Fire Mage (Firecaller Series Book 1)

by Trudi Jaye

  Nate took a deep breath, trying to ignore the ghost mage. He reached into the fiery core that was becoming so familiar, and searched for the patterns to create the spell. The flames burned within him, but he couldn’t find anything to help him with a basic mage spell. His connection to the earth’s energy was gone. Starting to panic, he searched again, trying to understand the boiling core that had taken over his body. How did he use it to turn mud into honey?

  He had no idea.

  His palms were sweating, and he closed his eyes to focus on the mage power he had always been able to count on, no matter how weak it was. But he couldn’t do it. He felt empty, as if his magic was gone. But he knew that was false, the burning fiery core held more power and magic than he’d ever been able to access before.

  “For the record, I don’t think you can do it anymore.”

  Nate jumped again, this time facing the ghost. He didn’t care if Jena thought he was crazy. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked in frustration.

  “You’re a Fire Mage. You’ve moved past this kind of spell. You can create rips between this existence and the next, produce fire out of nothing, and control creatures like the lavaen, but I don’t think you can change mud to honey.” The ghost mage’s eyes glinted. “But don’t worry, Jena can do it for you.”

  “Jena can...” Nate trailed off. He glanced at Jena, who was staring at him with an expression somewhere between anger and fear.

  “Nate, you have to hurry,” she said. “They’re almost here! Stop whatever it is you’re doing and cast the spell.”

  The Riders were racing down the road, two putrid horses and their riders made from a mindless swarm of flies and rotting meat and bones. The very nature of their hive mind was what made them so terrifying. There was no thought, no soul, no mercy. Jena clenched her hands at her side. The Riders would reach them in a matter of minutes. In the air above them, the raven cawed and swooped low around Jena’s head.

  “She’s an expert spell caster. She can do it.” The mage ghost’s voice was urgent now. “Tell her to do it.”

  Nate’s mind rebelled at the idea of a woman casting a spell. It was against all the old mage laws. The penalty could only be death. But the old laws also said that his new fire skills were impossible. And his grandfather had condemned him as a young boy, based on the old laws. What did the old laws know?

  Nate took a deep breath, casting inside himself again, one last time. The thundering of horses’ hooves filled the air, and the rotting smell of meat made him gag. Nothing. Only fire and brimstone; nothing that would help.

  “I can’t do it, Jena. You have to cast the spell,” he said in a rush, trying not to think about what he was saying, the mage laws he was breaking alongside her.

  “What are you talking about?” Jena’s face was suddenly blank.

  “I know you can do it. I can still burn them, but you need to change the mud to honey. Do it now!” He put everything into the last statement, trying to get her to understand he was serious.

  They had no more time.

  The first of the Riders was only a few hundred strides away. Nate pulled the burning fire into his hands, willing Jena to do her bit.

  Jena hesitated. She glanced at Bree, then all of a sudden, her hands moved over the spell, and she murmured the words under her breath. As he watched, the mud turned into a yellowish liquid swirling sluggishly across the road. She really could do the spell, and with greater ease than he would ever have been able to do it. He hadn’t thought it was possible.

  One of the bloodless Riders gave a high-pitched screaming whinny as they bore down on them. The two horses slowed only fractionally before they plunged into the pool of honey. They were going so fast, the second horse couldn’t pull back when it saw the first horse falter and disappear into the sticky mess.

  Nate stepped back instinctively, catching their foul rotting smell and tasting the bitter flavor of their scent on his tongue.

  Time slowed down. The horses’ legs disappeared into the honey as if it was a deep pool, and the individual flies spread out into the honey, the bones they’d been clinging to falling as if they’d been cut from the body. The flies hadn’t been able to correct the forward motion and were spreading out over the surface, buzzing angrily.

  The creatures were thrown face forward, as if tripping over hooves suddenly cut off. The pool of honey was soon covered in the bodies of flies, floating alongside the bones, rotting flesh and maggots that made up the body of the horses.

