“An eternal flame will always burn, but the brightest flames will last for but a moment.” - Excerpts from an Ember Mage

Hawar blinked his eyes, he could still feel the softness of the snow, but the cold was gone. The sun was also out again. The walls were still shaking with the wind he noticed. “The walls?!” He asked, shooting up in his bed. He winced at the sudden movement and quickly looked around. The storm was no longer surrounding him, he was inside his teacher’s tower now.

“What about the walls?” His Teacher asked, turning around from his desk but refusing to stand up. “I’ll have you know these walls are made of stone from the furthest isles of Avarith. A gift in fact.”

Hawar shook his head and swung his legs over the bed he had found himself in.

“Nothings wrong with the walls, I just…” he paused and grabbed his head, a dull throbbing had begun. “What happened to me out there? How’d I get back in here.”

His teacher looked at him with a sliver of a smile. “You almost died, you came very close in fact.” He stood up and walked over to a nearby wall of bottles and flasks. “Of course, I wasn’t going to let that happen. So I cast a few minor healing spells on you.”

Hawar looked over his body and sure enough there was no marking or indication he had been out in any extreme weather. He tried to stand up, but immediately felt lightheaded and had to lean against his bed for support.

“But if you healed me, then shouldn’t I be-“

“Fine?” His teacher asked, plucking a bottle off the shelf and absently reading the label. “Normally, I would say yes, if you were a normal person of course.” He smiled at him, Hawar raised an eyebrow.

“I thought magic was something anyone could do?” As he spoke, he shifted his weight to his feet and began to take a step forward. Stretching out his arms to hold onto the walls as he moved. His teacher looked up from the bottle to Hawar, just noticing that he was walking towards him he snapped his fingers. Hawar held his hand in front of his face as a shield, but nothing happened. His teacher looked at him puzzled.

“What was that for?”

“What was what for?” Hawar responded, continuing to move forward.

“The hand shield.” His teacher gesticulated, waving a hand in front of his face. “Like you were about to block something.”

Hawar groaned and lay down in his teacher’s chair. Letting out a deep breath he could feel himself sinking into the wood.

“Instincts I guess, I don’t know, sorry for interrupting.”

“Right, as I was saying.” His teacher began again, looking up at the ceiling to gather his thoughts. “Magic is most certainly something anyone can learn, or at least that’s how we think of it. Yet, there are people out there able to see things others cannot, to feel magic in a way that’s foreign to everyone else.”

Hawar nodded and stroked his chin, it was a movement he had watched his teacher do many times before. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his teacher making the same motion. “If it’s my first time learning magic then, how would I know if it’s different from anyone else’s?”

His teacher raised his eyebrows, avoiding the question he asked:

“Did you see something before you passed out? Anything in those final moments of consciousness?”

Hawar racked his brain to try and remember, but as he did the pain returned. He held up a hand and merely shook his head.

“Hm, perhaps we shall have to try again then.” His teacher mused.

‘He sounds unconvinced.’ Hawar thought to himself.

His teacher smiled and tossed the flask he had been analyzing over to Hawar. “Drink that for now though, and get dressed, we’ve got to leave soon if we don’t want to be late.”

Hawar opened the bottle and took a sniff, immediately he felt his nose shrivel. He coughed and held the bottle far away. “Where are we going?” He asked, attempting to delay drinking the disgusting concoction.

His teacher grabbed a golden laced book off of one of many bookshelves and began to flip through the pages. “It’s the Flame Lighting down in the nearby village today, I’d be hunted down if I didn’t make an appearance.” He looked up at Hawar, who was struggling to drink the concoction. “If it smelled any better it wouldn’t be a very good healing potion. Now drink the damn thing.”

And so Hawar reluctantly downed the contents. He could feel his stomach shrivel in disgust. ‘Magic,’ he thought to himself. ‘If it were food at a tavern, I would throw it back at the owner.’ He watched his teacher putting various books into a travel sack and then looked back at the bottle.

“Maybe.” He muttered, before setting the bottle back down. He knew that sort of thinking, no matter how alluring, would only lead to more trouble down the line.

———————————

“Keep up Son! We’ve still got quite a ways to go!” Hawar’s teacher called out from ahead of him. They had been walking down to the village for several hours now, and Hawar could feel his feet slipping off. Luckily, the storm had passed by so there was no opposition from the wind. The sun was now shining and blinding as it reflected off of the freshly fallen snow. Hawar adjusted the goggles of darkened glass he was wearing and took another step forward.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Aren’t you the slightest bit tired Sir?” Hawar called out. His teacher paused and turned to face him, he had been casually strolling along on the top of the snow without saying a word. His robe trailed behind him, gathering snow on its fringes but erasing any footprints.

“If I was tired I wouldn’t answer.” He said with a laugh. He pointed ahead at a nearby clearing with a few rocks and patches of grass. “We’ll rest up ahead there, for you and your elderly legs.”

Hawar mumbled a string of curses under his breath and continued to lift his legs through the snow. The snow, he noticed, was significantly smaller in height than it had been in the past hour. The air itself was also beginning to be easier to draw into his lungs. It was as he was contemplating the changes of the weather and environment that he almost passed by the clearing.

“Here I was, offering you a place to stop and you almost missed it.” His teacher prodded, setting his pack down on the rock he was leaning against. “If I’d known you had this much energy left I’d have pushed you another several hours.”

Hawar didn’t answer as he snapped back to the moment, instead choosing to lay his stuff down on a rock as well. He rummaged through his pack for some water when his teacher threw him a water skin.

