Flameseeker (Book 3) (7 page)

Vargas fell into the pit, but the afriti, with
unnatural speed, caught him in its free hand before he struck the stone floor.
The afriti flung Kaijin away and focused its attention on its injured summoner,
Vargas.

Kaijin’s back slammed hard against the wall, and
what little wind he had left from the afriti’s fist was knocked out of him. He
slid down the smooth stone, and he landed on the floor with a thump. Dazed and
sore, he stared up at Vargas, who writhed in the afriti’s clutches.

“She has defied the Firelord!” Vargas cried out
weakly. “She has been disgraced! She has fallen! She must not live!”

The afriti ignored Vargas for a moment and turned
to Ranaiah, who had readied another ball of light in her hands. Growling, it
began backing toward the gateway, not looking away from her.

She unleashed the blast of light at the afriti.

With Vargas still in its grasp, the monster rushed
through the gateway just moments before the blast hit. A blinding flash of red
fire lit the walls and ceiling, and Kaijin looked away, shielding his eyes.

When he could see again, the portal had vanished,
and no trace of either the afriti or Vargas remained.

VII

It was late afternoon, five days after Master
Faulk’s death—the day before the Citadel’s annual symposium of mages
—
and
Omari was spending the day in the Library of the Moon, trying to get his mind
off the recent tragedy. He opened up a random book that had been left on the
table, and idly thumbed through it while he let his mind wander. The thought of
the murderer still roaming at large kept him on edge. He watched the students sitting
at the tables studying or speaking silently with one another and recognized
some as classmates who had also studied under Na’val.

Omari’s own grief over his master’s recent death
outweighed his excitement about the upcoming symposium, something he’d always
looked forward to since first being inducted into the Citadel as a child.
Things
will be much different, this year.

The Councilmembers had not been seen since Na’val’s
memorial; Omari assumed they had been busy amending the symposium’s schedule.
Percival, who had been curled in Omari’s lap, stood up and briefly investigated
the book Omari was skimming, sniffing at the stiff yellowed pages before
curling back up again.

Some students sat at a table next to Omari’s,
chatting amongst themselves, but they paid him no mind. He would avoid his
friends and acquaintances for now, as he needed time to himself to get his mind
right and to figure out what he must do next. He needed no one’s pity, nor did
he have the energy to argue.

How am I supposed to follow in Master Faulk’s
footsteps?
Omari’s fingers idly traced the lines of some glyphs on the page
in front of him, and as he did so, a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision
made him glance up and toward the library’s entrance.

Saris strode through the doorway with his chest
slightly puffed out, and head held high, and a sly, haughty smirk on his face.
He didn’t bother to look around him as he headed for the rear of the library.

Scowling, Omari watched his nemesis disappear down
the aisle.
What is that snake smirking about? He must be up to something.
He
moved Percival to his shoulder and stood. He didn’t recall seeing Saris at the formal
memorial that morning, though the crowd in the hall had admittedly made it
difficult to spot a particular face. Omari edged around the bookshelves and
peered down the aisle that Saris was in.

Saris was alone, casually skimming the spines of
some books on the last shelf of the aisle. He stopped at one book, pulled it
out, and began to peruse through it. Omari strode over to him.

“What are you doing here, Saris?” Omari demanded.

Saris glowered at him. “I am reading. This
is
a library, after all.”

“You were not at Master Faulk’s memorial. How dare
you disrecpect him like that!”

“Who are you, my mother?” Saris shoved the book at
Omari and walked off. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, peasant!”

Peasant?
Omari dropped the book, grabbed
him by the back of the robes, and shoved him face first into a nearby shelf,
knocking a few books to the floor. Percival leapt from Omari’s shoulder, onto another
shelf. Omari turned Saris around so that he faced him.

“How dare you call
me
a peasant!” Omari
growled, snatching a handful of the front of Saris’s robes. “You have no
dignity or honor!”

Saris gaped at Omari. “What does your family know
about dignity or honor? Get your dirty hands off me!” He wrestled in Omari’s
hold and then kneed him in the gut.

“Oof!” Omari stumbled backward and fell against
the opposite bookshelf, sending several tomes crashing to the floor. Percival
squeaked, startled, and fled to a new shelf.

Saris lunged at Omari and seized him by the collar.
He leaned his face in close to Omari’s until their noses almost touched. “I’ve
just about had it with you and your detestable ass-kissing to the Council,” he
said in a low tone.

