Enflamed (Book 2)

by R. M. Prioleau

  Aidan raised the entire tureen and slurped the remaining stew as if it were just a small soup bowl.

  “Soddin’ ’ells!” Nester gawked. “I can’t believe you just ate all that by yourself!”

  Zarya looked at Aidan and then the remaining food on the table. “By the goddess! Is all this Aidan’s?”

  “Aye,” Nester replied. “We were on our way ’ere when we ran into this ritzy bloke who was so impressed with Aidan’s performance at th’ competition that ’e treated ’im to a free room and luxurious meal. A good twenty golds’ worth of accommodations, mind you!”

  “Twenty!” Zarya exclaimed, her eyes widening.

  “That’s a lot of food,” Kaijin said.

  Nester nodded firmly. “Aye. You two ’ungry? There’s certainly plenty for everyone. In fact, ’ere! Please eat so Aidan will stop pesterin’ me about it.” He pushed the two unused plates in front of Kaijin and Zarya, spooned out two hefty portions of vegetables from the platter and placed two thick-cut slices of pork on top.

  Zarya chuckled. “I can’t believe that you’re annoyed for a change, Nester.”

  Nester bristled. “I ain’t annoyed. I’m just ... uh, full ... and ... very upset. Aye, that’s right. Upset at what Aidan did with all that gold.”

  Kaijin took a moment to eye and smell the delectable meal before looking back at the brownie. “No sense in crying foul about it now, Nester. I know you have your methods of obtaining more gold—methods I’d rather not get myself involved in. And I’m actually quite surprised that you’re full. I’ve seen you eat before.”

  “Aye, well ...” Nester returned to his seat. “Even I ’ave my limits. Aidan ’asn’t stopped eatin’! I swear, ’e’s got th’ belly of a Dragon!”

  Aidan rubbed his belly and let out a heavy, thunderous belch. Several nearby patrons looked his way, startled.

  Kaijin stared at the giant. “Gods be damned, Aidan!”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Nester said.

  Zarya grimaced. “Pardon you, Aidan.”

  Aidan smiled sheepishly at her as he refilled his tankard with mead. Then he pulled the entire pork platter toward himself. He skewered a hunk of meat with the carving fork and watched the juices dribble into the surrounding vegetables.

  Nester sighed, shook his head, and regarded Kaijin and Zarya once more. “Anyway, there ain’t no sense in goin’ to Ghaeldorund at this rate. We don’t got th’ means to survive in a place like that. No sense in askin’ those pompous fiddlers about that artifact. They just want more gold to fill their greedy big pockets, they do!”

  “Look who’s talking.” Zarya coolly eyed Nester. She picked a chopped carrot off her plate and daintily nibbled it.

  Nester huffed and stiffened in his seat.

  “Well,” Kaijin said, “I don’t plan anymore on going to Ghaeldorund.” He paused to take a small bite of pork. His eyes briefly lit up in surprise as the meat practically melted on his tongue. Wow! I’ve not tasted anything so succulent before. He took another, larger bite. This is almost as good as Mother’s cooking!

  Nester blinked. “What? You mean you know a better place to go to figure out what that thing is?”

  Kaijin reluctantly paused his eating. “Yes. Zarya and I met someone earlier—an Ignan priest. He told us about a place called the Pyre and advised that we visit the grand cleric there. There is fire in this orb, of this I am certain. If anyone would know more about this thing, the Ignans at the Pyre would.”

  Nester looked thoughtful. “’Ey, that’s not a bad idea. I mean, it makes sense, really. So, ’ow do we get to this place?”

  “He said it’s to the southeast, in the mountains.” He blinked. “That fire symbol on your map, Nester—it must be there.”

  “Aye?” Nester fumbled through his pouches, pulled out his map, and began to carefully unfold it. He laid the oversized parchment out on an empty spot on the table and studied it closely. “Are you sure ’e meant that place?”

  “Quite.” Kaijin pointed to the fiery symbol.

  Nester frowned. “What else did ’e say?”

  “Well, he mentioned that you could see smoke billowing in the distance.”

  “Ah, th’ ones that come from th’ braziers sittin’ on th’ roof of th’ place?”

