“I return to my home from which I had left willingly many years ago. I had aspired to gain knowledge and power on my journey that followed. It wasn’t long before I met my friend Omurai Failyn, and ever since our journey has been something plausible to consider ‘epic’. But the question remains; Did I accomplish that which I had originally sought? My answer: Perhaps, but I know I gained something far greater than those narrow-sighted aspirations. That thing was friendship…”
~Asher Vasquez
Asher looked over the snow-filled hills as he paused in his trek home. He had been looking for a specific mark and believed he finally found it. A small dot moved along a straight path in the distance. He grinned and slid down the hill quickly. At the bottom of the hill, Asher hit the ground running, easily clearing the second hill, and slid down its other side. All that remained was flat ground, and Asher made swift progress across it. Even his massive full blade could not slow his progress. As the object came into clearer view, the fire adept knew his predictions had be precise.
A caravan came into view as Asher came closer. It was likely a merchant caravan braving the coming snow in hopes of getting to Vandekha to get some valuables traded and leave before winter came in full force. Asher knew that where there is a caravan, there was the main road leading to his homeland.
By the time Asher’s feet touched the partially iced over road, the caravan was much farther ahead of him. Slowing his pace now that he had a landmark to go by, Asher created a small ball of fire in his hand to bring some lenience to the pounding snow.
**********
Two guards stood watching the massive gate built within the natural mountain wall that surrounded the city of Vandehka. One of the men, who had a large beard and thick goggles stood slouched, leaning on his pole axe weapon known as a halberd. Likely so, the man’s name was also Halberd. The other man, a little younger, had a simple helmet with long flaps surrounding the sides and behind to keep his head warm. He also had goggles, his tented a dark green an shining with a new gleam. He held a simple war axe at his side instead of the long halberd like his partner.
“Hey, Halberd, I think I see something. Grab your scope and take a look,” the younger man said, waking up his half-asleep partner with his words.
With a snort, Halberd pulled out a long scope from his belt loop ad peered into it.
“By the gods…you won’t believe this, Chastine…” Halberd said, smacking the young man with the scope.
Chastine growled at the old man and looked into the scope. “Well, who is it?”
“Zoom in a bit, the snow’s making it hard to see,” Halberd suggested, twisting he body of the scope to zoom further.
“You’re right…I don’t believe it! I’d recognize that sword anywhere,” Chastine gasped.
“Yeah, it’s that full blade wielding ninny, Ash Vasthead,” Halberd said with a nod.
“It’s Asher Vasquez, Hal,” Chastine corrected.
“…right,” Halberd grumbled.
“Been a long time since I’ve see that fool. Of all people, that blade chose him as it’s wielder. Darn thing wouldn’t allow any of our best fighters even pick it up, and yet there’s that crazy alchemist carrying it like a pro. He certainly has made an image for himself. First person to wield the unyielding Heaven’s Flare. You’d expect him to instantly join the army…and yet he leaves instead, going out on a ‘quest for knowledge and power’. Still, he’s easy to make friends with,” Chastine said with a chuckle.
As the figure neared the two guards, he became visible without the aid of the scope. Sure enough, they recognized him as the fire adept, slowly making his way up the main roadway.
A big grin settled on Asher’s visage as he came upon the two guards. “Hello there!”
“It has been too long, my friend,” Chastine said, gripping Asher’s free hand and pulling him into his shoulder.
Halberd patted Asher on the back and chortled. “What’ve you been up to all these years?”
“Exploring the southern land mostly. Taking out some troublemakers. Made a name for myself as a bounty hunter, actually,” Asher explained casually.
“Sounds lonely…” Chastine said somberly.
“Not at all. I made good friends with a nobleman from Cloud City named Omurai Failyn. He is like a brother to me,” Asher said.
“Ah, speakin’ of which; you hear ‘bout that Battle of Teal Bathtub?” Halberd asked.
“…what?” Asher asked, obviously puzzled.
“You mean Tier Bastion,” Chastine corrected again.
