Call of Fire
"He is caste into the flame, and unlike any other, the flame is caste into him.
He who controls the flame, controls himself,
and he, the sovereign of fire will rise from the ashes."
-Fire Elemental Prophet Larcynon
PrologueInside his chamber all was quiet as he collected his things. It was time for him to leave this place, but where he was going, he was uncertain. Before he could put anymore thought into it, there was a knock at his door.
"Leave me be I need no visitors." He called to the door in an irritated tone.
"Arbitrator," a man's voice responded, "I need to speak with you, please let me in."
"I'll have none," he called. "Go away."
"I won't! This is about the arbitration tomorrow, it is a sensitive matter and my lord begs a careful decision".
"I'll accept no bribe. Now away you indictable fool, lest I unleash the fury of my magic upon you!"
There was no response from the voice. It disappeared as quickly as it interrupted him. He tried to regain his place in his packing. After a second of consideration he went back to his alchemical reagents. The man was middle-aged; he stood just six feet tall with night black hair and eyes and with solidly chiseled features. His robe was maroon in color with an extravagant design. Its collar and other trim was gold, laced with skin of a gold dragon. The rest of the fabric was laced with that of a red dragon. His name was Fawlescourne and he had grown tired of his place in the world. Restless he sought something new, something more self-serving.
As he continued to collect his things he was picking out what he wanted to take and was putting them all in the small bag at his side. A small bag quite magical in nature. Everything put into this bag is deposited not within the bag itself but on a floating, warded platform in the astral plane. To retrieve something all one has to do is desire that thing when they put their hand in, and it will summon itself.
There was another knock at the door. Almost done with collecting his things Fawlescourne found himself even more irritated by these further delays.
"What is it!" He roared. "No you imbecile, I won't accept a bribe from that greedy blowhard master of yours! If you ask one more time like you've been begging, for the last fortnight. I'll trap your soul in a gem and wear it on my finger till the end of time. So may the gods save you!"
As he was finishing his crescendoing threat, he opened the door not to find his pesterer. But his most trusted friend Dawldwith, backed up against the wall opposite his door.
"Oh", was the only thing Fawlescourne could manage to say to his visitor in his state of dumbfoundedness.
"Sorry to have bothered you, I'll come back later," The man said with crushed composure.
Fawlescourne halfway amused and embarrassed attempted to maintain Dawldwith's company. "No no. Sorry about the mistake. Please, come right in."
They both entered the master arbitrator's, chamber which of course was one of the largest and most luxurious in the entire academy. Fawlescourne lead his guest back to his alchemy lab. Dawldwith simply took a look around, observed its dearth of equipment, and took a seat.
"Where is all of your alchemical equipment? If you're replacing it all, I get dibs on that new essence tumbler you had."
"I'm not replacing anything." Fawlescourne shifted to sift through a shelf with small labeled bottles. " I packed it all up, I'm departing tonight."
"I didn't hear about any of this. Where are you going? Is it a sudden diplomatic mission to another academy?"
"I am just going. I can't explain my motives to you. You can't understand, at least not yet."
Dawldwith, puzzled and insulted took a stand from his seat, "Try me, I understand many things."
"Many is not everything, is it? Dawldwith, you have been my friend for many years. Since we first entered the academy. Do you remember? We were just children. But tell me have I not bested you at everything we ever did, every game, every study, every class, every..."
"What's your point Fawlescourne?"
Fawlescourne took up a more passionate voice. "My point!? I have earned a far higher place in the arcane hierarchy than you have instructor. And that all this, has taken place in the same amount of time. Yet I am ready to forsake my place here. But look at you, you cling feverously to this place, and I know what you are going to say next. I know you that well."
Dawldwith took a firm stance and stated solemnly, "Despite how you may feel at this moment, Grand Master Arbitrator, you cannot abandon your responsibilities and obligations to the academy."
"I am done with this place, it has served my purpose. But despite all of that, I will always value you as a friend Dawldwith."
Fawlescourne turned to leave when his guest called out once more.
"Then I will come with you."
