Chapter 005

Scorched Memories

In this cruel world, a certain truth remained: The weak were devoured by the strong.

Even at a young age and without anyone ever telling him, Rune was fully aware of this undeniable fact. He was taught this whenever he saw the hunters return from the woods bringing with them a carriage filled with corpses of dead woodland creatures. He saw it around him as commoners were forced to abide by the wishes of noble-born swine. And he experienced it as he was knocked to the floor, the striking pain of a fist crashing into his cheek cascading across the entirety of his face.

Helplessly huddled on the grime-infested floor of the alleyway all that he could do was wait until they grew bored of him. Creaking open his eyes, he watched as the four of them, each boasting crooked sneers, stomped and kicked him without a hint of concern or compassion. What possessed them most, other than a cheap sense of enjoyment, was none other than spite.

“How does it feel to be the son of a traitor?!”

“You and the rest of your scummy family should just leave town already! Nobody wants you here!”

“The military should’ve locked you up for helping a criminal! My dad told me if he was a general you’d be rotting in a cell right now!”

As harsh as their insults might have been, they were nothing Rune hadn’t heard before. If it wasn’t coming from them, they originated out of the mouths of the other townsfolk. When they weren’t constantly gossiping behind his back, they directed to him their looks of hate and disgust. It was like they weren’t even staring at a human but a monster who betrayed their country. Still, true though it may be he’d grown numb to this treatment, it meant not that having such provocations lashed at him didn’t rile him up on the inside, didn’t kindle his already untamed flame of indignation.

Glaring up at his abusers, Rune managed to sputter, “You’ve got it wrong...my dad isn't a traitor! This is just a big misunderstanding!”

One of the boys, a slightly overweight kid with ginger hair and a blubbery face, planted the bottom of his boot atop Rune’s scalp. “A misunderstanding? As if! Everyone knows what happened so there’s no point in trying to cover for him. The Everburn Mage went on a massacre at the Military High Command! Do you have any idea how many people he killed for no reason?!”

“That’s not true!”

“It is!” shouted the bully, kicking him in his stomach. “Whether you like it or not, your dad’s a filthy traitor and a murderer!”

“Do yourselves a favor and disappear,” said another kid as they left him wallowing in pain and headed for the alley’s exit. “You Ransfords have shamed Primrose more than enough.”

Quivering on the ground, Rune watched as they turned their backs to him and departed without a care to be had. Carnivores satisfied with their meal left the remains of their carcass for the scavengers. A wise man would’ve allowed them to leave. Had he chosen to do so, he more than likely would’ve spared himself from further anguish.

Instead, however, he rose on his brittle, trembling legs. Replacing his former scowl, a smirk emerged. “Hey,” he grunted. Each of the bullies stopped in their tracks and turned to face him. “Love him or hate him, my father’s blood runs through me. As does his magic.”

The tip of his right finger illuminated, a bright, archaic light radiating from it. The young mage took a breath and closed his eyes. Every ounce of his concentration he poured onto the spell he longed to manifest. Unveiling his burning, orange iris, Rune drew the shimmering magic circle in front of him. The glowing symbol hovered in the air for a short period of a few seconds prior to disintegrating into specs of twinkling dust. Rune could feel his essence exit his body, however, as his eyes rested on the puny flame dancing in the palm of his hand, his smile couldn’t have been wider.

“To help those who can’t help themselves; to use our gifts to better the lives of others. A true combat mage breathes and dies by this creed. So do I,” Rune grinned at them. “Now do you idiots get it? I’m going to be a combat mage of the state and use my powers to put bullies like you in their place!” Ejecting a powerful roar, Rune flung his hand forward and launched the fire spell at his attackers. The tiny burst of fire spiraled uncontrollably at the partially astonished ensemble of young ruffians although it only made it halfway across the alley before, very much like the magic circle, unceremoniously disintegrated. Rune stood frozen in his spot adopting a blank stare. While his spell had failed his smile never erased.

As for the group of boys, they could only laugh.

“You call that magic?!”

“Some mage you are?!”

“Face it, you wouldn’t last ten minutes as a combat mage!”

Rune stared at his hand as it trembled sporadically. “Finally,” he whispered to himself. “I finally did it...”

