Sarien and Ben followed the creature, but slowed their steps as they approached the building.
“I don’t like this,” Sarien said. “It’s like it’s luring us into a trap.”
“You think it’s that smart?” Ben asked, bewildered.
“It kinda looks like a human. Could be as smart as one.”
Trillian, Hein, and Ola approached with their swords grasped tightly in their hands. “Don’t stop, we have to kill it!” Trillian said, panting hard.
Sarien nodded. Trillian was right. They could not let the creature escape.
He rounded the corner. The creature lashed out from its hiding place, where it sat silently waiting. Sarien raised his spear in the last moment, the creature’s claws slicing at the wooden shaft. The force of the attack tossed Sarien aside, flinging him against the side of the building. His head cracked against the wall, the pain blinding him before he collapsed onto the ground. His spear snapped in half when his weight landed on top of it and Sarien gave a cry of surprise, more from pain than fear.
Trillian, Hein, Ola, and Ben ran forward with their weapons raised. Sarien’s head spun as he watched Ben heave his spear and drive it straight into the creature’s leg. The creature screamed, a sharp harsh sound, as it tried to dart away back into the darkness.
Ola blocked its path and slashed at it, but the strike was feeble and slow. The creature took off his arm at the elbow with one swipe. Ola screamed, blood spewing from his stump. Hein stood frozen, his eyes wide with fear as he watched his friend thrash on the ground.
The creature took advantage of Hein’s distraction and, with one swipe, cut the young man’s gut open. Hein’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dropped to the ground, dead.
Sarien emptied his stomach then forced himself to his feet. He blinked wildly trying to clear his vision, but the world swam before him. He picked up the top half of his broken spear, where the blade was fixed, and blindly threw it in the direction of the creature.
To his surprise, the blade struck true into the creature’s shoulder. It screeched again. Sarien scrambled along the ground and grabbed Ola’s dropped sword. He swung, the blade slicing across the creature’s chest, but not cutting deep enough.
Ben snuck up behind it, his spear held low and ready to strike. When Sarien attacked, Ben thrust his spear, but missed. The creature turned on him, its arms shooting out and grabbing Ben at the shoulder. It dug its claws deep into Ben’s flesh and tore him apart. Trillian took the opportunity to charge in and deliver a thrust, but their monstrous opponent danced away.
Ben screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Sarien stood in shock, paralyzed at the sight of all the blood seeping from Ben’s still body and into the dirt. Was he dead? No, couldn’t be.
“What are you doing? We must kill it now!” Trillian screamed.
His face was white from shock and blood loss, but there was a fire in his eyes. He advanced on the injured creature and slashed. “Sarien, you have to help or we’ll both die too!”
“Screw you!” Sarien said, pulling his gaze away from Ben’s prone body. In that moment, he truly hated Trillian. He knew the noble was right.
Sarien let out a wail and struck out with Ola’s sword at the creature. Both men attacked desperately, Sarien with no training at all and Trillian forgetting his, but it did not matter. The erratic movements soon had the creature pinned up against the wall of the building.
Sarien struck for the thing’s arm. The creature screamed and swiped at him at the same time, the movement too fast to follow. The result was a long gash along Sarien’s chest and his own attack missing its mark. The pain was indescribable. Like burning fire and cold at the same time. He gasped and fell to his knees, hugging himself. His clothes were in shreds and his hands came away bloody.
Trillian’s sword finally found its mark in the monster’s the neck, digging deep. A killing blow.
Except it didn’t perish fast enough. Blood gurgled from its mouth and the many wounds across its body gushed. So much blood, enough to make Sarien sick while hunched over on the ground, unable to stand. It struck out one last time, cutting Trillian across his face and continuing downward, along the young man’s chest. The claws scored deep grooves in his skin and flesh.
Trillian didn’t make a single sound as he fell. Neither did the monster when it tumbled to the ground with Trillian’s sword still lodged in its throat.
The pain in Sarien’s chest was overpowering. He couldn’t stand, could barely breathe or think. He hadn’t been able to do a thing. A noble saved him, one he despised.
“Ben!” Crawling away from the creature, Sarien slowly made his way toward his childhood friend. He didn’t make it far. An incredible sense of fatigue washed over him. It would be fine to rest his eyes for a moment, wouldn’t it? They’d beaten the thing, after all. Just a short little rest.
