Fire Mage bc-1

by John Forrester

  Talis studied the deep crevices of the god’s face, and approached the statue, eyes fixed on the dark lord. He had to remain fearless, else a dark entity might take possession inside him. As he steadied himself, he thought of his brother, Xhan, dead many years ago. He was free now, free of the heavy burden of life. Xhan rested with loved ones, along the fair seas…

  Closer to the statue, Talis stretched out his hand. The god’s tongue was cold and wet as Talis touched it, and soon the feeling of a dank fire slithered down his arm. In an instant, a vision possessed his mind. A dimly lit cave filled with vines. A green fire. Eyes hard and ruthless, staring at him in the chamber.

  Mara was wrong, worshipping Zagros didn’t bring them favor; worshiping the God of Darkness only brought a demon’s attention upon them.

  4. THE ORDER OF THE DAWN

  The Temple dedicated to all gods, constructed by the magical Order of the Dawn over a thousand years ago, gleamed in the morning sunlight as Talis sauntered up the cobblestone street. Today he would study with Master Viridian, the leading wizard of the Order, for a chance at breaking his many year long failing streak, his inability at casting magic. Not that Talis was optimistic today.

  “Another day, another failure?” Rikar said, and tipped his black hat as he swaggered inside the Order gate. Twin wizards at the entrance made notes, studying the students as they came inside.

  Talis ignored Rikar’s banter and gathered his red robes, stepping over the stone dragons that guarded the gates. The sandy courtyard inside was raked in clean, diagonal lines that marked the ley lines of the world, divined by the geomancers of the Order. Talis skirted along the edges of the courtyard, following habits of caution, daring not to taint the central lines that marked the middle of the yard. But he was alone in refusing to alter those lines, as others, Rikar and Nikulo included, trampled where they liked, oblivious of what lay underneath.

  “Ah…good morning, young master Talis.” Mistress Cavares, an old, eccentric wizard, stared at him. Talis wasn’t sure what she taught (or her area of mastery), but he knew all the rest of the students and wizards tried their best to stay away from her. She came closer and ran her fingers across her wrinkled lips.

  “You look…in a dark mood today. Has something happened?”

  Talis stiffened at her words, picturing the onyx statue of Zagros, and felt a cold chill spike along his shoulders. “I have studies with Master Viridian this morning,” he mumbled, and looked puzzled at Mistress Cavares.

  “I see…” She frowned as if considering something. “Well, on your way. Do go see a healer if you’re not feeling well.”

  Talis bowed and scurried away, not wanting to be late, but more than anything, wanting to escape from talking to Mistress Cavares. He reached the thick mahogany door leading to the masters’ chambers, stairs winding up and around, splashes of sunlight warming portraits of long gone masters, finally to the top level of the Order. Down the marble corridor he marched, the City of Naru flickering through windows, the glare blinding him temporarily until his eyes adjusted to the light.

  “In here,” Master Viridian whispered. Talis’s eyes were blind to the dark now, and he could barely see his Master or the room he was in. He bumbled his way forward, and bumping into the door frame gave him enough time for his eyes to adjust to the candle-filled chamber and Master Viridian levitating, legs crossed, in meditation, his black and silver beard forked in two, each beard tip tied with a gold sun-medallion. The Master’s pale grey eyes looked even more washed out, and Talis thought it was because the Master spent too much time staring at the sun, absorbing its power.

  “Close the door and find a place to meditate.” Master Viridian gestured at the silk pillows scattered on a rug embroidered with an ornate illustration of the sun.

  Talis obeyed and found a gold pillow, and sat crossing his legs. In the dim light Talis swore he saw faces staring at them from each of the four, misty corners of the room.

  The walls had disappeared, and in their place, a grey fog expanded out into nothingness.

  “Don’t pay attention to the room…pay attention to what’s inside your mind. Close your eyes or close your mind to the room, find the brilliant speck of light that is the sun.”

  Soon the sunlight roared in Talis’s mind and he relished in the feeling of its warm glow on his face. He knew he was now inside the world of dreams. This was a familiar exercise for Talis, find the sun, find the wind, find the lightning and thunder, find the rain and the cool mountain spring, feel the earth…your hands plunged into wet, loamy soil. The core pathways leading to elemental magic.

