Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “And so now you are going to threaten to wring our necks, too, if we don’t cooperate?” asked Stephanz. “How utterly typical!”

  “Please, Stephanz,” said Dauros again. He sounded as tired as he looked. “The information these gentlemen bring us fits perfectly with the disturbances Brother Rianzzi felt recently. Clearly, magic of the first order is being loosed far to the west. Nothing like this has happened since the Great War. They come to us looking for aid. I have to believe that they are sincere—and that it is our duty to give it to them.”

  “Duty? To them? When did we owe anything at all to them?”

  “A duty to common decency, Stephanz. Millions of people are in peril. A whole civilization could fall to barbarism without our aid.”

  “Perhaps it should be allowed to fall. Let the Kaifeng wipe the slate clean! After they are gone, we can start fresh.”

  “The Kaifeng will be a threat to you, too,” said Krasner.

  “They have never been seamen. They will have no interest in our tiny island.”

  “Enough, Stephanz. We must try to aid them—if we can.”

  “That remains to be seen, as well! The level of power that Brother Rianzzi reported is far beyond the skills of any of us. How can we hope to match something like that? These people wish us to throw ourselves into the furnace along with them!”

  “But where could such a magicker have come from?” asked Idira. “If the Kaifeng had such wizards for all this time, why have we not encountered them before this?”

  “We cannot answer that question,” replied Dauros. “But, Jarren, you said that Colonel Krasner has some information on the Kaifeng magic?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Krasner coming forward. “Probably not as much as you want or need, but as much as anyone on our side can know.” With that, he launched into a description of what he had seen. It was similar to what he had said at the council in Zamerdan, but with less information on the military aspects and more on the magic. Jarren could see the faces of the magickers become grimmer and grimmer as the story progressed. When Krasner finished, Dauros shook his head.

  “By all the gods, a necromancer. That we should live to see such a thing again in the world! Colonel, you are certain about the sacrifices?”

  “I can’t say that I saw them myself. But there were twenty men in the pen with us at Berssenburg who did. The Kaifs had taken two hundred of the prisoners just before they attacked the city. Twenty of them did not get ‘used’ but they saw the whole thing. The Kaif sorcerer had the heads of all of them lopped off as he was casting the firefly spell.”

  “What, exactly, is the significance of this ghastly slaughter, sir?” asked Jarren.

  “There are a number of different ways to tap the energy from the ‘magic lake’, Jarren. The most common is for the magic user to draw the energy with the force of his own will. This is what we do here, for the most part. The amount of energy drawn depends on the strength of the magic user. Only very strong, very experienced people can draw enough power for the great spells. However, there are several ways to ‘cheat’. One is through the use of potions or wands or various other devices. These allow the magicker to ‘store up’ energy in advance and then use it when he needs it. Such potions and devices are exceedingly difficult to make.

  “An easier—and totally abominable—alternative is necromancy. All living persons have an energy bound up in them. It is magical in nature, although its exact make-up is unknown. If a person is slain in the proper fashion, a magicker can capture the energy as it leaves the dying body and use it to power his spell.”

  “Gods! That’s horrible,” exclaimed Jarren.

  “More horrible than you imagine,” said Dauros. “There is some evidence that such a procedure has the most terrible consequences for the souls of the slain sacrifices.”

  “This is obscene!” cried Idira. “We must help put a stop to it!”

  “How, Idira?” said Stephanz. “Such a monster would have more power at his disposal than all of us together could produce!”

  “We shall just have to try!” snapped the usually jolly woman. “For once, could you try to help solve a problem instead of telling us how impossible it is?” Stephanz reared back and even Idira seemed surprised by her own outburst.

  “Yes, we must try,” said Dauros, frowning at both of them.

  “So you will help us?” asked Jarren eagerly.

  “I do not see that we have any choice.”

  Jarren felt a huge surge of relief. Not only would they get the help they need to save the east, but they would not have to threaten the wizards. That prospect had been hanging on him like a heavy weight. He glanced over to Stephanz. The man was clearly angry, but after a moment got control of himself.

  “Very well, my lord, you are our leader and I will abide by your decision—no matter how much I might disagree with it. How shall we proceed?”

  “It seems to me,” said Dauros, slowly, “that we cannot hope to match the Kaifeng magicker with brute force. We shall have to be more clever. One thing that strikes me immediately, is the fact that all the accounts indicate that there is only a single man wielding this magic. During the skirmishes before the main battle, there was no sign of any magic in use. Only when the main armies engaged did he appear. If this is so, then we may be able to take advantage of our greater numbers.”

  “I will remind you, my lord, that none of us is skilled in battle magic.”

  “This is true. But with months to prepare, some of us might be able to learn. And even those who cannot, might still be able to perform useful service. And having said that, I think, perhaps, we should move this discussion to the hall and allow everyone to participate.” The old man struggled to his feet and Stephanz and Idira helped him shuffle out into the foyer to usher the other wizards into the great hall. Jarren was beaming, but then he noticed the grim look on Krasner’s face.

  “Is there something wrong, Colonel? They have agreed to help us!”

