Firebrand

Mandays were quiet. Martel only had his astronomy lesson at sixth bell and kitchen chore at seventh. Until then, his time remained his own, though he was meant to practise his magical exercises, however fruitless that often seemed. But he would go mad staying in his room all day, so he grabbed his scarf and left.

He did not leave the Lyceum, but simply ventured to the western courtyard. In the winter weather, most students avoided the small greenery and stayed indoors. To a northerner like Martel, this felt like a typical day in late harvest season. He walked over to the statue that dominated the centre.

It reached twice his own height, depicting a mage wielding a staff. He wore a kaftan rather than a plain robe, richly adorned. The marble had been hewn with great skill, showing the wizard in an active position, striding towards some unseen goal.

Martel bent down to read the inscription on the pedestal. "Atreus the Spellbreaker," he mumbled, "who saved Morcaster from the fiends of the Nether." He looked up again at the determined demeanour carved into the face. Impressive, though Martel was glad he would never have to tangle with such dangers.

With a thin layer of frost covering the grass, water was easy to come by. Running his hands through the green blades, the little crystals became caught on his skin and soon melted thanks to his body heat. Closing his eyes, Martel emptied his thoughts and reached out with his magic to manipulate the drops of water on his palm.

After the usual disappointment, Martel opened his eyes and looked up at the statue of a real mage. Even in Engby, he had heard the tales of Atreus. Among the greatest and last heroes of Archen, dead in the calamity that claimed the city. He remembered Fenrick had spoken of how the Archeans had studied astronomy to learn magic. Perhaps that could prove an avenue; he had nothing left to lose.

~

His hands washed and dry, Martel stood before the librarian. "Any books about how the Archeans taught magic?"

A pair of narrowed eyes examined him. "Most books on Archen are above, but there may be one downstairs. I will look."

Martel patiently followed him, keeping a few paces of distance as he searched the shelves. Finally, he pulled his selection down and placed it in Martel's hands.

"Thanks," the youth mumbled, hurrying to a reading desk. He began leafing through the book, looking for anything useful.

There did not seem to be any concrete details, though. The book was written after the fall of Archen and discussed theories on how they unlocked their magical powers, but nothing useful for Martel. As he knew nothing of the constellations mentioned – he would not even be able to point out the Triumvirate in the night sky – he could not understand much of it. Perhaps after a few more astronomy lessons; the next one was this afternoon.

~

Martel made sure to arrive early for his class, allowing him to choose a desk in the back corner. He spent the waiting time staring at the star chart on the opposite wall, dazzling with its countless geometrical figures. After the bell rang, the mageknights soon filtered in, arriving in groups of two and three according to their social circles. Martel noticed that the broad-shouldered boy, Maximilian, seemed entrenched with Cheval, whose first name he still had not learned. The only other name he knew belonged to the pretty girl, Eleanor, who arrived with the other two female mageknights, as could be expected.

Master Fenrick appeared as the last. Before he could speak, Martel quickly raised his hand. With one raised eyebrow, the teacher nodded at him. "Yes?"

"Master, could you tell us about how the Archeans used astronomy to learn magic?" Martel cleared his throat. "I tried looking in the library, but I couldn't find anything useful."

Some of the other students sent him disdainful looks, presumably for having the audacity to speak.

"A novelty. Someone who knows where the library is located," Master Fenrick muttered with a glance at the mageknights.

"Books are not much use against swords," mumbled Cheval.

"You ask the question everyone has asked in the last three hundred years," the master continued. "No texts survive to tell us. It seems to have been as much intuition as knowledge. That the influence of the Stars had to be felt rather than known."

"How so?" Martel asked as his interest grew, disregarding the glances thrown his way.

Master Fenrick shrugged. "Who can tell? The issue is that any mage who has investigated the Archean methods has already learned their magic using our methods of discipline. They cannot unlearn what they know and start anew, experimenting with the astronomical method. Alas, for it might unlock far more powers than currently at our disposal."

"But what –"

"Enough," Master Fenrick interjected. "To the lesson. You should not underestimate the amount of work it will take to create your star maps. And since I assume many of you paid little attention to your tutors in the subject of arithmetic, we have much ground to cover."

