by Trudi Jaye
Nate jumped and sat up, immediately regretting it. The ghost he’d seen in the room earlier was back. And now it was too late to pretend he couldn’t see it.
“What do you want?” he said tiredly.
“You’re Zachariah’s boy, aren’t you?”
“His grandson,” said Nate. His family was the last thing he felt like discussing right now.
The ghost nodded. “Ah, that explains it.”
Nate tried to hold the words in, but found he couldn’t. “Explains what?”
“Your skill level.”
“Look, if you came here to insult me, you can turn around and leave again. I’m not in the mood.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult, my dear boy. At least not to you.”
Nate narrowed his eyes at the old man. “Why are you wearing mage robes, but no tattoo? You realize it’s against mage laws?”
The ghost shrugged. “Once you get to a certain point in life, the rules no longer hold their appeal.”
Nate tried to memorize the mage ghost’s face. Long grey hair fell around his shoulders and his mage robes hung off a tall, spare frame. A long-healed scar ran down one side of his right cheek, making his lined face look gaunt. He looked to have been an old man when he died. “Should I know who you are?” he asked.
The old ghost shook his head. “I’m no one important. Unlike you.”
Nate frowned. “I’m no one important either.”
“Prince Lothar would beg to differ,” said the ghost slyly.
“He’s wrong. I’m not next in line to the throne. How could I be? It doesn’t even make sense.”
“Those dark creatures waiting out by the edge of the forest would beg to differ.”
“It’s not my fault he’s gone insane. I don’t even know where he’d get an idea like that.”
“The Flames cannot lie. Lothar has seen it in their fiery depths and he will stop at nothing to succeed.”
Nate shook his head, unable to explain it, but knowing it was false. Ghosts always turned the truth to suit their purposes; he knew that. He just had to keep reminding himself of it. “Are they still there? The Riders?”
“Yes, although their master grows restless. I believe it won’t be long before they are called home, and another beast appears to challenge you.”
His chest was suddenly heavy, as if something big was pushing down on it. “Why won’t he stop? Even if it were true, I don’t want to be king. He can have the throne,” he said desperately.
“It doesn’t work that way, my boy. You know better than that.”
Nate rubbed one hand over his face. He did know better. His grandfather had always drummed the old stories into his head about the Flame Throne, the Flame Echoes, and the Great Fire Mage who started it all. “You think the Riders will be gone soon?” His mind caught on the one piece of information he could use.
“There will be a small window of time when you can leave the forest and continue your journey without getting trapped by the Riders, yes.”
“And when would that be?”
“Give it a day or so and I believe they will leave.”
“And you don’t think Lothar will ever give up on me? Let me live in peace?”
The old ghost shook his head. “No. Now that you are a piece in the chess game, it is your death or Lothar’s.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“How do you feel?” Jena asked as she placed a cool cloth on Bree’s forehead. They were in one of the nearby rooms, Bree lying on the bed where Jena had carried her with help from another healer.
The other woman had then raced off to fetch Miara before Jena could stop her.
“Tired. Sleepy. Sore.” Bree offered a faint smile to accompany her words. “How can you be fine? You did all the work.”
“I had help.”
“I noticed,” said Bree wryly.
“Well, now you know my secrets,” said Jena. Or some of them. “Does it usually affect you like that?”
“Seeking?” Bree gave a wan smile, a faint sheen on her pale skin. “I’ve only done it once before, but I was fine afterward.”
“I was betting you’d never done it before. But it’s not something you should do without more knowledge.”
“Oh, don’t growl. It hurts my head,” said Bree with a faint smile. “It worked perfectly well the last time.”
Jena sighed. Now wasn’t the time. “Thornal used to be a little tired after. Maybe it’s the taint from the Riders that made it worse.”
“Thank you for being there. For trusting me.” Bree gazed at Jena, the meaning clear. She knew about the raven, and the strange power that had helped them overcome the black poison. She knew that Jena could cast spells, or at least this one. Jena’s secrets were emerging, despite her attempts to keep them hidden.
“Don’t tell anyone, Bree. Not even Miara. They’re mine to work out.”
Bree nodded, with obvious reluctance. “It might be useful for Miara to know about them. She might know what you should do.”
If people knew she had a mage tattoo attached to her body, or that she could cast spells, she wouldn’t last a week. People who broke Mage Law were dealt with swiftly. “They’re my secrets to keep, Bree,” she repeated, just as a noise at the door announced the arrival of Miara.
“What have you done, you silly girl?” said Miara, like a fussy mother hen talking to her favorite chick.
“He’s feeling better now, Miara. We saved his life.” Bree tried to raise herself up in the bed, to show she was fine. Jena helped her lie back down when the dizziness made her eyes roll back in her head.
“All for some strange man we don’t know and may mean us harm? Have you lost your mind, Bree?”
“He needed our help. I’m a healer.” There was a stubborn note in Bree’s voice.