“What’s he talking about? Did we kick him in the head too much?”

“Maybe,” snickered the obese bully. “What do you say we give ‘em another thrashing?”

“No,” someone muttered behind them. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Upon recognizing the familiar voice, Rune looked up to see not only the backs of his bullies but also a young man standing at the mouth of the alley. He knew him as Ethan Flores. He was fairly tall, at least, in comparison to himself, and maintained a distinguished, well put together frame. His brown eyes bubbled with anger and as he cracked his knuckles each and every one of the bullies flinched. Their confidence perished in an instant.

“In my humble opinion, four against one really isn’t fair.” Spitting a ball of spit onto the ground, he directed his untamed gaze at them and motioned his raised hand towards himself. “However, if you insist, why not give me a shot?”

“You want us to...f...fight...you?” one of the bullies stammered.

“Well, you had no problem beating my pal Rune back there, did you?”

“That’s because he...”

Swiftly, Ethan lifted a finger. “That was rhetorical, genius. Anyways, let me explain how this is going to work.”

“How what will work?” another of them gulped.

“We’re gonna play a little game, the rules of which are simple. I call it the Man or Mouse Test! In short, you’ve got exactly three seconds to make a unanimous decision of whether you want to fight like men or scamper away like mice. Easy, right? If you choose to run, you’ve my word I won’t pursue you or breathe a word of what you ingrates have done today. But if I count to three and you’re still here, I promise I’ll educate you on the fundamentals of close combat.”

The boys exchanged glances with each other, more than likely wondering if his words held any merit. But once the newcomer loudly announced, “One!” they sprung from their spots as fast as a lightning bolt and disappeared screaming out of the alley.

“I guess they’re mice, huh, Rune?” Ethan laughed.

Rune silently gazed at his hero and then at his quivering hands. “It worked...”

“Come again?” Ethan replied, walking over to him. “What worked?”

“My magic...” Aiming an excited smile at his confused friend, Rune exclaimed, “I used a spell! My magic worked!!”

“Really? I’d never guess considering how badly you were getting your ass handed to you. By the way, what did you do to piss them off this time?”

Rune frowned. “I overheard them talking badly about Dad.”

“Yup, that’d do it alright!” he grinned. “But you know, Rune, you really should pick and choose your battles more carefully. I’m not always going to be there to protect you, yeah? Someday, that reckless attitude of yours might get you into trouble.”

“You’re one to talk!”

“What do you mean? I think I handled that situation rather well, if I do say so myself.”

Their argument ended before it even had the opportunity to properly commence as the sound of tapping feet reverberated throughout the alley. Darting towards them, Rune spotted Leora, her light, shoulder, length hair rapidly bobbing up and down the faster she went. “RUNE!” the girl shouted upon arriving by his side. “Oh no, not again! Those stupid jerks! I hope they didn’t hurt you too badly.”

Rune’s cheeks ignited as she crouched in front of him and reached closer to his bruised and swollen face. “I’m fine, honestly,” he told her, pushing her approaching hands away. “So, you can stop worrying so much.”

“No, you’re not fine! You’re bleeding!” she countered, pointing at a road of crimson trickling down his forehead.

“Really? I hardly noticed.”

Ethan scoffed into his fist. “Likely story. You were totally crying when I got here, Mr. Hero.”

“I was not!!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Leora grumbled. “Just let me heal you, dummy.”

Leora raised her finger and from it emanated a shower of golden energy. Carefully, she began drawing a magic circle of her own, although she merely constructed half of its circumference before it disappeared in its entirety. “Crap!” Leora complained. “I’m terrible at this!”

“Here, Sis. Let a pro show you how it’s done.” With a radiated finger, Ethan drew a gold-colored magic circle with ease. Next, he extended his palm close to Rune’s forehead and softly uttered the words, “Divinus Lumen.” Once the enchantment left his tongue, Rune became cloaked in a shimmering, golden aura. His pain, his fatigue, and even his blood. With a single spell, Ethan erased them all. Snapping his fingers, the mage smirked, “Like clockwork!”

“How do you feel?” inquired Leora.

“As good as new!” Rune replied, springing into the air. “Man, I feel like I can run a marathon!”

“That’s my brother for you. I can only imagine how strong his recovery magic will be once he gets a tome.”

