Lesson of the Fire (14 page)

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Authors: Eric Zawadzki

Tags: #magic, #fire, #swamp, #epic fantasy, #wizard, #mundane, #fantasy about a wizard, #stand alone, #fantasy about magic, #magocracy, #magocrat, #mapmaker

BOOK: Lesson of the Fire
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A new figure practically ran into the space
between Sven and the gathering mob. “Enough!” he shouted in a voice
clearly used to command.

It was Erbark, and Sven
practically wept.
He was my closest
friend, and I didn’t even recognize his face!

The townsfolk hesitated. “Back to your
homes, all of you,” Erbark ordered.

“But the mayor,” a young man murmured. It
was a voice Sven couldn’t place, probably because it had belonged
to a child when he had left Rustiford.

“I’ll talk to her. Sven’s not makin’ trouble
if he’s with me.”

“Erbark,” Sven breathed.

“I knew you’d be back,” Erbark said back,
drawing Sven away from the crowd. “I have some soup.”

“Thank you.”

The taste of Erbark’s soup brought back more
old memories — rabbit and wild rice with too much laurita, though
Lori had always preferred it to Sven’s. Sven stared into the fire
as he ate.

“I’m sorry for how they treated you,” Erbark
said as the spoon scraped the bowl. “Sorry about your dad, too. We
lost a lot of good folk i’that war, but he was the best.”

Sven swallowed hard. He still couldn’t quite
believe it. He hadn’t seen his father in eight years. Numbly, he
spoke. “Thanks, Erbark.” With more energy he asked, “Who’s mayor
now?”

“Brita Ochregut took charge after Pitt died.
She’s Elder, too.”

Sven sucked breath. “What happened to
Sveld?”

Erbark shrugged and shook his head. “Sveld
was old, Sven, as Elders tend to be. He caught Seruvus’ Breath
three winters ago. There was nothin’ we could do.”

Sven’s eyes filled with tears as he listened
to Rustiford being slowly annihilated by his absence. “Lori?
Hauk?”

“Hauk’s blacksmith now. Thorhall died i’the
ravit war, too.” Erbark paused, as though remembering some lost
emotion. “Lori married Olver Winbrak.”

Sven’s jaw dropped. “Ugly Olver? You’re
kidding me!”

“They’ve three sons an’ another kid on the
way. Haki, Horik and Hrafn.”

Sven still couldn’t believe it. “She chose
Ugly Olver over you? Perhaps we misjudged the strength of her
sense.”

Erbark’s eyes became distant with
regret.

Sven changed the subject. “And what’ve you
been doing with yourself? I see folks finally listen to you.”

“I was a scout i’the ravit war.” Erbark’s
voice grew stronger as he spoke. “People thought I was crazy as a
mapmaker volunteerin’ for that, but then I kept comin’ back alive.
Killed a couple gobbels, too, three years back. No idea what they
were doin’ so far south.”

“Sounds like you’re halfway to your own
star,” Sven said, relieved that his friend did not dwell on Lori
too much. He sobered. “It’s probably good that you stayed here. I
would’ve been useless in any kind of ravit war.”

Erbark fixed Sven with a serious expression.
“I never forgot that you went with Nightfire instead of me. You
didn’t even ask.”

“You would have refused. I know you.” Sven
looked at the door. “What exactly happened here? Why does everyone
act like they want to murder me?”

“Brand happened.” Erbark sighed heavily.
“I’m sure he meant well, but comin’ back here an’ tellin’ Pitt
what’s what an’ how to run the town was a mistake. Talkin’ about
turnin’ Rustiford into some kin’ of school, which seemed
interestin’. I saw him usin’ magic to haul stuff, which seemed
awful useful. But not everyone wanted to go to his readin’
lessons.”

Sven remembered Nighfire’s
final words before he had left the Academy.
Do as I do. Help the ones who want your help. Enlighten those
who seek enlightenment. Help those who can be helped, or you will
merely end up wasting a lot of time fighting a losing battle
against someone’s comfortable ignorance. One at a time, Sven. Bring
enlightenment to one person at a time.

“But then he had to go pick a fight with the
ravits after that one little skirmish. Dragged us into a war, which
is how we lost Pitt an’ a lot of others. Then Tosti came back
wearin’ green, and he was even worse. Burned another man with magic
for lookin’ at the girl he had an eye on. He an’ Brand had a big
magic fight that burned down five houses an’ killed six people,
includin’ Tosti.”

