Enflamed (Book 2)

by R. M. Prioleau

  Percival hissed and irritably arched his back. He cast a quick glance at Omari before edging over the precipice.

  Omari ran to the edge. He watched Percival navigate down the rocky cliff face with ease. “You waste no time wanting to get your revenge, do you?” Omari smirked at him, then secured his staff to his back. “All right. Let us make sure they never harm innocent people again.”

  He reached into his belt pouch and fished for the tiny vial of featherfall potion. After uncorking it with his thumb, he quickly downed the vial’s colorless, tasteless liquid, and then began easing himself over the cliff. He looked down and saw nothing but shadows, with faint spots of moonlight dotting the landscape.

  Grunting, Omari dug his hands into the rocky wall and held on. His heart sank. Gods, maybe this was not such a good idea. Sweat beaded in his palms, and his grasp slipped from the rocks. He fell, and his heart dropped into his gut.

  The fall slowed until his body felt weightless. During the descent, Omari plucked Percival from the rock face and tucked him close to his body.

  Upon finally landing at the bottom of the cliff, Omari felt plush grass beneath his feet. The land smelled rich from the fresh scents of the flora wafting in the cool, crisp air. Percival wriggled in his arms. Smiling, Omari knelt and set his companion free. He trailed the weasel and concentrated, becoming one with him once again.

  Percival scampered toward the campsite, sniffing the air and listening as he drew closer. He studied three sleeping individuals—a large male silver creature, a woman, and a red-haired man—sprawled out around the small camp. His eyes rested on the largest being, who appeared to be the most dangerous of the three.

  “Be careful,” Omari said in Percival’s mind. “They look powerful—especially the scaly one.”

  Percival responded with an empathic wave of assurance into Omari’s mind. Keeping a cautious distance from the three strangers, Percival went from one to another, slyly scouring their belongings. He paused upon approaching the last of them—the red-haired one. This young man slept clutching a leather container in his hands. Hesitation and curiosity stirred in Percival, sensing something strange emanating from within the bag. Keeping his body low to the ground, Percival began pawing at the bag.

  Omari gasped. “Percival! Stop that! What are you trying to do? Wake him up?”

  Percival let out a soft whine, then responded with another soothing, empathic wave. He continued his pawing and eventually released a tarnished locket.

  “Is that—?!” So these people must be associated with those bandits we dealt with.

  Percival proceeded to retrieve the locket when a small glass object rolled out of the bag.

  It stopped with a sharp clank against a small rock. Fearful of the orb’s unfamiliarity, Percival left the locket and quickly returned to Omari.

  Withdrawing to his own mind again, Omari slowly crept toward the locket. The orb, which had rolled near him, caught his attention. The locket temporarily forgotten, Omari knelt before the orb and watched its fires swirl within. The continuous dance of the magical flames intrigued him. Heat emanated from the orb, making him hesitant to touch it. Such alluring magic, he thought. Suddenly, something small whizzed past his ear, and he felt the breeze on his cheek as it passed his face. Jerking alert, the orb forgotten, Omari saw a tiny throwing knife lodged in a tree trunk near him.

  “I’d get away from that, if I were you,” a voice warned from behind him.

  Omari whirled around and saw a short, rough-looking fellow—a brownie, most likely—with another throwing knife ready in his hand.

  Percival trilled irritably, baring his sharp canines. He arched his long slender back.

  “Back away nice an’ easy,” the brownie said, appearing unintimidated by the weasel. “Or next time, I won’t miss.”

  Where did he come from?! Grasping his quarterstaff, Omari stepped back in a defensive position. He narrowed his eyes, which crackled with small electrical sparks. He remembered the locket. “You have something that belongs to me,” he said to the brownie. “And we have some unfinished business.”

  The brownie scowled. “Fiddler.” He backed away, taking aim.

  Electrical energy channeled through Omari’s staff, and he sent streaks of lightning surging toward the brownie, who cried out as all four of his limbs were given a strong electric jolt.

  Dropping his knives, the brownie fell limply to the ground, twitching from the aftershocks.

  The commotion roused the three sleeping individuals. The large silver creature sprang to his feet and rushed Omari with surprising speed for his massive size.

