Firebrand

by Prioleau, R. M.

  IV

  Kaijin learned his spells in the first tier one month later. As his magical insight improved, his passion for fire intensified. With books provided by Jarial, Kaijin researched Ignis extensively. His own admiration for the Firelord inclined the boy to eventually revere Him as his primary deity. Kaijin’s fire obsession had magnified to the point that Jarial forbade him to demonstrate such fanaticism in his presence. So, Kaijin kept his thoughts private and continued learning the ways of the Firelord. The fire symbol he’d picked up from the street was kept hidden beneath his shirt—and close to his heart—at all times.

  * * *

  While Kaijin spent the majority of his days locked away in the attic scribing new spells, Jarial worked with Rorick in the study. The mage’s patience was wearing thin. It had been two years since the boys first arrived, and Jarial felt Rorick still wasn’t ready to scribe a basic cantrip.

  “Again.” Jarial slid a blank parchment in front of the boy. “Ten more times. Draw the rune for ‘sky.’ I should only see four strokes for each one—no more, no less.”

  Rorick sighed, dipped his quill in the inkwell, and began his slow work. With an unsteady, hand, Rorick scrawled a rune halfway across the page.

  Jarial peered over the boy’s shoulder and scowled. “Enough, Rorick.” He snatched the quill.

  Rorick frowned, keeping his eyes on the parchment. “What is it, Master?”

  Jarial narrowed his eyes. “You’ve yet to convince me that you want to learn this. Do you?”

  Rorick glanced up. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m dissatisfied with your progress. You’ve not demonstrated the same seriousness about your studies that you did two years ago. In fact, it seems, the older you get, the worse you become. Learning magic is a lifelong commitment, Rorick. You are certainly not like your brother in this respect. If you do not want to learn, quit wasting my time.”

  Rorick clenched his teeth, attempting to contain his rage. “I am trying to draw these pictures, Master, but it’s too hard!”

  Jarial scoffed. “‘Draw pictures’? Is that what you think you’re doing, Rorick?”

  “It looks like a picture to me.”

  “You are not ‘drawing pictures!’ You are scribing runes. You are learning how to write magic. How many times must we go over this?”

  “Pictures, runes ... they’re all still too hard to write!”

  “That’s no excuse! Kaijin was younger than you when I first met him. He couldn’t read magic, let alone, write it. But he applied himself and strove to improve.”

  “All you do is make me memorize words ... writing strange pictures a hundred times ... I never get to do anything fun like learn spells or train animals!”

  Jarial rubbed his temples. “Runes, Rorick. They’re called runes! How in the hells am I supposed to teach you anything when you don’t even know what you’re writing?”

  Rorick shuddered, on the brink of tears. “You’re always so mean to me, Master! Why do you like Kaijin better? Why does he get to learn spells and talk to bats and play with fire and not get in trouble when he stays up late? It’s not fair, Master!”

  “Kaijin has applied himself. Unlike you, he wants to learn. He likes to challenge himself.” Jarial crossed his arms. “Tell me, Rorick. What is it you really want out of this?”

  Rorick’s bottom lip quivered. He thought on his master’s question for a few moments. “I ... I don’t want to learn magic any more, Master. I want to go home. Kaijin is better. He’s always better! I want to go home, Master! Now!” He buried his face in his hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

  “So, you are simply giving up because you don’t like being challenged?”

  “No, because no matter what I do, Kaijin always seems to do it better. You’re always so nice to him and mean to me. I hate him, I hate you, and I hate magic!” He got up from his chair and stormed upstairs.

  Jarial sighed and rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. Realizing there was little left to be done to convince the boy otherwise, Jarial made preparations to send Rorick home that evening.

  * * *

  Kaijin’s hand was slow and steady as he finished the final strokes of the spell rune. He licked his lips eagerly while his quill traced lightly along the parchment which was nearly covered with an array of black-inked runes.

  As he had once promised, Jarial taught Kaijin the process of setting one’s hands ablaze in magical flames. But, before teaching Kaijin how to properly recite the verbal incantation, Jarial taught him to scribe it.

