Flameseeker (Book 3) (11 page)

Jarial smiled at her. “Much better.”

“Aye, an’ there ain’t a key ’ole on those doors, either,
so gettin’ in ain’t easy,” Nester said.

Zarya shrugged. “Simply knocking seemed to work
last time.”

“Aye, well, who knows if we’ll be that lucky
again?” It took several moments for Nester to carefully unfold his map, and
when he did, it nearly blanketed him. He laid it on the ground and smoothed it out,
and then gestured as he explained, “’Ere we are, an’ ’ere’s th’ Pyre. It ain’t
exactly drawn to scale, but at least you can get an idea of ’ow far we gotta
go.”

Jarial knelt down and studied the map, tracing his
finger along an invisible path while he concentrated on something.

After the rest of his companions gave their descriptions
of the Pyre, Omari gave his piece. “What I remember most vividly was the smell
of burning wood and charcoal. The air was also very warm and dry, as if we were
walking right into a volcano. There was, of course, the presence of magic all
around that place, and I do not believe that it was solely divine magic.”

Zarya shook her head. “No, it was not. I felt it,
too.”

Jarial silenced everyone and continued meditating
on the map. Once he was satisfied, he stood. “All right. I have the place in
mind.”

Omari blinked. He had a funny feeling in his gut.
Master
Glace seems so sure of himself, but he has never been to the Pyre before, has
he?
“Are you ... certain the route is clear to you, Master Glace?”

Jarial glowered. “Yes, Omari! I am
most
certain. Do not question me about it again.” He turned to the others. “Everyone
gather in the circle, quickly.”

As Omari, Nester, Zarya, and Aidan joined him in
the circle, Jarial fished in the components pouch at his belt. Sable leapt up
from her comfortable spot and stood between Jarial’s ankles. While Jarial
chanted, he sprinkled a pinch of amber-colored dust over the circle.

Omari tried to listen to the words chanted, but
they were spoken so fast, it sounded like a jumble. A white glow appeared from
within the circle and engulfed the group.

For a brief moment, Omari no longer saw his comrades
or heard Percival’s terrified squeaking. His heart pounded.
No, it failed!
Malik, help us.

The light slowly dissipated, and Omari began to make
out the world around him. He was no longer in a thicket on the outskirts of
Ghaeldorund. Instead, he stood on sandy, rocky land. The air was dry, thin, and
hot, and he smelled the familiar scent of charcoal and burning wood.

When the light cleared completely, he gazed upon a
grand golden structure sitting atop a long, shallow staircase.
The Pyre.
He
smiled.
Thank Malik, we made it!

Sable yowled at the top of her lungs, as if she
were in great pain. Cringing and wondering what could possibly be bothering her,
he turned to the cat. She lay sprawled atop Jarial, who apparently had
collapsed. Her tail lashed about.

“Oy! Stop all that soddin’ racket!” Nester yelled
over Sable’s yowling, covering his ears.

Zarya gasped and rushed to Jarial’s side. She
knelt down and placed her hand over his forehead, speaking healing prayers. Omari
didn’t stop her, realizing she was the only one of the group who could probably
help him.

Aidan stood near, checking on Zarya a moment
before focusing his wary attention on their surroundings while she worked.

Omari approached Jarial’s other side and knelt
down. He widened his eyes. “Master Glace?”

The man lying before him looked almost nothing
like the Jarial he knew. His skin was paler, with wrinkles and a few pockmarks covering
his face. His once-straight black hair was peppered grey and receding. Patches
of grey stubble were visible along his jawline.

Omari drew in a breath.
What has the spell done
to him?

X

Omari tried to rouse the old man that was Jarial
by shaking his arm gently, but it was no use. Fearing the worst, Omari’s heart
pounded. His hands became clammy. Percival leapt from his shoulder to the
ground and sat up on his haunches next to Jarial, sniffing at the mage cautiously.
No, Master Glace. Please wake up!

Sable ceased her yowling and pawed at Jarial’s wrinkled
face. Percival attempted to comfort her with a gentle nuzzle.

