Renouncer of the Flame

By J. R. Copeland

When land and food become scarce in Kairael, the country's aging ruler tries desperately to provide for his people while maintaining the peace at a cost not even he can predict. Not only are bandits violently expanding with magical aid, the neighboring countries are in chaos, pirates are on the loose, and the kaiser’s health is failing. The fate of the country rests on the shoulders of the rightful heir – and the exile who wants nothing more than to train others in the art of swordplay and to be left in peace.

In forty days, all paths will converge. In forty days, the dragons will stir . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. R. Copeland
• Release date: Oct 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781943588114

Book preview

Prologue

YOU’RE GOING TO die, Cassandra.

The boy’s words slithered their way into her ears from a point of origin she could not discover, softly and gently, as if a matter of plain fact not to be feared or disputed. No matter where she ran or hid, his words always found her, with taunts so real, so immediate, she could swear each time he was standing right beside her. A few times she had pulled her sword and spun round to strike, only to find herself alone. Despite the childlike tone of the boy’s words, she knew him to be anything but innocent.

You’ll never escape. Why not face your end with dignity?

Captain Cassandra Blair studied the massive rough-barked pines surrounding her, trying to ascertain how the boy could be so stealthily tracking her and in heavy rain no less. Less than an hour ago dignity had come easy as she walked the early morning streets of Barditch, a decorated guard captain trusted by citizens and soldiers alike. Now there was no dignity; only a driving sense of survival.

She clenched her teeth and limped on, furious at the voice, at the bandits, at the king. For weeks the town had been fending off increasingly brazen attacks from seemingly disorganized groups of bandits. She’d sent calls for aid to the king in Lazille’s capital city. Each call was turned down. Apparently every town along the border was experiencing similar attacks. It fell to her to ensure Barditch’s safety until reinforcements could be spared.

But it hadn’t been her leadership or her soldiers that failed the town. It had been her compassion.

You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. There’s no way you could’ve seen this coming, Cassandra.

But she was ashamed. Thousands of her townspeople lay dead or dying, people who could have been saved. The bandit horde would have—should have—clashed against the town’s walls and the soldiers would’ve bought time for many to escape. Instead a single boy—a boy she had taken in, believing him to be a refugee from Rogard—had poisoned several of the guards and opened the west gate, allowing the bandit army to flood into the town. She and her soldiers were hopelessly outnumbered and Cassandra had ordered the evacuation of Barditch.

But it had been too late. Much too late.

She’d managed to cut down a handful of attackers in order to escape, sustaining several wounds that continued to bleed freely as she ran through the driving rain. Hopefully, some of her soldiers had had better luck and were fleeing to other towns. The rest of Lazille had to be warned that these bandits were anything but disorganized.

She knelt beside an enlarged root, applying a makeshift tourniquet above her elbow to slow the bleeding from her forearm. The weight of her chainmail armor and the pace added to the fatigue caused by losing too much blood. Even now she felt the treacherous need to sleep. Each time she’d tried to rest, the whispered taunts snapped her back to reality, forcing her to renew her desperate flight from the burning town behind her—and the screams of those she had failed to protect.

Rain trickled down the back of her neck as Cassandra tightened the makeshift tourniquet and grimaced. Even if she managed to properly dress her wounds, the boy would likely lead the bandits right to her, assuming he hadn’t the courage to face her himself.

Do you hear that, Cassandra? They’re almost upon you.

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder, peering at shadows, looking for attackers as she tried to work quickly and silently. Were the boy’s words only meant to torment her? Guard captain or no, why would the bandits go through such trouble to hunt her down? They had won the town decisively. Why hunt every last survivor?

She glanced up at the sound of galloping horses. There was more than one and they were headed her way. She drew in a long breath as beads of hot sweat clawed their way down her face, stinging her eyes as she quietly reached for the sword at her waist and prepared for another fight.

You’re heavily wounded, and even if you kill these two, more will come.

She rose to her feet in desperate fury. If you want my head, come down here and take it! she shouted, gripping her sword tight. Otherwise, shut your goddamn mouth, boy.

The galloping grew louder. If she were to hide, the boy—who seemed able to find her no matter where she went—would probably tell them where she was.

Cassandra drew her sword and stepped into the open, turning to face her attackers. Two lightly armored bandits raced towards her, issuing challenges and curses. They wore the same yellow tabards she had seen swarming through her town during the attack. The seal in the center was a brown falcon clutching a bag of coins, Chapa’s official seal. Chapa had been known to hire mercenaries at times, but had never organized those mercenaries into an army. She had always believed Chapa to be a country of trade and commerce. Now it seemed the country was moving to take a greater share of the continent of Endryo by force.

Whatever the greater implications of the attack, she needed to survive long enough to tell the king all she had seen.

The mounted bandits raced towards her at full speed. Cassandra looked left and right, studying her options. When the first of them began to close, she darted around a tree, standing with her sword at the ready, watching the enemy closely as he caught sight of her and yanked the reins to direct his mount toward her new position. As he passed, she dropped beneath his sword, cutting hard into his horse’s front legs. The wounded animal dove headfirst into the mud, sending its rider tumbling.

