Firebrand

Chapter 76: Tempers Flaring

Chapter 76: Tempers Flaring

Tempers Flaring

Not every Solday working for Master Jerome could be as simple and easy as last time; instead of removing ink from parchment, Martel was needed in the laundry. He worked his bell in silence, distracting himself from the tedium of the task by thinking about magic and his progress.

When his two hours were done, he approached the artificer. "I was wondering if I could do any work for you? Even if just a bell. So I can send a letter to my mother," Martel explained.

"Far be it from me to keep someone from fulfilling his filial duty. In fact, hold one moment. I have a task that fits." Raising one finger to indicate for the boy to wait, Master Jerome disappeared into his private study and emerged soon after. "I have a letter to Master Andrew, a glass blower. Do you know where the glassmakers' street is?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find him."

"No doubt. It lies in the bottom end of the market district, not far from the harbour. But if you reach the cobblers' street, you've gone too far." The artificer placed the letter in Martel's one hand and dropped five copper coins into the other. "All yours if you deliver it today."

"Right away, master!"

~

Despite his claim, Martel had to finish his shift in the apothecary first. Once the bell rang, releasing him from alchemical duties, he went into town. It took Martel more than an hour to reach and traverse most of the market district. He was so focused trying to find his destination that he did not notice the change in mood at first. The further he went, the more people on the street. And they had not gathered to trade or barter goods.

"No more!"

"We've had enough!"

"Get rid of them!"

Martel finally noticed the shouts that rose above the general clamour. People were angry, but he did not know why. He looked around until he saw an old woman by the side of the street, packing her wares away. "What's happening?" He asked even as he stayed close to the house wall, trying to keep a gap between him and the crowd.

"Khivans launched an attack at Savena! Fighting for days, they say, and still not done. The first wounded have already come home with stories of many fallen." The woman grabbed her bundle of belongings and disappeared into the nearest building.

His heart beating faster, Martel tried to keep cool. There was no reason for him to get involved. If he just waited it out, surely the crowds would disperse or move elsewhere, and he could hurry home.

He listened to the angry shouts, in an attempt to deduce what would happen next. People were mad about the war, and their rage was aimed at the two targets held responsible. Some called for the crowd to go against the emperor's palace and the High Council. Others, whether seeking easier targets or having other grudges, yelled for violence against the local Khivans. The latter won out.

Watching the throng move south-east, wielding torches and clubs, tools and other improvised weapons, Martel felt panic overtake him. He felt powerless against the mob before him, yet he could not imagine doing nothing either. Steeling himself, he abandoned his safe spot and let himself be swept into the crowd.

~

Hundreds of people descended upon the Khivan quarter. Any they met was swallowed by the horde and chewed out, left beaten and bloodied on the ground, not always breathing. Stones were thrown, doors and shutters kicked or attacked, and still the rioters pressed on, spilling down the street like a river following the path of least resistance.

Finally, they reached the open space that served like a town square with the Khivan temple to the south side. The path became blocked. Numerous Khivan stood, similarly armed with whatever was at hand. The Asterians did not even pause but charged in. A vicious brawl erupted.

Hitherto trapped inside the crowd, Martel was finally able to extricate himself as the fighting started. He dove to the side of the square, trying to find sanctuary and assess the situation. He was caught on the south-west side, while Master Farhad's workshop lay further down the street to the east of the square. Which meant he stood on the wrong side of the riot.

Wondering if he could sneak around along the edges of the open area, Martel's eyes ran down the south side to reach the temple. His pulse quickened recognising Shadi on the top stair, throwing stones with a strong aim. He thanked the Stars for this small blessing, making it far easier for him to reach her than if she had been at her home.

Someone hurled a torch past Martel and through an open window of the nearest building. Something, at least, he was not powerless over. Closing his eyes, he let his magic sense the heat surrounding him. He felt the countless bodies of angry brawlers, but the torches burned hotter. One after the other, he extinguished them.

Something struck Martel on his temple, and he fell to the ground. Besides the explosion of pain, he felt something warm and wet on the side of his head. He looked up, squinting his eyes as the light made the agony worse, to see a Khivan holding a round piece of wood improvised as a club. He raised the weapon to strike again.