Sarien woke with a start and felt someone shaking his shoulder. Blinking, he turned to his side and winced in pain.
It was Ben, his face pale and covered in beads of sweat. “Sarien, you’re alive. Thank the flame. Thought you were gone.”
“Ben,” Sarien mumbled. He didn’t recognize the area around them. The sky was pink and orange. Dawn. Something nearby smelled terrible. He wondered idly if it was him.
“Ben?” His friend didn’t reply. Sarien blinked again and turned to find Ben face down in the dirt. Sarien forced himself up and flipped Ben over. Ben’s entire front was torn to shreds. Long gashes cut so deep that it looked like the young man was a ragdoll coming apart at the seams.
“Ben!” The shocking sight of his friend’s mangled body brought Sarien back to his senses. Pain shot through his own body, but it faded away at the gruesome scene before him. The monster lay on the ground with its remaining limbs curling inward, like a giant dead insect. Ola and Hein were drenched in blood and guts and it was difficult to even make out which man was which. They would not wake up again. Trillian twitched but Sarien could barely look at the young noble with his face torn open.
Sarien’s sense of time was distorted, but he must have been asleep for a while, since the night was being pushed away by dawn. Adding to his confusion was the strange sensation inside the left side of his body. It still pulsed and thrummed with a beat pulling at him to go east. A power that churned and grew, almost begging to be used.
Sarien’s left hand tingled. He held both hands up in front of his face, ignoring the searing pain from his chest wound. Both of his hands spasmed, but he felt no strangeness from his right hand.
He felt as if a dividing line went straight through the middle of him, splitting him in two. The left side contained what felt like a cold light. He could feel it struggle to cross to the right side of his body.
“What’s going on?” Sarien asked out loud. “A flame?”
Yes, that was it. When he concentrated, he got the impression of a flame in that white swirl of power growing inside him.
A wheeze from Ben shook Sarien out of his thoughts. Neither Ben nor Trillian would be long for this world if he didn’t do something. But what could he do? Moving them was out of the question. The estate was too far away and they wouldn’t survive such a trip, and that was if Sarien could lift them across a horse’s back. Unlikely at the best of times and impossible now he was injured.
Ignoring the tingling in his hand proved difficult. The sensation only increased and spread down his arm. It wanted out. He would never be able to explain how, but in that moment, he let it.
A white light began pulsing in his left hand. Sarien stared in disbelief.
Magic. Had to be. This was the Kingdom of Eldsprak. That meant any person manifesting powers was a pyromancer.
He squinted, trying to make out a shape. A pyromancer conjured fire, so this manifestation in his palm should be a flame. Before he finished his thought, a flame formed, white and cold. It flickered despite the lack of wind. The color was all wrong, and it wasn’t even warm, but it was all he had. In a rush, he got up on his knees and placed his left hand on Ben’s chest, palm down. The flame disappeared into his friend.
With no idea how to continue, he focused on the overpowering need to save his friend. He couldn’t lose Ben. The mere thought made his eyes burn and streaks of tears ran down his cheeks.
“Don’t go!” he shouted through clenched teeth. The energy inside him drained away as he tried to make it do something, anything, to help Ben. A flowing throb of purpose sprung into the power. It grew from something miniscule into a presence that approached from beyond.
The flame grew inside Ben and over Sarien’s hand, then his arm. White light fully enveloped them. A sense wrongness followed. Danger.
Sarien didn’t care. He pushed through, wrangling his power, Ben, and the presence together with sheer force of will as the flame grew to an incredible size, even overwhelming the surrounding buildings. Sarien released a wordless cry when he felt a shift. He’d done something. What, he couldn’t say, but it was done.
All he wanted was to collapse and let oblivion take him, but there was still the matter of Trillian. He’d done all he could for Ben. Even if he despised the noble, he couldn’t let him die.
Without opening his eyes, Sarien moved his left hand from Ben to Trillian. The sound of horses approaching reached his ears, but he ignored it. His entire focus was on the inner glow of his magic. He lost himself in it and let it wash away his fear and his anger. This time, the pull and the presence differed. No sense of wrongness followed, only a sense of calm. Like an oasis of love. Sarien flexed his fingers, sending the sensation through him and into Trillian.