Fawlescourne stopped mid-incantation. "You will not follow me I will make sure of it. Don't test me!"
Dawldwith pressed again "What about her?"
Fawlescourne froze for a moment and closed his eyes as if struck by some pain. "She will seek me out, I know it. No more, I am gone!"
At that he turned once more to utter his teleportation incantation. He motioned his hands, and then disappeared abruptly into a flash of orange light. Dawldwith, left in his room just stared in bewilderment and murmured, "He's gone mad."
Fawlescourne appeared outside the main entrance to the academy's central tower. It was a huge set of intricately muraled adamantite gothic arch-style doors. He was taken back to the first time he passed through them as a child. As he peered upward into the moonlit night, there was a thick fog about. For the huge towers of the arcane castle could not be seen in their entirety. Trying not to dwell on things of the past, he pressed onward toward the gates.
"Is there something wrong?" An old and distinguished voice called out from some obscurment in the fog.
"Not anymore, I am leaving." Fawlescourne stopped and made no strain to peer into the fog as seven figures, seemingly materialized from it.
"We cannot allow you to leave, Arbitrator. You cannot share our secrets with the outside world. They are undeserving of our knowledge."
The figures where all cloaked and cowled in a black so fitting to the foggy night. The one in the middle continued to speak, but as he started Fawlescourne cut him off in a very unamused tone.
"Out of my way, lest I cast you all aside!" As he spoke his threat, his eyes began to glow red with fury.
The central figure spoke again. "Let's be reasonable. You can't leave this place."
"Why can't I you fool? Are you and your cowled meemies going to stop me? I'm not amused!"
As he finished, a man on the left raised his hand and shot a streaking ball of fire no bigger than a fist toward him. As the ball spanned the twenty-five feet of air it sharply decelerated. Slowing to a halt it caused a ripple in a faint orange wall of force before Fawlescourne's body. However, as it gently connected with the shield, it was transmuted into a ball of molten steel, bright yellow in color. The ball flattened slightly meeting the curvature of the shield, reformed as a ball, and as swiftly as it came, was returned to its caster.
This time it flew with blinding speed, and before it hit its original caster it halted instantly. Only several inches from the figure's face, he was petrified in one big flinch just long enough to watch the object dim in color. Within only a few seconds it turned from yellow, to orange, to red, to a grayish black. The cowled man's flinch did not go unrewarded. Just when he was going to step back, the ball, solid and still warm, fell with an audible thud on his left foot. The scream that succeeded the thud was probably heard for a mile of so. Fawlescourne found himself smiling for the first time in weeks.
"Enough!" Resounded through the night fog as the old man in the middle bellowed.
"I'll have no more of this! Go if you must but I warn you Grand Master Arbitrator Fawlescourne, this is your last chance. If you go now I'll send the agents after you. If they fail the hunter will not!"
Fawlescourne did not respond, he simply walked straight through them, and disappeared into the foggy night. Fawlescourne stopped again, this time at the academy wall's gate. The gate had an impressive gargoyle décor, yet there was something odd about those statues. They almost seemed more alive then they let on, although they probably only moved when no one was looking.
He tried hard to suppress the childhood recollections but he couldn't. They came to him uninvitedly for they could not allow him to forget this place. The gates were huge; reaching twenty feet in the air standing back he raised a hand to them. As he did the wind picked up and the gates parted inward toward him.
My journey begins here and now he thought to himself, here and now. The first step he took felt quite odd as it was the pinnacle of his defiance, and there was no turning back. The past was the past and he had much to contemplate in the journey to come.
Act I: The HuntChapter 1: A Bitter Goodbye
Not looking back he strode along the forest road with staff in hand. Fawlescourne pondered how to get the keeper off of his back. The thought of that idiot, Keeper Barathrum, and his denizens following him to the end of the world was somewhat disconcerting. For it was the only thing that kept him from concentrating on his goals. His goals of course were to, better him self, and serve no other, among other things.