“Soddin’ ’ells!” Nester exclaimed. “What ’appened
to ’im?”

Omari ground his teeth, fighting to hold back the
tears in his stinging eyes. His pride prevented him from crying in front of his
comrades. “Not now, Nester! Just ... Just be quiet!”

Zarya, who had been knelt at Jarial’s other side
tending to him with her healing spells, lifted her hand from the mage’s pale,
wrinkled forehead and sighed. “His strength is depleted. It is only by the
goddess’s mercy that he is still alive.”

Omari saw concern in her eyes.
The spell
must’ve been too much for him.
“Can ... Can you help him?”

She nodded once, then placed her other hand over
his heart and began to utter a prayer. Her hands glowed blue, and the light
soon enveloped Jarial’s body. When she concluded her prayer, the light dissipated.

Jarial suddenly gasped. His eyes shot open and stared
at the sky a moment before turning to Zarya and Omari. His mouth drooped, and
he appeared dazed.

“Mister Gla—Jarial? Can you hear me?” Zarya asked.

Omari glanced at her, surprised. For as long as
he’d known Jarial, Omari had very rarely heard anyone call Jarial by his first
name.

Jarial focused his eyes on the priestess, and he
closed his mouth. The wrinkles on his cheeks shifted to accommodate a weak
smile. “Zarya ...” he whispered, his voice sounding raspy.

Zarya beamed. “Praise be to the goddess!”

“Master Glace,” Omari said. “Are you all right? Do
you remember what happened?”

Jarial’s head turned to Omari, his smile fading. With
a grunt, he tried to sit up. Sable slid off him, then settled into his lap,
purring contentedly. “Yes ...” Jarial exhaled. “The spell. We were going to see
Kaijin. It worked, did it not?”

Omari chewed his bottom lip. “It did, but ...”

“‘But’?” Jarial, fully awake, ran his hands
halfway through his hair and stopped. He felt his face. His eyes widened. “No ...”
he whispered, his hands trembling. He sprang up shakily, launching Sable from
his lap, and pushed past the group, shielding his face from view.

“Master Glace!” Omari called. He motioned the rest
of his comrades to stay put while he followed after the mage.

Jarial didn’t go far, but he kept his back turned
to the rest of the group.

Omari slowed his steps until he came up beside
Jarial. He lowered his head, looking sidelong at him. “Master Glace,” he began
in almost a whisper. “I—”

“How could I have been so careless?” Jarial muttered.

Omari raised his head slightly.

“Everyone will know now.”

“Master Glace, if I may—”

“What? What do
you
have to say, boy?”
Jarial turned to him. His wrinkled face hardened, and his glassy, slate-grey
eyes flashed. “Now that you and your friends know my secret, I’ll be a
laughingstock! That damned brownie will spread it around like wildfire!”

“No, sir, that will not happen. I will make
certain.” Omari sighed.
I never knew that Master Glace was so vain.

“Your words are hardly assuring, Omari,” Jarial
said flatly.

“Does it truly bother you that you are—”

“Old? Of course it does. But you and everyone else
aren’t meant to see me this way. No one on the Council has ever seen me like
this! And Kaijin ... He must never know.”

“Everyone ages, sir.”

“Yes, but that does not mean that I am required to
look
my age, damn it!”

Omari rolled his eyes.
Why is this such a big
deal to him?

Then he realized he had his own complexes, which he
preferred to keep private, but they ended up being discovered by his friends.
One such instance was his inability to swim. He wanted to redeem himself
somehow, for his own dignity’s sake. “Can you not just ... disguise yourself
again?”

Jarial shook his head. “I am still weary from
casting the teleportation spell. I don’t want to risk mis-casting a disguise
spell and accidentally make myself look like a troll or something.”

“Has the teleportation spell done this to you?”

“Not directly. It required my fullest
concentration. I did not realize that casting it would ... deplete me like
this. I understand now why not many people my age cast that spell too often. I
just need a moment’s time to rest, and to figure out what to do about Kaijin.”