Cassandra moved to finish off the fallen rider, but stopped as the second bandit closed in. She dove aside in time to avoid the whistling swipe of his sword as he passed. She jumped back to her feet, tightening her sweaty grip on her sword as the second bandit pulled up alongside his comrade and vaulted from the saddle. Together, they headed her way.

Just accept it, Cassandra. If these two don’t kill you, the next group will. They’ll keep coming and coming until you’ve nothing left. They’ll steal all that you have, rape your body, and bleed you dry. They’ve done it countless times today already. What makes you think you’ll be any different?

She narrowed her gaze. The bandits seemed oblivious to the boy’s taunts, taunts that somehow reached only her ears. She had heard of wind weavers before—was it possible that wind magic could be used in such a way?

Just let go, Cassandra.

The bandits spread out, coming at her from both sides, and she quickly retreated, seeking to better position herself on the slippery ground. As they circled she studied their hunched-over stances, the bloodlust on their dirtied faces, their wild, lustful eyes.

She couldn’t afford to waste energy. Every breath she took filled her lungs to their capacity, yet her aching muscles and shaking limbs were a constant reminder that she wouldn’t last much longer. She had to dispatch the two of them quickly.

Cassandra decided on a strategy, feigning weak, desperate attacks. One of the bandits took the bait and stepped in clumsily. She batted the overhead attack aside and drove her sword through the man’s stomach.

She looked over the impaled man’s shoulder and saw the second bandit’s eyes go wide in surprise. She slid her sword free, recovered her stance, and prepared for the second bandit’s advance.

One down, a few thousand to go, Cassandra.

The other soldier charged violently, cursing and swinging wildly, further confirming her suspicion that these were anything but honorable, well-trained soldiers. Any other time she would’ve made short work of him, but her condition was deteriorating rapidly. The sweat that had been pouring from her face had stopped, her tongue swelled with dryness, and the sounds of her own heartbeat thundered painfully in her ears. Strike after strike, her aggressor attempted to cut her down without any semblance of skill, wearing down her defenses as her parries and blocks grew sloppy.

She had to rally before he overpowered her. She parried a wild strike aside, driving her shoulder into his sternum, shoving the man’s weight back far enough to bring her sword across his throat, laying open the man’s exposed carotid.

A fine cut, Cassandra.

She whipped around, trying to remember which way was which. She looked and listened for the horse the second bandit had left behind, but the beast was nowhere to be found. Her sword felt suddenly weighty, too heavy to lift. She focused on the screams still echoing in the distance and recovered her bearings, turning away from the screams. If she could get to Indrin in the north, they would have medical aid and horses she could borrow. Then she could get to the capital and warn the king.

As I was saying, the choice is yours. Would you like to die before or after you are raped?

Cassandra paused for a moment. The boy would need to be dealt with before she could carry on. Who are you, boy? Who are you really, I mean?

She glanced around, searching the shadows beneath the trees before turning back to the path. A boy clothed in black stood a few meters away. He wore a black hooded cloak and studied her with eyes too cold to belong to a young teenager.

The boy smirked as Cassandra tried to lift her sword and failed. He pointed at her left leg, prompting her to look down. A small throwing dagger protruded just above her knee. She stared at the dagger, puzzled by the lack of feeling in her leg. Her hands went numb and her sword thudded to the ground.

It wasn’t just fatigue—she had been poisoned.

Cassandra’s knees collapsed and she fell flat onto her face, pain exploding in her skull as the muddy earth broke her nose. Her head flopped to the left and she could see the boy’s small boots standing just within her field of vision. He knelt down beside her and was surprised by the boy’s strength as he managed to turn her over onto her back in spite of her armor.

My birth name is Layo, the boy said, his tone matter of fact. But that doesn’t matter right now. These are your final moments, Cassandra. It would be rude of me to sit here and tell you more about myself at such a time.

She coughed and snorted as blood ran down her throat. Icy raindrops stung her face. The poison had robbed her of strength, but had done nothing to dull the plethora of pains raking her from head to toe.

Cassandra narrowed her gaze to a glare. You can’t be human. Are you . . . a demon?

Layo took a seat in the mud by her side and looked her in the eye, a concerned expression on his face. How can you ask me that when I’ve just offered you a courtesy? I don’t take pleasure in any of this, but if you’re going to be rude, I’m less inclined to offer you the easy way out.

Cassandra hacked and coughed as raindrops mixed with the blood threatening to clog her throat. She swallowed weakly and managed another retort. Fuck you and your easy way out. Fight me fair, boy!

The boy chuckled, seemingly torn between feelings of annoyance and admiration. He leaned so close they were almost nose to nose. Yes, let’s fight! Fight, fight, fight! That is what we all do, isn’t it? We fight! He looked back towards the town he’d helped destroy. You’re not the first person I’ve killed or seen killed, Cassandra. There have been many.

Cassandra swallowed again. Tears of fury and frustration burned in her eyes. The feeling wasn’t returning to her limbs fast enough to act. She was at the boy’s mercy and eyes that cold weren’t capable granting such a thing as mercy. A tear escaped, trickling down her temple.

