Fire Mage (Firecaller Series Book 1)

by Trudi Jaye

  When the Way is destroyed,

  The Raven must fly,

  With a child of two powers.

  Outcasts unite,

  The Flames burn bright,

  And the Way will continue.”

  “That’s one of them. I believe we’re living through that particular prophecy. But I’m talking about the other one.” Miara paused, staring into the fire, her expression full of memories. “Thornal deciphered it in his early years as the Guardian, and worried if he would be able to destroy the book when the time came.”

  Jena paused, flicking through the four prophecies in the book to find the correct one. Again, she read it out:

  “The fall of Ignisia,

  Begins when a witch and mage unite.

  Darkness follows,

  And a union of unholy power.

  When the dark ones come in the night,

  The Guardian must protect

  The Way above all else.

  The Book will burn,

  His mark will fly free,

  And his seed will follow

  A path no other can see.”

  “So that prophecy is the reason the union of mages and witches is banned? They thought it would cause the destruction of Ignisia?” Jena asked.

  “It’s the common thought, although Thornal and others believed it was misread.”

  “But it didn’t save him. He died for it.”

  “Yes. He died for it, or perhaps because of it. And so did his son.”

  Jena paused. Thornal had managed to destroy the Book of Spells and save it at the same time by putting it into her head.

  But who would let a woman use the Book of Spells? His sacrifice was futile; he’d made the wrong decision. Her head whirled, thoughts crashing into each other as she tried to make sense of it all. She only just managed to hold down the sob that was threatening, and once again, a sharp peck on her stomach reminded her to stay calm.

  She cleared her throat. “What do you think will happen? What am I supposed to do?” Jena thought of the Hashishin knife in her bag. She had made a vow and she would complete it, no matter what happened.

  “I don’t know, Jena. I can’t tell you that. I’m not even sure Thornal knew. He would have told you anything you needed to know.”

  Miara opened her mouth, but a knock at the door stalled her. She glanced at Jena. “I need to speak to whomever it is. But I will send them on their way quickly.”

  She opened the door, and Nate stood there, slightly unsteady on his feet. Jena stood and stared at him, every instinct telling her to get as far away from him as possible. If he ever found out what she had on her stomach, she’d be dead.

  “I heard that you’re the one in charge of who comes and goes around here,” he said.

  Miara nodded. “But I don’t think you’re quite well enough to go anywhere yet, young man.”

  Nate shook his head, his hair flicking over his face. “I don’t have time to get better. The Riders will be leaving soon, and I need to be gone before I bring more death and destruction down on innocent people.” He leaned one hand on the doorframe.

  Miara grasped his other elbow and led Nate into her room. She settled him down on one of the chairs before the fire. He sighed back into the comfortable leather.

  “Now, tell me. What makes you think the Riders will leave us so soon?” she said.

  Nate shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t say. But it’s true. And I need to leave.”

  Miara bowed her head, as if thinking. “I will consider our options.” She held up her hand when Nate opened his mouth to argue. “In the meantime, I want you to tell us why you entered the forest with such deadly foe on your heels.”

  Nate rubbed his face, clearly gathering his thoughts. “I don’t really know or understand what’s happening. You need to talk to Argus.”

  “We will, now that he’s recovering.”

  Nate glanced up sharply. “He’s better?” He let out a rush of breath. “He took that arrow for me.”

  “Why are the Riders hunting you, Nate?” asked Jena. She was keeping her distance from the mage, but couldn’t help asking the question.

  His fingers tapped against the soft material of the chair’s arm, and stared into the fire as if it could give him whatever answers he was seeking. “Prince Lothar has decided I’m a threat to his position,” he said reluctantly. “He thinks he has to kill me to be able to inherit the Kingdom.”

