-By: Alira-

“And who are you, anyway?” Ayame called back as she walked, ignoring the cries for her to stop and wait. She didn’t know who was yelling at her, and saw no reason to pay heed to the demands.

Sonika sighed loudly in exasperation, speeding her pace from a swift walk to a ground-devouring trot. At such a speed, it was mere minutes before she caught up with the magician and her companion; she hadn’t brought a mount, or even a pack animal, knowing that her father would prevent her from leaving if he learned of her plans. He was not so easily pleased as her mother. Reaching the two, Sonika put a hand on Ayame’s shoulder, stopping her, and spun her around. Composing herself, she straightened the bodice of her dress, and cleared her throat.

“I,” she began, her voice taking on a haughty air, “am Princess Sonika d’Pallavini, of the great Western Empire.” She paused a moment to look down her nose with disdain. “Can you boast of greater lineage?”

Ayame just stared for a moment, not answering the question. Sonika assumed she stared out of awe. “I thought princesses usually were more flamboyant when traveling. What happened to your entourage?”

“I told mother not to bother, this time,” was Sonika’s initial response, dropping the regal tone, for the moment. She seemed to remember what she was doing, and continued. “However, this is no council session; I will not be answering questions. You will. I came from the palace exclusively to speak with you, and you will stay and speak.” She paused a moment, glancing at Ayame’s companion. “Both of you.”

“What do you have to say?” Ayame asked flatly, clearly unmoved.

“What did you do to the palace, precisely?” Sonika returned carefully, ignoring Ayame’s tone.

“What do you mean?” Ayame questioned, sounding genuinely confused. “I did exactly what the Empress hired me for.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “she hired me to perform at the birthday celebration, to dazzle and amaze. I’m no simple conjurer; I’m a magician, a mage of the first class. Well . . . Master Class, but we’re going on Adept. Maybe if the Empress had hired a real Adept- or a conjurer, with no real magic- then no accidents would have occurred.”

“You mean it was real magic?” Sonika asked without thinking.

“Of course it was!” Ayame exclaimed. “Not pyrotechnics. Magic. And I’ll have you know that if anyone should be held accountable for the accident at the party, it should be you, not-”

“Me!” Sonika burst out, effectively cutting Ayame off. “I’m not a mage at all! I just stood up there while you worked your dirty magic over me.”

“Not over, through,” Ayame corrected, making an effort to control her voice as it threatened to break. “It wasn’t for show, all right? I’m a Master, not an Adept. I love that final spell, but to pull it off with success, I need someone else to take on part of the power. Most anyone can be a basic channel- but not you. I stored the magic to fuel the spell in you, and went on to prepare the ‘framework.’ I can’t make the process sound more simple than that. But when I triggered the spell, the pure mage-power, that I had placed in you, had been changed somehow, and the spell twisted as well. It still produced a flaming dragon- one with minor sentience. The ‘illusion’ managed to torch part of the room before I collapsed it. And after that? I left, obviously; I knew that I’d be blamed.”

“So you say I sabotaged your spell,” Sonika stated, voice heavily laden with sarcasm and disbelief.

“No, I’m saying your life-force colored the mage-energy, changing it. Making forming the spell like putting together a puzzle of soggy pieces. They just don’t quite fit.”

“Whatever you say,” Sonika continued smoothly, dismissing Ayame’s explanation. “Now, I have more questions yet. If I ‘messed up’ the spell, did I also change the way the magic feels, in ‘coloring’ it?”

“You’re not a mage-student,” Ayame pointed out randomly, sounding vaguely puzzled.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You just sounded like it . . .” Ayame said, sounding very far away. “I suppose that could be it. Magic can take on a life of its own, and is affected by the moods and emotions of those manipulating it . . . That must be what happened.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ayame said dismissively. “It’s just something my teachers used to say. Maybe I’ll understand it after this quest of mine, huh?”

Ayame smirked at Sonika, and it was all Sonika could do not to ball her hands up in fists and do something very un-princess-like. It was all she could do just to keep her voice level; she didn’t want to have Ayame getting flippant with her.

“A quest, hmm?” Sonika mused, trying not to sound too miffed. “Tell me of this quest. In detail.”

“It’s my Master’s Quest,” Ayame stated, as if that would explain everything. When it didn’t, she went on. “I guess you don’t know anything about real Mage-craft. We mages are taught in talent-based schools- my talent is fire-based, until we’ve attained a certain amount of knowledge. At that point, we novices are elevated to journeyman status, and sent out either on Journeyman’s Circuit or on a Journeyman’s Quest. You’re only sent on a quest if you have real potential- Adept potential. If you do, the quest tests your knowledge, your will, and your endurance, among other things. Once you’re completed your quest, you either continue practice and study on your newly attained Master level, or you begin a new bout of studying- for your Master’s Quest.

