Taming Fire (16 page)

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Authors: Aaron Pogue

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy

BOOK: Taming Fire
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I heard the rapid slap of shoes against the hardened earth and craned my neck to see half a dozen old men sprinting awkwardly toward me, fingers grasping at the air while they ran as though they could feel the invisible cords. One of them darted in the lead, tall and thin and clothed all in black. His eyes were dark beneath a frowning brow, and his hair hung in black waves nearly to his shoulders. He approached me directly, pointed a long finger in my face and barked, "Stranger, how dare you intrude here!"

From my side, down by the ground, a weak voice coughed then said, "Let be, Seriphenes." Claighan had made it through. I felt a wash of hope, but a stab of breathless pain immediately drove it away. Claighan groaned and said, "This boy is with me. You would not challenge me yet, would you?" The dark gaze of Seriphenes stabbed just as sharp as the pain in my leg, his scowl only deepening as he turned it toward Claighan.

"This bloody lump is Claighan?" Seriphenes said. His voice was nearly a whisper, dark with ominous portent. He took a slow, careful breath, then turned and said in a more neutral tone, "It is Claighan who has come so precipitously into our midst. He is injured apparently, so any trial must wait—"

Another of the old men interrupted Seriphenes. "A trial?" He nearly laughed, but the look he shot Seriphenes was stern and chastising. "He clearly acted out of need, and that we may forgive. Archus!" A young man who had been lurking at Seriphenes's side suddenly looked up, scowling. "Archus, help Claighan inside and take him to the priest. He will need attention, and quickly."

The words gripped at my heart, and I rolled onto my side to get a look at Claighan. He sprawled on the ground next to me, one arm pinned beneath him and a leg bent awkwardly to the side, and with a small pool of blood collecting beneath his ribs. His robes were torn on the left side, below his chest. 

He reached for me, placed his right hand on my shoulder, and surprised me by hauling me close enough to whisper, "You are safe here, Daven. Be silent and go unseen as much as you may." His voice grew quieter as the young man called Archus stepped near, and Claighan said in a failing whisper, "Not everyone here is a friend, but none should be an enemy." 

His grip relaxed, then, and we fell apart. I watched, panting through my own pain, while Archus helped Claighan struggle to his feet. The young man sneered whenever the wizard showed his pain, and I felt an animal fury burn inside me at that. Claighan's words held my tongue, though. With groans and grimaces Claighan finally attained his feet, and leaning on Archus's shoulder he made his way toward a large, low building that stood some twenty paces away across the courtyard.

After all Claighan's warnings I expected unkind words from the cruel-eyed Seriphenes, but he only sniffed down at me and strode off in the same direction Claighan had gone. 

Instead, it was the man who had called Seriphenes down earlier who spoke to me, while the others trailed off toward the buildings. The one who stayed had bushy white eyebrows and a beard to match, eyes as gray as a summer storm and a pair of impossibly delicate spectacles balanced on his nose. He looked me up and down, considering. "So," he said, "at last we meet Claighan's little experiment."

"Daven," I said, trying to keep my tone polite. "Of Terrailles."

"Carrickson," he corrected. "We know precisely who you are. And word of your actions on the Isle has reached us as well." My heart sank. I would be a prisoner here instead of in the City. He shook his head, disappointed, and I felt it echoed in my heart. "We will keep you here in safety until Claighan is recovered and your case can be fairly made. Until then, you are to behave as our guest. You may attend classes—"

I brightened, astonished. "Really?" 

He frowned at the interruption, but nodded. "Claighan made it well known that he intended you to be his apprentice. By our laws, that choice is wholly his. No matter the rumors we have heard, you shall have the education his authority grants you... until the council can convince him otherwise." 

I bowed my head, doing my very best impression of meek. "Yes, my lord."

