Fernan I: The Traitor

I’ve done it. I killed them all.

Jerome’s prone form was lightly smouldering, the edges of his clothes singed and tattered.

If the alderman died, his deal with Gézarde would end. The geckos will have free rein to wipe out the entire village, and I’ve invited them all to its doorstep.

A bargain built on trickery and artifice, a man in a paper crown bowing before the flame spirit and naming himself king. The deal Jerome had made was manifestly unfair, and yet he was all that stood between Villechart and ruin.

The villagers faced Fernan as one, their flames weak and frightened even as their accusation grew palpable.

A screeching hiss filled the air, the deafening cry of dozens of geckos drowning out all other sound. The flames followed, jets of green erupting into the sky with a celebratory glee. And why wouldn’t they be happy? The man that had deceived and slaughtered them for decades had fallen at last.

And all of us with him. Bastard.

Fernan approached cautiously, swatting flames away with his hand as he examined the warmth within the alderman, the faint shimmer in the air in front of his lips.

“Mara,” he spoke, practically a whisper amidst the cacophony. “He’s still alive.”

The gecko tilted her head, skittering closer one step at a time. “More than he deserves.”

“It is,” Fernan agreed, “but the moment the life leaves his body, all your siblings will have free rein to massacre the village.”

“The way they massacred us?” A slight puff of hot air escaped her mouth. “You can’t say they were defending themselves, not when it was at the cost of our food and our lives.” She sounded just like Florette.

“They did. We did. I won’t say otherwise.” Fernan brushed the side of her head. “That’s why I stopped Jerome. It was the right thing to do.” He turned his head back to the scared villagers, already edging back towards their homes. “Do you really want them dead too? Is that your solution?”

Mara snorted a larger puff of smoke. “Obviously not, Fernan! But what are we supposed to do?”

“You can’t talk to them? Get them to pause while we work this out?”

The geckos’ celebration was already beginning to wind down in intensity. It wouldn’t be long before they crowded around Jerome to feast on his flesh. And after that, the town.

Mara shook her head back and forth, as convincing with the gesture now as any person. “Most of them are too dumb to understand. And the older ones remember. I can’t tell them to burrow away from all this, not now.”

“Then we’ll have to trust each other to do the right thing.” Fernan grit his teeth. “Mara, daughter of Gézarde, I invite you and you alone into the bounds of Villechart. Do as you will.”

She cocked her head to the side, her flames twisting and convulsing in red and orange.

He bent down to the rasping body, willing the heat away as he wrapped his arms around him. “If you take him into the village, your siblings won’t touch him. And you can make sure he doesn’t start any trouble either.”

“And then what? How does that fix anything?”

“I’ll talk to Gézarde.” He dragged the alderman across Mara’s back, doing his best to secure him in place. “Go, before they figure out what’s happening!”

She dashed away, sending any remaining onlookers from the village scurrying back towards the false promise of safety their homes could provide.

Leaving Fernan surrounded by dozens of her bewildered kin, poised to attack. Mara was the only one who could speak a human tongue, and they didn’t seem particularly ready to talk in any case.

He jumped towards the still-flaming bag Jerome had set alight, where the sundials still resided. As his arms found purchase around it, he pushed flame from his feet, springing high into the air.

The landing was rougher. A snow drift helped to cushion some, but slowing his fall enough to avoid breaking a bone left him with a mere trickle of the energy he’d had, and far from where he needed to be.

The glowing green patch on the mountain showing Gézarde’s lair was barely visible in the distance, little more than a speck. With the melting of the snow, a normal human wouldn’t have been able to spot it at all, but the heat was unmistakable.

It would take hours to get there, though, even at a faster run than Fernan truly thought he could manage.

Jerome could die any minute, too. There was no telling how much of his life the alderman had spent holding back the flames, and they had left him plenty injured besides. Not to mention the risk to Mara, hiding alone amongst people who saw her as a monster, guarding a man who truly was.