“Take some of mine, you’re gonna need it more than me.”

Hawar held up his free hand and nodded thanks. As he downed the water he took notice of the clearing they were in. There was a great deal of rocks about waist high, with a line of trees that beckoned one to go beyond them into the shadows they guarded. There was also a path just a stone's throw away that snaked from one side of the mountain down towards the valley. He strained his eyes to see further but too many trees stood in the way.

“Is the village just down that way then?” Hawar asked, wiping the remains of the water off of his mouth. His teacher nodded and pointed to the path.

“Yes, this path goes from the village up to the mountain pass and through to Dructin.”

“Why doesn’t the path lead up to your tower?” Hawar asked, just realizing they had been cutting through the wilderness to get down here.

“Paths bring unwanted attention, you’re enough of a visitor for me.” His teacher responded. With a grumble he pointed a finger towards the path on the mountain side. “If I had a path, I’d be getting company just like them every night.”

Hawar turned around to see what he was pointing at and sure enough a large group of travelers were coming down from the path. He scrambled to hide but his teacher held up a hand.

“It’d be no use now, they’ve likely spotted us already.” He stretched his back and pulled out a pipe from his pack. “Just don’t say anything suspicious and they won’t try to stab us.”

Hawar’s eyes widened, he couldn’t tell if his teacher was serious or not. Regardless of any stabbing or not, he climbed back onto his rock and continued to watch the travelers.

Their clothes were lined with fur, at first he questioned if they were from Miunli, but he saw no sign of the signature blue cloaks. As they came closer he noted they were also much more ragged than any Miunli swordsmen; who were known for their cleanliness. The weapons that swung at their belts were a variety of swords. Nothing was uniform about them, with many things looking brand new and others looking well past their prime.

“Scavengers.” His teacher said, tapping the side of his pipe. Hawar said nothing, he could’ve guessed as much, instead he kept his eyes focused on the crowd. The crowd was rowdy, laughing and shoving each other around. As they walked closer one of them noticed Hawar and his teacher sitting atop the rock. He held up a hand and the rest of the crowd stopped in their tracks, bumping into each other.

‘Animals.’ Hawar thought, he looked up at his teacher who merely puffed on his pipe.

“My good sirs, pardon our intrusion.” The foremost member of the crowd shouted out at them. Hawar could see that the hand he had used to halt the crowd was missing several fingers.

“You’re pardoned.” His teacher said, looking up at the sky. The missing finger man took a deep bow.

“We are but humble travelers passing through, my name is Botchin.” He gestured to the crowd behind him, who were all snickering and continuing to push each other around. “This is my merry band, we’re simply passing through here to the nearby village.” It was here that he paused and took in a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for what he was going to say next. “You see my mother, she lives in the village and is very sick. I’m not sure if she’ll make it through the winter.”

“Oh that’s tragic.” Hawar said quietly, holding his hand up to his mouth.

“And not entirely true I’m guessing.” His teacher mumbled, puffing a large cloud of smoke into the air. “Sorry to hear that, what’s it to us though?” He asked, and Hawar wondered how his teacher could act so heartlessly, till he remembered earlier in the day and everything made sense.

“Good sir, I don’t mean to intrude,” Botchin said, bowing again. “It’s been a long while since I’ve been in this area see, and I’m afraid I no longer know the way. Would you mind guiding us down the correct path?”

There was silence that followed, the few critters still awake laid still in that moment. The entire crowd seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to hear Hawar’s teacher respond. Hawar looked up to him to see what he’d say. He looked unbothered, his long black beard swaying gently with the breeze. Hawar stole a glance at the crowd, they shifted around and some laid their hands onto their weapons. After a time his teacher spoke:

“If you’re from the area, you’ll know the right path when you see it.” He waved his hand along, signaling them to keep moving. “You’re likely to know more about this area than me. Seeing as how often you walk these trails.”

Botchin smiled and Hawar shifted his feet at the sight. It was like a beast preparing to feast. He wondered for a moment if he would need to fight, or if his teacher was capable of turning them all into some unsightly beasts.

“Well, I suppose we do, perhaps your old age has made you forget then.” Botchin said as he grabbed onto the sword at his side, pulling it slightly from its scabbard. Hawar let out a gasp as the sword shone.

“A Miunli blade.” He whispered to himself, his teacher raised an eyebrow as Hawar noticed.

“A great weapon is no use with a man who knows not how to wield it.” His teacher spoke, Hawar wondered if he had come up with treat just now or if it was a quote from one of his many books.

“What makes you think I’d not know how to use it.” Botchin asked, taking a step forward. Hawar’s teacher took a puff from the pipe and leaned forward, his hand rested on his knee.

“I’ve seen the sword dancers before, I know what they’re capable of.” He gestured to Botchin’s merry band, who were all holding onto their weapons now. “I won’t label you a thief, just a disturber of the peace as that’s a fact. Now hurry on, you’re well past my patience.”

More silence followed, Hawar’s fingers curled into a fist. There was only one fight that he could remember being in, and it had ended with a broken nose for him.

Botchin stared at Hawar’s teacher, eyes narrowed into a slit. His teeth bared in a smile. He threw his head back in a laugh, and soon enough the rest of his band joined in. “Until we meet again then old man, I hope your patience is even shorter next time.” He signaled with his hand and his crew Gan moving again.

Hawar watched them leave, well until their voices disappeared into the forest, mingling into one with the sounds of the forest.

He heard his teacher breathe a deep sigh.

He couldn’t tell if it was regret or relief.