“We are at the Pyre. Kaijin is likely inside.”
Omari looked in the distance past the rest of the group toward the shallow
stairs that led up to the Pyre’s grand entrance.

“Kaijin must never see me this way,” Jarial said. “For
all his life, he’s only seen the young Jarial. He won’t know who I am, and I
doubt he will take a washed-up old man like me seriously. Tch. Most young
people don’t, anyway.”

“That is not true. Kaijin is your student—”

“
Was
my student.” Jarial frowned. “But none
of that matters now.”

Omari narrowed his eyes. “Master Glace, with all
due respect, I could not care less about your age or appearance. All that
matters to me is your wisdom and your ability to teach me all that I must know
to become a successful Councilmember.”

Jarial closed his eyes a moment, and then took a
deep breath.

“And I am certain Kaijin will be glad to see you
again,” Omari continued.

He nodded slowly. “Fine. I get it. No need to lecture
me. For your sake, you’d better be right.”

Omari shrugged. “I do not know why or how, but I
do feel strongly that he will not mind. After traveling with Kaijin for as long
as I did, I think, perhaps, that he and I are not so different.” He recalled
the Dragon, Kyniythyria, whom he and his comrades had had the highest honor of
meeting during their travels, mentioning how much he and Kaijin ‘smelled
alike’.

Jarial grumbled. “All right. But let’s get one
thing clear: if that damned brownie says
any
thing about this outside of
this group, I will deal with him myself. Is that understood?”

While the thought of Nester getting what he deserved
brought a dark smile to Omari’s face, he couldn’t deny that the brownie hadn’t
really done anything that would hurt his friends. Omari would be sure to give
Nester a good talking-to, regardless. He nodded curtly to Jarial. “No need to
worry, sir. I will take care of it.”

Keeping his head tilted downward and his eyes focused
ahead, Jarial turned and shuffled back toward the group. Omari followed him.
Jarial continued past the group, and Sable fell in beside her master. As Jarial
passed by Nester, the brownie opened his mouth to speak, but Omari nabbed him
by the back of his jerkin.

“’Ey! What’s th’ big idea?” Nester grunted.

Omari gave him a shushing gesture, then motioned
for Zarya and Aidan to remain while Jarial continued ahead.

“Just a minute, everyone.” Omari let go of
Nester’s jerkin but still kept a sharp eye on him. “You have all now seen
Master Glace’s true appearance, but knowing this, you must never tell anyone.
This is very important, and it would mean a lot to Master Glace if you kept
this secret.” He glared at Nester. “
Especially
you.”

“Wha—? I wasn’t gonna say nothin’!”

“Swear by whatever brownie oath of loyalty you
have that you will not reveal Master Glace’s true appearance,” Omari ordered.

Nester raised his right hand. “I swear on my pa’s
grave that I won’t tell no one.”

Omari glanced at the brownie’s other hand to make
sure his fingers weren’t crossed. “All right. I am going to hold you to that
promise. If you betray me, I swear by Malik I will make you pay dearly for it.”

“All right! All right already! I told you I won’t
tell no one. I don’t see what th’ big soddin’ deal is, anyway.”

“It is a
very
big deal to him, and we must
respect his wishes.”

“I promise, as well,” Zarya spoke up. “I
understand what it means to have secrets you don’t want the rest of the world
to know. I will not reveal his to anyone. In the goddess’s name, you have my
word, Omari.”

Nester rubbed his sideburns thoughtfully. “’Ey!
That’s right! You never
did
tell us why you were ’idin’ th’ fact that
you were a Celestial all this time, beautiful.”

“I have my reasons, Nester, but please respect
that I do not wish to share them.”

Nester shrugged. “Aye, whatever you say.”

Omari turned to Aidan, who was straining to
scratch his back again. “Though I do not think I would ever have a problem with
you not keeping promises, Aidan, I cannot assume anything at this point. Do you
give me your word that you will keep silent about this?”

Aidan stopped in mid-struggle and half-opened his
eyes. “Yes, yes, Aidan promise not to say anything. Spreading gossip about
others is not honorable thing to do, anyway.”

Omari nodded. “Good.”

