Fire Mage (Firecaller Series Book 1) Read online

  Despite the blood glistening on the steel, Jena was tempted by the assassin’s dagger. It offered a brand of justice that pulled at her, dared her to seek vengeance for Thornal’s murder. Proper gypsy retribution: to the death, whichever way it went.

  If she kept it and used it to kill the man responsible, she might feel some peace, perhaps end the pain and anger that now filled her. And if she failed, then she would be dead and feel nothing.

  Her heart pumped a little faster; the metal glinted in her hand.

  Wiping the blood from the blade on the soft arm of the chair, she placed the knife through a loop in her belt.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked up to where the raven perched. “Come, Raven. You will have to make do with me as your master.” The bird cocked its head to one side, then leaped into the air, soaring through the kitchen door.

  Jena heaved the pack onto her back. She pulled on the oiled leather raincoat hanging by the door, tying the hood tight around her head. Without looking around, she strode out of the house into the cold, wet night beyond.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The mercenary clapped Nate on the back, heavy and hard. “I need your help.” The fire above them crackled and smoke drifted down through the lines in the floorboards into the dark cellar.

  Nate’s mouth went dry. “What can I possibly do to help?” Wolvans would die before giving up their hunt. He didn’t know much about lavaens other than they lived in the depths of volcanoes. He couldn’t imagine the kind of power that would induce such a creature away from their home.

  “We must try to set the wolvans against the lavaen. It’s our only hope of escape.”

  “How?”

  The mercenary held out his hand. A knife identical to the one Nate had pulled out of the trap door lay in his palm.

  “I can’t use a knife against a wolvan! I’d have had a better chance against the Hashishin.”

  “Not the knife, the fire ruby. The gem in the knife is where the Hashishin get their power, and their protection against magic. It provides a direct link to the Royal Flames. My master assures me that you have the ability to use the fire ruby to control the wolvans.” The mercenary leaned forward, his eyes focused on Nate. The lantern light flickered eerily across his face.

  Nate shook his head. “I can’t just pick up on their connection to the Flames. We need another plan.”

  The mercenary’s eyes never left Nate’s face. “The Flames will recognize you and allow you to use the fire ruby,” he said. “You can do this. Just use the power of the fire ruby to trick the wolvans into attacking the lavaen. It is our only chance.” He laid the second knife in Nate’s hand.

  Nate looked down at the knives, confusion in his head. “This is insane. How could I possibly control the Flames?”

  “You have an affinity to fire and to the Royal Flames in particular; it will work. But you must hurry.”

  The pair of fire rubies glowed in the dim light, and Nate found himself staring into the center of one of the rubies. The warm swirling colors drew him in again, pulling him toward the burning red core of the powerful gemstone. He felt light as air, and a burning warmth flowed through his body. He smiled dreamily.

  An abrupt slap across his face brought him back. He shook his head sharply and glared at the mercenary who still held his hand aloft as if he was waiting to see if he needed to slap Nate a second time. He lowered his hand.

  Nate rubbed one finger over the fire ruby in his hand. That was the second time he’d been enthralled in one day. Fire rubies were dangerous, their power unpredictable. And with his already strong fire compulsion, he was susceptible to their power. He didn’t think he could control the fire rubies. They were more likely to control him.

  But then being enthralled was probably better than being torn apart by wolvans while fully awake.

  Nate looked up at the mercenary and then down at the fire ruby. “We’ll have to go outside. We need to draw them close.” Nate paused. “And just so you know, I don’t know if I can do this. It’s been a long time since I cast mage spells.”

  The mercenary’s gaze flicked to the jagged black raven wing tattoo that dominated Nate’s face. It marked him clearly as a mage, and yet these days, it was all that connected him to that world. He preferred volcanoes and lava. Even demons. They were more predictable.

  “You can do it. My master has foreseen it.” The mercenary’s dark eyes blazed.