  Kaijin smiled in anticipation as he dipped his quill into the inkwell. At last, I’ll be able to summon fire in my hand like Master Jarial does! Just one more stroke and ... As Kaijin brought the quill back to the parchment, he was startled by the sound of the attic door slamming shut. Kaijin felt his concentration break. The quill slipped in his hand, and globs of ink splattered on the parchment, ruining the spell.

  Kaijin groaned. He snatched the parchment from the desk and crumpled it into a small ball. Holding it in his hand, Kaijin attempted to make the ball go up in flames in the same manner his master had demonstrated. After a number of failed attempts, Kaijin gave up and tossed the crumpled ball to the floor. He spun around in his chair and glared at the one responsible for disturbing him.

  Rorick stormed to the chest at the foot of his bed and began unloading its contents. Tears streamed endlessly from the boy’s eyes as he stuffed the items in his bag.

  “Bloody hells, Rorick!” Kaijin exclaimed through clenched teeth, mimicking their father’s derogatory tone. “Why did you disturb me like that? I would’ve had that spell finished if you hadn’t made so much noise!”

  Rorick’s eyes shot to him. “Shove off, Kaijin! I’m going home!”

  Kaijin’s rage quickly subsided. “Home? What do you mean, ‘home’?”

  “I don’t want to learn magic any more. Master Jarial is always mean to me. I never get to do anything fun. I’m going back home to Mama and Papa!”

  Kaijin scrambled out of his chair and ran over to him. “What? You can learn magic, too! I’ll help you—even though Master Jarial says I’m not allowed to. I’ll ... We’ll do it in secret so he’ll never know. Now, stop talking like this, Rorick, and stay.” He reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder, but Rorick slapped his hand away.

  “No! You don’t have time for me anymore. You’re too busy learning more spells and having fun! I’m going home!” He closed his haversack, marched out of the attic, and slammed the door.

  “Rorick!” Kaijin called. For a moment, all he could do was stare dumbfounded at the closed door. He can’t be serious. This can’t be happening! He flung open the door, bounded down the stairs, and rushed to the kitchen where he found Rorick and Jarial.

  Rorick glanced over his shoulder and scowled.

  “Master!” Kaijin pleaded with the impassive mage. “Please, say something! I don’t want Rorick to leave.”

  Jarial crossed his arms. “If he really wants to leave, I will not stop him. I am not going to continue wasting my time trying to teach someone who does not want to learn.” He glanced at Rorick. “Be sure you have everything packed; the cart will be here shortly.”

  Kaijin’s head whipped back and forth between Jarial and Rorick and he paled.

  “I’m ready,” Rorick said with a firm nod.

  “Rorick, please stay,” Kaijin begged. “I will help you learn spells. I will spend more time with you. Just ... don’t leave, please!”

  Rorick sneered, grabbed his haversack, and stormed toward the front door.

  Jarial placed his hand on Kaijin’s shoulder, stopping the older boy from following. “No, Kaijin. Go back upstairs and study. This matter is settled.”

  Kaijin fought the urge to protest and scowled at his master. He wriggled free from the man’s grip and trudged upstairs. Upon ascending the final step, Kaijin stopped, sat down, and listened carefully to the sounds below.

  * * *

  Jarial found Rorick waiting
by the door with his head lowered. The boy kept sniffling and wiping away tears that threatened to stream down his reddened cheeks. Without saying a word, Jarial opened the door and ushered Rorick outside to the waiting hay cart.

  Once Rorick was situated in the cart, his teary eyes gazed at Jarial. “Master ... will you ... will you tell Kaijin goodbye for me?”

  Jarial folded his arms and cast Rorick a callous look. ‘I’m not your master anymore, boy,’ he wanted to snap. Instead, he fought the urge long enough to hold his tongue and nod. Before sending the driver off, Jarial pulled a sealed letter from one of the pockets of his robes and handed it to Rorick. “Make certain your parents receive this.”

  Rorick took the cream-colored letter and examined the red seal before tucking the folded paper away in his bag. “I will, Master.”

