A distant
explosion lit the night sky, red light illuminating the shapes of the swirling
snowflakes. The magi’s horse whinnied in fear.
“Calm down,
girl. Its just fireworks from the festival, a long way off.” Lysand clucked his
tongue, and his horse pushed on through the snow as he called to the earth
beneath her hooves. Work never ceased in winter, when the cold winds drove out
the warming flames the mages put up, and he desperately wanted the next day
off. On top of that, it was his first time casting the spells to keep the
lanterns lit throughout the city, and he didn’t want to mess it up.
“You’re
doing well,” his supervisor called, his magic amplifying his voice. “At this
rate, with your power, we’ll be able to take the day off tomorrow.”
Lysand
grinned, summoning up more reserves of strength. That was the exact reason he
had worked as hard as he had for the past week.
***
“Excellent
work, Tremith.” The governor, his hands covered in gem-studded rings, shook his
supervisor’s hand. “I can sense the magic, warmth laid well. They’ll be lit for
days, regardless of the weather!”
“Thank my
young employee. He has been here barely a year, but his work ethic is
astonishing.” Tremith shoved Lysand forward, and the young man’s face heated.
“Then it’s
you I have to thank.” The governor clapped him on the shoulder, the rings
heavy. “A new employee of Tremith’s, eh?”
“Yes
milo…sir.”
“You’re too
old to be calling me sir, and I’m no noble-it’s Yitsin.” The governor strode
back to his desk, sitting down in the plush red chair. “I thank you again for
your work. People have told me we should be using electricity to keep the city
lit, but who wants to work with talentless? Hostilities with have ceased for
now, but who knows when they will begin again?” Lysand looked at the floor.
“I heard their war machines
again-fire in the sky. Festivities, they call it.” Tremith sniffed.
“Its just fireworks. They aren’t
effective in battle,” Lysand said quietly.
“Of course, of course.” The
governor waved him away. “Don't worry about such things, especially not with
your skills. Go, enjoy some time to yourself. Such opportunities are rare this
time of year.”
Lysand
stepped toward the door, pausing when Tremith did not follow.
“Go ahead.
The governor and I have things to discuss--things you will be privy to when you
have worked for me longer. We have high hopes for you.”
Lysand
nodded before heading out the door, his steps light. A day off tomorrow, leaving
him with just enough time to prepare this evening. Snow dusted his robes.
“Where are
you rushing to?” Lysand stopped short as Henry waved to him. Henry’s fine robes
swayed as he strode up to him. “More lanterns to light?”
“No, that
work is done…for now.” Lysand shifted from foot to foot. He wanted to prepare
for his trip, but he couldn’t be rude, not to Henry. The other mage had always
been kind.
“Oh?
Wonderful! I though you lot got worked to the bone during this time of year.
Have to keep the magic flowing in the city and all that.”
“Usually,
but I worked hard.” His face heated. “I mean, we all did.”
Henry
tilted his head and laughed. “There’s no shame in being proud of yourself for
hard work. Especially if they insist on making us use magic. Sometimes I think
electricity wouldn’t be so bad, talentless be damned.” Lysand just nodded.
“So you’re free this evening? Or
tomorrow?” Hope entered his voice, and Lysand’s stomach sank. Why did he have
to show interest now, of all times?
“I…I wish I could, but…” Henry’s
face fell, and Lysand cursed inwardly. “I may not have work, but I have to…keep
studying. You know how it is.”
“Sure.” Henry couldn’t keep the
disappointment from his voice. “I understand. Your school in Draknea wasn’t the
greatest, right?”
“Right. I have to keep up with the
fast curriculum here.” He didn’t like lying to Henry, and his stomach twisted.
“But don't worry. I’ll keep working hard, and I’ll get another free day soon, I
promise.”
“I’ll look forward to that.” Henry waved,
heading away toward the store, and Lysand frowned. Henry hadn’t sounded very
convinced.
There was nothing for it. Lysand had to
make the trip.
***
“’Ware!
Magi at the gate!” Voices shouted as he approached, forms racing back and forth
on the watchtower, and Lysand’s heart flipped.
***
He wished he didn’t have to wear his robes, but he didn’t
have any other clothes anymore. Lysand headed away from the gates of the mage
city of Grenington, waving to the guards as he did. The path was familiar to
him from the many times he had traveled it while he lit the lanterns and
strengthened the magic around the city, but soon enough he went beyond the
boundaries into the unkempt, wintry forest
He rode
faster then, urging his hose to a canter, and then to a magically induced
frenzied gallop, trees and bushes whizzing past them. His horse whinnied in
eagerness, glad to run after being walked around the city every day. Lysand
held on, the cold wintry air bringing blood to his cheeks as he rode for hours.
As the
forest growth turned into a rutted track and he passed the logger’s shack, the
steam powered logging machine sitting idle, he slowed, resuming a fast canter.
The gates of the talentless city of Sceptre loomed above him. They were rusty
now.
They had already forgotten him.
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