Amorlia: Age of Wonder

by Chris Wichtendahl

  ***

  Mar Dagnae sat at her desk, going over the various reports, requests and complaints that crossed her desk on a daily basis. She shook her head before it dropped into her hands. She'd never realized how much work was involved in being Mayor. And she'd wanted to be High Queen! She laughed at that. From what she understood, that office remained unfilled, though plans were underway to hold new elections, presumably with new candidates, as one was dead, the other on a different plane of existence and Mar was quite happy with her current position. Once the chaos had died down, she was even able to get the affairs of her company in order. She remained sole owner of Dagnae Industries, but the company was now being run by the former head of her research division. A new factory was being built on the outskirts of Baern, which was already creating much needed employment for her people. A report among the pile of papers on her desk caught her eye. It concerned the disastrous aircar collision of the previous month. The apparent cause was a young woman, initially believed to be a jumper but later revealed to be a flier. She'd only just had her power significantly augmented, and was trying out her new abilities when she misjudged her speed and caused the accident. Mar skimmed the court records. She'd been sentenced to five years on a prison farm north of the city. The boots that enhanced her power, she was simply a floater without them, were being studied by professors at the University. A preliminary analysis had arrived the day before. From what they'd observed, the boots had formed some sort of bond with the young woman, Darine was her name, and would not work for anyone else. A request had been made for a special release of the prisoner, so that she might aid them in their study. It was awaiting her authorization. Mar placed the papers back on her desk and thought a while, finally pressing a button on her desk. "Yes, Mayor?" her assistant's voice came through the speaker. "Clear my schedule for the day," Mar said, "I'm heading up north to the farm." "Yes, ma'am." A couple of hours later, she was standing at the main guard house at the entrance to the farm, waiting for the fat and mildly surly guard to find Darine's file. "Hmm," he grunted, breathing heavily through his nose, his great girth clearly weighing him down, "Kanto... Kanto... Kanto..." He searched through a series of files in the drawer he'd opened, finally pulling one out. "Ah," he said triumphantly, "Here we are. Darine Kanto." Receiving no adulation for his heroic feat, the guard took his time settling his bulk back into the well-worn padded chair at his desk. He opened the file, slowly leafing through its contents. "Well," he muttered, "yer after a wild one here." "Am I?" Mar's expression was wry. This oaf clearly did not recognize her. "Oh, aye," he said, still oblivious. "In fact, she's been in the Pit for the past week or so." "The Pit?" "Aye," the guard snorted and adjusted his pants, tossing the file onto his desk. "It's basically a big hole out in the fallows. We stick them that don't mind their manners in there." "How... rehabilitative," Mar said. The guard laughed, a wheezing rasp that reddened his face and shook his great porcine mass. "Aye," he gasped, "sure it is." "Well," Mar said in clipped tones, "as enlightening as this has been, I'm here to see Ms. Kanto." "Not while she's in the Pit," the guard said dismissively. He picked up Darine's file and flipped back to her induction photo, leering slightly. Mar snatched the file out of his hand, glaring at him. "No," she said menacingly, "I'll see her now, thank you." "And who in the Broken Hells are you?" he sneered. Mar smiled evilly. She'd been waiting for that question for what seemed like hours. "Mar Dagnae," she said softly. "Mayor of Baern and arbiter of your salary. Now," she pointed to the locked gate, "you're going to open that gate and summon someone to guide me to this 'Pit' of yours. And you'll do it right bleeding quick or I'll toss you in myself." The guard's face flushed near purple as he fell over himself in his efforts to do all she'd demanded at once. He finally managed to open the gate and summon a guard, but was disheveled and soaked with sweat when finished. "Jonus," he gasped out to the guard who answered his summons, "take... Mayor Dagnae... to the Pit." Jonus straightened up at the mention of the Mayor's name, indicating she should follow him. "This way, Ms. Mayor," he said by way of invitation. With a perfunctory nod, she acknowledged Jonus and dismissed the guard, then walked through the gate Later, she stood among the weeds and grasses of the unused field and stared down into the Pit. The floor was mostly mud and was strewn with the skeletal remains of rats and snakes. A lean-to was built against one wall of the Pit, providing some shelter from the elements. A rough earthenware bowl filled with rainwater sat outside the lean- to. "Charming," Mar commented. "You're free to leave, if you don't like it." A young woman crawled out of the lean-to, getting mud on already filthy coveralls. She looked up, revealing a patched eye and misshapen face. The healers and surgeons had only been able to repair it so much, and she'd hit the street quite hard. As it was, the left half of her face was missing most of its cheekbone and a section of skull near her brow, with her nose shifted and bent to the right. Her mouth was filled with false teeth and her tongue was scarred. She walked with a slight limp and one arm seemed slightly out of joint. "Oh, I intend to," Mar called down, "but I also intend to bring you with me." The woman laughed. "What makes you think I'd go?" she asked, shading her eyes and squinting up into the sun. Mar answered the question with a question. "What got you thrown in the Pit?" she asked. "I attacked Dez Jekins with a hoe and nearly beat him to death," Darine answered matter-of-factly. "Why?" Darine scowled. "What do you want?" "I want you to come with me to the University," Mar answered, "and try on those boots of yours for us." "Those boots aren't mine," Darine snarled. "I don't want them." Mar shrugged. "The boots seem to believe different. You see," she sat down at the edge of the Pit, "they don't want to work for anyone but you." "Well, that's just too bad, I'm afraid," Darine answered. "I killed three people and nearly died myself last time I wore them." "True enough," Mar nodded. "Still doesn't change the fact that those boots were clearly meant for you." Mar shrugged. "But if you'd rather lounge around some festering mud pit than live up to the responsibility, I can always add a few years to your sentence." Darine shot Mar a venomous look, then turned away. After a few moments, she looked back over her right shoulder and said, "Fine. Get me out of here and I'll go wherever you want." Mar nodded, smiling.

