Fire Sower

by Callie Kanno

  “Do you not like soldiers, Cadell?”

  Idris’s father looked up in pretend amazement. “What is that I hear? Is it the voice of an angel?”

  Zorina giggled and made her way to the edge where she could look down. “No, it is me.”

  Cadell continued with his teasing. “It is an angel!”

  The little girl laughed harder, the sound ringing prettily through the barn. “I am just a regular person.”

  He shook his head. “I think you are too pretty to be a regular person.”

  Zorina looked quite pleased with the compliment. “Prydwen is pretty, too, and she is a regular person.”

  Cadell lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Ah, but that is how I know I am right. You see, Prydwen is an angel as well!”

  Idris grinned as he propped the pitchfork against the wall. “Come along, farm girl. We are done up here.”

  Zorina willingly followed him down the ladder to the ground and then ran over to look at the goats. Idris walked over to Osian and offered to lend a hand.

  “You know, I could buy you some new equipment,” Idris said casually.

  Cadell’s expression became stern. “This will do just fine for many seasons to come.”

  “What else am I going to be spending my wages on?” Idris pointed out.

  “Not us,” was the stubborn reply.

  “Maybe I can buy some new equipment with gold from the Treasury,” suggested Osian.

  Idris glanced at his brother in surprise. “Oh? Is that…your plan?”

  Osian smiled. “I told Father I had been thinking about joining the army, but I have changed my mind.”

  Idris felt a twinge of disappointment. He would have liked having his brother in the city with him. “Why is that?”

  “I realized when we came to visit you that the city really is not for me. I am a farmer, and I am happy to stay that way,” Osian said with a shrug.

  “It is definitely overwhelming at first,” Idris replied slowly, “but it gets easier with time.”

  “Now, Idris,” Cadell reprimanded, “do not start trying to change your brother’s mind.”

  He held up his hands. “I am not trying to change his mind. I am just pointing out that it is not impossible to adjust.”

  Osian grinned at Cadell. “Father is just worried that I will change my mind back and join the army.”

  Cadell didn’t deny it. “Rolant and Deri talk of little else these days. It seems that none of my sons want to take over the farm.”

  “Do not worry, Father,” Osian reassured him. “The idea of the city is very enticing, but the reality of it was not to my liking. I am meant to be a farmer.”

  “Good,” Cadell said with satisfaction.

  “Good,” echoed Idris.

  He wished he could see his family more often, but he knew that they would all be happier in Rest Stone Valley.

  You would be, too, commented Iona.

  Yes, he admitted. I wish I could stay here.

  Just then, Hildar came stomping back into the barn. Her clothes were covered in dirt and there was straw in her hair.

  “Idris,” she fumed, “I do not care what Palti told you, I am not going near chickens ever again.”

  “What happened?” he asked, perplexed.

  “Those horrid birds attacked me,” Hildar declared.

  Idris was bewildered. “They did?”

  Adwen came skipping into the barn with a merry expression on her face. “Idris, your friend is funny! She thinks she has to use a stick to move the chickens.”

  A stunned silence followed this statement, and then Idris burst out laughing. Everyone else joined in the peals of laughter. Everyone, of course, except Hildar.

  Idris tried to find other ways to involve her throughout the day, but she stubbornly refused to do anymore work with the animals. Under normal circumstances, he would have been amused by her inability to perform the simple chores. But there was a shadow in her eyes that continued to fill Idris’s heart with fear.

  Chapter Thirty-Two: United

  That night, Idris took the second of the four guard shifts. Palti gently tapped him at midnight, and Idris rolled out of his hammock wearily. His body was exhausted from putting in a full day’s work on the farm.

  Palti gave him an appraising look. “Are you going to be awake enough to keep watch, duwado?”

  Idris nodded. “Do not worry. I just need a moment to get moving. I will be fine.”

  The older Guard accepted the assurance and climbed into his own hammock. It wasn’t long before Idris heard Palti’s breathing slow and deepen, and he knew his friend was fast asleep.

