Flameseeker (Book 3) (13 page)

“Vargas has done exactly what I expected,”
the voice said.
“And soon, you will, too.”

The voice left Kaijin’s mind, and pain speared his
chest. He was certain the agama had impaled him, but when he looked down to
check, he discovered Ranaiah’s hands on his chest instead.

He gasped and blinked several times, feeling as
though he had awakened from a dream. He looked at his own hands, which were unscathed.

The charm, no longer burning unbearably hot, radiated
the usual deep-orange glow that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Kaijin
lifted his head and examined the brazier that burned before him, but he saw
nothing within.

That felt like a dream. No, a nightmare
.

Ranaiah’s warm embrace from behind soothed him,
and her fire-lily scent relaxed him. “Kaijin, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Ranaiah. I’m okay. Thank you.” He placed his
hands over hers.

She slowly released him. “I sensed very strong
activity from within you, as though you were in pain. It took me some effort to
get you back.”

Kaijin turned to face her. The bits he recalled from
before entering his deep state of meditation disturbed him, and he wondered how
long he would continue to see the images in his dreams and everyday thoughts.
He assumed neither Ranaiah nor the other priests had seen what he had in the
brazier. The experience was apparently meant for him only. “Thank you,” he said
to the priestess. “I thought for sure I was done for.”

“What happened? Did you find out anything?”

Kaijin retold his experience as best he could. After
he finished, he held his head, overcome by the pain and exhaustion. “I’m going
to leave for Ankhram tomorrow,” he said, fighting the urge to lie down and
sleep right where he stood. “My friends will be joining me, as well.” He leaned
closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry. They do not know your secret, nor
will they ever.” He glanced over her shoulder at his friends, who stood at the
base of the dais. Two attendants stood at the stairs, preventing them from
interfering with the ritual. Zarya, who had been standing closest to the
attendants, looked at him worriedly, as though she would break through their
barrier and rush up the stairs to him.

Ranaiah smiled, but the expression soon faded.
“Thank you, Kaijin. Your discretion means a lot to me. Get some rest now.” She
leaned her face closer to his for a moment, her warm breath caressing his lips,
but then quickly pulled back and turned away.

The teasing gesture drew a hint of a smile from Kaijin.
With a bowed head, he called for Miele and descended the stairs. The two
attendants cleared a path for him to walk past. Zarya stood before him, looking
pained. He brushed past her without a word, and avoided the curious expressions
of the rest of his friends as he headed for his master’s quarters—a final visit
before setting out to Ankhram at first light.

XIII

Kaijin and his friends awoke early the following
morning and prepared for their trip. The priests equipped their group with
enough provisions to last them to their trip to Ostwyn, the port city to the
south. Before setting off, they gathered outside the Pyre’s entrance with
Ranaiah, Canicus, Brett, and a few other priests who had come out to see them
off.

“May the Flames guide you safely.” With a wave of
her hand, Ranaiah summoned a glowing white light that wrapped the group in a
blessing of protection, and she continued praying.

Kaijin, his head bowed, felt his stomach twist at
the sound of Ranaiah’s gentle voice.
I probably won’t see her again for a
long time.
He fantasized about kissing her soft, full lips, savoring her
sweet taste, and inhaling her euphoric fire-lily scent. His heart beat faster;
the warmth of the necklace beneath his robes heating his chest.

When she had concluded her prayers, he looked back
up at her, branding every feature of her face into his mind. He studied the
rest of her slender body, which wasn’t full-figured like many women were, but
she was still ideally proportioned. She was different from the average
woman—like a lone flame flickering in the dark—and he liked it.

“Many thanks again for your blessings and hospitality,
honored priestess,” Zarya said, raising her head.

Ranaiah smiled at her. “The honor was ours,
Priestess of Celestra.” Then she turned to Jarial, whose face was concealed in
shadows under the hood of a cloak. “Do be careful, Councilman Glace.”

“I shall. I appreciate your concern,” Jarial said,
voice raspy. He tugged the hood further over his face. “And thank you for this
cloak. It will be put to good use.”

Ranaiah chuckled. “It seems it already has been.”

Kaijin turned to his friends. “Well, then. Shall
we be off?”

“Before you leave, Kaijin,” Ranaiah said, “I ... want
you to have something.” She slipped the gold ring off her finger and placed it
in Kaijin’s hand. “Return to me soon,” she whispered, closing his fingers over
the ring. Tears welled in her brown eyes.

Kaijin looked at his hands—
their
hands. He
carefully placed the ring on the fourth digit of his right hand. As he did, he
felt soothing energy surge through him, relieving him of minor morning aches
and pains, and clearing his mind.
Wow, what kind of ring is this?
He
beamed at Ranaiah.

Ranaiah didn’t return the smile. Her face was taut
with concern.

Kaijin’s expression turned somber, and he leaned
close to say quietly, “If Ignis wills it, then I will see you again very soon.”

