"Taming a Flame"
By, Vivat Musa
A The Last Story fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Last Story or its characters.
This story was inspired when Zael goes to the palace's library and hears a snippet of dialogue from Uril, a mage from the Hungry Child quest. Later, Uril mentioned that he burned another book, and how Yurick never messed up with his spells. And, eh, that's how this story came to be…
As expected from a library, there were shelves that reached the ceiling, and tables with stacks of books that towered nearly as high. In front of one of those tables stood a young boy with hair the color of moonlight. However, the boy's words were not as serene as the lunar beams…
"I am sooo dead."
Uril hunched over the book, his hands gripping the table's edges until his knuckles turned white. With an effort, he unclenched his hands and reached for the manuscript.
The charred pages crumbled to ash underneath his fingertips. He jerked back his hand. "That's it," Uril blurted out. "My life is officially over. I am done for." With a groan, he let his head clonk against the wooden table. The smell of smoked paper lingered in the musty library air, and with it came the thought that Uril was trying so hard to avoid: the Pyromancer's Trial.
It was an important ritual for every fire mage in Lazulis Academy to undergo. The series of tests proved whether they were worthy or not of the inferno's deadly power. And there was only one week left before Uril could show he was ready to be a true mage. Unfortunately, from where he was standing right now, they might as well prepare the funeral.
The book that was near disintegration was the third victim he had destroyed this month. Uril hadn't done it on purpose, of course. It was just the last step of Flare that dashed any chances of success. The Pyromancer's Trial tested a mage's ability to summon, sustain, empower, and control an enchanted flame. The young mage could do the former three just fine, but the control part was the problem.
As soon as he released the ball of fire it would spiral out of control, threatening to scorch everything in its path like a true inferno. Before the blaze could be put out, it would always leave a memento of its destruction. The first time it burnt the neighbor's prized petunias; the second time the flame left only a singed arm of Uril's little sister's teddy bear (Mum was at his throat for days after that); and this time it consumed his book.
The young mage wearily lifted his head just enough so his chin was resting on the table's surface. He puffed his cheeks out like a chipmunk and blew at the ruined manuscript; a flurry of ashes rose from the pages, waltzing in the air like blackened snow. His eyes followed the particles as they slowly landed one by one onto the table.
And I liked that book, too, thought Uril glumly. Maybe I could get Ari to fix it. She's good with repairing spells. Honestly, any spell other than fire could help. The only thing fire was useful for was destruction, and Uril had enough of that for the moment.
Once again, the boy let his head bump against the table. He ignored the dull pain in his forehead, too busy worrying over what to do. All that Uril ever wanted was to prove himself, to show he had what it takes to be a legendary mage; one that could rival even Yurick himself. But if Uril didn't pass those blasted tests, then he would never become a full-fledged mage, never be taken seriously, and never be as great as Yurick.
Wait!
As if jolted by electricity, Uril's body bolted upright. His eyes grew to wide silver discs as an idea took form.
It was risky, that was for certain.
If his plan failed, he would no doubt humiliate himself for all time.
But if it did work, then he would not only pass his challenge, but also have skills surpassing everyone in his class.
Uril's mind was made up in that moment.
The young mage got to his feet and raced to the library's exit, the scorched book forgotten. Uril was just about to step out of the room, the door already ajar, when a shrill voice made him freeze. "Uril, wait! Where are you going?"
Refraining a grimace, Uril reluctantly loosened his grip on the door's handle until it slipped from his fingers. Its thud boomed around the otherwise quiet room. It reminded him of a coffin slamming shut. Uril turned around, tilting his head up until he was glaring at the library's second story—or more specifically, at the girl who was leaning over the rail's edge.
As Uril had feared, it was his fellow classmate, Dinah. It was common knowledge that the girl had a crush, bordering on obsession, on Yurick—she and the rest of the girls who constantly giggled over his braid or something silly like that. While Uril didn't know why braids were so interesting (nor did he care to), he did know if Dinah were to catch a whiff of his plan, she would stick to him like glue.
No. That can't happen, not now.
"Why are you in such a rush?" called Dinah, peering down at him with intrigued icy-blue eyes. Even from afar, eagerness rolled off the girl in almost tangible waves.
"Nothing of your concern, I'm sure," retorted Uril, yanking the door open again. "Now if you excuse me, I really must be—"
"Hold on! Are you going to see Yurick?"
"No! Now go away!" The boy slipped through the door, cutting off any chance of reply. He was just about to break into a run, but an idea made him hesitate. If he melted the door's handle, then Dinah couldn't follow him. However, Uril quickly dismissed the idea; the punishment of not only misusing his magic, but also destroying the palace's property sent a shiver down his spine. Yup, definitely not worth it—not even for sabotaging Dinah.
Uril jogged through the hallways, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor tiles. Palace guards and the occasional group of knights were on patrol—a surprising amount of them could be heard bragging about who was the best—but not one batted an eyelash when Uril went past. It was common for students to visit the palace's library, since it carried the largest amount of information that was accessible to the public.
Less than ten minutes had passed before Uril found him.
