When flames don’t burn — Ferris

Home is a welcome sight after several months in the wilderness. I am descending the steep mountain pass that leads down into Lika village. I smile at the the familiar sight of fields of sunflowers basking in the arid mountain air. The smell of roasting meat emerges with the smoke from chimneys of thatch roofed homes. It makes me hungry.

Bursting into a run, I dash down the rocky mountainside. I jump from boulder to boulder, ignoring the trail. The terrain is far too familiar for there to be a chance of me missing my step.

With a big leap, I land on the roof of old man Melvin’s house. To my surprise, the roofing gives out underneath me and I fall inside.

Melvin yelps as I smash through his roof. I tumble onto the hard floor. My heavily worn backpack splits open, spraying my survival supplies across the room. My spear flips dangerously through the air before it hits the wall and clatters onto the floor. When my body comes to a stop, I am covered in hay and other debris from the demolished roofing. I sit up and take a few moments to collect my thoughts, picking the strands of hay out of my curly golden hair.

“Welcome back, Ferris.”

The old man is smirking at me with a cheeky grin. He is remarkably nonchalant about the massive damage to his house. In fact, he even seems happy to see me.

“Sorry about your roof.”

He chuckles.

“That old support beam has been rotting for years. It was only a matter of time before it gave out.”

He must have been expecting this. I always jump on his roof and he knows it.

“Even so, you did just bust my roof. You better fix it, boy.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix it,” I agree.

He looks at me like a cat that just ate an especially tasty mouse. Only now do I realize that he was actually hoping for this to happen. Now he can guilt me into repairing his house for free.

It was close. I’ll be leaving for Salsvale in a couple days. If that rotting beam had held for just a little longer, I would have never broken it.

Whatever. I broke it, I’ll fix it, all is well.

“I’ll get started now,” I decide, sitting up.

“Try to get it done by dark. You wouldn’t want an old man like me to be cold at night.”

I groan. It seems I won’t be getting my much needed rest any time soon. I try to think of the labor as a little extra training. Admittedly, it’s a drop in the bucket of the last few months.

“I’ll go to the lumber yard and get a replacement for that broken beam,” I say.

“Go on,” he waves, sitting back in his rocking chair with a satisfied expression.

I collect my belongings off of the floor, wrapping them up in the remains of my backpack. Carrying the improvised bundle in my arms and holding my spear under my armpit, I depart. Before I go to the lumber yard, I’m obviously going to take a detour home to drop off my stuff.

I walk along the old dirt road, admiring the sunflowers in the fields to my sides. I occasionally look down to check that nothing has fallen out of the precarious bundle I’m carrying.

Down the road, I see Natalia’s inn. It’s the place I call home. The innkeeper kindly took me in when I was little. I have a free room in the attic.

Suddenly, a familiar little girl with green eyes and flaming red hair emerges from the sunflowers. She charges me at top speed. To my astonishment, she is carrying a sword. Though it would normally be a one-handed weapon, it’s nearly as long as she is tall.

“Ferry!” Maribelle greets me loudly.

She attacks me with the sword in a brutal overhead slash. How on earth has Natalia’s cute and innocent daughter become so armed and violent in the past few months?

In order to defend myself, I am forced to drop my survival supplies once again. Sadly, I only have two arms.

I deflect the attack with the butt of my spear. I make sure to use enough force to send the weapon flying off into the sunflower patch.

“Hey!”

Maribelle is visibly offended. Was I supposed to just stand there and let her hack me apart?

“Where did you get a sword?”

I glare at her sternly.

“Promise not to tell mom.”

“Only if you agree not to try to kill me again.”

“Okay.”

She seems rather happy that I agreed to keep her secret. Maybe she shouldn’t randomly attack people with that thing if she doesn’t want her mom to know about it. I’m rather curious how she got it though, so I look at her expectantly.

She leans in with a mischievous grin.

“I stole it from evil adventurers.”

Right.

