Firebrand (6 page)

After lunch, the boys returned to their assignments. Kaijin continued writing his report while Rorick’s frustration persisted as he tried to read the first few pages of his book.

Kaijin’s hand cramped from having furiously scribbled ten pages. He returned the quill to the inkwell and sat back in his chair, watching the ink dry on his last parchment. His eyes scanned the rest of the room, and he pondered what else to add to his report. He glanced at Rorick who had dozed off, his head resting between the pages of his book.

Kaijin chuckled and gave his brother a gentle shake. “Come on, Rorick. You can’t expect to learn magic like this.”

Rorick murmured and stirred. His sleepy eyes cracked open and stared at Kaijin. Frowning, he resumed reading.

Kaijin’s gaze wandered to the burning pot in the corner. The sight of the blue flame intrigued him, sparking a memory of a similar flame he’d seen years before in the marketplace. Unable to contain his curiosity, Kaijin rose from his chair and approached the pot. Smiling at the flame, he reached out to touch it. He stared deeply into the bright, flickering voids, as though searching for something in its magical veil. He ran his hand along the top of the blaze and watched as it licked between his fingers.

“Kaijin!” Rorick’s chair creaked as he shifted. “You’re gonna burn yourself! Didn’t Mama and Papa say not to play with fire anymore?”

Kaijin was too enthralled to heed his brother’s warning. The flame singed his skin, re-opening old and current wounds and creating new ones. Kaijin hissed, immediately retracted his hand, and attempted to nurse away the pain.

“See? I told you.” Rorick pointed an accusing finger at him.

The door to the study creaked open, and Jarial poked his head inside. “What’s going on in here? You should be working on your assignments, not talking.” His eyes shifted to the corner of the room, and he scowled. “Kaijin! By the gods! Get away from there!”

Kaijin spun around upon hearing his master’s barking voice.

Jarial stormed over to him. He crossed his arms and glowered. “What in the hells were you doing, Kaijin?”

Kaijin discreetly hid his wounded hand behind his back. He kept silent and cast his eyes downward, attempting to hide the painful expression marring his face.

“Answer me, Kaijin. Now.”

Kaijin winced. It wasn’t at Jarial’s tone growing darker, but at the surge of pulsating pain that coursed through his hand. He felt something sticky and warm between his fingers. He was certain it was blood.

Jarial yanked Kaijin’s hand from behind his back. The burn reached nearly to the muscle with spots of blood and yellowish seeping liquid covering the most severe areas.

“Playing with fire again?” Jarial narrowed his eyes.

Jarial gripped his hand exclusively on the injuries, causing greater pain. Kaijin was unable to speak, his body in a state of shock.

“Come with me.” Jarial grabbed him by the arm. He dragged Kaijin to the kitchen and sat him at the table.

Kaijin stared at his injury, frowning.

“How many times are you going to burn yourself?” Jarial said. “Or do you like the way that feels?”

Kaijin wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical, but he kept silent, regardless. Part of him found pleasure in the pain the flames wrought, and something about the pain made him feel rejuvenated.

When Kaijin didn’t respond, Jarial just sat and scrutinized him for a moment. “Tell me what you find so fascinating about fire.” The aggression in his voice was replaced with curiosity.

Kaijin pondered. There were so many answers to such a simple question. What he truly found fascinating about the element was unexplainable. Kaijin lifted his gaze to the man, offered a small shrug and said, “It’s pretty.”

Jarial snorted. “Come, now, boy. Don’t play me for a fool. We’ll be here all night, if we must. Spare me no details.”

Kaijin sighed and inspected his injured fingers, reminiscing on past experiences. “I—I don’t know, Master. There’s something about the fire that—that makes me want to try and touch it. I like the way it looks when it burns... All those colors ... I want to try holding it in my hand because it’s so beautiful.”

Jarial lifted a brow.

“Mama and Papa didn’t like it when I played with fire, so they took all the candles from my room.” Kaijin bit his bottom lip. “The blue fire is ... is so pretty, Master...” Reminiscing on the burning pot in the study raised goose bumps all over his body, and he shivered. The sensation he felt was stronger than ever. He squirmed in his chair and gazed up at Jarial pleadingly. “Master, I–I feel—”

Jarial observed Kaijin. He knew that look in the boy’s eyes all too well. That desire—that passion—that incitement.
Gods, he’s too young to be dealing with this, isn’t he?
Jarial rubbed his temples, trying to decide the best course of action.

