by Callie Kanno
“Y-yes,” he stammered. “Very beautiful.”
“It was always amazing to me that two such war-like races could create something so lovely,” the dragon mused. “And one would not think that such a barren location could give birth to the sights that have been seen here.”
Idris’s gaze darted around the shallow cavern that surrounded the Firespring. It was true that it lacked the natural beauty that the Wellspring in Marath had possessed, but it was fascinating in its own right.
“Every Wellspring is unique,” Calaris went on. “There is no pattern to where they are located or what they will look like. My kind made it their mission to discover every Wellspring on the planet, but there is no way of knowing if we succeeded.”
Idris simply nodded, finding himself tongue-tied. After all, what did one say to a dragon? Did she want his opinion on whether dragonkind were able to meet their goal before they became extinct? He had absolutely nothing relevant to offer on the matter. His first time learning about Wellsprings had been less than six months earlier.
He looked over to discover that Calaris was studying him intently. He could feel his heart thumping against his ribs as he tried to keep his expression calm.
“Traces of every elemental magic can be found in every living creature,” Calaris said abruptly. “The presence of a large quantity of specific elements is what allows a creature to use that particular magic. For example, dragons have more fire than any other element in their body.”
Idris nodded jerkily, trying to show that he was following. “I see,” he said.
“A human with greater than average fire is more likely be compatible with a weapon born of fire,” the dragon told him.
Idris stared at her for a split second before blurting, “Do you mean me?”
Calaris smiled kindly. “Yes, Idris. I mean you and your companions. The dragon, the phoenix, and the chimera are all creatures of fire. The fact that you and your companions were chosen by weapons made of those materials means that you all bear a kinship to fire as well.”
“I thought it had more to do with personality or…destiny.” Idris felt foolish as he finished his sentence.
The dragon cocked her head to one side. “You are not wrong,” she told him. “There are certain emotions and behaviors that correspond with specific elements. Those strong in wind can be more decisive, while water makes others adaptable.”
“What about fire?” Idris inquired.
A hint of a smile played at the corners of Calaris’s mouth. “Use your instincts and tell me what you think.”
Idris answered with the first thing that came to his mind. “Love?”
The dragon nodded. “Yes. What else?”
He gave it more earnest thought. “Courage?”
“Good, Idris,” she encouraged.
“How about anger?” he asked, his brow lowering.
Calaris nodded again. “Yes, every element has both positive and negative potentials. This is important for every Wielder to remember.”
A thought came to Idris as he considered her words in relation to Hildar’s dagger. “Ambition is the fourth, is it not?”
Calaris appraised him with approval in her eyes. “Very good, indeed. There are four traits that are associated with each pure element, and then there are several that are a mixture of two or more elements—such as determination, which is fire and earth.”
Idris stared at the Firespring, mesmerized by the flow of liquid rock in the center. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked the dragon.
Calaris’s music voice became solemn. “Hildar is attempting something very dangerous. She will not succeed if she tries to accomplish it with the strength she knows.”
Idris’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Hildar has a strength that she chooses to ignore,” Calaris told him. “She will need to embrace it, or she will fail. It is up to you to help her.”
He felt a flicker of anxiety. “What is the strength?”
“You will know it when the time is right,” the dragon assured him.
Idris could feel the dream fading around him. His chest bloomed with panic. “But what if I do not? How will I help her if I do not know what to do?”
“Just remember,” Calaris said in a voice that was rapidly becoming distant, “she has a heart of fire, as do you.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Forge
Idris awoke with anxiety still clutching at his chest. The vision he had been given was burned into his memory as if he had experienced it in the waking world. He laid on his back, staring at the predawn sky. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to do to help Hildar; only what would happen if he failed.
I see you have been visited by Calaris again, Iona observed.
Yes, Idris answered absently, his thoughts still focused on the dream.
Do not be daunted by the task she gave you, advised Iona. It is probably simpler than she led you to believe. She always had a flare for dramatic presentation.
A smile tugged at the corners of Idris’s mouth. Were you not once part of her?
Yes, Iona acknowledged, which means I am qualified to make such observations.
Idris’s amusement grew. One might argue that anything you say about Calaris can also be applied to you.
One might say such things, Iona retorted, if one wished to sound like a simple farmer.
Idris sat up with a quiet chuckle, turning on his knees to roll up his bedding. Kurag had offered to keep watch during the night, claiming that he never slept well anyway before forging. The part-giant sat with his back to a tree, but Idris could see that he wasn’t alone. Hildar sat next to the Forger, speaking to him in an urgent whisper. In the semi-dark they easily could’ve been mistaken for an adult comforting a small child.
Not wanting to seem like he was trying to listen in on their private conversation, Idris made a show of standing up to stoke the fire. He coaxed a flame out of the embers with some kindling, then added wood to feed it. Idris figured that he might as well make some breakfast for everyone, since he was already awake. He pulled out some of their supplies to set to work.
Idris made a small pot of hot porridge, then toasted some slices of bread. Aherin joined him shortly, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “I have never had a lord make me breakfast before,” he teased his friend.
