Flameseeker (Book 3)

by R. M. Prioleau

  The other assistant approached, carrying the mirror on a tray. Amil carefully took the mirror and placed it atop the glowing ‘sight’ rune. He stared intently at the mirror, his eyelids drooping, and his chanting slowing to silence. The glow traveled from the rune and encompassed him, and then, suddenly, a ghostly-white image of himself pulled free from his body and whisked away into the mirror. His body slumped over sideways.

  “Father!” Omari exclaimed. His foot lifted from the ground.

  Jarial threw out an arm, stopping him before he could bolt to his father’s side. “No, Omari. He must not be disturbed.”

  Omari balled his fists, but after a moment relaxed and grudgingly remained where he was.

  “What’s happened to him, Master?” Kaijin asked. “I’ve never seen a scrying spell performed in this manner.”

  “It is very advanced, Kaijin,” Jarial replied. “He is attempting to locate and make physical contact with Vargas.”

  Kaijin blinked. “Is that even possible?”

  Jarial nodded. “Indeed, but only a few of the greatest masters in the world can do it. Now, be quiet and watch.”

  * * *

  Amil felt his ethereal form travel through the intricate threads of magic, across black, starry skies, through realms unknown. He scanned his continuously changing foreign surroundings, following an immense and troubling power that he felt.

  His surroundings became more familiar, and he found himself soaring over Ankhram’s vast desert. He dove deep beneath the golden sand and emerged in a dark cavern. He traversed the winding passages and eventually entered another cavern, which was bathed in fire and pools of magma and tinged with a hazy, golden hue. Standing in the midst, within the steam and wavering, super-heated air, was Vargas and a tall, monstrous creature—an afriti, who carried a brass scimitar in one hand.

  Amil floated in the shadows above them and listened to their conversation.

  “The search for him has been fruitless yet again, Za’thaak,” Vargas said. “I have tried in as many ways as I know possible to scry for him, but his presence is lost to me.”

  The afriti growled. “No, he is not dead, of this I am certain. Surely Ignis has spoken to you, has He not?”

  Vargas lifted his head, his face stern. “Indeed, He has, but His instructions have been cryptic as to how I can locate Kaijin. I have tried various methods, but nothing works.”

  “I suggest you figure it out soon. Very soon, because my patience grows thin.” The afriti sneered, revealing some of his menacing sharp teeth.

  Vargas pursed his lips. “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”

  Za’thaak’s turquoise eyes narrowed to thin slits. He pressed the tip of his scimitar to Vargas’s chest. “And you should have dealt with that damnable priestess.”

  Unfazed, Vargas looked down at the weapon, then back up at the creature. “Kill me as you wish, Za’thaak. But in doing so, your deeds will not go unpunished. Almighty Ignis sees all—knows all.”

  Za’thaak chuckled and lowered the blade. “No. You are to be spared a little while longer. After all, it is the Firelord’s ‘will’. He paused and sniffed, then slowly looked in Amil’s direction.

  Amil found himself looking right into the creature’s haunting turquoise gaze. He remained still and held his breath. Za’thaak didn’t appear to notice Amil while he was in his ethereal state. Gods, do not let him spot me.

  Za’thaak turned back to Vargas. “I know what you desire,” he continued. The same thing most mortals desire: recognition, power, control. You are tired of being a servant to the world, and yearn to be the master. That opportunity will come sooner than you think. But first ...”—his upper lip curled again—“the Firebrand must be found and dealt with. He has deceived you and the rest of your clergymembers. But most of all, he has deceived m—Ignis. He is not worthy of such a sacred power. Once a flickering flame, he will soon be extinguished—forever.”

  “Yes ... Yes ...” Vargas mumbled thoughtfully. “I just ... I would have never thought that—”

  “Of course not, mortal. And that is why this must be done as swiftly as possible before he claims more victims—like the ones he claimed in Easthaven.”

  Vargas scowled. “Yes, all those poor children ... Very well, I will try again. But I will need a day’s rest to clear my mind again so that I can concentrate on my meditations.”

