After retrieving the other wagon and the few terrified servants they added a cot to the floor of the wagon for Emeryn. Once the group was ready to set off, they did so alone. There were loud protests from the servants who had remained after the fight with the bandits, but Goslin wouldn’t let them continue on now after the luison attack. He gave them plenty of coin and sent them on their way back to Fyrie.

Sarien caught Goslin gazing forlornly at his large copper bathtub where it was dumped on the ground. It was far too cumbersome to carry in their lone wagon.

They rode in silence. Such a large company diminished in such a short time. Only ten remained. Hopefully, Sarien thought, things would turn around soon.

Sarien fell back on his horse, so he ended up riding next to Heradion. There were so many questions he needed answers to, and he didn’t know where to start. “So, were you headed to the tower when you found the creatures?”

“Tower?” Heradion asked.

“Of the firemagi.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.”

“Are you one of the directors there or something? Do you know Bjorn, the director of embers?”

Heradion chuckled. “Good old Bjorn, such a pleasant man with his embers.”

Sarien narrowed his eyes. “Have you even been there?”

“Of course I have. All pyromancers are born there,” Heradion hedged.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Sarien said. The man wouldn’t tell him a thing about himself, at least not yet.

“I’m an excellent liar when I put my mind to it. You’re just not worth the effort.”

Sarien sighed. “You know about my magic. Could you please tell me? The truth this time?”

Heradion scrutinized him from the corner of his eye, before finally nodding. “You are the chosen one, heralded to save this world and all other worlds from certain demise. Your power is spoken of in whispers and only described in the oldest tomes at the far reaches of the ancient kingdoms.”

Sarien blinked, stunned. “Really?”

“No, you little shit!”

Sarien deflated. “What then?”

“It’s dangerous,” Heradion finally answered.

“What is?”

“What you are capable of, of course. I’ve seen both before, but never in one person. Who are your parents?”

“My father, Talc Wald, is a huntsmaster but also a pyromancer named Trym, apparently. I’m on my way to Tyralien to find him. Do you know him?”

Heradion shook his head. “No. And your mother?”

Sarien shrugged. “I don’t know. My father always told me she was a seamstress. She died when I was born. But then again, he never told me he was a pyromancer, so who knows how much of what he’s told me is the truth.” Sarien narrowed his eyes. “Kind of like with you.”

Heradion ignored the insult. “With an unremarkable and mysterious past with both wayfaring and slaying powers…” Heradion trailed off. “It should be impossible. Maybe you really are the chosen one.”

Sarien looked at the old man with suspicion. “Really?”

“No, you idiot, I thought we went over this already! The prophecies here were fulfilled years ago! Hundreds of years! Your gods are dead, aren’t they? A wayfarer and a slayer have already come here to save your tiny little world.”

“How can you say so much without saying anything?” Sarien asked, his voice raising and drawing the attention of the others. “What is a slayer? What is a wayfarer? Is that what I am? The white and the black? What prophecies are you even talking about?”

Lana cleared her throat behind them. “The Hamara Prophecies. You know them, don’t you? The Heroes and the Gods?”

“Oh,” Sarien said. “Right. Not intimately, but it’s basically the heroes killing the gods, right? Bringing the peoples together and all that?”

She nodded. “It’s a little more involved than that, but sure.”

“A little?” Heradion snorted.

“I don’t remember reading anything about wayfaring or slaying in those documents, and I had to read them a lot,” Lana said. “What aren’t you telling us, pyromancer?”

“You use that word as an insult, little girl,” Heradion said. “And there’s more I’m not telling you than what could fit in that small head of yours.”

“Then tell me!” Sarien demanded. “Why keep it secret? What is a wayfarer?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Where can I find him?”

“Why would you want to?” Heradion asked.

Lana let out an irritated growl. “To teach him, obviously! What’s wrong with you? I’ve never met a more irritating old man before, and I traveled with Anicetus quite a bit!”

Heradion blinked. “Who?”

“Where is this wayfarer?” Sarien repeated.

“Not around anymore.”

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Lana said. “I’ll drive a dagger in his back if I have to stay a moment longer. Tell me later if you get anything out of the old bastard.” With that, she rode off toward Goslin in the front of their party.

As the group made their way down the road, they drifted apart little by little, the spaces between the riders increasing. Each of them wanted alone time, it seemed.

Sarien wouldn’t give up quite as easily. “The wayfarer is gone, you said. Can you tell me anything about his power? The white flame?”

Heradion rode in silence for what felt like an eternity, but then he finally sighed. “If I tell you, will you promise not to use it? There are developments here that are bigger than you can comprehend. You seem like a nice and soft boy. You wouldn’t want to threaten the order of things, would you?”

Anger rose in Sarien’s chest. “What I can promise you is if you don’t tell me, I’ll experiment myself and try to use it as much as I can. The black flame too.”

“Now—“ Heradion began, but Sarien interrupted.

“I’m not quite so soft as you think.” Sarien thought back to how he killed Madge in her own bed. The memory still churned his stomach, but he knew he could handle whatever Heradion told him. He had to.