Omari’s anger rose, bringing with it a sensation
of brief crackles of electrical energy in his eyes. “Whose dagger was it that
they pulled from Master Faulk’s chest?”

Saris took a breath, about to reply when the trampling
sounds of approaching footsteps stopped him.

Omari turned his head and spied two administrators,
a middle-aged man and woman, standing in the aisle.

“Omari! Saris!” the man exclaimed, hustling over
to them. He shoved them apart and looked at each of them. “What is the meaning
of this?”

Saris, now free, firmly brushed and smoothed out
the wrinkles in his robes from where Omari had grabbed him. “Omari has gone
mad, Master Rhaun. He accuses me of murder.”

* * *

Jarial stroked his chin as he listened to the
Council’s final amendments to the symposium’s schedule. He stayed quiet and
didn’t speak unless spoken to. He felt unworthy of offering any input, as he
was no longer one of the Nine, although the majority of the Councilmembers seemed
to treat him as if he were one of them.

“Master Glace,” Burke said, drawing Jarial’s attention.
“How do you feel about hosting and speaking in Master Faulk’s stead?”

Jarial blinked and felt all eyes turn to him.
He
can’t be serious! I am not even officially a Citadel mage anymore.
“Elder,
with all due respect, why not let Omari or one of Faulk’s other students do
this?”

Maira nudged Jarial’s side, and he looked at her.
Pursing her lips, she shook her head.

Burke gave a weak smile. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten
the protocol of the Council, but Omari must spend time shadowing the Councilmember
of Illusion first—which would’ve been Na’val—before he can possibly be vested
his title and the transition take place.”

Jarial took a deep breath.
Bunch of useless
politics.
It took all his willpower to hold back his initial retort. “Forgive
me, Elder. I simply thought it would be more appropriate for one of Master
Faulk’s students to do this in his honor, is all.”

“A thoughtful gesture, Jarial, but this time tomorrow
we are going to have guests from all over the world gathered here, and things
must run as smoothly as possible.”

Jarial gave a sour glance around the table, then looked
down at his hands, clasped in his lap.
They are trying to make me come back.
I will not concede. I do not belong in this chair. Omari does.
He looked
back up and at the elder. “The only requirement left is for Omari to simply
shadow a master of Illusion for a month or so, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct. He must learn the duties of
a Councilmember.”

Jarial nodded and stood. “Very well. He will
shadow me. I will teach him everything he needs to know.”

The Councilmembers turned to each other, murmuring
and exchanging glances.

The elder sat back in his chair, his smile
broadening. “Well that is wonderful, Master Glace! Does this mean you—”

“I’m not returning to the Council,” Jarial broke
in. “But I feel I have the experience to groom him properly. I do, however,
have a request.”

The Elder’s smile fell. The attention of the other
Councilmembers fixed on Jarial as silence returned to the room.

“Speak,” Burke said.

“I want to borrow Omari for a while,” Jarial said.
“There is some business I need to take care of, away from Ghaeldorund, and I
require his ... assistance.”

Heads turned to the elder, who looked thoughtful.

“You can’t
possibly
let him do this,
Uncle!” Virgil sprang up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table,
startling Garmin and Yates to either side of him.

Lars pensively scratched his chin. “I must agree
with Master D’Hasha.” He gave Jarial a stern look. “Master Glace, you cannot
make such demands if you are not a Councilmember.”

“Master Glace is more than capable. We all know
this,” Yates said, looking around the room. “Why should we question him with
such politics?”

The room erupted into chatter for several minutes
until Elder Burke slapped the table, bringing order once again. He eyed Jarial.
“Judging by your request, I assume you don’t intend to be in attendance at the
symposium tomorrow, either. Is that correct?”

“That ... is correct.” Jarial added quickly, “I am
going to regret not attending, but I feel the business I must tend to is much
more important.”

“I dare ask, what sort of ‘business’ do you have,
Master Glace?” Virgil sneered. “I pray, for your sake, that it is not helping another
renegade.”

“Enough, Virgil!” the elder barked.

Jarial felt his face go hot, and he took a deep
breath. “No, you may not ask,” he said, deliberately leaving off the formal
titles. He turned to Burke, hoping that the elder would not press the matter
any further.

To his relief, the elder gave him a dismissive nod.
“Very well, Master Glace. I will entrust Omari to you, but for payment, he will
be ready to ascend when you return.”