  Kaijin nodded.

  “Soddin’ ’ells! We’ll just be wastin’ our time goin’ there. Th’ warders won’t talk to you. They’ll just say you’re ‘walkin’ on ’oly grounds’ and shoo you off like they did me.”

  “But Kaijin reveres the Firelord,” Zarya said. “Would they really turn him away?”

  Nester glanced at Kaijin and then turned back to the map. “I don’t know.... They might. Kaijin’s not a warder, after all.”

  “I think it is worth a try, at least,” Kaijin said. “After all, as you said, Nester, we don’t have the means to survive in Ghaeldorund.” He gave the brownie a halfhearted smile.

  Nester grumbled sourly. “Well ... All right.” He refolded the map, stuffed it back into his pouch, and then looked across the table to Aidan. “Are you done yet?”

  Aidan wolfed down the last few hunks of meat and slices of vegetables. He then swilled the rest of his mead, pushed the empty tankard aside and patted the subtle bulge in his gut. He suppressed another burp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Zarya crossed her arms and frowned, and he stopped and lowered his hand.

  Nester rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe it. Not a single bit of food left!”

  Kaijin chuckled. “Well, that explains his size, at least.” Among other things. “So, do we all agree to set out for the Pyre tomorrow?”

  Nester made a sour face. “Ah, I guess we ain’t got a choice, at this point.”

  Zarya nodded. “I will follow.”

  “All right.” Kaijin nodded. He shifted his attention to the giant. “We’re leaving early tomorrow, Aidan. Would you like to join us, as well?”

  Aidan studied the map thoughtfully for a moment. “Aidan does not care about some simple marsh trinket, but ... Aidan will consider joining. He has many unanswered questions of his own.”

  * * *

  Aidan remained awake late that evening, long after his comrades and other festival-goers had retired. Though he had been gifted a free room for the night, he felt himself unable to stay. The cool night air and the hard, cobblestone streets seemed more appealing to him than a warm bed.

  Senseless fighting deserved no reward. Aidan had been reluctant to accept the lavish meal, but his hunger had overcome his willpower.

  He left the Prancing Dragon Inn and enjoyed the peacefulness of the city in the festival’s aftermath. He leaned against the wall of the inn but winced when he felt the small, hard nubs in his back pressing against it. They often itched, and accidentally agitating them tended to cause him sharp pains. He shifted slightly to the side to take the pressure off his upper back. He idly scanned the dirty, debris-ridden streets that were devoid of the hundreds of people that had filled the plaza only hours before.

  “Ah! Aren’t you the one called ... Aidan?” asked a youthful voice.

  Aidan discovered an adolescent young man standing before him, staring in awe. The young man’s clothes were torn to rags; his skin was mottled with dirt, as was his tawny, unkempt hair.

  The youth smiled brightly. “It is you! The champion of the contest. I can’t believe I had the great honor of watching you fight!”

  Aidan frowned. “Aidan is no champion.”

  “What do you mean? All the children here love you! You’re their hero—and mine, too.”

  “What is your name, boy?”

  “It’s Carver, and it’s such an honor to know you.”

  Aidan pushed himself off the wall and scrutinized him. “Carver, when Aidan was little boy, his master once told him, ‘There is no honor in senseless violence. It is easy to hurt people, but hard to help people.’”

  Carver lowered his head. “I ... I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean ... I just ... I admire your strength and the way
you move. I want to be like you. How did you get so strong?”

  Aidan chuckled. “Aidan ate good and worked hard—very hard.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but strength comes in all forms.” Aidan pointed to one of his own bulging biceps. “This ... will never be as strong as this.” He tapped the side of his head.

  Carver furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

  “Mind is stronger than body.”

  “O–oh, I think I understand.... So what is the sense of having a strong body if you don’t like to use it?”

  Aidan shrugged. “Aidan uses his strength when needed—not because he can.” He spotted faint, shadowy movement in the corner of his eye. Curious, Aidan stared at the night sky. It was empty, but he heard the batting of small wings and exhaled slowly. Oh, it must be Kaijin’s little pet bat.

  He heard a crow caw in the distance. His brow furrowed slightly. A crow? This late at night? Must be my imagination.

