Caymus, following Tavrin into the building, had to duck to fit through the door. When he got inside, he was met by a small, circular room, ringed with stone benches on which Tavrin and the Chieftain were just sitting down. The interior wall of the room was covered in bright sheets of cloth and even a small tapestry which seemed to depict a setting sun. A shaft of wood was anchored into the dirt floor in the middle of the space. Lashed to the top of the shaft was a small glass bowl containing some sort of clear liquid.
Caymus had been about to close the leather flap, but the chieftain shook his head and motioned for him to sit. Caymus did so, then sat in silence as the man produced a small, wooden box from under his seat and then opened it to retrieve a flint and striker. Placing the open box on the bench next to him, he stood and struck the flint over the bowl. The liquid, obviously some manner of oil, lit under the curtain of sparks, producing a small flame which burned tall, if not fiercely.
As the chieftain replaced the implements to the box, then the box to its place under the seat, he nodded toward Caymus, then to the door. Caymus rose and closed the flap so that only the small flame, and no starlight, lit the inside of the hut.
When Caymus was sitting again, the chieftain turned his glare to Tavrin. "Tell me of this one, Tavrin," he said, indicating Caymus. "Tell me why he should be allowed to learn the oldest secrets of our people."
Caymus realized, for the first time, that the chieftain of this isolated tribe spoke the common language of Tebria with almost no inflection or accent. Tavrin, and the other Falaar that Caymus had met at the Temple, Guruk and Fach’un, all spoke with obvious hesitations which betrayed the fact that their first language was their own, and not that of Tebria.
Tavrin nodded without smiling. "I have only begun to know this Caymus in the four days we have traveled here," he said. "Most of what I know of him, I know from his friends, Gwenna and Milo."
The chieftain's eyes narrowed very slightly at this, but he did not speak.
"They have told me," Tavrin continued, "that he is calm, that he is courageous, he is considerate of the needs of others, and that he thinks before he acts. Friends of Caymus have a strong opinion of him. They say he can be trusted."
The chieftain nodded. "What do you know of this man," he said, "that is not the repeated words of others?"
Tavrin betrayed a vague hint of a smile. "This Caymus was attacked with a poison that would kill most men," he said. "He was strong enough to survive the poison and was stronger for the battle."
Tavrin turned his eyes to Caymus as he continued. "I can also tell that our group was attacked as it made its way here," he said, then turned back to the chieftain. "The fight was not difficult, and it was easily won, but when Caymus had beaten his opponent, he did not kill him, and instead offered him back his life."
The chieftain's face registered this information more than it had any other, his eyes noticeably widening and darting to Caymus for the briefest moment.
When it was clear that Tavrin had no more to say, the Chieftain nodded. "Thank you, Tavrin," he said. Then, his face broke into a smile that was as warm as his glare had been intense. He stood, opened his hand, and placed his palm upon his heart.
Tavrin, also smiling, stood and mirrored the gesture. He had barely put his hand to his chest when the big man reached out and grabbed him in a bear hug. "Welcome home, Tavrin," he said, smacking the younger man's back. "The fields have missed your touch," he said as he let him go.
"Thank you, Kavuu," Tavrin said, his smile as broad as the chieftain's. "It is good to be home."
"Good," said Kavuu. He inclined his head to Caymus, who was still sitting on his bench. "Leave me with him, please."
Tavrin nodded, then turned and walked out, giving Caymus a surreptitious nod and smile as he went.
When Tavrin was gone, the door flap standing closed behind him, the chieftain sat back down on his bench, then returned his gaze to Caymus. The man's countenance was much softer now, though it still wasn't what Caymus would describe as friendly. The yellow stone upon his forehead seemed to glow brighter than the faint firelight should have allowed.
