by Colt, K. J.
The interrogator did not blink nor turn away as he addressed another. “Bring me the Fire.”
His assistant brought him a dark, egg-shaped rock. The interrogator held it before Arythan as if to offer it to him. “Behold the Fire of Jedinom. May it cleanse your soul so that you will see his glory and subscribe to his will.”
Then, to Arythan’s surprise, another Warrior removed his alethrium bands. No sooner than he had done so, the rock was set by the mage’s feet, and it began to blaze with blue light. Arythan could hear Cyrul whimper as the light intensified. Tendrils of flame lashed out like snakes and plunged beneath Arythan’s skin like water.
The fire writhed and burned inside him, as though he was being seared from the inside out. He threw back his head in agony as the magic blistered and burst within him. His eyes felt as though they would dry up and shrivel away, and the crackle of flames inside his head consumed his ears while he was certain his nose detected the reek of charred flesh.
Then the horrible sensation abated, leaving him breathless and drained. He saw that the rock had been moved away.
“Do you embrace Jedinom’s glory to serve him faithfully in all regards of magic and righteousness?” the interrogator repeated.
“Where’s m’ knife, y’ bastards?” Arythan gasped.
The rock was pushed toward him again, and the flames took him with vigor. It was all he could do not to cry aloud. This time, however, his exposure to Jedinom’s Flames lasted longer.
“Do you embrace—”
“Y’ killed m’ mates,” Arythan said through clenched teeth. “I’ll take y’ to Oqrantos m’self.” He spat upon the interrogator’s masque.
“Destroy his instrument of dark power,” his enemy commanded, and the obsidian knife was brought to him.
Arythan’s heart stopped as he watched his knife descend toward the stone. The black rock began to glow as the weapon was only inches away.
No!
Contact was made, and there was a burst of blue light and a sharp sound like the felling of a massive tree. Arythan stared, unable to breathe. The Warriors stared, too, for the egg-shaped rock had cracked into pieces. Amidst them rested the obsidian blade, like a dark and ominous hole in their sight.
There was another loud sound—the splintering of a door. Footsteps charged down the steps into the cellar, brightening the room with half a dozen more torches. Kitrimaran guards surrounded the Warriors, and standing among them was a red-haired woman with a sword in-hand.
“I cannot stand zealots,” she grumbled. “You were forbidden to enter this city, but here you are, in the midst of some perverse ritual.”
“There are laws higher than what your authority dictates,” the Warrior-interrogator challenged.
The woman drew herself up to him and pointed the tip of her blade beneath his chin. “Well, you’re in my city now, and my authority will have every one of you locked away. How does that sound?” she asked, her harsh voice like the deafening ring of a shrill bell. She turned to her men. “Get them out of here and in the prison. Relieve them of their masques and their attire—they can walk the streets naked for all I care. I don’t want anyone to know of their presence here.”
“What of their victims, Captain Xiuss?”
Her eyes first fell upon Cyrul, and she gave him a disgusted frown. “Give him some clothes. We’ll detain them both for questioning.”
“He is one of us now,” one of the Warriors said as he was being led away. “He has given his oath.”
“Has he?” the woman asked. “We will see what he has to say about that.” Then she looked at Arythan, who had already cut through his ropes with his knife and was searching for his shirt. “What are your names?” she demanded. “What company are you with?”
“I’m my own company,” Arythan said. He found the rest of his attire and was working on covering himself.
“Fantastic,” the woman said, “a wizard and an ass.”
Arythan glanced at her with a scowl.
“You?” she asked Cyrul.
“I am the royal medoriate of King Garriker II of Cerborath,” the wizard responded, his confidence clearly returning.
“Garriker, eh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” She shook her head. “I assume the two of you know each other?”
“No,” they responded in unison.
“Hm.”
Arythan found himself waiting with the Kitrimaran captain and a couple of her guards as Cyrul finished dressing himself. He studied the woman from the corner of his eye. She has a nice face and a nice figure, but she is an officer. That uniform would come between us. And her voice makes my ears bleed.