  Up in Flames

  It was a cold day on the Plateau. Jena Cebon sat with her family around a cold fire pit and regarded the sodden logs piled there. The kindling had all burned away and there was none to be found on the barren plain in the midst of winter. They were still a day or two out from Halfsburg and it would only get colder when the sun went down. They could sleep huddled in the back of the covered wagon for warmth, but they'd eaten the last of their cold rations for breakfast and that rabbit her father had caught wasn't going to cook itself. Jena closed her eyes. She'd done this a few times back home, but never in front of anyone. It didn't always work and she didn't want to get her family's hopes up, but it was past time for such considerations now. So she thought about fire. She thought of the logs, pulled from under a pile of wet snow, and how they'd need to dry out before they'd burn right. They had to get hot before they caught fire or the flames wouldn't hold. "Well, look at that," her father, Jerol, marveled. "Is that steam coming off the logs?" her brother Soren was astonished. "What in the world could be causing it?" Her mother, ever the Engineer, began to study the pile of logs, no doubt seeking some bit of machinery. "I can feel Spark moving through them," she muttered, "but nothing seems to... Jena," she looked up at her daughter, "come take a... Jena?" a note of concern crept into her voice. "I'm okay," Jena said, eyes shut tight. "Everything's fine. I just need to... concentrate." She hoped her mother might catch on and stop talking. "Concentrate?" her mother didn't take the hint. "Concentrate on what?" All at once, the logs burst into flame. It was a strong fire that burned bright and hot. Jena opened her eyes and smiled at her family. "On that," she said proudly. Everyone spoke at once, their words lost in a noisy babble. Finally, her father held his hands up for silence. "How long have you been able to do this, young lady?" he asked. He was proud, though, she could see that.
"Not long," she said. "I've done it a couple of times with small fires. I didn't want to say anything yet because sometimes it doesn't work, and..." "You didn't want to give false hope," her father's smile widened. Jerol Cebon was a trader in metals and alloys. He made a modest living for his family, and his wife Tellen would charge spent power crystals for extra money during lean times. The times the Cebon family had fallen on were lean indeed. Too poor to own an aircar, they'd even had to sell Jerol's hovercart in recent months, leaving him to transport his wares by horse-drawn wagon. He'd hoped that Tellen's gift with the Spark would earn a few coins in town when he set up his booth at the yearly bazaar. They'd brought the children out of necessity. Looking at his daughter now, he was glad they did. His smile felt a bit melancholy as he looked at her. She's near grown, he thought, be looking to strike out on her own soon. "You did well, Jena," he said fondly, "I'm proud of you." Jena smiled then blushed. Even Soren looked at her with admiration, and he was more inclined these days to scowl at her as anything else. She would have spoken, but the world spun a bit and she swayed where she sat. Her mother caught her. "There now," Tellen lay her daughter's head on her shoulder. "Looks like that took a bit out of you. Just rest now and get your strength back. Father will cook dinner." Jena nodded, hoping she didn't fall asleep before dinner was ready. She woke the next morning to a breakfast of cold rabbit and thick joltbean tea. She ate quickly and watched as her father and brother covered the hot embers of last night's fire with dirt. One small log, looking like the remnant of a branch, refused to go out. There was still a small flicker of flame at the end of it and, try as they might, Soren and Jerol could not put it out. Jena washed down the last of her rabbit with the last of her tea and went for a closer look. "Here, Jena," her father said with a grin, "you're our fire expert. What do you make of this?" Jena reached down and, with some hesitation, picked up the branch. Immediately, the flame at the end flared to life, making the branch a torch. Man and boy each took a step back, Jerol moving to stand in front of his son, but Jena stared at the torch, fascinated. "Jena," Jerol called out, "be careful." "It's okay, Father," Jena said, smiling. "This is the Torch of the Burning Man. It's the last remnant of the old God of the Wood. This is Faery fire it burns with." "How do you know this?" Soren asked, skeptically. "It just told me," Jena said dreamily. "It called me... Adept?" She grinned wide. "Oh, Father, this is amazing! It says it will increase my power a thousandfold and that I am to... Father?" She looked up from her discovery to see Jerol's face turn white with fear. At first she thought he was afraid of her, but then she saw he was looking past her. She turned around. A large fist smashed her face and she tumbled to the ground. She hit hard and the world spun. Her head began to throb in time with the strobing light behind her eyes. She heard muffled voices, an echoing scream. Their camp was being raided by one of the many gangs that roamed the Plateau. If they were lucky, the Cebons would just be robbed and left alone. Many gangs were just out for treasure. She felt rough hands pull at her long leather skirt and she knew they weren't going to be lucky. As she struggled, she opened her eyes. Her vision was still blurred by the blow she'd taken, but she could see her mother similarly engaged with two of the other hulking thugs, while a third battled her brother. Her father lay very still on the ground while two others went through his pockets. Tears began to form along her eyelids and she felt a thickly calloused hand grope at a part of her no man had even seen yet. Fury welled up in her and she remembered she still held the Torch. She screamed and a heat unlike any she'd felt welled up within her. She released it, intent on punishing the animals who'd so ill-used her family and saving those nearest and dearest to her as well. She smiled in anticipation of the screams of agony she'd hear from their attackers as they burned. But there were no screams. In fact, there was no sound of any kind, save the wind, which was a good deal warmer than it should be on the Plateau during winter. Jena opened her eyes and looked around. All around her, as far as she could see, there was naught but glass. The very earth itself had been seared by her fire, leaving nothing behind. Her family, the gang, their horses and the wagon were all gone. There was nothing but miles of shimmering glass. And her. She looked down at the still-burning Torch in her hand, then at her barren and lifeless surroundings and finally back down at the Torch. She thought of her family and the fact that she didn't even have bodies to bury. There was nothing remaining to show they ever existed at all. She convinced herself that her father had died before she'd done anything, but her mother had still been struggling, and her brother... Soren... "What do I do?" she asked in a choked whisper. "What do I do now?"

