Kaijin’s smile fell. What’s with him, anyway? He’s been acting awfully strange. “I’m sorry. I will get ready right away.” He slid out of bed and stepped around her to retrieve his robe slung over his desk chair. He felt her hand on his shoulder and stopped.
She brought her face close to his but kept her eyes averted. “If He is speaking to you again, please tell me. How else do you expect us to help you?”
Her closeness made him gasp softly. His heart pounded faster. The heat from her face almost burned his cheeks. “Ranaiah, I don’t want anything to happen to you or anyone else here. I’ve lost too much already.”
She slowly pulled back from him and caressed the side of his face, her touch softer than silk. “The only thing you’ve lost was the past. It is time for you to gain—and embrace—the future.” Her hand lingered at his cheek a short while longer, and then she quietly left the room.
* * *
Ranaiah stood beside Vargas upon a raised platform several stories high that overlooked Kindling Hall, where Kaijin’s training was held. The enormous chamber of polished obsidian was designed for the clerics to train in physical combat, as well as practice their spells. Kaijin stood alone in the middle of the extensive room, holding a small flame in his hand that cast a dim light around him. The stone floor held a mosaic pattern of the Firelord’s holy symbol: a burning flame.
“Let’s begin slowly, Vargas,” Ranaiah said. “Kaijin has memorized a completely new set of spells this time.”
Vargas regarded her with a frown. Under the pretence of obeying the will of the Firelord, he’d been harsh with Kaijin, but Ranaiah was worried that such strenuous training would be damaging for Kaijin in the long run, and wished to make a more gradual transition for him.
“With all due respect, Priestess, Kaijin is more than capable of a challenge,” Vargas finally said. “How else do you expect him to adapt to this new way of life?”
“He passed your first two tests just fine, and I was able to gather the information I required,” Ranaiah said, returning the frown. “There is no need to push his abilities further, like you did in yesterday’s training.”
Vargas narrowed his eyes. “You may spare him pain, Priestess, but Almighty Ignis will not. He must be pushed. I will see to it.”
“We are not training him to be a cleric, Vargas,” Ranaiah said sharply. “What has gotten into you? Only days ago, you were delighted to have him here. Now, however, you seem utterly repulsed.”
“My ‘feelings’ for him have nothing to do with this, Priestess. As a Firebrand, he has a power like no other. We must test him. I’m sure your family would not take too kindly to your ... soft-heartedness.”
Ranaiah hissed. How dare he! “I’ve warned you before about speaking about my family.”
Vargas smirked. “Of course, Priestess. My apologies.” He called down at Kaijin, “Let us begin!” He fished a small shard, the color of blue sapphire, from his belt pouch.
Ranaiah frowned. A water shard. The clerics often used enchanted items for training purposes, but elemental shards were primarily used for advanced lessons.
Vargas glanced sidelong at Ranaiah. “This time, we will further test his wits and magical ability. Be ready to probe him, Priestess.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. But I will end this test should I deem it too extreme.
Vargas tossed the shard into the pit. It landed with a loud, echoing ping just shy of Kaijin’s feet.
* * *
Kaijin examined the blue shard of glass, sensing that it was enchanted in some way. He took a step away from it and looked up at Vargas and Ranaiah on the platform. What is this test?
In the few days he’d been at the Pyre, he’d undergone several peculiar trials of his physical and magical abilities, his wits and his instincts. Each test seemed more difficult than the last. He had even begun leaving Miele behind in his quarters, for fear that she might be hurt.
Kaijin heard a light splashing sound and looked down. He was standing in a pool of water. Grimacing, he lifted one foot out of the pool and set it onto a drier area next to it where the water had not reached. That water wasn’t there before. Where did it come from? As he was about to lift his other foot from the pool, the water came to life, becoming a moving, formless shape that grabbed Kaijin’s foot.
Kaijin gasped. His heart pounded, and his concentration slipped on the small flame he had summoned in his hand. It went out. He searched around frantically for a means of escape, finding none.