“Take care that its refinement does not overwhelm you,” Idris joked back.
Kurag accepted a bowl with a nod of thanks. “This was thoughtful of you. We will all need the nourishment today.”
The group ate quickly, clearing up the camp as soon as they were done. They took special care to hide any traces of their presence, to minimize the risk of someone tracking them. They began climbing up the mountain without ceremony, following Kurag’s lead. The first few hours were relatively simple, enough so that they were able to ride their horses without trouble. Eventually they came to a grassy meadow, where Kurag motioned for them to stop.
“I suggest we leave the horses here,” he said to everyone. “There is plenty for them to eat while they wait, and our trail will become much more difficult soon.”
Cowan nodded. “Will they be safe?”
“Yes,” the Forger assured him. “There are few predators in this area.”
The group continued on foot, crossing the meadow to the upward incline on the other side. Kurag’s warning of rough terrain came to fruition much sooner than Idris anticipated. He was soon using his hands to keep steady, occasionally crawling over obstacles.
They rarely stopped for rest, pushing through midday and into the afternoon. They ate cold rations as they hiked, but Idris noticed that Hildar didn’t partake. She looked queasy enough that he could imagine her disinterest in food.
“Not far now,” Kurag encouraged them as the sun began to descend.
Idris crested a particularly difficult stretch of the mountain, remaining on his knees to catch his breath. He looked up in surprise, noticing that he sat on the edge of a val
ley shaped like a bowl. In the center he saw the outcropping of rock that matched what he had been shown in his dream. The Firespring was within sight.
“There it is,” Idris said, pointing.
Kurag gave him a curious glance before nodding. “Yes, there it is.”
The chill of the mountain air evaporated as they descended. The radiating heat of the Wellspring was pleasant at first, but Idris knew that would quickly change. By the time they reached the bottom of the bowl, the atmosphere was hot and humid.
Aherin wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. “Are we walking into a volcano?” he asked, half-joking.
“Yes,” Kurag answered seriously.
The attempted smile dropped off Aherin’s face. “Oh.”
Idris soon found himself wishing that he had the protection of the dream to shield him from the intense temperature. His throat burned with the sweltering air he struggled to breathe. When Kurag signaled the group to stop, Idris sighed in relief. They were close enough to the Firespring that they could see the glow coming from inside the shallow cavern that surrounded it.
“Captain Cowan, I would suggest you take Fenris no closer,” Kurag said. “Waiting here will still give you a reasonable view of the reforging.”
Cowan inclined his head. “Very well. Is there anything I can do for Hildar?”
“No,” Kurag answered soberly.
“I think I will stay here with the captain,” Aherin said, looking fatigued by the heat.
Idris would have preferred to stay as well, but Calaris’s words still rang in his thoughts. “I will go with you, if you do not mind.”
“Why?” Hildar demanded in a harsh voice.
Kurag’s tone was kinder as he shook his head. “There is nothing you can do to help her once we begin.”
“I…would still like to,” Idris said lamely.
“Are you so intent on seeing me suffer?” Hildar hissed with a wild gleam in her eyes.
He returned her stare steadily. “No, Savion, I am not.”
Hildar’s eyes widened, the gleam disappearing in a blink. “I am sorry, Idris,” she exclaimed, tears welling up.
Idris rested a hand on her shoulder. “I know when it is not you talking.”
Kurag nodded his approval. “Before we go, you will need to remove your tunic, Idris.”
The young soldier felt rather self-conscious standing in nothing but his leggings and boots, his body gleaming with sweat, but he pushed the feeling aside. Kurag pulled out a jar of thick paint, using it to draw runes on Idris’s chest and back.
“This should keep you from burning too badly,” the Forger said after chanting for a few moments.
“What about Hildar?” Idris inquired.
Kurag’s expression twitched. “She will have different runes,” he muttered.
The remaining three walked toward the cavern with the Wellspring. When they reached the crevice, Kurag motioned for Idris to stop. “You will need to wait here,” he instructed. “Any closer and you will be injured by the reforging.”
The cavern itself wasn’t large. Idris would be able to see and communicate with the others without any trouble from his position. He lowered himself to his knees, feeling weak from the oppressive temperatures.
In spite of the unfavorable physical conditions, Idris felt a blanket of peace cover his mind. It was the same feeling he had experienced at the Wellspring in Marath, only stronger. He connected personally with the Firespring, probably due to his relationship with Iona. The partisan thrummed with the power that swirled through the air like smoke.
“Are you ready?” Kurag asked Hildar.
Hildar nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. She handed Savion to the Forger then pulled off her own tunic, leaving her covered by only a thin camisole. Kurag used the tip of the dagger to scratch runes directly into Hildar’s skin, pressing only hard enough to draw blood. “With your blood,” Kurag intoned, “you bind yourself to this dagger, tying your souls together.”
The Forger began chanting in a flowing rhythm, bobbing his head in time with the words. A vapor of angry red light rose from the dagger, swirling once in the air before entering Hildar’s body.
