Flameseeker (Book 3) (26 page)

Jarial walked alongside her. “Shall I escort you
back to your room?”

Zarya gave a light laugh. “If you wish.”

They left the courtyard and crossed the main room,
which was now devoid of servants, and quietly made their way down the hall of
sleeping quarters. They reached the end of the hall and went through a door
that led to another where the females’ quarters lay. They stopped in front of
Zarya’s door. Zarya stood there for a moment, her hand resting on the handle.

“Jarial.” She didn’t look at him. “I just want to
thank you for being a true friend, and someone I hold dear in my heart.”

Jarial stepped closer. He brushed his hand down
the side of her cheek and gently tilted her head toward him. “You are an
incredible woman, Zarya. I don’t care what you are or how old you are. I only
care about you.” He felt her cheek grow hot beneath his palm, and he slowly
brought his face to hers. He glanced down at her full lips.

Take the chance.

Before he could lower his head further, Zarya
leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips.

XXVII

The next morning after breakfast, Kaijin and his
friends saw off Clarice and and the rest of the survivors, as they had set out
southward to Sinan under the guidance of a small escort of apprentices. Afterward,
Kaijin and his friends joined Amil and two of his assistants in the summoning
chamber as he prepared to scry for Vargas’s whereabouts.

Kaijin and his friends stood at the foot of a set
of shallow stairs that led up to a raised platform in the center of the
chamber. Kaijin looked on in silence and awe, having never before seen such
extensive preparation for a single spell.

Amil stood in the center of the raised platform,
in a decorative circle of runes and glyphs that were etched on the stone floor.
Thanks to Jarial’s extensive tutelage, Kaijin was able to easily recognize the
symbols as each of the five elements, the five senses, and the nine classes of
magic.

The two robed assistants, who wore sashes of red,
black, and gold and appeared to be of a higher rank than some of those that
Kaijin had seen, stood on the outer edge of the circle, each carrying a tray. Between
them, the trays held a large silver mirror, a jar of eyeballs, vials of a
tannish liquid, small amounts of raw copper ore, and a bowl of a greyish,
powdery substance.

Kaijin looked beside him at Jarial, who stood with
his arms crossed, staring up at the platform intently.

Omari, standing on Jarial’s other side, seemed
nervous as he watched his father. His eyes darted about the area. He leaned
forward slightly, as if he would rush up the stairs to his father at the
slightest sign of trouble.

Kaijin glanced over his shoulder to Nester, who
kept craning his neck around, as though he were searching for something, Aidan
and Zarya. Beyond them, near the chamber’s only exit, Sable was curled up
against the wall, and Percival nestled beside her. The two of them slept,
though their ears were continuously flicking and swiveling toward the sounds of
the chamber. Though Kaijin couldn’t see Miele, he could sense her hiding
somewhere in the shadows above him.

Kaijin turned and looked back to Amil, when moments
later, he heard Nester whisper, “This is th’ strangest kinda fiddlin’ I’ve ever
seen, Aidan.”

“It is magic, Nester. Why would it not be
strange?” Aidan said.

“It ain’t nothin’ like Kaijin’s strange fiddlin.’
I mean— Ugh! What’s ’e gonna do with those eyeballs? Yuck!”

“Shh!” Zarya said. “He’s starting!”

Amil knelt down before one of the runes—the rune
that denoted ‘sight’—and ran his hand over it as he began chanting arcane
phrases. His eyes closed for several moments, and then he opened them again and
looked up to one of his assistants, who approached. Amil took the jar of
eyeballs from the tray. He uncorked the jar, fished out a single eyeball, and
placed it on the ‘sight’ rune. He replaced the jar and selected a piece of copper
ore, which he placed on the rune. The ore began to give off a faint, golden
glow. He sprinkled a pinch of the white-grey powder into the glow. Lastly, he
plucked the vial of tannish liquid from one of his assistants’ trays, carefully
uncorked it, and poured it over the pile. The strange substance gave a hiss
when it came in contact with the other ingredients, and small plumes of white
smoke rose as the components melted into the crevices of the rune. He continued
his chanting for several minutes as the mixed substance bubbled and sizzled,
the blue glow coalescing around the ‘sight’ rune, then turned white.

The other assistant approached, carrying the mirror
on a tray. Amil carefully took the mirror and placed it atop the glowing
‘sight’ rune. He stared intently at the mirror, his eyelids drooping, and his
chanting slowing to silence. The glow traveled from the rune and encompassed
him, and then, suddenly, a ghostly-white image of himself pulled free from his
body and whisked away into the mirror. His body slumped over sideways.

