Of Crows and Jackdaws

Part 5 - Light of the Flames

Elias was cradled in a chair, close to the hearth of his tower. The edifice had been constructed many generations before him to house the Archmages of Malliver. It was nowhere as luxurious as it once had been, but it was still comfortable.

The wizard was fast asleep, as he was still recuperating from their encounter with the deathly knight. Barcias himself had sustained no injury aside from his scorched hand. However, he was absolutely exhausted, which, according to Elias, was normal after uttering a Word of Severance for the first time.

There was a knock on the door and Barcias quickly roused Elias from his slumber before opening it. On the doorstep stood a thin man in his thirties wearing a purple houppelande. He was a talented alchemist who always had laughing eyes and a playful smile.

"Greetings, Sir Barcias. I hope you are well. Master Elias asked me to be here tonight."

"Yes, Palomon. Come sit with me."

Palomon obliged as the knight closed the door behind him.

"Would you like some wine? I've just bought a bottle of Thulanese red from a northern merchant."

"But of course, Master Elias. One should never refuse to drink in good company."

"Indeed."

The enchanter poured some wine into a goblet and handed it to Palomon and both sat in front of the fire, gazing at the dancing flames.

"Even on the coldest nights, my mother's home was always warm," Elias said after a moment. "There was always a fire like this in the hearth. She liked the warmth, and she said it was only next to a good fire that good conversations could be had. People like to call her a whore to get to me, but I don't think she ever slept with one of her guests after my birth. She was always in control of the hospitality. But she knew people would always say I was a whoreson if I stayed in Orendel, or even in Gondea at all. So, when she met that scholar, that mage who told her I had a gift for the hermetic art, the ars magica, she didn't hesitate: she sent me to the Scolomyst of Rolante, far away from her.

At first, I didn't understand. I was but a child. And when I missed her too much, I would look into the fire of the great hall of the school, and I could nearly see her in the flames, dancing melancholically with her lute in hand, fluttering in the air as if weightless. Dancing, dancing, dancing among the sparks in the flickering fire.

The heat, the glow and the incandescent ember...

The crackle and the crinkle of crepitating sandalwood...

The flames engulf all. They writhe, they swerve, they turn on themselves. Never truly seen, and yet granting vision.

Dancing, dancing, dancing.

They spin and twirl and tangle. Immaterial and ethereal, and yet life-giving.

Dancing, dancing, dancing."

Elias paused and took a deep breath. "Of course, my interest in fire also derived from my apprenticeship in pyromancy and hypnosis."

"Yes," Palomon answered with apathy. No emotion could be heard in his voice. "I understand."

"Now, I believe we are going to have a good conversation."

"Yes."

"Palomon, my friend, were you at the basilica when the Order was attacked and a dozen members were slaughtered?"

"No."

"Why, Palomon?"

"Because I was elsewhere."

"Oh! Palomon! That will not do. Where were you that night?" Elias said in a grim voice.

"At the inn. I drank a lot that night."

"Why did you drink so, Palomon?"

"Because... I hated myself."

"Why, Palomon?"

"I... I..."

The alchemist sat, motionless. He could not close his eyes and heavy tears rolled down his cheeks. He articulated, enunciated with growing intensity, as if every word was painfully wrung out of him.

"Tell me, Palomon, did you talk to a warlock about the reunion of the Order?"

"Yes."

"Who was that warlock, Palomon?"

"It... It was Arphasz."

Elias remained quiet for a long moment.

"Tell me, Palomon, did you know that Arphasz was a warlock?"

"Yes."

Elias sat in silence for what seemed like hours before standing up without looking away from the fire.

"You can take him away, Captain Rine."

A tall and imposing man came out of the adjacent room. He was accompanied by three men of the city watch.

"I'll throw him in a cell until Father Darian can grant him Ultimate Rites. Thank you, Master Elias. Captain Erveldt will be avenged."

As soon as they grabbed Palomon, he awoke from his entranced torpor and screamed.

He cried, and wailed, and sobbed.

He asked for mercy and for pity, but Elias did not hear him: his eyes were on the dancing flames.

"Why, Palomon?"