  ***

  Jena sat in a small cave, chewing a piece of snake meat with mechanical thoroughness. It tasted horrible, but it was all she could find. Besides, after what she'd been through, even the finest meal at the fanciest inn would taste like ash in her mouth. Ash. She thought of ash, which led to fire, which made her think of... no. No, she promised herself she wouldn't think about that today. She'd go one day without thinking about it. But then the faces of her family flashed before her eyes and the tears fell again. The fire blurred in her sight and, not for the first time, she cursed the Torch. It sat in the fire, not burning. She stared into the flames, letting the tears flow down her cheeks. She wanted to be held. She wanted her father to take her in his strong arms and tell her it was okay. She hugged herself, but it wasn't the same. Because everything was not going to be all right. Nothing would ever be all right again. She'd lost count of the days she'd been wandering the Plateau. She didn't even have any clear idea where she was going or what she was going to do. She avoided the towns. There was too great a risk she'd burn them to the ground. Once in a while she saw another group of travelers, once she nearly stumbled across the path of an entire caravan. She'd hid quickly, for fear she'd do to them what she'd done to her family. More than once, she considered just throwing the Torch into a ditch and leaving it, but each time she stopped herself. This power that came from the Torch was too much for her to wield. However, it was also too much to toss aside, where some less scrupulous soul might find it and do mischief. She glared at the fire. "Why did you come to me?" she demanded. "Why ruin me in this way?" She squeezed her eyes tight and screamed, "Why did they all have to die?!" "Because you could not control it, and fire will run wild if untamed." The voice was beautiful, melodic and warm. Jena stared and a woman appeared to grow out of the flames. "I am Sar," she said, "a Fire Spirit of the Faer Folk." Jena gaped in awe at the otherworldly beauty before her. Finally, she asked, "A-are you here to take it away?" She pointed to the Torch that lay in the fire. Sar shook her head with a sad smile. She gestured, and the Torch floated up to hover in front of Jena's face. "Though the flame of that Torch came from me," Sar explained, "it is no longer mine." She nodded toward Jena. "The Torch of the Burning Man is yours to bear." "Then why are you here?" Jena made no move to take the Torch. "To teach you," Sar said, "and guide you in the use of your Totem, so you will no longer hide from it. You have much to learn, Jena Cebon," the Faery woman said, smiling. "And even more to do." She regarded her pupil with an amused expression. "Or did you think we'd allow one of the first Adepts of this Age to cower in a damp cave for the rest of her life?" Jena said nothing, simply regarding the Torch warily. "Why can't someone else do it?" she asked. "Because you have to." "Why?" Sar shrugged. "You were chosen." "By whom?" Sar's only answer was a smile. She watched Jena stare at the Torch a while longer. Finally, sighing, Sar asked, "So, are you going to take it and come with me, or do I have to stand here all day?" Jena closed her eyes, nodded, then reached out to grasp the Torch. Sar smiled wider. "Excellent," she said. She waved her hand and the flames from Jena's fire made a doorway behind her. She stepped through and beckoned to the young woman to follow. "Come along, Jena." Jena stepped cautiously toward the fiery portal. "Where are we going?" "You'll see soon enough," Sar promised. "But be sure and pay attention." "Your education starts now."