Layo touched the tear with his finger, then studied the dampness mingling with the rain. Do you want to know what I’ve learned from all the people I’ve killed? Do you want to know what they taught me during their final moments?

He lowered his hand. Absolutely nothing. Imagine my disappointment to see time and again that people leave this world no more profound or wise than they were when they came into the world. People fight for years to survive and thrive, and then face their final moments with the same desperation, never believing that such a troublesome thing as death could ever happen to them. Especially after they worked so hard for so long.

Cassandra closed her eyes, struggling to breathe past the blood threatening to drown her. She could feel Layo watching her as she trembled in the mud, fighting to stay connected to her body, to regain control, to stand and plunge her blade into the deceitful devil boy. He reached down, removed the poisoned dagger from her leg, and cast it aside before standing once more and stepping away as quietly as he had approached. She tried to watch him leave but couldn’t tell where he had gone. You’ve known this day was coming from the beginning, Cassandra. Be the first of your kind not to be stupidly surprised.

The rain fell harder, pounding the mud all around her. Thunder rumbled and puddles splashed in unison. Nature played her private symphony as she lay shivering in the cold while her wounds continued to bleed. Her mind wandered back to the young boy—the young assassin—who had deceived her along with everyone else in Barditch. Anger welled up inside, and she felt her right hand clenching into a fist.

Cassandra opened her eyes, blinking hard against the rain. She lifted her fist and held it over her face. Whatever poison the boy had used was wearing off.

She fought to move first one foot and then the other, and then instinctively rolled onto her stomach and vomited a bloodied mess into the mud, drawing ragged breaths in between the heaves. She shook violently, but she had regained muscle control. Not enough to fight—she was barely hanging on as it was—but perhaps enough to find someplace to hide. Then she could patch up her wounds sufficiently enough to survive the night.

She glanced at the sword on the ground. It wouldn’t do her any good, she couldn’t even lift it anymore.

Her heart contracted in horror as she heard laughter approaching behind her. More bandits. She was sure of it. She rose on both arms and dragged her body through the pool of bloody vomit, looking around desperately for a place to hide.

Hope spiked in her belly as she shoved hard and pulled her knees beneath her. She crawled toward a downed log that looked impossibly far away, listening to the bloodthirsty men as they found the fallen horse and the dead bandits. A shout went up, putting an end to the laughter. They’d found her footprints, then. Footprints that had probably filled with rainwater, further giving away her position. She attempted to place a foot beneath her, but she hadn’t the strength to rise to her feet. She couldn’t run, couldn’t even walk.

She had only once chance. She halted her crawl and closed her eyes, lowering her beaten body to the ground. She lay motionless, listening to the approaching bandits and trying not to shiver. She couldn’t count their numbers based on the voices or footsteps, but there were definitely more than she could handle.

Oh, look here. This one’s a woman!

Cassandra consciously forced her body not to shiver.

Ah, she’s got some rank, I bet. Look at that armor she’s got on!

Cassandra slowed her breathing, listening to the boots splashing around her head.

Think she’s still alive?

A thicker, heavier voice responded close beside her. Dunno, lemme see if she’s breathin’.

Cassandra felt the heat of a heavy calloused hand in front of her mouth before she had the chance to discreetly take in a breath. She did her best to hold in what little air she had, holding her breath while pressing her dry crusty tongue into the roof of her mouth, as if she could lock in the air. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe, fighting to expand and take in more air. She focused on the heat of the hand in front of her face and ignored her screaming lungs.

Finally the man moved his hand away and Cassandra slowly drew in air without letting her chest or stomach expand, taking short, shallow breaths.

A more nasal voice spoke up in protest. She coulda been holdin’ her breath, ya idiot! You gotta check her neck.

A boney hand wrapped around her throat. She could feel what was left of her blood pounding as it struggled to squeeze past his grip and knew that he felt it too.

There it is. Not much, but this bitch is still alive.

Cassandra rolled over with what strength she had left and flung a handful of mud into the scrawny soldier’s eyes before he got the chance to stand back up. She got her feet underneath her, struggling to rise, but three of the bandits tackled her, slamming her back down into the mud and driving the wind out of her weakened body.

Hold the bitch down! One of the men stepped close, loosening his belt as the others snickered. The bandit knelt down by her legs with a predatory smile and tore away her armor and clothing. This feisty lil’ cunt is mine first.

Cassandra’s legs were parted as the first of many had his way with her, repeatedly thrusting while the others grabbed at various parts of her body and tore at her hair. Her cold skin screamed and crawled. As the last of her blood trickled from her wounds and her consciousness faded, Cassandra turned her head, watching as the broad green leaves of a nearby tree bent and rose, releasing the drops of rain flowing gracefully down the foliage.

Tap, tap, tap. The drops of rainwater rhythmically pounded the leaves while the rest of the downpour bombarded the muddy ground all around her, adding a staccato to the leaf’s percussion. Occasional bursts of thunder erupted in the distance, rolling powerfully through the forest, adding to the music that captured her focus. Fear faded as the last drop of grief rolled down her cheek, giving way to the warmth of peace so long forgotten, so far removed.

