Firebrand (19 page)

“At least have a little decency—a little respect for my—”

“Look elsewhere for pity, boy, because I have none.”

“I’m not looking for your pity. I’m looking for guidance.”

“Then pray to your beloved Firelord.”

The mention of Kaijin’s god drew sparked surprise in the young man. He fell silent and lowered his head in brief reverence as though his actions were compulsory.

Jarial watched Kaijin wrestle with his thoughts, then spun around and continued with more forceful steps back to what remained of his home.

The cottage was reduced to smoldering rocks and ash. Jarial’s beloved books and research materials were destroyed in the deadly blaze that ripped through Easthaven, leaving little for the distraught mage to salvage. He traversed the rubble, retrieving what few possessions he could find: a silver ring, tarnished and partially melted; six gold pieces; two dented, silver spoons; and his small pewter Dragon statuette which, to his relief, was untouched by the fire.

Sable helped Jarial in perusing the debris and managed to locate an old, broken wand, which Jarial promptly discarded.

Jarial discovered the cellar area buried beneath a mass of heavy rocks, barring his entry. He attempted to remove some of the rubble, but his strength was insufficient. Sighing, the mage clutched his few trinkets in his hand and finally abandoned the wreckage.

Kaijin watched his master from afar, not even attempting to search for any of his own possessions. He owned very little other than his books, which he presumed would not have survived the horrific blaze. It wasn’t until he saw Jarial leaving the ruins that Kaijin followed.

Jarial stopped, apparently hearing Kaijin’s approach. “Do not follow me, Kaijin. You are your own man, now. Go find whatever answers you seek. I can no longer teach you.”

Kaijin blinked. “But, Master, I—”

“I’m not your master anymore,” Jarial scoffed. “You are released from my tutelage.”

Kaijin couldn’t believe what was happening.
Surely, it can’t be as simple as that, can it?
Kaijin stepped closer to the mage. “N—No,” he said in a weak voice. “I will not leave. I want to be as powerful as you.”

Jarial chuckled darkly. “You will never be like me. A god’s power transcends all of my years of knowledge and study. Your arcane abilities are tainted—touched by a presence of divine nature. This rare phenomenon is ...” He huffed. “... beyond my limits. Asking me to understand the gods is like trying to ask a newborn baby to read the entire compendium of magic. I am not the man with the answers you seek, not anymore.”

Kaijin’s face fell. Jarial’s adamant words almost drove the young man to tears. He clenched his fists. “How can you do this to me, Master?”

“Because, Kaijin, it seems the gods have proven their point here—apparently through you.”

“The gods? You blame the gods? They have nothing to do with this!”

“I suspect they have everything to do with it, Kaijin. I have not, in all of my years of study, seen magic work in the manner you have demonstrated. Go, now. Leave me be.”

“Will it not benefit you to study this phenomenon further?”

“It is not to my benefit, unfortunately. What you harness is not magic—at least, not exclusively magic. The divine presence seems far more prevalent in you. You need to see a priest.”

“Master. Why? Why would you leave me at a time like this? You are the only person left in my life. My family’s gone—everything is gone!”

Jarial sneered. “I have my own problems, just as you do. You’re not a child anymore, Kaijin, so stop this blubbering, and act like a man!” He continued his walk.

Kaijin scowled and followed at a modest distance, barking back, “Problems? What problems could you possibly have anymore? Your friend is dead, just like you wanted. You’ve renounced me as your student. Everything is perfect!”

The mage stopped abruptly and whirled around. He tried concentrating on a spell but quickly gave up, looking flustered. “You know nothing about me, Kaijin—nothing! Do not tempt me to show you my full potential, because I will not hesitate to do so!” His face showed brief apprehension.

Fortunately for Jarial, however, Kaijin still respected him and promptly fell silent.

Jarial exhaled in relief. “I am returning to the Citadel to inform the Council of Xavorin’s fate,” the mage said in a calmer tone. “It is proper protocol to relay to the Council any and all news regarding renegades. I am not particularly looking forward to returning there, however.”

“Why is that, Master?”

Jarial bristled. “It is none of your business. Do not follow me, Kaijin. You will not be allowed in the Citadel, anyway. Moreover, your tainted magic will only cause a stir there—and I refuse to be a part of that chaos.”

Kaijin sighed, exasperated. “So, that’s it? I’m to never see you again? My family is dead, and my home is gone. You’re leaving me, and I’ve nowhere else to go.”

Sable rubbed her furry body along Jarial’s calves, prompting the mage to reach down and pick her up. He glanced back at Kaijin and said, “If you truly want to master the Art, it begins here. I have given you the tools. Now you must finish building the house. Perhaps, someday, our paths will cross again. But as you have seen here today, the future is never promised to us.”

Before Kaijin could respond, he heard Miele screech from above. She fluttered around his head before landing on his shoulder.

Kaijin smiled at the bat. The empathic message his familiar sent to him brought him a sense of warmth and renewed hope.

Hope
.
Kaijin felt the pulsating heat beneath his robes and involuntarily felt for the holy symbol. His fingers caressed the hollow grooves of the charm.

“Yes, go talk to your god,” Jarial said, observing him. “If the Firelord does, indeed, favor you, then perhaps He will lead you to your new destination.” He paused and bit his bottom lip as he contemplated. “I will not lie. I considered you like a son to me, Kaijin. I’ve watched you mature from a gifted young child to a man who has surpassed himself.”

Kaijin’s reverie was brief, and he acknowledged Jarial once more. “Master ... Thank you for everything.”

Jarial approached Kaijin and gently patted his back. “I’ve done nothing but help bring out the abilities you already possessed.” Jarial’s expression softened. “You have been my best student. I doubt I will ever find another like you.” He turned away and headed for the ruined northern gates. “Farewell, Kaijin.”

As Kaijin watched in silence, his former master become smaller as his moonlit silhouette melded with the darkened destroyed lands around him. At Jarial’s behest, Kaijin did not follow. Instead, he started to the east. By the time he emerged from the city’s ruins, the moon was at its apex, blanketing the land in sullen shadows of despair.

Kaijin traveled aimlessly for almost an hour. He finally stopped and observed the dotted silhouette of Easthaven’s remains behind him. “I’m alone,” he muttered. His eyes shifted to his haversack. “Who am I kidding? I can’t protect you, Viridis. Hells, I can’t even protect me from myself. I’m ... I’m sorry, Rorick....” He opened the container, reached inside, and carefully retrieved the lizard which wriggled about in his grasp.

“You’re safer without me, Viridis,” Kaijin said. “I’m a monster. I’m dangerous. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. Besides, you deserve to be free, not cooped up in my bag.” He knelt down and gently set the creature in the grass. “Go on, now.”

Viridis swiveled its tiny head, gazing at the vast, yet familiar grassy world around it. After a moment of hesitation, the lizard skittered through the flora and disappeared under a cluster of dandelions.

Kaijin watched the lizard until it was out of sight. Afterward, he sighed and resumed his walk. The well-traveled path snaked its way through the countryside, which had long-since lost its colorful beauty in the evening’s shadows.

Above Kaijin, Miele fluttered, relishing the night.

Kaijin’s fingers clutched the holy symbol, and he smiled, letting his soul wander the mental voids, seeking out that strange, supernatural entity once more.

I am Kaijin Sora, and I am yours....

R.M. PRIOLEAU is a game designer by day and dangerous writer by night. Since childhood, she’s continued discovering new ways to expand her skills and creativity as she delves into the realm of literary abandon. R.M. is a National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) enthusiast who has been active in the worldwide writing community since 2009. Find out more about the author at
www.rmprioleau.com
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