The water being grew in size, quickly towering over Kaijin. It pulled Kaijin into its ice-cold body, drenching him. Steam rose from his necklace, and it lost its usual pulsating glow. He shivered and felt unable to breathe.
The water creature knocked him backwards with a painful surge of force to the face. He stumbled but stayed on his feet, rubbing his face. I have to do something! He yanked himself out of the creature’s grasp, and when he felt the chamber’s dry air, he gasped. He listened for the fiery voice in his mind, hoping that perhaps Ignis would grant him the power to overcome the creature, but all was silent.
Kaijin tried to clear his mind and recall the spell that protected him from the elements he had memorized the night before. “T-tueri elemen—”
The creature grabbed him again, submerging him for longer than before. He swallowed a mouthful of water. His spell misfired, and a bright light flashed around him, then disappeared. Exhaustion seized Kaijin’s mind. The room spun, and Kaijin was momentarily unsure of where he was.
He felt himself falling to the cold wet ground, and he dared to take a breath, hoping that he was no longer submerged. He coughed up water from his lungs, and then struggled back up to his feet.
He knew what he had to do, and he had to do it fast. They’re watching.... She is watching.... I can’t fail.
Kaijin gathered his thoughts and concentrated on another spell—a binding spell. He fumbled in the belt pouch containing his components and pulled out a small iron nail.
The pool of water at the being’s base widened as it glided toward Kaijin. The pool engulfed Kaijin’s feet, and the creature became a rising mass of cascades surrounding him.
“Réprend!” Kaijin shouted, unfazed. He held the nail out toward the wall of water, and it turned to dust in his hand. An amber-hued light shot from his hand and enveloped the water around him, trapping it in an invisible cage. The creature thrashed about, trying to escape.
Kaijin studied the creature. He’d never encountered a water elemental before, but he knew more about them than most people did. They—and other beings of water and ice—were servants of Ais, the goddess of frost and Ignis’s sworn enemy.
Kaijin heard the fiery voice speak to him. “How dare you allow that thing to desecrate my aurorium, defile my priestess!”
Kaijin blinked. What? His eyes focused on the thrashing elemental. Ranaiah floated lifelessly within its body.
His eyes widened. Ranaiah!
“Get rid of it now, or she will remain dead,” the voice warned.
Kaijin wasn’t sure whether or not the vision was real, but he was not about to take any chances. Heat surged through his bones, rekindling his rage. His vision turned red, and he no longer felt in control of himself.
This time, instead of resisting, he let the being possess him.
Kaijin’s fists clenched, powered by the will that flowed inside him, and the air around him wavered as flames emanated from his body. The water creature ceased its struggle against the invisible shield, and the sight of the flames seemed to tame it—perhaps even instill fear in it. The flames rose to block his view, dwarfing the trapped elemental. His holding spell shattered, but the creature remained trapped as the heat of the swirling inferno intensified and turned the flames from orange to white. The ring of fire closed on the water elemental, and with a violent hiss, the creature turned to steam and evaporated. The illusion of Ranaiah faded, and the fire immediately returned to Kaijin’s body where it slowly dimmed until it flickered out. Kaijin’s v
ision returned to normal, and he felt his self-control return.
Panting as if he’d run for days, Kaijin fell to one knee. He glanced around the chamber, but he was alone there once again. There was not a drop of water on the ground. He felt heat on his chest and grabbed at it, closing his fingers around his holy symbol, which was pulsating once again.
* * *
When peace had returned to the chamber, Ranaiah exhaled in relief. Thank Ignis, he made it. It was incredible to watch Kaijin transform from a simple man to a powerful conductor for his god. His eyes had glowed with possession, and the flames that surrounded him burned with divine intensity. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was, indeed, the one she had been seeking for so long.
She heard Vargas grumbling under his breath, and she looked at him sidelong.
“Well?” Vargas asked gruffly. “Were you able to get anything?”