“A Master’s Quest is more complex than a Journeyman’s Quest. A Journeyman’s Quest proves your knowledge, and only tests your morals to a small extent. A Master’s Quest, on the other hand, is all about morality, and fine-tuning one’s power as a Mage. A Master’s Quest usually serves the magical community, and is often presented in the form of a riddle.”

“So what’s the riddle they gave you?”

“I wouldn’t speak of it so lightly, but the exact words were, ‘Teach a blooming fire, amidst a turbulent sea, to bring a flame of life to a drowning culture.’” Ayame quipped.

“But what does it mean?”

Ayame sighed. “I don’t know, exactly. I’ve researched for countless hours in the vaults below the Akaaka Mage-School, but I still know so little. However-” At this her eyes began to sparkle. “-I do believe I’ve found something. It’s pretty vague, but I was scanning an ancient bestiary, and I came upon an entry in the journal for a fiery bird straight out of legend. The flaming phoenix- a bird long extinct in Saetairo, but-”

“Wait, wait,” Sonika interrupted, cutting Ayame off. “Saetairo?”

“I almost forgot,” Ayame said sheepishly. “You know of the boundary. Saetairo is the country on the other side of the wall. My homeland. I know, I know, the boundary is impassible. That’s where you’re wrong- it’s impassibly by land or by air, but not by sea. Not to make light of the mystical boundary- even by sea, it took us a full six months just to get around the boundary. But this is of little importance; back to what I was saying.

“According to the book, the phoenix is extinct in the east, in Saetairo, despite its rebirthing ability. However, there was an entire legend about the origins of the phoenix- in the Western Empire.

“Now, I’m sure you have no desire to hear the whole story, but the teller seems to believe that after humankind found ways to capture and slaughter phoenixes for their beautiful feathers and magical tears, the ‘mother phoenix’ fled to the place of their birth, a city straight out of myth. Abhyagni. The name means ‘toward the fire’ in the ancient, archaic western language, probably because of the phoenix legend. Anyway, I think that my quest involves me and Urien traveling to Abhyagni, and we’ll see where things progress from there.”

“Urien?”

“Oh . . . I guess formal introductions would be a plus. I’m Ayame Sharadini of the Akaaka Mage-School, Master Class. My companion is Urien, also of the Akaaka school, journeyman. This is his Journeyman’s quest.”

Ayame beamed at Sonika, pleased. Sonika could only stare. “I already introduced myself,” she stated plainly. “Sonika d’Pallavini, Princess of the Western Empire. I’ll accompany you two on your quest. Then you’ll be able to tell me why your magic affected me so.”

Sonika made her statements with so little emotion that it seemed like forever before Ayame understood the implication of the words.

“You can’t!” she exclaimed. “It’s- It’s . . . Well, I don’t know, it just isn’t heard of. I’m supposed to be Urien’s guardian on his quest for new knowledge and fulfillment; I can’t be looking after you as well!”

“I’ll just look after myself,” Sonika said, haughty again. “Now, mage-girl, walk. You’re wasting time.”

Open-mouthed and aghast, Ayame did as she was told. Together, she, Sonika, and the young man, Urien, began walking father away from the palace in the capital of Pallavini Divya.

A week later, and they were still wandering along the high road weaving its way through the hills to the north and west of the capital. Their first day together, Ayame had cast some sort of guard to shield them from pursuit at Sonika’s request. When Sonika had first caught up with Ayame and her companion, Urien, Sonika had been walking, and all Ayame and Urien had possessed was a donkey, heavily laden with their food and packs. Since then, they’d stopped at several small cities, first to buy mounts, with Sonika’s money, for the three of them, and after that they merely passed through the cities, buying food when necessary. Seven days later, and so little had changed.

Rather to Sonika’s surprise, Ayame was good company. They didn’t exactly have much in common, for their cultures were so different, but there were similarities, cultural differences set aside. Ayame had explained more about the nature of magic and learning to manipulate it, but Sonika hadn’t learned enough to answer the questions that still haunted her, waiting patiently in the back of her mind. Even so, the trip was fun; Sonika hadn’t been given time to just ride through the country since she couldn’t remember when. She supposed she and Ayame were really hitting it off; they were both so open with each other already.

