Taming Fire

by Aaron Pogue

  "You don't understand. Too much rests on this. The timing will only get worse if Seriphenes figures out what I intend."

  "You have explained it all to me. I'm even helping you, remember? I understand the situation with the boy, but you don't seem to understand that the world goes on outside your little schemes." Claighan started to protest, but Edwin spoke over him, "I know how important this is to you, but thanks to the troubles in the Ardain we cannot proceed as you had planned. Not now."

  "It is not my fault."

  "You said that already."

  "Lareth should not have gone over to the duke. I don't know what happened."

  "No matter how we train them, they are still only people. He was tempted by the power, that is all. It is not your fault."

  "I know!"

  "And the king will see that, but you must give him time. For now—"

  Claighan's shoulders fell. "For now we must wait."

  "Exactly. I am glad you understand."

  "I understand. I do not like it, but I understand." He sighed and fell against the wall, all his strength gone. "What will we do?"

  "Take him to the Academy and keep him hidden. I will let you know when things are ready."

  Claighan shook his head. "The Academy is too dangerous. I will find us rooms in one of the nobles' houses. Perhaps Souward—"

  Edwin cut him off with a raised hand. "That is too close. Get him out of town, Claighan." He held the other wizard's gaze until Claighan nodded meekly. Then he smiled, satisfied.

  But Claighan frowned. "What of other business? What of our demonstration?"

  Edwin shrugged. "I arranged it as you asked, before, and I have not had time to contact them. You will have to deal with things."

  He nodded, tired. "I will. Perhaps it will still serve its purpose." For a minute he stared at the floor, lost in thought, then finally shrugged. "You are right, there is nothing I can do. We will wait, and...hide." Again he paused. "You will tell me as soon as things are calmer here?"

  Edwin nodded. "These things will blow over. You have always been dear to him."

  "I hope you're right. For the sake of the world. You must let me know as soon as—"

  "Claighan, I know!" The elder wizard was getting exasperated, but Claighan pressed.

  "You don't understand. I need a thousand more like him. A hundred thousand. One man cannot face the dragonswarm, but I must prove myself in him before they will let me train any others—"

  "And if you face the king's wrath now, you'll never train even the one. Run. I'll take care of things."

  "Fine." He said, "Daven, are your things ready?"

  I jumped when he addressed me, then started to my feet and turned to face him, fighting the blush in my cheeks. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

  "I have no things, Claighan. I am ready."

  He studied me for a minute, then turned to Edwin. "You see how the boy is? He's always ready. He never falters. I have it on good authority he's worth four vints a week for his work ethic alone. It could have been perfect."

  Edwin smiled with a sad look in his eyes, patting Claighan on the shoulder. "It will be perfect, Claighan. Your vision will save us all. For now, though...for now you must go."

  Claighan opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the sudden, clear ringing of a bell. It had the sound of a small bell, one a nobleman might use to summon an attendant, and it came from beyond the doors at the other end of the sitting room. I frowned across at Claighan, confused, but he exchanged a look of terror with his master a heartbeat before the doors behind me flew open, smashing against the walls.

  I dove away from them, to the center of the room, and found my feet as eight guards with loaded crossbows stormed into the room and aimed their weapons at Claighan and me. Edwin did not seem to interest them. I considered ducking behind the couch for cover, but fear froze me in place. Claighan slid slowly away from the other wizard and came to stand behind me. The guards did not object. I noticed sweat on the foreheads of several of the soldiers. I noticed fear in some of their eyes.

  For several tense seconds we stood captured in that frozen tableau before the sound of soft leather boots scuffing on the marble floor interrupted the crushing silence. Then off to our left the sitting room's other doors opened. The room beyond was a sprawling library or office, and I could see a country gentleman seated in a plush chair beneath one of the tall bookcases. It must have been the Baron Eliade, Isabelle's father, come from farthest corners of the Ardain with news for the king.