In order for a mage to use a magic spell, they’d first need to properly construct its blueprints. These came in the form of magic circles composed of a mage’s magical energy or essence, as most called it. Essence dwelled inside every living creature though only those that possessed an above-average amount of it could properly use magic. As such, only twenty percent of Esteras’ population were classified as true magic users.

It mattered not how skilled a mage was, if they couldn’t create a magic circle that corresponded with the spell they intended to activate, they’d be about as effective as an unarmed soldier in the middle of a gunfight. Tomes, on the other hand, were a different story. Since the tomes were already enchanted with the properties of magic, drawing a magic circle became obsolete. Instead, a mage merely needed to mentally declare what spell they desired to perform and the tome would then grant them with that specific power. Additionally, tomes also contained highly advanced spells mages would otherwise be incapable of using themselves due to the limitations of the human body.

In other words, they were the perfect weapons for the combat mages of the Esteran military. To Rune’s knowledge, every combat mage possessed their very own tome which had been purposefully tailored to the type of magic their wielders specialized in. If Rune were to get accepted into the military, he’d be given a tome exclusively containing fire spells. In Ethan’s case, he’d be rewarded with a light elemental tome comprising a plethora of unique and powerful recovery-oriented spells. If he were to harness the power of a tome, he’d be an even greater healer than he already was.

“The military will be lucky to have you,” Rune smiled.

“I sure hope so,” replied Ethan, a fraction of worry briefly breaching his bright expression. “Now, why don’t we get you back home? I’m certain your mother’s going to want to hear of this.”

“Or we could just keep this a secret?”

“Ha! Where’s the fun in that?!” Ethan chuckled.

At the edge of Primrose there stood a quiet, two-storied white house, smoke pouring out of its chimney. It faced a tall, green hill with a lone oak tree at its peak on the opposite side of an earthen road that separated them both. By the time they’d arrived the sun was already beginning to set. The trio walked across the garden filled with a plethora of multicolored flowers and plants situated in front of the house, comforting fragrances looming in the air. As Ethan knocked on its mahogany door, Rune had already prepared himself for humiliation. Getting punished for starting a fight was one thing. Getting mocked for losing one was an entirely different story.

Much to his disappointment, his suspicions were proven correct. Once they entered the house Rune was met with a discharge of howling laughter that exploded directly into his face. “They got ya pretty good, didn’t they boy?!” the aged hyena snickered. “Honestly, who did you expect to beat with those flimsy, noodle arms of yours, huh? Ya need some more meat on your bones!!”

This sneering, wrinkled fossil was none other than Keith Foster. He’d lived with them for as long as Rune could remember. Per usual, he sat in his wooden rocking chair in the far right corner of the compacted living space with a crumbled-up tabloid resting in his lap. Wiping the tears out of his eyes, he commented, “Seriously, how could ya let those jittering fools get the better of ya? You’re lucky Ethan’s so nice.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, sir. Helping people is what I do best.”

“Still, it’d be nice if Rune could win his own battles for a change. What with you going off to the capital soon. Though I suppose it is a personal victory my little grandson didn’t lose a tooth this time.”

“Sh...Shut it! You annoying geezer!” Rune snarled.

“Now, now, Rune. There’s nothing to get embarrassed about. It was a baby tooth, anyways,” Leora smiled, patting her blushing and aggravated friend on the shoulder. “And you shouldn’t speak to your grandfather in such a manner. It’s disrespectful.”

“He started it!”

“Ha! You should listen to the dolly, boy! With a girl like her by your side, you’ll never go astray!”

“Th...Thank you, sir!” Leora laughed with red cheeks.

“Nobody asked you, Gramps...”

As Keith was about to sling another insult, a rolled-up piece of newspaper struck him atop his balding scalp. Standing over him, the tall, burly man with a set of well-kempt, brown-colored hair released a breath of annoyance. “Alright, you’ve had your fun already, Dad,” he said with a glare. “Rune’s had a rough day as it is without you getting on his case again.”

“Oh. Give me a break! The boy should learn how to toughen up!”

“True but he is only a child,” Terry countered in his buttery smooth tone. He walked over to Rune and rummaged through his already untidy blonde hair. “He doesn’t necessarily need to know how to fight now, does he? Let him enjoy his younger years to the fullest.”