Nearly an hour passed as each bandit took his turn, never noticing that the light of life had left the woman’s eyes long before they ran a rusty dagger across her throat.

I

Day Two

ON THE SOUTHERN tip of Endryo, high in the mountains, Kiri, the capital city of Kairael lay nestled between icy peaks, its residents known throughout the continent to be a hardened and isolated people, fond of conflict and little else. While the people in the north—in Lazille and Chapa—engaged in trade, few of their merchants would travel to Kairael as there was little point. What the country had in food was desperately needed to feed its own people. What the country had in other resources was highly coveted—and for good reason. The gems and minerals in the mountains and further south on the Dragon Isles were the strongest, most beautiful stones in Endryo, yet the kaiser, sole ruler of the country, had outlawed trade, sale, or gifting of the prized gems to any outsiders. For nearly a century the smiths and artisans of Kairael had perfected their secretive methods of forging and manipulating the precious gems and stones into items fit for royalty. Nothing in the north could compare.

While the world outside believed them to be barbarians and hermits, few understood the country’s true nature. With few resources, a harsh environment, distant neighbors and a war-torn history, Kairael’s people relied on one another for survival. Every man, woman, and child knew from a young age that they were expected to contribute in some way or be cast out.

Yet in recent years, the kaiser had seemingly softened. Citizens had seen a noticeable shift in his rulings and decrees for the last decade or so. He sought no conflicts with the other countries, where before, he had been known to just take whatever his people needed. Now if the people of Kairael didn’t produce enough to feed themselves, they might very well starve.

Once known for its fierce warriors and precious gems, Kairael was now striving to better its society through education, changing the way the country was viewed by the rest of Endryo. Margy was proud to be one of the first teachers tasked with providing education to the capital city’s youth in the new school that was only a few years old.

Five minutes left.

Bits of charcoal scraped across parchment while students attempted to finish their arithmetic problems and meet the minimum scores needed to avoid having to make up the work later.

Margy looked over the thirty students seated on furs draped over stones half a meter high, each working diligently at their stone desks. Before the new ruling, children had been put to work in their family’s trade by the age of twelve, which meant most of the children in this class would’ve been working instead of studying. But the war with Lazille had left many children orphaned and the kaiser had decided to create schools and allow all children, orphaned or not, to study various subjects during their youth. The children were tested when they reached their teenage years. Their test scores would not only determine their field of study, but also their life’s work.

Upon completing their basic education, children were required to serve in the Kairaelean military for at least five years, after which time they would either continue their military service or move into their respective professions. Instead of working in the family trade, a teenager could—and often did—end up in a different trade. Not all Kairaeleans were pleased with the ruling as it included those children with families, but the kaiser could not be dissuaded. It was yet another way he had shown his intent to move their country toward a better future, a future where they would be capable of surviving on their own without need for war with neighboring countries, an intent Margy was relieved to see. Like so many others she had lost friends and family in the war, and each student who could be taught to earn their keep peacefully after their initial five years of service was one less soldier sent off to die for the people’s needs.

A chilled breeze swept through the classroom. Margy walked over to the south-facing window and slid several furs over the opening, allowing the torches to warm the room more efficiently. She looked through the crack between the fur and the wall at the mountains of Kiri. The frozen peaks housed thousands of people in the twisting caves and great caverns hidden beneath the icy surface. The capital city itself was a series of fortresses that none had been able to conquer since the first kaiser had claimed the city a century ago. The fortresses hadn’t been created by human hands though. No amount of human labor could’ve carved out the insides of the mountains so skillfully without bringing the mountains down on their heads. This city of caverns had been created long before the first kaiser’s arrival by Endryo’s original inhabitants, commonly referred to as the natives, using great earth-weaving power, most of which had disappeared along with the natives.

She allowed her gaze to linger as she admired the magnificent city, watching the people in the market. Slaves were hard at work constructing summertime displays designed to attract customers.

The large majority of the year, Kairael was a frozen country where people lived deep in their caves, relying on torches and fire pits for light. But during the summer, sunshine often broke through the ominous clouds, burning away the deadly ice and revealing beautiful waterfalls and ice-capped greenery. When the ice broke, the farmers and traders donned their heavy coats and flocked to Kiri to display their wares, resources, services, and talents in the square.

She watched a pair of merchants instruct their workers who looked to be shivering in the cold. One of the merchants stopped to find furs to warm his workers while the other seemed to focus his orders on whichever worker was shivering the most, likely telling them to work faster so they could race indoors sooner. Margy wanted to see which group finished first, but she had to get back to her class.

She turned as the students began setting aside their charcoal and sitting upright on their seats. The hourglass showed another minute or so remaining. She gave one student a menacing look as the boy leaned over and blew into another student’s hair while the other boy was still hard at work. The boy glared back for a moment and Margy let her look contain a silent promise of consequences should his teasing continue. After a moment, he dropped his gaze and shifted away from the boy he’d been teasing. Margy took a deep breath and stepped towards the front of the room.