The second-most powerful fire mage was standing at one of the castle's alcoves. Beside Yurick was a darkly clothed woman. She had raven-black hair twisted into a bun and spiked bangs that spilled down the sides of her face.
It took Uril a moment to recognize her as one of Yurick's fellow mercenaries. Wary, he eyed the woman, letting his footsteps slow before coming to a full stop. Though the young mage wouldn't call himself prejudice, a series of red flags flared up in his mind. It was hard to ignore the distrusting, snide rumors about mercenaries that were passed from ear to ear around the lands.
While Yurick did fit the stereotype of a cold mercenary, he was also a respected and well-known mage; it was why he appealed—while unintentionally—to many of the student. But this stranger was a dangerous unknown. She could be a killer with knives hidden up her sleeves for all Uril knew!
However…lethal wasn't the first word to pop into the boy's mind when he regarded the woman.
He would've been lying if he said she wasn't pretty in a gentle, almost motherly sort of way. The kind smile on her face seemed as natural to her as breathing. However, it was the woman's eyes that shattered all illusions that she would do him harm. Her eyes seemed to dance with an innocent playfulness, like she could see something others could not, and they held so much openness and trust—a quality that was rarely found in people.
It was difficult to imagine this maiden working—or even associating—with the roguish and infamous line of mercenaries. Nonetheless, the woman was conversing with the master mage without aggravating him. And if Uril wasn't very mistaken, Yurick seemed to enjoy talking to her. The closest thing to a smile that Yurick could get spread on his face as he nodded to something the lady said. Seeing this, Uril began to warm even more to the woman. It was an impressive feat to talk to the mage without being blasted with a fireball.
Swallowing a bundle of nerves, Uril walked over to the mercenaries. Their conversation stopped when he approached, their eyes turning to him in curiosity. While the woman's smile was still there, Yurick's almost-happy expression transformed into his typical frown.
"What do you want?" he said curtly. Irritation was written all over his features.
Good. He's in one of his better moods, thought Uril. Most of the time Yurick would just snap at a person to shove off and stop bothering him.
Before he could answer, the woman turned to her comrade, a sparkle in her eyes. "Oh, do you two need to discuss secret fire mage secrets?" she asked. Her airy, childlike voice took Uril by surprise.
Yurick's frown deepened. "Mirania, there's no such thing as 'secret fire mage secrets.' And no, we're not."
"Actually," interrupted Uril, "I was hoping you could help me. You see, Master Yurick, all students attending Lazulis Academy need to pass the Pyromancer's Trial to become a full-fledged fire mage. My test is only one week away though, and I still don't have complete control of the fire spell. And if I don't pass…well, I have to wait another two years to retake it…"
Yurick cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at the boy. "Your point is…?"
The boy's hopefulness faltered. Suddenly, his brilliant idea did not seem so brilliant. "W-well, since you're skills are one of the best, I was hoping you could tutor me," said Uril, less surely. He hastily added, "But I'm a quick learner! All I need is a lesson or two, and I'm sure I can pass. It won't take up much of you're time, I promise."
Yurick was already shaking his head. "Sorry, but I—"
"Oh, Yurick, it sounds like an excellent idea!"
The two mages whirled at the lady in surprise; both of them had forgotten she was even there. However, Mirania seemed oblivious to their shock. She turned to Yurick and beamed. "Just think about! This is your chance to pass on your knowledge to another talented mage. He can be like an apprentice to carry on your legacy. "
"You make me sound as if I'm an old man," he grumbled.
Uril mentally added, And I'm nobody's apprentice. Thankfully, the boy had enough sense to know that luck was turning his way. He kept his mouth shut.
"Look at it this way," insisted Mirania. "You're doing a good deed by helping another mage."
Yurick didn't look convinced. "Why do I have a feeling there's more to your generosity than meets the eye?"
A blush rushed to the woman's cheeks. She giggled sheepishly, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Well…Ariela's oven broke this morning," she explained. "So she can't warm my favorite honeyed sticky buns, and you know how they taste best when hot."
Her gaze slid to Uril, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Then as if to prove her point, Mirania's stomach gave a loud, insistent growl. Uril raised a brow at the unladylike action, but Yurick appeared only exasperated.
"Do I look like a tutor to you?" he snarled at Uril and the healer. "I won't be snagged into this just because you want warmed sticky—"
Then his eyes fell on Mirania's lowered head, her gaze dropped to the ground. "But wouldn't it be fun?" she mumbled, looking like a puppy who had just been scolded.
There was a clank as Yurick clenched his jaw, unsure of what to say. Normally he would snap that no, it would not be fun, but the rare sight of Mirania in such a crestfallen state had stilled his tongue. Uril could tell that the mage had no idea how to react to this—it was obvious that comforting wasn't his strong suit.
Waiting for the outcome, the boy's eyes darted back and forth between the mercenaries. It was clear that a battle of wills was raging on Yurick's face. All the while, Mirania kept her head down and did not say a word, leaving an awkward silence to fill the space.
At last Yurick sighed. In a dull monotone, he grumbled, "Yes, it would be fun."
A smile tugged at Uril's lips.
And so the training began.