“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m grateful that Master Glace managed to put a stop to Xavorin’s destruction,” said Lars Ustan, representing the First Seat, Abjuration. He was one of the veteran members of the Council, holding his seat long before Jarial joined. He was a generous man whose youthful appearance far preceded his age, and it made him well liked by many of the students.
“As am I,” said Sixth Seat Yates Harden, who represented Conjuration. “Though Xavorin was a troubled man, he will never be forgotten.”
Jarial glanced at him and then bowed his head in agreement.
Burke stood. “Master Glace, we are grateful for your continued service to the Council, despite your broken affiliations. As you’ve probably noticed, your spot is once again empty....”
Jarial blinked. ‘Once again’? “What do you mean, Elder?”
“Na’val Faulk, who replaced you not long after you took your leave, went missing two days ago.”
“Missing? Where was he last seen?”
“Here at the Citadel.” Burke stroked his bushy grey-white beard. “One of the students said that he mentioned he was going out for a walk, but he never returned.”
Jarial furrowed his brow. He hadn’t personally known Na’val, so he had no bearings to make sense of the Council’s alarm. “Have you tried scrying for him?”
“A few have been assigned to do that,” Burke replied. “They’ve been at it all day, with no luck. We’ve sent out search parties, but there has been no news yet. Na’val was to host and give a lecture at this year’s symposium, which will be in six days. He has always looked forward to the event—and he was looking forward to it more than usual this year, because he is hosting. It is unlike him to leave without notice, especially with the event fast approaching. I fear for the worst.”
Jarial rubbed his chin. Every Citadel mage looked forward to the Ghaeldorund Mage Symposium, an annual gathering of great minds from all over Exodus, held in the Hall of Lions located in the city’s plaza. Jarial had eagerly planned to attend once again, after having been away from the city for so many years.
Jarial looked around the table at the other Councilmembers, who shifted in their chairs and avoided eye contact. The Council of Nine, with only eight members? They cannot possibly—
“Master Glace,” Burke continued, “I would like to extend the invitation for you to rejoin the Council—at least temporarily, until Master Faulk is found.”
Jarial felt himself pale. No, I promised to never get involved again. How can I refuse without upsetting them? “Well ...”
“I must agree,” Garmin interjected. “Your service to the Council in the past has gone above and beyond anything we ever asked. I could not think of a better candidate for the job than you.”
Virgil snorted. “Please. Have you all forgotten about the self-centered and questionable behavior he exhibited when he was helping that renegade? I think having him on the Council would be a bad choice indeed. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looked to some of the other Councilmembers, who nodded slowly.
Virgil’s outburst brought a sneer to Jarial’s lip. It would be useless attempting to argue with that idiot.
Burke gave his nephew a stern glare before turning expectantly to Jarial. “Master Glace, this offer remains. Do you accept?”
Jarial scanned the people sitting around the table, a bitter taste on his tongue. “Your offer flatters me, Elder. I am honored. But I ... need some time to think on this. I have new endeavors and tasks that I must finish. I would like to learn more about Xavorin’s urges and why he was so obsessed with Necromancy. I once considered him a good friend, after all.” He glanced at Virgil, expecting a snide remark, but the man remained surprisingly silent for a change.
Burke sighed, looking disappointed, and he nodded. “If that is your wish, Master Glace. I fear, however, our setback will continue just a while longer.”
“What do you mean?” Jarial tilted his head to the side.
“We cannot effectively operate without a Master of Illusion,” Maira reminded him. “Other than Faulk, you were the only other viable choice.”
“Are there no worthy students?” Jarial asked.
“You do not realize the power and competency that you possess, which makes you an ideal candidate for a Councilmember,” Burke said.
Jarial held back a smirk. Of course he realized it, but he preferred to pursue his own goals, instead of the goals of others. “Has it truly been that difficult to find a replacement?” Or were you simply waiting for me to return?
“There were only two others, but one of them, whom Faulk expressed interest in. But the decision was unanimous that we thought he was not yet ready to take that next step.”
Maira shook her head. “It’s much harder than you think to find someone to fill a Councilmember’s seat.”
“Who is this student whom Master Faulk chose?” Jarial asked the elder.
“His name is Omari Batsuyou, a young man of twenty-eight,” Burke replied.
Jarial stroked his chin. He remembered the young man as a boy, just beginning to learn the Arcane Arts. It pleased him to know that Omari had surpassed himself to become masterful at it.
“His hard work and dedication to the Art earned him the opportunity to undergo his trial of ascension,” Burke continued. “He was sent out with a group who would observe him and relay his progress to us. But only a few days after they left, we lost contact. We attempted to scry their location, to no avail. We had concluded that Omari’s trial had failed.”
Another Citadel mage, missing? Jarial leaned forward in his chair, eyeing the elder intently. “And what was his trial, Elder?”
“He was to go to the Mallowyn Crags far to the south and have the Dragon there enchant his staff.”
Jarial gasped. “A Dragon! Is that not a little too extreme for a novice mage?”