This particular session promised to be more entertaining than most, and the children were restless. This afternoon they were discussing how their ancestors had used magic to defeat the natives a century ago and make Kairael prosperous. Margy started into the discussion, but the students were ready to comment or question at every turn. In the back corner, a debate started between two boys, each trying to outdo the other as to what feats of strength they would be able to do if they had magical powers.

While it’s fun to imagine what we’d all do with magic, Margy said in an attempt to wrestle back control of the discussion, very few of us ever get the chance. When the kaiser first landed on this continent, the natives set fire to his ships and used all manner of superior magics to try to slay everyone on board. It was only by great cunning and force of will that our people were able to wage war on the natives, finally forcing them to flee.

One particularly argumentative child raised his hand. He was probably going to try to derail the discussion, as he often did. Margy sighed. Yes, Goray?

The chubby boy in the front row stood and placed his hands behind his back, showing discipline and courtesy as the children had all been taught, though he often posed questions that bordered on insulting. Teacher, my father was a captain in the army and he told me he saw magic a lot of times on the battlefield.

Margy decided to stroke the boy’s ego. That’s very interesting, Goray. We’ll have to ask him to tell us some war stories when he visits. Before the boy could respond she continued on, While it’s true magic was often used on the battlefield and may still be used for that purpose today, magic’s main use was to allow us to do feats we wouldn’t normally be able to accomplish. To carve these large stone corridors and rooms into the mountains by hand would’ve been impossible, but it’s believed that a handful of natives were able to weave the earth and accomplish the feat in a relatively short amount of time.

Margy spotted a raised hand belonging to one of her better behaved students. Yes, Luann?

Luann stood respectfully. Teacher, I’ve heard some people say there are only four types of magic, while others say there are five, and somebody else said there are eight. How many magics are there and what are they?

Margy responded with a smile. That’s a great question, Luann. We’re not sure exactly. The most common four are fire, water, earth, and wind. Some have said there are other magics that are much more rare—spirit, for example—though I’ve never seen such a magic used. Outside of the main four, it’s possible to combine elements—for example, ice magic—which is composed of water and wind magics. So it all depends on whether or not you consider the combinations to be a separate magic of their own.

Margy stopped, realizing she was going off on a tangent. As you can see, it’s not the easiest question to answer. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding magic since so few can use it these days—except for the residents of O’Raelia.

Luann sat back down, still looking uncertain. The awkward silence was suddenly broken by a loud knock at the door. Margy jumped, then broke into a smile. I nearly forgot. Since we’re discussing the topic of magic, I invited a very special guest from the capital.

She opened the door and turned to the children. I’d like to introduce you to a fire mage, a seasoned war hero, and the kaiser’s very own son—Major Brander!

The major was a stern young man in his early thirties, dressed from the neck down in black metallic armor with blood red trim. The jagged edging carved into the armor gave it an almost scaly look, like that of a snake’s skin. The light glimmered off of the armor’s surface in spite of the various scratches, gashes, and strikes it had obviously seen on the field of battle. Most notable about the armor was the way it moved with the major, gracefully, without clanging and without limiting his movements at all. At the man’s waist was a sheathed, strangely shaped katana with a black-and-red hue similar to the armor.

The children applauded politely and loud whispers filled the room. That’s the fiery major of Kairael!

I heard he killed a giant dragon and stole its skin to make that armor!

Somebody told me his hair and eyebrows were always burning off. They look fine to me.

I heard he was raised by dragons.

He’s gonna be the kaiser someday.

Margy raised her hand and the class fell silent. Major Brander walked over and stood before the center of the front row and confidently shifted his gaze from one side of the room to the other, apparently getting a sense of the students.

Welcome, Major. We’ve been talking about how our country’s founders used magic and how it’s used today, Margie said. I was hoping someone with firsthand experience might be able to tell us what magic really is and how it works. I was shocked when I learned they were sending us a war hero. It’s truly an honor to have you, sir.

Brander turned back with a smile, though she could tell it was partially forced. It’s no trouble, Miss. Thank you for having me.

Margy’s stomach tightened. Did he resent being here? She watched quietly to see how he would address the room. He seemed to be contemplating how to begin. Maybe she should step in—

Let me ask you all, the major started, how many of you have ever seen magic or the products of magic?

Most of the students’ hands raised. The major nodded. Very good. The answer is: all of you. You are sitting in a room constructed with magic and likely have eaten food supported by magic. Not only that, but this suit of armor and this sword were made with the assistance of magic. While most people can’t use magic with much success, it’s still being used today here and there.

Goray snickered and said in a low voice that could be heard throughout the classroom, There’s no way that’s skin from a real dragon.

Margy froze in place, praying the major hadn’t heard the disrespectful remark. It seemed the chubby boy’s pride kept him from admitting that the major before him could possibly outrank his father. The major glanced down at Goray for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the other children.

Luann’s hand went up and Margy was relieved to see the major’s expression lighten. You’ve got a question, young lady?

Luann stood and clasped her hands behind her back, showing utmost respect. Major Brander, sir, why do you think magic isn’t as common today?

Margy beamed. Oh, very good question, Luann. I’m curious to hear the major’s opinion on this myself.

