“Yes,” Eric called back. “It was given to me by Her Majesty Queen Kasile of Ataidar.”
The mists dissipated. All of the attackers were clerics in the red or orange robes and white waist cord of Fiol’s Faithful. Most of them were damp and a couple was drenched yet only one of them was being magically dried by her fellows.
This cleric was a young woman, perhaps a little older than Tiza. Her hair was long, rose pink, and dripping. In her hands, she carried a wrought iron fire poker with an obsidian blade. She smiled appreciatively to those around her and then said, “Please present it to us so we may verify your claim.”
Eric removed his vial from his pack and held it up. As the light of the midday sun struck the glass, the iris of the pink priestess flashed with the same color as the flames inside. Then they faded into confusion.
“You wield divine water magic, yet you carry Sacred Fire. Just who the blazes are you?”
“I’m Eric Watley from Dragon’s Lair Team Four. I’m on a mission to protect a pilgrim.”
The dagger priest’s eyes narrowed at him. The look was so venomous that Eric felt an urge to return to his metal-coated true form. “Then this is your fault! All your fault!”
Eric groaned. “Whatever prank Tasio played on you or whatever misfortune you’ve suffered is not my fault. I’ve never been to this part of the country.”
Screaming with rage once more, the dagger boy ran forwards. Eric assumed his true form, but the boy’s pace didn’t change in the slightest. He feinted left in order to stab Eric’s throat. His dagger folded on contact and Eric grasped him firmly with both hands.
“Allow me to explain Cause and Effect.” Eric started squeezing the priest. “You presume that I am responsible for your current trouble, so you attack me. I defend myself.” He squeezed tighter. “Now I really am responsible for your current trouble.”
The pink-haired priestess threw herself at Eric’s feet.
“Please forgive my brother, Mr. Watley!” she shouted. “He is a hothead and does not represent the community’s views, our previous actions notwithstanding. If you would kindly release him, I would appreciate it and offer recompense for our aggression.”
Suddenly, Eric felt sheepish. The girl was so apologetic and polite that he couldn’t think of the still-struggling boy in his hands as threatening anymore. He tossed the non-threat back with a “yeah, sure” and returned to human form. The dagger priest landed in a heap and his sister helped him stand up. Then she smacked him over the head and pointed at Eric.
“I...apologize for my aggression, Mr. Watley.” He inclined his head slightly. “Please forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about. You’re not the first person to attack me because I’m the Trickster’s Choice. Now would you mind explaining why you attacked me before learning that?”
“We thought you were sent by Kaiba Gunrai to kidnap the Fire Sage,” he said.
Eric looked to his companions and all of them shrugged.
“Okay, let’s sit down and talk about this.”
First, the clerics dried each other off with their holy magic. If they stayed wet any longer in this weather, they could get hypothermia. Second, at the pink priestess’ insistence, they apologized. Only after they were forgiven did they lead their guests into the city.
The damage looked even worse up close. Not a single building escaped fire damage, and many were missing pieces. Some had collapsed entirely. Their debris was scattered throughout the streets and city square.
“Is all of this from the Phoenix Torch ritual?” Eric asked.
“Of course not!” the dagger priest said. “We’d never do this much damage to our sacred city! Do you think we’re —”
The pink priestess elbowed him.
“Again, I must ask you to excuse my brother. Oh, no! Where are my manners? I asked for your name without giving mine. I am Cremia Alieos and my brother is Ash Alieos.”
“So the hothead isn’t just your brother in a monastic sense?”
Every laborer, merchant, and cleric the group passed waved to them. Cremia waved back.
“That’s right. We joined the family business of Fire worship.”
Sage Hearth, the main temple for the community and home of the Fire Sage, would have been a grand building if not for its damage.
Like the rest of the town, it was made with volcanic stone, but it was taller and more imposing. Much of it was unevenly blackened by fire or smashed. Statues stood before it and inside alcoves on every floor. They too were blackened or rubble. Its gilding was worn off and its stained glass windows were broken. Cremia’s sadness, and that of her companions, was heavy as they ascended its chipped steps and passed through its hanging door.