"Tavrin is a strange man," the chieftain said, directing his gaze briefly to the tent flap. "When he was a boy, he would tend to growing things while others his age were fighting with the barak. When the other boys hunted the sands for game, he walked alone through the village." He leaned in slightly, as though sharing a secret. "Some do not understand his ways," he said, "but I know that he has the ability to see into the heart of a place, of a situation," he pointed thick finger at Caymus, "even a man."
The chieftain leaned back, pressing what looked to be a silk curtain against the mud-brick surface behind him. "He is confident that you are a good man," he nodded, "and so I am confident." He then leaned forward again, further than he had previously. "I wonder, though," he said, "if you are worthy to learn what you would ask us to teach you."
With that, he stood again, stepped to the bowl and the burning oil within, and placed his forearm in the flame. "The Falaar have known the Unburning for many generations. It increases our strength against those who would seek to rule us and makes our warriors invulnerable to some of their attacks."
Caymus stifled a wince as he watched the man's arm hanging in the fire. It did not burn, nor did it even change color. He had expected, at least, to detect the smell of burning hair permeating the small room, but even that part of him appeared to be immune to the heat of the flames.
"You are from the Temple," he continued, still not moving, "is that right?"
Caymus nodded. "I am."
"Then you are the first true representative of these Conflagrationists that I have encountered." Caymus met the man's eyes, surprised at the statement. "There have been missionaries from your Flamehearth, of course," he explained, "and a few of my people have traveled north, but not one of those from the Temple itself has ever come to my village."
Caymus was now even more wary of the position he found himself in. Not only was he asking this man to teach him what had always been a secret of his people, he was also the embodied representation of all the masters at the Temple, speaking and acting on their behalves. In the silence, he wondered if he should say something, but he felt that the chieftain wasn't finished yet.
"I am told," the big man finally said, staring at his arm, "that the Conflagrationists understand the flames also, that you have power as we do, that you bend not to the nations of mankind, but to the fury of the flame." He looked back to Caymus and arched an eyebrow. "This is what I can do, what my allegiance allows me," he said, his eyes darting to his arm, still held in the fire. "What power do you have?"
Caymus considered the question, considered how best to answer it. He considered telling the man that most of the masters of the Temple were skilled at the Aspect of pulling, or that his talent was for shaping the flames and the conduits that created them.
Instead, he decided to let action, rather than words, speak for him. He reached out with his mind to touch the flames that enveloped the chieftain's arm. With quiet concentration, he felt out the conduit that connected it to the Conflagration, letting himself drift around it until he enveloped it completely.
Then, with the speed of a thought, he tightened down on the space in which the conduit existed, breaking the connection to the Conflagration. In that moment, the small room was plunged into darkness.
Caymus sat still, waiting. He had thought that showing the man that he, too, had a way of dealing with a dangerous flame was something that would impress him. For several long moments, however, all he heard was silence.
Then, as though he were a spirit summoned out of the darkness, Kavuu, the chieftain of the Falaar, began to bellow with a deep laughter. Caymus could hear surprise and satisfaction in that laugh, and he sagged slightly with relief.
A moment later, still laughing, though more quietly, Kavuu sparked the flint again and brought firelight back to the room. As the man once again replaced the flint box back to its
place underneath the bench, he let his mirth fade. By the time he was seated, his elbows on this thighs, his fingers intertwined before his eyes, the Falaar chieftain had become silent again. He was looking hard at Caymus, considering, judging.
"You are worthy, indeed," he finally said. "I had always expected that those who called themselves Conflagrationists might be trying to trick my people into giving up their secrets, that they might have no power of their own to share." He nodded to himself. "It is good to see that, at the very least, we both have lessons we might teach each other."
Caymus smiled, thinking of the two men at the Temple. "I imagine Guruk and Fach’un have likely learned how to accomplish what I have just done by now," he said, "and probably a good deal more. Opening and closing the small conduits to the Conflagration is something they would have been taught by now."