“A weapon of power has a body stronger than fire,” Kurag thundered. “It need not be remade; for the flaws lie not there, but in the soul of the weapon. I remove the soul of Savion, binding it to Hildar’s body. There it shall be purified.”
Idris’s jaw dropped as he realized what was happening. “No,” he shouted. “It will kill her!”
But it was too late.
Kurag began singing in an unrecognizable language, bringing the runes he had placed in Hildar’s skin to life. There was nothing beautiful about this song—a stark contrast to the vision Idris had seen the night before. The notes were sharp, with searing counter-melodies that seemed to come from a dozen throats. The echoing music pierced Idris’s ears, filling his mind with pain.
The tone of the song shifted to a spreading melody, bringing a flood of light from Hildar’s body. She was lifted into the air, arms and legs spread wide, floating in a miniature galaxy of thousands of lights.
There was a wide spectrum of color among the tiny stars, ranging from a vibrant red to a deep violet. Kurag stepped forward, studying the lights with a look of intense concentration on his face. Idris wasn’t certain what the Forger was looking for, but a sense of foreboding weighed his stomach down like a rock.
A long ribbon of fire rose out of the Wellspring, moving through the air like a snake in water. Idris watched, mesmerized, as the length of flame shot itself at one of the dots of light surrounding Hildar. As soon as they touched, there was a small explosion of sparks. It would have been a beautiful sight, only Hildar threw her head back and screamed in agony.
Idris leapt to his feet. “Hildar,” he shouted.
Kurag’s song called up more streams of fire from the Wellspring, sending them hurtling toward the doomed stars. The cavern trembled with Hildar’s shrieks.
“Please,” Idris called to the Forger, “stop this! You are burning her soul!”
He knows what is happening, Idris, Iona said softly. He warned Hildar of what she would have to face.
“She would not have agreed if she had really known,” he insisted, fighting against the urge to rush forward and pull Hildar to safety.
You do not have the proper runes to protect your body, Iona warned. The magic of the reforging will kill you if you interfere.
Idris clutched at his hair, pacing back and forth in erratic movements. “She is going to die,” he moaned.
Kurag is not a monster, the partisan pointed out. He did not want to inflict this pain upon her, but Hildar insisted. I am certain he told her exactly what would happen, but she did not change her mind. She thought she would be strong enough to survive.
“She is not strong enough,” Idris shouted. “No one is strong enough for something like this.”
Suddenly, the words Calaris spoke in his vision returned to his mind. Hildar has a strength that she chooses to ignore. She will need to embrace it, or she will fail. It is up to you to help her.
“What strength?” he asked himself. “What strength did she mean?”
Calaris would not have given you this task without first sharing the knowledge that will help you succeed, urged Iona. What else did she talk about?
“She talked about elemental magic,” Idris said, waving his arms frantically. “She did not say anything about surviving something like this.”
Think, commanded the partisan.
Idris searched his memory. “She said that all living creatures have elemental magic within them.”
Yes?
Idris jerked to a stop, his eyes widening. “Hildar has a heart of fire,” he exclaimed.
But what does that mean?
Calaris had told him that fire was an element associated with four traits in humans. It stood to reason that increasing those traits would strengthen the fire within Hildar, which included her heart. The heart wa
s the core of the human body. If her heart was strong, the rest of her would be strengthened as well.
Idris’s mind worked hurriedly, attempting to sort through the rush of thoughts. “Ambition or anger will not help her here,” he muttered. “Courage has brought her this far, but it is not enough.”
What does that leave? Iona prompted.
“Love,” Idris blurted. “The only thing that can save her is love.”
Calaris’s words repeated in his mind. Hildar has a strength she chooses to ignore…
Idris realized that the dragon had been referring to love. Hildar was exactly the type of person to ignore something like love. She would think it to be a weakness. In fact, Idris had seen her do just that—push love away from her.
Idris’s breath caught in his throat. He knew what he needed to do to save Hildar from losing her soul to the fire of the purging.
“Hildar,” he shouted, straining his voice. It was difficult to be heard over Kurag’s song and Hildar’s screams of pain. “Hildar, think of Lennon.”
There was a slight pause in Hildar’s tortured sobbing, which Idris took as encouragement that he was on the right path.
“Think of Lennon,” he repeated urgently. “Imagine that he is here with you. He could not take your pain away, but he would hold you while you suffered. He would tell you how much he loves you and promise that you are strong enough to endure this. You are strong enough, Hildar. Lennon would not lie to you.”
Another ribbon of fire collided with one of the lights surrounding Hildar’s body. However, this time, she did not scream in pain. Her body jerked and her face clenched, but no sound escaped her lips.
The halo of light surrounding Hildar began to grow brighter. Her expression slowly smoothed into one of calm. Some of the tiny stars orbiting around her winked out on their own, as if they didn’t need the fire of the Wellspring to purge them away.
Kurag’s song started to shift as well. The harsh notes transformed to ones of triumph, as if lauding Hildar’s change of heart. The music took on the same tone as the one Idris had heard in his vision the night before.