Sobs and cries rose from almost everyone. Some turned away from the scene and quickly left, unable to bear the sight any longer.
Jarial remained in place beside Maira, his eyes fixed on Burke and the ornate dagger in his hands. The pommel had a symbol or rune etched upon it. Before Jarial could attempt to decipher it, Burke wrapped the dagger in a white cloth, approached Garmin, who stood on the outer circle, and gave it to him.
Burke replaced the tarpaulin back over Na’val’s body and stood. He scanned the room, not looking at anyone in particular. “Na’val Faulk was a fine and honorable man, respected and loved by all. May he rest peacefully.” He pointed to two students and gestured for them to take up the body. The two male students complied without hesitation, carefully gathering Na’val’s body and following the elder down the unlit halls that led to the burial grounds.
* * *
The Citadel mages were allowed to pay their respects to Na’val before his body was placed in the temporary stasis that would keep it from rotting before the burial. Jarial made his tributes brief, then, while the place was still in an uproar, scoured the halls for Omari. However, the young mage was nowhere to be found. Jarial finally gave up and left the Citadel. He returned to his inn room and stayed there for the remainder of the day. The Citadel would hold a formal memorial service for Na’val in the coming days, and afterward, Jarial made up his mind to leave Ghaeldorund for good. The sight of Na’val’s corpse remained vivid in Jarial’s mind as he pondered the day’s events. A dark cloud of grief was over the Citadel. The death of a prestigious mage struck a cruel blow in everyone’s hearts, including his own. Overcome with a deep depression, Jarial sat hunched over at his desk, his elbows propped up and his face buried in his hands as the images replayed in his mind.
Sable wove between his legs and meowed softly, trying to get his attention, but Jarial shoved her away with his foot. She finally leapt onto the desk and, purring loudly, wriggled her head between his propped elbows and licked at his hands.
The tickling sensation of her rough tongue made him jump in surprise and uncover his face.
She meowed, attempting to reassure him, then licked the tip of his nose.
Jarial wanted to smile—he tried very hard—but the thoughts of the earlier events prevented him from doing so. “I should have never come back. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. The pressures of the Council, Na’val’s death ... Maybe it’s not too late to leave now.”
She meowed in response and began giving herself a bath.
He watched her briefly, and he tried to calm his mind his mind from drifting to other darker thoughts of his past life. He reached out and ran his fingers over her sleek fur.
Just as a measure of peace began to return to his wounded heart, a frantic knocking at the door shattered his meditations. He jumped, and Sable leaped up and hissed.
Another series of knocks sounded, and a muffled voice called out through the door, “Master Glace? Master Glace? Are you there?”
Omari! Jarial sprang up from his desk and rushed to open the door. There stood Omari, pale-faced and terrified. Percival sat on his shoulder, giving Jarial an apprehensive stare.
Jarial looked beyond Omari to ensure the young man wasn’t followed, then he ushered him inside and locked the door. “What are you doing here, Omari?”
“I came to find you, sir,” Omari replied. “Terrible, what happened today ...”
Jarial scowled. “Where were you, anyway? I didn’t see you amongst the students.”
“I ...” He hung his head and sighed. “I had gone out late last night to look for Master Faulk. I went to all of our spots outside of town that Master Faulk used to take me for training. I eventually found him in a cave, rope-bound. He was alive. He told me he was being held captive for questioning about my whereabouts.”
“What!” Jarial exclaimed. “Whatever for?”
Omari frowned. “I do not know. But I managed to free him, and we were making our way out of the cave when we were ambushed by a man with his face covered. He threw a dagger at me. Master Faulk moved in front of me and tried to cast a shield spell around us, but he was not fast enough. The dagger struck him in the chest, and he collapsed. He told me in dying breaths to run and find help. I fled, and the assassin tried to attack me with another throwing dagger. The blade struck the back of my shoulder pretty deep.” He rubbed the back of his right shoulder. “I kept running and did not look back. As soon as I reached the gates, I alerted the guards there.
“Afterward, I sought out a healer to mend my injury. That was why I was not at the Citadel when the commotion happened there.”