  As Idris began to move around the cottage, trying to work his sore muscles loose, he idly wondered how long it had been since Palti had gotten a full night’s sleep. Even before they had left Marath, the man had been splitting his time between guarding the royal family and aiding Cowan in his search for the traitor. It would be just like Palti to sacrifice his own rest in order to do what he felt was necessary.

  Idris sighed as he strapped his partisan to his back and pulled on his boots. He stood and paced the room to help himself wake up, stretching his muscles as he went.

  He stopped suddenly, listening intently. He’d thought he had heard a noise outside but now everything seemed to be still. He was just about to chide himself for being paranoid when he heard it again.

  After the events of the previous night, it was difficult to feel perfectly safe in Rest Stone Valley, and he thought it better to be cautious. He slipped out the front door and circled around to the back of his grandfather’s cottage, straining to see in the dark of the night.

  As he came around the corner of the house, something shifted in the moonlight. It was the shadowy outline of a human figure, fiddling with the window of the second bedroom of the cottage.

  Farmer, Iona said warningly.

  Idris pulled Iona free of the holder on his back. “You there!” He called to the figure. "Identify yourself.”

  The figure turned, and Idris recognized it as Hildar. Instead of relaxing at the sight of her familiar face, he felt even more alarmed. “Hildar?” he said slowly.

  She didn’t respond in any way. Idris frowned and took a cautious step toward her.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked. As he drew near, he could see that slack, blank expression that Hildar had shown at the gathering. It was the look she’d had when Savion had taken control. Idris tightened his grip on the handle of his partisan and stayed where he was.

  “Hildar?” he called softly again.

  In a flash of movement she drew her dagger and lunged at Idris.

  He brought up his partisan in just enough time to deflect the blow she had aimed at his throat, but the momentum of the attack sent him staggering backward. One of his hands released Iona and flew outward to keep himself from falling.

  It was a mistake.

  Hildar jumped into the air and performed a spinning kick. She brought her heel down forcefully on Idris’s weapon and knocked it from his hands. Idris lunged out of the way of a second attack and sent a panicked glance to where his partisan had fallen.

  “Iona,” he shouted.

  The weapon disappeared with a flash of light and reappeared in his hand. Idris was momentarily startled by his immediate success in summoning his weapon, but he didn’t have time to reflect on it. Hildar was moving again, and his survival instincts kicked in.

  Idris leapt backward with an agility that surprised even him. He brandished his weapon as a warning, not wanting to injure his fellow Royal Guard. The covering that had been wrapped around Iona’s bejeweled head had fallen off, and the partisan glittered brightly in the cold winter moonlight.

  “Hildar,” he called to his friend, “what are you doing?” He kept the partisan raised between them. He didn’t really expect an answer, but some part of him hoped that if he kept talking to her that something might break through the trance she was in.

  “Idris! What is happe
ning here?”

  Idris felt a flood of relief when he heard Palti’s voice behind him. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Hildar, who looked like she was preparing to attack again.

  “It is Savion. He has taken control of Hildar,” Idris called back to Palti.

  “Hildar,” Farah’s voice said, “can you hear me?”

  Hildar made a slashing motion with her dagger, and Idris felt a wave of heat at his back. He glanced back just long enough to see a wall of flames shoot up behind him, cutting Palti and Farah off from him. Idris’s heart began to pound harder in his chest. He was now alone in confronting Hildar and the corrupt weapon of power that had control over her.

  You are not alone, Iona reminded him.

  Her words sent courage spreading through his body like a warm liquid. He narrowed his eyes at Hildar and shifted into a fighting posture.

  Hildar sprinted forward, her chestnut hair streaming behind her. She punched the air with the fist that clenched her dagger, and a bolt of fire shot out from her hand.

  Idris raised his partisan instinctively, and Iona flared as she absorbed the incoming energy. By some instinct, Idris knew what to do next. He planted his feet and jabbed his partisan in Hildar’s direction, sending the bolt of fire back at her.

