Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (42 page)

At that mention of execution, Kyrus heart began to
race even quicker. He felt his breath coming shallow and rapidly.

“I am not a fearful man,” the sheriff said, “but the
existence of one such as this disturbs me to the core. I think …”

And that was the last that Kyrus heard before he lost
consciousness, having passed out.

*
* * * * * * *

Brannis woke with a start. It was the middle of the
night, but there was no denying how he felt. His head hurt for no reason he
could rationalize—other than that Kyrus’s head hurt, and that he had just been
there in it, watching. He was not so debilitated by it as Kyrus had been, but
he could feel the spot where Kyrus had hit his head on the cobblestones of the streets
of Scar Harbor behind his shop.

Have I gone mad?

The question hung in Brannis’s mind as he lay in bed,
staring up at a ceiling that was too dark to see. The shock of his dream was
enough to bring him fully awake, though he was still slightly disoriented.
Acardia felt too real for Kadrin to have fully sunk in just yet.

That is the real question, is it not? If I have lost
my faculties, then this is all really just a dream, and I can ignore it—perhaps
even find a way to rid myself of the dreams entirely. Surely there are potions,
or magic to cure me, or even just taking to strong drink at night to sleep in
oblivion.

Brannis thought more about it for a few seconds.

I could hide it, I think, never speaking of it to
anyone. If I am strong enough, they will never catch on. I would have to be
careful never to let slip anything I know that does not belong to the waking
world. If I am lucky, I could take the secret to my grave never having breathed
a word of it. I have just been given the chance of a lifetime; I cannot risk
losing it. Can I?

Brannis thought of all the wonderful things he had
seen and felt in his dreams. Kyrus was not well-traveled, but had experienced
friends and a budding romance, and even felt the rush of the aether. It was the
latter that tugged particularly at Brannis’s conscience. He knew that he had
never imagined how it could feel to actually draw aether. He doubted his mind
could have conjured such a euphoric feeling. Had it given the same joy as
lovemaking, he could have accused his dreams of plagiarism, but the drawing of
aether was entirely different. It was like standing in a hurricane untouched,
as the wind blew through you, cleaning out the mind and body and leaving it
feeling pure.

It
has
to
be real. If it is real, Kyrus needs me. If I am to help, all I can give is
knowledge. The only knowledge that might save him is magic.

Brannis threw off the bedclothes and stumbled in
darkness over to the window. He drew open the heavy, velvet curtains that had
so effectively cloaked the bedchamber in darkness. Pale moonlight wafted into
the room, giving everything a ghostly quality, nearly devoid of color.

Brannis’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he could
make out the clothing he had worn the previous day. Though they smelled of
stale sweat, they would serve his purposes, and Brannis quickly dressed. As he
finished pulling on his boots, he walked swiftly for the door, then hesitated.
He considered for a moment whether he ought to bring his sword but then
dismissed the idea. He was not going far—not even leaving the estate.

Brannis walked down the heavy-carpeted halls of
Solaran Estate in thankful silence. Had his family been less indentured to
comfort and luxury, he might have had to walk down a hall of bare stone, and
would have needed to pad his steps if he wished to avoid causing commotion. The
thick, red Safschan carpets, hundreds of summers old and preserved by magic,
cushioned even his booted steps and muffled them to a whisper. A soft glow lit
every hallway of the building at night, lest anyone seeking a late-evening
snack—or just arriving late to bed—need to carry illumination of their own.

He made his way to the family library, which his
father had, until quite recently of course, taken custody of as his personal
study. Doors within the estate were never locked, and Brannis opened the
rightmost of the double doors and quietly entered. The heavy, ornately carved
wooden door made not the slightest sound as it swung. Unlike the halls, the
library was dark. Brannis felt his way across the dark room by only the scant
light that came in from the hall. When he reached the window, he drew it open
the curtains to cast enough light, hopefully, to read by.

It was difficult to find a light source anywhere in
the estate. Even his cousin Danil was enough of a sorcerer to light up anyplace
he chose. Brannis was so rarely at home that he did not keep a lamp or magical
light device about for his own use. It was fortunate that the moon was high and
mostly full that night, and that the clouds were too thin and wispy to block
much light, else Brannis would have been unable to find anything at all. As it
was, he could only read the titles of volumes whose spines faced the window.

Brannis scanned the ones he could see:
Trontor’s
Alchemy. Native Species of Tuermon. The Hurac Dynasty: A Sorcerer’s
Perspective. The Warlock Prophecies. The Life of Fexil Solaran. Artifacts of
the Early Imperial Era.
Then a title written in a language Brannis could
not read. Then,
Geography and the Flow of Aether.
And then,
My
Journal: Telemuron Solaran.

Brannis thought the last sounded promising and pulled
it from its shelf. Brannis scanned the first few pages. They were yellowed with
age but bore the distinctively smooth feel of magical preservation.

Talking about his early life … Goes on a sea voyage …
Meets foreigners and shows them magic … More sea voyage … Drat, he was naught
but an explorer. Nothing about
how
to do any magic.

Brannis shoved the volume back into place with
somewhat less care and respect normally due a four-hundred-odd summer-old book.
He picked up where he left off.

Predatory Avians. Geology as Pertains to Underground
Structures. Collected Maps of the Ocean Currents. Coins.
Sighing in annoyance with himself, Brannis could not
help but wonder from the scant title what that one contained. He quickly pulled
it off the shelf and looked inside. There was page after page of coins from
various kingdoms and eras, sketched in fine detail by someone with ample free
time. He angrily slammed it back into place and looked at the last two volumes
on that shelf.
Corporo Kannis: Merchant King. Ways of the Old Gods.