Jarial digested the information. The guards. He recalled the group he’d encountered on the main road. So that was Omari’s doing. “Why would someone intentionally try to kill you?”
Omari pursed his lips. “I do not know, but I intend to find out.” His expression hardened. “Moreover, while I was searching the Citadel for you, I got caught up in another argument with Saris.”
Jarial raised an eyebrow. “Saris Beshara? Is he still bothering you, after all these years?” Saris had been Omari’s nemesis for as long as Jarial had known Omari.
“Unfortunately so,” Omari replied with a scowl.
Jarial groaned “You two are grown men now. Why can’t you just put these childish issues behind you?”
“They are not ‘childish issues’, Master Glace. This is a matter of my family’s honor. Saris comes from a rival family who despises my father and the great things he has done, like reviving the Harran in Ankhram. My father came here for a short time, and the Beshara family did not like it.”
“Yes, I vaguely remember your father. Amil was his name, yes?”
Omari nodded.
Jarial rubbed his temples. “Look, whatever Saris wants shouldn’t matter to you. You have greater things to aspire to—such as earning that Council seat, which I think, at this point, will end up being yours by default once all of this mess is cleared up.”
“But even if I do earn that seat, I would have been required to shadow Master Faulk for one month until I become fully accustomed to Council protocol. But now ... he is ...”
Jarial rolled his eyes. “I can tell you what ‘Council protocol’ is: simply sitting there and being quiet unless you are asked a question. It’s all simple politics, really. You don’t need to ‘shadow’ anyone. That’s a crock of shite.”
“But, Master Glace—”
“Do you want to be on the Council or not, boy?” Jarial asked sharply, narrowing his eyes. His vision momentarily blurred into a spectrum of colors.
“Of course I do, but—”
“Then shut up and do as I said!”
Omari took a deep breath and stared at Jarial intently, then nodded.
Jarial relaxed. He knew exactly how Omari was feeling. “I was nervous, too, you know, on becoming a Councilmember. It was probably the most frightening thing that happened in my life. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps it was just the feeling of having achieved a lifelong goal and finally seeing its rewards with my own eyes. I was young then—younger than you, actually.”
Omari managed a small smile. “I just ... do not want to fail. I do not want to dishonor my father’s name.”
Jarial patted him on the back reassuringly. “My late master, Gamelyn, once told me, ‘You’re going to make all the same mistakes I made, and then some. But the important thing is that you learn from each of those experiences, for that is what is going to make you a true master.’ Those words could never be any truer. You will be a fine addition to the Council. Of this, I am certain.” He turned away from Omari and returned to his desk. “Besides, it’s not only your father now that you will be honoring. It is also Na’val—your master.”
Omari plucked Percival from his shoulder and set him on the floor before approaching Jarial. Percival scampered to Sable and began investigating her twitching tail.
“Master Glace,” Omari said, “you have also been a great influence in my life
, for it was you amongst the other masters who had helped me learn the basics of magic.”
Jarial stared blankly at the grain of his wooden desktop. “I’ve done nothing compared to what he’s done for you.” He glanced up at Omari. “He made you into a man—and an adept who is worthy of a Council title. His death must not be in vain.”
“It will not.” Omari shifted his weight. “But I want to find the murderer.”
“We all do, but that is obviously easier said than done.” Jarial rubbed his chin. “Although ...”
“What is it, sir?”
“That dagger ... I can’t get that image out of my head. I’ve been trying to decipher that rune I saw on the hilt, but I could not understand it.”
Omari tilted his head curiously. “What did the rune look like?”
Jarial retrieved a blank parchment, slid his quill and inkwell closer to him, and began drawing the image. Omari peered over his shoulder and watched. When Jarial finished, Omari gasped.
“That looks like the symbol of Ben-nyu, the firebird,” Omari said.
Jarial raised his eyebrows. “Oh? That sounds like an Ankhran name. I’m none too familiar with your country’s lore. Why are you so surprised by it?”
