Flameseeker (Book 3)

by R. M. Prioleau

  “Aye, Dragons are known to have great memories—at least, that’s what my Uncle Nickle once told me.”

  “He is only half Dragon,” Omari corrected.

  “Omari!” Zarya gave him a dirty look.

  “What? It is the truth, is it not?”

  Aidan frowned at the group, then thought for a moment. “Aidan remembers ... being high up in the mountains. The Pyre looked like big golden building—maybe brass.”

  “Too vague,” Jarial said. “Envision you are standing before the Pyre right now. What do you see?”

  Aidan scratched the back of his head. “Ah ... Aidan sees ... Two gold—or brass—arched doors with patterns of flames on them. And runes, too, but Aidan doesn’t know what they say. The ground is grey sand mixed with ash and full of sharp rocks that bother Aidan’s feet.”

  Jarial nodded. “Better.”

  “A shallow staircase leads up to the ornate doors,” Zarya added. “A bright red tapestry with golden tassels hangs over the entrance, emblazoned with Ignis’s symbol in gold. There were braziers burning on either side of the entrance. Two, I think.”

  Jarial smiled at her. “Much better.”

  “Aye, an’ there ain’t a key ’ole on those doors, either, so gettin’ in ain’t easy,” Nester said.

  Zarya shrugged. “Simply knocking seemed to work last time.”

  “Aye, well, who knows if we’ll be that lucky again?” It took several moments for Nester to carefully unfold his map, and when he did, it nearly blanketed him. He laid it on the ground and smoothed it out, and then gestured as he explained, “’Ere we are, an’ ’ere’s th’ Pyre. It ain’t exactly drawn to scale, but at least you can get an idea of ’ow far we gotta go.”

  Jarial knelt down and studied the map, tracing his finger along an invisible path while he concentrated on something.

  After the rest of his companions gave their descriptions of the Pyre, Omari gave his piece. “What I remember most vividly was the smell of burning wood and charcoal. The air was also very warm and dry, as if we were walking right into a volcano. There was, of course, the presence of magic all around that place, and I do not believe that it was solely divine magic.”

  Zarya shook her head. “No, it was not. I felt it, too.”

  Jarial silenced everyone and continued meditating on the map. Once he was satisfied, he stood. “All right. I have the place in mind.”

  Omari blinked. He had a funny feeling in his gut. Master Glace seems so sure of himself, but he has never been to the Pyre before, has he? “Are you ... certain the route is clear to you, Master Glace?”

  Jarial glowered. “Yes, Omari! I am most certain. Do not question me about it again.” He turned to the others. “Everyone gather in the circle, quickly.”

  As Omari, Nester, Zarya, and Aidan joined him in the circle, Jarial fished in the components pouch at his belt. Sable leapt up from her comfortable spot and stood between Jarial’s ankles. While Jarial chanted, he sprinkled a pinch of amber-colored dust over the circle.

  Omari tried to listen to the words chanted, but they were spoken so fast, it sounded like a jumble. A white glow appeared from within the circle and engulfed the group.

  For a brief moment, Omari no longer saw his comrades or heard Percival’s terrified squeaking. His heart pounded. No, it failed! Malik, help us.

  The light slowly dissipated, and Omari began to make out the world around him. He was no longer in a thicket on the outskirts of Ghaeldorund. Instead, he stood on sandy, rocky land. The air was dry, thin, and hot, and he smelled the familiar scent of charcoal and burning wood.

  When the light cleared completely, he gazed upon a grand golden structure sitting atop a long, shallow staircase. The Pyre. He smiled. Thank Malik, we made it!

  Sable yowled at the top of her lungs, as if she were in great pain. Cringing and wondering what could possibly be bothering her, he turned to the cat. She lay sprawled atop Jarial, who apparently had collapsed. Her tail lashed about.

  “Oy! Stop all that soddin’ racket!” Nester yelled over Sable’s yowling, covering his ears.

  Zarya gasped and rushed to Jarial’s side. She knelt down and placed her hand over his forehead, speaking healing prayers. Omari didn’t stop her, realizing she was the only one of the group who could probably help him.

  Aidan stood near, checking on Zarya a moment before focusing his wary attention on their surroundings while she worked.

