendent of Hedda, the first giant to ally with humans. My mother descended from Ull, who did not honor his alliance with humans, but fathered a son of unusual skill.”

  Idris recognized the name of the first giant. She had been mentioned in the journal Idris had read when they were researching Forgers. “You descend from Didrika?”

  Kurag started at his words. “How do you know that name?”

  “I read her journal in Hollow Cry Tower,” he explained.

  “The journal survived?” Kurag breathed. “I thought the Hunters destroyed everything.”

  “Anything that that was not beyond saving was gathered to Hollow Cry,” Cowan interjected.

  “Amazing,” Kurag murmured. “I will have to visit the tower when I return to Breen.”

  After a few moments of thoughtful silence, the Forger went on with his tale. “The journey from our village to the Firespring had to be done in secret, so as to protect its location. We traveled only at night, and we used protective runes to hide our presence from unwanted observers. There were four Forgers making the trip, three of which had brought their apprentices. I was the only child of the group.”

  “At what age did Forgers begin their apprenticeship?” Cowan asked.

  “That really depended on the skill of the apprentice,” Kurag told him. “Any of my kind could become an apprentice once they had acquired the appropriate amount of rune knowledge. I began my apprenticeship at a young age, but I had both of my parents tutoring me from the time I could talk.”

  “That must have been quite an advantage,” observed Cowan.

  Kurag made a sound of agreement, but his expression didn’t look altogether convinced. “My mother had been entrusted with the spine of an umatep by a priest of Ramat from Dia. She had been given very specific instructions on how to transform it.”

  “The spine of what?” Idris interrupted again.

  “An umatep is a feathered serpent,” Kurag told him. “It has the ability to channel lightning, among other things. The people of Dia used to worship a deity named Ramat, who favored the umatep. It was a holy creature to them.”

  Palti, one of Idris’s friends among the Royal Guards, had parents from Dia. Idris made a mental note to ask Palti more about the subject when they returned to Marath.

  “My father,” Kurag continued, “had been entrusted with the feathers of a wind sprite. A material such as that takes much delicate skill to forge, but my father was known for his deft touch.” He sounded proud as he spoke. “I do not remember what the other two Forgers were tasked to make. At that age I was primarily interested in what my parents did.

  “One of the first rules of working with magical materials is that it should never come in contact with another living creature,” Kurag said, raising a warning finger. “Raw magic is incredibly susceptible to its environment. It tends to take on the traits of those who touch it, but there is no way to control which traits are transferred. The result can be disastrous. The forging process solidifies the magic so it may be touched without becoming tainted.”

  “So a properly forged weapon can never become evil?” Idris asked.

  “Not necessarily,” Kurag allowed. “It just becomes harder to do. The first attempts to create dark weapons involved trying to turn ones already in existence. They discovered it was easier to forge corrupted materials.”

  “Who do you mean by ‘they’?” inquired Aherin.

  Kurag shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “There were a number of groups using dark arts in an attempt to gain power.”

  “I recall hearing that there was a group of apprentice Forgers that led the movement initially,” commented Cowan.

  “They were among the groups, yes,” Kurag admitted reluctantly.

  Hildar shook her head, pressing her palms against her temples. “Do not talk about this anymore,” she pled. “Go back to the story about your parents.”

  Idris gave her a puzzled glance. He wondered what Savion was whispering in her mind to cause such a reaction.

  Kurag appeared happy to comply. “My mother, as the senior Forger of the group, was given the honor of being the first to step down to the Firespring. She walked down into the cavern carrying the umatep spine wrapped in a special cloth. Her apprentice, a young man who had been training for seven years, followed close behind. I stood as close as I was allowed, straining to see every detail of the process.”

  Kurag closed his eyes, envisioning the memory. “The forge at the Firespring is large, and the heat can become too intense for a mortal to bear. It was not uncommon for a Forger to be injured while creating an item of power, in spite of protective runes. I remember my mother’s face—fixed with determination as she faced the Life Flame…”

  The Forger appeared to be lost in thought for several moments. Idris stared absently at the Halcyon Mountains. “Iona has mentioned a Life Flame before,” he said slowly. “Was she forged at this Wellspring?”

  No, Iona answered just as Kurag shook his head.

  “No,” the Forger repeated unknowingly. “I believe that Firespring was located in Tannin, but it no longer exists.”

  Idris turned to Kurag, his eyes suddenly alert. “What happened to it?”

  Kurag sighed quietly. “No one knows for certain. All that is known is that Marlais Dragonspear destroyed that Firespring, dying in the process.”

  A bolt of shock left Idris feeling rigid in his saddle. “Why would he do that?” he gasped.

  “Why not ask your partisan?” Aherin suggested. “She might know.”

  I do not, Iona answered with the sharp tone that indicated she was experiencing heightened emotions. I have told you before, it is dangerous to return items of power to their Life Flame. Marlais left me in the care of Lyndham.