Instead of flowing freely, he felt something reach out to touch Trillian.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Beware and be wary, little human. It is far more than fire you’re playing with.
Sarien’s eyes snapped open. What was that? He withdrew his hand and pulled back. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he let out a scream of surprise.
“Sarien, my boy, it’s me.” His father’s normally soothing voice was tinged with worry.
The huge white flame in Sarien’s hand flickered and diminished before dying out entirely.
Griswold, the large stablemaster, was on the ground, next to Ben, his son. “Ben! Answer me, Ben!”
Sarien was relieved to see that both Ben and Trillian were alive. Trillian’s previously cold and pale skin was now slightly pink, flushed with blood. Ben’s chest rose with each steady breath. Their gaping wounds were gone. Only pink scars remained.
He’d done it. He had healed them with fire. Sarien let out a giddy laugh of disbelief.
“Sarien, what happened here? What did you do?” his father said.
Sarien blinked, grinning. “I healed them. Did you see? My fire. Doesn’t that make me a pyromancer?” He tried to force himself up, but his head spun from pain and exhaustion. Whatever he’d done, it felt like every ounce of energy was sapped from his body. His mind began to drift, untethered.
Someone muttered from behind his father. “That was no fire.”
“You can’t heal with fire,” a second man said.
Sarien turned to face who had spoken, but his father blocked his gaze. Talc spoke forcefully, addressing the stunned crowd gathering around them. "No one is going to ever mention this again, you understand? Not a word!”
He wrapped his arms around Sarien, who felt himself slipping into the black void of unconsciousness. “Listen, son, never use that power again. You hear me? You don't understand what you have done. That pale light…”
Talc trailed off, then it sounded like he came to some sort of decision. “I’m going to have to leave for a while. I’ll try to keep the firemagi away from you. You’re not one of them, son. Do you understand me?”
What was he talking about? Of course, he was a pyromancer. His father had even seen the flame. And why shouldn’t he use his power? Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision and the last thing he heard was a soldier cursing as they found the dead creature. He drifted off into sweet oblivion.
Sarien didn’t remember returning back to his room, but when he woke, he was laying in his bed. One of the estate’s maids sat by his bed, idly knitting. The rhythmic sounds of her needles tapping against each other woke him. With eyes blurry from sleep, he only caught the outline of her before closing them tight against the light. “Lisa?”
The sound of her needles stopped. “You’re awake!”
“What time is it?”
“You have been asleep for four whole days, you dummy!”
Sarien squirmed and opened his eyes. “Four?”
“Four!”
He sat up with some difficulty, the events of that one night rushing back to him. “Ben? Is Ben safe?”
“He’s fine,” she answered, but Sarien caught her frown before she pasted on a blank look. The young woman was prone to smiling. Seeing her this serious worried him.
“What’s wrong?”
Lisa took up her needles again and began plucking at the gray shape she was working on. “Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sure. Trillian is perfectly healthy too. He even went riding for the first time yesterday. And he looked in on you once!”
Sarien rolled his eyes. “What a gentleman.” Then he narrowed them, not liking her evasiveness. “Lisa. Tell me about Ben.”
“Fine!” She put the knitting back down on her lap, then stored it away in a cloth bag that hung on the back of the chair where she sat. “He’s fine, really. Just…I’m not sure. Something is different about him.”
“Different how?”
She shrugged. “Like he’s not as happy. Kind of not himself.”
Sarien gathered what little strength he had to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. “Well. He was more than half-dead. That could do it, maybe?”
She nodded enthusiastically and stood, reaching out a hand to him. “I’m sure that’s it! Now come, we need to get some food in you before…” She cut herself off, her eyes widening.
Sarien sighed. “Before what?”
Lisa brought her free hand to her mouth, dropping Sarien back into bed. Tears formed in her eyes. “Oh Sarien, I’m so sorry! The news spread of what you did. They’re coming for you. From the tower!”
He sat back up on his own, wincing from the pain. “The pyromancers? Is my father back?”
She shook her head. “No one has heard from him. He left right after returning with you.” Her fingers grazed the bandages around his chest. “You need to be more careful.”