She nodded slowly. “Not long after he bound the elemental, I sensed a sudden power spike in him. The divine presence took hold of him and—”
“So you are saying you felt it when Kaijin had his enemy restrained?”
“Yes, but it is more than that—”
“He needs to be pushed further, then. I must know—we must know if he is capable of such power when he has reached his own limit and his life depends on it.”
Ranaiah hardened her gaze. “Enough, Vargas. His training is over today. For now, he will rest.”
Vargas gritted his teeth. “Sometimes I think you hold too many feelings for that boy, Priestess.”
She fumed. “Your continuous disrespect for me seems to have gotten worse since Kaijin arrived. I will not hesitate to replace you if this persists.”
He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it and, in a huff, stormed out of the chamber through an exit from the platform.
Ranaiah watched him and sighed, turning back to Kaijin, who still appeared visibly shaken from the ordeal.
He spoke to you again, didn’t He, Kaijin? She pursed her lips. I will find out what He is trying to tell you ... and I will help you.
V
Jarial awoke to the sound of his familiar’s yowling, aided by the furry touch of repeated pawing at his face. He stirred and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Oh, by the gods, Sable. What is it now?” he muttered.
Sable hissed again and licked her upper lip. Her head snapped to the window, where the first rays of the morning sun had begun to pour in. She hopped off the bed, padded to the window, and leaped to the windowsill where she sat, lashing her tail about.
Her nervousness prodded him awake. He rolled out of bed and put his pants on. “I swear, this had better be good, for waking me up so early like this,” he grumbled as he approached her.
He peered out the window. All seemed quiet in the early-morning city.
Sable projected to him a sense of death in the air. Animals were more sensitive to that than humans, and Jarial had no doubt that what she sensed was real.
He looked at her more seriously. “What’s happened, Sable? Who’s dead?” he asked her, switching from speech to telepathy.
Sable meowed in response, then hopped off the windowsill and padded to the door.
Jarial finished getting dressed, grabbed his essential belongings, and quickly followed her out of the inn. Once they were in the streets, Sable ran far ahead of him, out of sight but not beyond the reach of their telepathic link. Jarial rushed through the marketplace in his familiar’s wake, past idle gawkers and vendors who were beginning to set up shop for the day.
Eventually, Jarial caught up with Sable, who had stopped and sniffed the air. Jarial staggered to a halt, panting, exhaustion beginning to overtake him. Even his illusion spell of youth could never make him young inside. While he rested, he caught wind of a conversation between two passing city guards.
“ ... Yeah, Holston said the young man came rushing through the eastern gates, demanding help. Something about a death, methinks,” one guard said.
“Gods, I hope not,” the other guard said. “Not this close to the mages’ big event.”
“Well, Commander Lizbeth is on the job, so I’m sure we will hear the details soon enough.”
Jarial held his breath. A death? He turned to Sable, but the cat had run off again. Apparently she had sensed something more about this mysterious death that Jarial did not. His legs felt heavy, but he managed to resume a fast jog. Startled residents moved out of his way and watched him curiously as he hurried by.
Sable led him to the city’s eastern gates and out toward the outskirts, where the city buildings gave way to small farmsteads. She finally sped away out of his line of sight, but he could still feel her presence. Unable to go any farther, Jarial stopped a moment to catch his breath.
He doubled over, his lungs sucking greedily at the manure-smelling air. Gods, I’m too old for this....
As he straightened again, he glimpsed a group of city guards approaching, headed toward the town. Curious, Jarial stepped off the main path to allow them passage. In the midst of the group was a tarpaulin-covered mass being carried on a litter.
As the group passed, the leader, a woman, nodded to him in greeting. She and the rest of the group bore the colors and crescent moon emblem of the Ghaeldorund guards.
Jarial returned the nod, and then turned his attention toward the large covered object, which took two guards to carry.
Sable followed behind the group of guards, meowing.
One of the men suddenly sneezed. He glanced over his shoulder, then attempted to shoo Sable away with his foot. “Go on, cat! Get out of here!”