“Father!” Omari exclaimed. His foot lifted from
the ground.

Jarial threw out an arm, stopping him before he
could bolt to his father’s side. “No, Omari. He must not be disturbed.”

Omari balled his fists, but after a moment relaxed
and grudgingly remained where he was.

“What’s happened to him, Master?” Kaijin asked.
“I’ve never seen a scrying spell performed in this manner.”

“It is
very
advanced, Kaijin,” Jarial
replied. “He is attempting to locate and make
physical contact
with Vargas.”

Kaijin blinked. “Is that even possible?”

Jarial nodded. “Indeed, but only a few of the
greatest masters in the world can do it. Now, be quiet and watch.”

* * *

Amil felt his ethereal form travel through the intricate
threads of magic, across black, starry skies, through realms unknown. He
scanned his continuously changing foreign surroundings, following an immense
and troubling power that he felt.

His surroundings became more familiar, and he
found himself soaring over Ankhram’s vast desert. He dove deep beneath the
golden sand and emerged in a dark cavern. He traversed the winding passages and
eventually entered another cavern, which was bathed in fire and pools of magma
and tinged with a hazy, golden hue. Standing in the midst, within the steam and
wavering, super-heated air, was Vargas and a tall, monstrous creature—an
afriti, who carried a brass scimitar in one hand.

Amil floated in the shadows above them and
listened to their conversation.

“The search for him has been fruitless yet again,
Za’thaak,” Vargas said. “I have tried in as many ways as I know possible to
scry for him, but his presence is lost to me.”

The afriti growled. “No, he is not dead, of this I
am certain. Surely
Ignis
has spoken to you, has He not?”

Vargas lifted his head, his face stern. “Indeed,
He has, but His instructions have been cryptic as to how I can locate Kaijin. I
have tried various methods, but nothing works.”

“I suggest you figure it out soon. Very soon, because
my patience grows thin.” The afriti sneered, revealing some of his menacing
sharp teeth.

Vargas pursed his lips. “You should have killed
him when you had the chance.”

Za’thaak’s turquoise eyes narrowed to thin slits.
He pressed the tip of his scimitar to Vargas’s chest. “And
you
should
have dealt with that damnable priestess.”

Unfazed, Vargas looked down at the weapon, then
back up at the creature. “Kill me as you wish, Za’thaak. But in doing so, your
deeds will not go unpunished. Almighty Ignis sees all—knows all.”

Za’thaak chuckled and lowered the blade. “No. You
are to be spared a little while longer. After all, it is the
Firelord’s
‘will’.
He paused and sniffed, then slowly looked in Amil’s direction.

Amil found himself looking right into the
creature’s haunting turquoise gaze. He remained still and held his breath.
Za’thaak didn’t appear to notice Amil while he was in his ethereal state.
Gods, do not let him spot me.

Za’thaak turned back to Vargas. “I know what you desire,”
he continued. The same thing most mortals desire: recognition, power, control.
You are tired of being a servant to the world, and yearn to be the master. That
opportunity will come sooner than you think. But first ...”—his upper lip
curled again—“the
Firebrand
must be found and dealt with. He has
deceived you and the rest of your clergymembers. But most of all, he has
deceived m—
Ignis.
He is not worthy of such a sacred power. Once a
flickering flame, he will soon be extinguished—forever.”

“Yes ... Yes ...” Vargas mumbled thoughtfully. “I
just ... I would have never thought that—”

“Of course not, mortal. And that is why this must
be done as swiftly as possible before he claims more victims—like the ones he
claimed in Easthaven.”

Vargas scowled. “Yes, all those poor children ...
Very well, I will try again. But I will need a day’s rest to clear my mind
again so that I can concentrate on my meditations.”

“We do not have a day to waste idling about!” the
afriti roared, his turquoise eyes flaring into light blue flames before
returning to normal again, and the magma pools bubbled over, echoing the
creature’s rage. Magma streamed around the afriti’s bare feet, stopping just
short of Vargas’s boots and searing the hem of his robe.

Vargas’s eyes widened. He covered his nose and
mouth and jumped back, quickly patting the smoldering fabric. “Damn it,
Za’thaak! Then why don’t you scry for the boy yourself?” he yelled, glaring at
the afriti.

Za’thaak’s demeanor calmed, and the magma began to
recede. “I would, but he is a Firebrand, and I, a creature of the Realm of
Fire. He would easily detect that I am watching him.”

