Firebrand (14 page)

The guard stepped back and exchanged glances with his comrades before sending the two mages off with a wave of his hand. “Very well, gentlemen. Thank you for your time. Good day.”

Jarial walked with hasty steps through the busy streets without stopping. He glanced over his shoulder at Kaijin to ensure he was not lagging behind.

Puzzlement and confusion etched Kaijin’s face as he followed in silence.

Jarial reached the doorstep of the cottage and gripped the handle of the front door. He waited for Kaijin to approach before glancing over his shoulder at him. “Kaijin, there is some ... unfinished business I need to tend to. Go inside, and resume your studies. I will return later.”

Kaijin’s brow arched. “Master?”

“Do not argue with me, boy.” Jarial released the handle and stepped aside to let Kaijin pass. “I am rather exhausted.”

Scowling, Kaijin proceeded to the door. He cast a brief glance at his master before going inside.

For a moment, Jarial stood in silence, staring thoughtfully at the closed door.
I can’t believe it—undead this close to the city!
He turned away from the door and traversed the busy streets once more, searching helplessly for answers.

All afternoon, Kaijin remained locked away in his room, engrossed in his books. Still unnerved by the day’s events, however, he found it difficult to concentrate. Even Miele echoed Kaijin’s distress as she fluttered about the rafters, letting out soft shrieks of concern for him. Kaijin skimmed the yellowed pages of his thick spellbook until his thoughts drifted to his master.

He’s such a man of mystery with his own hidden agenda.
He smiled.
One can’t help adoring and respecting a man like that.

The sun faded behind the evening clouds rolling in the cerulean sky. Kaijin looked up from his book as the natural light was blotted out. He felt a painful twinge in his mind and winced.

Miele stirred above him, screeching irritably.

Kaijin marked his place in the book and stared up at his restless familiar. During the ten years the two of them had been bound, Kaijin had never experienced such distress from her. His concern heightened when she showed no signs of calming down.

The room darkened at an unnatural rate. Startled, Kaijin sprang from his chair and peered out the window. Dark clouds loomed in the sky, cloaking the city in menacing shadows as though a massive storm approached.

At Kaijin’s summons, Miele fluttered down from the rafters and rested on his shoulder. He gave her a comforting, loving rub on her furry head and smiled. “It’s all right, Miele. Just a small thunderstorm.”

Miele never ceased her irritable cries.

The air shifted, growing cold and stagnant. The bitter smell tied Kaijin’s stomach in knots. Just a storm, he kept telling himself, despite the fact he neither heard thunder, saw lightning, nor smelled approaching rain. In the far eastern portion of the city, an unusual black fog loomed and obscured the district. Kaijin pursed his lips and reluctantly turned away from the window.

“How strange,” he murmured, feeling his heart pounding. “Where is Master Jarial?”

His ears tuned into the sounds of screams. Moments later, he felt a small, startling tremor at his feet. Gazing back out the window, Kaijin studied the black fog in the distance and sensed a small magical presence.

Kaijin regarded his familiar again. “That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?” He stroked her back.

Miele screeched and flew back up to the shadowy rafters.

Startled, Kaijin called to her. He heard the front door slam downstairs followed by the sounds of shuffling feet. A relieved sigh escaped Kaijin’s lips, and he rushed downstairs. He searched the rooms until he stood at the doorway of Jarial’s study. Kaijin saw the familiar shadow of his master’s lean form moving around the candlelit room and heard the sounds of small objects being moved. Poking his head in the room, Kaijin discovered Jarial hastily gathering potions and spell components and organizing them in his pouches. Kaijin blinked when he noticed that the ‘emergency’ potion atop the bookcase was gone.

“M–Master?” Kaijin slowly approached the man.

Jarial paused and peered over his shoulder, frowning. “War ... We are at war,” he muttered, resuming his work. “As I feared, the city has been breached.”

Kaijin pondered his master’s words. He found himself clutching the fiery symbol at his neck. “No, this can’t be happening. I ... I must find my family, and make sure they are safe.”

“No.” Jarial secured his pouches and brushed past Kaijin. “I told him not to return. Now the spirits have come, and they are restless beyond reason. They are searching for him—searching to feast upon the source of his power. I know he is here somewhere.”