  The buzzing increased in pitch, this time enraged. The flies caught in the honey began straining and screaming, their wings useless against the pull of the sweet liquid. Some tried to form a shape, attempting to join and pull their way out of the sticky mess. All they could manage was strange, distorted shapes on the surface.

  Nate drew in a breath, holding his hands high. He found the fiery magic inside him and then let loose a stream of fire that blazed through the honey, burning all in its path. The inferno inside him rose, pulsing the flames over the trapped flies, making sure they were all dead. At first, his only thoughts were of destroying the Riders, burning them into dust so they could never rise again. Then the fire rose up inside him, curling into every crevice, and beating alongside his heart. He became a fire creature, and he ached to let it all loose, to let everything around him become one with the flames. It was a glorious feeling, knowing he was part of a greater whole; the burning flames that ruled over the other elements. Who could beat the fire that burned all it found?

  Certainly not the measly humans.

  “Nate!” a voice screamed nearby.

  It seemed familiar.

  “Nate, you have to come back. You have to let the fire go. You’re going to destroy us all.”

  He shook his head, the flames dancing along his arms. Why would he do that?

  “Nate, you can do it. You can control the flames. Don’t let it tell you what to do.”

  A small spark of memory pierced into his consciousness. It cooled him a little.

  Another voice pierced into his mind. “Son, let the flames go. Push them back down into your centre.” The words were accompanied by a cold hand on his shoulder. The fire flickered inside him.

  He turned to stare at the humans in front of him. One of the women stood close to him, her dark eyes intent on his face. He recognised her. Jena. He let out a shaky breath, and the flames died down a little more. He pushed them back inside him, forcing them down through sheer determination, until they were churning back inside the fiery core that held his new magic.

  Soon there was only the sound Nate’s deep gasping breaths as he attempted to calm his feverishly pumping heart and a few surviving flies buzzing overhead.

  He grimaced. They had done it. Beside him, Jena stared at his face, her brows lowered in a frown. “Thank you,” he said.

  She didn’t reply immediately. “It was like you weren’t even inside your own head,” she said. “I was looking in your eyes, and I couldn’t see you.”

  “I’m not in control when I let the fire magic out.”

  She nodded. “You did try to warn me. I just didn’t understand.”

  “You called me back.”

  “I thought you were going to incinerate me where I stood,” she whispered.

  “I did too,” he replied. He turned from Jena and crouched down beside Bree, who was sitting with Argus’s head in her lap. “How is he?”

  Bree looked up, tears in her eyes. “He’s still not awake. I thought...” she glanced to where the remains of the Riders smoldered in the honey.

  “Tell her he’ll wake soon,” whispered a voice in his ear. “It takes it out of a person, having a connection to beasts like the Riders.” The old mage put a hand on his shoulder, creating a chilly patch on Nate’s skin. “Don’t worry, son; he’s free of the taint now.”

  “He’ll be fine, Bree. You just have to be patient. Stay with him.” He smiled at Bree and then looked around again for Jena.

  She was crouche
d beside the honey, examining what was left of the individual flies. She reached out a finger, only to draw it back.

  Nate let out a breath and stood up. Jena could cast spells. She was actually rather good at it. The thought sent a shiver up his spine. What would his grandfather say? He knew, without even having to think about it. Her head would be gone before any more words were spoken, sliced through the neck with a sword made of forged steel.

  The Mage Council fiercely protected their traditions, and he knew they would hold fast. The thought of his grandfather and his inflexible ways was enough to make Nate stiffen in anger, even after all these years.

  She was better than he had ever been. It had been a simple spell, yes, but she had done it easily, with speed and accuracy. What did that mean? That perhaps the Mage Council didn’t know everything? That their word wasn’t law? The idea appealed to Nate, and he grinned again.

  Jena glanced up at that moment, and her grim face pondered his upturned features. “It worked,” she said, as he walked over to her.