  At the mention of Prince Lothar, Jena’s whole attention snapped to Nate. She walked over and sat across from him on the second leather chair. “Lothar sent the Riders?” Jena’s voice was calm, but underneath she was struggling with her emotions. Just talking about the king-in-waiting raised rage within her so strong, she almost couldn’t contain it. She caught Miara looking at her strangely and glanced away, managing to dampen down her wrath.

  Nate nodded. “It’s not the first time he’s attacked me recently.”

  Miara narrowed her eyes at Nate. “Did Argus say why Lothar considers you a threat?”

  Nate hesitated. “Before I say anything, you need to understand that it’s a falsehood.”

  Miara nodded her head. “Go on,” she said.

  “Prince Lothar believes I’m next in line to the Flame Throne. That my mother and Prince Raffeus were wed before my mother died giving birth to me.”

  Jena opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. She didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s not true,” said Nate quickly. “I’m not the next king. There’s been a mistake, and I’m going to pay for it with my life.”

  “There must be a way out of it.” Jena frowned, studying Nate. He didn’t look like her idea of a king. His long hair was scruffy and he had a few days worth of stubble on his face. Shadows smudged under his eyes, and his mage tattoo stood out like a jagged black lightning bolt across his features.

  “Not if Lothar’s way of dealing with it is to send every flame-filled, dark-infested creature he can raise at me.”

  “Then we need to learn more about Lothar. Find a way to change his mind,” said Jena. Or just kill him, she added in her head. Her fingers clenched as if she were grasping a knife. That would solve Nate’s problem.

  Miara cleared her throat, looking almost as if she could see Jena’s thoughts. “Lothar’s mother, Margaret, believed she should have inherited the throne,” she said slowly. “She railed against the Flames and their patriarchal succession, and almost convinced her father to destroy them. In many ways, she was right. Her brother Harad was not a good king.”

  Nate let out a frustrated breath. “She’s taught her son to believe he should be on the throne as well. According to Argus, he’s already killed people in order to take it. Margaret never stooped that low.”

  “So his attempts on Nate’s life are from some misguided belief that his mother should have been queen?” asked Jena.

  “Don’t dismiss it so easily. Margaret was a strong woman and very clever. Her son obviously takes after her. She also dabbled in spells for many years.” Miara looked meaningfully at Jena.

  “How do you know all this?” said Jena, deliberately changing the direction of the conversation. It might be obvious that having the Book inside her head meant she could cast spells, but she wasn’t ready to talk to Miara about it just yet. Especially not in front of Nate.

  “I haven’t always lived here. All this happened under my nose, at the Royal Court. I only came here when my husband died.” Miara gave a twirl of her hand in the manner of a grand lady. “For many years, I was part of the court and all its intrigues.”

  The images that she had seen of Miara in her younger years suddenly made more sense. At least she had a way to know that Miara was telling the truth. “Why did you come here?”

  “I was having trouble coping with my husband’s death. Thornal brought me here to help me recover and I never left.”

  “Thornal looked after you.”

  Miara nodded. “He lived the hermit’s life only after his son’s death. We were p
art of the court of King Seamus, a great and gentle king.” She paused and gazed into the fire, lost in her thoughts.

  Images flicked through Jena’s head of a court filled with ladies and gentlemen dressed in fine silks, dancing and laughing. Miara was in the center of a group of courtiers, young and beautiful.

  “I saw Margaret grow up,” Miara said eventually. “I was there for Prince Harad’s Flame Ceremony after King Seamus died, and I saw the land change. It declined under King Harad. Margaret could see it as well, and it angered her. When her brother married her off she was wild with fury, but she did as she was asked.”

  “How does any of this help me?” interrupted Nate, his voice slurring. His eyes were drooping; he was struggling to stay awake.

  Miara took one look at him and stood. A moment later, a knock sounded on her door, and Miara opened it to a woman Jena recognised from the healing rooms. “Nate, I think you need to go with Kimi back to your room. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  Nate frowned. “I wan’ to leave as soon as th’ Riders leave,” he muttered. “Promise me you’ll allow it.”