“Then it seems that waiting is your only option.
Surely a day will not make much difference.”

“Perhaps it may be insignificant for you and your
pathetic mortal cycles, but time flows much differently for our kind.” Za’thaak
thought for a moment. “I suppose in the meantime, you can handle that small
matter in Zebi. Tachus Beshara owes you your freedom from his service, does he
not? And once that is done, we will let the Beshara and Batsuyou destroy each
other. It is time you broke all ties with them. Erase your name from their
minds.”

Vargas nodded. “That sounds a little more reasonable.”

“Very well. Let us go.” Za’thaak suddenly burst
into flames which encompassed Vargas, then disappeared. Vargas’s body smoldered
but otherwise appeared uninjured.

Vargas grunted, his body twitching from the
afriti’s possession, then he straightened, breathing rapidly. Holding his
chest, he fought to catch his breath. He gazed in Amil’s direction again, and
his sinister-looking eyes narrowed.

“I
thought
I smelled a tresspasser,” Vargas
said in a voice that wasn’t quite his own. He lifted his fist, which began to
glow orange.

Amil quickly flew around behind Vargas. “Why are
you doing this? Why are you serving that creature?”

Vargas spun around, and the glow around his hand intensified
to bright flames. “I serve ... Almighty Ignis.” As he spoke, his voice shifted from
his own to something more sinister.

“A follower of Ignis, indeed.” Amil huffed. “He
would have you destroyed for this insolence. Perhaps it is just as well that my
nephew will come and find you and put an end to this nonsense.”

“Enough!” Vargas hurled a fireball at Amil.

Amil soared up toward the ceiling, away from the incoming
attack.

“This will not end well for you, conspiring to
kill a true servant of the Firelord.”

Vargas placed a finger to his temple and closed
his eyes. Amil’s head pounded with excrutiating pain. He squeezed his temples,
crying out. Looking down, he could see his body disappear and reappear out of its
ethereal state, and he felt himself slip in and out of consciousness. An image
of Za’thaak materialized in his mind.

“You think I am not aware of your presence, mortal?”
Za’thaak spoke.
“You think you can stop what has already been set in motion?
You will suffer, just like him. You will not interfere!”

I am no follower of Ignis, but I know you are
not Him,
Amil answered mentally as he tried to bear the pain.

Za’thaak chuckled and replied,
“I am Wrath. I
am Chaos. I am the Flames of Destruction!”

Amil fought to sever the mental link and focused
his eyes on Vargas again, but the afriti’s grip on his mind held fast. Amil had
had enough. Seen enough. Heard enough. “This is not over, Vargas,” he said,
trying to focus his mind on the sands he had seen above ground, but Za’thaak’s
presence dragged him back.

“No, it is
not
over.”

The pain worsened. Amil grimaced. His heart pounded,
and the strength ebbed from his mind and body. He had to get back quickly, lest
he be sundered from his body forever. He chanted a phrase, and five long purple
whips of light extended from his fingers toward Vargas. They seized Vargas,
wrapping around his body like glowing ropes.

Vargas’s hand glowed as though he were about to
summon another fireball, but the glow winked out as the purplish ropes
constricted around him. He cried out and struggled, trying to break free.

Amil heard Za’thaak roar in his mind, but the
afriti’s presence left. In that brief moment of clarity, Amil whisked himself
away from the cavern and back up toward the surface, not looking back. Streams
of curses echoed throughout the caverns. As soon as Amil emerged from the
ground and saw the golden sands once more, he blacked out.

* * *

Kaijin and the others waited quietly in the summoning
chamber while the
shak’ha
worked his spell. Occasionally he glanced
around at his friends, who ogled the bright, fantastic magic transpiring at the
top of the stairs. Even Nester stared wide-eyed, mouth agape, apparently more
intrigued at the magic than he was of scouring the barren chamber for forgotten
treasures.

Within the runic circle, the
shak’ha
suddenly gasped and his body spasmed. The two attendants who had been standing
on the outer edge of the circle rushed to hold Amil still, and Omari tore away
from Kaijin and the others and scrambled up the stairs to the platform.

“Omari! Wait!” Kaijin called, running after him.

“Omari! Kaijin!” Jarial yelled.

Kaijin halted and looked back at his master, but
he heard Omari rush on.

Growling in frustration, Jarial extended his hand
toward the stairs. “
Hold!
” he cried.

Kaijin turned and noticed Omari, who was only a
few steps away from the top, frozen in mid-stride.