  “It did. You cast an excellent spell.”

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I was taught by the best.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And who was that?”

  Jena continued to watch him with suspicious eyes. Then she shrugged. “Thornal.”

  Nate felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “The Guardian? But—” He couldn’t even come up with anything to say. That the Guardian would have dared to break a law such as this was unthinkable.

  “I only tell you because he’s dead. They can’t put him to death if he’s already gone.” Jena’s half grimace showed that she knew the consequences as well as he did.

  Nate nodded slowly. Not only was she able to cast spells, but she had been taught by Thornal. No wonder she was so good. “So did the next Guardian take the Book of Spells before you left?”

  Jena shook her head, flicking her gaze away from Nate. “I left before they realized what had happened.”

  A sense of foreboding ran down his spine. “Who holds the Book of Spells, Jena?”

  “Lothar killed Thornal because he was after the Book of Spells,” she whispered, still not meeting his gaze. “My master destroyed the Book to prevent Lothar from taking it.”

  Nate stepped back as if he’d been physically attacked. The Book of Spells had been destroyed? It felt like a boulder had been dumped on his chest. He was having trouble breathing. The Book of Spells held the accumulated knowledge of centuries of mages. Its loss was a devastating tragedy, something they couldn’t possibly hope to recover from.

  “But surely, part of his oath... He couldn’t have destroyed the Book.” He grasped at the one thing that stood out in his head.

  “It was a trick to fool the Hashishin. He made a copy and I have it. That’s why Miara told us to come with Argus to find you. There’s a blocking spell on the Book of Spells. While you travel with me, Lothar can’t find you.” She glanced down at the burned mess in front of them, pushing at the charred remains with one booted foot. “Through the Flames, at least.”

  Nate struggled to make sense of what she was telling him. “I think you should give me the Book of Spells. It’s not right for someone who isn’t a mage to carry it.” He held out his hand.

  Jena backed away. “I can’t give it to you. It’s my burden to carry.”

  “But you’re not a mage. If they find you with it, you’ll be killed. I don’t even think they’d give you a chance to explain.”

  Jena shook her head. “It’s not as easy as that. I promised Thornal.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “I understand plenty,” Jena interrupted, her eyes flashing. “But I can’t give it to you. Don’t ask me again.”

  At the look on her face, Nate lifted his own hands palm up. “Keep the Book of Spells, then. But you understand that you must give it back to the Mage Council? It’s the accumulated history of the mages, our source of all knowledge. It’s also immensely powerful.”

  Jena blinked at that description, but didn’t say anything.

  “It truly is priceless. We cannot let it fall into the wrong hands.”

  Jena nodded. “I promised Thornal I would not let Lothar get it.”

  Nate smiled. “Then we better make sure he doesn’t. I think—”

  “He’s awake!” Bree’s voice was a shout. They both looked to where she sat, holding Argus clutched against her breast, tears running down her face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “We’ll go to the next village on the horses. Bree, you can wait here with Argus, make sure he’s okay.” Jena reached out and touched her sister’s arm, but Bree didn’t argue with the plan, just put her hand up to cover her sister’s. Bree was tired and upset. She’d suffered more in the last day than she had in her entire life.

  Argus opened his mouth to speak, but Nate lifted his hand to cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it, Argus. We can all tell you’re still weak.” It was less than an hour since they’d defeated the Riders and they were all reeling from the experience. But they needed to keep moving forward.

  “It’s decided,” Jena agreed. “You both need to rest, and waiting here by the spring is as good a place as any. We’ll buy horses and be back before you even miss us.”

  “I don’t like splitting up.” Bree’s voice was uncertain.

  “It’s not for long. We’ll be as fast as we can.”

  Argus spoke for the first time. “Who’s going to ride the stallion?” he said.

  “Maybe we could both ride the mare?” said Nate, glancing at Jena.

  She shook her head. “No. We need the extra distance we’ll get from two horses.”