~

Once the lesson ended, Martel had to do his kitchen chores for the day. As soon as he could, he returned to the astronomy tower. He knew that making the star chart with the Triumvirate would be a challenge for him, to say the least, and losing his place at the Lyceum because he could not complete the astronomy course would be foolish. Best to get started, especially now with the lesson fresh in mind.

Walking back into the classroom, he found it occupied. By one of the desks sat Eleanor, already at work with her own chart. Feeling awkward, Martel gave half a nod and quickly looked away before he could see her response.

He collected his materials from a shelf. A writing set, a large piece of parchment to serve as his chart, and smaller pieces for making calculations, all of which he placed on a desk in the empty half of the room. Finally, he went for one of the great tomes that contained the needed knowledge for the map; Eleanor likewise had a copy by her station, using it for that purpose.

Pulling it down, his muscles twinged under the sudden weight, sore from the other day's combat practice. "Careful!" came the hurried reproach from the other student. Steadying the book in his hands, he looked over at Eleanor, who spoke again. "You do know how valuable that book is?"

"I know," he muttered, irritated. She spoke as one who had grown up with wealth; he dared say he knew the value of coin better than her. Trying to push his annoyance from his mind, he sat down and opened the tome to read over its explanations and equations. Master Fenrick had gone through this material just hours earlier, yet staring at it now, Martel felt no comprehension. Numbers were one thing, but some of the symbols did not look familiar anymore. Perhaps Master Fenrick would take pity on him and provide him with extra lessons.

"Do you require help?"

Surprised, Martel looked at Eleanor. "You want to help me?"

"It is my duty to give aid where needed."

He recalled Maximilian's words during physical training and their casual condescension. "Because you are nobleborn?"

"My family traces its ancestry from Aquila with the right to become legates," she replied. "But even if I was not, mageknights are sworn to protect others and lead. That is why Master Reynard calls us first among equals."

"Equals. Generous of you to call us that." Every word she spoke to Martel felt like flint striking sparks.

"Well, all mages serve a purpose in the Empire." Eleanor shrugged. "But surely you must admit that mageknights hold a unique position, given that we risk our lives to defend the realm."

"Unlike us mere elemental mages." Sparks to ignite his temper.

"Nobody would dispute the value of your service, but they cannot be compared to fighting in wars." She gave a slight laughter born of disbelief.

"Seven years ago, my town had no weathermage. Dreadful hailstorms came and destroyed the harvest. My sister, Tora, was only two. I was fond of her above all others. So I starved myself that she might have a little extra to eat." Martel felt the lump in his throat at the memory, and his voice grew thick. He struggled to keep it steady as he continued. "Sometimes, I didn't eat for days. It didn't matter. One winter morning, she never woke up." He knew he could not keep his composure any longer, and the last thing he wanted was to let her see his tears. "I would have given my life's blood for a weathermage back then," he finished and turned his back on her.

With angry motions, he cleared his desk and stormed out.

~

The astronomy tower lay opposite the quarters for male students, and Martel knew he had to cut a ridiculous figure as he stalked across the Lyceum. A lanky figure in a coarse, brown robe with tears brimming in his eyes. He went through the western courtyard, disregarding the cold to buy himself a few moments of solitude. They lasted briefly before he had to head inside, and he was aware that he drew stares passing through the boys' common room.

At last he reached the sanctuary of his room. Locking his door, he threw himself on his bed and ceased to fight the tears. They did not last long; he had cried his grief out for Tora years before, and only a reminder remained. Sitting back up, he sniffled and looked outside. His window had glass, not just shutters, which meant even in cold winter, he could peer through without losing heat. Another luxury that would be unthinkable to a smith's family in Engby.

The sun had long set; nor did the moon shine. A dark night lay beyond, though it did allow the stars to shine in their brightness. Walking over to the window, Martel wiped his nose and gazed up. Despite the lessons, he still knew nothing about what he saw; he could not name the stars. But seeing their light, he felt oddly comforted. Despite the misery on the ground, nothing could dim their brightness, shared for all.

One star in particular seemed to shine, as if it gave its light especially for Martel. Without thinking, keeping his eyes upon that bright spark, Martel raised one hand to point at the bowl of water on his commode. Still without thought or consideration, dried tears on his face, he felt magic flow in him just as the star's light flowed onto him. From the bowl, a drop of water rose into the air.

Martel did not know it, but the star that shone upon him was Glund, the Sage.