She nearly bit her tongue when she saw the expression on the major’s face. She’d heard he was a very intense man, full of strong opinions and rarely bashful about expressing them, though this venue was clearly not suited for such an approach.

That is a very good question, the major said after a brief pause. Many believe that magic has been fading into history as a result of our sins, which is one possibility. Others believe that tales of magic have been exaggerated beyond reality and that our ancestors—and the natives—possessed no more magic than we do today.

Brander continued speaking, choosing his words carefully. He used hand gestures while he spoke, sometimes repeating himself. He appeared to be talking around something, though she had no idea what the man was trying so hard to hide.

Goray spoke up again, this time with a question. We know all that, Major. Many people believe many things, but what do you believe?

Margy stepped forward, then paused to see how the major would handle the question. Goray looked up at the man defiantly, as if unconvinced the major had the slightest clue what he was talking about. Several children held their hands in front of their mouths, as if expecting their peer to be torn apart in some gruesome manner. The major continued staring down at the boy. Finally the major shifted his attention and he addressed the room in general. What do I believe?

He slowly raised his right hand and held it about a meter above Goray’s head. The children watched silently and Margy felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her face. The boy sitting behind Goray removed his inner coat.

It wasn’t her imagination. The room was heating up—fast.

Goray looked from the major’s extended hand to the man’s steely gaze which remained fixed on the back wall. The boy wiped several beads of sweat from his face and then wiped his eyes, as if he thought he was seeing things. But it was no illusion. Everyone was watching the glowing orb of fire spiraling above Goray’s head, an orb that was growing larger by the second. As the orb spun faster and faster the room grew hotter. The furs covering the windows began fluttering as air rushed in to feed the flame. Lighter objects in the room took flight as the breeze grew into wind.

Goray was visibly distressed. The boy appeared to be having difficulty breathing and sweat streamed down his face. One of the students nearest to the orb shrieked as one of her mittens took flight and was sucked into the flaming sphere before she could catch it. Margy stepped back as several of the students cried out.

I believe that our ancestors were more powerful than we are, the major said, his voice raised just enough to be heard above the growing noise, not by some chance, but because they were forced to be. I don’t believe the stories of their strengths to be an exaggeration, and I don’t believe our ancestors to have been less sinful than us, quite the opposite.

The orb moved towards the major and settled firmly in his hand. He slowly began closing his hand. The whirling debris clattered to the floor. I believe we possess every bit as much potential for power as they did, however.

The major crushed the ball of fire in his hand, extinguishing the flame in an instant. He turned his gaze on Goray. I believe we will never attain the power of our ancestors until we return control of Endryo to the strong and stop coddling the weak.

Several children had fled to the back of the room or out into the hall and now cautiously returned to their seats. Margy peeled herself away from the wall and resumed her position just behind and to the left of the major. Goray remained glued to his seat.

Margy had no idea how to get the discussion back on topic. Thank you very much for that . . . demonstration, Major Brander. I think we’ve all learned a great deal about magic today, don’t you think so, class?

A couple of children nodded enthusiastically, though most looked like they didn’t dare move. Goray looked to be fighting tears.

The major finally turned to Margy with another smile, clearly more satisfied this time. It was my pleasure. The capital does get so stuffy and boring sometimes. He looked at Goray once more. Feel free to invite me back if anyone ever needs a . . . refresher.

The major excused himself and left the room.

Margy took a deep breath, relieved the discussion was over. She’d think twice about requisitioning an expert to help with future lessons. All right, children. Return to your seats, please. Once the children were seated she proceeded to wrap up the lesson for the day. It’s not every day we get to see magic so . . . up close. That’s all for today. Don’t forget to hand in your homework and tests before you go.

The children scrambled to pick up their scattered things as the school horn finally blew.

Margy studied their faces as the children passed by, handing her their parchments before running off. She collected the parchments one by one and filed them away. The last student to approach was her favorite, Luann, who had a very sullen look on her face. What’s wrong Luann? Are you okay?

Luann nodded sadly before finally looking up with shame in her eyes. Teacher, the fireball ate my homework.

II

BRANDER DEPARTED FROM the school in a hurry. The council meeting was beginning soon—if it hadn’t already started. If it hadn’t been for his father’s personal request, he would’ve never wasted his time speaking to a bunch of snot-nosed children. There were urgent matters to attend to, matters that concerned their entire country, and yet the kaiser had all but insisted he visit the school first.

The guards saluted as Brander mounted the great stone stairs to the kaiser’s fortress, Kiri’s tallest mountain. He gave a crisp nod, a greater spring in his step now that he had gotten to have his magical warm-up for the day and had put a rebellious little fat boy to shame in the process. He ascended the hundred-meter climb, mentally playing over the day’s events and the events of greater importance ahead.

He had grown up on the Dragon Isles and first learned to weave fire living among other fire weavers, listening, seeing, and even feeling the process as it took place around him. He had been assured that he’d be able to weave the magic as his mother had done, and over time he’d begun to feel heat almost as clearly as he felt the touch of another person. He heard the flame’s desires, he saw the flame’s pursuits, and in time he found he was able to alter the flame’s course.

