by Trudi Jaye
FIRE MAGE
Firecaller Series, Book 1
by Trudi Jaye
www.trudijayewrites.com
In a land of strange beasts, fiery magic and haunted forests, the Fire Mage is a legend no one believes in any more.
Especially not Jena, an orphaned ex-slave who’s finally found a safe haven with her master and mentor, the Great Mage Thornal. When royal assassins murder Thornal while trying to steal his powerful Book of Spells, Jena vows revenge on the man responsible—Prince Lothar, the next king of Ignisia.
It’s a dangerous quest that will likely mean her life, but Jena has help in the form of her master’s familiar, an enormous raven, and also her own—completely forbidden—mage skills. If she can keep her secrets hidden, she might just get close enough to Lothar to obtain justice for Thornal’s death.
Meanwhile failed mage Nate is a salt collector in the notoriously dangerous volcano mines, using his unique ability to call demons to keep himself alive. He emerges from his latest run to find everyone at the outpost dead, and royal assassins waiting to finish him off. He barely escapes with his life, but his elation is short-lived—Prince Lothar is convinced Nate is a threat to his claim to the Flame Throne of Ignisia, and will stop at nothing to eliminate him.
When Nate and Jena meet, they’re literally heading in different directions. But destiny—and the prophecies of the last Fire Mage—throw them onto the same path. They must work together if they are to save the kingdom—and themselves—from the machinations of a ruthless royal prince.
Two unlikely heroes, one unscrupulous prince, and a swathe of dark and mysterious beasts—who will survive this encounter?
If you enjoyed this story, I think you’ll also enjoy my other books. Click the link below to join my Readers Group to find out more about my other books, plus receive free short stories, go in the draw for competitions and get insider information—plus be the first to know when the next book in the series is out!
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Other books by Trudi Jaye
Magic Carnival series (Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy):
Ringmaster
The Gift
Tilly’s Secret
High Flyer
Hidden Magic
Dragon Rising Series (Urban Fantasy):
Hidden Dragon
Fire Mage (Firecaller Series, Book 1) is published by Star Media Ltd
Published 21 October 2016 by Star Media Ltd
Copyright © Star Media Ltd, 2016
Cover design: www.ravven.com
Epic Fantasy
All rights reserved. Fire Mage is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents, except those clearly in the public domain, are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, places or incidents is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Readers Group
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
About Trudi Jaye
To my Mum, who may not always understand my obsession with strange and fantastical stories, but is always there to lend support and a helping hand. xx
CHAPTER ONE
Thunder rumbled in the distance, covering the sky in a blanket of noise. Jena glanced out the window of the small cottage into the darkness beyond, glad she’d made it back inside before the storm hit. She shivered despite the heat in the room.
Beside Jena, her master, Thornal, blew on his spoonful of rabbit stew, sending splashes of the meaty liquid back into his bowl. A small lump of carrot landed in his long, white beard.
Jena huffed out an annoyed breath. “Let it sit if it’s too hot,” she said, frowning. “There’s no need to guzzle it.” The stew had been bubbling away on the kitchen hearth all day; she’d spent a long time getting it just right.
“On the contrary, there’s every need.” He blew on another spoonful and shoved it into his mouth, chewing with surprisingly strong teeth. “What’s the first spell in chapter eight?” he demanded. The raven perched on the high back of his padded chair flapped its wings and resettled.
“Fire explosion spell,” she answered automatically, then took a bite of her own stew-dipped bread. The fire flickered in the hearth next to her. Despite the feeling of goosebumps along one arm, Jena moved away from the flames, uncomfortable with the heat on her scarred side.
The Great Mage Thornal nodded, sending a brief smile in her direction, before shoving another spoonful of stew into his mouth. He stared, transfixed, into the hearth fire for a moment, before returning to his meal.
Jena peered at him more closely, noticing for the first time dark circles under his eyes and extra lines around his mouth. He looked every one of his hundreds of years tonight; long grey hair fell around his shoulders and his mage robes hung off his tall, spare frame. A long-healed scar ran down one side of his right cheek, making his lined face look even more gaunt. It made her feel she hadn’t been looking after him properly.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, a strange fluttering in the base of her stomach.
Thornal ignored her words. “What’s the third ingredient for the explosion spell on the same page? Exact quantity.” He took another mouthful of rabbit stew, closing his eyes as he savored the taste.