  Nate sighed. “Let’s move.” He pulled his bag over his shoulders and climbed the stairs, a knife in each hand. As he pushed up the trapdoor, the heat of the blazing fire slammed straight into him, and smoke filled his vision. Trying not to breathe too deeply, Nate ran to the window. He peered out, his heart beating hard as he looked for his quarry. The late afternoon sun baked down on the mountainside.

  The prowling wolvans were creatures out of a nightmare. Half wolf, half man, and all ragged fur, crazy eyes, and sharp teeth, they paced impatiently in front of his house. A throb of panic pumped in Nate’s chest. A sick, burning sensation rose up his throat. If he couldn’t control the fire ruby, he was dead. Wolvans had no mercy.

  He turned to the big man crouched beside him. “If the fire ruby doesn’t work...”

  The mercenary shook his head. “It will work. I will draw them to us, and you will mesmerize them using the fire ruby. It’s our only hope of leaving this house.”

  “Before we do this... What is your name?” asked Nate.

  “Argus.”

  He nodded. “Nate.”

  “I know.” Argus strode out the kitchen door and onto the porch.

  The wolvans snarled, eager for the kill.

  Without hesitation, Argus walked toward them, swiping his axe back and forth in front of his body. As he approached, the large, muscled bodies of the wolvans made Argus seem small and almost fragile. Three of the creatures stood in a wide semi-circle around the mercenary. There was a moment where everything was still, then suddenly, as one, they surged forward, a strange rolling gait that should have been awkward, but was instead horribly graceful.

  Argus retreated, holding his axe at the ready in front of him. His eyes were focused on the three creatures, never letting them close enough to take a swipe. The muscles on his arms stood out in cords.

  For a moment, Nate stopped breathing. The desire to flee was overwhelming. His body turned, his whole being tensed to run. Then he sagged. Aside from the fact that he was too stubborn, he couldn’t bring himself to leave this strange man to his fate.

  Their only chance was to use the fire rubies.

  He stepped out from the burning lodge, holding the knives in his sweaty hands. If Argus were right, the Flames would allow him to use the rubies as more than simply decoration on sharp blades. If Argus was wrong...

  He intensified his gaze on the fire ruby in his right hand, concentrating hard on merging into the gemstone’s center. And then he was falling deep into the fiery core of the ruby, unable to control his descent. His whole body trembled as the full force of the fire ruby’s power surround him, pulling him deeper. It was bright and fierce, uncontrollable. He couldn’t direct the fire within the ruby. He was like a shell on a beach, powerless in the face of the oncoming waves.

  From a distance, he heard the echo of a snarling, triumphant growl. A cry of pain sounded closer, and Nate recognized Argus’s desperate voice yelling his name.

  The wolvans had attacked. Three against one.

  Nate had no choice. He had to take control, or they were both going to die. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering energy. He concentrated his thoughts, the same way he did when he was summoning a demon, and all around him, the flames solidified. Then he felt it; underneath the superficial power of the fire ruby was the deep burn of an ancient fire heating his skin, powerful and primordial. The Royal Flames. They were familiar and comfortable, like an old friend he was seeing again after a long absence. The Flames welcomed him, called to him, asked him what he wanted.

  And suddenly Nate knew how to save them.
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  His breathing slowed, and he focused on the fire ruby’s magic. He pushed his own power into the gemstone. It tried to fight back, but he was stronger, his connection to the Royal Flames providing the link he needed to overcome the gemstone.

  It wasn’t so different from calling a reluctant fire demon.

  Once he had control of the fire ruby, it was easy to leap into the minds of the wolvans. He wasn’t just in one; he was in all their minds. They were connected together in their attack, their purpose as one, like a hive mind. Their thoughts, although foul and unwavering, were simple. They wanted to rip apart their prey with their teeth and claws. As he saw himself being ripped apart in their mind’s eye, Nate’s concentration slipped, and a wolvan howled in triumph. He clenched his fist around the hilt of the knife. Sweat dripped down his face, and Nate managed to keep his place inside their minds.