“…right,” Halberd grumbled again.
“Surely you heard about the battle, being that you were down there and all?” Chastine reasoned.
“Of course, I was there,” Asher said with a nod.
Both guards stood surprised for a moment. Slowly, Chastine turned to Halberd, who suddenly burped.
“Then the rumors are true…” Halberd said quietly.
“There were tales joined with the Battle of Tier Bastion. Rumors that a banished nobleman returned victoriously to the battle with the help of a large blade wielding fire adept. We had our suspicions, but we never thought it was true…” Chastine said to answer Asher’s curious stare.
Asher smirked and held his full blade up. “That’d be me. My friend urged me to assist him in the fight.”
“Made yourself a celebrity, my friend,” Chastine said cheerfully.
“Yes well…a humble hero returned home to visit family and friends in the comforts of his home, not stand out in the freezing cold,” Asher said, motioning his eyes towards the gates behind the guards.
“Oh, yes of course!” Chastine said, moving to pull a lever behind him. Halberd did the same, moving slowly to the lever on his side. The two pulled their levers respectfully and moved away.
Gears shifted and chains strained as the gates slid open. Fires lit within the tunnel that lay bind the gates, revealing a beautiful walkway adorned with pictures and arcane designs.
Asher pulled his goggles from his eyes and let them fall around his neck.
“How long will you be staying this time?” Chastine asked.
“Until the end of winter, I suspect. I intend to visit my friend in Cloud City, and then we’re going out on another quest,” Asher explained.
“I see. Well, good to see you home, Asher,” Chastine said, returning to his post as Asher entered the tunnel.
“Yeah, goodbye, Masher Basket,” Halberd said with a dumb smile.
“Asher Vasquez,” Chastine corrected.
“…right,” Halberd grumbled.
**********
Asher was greeted by several hearty smiles from merchants and blacksmiths alike. He saw small children playing in the streets, their parents watching over them carefully. Everything seemed so familiar to the fire adept, as if he had never left. He glanced up to see the great volcano with an entire city built in and around it. The upper city…his true home.
Suddenly everything went silent and then it broke into a panicked chaos as women rushed to their children and men guarded their homes. Asher looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening. A tough looking warrior burst out of a nearby inn, sheer fear painted on his face as he ran away.
Just then, the inn doors exploded in a flurry of black fire. A man garbed in a long, maroon cloak with white fur around his collar ran out of the fire. He had long, blond hair that faded into a dark brown. Asher tried to get a better look at him, but the strange black fire that enveloped everything weakened his view of the man. The man spotted the running warrior and held up his left hand, which was mostly covered by his strange looking sleeve. In an instant, a black fireball leaped from his hand right at the warrior’s back. Asher jumped in the way, his full blade coming forward to block the blow. The dark fire seemed to hiss in defiance as it was defeated by the magic within Heaven’s Flare.
The man halted from another attack and gave a long, intrigued glare at Asher. A wry grin crept up his face just before he bolted off towards the nearest alley.
Asher took up the chase just as the man disappeared into the alley. The alchemist stopped once he got to the alley, however, for the man was nowhere in sight. Guards ran past Asher, the last one stopping to greet him.
“Who was that…?” Asher demanded.
“Some assassin who’s been picking off some of our strongest fighters. If I were you, I’d watch my back,” the guard informed.
“Why? I am not that good of a-” Asher began to argue.
“Thinking that way will get you killed. You’re better than you think, Asher…way better. This guy…he’s killed weaker men than you. Just watch your back, man,” with that said, the guard left to join the rest.
Asher thought over those words and decided it best to heed them. The fire adept moved back towards the inn where splinters of charred wood lay everywhere. Upon further inspection, Asher spotted a small black flame still licking at a shard of what was once a part of the door. He dug into his pockets to produce a small vial. Next, he waved the flame into the vial carefully and sealed it. Without looking at the vial, Asher slipped it into his pocket and hurried off towards home.
