Flameseeker (Book 3) (2 page)

II

Jarial scanned the room of the Nine. Even almost
thirty years since he’d last set foot at the Isle of Magi Citadel, north of the
city of Ghaeldorund, he still recognized the faces of his colleagues and former
instructors. Some of them had aged well, while a few others looked frail and
sickly, faces somber and skin dry, cracked, and wrinkled. In his youth, he’d
been a dedicated student who excelled beyond his peers, which had earned him
his place on the fifth seat of the Council, a rare honor for a man of only
nineteen years.

Burke D’Hasha, the Council’s Elder and
grandmaster, slowly rose from his chair and addressed the group of colorfully robed
men and women. “Brothers and sisters of the Council, thank you for coming to
this emergency meeting. Master Glace has returned to us, bearing pertinent
news. I will now turn the floor over to him.”

With so many eyes bearing down on him, Jarial felt
the tension in the room. He had assumed they would treat him as an outcast for
having relinquished his position, yet within four days after his arrival to
Ghaeldorund, they had invited him to sit at his original spot at the grand
round rosewood table. In the center sat an ornate bowl, from which a bright,
blue flame burned, providing ample light in the room.

Jarial counted the members. Nine total—including
himself.
Surely they have replaced me by now,
he thought, rubbing his
chin.

The sound beside him, of a woman clearing her
throat, grabbed Jarial’s attention. Maira Shikawa, Fourth Seat, Divination,
stared back at him with stern and expectant blue eyes. During their school
days, Jarial had looked up to Maira for tutoring and academic guidance, but
upon Maira’s induction into the Council, their friendship had quickly been
severed. It was for the best; Councilmembers were expected to be unbiased toward
students.

With a sigh, Jarial slowly rose from his seat.
“Thank you, Elder. Grand Council, as a fellow mage, former student and member
of the Nine, I bear grave news of the fate of one of our own.” He paused and
shifted his gaze toward the blue flames. “Xavorin Lesward is ... dead.”

Silence returned to the room. Councilmembers exchanged
wary glances with one another, and a few inched toward the edges of their
chairs.

“It happened as the Council feared so long ago,”
Jarial continued. “His renegade behavior worsened after he graduated from the
Citadel and went off on his own. I did everything in my power to try to turn
him away from the path of Dark Arts, but Xavorin was too stubborn. Then, one
day, he came to me, seeking my help to reverse the damage that his practice of
Necromancy had done to him, but it was too late. He had become a slave to his
own powers. Toward the end, he became powerful enough to summon undead
creatures from the Plane of Shadows, and he had lost control of himself. I
believe the creatures are the ones responsible for destroying the city of
Easthaven, claiming many lives.”

“Easthaven!” one of the mages exclaimed—Virgil
D’Hasha, Elder Burke’s spoiled nephew.

Virgil was four years younger than Jarial, and the
two had never seen eye to eye. Virgil hadn’t genuinely earned his position like
Jarial and the others—there had been no trials or tests for him. No one ever
voiced their concern about the elder’s blood nephew becoming a Councilmember at
the age of twenty-one, nor him immediately being granted the Seventh Seat,
Evocation—no one except Jarial. But the elder was highly loved and respected by
everyone in the Citadel, and Jarial’s concerns remained unheard.

Now I remember why I left in the first place
.
Jarial kept his expression impassive.

“You blame Easthaven’s destruction on Xavorin?”
Virgil asked.

Jarial suspected Virgil had been behind the old
rumors that accused Jarial of ‘questionable behavior’ and of ‘helping Xavorin.’

“Enough!” The elder slammed his fist on the table
and glared at Jarial and Virgil.

Silence fell over the room for several long
seconds until Gerard Adeney, Second Seat, Transmutation, spoke. “Master Glace,
we, the Council, are aware that Xavorin respected you for guidance.”

Jarial arched an eyebrow. “With all due respect,
Master Adeney, I condemn anyone who delves into the Forbidden Art for evil
purposes. It’s a dangerous practice that mortals fail to understand. I have
seen what it can do—as, I’m certain, all of you have. I watched Xavorin dwindle
away to nothing, becoming a corpse like the creatures that had hold of his
soul. I had to put an end to that.”