What’s a week of my life, for that? There was a good chance all of it would be gone within the day anyway.

Fernan felt the fire fill his body, that burning warmth of life and hope, and thrust it beneath him, shooting himself into the air once more. Time that could never be regained, spent and lost.

It took another week of life to keep himself aloft long enough to steer himself towards the lair and land safely, and even that sent a shock through his bones, with nothing to cushion his fall save the flames he threw out beneath him.

Lord Lumière made it look so easy. In that duel with Lady Leclaire, the sun sage had won, but had paid no mind to the fallout. He’d considered untold deaths, even those of his own temple, as merely the price of victory. What had he said, lying feebly abed in the aftermath? “Now they’ve learned their lesson.”

And even he had more of a plan than I do.

Fernan took a deep breath, then stepped into the cavern.

It looked so much clearer now, with the warm glow bouncing off the walls in a soothing illumination. The sundials under his arm cast further light against them, the gold blending with the green, lighting his way forward.

Jerome had only wanted to keep Fernan safe. He already had the adoration of the village, the power and wealth stolen from the geckos whose home he had invaded. He had wanted for nothing, and still tried to save Fernan.

How could someone so callous and selfish still be so willing to help? Jerome could have simply told him that he had to die, and he would have accepted his fate to keep the village safe. Instead, he’d proposed that trip to Guerron, and all of that… messiness that had ensued.

He had sent Fernan as a beggar to a temple Jerome had probably never so much as set foot in, let alone been trained by, simply in some hopes of saving him. Why? No matter how he tried, there was no way to make it fit together.

None contested him as he strode on through the cavern, though small flashes of green skittered past in huge numbers. The larger ones must all be in Villechart. Mara had done good work, gathering them like that. The two of them alone might never have been able to contest Jerome.

If only it hadn’t put everything at so great a risk.

If only I hadn’t.

There had been the life he always wanted, offered with open hands by someone he had always trusted. The protector of the village, the sage of Villechart, the only thing standing between them and annihilation. It’s even true, thanks to his deceptions. Truth from lies, just as Gézarde had warned.

Fernan couldn’t regret it, not truly. Not after everything Jerome had done. Still…

For the moment, the alderman lived, and a small part of Fernan was glad the flames hadn’t taken his life, even apart from the village whose livelihood was tied to his. It felt wrong, but…

None of it might matter soon, anyway.

Fernan’s face was calm as he stepped into the glowing cavern where Gézarde’s enormous glowing form resided, the glare from his body almost blinding.

“You are early, human-spawn.” The hissing and scraping was fainter, stretched to the edges of the cavern by the smaller, quieter geckos, but no less unsettling for it. “I gave you until the solstice, and yet Mara has come to rally my other children already. Have you abandoned your people so easily? You were so very insistent, not two moon’s turns past.”

Have I? They wouldn’t like what was to follow; Fernan was absolutely positive of that.

“I come not to forsake Villechart, but to represent it.” He flared his eyes out, feeling himself diminish with the expenditure. “I come to make amends. This I swear to be true, along with all that I say to you today. My soul is yours, should I lie.”

The glow shifted to a darker green, a deep flame that seemed to almost seep into the walls of the cavern, as if Gézarde were rooting himself in place.

“Alderman Jerome has fallen. The man who deceived you is now at Mara’s mercy, near death.” Fernan breathed deep, feeling the warmth spread from his lungs through his body. “I lured him outside the walls of the village, away from the safety guaranteed by your deal.”

The walls rumbled and cracked and hissed. It almost sounded like laughter. “You are exactly like the rest of your kind: selfish, callous, vicious, and deceitful. I knew turning you against each other was a fruitful plan.”

“He wronged you, and your children. I stopped him because it was the right thing to do.”

The rumbling abruptly stopped, the glow fading slightly. “Who are you?”

Fernan could almost hear Florette’s voice pulling him back, a whisper from his mind. “Fuck all of them,” she would say. “You don’t owe them anything. Just get out while you can. Wash your hands of this shit.”