“You should have—”
“Bree needs rest and then some food and drink,” interrupted Jena. “You can yell at her after that, if she’ll listen.” Jena flashed a look at Bree.
Miara sighed. “We’ll talk about it later,” she muttered, casting a strange look at Jena, her eyes glinting.
Jena sobered, glancing away from that knowing stare, unused to the scrutiny. She suddenly felt close to her sister and very protective.
“We can talk about it outside. Bree needs to sleep.” Jena gestured for the others to precede her out of the room. With a flick of her fingers and a muttered word, she sent a small sleeping spell in Bree’s direction. Her sister’s eyes closed and her hands relaxed on the bedspread as Jena shut the door.
Outside in the hallway, she met the full force of Miara’s stare.
“You and I need to talk,” she said. “Now.”
Miara turned and strode off. She didn’t even wait to see if Jena would follow.
Jena stalled for a moment, tempted to stay where she was. But she knew the high witch only wanted to make sure her people were safe. She followed meekly through the caves toward Miara’s office.
“Sit down.” Miara motioned toward one of the armchairs. “Would you like something to drink?”
Jena shook her head, grasping her hands together tightly in her lap.
“What happened?” Miara was to the point and blunt. Jena made a mental note to ask Bree if she was always that way.
“She used my power to help with a Seeking.”
“It makes me nervous when my calm Bree does a dangerous Seeking without thinking through the consequences. Did you talk to her about it beforehand?” Her voice was sharp and she paced the room.
Jena found herself smiling, her lips curved in amusement she couldn’t hide. “Bree has a mind of her own, Miara. She doesn’t need any pushing to do dangerous stunts. And I’m pretty sure she hasn’t just developed this trait since I’ve been here.”
At first Miara tried to remain stern, but she eventually let out a whoosh of breath, and sat down. “I’m just trying to understand the reasoning behind risking her life on some patient she doesn’t know.”
“She’s a healer first. She wante
d to heal him. It’s not complicated.”
“She’s never tried a Seeking on a patient before.”
“Yes, she has.” She paused to let Miara take in that bit of information. “But she’s also never had a patient with an arrow from the Riders before.”
“And she’s never had a sister to back up her stunts before.” Miara looked over at Jena. “She’s always been stubborn. And she’s always ready to burn herself to save her patients.”
Jena nodded. There didn’t seem to be much to say to that.
“I’m worried. She doesn’t see the possibilities for danger.”
“You can’t treat her like a child.”
“She doesn’t have any experience of the world. She’s never even left the forest.” Miara saw Jena’s look of surprise and added defensively, “We had to protect her.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t make her own decisions. Besides, she has me to protect her now.” Jena’s voice hardened. “I know all about the real world.”
Miara lifted her eyebrows mockingly. “You’re not exactly old enough to understand all the possible threats, either. That’s why Thornal sent you to me. To protect you from those who would harm you if they knew who you are and what you hold inside your head.”
Jena looked sharply at Miara. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“He told me years ago that he was planning something. That he had an idea to save the realm, just like it said in the Flame prophecies.”
“What was his idea?”
“To place the magic of the Book of Spells inside someone’s head to protect it from the false king of the prophecy. At the time, he talked of putting it in his own head.” Miara nodded toward Jena. “But I can see that his plans changed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nate had managed to get dressed and leave his room. He’d stopped talking to the ghost. The old mage had nothing better to say than to rant about Nate being the next king, and he was tired of hearing it.
And he had other things on his mind. If he only had a day or two before the Riders disappeared, there wasn’t much time to get fit again. He’d promised Argus that he would go with him to his master, but their close call with the Riders had made him realize he was a danger to everyone around him, including Argus. He needed to disappear, to leave Ignisia, and find a new home somewhere far away.
And to do that, he needed to find people willing to help him. He would need a horse, or at least find his old one, and supplies.
“You can’t just run from something like this,” said a voice beside him.
Nate jumped. He scowled at the ghost. “Leave me alone.”
“I know you’ve had a tough life. Being Zachary’s grandson can’t have been easy. The old bastard has blinkers on and no tolerance for anything outside the usual. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“I grew up in a castle, with all the food I could want, and was educated by the finest mage minds.”
“Ah yes, but you are different. Your magic does not come from the same place as other mages.”
Nate stopped in his tracks. “Look, I appreciate the effort. You’re trying to make me feel better. But I don’t need it. I came to terms with my abilities a long time ago. And right now, I’d just like to go for a walk in peace, without another ghost asking me to do something for him.”
The ghost stared at him for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. “You are right. I will leave you for the moment.” And he disappeared right in front of Nate.
Nate stormed off down the hallway, too annoyed to watch where he was going, until one of his legs wobbled and he had to put one hand to the wall to steady himself. He took a breath. He had to remember not to overdo the walking on his first exploration outside of his room.
He smelled the cooking and heard the murmur of voices well before he arrived at the large communal area. Pausing at the entrance to the large open cavern, he searched for a familiar face, and found none. He sat down on a wooden stool next to a campfire where a woman was stirring a large cooking pot.