  He created a swirl of energy that fogged their purpose, then planted an image of an attack on the lavaen, their long claws ripping at its blackened skin, their teeth gauging out chunks of flesh. Still inside their minds, he watched through multiple eyes as they lifted their red, murky gaze toward the lavaen flying over their heads. One growled a low discordant rumble that made Nate shudder. As one, they moved to follow the flight of the creature overhead.

  His task complete, Nate’s control slipped, and the magic fires that surrounded him lapped eagerly at his mind, crooning softly to him. Everything inside him wanted to stay, to curl up within the safe and warm confines of the fire ruby. The fading rational part of his mind screamed at him to pull away, but he sighed and closed his eyes. He wasn’t afraid of the fire ruby’s magic.

  A sharp pain across his face pulled Nate’s mind from the lethargy and jerked him forcibly out from the mesmerizing magic of the fire ruby. Nate opened his eyes.

  Argus stood, swaying slightly, in front of Nate. One hand was still half-raised from the stinging slap he’d just delivered to Nate’s face. His other hand clung to his axe, which he was using like a cane, as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. Blood gushed from a wound at his side.

  His eyes slipped upward into his head, and then Argus collapsed to the ground.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The wind howled through the valley, driven by the storm over Jena’s head. Thunder and lightning created a dramatic show in the sky, and the biting cold made her shiver, but she strode down the path, ignoring everything but the pain in her chest. The surrounding craggy peaks towered over her, their usual gray hue a deep black in the dark winter’s night. Every time lightning cracked, the jagged peaks lit up.

  The house sat in a valley dwarfed on either side by mountain ranges that included two of Ignisia’s seven great volcanoes. Despite the rain, the earth was warm and vibrated softly beneath her feet. The air smelled of wet sulfur and salt, and in the distance, she heard the intermittent spitting of lava atop the mountain, as it complained about the storm raging overhead. Not many lived this close to the volcanoes, but Jena had never felt safer than she had with Thornal. He had been as close to controlling the wild volcanoes as the Great Mage had ever been.

  Jena shivered, glad she had worn her thick hunting trousers instead of a skirt. Pulling her leather hood down further over her head, she stomped across the uneven surface, blowing out warm air into the storm-chilled night. She paused at the base of the rocky ravine, near where a path twisted and curved up into the rocks. She would have to climb up and over one side of the volcano before heading north to begin her journey. Turning, she looked back at the house that had been her home for the last five years. Her only real home in all her life.

  Jena owed a massive debt of gratitude to Thornal. She would have gladly continued to serve him for the rest of her life—had expected it.

  Now nothing was certain in her life. What was she going to do?

  Lifting one hand, she wiped at the tears streaming down her face. The knife lay heavy in her pocket, but its presence soothed her. It was a promise to Thornal. She had a place to go and a task to complete.

  Looking down at the fire explosion spell in her hand, Jena considered what Thornal had ordered her to do. Only a full mage was supposed to perform spells, and women were forbidden to become mages on pain of death.

  But Thornal had taught her all she needed to know. Living as they did, isolated from the world, she had soaked up everything he could teach her. It had seemed safe enough when it was just the two of them, sensible in fact. But now that she was going back out into the world, the fear started to grow, to widen its jaws. She would face death if even a whisper of her ability came to the attention of the mages. And Thornal was no longer here to protect her.

  Even worse, something had happened in the confrontation with the Hashishin. The white fire spell she had cast at the third assassin was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Whatever it was, it was stronger and more powerful than the usual mage spells. Even now, she could feel the energy surging through her body, just waiting to be set free.

  She closed her eyes, looking inside, trying to understand.

  It felt familiar. For an instant, Jena wondered if she somehow had part of Thornal trapped inside her. Her fingers touched the pouch of ashes in her pocket, considering. No, it wasn’t Thornal; she would know him. There was some kind of power lurking inside her, and she didn’t know what it was or how to control it. She shivered. That was the kind of power guaranteed to get you killed.