  Hildar made a motion as if she were pushing the flames upward, diverting the attack to the skies.

  “Hildar,” Idris called again, though he had little hope of reaching her. “Do you know who I am? Can you remember where—”

  He cut off as Hildar ran toward him. Before she reached him, she dropped purposefully to the ground and slid. Idris had just enough time to react before she lashed out at his legs with her dagger. He planted the end of his polearm in the dirt and vaulted into the air, aiming a kick at Hildar’s head. He winced as his heel made contact with her skull.

  Hildar flew backward and slammed into the ground. Idris took a step toward her. Hildar was not in control of herself, and he couldn’t help but be worried he’d really hurt her.

  Under normal circumstances, a person would have needed to take a moment to recover, but Hildar sprang up, immediately regaining her footing. Idris leapt back as she launched herself into another attack.

  Hildar gripped her dagger in both hands and swung it back over her head as if she were readying herself to chop Idris right down the center. She brought her arms up and over, creating an arc of fire that shot toward Idris.

  Before Idris could react, his partisan sent out a burst of golden light that formed a shield around him. The arc of fire struck the shield and flared brightly, but Idris felt nothing. He had done nothing. Iona had created the shield on her own.

  “Thank you,” he gasped when he realized he was safe.

  Iona sounded startled when she replied, Of course.

  The shield dissipated and Idris was about to throw himself back into the fight when he was interrupted by a loud rumbling. The ground beneath his feet shifted sharply, and he fell to the earth. At first he thought it was another attack from Hildar, but when he looked up, he saw that she had fallen, too. A sharp wind rose up from the still night, so cold and sudden it almost took Idris’s breath away. The wall of fire and went out, like someone had blown out a candle.

  Farah stood among the residual smoke, holding her shining battle-axe. She swung the blade through the air and another sharp wind gusted toward Hildar, knocking the dagger from her hand.

  Beside Farah, Palti dropped gracefully to one knee and, in a single fluid movement, drove his sword blade into the earth. Cracks of light spread out from the buried blade and darted toward the spot where Savion lay in the dirt. A small patch of ground opened and swallowed the dagger, burying it in a split second.

  For several moments no one moved. Silence settled over them like dust.

  Hildar finally sat up, and Idris could see the wild terror in her eyes. Her whole body was shaking as she reached out to grab his arm. Her hands felt like ice.

  “I could see what was happening, but I could not stop myself,” she sobbed. “Forgive me, Idris.”

  Palti and Farah knelt next to the trembling girl.

  “What happened?” Farah asked gently.

  Hildar shook her head. “I do not know.” Her voice shook and tumbled over itself. “I only remember going to sleep, and suddenly I was climbing out of the window and I had no control over my body.”

  Palti’s eyes narrowed. “Did you go to sleep wearing your dagger?”

  “Yes,” Hildar answered. “I always keep it with me. I thought that as long as I did not try to use it…”

  Palti pressed his lips together. “We must separate you from your weapon for now. Until we know how to put you back in control, you must be removed from the dagger’s influence.”

  “Will that stop Savion from taking over me again?” Hildar asked desperately. She reached out and clutched at Palti’s sleeve.

  “I do not know,” Palti said in a grim tone. “We have never dealt with a problem like this before.”

  “You do not know?” Hildar echoed. She put her face in her hands. “Perhaps there is no way to cure me,” she said. Her voice was coming faster and faster. “Perhaps there is no way to stop me. I am a danger to everyone around me. The only way to stop me is to kill me.” She dug her hands into her hair and curled in on herself, rocking back and forth. “Do it!” She was sobbing again. “Oh, please, end my life!”

  Farah put her arms around Hildar and cradled the crying young woman, softly hushing her.

  “Take Hildar back to bed,” Palti told Farah. Farah nodded and gently helped Hildar to her feet. Idris had never known Farah could be so kind.

