Fire Mage (Firecaller Series Book 1)

by Trudi Jaye

  Jena still didn’t understand Miara’s reaction. She’d accepted the Book of Spells inside Jena’s head with very little difficulty, didn’t mind that they were children of a mage and witch, and had an inkling that Jena could do mage spells; but something about the tattoo being on Jena’s body disturbed the High Witch to such an extent that she seemed almost frightened. Jena had even caught her making warding signs with her hands a couple of times. She sighed. It was too late now. She was just going to have to trust that Miara would use the information wisely.

  The raven tattoo stretched its wings, brushing its feathers over her skin, as if telling her not to worry.

  Jena sighed and leaned back, studying Nate’s face as he walked toward her. He looked pensive; the striking black raven tattoo emphasizing the shadows on his face and making him seem otherworldly. She put her hand over her own tattoo. Feathers ruffled, collecting themselves into their proper place, and she wondered if it was the same for all mages. She’d never seen Nate’s tattoo move.

  She looked up again and thought she saw an answering shimmer go through the mage tattoo on Nate’s face. Startled, she watched his expression for any change. Was there some kind connection she didn’t know about? Could he somehow tell she had a mage tattoo on her body as well? Her heart began to race and she clenched her hand over her stomach. He was a mage. He could never find out.

  “Jena. I thought it was you. May I join you?” Nate’s words were casual, yet Jena felt the tension beneath them. His intense gaze seemed to bore into her.

  She nodded jerkily. “I’m just sitting here thinking.” She struggled to keep her tone casual.

  “About anything in particular?” He sat next to her on the log, leaning forward with his arms on his thighs and his hands hanging loosely down.

  “What I’m going to do.” Jena clasped her own hands tightly to avoid flinging them around and showing her anxiety.

  He gazed around them at the forest. “You’re not going to stay here? I thought you only just found your sister?”

  She picked at a small knot in the cotton of her sleeve. “This is an idyllic setting,” she said. The forest, no longer menacing, curled comfortably around them, protecting their secrets. “And you’re right; I’m only just getting to know my sister.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “But I’m not going to stay, no.”

  She had other plans for her future.

  Nate nodded. “It’s isolated.”

  “But safe.” Jena felt bound to point out. “It’s protected you and Argus, despite your enemies. The Riders gave up.” The creatures had left that morning.

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  “You want to escape from Prince Lothar and his minions, find somewhere to hide until he forgets you.” Jena’s voice was hard, and she had difficulty holding back her anger toward Lothar. “I plan on confronting him.”

  “Why do you hate him so much?” asked Nate, lines appearing across his forehead as he frowned at Jena. “What has he done to you?”

  “What makes you think I hate him?” Her voice trembled, and she was afraid that her emotions were going to spill out.

  “You’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”

  Jena shook her head. “I’m usually pretty good at it. At least I used to be.”

  Nate smiled softly, a sad expression on his face. “Maybe I watch you more closely than most.”

  Jena jerked her gaze to his face, startled by his words. When their eyes locked, her breath caught in her throat. “I... uh...” She cleared her throat and looked away. “He killed my master,” she said baldly.

  “I’m sorry,” said Nate. “Who was your master?”

  “The mage Thornal.”

  Nate’s eyes widened. “The Guardian? He’s dead?”

  Jena nodded. “I vowed revenge for his death.”

  “You can’t go up against Prince Lothar. You’ll never survive.” Nate’s hair fell over his face as he shook his head.

  “I can try.” Jena narrowed her eyes and stared off into the forest. “He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

  “There’s not much we can do about it.” Nate’s face was hard, his mouth a grim line across the middle.

  “The thought of him becoming King of Ignisia...” said Jena. “Do you think there’s any chance you’re wrong?”

  “About my claim?” He shook his head. “I’m a salt gatherer from the volcanoes of Ignisia. What does someone like me know about being a king?”

  “Sometimes you can’t help who your parents are, or who your family are,” said Jena, staring down the gully and berating herself for even saying the words.