Jena didn’t hesitate. “Powdered horseradish root. Three pinches.”
The Book of Spells balanced on the arm of Thornal’s chair, glowing gold in the low light. He didn’t check the ancient book; he already knew she was accurate. Every page was burned into her mind; she had seen every spell; often casting them herself.
Thornal had insisted, despite the ancient laws.
“Bring me powdered horseradish root from the herb room, if you please,” said Thornal, absently chewing on another mouthful of
rabbit.
Jena glared at him, but put down her stew to do as she was bid. He’d tell her soon enough what was happening.
The raven flew ahead of her and watched with fierce eyes from his perch as she searched for the powdered horseradish. Bottles, vials, books, and drying herbs cluttered every surface. It was a wonder that Thornal could ever find anything in this mess. There was a layer of dust in some areas thick enough to plant next season’s vegetables. But she was never allowed to clean it.
At last, she found the horseradish under a pile of cut leather, and gathered a spoonful. The raven cawed in approval and flew to land on Jena’s right shoulder, grappling with the materials of her shirt and woolen wrap.
“Ouch. Away with you, Raven. You know better.” Jena lifted her arm to shoo the raven off. The bird stepped daintily out onto her forearm, bobbing its head. Its claws still dug in, but the burn scars on her arms were less sensitive to the pressure than the flame-warped skin on her right shoulder.
“Do you want some dinner?” she asked, reaching up to stroke the bird’s head. The raven tipped its head to the side, leaning into the caress. Jena smiled; a quick lopsided motion that disappeared as soon as the burned skin on her right cheek tightened against the curve of her mouth. She didn’t like smiling; it reminded her of things she’d rather forget.
“I believe that’s a yes.” She walked to the kitchen where she prepared another bowl of the stew and placed it on the table. The sleek bird jumped off her arm onto the table, its sharp claws tap-tap-tapping on the wooden surface. It began to eat, pecking bits of vegetable and meat out of the gravy.
Jena went back into the main room where Thornal waited. “Here you are. Horseradish root.” She placed the leather pouch on the table by the mage’s chair. His eyes glittered up at her for a moment, before he turned his attention to the powder. Thornal took three delicate pinches and dropped them into another small leather pouch at his side. He closed his eyes and drew on the earth’s energy to seal the spell inside the bag.
Jena’s breath hitched. Why was he making the fire spell?
“Thank you. Now eat up. You’ll need the energy later.” He took another large spoonful of his stew. “You’ve a way with stew, my girl,” he muttered around his mouthful.
Jena frowned, ignoring the compliment. “Why will I need the energy? I’ve just been hunting; we’ve enough for days.” As she spoke, a gust of wind howled along the outside edge of their cozy little home, and she pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders. Winter was closing in on them; the nights were getting short and cold, despite the heat of the days. She wasn’t going out in that weather again tonight.
“Don’t worry, it’s not hunting. Not yet.” Again, Jena caught him looking at her with his bright blue eyes, a secret whirling in their depths. He was up to something. She knew it, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.
He remained silent throughout the rest of the meal, and soon Jena had wiped up the last of her stew with her bread. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the small leather pouch with the explosion spell sitting on the small table.
With a sigh, she took their empty bowls to the kitchen. The oversized raven clicked about on the table and cawed at her, its beady eyes watching as she cleaned their plates, as if it, too, knew something was up. Then it abruptly opened its wings, sending a draft of air across the room. It flew back to its master.
Jena poured hot water from the fire-kettle into their mugs, then carried a slice of poppy seed cake and hot chamomile tea into the room for Thornal.
He was staring into the fire and didn’t even glance in her direction. Putting the mug and cake next to the horseradish on the small table, Jena sat down while trying to determine what was so fascinating about the leaping fire. He wasn’t praying to the Flames; it looked like he was meditating.
The flames played tricks with the light and at first Jena didn’t notice the shadow behind her master’s chair. Then the darkness moved forward, placing an elaborately decorated knife at Thornal’s throat. Instinct jerked her forward, only to be pulled back by rough hands behind her. The feeling of someone touching her skin made her insides crawl, and she struggled wildly until she felt a sharp knife-edge pierce the scars on her neck. She stilled immediately.
Jena tried to look around but the rough hands behind her tightened. Her heart was beating frantically. She managed a deep breath that calmed her thoughts enough to hear the first man speak.