Nightfire’s warning made
more sense now.
He knew about this, but he
didn’t tell me. He knew I’d want to see for myself.

“Brita said she’d had enough, an’ she told
Brand to leave,” Erbark continued. “I think they would’ve killed
Floki the next year if he’d come back a wizard. Thank Sendala he
didn’t. Greta, though. It’s terrible what happened to her, an’ she
left right after. We banished th’one who did it, but that’s not
likely comfort to her wherever she en’ed up. Probably dead — she
was headed right into ravit territory.”

Sven’s eyes went wide. “But she wasn’t even
a wizard.”

Erbark spat into the fire. “No. Otherwise,
he wouldn’t have dared try it.”

“What about the others?” Sven’s voice shook.
“Eda, Horsa?”

“Came an’ went. Eda was mad, of course.
Knocked out a few teeth before she left. Horsa, though, said
somethin’ about an omen an’ walked back into the swamp like none of
it mattered. Have you seen Katla? I wasn’t here when she came
back.”

Sven nodded. “She’s still at the Academy,
teaching. I take it Brita welcomed Finn back?”

Erbark grimaced. “Yeah, but a lot of folks
weren’t so keen on th’idea. They wouldn’t have let him stay if he’d
been a wizard or if his mother wasn’t mayor. That’s for sure.”

“And that goes for me, too, doesn’t it?”

“It’s stupid, but yes. People still remem’er
Tosti an’ the Flasten slavers were wizards. Why’d you come
back?”

Sven managed a bitter laugh. “To teach
people to read and maybe one day to use magic.”

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe find some other town
out there where they’re not afraid of wizards and teach them?”

“I’m goin’ with you.”

Sven looked at his friend but said
nothing.

“Even if I don’t owe you my life because you
went with Nightfire, a lot of other folks here do because they’d be
dead if I’d gone with him. So Rustiford owes you a slave. That’s
how it works, right?”

“I’m not going to make you my slave,
Erbark,” Sven said, appalled.

“Then teach me, an’ I’ll go wherever you
go.”

“Rustiford needs you more than I do. You
said yourself.”

“There’s always new heroes. Marrish made the
world that way. But you need someone to talk at, Sven, or you’ll be
talkin’ at ravits before the month is out.”

Sven looked at his friend’s curious eyes and
saw himself. His hometown had been poisoned against wizards,
possibly forever. He’d have to start somewhere else.

“I’d be proud to have you as my apprentice,
Erbark, and glad for your company.”

One at a time.

 

 

 

Chapter 12


Seruvus, the Mar god of water, is the
only member of the pantheon who is considered omniscient, as water
is everywhere in Marrishland. For each Mar Dinah’s Curse kills in
violation of the Bald Goddess’s promise, she is condemned to serve
Seruvus for another eight years. To this day, Dinah still bows to
the whims of the Oathbinder, which is why any found to have broken
their promises are taken as slaves for eight years by the
magocrats.”

— Weard Olga Fydelis,

Mar Legends

When Sven woke, the fire had almost gone
out. He coughed behind his hand, and someone placed a cup of water
on a small table next to him. He looked up, but Erbark was already
headed to the fire, reaching for two logs.

“Pondr told me you wanted to see me,” Erbark
said as he used Power to split and crack the logs in the fire. Two
more logs, and the fire regained its former heat.

Sven drank the water gladly, his throat dry
from coughing.

A magocrat would never have fed the fire
fuel slowly. A wizard would have placed all the logs on and then
started the fire, which would have burned too hot to make the fuel
last.

Erbark was watching Sven, who
straightened.

“I fell asleep,” he said, because there
wasn’t much else to say.

Erbark nodded.

“I did not summon you, but the Traveller
must have known I would want to talk to you when I woke up.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me about my return to Rustiford. He
reminded me that I wanted to educate the Mar, that I had to start
one by one.”

“He opposes your amendment.”

“It is necessary, Erbark, and you know it.
You know the state of our wizards and how this war with Flasten
will exhaust their patience.” He coughed again. “And what I must do
after that could take decades to bear any fruit. I am a powerful
wizard, but even I can’t hold the Chair forever.”

Erbark poured himself a glass of water and
drank it. Sven stared at the fire, his mind working.

The sleep was good for me.

“You’re not a magocrat, Sven,” Erbark said
after a minute.

“What is that?”

“You’re a teacher.”

“Please do not test me, Erbark.”