Kavuu seemed satisfied with this, having visibly brightened at the mention of his fellows' names. He leaned forward again, and his voice assumed a thoughtful tone. "So," he said, "I believe that you are a good man, that you will use anything we might teach you for reasons you believe to be noble. I also believe that you are worthy of the knowledge, that you and the people that you represent have worthwhile knowledge to pass to us in return. What I do not know," he said, his face losing all expression, "is why."
Caymus frowned at the implied question. "I'm sorry?"
"Why are you here now, Caymus?" the chieftain asked. "I have spoken with Conflagrationists for many years. They have always been interested in the Unburning, but never before has one ever asked me to teach it, much less one from the Temple itself. I want to know why you are here now, what force it is that drives you to seek this knowledge. The reason," he said, pointing a finger at Caymus, "is as important as the intention."
Caymus thought about the question, thought about the last few months of his life, about the krealites that had attacked that first night, about the mark on his hand that named him as a possible knight, about the three months he'd spent battling in another world. He wasn't sure if he could explain it all and do the story justice.
"Have you heard of the Knight of the Flame?" he eventually said.
"No," said Kavuu, putting his chin in his hands. "What is this, a knight?"
Caymus smiled. "I'm not all that sure, to be honest," he said. "It is a title that I learned from an old book in the bowels of Otvia."
"The mitre home?" Kavuu raised an eyebrow.
Caymus nodded. "From what I understand, a knight is a champion, one who fights for a particular element, a warrior whose allegiance is to a church, rather than a nation." He raised his hand up to the light so that Kavuu could get a good look at the sword and flame. "I received this," he said, "when I entered the Conflagration for the first time."
Kavuu reached out and grabbed Caymus's wrist, firmly turning and twisting it, getting a good look. Caymus continued. "My desire had been to take my next step in becoming a master, but the Conflagration had other plans, it seems."
Kavuu let the wrist go. "They want you to be this knight, then."
Caymus nodded. "The realms of the elements all hold a place in our world, and have done so since they won that place in a long-dead war. Another element, called kreal, which is from a realm that the beings of the Conflagration refer to as the Sograve, has attacked and is trying to claim a part of our world."
The chieftain was looking at Caymus seriously, weighing his words, measuring his intent. "The insects," he said. It wasn't a question.
Caymus simply nodded
"You are this Knight of the Flame, then?"
"No," Caymus said. "Not yet, anyway. My teacher, Master Be'Var, has learned that the last time the Conflagration called a knight to defend our world, many thousands of years ago, the man that filled the post knew the Falaar well. It seems he learned the Unburning from your people."
Kavuu's expression changed to one of surprise and no small amount of incredulity.
Caymus pressed on. "There is something about the Unburning that is important to becoming this Knight of the Flame. From what I and Master Be'Var have learned, I would need to learn this skill in order to claim the title." He paused, considering whether he should go on, but he decided there was no point in holding back anything. "I also must find a sword, one which the previous Knight of the Flame held."
"A sword, you say?" said Kavuu.
Caymus nodded.
"And when you find these things," said Kavuu, his countenance turning suspicious, "you will be this warrior, this Knight of the Flame?"
Caymus shrugged, his arms wide in a plaintive gesture. "I don't know," he said. "There may be more to it, there may not. I only know what I've been told and what I've discovered, so far." He managed a faint smile. "I'm having to learn as I go, I'm afraid."
Kavuu reflected Caymus's smile, momentarily, then his eyes took on a look of deep thought. He sat there, staring into the fire, for a long moment. "When I was young," he said, finally, "my father was slain, protecting the people of this village, by soldiers of Kepren."
Caymus kept his eyes fixed on Kavuu, wondering where this was going.
The older man continued. "Both Kepren and Mael'vek have claimed dominion over this land in the past. Today, Mael'vek says that we are Mael'vekian."
He turned his gaze to Caymus. "I do not hate these nations for what they have done, for the trouble they bring to my people," he said, "but I will not join with anyone who proposes to rule me, not if I can prevent it with my sweat or my blood."