“The Sage of Villechart,” he answered. “Second to make a compact with the great flame spirit Gézarde, and the first to come by it honestly.” He pulled the sundials from his bag, placing them on the ground in front of him.

Pure power, imbued with the light of the sun.

“You wanted me to invite you and your children into the village before the summer solstice. Jerome offered a way to honor the letter of agreement while breaking the spirit. These sundials would have let us start anew while still stealing what’s rightfully yours.”

What I learned at the temple was for Soleil, but this is all for you. “Great Spirit Gézarde, Father of Mara, I present to you and you alone this offering. Two sundials, imbued with vast spiritual power from your patron spirit Soleil. May it feed your children and light the spark in their eyes, that they might grow clever and strong.”

Fernan could almost sense the bewilderment in the air as he channeled the heat through his fingertips, engulfing the sundials in intense green light. They were slow to unravel, their glowing white fighting back against his green, but Fernan persevered, pouring more and more life into the heat until the dials began to melt. It only took moments from there, the puddle of golden sludge dissolving into the air as its energy was offered to Gézarde.

“I know this is nothing compared to decades of death and strife. Of theft. But I want to change that. I think now I finally have the power to do something about it.”

“Power…” The green glow of the cavern brightened, the lizard form of the spirit seeming to grow. “You had power. The energy of Soleil, the life of the despicable human who holds all your pitiful lives in his hands. You gave it all up. Now you have nothing. Another worthless paper crown of lies, nothing to back it up.”

Fernan breathed deep again, centering himself in the whirling inferno of light and heat swirling out of the flame spirit. “I have goodwill and honesty. Those I offer freely too. I hope you can accept them.”

The light from the spirit dimmed, even flickered. “Your alderman is mine.”

“Mara will take him to you, once we can be sure you won’t wipe the village out.”

“I will commit to no such—”

“No more mining.” Fernan clung to the warmth within him, willing it to be true. “As the Sage of Villechart, and chosen successor for alderman, I declare to you that the theft of coal is at an end. Any humans of Villechart who cannot respect that are not welcome there.”

“Platitudes! Trickery! Deceit!”

“I have no crown. Not even one made of paper. I can’t promise that everyone will obey me, but… they should listen to me at least, when I tell them the danger. I have to believe that they’ll see.”

“The ones who cannot shall perish.” The spirit’s fire grew even dimmer, a pale red instead of its energetic green. “And the bargain is struck.”

Fernan turned around, facing the entrance of the cavern. “Those sundials weren’t just made by Soleil, you know,” he said over his shoulder. “They’re a collaboration between spirit and sage. A great working only possible because they worked together. Soleil has all that power because people give it to him.” Not always willingly, but there’s no reason that has to be true. “Nothing’s stopping you from doing the same.”

The spirit remained silent as Fernan left.

≋

Why did I think this would work?

“Her name is Mara,” he explained desperately. “She’s as smart as any of us, and even speaks our tongue.”

“Hi humans! I’m really sorry about all the attacking and burning and stuff! It’s really cool to be able to talk to so many of you at once. Back in the city I had to watch from the outside because they were scared of me so it had to stay a secret, but you all know all about me already. Um. Because of all the fighting. Which I’m really sorry about, again. But you were just as bad! Your leader most of all. And you started it! Great to meet you all, though!”

Inspiring words, Mara.

“Beast!” someone shouted. “Monster!”

Fernan flared his eyes with newly restored energy, the share he had been given back from Gézarde absorbing the sundials’ energy. “She’s been touched by a spirit, just like me. These mountains are her home, just like us. She and her siblings depend on that coal even more than we do.”

He almost hoped that someone would shout out “impossible” in response. At least that would mean they were listening enough to understand.

Mara circled around his legs, facing his people alongside him, but that only made them more scared. “This was never our place,” he continued desperately. “We’re interlopers, thieves. But I negotiated with the spirit Gézarde. If we stop mining, that means no more attacks. No more perilous trips down the mountain, worried about dying every time we try to sell our goods.”