  Clenching her hand, Jena looked at the house. The faster she did it the faster she could be on her way. She took a deep breath and drew on the connection to the earth, just as Thornal had taught her. She muttered the words of the explosion spell that gave direction and then cast the last of the potion from Thornal’s leather bag into the air.

  The granules lifted, floating almost absently toward the house. After a while, Jena lost sight of them in the darkness, but she could feel them as they continued their journey. There was an expectant silence, and then an explosion rocked the house, causing debris to clatter down the surrounding rock face and making the ground move beneath her feet. Then heat hit Jena like a wall, and she took an involuntary step backward, crashing into the solid rock behind her.

  Curling her hands, she stood and watched her home burn. Overhead, the raven flew in large swooping circles. The storm continued to rage around her, but instead of putting the fire out faster, it seemed to charge it up, to make it burn higher and faster. Flames and smoke filled the space between the rain, thunder, and lightning until it seemed there was no more room for anything else; certainly no tears or sadness.

  With flames still leaping into the dark sky behind her, Jena started up the path that led to the top of the ravine. The storm made it difficult at first, and she stumbled along the trail in the darkness. It wasn’t until she was about halfway up that it occurred to her to cast a spell.

  Cupping her left hand, Jena concentrated on making a small fire in her palm. It flamed gently, again a bright white rather than the usual red or orange. Jena shivered. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen her body burning. She stared down at the flames, her mind caught up in memories of that moment, years ago. Strong hands pushing her into the flames from behind, the sizzling smell of her skin burning; pain everywhere and the sound of terrified screaming.

  She blinked and frowned, the skin tightening over the scar tissue on the side of her forehead. She was letting her emotions get the better of her. Thornal had taught her to revere the Flames, not fear them. These days she knew better than to be afraid of something that could help her.

  Down below, the small house was covered in a ravaging fire. When another explosion boomed through the air, Jena jerked backward. It made her realize the ramifications of Thornal’s death. The Guardian was dead and the Book of Spells destroyed; the storm marked it as clear as day, and the explosions were going to draw people to this place before the storm ended.

  She had to hurry. Thornal had been urgent, and he hadn’t spoken lightly. She must travel to the Forest of Ghosts.

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sp; Jena set her shoulders and turned back to the trail, holding her flaming hand up to guide the way. When she reached the top of the rocky path, she headed north over the rocky volcanic terrain. The dark shape of the raven followed her in the night sky. Knowing it was there helped to steady her heartbeat.

  At least she wasn’t completely alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nate swore. Argus was too heavy for him to carry; he needed the mercenary on his own two feet. He slapped Argus’s face, hoping it might work in reverse. Argus groaned but didn’t open his eyes. Desperately Nate muttered a small healing spell under his breath, drawing on the elements around him. As usual, it was weak at best. But Argus’s eyes opened, and he gulped in a breath. His eyes went wild for a moment, as if he were trying to find an enemy he’d forgotten, and then he sighed back into the ground. Nate put both arms under Argus’s arms and dragged him to his feet.

  The distinctive roar of a lavaen reverberated in the air above them, and Nate jerked sideways, almost pulling Argus over on top of him.

  “Careful,” muttered Argus, trying to step away. He stumbled, and Nate struggled to hold the heavy mercenary upright.

  “Just stay still,” Nate said, trying to get a firm grip without hurting Argus.

  Overhead, the lavaen’s massive wings were like a drumbeat against the wind. A warm draft blew across Nate’s neck as it passed over, high above where they stood. The smell of sulfur burned at his lungs in its wake. Nate looked up, and immediately regretted it. The lavaen loomed like an enormous bird of prey over their heads, its body a mix of black scales and molten lava. Large unblinking black eyes stared down at them, and goose pimples appeared along Nate’s arms despite the heat. They might have tricked the wolvans, but the lavaen was still focused on them.