Sarien frowned. His father said he’d be going to the firemagi. It wasn’t all that far and he should have returned by now. Why hadn’t he?
Sarien couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of going to the tower. Just sitting there on his bed, he felt the white flame churn inside the left side of his body, waiting. From what he assumed, the paleness and lack of heat in his flame had to be common for new pyromancers. A little instruction would set everything right. Sarien was sure of it.
He would go to the tower, talk to his father, and finally be free of the nobleman’s boot on his neck. Sarien needed strength, he needed power. Next time he wouldn’t fail his friend. Magic would trump a spear every time.
“When are they coming, the pyromancers?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Lisa replied. “Could be as soon as today. Oh, Sarien, I was so scared they’d take you before you woke up and we wouldn’t know that you were okay and they’d treat you horribly and…“
Sarien put a calming hand on her arm. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Can you please help me to the kitchen? I’m starving. Where is Ben now?”
She grabbed the hand he put on her shoulder and helped pull Sarien to his feet. “I’m sure Ben’s ma will force enough food down your throat to make you fat like a pig.” Lisa sobered but hid her sudden wariness behind a cheerful smile. “Ben is in the library. He’s mostly been reading since he woke up.”
Sarien looked down at her in surprise. “Reading?”
She nodded. “Didn’t even know he could read. Not well, anyway.”
“I have to see him before they come for me.” His stomach grumbled as he leaned heavily into Lisa’s shoulder. “But let’s go get something to eat first.”
When they staggered into the kitchen, Lilian wrapped her thick arms around him and pulled him off his feet, spinning fast enough to make Sarien dizzy.
“You beautiful boy! You saved our Ben! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Then she set him down on one of the stools and wiped a tear from her eye. “If it wasn’t for you…well, let’s get some food in you!”
He said goodbye to Lisa with the promise to see her again before he left with the pyromancers. Sarien stuffed his mouth with bread and cheese, grunting at Lilian’s constant stream of gratitude.
It didn’t take long, however, for Sarien to spot the maids eyeing him as they entered and left the kitchen, and it was not the shy blushing kind of looks that they used to send his way.
“What’s wrong with everyone?” he asked Lilian, who busied herself with stirring in different pots and pans.
She didn’t look up at him, but he could see her shoulders tighten at his question. “It’s what you did, lad,” she said. “The fire.” She paused for a long moment before continuing, “I love you for saving my son, but many here are uncomfortable with that type of thing. We don’t see much magic around here and it frightens the others.”
Sarien looked at the palm of his hand and tried to imagine what his magic appeared like to the others. It shot high into the sky, blazing white, and brought two men back from the brink of death. He couldn’t refute that sentiment. But that wasn’t terrifying to him, it was beautiful.
“Oh, don’t look so glum!” Lilian said, approaching with another plate, this one full of beans and piles of boiled potatoes slathered in gravy. “You did a good thing. You saved them! The lord’s son, even. He better throw heaps of gold on you!” The earnestness in Lilian’s round face made Sarien all warm inside and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss at the thought of leaving the estate. The need to find his father outweighed everything else, however, and the sense of adventure beckoned. Before all that, he had to talk with Ben and see with his own eyes that his friend had recovered from the attack.
Sarien found his childhood friend in the library, rummaging through the stacks.
“Are you even allowed to be in here?” Sarien asked with a laugh. Ben hadn’t noticed him come in and jumped, glaring at him when he finally turned to Sarien. It wasn’t the normal grin Sarien expected. Something was definitely wrong.
“Are you okay, Ben?” he asked hesitantly. “After everything that happened?”
Ben smiled and his lips pressed into a thin curved line that looked bizarre on his friend’s face. “It’s you. My savior.” He scurried up to Sarien and took his hand. “Tell me. How did you do it? How did you beckon me?”
Sarien pulled his hand from Ben’s grip. “I don’t know, but I did it with fire.”
Ben moved his lips, as if tasting the word. “Fire.” Then he narrowed his eyes.
He was about to speak again, but Sarien interrupted him. “What are you reading about?” The whole situation raised his hackles. He felt a surge of energy within him demanding that he either fight the man standing before him or flee the scene.