The other nodded once and picked back up where he'd left off. "You may attend classes, but only as a mute observer. You will not make any disturbance, you will not make any trouble on our grounds, or you will be handed over to the Royal Guard
immediately
. As easily as you were brought here you could be deposited in the dungeons of the royal palace. Bear that in mind, boy." He started to turn away, then stopped and added, "This Academy will be no haven for criminals. Unless Claighan can make a good case, you should not expect much kindness here."

I shivered at that, and nodded, but he was not done with me. He dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder—heavy enough to make me wince at the shock of pain in my injured leg—and caught my eyes. "Did Claighan warn you about Seriphenes, boy? Or perhaps Leotus? You know he has enemies here?"

I nodded, mute, and he nodded back. "I'm not one of them. They have their little schemes, their power plays, but I am the Chancellor. I have no loyalties to their games. It is my sole duty to protect this school. And right now, you are a threat to it. Do you understand?"

I nodded, but he wasn't satisfied with that. I fought to catch a breath, shook my head against new waves of pain, then groaned through clenched teeth. "I have no desire but to learn, Chancellor."

He frowned at me, as though I might be mocking him, then spun me around to face the towering doors. I gasped in pain, but he ignored it. 

"It is said those doors only open one way," he said. "You will not be welcome here—I can guarantee you that—and those doors are designed to keep intruders out, not to keep freeloaders in. Leave when you want, and you will not be missed."

He stood for a moment waiting, expectant, as though I might push through the doors that very instant, but I did not budge. It took all my pride to keep myself upright, but I did not budge.

When he saw I wouldn't go, he shrugged behind me and dropped his hand from my shoulder. "Well enough, boy. It's your choice. Just don't wait too long. Once judgment is passed, running won't be an option." Again he paused, again I stood firm. Again he shrugged, then turned briskly and began walking across the courtyard, not looking back. "Very well. Follow me, then, and I'll find you a room."

A single building bordered the great courtyard, made of two immense halls stretching north and south, with a third connecting them near the middle. Two tall, wide doors in the middle of this crossing hall made the building's main entrance, but the dark wizard strode quickly toward a small oak door set in the end of the east wing. He pulled the door open harshly, muttering something to himself as he did, then stooped to fit through the small doorway. Hopping awkwardly on one leg, clenching my teeth at the pain in the other, I followed him into a dark, narrow hall lined on both sides with plain wooden doors. The Chancellor stopped at the very first one on the right and pushed it open, stuck his head in to look around, then stepped back.

"Fine. This shall be your room as long as you stay with us. Number one east wing, in case you get lost. Enjoy your visit." With that he turned and stalked off down the hall like an angry cat on the prowl. Far down the hall I saw a cluster of boys standing near a doorway, but they rapidly dispersed as the old wizard approached them. I watched, a little afraid, until he was lost in the far shadows before I entered my room. I closed the door firmly behind me.

A thin mattress hung halfway off a simple wooden bed, its legs scored by the teeth of mice or rats over the years. A desk stood in one corner, and a plain armoire beside the door. Other than that the room was empty. I collapsed onto the edge of the bed and rested my head in my hands. The blood on my arm was dried and dusty, but the scratch throbbed a little. The wound on my leg was worse, but somehow didn't hurt nearly as much. I brushed my hair out of my face, wiped the sweat from my eyes, and looked around the room again. I started rolling up the leg of my pants to examine that injury, but the motion brought a new lance of pain and a wash of fresh blood down my ankle.

I ached; the sweat and dust caking me made me feel nasty, but something much larger was pressing at my mind, and I was avoiding it as much as I could. Claighan was gone. I was alone. I sat with elbows on knees, staring at the cold stone floor. I was alone and hated already. I thought of the old wizard's cruel voice, of the cold eyes of the other Masters. I thought of the boy Archus, on Seriphenes's heels, who had stared at even Claighan with such contempt. This place was no haven; it was no home. I began to run my eyes along the stone blocks of the walls, the tiles of the floor, tracing the little paths between that always led back to each other.

I was alone.

I cried. Tears mixed with blood and sweat, and hopelessness burned in my soul. My hands fell together in my lap, my eyes fixed on them, and I wept without a sound and wondered what I was to do.

