A small group of three young men waited for him at the front gate as Sarien exited the Burning Tower of Firemagi. Raising him to the station of full pyromancer only took a few moments, and he carried a guild seal on a cord around his neck, along with a sizeable purse of gold. Long red robes brushed the ground as he walked, and he had been allowed a proper bath before leaving the grounds.

A man with few years older than Sarien stepped away of his companions to greet him just outside the gate. They were alone, but for the bustle from the nearby village. The loud voices of the villagers, the clang of the anvil, and the bleating and squealing of animals filled the air. Sarien took the outstretched hand into his own and shook.

“I’m Goslin of House Steerian,” the golden-haired young man said. “Welcome to our group.” He was dressed formally in a clean, expensive tunic and was handsome with glittering blue eyes.

“Sarien,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

Goslin frowned. “What do you mean, friend?”

Sarien swallowed. He couldn’t let the lie sit between him and the man before him. “I’m broken. My spark does not work. I can’t make a proper fire. They were about to throw me back in a cell when you arrived. Instead, they raised me to the title of pyromancer just so they wouldn’t have to send someone else.”

Telling the truth was liberating, but he braced himself for a strike or whatever else this man might do in anger. He’d heard that most nobles were quick to violence against commoners. As they grew up, Trillian often struck out at him and Ben when he was angered.

“Oh,” Goslin said, then smiled. “That doesn’t matter. But what kind of monsters lock someone up because they can’t make fire?”

A shorter man to Goslin’s right barked a laugh. “We don’t have much love for fireslingers in our group anyway, my large-eyed compatriot!”

The man stepped forward and grabbed Sarien’s hand. “I’m Kax.” He used his other hand to brush dark brown hair out of his eyes.

The third man came forward too but didn’t take his hand. He was tall and broad and looked like he could lift a horse. His expression was placid and gentle, and his eyes a little dull. A stark contrast to the dancing life in Kax’s.

“Kax here is the head of House Hiemlix. I’m Hart of House Tarkum.”

Sarien looked from face to face, bewildered at their lack of reaction to his admission.

“What do you mean? They tricked you, and I helped them. Don’t you need fire for this quest of yours? All I can do is this.” He concentrated and brought out his white, cold flame. Doing that much barely required any power anymore. Even if he was broken, Sarien knew he was getting stronger.

Kax drew back with a grunt of surprise, but then caught himself and stood fast.

Goslin stepped forward and held his hand near the flame. “It’s cold. Never heard of anything like this.” Then he peered into Sarien’s eyes. “You confessed to the deception immediately.” The leader of the little group patted Sarien on the shoulder. “We have no need of flames, just a pyromancer. As long as you can act as one in an official manner when we get to our destination, we’ll be fine. This might actually be better.”

“Right,” Kax agreed. “This way we won’t have to keep an eye on Lana so she doesn’t make a bloody mess of your face.”

Hart looked at Sarien’s robes and winced. “Maybe we should keep an eye on her, anyway.”

“Lana?” Sarien asked.

“You’ll meet her soon enough,” Goslin said, starting down the road. “We’ve a large group with us. Good friends all.”

“Hold on,” he said, stopping. “I haven’t told you everything. They weren’t going to lock me up for being broken.”

Goslin stopped and turned back to face him, narrowing his eyes. “We don’t abide by lawbreakers here. Tell us, what happened.”

Kax rolled his eyes, as if saying that he didn’t mind. Sarien told them everything, starting with how he’d healed Ben and Trillian, and his father’s disappearance, followed by his journey to the tower and his treatment under the director of research, ending with how he’d threatened her to get information. How that interrogation ended, he kept to himself.

Goslin’s face darkened, and he slowly shook his head when Sarien finished speaking. “To think that such treatment happens in that blasted tower. You’d think they had learned some humility after the people of Eldsprak throttled them.”

“Well, we did have the Heroes with us,” Kax added.

Hart shrugged. “They had a god on their side.”

“I’ll send a letter to my uncle and ask him to investigate what’s happening in the tower,” Goslin said.

“Your uncle?” Sarien asked.

Kax grinned mischievously. “The King of Eldsprak.”

Sarien’s breath caught and he stammered, “You’re a prince?”

Goslin shook his head and waved both hands in objection. “No! Well, I am in line for the throne, but there are eight men ahead of me in the succession, my three older brothers included. And my father, I suppose. Please don’t treat me any differently than you would any other friend.”

Goslin sighed. “But I suppose this might be a problem. We need a pyromancer, but I can’t very well force you to come with us. You mentioned that your father is missing. You must find him first.” He smiled. “A quest of your own, if you will.”

“Where are you headed?” Hart asked.

“All I know is that he was headed to the kingdom of Tyriu to Tyralien to meet a friend.”