  “Yes, but I’m rather alarmed by the fact that they don’t seem to know what to do against this Kaif necromancer. Perhaps it was unrealistic on my part, but I had just assumed that if we managed to get their cooperation, these wizards would have an answer!”

  “They’ll find one, Colonel. I’m sure they will find one.”

  * * * * *

  Matt followed the crowd into the large hall. Dauros explained to all the other magickers what he had decided and the task that was now facing them. Most of the people seemed to accept the decree without comment. Several seemed very eager, while others appeared reluctant or even frightened, but they all got to work on the problem. Or at least he thought they were working on it. The discussion quickly became so…well…arcane…that he could follow little of it. After a while, he excused himself and saw about finding quarters and food for the men of the escort. The soldiers seemed a bit apprehensive, but once they had some food in them, and some rather nice quarters, they grew relaxed. Matt was glad he would have nothing for them to do. He was very glad he had managed to convince all the diplomats—except for the priest—to remain on the ships back in Erberus. Most of them had insisted on coming along, but they would have been nothing but a nuisance at this stage of things. It was the sight of the wizards’ tiny little boat, more than anything else, that had convinced them to stay put. Some had wanted to follow in the warships, but most had seen the wisdom in not provoking the wizards any more than they already had. Matt was still a little uneasy about having their transportation completely outside of his control, but it all seemed to be turning out all right in the end.

  He finished his arrangements with the servants and then returned to the hall where the discussion was still going on. The tall angry one, Stephanz, was still being a twit, but most of the rest were all working hard. Matt grew interested in what the alchemist was talking about. He knew a great deal about gunpowder, it seemed, and when he spotted Matt, he drew him into the discussion on how the fireflies probably worked and measures that might be taken to def
eat them.

  “You say that the ‘fireflies’ were drawn exclusively to the gunpowder, Colonel? No other inflammables? Wood? Oil? Candles?”

  “Uh, I’m not really sure, Master…”

  “Hessaran.”

  “…Master Hesseran. The exploding gunpowder rather monopolized my attention. But I would have to guess no. The baggage train of the army—especially the camp followers—would have had little or no gunpowder in it, but plenty of oil and candles. Yet the baggage train did not burn. Or very little, and some of that could have been from the exploding ammunition wagons or the Kaifs when they looted it.”

  “All right then,” said Hesseran, “that narrows things down a bit. Blast, I left one of my books in my laboratory. It might have some information on this type of spell. Excuse me while I get it.”

  “Stay, Hesseran, stay,” said Stephanz. “I’ll fetch it for you—assuming I can find it in all of your clutter. I’m contributing little to this. Tell me which book and give me your keys.”

  The tall gloomy man left and Matt felt glad. “He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about all of this,” he observed.

  “Stephanz’s field is winds and weather. He maintains the spells concealing our island. I’m not sure what he could do to help in this situation. He probably feels a bit left out.”

  “So do you have some ideas how to defeat the fireflies?”

  “Perhaps. One option is to try and counter the spell itself. That would be difficult. Considering its power, we probably could not interfere with the actual casting of it. However, we might be able to destroy the fireflies themselves when they get close. Unfortunately, I doubt we could get them all—or even a majority.”

  “Considering all of the individual weapons and cartridge boxes and caissons in the Berssian army, there must have been at least several hundred thousand of the fireflies—more,” said Matt.

  “Yes, and I doubt that any of us could destroy more than a few hundred, or maybe a thousand of them. Not enough. We might be able to safeguard some of the artillery, but not much more.”

  “That doesn’t sound too good,” said Matt glumly.

  “No, we need some other approach, I think,” said Hessaran. “Perhaps something that would draw the fireflies away, a decoy of some sort.”

  “Can’t you attack the Kaifeng magic user with your own magic? Keep him too busy to even cast the firefly spell?”

  The alchemist looked uneasy. “That sort of magic is not something we have given much study here. Battle magic, as it’s called, is very specific, very dangerous—and not much use for anything else. We’ve concentrated on useful—peaceful magic here.”

  “Very commendable, but this crisis calls for something different.”

  “Yes, well, we shall try.”

  A bit later, Stephanz returned with Hessaran’s book, and the man soon had his nose pressed into it. He made no immediate discovery, and Matt eventually wandered off to look over other people’s shoulders. Brother Thaddius was talking animatedly with the woman called Idira. Matt wasn’t sure what to make of the priest. He had a natural inclination to be sympathetic for him, considering all he had experienced, but he was worried about how the church was going to respond to all of this. Some of them could be real fanatics. The talk went on and on. Dinner was served, but the food had to fight for space on the tables with the books and scrolls. Carabello was as deeply involved in the discussions as any of the wizards.

  Evening came and the magical lights were lit. Matt noticed that the girl who had brought them here, Lyni, was standing in a corner, frowning. She had been there most of the day and only moved when one of the wizards wanted something. From what Carabello had told him, she was a wizard in training or something like that. On an impulse, he walked over to her. She frowned when she saw him approach.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  “There is little good in this evening.”

  “I take it that you disagree with the decision to help us?”

  “Yes. We are dooming ourselves. You and your kind might well already be doomed, but I see no reason we should go aboard your sinking ship and drown, too.”