“M–Master?”

“See here, boy.” Jarial hardened his gaze. “I believe your parents neglected to ... educate you about a few things. I really don’t feel like talking to you about certain details right now; perhaps later tonight—or tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow sounds good.”

Kaijin tilted his head.

Jarial cleared his throat. “I can certainly see that you are, without a doubt, obsessed with this.”

 “I’m ... strange
,
aren’t I, Master?” Kaijin’s excitement was quickly replaced with frustration—grief. “Papa says I’m strange because I play with fire.”

Jarial sighed. “To be perfectly honest, Kaijin, no, you’re not strange. Especially not one like yourself who has an affinity for the arcane arts. Most arcanists have some sort of unique desire that brings them happiness. Yours just happens to be fire.”

Kaijin pondered a moment. “What makes you happy, Master?”

Jarial regarded the boy curiously. Though he hadn’t expected that question, he managed to give it a prompt reply. “I like colorful things.”

“Colorful? Like a rainbow?”

“Not quite that broad, lad.” Jarial chuckled.

“Why do you like colorful things?”

“Colors are infinite and have a powerful influence on the mind.”

Kaijin opened his mouth to reply, but simply nodded, instead. Confusion spread all over his face.

“If you don’t like colorful things, then you will not understand.”

“But I do like them, Master.”

“Not as much as you like fire.”

Kaijin’s expression fell. “Are you going to stop me from playing with fire, too?”

“That all depends. I could, perhaps, teach you how to apply this ‘passion’ of yours to your advanced studies, but that will come in time.” Jarial propped his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his folded hands, and studied the boy carefully. “Tell me what else you find so intriguing about fire.”

Kaijin fidgeted with his injured hand again, a hint of excitement returning to the boy’s eyes. “Well, sometimes when I look at fire, I try to find the god who lives inside of it. He’s made of fire, too, you know.”

“God?” Jarial arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, I read about a god made of fire from the book you gave me a long time ago. I really want to see Him, so sometimes I look at fire really hard.”

Jarial recalled their encounter in the marketplace and nodded. “Ah, you speak of Ignis, the Firelord, yes?”

“Yes! That’s Him. Do you know about the Firelord, Master? Have you ever seen Him?” Kaijin’s face brightened with anticipation.

“No, I’ve never seen Him, aside from various depictions in books. I’ve only general knowledge about Ignis for the purposes of my own studies. If the subject interests you that much, you will need to find that information on your own. After all, Ignis is not the only god of this world.”

“Do you know about the other gods as well, Master?”

“I know as much as my studies require. It would benefit you to familiarize yourself with all of the other gods. Though, I’ve a little more knowledge of Celestra, to whom I offer my first prayers.”

“Celestra? I know Her. She made the world.”

“Indeed, She did.” Jarial slid his chin off his folded hands to hide his smile. “We will continue this discussion later tonight. In the meantime, you are dismissed. Focus more on finishing your assignment and less on sating your ... passions
.
”

Kaijin nodded and rose from his seat, offering Jarial a grateful smile. “All right, Master. Thank you.”

As Jarial watched Kaijin leave, a newfound fascination for the boy overtook his mind. He wondered what new mysteries the coming days would bring.

The boys grew more accustomed to their new life as the weeks passed. Kaijin’s rapid progress surpassed Jarial’s expectations, and before long, the boy was learning to scribe his first cantrip. Kaijin sat alone in the attic, deep in concentration. He felt sweat beading across his brow as he drew each individual arcanic rune with slow and careful precision.

“A spell requires absolute perfection,” Jarial had once told Kaijin. “Even the slightest mistake in a rune will render the spell useless.”

It was difficult for Kaijin to maintain a steady hand as the day drew on. His eyes burned. The mixed smell of fresh ink and parchment filled his nose.

“Stroke once, curl twice, don’t forget the accent,” he whispered. “Angular cut around the edge, stroke through to finish.”

While Kaijin was locked away in the attic, Rorick remained in the study with Jarial, reviewing his definitions. Unlike Kaijin, Rorick’s progress was sluggish. Five hundred words, did, indeed, seem challenging for Rorick to retain, but to his relief, Jarial remained patient with him. Jarial must have realized how frustrated and discouraged Rorick had been watching Kaijin’s rapid progress, because he allocated extra time and attention for him.