  “I’m not a king.” The words were harsh, as if they were choked from his mouth. Nate’s eyes were black in the shade of the trees and his mage tattoo stood out livid on his face.

  He didn’t look like a king. He looked fierce and somehow feral. He certainly wasn’t regal. It seemed as untrue as he’d said; Argus must be wrong.

  She accepted his decree and leaned back on her log again. He was more accessible if he wasn’t the king. “So what are you then?”

  Nate frowned slightly. “Just as I said, a failed mage turned salt gatherer. When Lothar learns I’m not a threat, it will be over.”

  He said it with such finality that Jena was tempted to believe him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “He’s gone,” said Bree, as she stood next to Argus’s bed.

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?” Argus’s voice became louder on every word. “Where did he go?”

  “He took his horse, and some travel rations. He’s gone.”

  “Ignisia is at stake, and you let him run away?” The veins on Argus’s neck were standing out, his face turning red. He crushed his hands into fists on the white bed sheets.

  Jena straightened, preparing to step in and stem his angry outburst, which was aimed squarely at her sister. But Bree remained calm, not even twitching a muscle in the face of his tirade. She’d learned how to deal with the mercenary over the last few days.

  “We’re not your jailers, and we’re certainly not his. He can come and go as he pleases.” Bree crossed her arms, a single tapping finger the only indication she was irritated with Argus.

  “But he’ll die. Without my help, Lothar will find him and kill him. My master foresaw it.” Argus’s dark eyes were haunted under the anger, and Jena saw genuine concern for Nate. He leaned back against his pillows, his thoughts following a path only he could see.

  “I’m sure he’ll manage. And it’s his decision. Not yours.” Bree’s voice was soft but firm.

  Argus glanced up at Bree, and his eyes caught in her gaze. There was a heavy silence in the room and Jena shifted uncomfortably. She felt like she was intruding on a private moment.

  Then Argus looked away and shook his head. “I’m going after him,” he said.

  He heaved himself up out of the bed. Bree rushed to his side, ready to steer her patient back to bed. But he didn’t sway, and even managed to convincingly push her aside and walk around the room.

  “I’ve been worse, and I can ride. Your healing has helped. Thank you, Bree.” For another long moment, Argus stared down at Bree, his expression fierce. Then he was moving, striding toward the closet that held his traveling clothes. He kept flicking quick glances at Bree, but there was something compelling him to move. The eerie mists of the spell inside his body came to mind, and Jena wondered just how powerful this master of his was.

  “You don’t have to be in such a hurry, Argus. A few more days won’t hurt.” Bree stood behind him, with her hands on her hips as Argus rummaged in the drawers. She barely came up to his shoulder, but she never seemed to be intimidated.

  “It might not hurt me, but it will kill Nate. I must talk with your High Witch. She must be made to see reason.” He shook his head, his blond hair sliding over his shoulders. “I can’t believe you let him go,” he muttered.

  ***

  Jena knocked on Miara’s door. Argus and Bree waited beh
ind her.

  When she saw her visitors, Miara raised her eyebrows, but didn’t seem overly surprised. They entered the room, and she motioned for them to sit. “Now, what can I do for you all?” She flicked her gaze to Jena a couple of times, but most of her initial anxiety seemed to have dissipated. Jena tried to smile encouragingly.

  “I need to leave. Nate has gone, and I must chase him. I need your help,” said Argus.

  “My help? What help could I give?”

  He glanced at Bree. “Well, you could convince Bree that I’m not a child to be fussed over.”

  Jena stifled a laugh, even as Bree stiffened and narrowed her eyes at Argus.

  The big man kept going regardless. “I don’t know which way he went, or what he plans. But I fear Lothar is even stronger than my master realized. I don’t know if my skills alone will save him. But I must find him. The future of Ignisia is at stake.”

  Miara stared at Argus, her eyes seeming to look into his soul. Argus didn’t blink, and matched her look for look.