“An insolent brat, then,” Heradion said. “Perhaps it would be better to just turn you into ash, rather than have you break everything in a temper tantrum.”

“Try me,” Sarien said.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

They glared at each other, but Heradion finally relented with another sigh. “Look, I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you enough for you to understand that you can’t use your magic. Deal?”

“Agreed,” Sarien replied quickly. And before the pyromancer could change his mind, he asked, “What is wayfaring?”

“It allows you to travel, like what you did with the luison.”

“It felt like I sent it away somewhere else. An island. But what about my healing?”

“You should’ve sent it to a volcano. What’s that about healing?” Heradion asked, frowning.

“My friends were attacked by a monstrous creature. It tore them to shreds. Whatever I did with the white flame, the wayfaring, made them whole again. Something spoke to me in my head when I did it. Well, one of the times. For Ben, I just got a feeling of something being wrong.” Sarien paused. “He woke up different.”

Heradion pursed his lips. “Perhaps you opened a gate, to a different place, inside your friend? Another world, perhaps.”

Sarien blinked. “That’s possible?”

“Which one of these fools did you do that to?” Heradion asked, looking out across the group.

“It wasn’t anyone here. My friend back home on the Karm estate, where I grew up. What do you mean another world? Pulled something through?”

“There is no healing with wayfaring. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that you opened a gate to another place, to something that could heal your friends. If your need was great enough, something could have answered. Tell me more about the friend who woke up different.”

Sarien shivered under Heradion’s intense stare. “Ben. He woke up and immediately went to the library to read.” Sarien stifled a nervous laugh at Heradion’s questioning look, “If you knew Ben, you would know that the library would be the last place on the estate, perhaps on the entire continent, that he would willingly find himself him. He spoke differently, too. It’s hard to describe.”

“And the other one, the one who spoke through the light?”

“It was more like she spoke in my head.”

“She?”

“That’s the impression I got.”

“And what did this mystery woman say?”

Sarien’s face felt warm all of a sudden. “Told me to be careful. She called me ‘little human’.”

“And have you heeded her advice?”

Sarien looked away. “No.”

“Then heed mine. Do not use it anymore. You could bring doom with your ignorant ineptitude.”

“Hold on a moment. What was that about another world?”

Heradion just laughed, but there was no joy in it. “You’d be surprised.” He ran his fingers through his straight white hair. “I’m afraid you might have already done something we can’t reverse. Where did you say this estate was? Karm?”

Sarien nodded. “Two days’ ride from The Burning Tower of Firemagi. You know that place, right?”

“Of course,” Heradion said, looking to the side.

“This still doesn’t tell me much about what I can do with my power, the wayfaring,” Sarien said.

“It’s as much as I know, it’s not like I’m an expert!” Heradion said in frustration. “Just don’t use it anymore!” He shook his head and grunted. “I have to think, boy. Leave me alone for a while.”

“But what about the black flame?” Sarien protested.

“Later!” Heradion barked. “Go pester someone else now!” He glanced at the obsidian spear sticking out from behind Sarien’s back and fell back to ride behind the wagon.

The road grew wider the further they went, and they soon started meeting other parties traveling, mostly from Kleotram to Fyrie, or the villages between. Sarien didn’t feel much like talking to any of those they met, but returned waves and short words of greetings when expected. Goslin stared ahead and didn’t even seem to notice them.

The group stopped by a small stream after a few hours to eat whatever they could find that didn’t require cooking. Sarien watched as Goslin stuffed his face as quickly as he could before stripping off his outer layers and jumping into the chilly stream.

Once they were on their way again, Heylien finally returned. His face paled when he saw Emeryn lying unconscious on the wagon floor. “What happened? Where is everyone?”

“Where have you been?” Goslin asked as Sarien rode up to listen.

Heylien frowned at his tone. “Scouting. It’s what I do.” He patted a deer that lay slung behind him across his horse’s back. “And some hunting.”

“We were attacked by some kind of creatures,” Kax said.

“Luisons,” Hart added.

Heylien’s brow knit with confusion. “What are those?”

“Monsters,” Lana mumbled.

“What happened to the priest? The followers?”

“Dead,” Goslin said, his voice hard. “It’s just us now.”

Heylien looked up at Tomford, who waited off to the side of the road, and spoke up so he could hear. “I’m sorry Tom, I’m sure Anicetus found peace in Ocea’s depths.” Tomford nodded but didn’t reply. His eyes were hollow and still pink from crying.

“I’ll stick around for now, Goslin,” Heylien said.

“Thank you,” Goslin said. “Did you find anything? Other than the deer, I mean.”

“I’ve been asking travelers on the road about Primie Woods. Not a single person has come from there. A little strange, if I’m being honest.”

“Why?” Sarien asked.

“It’s supposed to be well traveled. The road goes past a village, I don’t know the name of it, and then through to several other villages near the border to Tyriu. I’ve been told there’s quite a bit of trade going on over in those parts. Some of that should come through to the main road between Tyralien and Fyrie, no?”