  Idris conveyed what the partisan said, to which Kurag replied, “It is only dangerous if the item makes direct contact with the Life Flame. It results in a surge that will either increase the item’s power or burn it out completely.”

  “So, Fenris will be safe as long as I stay back?” Cowan clarified.

  “Yes,” acknowledged Kurag.

  Idris looked over at the captain’s golden bo staff. The delicate etching along the shaft gave it the appearance of feathers, and the jeweled serpent head at the top glittered with a life of its own. A realization clunked into place in Idris’s mind. Fenris was the weapon that Kurag’s mother had forged from the spine of the umatep.

  “What happened to a weapon after it was forged?” Idris asked.

  “Everything was always taken back to the village,” Kurag explained. “We had a protected storehouse, where items would await the return of the person who commissioned it. We would always give a large estimate of how long it would take to forge anything, so to allow for travel and any unexpected delays.”

  “Did the priest from Dia come back for the staff?” inquired Aherin.

  “Of course,” the Forger said simply.

  “How did it end up in the Treasury of King Nikolas?” Aherin wondered aloud to no one in particular.

  “Fenris existed two centuries before he came to my hands,” Cowan pointed out. “A great deal can happen in that amount of time.”

  “What were Forgers given in return for making weapons of power?” asked Idris.

  “Rare items of personal value,” was Kurag’s vague response. Idris waited for him to elaborate, but he never did.

  “How far into the mountains will we need to climb?” Hildar de
manded. “How much longer will this journey take?”

  Kurag patted her hand in understanding. “We will reach the foot of the mountains by nightfall. After that, we will climb for approximately a day to get to the edge of the Firespring.”

  Hildar breathed deeply, closing her eyes and mouthing words to herself. Idris experienced a wave of sympathy. He could see that every hour was a desperate struggle for her. “You can do this, Hildar,” he encouraged her.

  “Oh, shut up,” she snapped at him.

  Idris and Aherin exchanged wry glances. She certainly didn’t make it easy to feel compassionate toward her. “You know,” Aherin began, but Hildar interrupted him as well.

  “You shut up, too,” she spat. “I do not need commentary from people so completely outside of what I am trying to accomplish.”

  Kurag spoke to her in a low voice. “Remember, Hildar, you cannot do this on your own. You will need the support of your friends if you are to succeed.”

  Hildar’s only response was to clench her jaw and knead her knuckles against her thighs. Idris wasn’t sure if she was angry because she disagreed with the Forger or because she knew he was right. Or, perhaps she had a completely different reason for her anger. All Idris knew was that Savion’s influence made Hildar unpredictable in her emotions.

  “When was the first time you came to the Wellspring as an apprentice?” Aherin urged Kurag to change the subject.

  The Forger gave a small smile. It was a clumsy attempt by Aherin to divert Hildar’s mind from her troubles, but it was still sincere. “Let me see. I believe I was seventeen years old…”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Firespring

  The night they spent at the foot of the mountains was a strange one for Idris. Iona seemed restless, which affected his peace of mind as well.

  What is wrong? he demanded as he settled down into his bedding near the campfire. You are making me nervous.

  Can you not feel it? Iona asked in hushed tones. I can feel the Firespring, even from here. It is so different from the Wellspring in Marath…

  I would think so, Idris thought tiredly. The other one was made of water.

  Can you not feel it? she repeated. It sets my mind aflame.

  Idris stifled a yawn. No, Iona, he answered. I do not feel it.

  I would wager that you do, she countered, only you do not realize it.

  The young man shifted to lay on his side. Well, I will let you know when I do realize it.

  He dropped off to sleep immediately, giving no more thought to what his partisan had said. However, Iona proved to be correct in her observation, because Idris found himself standing in what he assumed to be a vision.

  He looked down at himself, noting that he was still wearing the clothes he had worn in the waking world. From what he could tell, he still bore the same face. A quick glance at his surroundings revealed that he was standing at the edge of a hole that seethed with molten rock at the center. The heat of his position should have burned his flesh, but the dream protected him.

  Two figures stood at an enormous forge, easily twice the size of any used by humans. The first Forger was a man that Idris immediately recognized as a much younger version of Kurag. The second Forger was a woman who bore a striking resemblance, which led Idris to assume she was Kurag’s mother.

  Both Forgers had runes glowing on their skin, presumably to protect them from the intense temperature of the Firespring, but sweat still covered them in steady streams. Kurag seemed to be the one tasked with the work, while his mother watched him carefully.

  Kurag lifted a bundle of cloth, unwrapping it gingerly so as not to touch the material within. To Idris’s untrained eye, it looked nothing more than a lump of stone. He had no idea what it might have been when part of a living creature. Kurag, on the other hand, looked at it as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  “Who are you?” the Forger asked the raw material. He paused, closing his eyes in concentration.

  “Do not rush yourself,” his mother instructed. “Listen to its song.”

  Slowly, a smile spread across Kurag’s face. “You are Settil,” he told the stone.

  “Good,” his mother said approvingly. “Now give it to the Firespring.”

