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Firebrand - Chapter 425

Published at 12th of April 2024 06:26:07 AM


Chapter 425: Nocturnal Visitations

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Chapter 425: Nocturnal Visitations

Nocturnal Visitations

As Moira arrived at the Circle of Fire, Martel noticed that she once again carried four staves rather than three and a wand. Perhaps she was no longer amused by the jest of seeing a fire acolyte wielding the tool of a weathermage, or she considered it in vain. In a way, Martel felt a little disappointed; even if he would never use a sapphire for his magic on the battlefield, he would rather spend his time learning how to use it than waste these hours with the ruby staff, which he had already mastered.

He only realised his error when Moira distributed the weapons. His was made of pale wood – ash, by the looks of it. More importantly, as he glanced at the tip, he saw a diamond placed into it.

"Get to it," Moira barked at the other students before turning back to Martel. "Sapphire was perhaps too hasty. Took a lot of persuading, but Master Gilbert finally let me borrow that one. Stupid git, he's got plenty of them for his few acolytes..." She continued to mutter something incomprehensible.

Martel had not expected that she actually put any thought into his progress; he had assumed she just threw challenges at him, content to watch whether he would sink or swim. Inspecting the weapon in his hand, he found it similar to the staff of a battlemage with silver lines leading up to the gem. The only difference was that it amplified air magic rather than fire; the weapon of a stormmage.

For a moment, Martel imagined himself on the deck of a ship, dispelling dark skies and raising the wind to fill the sails with a course for distant lands. Going to Sindhu to further his studies in alchemy or beyond.

"Why are you dallying about, boy?" Moira shouted, almost making him flinch.

He returned to the present; his future lay on land, not at sea. At most, he would only board a ship to sail to war. Trying to focus on spellcasting instead, Martel sent his magic through the staff, channelling a spell through the gem.

***Ñøv€lRapture marked the initial hosting of this chapter on Ñôv€lß¡n.

Martel continued to practice with the same staff for his second lesson of the day; nothing else worthy of note happened, and he spent his evening practising Master Alastair's exercise. When his Khivan clock showed two hours before midnight, he carried out his final routines and went to bed.

Sleeping, the strangest sensation intruded upon him. It felt like someone grabbing his arm and pulling him in one direction, and it was enough to jostle him awake.

Sitting up in bed, his mind addled by being pulled from sleep, Martel tried to make sense of his surroundings. The moon, one fiveday from being full, gave enough light that he could recognise his room, but he could not see what had caused him to wake. A strange shimmer of light on his door caught his eye, and Martel recognised it a moment later. It had become a habit every night before bed to place the rune of warning on the entrance inside his chamber. Now he watched as the handle turned downwards, and the door slowly opened.

Unfortunately, that sounded plausible. "Alright. Who has Sparrow? It must be possible to negotiate her release."

"The guards," Weasel replied. "They set up an ambush for us along with the mage hunters, though they weren't much needed. The kind of disturbance Sparrow does for us, disrupting the earth, it tires her out. With the guards waiting for us, she was an easy grab. I barely got away myself."

"The inquisitors were present? So they would have taken Sparrow into custody?" Martel's heart began beating faster.

"No, I just said the guards have her," came the frustrated reply. "They ran after all of us, but she's the only one who got caught. One of them took her away while the mage hunters kept after us. I lost them, doubled back, and followed the guards taking her to the Hole."

"What hole?"

"You know, their station in the market district. With the dungeons, the Hole, where they throw us when they catch us," Weasel explained impatiently.

"So she's a prisoner of the city guard," Martel summarised.

"As I've been explaining all along!"

"Alright, quiet down. Don't wake up the rest of the floor. This is better than if the inquisitors have her – no telling what they'd do to her."

"No telling what the guards will do either," Weasel argued. "Usually, they throw us in the Hole for a night or two. We're too small to work in the mines or galleys, not worth the bother of a trial over a few apples, but with the kind of expensive stuff we've nicked..." Despite his frustrated demeanour, concern could be heard in his voice.

"Still, we'll get her out. And I know how." The young wizard began dressing himself.

"So, you'll help?"

"Yes." Digging through his drawers, Martel found his small hoard of silver. "I can't abandon my apprentice."




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