Kaijin tilted his head. “Who?”

Jarial grumbled, ignoring Kaijin’s question. “They’re going to continue claiming innocent lives while that coward hides.” He gestured at Kaijin. “Come, now. We must help salvage what is left of Easthaven before the undead claim it.”

Kaijin’s felt his face pale. He unclasped his fingers from the golden symbol and stared at his master in horror. “What? We’re going to fight an entire army of undead?”

“No.” Jarial adorned his fingers with several rings, each of which emitted its own magical glow. “The source of the problem must be found and destroyed. Xavorin is a necromancer, a betrayer of the Art—also known as a renegade. Renegades are powerful, dangerous people. They have mastered the Art and use it with ill-intent. Xavorin’s presence—his very existence—endangers us all. The spirits will not relent until they have acquired him.”

“Xavorin?” Kaijin blinked, shocked. “But, he is your friend.”

“He is not my friend,” Jarial sneered at him. “The Xavorin I once knew died the day he chose to pursue the Forbidden Art. That was many, many years ago, long before you were even a spark in your father’s eye. This man—this necromancer—must be stopped.”

“But—!”

“Don’t argue with me, boy! You will do as I say!”

Kaijin shut his mouth, lips pursed, and he watched Jarial finish equipping himself for battle.
What does he expect me to do?
“I’ve nothing to prepare other than my spells, Master.”

“You’ve got a dagger, don’t you?” Jarial walked toward the exit. “A silver one, to boot.”

“Of—of course....” Kaijin thought it strange for Jarial to acknowledge the only simple piece of equipment he stored in his trunk. “But, surely, Master, it’s not—”

“Believe me, Kaijin, you will find more use for that simple blade than you think.” Jarial retrieved his own sheathed silver dagger from a nearby table, secured it at his belt, and walked out.

Kaijin followed him, calling in a trembling voice, “Master! Are you ... Are you going to ... kill Xavorin?”

Jarial entered the front room and regarded Kaijin. A hint of sadness entered his flustered expression. “I am left with no choice, Kaijin. There is too much chaos—too much death. Part of me regrets not having done this sooner.” He spoke firmly. “Xavorin must die.”

Sable meowed from the chair in which she was curled up. Upon seeing her master, she leapt from the cushion and padded over to him. She purred nervously and rubbed her body against his calves.

Jarial knelt down, picked his familiar up in his arms, and spoke calming words to her. “Stay and watch the house. Keep Miele safe.”

Sable understood his commands, but her ears twitched. She wriggled free from his arms and ran out of the room, keeping her body low to the ground as though the noise greatly disturbed her.

Jarial sighed and said to Kaijin, “Prepare yourself, and meet me outside.”

By the time Kaijin opened his mouth to protest, Jarial was already gone, shutting the front door behind him. Sighing, Kaijin hurried upstairs to his room.

“What does Master Jarial have planned to fight against these creatures?” he muttered while he rummaged through the chest at the foot of his bed. He found his dagger buried at the very bottom, beneath a collection of books. He took a moment to unsheathe the weapon and study the silver blade which still glistened like new. The small dagger had remained unused since he’d acquired it at the age of fifteen. He wasn’t even sure why he had even bought the thing—perhaps, at the time, it looked like an interesting collector’s item—but part of him was glad to have it. He sheathed the weapon and tied it to his belt, along with his spell pouch. He packed his spellbook in his leather haversack and slung it across his body.

Kaijin peered up at the rafters and spotted his familiar’s moving shadow. Her restlessness unnerved him. “Don’t worry, Miele. I’ll be back soon, I promise. Be good while I’m gone, and keep Sable safe.”

She responded with a series of small, timid shrieks. Her body shivered, and she showed no sign of relaxing.

Kaijin sighed, trying to remain optimistic. He found it difficult to leave the room knowing Miele was so distressed. As he walked to the door, his head started to hurt. The further he drew from her, the more the pain increased. He closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing forehead, groaning.

“Miele,” he said weakly. “I do not want to risk you getting harmed. For now, this is the safest place for you—away from those horrid creatures. I must go now. Please ... No more pain. Let me ... leave ... Master Jarial is waiting.”