“Where are you taking us?” Cyrul asked, unaware that all eyes were upon the mark on his forehead.
“You will know when we get there,” she said, her arms folded. “Are you ready now?”
Arythan and Cyrul were escorted out of the cellar and into the dark of the early morning.
“We best inform His Majesty of Cerborath that his wizard has been defiled,” the captain told another of her crew. “Bring him to my office.”
Arythan watched as Cyrul visibly paled at this order. He tried not to smile. “No worries, mate,” he said. “’E’ll be glad y’re alright.”
Cyrul cast him a dark look but said nothing as they were taken to the captain’s office.
The space itself was small and drab, but weapons of all sorts were affixed to the wall for visual interest. It reminded Arythan of home—specifically his father’s study. Do you aim to impress or intimidate? he wondered, wishing they could sit elsewhere. Cyrul was visibly less comfortable than him, and that was a small consolation to the mage.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a nondescript bench against the wall. She moved behind her desk to face them in her chair. “I aim to get an account of what happened for my superiors. I want to know your involvement in this affair.”
Arythan could not help himself; he felt like a child being chastised, and that was cause enough to be stubborn. “I was a victim,” he said.
Captain Xiuss eyed him warily. “How so?”
“I thought ’twas obvious.”
“What did they do to you?” she clarified, her voice hardening.
“Burned me with their rock,” he answered truthfully.
“Magic rock,” the captain said dryly, jotting something on the paper before her. “How was it you came to be there?”
“I was sleeping in the closet when they found me.”
The captain set down her quill and glared at him.
Arythan gestured to Cyrul. “Anytime y’ want to chime in, mate. Y’ were burned by the same bloody rock.”
“I did not see any rock,” the woman said.
“Tha’s because m’ knife broke it.” He shifted in irritation at her dubious expression. “Look, what do y’ really need to know? Those bastards were trying to get us to join them. Tha’s it.”
“He is telling the truth,” Cyrul said.
“Thanks,” Arythan muttered.
Captain Xiuss leaned forward over her desk. “I can’t help but notice…you seem rather uncomfortable, Medoriate. Why might that be?”
“Well, ‘tain’t the cozy bench, so it must be all the bloody questions,” Arythan said, his eyes flashing. “Y’re talking to the wrong blokes. ’S the bastards y’ locked away ‘oo y’ought to question.”
“Oh, I intend to, but the both of you are right here and so cooperative,” she sneered. Her finger pointed at Arythan. “Why were you sleeping in a closet? What closet? Where?”
Arythan drummed his fingers on the bench. “The one in the conference chamber. I ‘ad nowhere else to sleep.”
The captain shook her head and sat back. “Did you know,” she began matter-of-factly, “that there are fifteen different inns here in Kitrimar? All of them respectable, too.”
“But none o’ them affordable,” he muttered.
“Just who are you, Medoriate? If you’re a vagrant, I marvel that you were admitted without
an invitation. If you’re not a vagrant, that leaves only one other possibility.”
Arythan’s eyes bore into hers. “I know what y’re saying, an’ I’m not a spy.”
“Hm.” Her regard shifted to Cyrul. “This man beside you…you say you do not know him, but you were found together.”
“I do not know him or his business,” Cyrul said tightly.
“Well, from what I’ve heard, it seems like he knows you, Medoriate Frostmeyer.”
There was a brief moment of silence before an urgent knock sounded upon the office door. “Enter,” the captain said, clearly annoyed.
One of her uniformed guards opened the door but remained at the threshold. “Captain Xiuss, there is a situation.”
“What is it?”
He nodded away from the office.
She scowled and stood. “Wait here,” she told the medori on the bench.
They watched her shut the door behind her.
“You were spying,” Cyrul spat. “You were spying on me.”
“I ‘ave better things to do,” Arythan said. “In fact, I left Garriker. I’m done.”
Cyrul shook his head.
“I don’ care what y’ believe. Go back to serving y’r king. I won’t tell ‘im ‘ow y’ betrayed ‘im,” Arythan said evenly.