Someone planted a foot against the back of the attacker's knee, who collapsed down next to Martel, revealing Shadi standing behind. She reached down to grab Martel's hand, pulling him up. He mumbled his thanks, lost in the cacophony of shouts, screams, fists landing blows, and worse. She dragged him with her back towards the temple, up the stairs, and inside.

Martel blinked, feeling almost blind. The interior of the building was dark compared to the outside, thereby highlighting the flames burning in the bowl at the centre of the room. Along the edges sat the old and the children, along with a few mothers, seeking refuge. A man wearing dark-red robes with strange patterns approached them, a question on his face.

"He's not with them," Shadi hastily explained. "He helps us. And he's hurt."

The priest nodded a little. "A sanctuary turns none away in need." Outside, the sounds of fighting continued.

"I'll find something to clean your face," Shadi promised and walked away. Martel watched her, feeling dazed, and his head still hurt like the Nether. Thus, he did not react in time at what happened next.

Three Asterians came rushing through the entrance. One of them shoved Martel to the ground, kicking him in the side before continuing to another victim. Another went straight for the sacred fire, smashing the bowl. As Shadi came against them, shrieking like the furies, the third grabbed her and threw her against the wall. Around them, the Khivans screamed in terror and pressed further back into the room.

Martel's temper flared up, but he managed to control it. Setting the thugs on fire inside this closed space with many others around was not prudent. Instead, as he rose to stand, so did he raise the wind. A howling gale blew through the temple as Martel's eyes glowed flaming red in the dark. Staggering against the wind, and suddenly confronted with a wrathful wizard, the Asterians fled. Once they had gone, Martel created a line of fire across the threshold and raised the flames to cover the entrance. The temple thus protected, he sank to the floor, exhausted.

~

Martel's spell did not last long, but the temple suffered no further attacks, though the fighting continued to rage outside. It felt like forever until the sounds from outside subsided. The silence, however welcome, felt eerie. Someone climbed the small belltower on the temple to confirm and soon returned with the news that the fighting had ended. The Asterians had pulled back, and the Khivans had gone home, all of them licking their wounds.

Martel walked outside, accompanied by Shadi. A dreadful sight met them. Numerous bodies lay scattered across the square, and many more stains of blood marred the place. Some whimpers could be heard from those wounded; here and there, someone got up and limped away, sometimes finding another to help or be helped by.

"I must get home. I need to see my father." Grabbing Martel's arm, whether for emotional or physical support, Shadi dragged him with her at a hurried pace.

It was a short trip to Master Farhad's workshop, yet it felt dreadfully long. What if something had happened to the old man? He could not be expected to defend himself. What if Shadi blamed Martel for sealing off the temple, keeping her inside while her father was hurt?

He breathed a little easier seeing the house standing untouched. As for the door, it was bolted from the inside, and Shadi knocked repeatedly while making herself known. They heard the sound of the bolt, and the door open to reveal Master Farhad.

"Child, you are safe," he said, embracing his daughter on the doorstep while adding another sentence in Khivan. Still holding her, he turned his eyes on Martel. "Go home, boy. There is nothing for you here."

Shadi took a step back. "He helped us, dad!"

"And we should be grateful? We protect ourselves. This isn't your fight, boy."

"Today they came for the Khivans." Martel tenderly touched the wound on his temple. Although it had been cleaned, it's still felt raw and bleeding. "Tomorrow they come for the half-bloods."

"This was one day for you. To us, it is every day."

Shadi gave Martel a hug. "I appreciate what you did. If you want to stay, we'll find a place for you." She sent her father a defiant look.

"It's alright. I have classes tomorrow morning. I'll go home." Getting back to the Lyceum felt like the smart choice.

With a final squeeze of Shadi's hand, he left. Behind him, he heard her enter the house and the door close.

It was a strange journey home on abandoned streets, with his head pounding and his mouth completely dry. He felt the slow trickle of blood down his cheek from the wound on his temple and wiped it away. As he reached the more affluent parts of the city with streetlamps, he looked at the red colour on his fingertips.

Reaching the Lyceum, the empty hallways felt foreboding. As if he dared to walk where he did not belong. The final steps up the staircase felt the longest until he could finally go inside his room. Forgetting all about cleaning his face or changing out of his clothes, Martel laid down on his bed and fell asleep.