  “We do not have a day to waste idling about!” the afriti roared, his turquoise eyes flaring into light blue flames before returning to normal again, and the magma pools bubbled over, echoing the creature’s rage. Magma streamed around the afriti’s bare feet, stopping just short of Vargas’s boots and searing the hem of his robe.

  Vargas’s eyes widened. He covered his nose and mouth and jumped back, quickly patting the smoldering fabric. “Damn it, Za’thaak! Then why don’t you scry for the boy yourself?” he yelled, glaring at the afriti.

  Za’thaak’s demeanor calmed, and the magma began to recede. “I would, but he is a Firebrand, and I, a creature of the Realm of Fire. He would easily detect that I am watching him.”

  “Then it seems that waiting is your only option. Surely a day will not make much difference.”

  “Perhaps it may be insignificant for you and your pathetic mortal cycles, but time flows much differently for our kind.” Za’thaak thought for a moment. “I suppose in the meantime, you can handle that small matter in Zebi. Tachus Beshara owes you your freedom from his service, does he not? And once that is done, we will let the Beshara and Batsuyou destroy each other. It is time you broke all ties with them. Erase your name from their minds.”

  Vargas nodded. “That sounds a little more reasonable.”

  “Very well. Let us go.” Za’thaak suddenly burst into flames which encompassed Vargas, then disappeared. Vargas’s body smoldered but otherwise appeared uninjured.

  Vargas grunted, his body twitching from the afriti’s possession, then he straightened, breathing rapidly. Holding his chest, he fought to catch his breath. He gazed in Amil’s direction again, and his sinister-looking eyes narrowed.

  “I thought I smelled a tresspasser,” Vargas said in a voice that wasn’t quite his own. He lifted his fist, which began to glow orange.

  Amil quickly flew around behind Vargas. “Why are you doing this? Why are you serving that creature?”

  Vargas spun around, and the glow around his hand intensified to bright flames. “I serve ... Almighty Ignis.” As he spoke, his voice shifted from his own to something more sinister.

  “A follower of Ignis, indeed.” Amil huffed. “He would have you destroyed for this insolence. Perhaps it is just as well that my nephew will come and find you and put an end to this nonsense.”

  “Enough!” Vargas hurled a fireball at Amil.

  Amil soared up toward the ceiling, away from the incoming attack.

  “This will not end well for you, conspiring to kill a true servant of the Firelord.”

  Vargas placed a finger to his temple and closed his eyes. Amil’s head pounded with excrutiating pain. He squeezed his temples, crying out. Looking down, he could see his body disappear and reappear out of its ethereal state, and he felt himself slip in and out of consciousness. An image of Za’thaak materialized in his mind.

  “You think I am not aware of your presence, mortal?” Za’thaak spoke. “You think you can stop what has already been set in motion? You will suffer, just like him. You will not interfere!”

  I am no follower of Ignis, but I know you are not Him, Amil answered mentally as he tried to bear the pain.

  Za’thaak chuckled and replied, “I am Wrath. I am Chaos. I am the Flames of Destruction!”

  Amil fought to sever the mental link and focused his eyes on Vargas again, but the afriti’s grip on his mind held fast. Amil had had enough. Seen enough. Heard enough. “This is not over, Vargas,” he said, trying to focus his mind on the sands he had seen above ground, but Za’thaak’s presence dragged him back.

  “No, it is not over.
”

  The pain worsened. Amil grimaced. His heart pounded, and the strength ebbed from his mind and body. He had to get back quickly, lest he be sundered from his body forever. He chanted a phrase, and five long purple whips of light extended from his fingers toward Vargas. They seized Vargas, wrapping around his body like glowing ropes.

  Vargas’s hand glowed as though he were about to summon another fireball, but the glow winked out as the purplish ropes constricted around him. He cried out and struggled, trying to break free.

  Amil heard Za’thaak roar in his mind, but the afriti’s presence left. In that brief moment of clarity, Amil whisked himself away from the cavern and back up toward the surface, not looking back. Streams of curses echoed throughout the caverns. As soon as Amil emerged from the ground and saw the golden sands once more, he blacked out.