Jarial gave a swift bow, hiding his smile of
triumph. “As you wish, Elder. He will be ready. I will make certain of that.
Farewell, then.”

As he began to stride out of the Council’s
chambers, Burke moved on to the next agenda. “Since the death of our beloved
brother, I’ve arranged several groups from the guards as well as the Citadel to
investigate this matter thoroughly. Since obtaining this dagger, there have
been several attempts at scrying for the culprit. Unfrotunately, each time the
spell is performed, we end up with a new location all around Aransiya, and
northern Ankhram.”

“Like the assassin’s on the move,” Lars commented.

Jarial slowed his steps as he approached the door,
listening to as much of the conversation as he could.

“Indeed,” the elder said. “It seems each time the
spell is cast, the results get more and more erratic.”

“Is the dagger deteriorating, perhaps?” Gwenneth
asked.

“There
is
an enchantment on it. A
disintegration spell. Perhaps it has been triggered already and thus is causing
our results to be skewed. But I am saddened to say that we’ve little to go on
other than this.”

“A disintegration spell,” Garmin muttered. “A fine
way to cover up one’s misdeeds. We must gather as much information from it as
we can before it is destroyed and non-restorable.”

Jarial heard movement behind him and stopped
before the doors. He turned and saw the wrapped dagger sitting in the middle of
the table. The Councilmembers seemed unaware of Jarial’s presence as they
focused on the dagger.

“Agreed, we cannot give up our efforts,” Yates
said.

“Yes,” Burke agreed, starting to unwrap the dagger.
“We will have to try again. Let’s just hope—”

Dead silence fell on the room as something unexpected
was found beneath the cloth: grey dust. Na’val’s dried blood, mixed with the
substance, created a crusty mess.

“What in the name of the gods ... ?” Gwenneth whispered.
Other Councilmembers mumbled.

Jarial widened his eyes.
The dagger! It ... dissolved!

Burke pulled the dust-filled cloth to him and
stared at it. “No ... we’re too late....”

Some of the Councilmembers, solemn, bowed their
heads.

Jarial chewed his lip and tiptoed out of the room.
The evidence may be gone, but my memory is not.
And Omari had recognized
the rune.

After closing the door behind him, Jarial hastened
down the stairs and to the second floor. Rounding a corner, he heard a
commotion coming from the Library of the Moon. Students clustered at the entrance.

Omari’s voice rose from the crowd. “You are
nothing but a liar, Saris!”

Jarial blinked.
Gods! Not again!
He rushed
over to the crowd and pushed his way through. In the center, he discovered
Omari and Saris, facing two administrators. Percival cowered between Omari’s ankles.

Everyone immediately snapped to attention upon recognizing
Jarial.

“Master Glace.” The female administrator greeted
him with a polite nod.

Jarial crossed his arms and glanced over the
group. “What’s going on here?”

“Omari is accusing Saris of murdering Master
Faulk!” one student blurted from the crowd. The group erupted into low murmurs.

Jarial spun around and glared at the student.
“This does not concern you.” He pointed at the rest of the crowd. “None of you!
Now disperse!”

The students left without hesitation. Once they
were gone, Jarial faced Omari, Saris, and the two administrators once more.
“Now then. Where were we?”

The male administrator cleared his throat. “As I understand
it, Omari has been accusing Saris of murdering Master Faulk. A rather
preposterous presumption, if you ask me.”

“Indeed!” Saris agreed, frowning.

Jarial narrowed his eyes at Saris, then Omari.
“What manner of foolery are you up to, boy? Going around accusing your fellow
students of such a terrible act!”

Omari blinked. “But Master Glace—”

“Enough!” Jarial’s rage sent colorful light
shooting across his vision. He fought down the power. “You are free to leave,
Saris. I will personally deal with Omari.”

Omari’s mouth hung open.

Saris smirked. “Thank you, Master Glace. I am glad
to know that you are not deceived by Omari’s blatant lies.”

Jarial smiled and nodded.

When Saris took his leave, Jarial turned to the
two administrators. “I will take it from here. Thank you for keeping things
under control.”

The man and woman bowed and returned to their posts
in the library.

Jarial growled and smacked Omari in the back of
his head. “You idiot! What in the hells do you think you’re doing?”

“Ow!” Omari rubbed the back of his bald head.

Fearful of eavesdroppers, Jarial grabbed his arm
and dragged him off to the students’ quarters.