The Land Set Aflame

Chapter 42: The Mixed Blood

In the cool air of autumn, the morning mists lingered beyond their typical curfew. As he sat, bored but wary in that campsite that was too close to the enemy for his comfort, Svenden's mind began to play tricks on him, trying to convince him that some of that morning mist was actually smoke from the wildfires to the east. It wasn't unheard of for smoke to travel that far, even in the weakened winds of autumn, but Svenden knew that he just had fire on his mind, and it wasn't real.

Kithana also seemed bored to him. She sat on a log, her flames mimicking the demure posture of a lady who wanted everyone to see how feminine she was. It seemed like she was making an effort to mimic a lot of Callyndia's mannerisms.

He thought he'd suppressed his chuckle, but even with her apparent obliviousness to social cues, Kithana noticed. "You're smiling," she said, her voice still echoing with that strange ethereal quality that made his skin crawl, "That means you're in a good mood. I guess your wound is better, then?"

He absently touched his chest, where the residual sting of Ilyssia's blade still tickled his flesh a bit. "I suppose it is," he said, "But, that's not why I'm smiling."

"Then why?" she asked, "You must be thinking of Lady Sablesong."

His cheeks flushed in response to a little burst of warmth from his heart. "I'm really not the person to teach you about how humans express emotions," he said, "You'd probably be better off not trying to glean insights from me."

"Why?" she asked.

He sighed and shook his head. "Just... don't," he said, looking back towards Callyndia, who was kneeling, 'communing with the spirits' or somesuch.

"You're uncomfortable with me," Kithana said.

Svenden looked at her in surprise. "No," he lied, "You're Leofric's girl, so you and I are alright."

"I don't know what that means," she said simply, mimicking one of those cute little girly shrugs Callyndia did so often. It didn't look quite as good on her.

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, yeah," he said, "Yeah, I'm a little uncomfortable. It's still strange to me that you're... real. You know what I mean?"

She turned her head to one side, and the flames that were pretending to be her hair tumbled about her shoulders in a surprisingly hair-like fashion, even as they seemed to want to rise and wave like normal fires do.

"You aren't accustomed to elementals," she said.

"No, I've gotten over that," Svenden said, "I've seen plenty of rogue elementals over this last month. But, those were just fires that could move on their own a little. You... well, you're like a person. You look like a person. You talk. And you even hold Leofric's hand and kiss him. But, you're made of fire. How is that...?" He chuckled nervously. "Never mind. Sorry. That's kind of rude, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "I'm not really made of fire," she said, "I'm a spirit, just like Lady Sablesong. I'm made of mana. She's made of mana. Her mana mimics flesh. My mana mimics fire. But it's not actually fire: it's just like fire in some ways."

Svenden nodded. That made sense. Sort of. But if he thought about it a little harder, it would probably stop making sense again. Magic had a tendency to do that. So, he just nodded politely and stopped thinking about it.

The sound of footfalls on crunchy leaves soon resolved into Leofric Banin, returning from another herb-foraging foray, Unsuccessful again, by the looks of it.

"I don't really understand it, either," Kithana said, "That's how Leofric explained it."

"What did I explain?" Leofric asked as he sat down beside her.