The night was cold and there were many things in this forest that were both magical and unnatural. Escaped experiments from the academy and other denizens of the dark. The dark woods were not harbor to only things of danger and depravity. There where also many things of other natures as well. Probably not one person knew all of what lived in this place. Fawlescourne did not care, he was not afraid of what lived here, and it did not matter. He was leaving it. But if anything did strike out from the darkness, he would in great fury, send it back to whatever hell had spawned it.
Fawlescourne had walked for several hours, and the matters at hand were pressing in again. He had to start on his first leads. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a book. This should do it he thought to himself. But before he could enjoy even so much as it's cover, he was interrupted. A blue surge of light and energy spanned out from not more than ten feet behind him. The light flooded the near woods with a brilliance that seemed unnatural to say the least. As it was subsiding a figure emerged from its core.
"Demathryne." Fawlescourne called in an amused tone as he was opening his eyes from a squint. "What can I do for you?"
The woman was a mage cloaked in an extravagantly designed blue and silver robe. There was a cold beauty about her that was both commanding and quiet, yet she seemed upset. Her loose platinum hair swayed gently in the light breeze as she stared at him, with her pale blue eyes.
"Four hours gone, and you've got the entire academy in an uproar. What the hell are you doing?"
Fawlescourne smirked, "Leaving can't ya tell?"
Demathryne looked at him like he wasn't funny. "Do you know what's going on back there?"
"Well since you were just there, maybe you could tell me?
"It's little more than a frenzy. Mages fight over your position like dogs do a bone. And above that, Barathrum clamors for blood. Although, the hunt may not be sanctioned for several days. In the chaos I was able to slip away, but I don't think I can stay long. Please tell me, what the hell are you doing?" Demathryne looked at him with eyes he couldn't deceive. She didn't know what he was up to, but it sure wasn't the normal rogue, or spy, or double agent business that came up so often in the academy's wars. Fawlescourne knew he had to tell her the truth; knowing she wouldn't like or understand it, all he could do was avoid it for as long as possible."The weather is quite nice isn't it?"
Demathryne looked at him with a level of disgust, " Why would you bring up the weather at a time like this!?"
"Well it must be, if you're out here to enjoy it with me."
That was about all she could take and he knew it. "Don't get sarcastic with me! I implore you, tell me what is wrong. You've changed so much in the last few months. You've missed arbitrations, you haven't shown up for your scheduled lectures. You missed all three nights of the Dragon Festival. You've just been avoiding everyone, and have been locked up in your chamber. Or rushing in and out of the libraries for books on, god knows what. You..." The woman's gaze dropped away for a second then she looked up at him again. "You even stopped coming to my chamber in the evening. This is madness! What has happened to you!?"
Fawlescourne's attitude became stern once again, "I seek what I may not have any other way. It calls to me, it beckons my very being. I cannot resist it. Although it saddens me to say it, despite my own emotional conviction, I can resist you."
Demathryne, who was on the fringe of tears pressed, "What is it you seek? Tell me!"
He answered her, but he knew she wouldn't be satisfied. "I seek knowledge that cannot be found within the Academy's libraries. I seek wisdom that cannot be possed by mortal men, who live mortal lives. And lastly, I, Fawlescourne, seek power that cannot be harnessed by beings of our nature."
Stunned, appalled, infuriated, confused, she was all of these things, but she certainly wasn't understanding. She regained her austere composure and said, "Well, that's it then. You're just going to leave? I can't understand why you would throw everything away, including your own life."
Fawlescourne cocked an eyebrow, "My life?"
Demathryne studied his false query for a moment. "You know what I'm talking about! The Keeper will mobilize the hunt within the next few days. No one has ever survived. You know that don't you!?"
He studied his surroundings for a moment and then affirmed her question. "You know I'm stronger than that. You're just worried I might make a mistake. Don't, it won't happen. Please make your return before you're convicted of consorting with a rogue."
Fawlescourne gazed into her eyes for one last moment, and remembered all of the fond times he had with her. He was casting it away and it could not be helped. Farewell was all he could say, having said it, he turned and walked away from her; as he had everything else.