“Smells delicious,” he said, warming his hands near the flames.
The woman smiled, her long hair held back with a leather tie, and her plump body covered by a simple dress of brown and green. “Thank you. It’s probably going to be your lunch.”
“Does everyone wear forest colours?” he asked, looking around at the browns and greens in their attire.
“It helps us blend in. We have many ways of protecting ourselves here at Flamehaven.”
Nate blinked. He was at the legendary Forest of the Ghosts village? “I thought Flamehaven had been destroyed?”
“Another form of protection. We like to hide from the rest of the world.”
“Why? What’s so special about Flamehaven?”
The woman shrugged. “For that, you will need to ask Miara.” At Nate’s blank look, she added, “Our High Witch, the one who leads us.”
Nate nodded, still staring around the bustling room.
“We live by the prophecies,” added the woman.
“Prophecies?”
The woman nodded. “The four prophecies of the Great Mage. Mainly the one about Flamehaven.”
Nate thought back to his training, trying to remember the prophecy that mentioned the forgotten city.
“The dead city of Flamehaven lives in our memories,
As a refuge for outcasts and souls on the edges.
The seeds of the Guardian were planted here,
While the mighty fall,
Their blindness leading to a false path.
The flames of Flamehaven shall rise again,
When the Fiery Redeemer returns,
And leads the Way.
Until then,
Let those who remember,
Be the gatekeepers,
And those who have forgotten,
Fear what they don’t know.”
Nate looked up at the woman. She nodded, a curve to her lips. “Perfectly recalled. I wouldn’t expect anything less, you being a mage and all.”
“So Flamehaven is real, and you’re the gatekeepers?”
“We try. And we watch out for a fiery redeemer.” She grinned. “Whatever that might be.”
“The Forest of Ghosts keeps everyone out by being so terrifying that only the very desperate dare enter?”
The woman tipped back her head and laughed, showing off a few missing teeth. “That’s about it, fella.”
Nate leaned back in his chair. “What’s your story? Why are you an outcast?”
The woman shrugged. “Nothing much really. My village accused me of doing mage magic. It came to the ears of the local mage, and would have meant my life if I stayed.”
“Were they right?”
Her eyes suddenly seemed brighter, more intense. “There’s nothing in mage magic that a woman cain’t do. That’s a fact. It’s just the ego of the tattooed men who keeps it so.” She glanced at Nate’s tattoo. “Excusing your pardon, present company excepted.”
Nate shook his head. “I have only a small ego when it comes to mage magic. I’m sure you can do it better than me, on any given day of the week.”
“Probably could,” she agreed with a smirk.
Letting his breath out in a heavy rush, Nate leaned forward again. “Can you tell me who I should talk to about my horse? And getting on the road again?”
The woman pushed her wooden spoon around the pot. “The only person you should talk to is Miara. She controls who comes and goes around here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jena put her hand to her head, trying to stop the spinning dizziness. Her newfound power was because she had the Book of Spells in her head? It seemed impossible. But then, no more impossible than carrying a dead mage’s raven tattoo around on her body, or finding a long lost sister. And certainly no more impossible than finding out Thornal was her grandfather.
She tried to think rationally. There had been the pain when the book was destroyed, and her incr
eased powers had definitely started around that time. But it seemed too much. A step too far, even for Thornal. “Why would he put the Book of Spells in my head? Why not another mage?” Jena rubbed her face, as if trying to scrape away the thoughts that were now crowding her head. “If he really was my grandfather, wouldn’t he try to protect me?”
“Perhaps this was his way of protecting you.” Miara shrugged when Jena gave her a burning look. “He knew who your parents were, knew they were strong, and knew what would happen if you were ever discovered. He also needed someone he could trust with the Book of Spells.”
Trust? He hadn’t even told her anything. She thought of the ancient book, glowing gold in the light of the cottage fire. Power had always emanated from its pages. She shuddered. “But what can I do with it? They’ll kill me if they ever find out. I’m the child of a mage and a witch, and now I have the Books of Spells in my head.”
“But that’s just it, they can’t kill you, not while you have the Book of Spells inside you.”
“But what should I do with it? What was he thinking?”
“He wanted to save Ignisia. The prophecies say a false king will destroy us all unless we can change our path. This was his way of giving us another chance.”
“Prophecies?” Jena looked up in confusion at Miara. The burdens were getting heavier and heavier. She closed her eyes.
“Think girl. If you’ve really got the Book of Spells in that head of yours, and I think you do, you’ll be able to pick up the pages.”
Jena frowned, thinking through the Book of Spells, page after page. It was difficult to know if it was simply her memory, or if the book really had become part of her somehow. But once she thought about what Miara had said, she pulled the correct phrases easily to mind. She quoted the passages in a low voice:
“When the Rose crushes the Flames,
‘Neath its curly thorns,
Ignisia will fall.
Demon beasts take wing,
While the rightful King,
Will see death.