  “Now raise your hands to the sun and let the rays burn your palms until they are black, charred, smoking, angry… Feel the fire pulsing and radiating from your palms until the flames lap out, hungry, thirsty, parched, needing wind and substance to devour.”

  Talis did as his Master commanded and his palms burned and pain shot down his arms, but he resisted the desire to recoil his hands and instead kept them steady. In a matter of seconds flame tendrils danced out from his palms like the many intertwining arms of Kaleria, The Laughing God, who makes light of all mortal ambition and power.

  “Be careful, contain the flames lest they burn you up inside…balance between the wind outside and the heat inside. Push enough of the flames outside to keep yourself from overheating…that path is death.”

  Images of charred wizards after past battles flashed in Talis’s mind. He knew well the rules of magic and the high costs of ignoring its limits. That was the main reason he feared Fire Magic, and he thought, was probably why he had failed to produce it.

  But despite his fears he managed to control himself and he continued to allow the flames to flow from his hands. It was easier here, inside the world of dreams, to cast magic.

  “Excellent…I salute your progress. Now see me, see the grey fog, see this room, bring the flames here, to me, the fog is wind, use its latent power to fuel the flame’s anger, and burn me up. The flames will not hurt me.”

  Talis found his eyes flared open and the room seemed instantly smaller. Something sputtered from his hands and tiny puffs of smoke filled his nostrils. He grimaced, knowing he’d failed yet again at Fire Magic.

  “That was a reasonably good attempt, I suppose.” Master Viridian’s face twitched, and his eyes looked disappointed. “I still sense fear in you, fear of fire, fear of yourself, even…”

  Master Viridian sighed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, then stared at his fingers like he’d found ink spilled on his knuckles. “Let me ask you a question. How did you manage to overcome your fear of fighting with swords? Don’t you have a battle ahead at the Blood Dagger competition? From what I understand, although I’ve never seen fights such as these in the arena, the fighting is fierce…blood is drawn, and magical healers often fail to cure wounds. Am I correct?”

  Talis nodded, realization coming to his mind. He pictured the last time he’d battled in the arena. “Wear the Battle Mask and Slay the Demon…”

  “Is this part of your training?”

  “To overcome fear of injury and pain, wearing the battle mask is our mental protection, and slaying the demon keeps us focused on destroying our enemy…the demon in our minds.”

  “Where is your fear while you battle?” Master Viridian allowed a smile to raise the corners of his lips.

  “Slain…fear is the demon. How we slay the demon is to execute the movements. Dancing Butterfly, Cringing Monkey, Leaping Snake, Dragon Circles the Moon… We memorize many martial moments, train and train and train until they are habits, then in the arena the fight is against our fear and emotions…and besting our enemies.”

  Master Viridian chuckled, light filling his eyes. “Sounds like the way wizards learn battle magic. And who are you fighting at the Blood Dagger competition?”

  “We’re fighting Rikar and Nikulo…tomorrow.” Was it so close already? Talis pictured the haughty gaze in Rikar’s eyes this morning, and scowled, wishing he could wipe that
expression off his face.

  “If you apply the same principles you’ve learned in melee fighting to casting magic, you’ll do just fine. Don’t think producing magic is anything different, treat it much the same.”

  Except that losing control of magic could cause you to explode and kill everyone around you, Talis thought, but he only bowed to Master Viridian. “Thank you, Master, I’ll try.” If he could only get the image of charred wizards out of his head.

  Instead of staying after school to study, Talis snuck out from the Order through a side, secret tunnel and made his way to the school where Mara was supposed to be learning how to act like a lady. Not that she was a good student. She drove her teachers crazy with questions like, Why do ladies have to act so stupid? And when her manners teacher dared to suggest that Mara give up hunting and fighting, Talis had to talk Mara out of poisoning her.