  The king himself now stood in the doorway. He was a man in his late forties, a crown on his head and fire in his eyes. He wore fine but sturdy clothes, and several large gold rings shone from his right hand. In his left he held the royal mace as though prepared to use it in combat, and the strength of his stare belied the gray in his hair. I almost fell to my knees before the king, but no one else in the room moved. I stumbled forward, caught myself, then stood looking awkward. Everyone ignored me.

  Edwin stepped forward, fear in his voice. "Something troubles you, my lord?"

  "Oh, yes," the king said. His smile was small and forced. "I have just received grave news from my good cousin Eliade. These are tidings that require our attention, Edwin."

  "I have just heard as well, Your Highness," Edwin said. He stopped to swallow, then gestured behind him. "I have been speaking with Claighan—"

  King Timmon screamed, cutting off the wizard, "I do not want you to speak with him!" He stopped, struggling to regain control of himself, then pressed on in a cold voice. "I hold this man personally responsible for the emissary's treachery. He is a traitor and a conspirator to rebellion. He does not need a firm lecture from his old master; he needs to be punished!"

  Claighan started to speak but Edwin stepped over and caught his arm, whispering something to him. Timmon's anger built. "You have not even lectured him, have you? Do you conspire, too, my good Edwin? Have all my wizards betrayed me?"

  Edwin's eyes grew wide in shock. "Not in the least, my liege! You are correct in all things." He released Claighan's arm and walked quickly around the couch to stand by the king. "You are right, my lord, I was overindulgent with him. I forgave him much because he was a former student, but you have shown me my error." He turned to us, an apologetic look in his eyes, then looked back to the king. "I will make an example of them, Your Majesty. None will dare stand against you again!"

  Before the king could respond, before I even knew what was happening, the old man whirled to face us and threw his arms out, shouting some terrible word of power that made the whole room shudder. Bright light flashed in blue and red and blue again, blinding me, and in the same instant a fierce heat flashed through the room. It wrapped around me in bands hair-thin and strong as steel, and before I could find breath to scream the bands began to tighten, digging into my skin. Then I felt a wash of sudden cold all around me, the crushing bands were gone. I sensed darkness outside my tight-shut eyelids.

  For a moment I thought I was dead, destroyed by the wizard's magic, but then I felt a touch light on my arm and Claighan's voice drifted softly to my ears. "We haven't much time, Daven. We must move quickly. Come." When I opened my eyes I was staring at a wall of crude wooden slats. Suddenly the smells and sounds of a stable flooded me, and I realized somehow the wizard had cast us out of the castle. I peeked out the front door and saw we were still in the palace courtyard.

  Claighan turned away from speaking with a groomsman and said in a whisper, "We must move quickly, but everything is prepared. Hopefully we can escape without the king's notice. As soon as the carriage is brought around get in quickly. We have a long ride ahead."

  He started to turn away but I caught his sleeve. "Claighan, will Edwin suffer for this?"

  He looked down at me, the hint of tears in his steely gaze. "Not if we are careful, Daven. Not if we are swift. Come, the carriage is here." We hurried across the courtyard and into the carriage, and as night deepened the king's own horses took us surely and sw
iftly from the palace where the king raged against us. That is how I met the king, and how I left his audience.

  4. Fugitives

  The seats were cushioned and covered in satin, with plush matching pillows strewn in the floorboard. But the luxury of the carriage was lost on me. I knelt on my knees by the door, curtain cracked just enough to peek out and watched the courtyard flash past. I strained to see behind us, to listen for any sound of alarm in the streets as we approached the city gates. The road rattled by beneath us, sharp clop of horses' hooves punctuating the grinding rhythm of wooden wheels against cobblestones.

  We passed out of the city without incident, and a mile south of town my nervous strength finally drained from me. I collapsed back onto my heels. Above me the curtains swayed with the constant roll of the carriage and did little to stop the chill draft that flowed in from the night. Every bump in the road jostled me, throwing my shoulder hard against the wooden box of the seat, but I didn't bother moving.

  Claighan sat with arms crossed in the corner opposite me, staring at nothing. His eyes were sad, his body bent in dejection. The confrontation with the king had hurt him. And again, as he had on the road from Sachaerrich, he mumbled to himself as he laid plans. I tried at first to talk with him, but he ignored me. I spent a while watching the night flow past outside, but the darkness and the cold wind robbed the sights of their interest.

