John Forrester - Fire Mage

“Who is this sorcerer?” Lenora said, jumping over the stump, her eyes filled with mischievousness.

Talis bolted upright, startled. “You…you followed us here?”

“This doesn’t involve you,” Mara said, bringing a dagger out, glaring at Lenora.

Lenora frowned and sat back against the trunk. “It does now, now that my fate is intertwined with yours. I’m not frightened of your pitiful weapons. Now, who is this sorcerer you speak of?”

“We don’t need to tell you a thing,” Talis said.

“I have ways of finding the truth…gazing into your eyes will tell me more than your lips would ever reveal.” Lenora’s eyes changed to silver and her pupils widened until they shone bright. Talis felt dizzy, as if he were spinning down into some dark chasm. He pictured Aurellia, slaying the undead in the desert, and Aurellia again, talking with Rikar by the river.

Lenora shrieked, startling Talis awake. He glanced around, spotting Mara sitting on top of Lenora, her daggers pricking the side of Lenora’s delicate neck, until a line of blood dripped down.

“Get her off of me!” Lenora shouted, wriggling underneath Mara.

“If you continue moving, these pitiful weapons, as you called them, are going to do a lot more damage. Now what were you doing to Talis, you witch… Casting some kind of charm, a truth reveal spell?”

Lenora’s body stiffened, and a look of triumph crossed her face. “I knew something was strange about your story. People rarely survive attacks from Jiserians… So this sorcerer, Aurellia, is connected with your friend Rikar? And you saw this Aurellia last night? Why is he following?”

Talis gaped at Lenora in disbelief, how did she know Aurellia’s name? Did mystics have the power to read minds? “Talk to Rikar about that… But if you try that trick on me again, you’ll wish you hadn’t. We’ll take you as far as Khael, you have family there, right?”

Lenora pursed her lips, as if greatly displeased. “You want to get rid of me, don’t you?”

She climbed over the stump and stormed off, her dress swishing back and forth.

“We’ll need to watch her,” Mara said. “She’s a witch. All those tears for her father…now it’s as if she’s forgotten about him completely.”

“Now she’s gone to Rikar…she’s talking to him.“

“Flirting with him is more like it, and it’s working. Why do girls resort to such trickery?” Mara scowled, then blinked as if remembering something.

“This morning, I woke up and heard Rikar mumbling to himself. It didn’t make sense. He said, ‘I obey, master, to Darkov…under the temple, Zagros commands.’ What does that mean?”

“I’ve never heard of Darkov, a city perhaps?”

“Look on the map. You can read the runes, right?”

Talis glanced back at camp, making sure they were all there. He withdrew the map from the case and stretched it out. Immediately the map lit up, symbols and markers glowing as if on fire. All over his body, his skin tingled from holding the map.

“There’s Lorello,” Mara pointed. “But the island is so small on the map…”

“I wish we could see more detail.” As if responding to his desire, the map changed, and now displayed a larger view of the island. New markers appeared. “This one says ‘Seraka’, along the coast.“

“And this one, over here?” To the south and east lay an immense marker, and within, a shimmering golden triangle.

“Urgar…and this one is the Temple of the Goddess Nacrea, our destination.”

“What about this?” She tapped a city to the north, shrouded in mist.

“Darkov…”

After three days of hard riding, Talis and the others gazed over the city of Khael. The city was nestled in the side of a cleft overlooking the mystical Melovian Sea. The ocean glimmered as if enchanted by the Goddess Nacrea. Talis had dreamed about seeing the ocean ever since his father told him bedtime stories of his youth along the fair seas of Onair. How he missed his family and his home…

High above the city of Khael, sandstone spires ran along the mountain ridgeline like a dragon's spine. The sun lingered low on the horizon, painting the countryside in shades of violet and gold. A tower rose from the highest point in Khael, next to the cliffs, part of a palace that glimmered from the last rays of sunlight. He caught sight of a shadow cast from a low cloud floating over the harbor, a shadow that sent crooked fingers spidering across the rooftops. He gripped his reins tighter and prodded his horse on.

“I don’t like how it looks,” Mara said. Other than the palace and the surrounding compound, the rest of the city was a dark hovel. The difference between the two areas was startling. Along the docks and leading up towards the hills, old dilapidated buildings and crumbling earthen homes were crammed in so close together, Talis could hardly spot any streets. The town was heavily guarded with soldiers marching in many places throughout the city, with a large contingent stationed near the palace. Outside, no guard posts or walls or patrols of any kind protected Khael. It was as if the government had no interest in keeping people out. This struck Talis odd, a stark contrast with Naru’s enormous walls and regular patrols.

They reached what appeared to be a town gate: the broken down remains of two old stone guardhouses. A man’s body hung from a guardhouse, a noose cinched around his neck. His eyes were gone and the rest of him was being torn asunder by a gang of crows working mightily on his flesh. The stench was nauseating and Talis forced himself to look away.

Long shadows knifed their way down the main street past the guardhouse. The air inside smelled of burned meat and moldy bread. Women scowled at the party, slamming their shutters closed as they approached. Past the town square, down narrow, winding streets, the way opened up to the docks, and beyond, the sea. It went on forever. So this was the sea father had talked about so much. Where you could spend an eternity on those wild waves, drifting from island to island, alongside whales and dolphins and sharks, hoping and praying to reach a friendly port.

A breeze whipped up and filled Talis’s nostrils with the smell of fish and other pungent smells he didn’t recognize. A sudden craving struck him, to eat the bounty of the sea. He glanced around, hoping to find an inn or a tavern. The docks were thronging with people in tattered clothes. Ship’s hands, beggars, thieves with shifty eyes, and dotted here and there, soldiers harassing well-dressed sea captains and traders. Ladies of obvious poor-reputation sauntered amongst the crowd, looking for victims with coin. Talis spotted an inn, “The Rusty Harpoon,” and decided it the best choice. Fewer drunks littered the steps outside.

He motioned the others towards the inn. Rikar grunted and guided his horse to the stables, Lenora trotting next to him.

Mara chuckled. “She’s been cuddling up close to him for days.”

“Young love.” Nikulo flashed his teeth. “Catch me if I start to swoon.”

“Our uncle will never approve,” Nuella said, and frowned. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”

“Love’s a mystery.” Nikulo stuck his finger in his mouth, as if pretending to barf.

“She’s not in love,” Mara said. “She’s just using him.”

Nikulo laughed at that. “Let me say, for the record, Rikar has no problem being used in this situation.”

Inside the inn was packed and noisy, smelling of smoke and ale and garlic. Ladies danced with drunken sailors in uniform, older officers sat drinking, eating, scheming. Talis followed Rikar and Lenora to a rickety table in the far corner under the stairs. Dust spilled down on them as people stormed up and down.