  After Farah and Hildar had gone, Palti got to his feet. “I will go and report to the queen. We will need to start making arrangements tomorrow.”

  Idris frowned. “Arrangements for what?”

  Palti gestured to the area around them that had been charred by Hildar’s flames. “I fear we have announced our presence to everyone within a hundred leagues. Anyone who saw the lights in the sky or felt the earth move will know that magic users are here, and most will know that the only magic users in Calaris are those who guard the royal family.”

  Idris hadn’t considered that. “We put the queen and princess in danger?” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

  Palti nodded. “Yes, duwado. I am afraid that we have.”

  It was kind of Palti to include himself in the statement, but Idris knew that it was his and Hildar’s fault.

  Not yours, Iona argued. Not even Hildar’s. Savion is to blame for all of this.

  Idris couldn’t shake the weight that pushed down on his heart. “Where will we go?”

  Palti sighed and walked to the mound of dirt where Hildar’s dagger was buried. “I will discuss that with Queen Arminell. Perhaps we will go to one of the military outposts.”

  He tapped his blade against the ground, and the earth yielded the chimera-shaped weapon. Palti picked it up gingerly and muttered, “What say you, Tahir?”

  Idris assumed Tahir was Palti’s sword, so he waited quietly while they communed. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

  After a few moments, Palti nodded. “I will find a place to secure this,” he said to Idris, “then I will go to the queen. Please protect the queen and princess until I get back.”

  “I will,” Idris promised, but his brow furrowed as he watched Palti walk away carrying the dagger. “Will locking Savion away do any good?” he asked Iona. “I was able to summon you to me. I have seen Hildar summon the stone in training.”

  It is possible, she conceded, but it seems unlikely. There was a time when the knowledge to summon one’s weapon of power from a great distance was common among magic users. Now, it seems that knowledge has been lost.

  “Is that why Cowan was surprised when I told him I had done it?”

  I believe so.

  “But it is still possible for Hildar to figure it out,” Idris reasoned. “Especially if Savion shows her how to do it.”


  Iona thought this over for a moment. It is possible, in theory. However, I do not think it likely. One must desire to summon a weapon of power, and it does not seem to me that Hildar would wish such a thing.

  “What if Savion makes her do it?” Idris could see Hildar’s blank eyes again. He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

  It is not possible to make someone want something. Savion may have learned how to control Hildar’s actions, but he cannot control her desires.

  That was comforting, at least. Idris stood and circled around the cottage to the front door. He stepped into the living room.

  Queen Arminell was there waiting. Her face was tense and she looked at Idris expectantly. “What is going on?” she demanded.

  Idris hesitated. “Palti has gone to… do something… but he said he would talk to you as soon as he gets back.”

  He worried that she would order him to tell her everything, and he didn’t really feel up to the task. The queen regarded him intensely for several moments before giving a reluctant nod. To Idris’s relief, she turned and walked back to her bedroom.

  Idris stared at the closed door feeling rather lost. He had thought that there was no safer place in the whole of Calaris than Rest Stone Valley, but danger had followed them there. He sank into a chair and placed Iona across his knees.

  “Is there a way for Hildar to be cured?” he asked his partisan.

  Time will heal the girl, Iona said, but making Savion whole again is not so simple.

  “What do you mean?”

  As you know, weapons of power are forged from pieces of magical creatures. The weapons take on personality traits from their source. A weapon can become the very best of the creature, if forged correctly. Unfortunately, a number of things can go wrong in the process, which can cause the weapon to be flawed. In extreme cases, the weapon can become a conduit of darkness instead of light.

  “Is that what happened to Savion?” Idris wondered.

  I do not know. I can only assume that some sort of flaw exists.

  Idris passed his hand across his eyes wearily. “What kinds of things can go wrong?”

  A weapon must be forged from material that is given willingly, and the material must be untouched by any hand but that of the giver. Then the forging process itself is quite complex. True Forgers were not common, and it took many years for them to master the necessary skills.