  The stone wall surrounding Mara’s school was easy to scale, and Talis climbed down wisteria vines and crept over to hide behind a statue to the Goddess Nestria, Ruler of the Sky. Talis tossed a pebble at the window of the classroom where Mara and several other young ladies were practicing dancing. Mara glanced outside, squinting as she spotted Talis, then focused back to her teacher, nodding and curtsying in response.

  After finishing several more quick spin dances, all the girls in the class bowed to their teacher at once and filed out of the room. Talis snuck over the the side door where Mara had escaped before, and waited. If he was in luck today, dancing might be Mara’s last class.

  The door squeaked open and Mara’s devilish eyes peeked through.

  “You just couldn’t wait to see me… You know my teachers will kill you if they find you in here again.”

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ve got to talk about the Blood Dagger competition…it’s tomorrow. The Tame Shrew?” Talis lifted his fist to his mouth, as if drinking.

  “I couldn’t think of a nastier, seedier tavern to plot our battle strategy against Rikar and Nikulo… Absolutely perfect.” Mara grinned maliciously and brushed a lock of Talis’s hair away from his eyes. She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then held Talis’s hand and they made their way through the bushes and up and over the wall.

  The afternoon sun filtered through olive leaves, casting quivering inky shadows across the cobblestone street. The lazy windless time of day when many citizens took naps or drank milk tea and played cards. Talis and Mara snuck along the winding corridors of upper Naru, until they found the door that led down through the darkness to Shade’s Gate and out into Fiskar’s Market, where old men and women sat about sighing and chatting disdainfully with each other. They glanced suspiciously at Talis and Mara as they darted through the market.

  Back behind the stalls, down a dank, smelly corridor, they found The Tame Shrew, one of the oldest and least respectable taverns in Naru. Outside the faded red tavern door stumbled two old drunks locked in a cheerful arm-grasp. They teetered about precariously singing familiar songs of war and adventure. Talis and Mara skirted around the duo and made their way inside the dark tavern.

  Conflicting smells overpowered them as they entered: sweat and ale and roses. The tavern owners’s wife had a rooftop garden where she grew many fragrant varieties of roses, and she clipped the strongest-smelling ones and kept them in an old, ceramic vase on the middle on the bar. Despite her earnest attempt at eliminating the other foul smells in the tavern, the stench remained.

  “There’s a quiet table over in the corner.” Mara lowered herself down and squeezed past a man and a woman having a furious argument about…Talis thought it sounded like a lover’s quarrel.

  When Talis sat next to Mara, the woman burst into tears and stomped out of the tavern, leaving the man to stare stupidly at the mug of ale he was holding.

  “I don’t supposed he’ll be standing after a few hours,” Mara whispered.

  “Two hours at the most.” Talis motioned a serving girl over. “Could we have two…honey meads?”

  Mara’s eyes lit up and she smacked her lips in anticipation. “And a slice of chocolate and raspberry cake?”

  The serving girl eyed Mara disdainfully, but she twisted around and stomped back behind the bar and filled two mugs with golden brew from a barrel.

  “She doesn’t like me much…” Mara scrunched up her eyes and lips in imitation of the serving girl’s pouty expression.

  Talis chuckled, most girls he knew despised Mara, something about her came off as wrong to them. She acted like she wanted to take every ideal for how a girl should live and smash them with her own contempt. And that was exactly why he liked her so much.

  “So you think we can beat Rikar and Nikulo?” Mara accepted a mug of ale from the serving girl, and frowned, peering at the bar.

  “Don’t get all upset…I’ll have your cake out soon enough.” The serving girl muttered to herself and charged off again after giving Talis his mug.

  “Honestly?” Talis took a swig of the sweet honey mead. “I don’t think we have a chance of winning against them. The question is, can we survive long enough to keep from getting murdered by Rikar? How many people has he killed in previous competitions?” Although Talis knew magical healers stood ready to cast healing spells on injured combatants, sometimes nothing could done, like the time Rikar sliced off someone’s head.

  “You’re so optimistic…” Mara rolled her eyes in disgust. “Maybe I’ll visit the old witch that sells curses after all. And here I am, drinking my mead and thinking we could actually win…”

  Talis poked her affectionately in the arm and grinned. “Here comes your cake…thank you, miss…go on, eat up, don’t make a face, you’ll feel better with the chocolate swirling around in your belly.”