  Two long, squat chests rested in the luggage area atop the cabin, apparently arranged beforehand and carrying Claighan's possessions. I had my sturdy leather bag inside with us, stuffed full and taking up most of the floorspace. Every now and then I looked at Claighan to see if he was still awake. He always was. He never answered when I spoke to him.

  I tried to think, to understand what had happened. Apparently Claighan had not won his race. The king had called him a traitor and conspirator to rebellion. I had heard Claighan speak of the king in less than glowing terms, but it had never seemed beyond the scope of an Academy Master's pride. This was something else.

  Rebellion. I closed my eyes and thought of Cooper's commission to join the Guard. I thought of regiments disbanded to be replaced with Academy wizards. The king's army had only one serious engagement at the moment: the constant, quiet threat of rebellion in the Ardain. But if they were taking on new Guards....

  I raised my voice across the small cabin. "There's a rebellion, isn't there?" Claighan didn't even seem to hear me. I looked down at my hands. "There's a war."

  He gave me no answer, but I didn't need one. I had heard more of the conversation with Edwin. They'd spoken of a wizard tempted by power, going over to the duke. That would be Duke Brant. If he were involved, if he had access to a battle wizard of his own....

  I let my head fall back against the wall of the carriage, and felt the same distant, disconnected shock that seemed to have wrapped itself around Claighan. A traitor, Academy-trained. I would have killed him by my own hand. One man, probably some soft nobleman's son swollen on the pride of his own power and lusting for more, and he had cost me whatever future Claighan had been willing to offer me.

  I opened my eyes and looked across the cabin. "What was his name?" I asked.

  Claighan raised his head. He met my eyes. "Lareth," he said. "And he has cost us everything."

  Before I could get another answer from him, he let his head sink down onto his chest again and descended back into his toneless muttering. I tried to draw him out, tried to learn more, but that was as much as he would give me. A name. Lareth. I felt my lips peeling back in a snarl, intended as much for the king's quick temper, for Othin's petty rage, even for Cooper's sneering disdain.

  And now...now we would go into hiding. Not in the princely luxury of the capitol, but in some quiet little village across the channel, or perhaps in the hostile halls of the Academy. Claighan would pull strings, and Edwin would do what he could. He seemed to have considerable influence. And while they strove to return to the king's good graces, I would play my part, too. I would study under Claighan. He could teach me, if I could just draw him out of his dark reverie. I would practice the sword. I would be ready next time, to show the king I was worth sponsoring.

  It wouldn't be easy, and I knew enough of the treacherous games noblemen played to know it wouldn't be quick. But I could wait. This still offered me greater opportunities than I could have hoped for herding sheep in some quiet Terrailles township. It might be slower, but that could even help me. Things had been moving awfully fast.

  The more I thought about it, the calmer I became. My heartbeat slowed, my brow smoothed, and gradually the knots in my shoulders began to relax. At some point during the night I drifted asleep. I slumped back into the corner and let my head fall against the polished wood because the bench was too narrow to stretch out on. The shaking of the carriage wall bruised my head, but I eventually ignored even that, and sank into a shallow sleep. For hours more we rolled on, my dreams constantly tinged with the little sense impressions of the night journey. Finally a coarse, low shout interrupted one of my dreams. The carriage jolted to a stop and I sat up, looking around. A thin gray light suffused the cabin, starlight and some stray beams from the moon cutting in through the curtains. I yawned and stretched, grimacing at the stiffness and pain of half a night's journey.

  I heard the same voice growling through the night and realized it was not the voice of a friendly stableman come to help unhitch the carriage. Of course not. We wouldn't make Souport until well after dawn. So why had we stopped? I heard another shouted order and grew cold. Who had stopped us? My tension returned. It had to be the King's Guard. I sank quietly down off the bench and darted back to my place at the window, peeking past the curtain.