He could sense her reluctance, but the pain gradually ebbed. His head no longer pounded; and he found himself able to focus again. He cast his familiar a thankful smile before taking his leave.

Jarial stood in the chaos-ridden streets, witnessing the commotion of battle all around him. Guards bustled about, escorting injured citizens to safety, while others rushed through the districts, joining in the fight against the undead.

The creatures were plentiful, and some were armed with weapons they’d taken from the fallen. Others bore natural weapons on their bodies. Some clawed at their victims with hook-like hands, like a scythe cutting through shafts of wheat. The larger creatures, which easily towered over an average man, bore serrated, sword-like arms, which they used to strike and parry the guards’ incoming blows.

Jarial felt a chill wind penetrate his skin as the black fog continued blanketing the city, carrying with it the stench of death. Softly, he chanted, and a translucent, violet shield enveloped him. He waited for Kaijin, his patience growing thin. He observed a battle in a nearby street in which two guards flanked an animated corpse of woman who had most likely fallen victim to the creatures’ evil taint. One of the guards cut her down with his axe and yanked the weapon out of her back.

Jarial growled under his breath.
Xavorin, I pray to Celestra that you are not responsible for this.

As Kaijin left the house, his eyes and ears became attuned to the chaos. Instinctively, he clutched his holy symbol and felt its throbbing heat. His mouth went dry from the wave of fear that rushed through his body. His feet were like stone as he took slow steps toward Jarial.

“Master, where and how do we find him?”

Jarial spun around, glaring at him. “Xavorin is my problem. Go assist the guards and citizens fending off the waves of undead that are pouring into the city.”

“But—” Before Kaijin could say anything more, Jarial had started for the northern district.

Kaijin frowned and surveyed the area. Debris was strewn about the cobbled, blood-spattered streets. He wrinkled his nose when the winds picked up, bearing the fetid stench of corpses rotting faster than usual. As Kaijin trudged along, following the unpleasant trail, the area became less-populated. People scrambled about in fear for their lives. He had hoped the city’s casualties were few, but the grim sights of blood and severed limbs cluttering the streets coupled with the sounds of clashing steel, ripping flesh, and the screams of men, women, and children left a helpless shroud of doubt in his mind.

Kaijin managed to keep his composure as he snaked the streets. His steps slowed to a halt when he discovered a battle in front of a shop that had been reduced to smoldering rubble. A group of five guards confronted a creature, similar to the one Kaijin had encountered in the fields. The guards fought with large steel swords, some imbued with magic. The monster was outnumbered, and the battle was short-lived. One of the enchanted blades penetrated the beast’s armor and cleaved effortlessly through its skin. The monster was destroyed after several repeated strikes. The remains that fluttered to the ground were nothing more than shreds of torn, rotting flesh and aged, tattered clothing turning to dust.

Kaijin gawked at the sight. He sensed strong magic not just from the fallen monster, but the guards as well.
Their blades ... There’s something awfully familiar about that enchantment. It’s magic, but not anything I’ve ever seen. Why can’t I figure it out?
He scratched the back of his head.
Could that be how I was able to defeat the revenant?

While Kaijin was lost in his thoughts, the commanding guard of the small group called out to him. “You there, young man! What is your name?”

Kaijin snapped from his brief trance and saw the stocky guard beckoning him closer. Kaijin hastened over and acknowledged the guards before turning back to the commander and replying, “It’s Kaijin, sir. Kaijin Sora.”

The older man inspected Kaijin and raised a bushy, grey brow. “Sora?” he repeated. “Ah, so you must be—”

The commander’s words were silenced when another guard in blood-covered armor, came rushing at the group, his eyes fear-ridden. “Sir! More undead are breaching the northern gates! We need reinforcements!” He took a moment to catch his breath.

Ignoring the newcomer’s grim message, Kaijin’s eyes remained locked on the commander.

The commander turned back to Kaijin. “You ever wrestled with the undead before, Kaijin?”

Kaijin opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and considered his words carefully before replying. “Ah, define ‘wrestled,’ sir.”

The commander blinked. “Can you fight?”

Kaijin nodded slightly. “I think so, sir.”