  “Stop! Leave him alone!” the giant shouted.

  Weary but maintaining his composure, Omari stood his ground and aimed his staff at the giant. They all will pay for stealing her locket. And it is time I exact revenge for what their band of lowlifes did to my comrades. “You—all of you confounded bandits will not harm another innocent person again!” He felt a sharp pang in his mind, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Percival scrambling away from him. Tension emanated from the weasel’s body, and he abruptly sat up on his hind legs, his elongated body erect and his dark, beady eyes following a moving silhouette in the sky. Percival scampered away into the shadows as if something had struck him.

  The woman’s attention was immediately drawn to Omari. “Bandits? There must be a mistake. Who are you? What are you doing in our camp?”

  Omari clenched his jaw. “Your cronies took something valuable from me. I will have it back!”

  The woman was about to reply, when the brownie let out another groan. She turned, rushed to his aid and began chanting softly.

  The red-haired man heaved himself to his feet and stood groggily, swaying about. He placed his fingers over his temples and rubbed them, and he grimaced.

  “Kaijin, watch out!” the woman called to the red-haired man.

  Omari felt sudden pain, and he called out to Percival but received no answer. As he was about to try again, the silver giant lunged at him, clawed hands extended to grapple.

  Omari stood his ground, terrified inside. Desperately, he brought his staff upward and down toward the creature’s head, then immediately swooped it to his legs, attempting a sweep.

  The creature side-stepped away from the first attack, then smoothly slid back to Omari’s inside on the second, crowding him. The creature slammed Omari with his body. The weight knocked Omari backwards; he stumbled and landed on his back.

  He crawled back to his feet. He clenched his fist in front of his face, and as he spied the woman, the giant, and red-haried man closing in on him, he chanted his reserve spell. “Specul imagi!” His form multiplied into nine identical semi-transparent images of himself. The images all rushed at the giant.

  He began wrestling with the images, which tackled him and struck at him. Though the attacks literally went right through him, he stumbled and fell, still flailing at the ghostly images even as they began to fade.

  The red-haired man ran toward the fray, his hands encompassed with a bright, fiery glow. He extented his hands toward the remaining duplicates. “Flarago!”

  A sudden flash of light caused Omari to drop his staff and shield his eyes. When the brunt of the spell subsided, he slowly uncovered his eyes and grunted, disoriented. He was tackled to the ground, and someone—light, compared to the giant, but still strong—held him down.

  After blinking the dancing after-images from his eyes, Omari found himself gazing up at the red-haired mage—he presumed it was Kaijin—who glowered at him. Kaijin smelled of burned wood and brimstone, and Omari could sense a strange power from within him—something he’d not felt before in another mage.

  Kaijin grabbed Omari’s throat and dug his thumbs into his neck. Kaijin’s hands were uncomfortably hot against Omari’s own cold skin, and the sensation made Omari flinch and gag. He grabbed Kaijin’s hand but was unable to pry off his strong grip. All he could do was stare helplessly up at Kaijin.

  The longer he gazed deep into
Kaijin’s brown eyes, the more Omari felt something strangely familiar about him. No. I have never met this man before in my life. With his mind too scattered to ponder it further, Omari reluctantly held both of his hands up in surrender.

  “Who are you? Answer me, now!” Kaijin growled, shaking him.

  Omari choked, unable to breathe.

  “Kaijin!” the woman barked. “Stop! Get off him!”

  “Why, Zarya?” Kaijin asked. “Why should you be so concerned? He is a mage like me. We’re monsters, remember?”

  Omari fluttered his eyelids. The images around him became a blur.

  “’Ey, now,” the brownie said. “That’s no way to talk to a lady. Where are your manners, mate?”

  “Shove off, Nester!” Kaijin snapped. The direction of his voice then turned back to Omari. “You have three seconds to explain yourself, or—”

  Kaijin’s weight left Omari.

  “No more violence, Kaijin,” the silver giant said gruffly.

  “Argh! Release me this instant, Aidan!”

  The blurred images came into focus. Kaijin struggled against the giant’s grip, but Aidan grabbed both of his arms and restrained him.