Undeterred, Sable meowed again.
“I said ‘go’!” His nose twitched.
Jarial ran to Sable and scooped her up. “Sorry about that, sir,” he said to the guard.
The leader stopped and turned, prompting her detachment to follow suit. “Who are you talking to, Alan?”
Alan’s eyes darted between his leader and Jarial. “No one important, Commander.” He sneezed again.
Jarial inclined his head. “My apologies, sir.”
Alan sniffed. “Right. Keep your pet away from me, if you would be so kind.”
The woman approached them. She gave Alan a piercing glance, then turned and studied Jarial. She was middle-aged and had a hard face, as though she’d seen her share of battles. Upon her head lay a majestic silver circlet bearing Dragon designs, with a glistening ruby inlaid in the center inset. She tucked a lock of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear and narrowed her keen hazel eyes.
“May I help you, good sir?” she asked sharply.
Jarial cleared his throat and straightened. “No, not at all, m’lady. I was just looking for my lost cat. I seem to have found her.” He smiled slightly.
The woman’s expression remained hard. “Good. Then please refrain from harassing my men. Besides, Alan hates cats.”
Jarial’s smile faded. He looked briefly toward the covered object on the litter then back to her. It looks large enough to be a human body. “M’lady, I am a mage of the Citadel. Do you require any assistance?”
Her eyebrows rose. “The Citadel, you say? That is most unfortunate, for we are on our way there now bearing grave news.”
* * *
Students and faculty swarmed the main hall. Jarial glanced around, hoping to spot Omari, but he couldn’t find him. Omari isn’t here. By the Goddess, I hope he’s not— He glanced again at the covered litter, and his heart pounded.
Sable wove between his legs, purring anxiously in the wake of the students’ commotion. She didn’t care for large crowds and the noise that usually stemmed from them, so she remained beside Jarial.
The tension in the hall rose as the group of guards laid the covered body in the center of a mosaic circle, on the floor. Upon arrival of the guards, some of the administration immediately fetched the Councilmembers from their quarters. Burke stood in the center of the circle with the commander, while the remaining Councilmembers took their places around the circle
.
Ignoring the students’ chatter, Jarial pushed past the crowd and wiggled his way over to Maira.
The commander and Burke spoke briefly in hushed tones, and then Burke’s face paled. He lowered his head to hide his pained expression. The commander gathered her convoy and quietly left. Burke slowly knelt before the body and pulled back the tarpaulin.
“Oh gods! It’s Master Faulk!” one of the faculty cried.
A wave of gasps and sad murmurs echoed throughout the hall, and then all went deathly silent.
Na’val. Jarial swallowed a lump in his throat. The old man had died with a frightened expression on his face. His dark brown eyes were outlined in crust, and tear tracks streaked broth cheeks. His pale wrinkled face and thick salt-and-pepper beard were smeared with blood and dirt. His teal robes were torn, the tattered hems seared black. The embroidered emblem of the Citadel on the breast of his robes had been ripped away, revealing a throwing knife lodged deep in the flesh of his chest. Streaks of dried blood coated the silver blade.
Maira placed her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, sobbing softly. Tears fell down her reddened cheeks.
Jarial sighed, holding back his own tears from his burning eyes. Though he barely had known Na’val, Citadel mages all held a close bond and level of respect for one another. Even Virgil, whom Jarial despised greatly, still held a small place in his heart.
‘Bad omen,’ Jarial thought, remembering what Elder Burke had said of Kaijin. Could this be what the elder meant?
Sable rubbed the side of her face on Jarial’s calf, purring intensely, tickling him.
Jarial frowned at his familiar. “No, we may not go home now. Be more considerate.”
She gave him a pleading look, her pupils widening slightly, then she lowered her body to the ground and looked elsewhere.
Burke studied Na’val’s corpse for several moments, then said solemnly, “Words cannot describe this grave atrocity that has befallen us this day.” He carefully pulled the knife from Na’val’s chest.
Flameseeker (Book 3) Page 4