“He was no novice, Jarial.” Burke’s tone was stern, and annoyance showed in his omission of Jarial’s formal title. “Omari was a unique student whose admirable efforts piqued our interests. He would have made a fine addition to the Council in due time. This is no different than when the Council first considered you. In fact, Omari reminded me of you.”
Jarial made a sour face, unsure if he should be flattered or offended. Regardless, it seemed that much promising talent had gone to waste with Omari’s untimely end.
“With Omari and Na’val’s disappearances, it has been troubling times for us all,” Burke continued. “But now, you are here.”
“It is hard to imagine that only two students have proven to be worthy candidates of Council positions,” Jarial said, frowning. “Such a shame the Citadel does not have the dedicated students it once had.”
Burke shook his head. “It’s not that. We have just raised our expectations a little higher. You have been away for far too long. Times have changed.”
Jarial nodded. Changed for the worse, it seems.
“At least think about my offer, Master Glace.”
“I will.” Jarial looked around the table once more. Would things really improve if I were to return? Are they truly that dependent on me, or do they simply wish to have a familiar face amongst them again? He stood. “May I be dismissed, Elder?”
Burke nodded solemnly and sat back in his chair. The other members watched Jarial with concern.
“Thank you. And I do hope you will find Master Faulk and Omari soon.” With a respectful bow, he took his leave through the chamber’s double wooden doors.
As students and lower-ranking administration were forbidden in the Council’s wing without permission, the long, dark halls were quiet enough for Jarial to hear the echo of his own footsteps. He heard the muffled voices of the Councilmembers continue beyond the doors of the main chamber as he drew further away.
Have I really become so powerful that I have set some sort of standard here? Jarial thought, idly gazing at the torches lining the smooth stone walls. Dim halos flickered and danced throughout the narrow hall, providing a lighte
d path toward a spiral stairwell that led to the main hall of the Citadel.
As he descended the stairs, he mulled over recent events. It was strange that, despite not having walked those halls in twenty-six years, he had been welcomed by students and Councilmembers alike. He’d recognized most of the faculty, and many of the students, who had all been small children when last he saw them.
Amber-hued light from the main hall greeted Jarial as he descended the final step. Some students and administration lingered there, while others hustled to their classes. A majestic marble fountain sat in the middle of the hall. A vestibule, which divided the main hall, had been transformed into a massive library, the Library of the Sun, holding the books of most use to novice students. Two other libraries—the Library of the Moon, on the second floor, and the Library of the Stars, on the third floor—served the more advanced and specialized students.
Jarial thought about the days he and Xavorin had frequented the Library of the Sun. They had been young, then, and still new to the Art. Jarial glimpsed a group of students, exchanging notes at a table, and his heart ached. Once upon a time, he and Xavorin had sat at that same table, studying for a test.
Jarial tore his gaze from the library and focused his attention elsewhere. Why? Why did you betray me, Xavorin? After all I did for you....
A small commotion coming from near the fountain interrupted his thoughts. He slowly approached the group of students and faculty, who had crowded excitedly around a tall young man with a bald head. The man leaned on a wooden staff with carved runes that gleamed with energy. His robes, which Jarial realized were of that of a Citadel student’s, were shabby and torn from days of travel. His tattooed face looked exhausted, yet determination glowed in his narrow, slanted brown eyes. Sitting on his shoulder was a brown long-tailed sand weasel.
“Omari! You’ve returned!” one student exclaimed. “How did your test go? Did you pass?”
Omari turned to the student, a young woman, who had managed to squeeze through the crowd to stand by him, staring admiringly. Without a word, he held his staff aloft. It crackled with electricity, and the students around him gasped in awe. He smiled. “I would say that it was a success.”
Several administrators approached and broke up the crowd. Groans and disappointed murmurs swept across the hall as everyone reluctantly dispersed and returned to their daily duties. Omari was directed to the stairs leading up to the Council’s wing.
He brushed past Jarial’s shoulder and glanced back at him with the eyes of the determined child Jarial had once known.
That determined child, it seemed, was now a man.
Gods, Jarial thought, I really am getting old.
III
Jarial watched Omari make his way out of the main hall and toward the spiral staircase leading up to the Council’s wing. Once the young mage had vanished around the curve of the stairway, Jarial murmured “Tacete,” cloaking himself in silence. Jarial then mounted the stairs, following undetected in Omari’s footsteps.
Omari reached the doors of the Council’s chambers and knocked several times before slowly entering the meeting room where the Councilmembers were still gathered. The wooden doors closed behind him, and Jarial pressed his ear against it to listen to the voices beyond.
* * *
Omari, relieved to finally be back, stood before the members of the Council, who each fixed a piercing gaze on him, waiting to hear his report. The startled silence in the chamber made him shift uncomfortably. He felt Percival’s furry body tense, and the weasel dug tiny claws into the shoulder of his robe.
“It is all right, my friend,” Omari said mentally to his familiar.
Percival shuddered and let out soft chitters of apprehension.
Omari scanned each of the Councilmembers. He realized that one member was missing. Where is Master Faulk?
“Omari!” The elder stood. “What a surprise and relief it is to have you back!” He motioned for Omari to proceed to Faulk’s empty chair.