But then there was Urien . . . Sonika still knew so little about him. If she was eighteen and Ayame nineteen, then Urien would have to be seventeen. Despite having been told so by Ayame, Sonika still couldn’t believe it. Urien acted like a man of thirty-seven, not seventeen. A thirty-seven-year-old hermit, that is. Sonika hadn’t made the most overt advances, but all of her attempts at conversation seemed to result in failure. Urien was simply a puzzle, and likely to remain so. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t give it one last shot.

Ayame had been riding ahead, lost in her own world of shining magics and brilliant illusions, so she was no great entertainment for Sonika. It was a long shot, but by that time in the afternoon, Sonika craved human companionship and conversation so badly that she would result to most anything. Or anyone. Including Urien.

Dropping back, Sonika slowed her horse and waited for Urien to catch up. Within minutes, he had, and she edged her horse closer to his, coughing conspicuously to attract his attention. Feeling very much the fool, she spoke.

“Afternoon, Urien. Haven’t spoken to you recently. How are you?”

Sounding dumb even to herself, it was quite a shock to Sonika when Urien chose to reply. “Same as always,” he said glumly. “Bored, for the most part. I didn’t expect miss high-and-mighty to have much to say to me.”

That reply, too, shocked Sonika. She admitted to herself that she had completely ignored Urien when they first met, and she regretted it. But since then she’d been anything but “high” or “mighty.” She’d done her best to sound cheerful, friendly and warm. At any rate, Urien couldn’t exactly fault her. He was completely mundane; brown hair, brown eyes, medium-light complexion, and no remarkable features whatsoever. His body practically begged to be overlooked.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sonika said softly, sounding sincere. “You don’t really try to strike up conversations, either. If I had known you wanted to talk, I would’ve said something sooner. But . . . Not to be rude, but you’re always so distant. Is something wrong? You seem so depressed . . .”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Urien insisted, voice low, and somehow level. Listening, Sonika was surprised; she would have expected a more gravelly or uneven voice from Urien, but his voice was relatively deep, and so . . . Balanced.

“Something’s wrong,” Sonika stated flatly. “You really should tell me. I only want to help. You’re so aloof.”

Urien seemed somehow offended by that, but it only showed for a moment. “Are you pleased?” he asked, seemingly offhand. “Do you feel lucky to be born without the talent, for magic? Do you like your lot in life?”

“Well . . . I never thought about it before now. Yes, I guess.”

“Should I feel happy?” Urien asked softly, more to himself than to Sonika. “I’m privileged. Literally. Do you know the meaning of my name? It isn’t in the modern tongue, the one spoken in Saetairo and the Empire. I’m from a small village, to the north. My name means ‘privileged birth.’ Isn’t that a joke? I wish I only felt the same.”

“Why don’t you feel the same?” Sonika asked gently, backed by genuine curiosity.

“I really don’t feel like talking about it,” Urien said, sounding sincere. “But . . . Thank you. It was kind of you to listen.”

“Any time,” Sonika said with a smile.

Urien smiled back, his white teeth flashing in the sun, and in that moment, he was anything but ordinary.

The three continued on for the next couple weeks, making good time mounted on the main road. Sonika was pleased to say that Urien had opened up since the first week of their journey, if only a little. He was still quiet, but no longer distant and aloof. Ayame, too, had warmed considerably since their meeting. Apparently, things were run a bit differently in Saetairo, and Ayame had possessed no previous dealings with royalty. At her Mage-School, everyone was equal. Once Sonika had left her title behind, it had become easier for Ayame to accept her as a person, and they had become fast friends.

Despite this developing closeness, all three were becoming restless. They’d been traveling for weeks, and still hadn’t reached Abhyagni. They didn’t even know if Abhyagni was their true destination in deciphering the riddle that was key to Ayame’s quest. It would be devastating to have spent such a time in reaching the city, just to discover that it wasn’t their true destination. Even so, Ayame had reason to believe that they were close, and that their arrival would be any day now.

Riding along the winding road, zigzagging through the rolling hills beneath the sun’s glare, it was nearly impossible to see ahead. The three rode on, watching the hills to either side of them, when suddenly there were no hills. Before them, there was a steep drop-off into an almost perfectly rounded valley, a valley strewn with rough-hewn boulders in odd shapes. To their left, the path veered sharply, swerving to descend slowly into the valley. Across from them, a path continued on away from the valley; Sonika assumed that it was the path they were on, continuing on past the ruined city.

“These are some strange ruins,” Sonika commented to herself.

“Stranger than you’d think,” Ayame said darkly. “The books called Abhyagni a city out of legend, but apparently that makes it older than I would have believed. At any rate, welcome to Abhyagni. Or what’s left of it.”