The interior was worse. In addition to the structure itself, every form of decoration, be it a painting, a sculpture, or even a rug, was charred to ruin. Room after room had scorched artistic treasure with solemn clerics or laymen cleaning it up.
At last, they came to a room containing a dozen or so chairs. They were placed haphazardly and represented a mix of styles and materials. These are the only ones that survived the flames.
Cremia stood at the front of the group and said, “Brothers and sisters, I will explain the situation to our guests. After I have seen to their needs, I will rejoin you in the clean-up effort.”
That was effectively orders and a dismissal...
Cremia offered them the seats while she herself sat after they did. Ash sat next to her. Then she explained the circumstances of the “unacceptable” welcome she provided.
The community conducted its Phoenix Torch ritual two weeks ago. They used carefully controlled Holy Fire to burn the town so that it appeared scorched but did not suffer genuine damage. This represented the cremation of the previous monarch and the smooth transfer of power to the new one. Usually, the ashes of the ritual were present at the coronation, but the Fire Sage did not consider Kasile a true torch at the time due to her circumstances. Her performance at the Mana Mutation Summit delighted him and the ritual was conducted as a celebration. In the midst of the ritual, the holy flames went out of control.
The clerics failed to dismiss them and instead they roared higher and hotter. They resorted to evacuating the civilians instead. When the town was ablaze, people wearing ordercraft armor appeared. Wielding axes and sledgehammers, they vandalized everything they could reach, and by spreading out, they reached everything. Once the civilians were out of harm’s way, the clerics ran in to stop them.
Even if they couldn’t control the fire, they could not be harmed by it. Neither could the invaders by virtue of their armor. Thus the two sides engaged in a melee; the clerics with staves, rakes, pokers, and holy magic against the invaders’ ordercraft and tools of vandalism. It was a dearly fought battle. Several of their fellows, Cremia said while wiping a tear, became salamanders that day.
The tide turned when the clerics successfully summoned their allies. Swarms of salamander spirits, phoenix, and drakes spawned from shrines, flew out of fires, or arose from beneath the earth to join the fray. The salamanders flew into the clerics and empowered them to break an invader’s barrier and armor. The phoenix burned the fallen clerics to restore their life and renew their vitality; Fiol’s Faithful didn’t suffer a single fatality for the rest of the battle. The drakes strafed the invaders from above or broke their ranks with charges. The power of these creatures could not be matched nor could it be stolen because Fiol’s grace protected them from mind control. With their help, the clerics routed the invaders. Then the Fire Sage jumped out of a window, followed by five brutes.
They were bigger than the other invaders, wore more elaborate armor, and flaunted grander weapons. Ash compared them to knights in contrast to the peasant militia he himself had fought. Just one of them possessed more spiritual power and more advanced ordercraft than all the lesser invaders put together. The old man beat them down with a sizzling staff. The clerics and creatures did their best to support him, but he still defeated three
of the five by the time the rest of them defeated two. Throwing his arms wide, he dismissed all the flames at once.
A handful of invaders escaped and the Fire Sage ordered them hunted down. Hours later, they were thrown at his mercy. Following interrogation and trial, they were burned at the stake.
“All of them,” Cremia said, “insisted that they had been hired by Kaiba Gunrai to kidnap the Fire Sage. The attack during Phoenix Torch was to distract the community so the Fire Sage would be alone. A separate group assaulted him at the same time as the attack on the town. He defeated three others before we saw him.”
As Cremia explained, the very same elf that Eric met in Dnnac Ledo had been giving the priesthood of Mt. Fiol trouble for a long time. It all started back in the eleventh century AA when the Fire Sage concluded the Two Fires civil war. He convinced one of the royals to undertake the Rite of Fire Ascension and become a god while forbidding the other as well as all his descendants down to the ninth generation.
“Kaiba Gunrai started that war,” Eric said. “He’s proud of that fact.”