Through it all, his mother insisted that he avoid using magic whenever possible, to treat it as a last resort, a concept he tossed aside as soon as he left home and started training at the Kairaelean Academy. The more liberally he used his magic, the more his food intake increased. He also learned he could drink any of his soldiers under the table on his worst night, a skill that had come in handy many times and had raised morale among his troops time and again. The men and women under his command had learned many years ago that following Brander loyally meant unending action rewarded by spoils of war far beyond any commoner’s dreams.

He stopped at the overlook near the top of the stairs and studied the city below. The population of Kairael numbered nearly ninety thousand people between the capital city itself, the border cities, and the village on the Dragon Isles where he was raised. Kiri was unique, being the most powerful and defensible city on the entire continent. The capital city’s strength lay in the fact that the majority of the structures weren’t made of wood and stone laid one on top of the other like countless other structures in countless other cities throughout Endryo.

No siege weapon could pierce the massive jagged rocks that protected the kaiser’s fortress and the nearby mountains. Great boulders lodged between peaks, forming bridges that were far stronger than any bridge made by stacking stones or laying wooden beams. Inside, the twisting caverns resembled an ant farm—on a much larger scale—with battlements positioned strategically throughout. The warmth of the earth itself kept the caverns snug during the fiercest winter storms. Still, it wasn’t the attack of an enemy or a raging blizzard that threatened their well-being now. It was hunger combined with other essential needs that grew in proportion to the growth of the nation. Kairael had grown far beyond what the original kaiser had expected.

Brander raced up the last of the stairs and through the corridors of the great fortress, at last entering the small council chamber. The kaiser and eight council members—high-ranking military officials and designated lords—looked at him from their seats around the oval-shaped granite table. The men and women seated at this table were the few the kaiser held in high enough regard to share privileged information about the struggles their country faced, troubles far more numerous than anyone outside the room realized.

Over the years, the kaiser had shifted his attention from conquest and war toward peaceful expansion and even trade with countries and cities they had once warred with. Crime had spiked, especially in the outlying towns and villages of the country. Brander sought to make one more plea today for the kaiser to restore Kairael to its once great power by taking its share of the continent and putting a stop to Lazille’s so-called peaceful expansion southward into their country.

The heavy wrinkles of the kaiser’s face lifted into a warm smile as Brander strode into the room. His elderly father seemed to have given up trying to maintain a warrior’s appearance, opting to attend meetings in heavy robes instead of armor or uniforms. The kaiser never wore his crown any more outside of ceremonial events, and rarely left the warmth of the capital fortress. Still, the men and women at the table knew to speak to the kaiser with nothing but respect. Years ago, anything less could’ve put one’s life in danger.

The kaiser waved Brander to the chair on his right with an awkward, trembling hand. Ah, my son arrives from teaching at the school. The old man drew in a deep breath before going on. How was it?

Brander accepted the invitation, stepping determinedly towards the seat beside his father. The warmth of the numerous torches combined with the lack of windows kept the room heated to an almost suffocating intensity. He often wondered whether the old generals and lords kept so many torches lit because they needed the warmth or because of their failing eyesight.

I do believe the children have a newfound respect for magic, Kaiser, Brander said as he settled into the carved granite chair.

Good, good. Thank you, Brander.

Brander forced a nod before folding his hands on the table, ready to move on from the subject and discuss the real issues. The nine members of the council were all generals and lords with the exception of Brander, who sat as the lowest ranking member.

The kaiser cleared his throat and everyone leaned in, listening carefully. He was clearly not aging well. His body and hands shook as if he was greatly advanced in age, though he wasn’t even seventy. Thank you all for meeting here. It’s been far too long. We have much to discuss, but first I would like to hear from each of you. Anything new to report? Lord Monomi?

Brander’s least favorite of the council members, Lord Monomi, head of the Chiburi clan of assassins, sat on the kaiser’s left. He was known to be an aloof old man who often spoke in riddles and whispered in the kaiser’s ear when no one else was around. Brander knew the man commanded a small number of intelligence gathering spies who operated in every corner of Endryo. The man was known for ordering knives put in the backs of those who opposed him, never settling conflict directly, whether it be a rival person, city, or country. Brander didn’t trust the man to do anything honorably and often wondered if Monomi was using some form of evil magic to poison the kaiser’s mind and body. He had no proof of the man’s duplicity . . . yet.

Lord Monomi stood, pushed back the hood of his black cloak, and addressed the room in his quiet, almost whispering, voice. Thank you, Kaiser. It is good to see you all again. I have already spoken with the kaiser during the last few weeks, but one item of note is the trade activity between O’Raelia, Chapa, and ourselves. Many wealthy merchants in Chapa have been quietly inquiring about purchasing large quantities of high-grade weapons and armor. When asked, they claim it is for their arenas or for personal defense, but these quantities beg scrutiny.