My door creaked, and the sound threw me to my feet, heart pounding. I screamed at the flash of pain that drove up from my calf and stabbed hard into my hip. I fell back down to my bed and had to blink away tears and blackness before I could see.

When I did, I found a boy standing in my doorway. He peeked around the edge of my travel pack, holding it with both arms and not quite tall enough to look over the top of it. He had a thick mop of brown hair, big blue eyes now opened wide in astonishment, and a round nose. He dropped my pack to the floor with a
whumph
, and I saw his mouth twisted into a great O in his surprise. I nearly smiled at the sight, in spite of everything.

He was a scrawny little boy, and he looked terrified by my howl. I forced myself to take several short, sharp breaths while I pushed the pain away and then focused in on him. 

Then I nodded toward my bag on the floor. "Are you the butler?"

His eyes went even wider. Then he took a step back, and his eyebrows pinched together in anger. And then he laughed. It was almost a giggle, high and sharp, and it took his breath away. Then he fixed his eyes on me. "The butler? I'm the Chancellor's apprentice!"

I sighed and hung my head. "I'm deeply sorry," I said. "I had no idea."

"Keep your sorries," he said. 

He came to stand over me, though I was nearly eye-level with him even sitting on my bed. He looked me over and said, "How much of it is true?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "None of it, or close enough."

"They say you killed a king's Guardsman on the Souport road just to win an argument with Claighan. They say you bested one of the king's elite guards and won his sword in fair combat." His eyes shone with boyish enthusiasm, and he took a step closer. "They say you fought half an army in Gath-upon-Brennes and laid nine men low."

I shook my head. "Barely half that," I said. "Although I suppose the rest of it is true."

He barked a laugh, a grin splitting his face. "Oh, they are
not
 going to like you here."

I frowned. "Everyone keeps telling me that."

He shrugged. "They're right. You'll just have to show them all you're true gold. Excellence covers a multitude of sins."

"You're asking a bit much. I'll be lucky if I ever walk again."

I said it in jest, but his eyes shot wide again in horror, and his head whipped left and right in a terrified panic. I had to stifle a laugh, but he sank down on his knees next to the bed and looked at my bloodied leg in horror.

"I'm so sorry, Daven! I let my curiosity get the better of me. I'm supposed to bring you to the Kind Father. Can you stand?" 

I wanted to laugh at the terror in his eyes, but the pain washed over me in waves with his words, and I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming at him again. Fighting tears, I slid to the edge of my bed and pushed myself upright. I'd hoped to catch my balance on my good leg as I had done coming in here, but the sudden rise made me dizzy, and I nearly fell to the stone floor. 

The boy caught me. When my weight fell on him he grunted sharply, but he held me upright and wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. "It's kind of a long walk, but I'll help you. Let me know when you need to rest."

In good health I could have made the walk in four or five minutes, but hobbling as I was it took me nearly fifteen, and every agonizing hop of the way sent fire searing through my body. While we were still in sight of my room the boy began to breathe heavily. When we finally stopped in front of a carved oak door in a larger hall, I was glad to be able to take my weight off him. I leaned against the doorframe, and he huffed a great sigh of relief. He sagged against the wall, too, but leaned forward to knock on the door while I caught my breath.

The door opened to reveal an elderly man draped in yards of thick, embroidered robes until he seemed a mound of red and violet cloth. A violet ribbon around his temples and a gold sun medallion hanging around his neck named him a Beneficent Priest, but he looked with no kindness on the boy before him.

"Themmichus! Haven's name, I always expect to see you before my door, but I am never pleased to find you there! What have you done this time?" Only the hint of a smile belied the harsh words. The boy must not have seen it, because he seemed cowed to fear. He didn't speak a word but pointed mutely down to my leg. The old priest turned, surprised to find me standing so close, and as his gaze reached my bloodied calf his mouth fell open. Concern washed away jest and mock anger, and with a soft-breathed prayer he caught me up in surprisingly strong arms and bore me back into his office.

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