“Wow. Did you have to beat them up to take it?”

“I’m serious!” She insists, immediately picking up on my skepticism.

She was so much easier to fool a year or two ago.

“Really though, how did you get it? You agreed to tell me.”

“I did tell you!”

She pouts at me and runs off into the sunflower patch, presumably to look for her precious weapon.

I shrug. That explanation is clearly all I’m going to get. I re-collect my things and make my way to the inn.

I push open the door to the inn with my shoulder. The warm smell of Natalia’s curry immediately assaults me.

Natalia is sitting on the hearth of the fireplace, reading a book. She is a tall, slender woman. Her hair is just as red as her daughter’s. She’s wearing a long dress and has a conspicuous bandage on her left hand. She looks up from her book and smiles at me.

“Oh! You’re finally back. What happened? Did your backpack break?”

“I fell through Melvin’s roof when coming in to town. I can’t stay long. I have to go fix the damage I caused.”

I place my survival supplies and spear onto the table.

She chuckles.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“What about you? Did something happen to your hand?”

“Oh, this? It’s just a little cooking accident. Chopping onions is dangerous in more ways than one.”

I raise my eyebrows. The bandage covers her whole hand.

“Must have been quite the cut.”

“Oh yes, it was.” She nods solemnly.

“Want me to take a look at it?”

I’m no healer, but I have a lot of experience in first-aid. Fighting monsters tends to lead to injuries, and I would be dead ten times over if I didn’t know how to treat a wound properly.

“No, it’s fine. The doctor already took care of it. It won’t get infected,” she reassures me.

“Alright. If you say so.”

She shifts her posture uncomfortably.

“Anyway, enough about me. How was your training session?”

I sigh. My training was way more dangerous than usual. I rub my right shoulder, which still itches painfully from that strange curse the drakeling chieftain hit me with. I still don’t know what it does. At least it feels like it’s going away, very slowly though. It will probably be another week or two before it’s gone.

Normally, I would downplay the horrible peril I had been in. However, it’s bothering me that she is hiding something about her wound. To show her how a healthy trust-based relationship is supposed to be, I temporarily become a model of honesty.

“I accidentally got too close to drakeling territory this time. They sent a group of their warriors after me and nearly killed me. It’s been a while since I fought them, but they certainly haven’t forgotten about me. They were even wearing fire resistant gear to counter my magic.”

“Wow. That sounds terrifying. Are you certain the drakelings aren’t a danger to the village?”

Not a hint of worry in her voice. Is she that confident in my abilities?

“They are expanding their territory, but not fast enough to reach Lika Village any time soon. Maybe in a decade or so, it will be a problem. If it comes to that, the village will have to make a request to the adventurers guild for permanently stationed mercenaries, costs be damned.”

“Speaking of which, are you excited to go to Salsvale? You’re finally seventeen, old enough to join the guild. You must be thrilled.”

“Of course. I’ve been training my whole life for this.”

“How do you think you’ll rank? I bet you’ll be at least silver grade.”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I’m sure they’ll let me in, but beyond that I really can’t say. I don’t know how good I am compared to the pyromancers that were properly trained in academies and such. I don’t expect I’ll be above average.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen quite a few pyromancers at work, back when I lived in the big city, and you’re better than the lot of them. You’re the magical genius of your generation!”

“That’s definitely an exaggeration.”

“You’ll see.”

She is so confident in me. I don’t want to let her down, but I can’t shake the suspicion that I’m not nearly as amazing as she thinks I am. If I know one thing, it’s that there will always be something significantly bigger and stronger than me. There’s absolutely no chance that I’m the biggest fish in the pond.

Natalia casually sticks her hand into the burning fireplace. She thinks I’ll prevent the fire from damaging her. I briefly consider letting her roast herself, but I dispose of the idea when I realize that doing so would leave both of her hands incapacitated. That would be inconvenient for her.

I reach out with my will and prevent the fire from burning her.