  “Is something wrong?” Carver asked.

  Aidan turned back to the young man and shook his head. “No, Aidan is just hearing and seeing things. He is tired. It has been long day.”

  Carver nodded once. He smiled again and flexed his arms. “So, do you think I have what it takes to be strong like you?”

  The boy’s thin, malnourished frame made Aidan grimace. “Aidan thinks you should eat something. You are practically skin and bone.”

  “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Carver chuckled weakly. “I don’t have money, though—and I don’t intend to beg for it, either.”

  “You should go back to orphanage with the other children. The streets are no place for you.”

  “The orphanage won’t let me in. I’m too old. Fifteen.”

  Aidan pondered a moment and then gestured toward the inn. “Go stay in Aidan’s room, then. You will get free meal tomorrow.”

  Carver blinked. “W–what? But, I couldn’t do that. What about you? Where will you sleep?”

  “Aidan feels better sleeping outside. Now, go. Get key from innkeeper. The room is upstairs, second door on right.” Aidan cast a stern gaze when the boy opened his mouth to protest.

  Carver bolted into the inn, yelling over his shoulder, “Th—thank you, sir! Oh, thank you! You are not only a hero, but the most generous person I’ve ever met!”

  Once the boy was gone, Aidan returned to the wall and resumed his thoughts. His eyes trailed back to the spot where he had seen movement earlier, but all was peaceful. Somehow, though, he still had a faint feeling that he was being watched. He slid down to the dirty ground and drew his knees to his chest. From where he sat, he had a good view of the empty plaza. He couldn’t stop dwelling on Gaston’s words. A ‘savage’, he called me. And what was this ‘power’ he kept talking about?

  After what seemed like hours, Aidan’s eyelids drooped. He huddled into a more comfortable position and finally drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  As Carver ascended the final stair to the inn’s second floor, he realized he wasn’t alone. He scanned the darkened hallway, and his ears rang from the absolute silence. After a while, however, he shook off the paranoid feeling and quietly crept to the second door on his right. He slid the small iron key into the lock but didn’t turn it. Perhaps some trace of the paranoia remained, because he pressed his ear to the door and listened carefully, instead. He heard nothing in the room beyond, and he turned the key. To his surprise, the door was already unlocked. He slowly eased the door open a crack and peered inside.

  “Hello?” Carver called timidly. Moonlight poured in from the open window, creating shadows that danced about the floor and ceiling. When Carver received no response, he entered. As he did, a black crow flew through the window. Carver stopped in his tracks, watching in shock as the crow perched itself atop the bed’s footboard.

  The crow tilted its head, scrutinizing Carver, and then it hopped to the floor. It suddenly began to grow in size, taking the shape and likeness of a male human. Shadows flared over the skirts of the man’s long, flowing garb as he crept into the dim light. He glanced briefly at Carver before turning his attention to the doorway.

  Carver rubbed his eyes. Did I just see that? He had an uneasy feeling in his gut, and he shuffled back slowly. “Ah, I—I am sorry. I must be in the wrong room.” He backed away until he hit something solid.

  “No, my boy,” a male voice commanded.

  Carver heard the door shut behind him, and he turned around. He paled, staring upon a looming silhouette of an armored figure. “P–please forgive me, sir. I didn’t mean to intrude. I will leave now.”

  “No.” The man held up his gauntleted hand and nodded to the shadowy figure behind Carver.

  Carver heard soft mutterings and saw a small flicker of firelight. The shadow-clad figure stood before them, holding a candle. Its warm, flickering glow lit the stranger’s bearded, haggard face. He met Carver’s gaze and cast a grim smile. Then he turned and proceeded to light the remaining candles around the room.

  “That’s much better. Thank you, Raban,” the armor-clad man said. “After all, how are we to conduct business in the dark, hmm?”

  Carver stared at the two men. His eyes settled on the larger, armored one, whose regal aura intrigued him. He relaxed a bit. “Wh–who are you? What—what do you want with me?”

  The armored man removed his gauntlets. “I would like to present you with an offer. You’re a young lad with ambition. Yet, you have fallen short of those goals.”