“Argh! If you keep babying him like this he’ll keep getting picked on by those young ruffians!”

“Come now, Dad. If he’s anything like a certain someone I think he’ll be more than alright. Wouldn’t you agree, Lori?”

From the kitchen, she entered the room veiled in a cherry-scented aroma. She’d long, flowing chestnut hair, a rather slim physique, and orange-colored eyes nearly identical to Rune’s. “Please tell me you’re not fighting again. I’ve had enough of a headache for one day,” she sighed.

Like her brother, she was pacifistic in nature and was usually the person who’d try her best to diffuse any argument or disagreement. Similar to her father, however, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She wasn’t a pushover by any means. From Rune’s point of view, his mother was a perfect concoction of his Uncle Terry and the grumpy dinosaur who insisted he was, for a fact, his blood-related grandfather.

In her hands, she carried a glass baking tray covered in tin foil and passed it to a shocked Ethan. “It’s not much but please accept this as a token of our gratitude. It means the world to me that you keep looking out for my trouble-making son.”

“Oh, Mrs. Ransford, you don’t have to...”

“Is that apple pie?!” Leora exclaimed, a line of drool oozing out the edge of her mouth.

“It is, my dear," Lori happily confirmed. "I hope you enjoy it!”

“Of course, I will! I’ll eat it as soon as I get home!”

“Leora! Your sweet tooth is turning into a problem!” growled Ethan. “Besides, Mrs. Ransford, this really isn’t necessary. The fact he’s safe is enough of a reward. Right, Sis?”

The disappointed girl puckered her lips. “I guess...”

“You guess?!” Rune shouted in disbelief.

“As I was saying!” the older brother grumbled, overpowering Rune’s aggravated mutterings. “We appreciate the gift but...”

“Ethan, you and your family are some of the only people in Primrose who don’t look at us Ransfords with contempt or disdain. I’m sure you’ve gotten some slack for even associating yourselves with us, right?”

Ethan glared at the wooden floorboards. “So what if we have? It’s not like we hold the complaints of simpletons with any merit.”

“Regardless, you’re willing to help us. It’s only fair that we return the favor in some shape or form, right?”

Ethan hesitated. “I...”

“Please,” she smiled. “I put a lot of work into making it. If you won’t accept it as a reward then think of it as a gift from a grateful friend.”

“...If you insist, Mrs. Ransford.”

Leora’s eyes sparkled. “So we can have it?”

“Looks that way, but you can eat it only after you finish your dinner.”

“Argh! You’re so mean, Brother!”

Rune cracked a grin. This was the way his mother has always been. Kind and caring towards the people she viewed as family or friends. It was this nurturing attitude that got him through some rough times. Especially when it came to being treated like an outsider by the rest of their town. As she directed the siblings to the front door, Rune’s gaze hardened on a white envelope poking out the pocket of her food-stained kitchen gown. Soon after, he also took notice of the contents of a small garbage bin a few feet from his grandfather’s rocking chair. Besides discarded paper plates and blackened cigarettes, the bin mainly consisted of numerous envelopes of similar design. Rune wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what this all meant.

Holding his hands behind his back, Rune quietly inquired, “Has there been any word of Dad?”

In an instant, the atmosphere of the house transfigured. Closing the door, his mother looked at him with a smile and answered, “No, sweetie. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious.”

“Well keep your thoughts to yourself!” Keith snapped. “And what did I tell you about mentioning him in this house?!”

“Dad, please. Enough,” said Terry, coming to Rune’s aid.

“What are you getting upset with me for?! I didn’t do anything wrong, unlike him!” he retaliated. “It’s because of that bastard everyone in this blasted town wants us dead! I can’t even have a poker game without Lenny and the others treating me like a damned criminal! And while we’re here dealing with the mess he made, what does he do? Not come to check on his family but disappear to Ryas knows where!”

“Shouting at everybody isn’t going to fix anything. Besides, we’ve only ever heard what the military has told us. I for one would like to hear Kazimir’s side of the story.”

“What else is there for us to know? He betrayed the military, attacked High Command, and murdered over a dozen men! His reasoning for doing so hardly matters at this point?!”