  “Very well; I will help,” she said. As Argus attempted to thank her, Miara held up one hand. “But on two conditions. One, you tell me the name and direction of your master. And two, you tell me everything you know about Lothar’s plans.”

  Argus paused, his dark eyes still focused on the witch. He hesitated and glanced over at Bree, then back at Miara. Then he heaved a sigh. “Very well. I will tell you what I know.”

  Miara nodded sharply, as if to seal the agreement. “Lothar wants Nate dead because he’s next in line to the throne; is that what your master told you?”

  Argus nodded.

  “And who is your master?”

  “Remus. Sometimes called the shrinking mage.”

  Jena didn’t even blink, the name meant nothing to her, but she saw Miara’s small movement of recognition, and her raven tattoo shifted in reaction. An image of a tall, handsome mage with long, red robes and a sneering smile flicked into Jena’s head.

  “He always was one to take advantage of a situation. He knows all the prophecies as well,” said Miara. “So what does he want with Nate?”

  “He thinks Nate can reverse the shrinking spell. Based on the prophecy, he believes Nate to be powerful enough to bend it back.”

  Jena watched the emotion flicker across Miara’s face. She didn’t know what to believe, but Argus was very persuasive.

  “As I said, always one to take advantage. And what part does he believe Nate will play in the prophecies?” asked Miara.

  “He believes he’s the Fiery Redeemer.”

  “And we let him just leave,” said Miara softly. Her eyes flickered in the light of the fire.

  “Is it true?” asked Jena. “Nate doesn’t believe—”

  “Nate doesn’t want to believe,” interrupted Argus. “He’s scared and unwilling to trust people, and now he’s alone out there.” Argus jabbed one arm in the direction of the forest outside the room.

  Miara cleared her throat. “So if Remus is to be believed, not only is Nate our next king, he is also the one from the prophecies who is going to battle Lothar?”

  “My master also believes Lothar will destroy the Flames as soon as he is in power,” said Argus.

  Jena’s stomach dropped at the thought. The Flames were the center of the kingdom, the one constant. They were protection and beauty and tradition. Thornal had taught her to revere and respect the Flames, but she’d always known how important they were to their lives. “He wouldn’t dare,” she said.

  “His mother Margaret had strong beliefs,” said Miara, nodding. “She thought the Flames held us back, rather than helped us. We have to assume Lothar thinks the same way, despite the fact he’s using the Flames to gain power.”

  “He’s ruthless,” said Argus. “He’ll do whatever it takes. My master believes he can help Nate hide from Lothar until the time is right.”

  Jena took a deep breath. Lothar had killed Thornal, the most powerful mage in the kingdom, and was trying to get the Book of Spells. Added to that, he would probably destroy the Flames as soon as he was named the Flame King.

  They couldn’t let Lothar win.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” Miara asked.

  Argus shook his head. “Remus sent me to get Nate and bring him back. He’s the next king in the line of succession, and Lothar wants him dead, whatever the cost.” He paused. “We don’t have much time.”

  “I have started to hear rumors from outside the forest,” said Miara softly. “There are whispers of disappearances, strange creatures roaming, and villages being attacked. I believe Lothar is calling beasts from the dark regions of the Edges to help him.” She paused. “Such as the Riders.”

  A vision of the Riders, rotting and crawling with maggots, rose in Jena’s head. “If Lothar is controlling the Flames, he must have access to an incredible amount of mage power. He won’t be easy to dethrone.”

  Miara looked stern, but Jena caught a flash of raw emotion on her face. “It is not an accident that you are all here,” she said. “The Flames have drawn you together. You came to me for help in this task, Argus. I give you my help; Bree and Jena will go with you on your journey and help find Nate.”

  “What?” Three surprised voices rose together; the sound echoed around the room. Jena looked over at Bree; her sister was as shocked as she was. Was Miara trying to get rid of them? Could this be Miara’s answer to her obvious fear of the tattoo on Jena’s stomach? She studied the High Witch closely, but her expression was closed, and she gave nothing away.