The royal medoriate colored. “You are the cause of all my grief.”
“Whatever.” Arythan sighed and stood. He massaged his sore wrists and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Cyrul demanded.
“Didn’t y’ear the bloke? There’s a situation.” He opened the door and walked outside. Captain Xiuss and her officer were standing a short distance away, but Arythan distinctly heard the word, “fire.” Without hesitation, he approached them, ignoring her furious expression.
The officer hesitated, unsure if he should continue with a stranger in their presence.
“Where’s the fire?” Arythan asked.
“At…at the northern quadrant,” the officer said.
“Return to the bench at once,” Captain Xiuss barked.
“Do I look like I’m wearing a uniform?” Arythan asked. “I’m a mage. I can ‘elp with fire.”
“You are under investigation. You will stay here.” She said with finality.
“By what authority? I don’ even know ‘oo y’are,” Arythan said. “Y’ storm in, walk us ‘ere like criminals, an’ then y’ expect me to follow y’r orders?”
She drew herself upright. “I am Captain Tyrianne Xiuss of Kitrimaran Security. It is for me to see that this conference proceeds as smoothly as possible. We are hosting leaders from different lands and races, and each one of them should be able to walk these streets without any concern for their safety. When I see that security has been breached, and Warriors of the Sword are within these walls, I have to take every possible threat seriously. I have been given no cause to trust you; your magic renders you a living weapon.” She lowered her voice and looked down into his eyes. “So be a good little caster, and join your friend in my office while I perform my duty.”
“Ah, yeah, ’s a lot of pressure on y’,” Arythan said, his gaze unwavering. “Y’ need to keep y’r reputation. Anything could ‘appen at a place like this. A fire, even. Might be ‘elpful t’ave a mage to put it out for y’.”
“Why?” Captain Xiuss countered. “Why do you want to help so badly?”
Arythan shrugged. “To prove I’m not a spy, maybe.”
“It would not prove anything. You would best help me by staying here.” She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and gave a disgusted sigh. “I don’t have time for this.” She turned to her officer. “Make sure they stay here.”
“Yes, Captain,” the man replied with a bow, watching as she disappeared outside. He looked at Arythan and nodded toward the office. “Inside, Medoriate.”
Arythan headed inside the office, but he did not sit down. He watched as the officer closed and locked the door, then took his place behind the captain’s desk. He turned toward Cyrul to divulge the news. “Seems there’s a fire in the northern quadrant,” Arythan repeated to him, not expecting a response.
Cyrul, however, lost all color. “His Majesty….”
Arythan regarded him curiously. “What about Garriker?”
“He…he had a meeting there this morning.”
“Maybe y’ won’t ‘ave to worry about y’r future,” Arythan said with a smirk. “Y’ could be the next king o’ Cerborath.”
Cyrul looked at him, disgusted.
“Or do y’ave a conscience, Frostmeyer? If y’ do, we might be able to do something about this fire,” he coaxed.
“Neither of you is going anywhere,” the officer said.
Arythan elbowed Cyrul’s shoulder. “Poor bloke looks a lil’ tired, no?”
The wizard merely frowned and shook his head.
“Do y’ feel tired, mate?” Arythan asked, working diligently to thin the air around the man’s head.
“Why should I feel tired?” the man asked, suppressing a yawn.
“I’m sure y’ve been up all night. Y’r cap’n sawr to that, no?”
The officer rubbed his eyes and swayed in the chair. “What…are…you…?” He slumped forward, and his head thunked upon the desk.
“You killed him,” Cyrul said, his eyes wide.
“No, y’ nit. ‘E fainted. Cap’n Xiuss, though—she might kill ‘im for dozing off.” He went to the door and fiddled with the lock.
“You do not truly intend to try and stop the fire,” Cyrul said, eyeing him.
Arythan glanced at him with a slight smile. “Don’ worry about me, Frosty. This ‘talentless boy’ just wants to see what’s going on.” The door popped open. “Y’ sit tight; we wouldn’t want anyone confusing y’ with an ‘ero.”