“What goods?” Fernan turned to face the person who had cried it, only to find the familiar glow of his mother, dim streaks running down her cheeks. “Fernan, I’m so glad you’re alive. And if you say Jerome tricked all of us like that, I believe you. But… What are we going to do?”

“I have almost six thousand florins from Lady Camille Leclaire. I’ll happily use all of it to support the village, and then…” And then what? That could last them some time, but not forever, not without any way to renew it.

Fernan grabbed her hand tightly. “We have our gardens. Our goats. We can get by.” Barely. Without the grain that coal could buy, getting the whole village through winter would be… “We’ll figure it out somehow. We have to.”

Mother hugged him tight, but she didn’t respond.

When he opened his eyes, the rest of the villagers had dispersed to their houses once more.

“They don’t even care,” he mourned. “They don’t trust me.”

“You were marked by the enemy,” she whispered. “Even if it means nothing, they still... “

“If they don’t stop or leave, they’ll be slaughtered! Those were the terms of the deal! I told Gézarde to have faith in humanity. To believe in trust, and kindness, and—”

“Oh, Fernan.” Mother squeezed his hand, but she had no words of comfort.

≋

They feared him enough to believe the warnings, at least. Living with their deaths on his conscience would have been too much to bear.

First it had been Gabriel, the smith, and his family along with him. They had taken the first of the wagons, and by the end of the day the rest were gone, along with four more families and their belongings packed up inside them.

The lack of wagons hadn’t stopped anyone else, though. The old foreman, Thierry, and his family had simply packed what they could into rucksacks and abandoned the rest in their empty homes.

No one entered the mines, at least.

Fernan had thought the miners would be the first to leave, once the departures began. Many had, of course, but other than the herders and gardeners, most of the few who remained in the hollow village of ghosts and memories were the ones who had worked directly in the mines.

“They don’t know anything else,” Mother had told him. “And it isn’t as if the other towns can offer any better. Enquin’s having to send people away to be able to feed everyone as it is. And all of that will only get worse if all of our miners swarm into them, ravenous and desperate.”

Those who remained looked to Fernan, but not without a spark of hatred in their eyes. And fear as well, in abundance.

It probably didn’t help that Mara lived in the village with them now, taking up occupancy in one of the abandoned houses. But Fernan was done sending her away because it was convenient. She was welcome anywhere he could call home.

Even if that home is an empty ruin, picked over by the hopeless and the stubborn while everyone else moves on to better prospects.

Mara had delivered Jerome to Gezarde’s den as promised, but he had only lived two days after that. Probably a blessing, given what the spirit would have had in mind for him, but all of it still twisted Fernan up inside.

He probably died cursing my name. But did he deserve any less?

By the time two months had passed, Only five houses still had occupants. And one was home to Mara, another to Fernan. Even feeding that few people was liable to drain most of the florins Camille had given him before the end of the next winter, given all the supplies they needed. And may Khali curse the taxman, when the time comes for that.

But it was a peace, no matter the cost. The invasion and exploitation had ended, and now recovery and cooperation could begin. It was something worth protecting, however broken.

Enough to fear for, on the hot evening at the cusp of summer when a man glowing white and grey rode up to the cracked gates of Villechart. “Villagers!” he called. “I seek a man with flames in his eyes, Fernan the flame sage. I have traveled far and wide to seek him, and am told he resides as alderman of this village.”

Fernan stepped out cautiously, trying to subtly hold the man back from what remained of the town.

“Ah, there you are! Good!” He dismounted smoothly, one fluid motion bringing him from the saddle to the ground. “Duchess Annette has urgent need of you. Your presence is requested in Guerron at once.”

He almost laughed. Of course! Why not?

“She needs a sage to represent her at her trial,” the rider explained. “Apparently you’re one of the good ones.”