  “When I asked for your help, I meant a ruse that would keep Lothar off track, or some potion to hide us from him.” Argus didn’t hold back on his opinion. “They will only slow me down.”

  “You can’t just offer us up without asking, Miara,” added Jena. And I don’t need to stay in Nate’s presence any longer than necessary.

  “Argus, between them, Bree and Jena have what you need to find Nate and keep him safe from Lothar,” said Miara calmly. She turned to Jena, looking her directly for the first time since she’d found out about the tattoo. “This is the only way to follow your path, Jena. You are destined to challenge Lothar, but you need their help.”

  “How can they possibly help me against Lothar?” Argus was scathing.

  “Bree is a healer, and despite your attempts to hide it, you are still very weak from the arrow’s taint. You won’t make it more than a half day without her. Jena has the ability to hide you all from Lothar’s searches in the Flames.”

  Jena gave Miara a startled glance. How on earth was she supposed to do that?

  “Is that even possible? I thought the Flames could see anything anywhere?” Argus shook his head as if to clear it. “I don’t need their help. I’ll have to ride hard to catch up with him. They’ll slow me down.”

  “Yes, it’s possible they’ll slow you down. But you won’t survive more than a day if you don’t hide from Lothar’s gaze.”

  Argus paused, thinking. “Fine, Jena could be useful. But Bree doesn’t need to come with us.”

  Jena didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed at his begrudging decision to include her in his group, but Bree gave an indignant gasp, her blue eyes flashing. “You don’t think I can be of use?” she said.

  Argus glared at her. “You’ve never left this forest, you told me so yourself. How do you expect to survive with an irrational mage-king sending dark creatures from the Edges after us?” His movements were jerky and agitated as he gestured outside again toward the edge of the forest.

  “I know how to take care of myself, which is more than I can say for you. Which of us had a poisonous arrow in our shoulder just a few days ago?” Bree seemed like she wanted to spit in his direction, she was so angry.

  Miara held up her hands, indicating they should both settle. She stood, her small frame held sternly erect. “Bree needs to go with you. First, because she is the only way you will survive the journey, Argus. But second, because she’s part of the prophecy as well. Y
ou all are.” She held up her hand when Argus tried to speak. “I’ve thought long and hard about this since I saw…” Her eyes darted to Jena’s stomach where the tattoo was hidden. She hesitated. “Well, let’s just say since you first arrived here, Argus. The prophecies are clear. If Nate is the Fiery Redeemer, then our part in this conflict is to make sure you all stay together. It’s the only way we’ll beat Lothar.”

  Argus stood up, his tall frame towering over Miara. He took a step toward her, and for a moment it seemed as if he was going to use his physical strength against her. Then he paused and retreated to the bookshelf. “I can’t look after them both. Bree could be hurt,” he said, his voice low and raw. “She can’t take care of herself out there.” Argus wasn’t holding anything back, but he looked miserable rather than angry.

  “I can look after myself, Argus. I’d last longer than you against the kind of enemy you’re fighting,” Bree said quietly, but her anger thrummed in an undertone.

  “And Jena is hardly better,” Argus spoke as if he hadn’t heard Bree at all. “She might have lived outside the forest, but she is still a girl with very little training against the kind of problems we’ll be facing.”

  “Pardon me?” Jena’s pride wouldn’t stand for the accusation of being unable to take care of herself. “Who saved you from the Riders? Who healed you when you would have died? I think we’re far more qualified to look after Nate than you are.”

  “You’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth,” said Argus. “Thanks, but no thanks, Miara. I don’t accept your help.”

  “You arrogant brute—” began Bree.

  “Of all the stupid—” said Jena.

  A sharp whistle sounded, silencing them all. Miara spoke into the sudden gap, “Good. It’s decided. The sisters will be your protection until you reach the shrinking mage.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Nate pulled the leather strap tight across the flank of his chestnut mare, securing the travel bag. Miara had allowed him access to the stables to retrieve his horse, and his saddlebag held the drink and food rations he’d been given by the friendly head cook at Flamehaven.