Firebrand
Firebrand
by R.M. Prioleau
*
Book 1 of
The Pyromancer Trilogy
Firebrand
© R.M. Prioleau.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Art by Sarah Ellerton.
Aransiya Map by R.M. Prioleau.
Edited by Karen Allen.
Visit the author's website at:
www.rmprioleau.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any manner without the express written permission of the author. All rights reserved.
The first rays of the morning sun coursed over the gates of Easthaven, promising another prosperous day in the trade city. Vendors and shoppers filled the streets, converging around the city’s extensive marketplace. It was often boasted that Easthaven’s marketplace attracted visitors from throughout the world to sample the rare and elusive goods. As a result, many used Easthaven as a hub for their travelers’ and mercantile wares.
Kaijin stirred as the sunlight shone through his window and over his eyes. Hearing the outside bustle of the crowded streets, he lifted his face from his desk. Today not only marked the end of the week, it also marked Kaijin’s most favorite day of all—shopping day. He smiled groggily. Ever since he’d learned to read, he loved visiting the booksellers. He stretched his arms, rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes then stared down at the thick book before him. A circle of drool stained one page while the other page, where his face had been nestled, was crinkled, rendering the list of terminology almost unreadable. He rubbed his cheek, feeling multiple imprints of the page’s wrinkles in his tanned skin. He remembered what he had read before falling asleep—a book about magic. The arcane arts intrigued Kaijin, despite his struggles to understand the book’s complex symbols.
Kaijin smoothed the page and scanned over the harder words, which he had circled. He recited sleepily, “Ab-ju-ra-tion ... Py-ro-man-cy ... So-mat-ic ...” He stopped abruptly when he heard his hungry belly make noises. Before getting up from his desk, Kaijin marked the page with a ribbon and placed the closed book in his haversack. Afterward, he washed his face, changed his clothes, grabbed the haversack, and hurried downstairs for breakfast. He found his mother stirring a small pot of porridge over a cooking fire.
Kaijin ran up behind her and wrapped his arms around her wide waist in an excited embrace.
His mother glanced down over her shoulder. “Oh! Good morning, dear.” She chuckled and rubbed his fiery-red hair. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Mmm!” Kaijin simpered and gazed at his mother’s protruding belly. Nearing thirty-two weeks, she sported the roundness of a healthy third trimester. The mysteries of creating new life through childbirth had been an unfamiliar, yet exciting fascination for Kaijin, who reached out and touched his mother’s belly in hopes of feeling the baby move.
She watched briefly before placing her hand on his. “You’re going to be a big brother soon, Kaijin.”
He puffed out his chest. “I’ll be the best big brother, Mama!”
She kissed the crown of his head. “I know you will, dear.”
The back door slammed, followed by the sound of footsteps. His father, a tall man with thick red hair, entered the kitchen carrying an armful of sturdy, overflowing canvas bags. He greeted his wife and son with a smile before setting down the load. Bolts of cloth spilled from the top of one bag.
Curious, Kaijin skipped over to see what else the bags contained. He reached out to touch the cloth, and his father slapped his hand away.
“Hands off, boy.” Ramon glowered at Kaijin. “Go help your mother with breakfast.”
“Yes, Papa ...” Pouting, Kaijin returned to his mother’s side and watched her add some cinnamon to the porridge mix.
“You’re a good boy, Kaijin.” She smiled reassuringly. “So helpful.” She offered him a small taste of hot porridge from her spoon.
Kaijin savored the sweetened sample and beamed. It was just how he liked it—mixed thick with slices of apple. The porridge melted on the tip of his tongue, leaving a hinting aftertaste of cinnamon and ginger.
His mother resumed cooking and acknowledged her husband. “Ramon, dear, you’re back earlier than usual. Are there no new prospects in the marketplace today?”
“On the contrary.” Ramon smirked. “I think it’s going to be a good day for business.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. Just ... stay away from the silk dealers this time, please.” She made a face. “Last week, they nearly cleaned your purse with their boorish scandals.”
Ramon rolled his eyes. “Stop reminding me, Elianee. Besides, you’re always so critical of the Ankhram traders. Not all of them are bad, you know.”
“I know, but—”
“Don’t be so quick to judge just because you don’t see eye-to-eye with a few of your relatives.”
“They’re just upset because I married you.” Elianee mirrored his smirk. Like characters in books Kaijin had read, and the few stories she’d told him, his mother had all the features of a woman descended from the desert people: a tall, lean frame; soft, bronze skin; long, thick ebony hair; and matching ebony eyes that complemented her angular face.