The Eighth Seat, Necromancy, Garmin Darkwinter,
sat back in his chair and pursed his narrow, cracked lips. He was the elder’s
closest friend and second in command. He was the frailest-looking member of
them all: very thin, malnourished, and paler than death. It was most likely due
to the repercussions of his powers; Jarial had seen firsthand the results of
practicing Necromancy for extended periods of time.

Though Necromancy was deemed the Forbidden Art, it
was still a valuable school of magic. Still, the Councilmember representing
Necromancy had the worst seat of them all. All their knowledge and training was
restricted to the Citadel, and they were constantly monitored. They were not
allowed outside the Citadel without at least two escorts, and the actual
practice of Necromancy could only be done in a controlled environment within
the Citadel. Only a select few were allowed to pursue Necromancy, and those few
were forever bound to the Citadel, forbidden to ever again step outside the
doors as free men with such dangerous knowledge in their possession.

Jarial could never understand how Garmin endured
the constant scrutiny, as if he were some sort of criminal. But very little
bothered Garmin—or perhaps he simply hid his feelings well.

“It is unfortunate that it had to come to this,”
said Third Seat Gwenneth Aldermoon, breaking Jarial from his thoughts, “but it
is true that mortals cannot control the iron grip that Necromancy fastens on
its wielder.” Jarial remembered the Third Seat enchantress as a quiet little
girl, but the years had been very good to her. She had become a beautiful woman,
in the fullness of her power.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m
grateful that Master Glace managed to put a stop to Xavorin’s destruction,”
said Lars Ustan, representing the First Seat, Abjuration. He was one of the
veteran members of the Council, holding his seat long before Jarial joined. He
was a generous man whose youthful appearance far preceded his age, and it made
him well liked by many of the students.

“As am I,” said Sixth Seat Yates Harden, who represented
Conjuration. “Though Xavorin was a troubled man, he will never be forgotten.”

Jarial glanced at him and then bowed his head in
agreement.

Burke stood. “Master Glace, we are grateful for
your continued service to the Council, despite your broken affiliations. As
you’ve probably noticed, your spot is once again empty....”

Jarial blinked.
‘Once again’?
“What do you
mean, Elder?”

“Na’val Faulk, who replaced you not long after you
took your leave, went missing two days ago.”

“Missing? Where was he last seen?”

“Here at the Citadel.” Burke stroked his bushy
grey-white beard. “One of the students said that he mentioned he was going out
for a walk, but he never returned.”

Jarial furrowed his brow. He hadn’t personally
known Na’val, so he had no bearings to make sense of the Council’s alarm. “Have
you tried scrying for him?”

“A few have been assigned to do that,” Burke replied.
“They’ve been at it all day, with no luck. We’ve sent out search parties, but
there has been no news yet. Na’val was to host and give a lecture at this
year’s symposium, which will be in six days. He has always looked forward to
the event—and he was looking forward to it more than usual this year, because
he is hosting. It is unlike him to leave without notice, especially with the
event fast approaching. I fear for the worst.”

Jarial rubbed his chin. Every Citadel mage looked
forward to the Ghaeldorund Mage Symposium, an annual gathering of great minds
from all over Exodus, held in the Hall of Lions located in the city’s plaza.
Jarial had eagerly planned to attend once again, after having been away from
the city for so many years.

Jarial looked around the table at the other Councilmembers,
who shifted in their chairs and avoided eye contact.
The Council of Nine,
with only eight members?
They cannot possibly—

“Master Glace,” Burke continued, “I would like to
extend the invitation for you to rejoin the Council—at least temporarily, until
Master Faulk is found.”

Jarial felt himself pale.
No, I promised to
never get involved again. How can I refuse without upsetting them?
“Well ...”

“I must agree,” Garmin interjected. “Your service
to the Council in the past has gone above and beyond anything we ever asked. I
could not think of a better candidate for the job than you.”