  Omari approached Jarial’s other side and knelt down. He widened his eyes. “Master Glace?”

  The man lying before him looked almost nothing like the Jarial he knew. His skin was paler, with wrinkles and a few pockmarks covering his face. His once-straight black hair was peppered grey and receding. Patches of grey stubble were visible along his jawline.

  Omari drew in a breath. What has the spell done to him?

  X

  Omari tried to rouse the old man that was Jarial by shaking his arm gently, but it was no use. Fearing the worst, Omari’s heart pounded. His hands became clammy. Percival leapt from his shoulder to the ground and sat up on his haunches next to Jarial, sniffing at the mage cautiously. No, Master Glace. Please wake up!

  Sable ceased her yowling and pawed at Jarial’s wrinkled face. Percival attempted to comfort her with a gentle nuzzle.

  “Soddin’ ’ells!” Nester exclaimed. “What ’appened to ’im?”

  Omari ground his teeth, fighting to hold back the tears in his stinging eyes. His pride prevented him from crying in front of his comrades. “Not now, Nester! Just ... Just be quiet!”

  Zarya, who had been knelt at Jarial’s other side tending to him with her healing spells, lifted her hand from the mage’s pale, wrinkled forehead and sighed. “His strength is depleted. It is only by the goddess’s mercy that he is still alive.”

  Omari saw concern in her eyes. The spell must’ve been too much for him. “Can ... Can you help him?”

  She nodded once, then placed her other hand over his heart and began to utter a prayer. Her hands glowed blue, and the light soon enveloped Jarial’s body. When she concluded her prayer, the light dissipated.

  Jarial suddenly gasped. His eyes shot open and stared at the sky a moment before turning to Zarya and Omari. His mouth drooped, and he appeared dazed.

  “Mister Gla—Jarial? Can you hear me?” Zarya asked.

  Omari glanced at her, surprised. For as long as he’d known Jarial, Omari had very rarely heard anyone call Jarial by his first name.

  Jarial focused his eyes on the priestess, and he closed his mouth. The wrinkles on his cheeks shifted to accommodate a weak smile. “Zarya ...” he whispered, his voice sounding raspy.

  Zarya beamed. “Praise be to the goddess!”

  “Master Glace,” Omari said. “Are you all right? Do you remember what happened?”

  Jarial’s head turned to Omari, his smile fading. With a grunt, he tried to sit up. Sable slid off him, then settled into his lap, purring contentedly. “Yes ...” Jarial exhaled. “The spell. We were going to see Kaijin. It worked, did it not?”

  Omari chewed his bottom lip. “It did, but ...”

  “‘But’?” Jarial, fully awake, ran his hands halfway through his hair and stopped. He felt his face. His eyes widened. “No ...” he whispered, his hands trembling. He sprang up shakily, launching Sable from his lap, and pushed past the group, shielding his face from view.

  “Master Glace!” Omari called. He motioned the rest of his comrades to stay put while he followed after the mage.

  Jarial didn’t go far, but he kept his back turned to the rest of the group.

  Omari slowed his steps until he came up beside Jarial. He lowered his head, looking sidelong at him. “Master Glace,” he began in almost a whisper. “I—”

  “How could I have been so careless?” Jarial muttered.

  Omari raised his head slightly.

  “Everyone will know now.”

  “Master Glace, if I may—”

  “What? What do you have to say, boy?” Jarial
turned to him. His wrinkled face hardened, and his glassy, slate-grey eyes flashed. “Now that you and your friends know my secret, I’ll be a laughingstock! That damned brownie will spread it around like wildfire!”

  “No, sir, that will not happen. I will make certain.” Omari sighed. I never knew that Master Glace was so vain.

  “Your words are hardly assuring, Omari,” Jarial said flatly.

  “Does it truly bother you that you are—”

  “Old? Of course it does. But you and everyone else aren’t meant to see me this way. No one on the Council has ever seen me like this! And Kaijin ... He must never know.”

  “Everyone ages, sir.”

  “Yes, but that does not mean that I am required to look my age, damn it!”

  Omari rolled his eyes. Why is this such a big deal to him?