“And I say, ‘they can all shove off.’” Ramon approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her taut belly and massaging it soothingly with his thumbs. He glanced down at Kaijin.
Kaijin briefly locked eyes on his father before fixing them on the wooden spoon making figure eights in the porridge.
Elianee stifled a laugh and began spooning the porridge into three bowls.
“That goes for you too, boy,” Ramon said. “Tell anyone who ‘disapproves’ of you marrying a beautiful girl to ‘shove off!’”
Kaijin snapped out of his trance and regarded his father, eyes widened in fear at the man’s sharp tone.
“Ramon!” Elianee elbowed him playfully in his ribs. She set the full bowls on a small tray, placed a spoon in each bowl, and handed the tray to Kaijin. “Your father is only jesting, Kaijin. Now, be a good boy and put this on the table.”
“Yes, Mama!” The smell of the steaming-hot porridge filled Kaijin’s nose as he carefully walked to the table, tray in hand. After putting the tray on the table, he glanced back at his parents, proud that he did not spill a single drop.
But his parents didn’t appear to notice his accomplishment. Ramon turned and caressed the back of Elianee’s neck with a gentle kiss. “Enough of that talk. How are
you
faring?”
Elianee blushed. She retrieved a pan of hot bread from the oven, took a knife, and began cutting the loaf into small slices. “I am well, dear.” She playfully fed Ramon a slice. “You know, your son has been waiting for you to take him to the marketplace.” She peered over her shoulder at the kitchen table and raised her voice a bit more. “I’m sure he would love to see some of the new vendors. Wouldn’t you, Kaijin?”
Kaijin quivered with joy. He met his mother’s gaze.
She winked at him in response.
Beaming, Kaijin ran to his father and tugged at his tunic. “Can we go now, Papa? Please? Please? I want to see the new book vendors! Please, can we go now?”
Ramon bellowed in laughter and ruffled Kaijin’s already messy hair. “After breakfast, son. Now, take a seat.”
Kaijin’s shoulders dropped, but he obeyed his father and slid into his usual spot at the kitchen table. His mind raced.
Ramon helped Elianee to the table. “Always with them damned books,” he said. “By the gods, Kaijin, you are the strangest child!”
Kaijin dipped his spoon in the cooled porridge and stared at his father.
“He’s going to be a great scholar someday.” Elianee nodded firmly to Ramon. She looked at Kaijin. “You keep on reading and pay your father no mind.”
Ramon huffed. “He keeps that up, and he’s going to end up like the rest of your pompous relatives.”
“Ramon!” Elianee tried to hide her smile.
He laughed and ate a mouthful of porridge.
Kaijin joined in his father’s laughter, though he was unsure of what the man found so amusing.
After wolfing down the rest of his breakfast, Kaijin sat back in his chair and rubbed his full belly in the same way he’d witnessed his father do after every meal. His parents’ voices gradually faded from his ears as they discussed uninteresting adult issues.
Kaijin’s attention drifted to a burning candle in the center of the table. He studied the transitioning orange and blue hues of the small, flickering fire before slowly reaching out to run his fingers over it. He smiled, as he watched the dancing flame ripple in response to the faint shift in the air caused by his approaching hand.
I’ll be able to feel the pretty fire this time.
The candle’s heat was inviting. The single flutter of the flame enticed Kaijin, and his mind drifted into fantasies.
Kaijin sunk his teeth into his bottom lip in anticipation.
Just a little closer, and—
“Kaijin!
Don’t do that!”
His mother’s frantic voice snapped Kaijin out of his trance. He felt her slap his hand away from the flame, followed by a stinging pain.
Kaijin pouted and whined, “But, Mama—!” His words were cut short when he met his father’s gaze, prompting him to sit back in his chair. He lowered his head and stared into his lap, fidgeting with his hands.
Ramon shook his head. “You’re getting stranger each day, boy. What in the bloody hells have you been reading now?”
Kaijin regarded his father with hesitation.
“We shouldn’t discourage Kaijin from reading, dear,” Elianee said. “The gods have blessed us with a child brighter than most children his age. Let us be thankful for that.”
Ramon scoffed. “Books won’t teach him common sense—like not sticking his hand in a flame.”
She paused and sighed heavily. “Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She cast a stern gaze at Kaijin. “Fire is dangerous, Kaijin. Don’t ever try to touch it again, do you understand?”
