Firebrand

Winter followed harvest. Before the cold winds would blow, bringing snow with them, Henry spent as many hours as he could improving the paths across the mountains, shortening the journey to their new allies, though the frost came before he could finish; even Cornelia accompanying him could not tame the fury of winter so high among the peaks, and they eventually turned back, leaving the remainder of the task for when spring came and opened up the passages once more.

With harsh winds blowing, travel trickled to a halt. No Tyrians could reach them, nor would ships arrive from Morcaster before the thaw. Their southern neighbours, never arriving in large numbers on the best of days, came a few at a time and only in desperate need; with the Tyrians gone, none of the Khivan traders had interest in crossing the frozen border.

The changing of the season did not affect Martel particularly. He had his workshop by the infirmary, unaffected by the cold or the weather. His main pursuit was the construction and enchantment of lightstones that would allow communication across vast distances, aiming to have cracked it by the time Henry could complete the road to Tyria. If ready beforehand, the system could be put into place for the border guards and also the small settlement in the mountains by the iron mines.

Tinkering with this took up most of Martel’s days; he ate lunch with Maximilian in the infirmary, occasionally lending a hand to provide enchantments and his fire magic when needed, and at the end of the day, he went home for supper with Eleanor, who for all purposes acted as the magistrate of the city. And whenever Martel thought about it, he felt happy; more than that, he felt content.

One morning, when the first meltwater had begun to flow from the mountains, Martel was approached by Padmani on his way to his workshop. “Master Martel, may we speak?”

“Of course. Walk with me.” Together, they moved towards the infirmary and Martel’s little laboratory. “Regarding what?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to use my magic and made my observations. I think it’s born fruit.”

“Excellent news.” If this was true, and the process of magic sterilisation could be reversed, it opened the door for other Khivan recruits. “What have you observed?”

“Nothing impressive,” Padmani admitted. “No pillars of fire or anything. It’s mostly happened when I was tired and not thinking. For instance, I sat underneath a tree and looked up at a branch, just idly imagining that I might grab it and pull it. Suddenly, I saw it sway towards me, though not a wind stirred.”

“Very well. Anything else?” “Minor events I didn’t feel comfortable bothering you with. The branch was the first that truly felt like magic.”

“Tell me of them regardless.” They passed through the doors to the infirmary; Martel gave a nod to Beaver, who helped Maximilian with practical matters around the sick ward and tending to the patients.

“I pulled water from the fountain for washing, and as I felt how cold it was, I wished it were warmer. When I poured the rest of it over me, it was no longer freezing, but lukewarm.”

“I see.” They entered Martel’s workshop, where countless items, enchanted or waiting to be, lay scattered, along with a large piece of glass for focusing light beams. “Anything else?”

“I was having trouble starting a fire one evening, as my tinder had become wet. Still, as it was freezing, I kept trying, growing more frustrated. Suddenly, as I struck the flint, the tinder ignited all at once, much faster than if it had just caught a spark.” The Khivan looked at the mage with anxious eyes. “Do you think I’m imagining it?”

“I think it’s worth exploring. Assuming it’s time, the question is in which direction to steer your dormant magic. It doesn’t sound like your talent has a strong predilection for one element or another.” Martel gave him a scrutinising look. “If you could choose, what kind of magic would you prefer?”

“Well, as impressive as I’ve always found your powers, Master Martel, I’ve admired Mistress Cornelia and her work bringing water to the city and irrigation for the fields.”

Martel nodded. “Water is essential for life, and another watermage will certainly be beneficial. Especially if we can bend your skills to more peaceful purposes than a frostmage. I’ll speak to Cornelia about training with you.”

Padmani smiled. “Thank you, Master Martel, for giving my dreams a chance to come true.”

“That is why we made this place.”

Going from one workshop to another, Martel stuck his head inside Henry’s domain, where the earthmage worked to prepare the rocks that the firemage used for his enchanting. Next to him, Sparrow was carving a small bird using only her hands and her magic as tools. She wore boy’s clothing with her hair cut short, all of it practical and little different from when she had lived in Morcaster; the main difference was the bright look in her eyes, the fullness of her ruddy cheeks, and the absence of furtive glances and a suspicious countenance, as she sat absorbed into her work.

“Master Martel. To what do we owe the honour?” Both stonemages looked at their visitor.

“I should like to speak with your apprentice if you can spare her for a few moments.”

“Unexpected, but I’ll allow it,” Henry remarked, his casual demeanour showing his words to be meant playfully. “Make sure you bring her back in one piece.”

Hesitant, Sparrow set her work aside and got up to follow Martel outside. “Am I in trouble?”

“Nothing like it. I simply wish to talk to you about your magical education.” They began walking down the street. Less than one-tenth of the city’s size was currently occupied, which could be felt by the absence of neighbours; Henry had chosen a less inhabited district for his own home, preferring the quietude for his work.

“My what? Oh, me learning magic?”

“Yes. It’s quite different from how the rest of us learned it, at the school in Morcaster, taking classes. How has it been learning directly under Henry’s tutelage?”

“It’s been great! I’ve learned so much from him! He even lets me work on my own now,” she declared proudly. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ NoveI-Fire.ɴet

“You’ve come far in the years since you’ve joined us.”

“I really think so. Is that what this is about?”

“Not you personally, but the structure of your training.”

“Because Master Henry is great,” Sparrow declared forcefully. “He’s kind and smart. He deserves a reward.”

“I’m sure teaching you is its own reward.” Martel smiled. “Let’s turn back. That’s all I needed to know.” They did as said, going back down the street. Despite his declaration, Martel nonetheless asked another question. “Do you feel you made the right choice, then? Leaving Morcaster for Archen?”

“It was scary, but I think so. I’m using magic to make things I never could have imagined. I’m making a stone sparrow right now to decorate Master Henry’s home.” The girl, less than eighteen years of age, beamed with pride.

“There you are. Sounds like Henry is getting all the rewards he needs.”