Fire Mage by John Forrester Page B

pockets.  
    “Did I miss anything exciting?” He scanned around. His eyes had a playful, mischievous look.
    “Ah, good company for the long ride.” Rikar clasped Nikulo’s hand. “A shame about all the lovely ladies we’ll be leaving behind.”
    Nikulo yawned and covered his mouth. “Ladies you say? Look here, they’ve invited a girl on the expedition.”  
    “A girl with an ugly face,” Rikar said, and flicked a pebble at Talis.  
    Talis ignored the jape, and instead pictured his sword slicing through Rikar’s armor at the Blood Dagger competition. He grinned and turned away.
    Master Jarvis Numerian tromped over to the group, his long black hair swinging back and forth. He glared at them. “Who invited you?”
    Talis swallowed and glanced around. “The Elders—”
    “Am I to play wet nurse to these saplings?”
    “Will you change our diapers too?” Nikulo said, grinning.  
    Jarvis grunted and scraped a boot against the sand. “This isn’t the practice arena. You’ll have no healer to save you from your own stupidity.”
    “Nikulo knows the art of healing,” Rikar said. “We’ll be fine on our own.”
    “We’ll see about that.” Jarvis gestured at Talis. “So you’re supposedly the one leading this little jaunt into the northlands? A fool and his magical map?”
    “He claims the gods gave him—”
    “Was I talking to you?” Jarvis scowled at Rikar, then faced Talis. “Well then, what are you waiting for, lead on…”
    The wind shifted and came up from the south, a warm wind, blowing against their backs as they faced north. Talis mounted and gazed at the shimmering horizon. He withdrew the Surineda Map, allowing it to light the dark way. The path was clear, but the way unsettling. Something was waiting for them.

11. THE NALGORAN DESERT
     

    The cold wind blew unceasingly from the north: a violent wind, a merciless wind, a wind that crept inside your ears and pressed hard against the back of your neck. The desert sands swirled, leaving a lingering haze. Talis lifted his head and stared. The afternoon sun blurred over the horizon. The day had turned sour, and now a sand storm pelted them mercilessly.  
    He bent over his horse and clung to the reins, searching the horizon for signs of life. The journey across the desert was unlike anything he’d experienced. The wind left him feeling exhilarated yet also exhausted at the same time. They’d ridden long and hard that day, the desert growing colder each mile as the party rode north over the white sands.  
    Talis rode up to Jarvis. “When will we rest for the day?” He could barely stay on his horse and his tailbone was numb.  
    “Quit complaining. Did you think your mama was coming?” Jarvis kicked his horse, trotting farther ahead.
    An hour after twilight, the storm cleared and the party reached a ghostly oasis, dimly lit under the four moon sisters. The soldiers slumped off their horses, jostling around and joking with each other. Jarvis grunted and ordered them to collect wood and start a fire. The party bustled about, unloading supplies from the horses and setting up camp.
    Talis was starving and couldn’t wait for the soldiers to cook dinner. He rummaged through his packs and found a bag of dried meat. He smiled, and thanked the gods for giving him such a wonderful mother. He ate a few pieces until his stomach stopped complaining.
    “What’s this?” Jarvis said, eying the dried meat. “No acting the noble brat out here with the troops hard at work. Pull your own weight… Do something useful like starting a fire.”
    Withering from his harsh words, Talis nodded and marched over to where several soldiers were assembling wood for the fire. The men regarded him suspiciously, but moved away as Talis raised his hands at the wood, attempting to cast Fire Magic again.
    But before he even had a chance to try, a spidering flame illuminated the dark night and engulfed the wood in a whoosh, then the magic disappeared, leaving only the