She embraced him gently and pressed her warm cheek
against his. His body tingled. She slowly turned her head until her lips were
close to his, but instead of kissing him, she brushed her lips across his
cheek. “Be safe, Kaijin,” she murmured, drawing back to her formal stance. “I will
continue praying for you and your friends.”

Kaijin heard Nester whistle, and his face went
hot.
I know ... shouldn’t make a scene. But ... But ...
Kaijin looked
nervously over his shoulder at his friends. Aidan was busily tending to another
back itch and wasn’t paying him any mind. Jarial’s face was concealed under his
cloak’s hood, but Kaijin somehow felt his master was still watching him. Kaijin
met Zarya’s gaze and noticed a sadness about her that diminished her natural
beauty. Her face flushed when she caught his eye, and she turned and followed
Omari, who already began to set off down the mountain path. She walked past
Aidan, and after helping him with his itch, beckoned him to follow.

Kaijin turned back to Ranaiah and fought the temptation
to kiss her soft lips, wanting to show her that he truly loved her. He felt a
brief chill whisk through his robes, and a hint of amusement in his mind from
Miele, who flew overhead, screeching. Kaijin slowly began to back away from
Ranaiah, feeling as though a piece of him was tearing away with each step.

Ranaiah’s sadness had waned from her face, replaced
with the sternness of determination. She spun and headed for the Pyre’s
entrance. The other clerics fell in behind her.

After the ornate doors closed behind them, Kaijin
exhaled.

“Don’t worry, Kaijin,” Jarial said, patting Kaijin
on the shoulder. “You will see her again, I’m sure.”

Hanging his head, Kaijin spun and walked with
Jarial and Nester. “I wish she could’ve come with me.”

“You know she can’t do that.” Jarial said flatly.

“Aye! She’s too pretty to be walkin’ around like
that.” Nester gave Kaijin a playful nudge in his side. “You did good, by th’
way, mate! She’s quite th’ bird!”

Kaijin smiled. “What can I say? She’s captured my
heart.”

“Don’t let your ...
feelings
cloud your
judgment, Kaijin,” Jarial cautioned. “Her safety would be endangered if she
came with us.”

“Oh, but Master, Ranaiah is quite strong and can
handle herself well enough—perhaps even better than any of us.”

Jarial huffed. “Surely she’s not more powerful
than your master. Anyway, she is the high priestess of the Pyre, and that is
where she belongs. Now, come on, you two. Let’s not fall too far behind the
others.”

Kaijin hastily followed Jarial and Nester down the
mountain path, but his thoughts never left Ranaiah and the image of her that
burned in his heart.

“I hope we will not have to wait too long for a
passenger ship in Ostwyn,” Zarya said, once everyone was together again. “I
have heard rumors that the waiting list can take several weeks.”

Omari blinked several times. “
Weeks
? We do
not have that kind of time to be idling around a city, waiting for a boat!”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do, if we have no
means of crossing the sea.”

Nester strode along happily. “Oy! Don’t worry, beautiful!
I’ve got it all taken care of. I ’ave an ol’ mate of mine who lives in Ostwyn. If
anyone can ’elp us get to Ankhram, ’e can!”

Omari eyed the brownie suspiciously. “Why do I get
the feeling that is a bad idea?”

“Probably because it’s coming from
him
,”
Jarial said.

Kaijin, realizing Jarial’s voice was no longer
raspy, glanced sidelong at his master. He’d pulled back his hood, revealing a
youthful face—the face Kaijin had always remembered. He halted. “Master?”

Grumbling under his breath, Jarial stopped and
turned around. The rest of the group paused as well and did the same.

“What now, Kaijin?” Jarial asked.

Kaijin searched for the words. “How did you ... When
did you ...”

Jarial smiled. “It’s magic, boy, and I’m rather
stealthy at it. And no, I’m not telling you any more of my secrets. Now, move
along.”

* * *

Kaijin and his friends traveled uneventfully for
three days, only stopping to rest and make camp when needed. On the fourth day,
the outline of Ostwyn’s city walls became visible in the distance.

“Thank Malik we are almost there,” Omari said, hastening
his steps. “What I would not give to have a nice hot meal and a bath right
about now.”

Kaijin chuckled. “Me, too.” He looked sidelong at
Zarya, who walked in silence. She hadn’t said much throughout the trip, and
Kaijin was unsure if he should talk to her about what was bothering her, so he
simply let her be.

At the city’s gates, Kaijin and his friends passed
the two posted guards, who granted them entrance with a bored look at Aidan and
a more lingering one at Zarya.

Ostwyn was a busy city, and it reminded Kaijin of
Easthaven. Vendors of linens, pottery, fruit, books, and many other things
lined the streets. Colorful tents of gold, red, purple, and yellow were visible
toward the center of the city. Similarly colored banners and streamers hung
from walls and strung across the streets.

Unlike Easthaven, Ostwyn was a melting pot of different
types of people. Humans walked with brownies; elves chatted with half-Dragons;
and exotic beings that Kaijin had never seen before seemed to live peacefully
amongst the other races.

“Wow! This place is amazing!” Kaijin said.