Omari bowed his head and followed the gesture, but once he reached the seat, he hesitated to sit down. He felt unworthy of sitting amongst the greatest of the greats, after the humility he had learned from Kyniythyria, the Dragon. “Greetings, Elder. I apologize if I have worried everyone.”
“We had lost contact with you and your escorts,” Master Yates said. “We ended up resorting to scrying, but were still unable to locate you.”
Omari arched an eyebrow. Could the Dragon have masked my location with the power she instilled in my staff? With a glance at his staff, he carefully laid it on the table, and he lowered himself into the plush chair behind it with a comfortable sigh. The cushions conformed to his body, providing a perfect fit for his back and buttocks. He relaxed, and Percival, reassured, climbed down from his shoulder and curled up comfortably in his lap.
On the table in front of him, though Omari had done nothing to cause it, the staff continued crackling and glowing with blue electricity. All eyes turned to the staff, and gasps and murmurs echoed through the chamber.
“Amazing,” the elder whispered. “A Dragon’s power indeed flows within this staff.” He paused and tilted his head, as if he were listening intently to a voice no one else could hear. “But wait! There’s something else embedded in the staff.”
“Yes, Grandmaster,” Omari said. “It is a message—for Master Faulk.”
The elder sighed. “Unfortunately, Master Faulk has been missing for two days.”
“What? Missing?” That is unlike him to do such a thing.
The elder nodded. “We are still searching for him. Don’t worry, Omari. Your test is still valid, and we acknowledge the proof of your success. But we cannot grant a final ruling without him.”
Omari sighed. Confound it, Kaijin. I have deviated too long from my test trying to help you deal with your trivial issues. Now something terrible might have happened to Master Faulk! I am going to try to find him as soon as possible. Percival stirred on his shoulder, and Omari glanced down. The weasel seemed irritable about something, and after a moment Omari felt it—that feeling of being watched by one unseen. He scanned the room but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “What do you see?”
“Omari,” the elder called, prompting him to sever the empathic link with his familiar.
“My apologies, Grandmaster,” Omari said, slightly rattled. “My mind was drifting.”
The elder drummed his fingers on the hard wooden surface of the table, his expression hardening. “If you expect to earn that seat you are currently sitting in, then you must learn to focus.”
The other members’ hard stares remained fixed on Omari, and he cringed. “Y-yes, Grandmaster. My sincerest apologies, Grandmaster.”
“Now, then.” The elder’s face softened, and he scrutinized Omari. “Please share the details of your adventure with the Council.”
The elder’s request made Omari’s mouth go dry. He would’ve rather forgotten it all, as much of it had been unpleasant. He sighed deeply and let his gaze travel over the Councilmembers. Confound it, I just want to take a nice long bath and go to sleep—and look for Master Faulk. He took a moment to search for words.
“Omari!” the elder barked.
Omari jumped in his seat, and then sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “It was a rather terrifying experience. First, my assigned escorts were all attacked and killed by a pack of vagabonds, and I barely managed to escape. I fled and hid under an invisibility spell. Realizing I was alone, I still continued forward in my travels. But not long after, I met a group of adventurers, and before I knew it, we had reached the Dragon’s mountain in the Mallowyn Crags.
“Just when I thought I had completed my task, the Dragon sent us all out to find Her egg, which was stolen by slayers who called themselves the Legion. Needless to say, my comrades and I brought that group of ill doers to bloody justice, and we rescued the egg. So grateful She was to have Her child back, She enchanted my staff, as well as bestowed Her blessings upon us.”
Sm
all murmurs swarmed through the chamber, and the Councilmembers exchanged glances, nodding.
“Fascinating.” The elder looked thoughtful. “Is there more?”
Omari mulled over Kaijin and his strange quest. “My comrades and I journeyed to another place called the Pyre—a peculiar place where the Firelord, Ignis, supposedly reigns. A member of my party, also a mage, found sanctuary there.”
Master Yates perked up. “Another mage, you say? Was he a Citadel student?”
“No, Honored Sixth. He was ... an outcast.” Omari licked his lips. I had better leave things at that.
Master D’Hasha slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump. “Pray tell, not another renegade!”
“N-no, Honored Seventh.” Omari quickly shook his head. “He is ... a reputable man. However, he does have a strange passion for fire.”
Mistress Aldermoon tapped her chin. “Mmm. He sounds like he could be a pyromancer. I know little of the Pyre, other than it’s a priestly place. The people there are very reclusive. Would they truly welcome such outsiders as mage outcasts amongst their ranks?”
Omari shrugged. “They did not seem to have a problem with him, Honored Third. In fact, the high priest and priestess affirmed his sanctuary there.”
More murmurs swept through the chamber.
“It is strange, I know,” Omari continued. “But I have not seen such unusual power wielded by a man before. Perhaps that is why the clerics did not turn him away.”
“Explain,” the elder demanded, his expression hardening again.
Omari kept his composure. He raised his head slightly, confident but still respectful. “This man, Kaijin, is being influenced by the Firelord himself. Kaijin claims he becomes possessed at times and does things against his will.”
The other members all turned to the elder, their expressions shocked and curious.
Flameseeker (Book 3) Page 2