“You’re right,” Goslin said. “That is concerning. We’ll see for ourselves soon enough. How long till we get there?”

“To the road that’ll take us to the village? Tomorrow afternoon, I’d wager. We’ll have to spend a night among the trees and get to the village the day after.”

“Then we should probably hurry along, right?” Kax asked. His hand was on the hilt of the obsidian short sword, clutching it.

“You go. I have to deal with this,” Heylien said, patting the dead deer. “I’ll catch up in an hour or so. Did any of you bring my things from the wagon?”

Hart handed over a pack. “Here you go. This is yours, right?”

Heylien took it. “Thanks.” When the rest of the group rode on, Heylien stayed behind. Sarien saw him eye the old man, but he didn’t ask who he was. Heradion didn’t even appear to notice the new addition to their group before Heylien was gone again.

Kax joked with Goslin as they continued along the road, trying to lift their leader’s spirits, and Hart spent most of his time talking to Daisy, who ran back and forth between his master and whatever smells captured his attention. The dog never tired of moving about and kept peeing on things it found interesting. Such a strange creature.

Lana rode beside Tomford for a little while, but then pulled back to Sarien. “Could you speak with him?” she asked.

“Me?”

“He listened to you last time, didn’t he?”

Sarien looked ahead to Tomford’s slumped shoulders. “Maybe he needs some time? His friend and mentor just died. Rather violently.”

“Fair enough,” she replied. “But I don’t know how much time he has. What if we’re attacked again?”

“You think we will?”

She shrugged. “What do I know? I’m just tired of everyone being sad sacks of shit. I didn’t leave my family in Loft to travel with a bunch of moping men.”

“Why did you leave?”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about him! Them! Goslin thinks every bad thing that happens in the world is his fault. Kax can’t go a minute without stroking his sword, which is disgusting by the way, and speaking with Hart is like talking to a rock. Also, that pyromancer is strange. I don’t trust him. And I’m pretty sure Emeryn won’t be the happiest girl in the world when she wakes up without her arm! And Heylien is never here!” By the time she finished speaking, her breath was coming in quick.

“That’s… a lot,” Sarien said. “I’ll talk to Tom.”

Lana smiled. “Thank you.”

“Wish me luck,” he said, spurring his horse to catch up to Tomford. When he was alongside, Sarien asked, “How are you doing?”

Tomford glanced in Sarien’s direction. “Keeping it together.”

“Anicetus was important to you.”

He nodded. “I didn’t realize how important until he was gone. Didn’t like having to burn him, either. That’s not how we do things in Vatnbloet.”

“What kind of burial rites do you have? Is it different for those who believe? Do all Vatners believe?”

“No,” Tomford said. “Very few actually believe. It’s more tradition. Most priests possess true faith, I think. We bury out at sea, using hydromancers to lower the remains to the bottom of a deep trench. That’s for the religious and nobles, at least. The more common practice is a hole in the ground. We don’t cremate, like you do in Eldsprak.”

“Perhaps we could have some sort of ceremony when we camp for the night?”

“I’d like that,” Tomford said. “Thank you.” He sat up a little straighter. “And thank you for convincing me to go back to Anicetus and speak more about healing. We ended up having a good moment together, and he told me of some healing concepts I didn’t know about.”

“Something that’ll help with the problems you mentioned?”

Tomford grinned. “Yeah! I’ve been healing the entire body every time, but you can focus on specific areas that need attention. That requires less of my inner stream.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“I thought so too. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it! Also, I can use that same principle when getting hit, just heal the part of me that’s struck, I mean. But that’s not all, I might be able to use that to mitigate damage too, if I can get it right. I’ll be testing it on myself soon. What if I could stop a blade from even piercing my skin? That would make me unstoppable.”

Sarien laughed. “You’d be terrifying!”

“There’s a way to build up stamina, or whatever you want to call it, too. All I have to do is continuously heal myself every minute of every day!”

“Won’t that be exhausting?”

“Sure,” Tomford conceded. “I won’t do it before a fight, if I know one is coming. And I’ll need a lot of food afterwards to recover.”

“With this knowledge, it’s like you’re carrying Anicetus with you, or his memory, at least.”

Tomford smiled again, a more solemn expression than his previously excited grin. “You’re right again. Thank you, Sarien.” His look became distant for a moment, and when it focused again, he nodded, as if having made a decision. “I’ll be the best damn healer I can be, not just the best fighter.”

Sarien looked back. Tomford’s instructor, Lien, was busy driving the wagon. He was surprised that Tomford’s instructor had decided to stay with them when all the other servants left. “How is the hand-to-hand combat going?”

Tomford winced. “A lot of bruises. He’s a slippery little bastard. I’m getting better, but it’s slow going. I think I’m going to go have a talk with Lien and check on Emeryn.” Tomford reached out a hand toward Sarien, and he took it. A quick shake was all they had time for, before the horses pulled apart and Tomford moved back to the wagon.

Lana looked back and grinned, giving Sarien a thumbs up, mouthing, “Thank you.”