Burn

Burn

  a tale of Anarill

  Marie Brown

  ©2012

  The Vindrian compound came stealthily into view, like a giant squirrel's nest on the forest floor. Arden halted in front of the concealing brush heap and sent a questioning Word through the fence, the Vindrian equivalent of a city dweller's polite knock with a doorknocker.

  The Word returned to him faster than expected, flashing with delight and followed closely by the somewhat disturbing sight of Phylo charging straight through the illusion. Branches and thorns emerged from Phylo's body as he passed through the gateway.

  "You came, you came!"

  "Even though I know it's not real," Arden replied, "seeing you in the middle of that thornbrake still turns my stomach. Yes, I came. What's the emergency?"

  Phylo, completely free of the illusion, smiled at him. "You would be the one to feel concern over an illusory thorn. Thanks for coming. If you'll come with me, I'll tell you as we go."

  Arden nodded consent, wistfully hoping Phylo would take down the illusion. Phylo didn't, of course, since time was apparently of the essence. Arden set his teeth and walked steadily through the thornbrake, fully aware that none of the brambleberry, nor the itchwood, nor even the moldering leaves and spiky branches he passed through were real, and yet feeling an illusory itch and prickle anyway.He kept precisely behind Phylo, because to either side of the illusion, the thornbrake became solid, and prickly, and itchy.

  On the other side, the Vindrian compound waited, a collection of small domed huts built of bent whiptree saplings, leaves, and mud. Phylo set off toward one of the few permanent buildings, the springhouse.

  "It began probably a lunation ago," Phylo said, puffing a little as he trudged rapidly up the slight incline. "We felt a huge disturbance in the ether, did you?"

  "Laced with wildfire, yes," Arden nodded.

  "We wondered what it was, but did nothing about it. Turns out we should have. Because Gemmel felt it too, and he captured the source of the disturbance, and was using the poor kid to power his own magic. Rotten thief. Anyway, he tripled his power overnight and started raising some unsavory types from Beyond and using them to terrorize the countryside. We think he was going to set himself up like one of the Darklords of old. So we went in and kicked his rump off his little power base, all of us together."

  They reached the springhouse, a small, square stone building on thick pilings to keep it off the ground. The spring itself, more a cheerful brook, bubbled and sang past them on its way down. It didn't care about anything, just that it traveled down.

  Arden briefly envied the simplicity of life as a spring.

  "We found him there," Phylo said, pausing outside the door. "Poor kid, he'd been brutalized. Gemmel had such darkness within. . . We brought him here, because we could not leave the poor boy out on his own. You know how that goes, someone else as unscrupulous as Gemmel would snap him up and then we'd all be right back where we started from. But we don't know what to do. He's got a strong elemental affinity, fire, as you said, and he's also got strong empathy. But he can't control any of it, and he doesn't want to. He just sits there and burns. He won't even try. He hasn't eaten, he can't or won't speak, and we just don't know what to do. So we sent for you."

  Arden closed his eyes for a brief moment, reminding himself to have patience with his uncomprehending friend and brother in magic. A person with a strong fire affinity, kept with water. . . !

  "Thank you," he said, focusing on Phylo. "You did the right thing, sending for me. Now, let me see what I can do."

  He entered the springhouse by the simple method of asking the spell closing the door to let him pass. A faint orange glow filled the small stone structure. Then he saw the young man, not a boy but a strong young man, huddled in the corner as far as he could get from the spring mouth, burning.

  Oh, not really burning, of course. His flesh remained whole and healthy, his hair unsinged. But the huddled form sat sheathed in flickering, dancing sheets of orange flame.

  Arden took a deep breath, releasing it in a long sigh. Poor fellow. Then he opened his shielding a crack, knowing what to expect, yet still rocking back under the onslaught of the other's intensely negative emotions. Arden braced himself, then used that tiny thread of contact to impose a sense of calm on the young man.