  “I’ll feel better holding the Blood Dagger and handing it to my father and mother.” Mara gulped down a bite of cake and squeezed her eyes closed in delight. “Mmm, I can picture it so clearly… Mother, Father, I’ve won, and there’s no way I’m marrying Baron Delar’s fat old warthog of a son.”

  She opened her eyes suddenly and fixed her gaze on Talis. “You will do all you can do to help me win, won’t you? I really mean it. I’ve known you forever and then some, and if anyone can help me out of this…situation…you’re the one.”

  Talis swallowed another gulp of mead, and nodded, unable to break away from the sight of Mara’s earnest eyes. He would do anything to help her, and besides, winning against arrogant Rikar would be more of a prize than the Dagger itself.

  If he survived.

  5. THE BLOOD DAGGER

  As Talis stared up past the stone arena, stars twinkling through the black velvet sky, he could sense Mara stalking up to him. The familiar scent of roses wafted over him, the scent of Mara and the scent of House Lei’s gardens.

  “I prayed to Zagros, Nyx, Nacrea, and to Nestria…” He turned and smiled at Mara as she approached.

  “What say the heavens?” She stared up at the four moon sisters, her hands reaching out like she could caress the stars.

  The moons were splayed across the sky, speaking of a secret. The Diviners of the Celestials would call the moons’ alignment “Three Sisters Conspiring Against the Brilliant One.” The cruel plot against the one of light. Fate was strong today, for or against you. Talis frowned.

  He and Mara had been a sparring team for seven years, ever since he’d survived the initiation allowing him to wield the blade at six years old. This was a contest for reputation and favor, and the right to compete in the Arena of the Sej Elders. As Mara hoped for, it would mean she could get her wish and ask her parents to call off the marriage between her and Baron Delar’s son. For Talis, he hoped winning would mean praise and recognition from his father, praise he’d craved all his life.

  Mara twirled her twin nine-inch blades, and paused, staring at them with satisfaction. She handled them like pets. “Be careful of Rikar’s twirling strike. Go for a foot sweep if you see him start to spin.”

  Talis thought of Rikar’s deadly dances at previo
us matches, severing heads and breaking bones. In one case the healer couldn’t do a thing to save a boy, even with magic. Talis wanted to be brave, but bloody images of contestants at previous matches flashed in his mind.

  “Ready?” Talis aimed his short sword at the arena, and Mara brandished her daggers as well, a look of intense determination flashing in her eyes. They strode into the arena, the House of the Warrior, and smelled air thick with cedar and sweet incense. Hairs stood up along Talis’s arms and he clenched his mouth to keep his teeth from chattering. The dark, silver and grey stones shimmered, catching the torchlight along the tunnel leading into the circular arena.

  Inside, a round opening above allowed moonlight to shine onto the sandy floor. Great two-handed swords and halberds and spiked shields were mounted on the stone wall. Torches flickered in between, whipped by the wind. His cheeks stung from the cold. A red circle had been drawn in the center, marking the boundaries of the contest. The arena was quiet and empty, except for Nikulo and Master Jarvis Numerian, a giant of a man, muscles rippling underneath his banded leather armor, a twisted scar marring his otherwise noble face. Talis felt relieved that Jarvis, who was friendly to House Storm, judged today’s match.

  “We challenge the undefeated for the right to hold the Blood Dagger,” Talis shouted, and glanced around, wondering where Rikar was.

  Nikulo strode forward, his protruding belly waddling from side-to-side, and clapped his leather-studded jerkin. He pointed the bladed tip of his metal staff at Talis and Mara. Somehow Talis didn’t feel so intimidated at Nikulo’s scowling face. Although Nikulo was a fierce competitor, Rikar was the malicious one.

  “Do we have a complete team to battle the challengers?” Jarvis spread his arms wide.

  Footsteps pounded down the tunnel, and Rikar came charging into the arena, face shiny and proud, hair slick and wet as if he’d just taken a bath. His eyes mocked Talis.