His friend dug in. “Remember when we left
Rustiford? Remember Zerst, the first time? You just wanted to
teach. To protect them long enough for them to learn to protect
themselves. But even though they owed you their lives, you let them
choose whether to accept you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Nightfire didn’t make Rustiford give him
slaves. We did it because he helped us when we couldn’t help
ourselves. We thought we were paying him back, but he turned our
tribute into a gift and gave it back to us. Even then, you didn’t
have to become his apprentice.”

“What does this have to do with … ”

“I left Rustiford because you wanted to
teach. And you didn’t care who you taught, just as long as they
wanted to learn. People owed you their lives, and you didn’t demand
anything from them in return.”

Suddenly Sven knew. He spoke in a tight
voice. “Those magocrats owe me their fealty. They could have left
the Duxy of Domus if they had chosen. No oath binds you, Erbark. Do
you want to end your service to me?”

Erbark shook his head. “Of course not. I’m
just remembering how we started this.”

Sven stared back at the
fire. The Traveller’s story was still fresh in his mind, burned in
by voice and sleep.
And leaving Rustiford?
Where did I go?

* * *

Sven and Erbark headed northwest through the
swamps surrounding Rustiford. Within a nine-day span, the heavy
overgrowth of the swamps began to give way to the rolling wetlands
of the Morden Moors.

While the swamp had presented its own
dangers, the wide wetlands ahead of them had completely different
ones. Quicksand and sinkholes were more common on the moors, and
grass and sedges often concealed such hazards. Not to mention
trudging through knee-deep water filled with leeches and burrowing
konig worms and tainted with Dinah’s Curse.

They trekked a half-day back to find a tree
to build a canoe from, but that would only solve some of their
problems. They needed to find dry ground to sleep and repair their
canoe on. There was no wood to burn, and peat would have taken too
long to dry out. But they needed fire to boil water so they could
drink and eat, even if fire would draw any Drake for miles like a
mapmaker to uncharted territory.

It took them several days to adjust to this
new environment. Frequently the water was too shallow to canoe in.
Erbark’s spear and javelins provided the majority of their food,
though the warrior found it more difficult to stalk his prey in the
absence of cover. Crouching made for slow movement, and Erbark
dared not risk Dinah’s Curse by crawling. Sven’s limited study of
botany helped him supplement their diet with a few berries he knew
to be safe to eat, and fire fueled by Energy cooked everything.

Each night they ate their dinner, said their
prayers and slept lightly on the moors. On the ninth day, they
spotted a tall hill amid the surrounding wetlands. Sven and Erbark
paddled to the hill eagerly, reaching it before darkness fell.

“We’ll be really dry tonight,” Erbark
said.

As if Seruvus had a sense of humor, the sky
erupted in one of Marrish’s famous summer storms, which drenched
them and nearly washed them off the hilltop. Sven was thankful they
had not been struck by a bolt of lightning during the tempest.

“We’re lucky,” Erbark said cheerily, when
the thunder and wind had finally abated.

Sven joined him at the edge of the camp. The
surrounding moorland had been submerged by the deluge, only the
tops of the sedges betraying the presence of land below.

“Maybe it’ll recede by morning,” Sven
suggested, not really believing it.

He was not in the least bit surprised when
they discovered the water had not soaked into the saturated ground
by sunrise. The pair gathered up their wet possessions and prepared
to delve into the shallow pond at the foot of the hill when Erbark
pointed excitedly.

“Look. Smoke.”

Sven followed Erbark’s eyes until he saw the
pillar of smoke rising out of the moors to the west.

“A town?” Erbark guessed.

“Possibly. This is what we’ve been looking
for.” Sven squinted. Something was moving through the moors,
heading for the pillar of smoke. Several somethings. “Looks like we
didn’t find them first.”

Erbark gasped. “Gobbels. We’ve got to help
them.” He scrambled down the hill.

“We’ve got to be careful, Erbark. We’re
still on the moors. And now all the quicksand and sinkholes are
hidden underwater. They must be a good league away.”

Erbark gestured to the canoe. “Now it’s
easier, Sven. Let’s get movin’. There’re people who need our help
quickly.”

Sven struggled to keep up with Erbark’s
paddling. Waves of water splashed before them as their canoe
crossed the submerged moorlands. As they approached the town, the
ground grew firmer, and they leapt from the canoe. Sven could see
the town walls clearly as they jogged forward.

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