After making his way into the inner city that centered in the volcano, Asher felt a little at ease. Surely that assassin could not reach him in here.
Once within the inner side of the volcano, Asher moved to an elevator and pulled a lever that began the crank moving. The fire adept moved beyond the first floor, which was known to house the majority of the alchemists, and onto the second, home to the alchemical smiths. And Asher’s father was just that.
More familiar faces met the fire adept as he quickened his pace to his home. He had to e careful in the crowded streets, for his massive sword could hit someone on accident. At last he came across a large building with elaborate carvings all over it, all of which had been made by Asher’s parents.
Asher barely got a quick tap on th door before it flung open, a big man with a wild beard sanding behind it.
“Asher, my boy! I heard you returned! I feared it was too good to be true, yet here you are,” the man roared happily, enwrapping his son with a big bear hug. The man’s grip was so intense it cased Asher to drop his sword.
“It’s…good to see you too, father,” Asher managed to say, patting his dad’s shoulder as a plea to let go.
Luckily, Asher’s father released him. With his lungs full of air once more, Asher regarded his father. Nothing had changed except the slight graying of his hair. His father had brilliant red eyes and shocking orange hair that stuck out carelessly, his clothing consisted of a casual leather vest with long, baggy pants tied near the ankles. His father had no shoes on, and rarely ever did at his home. Just like always.
Asher was led into the house, where the alchemist was able to lean his blade on the wall next to his favorite chair.
“Where is mother?” Asher asked his father with eagerness showing in his eyes.
“Where she always is…the kitchen!” his father said with a loud laugh. The two made their way to the center of the house which was, of course, the kitchen. “Honey, our boy’s home!”
Asher slipped around his large father to see a slim woman standing over a cooking stew. Her hair was closer to Asher’s in color, but was neatly trimmed short with her bangs held to one side. Her eyes were a golden yellow, which sparkled with remaining youth. Her skin was tanner than that of Asher’s or his father. The woman’s eyes lit up at the sight of Asher, and she swiftly pulled him into a hug.
“Oh Asher, my little boy! What have you been up to? Why did you never wrote to your dear mother? Just look at you! You’re a mess. Your hair has gone mad and you look like a twig! Here, try some of this, you must be starving!” his mother said, talking almost too fast for him to comprehend. She shoved a spoonful of steaming stew into Asher’s mouth, burning his tongue and causing him to cough it up. “Oh look at you, baby. You’ve been famished so long you don’t know how to truly eat good anymore!”
“Or it could be you gagged me with that boiling brew…” Asher said matter-of-factly, his words slightly slurred by his numb tongue.
“Ah, leave the boy alone. He’s endure a lot I bet,” his father interjected.
“You’re probably right, Giash,” Asher’s mother said, admonishing herself.
“So, what kind of trouble did you run into, boy?” Giash asked, smacking his son so hard on the back he nearly fell over. “Madelia and I are dying to find out.”
“Aside from helping defeat the leader of the Bladenheart army at the Battle of Tier Bastion, not much,” Asher answered casually.
“…so the rumors are true! Oh, Madelia, I told you it was our boy they were talking about! Only our son could carry anything as unruly as the full blade,” Giash cheered.
“Oh, so who’s the ‘banished nobleman’ that you accompanied? He sounds mysterious,” Madelia asked.
“Omurai Failyn of the highest noble house of Altem Tier,” Asher informed, trying to sound professional.
“How about that? He’s befriending influential people out there!” Giash exclaimed.
“We couldn’t be prouder,” Madelia said with a beaming smile.
“I want to hear everything. Madelia, quickly finish dinner so we can hear what Asher has to say over a good meal!” Giash proclaimed with a hearty laugh.
Asher spent the evening with his family, telling tales of his adventure away from home. After hours of talking, he finally came to the plans of leaving in the spring to join the other adepts in their search for the assassin Voyse En’Dir and the Adept’s Stone. Though his parents seemed saddened that their son would be leaving them once again, they gave supportive smiles, knowing it would be best to let the young man continue on his path.