Ben waved a finger in in the air, an unusual gesture. “Oh, just getting acquainted.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. What happened to the creature?” Sarien asked. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to bring that up, not with his friend affected so much by the trauma.
“Hmm?”
“The monster we killed.”
Ben seemed to ignore the question at first, as he went to another shelf and began pulling down books. Then he spoke without looking at Sarien. “That’s in the past.”
Sarien nodded. “That’s all well then. Look, I have to go talk with Hacha and your father before I go. I’ll check in again before I leave.”
Ben’s eyes snapped to Sarien's. “Leave? Perhaps I should come with.” He crossed the room to grab hold of Sarien’s sleeve as if afraid to let him go. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“What is wrong with you?”
Before Ben had a chance to reply, the door opened behind them and Griswold stepped in. A look of concern passed over his face as he pulled Ben back away from Sarien.
“Is everything all right in here?”
Sarien nodded. “We’re fine, Gris.”
Griswold didn’t seem to believe him, but continued, “I came to say that they’re here. I’m sorry, lad. I didn’t want it to come to this, but the Tower needed to know about you and your powers. Thank you for saving my boy.” He looked at Ben, who was already back by the books. Griswold frowned. “I’m sure he’ll turn out fine once everything settles down.”
“I’m just happy I could do something. They’re here? Already?”
“Afraid so.”
“Oh.” Sarien peered past the large man at his friend. “Well, I guess this is it then, Ben. Don’t think you can join this time, but I’ll find a way to come back once I find my father and things settle a little.”
Ben didn’t even look up from the book he was reading and waved dismissively. “I’ll find my own way, then.”
After saying his farewell to Griswold, Sarien walked out to the front of the estate with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a small pack containing, among other things, a knife that his father gifted him at his last nameday. It was small but sharp with a wooden hilt carved with intricate patterns he couldn’t make sense of. He wondered if it would have made a difference in the fight, if he’d gone into the house to fetch it.
A cart waited out front, carrying a stranger. He didn’t look like a pyromancer. At least not what he imagined when he thought of them. No long beard or flowing red robes. Just a regular man, perhaps even a little shabbier than those who worked on the estate.
Before the cart stood Hacha and Trillian. The young nobleman’s face looked much better. The wounds inflicted by the creature were now nothing more than thin pink scars running from his scalp down across his face. If anything, the new addition made Trillian appear more ruggedly handsome, Sarien thought begrudgingly.
“Thank you,” Trillian said, holding out his hand. “You were useless in the fight, but you saved my life. You’ll be welcome here if you ever need a place to stay.”
Sarien took the young man’s hand and squeezed. “Good job killing the thing. What happened to it?” From what he could tell, Trillian was still himself. Sure, he was a little kinder now, but that could be because Sarien saved his life. There was a newfound humility in the nobleman. The changes in Ben were much more pronounced.
“It’s in there,” Hacha said, pointing to a wooden crate on top of the wagon. “We thought the firemagi would want to have a look.” He scratched at his thinning hair and then produced a thick bag from inside his coat that jingled when he handed it to Sarien. “To show my gratitude for you saving my son.”
“Thank you,” Sarien said.
“Please send word if you find you father, I don’t like him being gone this long.”
“I promise. This all happened so fast. Did the young lady make it back here?” Sarien asked.
Hacha nodded. “She’s the one who alerted your father of the attack. I’m afraid she went home after sharing some choice words about Trillian.”
Trillian’s face reddened.
“Enough with the talk and the goodbyes,” the man up top on the cart said, breaking in. “We have to leave. Now. Get up here, boy! You better not try and escape, or I’ll tie you to the cart!”
“Escape? Why would I try to escape?”
He shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Now get up here.” Sarien clambered up to sit beside him. “I’m Yari,” the rude one said.
“Sarien,” Sarien said, reaching out with his hand.
Yari shrugged and then reached out to shake it. “As long as you’re not stupid, this will be a lovely little trip.”
“Stupid?” Sarien asked.
“Just do as you’re told and don’t ask too many questions.” Yari tugged the reins and prodded the horse into action. Sarien waved as they set off down the gravel path that would take them to the main road. Lisa came running from the house but stopped by Hacha and Trillian. All three of them waved.
Sarien wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw the silhouette of a man standing at the library window. He waved at it, but the shadow did not move.