  “The common good might be a sufficient reason.”

  “If it were truly the common good, I might agree. But what you really mean is your good. And if by some chance we should help you defeat the Kaifeng, you will simply turn against us afterward.”

  “You speak as though we are entirely different peoples. And yet most of you come originally from the mainland. You were once one of us. I can tell from your accent that you come from Durace. Hesseran, there, is clearly from Heguria. Don’t you feel anything for your countrymen?”

  “Ha!” she spat. “My countrymen! I feel as much for them as they felt for me and my kind!”

  “I don’t understand. You talk about ‘your kind’ like you are a different race.”

  “No, you don’t understand. And yes, we are a different race. Those with the talent for magic are different—and your kind hate us for it.”

  “How so? Few of us were even aware you existed before this crisis. I can’t recall ever seeing or hearing about magic users being persecuted. In the old days, perhaps, but not now.” He glanced at Brother Thaddius.

  “Then your eyes and ears have been closed! Or perhaps you just lived in a region where all those with the talent have fled—or been killed. I can assure you that such things do happen!”

  “You speak as one who has witnessed it. Have you?”

  The woman was silent for a moment and her face was drawn like she was in pain. Eventually she nodded. “I’ve seen it. My older brother had the talent, just as I do. We lived in a little village in the mountains near the border with Eparo. Things are a little…backward…up there. We had the talent, but, naturally, had received no training on how to use it. There were no schools anymore because all the wizards were gone.” She paused and took a breath. “If an untrained person has the talent strongly, he can accidentally cause things to happen. He doesn’t necessarily even know he is doing it. Well, my brother, Toren, made things happen. Nothing bad. No one hurt or killed, just unexpected things. When the people figured out he was the cause, they killed him. No trial, no hearings, they just beat him half to death and then the village priest ordered them to burn him alive. I saw them do it. He had not hurt anyone and they burned him to death—just because he was different!”

  Matt looked at the young woman. Her face was flushed with anger, but there were tears in her eyes. “How did you end up here?” he asked.

  “I was eight when Toren died. The villagers kept a close watch on me because they suspected I might have the talent, too. So they were waiting to burn me to death when the time came. Every day, I lived in terror that I might accidentally cause something to happen—even though I had no clue how—and they would burn me like my brother. But I was lucky. The wizards here go to the mainland from time to time to save people like me. Master Dauros found me. He heard the story about my brother being burned, and he tracked down the village and found me. He snuck me away in the night and brought me here. So, Colonel Krasner, the only thing I feel for my countrymen is anger. Let the Kaifeng wipe them all out! It is no less than they deserve!”

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” said Matt. “But not everyone on the mainland is like those villagers. You can’t judge them all from that one incident.”

  “Most of the people here have similar stories to tell,” said Lyni, waving her hand to encompass the laboring wizards.

  “Perhaps people fear the magic users because they are so mysterious,” said Matt, quite sorry he had begun this conversation. “If they knew more about them, the fear would not be so great.”

  “That is what Dauros hopes. I think that he will discover he is mistaken.”

  “But you follow his command.”

  “I owe him much. My duty is to obey him.”

  “I see. Well, perhaps you can understand that my duty is to secure your help. Everyone I know or care about in the world has been
killed or enslaved by the Kaifeng—including my own sister. I owe it to them.”

  The woman stared at him for a long time without saying anything. Then Dauros slowly got to his feet and announced that the discussions should cease for the night and resume in the morning. Lyni was instantly at the old man’s side. Matt watched her help him from the room.

  * * * * *

  Jarren awoke in his cozy room—the same one he had been given the first time he was there—and felt refreshed. All the agonizing and worry of the past weeks were over. The wizards would help! And they did not seem to even hold the fact that he broke his word against him. A vast weight had been removed from his heart. He had slept late and was eager to get back to work. He made his way to the refectory and saw that Colonel Krasner was there with all his men, eating enthusiastically. Gez was there, too, but the boy seemed to be falling asleep again. He sat down next to Brother Thaddius and one of the servants brought him his food. It was really excellent. Flatcakes and sausage and fruit and tea. He would have thought it was some sort of celebration, except none of the wizards had appeared yet.

  “Good morning, Colonel,” he called out to Krasner. “A fine day.”

  “It will be fine if you and your friends find us some answers.”

  “Don’t be impatient, Colonel! We have a lot of work to do. Hundreds and hundreds of books and scrolls to go through. I’m sorry, but this will probably take some time. A few weeks, I would imagine, at the least. Research like this does not yield results overnight.”

  “This isn’t some damn school report, you know. There will be no second chance if we fail this test!”

  “I know, Colonel. But we have months to prepare for the spring campaign. I have faith that we’ll be ready.”

  “I hope so. A hell of a lot of people are coun…”

  The colonel stopped in mid-word. He was staring past him, toward the door, and Jarren whipped his head around. He gasped when he saw Stephanz and Idira and Lyni in the door. Idira was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, but Lyni was weeping openly. Stephanz had an icy expression on his face that matched the lance of fear that went through Jarren’s heart. He sprang to his feet and went toward the door.