Later that night, Asher stood within the room set aside in his house for alchemical studies, examining the vial of dark fire he had obtained at the inn. He had heard tales of such a fire that burned and yet sometimes moved and melded as if a liquid, having a dark purplish to almost black color to it. Blightfire, as it was called, summoned only by scrolls or those few adepts born with the combined powers of both fire and darkness.
After several minutes of studying the fire, Asher came to that exact conclusion. “As I feared…that assassin uses blightfire,” Asher mumbled to himself. He took the vial and placed it carefully on a rack with other vials of strange concoctions to use later. For now, it was time to sleep.
**********
Come morning, Asher bid his parents farewell and headed off to the highest level of the city, the Temple of Niamh. The leader of the temple, Niamh herself, was known as the Phoenix Queen, for she was a gifted soul known as the avatar of life and rebirth, just as the phoenix was known to be reborn from its ashes. For as long as anyone could remember, Niamh had been living at the ancient temple, mostly teaching others the ways of fire adepts. It just so happens that she had been Asher’s teacher, and he planned to pay her a visit.
Many of the scholars and most powerful adepts that were always at the temple recognized Asher and tossed him a friendly nod. Asher returned the nod and continued his way up a massive flight of stairs to the highest level of the temple, which wrapped up and around the mouth of the volcano, coming down to the northern wing of the temple, which is where most of the learning adepts stayed.
Upon reaching the doors to the large, circular room where Niamh resided, a small old man with a kind face and a tall, square hat stopped Asher.
“Oh please do not enter, sir. Niamh just finished her morning class and is resting at the time being,” the old man pleaded.
“Yeah right…just let me go talk to her,” Asher said with a smirk.
The old man took off his tall had and rubbed his bald head, slowly moving aside to let Asher through.
Upon coming into the room, Asher spotted a single throne sitting in the middle of the room, facing the south. Sprawled out on the right arm rest was a slim young woman. She had dark tan skin with pure white hair that flowed down her back. Her clothing was a mixture of colors ranging from white, to yellow, red, some purple, and even a touch of green. It flowed about her like living fire. She had several light brown belts wrapped around her randomly, all of them having fancy designs that not even Asher understood. On her right hip was a thin case that carried a round shaped book with a spiked star on the cover. In her left hand she held a thin staff with a crescent moon-like head that had the same thin spikes as the star on her book. In the middle of the head was a small orb that burned a reddish-orange hue.
Asher leaned over the girl’s sleeping face and grinned. “I know you’re not asleep.”
The girl twitched slightly as a smile crept up her soft lips. Her eyes opened, revealing glowing orange eyes with energy flowing off them freely. “You know me too well, Asher.”
“You never sleep. I bet you can’t sleep!” Asher declared.
“Now now…you assume too much. Sure, I can’t sleep, but I can hibernate! That’s like a really big sleep,” Niamh argued.
“For someone who is supposed to have vast knowledge of the ages, you certainly don’t act like it,” Asher replied.
“Just because you have something, does that always mean you show it? Ever heard of a secret?” Niamh said with a wink.
“But when you’re a teacher it kind of defeats the purpose of hiding, now doesn’t it?” Asher came back.
“And for those that don’t know me?” the girl returned triumphantly.
“…like anybody doesn’t,” Asher grumbled.
Niamh pouted, knowing her defeat in the word game, and slipped off the throne arm to stand up. She was slightly shorter than Asher while standing, giving off a rather innocent look.
“So, what is with this unexpected visit from my favorite pupil who decided to leave without telling me all those years ago?” Niamh asked, a bit of suppressed anger hidden in her voice.
“Can a man not visit his master after returning home?” Asher asked with a shrug.
“You want something…don’t you?” Niamh inferred, raising an eyebrow as she pressed a finger against her pursed lips.
Asher got a troubled expression on his face and looked down, obviously found out.
Niamh laughed softly for a moment and then reached out to lift Asher’s chin up. “You were always like that. Wanting or needing something from me. That’s how everyone is…thus the life of Niamh.”