  Jarial made a dismissive gesture to the cart driver, who promptly flicked the reins of his horse and set off down the cobbled street. Watching the cart gradually disappear into the distance, Jarial frowned bitterly.

  I failed. My first failure. Master Gamelyn would have been furious.

  After exhaling his frustrations, Jarial turned to head back inside.

  “Jarial! Jarial Glace!”

  He froze. He spun around and acknowledged the source of the voice calling from behind him.

  “By the gods!” the stranger’s voice rasped. “By the gods, I found you, at last!” He coughed violently.

  Jarial was aware of only a handful of people who knew and addressed him by his full name. The stranger had a familiar voice. Jarial stepped closer, and the stranger hobbled toward him, hunched over, dressed in tattered robes.

  Scraggly strands of brown hair cascaded over the middle-aged man’s thin, pallid face. Another episode of forceful hacking came from him before he was able to speak. “Jarial, I have searched for you for almost six years.”

  Jarial studied the stranger and assessed his condition. He arched an eyebrow as the feeble man stood upright and stared at him with fear in his dark eyes. “Xavorin? Is that you?”

  “So, you do remember,” Xavorin rasped before going into another coughing fit. “I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find you again after our last encounter at the marketplace.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Jarial said flatly. “I’ve ceased my bookselling business to pursue other goals.”

  Xavorin gave a light chuckle. “Just as well. You were a terrible businessman, anyway.”

  “Why have you returned, Xavorin?”

  “Because ... You were right... Right about everything.”

  It took Jarial a few moments to understand the meaning of Xavorin’s words. When the revelation finally struck him, Jarial hastened to the front door and beckoned Xavorin to follow.

  * * *

  Kaijin had just about given up the possibility of eavesdropping when he heard the front door open, followed by the sounds of two sets of footsteps. Kaijin craned his head and caught a glimpse of Jarial and his visitor. Their shadows inched closer to the foot of the staircase. His ears perked at the sound of their voices. He slid down one step and made sure he could observe without being seen.

  “You do remember what you said, don’t you?” The visitor’s shadow spilled onto the staircase. His voice sounded raspy.

  Jarial frowned. “I do—and now you expect me to clean up your mess?”

  “No ...” The visitor paused and went into a coughing fit. “I swear it was an accident. I didn’t think it would—”

  “Yes, Xavorin, you did not think! I warned you about the dangers of practicing necromancy. What have you done to yourself?”

  “I’ve done nothing you wouldn’t have, Jarial—I’ve achieved power.”

  “What?”

  Xavorin’s shadow hobbled over to a chair and slumped into it. “Back at the Citadel when I was a boy, a freak accident occurred during one of my training sessions in which my familiar, Seth, was poisoned and died. For months, I was in pain and mourning for my dear friend and beloved rat. The masters assured me that it was possible to acquire another familiar, but I did not want another. I wanted Seth, and I was determined to bring him back from the dead. I’d raided the alchemists’ labs and performed my own experiments in secret. After many months, I learned how to preserve dead creatures from decay and draw upon their spirits. Soon after, I learned how to make Seth animate his own corpse. Unfortunately, I did not know how to control him, and he ran away. The following day, one of the masters found him wandering the halls and killed him. Incinerated it with a single spell and turned it to dust.” He growled. “But that did not stop me, Jarial. Through many failures and lessons, my youthful ambitions led to an amazing discovery that I was anxious to share and prove everyone wrong.... But I did not realize this revelation would end up becoming such an ... addiction.”

  “The power to control both life and the afterlife is a dangerous addiction.” Kaijin heard a chair creak as Jarial sat down. “Xavorin, are you a wanted man?” Jarial’s tone was frigid.

  Xavorin didn’t answer.

  Jarial’s chair creaked again as his shadow leaned forward.

  “I don’t know,” Xavorin finally replied. “Perhaps I am. This sickness is killing me, though. I seem to be attracting spirits and undead beings. This is a curse I’m unable to stop—which is why I came to you. You were always the only one willing to help me when everyone else ignored my presence.”

  “I should have done the same. Everyone knew you were infatuated with necromancy.”