Aidan was about to resume his poor attempts at
reaching his back when Zarya moved behind him and gave him a good scratching
with her nails. Tiny silver scales flaked off. A growl of contentment rumbled
in his throat, and after she finished, he smiled at her. “You are good
back-scratcher, Priestess. Thank you.”

Zarya chuckled. “It was my pleasure, Aidan.”

Nester tugged at Omari’s robe. “So what about
Kaijin? Won’t ’e end up knowin’ ’bout Jarial?”

“Yes, he will know as well,” Omari replied. “But I
think Master Glace will handle that.”
At least, I hope he does.

Satisfied of everyone’s agreement, Omari gathered
Percival from the ground and hurried after Jarial, beckoning the rest of his
friends to follow.

* * *

Kaijin was down in the Pyre’s underground vault,
where he had begun spending most of the time when he wasn’t with Ranaiah or
undergoing tests. He found solace there, where every book he could imagine
about Ignis was at his disposal.

Some members of the clergy strolled about,
browsing through a few books. Three young boys worked attentively organizing
books and replacing them on the shelves. Two stories of bookshelves lined the
stone walls of the underground chamber, and more stood in the middle, forming
aisles.

At the very center of the chamber were eight
rectangular tables, each surrounded by chairs. A few clergymembers occupied the
tables, which held piles of books—opened and unopened. Between the bookshelves,
fat pillar candles flickered on tall stands, and four-branched candelabra shed
their warm glow on the tables, lighting the clergymembers who sat with books
piled around them.

Kaijin absentmindedly replaced a book he had been
reading back on one wall shelf and pulled out another book from an adjacent
one. He was particularly interested in learning more about Ignis’s many facets.
After witnessing Vargas’s abrupt change, Kaijin had decided to stop whatever
corruption was happening amongst the clergy—not just for Ranaiah’s sake, but also
for his own.

Kaijin handled the thick tome with care, as he skimmed
through yellowed pages of ink-splotched text and intricate drawings. Soon,
though, his mind wandered from the text and drifted to concern for Ranaiah’s
well being. After watching her struggle to tell of her family’s situation, he
had realized the growing care and concern he had for her. He wanted to do
something—anything—to help her find peace, just as she had done for him.

As Kaijin returned the book to the shelf, a child
acolyte approached him, holding out a tightly rolled parchment. She gave him a
courteous bow.

Kaijin greeted the girl with a brief smile and a
nod. “Well, hello, there. Is that for me?”

“Uh-huh! Priest Canicus is done with the map that
you had asked for. He was up all night making it! He let me help him a little
bit before I went to bed, though.” She beamed proudly.

Kaijin took the parchment and unfurled it. It was
a highly detailed map of Aransiya and the northeastern half of Ankhram. It was
far more intricate than any map he’d seen.
Wow, Canicus is quite the cartographer.
“He did a fine job.”

The girl puffed out her chest. “He’s my teacher. I
want to make maps just like him someday!”

“You will. You have a good teacher.” His own words
stung the tip of his tongue, reminding him of his former master. He chewed his
bottom lip and turned away. “Ah, thank you for this. I do appreciate it.”

With his new map in hand, he left the vault and returned
to his room to begin packing for the long trip to Ankhram. Once he finished, Miele
swooped down from the ceiling and greeted Kaijin with happy screeches. She
landed on his shoulder, and he fed her one of the few remaining honeysticks
from the jar atop his trunk.

“I will be sure to ask Brett to make another batch
for the trip,” Kaijin said, rubbing her tawny fur. “Did you know? He’s teaching
some of his initiates how to make them, too!”

Miele happily feasted on her treat, seeming not to
care about what Kaijin had to say.

A knock came at his door. The noise startled
Miele, who swooped back up to to the ceiling with her half-eaten honeystick
clamped firmly in her mouth. Kaijin opened the door to find an acolyte standing
outside, holding his chest and panting as though he’d been running.

The boy caught his breath a little and said, “Mister
Sora, sir! Come to the main hall quickly. Your companions have returned. And
they have brought another man with them.”