She smiles as she holds her hand in the crackling flames.

“This never gets old.”

She reaches down and picks up a glowing coal from under the logs. She fearlessly holds it it in the palm of her hand. I continually stop the heat from hurting her.

I’ll indulge her for as long as she wants. She won’t be able to experience this magic after I leave.

“I never heard of a pyromancer being able to do this, not until you first did it when you were only nine years old. Maribelle knocked over a candle and set my dress on fire, but you prevented the flames from burning me. That was the moment I knew you were really something special.”

This is one of her favorite stories. I’ve heard it a million times, and it always comes with the following comment.

“I only wish you stopped my dress from burning too.”

She’ll never get over that. It was her favorite dress, a gift from her grandmother.

“I’m sure there are plenty of pyromancers who can control what burns and what doesn’t,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Not like you, they can’t.”

I sigh.

“Just don’t be disappointed if I don’t meet your unrealistic expectations.”

She seems annoyed. My suspicion is confirmed when she tosses the hot coal at my face.

Rude.

Before the coal reaches me, I increase the heat, making it explode in a shower of tiny embers that spray across the room.

The embers fall, slowly turning to ash.

“What are your dreams, Ferris?”

I’m surprised by the sudden question. After a moment, I decide to play along and give her my answer.

“You already know. I just want to be an adventurer. I’ll travel the world and protect people from monsters.”

She looks at me like she’s expecting me to continue.

“I don’t have to be the most powerful pyromancer in existence to accomplish that,” I add.

“But being the most powerful pyromancer in existence would certainly help.”

I roll my eyes. She isn’t even joking.

“You’ve already seen pyromancers who I’ll never compare to.”

She chuckles.

“Are you talking about the dragon that flew over Lika Village that one time? If those are your standards, maybe you really are as ambitious as you should be.”

“You think I’m not ambitious enough?”

There is a short pause.

“I think you’re not telling me what’s really going on inside you,” she replies.

I take a moment to process her words. She continues.

“You’re a person with incredible natural talent who has trained his whole life to become stronger. If you think that isn’t enough to put you among the best in the world, then you’re the one being unrealistic. Why have you worked so hard in the ten years since I took you in? If you never had any grand aspirations, you should have relaxed more, spent more time with your loved ones! Instead, you put yourself through hell again and again. Why?”

Her words hit me hard. I hold my breath while I decide how to answer. Somehow, the fact that I’m leaving town in a couple days makes it easier to open up.

“There’s something I never told you about my mother.”

It would be more accurate to say that I never told her anything at all about my mother. It was never a topic that I felt comfortable talking about with her.

Natalia looks at me with rapt attention, waiting for me to continue.

“She was killed by a monster. I want to become as powerful as I can, so that, well…”

“So you don’t lose anyone again,” she guesses, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yes, but if that was all, I would want to stay in Lika village. I want to become an adventurer so that other people don’t end up like me.”

She embraces me in a tight hug.

“Thank you for finally telling me.”

As I swallow the lump in my throat, I realize that I should have told her ages ago. It would have been so simple. Still, it’s bittersweet. I wish I could tell her everything.

“I’m going to miss you while I’m gone,” I say.

“I’ll miss you too,” she says.

“I’ll visit as often as I can.”

“Good.”

She releases me. I catch my breath.

As I wipe the tear off my cheek, I notice that she looks like she wants to say something. She seems conflicted.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She hesitates.

“Didn’t you say something about fixing Melvin’s roof?”

I groan.

“Why did you have to remind me?”

She frowns.

“Sorry.”

She seems legitimately apologetic, as she should be. She better have a good reason for hiding whatever was on her tongue.

“I’ll be going then.”

She winces slightly, sensing the hint of coldness in my voice.

I head towards the door and instinctively pick up my spear off of the table. I stop myself.

There’s no reason to bring it with me. I’m just repairing a roof.