  The immediate, outward sign of his success came when the fires flickered one last time and died. The young man moved then, confused eyes opening in a haggard face and locking onto Arden.

  "Hello," Arden said. "I'm Arden. I'm going to help you live. Will you come with me and eat something?"

  The words hung in the air unanswered while the young man considered. Arden studied him while he waited for the reply. His face looked young, with only a faint shadow of scruff on the chin where someday a beard might grow. But his upper body bulged with muscle. Clearly, whatever his physical age, this person was no stranger to hard physical labor.

  Finally, he nodded, and rose stiffly from his corner. Arden smiled.

  "Good. I'm glad you've decided to live. You'll have to forgive my brothers. These Vindrians know little of people like you and me, with an affinity to an element. They didn't mean to hurt you by putting you in here with the water. I'm sure they just wanted to spare their little forest huts from burning up if you had a nightmare. Now, come with me, and we'll get you something to eat."

  The silent young man followed Arden slowly. Arden took down the spell blocking the door and led the way to the kitchen area, a communal hut filled with the bounty of the forest.

  "Hello, Riordan," he said, seeing someone he knew cooking on the outdoor hearth. "Is there anything available for a hungry young man and a weary traveller?"

  "Arden! You were able to come, after all. How wonderful." Riordan glanced at Arden's silent follower, but wisely said nothing. "You can have some of this stew, if you like. It's been on all day, it should be ready to eat by now. I'm just checking the seasonings."

  "Certainly, Riordan. Whatever you say. Just don't check the seasonings to the point where nothing is left for dinner."

  "Really, Arden, you are too much. Take your bowl and get out of here." But Riordan smiled, and found bowls, then filled them with stew.

  Arden accepted his bowl and dug his wooden spoon out of his belt pouch. He started to look for a place to sit, then noticed his companion wore no belt pouch and secured a cooking spoon for him instead. He smiled at the youngster and found them both a seat on a log.

  The stew proved full of fungi and root vegetables, seasoned with shy forest herbs that made a potentially boring dish delectable. Arden ate quickly, one eye on his charge the entire time.

  The young man stared at the bowl of stew as though he'd forgotten what to do with it, then slowly began eating. Once he'd started, he picked up momentum, until the entire bowl of stew was inside him, where it belonged.

  Arden put aside his empty bowl and rose when he saw the other finish. "Come on, then, let's go for a walk, now that you've eaten. We need to get to know each other. Have you got a name?"

  He paused, but the other remained silent, although he followed Arden away from the kitchen area. They walked through the compound, a large clearing in the forest.

  "Well, you'll tell me sooner or later. For now, I'd like to tell you something about yourself that you may or may not know. You've got some exceptionally rare and wonderful talents. There aren't many empaths born in this world, and there are fewer still that enjoy such a strong relationship as you do with fire. These people here, that rescued you from Gemmel, are Vindrian sorcerors with next to no experience with elemental magic. That's why they sent for me, because I have the knowledge you need. Here, let's sit in this garden. It's made for meditation, for long quiet moments alone or with a friend. . . probably the most peaceful place y
ou've been for a while."

  Arden sat down on an artfully placed boulder. So did the young man, staring at Arden with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

  "There, that's a bit better. So. About a lunation ago, something strange happened. There was an explosion, down in Trade City. A boat, a good sized fishing boat, burst into flame late at night. The Masterfisher was found aboard, but there was no sign of the Journeyman. I felt that, even from where I was in Scholastica. People said the Journeyman must have burned up completely, but I don't think so. I think the Journeyman experienced an explosive incident with his talent for fire coming to him full strength and out of control, then before he could escape he was snatched by Gemmel. Am I right?"

  Arden waited. The young man on the rock opposite his watched him with a gleam of horror showing through the enforced calm.

  "I didn't mean it."

  A hoarse whisper, so quiet Arden almost missed it.

  "I didn't mean it," he repeated, louder. "Master, he kept pushing me and