  ***

  Jena and Sar stepped from the burning doorway
into a scene of chaos. It was night, in the midst of a large town, people were panicked and... "That building is on fire," Jena said, looking accusingly at Sar. "Is that meant to be funny?" "No, child," Sar said patiently, "it is meant to be an opportunity." People ran past them frantically. From the look of them and the surroundings, Jena realized they were in the Downlands, possibly far to the south of Drego City near the old Land Pacha. She heard something about the fire brigade and a delay. No one seemed to notice her flaming companion. "Only you can see my true form," Sar explained. "The others merely see two more concerned citizens." "Wonderful." Jena looked up at the building. There were people trapped on the upper floors. The flames climbed higher and those who were trapped leaned out the windows. "Oh no," Jena cried, her hand going to her mouth. "There are..." "Children, yes," Sar nodded. "And with the fire brigade delayed, there is no one here to save them." She glanced over at her companion with a small smile. "Well, other than you." "Me?" Jena stepped back, shock evident on her face. "I start fires, I don't-" "You control fire," Sar corrected, pointing at the burning building. "Control that." Jena shook her head, looking from the Torch to Sar. "But... I can't... how..." "Call the flames to you," Sar said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Call them away from the building." Jena nodded. Not knowing how else to begin, she held the Torch high and closed her eyes. "Come to me," she whispered. "Come to me." A tingle ran up her spine and she realized the fire had heard her. "Yes," she said, gaining more confidence. "Come to me. The people in that building can't play with you like I can and it is no fit place for you. Come to me." And then she was engulfed in flame. She did not burn. In fact, it felt pleasant, almost... erotic. She blushed at the thought, then noticed all the people staring at her. She was dimly aware of the fact that the building no longer burned, but she had the larger problem of everyone gaping at her as she burned without injury. She turned toward Sar. "The Torch," the Faery woman whispered. "Focus the flames toward the Torch." Jena closed her eyes again and concentrated on the Torch. She could feel the fire moving along her body. She drew a shuddering breath as the flames caressed her then let it out slow, finally managing to direct them into the Torch. It blazed once brightly and then returned to its usual smoldering state. People began to gather around her. "How did you do that?" "Did you see? She actually called the flames to her." "My babies! Oh, you've saved my babies! Oh, blessings upon you for all your days, stranger! Thank you! Thank you!" "Touched by the Spark, that one is." "Mmm. A bit of a strange coincidence she was here right as the fire was starting. Mighty strange." "Aye. Convenient, too." Sar leaned in and grabbed Jena's arm. "Now might be the time for a discreet exit," she muttered. Without further warning, she opened a fiery portal and dragged Jena through it, leaving the townsfolk to praise her, wonder after her and suspect her in equal measure. The two women emerged near the mouth of Jena's cave. "That was discreet?" Jena asked, eyebrow raised. "It was an exit," Sar said with a shrug. They were silent a while, then Jena asked, "So what was the point of that?" "Aside from the opportunity to save lives?" Sar responded, "It served as an object lesson, that your power was not all catastrophic destruction. You can use it to help as well as hurt." Jena was forced to nod, looking at her Totem with new eyes. "I suppose it was better I was there," she said softly, "than here." Sar smiled. "That it was," she said. "Now," she continued, once again all business, "we've another lesson. Time for a bit of fine control." She led Jena over to the still smoldering fire, which came blazing to life at their approach. Sar had Jena sit in front of it as the lesson continued, passing the night as they would so many to come, lost in the intricacies of living flame.