  Miara helped him to his feet, making soothing noises. “We’ll talk about it once you’ve had a good sleep.” She put one arm around his waist and walked him to the door, letting the taller and much younger healer take him.

  Shutting the door, Miara came back to stand in front of the fire. “He’s conflicted and doesn’t know what to believe.” She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know either. I wish Thornal was here to advise us.”

  Jena stared at the older woman, trying to decide if she could trust Miara. Bree seemed to think she should. What harm was there in telling her more? She knew most of it already.

  “We might be able to get Thornal’s help,” she said quietly. “At least an echo of it.”

  Miara frowned. “Did he leave you a note? Perhaps a spell?” She’d obviously been expecting Thornal to leave something.

  “In a way.” Jena waited a moment, staring intently at Miara, trying to find something that would confirm she was making the right decision. The older woman simply looked back with a steady gaze.

  She lifted her shirt. The large mage tattoo stood out black on the taut pale skin of her stomach. The raven moved and ruffled its feathers slightly, but didn’t seem to mind the sharp gaze of the old witch.

  Miara drew in a startled breath and sat down abruptly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Argus, you must allow me to help you,” said Bree.

  Nate looked up from the small creature he was carving out of wood. He was sitting to one side of the room on a small wooden stool that Bree had found for him. Bree was standing over Argus as he lay in bed, one hand holding his wrist to check his heartbeat.

  “I’m fine. I don’t need any more of your healing.” Argus looked disgusted as he tried to fend off Bree’s hands from touching his body.

  The quiet healer’s face was flushed, and she was clearly frustrated. “You’re only feeling better because we healed you. But you have to let me do some more if you’re going to recover properly.”

  “No,” said Argus, crossing his arms. “I’ll recover just fine without any more of your meddling.” He was lying under the clean white sheets of the bed, his face pale against the pillows and his legs moving restlessly as if they didn’t know how to keep still.

  Bree glared at the big man with her hands on her hips and her expression stern. “You’re just being stubborn.” Bree glanced over her shoulder. “Can you help me please, Nate? I need him to stay still.”

  “Don’t bring me into this,” he said. “I’m a patient too, remember?” He flicked his knife back and forth over the soft wood. Tiny chips floated down to the floor and he kicked at them with his foot. There was no way he was getting involved.

  “This is serious, Nate. Argus needs your help, whether he admits it or not.”

  Nate shrugged one shoulder, keeping his focus on his wooden creation. He was in two minds about Bree healing Argus. He planned to leave the forest on the morrow, if the ghost mage’s estimate of when the Riders would disappear was accurate.

  If Bree really could help Argus recover, it would mean Nate could leave with a clear conscience. The big man had taken an arrow for him and he wanted to make sure Argus was fine before he left.

  But if Argus weren’t completely healed, the mercenary wouldn’t be able to give immediate chase. So he wanted him to be improving, but not too quickly. “I don’t think you should force your healing on an unwilling patient, Bree.”

  His gaze went to a spot behind Bree, and he saw the old mage ghost leaning against the wall again. The absence of a tattoo on the lined face was like salt on an open wound to Nate. He tried to ignore him.

  “See? I’ll heal on my own.” Argus rolled his shoulder then winced and swore.

  “Hurt, didn’t it? You’ve not been healing as fast as you should have.” Bree put her hands on Argus’s arm. “I can ease your pain. I know it.”

  Her eyes were large and the concern in them was real. She focused all her attention on Argus, almost as if she was willing him to agree.

  Nate watched the conflict on Argus’s face as he tried to dismiss her pleas and avoid her eyes. The big man wasn’t the sort to give in easily, but Bree didn’t give up, and she eventually wore him down.

  “Fine,” said Argus after another few minutes. “Do your worst.” He lay back with an angry scowl and allowed Bree to put both hands on either side of his healing wound. She hummed at first, a strange little tune that made the hairs on Nate’s arms raise up. Her eyes were closed in concentration. He felt the pulse of power in the room. Whatever else, Bree had the power to heal.