All three of the other men smiled broadly, but it was Goslin who spoke. “Then it is settled. You will travel with us to Tyralien, for that is our destination as well. We are also tasked to assist those in need along the way.”

Sarien blinked. “So, you’re going to Tyralien too? What is your purpose at the capital?”

“All in good time, my friend,” Goslin said, gesturing for them to move out.

Kax slapped Goslin’s back as they walked. “The royal princeling here is getting married!” Sarien looked to Goslin, whose cheeks were turning a shade of red. Married? A quest and helping commoners? What kind of group had he gotten himself involved with?

As they passed through the large village, Sarien was overwhelmed with a sense of loss. It reminded him of home, which now seemed far away, both in distance and time. Even though it had been a few days since he stepped foot off the Karm estate, he felt that he had lived several lifetimes since then.

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The air of the estate always carried undertones of the earthy scent of animals, delectable smells of hot food cooking in the kitchens, and the faint crisp smell that he always attributed to the dense greenery of the nearby forest.

In the village, most of those smells were represented, except for the clean scent of the forest. However, there was also the sour unwashed stench of the villagers, and the animals were dirtier and packed closer together than at the Karm estate.

Sarien spotted Goslin wrinkling his nose. Someone like him must be accustomed to the cleanliness and perfumed ladies at the court.

As they walked, Kax chattered on about the merit of different types of weapons. According to him, Sarien needed some way of protecting himself, since he could not rely on his magic.

“A mace, perhaps. Or maybe a bow?”

Sarien pulled out the knife, hastily wiping away a spot of blood against his tunic before showing it to Kax. “I have a knife.”

“That’s nice and all,” Kax said, examining it closely, “but that won’t get you far in a real fight.”

Hart studied them for a while as they walked, then cleared his throat and said, “You know, we have a healer. Two, actually. Maybe what’s wrong with you can be healed?”

Sarien perked up. “You think?”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Goslin said, looking over his shoulder.

They left the village behind them and Sarien soon caught sight of a large group of people camping out in a small field of grass next to a farmer’s field. As far as Sarien could tell, most of the people were lounging around in three distinct groups.

Three men and a woman stood talking under a tree that was in the process of changing colors from green to yellow. Autumn would soon be upon them.

Apart from them sat a small troop of men in armor whom Sarien deduced to be soldiers. The third group consisted of men and women dressed conservatively in drab brown uniforms. The servants were the busiest of the three groups, moving with purpose as they completed their assigned tasks.

Sarien let out a low whistle. “Quite a large retinue.”

Goslin grinned. “I thought I would have to go on this adventure alone, but everyone wanted to tag along. We’ve got quite the representation here.”

They walked up to the group under the tree. “Everyone, this is Sarien Wald, our pyromancer,” Goslin said.

Anger flashed across the tiny man’s face. Sarien frowned and looked closer. It was a young woman. She just looked like a man from a distance because of the baggy tunic and trousers she wore, and her short-cropped hair. Up close, her face was obviously a young woman’s. The small nose, large eyes with full lashes, and heart-shaped face made him a little embarrassed he hadn’t made the connection right away.

The young woman reached for one of the daggers at her belt, but Goslin held out his hand. “We talked about this, Lana. You can’t just go hurting people for no reason.”

“But—“

Goslin shook his head. “You promised. Not all pyromancers are bad, you know that.”

Kax stepped in front of her. Even he looked tall in comparison to the girl. “He’s not even a real pyromancer!”

Sarien winced. That stung, but it wasn’t a lie.

Lana glared at Sarien. “What do you mean? He has the pretty robes and everything.”

“Perhaps we can finish our introductions first before you decide to stab someone,” the other young woman said, her voice melodious and cultured. It came across as teasing, softening her scold.

The other woman also wore trousers and a tunic, but they were intricate in both pattern and color, and sewn to fit her well. She kept her glowing red hair in a neat bun at the back of her head, and her pale face looked open and friendly compared to Lana’s scowl.

Goslin said, “This is Emeryn of House—“

“Of the Fourth Circle,” she finished, putting her hand forward. “From the Kinship of Jordfaste.”

Kax broke in as they shook hands. “She’s a geomancer!”

“That’s amazing,” Sarien said. “A grower?” He’d heard a little of mages who could manipulate plants, crops, and trees to produce more food. Their produce even made its way to the Karm estate.

Irritation flashed past her face, but she quickly suppressed it. “No, not a grower. Just your run-of-the-mill geomancer.”

Sarien turned to the last two men to be introduced. One was old and dressed in a dark blue robe with patterns like waves sewn into it, not unlike Sarien’s in style, and the other, younger, who had a look of eagerness about him.

“Tom,” the young man said, shaking Sarien’s hand. “I’m a Vatner.” He was the tallest of their group by a fair margin, but unlike Hart, who was wide like a house, Tom was lean, his long, bare arms wiry with muscle. Like most people from Vatnbloet, his hair was bright red, and his face spotted with freckles.