“It’s because he can’t stand uniqueness,” Cremia said. “He wanted knowledge of the rite so he could boil it down to one more product on his assembly line. The Fire Sage refused to tell him anything, so Gunrai pressed the issue.”
Ash grinned. “It ended with him getting spanked on the Fire Sage’s lap.”
“Over the centuries, he tried again and again,” Cremia said. She too was grinning. “Some were unsuccessful, like this one, and others were successful, insofar as Gunrai imprisoned the Fire Sage. He never learned anything because His Holiness either escaped or was rescued.”
“Are we talking about the same Fire Sage?” Zettai asked.
Cremia nodded. “His Holiness is immortal by virtue of his piety, wisdom, and the grace of Fiol. Whenever he dies, he is reborn from his ashes. This is his forty-third lifetime.”
“He’s lost eighteen of them due to Kaiba Gunrai,” said Ash. “In pursuit of the Rite of Fire Ascension, he has committed every crime in Ataidar’s law code, both secular and sacred versions. He was on Ataidar’s Most Wanted list before the list existed. Being an age-old elven CEO makes one hard to put away permanently.”
“We have a long history of concern for our leader,” Cremia said. “Please understand that we are protective of him.”
“Of course,” Eric said. “If our Dragoness had such a history, then we would feel the same, wouldn’t we?”
Basilard nodded, and Zettai followed him. Tiza and Nolien were more ambivalent.
“Today, we received a message from Her Majesty,” Cremia continued, “but it was text only instead of the usual video. Also, it said you already possessed Sacred Fire, and such a gift from the monarchy has not happened since the Fire Sage’s twenty-third lifetime.”
So that’s why Siron made such a fuss...
“The message said to take you directly to the Fire Sage for the Rite of Fire Ascension. Then one of our guardian salamanders attacked your ship. Altogether, we considered you to be a trojan sent by Gunrai.” Ash slammed his fist on his chair. “So we planned an ambush!”
“Since we’re clearly not, will you take us to the Fire Sage?”
Ash’s perpetual frown deepened. “Absolutely n—”
Cremia elbowed him. “Not a problem! It’s the least we can do after the trouble we put you through.”
“Sister Cremia, I must protest this course of action.”
She pointed a finger in his face and said, “Listen to your sister.” She stood up. “Mr. Watley, walk this way, please.”
As Cremia led Team Four plus deeper into the Sage Hearth, there was less damage to the building. Paintings and statues were more intact and more plentiful. It was grand and stately like Kasile’s palace but possessed an additional air of holiness that was lacking in the capital despite the need for repair work. Cremia ascended to the top floor and knocked four times on a door.
“Your Holiness, this is Sister Cremia. I’ve brought visitors from Queen Kasile.”
“Come in.”
The office of the Fire Sage was a mishmash of professions. Set against the rear wall was a desk with cabinets and quills. Set against the far right side of the room was a blacksmith forge. On the far left was a kitchen with ovens, a stove, a fire pit, and a microwave. To the mid-right were a pottery wheel and a kiln. To the mid-left was a water-filled barrel over a fire. Hanging from the center was an image of Fiol, standing under the sun with her crowned tiger. The Fire Sage himself just happened to be in the barrel at the time.
The only part of him that was visible, thank Chaos, was his head. It was a shiny dome. His hair was only present in his eyebrows and a long white beard that curled around him in the water. His fire magic did not taint his hair like Kasile’s did hers, but there was no doubt that he had plenty of it. Eric could see it in his eyes. He was staring at them with all the benevolence and sagely wisdom as if he were in the full lotus position atop a cloud, and fully clothed.
Cremia cleared her throat.
Eric went down on one knee. “Good day, Your Holiness. On the recommendation of Her Majesty Queen Kasile VII, I have come to ask for your assistance in apotheosis.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t let her do it, so I’m not going to let you do it either.”
Eric groaned. “What if I found the home base of the invaders from two weeks ago, kicked their butts, and made sure that Gunrai doesn’t try to kidnap you this time?”