“Now, let’s review again. If a spell requires a somatic component, what does that mean?”

“So-mat-ic,” Rorick repeated. He’d heard the word used many times, but his mind was jumbled. “Does it mean it needs ... water?”

Jarial frowned and crossed his arms. “No, try again.”

Rorick sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Does it mean it needs ... to be written down?”

“I’m not going to give you the answer. We’ve gone over this word at least twice this week. We will be here all night, if we must, until you answer correctly.” Jarial’s gaze bore down on him.

Rorick’s pondered his answer.
Kaijin helped me with that word once, too. That was when he got in trouble for burning his—

Rorick’s eyes brightened, and he grinned. “Hands!
It means it needs hands!” He waved his hands excitedly.

Jarial exhaled. “Yes, that’s right. It means you need to use one or both of your hands, depending on the spell.”

“Hooray! I got it right! So can I go learn magic with Kaijin now?”

Jarial chuckled and rose from his chair. “I think not. When you are able to answer my questions more fluently, then perhaps I will reconsider. Continue studying.”

Rorick’s excitement waned slightly, but his confidence was stronger. After giving his master an eager nod, Rorick opened his book.

Jarial left Rorick to his studying. Passing through the solar, Jarial noticed Sable sitting on the windowsill staring out the open window. Her black tail twitched, and she seemed focused on something in particular.

“Clausi,”
Jarial whispered. He felt a brief surge of energy. Moments later, the shutters slammed closed in front of Sable’s face, and she jumped, nearly falling off the windowsill. She looked toward Jarial and hissed.

“I don’t need you bringing me any more dead birds and squirrels.” Jarial smirked at her. “Besides, it was getting a little drafty in here.” He went upstairs to check on Kaijin. He opened the door slowly and padded into the room.

Kaijin dipped his quill in the inkwell, seemingly oblivious to Jarial’s approach.

Peering over the boy’s shoulder, Jarial observed his process. His smile quickly vanished. He placed a hand on Kaijin’s shoulder. “Stop. Now.”

Kaijin snapped from his trance. Startled by his master’s touch and the closeness of his voice, Kaijin jerked his hand from the parchment, sending small droplets of ink flying from his quill and onto Jarial’s face. Kaijin swiveled his head and noticed his master’s ink-splattered face was bright red with rage.

Jarial let loose a string of curses as he wiped away as much of the ink as he could.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Master! I didn’t know you were—”

“Enough!” Jarial growled. He took a deep breath. Ink smeared under his eyes and over his cheek. “You’re going to start over.”

“S—start over?” Kaijin blinked. “Wha—what do you mean, Master?”

Jarial pointed out just a few of the many mistakes on the parchment. “You left out cuts in your runes here ... and here. This spell is no good.” He snatched up the parchment and uttered a phrase, causing his hand to blaze. The parchment went up in flames.

Kaijin gawked. He was both enamored by the beauty of the flames, and seething inside as he witnessed almost a full day’s work destroyed in mere seconds. “M–Master! H–how did you—”

“—summon fire in my hand?” Jarial dismissed the spell. The flames extinguished, leaving his hand unscathed. “I thought you might enjoy that. Have patience. You will learn how to do it soon enough. For now, however, you must learn how to properly scribe a spell.” He let the ashy remains of the parchment sprinkle to the floor.

Kaijin sighed at his master’s display of power. “How long did it take you to scribe your first spell, Master?”

Jarial searched the room for more parchment. “Many months. I was like you. I did not have a steady hand. But as a student of the Citadel, I had to learn quickly how to fix that problem. You will, too. We will keep trying until you get it. Do not feel like you are being punished. By the time you’ve developed a steady hand, you’ll be able to write many of these spells from memory.”

Kaijin managed a hopeful smile. “I can’t wait!”

Jarial rummaged through the bookshelves and scroll cases for a moment before returning to the desk, empty-handed. “It appears we need more parchment.” He sighed, crossed his arms, and eyed Kaijin. “I’ve a new task for you. There’s a curio shop further into town that sells parchment. It’s about four blocks south of here, near the Ruddy Flask pub. You are to go there, buy a sheaf, and come right back, understood?”