In the wilderness, I would never go anywhere without it. It’s name is Radius, and it’s a spirit-bonded weapon, as much a part of me as an arm or a leg. The spearhead is a curved, crimson-colored spike of bone, an ancient phoenix talon, my most precious possession. The shaft is made from the wood of a lucky tree which survived a wildfire.

As a spear, it is a little suboptimal because of the slightly curved spearhead. However, the phoenix talon makes for a fantastic pyromancy focus, amplifying my magic significantly.

I put Radius back on the table and leave the inn. There is no chance of me losing the weapon. If I concentrate, I can sense its location, and even see its surroundings. Even so, leaving it behind feels wrong on a spiritual level. I push it out of my mind and walk to the lumber yard.

Piles of wood are stored in an abandoned farm. They are used for repairs and the construction of new houses.

I walk up to one of the wood piles, picking out a log that seems about the right size and shape. Technically, I’m supposed to pay for the wood I take, but Garret, the lumberjack, doesn’t seem to be around. By the time he finds out I stole his wood, I’ll probably be out of town.

I carry the log over my shoulder and bring it to Melvin’s house. The log turns out to be a bit too big, and he lends me an axe to chop it down to size. I replace the broken, rotten support beam with the new log. Then, I climb on top of the house and start to repair the roofing.

Several hours pass as I systematically transfer the thatch from Melvin’s living room back up to the roof. I carefully lay it down in smooth layers, but despite my best efforts, Melvin finds something to complain about every few minutes. He watches me like a hawk, making sure I do the job properly. I try to make a game out of how long I can go without giving him something to complain about. Of course, this simply amounts to doing the work as well as possible.

The repetitive task is relaxing in a way. There is no monster trying to eat me, no drakeling assassins trying to avenge their fallen brethren. I can just enjoy the monotony of laying down straw, layer after layer.

The sun is setting by the time I’m done. I lie down on the newly repaired roof and look at the sky. The first stars are starting to appear in the indigo expanse above me. I close my eyes, deeply breathe the smell of sunflowers, and nearly fall asleep.

I’m exhausted. The only thing keeping me awake is my hungry stomach. After I lie here for a little bit, I’ll go home, eat some curry, then sleep. It will be glorious.

“Ferris!”

It’s Natalia’s voice. She’s crying.

I sit up and look at her. She is standing in front of the house. She has a fresh bruise on her face and her dress is covered in dirt. The bandage on her hand has unraveled, revealing the wound she had been hiding.

Her index finger is completely gone, cut off at the lowest knuckle.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

She is sobbing. I can barely make out her words as she explains the situation.

“They took Maribelle! They were patrons at the inn a few days ago. They caused some trouble, but they left. I thought they had left town, but they came back! They took her away!”

“Who are they? Where did they take her?”

“They’re adventurers. They took her into the woods. I was hoping you could find them.”

“Of course. Let’s go track them down. Where did you last see them?”

“You don’t understand. They took Radius too. You should know where they are.”

Oh.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the part of me that I left behind at the inn.

I sense the spear. It’s in the forest to the east. I concentrate further, sensing the spear’s surroundings to check if Maribelle is nearby.

Three men and a woman are walking through the woods. A well-dressed man is carrying Radius, inspecting the unspeakably valuable spearhead as he walks. He has a sword sheathed at his hip, which I immediately recognize as the one Maribelle had. Another man has a bow. The woman is carrying daggers. A huge, bare-chested man is holding a greatsword over his shoulder with one hand, and pulling Maribelle along by her hair with the other.

My little sister is punching, kicking, and screaming. She is fighting with all of her strength.

It makes no difference.

“Shut up, you runt!” The well-dressed man snaps.

“No! You cut off mommy’s finger!”

“She spilled my drink on me. It was fair.”

“It wasn’t fair!” Maribelle screams.

“Is that why you stole my sword? Stupid girl. This blade is worth a lot more than one fifth of a whore’s hand. You have to pay us back.”

I’m already running as fast as I can.