  Omari gasped for air, frantically eying everyone. Terror and confusion swept through him, and he finally croaked out hoarsely, “All right! Confound it, I yield!” He rubbed his neck.

  All eyes turned toward him.

  Omari rubbed his temples, his mind still reeling from the chaos. “My name is Omari. I am a traveler.”

  Kaijin ceased his tussle with Aidan and studied Omari. “I’m Kaijin. I daresay that you are dressed rather lavishly to be a simple traveler.”

  Omari huffed and locked his gaze on Kaijin. “I am a student of the Citadel in Ghaeldorund.”

  Kaijin blinked. “The Citadel?”

  “Ghaeldorund?” Nester exclaimed.

  Omari slightly raised his nose at them. “Yes, is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not,” Kaijin replied. “I did not realize students of the Citadel were allowed to travel so far.”

  “I have my reasons for my travel.”

  Aidan released Kaijin and approached Omari, scrutinizing him. “What were you doing, intruding on our camp?”

  Omari curled his lip at the giant and crossed his arms. “I was simply looking for a place to rest when I discovered your camp. I thought you were all part of the same group of raiders that attacked me before. After all, you did have the very locket that they stole from me.”

  “Locket?” Nester looked intrigued.

  “Yes. My locket.” Omari glowered at him. “That means it does not belong to you, brownie.”

  “Don’t get your robes all foddled. I ain’t got nothin’ like that. And if I did, I wouldn’t be tellin’ you about it.”

  Omari fumed. “Liar!” He pointed to the discarded locket near Kaijin’s bag.

  Nester blinked. “Wha—! Where in th’ soddin’ ’ells did that come from? I ain’t prig it!” He looked flabbergasted. “Kaijin, did ... did you prig it without me knowin’?! No one prigs without me knowin’!”

  Omari turned a stern gaze on Kaijin.

  Some thief you must be, then, Kaijin thought, amused, then shook his head. “You were busy looking for bandits, remember? Besides, I found it beneath some debris. It looked like it was discarded. I had no idea—”

  “Give it to me,” Omari ordered. “Now.”

  Kaijin raised an eyebrow.

  “Nay!” Nester crossed his arms, scowling at Omari. “’Ow do we know it’s really yours?”

  Omari balled his fists. He kept his eyes on Kaijin. “It is silver. Tarnished from age. On the cover is etched a rune: ‘storm’. Now give it to me.”

  Nester looked to Kaijin for confirmation.

  Kaijin hesitated, then retrieved the locket. He handed it back to Omari. “There.”

  “Now that that’s settled,” Zarya said, “would you mind telling me why in Celestra’s name you were traveling alone looking for bandits?”

  “That was not my sole purpose,” Omari replied. He deflated a little, as his rage ebbed. “And I was not always alone. The Citadel assigned me a small escort of four guards. No sooner did we enter the Forest of Winds than were we attacked by a group of bandits. They burned our cart and killed everyone else. I barely escaped with my life, thanks to my invisibility spell.”

  Nester stroked his sideburns. “I wonder if those were th’ same blokes we ’ad a scuffle with earlier, aye?”

  Omari scowled at the brownie. “What?”

  “Rude buggers, they were. Started shootin’ at us for no soddin’ reason. Poor Aidan ’ad a back full o’bolts, ’e did.”

  “Well, I certainly hope you killed every last one of them!”

  “Yes.” Kaijin shot a cool and slightly sinister gaze at Zarya. “They got what they deserved.”

  Zarya shook her head slowly.

  “No one deserves death,” Aidan said.

  “Tell that to the bastards who killed my escorts,” Omari said flatly. “I do not understand your sense of pacifism, creature. I find it rather ... disturbing.”

  “That’s just ’ow ’e is,” Nester said. “You learn to get used to it.”

  Omari returned his attention to Kaijin. “So who are the rest of these people, Kaijin?”

  Kaijin gestured to each of his comrades. “That’s Aidan, Nester,”—Kaijin paused a moment, before continuing in a more bitter tone—“... and that one is Zarya.”

  Zarya’s face flushed.

  Kaijin turned his nose up at her and scowled.