Caymus nodded his understanding. "The Flamehearth Mission is in Kepren, but it is just that: a mission. Those who live and teach there owe their allegiance to the Conflagration, to the Temple where the Conduit reaches into our world, not to the city, not to the Tebrian League."
He took a deep breath and adjusted himself in his seat. "I do not propose to rule you, Sir. I am asking for your help in defeating an enemy that would see the end of life in our world as we know it. The beings of the Sograve exist in their own realm for now, but have reached their claws into this one. If they establish a footing, the very nature of this place," he looked around to signify the land about them, "will change to the point that we won't even recognize it as home."
Pausing, he stared into the flame between them, remembering his time in the Conflagration. "I spent a very long time in a world that was not my own, Chieftain Kavuu. It was an experience that I don't wish to repeat, that I wouldn't wish for anybody." He turned his gaze back to Kavuu. "If I can prevent that by taking up the mantle of the Knight of the Flame, then that is what I will do."
The two men stared at each other a long time. Caymus hoped he had convinced the man, but he wasn't sure. The chieftain's face was unreadable.
He had to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Here he was, asking a man he didn't know to tell him a secret that he'd never told anybody, that none of his ancestors had likely ever shared with an outsider—save the previous Knight of the Flame—and he didn't even know what was so important about the secret.
Why was it so important that the Knight of the Flame understand this Aspect? Wasn't shaping enough?
Kavuu interrupted his thoughts when he stood up, indicating that Caymus should do that same.
"This man you speak of, this knight," the chieftain said, a far-off look in his eyes, "he sounds like the Paladin."
Caymus could actually feel his face light up. "The Paladin?" he said. "Who is the Paladin?"
Kavuu smiled a sad smile. "The Paladin was a hero from our legends, a traveler who came to our people in a time of strife, who protected us from unknowable dangers while we protected him from the flames that burned through this land." He shook his head slowly as he continued. "It is a story which we tell our children, but which I had not thought about in many years.
Caymus could feel his pulse racing. He didn't know if Kavuu was, indeed, referring to the same man, but he felt it very likely that Be'Var's beliefs about the Knight's ties to the Falaar had just been confirmed.
/> Before Caymus could ask any more questions, the big man shook himself out of his reverie and became serious again. "I will think on your words tonight, Caymus of the Temple," he said. He offered his hand, which Caymus took in a firm handshake. Kavuu looked to the door. "Your air friend," he said, "the one with the feathers?"
"Milo," Caymus said, smiling. Milo's feathers were often the first things people used to describe him.
"Milo," said Kavuu. "He will be doing what he must so that we can receive words from your people tomorrow, yes?"
"I believe so," Caymus nodded. Kavuu was still gripping his hand. "He told me it will take most of a day."
"Good," Kavuu said. "While he does, I would suggest you spend some time in contemplation at the brow of the Watchman."
Caymus narrowed his eyes, curious about the phrase, but decided to keep his mouth closed. He needed this man to trust him, so he would follow his suggestions. "I will do that, then," he replied.
The chieftain's lip turned up in a wry grin. "Good," he said, then he gave Caymus's hand a final, firm shake and let it go. "I will say good night to you." He tilted his head to the door. "Can you find your way back to the quarters assigned you?"
Caymus nodded. "I can." He had counted the buildings on the way here, and he believed he'd be able to find the others again. When Kavuu gave him a single nod, he turned and made his way out, back in to the chilly, night air.
Moments after he'd started making his way back, he found Milo at his shoulder. "How did it go?" he asked.
"Well, I think," Caymus said, not making mention of Milo's sudden appearance. "He said that he would think about it, tonight."
"You think that means it went well?" Milo asked, incredulously. "I don't know about you, but when I tell someone I'll think about it, I'm not usually planning on giving them good news later."
Caymus smiled. He raised his chin to indicate the cliff face next to them. "I think he said I should spend some time up there, tomorrow, while you're speaking the place. He called it 'the brow of the Watchman'."
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