Omari paled. “Because ... the symbol is also used by the Beshara family.”
VI
Each successive day at the Pyre was increasingly brutal for Kaijin. After four days, he found himself nearing his limit. He was using every spell he had ever learned, but against Vargas’s divine ones, master cleric that he was, Kaijin struggled to keep his life.
Assuming it was morning, Kaijin sat at his reading desk, perusing some books about Ignis as he awaited a summon from Vargas or, preferably, Ranaiah. He had found the books in the grand library, and they taught him much about the many facets of the Firelord that he had not known before. It intrigued him to know that Ignis was just as capable of good as he was of evil.
Why are you trying to drive me insane? Kaijin asked, directing the question at the presence within him, if it could hear him. I would rather embrace your more generous side.
The fiery voice didn’t answer, to his disappointment. Instead, Miele screeched in his mind, breaking him from his thoughts. She swooped down from the ceiling and landed on the trunk at the foot of his bed. She nudged the haversack sitting atop it until a small jar poked out from the top.
Kaijin smiled at his familiar and slid out of his chair. He retrieved the jar, opened it and pulled out a honeystick. “Hmm, so it’s breakfast time, is it?” He smiled and handed the treat to her. Without windows in his room, his sense of time had become distorted, but the animal instincts of his familiar allowed Miele to track the passage of sun and stars.
Miele happily snatched up the honeystick and flew back up to her hidden perch, where she could enjoy it in private.
A light knock sounded on the door, and Kaijin spun around. Ranaiah is here! With a wide smile on his face, he bounded to the door and flung it open. His smile drooped when he discovered an acolyte standing there. The man, who looked about Kaijin’s age, carried a tray of hot tea and slices of dark bread with steaming, melted white cheese. Fire lily petals accentuated the dishes.
The acolyte nodded politely. “Good morning, Kaijin. The high priestess asked me to give this to you with her regards, as she will be a little late to fetch you this morning.” He presented the tray.
Kaijin took the tray and wrinkled his brow, curious. Is she all right? “Uh, thanks.”
The acolyte dismissed himself, and Kaijin shut the door. He moved the books from his desk and set the tray down, his concern for Ranaiah momentarily outweighing his hunger. He picked up one of the flower petals and examined it. From the vibrancy of the red and yellow, the flower was freshly picked. He inhaled the petal’s crisp, sweet scent and closed his eyes. Smells just like her. He smiled.
Miele screeched with amusement in his mind.
Kaijin blinked, and his cheeks went hot. Pouting, he glanced up toward Miele’s perch, unable to see her but sensing her presence. “Oh, mind your own business!” he said sourly.
Miele ceased her taunting, but it unnerved Kaijin to think that she was probably still watching him and listening to his thoughts. Still simmering, he finally gave in to his grumbling belly and sat down to his breakfast.
After he finished eating, Kaijin sipped at his ginger tea and returned to his reading.
Another knock came on the door, followed by a voice. “Kaijin, it’s me.”
Kaijin gulped down the rest of his tea and sprang out of his chair. “R-Ranaiah! I’m here. Please come in.”
The high priestess entered. Her troubled expression wiped the welcoming grin off Kaijin’s face. She refused to meet his gaze as she closed the door behind her.
Kaijin approached her, frowning. “Ranaiah? Are you all right?”
She sighed heavily and looked at him. “Forgive me for coming so late this morning, but Vargas and I had much to discuss. I am worried about your safety. I did not tell him yet, but I will be dismissing him from his position after today.” She clasped her hands in front of her.
“He has been getting a little extreme with the tests.” Kaijin scratched the back of his head. “Thankfully I’ve been able to overcome everything he’s been throwing at me.”
“Yes, and he is quite resentful of that fact. I fear he has some hidden motive that he will not discuss with anyone, even me. If that is the case, then he does not belong in the Pyre.”
“And here I thought he liked me.”
Ranaiah unclasped her hands and took a step closer to him. “He was ... curious about you when you and your friends first arrived here. And he has since been trying to understand you. I think perhaps this curiosity is now becoming a dangerous obsession.”