“Do not be absurd, young man. My trouble with Kaiba Gunrai is a thousand years old. It cannot be ended by one such as you.”
“Then what can I do to prove myself? Quickly, please. Before another one of your spirits or clerics tries to kill me.”
The Fire Sage stroked his beard. “So then...spirits are drawn to you?”
That tone of voice made Eric shiver. It was too similar to Hasina’s when she heard he was an otherworlder. What followed was an attempt to dissect him disguised as a job offer.
“Yes, Your Holiness, spirits of many kinds have attacked me from out of nowhere because I damaged our world fruit in destroying an evil ordercrafter.”
“Cremia, have we succeeded in finding the lost salamanders?” the Fire Sage asked.
Again, the girl’s eyes teared up. “No, Your Holiness,” she said, “they have been missing since the battle.” She dabbed her eyes.
“Eric Watley, to prove yourself, you must find the souls of the clerics that became salamanders. Due to the attack, we lacked the shrines needed to orient them into their new life. Thankfully, due to the vacancy in the post of World Reaper, they were not escorted to the Abyss either. Find them, bring them here, and I will administer the rite for you.”
“I can’t go hunting for lost fire spirits!” Eric protested. “Spirits everywhere are trying to kill me and a reaper is goading them to do it.”
“That’s why the task has merit,” the Fire Sage said. “You can’t overcome death by hiding from it.”
Eric stood up. “Fine. When I come back, will you still be soaking in a hot bath?”
Cremia gasped. Ash growled. The Fire Sage himself remained serene.
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m scrying for their location, but there is mighty inference. You young folks don’t understand that ‘scrying’ refers to peering into water instead of pushing buttons on your devices. It works best with direct contact.”
The Fire Sage lifted a wrinkled arm and pointed at his lap with pruney fingers.
“Do you want to see?”
Eric couldn’t help grimacing. “No, thank you.”
The arm returned to the water. “I will send one of my familiars with location information as it is revealed to me.” He frowned. “Don’t give me that look. The first person I did this for had to defeat a dragon without killing him and then enlist his help in defeating another dragon.”
Chapter 12 Omnias! Omnias! Omnias!
And so, Eric Watley strolled through the late winte
r plains around Mt. Fiol looking for spirits. He did it all by himself. He couldn’t even use Albatross IX’s sensors because the Fire Sage said it would disqualify him.
The sage himself had nothing, not even a hint, so he had nothing to go on. First, he walked in one direction away from the volcano until he reached the limits of the holy area, then walked to a corner. He continued until he made a perimeter of Central Hearth. That was hours ago.
He was only partially done with his grid search and he couldn’t be sure any of them were here in the first place. As he lost feeling in his toes and his stomach rumbled, he appraised the golden-brown tip at the end of his mage spear.
“If I shoved this up the Fire Fossil’s ass and forced him into his forty-fourth lifetime, do you think the interim sage would be more accommodating?”
Tasio shrugged. “Mostly likely not, but it would be funny.”
The Trickster was floating above him. They played “Twenty Questions” to pass the time because there was nothing out here. There weren’t even monsters to fight. They were either hibernating or too scared of his own monstrous presence to approach him. Not a single spirit approached him either.
First they didn’t leave him alone, and now that he was trying to find them, they couldn’t be found. Eric sighed heavily. Somehow, this is Tasio’s fault.
“It’s not my fault,” The Trickster said.
Eric chuckled. “Isn’t one of your names ‘the Taker of Blame’? Everything is your fault.”
“That’s right: the good, the bad, and the weird.”
Eric blinked on Magic Sight and did yet another scan of the area. He could see vast amounts of fire-tainted astral matter everywhere. Crafting a fireball here would be easier and more potent for less effort than anywhere else in the world. He could even see traces of divinity from where Fiol’s godly nature impressed itself. However, he still couldn’t see any salamander spirits.
“Then I don’t suppose you could tell me how the Rite of Fire Ascension works.”
Transcending Limitations Page 33