  * * *

  Kaijin and the others waited quietly in the summoning chamber while the shak’ha worked his spell. Occasionally he glanced around at his friends, who ogled the bright, fantastic magic transpiring at the top of the stairs. Even Nester stared wide-eyed, mouth agape, apparently more intrigued at the magic than he was of scouring the barren chamber for forgotten treasures.

  Within the runic circle, the shak’ha suddenly gasped and his body spasmed. The two attendants who had been standing on the outer edge of the circle rushed to hold Amil still, and Omari tore away from Kaijin and the others and scrambled up the stairs to the platform.

  “Omari! Wait!” Kaijin called, running after him.

  “Omari! Kaijin!” Jarial yelled.

  Kaijin halted and looked back at his master, but he heard Omari rush on.

  Growling in frustration, Jarial extended his hand toward the stairs. “Hold!” he cried.

  Kaijin turned and noticed Omari, who was only a few steps away from the top, frozen in mid-stride.

  Kaijin slowly backtracked down the stairs and stood next to Jarial, who appeared to be in a deep state of concentration as he focused on the holding spell.

  “Goodness, what has happened to the shak’ha? Is he all right?” Zarya asked, looking worried.

  Before Kaijin could respond to the priestess, he heard Jarial grunt. Jarial appeared to be straining. “Master?”

  Jarial gritted his teeth. “He ... is ... resisting ...”

  Kaijin heard a growl from near the exit, and spotted Percival darting at Jarial. He bared his fangs, then nipped Jarial’s ankle.

  “Ouch! Damn it, you little rat!” Jarial cried, reaching for his ankle and breaking the spell. His glowing eyes went back to normal, and Omari was freed from the holding spell, but one of the attendants rushed in to stop him from proceeding further.

  Sable hissed and bounded from her spot at Percival, but the weasel darted out of the way. Her back arched, and fur on end, Sable faced Percival, ready to pounce.

  From above, Miele swooped down on the two animals before they could engage. She screeched and flew in circles around them both, making them confused and flustered.

  Sable stood on her hind legs and tried to swat at the bat, but Miele was too fast for her.

  “No, Sable. Leave her alone. Come here,” Jarial ordered. He winced and rubbed his ankle, which began to trickle blood from the small bite wound. He swore under his breath.

  With her ears flattened and her tail lashing about, Sable reluctantly slunk back to her master’s side.

  Percival squeaked in victory until Miele began swooping at him. The weasel bolted up the stairs to Omari and climbed up to his shoulder.

  “That’s enough, Miele.” Frowning, Kaijin pointed to the stone ceiling and dismissed Miele back to her perch.

  Zarya approached Jarial and knelt beside him. “Allow me,” she said, then placed her glowing hand over the injury. Aidan and Nester also gathered around.

  “First th’ crazy fiddlin,’ now th’ crazy animals! What in th’ soddin’ ’ells is goin’ on?” Nester asked.

  Aidan shrugged. “Aidan does not think it is any of his business,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the commotion in the summoning circle.

  “Master! Are you all right?” Kaijin asked Jarial.

  Jarial smiled warmly at Zarya as he watched her mend the wound, but as he looked up at Kaijin, his smile quickly faded. “Yes, I am fine. Please stop Omari before something serious happens. He must not disturb the shak’ha.”

  Kaijin nodded and bounded up the stairs to the platform, where Omari had shoved the assistant aside and gone to his father.

  “Young master!” one of the attendants exclaimed, putting his hand on Omari’s shoulder. “You must not—”

  Omari shrugged off the hand. “Enough! You two are taking too long! My father is stronger than this!” He knelt down, propped Amil up to a sitting position, and shook him gently.

  Amil’s body moved limply.

  “Father! Father! Wake up!” Omari shouted, sounding panicked.

  “Young master! Stop!” The two attendants grabbed Amil and tore him out of Omari’s grasp.

  Kaijin rushed to Omari, grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him away. “No, Omari! Don’t disturb him!”