  Then he realized he had his own complexes, which he preferred to keep private, but they ended up being discovered by his friends. One such instance was his inability to swim. He wanted to redeem himself somehow, for his own dignity’s sake. “Can you not just ... disguise yourself again?”

  Jarial shook his head. “I am still weary from casting the teleportation spell. I don’t want to risk mis-casting a disguise spell and accidentally make myself look like a troll or something.”

  “Has the teleportation spell done this to you?”

  “Not directly. It required my fullest concentration. I did not realize that casting it would ... deplete me like this. I understand now why not many people my age cast that spell too often. I just need a moment’s time to rest, and to figure out what to do about Kaijin.”

  “We are at the Pyre. Kaijin is likely inside.” Omari looked in the distance past the rest of the group toward the shallow stairs that led up to the Pyre’s grand entrance.

  “Kaijin must never see me this way,” Jarial said. “For all his life, he’s only seen the young Jarial. He won’t know who I am, and I doubt he will take a washed-up old man like me seriously. Tch. Most young people don’t, anyway.”

  “That is not true. Kaijin is your student—”

  “Was my student.” Jarial frowned. “But none of that matters now.”

  Omari narrowed his eyes. “Master Glace, with all due respect, I could not care less about your age or appearance. All that matters to me is your wisdom and your ability to teach me all that I must know to become a successful Councilmember.”

  Jarial closed his eyes a moment, and then took a deep breath.

  “And I am certain Kaijin will be glad to see you again,” Omari continued.

  He nodded slowly. “Fine. I get it. No need to lecture me. For your sake, you’d better be right.”

  Omari shrugged. “I do not know why or how, but I do feel strongly that he will not mind. After traveling with Kaijin for as long as I did, I think, perhaps, that he and I are not so different.” He recalled the Dragon, Kyniythyria, whom he and his comrades had had the highest honor of meeting during their travels, mentioning how much he and Kaijin ‘smelled alike’.

  Jarial grumbled. “All right. But let’s get one thing clear: if that damned brownie says anything about this outside of this group, I will deal with him myself. Is that understood?”

  While the thought of Nester getting what he deserved brought a dark smile to Omari’s face, he couldn’t deny that the brownie hadn’t really done anything that would hurt his friends. Omari would be sure to give Nester a good talking-to, regardless. He nodded curtly to Jarial. “No need to worry, sir. I will take care of it.”

  Keeping his head tilted downward and his eyes focused ahead, Jarial turned and shuffled back toward the group. Omari followed him. Jarial continued past the group, and Sable fell in beside her master. As Jarial passed by Nester, the brownie opened his mouth to speak, but Omari nabbed him by the back of his jerkin.

  “’Ey! What’s th’ big idea?” Nester grunted.

  Omari gave him a shushing gesture, then motioned for Zarya and Aidan to remain while Jarial continued ahead.

  “Just a minute, everyone.” Omari let go of Nester’s jerkin but still kept a sharp eye on him. “You have all now seen Master Glace’s true appearance, but knowing this, you must never tell anyone. This is very important, and it would mean a lot to Master Glace if you kept this secret.” He glared at Nester. “Especially you.”

  “Wha—? I wasn’t gonna say nothin’!”

  “Swear by whatever brownie oath of loyalty you have that you will not reveal Master Glace’s true appearance,” Omari ordered.

  Nester raised his right hand. “I swear on my pa’s grave that I won’t tell no one.”

  Omari glanced at the brownie’s other hand to make sure his fingers weren’t crossed. “All right. I am going to hold you to that promise. If you betray me, I swear by Malik I will make you pay dearly for it.”

  “All right! All right already! I told you I won’t tell no one. I don’t see what th’ big soddin’ deal is, anyway.”

  “It is a very big deal to him, and we must respect his wishes.”

  “I promise, as well,” Zarya spoke up. “I understand what it means to have secrets you don’t want the rest of the world to know. I will not reveal his to anyone. In the goddess’s name, you have my word, Omari.”

  Nester rubbed his sideburns thoughtfully. “’Ey! That’s right! You never did tell us why you were ’idin’ th’ fact that you were a Celestial all this time, beautiful.”

  “I have my reasons, Nester, but please respect that I do not wish to share them.”

  Nester shrugged. “Aye, whatever you say.”