Brannis moved to the next shelf down and continued:
Dark
Tales for the Fireside. Adventures of Boppy the Rabbit. Seram’s Children’s
Stories.
Brannis quickly browsed the rest of the shelf—nothing but
children’s books. Maruk may have taken the library for his study, but it was
still the family’s library.

He continued scanning title after title. There were
scholarly works, biographies, and storybooks, but he had yet to find anything
that he could use. He needed instructions, notes, something substantive that
Kyrus would be able to remember and make use of. He started taking books from
the darkened shelves on the other side of the room and bringing them over to
the window to read the titles.

He discovered more of the same, perhaps with a few
more personal journals of his ancestors. He was finding it difficult to believe
that in a household of perhaps the most influential bloodline of sorcerers in
the Empire, that there were no books on how to perform magic. Brannis
admittedly had not looked at every book in the library, but he was getting the
sense that if there were books in there of the type he was after, he ought to
have found at least one so far.

Brannis moved to his father’s desk and gave it a quick
check as well. It did not take long to decide that it was devoid of helpful
writings as well. His father had either kept it very tidy, or some ambitious
relatives had already absconded with anything of value.

He must have kept everything in his offices in the
Tower of Contemplation
, Brannis
decided.

That presented problems of its own, but not
insurmountable ones. Brannis had already committed himself this far; he was
prepared to do whatever it took now and deal with the consequences later.

Brannis hurriedly drew the curtains closed again and
made his way in the semi-darkness back out of the library. He considered his
options. He could simply awaken someone and beg their assistance. Any number of
sorcerers in the house could find him spells to escape from Kyrus’s situation;
there was a reason the palace had warded cells for magic-capable prisoners. He
could also ask either Iridan or Rashan for assistance. However, Iridan had
already dismissed the dreams as nothing to worry about, and Rashan … Well,
Rashan was not someone he was hoping to seek help from just then.

He could sneak back into the Academy, but there were
so many ways that could be misinterpreted that he shuddered to think how it
would be seen if he were to be caught. He bore little love for the instructors
and the feeling was mutual. Rummaging through their libraries might even be
portrayed as some form of vengeful vandalism.

The Tower of Contemplation seemed most promising. His
father’s office had been there, and if it had not yet been cleared of his
personal effects, then his notes and reference materials ought still to be
there. Plus, if he was unable to find anything useful in his father’s office,
there were other libraries in the Tower as well.

Kyrus headed down the hall toward the main stairs but
then paused a moment. Backtracking, he jogged down to his room and retrieved Avalanche.
Poking around his family’s home was one thing. Snooping around in the
headquarters of the Imperial Circle was a different matter. If questioned, he
had plausible enough excuses to offer for being there so late, but it felt
better to prepare for the worst.

*
* * * * * * *

Brannis had decided to go on foot, rather than alert
the stable hands on both ends of his journey. Taking the same route he had
taken just the previous night coming back from the Bygones Day preparations, he
set off for the palace at a jog.

He found the usual rather lax security at the Tower of
Contemplation and let himself in. He wondered idly if he ought to mention
increasing the guard contingent of the Tower to someone. No thief in his right
mind would break into the Tower, but that did not prevent the insane thieves
from becoming wealthy if they dared to try it and got lucky. Brannis counted
himself among the latter for the night, and though it was not wealth he sought,
he was certainly hoping for a bit of luck.

*
* * * * * * *

He found the door to his father’s office warded, and
having no means to open it short of using Avalanche to stave it in, he had
slumped against it as he considered his next plan of action. Sighing, he banged
his head lightly against the door, wincing at the expected pain that did not
actually materialize.

At least I seem to have gotten past that headache. I
hope that means Kyrus is doing better.

He needed to think of something quickly, before it was
too late to help. He tried to remember all the special assignments that Rashan
had given out to the rest of his surviving men from the Kelvie expedition. The
warlock had wanted to keep them close by to prevent silly rumors from spreading
about the time before he arrived back in Kadrin. He had neither seen nor heard
from Sir Lugren since they had arrived, and the common soldiers had been given
various assignments in and around the palace and Tower.

That works!
Brannis
realized.
Tod and Jodoul are guards for one of the Tower libraries. If I
cannot get in past those two scholars, I am hopeless.

Brannis pulled himself to his feet and headed back
downstairs three floors to where he was fairly sure the North Library was
located. It was, unsurprisingly, on the north side of the Tower, if only he had
managed to get the floor correct.

Brannis wended his way through the corridors until he
saw them and confirmed that he had chosen correctly. There were Tod and Jodoul,
fancied up in their pristine new red-and-white Circle Guard uniforms. They were
leaning on their halberds and carrying on a conversation as he neared them.

“Well, I know first thing I plan to get is a place of
me own,” Tod commented, not even looking down the hall where Brannis approached
from.

“A woman for me, I thinks,” Jodoul replied,
matter-of-factly.

“Aww, not wastin’ it all on whores, are ya?” Tod
sounded disappointed in his friend.

“Naw, think I got the coin now to court a girl proper.
You know, get me a wife, like?” Jodoul said just before noticing Brannis coming
right down the hall at them.

Both men scrambled to arrange themselves in proper
guard pose—upright and holding a weapon usually covered it.

“Easy, fellows,” Brannis said as he got close enough
that he would not have to yell to talk to them. “Just here for the library, not
any sort of official inspection.”

“Aww, sir, you ought to know we cannot let you in,”
Tod said.

“Orders and all,” Jodoul agreed, “right from Warlock
Rashan. This is our first night at it, and we cannot botch it up right off.”