  Omari snatched his arm away and glared at Kaijin. “You do not understand, Kaijin! My father’s spells have never done this to him before! Something must have happened, and I must wake him up before—”

  “Leave him be!” Jarial’s voice boomed loud enough to catch even Omari’s attention. Jarial hurried up the stairs to the circle and grabbed Omari by the back collar of his robes, jerking him to his feet. “Fool! You must not disturb him while his consciousness is on the ethereal plane! Doing so can have fatal consequences for him! His mind must not be distracted in any way! He must return to us on his own. Do you understand, boy?” His eyes glowed a spectrum of colors.

  Omari held in his breath, looking at Jarial. He fell silent and nodded curtly, and Jarial released him.

  Jarial’s eyes returned to normal as his demeanor calmed. “This particular scrying spell he performed was greatly enhanced, and thus, the risks involved are also increased. Give him time to return. It can sometimes be a slow process because the spell is so demanding.”

  Omari repeatedly wrung his hands and chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at his father, who lay as still as a corpse.

  Several minutes later, Amil’s eyes fluttered open. He gazed blankly toward the ceiling and then slowly moved his head. His eyes swiveled to each of the attendants, who each held one of his arms. One of the assistants beckoned Omari forward, making a ‘quiet’ gesture.

  “Father,” Omari said softly as he went to Amil’s side.

  Kaijin noticed Zarya and Nester slowly ascend the stairs, but they stopped a few steps away from the top. Aidan remained at the foot of the stairs, watching silently with his arms crossed.

  Amil’s mouth fell open, and he took a breath. He then said in a weak, almost inaudible voice, “I ... found him.”

  Omari blinked. “The murderer?”

  “Perhaps ...” Amil replied. His eyes focused on Kaijin. “He is ... searching for you on claims of ... deceiving the Ignan clergy, and ... Ignis himself.”

  Kaijin widened his eyes slightly at the mention of Ignis, and he involuntarily fingered the warm charm of his necklace. What? “But that’s impossible! I did not deceive anyone. On what grounds do they make such claims, Uncle?”

  “Ignis has apparently been speaking to Vargas about this matter.” Amil briefed the group of his experience and the location of the secret underground cavern as best he could in his current exhausted state.

  Kaijin paled when Amil finally finished. “An afriti?” Za’thaak!

  Omari growled. “And once again, we must face those confounded creatures!”

  “That makes no sense,” Aidan broke in. His voice sounded close, and Kaijin turned in surprise. Aidan, his arms crossed, suddenly stood on a step behind Zarya and Nester, who also stared at him.

  How does that big guy manage to get around so silently? Kaijin wondered.

  Aidan frowned at the gro
up. “Aidan remembers Kyniythyria once saying that afriti are not chaotic beings. They do not kill for sake of killing. They have sense of order amongst themselves, and they always serve a master.”

  Zarya nodded. “That’s right. I remember her saying that, too. So why is this afriti different?”

  “Why does a calm flame sometimes suddenly rage out of control?” Jarial mused aloud.

  “Maybe it’s not really an afriti?” Nester suggested with a shrug.

  Jarial rubbed his chin. “No, I believe it is. And I believe its master is Vargas ... for now, anyway. There is a reason why he has clung to the cleric all this time and not killed him outright.”

  Kaijin stayed silent and listened to his friends. His thoughts returned to his harrowing encounter with Ignis.

  Amil gave a long, tired sigh. “Rest ... must ...”

  “Do not worry, Father. My companions and I will resolve this.” Omari turned to the attendants. “Take my father to bed. See that he is not disturbed.”

  The attendants bowed and helped Amil by providing themselves as supports as Amil slowly walked off.

  Kaijin bit his lip as he watched them leave. Then he looked back at his friends and finally said, “It’s the orb.” This is all my fault.

  Everyone looked at him.

  “What about it?” Omari asked.

  “There was an afriti living in there, and he was ... inadvertently freed when I brought it to the Pyre. I ... I did not know or even realize that ...” He lowered his head. “I thought it was the will of Ignis, but ...”