Hot Obsidian

The ten left the Temple of Life at noon. Many Lifekeepers, young and old, gathered to wish them good luck. They knew little of the boys’ mission; to them, it was some simple quest they had been given to prove their worth and learn a thing or two along the way, so the general mood was lighthearted and cheerful. Eight boys of the ten were all smiles; only Juel and Irin remained grim.

The masters took their time to have a chat with their apprentices before seeing them off. Kangassk Eugenia was buttoning Jarmin’s jacket so he would stay warm and telling him to be good and to do as the older boys say. Kangassk Majesta tried to give Bala some books and scrolls and kept dropping and anxiously picking them up. Orion and Kangassk Lar shared jokes, laughed, and patted each other on the shoulders, just like two brothers would… Every Kangassk had something to say at the last minute and Sainar couldn’t bring himself to hurry them up. His children, the ones he had lied to, looked so happy that it broke his heart.

The magnitude of his sacrifice reached Sainarnemershghan only now: to keep the Order’s mission alive, he had betrayed everything he stood for, everything he believed in, everyone he loved. He knew he would never forgive himself.

Chapter 3. Rain and stories

All that I dream of

Is there, in the endless sky,

There, where the sun shines.

All that I hold dear

Is there, in the endless sea,

There, where the moon drowns.

All of my sorrow

Is here, on the joyous earth,

Where I have no place.

Ziga-Ziga. Haiku of the nameless continent

Firaska is a small but ancient city. The city every Saidonatgarlyn had a special connection to. The city that was there during Erhaben’s Golden Age and after Erhaben’s fall. The city where Malconemershghan was born.

To Juel’s little team, it was just the first step on their long journey. The boys were supposed to shop for supplies there and buy themselves a Transvolo to Torgor. Lainuver, having counted their money twice, concluded that such a laughable sum would never interest a mage powerful enough to know the Transvolo spell. Orion was more optimistic about the matter. They were young Lifekeepers on a quest; a bunch of cute kids to most people, a reminder of some special Lifekeeper-related story to the rest. It was unlikely that anyone, even a powerful mage, would charge them much for a spell. With enough luck on their side, they could even get a Transvolo for free!

The road to Firaska was wide and well-tended to, so walking it was pure joy. The boys, quiet at first, started talking to each other. Careful words soon turned into a lively chatter, with jokes and puns and bursts of laughter.

When someone asked about Firaska’s origins, Oasis answered him with a story. Three thousand years ago, Firaska was a tiny settlement on the edge of the nastiest part of the No Man’s Land, the part where the darkest, vilest creatures lived. The first Firaskians must have been exceptionally brave people to live there. What were they fighting for, why didn’t they settle on a safer spot? Freedom. That was the answer. The dangerous place they chose for their city was their ticket to independence from both South and North allowing them to stay within the territory of stable magic at the same time.

Hard times create strong people, the proverb says. True. Malconemershghan was one of them.

He left Firaska when Sereg the Grey Inquisitor took him as an apprentice but he kept the Firaskian spirit in his heart. If the Grey Inquisitor hadn’t killed him and destroyed his followers, the whole North would have been as free now as the old Firaska was. Was. Because Firaska became an ordinary Southern city and lost its freedom forever.

“Who’s been in the North?” Orion asked, looking around.

For a while, the boys were silent, then Kosta Ollardian spoke up in a quiet, quivering, wheezy voice, the kind of voice someone with a chronic illness might have.

“I’ve been in the North once,” he said. “It’s crazy cold there. I was ill for the whole journey. My father says that the North is a bad place. He hated it when grandfather sent him there.”

“My master says there’s,” Jarmin took a deep breath, “CEN-SOR-SHIP!” he said in a loud whisper. “What’s censorship, Orion? Is it an evil ghost ship?”

Someone snorted, stifling his laughter, behind Orion’s back. Orion kept his cool.

“No, Jarmin, it just means that there are some things you are not allowed to say and write in that country,” he explained. “I don’t think their censorship is that bad, though. I’ve been in the North several times and they definitely have way fewer shitty books in their bookstores. Maybe the South needs a little bit of censorship too.”

“Well, our dear Sainar would strongly disagree with you, I’m afraid,” said Lainuver with a sly smile.

The weather was warm, the company was merry, and the road was easy, but even with all things perfect, you can’t walk from Magrove forest to Firaska in a single day. By the evening, the boys had to camp.

Judging by the clouds gathering in the sky, it was going to rain, so they had to find a proper shelter if they wanted to stay warm and dry that night. But where could they find one in the smooth grassland between the Lifekeepers’ holy place and the nearest city? There were trees, of course – a thin diadem here – and there but they were no help.

The boys kept walking. They were no longer joking around: the possibility of spending the night in the rain was no fun. In an hour or so, a rather promising purple-white spot got Juel’s attention and he ordered his unit to leave the road and head there.

The bright spot turned out to be a circle of ten slender diadem trees. Most likely, a lonely traveller had camped there once, ate a sugary diadem fruit, and planted the seeds – or maybe just thrown them away. The trees that had grown out of those seeds were beautiful, a very welcome sight in the middle of endless green, only their crowns weren’t thick enough to offer any cover from the rain. But, with nowhere else to hide, the young Lifekeepers made their camp there.

They piled their backpacks in the middle of the tree circle and spread a couple of extra blankets over them so they wouldn’t get drenched in case the weather indeed decided to take a nasty turn. Jarmin, the brave six-year-old who had been keeping up with his grown-up companions the whole day without even a peep, dozed off right there by the backpack pile. The others sat on the ground, leaning against the trees, or just sprawled on the grass.

Rainy forebodings aside, the evening was beautiful. Bala wholeheartedly enjoyed it. Orion, nervously chewing on a grass blade, kept looking around, still hoping to think of some solution to their shelter problem. Juel was doing the same, only in a less obvious way. In his relaxed but watchful state, he resembled a charga, the big cat Faizuls like so much. Pai and Kosta moved closer to Oasis to ask him for more stories. Lainuver sat beyond the circle, cross-legged, his back to the group, thinking of something personal that seemed to be troubling him way more than the incoming rain. Irin had walked away and was currently shooting birds with his bow. From time to time, a painful squeak reached the diadem shelter; the hunt was going well.