The Land Set Aflame

Chapter 16: The Ritual

Leofric had been meaning to clean out the library for some time. It took him almost an hour to locate the book that had the locator spell in it. He was acutely aware of the irony in that. But now that he had the book, the spell ingredients, and a crudely-drawn map of the area, there was only room in his mind for Kithana.

But he still sat, staring at the page for a long moment and doing nothing yet.

Lady Sablesong laid a hand on his shoulder. "Just think of your beautiful lady," she said gently, "And remember that you're doing it for her. That should be all the motivation you need to succeed."

His lack of confidence must have been more obvious than he'd imagined.

He nodded his understanding, and practiced a couple more hand motions before taking a final deep breath. "Here goes," he said softly.

He performed the first stage, crushing a small wad of herbs between his hands and blowing softly on them to make them combust into a small fireball in the palms of his hands. He felt the warmth of it, but it didn't burn him. He'd prepared a spell for that already.

He stared the flame for a few seconds, letting his mind become enraptured and mesmerized by the twisting, twirling dance of the fire. Then, after another careful breath, he focused on it, and imagined that the flame was actually dancing.

And as he watched, it was.

The little ball of fire formed into a miniature replica of the most beautiful and most wonderful creature to have ever walked the face of this land. Her arms waved in graceful arcs, and her dress swayed and twirled around her as the tiny Kithana danced about in the palms of Leofric's hands.

The little version of Kithana looked up at him as she danced, and there was a smile on her face. She blew him a kiss.

He returned the smile, slowly lowering his hands down to the ground, next to the mortar full of partially ground herbs. He let the flame that was shaped like Kithana touch the intact stems of witch-hazel that hung over the rim of the mortar.

He watched sadly as the image of his lady love vanished, sucked into the new source of fuel and replaced by a multicolored flame of indeterminate shape. As the witch-hazel burned, embers fell onto the blend of underwort and catseye seeds, and a succession of aromas filled the air.

Leofric closed his eyes, the image of Kithana still dancing gracefully across the insides of his eyelids, and he allowed himself a smile before he began softly chanting. He extended his hand out over the flame and felt the warmth on his hand.

A memory sparked, and he saw springtime spread out around the porch. Kithana was dancing, not nearly as graceful then as she had since become, but still a wondrous sight. His arm was reaching up to block her from bumping into the rack of freshly-brewed potions in his other hand.

He knew this memory. It was the first time he'd touched her without getting burned. He'd lost himself in that discovery, marveling at the sensation of heat without pain. It had taken him a few moments to realize that he was gawking and touching a woman's body, and he looked away in horror at his impropriety.

Kithana didn't seem to notice the impropriety, though. She didn't know any better. But when she realized that he could touch her without getting hurt, her first thought was to drag him into a dance with her.

Leofric let his mind bathe in the sweet nostalgia for a moment. He was a terrible dancer, and she'd never danced with a partner before. So, after some awkward trial and error, they'd had to settle for the simplest form of couples' dance. But they danced until the sun went down, and neither of them regretted it.

Back in the present, the herbs in the mortar had been reduced to a pile of fine ash. Leofric continuing smiling warmly as he reached down with his hand — still warded against the flames by his initial spell — and dipped two fingers into the ash, scooping up a smudge on his fingertips. He concentrated on the ash, smelled the smoke in the air, and lightly blew it into the air.

And another memory surfaced. An earlier one. Ashes fluttered in a cold, winter breeze as he opened the door and hastily tossed a burning book into a snowdrift to douse it, irritated at the loss of several weeks' worth of notes. Kithana was hiding apologetically in the fireplace. "I didn't mean to burn it," she'd said, "I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," he'd said as he collapsed into a chair, "It's my fault, really: I should have been more alert."

His words had been soft, but he distinctly remembered thinking uncharitable things about Kithana, and by extension, about all of womankind. After all, they'd never had this kind of difficulty in the house before Kithana had come to live with them, and Master Garrafey had never held back such sentiments.

That wasn't the first time he'd thought of Kithana as a woman, but it was likely the first time he'd reflected on the implications of it, and probably the moment he realized that he didn't share Master Garrafey's casual disdain for women. He actually preferred Kithana's company to Master Garrafey's, even with the constant risk of burnt notes. It was worth it, to have something so wondrous as Kithana in that little home with him.

In the present again, he felt the final words of the ritual escape his lips. His teary eyes were drawn to a spot in the air, and he caught sight of a single, small flake of ash, tumbling through the room. He followed it as it descended over the rough map he'd drawn of the area. The tumbling ash shriveled away in the air, melting into a single droplet of fire, like the flame of an invisible candle, drifting gently towards the floor.

It descended, and alighted on the map.

He looked at it for a long moment before glancing up towards Svenden and Callyndia.

"It worked!" Callyndia said, "Is that where she is?"

Leofric had to admit that he wasn't entirely sure, but he nodded absently anyway. "But where is it?" he asked.

"It's not far from Thalowy," Svenden said, "I think that's pretty close to the shadowfolk village."

"Shadowfolk?" Leofric asked.

"It's right on the way to Mellesh," Callyndia said, "I guess we can try to tackle both tasks in one trip, then. That is, if we've decided that we're going."

She looked expectantly at the two men, who exchanged glances among themselves.

Leofric had already decided that he was going to get Kithana back. Master Garrafey clearly didn't believe that he would have the gall to try it. Admittedly, it if were anything less than Kithana, Master Garrafey was probably right. Leofric rarely ever left Kernohest. But he would leave for Kithana. His mind was already skipping past the part where he tried to explain his decision to the druids or the citizens of Kernohest.

Svenden's eye was twitching a little, but he also nodded wordlessly.

"How long will it take us to get there?" Callyndia asked him.

Svenden shrugged. "Maybe three or four days," he said.

Leofric eyes returned to the ember on the map, sitting in the middle of some place at the far end of the Tallas, where he had never been before. "Who are these 'shadowfolk'?" he asked.

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I finally wrote a chapter from Leofric Banin's point of view. I don't have many of them, but maybe I should. He's a real sweetheart.