As he made his way to the streets again, Arythan could not help but wonder if there were more Warriors of the Sword enacting their revenge. If that was the case, he would not mind exacting a little revenge of his own.
The north quadrant was not difficult to find. The sun would soon be cresting, and a telltale trail of blue-black smoke was rising like a beacon. Mostly the streets were empty, quiet, but as he neared the site, curious on-lookers watched from windows or stood in clusters near their lodging. The shouting came from the Kitrimaran guards, who were just as helpless as their captain. They scurried back and forth from the burning buildings, disappearing and emerging from the billows of thick smoke like lost children.
It was difficult to say how many buildings were actually on fire. The denseness of the smoke obscured most everything, but of flames Arythan saw very little. A flicker here, a glimmer there, but nothing like he had expected. Flames were quick, and flames were hungry. For the time it took him to reach the scene, the structures should have already been consumed. Even from where he stood well beyond the commotion, he should have felt the intensity of the heat. As it was, he drew his coat a little tighter in the chill of the morning air.
Did they do something to extinguish it? he wondered, but then he heard Captain Xiuss call to assemble her men. She could not have arrived much earlier than he had, and unless another medoriate had intervened, her only option would have been a bucket brigade. Arythan was curious enough to hear her orders, but he did not want her to see him.
There was a time when I could have managed that easily, he thought, knowing that without his Shadow, he would have to be doubly wary and twice as sneaky. He was not short, but most men were taller than him, so he moved in behind the amassing group of uniforms.
“What have you discovered?” Captain Xiuss asked. “Do we know the source?”
“We think it was the tavern—The Full Wolf Moon, someone said. “The smoke is too thick to tell.”
“How many buildings?” she asked.
No one seemed to know.
“What about victims?” she tried again. “Have you found anyone?”
“No casualties yet, Captain, but we did come across some survivors.”
/> “Show me.”
Arythan immediately thought of the king. He watched as Captain Xiuss and her guard entered a nearby building. He kept at a distance but remained outside, situating himself at one of the closest windows. There were a dozen people inside, most of whom Arythan did not recognize. Some paced, some sat listlessly, but none of them looked particularly happy to be there. Then, in a darker corner of the room, he spied what looked like an exiled group of crows. The B.E.S.T., in full uniform, stood against the wall like grim statues. Neither the prince nor the king was in their company. Arythan saw Captain Xiuss make straight for them.
“Hey! You, there!” a voice hailed him.
Arythan spun around to see a guard headed toward him.
“Go about your business,” the guard ordered. “There’s nothing for you to see.”
The mage needed no encouraging as he slipped away. That’s where he is right. Nothing here, anyway. He had his own suspicions brewing, and there was only one way to test them. He checked to make certain no one was following him as he vanished amidst the smoke and headed into the fire.
Arythan kept a breeze tied to him like a dog on a leash. He pushed the thick, smothering air away from him, forming a path of clarity as he pressed into the dark interior of what he guessed was The Full Wolf Moon. There was no sign of life and no sign of fire, either. Everything was intact, and even the smoke in the air had a strange odor to it—very unlike the expected smell of char.
He moved to the stairwell, which was completely enveloped like the peak of a mountain shrouded by mist. Some of the timbers creaked as he climbed, but then he heard a sound that had not been made by his feet. He moved more cautiously to the top and stopped. A dark shape withdrew into the smoke and beyond his sight.
Arythan groped for a sword that was not there. He had come prepared to fight a fire, not a flesh-and-blood opponent. He felt his knife, warm against his skin, much like a second heart. He would use it only if he needed to; there had been too many close moments where he could have lost it. What he hoped was that whoever shared the space with him was at the same sightless disadvantage.
Without a sound he moved into the hallway and then waited. For a short while there was nothing, but then he heard another creak. Slowly he worked toward the sound, his hands spread cautiously before him. He felt the frame of a door, moved into the adjacent room….