“Where is the Book of Spells, old man?” The voice was quiet, emotionless.
Jena stared at the intruder who had spoken, trying to take in every detail. As Thornal liked to say, it was always in the details. He wore black from head to toe, and an impassive expression on his face. The glowing red fire in his eyes told her who he was: a Flame Hashishin, one of an elite group of soldiers who guarded Ignisia’s King and did his bidding. Why would the king care about the Book of Spells? No one but a mage could use it, and they only wielded the power in the king’s name.
Thornal didn’t answer the Hashishin’s question. He gave her a steady look, his eyes calm and in control, reminding her to stay calm as well. Then he lifted his hand and threw the mixture from the pouch toward the book, speaking the igniting words under his breath.
The ancient Book of Spells—her constant companion for the last five years—burst into flame, exploding right before her eyes. The force of the explosion whipped Jena’s hair back off her face and tiny bits of burning paper were pitched into the air. Smoke billowed upward, following the path of the burning book.
Her master had just destroyed the most valuable artefact in the entire Kingdom. A book he was bound by a blood oath to protect at all costs.
CHAPTER TWO
Nate ran along the narrow path inside the volcano, the lava flowing in the gorge beside him like a great oozing sore. The heat covered him like an extra layer of skin; sweat ran down his face, back, and legs and he smelled of ash from the center of the volcano. The heavy bag was rubbing his shoulders; he’d have to make up some more salve to ease the pain.
But none of it mattered. He was almost out. Up ahead the dim light of the cave entrance was like a beacon; on his back was the heavy burden of a successful trip to the center. He’d made another good run, and was another day closer to the end of his five-year mage bond. He had enough lava salt to feed a small kingdom. They’d all celebrate tonight. Even Master Jorgen would have to crack a smile over this haul.
A stone skipped down a ways in front of him, and he slowed, frowning. Rock falls were common in the lava caves, and he hadn’t survived this long by being careless. Up above, he saw a large rock teetering on the edge of a high-up ledge. He narrowed his gaze and calculated how much time he had. Not enough. He stopped, and moments later, the rock toppled over, bringing other smaller rocks with it. Seconds later, the path in front of him was completely covered with hot rocks, some slipping over the edge and into the lava river below. The lava hissed and spat as it received new offerings into its boiling depths.
Nate leaned over with his hands on his thighs, trying to get his breath back now that he’d had to stop. He was literally meters from the entrance and another week’s end.
“By the Flames, why now?” But he said it without any real annoyance. It would only take him a little more time, and he wasn’t afraid of asking for help.
Spreading his fingers, Nate coaxed a small intense light into the palm of his hand. “Demon rise!” His voice resonated around the cavernous space above his head. “Rise to my will.”
A light appeared, the faint outline of a fiery shape hovering just above the tips of his fingers. A crash of thunder echoed around him, shaking the rocky floor. A whispering sound—as if he was surrounded by thousands of insistent voices that he couldn’t quite understand—filled his ears.
He was through to the Edges where demons lived. Nate spoke a final incantation, focusing on the widening ball of light at his fingertips. The world around him went quiet, even in the midst of the pulsing black heat of th
e lava flow beside him.
And then from out of the ball of light rose a fiery beast, a demon matching Nate in size, but outclassing him in strength. “What do you wish from me, Master Nathaniel?” it said in a voice that resonated through the dense volcanic rocks around them.
“Rock slide. I need you to pull them down for me,” said Nate, gesturing to the pile of rocks in front of him.
The demon hissed. “That is not a demon task. That is work for you, human.”
“I need you to check the rocks aren’t heated. Last time I had a blister on my hand for days.” Nate stared blandly at the demon, immune to the hatred in its gaze after all these years.
The demon paused, and a battle raged in its black and pitiless eyes. “Yes, master Nathaniel,” it hissed eventually. It started on the rockslide, and Nate watched closely just in case. It was bound to him, forced to do his bidding, but it could cause mischief. They hated being told what to.
As the demon worked, the rocks slid steadily down into the lava, melting into the boiling hot liquid on impact. Nate shivered, despite the heat. He’d seen a man fall into the lava when he first arrived; it had melted the man’s flesh and bone while he was still alive. It wasn’t something Nate could ever forget. He stepped back. He didn’t intend to fall victim to a stupid accident, not when he was so close to the end of his time on the mountain.