“We both are,” the old man said. “I’m Anicetus, his tutor and spiritual guide. We both belong to the church of Ocea.”

Sarien caught the others rolling their eyes at the old man’s words, but no one spoke.

“Where’s Heylien?” Goslin asked.

“Where do you think?” Emeryn replied.

Goslin sighed. “Scouting again?”

Tom snapped his fingers. “You’ve got it on the first try. Now, what’s this about you not being a real pyromancer? I thought we only came here to get one. Didn’t your father say that you needed one for our quest?”

Goslin placed a hand on Sarien’s shoulder, urging him to tell the tale himself.

“Well,” Sarien started, feeling a little uneasy with all eyes on him. “My spark is broken. It doesn’t burn.”

“Broken how?” Tom asked. He started to reach for Sarien but let his hand fall.

“I can’t seem to access my spark completely. I feel a divide inside me.”

Kax looked thoughtful and turned to Tom, Emeryn, and Lana. “Spark has a nice ring to it. Do you three have something similar?”

Emeryn nodded with a sour look on her face. “Nurture. It’s dumb and I refuse to call my magic that.”

“Aeromancy uses the word tempest,” Lana said. She turned to Sarien.

Tom raised his hand. “Hydromancers use their inner stream.”

“Spark, stream, and tempest,” Kax said approvingly. “Those I like. Nurture, not so much.” Then he grinned. “I’ll help you find an alternative, Emeryn.”

“If you’re done, Kax?” Tomford asked. “Do you want me and Anicetus here to take a look at you and see if there’s anything we can do? If nothing else, we can take care of your physical injuries.”

”I would be grateful for anything you can do.” He marveled at his own boldness. To think that he would be able to speak to a group of nobles like their equal, or close to it. They even wanted to help him.

Sarien, Tom, and Anicetus sat while the others dispersed to prepare to break camp. Now they had their pyromancer, it was time to continue on their quest.

“Thank you for this,” Sarien said, letting Tom take his left hand and Anicetus his right. “What are you doing here in Eldsprak? Vatnbloet is far, isn’t it?”

Tom nodded and closed his eyes to focus. “I was at the Academy in Fyrie. We all were. That place attracts all kinds. We decided to offer our assistance to Goslin’s quest.”

Anicetus broke in. “Best to be silent now and let us work. The young man sitting in front of you is Tomford of House Kad in Vatnbloet. More importantly, he is a pupil in the Church of Ocea. Mind your tone.”

Sarien looked down. “Sorry.”

“Don’t mind Anicetus,” Tomford said. “He’s just grumpy.” The old man scoffed but said nothing.

They sat in silence for a long while, Tomford holding Sarien’s left hand, and Anicetus his right. The younger man towered over the old priest, and even Sarien felt small sitting in his shadow. Tom possessed the build of a fighter or warrior, not what Sarien imagined a priest would look like.

“Do you feel that?” Anicetus asked, without opening his eyes.

Sarien felt hope soar again, but one look at Tom was enough to wash it away. “I don’t feel a thing,” the younger man said, frowning. “Just the physical wounds.”

“Exactly.”

“Bring out your flame,” Tomford said. Sarien did as he asked.

“Nothing,” Tomford said. A chill bloomed around Sarien’s midsection, and he shuddered as his skin began to itch. It passed as fast as it had come, and it left him panting. The residual pain from the injuries inflicted by Madge were gone, even the burn scar from Tre. Nothing of it remained, like it had never been there.

Tomford withdrew, beads of perspiration running down his face.

“Thank you,” Sarien said, feeling reinvigorated. “There’s nothing you can do about my spark?”

Tomford shook his head, a look of consternation on his face. “I can’t feel it. It’s like you don’t have a one at all. I see the flame you manifested, but there’s nothing inside you. From what I know and what I’ve been taught, you shouldn’t be able to do even that much.”

“There is something very wrong with you, boy,” Anicetus said. “If I were you, I would stop using your power and forget you ever had it, useless as it is.”

“It’s not useless,” Sarien retorted. “Sorry. But I have used it.”

“For what?” Tom asked.

The old priest added, “What can you do with a fire that cannot burn?”

“My friend and another man,” Sarien said, pointing, “I healed them both. They were dying and I brought them back.”

Anicetus scoffed and walked off, muttering, “Preposterous.”

Tom shrugged. “If you say you did, I believe you. Who can say what a broken flame can do?” He reached down and grabbed Sarien’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “But I think that means you’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

Sarien nodded. “Thank you for the healing.”

Tomford chuckled, then looked back to camp. “Kax is jumping up and down and waving his arms around over there. I think that means we’re leaving. You ready to go?”

“I’m ready!”