  Carver tilted his head. “I don’t understand....”

  “You have not seen what it’s like to earn the respect of the world. And you consult with ... lesser beings to find your way. Creatures like Aidan are incapable of taking you far.”

  Carver smiled. “Oh! You saw me talking with Aidan? He’s really generous. Do you know him as well, sir?” Carver paused and scrutinized the man closely. “Wait a minute. I think I know you. From the fight, yes? Gaston, wasn’t it?”

  Gaston nodded once and smirked. “I see my efforts have been admirable to some.”

  “You were amazing to stand up to someone like Aidan. He beat you pretty quick....”

  Gaston scoffed. “I think not. I let him win. It was all for entertainment, anyway. If I truly wanted to hurt him, I would have.”

  “I don’t know, sir. Aidan’s pretty strong.”

  Raban snickered lightly.

  Gaston bristled and shot a piercing gaze at him, and Raban’s expression quickly went stone again.

  “I don’t need to prove anything to you, boy,” Gaston continued in a sour tone. “But I warn you to stay away from Aidan. His kind is a danger to society. He will prey upon your naïveté and use it to destroy you.”

  Carver blinked, confused. But Aidan is too nice and generous to hurt anyone ... isn’t he? “No, he helped me. How could he possibly be dangerous?”

  “Of course. He’s only masking his true intentions by ‘helping’ you. His kind are masters of deception. Do not trust him. This is your final warning. I’ve spoken to the guards, and they are already wary of him and in the process of throwing him out of the city. However, they are being cautious in their efforts, to avoid drawing too much attention to the situation. The last thing the city needs is mass panic. Aidan may have ... friends—others of his kind. My group is still in the process of seeking them out while the guards are busy doing their duties.”

  Carver chewed his bottom lip. He was mighty quick to help me. “Maybe I have been too quick to trust. I’ve been desperate to get off the streets; it might end up biting me in the ass one of these days. Thank you for telling me about this, sir.”

  Gaston nodded. “I would like to offer you an opportunity to make something of yourself. To show the world your strength.”

  Carver tapped his chin. “Work? You mean, I won’t have to scrap for coin anymore?”

  “Of course not. You will be among brothers and sisters fighting for a worthy cause, cleansing the world of its evils and being revered as a h
ero. And in the end, you will find riches beyond your wildest dreams.” Gaston approached Carver and studied him. “Tell me your name.”

  “It’s Carver.”

  “Carver, have you heard about the terrible tragedy that befell the town of Easthaven a few weeks ago?”

  Carver blinked. What an odd, yet disturbing question to ask. “Who hasn’t heard of that? I can’t believe such a horrible thing happened! That’s why Faywald’s filled with refugees. I heard some mages from Ghaeldorund were responsible for it all.”

  Gaston chucked. “Yes, of course, everyone blames the mages. But it is not so.”

  “It wasn’t the mages? Then, who? I heard the city was engulfed in flames and practically burned everything to the ground.”

  “Indeed, it was. However, the mages are not to blame—not this time.” Gaston looked at Carver closely. “The city was destroyed by a Dragon.”

  Carver gaped and paled. “A ... a Dragon? How can you be so certain?”

  “Because, in my many years of experience, I’ve studied the nature of the Dragons. I visited Easthaven—or what was left of it—just recently, and discovered several clues that led me to believe that its destruction was the work of a Dragon.”

  “But Dragons are supposed to be the guardians of the world, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, if you believe all that Celestran drivel.” Gaston scowled. “The Dragons have been known to flaunt their powers and control lesser creatures—including humans. I have seen it for myself. And it is up to people like us to ensure that they do not take over.”

  “But why would a Dragon destroy a whole city?”

  “The motives of Dragons are as erratic as the gods themselves. We may never know. All we can do is prepare.”

  Carver frowned. “I hope Faywald is not next.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” Gaston smiled again, and he extended his hand to Carver. “Will you join us?”

  X

  “Why Ignis, Kaijin?”

  Kaijin broke from his thoughts and regarded Nester, who walked ahead of him. The group—including Aidan, who had eventually made up his mind—had walked since early that morning, trekking southward back through the Forest of Winds.