Across the table, General Aaron looked even more stern than usual, though Brander suspected that the folds between the general’s bushy grey eyebrows were likely fixed into a permanent scowl. Is there any reason to suspect they would use the weapons and armor for military purposes? Perhaps they plan to expand eastward against Lazille’s expansion? The general was advanced in years, perhaps sixty now, though Brander had never asked. Why the kaiser saw fit to promote Aaron to general, given Aaron’s fascination with trade and his disdain for all things military, was a puzzle. Still, Brander held some appreciation for the man’s forbearance.

Monomi shrugged lightly. I know not, but that is one possibility. Lazille has expanded aggressively south even against our protests. There’s no reason to think they aren’t also expanding west against Chapa’s wishes.

The room fell silent for a moment and Brander thought about the possibility of Chapa going to war with Lazille and what it would mean for Kairael.

Finally, General Artiya spoke up, her middle-aged, brutish voice an octave lower than any man in attendance. "You mentioned trade activity. What kind of weapons and armor have they received?"

Monomi shook his head. None of my spies have reported merchants agreeing to trade dragon skin, scale, bone, or gem-forged armaments of any kind. Our country’s treasure will remain as it should—priceless.

Brander could see the council members relaxing somewhat. One of the few things that had allowed Kairael to remain a superpower in spite of the country’s low population and harsh living conditions was the superiority of their fighting equipment. Armor and shields were forged from dragon scales gathered on the Dragon Isles during the molting season. Invaluable gems of the hardest density were forged into the finest of weapons. Kairael’s highest ranking military members were often awarded weapons and armor in reward for exemplary service, and upon their deaths, each piece was handed down to a designated heir.

The kaiser thanked Monomi and the lord took his seat as the other officials gave their reports. Each officer echoed the same general condition: no open battling with any organized groups outside of the occasional bandits and rebels, limited trade with other cities, and dwindling resources to feed, clothe, and shelter the growing population. General Laurus finally stood and addressed the kaiser directly. Kaiser, I don’t know how long we can continue in our present state.

Speak your mind, the kaiser said. What state?

Far be it for me to question your methods, Kaiser, the skinny strategist continued. You have led us for many years now and we’ve wanted for little or nothing, yet we find ourselves with more mouths to feed every day and a shrinking territory that yields fewer resources, thanks to Lazille’s creeping expansion. None of us want to trade our country’s prized possessions for any amount of gold or resources, yet if we don’t act soon, our people will starve.

Many of the other council members nodded. Brander remained silent, completely agreeing with them but wanting to see how his father would respond. The kaiser politely motioned for Laurus to take his seat. The kaiser seemed deep in thought though Brander knew the man well enough to know he was hiding something from the group. Monomi was no doubt involved somehow. Brander doubted the spineless snake of a man had ever gone hungry a day in his life. How could he possibly understand the suffering of the people well enough to advise patience at such a time?

Finally the kaiser responded, I’m aware of our people’s plight. I’ve known our path for many years, but it is the right path. We are a nation of warriors, accustomed to taking whatever we need from those unable to stop us. The kaiser stopped abruptly and inhaled deeply before going on. We will never be truly strong as long as we rely on the efforts of our neighbors. I believe this and so will you, in time.

The statement did little to appease the other council members. Brander rolled his eyes and looked away from the group for a moment, doing little to mask his frustration. His father frowned at him, but otherwise remained still.

Monomi nodded. While Lazille’s expansion into the lower reaches of the continent have proven problematic, they have not expanded using violent means. They merely build their cities outward as free people everywhere do. Lazille is a powerful country, yet they don’t seem to harbor any ill will towards us.

Brander turned to his father without rising from his chair as was customary. "So Lazille starves our people while their citizens grow fat and you think higher of them for it? Perhaps you might see their ill will if it was your belly that was left unfed."

General Malva sprang to his feet, a surprising move for a man almost as wide as he was tall. How dare you speak to the kaiser in such a manner! Family or not, you will show respect, Major!

Brander stared at the man somewhat defiantly, but offered neither words of protest or subservience. The tension mounted as the room sat quietly divided, just as the country itself was divided. Some Kairaelean citizens were on the verge of panic, while others held steadfast faith that their kaiser would guide them through the difficult times.

There is no need argue amongst ourselves, Monomi said in his almost-whisper. We stand the leaders of this nation, and our kaiser has brought us all here to discuss these topics. There are many paths we may take to address the issues, and between us, I believe we can find common ground and make appropriate decisions.

General Malva took his seat. Brander rose and gave his update. Kaiser, our military force stands strong, though under-stimulated. You all know where I stand on this issue. I firmly believe we need to enforce our borders—by force if necessary—in order to ensure we have adequate means to feed, clothe, and shelter our people. If King Lazille wants to take our lands from us, he will have to take them at the edge of a sword. We are strong. It’s time we reminded the rest of Endryo that we are not to be trifled with.

Brander scanned the room, making eye contact with the other council members before returning to his seat.

A few of the council members seemed to agree with Brander’s assessment. The kaiser appeared thoughtful, but Monomi spoke up before anyone else. "You have great intentions, Major, but I find it counterintuitive to protect our people by putting them in greater danger. War with a nation as large as Lazille could very well invite our own destruction. While a portion of our people are facing hunger—and that is certainly a danger—the entirety of our