Chapter 2: Unforeseen Guidance
The woods had gotten just a little colder but he couldn't admit it. To walk away from her was the most painful thing he had ever done, but in his mind there was no other way than to forsake her. Perhaps it wasn't just her that was forsaken, but another piece of his humanity. Love, it has cost so many, so much. He wouldn't admit that such a basic human emotion had cost him any thing; after all he had not let it interfere with his pursuits. But what he didn't see was that even the smallest piece of humanity is a cost.
There was a whisper in his ear and it was barely audible. Startled he turned his head to look behind, but there was nothing there, for all he could tell. He heard it again, it sounded as though it was coming from within his head.
"It lurks…It will strike… It stalks you…It is patient…It hungers for flesh…" The voice was intermittent and did not seem respond to his questions.
"Who's there!?"
"Who are you!?"
"What lurks!?" He stopped, uncertain of what threat opposed him. He listened and peered into the darkness.
There was no response. The voice just stopped and every thing suddenly grew eerily silent and still. The insects, the rustling of small forest creatures, the owls, everything just fell silent. Infuriated by the stealth of the thing that was supposedly out there, he decided to take action, and level the playing field. Raising his staff off of the ground the lozenge shaped gem atop of it began to pulse with an inner brilliance. With a single worded incantation, "Dra'morae!" Fawlescourne brought the staff sharply back to the ground.
A shockwave spanned out from the ground beneath the staff. The facets of the gem became blinding to look upon, then instantly the forest around him was flooded with an artificial daylight. Yellowish effulgence had banished all shadows around him. It wasn't long before what was stalking him was found. Gazing into a large bush under a nearby tree, he saw what one does not usually expect from a bush, something gazing back. He peered long into the darkness, and it peered long into him. A pair of blood-red eyes watched him, and following his every move.
Not willing to attempt a conversation with such a beast he extended his left hand and began his incantation. "Torios'Volconis Morae!" His voice resounded like thunder, and his eyes grew red. When he was done a ball of fire appeared in his palm. It shot forth and traversed the distance almost instantaneously. The ball hit the ground at the base of the bush. On impact it erupted into a violent inferno, tearing a crater in the earth and vaporizing the nearby plant life. The thing moved as a blur and retreated into the darkness. The explosion was not fast enough to even scathe it.
Puzzled by its speed, but not disappointed by its retreat, Fawlescourne found himself content with continuing on his journey. As he turned to walk the light dimmed back to the moonlight that was there before.
The voice was there again. "Not just any mortal distills fear in the predators of the night."
He turned and he saw it. Sitting on a tree branch not fifteen feet to his left, was what had been communicating with him. It was a slender thing with a vaguely mischievous look to it. In many respects it looked like a slender gargoyle. It had small wings and could not have been more than two-and-a-half feet tall. Its wings were bat like in appearance and it had a small yet sharp looking pair of horns. The odd thing about it was its skin was a maroon color. And on its head, it had a flaming scalp in place of any kind of hair. The thing's feet dangled as it watched him.
"You wield great inferno from your hands yet your heart is frozen. You are quite unlike most mortals. Perhaps you deserve the immortality you seek." The thing spoke quizzically and with amusement.
Fawlescourne stared at it for a moment but before he could ask. It spoke to him again, although not in his head this time. "Who am I. What am I. Why am I here. Don't even ask, I know that's what your thinking. Why is this little flaming imp talking to me. I get this a lot, and just for the record I'm not an imp, I'm an elemental servant. I can't tell ya who I serve, but I can tell ya, you might meet him eventually."
He regarded the imp with impatience, "A him, that narrows it down."
"The name's Smokey Boji'var, But you can call me Lord Boji'var."
Fawlescourne was becoming less and less amused by the
Second. "Sorry Smokey I don't address one of your stature as lord."
Smokey's eyes flared with humor, "Ohh, that hurt." The Imp took a second to reflect on the mortal's sense of humor. He lifted off of the branch and floated over to Fawlescourne. "Well, enough squabbling for now, time to get down to business."
Chapter 3: The Keeper
The council room was dark and roaring with voices. The mages of the academy fought over what was to be done to the rogue, and who would take his place.