Nester grinned over his shoulder. “Ain’t it? It’s
a fun place to kick back an’ enjoy th’ sights an’ sounds without worryin’ about
frightenin’ blokes.”

Zarya nudged Aidan. “I bet you will find many answers
that you are seeking here. I’ve not seen so many half-Dragons in one place like
this before. It is a rather beautiful sight.”

Aidan looked on with weary eyes. “It is nice. But
Aidan is too hungry to look for answers now. Maybe later.”

She chuckled. “Yes, a meal does sound nice.”

“So now that we’re here,” Jarial began, “let us
see about a boat.”

“Leave that to me.” Nester pointed a thumb to his
chest, grinning widely. “I’ll see you mates at th’ Inn of Good ’Ome—largest inn
in th’ city. Can’t miss it!” He ran off, disappearing into the shadows of an
alley.

Jarial took a step, about to follow, but backtracked
and shook his head instead. “Damn it all.”

“Don’t worry, Master,” Kaijin assured him. “He
will be back.”

“He’d better be. Very well, then. Let’s at least
go see about the waiting list for the next passenger ship and then look for the
inn that Nester suggested.” He marched on ahead, and Zarya and Aidan followed.

Kaijin was about to follow them when he noticed
Omari silently standing to the side, watching the passing crowds. Percival
scrambled down his master’s body and began investigating a fruit vendor’s booth
nearby, but Omari didn’t seem to notice.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we arrived, Omari.
Is everything all right?” Kaijin asked.

Omari turned to him, scowling. “I remember this
city—long, long ago. My father brought me here when I was a boy. He was taking
me to Ghaeldorund, to the Citadel. We rested at an inn one night, and Father
was robbed. The thief took his ring.”

“That’s unfortunate. Did your father ever find
it?”

Omari shook his head. “It was a family heirloom,
too, passed down from his father. I still remember the shocked look on Father’s
face. He was a cautious man who kept strong enchantments on his possessions to
ward off thieves. But somehow, that confounded thief managed to break through
even
that
defense.”

“Sounds like a powerful thief, if you ask me.”

Omari shrugged. “Yes, well ... It does not matter
now. That was twenty-four years ago. The point is, Kaijin, that while we are
here, we need to keep our eyes open and purses close.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Kaijin looked
skyward and spotted Miele’s silhouette in the sky.
I don’t think I’ll have
to worry about tonight.

* * *

Nester snaked through the dark, twisting alleys
with ease, not stopping to chat or observe any untoward activity. It’d been
five years since his last visit to Ostwyn, and he still remembered every path
and detour as if it was ingrained in his mind. He easily avoided the protruding
cobblestones that would trip anyone unfamiliar with the city’s layout.

The air became thick and musty, and Nester knew he
was near his destination. He reached what would have appeared to be a dead end
to the average person, and detoured down a set of stairs, which was cloaked in
darkness. His footsteps echoed louder off the stone walls the deeper he
descended, and he began to hear water dripping in the distance.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Nester
spied a glimmer of distant candlelight and grinned.
He’s here.

Nester hurried toward the light, which glimmered
through the open slats between the wooden boards nailed to the wall. The
structure appeared to be a small shanty built into the architecture of the tunnels,
but its run-down state made it seem as though it was uninhabited. Nester made
four distinct knocks in a pattern at the peeling wooden door then stood back
and waited. He heard shuffling on the other side, and a small window in the
door slid open, revealing a face, silhouetted against the dim light in the room
beyond.

“The oak’s rum cod is bountiful, but his dagger is
paumed ...” a familiar male voice said.

Stix.
Nester grinned and finished, “An old ’and
dies ’ard.”

After a pause, the window slid shut and, after a
series of cracks, clicks, and slides, the door opened fully, and the figure
disappeared into the candlelit room. Nester shut the door behind him and locked
it back with the numerous mechanisms. When this was done, he hurried to where his
old friend, Stix was waiting for him.

Stix assessed Nester briefly, and his eyes
suddenly went wide. “Holy hells! Nester! Is that really you?”

“Who else?” Nester said proudly. “You’re lookin’
mighty fine yourself. ’Ow’re doin’?”

“As well as I can be. Business is all right,
though you best believe I missed my favorite customer. Find anything good
during your travels?”

Nester shrugged. “A few things, but nothin’ worth
sellin’. That’ll change, though. I promise.”

Stix nodded. “So what can I do for you today, my
friend?”

“Well, first off, I need to restock some of my poisons—datura
powder, specifically, if you ’ave it.”

Stix searched the various-sized bottles that sat
on shelves lining the walls of the room. He checked some herbs hanging in
bunches in another corner, then went to another room where Nester watched him
rummage through drawers and storage crates. “You’re in luck, my friend. Still
have a little bit left. Don’t get as many travelers transporting them as much
these days.”

“Aye? That’s a soddin’ shame. You’re th’ only one
I know who fences th’ good stuff.”

“Yeah, but things’ll get better again. They always
do. So how much you need?”