From Ashes and Snow

Through the Eyes of Fire

Chapter 25. Through the Eyes of Fire.

"Four ounces of ichor is to much." Magister Fyr Lockley tried to ignore the stench of sulphur coming from her clothes. A small shaking hand ran through her short hair as she slipped out of her experiment room. She was used to the occasional explosion – such was the danger when you chose to study fire-casting.

When she was choosing the branch she wanted to study, she knew instantly that it was fire. She loathed being wet, so water was out. She hated the cold, so ice was out. She didn't have the fortitude or strength for the earth-casting and wind-casting always bored her.

Fire was exciting. Fire was alive.

And she needed that. When life felt so dark, so cold. She needed that flame behind her breastbone, that curl of heat around her wrist. Fyr hurried through the corridors of Atoll, coughing into her hand. The stench of Toad-rot was nothing to be laughed at. She would have to air out her rooms and find some kind of cast to suck the smell from the room. The least the smell could do was make someone vomit. The worst it could do was make a person pass-out.

She winced as she examined her bare, freckled arms. Long scratches and burns lined the pale skin, and she could feel one smart on her chin. She could have just healed it instantly, but instead chose to send dregs of magic to heal it slowly. Slower healing was always preferred for preventing scars; it helped the skin knit back more efficiently. Some people liked scars – she didn't. It was the sign of a fighter, and she was anything but.

She reached the main hall of Atoll. The great Crag hounds lounged by the fire-pits beside the doors, and the one with lighter fur...Arno?... raised a giant head to stare at her as she walked past. Fear curled in her stomach as those amber eyes watched her, cold and assessing. She had read countless reports of men far larger and far stronger than her torn apart by Crag Hounds. Even the friendly one intimidated her – one wrong move and he would send her sprawling. When Aviana was around, Fyr knew there was a guiding voice to control them but now they were simply lounging here, going about their strange business.

The dark furred one, the friendlier of the two, began to wag his tail when he spotted her. She managed a weak smile and continued on. As she reached the main doors, she spotted the Captain standing on the edge of the steps with a snow-hawk perching on his arm. He brushed the hawk's head softly with the back of his finger, silent as he watched over Haaling.

She pulled her furs tighter around her when she stepped into the cold. Soldiers were always hurrying around Haaling and as she watched the out-post, she knew today was no different. Before Dratlan, the outpost was much quieter. Now she couldn't go a day without hearing about a new injury, or without receiving reports on Nirani or other strange occurrences happening throughout the Evermere region.

Not that she was complaining. She liked being busy. Anything was better than thinking of her own failures in life. As she approached, the Captain untied a message from the snow-hawk's leg and the bird shot off into the sky.

"Kohen will be mad that you've intercepted his message." Fyr goaded lightly, falling into step beside him.

The Captain's mouth tightened. "He cannot hog the ravens."

"He likes them." Fyr scolded. "And he is efficient at sorting through those messages and getting them where they need to go."

Mahon cast a glance at her, a dark brow raised. "You are mothering him again, Fyr."

"I am not." Fyr's cheeks flamed. "I just look out for him. Someone needs to."

"Kohen can take care of himself." Mahon argued. "He didn't last this many years as the only survivor of the genocide of his people by being weak. He is smart, and cunning and very resourceful."