  Xavorin coughed again. “They feared what they didn’t understand.”

  “Practicing the Forbidden Art is dangerous, Xavorin, and you knew it. You deliberately disobeyed the masters. It’s amazing you still managed to graduate.”

  “The masters didn’t know. They didn’t need to know.”

  “You put so many lives at risk with your selfishness!”

  “Are you going to help me or not, Jarial?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Find a way to reverse this curse.”

  Jarial paused. “I cannot cure this. You have practiced the Forbidden Art for so long it has consumed you to a point beyond remedy. You were always so absorbed with your ‘curiosities’ and ‘newfound powers’ that you neglected my many warnings.”

  “No ... please, Jarial. There must be a way. I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to lose control of myself.”

  “Lose control?”

  Xavorin shuddered. “Yes. I blame the spirits. They plague my mind and provoke me to the point that I summon them from their prison in the abysmal plane to confront them. When they’re free, they torment me. They play mind games. They make me do things against my will. At times, I feel as though I lost my sanity. It’s because of them!” He sprang out of his chair. His shadow reached out at Jarial in a frantic rage. “Please, Jarial! I beg of you! Help me!”

  Jarial slapped Xavorin’s hand away and rose from his chair. “No,” he said icily. “I will not involve myself in your foolish mistakes. Back at the Citadel, I considered you a friend, but you have since betrayed me, yourself, and most of all, the arcane arts. I can’t help you, Xavorin. I can’t save you from whatever doom follows you. Your ‘curse’ is the consequence of your actions.” His shadow pointed to the door. “I must ask you to leave. Leave Easthaven. Your mere presence here poses a risk to the lives of thousands of people.”

  There was silence and then Xavorin slowly headed to the door.

  I can’t believe it, a necromancer? Here? Kaijin felt his face whiten. He rose from his spot on the stairs and tiptoed back toward his room. From above, high-pitched shrieks pierced his ears. Kaijin froze in place.

  Miele, his bat, fluttered about the shadows of the wooden rafters, eventually finding a suitable spot from which to hang.

  A sharp pang gripped Kaijin’s mind as he felt the bat’s excitement. He fell to his knees and winced, rubbing his fingers over his temples in a weak attempt to suppress the sudden sensation of her overwhelming frenzy. Kaijin
took deep breaths to regain his composure and then he stared angrily at the furry creature.

  “Shh!” He placed a finger to his lips.

  Miele swooped down from the rafters, seemingly amused. She landed on his shoulder, letting out small, playful shrieks.

  The sudden jolts of excitement returned to Kaijin’s mind, and he winced. “Be quiet!”

  He heard the sound of footsteps bounding to the base of the stairs. Kaijin blinked, the sensation in his mind quickly subsiding, and he scrambled to his feet.

  “Kaijin! Why are you out of your room?”

  Kaijin froze at the sound of his master’s booming voice. He gulped, spun around, and saw the man’s looming shadow at the bottom of the stairs. After shooting Miele a dirty look, Kaijin trudged downstairs.

  Before Kaijin reached the final few steps, Jarial grabbed a handful of his red hair and pulled him into the front room.

  “What did you hear, boy?” Jarial growled. “Tell me now!”

  Kaijin whined and struggled to break free of his master’s iron grip.

  “Answer me, damn it!” Jarial shook him.

  Kaijin yelped in pain. As his small body whipped about, the holy symbol around his neck slipped free from his tunic.

  Xavorin glanced over his shoulder at the commotion.

  Kaijin met the sickened man’s gaze, and he flinched. Wait. Isn’t he the one who—

  “You.” Xavorin pointed to Kaijin. “I remember you—and I haven’t forgotten your little act of thievery.”

  Jarial blinked in surprise. “Thievery?” His eyes shifted from Xavorin to Kaijin.

  “I did not steal it! The cleric threw it away! He cursed the gods! You—you are nothing but a liar!”

  “Enough!” Jarial’s grip on Kaijin’s hair tightened.

  Kaijin cried louder, his mind flooded with a mix of fear, anger, and confusion. He watched the two men and fell silent.