  Omari looked between the two and then stroked his chin. “What an interesting group you all are.”

  Aidan shrugged. “We have all met in these past few days.” Aidan shot Nester a glare as he opened his mouth to respond, and the brownie promptly closed it again. “Where were you headed, exactly?” Aidan asked Omari.

  “To the Mallowyn Crags,” Omari replied. “I have been searching for a road that travels west, but I think all I have ended up doing was getting lost. Those raiders killed the only scout in my caravan. I have been wandering alone for almost a day now.”

  Nester’s pointed ears perked up. “Mallowyn Crags? I know of that place. My Uncle Nickle used to tell me stories of ’is adventures there. Sounds like quite a place, it does. ’E told me about th’ amazin’ view you can see from th’ tallest point.”

  Omari scoffed at Nester. “Yes, well, I have official business there. I am to find and speak to the Dragon.”

  Kaijin, Nester and Zarya gasped.

  “Soddin ’ells!” Nester exclaimed.

  Kaijin blinked. “A Dragon? Are you serious?”

  Zarya scrutinized Omari. “Are you speaking the truth?”

  Aidan crossed his arms and kept silent.

  Omari snorted at the group’s reaction. I cannot believe I have to waste my precious time trying to convince these idiots. Before he could respond, he heard a squelch in the nearby underbrush. Percival leapt from the tall grass and zipped past him. A small fruit bat zoomed behind the weasel, nipping at his tail.

  Ow! Omari grabbed his head, feeling his companion’s pain. He heard a deafening, high-pitched shriek in his mind. He let go of his head and gripped his quarterstaff. Energy surged from his hands into the staff, charging it with an electric shimmer.

  Kaijin lunged at Omari. “No!”

  Omari glanced up, jarred by the sudden interruption. He glared at Kaijin. “What the—?”

  “Miele!” Kaijin yelled to the bat. “Stop! Come here, now!”

  The bat ceased its chase and fluttered over to Kaijin and rested on his shoulder. Percival took refuge between Omari’s ankles. Miele shrieked happily, proclaiming her small victory over the frightened weasel.

  With the jarring sensation in his mind eased, Omari was able to focus again.

  Zarya requested, “Omari, please tell us more about this Dragon.”

  “I would rather not. My business with the Dragon is my own. Now, if you will all excuse me, I
must find a place to sleep—”

  As he turned, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He could hear deep breathing from behind him. He shivered and whipped his head around.

  “Stay here with us.” Aidan nodded politely.

  Omari cast a half sneer at the giant and managed to tug himself out of his surprisingly gentle hold. “No. We are on separate journeys.”

  “Aidan does not think it is wise for anyone to be out alone at this hour. There is strength in numbers, after all.”

  Omari sighed and looked at the others.

  Nester nodded once. “Aye, Aidan’s right. There’s plenty o’ room to get some winks ’round ’ere. Just don’t go snoopin’ ’round our things again, eh?” He looked at the giant. “By the way, Aidan, it’s your turn to take th’ last watch.”

  Aidan nodded and sat under the willow tree.

  Zarya cast an apprehensive gaze at Omari. “I suppose ... it will be all right.”

  Kaijin crossed his arms, his eyebrow raising at the priestess. “He almost tried to kill us!”

  “I am far more willing to forgive someone who has seen the error in their ways. Now. I will not have this conversation with you anymore. Good night.” She stormed away.

  Kaijin watched her and sneered.

  Omari looked curiously at them. “Did I miss something?”

  “No.” Kaijin shook his head at Omari. “Nothing at all.”

  Omari smirked at Kaijin. That is a crock of shite.

  * * *

  Kaijin placed his hands behind his head and stared at the cloudy night sky, unable to sleep. He occasionally heard Miele’s soft, playful shrieks in the sky. His mind wandered from the day’s events to what his future journeys would hold. He turned his head and stared at Omari across the cooling embers of the campfire’s remains. While everyone else rested, Omari was reading his spellbook. A small glow of light emitted from his hand, which hovered over the pages.

  Something furry tickled Kaijin’s hand. Startled, he sat up and discovered Percival sniffing at him. The weasel trilled apprehensively at the sudden movement.