  Nate hesitated. “I suppose I...”

  “No. Jena was raised with Utugani. She knows horses. She can ride him.” Argus’s voice had waves of anger flowing through it, but he didn’t say anything more.

  Jena raised her eyebrows. She knew how hard it was for Argus to admit he wasn’t strong enough to go with them. Let alone allow someone else to ride his horse. “I’ll take good care of him. But we need to leave now. There’s no time to waste.”

  Argus’s stallion fought her every step of the way. The stupid animal seemed to know the exact things to do to make her most tired. Her whole body ached from the effort of controlling the stupid beast. She was dying to climb off the horse, look him in the eyes, and give him a piece of her mind.

  As they rode, she watched Nate out of the corner of her eye. Somehow, he’d known her biggest secret, that she could cast spells. He’d looked shocked when she actually cast the spell, but since then, he seemed to have accustomed himself to it; he wasn’t giving her strange looks, and he hadn’t tried to cut off her head or even take the Book from her after that first time.

  And yet.

  Her fingers twitched and a small burst of white flame flickered in her palm. The stallion nickered with displeasure, and she cut the flame.

  Up ahead the small village they’d spotted earlier came into view. Thank the Flames.

  “Do you think they’ll have horses to sell?” she asked dubiously.

  Nate lifted one shoulder. “We have to try. It’s the only settlement we’ve seen so far.”

  They rode on in silence, until Nate slowed his horse beside her. “Let’s walk the horses from here,” he said as they approached the small main street. “Makes us seem friendlier.”

  Stone and wood houses lined up neatly, flowers and vegetables fought for pride of place in the gardens. It was a small hamlet; the houses were tucked in close to each other, and smoke curled out of several chimneys.

  In the middle of the paved town square was the Flame Echo, its marble surface immaculate. The flame that smoldered in the central basin was small, but bright.

  Jena shivered, wondering just how much Lothar could see through the tiny Flames that sat in the middle of every village and town in Ignisia. It gave him power beyond anything she or Nate could muster.

  The Book of Spells was protecting them
from his searches. But were they putting themselves into his hands by going into a village with a Flame Echo? The Riders and the lavaen had both found them despite their supposed protection. If they didn’t desperately need horses, she’d have turned around right then.

  As they progressed slowly toward the square, the few people visible from the street stopped what they were doing and stared. Jena flicked her hair down over her face and kept her eyes in front. A prickly hot flush started up her spine. She straightened her shoulders. Beside her, Nate didn’t even seem to notice the people around them. She tightened her lips and kept walking, holding hard to the stallion’s reins.

  A forge was smoking on the far side of the town square. If anyone would know where they could buy horses, it would be the local blacksmith.

  She gestured and Nate nodded.

  In front of the forge, Jena kept a firm hold on the stallion, tying him to the post outside. Nate followed suit, keeping far enough away from Argus’s horse to show he was still wary of the animal. She smiled slightly. There were definitely some advantages to being raised Utugani.

  Walking into the dark interior, the heat hit her full force. She inhaled, and it was like sucking liquid heat into her lungs. Jena brushed a cool hand against the burn marks on her face, trying to calm the sensitive skin. Beside her, she felt Nate engulf the heat, a small power surge that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

  A large man emerged from one side of the darkened room, the glowing fire behind him making it difficult to see his features until he was directly in front of them. Solid and craggy, he had lines around his eyes and mouth that said he’d been used to laughing at some point in his life. He didn’t smile now.

  “What do you want?” he said. His eyes were dark brown, and it was impossible to see what he was thinking. His gaze flickered between them, taking in everything, including the mage tattoo on Nate’s face.

  “We’re in need of two strong horses. Do you know of anyone who would be willing to part with a pair?” said Nate.

  The smithy reached up to rub a rough hand over his chin. “We’ve had a run of bad luck. I don’t know that you’ll find any in our village with a horse to spare.”