  Omari turned to Aidan, who was straining to scratch his back again. “Though I do not think I would ever have a problem with you not keeping promises, Aidan, I cannot assume anything at this point. Do you give me your word that you will keep silent about this?”

  Aidan stopped in mid-struggle and half-opened his eyes. “Yes, yes, Aidan promise not to say anything. Spreading gossip about others is not honorable thing to do, anyway.”

  Omari nodded. “Good.”

  Aidan was about to resume his poor attempts at reaching his back when Zarya moved behind him and gave him a good scratching with her nails. Tiny silver scales flaked off. A growl of contentment rumbled in his throat, and after she finished, he smiled at her. “You are good back-scratcher, Priestess. Thank you.”

  Zarya chuckled. “It was my pleasure, Aidan.”

  Nester tugged at Omari’s robe. “So what about Kaijin? Won’t ’e end up knowin’ ’bout Jarial?”

  “Yes, he will know as well,” Omari replied. “But I think Master Glace will handle that.” At least, I hope he does.

  Satisfied of everyone’s agreement, Omari gathered Percival from the ground and hurried after Jarial, beckoning the rest of his friends to follow.

  * * *

  Kaijin was down in the Pyre’s underground vault, where he had begun spending most of the time when he wasn’t with Ranaiah or undergoing tests. He found solace there, where every book he could imagine about Ignis was at his disposal.

  Some members of the clergy strolled about, browsing through a few books. Three young boys worked attentively organizing books and replacing them on the shelves. Two stories of bookshelves lined the stone walls of the underground chamber, and more stood in the middle, forming aisles.

  At the very center of the chamber were eight rectangular tables, each surrounded by chairs. A few clergymembers occupied the tables, which held piles of books—opened and unopened. Between the bookshelves, fat pillar candles flickered on tall stands, and four-branched candelabra shed their warm glow on the tables, lighting the clergymembers who sat with books piled around them.

  Kaijin absentmindedly replaced a book he had been reading back on one wall shelf and pulled out another book from an adjacent one. He was particularly interested in learning more about Ignis’s many facets. After witnessing Vargas’s abrupt change, Kaijin had decided to stop whatever corruption was happening amongst the clergy—not just for Ranaiah’s sake, but also for his own.


  Kaijin handled the thick tome with care, as he skimmed through yellowed pages of ink-splotched text and intricate drawings. Soon, though, his mind wandered from the text and drifted to concern for Ranaiah’s well being. After watching her struggle to tell of her family’s situation, he had realized the growing care and concern he had for her. He wanted to do something—anything—to help her find peace, just as she had done for him.

  As Kaijin returned the book to the shelf, a child acolyte approached him, holding out a tightly rolled parchment. She gave him a courteous bow.

  Kaijin greeted the girl with a brief smile and a nod. “Well, hello, there. Is that for me?”

  “Uh-huh! Priest Canicus is done with the map that you had asked for. He was up all night making it! He let me help him a little bit before I went to bed, though.” She beamed proudly.

  Kaijin took the parchment and unfurled it. It was a highly detailed map of Aransiya and the northeastern half of Ankhram. It was far more intricate than any map he’d seen. Wow, Canicus is quite the cartographer. “He did a fine job.”

  The girl puffed out her chest. “He’s my teacher. I want to make maps just like him someday!”

  “You will. You have a good teacher.” His own words stung the tip of his tongue, reminding him of his former master. He chewed his bottom lip and turned away. “Ah, thank you for this. I do appreciate it.”

  With his new map in hand, he left the vault and returned to his room to begin packing for the long trip to Ankhram. Once he finished, Miele swooped down from the ceiling and greeted Kaijin with happy screeches. She landed on his shoulder, and he fed her one of the few remaining honeysticks from the jar atop his trunk.

  “I will be sure to ask Brett to make another batch for the trip,” Kaijin said, rubbing her tawny fur. “Did you know? He’s teaching some of his initiates how to make them, too!”

  Miele happily feasted on her treat, seeming not to care about what Kaijin had to say.

  A knock came at his door. The noise startled Miele, who swooped back up to to the ceiling with her half-eaten honeystick clamped firmly in her mouth. Kaijin opened the door to find an acolyte standing outside, holding his chest and panting as though he’d been running.