Virgil snorted. “Please. Have you all forgotten
about the self-centered and questionable behavior he exhibited when he was
helping that renegade? I think having him on the Council would be a bad choice
indeed. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looked to some of the other Councilmembers, who
nodded slowly.

Virgil’s outburst brought a sneer to Jarial’s lip.
It would be useless attempting to argue with that idiot.

Burke gave his nephew a stern glare before turning
expectantly to Jarial. “Master Glace, this offer remains. Do you accept?”

Jarial scanned the people sitting around the
table, a bitter taste on his tongue. “Your offer flatters me, Elder. I am
honored. But I ... need some time to think on this. I have new endeavors and
tasks that I must finish. I would like to learn more about Xavorin’s urges and
why he was so obsessed with Necromancy. I once considered him a good friend,
after all.” He glanced at Virgil, expecting a snide remark, but the man
remained surprisingly silent for a change.

Burke sighed, looking disappointed, and he nodded.
“If that is your wish, Master Glace. I fear, however, our setback will continue
just a while longer.”

“What do you mean?” Jarial tilted his head to the
side.

“We cannot effectively operate without a Master of
Illusion,” Maira reminded him. “Other than Faulk, you were the only other
viable choice.”

“Are there no worthy students?” Jarial asked.

“You do not realize the power and competency that
you possess, which makes you an ideal candidate for a Councilmember,” Burke
said.

Jarial held back a smirk. Of course he realized
it, but he preferred to pursue his own goals, instead of the goals of others.
“Has it truly been that difficult to find a replacement?”
Or were you simply
waiting for me to return?

“There were only two others, but one of them, whom
Faulk expressed interest in. But the decision was unanimous that we thought he
was not yet ready to take that next step.”

Maira shook her head. “It’s much harder than you
think to find someone to fill a Councilmember’s seat.”

“Who is this student whom Master Faulk chose?”
Jarial asked the elder.

“His name is Omari Batsuyou, a young man of twenty-eight,”
Burke replied.

Jarial stroked his chin. He remembered the young
man as a boy, just beginning to learn the Arcane Arts. It pleased him to know
that Omari had surpassed himself to become masterful at it.

“His hard work and dedication to the Art earned
him the opportunity to undergo his trial of ascension,” Burke continued. “He
was sent out with a group who would observe him and relay his progress to us.
But only a few days after they left, we lost contact. We attempted to scry
their location, to no avail. We had concluded that Omari’s trial had failed.”

Another Citadel mage, missing?
Jarial
leaned forward in his chair, eyeing the elder intently. “And what was his
trial, Elder?”

“He was to go to the Mallowyn Crags far to the
south and have the Dragon there enchant his staff.”

Jarial gasped. “A Dragon! Is that not a little too
extreme for a novice mage?”

“He was no novice, Jarial.” Burke’s tone was
stern, and annoyance showed in his omission of Jarial’s formal title. “Omari
was a unique student whose admirable efforts piqued our interests. He would
have made a fine addition to the Council in due time. This is no different than
when the Council first considered you. In fact, Omari reminded me of you.”

Jarial made a sour face, unsure if he should be
flattered or offended. Regardless, it seemed that much promising talent had
gone to waste with Omari’s untimely end.

“With Omari and Na’val’s disappearances, it has
been troubling times for us all,” Burke continued. “But now, you are here.”

“It is hard to imagine that only two students have
proven to be worthy candidates of Council positions,” Jarial said, frowning. “Such
a shame the Citadel does not have the dedicated students it once had.”

Burke shook his head. “It’s not that. We have just
raised our expectations a little higher. You have been away for far too long.
Times have changed.”

Jarial nodded.
Changed for the worse, it seems.

“At least think about my offer, Master Glace.”

“I will.” Jarial looked around the table once more.
Would things really improve if I were to return? Are they truly that dependent
on me, or do they simply wish to have a familiar face amongst them again?
He stood. “May I be dismissed, Elder?”

Burke nodded solemnly and sat back in his chair.
The other members watched Jarial with concern.

“Thank you. And I do hope you will find Master
Faulk and Omari soon.” With a respectful bow, he took his leave through the
chamber’s double wooden doors.