“Why so many tests, Ranaiah? Have I not proven myself to you by coming here?”
“You are a mage who can wield both arcane and divine energy. Nobody like you has been seen in the world for decades. You hold a great power, and as the Almighty Firelord himself decreed when you first arrived, we must train you and guide you to use this power wisely.”
It was Kaijin’s turn to sigh. He moved away from Ranaiah and slumped down in his desk chair. “Why me? I don’t understand. I am no one special. I didn’t ask for this. I was happy just studying magic.”
Ranaiah gave him a reassuring smile and approached him. She gently touched his shoulder. “How many times have you asked that, and how many times have I repeated my answer? Sometimes destiny calls the most unsuspecting people at the most inconvenient times, but we must heed it, no matter what.”
Kaijin propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands as he sorted through his thoughts. Ranaiah’s touch kept his mind at ease. “I guess ... I will do what I must to master this new power.” He dropped his hands from his face and turned to the priestess. “I trust that you will not lead me astray, at least, Ranaiah. I’m not sure if I can say the same for Vargas.”
Her expression hardened. “Don’t worry about him. I will make certain today’s test is more controlled.” Her hand fell away from his shoulder and lightly brushed his arm.
He shivered, seized by a sudden desire to grasp her hand before it got away, but he managed to resist the urge. Still, when he stood from his chair and faced her, he stared deep into her chocolate eyes, which were filled with concern. He reached out hesitantly and gently brushed his fingers down her cheek. Hints of pink appeared on the brown skin beneath his fingertips, and Ranaiah closed her eyes. Her head tilted slightly toward his hand, and she exhaled softly. A faint smile touched her lips.
This is wrong, but ... but I can’t help myself. The way Ranaiah looked at that moment—so content and vulnerable—made his heart swell.
“Ranaiah ...” Kaijin lifted her hand and brought it shakily to his lips. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me. For believing in me.” What am I doing? What am I saying? Her skin was smooth and warm, and the enticing scent of fire lilies exuded from it.
Ranaiah opened her eyes. “I will do whatever it takes ... for you, Kaijin Sora,” she whispered.
Her lips were so close, so soft. Kaijin began to lean toward them, toward Ranaiah.
As he did, the memory of another face, another kiss, rose between them. Zarya, he thought, with a pang of guilt and longing. He could feel the warmth of Ranaiah’s face on his own, but the image of Zarya’s cool, unattainable perfection overwhelmed the heat in his blood. At the last moment, just before their lips touched, Kaijin lowered his head and kissed the back of Ranaiah’s hand. The taste of her skin was sweet, as sweet as the scent of lilies, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy.
This must be what it’s like to kiss a goddess. Reluctantly, he lowered her hand and gazed at her. The pink in her cheeks had flushed to a deep red, and she laid her other hand over the one Kaijin had just kissed and smiled at him warmly.
He returned her smile with a sheepish grin, her silence causing him to nervously release her hand and scratch the back of his head. “Uh ... I should ... begin the training now.”
* * *
Kaijin stood in the middle of the chamber. Unlike his previous tests, glowing orbs floated in each corner, illuminating it. He stared up at the platform where Vargas and Ranaiah stood together, chatting. He had no doubt that he was the subject of their conversation. Ranaiah’s face occasionally turned in Kaijin’s direction.
She’s watching. I can’t—I won’t disappoint her.
Vargas turned away from Ranaiah and pointed down at Kaijin. “Are you ready now, boy?”
“I’m not a boy!” he retorted. “Bring on whatever test you have today.”
Vargas chuckled. “With pleasure.”
Behind Vargas, Kaijin noticed, Ranaiah seemed in a state of deep concentration, as if she were anticipating something.
Vargas pulled an amber pendant from within his robes. He removed the pendant and, holding it aloft, spoke. “Almighty Firelord, I call upon Your strength, Your rage, Your wrath. Send forth one of Your faithful warriors so that they may put this Firebrand’s abilities to their true test!” He tossed the pendant into the chamber.
Flameseeker (Book 3) Page 5