“No, Kazimir isn’t the type to kill without reasoning. There has to be more to this.”

“Bullshit! That bastard’s shown his true colors! And I’m not interested in listening to any of his excuses!”

“So you won’t even give him a chance to defend himself?”

Keith slammed his fist onto the chair’s fragile armrest. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, how do you purpose I do so? In case you haven’t noticed, Kazimir’s gone rogue! Not even the military’s finest have managed to track him down. So what chance does an old man like me have?”

“Right, well. We were going to tell you this sooner but, the thing is...”

“Terry!” shouted Lori. “Not in front of Rune. He doesn’t need to hear this.”

“Hear what?” Rune asked.

His inquiry went without receiving an answer. Instead, each of his family members directed their disheartened and frustrated gazes to separate parts of the room. Of course, Rune had already expected this. Whenever he brought up his father, the alleged Crimson Traitor of Esteras, the man who turned his back on his country and family, they’d either get into another shouting match or ignore him completely. He hated seeing them behave like this. He hated seeing his mother unhappy and hearing her crying in her room late at night. In truth, he probably should’ve despised his father for making them feel this way. But, much like what Uncle Terry had said, he too was interested in what his reasoning was for performing such a vile act. Until he learned of the truth, however, he’d reserve his judgment.

Regardless, it was him who’d shattered the blissful aura of his once warm household. And so, he needed to take responsibility for it. Taking a deep breath, he directed the flow of his essence to his finger until a bright light radiated from it. The rippling glow painted his house in orange, capturing the attention of his anguished family. Inhaling through his nostrils, Rune began slowly and carefully drawing the circular, shimmering emblem. Upon its completion, small archaic symbols manifested around its rim along with a much large symbol in the shape of a flame appearing at the circle’s center. The pulsating magic circle existed all of ten seconds before, in a flash of abrupt light, it disappeared.

Sparking to life in Rune’s cupped hand danced the frolicking spark of orange fire. “I’ve been meaning to show you this,” he proudly announced. “I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of using my magic.”

“No way...” uttered Terry.

“Well I’ll be damned,” chuckled Keith. “Now that’s what you call potential!”

“I still have a long way to go,” Rune told them as the fire vaporized. “But I promise I won’t stop training until I’ve mastered it. And then, I’ll join the combat mages and make you all proud!”

Bolting towards him, an overjoyed Lori surprised him with a tight hug. “This is amazing, Rune! You’re a real natural!”

“Y...You think so?!” he stammered, his cheeks blushing yet again.

“Of course! I’ve no doubt you’ll make an excellent combat mage someday!” she exclaimed, lifting him into the air. “You’ll show everyone fire isn’t something they have to fear!”

Such simple yet joyous praise sparked something within him. His family’s kind words of encouragement were the only form of support he needed. On that day, he made a personal vow to continue practicing magic until he became a master.

Once the golden crescent moon hung high in the night sky, Rune should’ve already gone to sleep. As far as his mother was aware, he had done just that. In reality, however, he sat at the edge of his bed mesmerized at the flickering fiery spark dancing happily in his palms. When he breathed in, the flame expanded but as he exhaled out his nostrils, it minimized.

For a mage, control was key. Without a proper grasp or understanding of how one’s magic operates, it might lead to an unfortunate mage harming himself or others. Even so, Rune convinced himself he’d be different. He had to be. If the mere fact of being able to use an easy fire spell brought so much joy to his family then how would they react if he became a high-ranking member of the military? In fact, how would the entire town of Primrose react? Would his father’s sins be forgiven? Would the curse of the Ransford family finally be lifted?

These questions bounced around in his head and filled him with an unlimited amount of curiosity. If he were to be a real combat mage, he’d use his powers to not only make the lives of his family better, but the entire country of Esteras.

Smiling, he repeated in a whispered tone, “A mage to make them proud. That’s what I’ll be.” In his hands, his fire died along with his confident smirk. “I'll just have to work harder.”

Preparing himself to create another magic circle, a certain smell infiltrated his nose. A scent similar to burning firewood or his grandfather’s cigars. The smell of smoke. Though originally piquing his interest, Rune soon found himself staring at another tiny flame. Detached from his surroundings, his only obsession was that of magic.

Even as the foul scent intensified, his concentration never wavered.