  Idris’s stomach jolted with shock as Kurag dropped the material into the hole of molten rock without any sort of way to retrieve it.

  The Forgers did not seem bothered by the fact. They turned their backs to the Firespring, setting to work at the forge. They set out a mold and tools—all of which bore runes on their surfaces—then began forming what appeared to be a normal weapon, using hot liquid metal that was waiting for them in a bowl on a natural furnace.

  It seemed to Idris to be work that any beginning blacksmith could do, only they worked at a faster pace. Once they had the rough form of a sword, they set aside the tools they were using in favor of chisels and carving blades.

  Kurag’s mother held the sword mold steady—which, at this point, had cooled sufficiently—while Kurag began carving runes into the length of the metal. Idris took a step closer to see which runes the Forger was using.

  Kurag made each line with precision, taking great care in his work. When he was finished, he looked to his mother for approval.

  Instead of answering his unspoken question, Kurag’s mother returned his gaze. “What do you think of it, my son? It is your blessing that must be given, not mine.”

  “The runes are correct,” Kurag said, sounding uncertain.

  “The runes you have used are written correctly,” his mother acknowledged.

  Idris felt that her careful reply left a lot of room for doubt. Kurag’s expression showed that he felt the same. The young Forger pointed to the first two runes. “Zu must be present because the material was given by a leviathan, and shin is the rune that gives the weapon life.”

  “True,” his mother said unhelpfully.

  “Should I not have used yu?” Kurag asked, pointing to the third rune.

  “What was the request when you were given this task?” the more experienced Forger urged. “Think of the exact words used.”

  Kurag closed his eyes, quoting from memory. “The messenger said, ‘The warlord wishes a special gift for his most loyal general—a sword of great power and skill.’”

  Kurag’s mother nodded. “There are three different ways you can interpret the request, any of which are correct as long as you feel you are honoring what was intended.”

  Kurag’s brow furrowed. “I feel that the warlord’s focus is on the loyalty of his general, and that the power and skill is implied in the type of gift being given.” His voice became more confident. “I believe that yu is the right rune to use.”

  His mother smiled, her eyes glowing with pride. “Then, let us begin.”

  The two Forgers positioned themselves on either side of the sword mold, holding their hands over the rough creation cooling there. They began chanting in unison, causing the runes on the edges of the mold to glow. Idris was uncertain of the runes’ purpose, but the result was that the sword-shaped metal was solid enough to be removed from the mold.

  Kurag took the length of metal to the edge of the Firespring, where an elaborate stand was planted in the ground. The sword was set on the stand’s peak, as if on display. The two Forgers stood on opposite sides of the stand, each facing the pit of lava.

  Then, with their hands crossed over their hearts, Kurag and his mother began singing the most beautiful and haunting melody that Idris had ever heard. The words were unrecognizable to Idris’s ears, but that didn’t matter at all. His soul soared with the melody that echoed through the cavern, twisting with its complex rhythms and harmonies.

  The Firespring erupted in a dazzling show of lights, flames arching through the air with the grace of a dancer. The music and the ribbons of fire became a part of each other, unable to be separated in Idris’s mind. It seemed to the young Royal Guard that the Firespring itself was singing.

  Several of the undulating lights took on a
liquid appearance, wrapping around the sword on the stand. Before Idris’s eyes, it transformed from a mere length of metal to a gleaming weapon glittering with jewels. The hilt was the tail of the leviathan, while the handguard encircled it as the upper portion of the sea monster’s body. The head of the leviathan hovered over where the user’s thumb would be positioned. As was the case with all the weapons of power Idris had seen, the detail of the creature was astonishing. He half expected it to come to life, just as the flames of the Firespring.

  The song of the Forgers slowly wound down, fading into the shadows before Idris realized it was done. His heart ached for the music to continue, and he discovered with a start that his cheeks were wet with tears.

  Kurag picked up the sword reverently, turning it over in his hands. He inspected it closely, making certain that no flaws existed on the weapon. Then he handed it to his mother for a second opinion.

  “It is perfect, my son,” she murmured. “I am so proud of you.”

  “Does this mean I am no longer an apprentice?” Kurag asked with a grin.

  His mother smiled in return. “Yes, I think you are ready.”

  The two embraced, carefully holding the sword out of their way. The vision blurred before Idris’s gaze, leaving him standing alone at the edge of the Firespring. That part of his dream was over, which saddened the young man. He would have given a great deal to listen to the Forgers’ song again.

  Idris stared at the Firespring for several moments, silently wondering what his vision would show him next. He let his mind relax, drifting aimlessly from thought to thought. It was easy to do when allowing the swirling motions of the Firespring to fill his mind.

  “It is a beautiful art, it is not? The forging, I mean,” said a musical voice next to him.

  Idris whipped around, coming face to face with an enormous red dragon. Even though he recognized Calaris’s intelligent green eyes, he still felt momentarily stunned by what he was seeing—and a little bit frightened.