  I expected to see soldiers in uniform, though it would have been difficult to get word here so quickly without the help of another wizard. I did see several shadowy forms in the night outside, gathered at a careful distance and brandishing arms that flashed in the moonlight. They did not wear the uniform of the Guard, though. They wore clothes as ragged as mine had been, and I saw faces smeared with mud. One man stepped forward into the light cast by the carriage's lamps, and as he approached his words became clear.

  "Get down from there, old man, or I'll stick you clean through! Lewin, Kent, get the luggage!" I heard a thud as the old driver jumped down from his high perch and landed by the roadside. The sound was followed by the clatter of two men climbing the steps to the top of the carriage. These were not soldiers, but thieves. Brigands had stopped us on the King's Way, on the Isle.

  My heart began to pound, my mind racing. Forgetting my caution, I threw myself away from the window to grab for my leather bag in the far corner.

  "Claighan," I hissed. I fumbled at the drawstrings for four desperate heartbeats then growled under my breath and tore at them until they broke. Then I reached within and drew the Green Eagle's sword from its sheath. "Claighan, wake up!"

  The blade was magnificent, the balance perfect. I barely had room to hold the weapon upright, but I did my best to position myself within the cramped space, facing toward the voice of the bandit leader. He was still croaking orders in that low bark of his. I bumped the wizard with my hip, trying to wake him without making a noise, and he gave a little snort and blinked his eyes in a confused flutter.

  But before I could catch his attention I heard a rattle as the leader of the brigands took the handle of the door. His growl turned to a shout as he flung the door open, a battle cry intended to startle us awake and terrify us, but I was waiting.

  I fell forward onto my right knee, let my right arm straighten, and in those movements I drove the sword forward and down in a textbook-perfect thrust. Behind me, Claighan cried, "No!" but I could not have stopped myself. I had spent years perfecting that maneuver, practicing under the protection of our silver-penny spell, until my body drove the blade straight and true without any thought from me. But there was no magical pressure and dancing light to stay the sword's sharp tip this time. I caught the thief just below the eye, felt
the thin bone crunch on both sides of the skull, and in that instant his cry was silenced. He fell off the blade and landed in the roadside grass with a wet thud. I knelt there, arm still extended and blade glistening, and stared down at the dead man on the sod. I forgot the other bandits in the night, forgot the danger and the fear. I leaned forward and vomited, trembling through my soul at the thing I had just done.

  In an instant the wizard was beside me. I lay trembling on the floor of the carriage, but I heard him curse softly above me as he gazed out into the clearing. The other bandits stood in a loose circle, looking bewildered. Claighan spoke mystical words that felt strangely familiar. I felt a flash of blinding light and an instant's searing warmth, and that quickly his spell was done. Everyone was gone, bandits and driver alike transported far away. I lay still on the floor of the carriage, panting and sick, and a terrible silence fell around us.

  At last Claighan knelt and put a hand on my shoulder, turning me over to look at him. "Daven, this...." He struggled for something to say. I could only stare at him. He sighed. "This should not have happened."

  I shivered, head to toes, and squeezed my eyes tight shut. I realized even now I was filled with panic. I fought for control of myself, I fought to slow my thundering heart. "There were brigands, Claighan. On the king's road. They attacked us. I—"

  He smiled at me, his eyes filled with sadness. "You did what you knew, Daven." He looked with regret at the torn cords of my leather pack, at the blood-stained broadsword still in my hand. "You used the only weapon you know." He straightened, then he reached down and caught my hand, pulling me to my feet. I sank limply onto the uncomfortable bench, my mind still reeling.

  "I killed him."

  "No, Daven, I killed him. This was a terrible mistake." He pressed a hand to his forehead, scrubbed it over his eyes, and nodded. "I have been far too distracted. But you...you need to sleep."

  "I couldn't possibly sleep!"

  "You will sleep. I will help you. Close your eyes." I sank back into the corner again, pulled my knees up before me and wrapped my arms around them. I was still trembling. When I closed my eyes I saw a man's bloody, lifeless face. The tears felt cold against my skin. I fought to keep my eyes closed as the old wizard chanted, fought to ignore that hideous image, but it leered at me and I felt sick again.