Chapter 6: Torrin November 8, 873

If Torrin had died in the fire that day in June, he would have been a hero. Everyone would have remembered how the tanner’s apprentice saved that old woman.

But Torrin hadn’t died that day. He’d run away with Silas and his men with the full intent to go back to Corignis to live with his mother. Silas made him wait three weeks before he went back home. It had taken less than one to convince Torrin to stay for good.

For the most part, Torrin liked being in Silas’s camp. Silas had taken a liking to him right away, inviting him on trips he took to show Torrin what kind of work he was doing. Just last week, Torrin saw Silas’s best healers fixing up a woman who’d been beaten nearly to death by her Corridian master. A woman Silas himself had saved. Back home in Sendium, Jinura were treated as inferior, but rarely were they abused in such a way. Apparently, it was different in Linia.

“New kid!” Torrin cursed himself for turning. They’d never stop calling him that if he continued to respond to it. He’d been here for months, though. Surely they had to stop eventually. “Have you ever played the burn game?” Torrin approached the group of young Jinura. He recognized the one calling him over as the boy they called Rune. He’d been with Silas for several months when Torrin joined.

“He’s Corridian, he can’t play,” another boy said, pointing at Torrin’s bare wrist. Everyone in the circle was a Fire Jinura.

“I’m not Corridian,” Torrin insisted. Before coming here, he never minded when he and the rest of the world thought he was Corridian. But in Silas’s camp, he definitely preferred being Jinura.

“Well you’re not marked. Do you even know how to play?” the same boy goaded.

“Of course I do.” When he was younger, Torrin’s mother had explained the game he’d seen two Fire Jinura brothers in town playing. She told him it was barbaric and shallow, but he didn’t want to be left out. He hadn’t made many friends in Silas’s camp, despite being here for several months. It didn’t help that most of them were older than he was. Even these boys had to be at least eighteen.

“Let’s give it a go,” Rune challenged, grabbing Torrin’s forearm. The older boy loomed over him, making him seem even bigger than he already was. As soon as Torrin wrapped his finger’s around Rune’s arm as well, he felt the heat start to build. Torrin sent his own heat, creating a barrier between the boys. Rune added to the fire, and Torrin struggled to pull more to add as well. The trouble with this game was that once enough heat was built up, you didn’t have enough energy or speed to stop it from burning you once the dam broke. The trick was to force your opponent to break first.

“Not bad,” Rune said, adding to the fire so the skin on their hands began to faintly glow pink. Torrin matched his heat and pushed even more. Not pleased with Torrin attempting to take the lead, Rune added a sudden wave of sweltering energy and Torrin couldn’t take it. The barrier burst and all the heat they’d built up forced its way into Torrin’s arm. With a cry, he jumped back, releasing Rune’s arm.

As Torrin held his burned arm to his chest, Rune and the others started laughing and walking away. With a scowl, Torrin headed for the healing tent. He never should have agreed to play. He’d had his Jinura power for less than six months and Rune had his for at least five years. What did he expect?

“Excuse me?” Torrin inched into the tent, looking for one of Silas’s Bone Jinura to help him.

“Torrin?” Torrin couldn’t help jumping at the voice that had come up beside him, but it was just Silas. “What are you doing here?”

Humiliated, Torrin slid his arm so it was behind his back. “Just looking around.”

“Torrin.” Silas raised an eyebrow, looking at the arm Torrin had attempted to hide. With a sigh, Torrin held up the injured arm. A clear, red handprint was visible on the underside of his forearm. In the center of Rune’s palm, where the worst of the pain radiated from, a blister was forming. “Your first burn game I’m guessing.” Torrin nodded guiltily.

“It doesn’t even hurt that much,” Torrin lied, “I just don’t want a scar shaped like Rune’s hand stuck on my arm forever.”

“So it was Rune. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Silas led Torrin deeper into the tent and sat him down on a cot. “He likes to make himself feel important, even if it means beating an inexperienced Jinura at a silly game.”

“I knew he would win, I guess. I just hoped I would last a little longer.” Though in retrospect, Torrin realized lasting longer would have just meant a worse burn.

“You’ve only just started to learn how to use your power. Besides, the rest of the world is impressed when a Jinura starts showing skill as young children, but the most powerful Jinura in history were late-bloomers. Like you.” Silas put a hand up, gesturing for a Bone Jinura to help him. In a few seconds, a tall woman was at his side. “Torrin, you know Bianca.” Torrin nodded at the middle-aged Bone Jinura. He may have known her, but that didn’t mean he liked her. She was always curt and brash.

“Another burn. Fire Jinura are so childish,” Bianca droned. “Nothing we can’t fix in a few minutes.” Her long, bony fingers reached out for Torrin’s arm, but Silas stopped her.

“Actually, I’d like the new boy to come help Torrin.”

“Silas, I’m not sure—”

“Please, Bianca. You said he needs practice.” Bianca pursed her lips, but turned on her heel to fetch this new boy.

“You have a new Bone Jinura?” In the last few months, Silas had been sending smaller groups to Kern. There was a consortium near the Kernish-Linian border that specialized in the export of Bone Jinura as indentured servants. Many of the indentures had been snatched from their homes to be sold to the highest Linian bidder.

“Yes. He arrived yesterday with the men I sent to Kern. He’s been a little . . . skittish,” Silas explained. “Last week, my men were liberating a shipment of Bone Jinura. One of the imprisoned Jinura was a man named Vaughn. He assisted in freeing the remainder of the Jinura, but he was killed in the fray. Unfortunately, his son was left alone, so they brought him here.”

Torrin had never met his father, but if his mother was killed in a battle like that, he couldn’t imagine how he would be feeling only days after. “I’m sorry. Is he alright?”

“As you can imagine, he is having trouble talking to us. I was hoping you could show him how things worked here in camp. This is his home now, and I want him to feel welcome. Can you do this job for me?”

“Of course, Silas.”

“You’ve healed burns before?” Bianca asked the boy she was leading over to Torrin’s cot. The boy’s eyes never left the ground as he nodded.

“Thank you, Torrin,” Silas said. “Now, Bianca, I would like to speak with you about something.” Casually, Silas stood up and led Bianca away from the two boys. Torrin sat very still as the other boy put a hand to the burned arm. An itching sensation swept over the handprint and within a few minutes, Torrin’s forearm was as good as new.

“That was very fast. You must be a skilled healer.”

“My father taught me,” the boy replied sadly.

“My name is Torrin.” Using his newly repaired arm, he bared his wrist to the boy in greeting. The other boy hesitantly did the same, showing Torrin his Jinura-marked wrist before shaking his hand.

“Cedric.” For a moment, Torrin thought Cedric would leave it at that and just walk away, but he hesitated. “I thought you were hurt in a burn game, but only Fire Jinura play that.”

“I am a Fire Jinura,” Torrin replied.

“But—” Cedric pointed at Torrin’s unmarked wrist.

“It’s a bit of a story, but I’ll tell you if you have the time,” Torrin said. “I can show you around camp, too. I heard you’re new.”

Again, Cedric hesitated. Then, he brought his eyes up to Torrin’s and said, “Alright.”