  He wondered if a line had been crossed into the realm of mages. The distinction was sometimes blurry at the edges, with witches often accused of mage magic. Mages connected to the earth, to the elements deep inside the ground, and to the volcanoes that surrounded them. Their spells invoked the spirits from the Edges, the creatures that walked the lines between this world and the next.

  Witches used a lighter, more superficial magic, often incorporating potions and herbs. They used nature, plants, and animals, to access their magic.

  Bree’s power was somewhere in the middle, fuzzy and blurred. Nate shook his head and gave up trying to define it.

  Argus’s face was pale, his eyes glued to Bree. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck, and Nate understood why. He was almost certain Argus was better. How could that kind of power not heal?

  “How do you feel?” asked Bree.

  Argus rolled his shoulder around, and nodded slowly. “It feels looser, easier.”

  Bree nodded. “I’ll come back to check on you later. You could be out of bed in as little as a week.”

  Argus’s eyes flicked to Nate’s face, shock running across his features. “A week? No, by the Flames, that will not do. I’ve been stuck in this bed too long already. I don’t need any more time here.” He attempted to lever himself up off the bed as he spoke. As Nate watched, Argus realized, yet again, that he was too weak. The big man fell back and closed his eyes.

  “What has happened to me?” he asked the room.

  Bree put a hand on his forehead, soothing away the frustration. “You were hit by a deadly arrow. You should not have survived and you need time to heal.”

  “I don’t have time!” said Argus in an urgent voice. “We don’t have time.” He glanced over at Nate, then back at Bree.

  Nate’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean, Argus? Why don’t we have time?” Nate ignored the curious look from Bree as he asked the question building in his head.

  “My master gave us a time limit. If we weren’t back by the second full moon, there was no point in coming back. We would have failed.” Argus’s face was shadowed, his eyes dark.

  Nate wiped a hand over his eyes. “But the full moon was last week. The second full moon is only three weeks away. We’re supposed to get all the way to your master in three weeks?” There was no
way they could make it in that time.

  It made his decision to leave the forest without Argus all the more sensible. They were never going to make it to his master, and riding hard only to miss the deadline was pointless.

  Lothar would figure out he wasn’t a threat soon enough. Nate just had to live long enough for him to realize it. Somewhere far away from Ignisia and all the creatures Lothar was intent on sending. It was the only option that made sense.

  “I need to be out of this bed right now. Do you understand?” Argus said, his voice rising. Bree leaned over and smoothed her hand across Argus’s forehead.

  Argus slept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jena’s intuition crawled along the back of her neck. Goose bumps worked their way along her skin, stopping awkwardly at the burned skin on her shoulder and arms. She raised her hand to rub her neck, trying to smooth them away.

  Turning her head, she saw Nate walking in her direction from the Flamehaven village entrance. His long strides seemed to eat up the ground between them, and the surrounding trees made moving patterns of light and dark across his body.

  She’d been right. Trouble was fast approaching.

  Jena considered getting up and leaving; pretending she hadn’t seen him. But she probably wouldn’t get away with it. So she waited where she was, sitting on a log placed in the gully to catch the midday sun.

  Jena hadn’t seen him since Kimi had taken him back to the healing rooms two days before. She’d been avoiding him on purpose; she was uncomfortable in his presence, especially now that he was almost fully healed and she saw the way his sharp eyes took in every small thing around him. His mage tattoo was a constant reminder of the danger she was in if he ever discovered her secrets.

  It was bad enough that she’d shown Miara her tattoo. Miara, who had seemed very open to such things, hadn’t been able to look Jena in the eyes ever since. She’d almost pushed Jena out the door after she’d seen the raven on her skin, and Jena had spent the last two days convinced Miara was going to tell someone and have her executed. She’d resolved not to take anyone else into her confidence.