“Yes but…I don’t want to be like that,” Asher said quietly.
“Don’t worry yourself over it. I’d be happy to help you,” Niamh assured.
“Well, alright. Niamh…I want you to teach me some more powerful spells,” Asher said, a determined look in his eyes.
Niamh’s smile slowly faded, a grim look on her face replacing it. “What is the most powerful spell you know?”
“Dragon’s Tear…” Asher answered matter-of-factly.
The avatar placed her hand on her chin and turned around. “I cannot teach you anything else.”
“What…I’ve seen you cast much more powerful spells than that! Surely you can show me how to use some of them!” Asher exclaimed.
“It’s not that I can’t teach you, it’s just…you cannot be taught such spells. They’re too powerful. You’d just not understand what that means,” the woman tried to explain.
“No…I know perfectly well what you mean. My friend that I met along my journey showed me this. He’s a wind adept, and a fairly strong one at that…and he knows how to use the spell Wind Bomb, but he couldn’t control it when he cast it,” Asher responded.
Niamh turned a curious eye towards Asher. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes, alive and healthy, why?” Asher asked.
“Amazing…the fact that he survived failing that spell means he’s got a lot of fortitude…either that or very lucky,” Niamh clarified.
“It was me…” Asher said.
“You? You stopped the spell?” Niamh asked incredulously.
Asher nodded his head slowly, not understanding the gravity of Niamh’s words.
“How?!” the girl demanded, throwing her arms up in the air.
“I threw Heaven’s Flair into the epicenter of the spell, halting it before it fell down on Omurai,” Asher explained, tapping his full-blade.
Niamh’s eyes lighted up at the mention of the blade and she began to laugh uncontrollably. After taking a moment to compose herself, Niamh looked at the treasured full-blade with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “That makes more sense. That blade…I still can’t get over the fact that you could wield it.”
“You told me I deserved to carry it!” Asher argued.
“Yes yes, I know. But it’s just…even though you can wield it, I can tell by the way you carry it that you’ve not fully mastered it yet. The gravity…it still has a hold on you, doesn’t it?” Niamh said with a smirk.
Asher’s expression grew sour. “It’s still kind of heavy, yes. I try, but I just can’t get it to go any lighter.”
“Now, that I can teach you. I think you’re ready for that, but magic is a different story,” Niamh said.
“How could you teach me to wield this blade? Not even you can use it, I bet!” Asher declared.
Niamh’s lips thinned into a frown as she snatched the weapon from him and casually swung it around with one hand as if it were a dagger and then slammed it into the ground, leaving it there.
Asher stepped back, dumbfounded. “…h…how? I thought only the chosen wielder could even pick it up…”
“Hah…you don’t fully comprehend the way that blade works. The blade can only do what it’s creator allows it to do. Seeing that I-never mind, I’ve said enough,” Niamh said, oddly stopping in the middle of her sentence and turned away.
“Seeing that you what?” Asher asked, growing curious.
“It matters not. Now, if you wish to wield that blade like I just did, then we need to get to work immediately,” Niamh said, stubbornly changing the subject.
Asher sighed and picked up his sword. “I’ll learn to wield this thing on my own. I doubt this blade can save my life from some deadly assassin when it can be dropped…but spells, those come from within. Let’s just hope Dragon’s Tear is enough to stop blightfire.” With that, Asher spun around and began to walk out of the room.
Niamh turned around to look at her star pupil leaving, a worried expression on her face. “Wait…!”
Asher turned around again, a questioning look in his eyes.
“So you’ve heard about the blightfire assassin who’s been causing trouble around here?” Niamh asked.
A nod from the fire adept had Niamh frowning more so.
“He’s been looking for you this entire time, Asher…did you also know that?” Niamh asked.
Asher’s eyes widened with surprise. He turned fully around to stare at Niamh in disbelief.
“I’d do something about him, but as the avatar of life I can’t exactly go out and slay the fool, you understand, right?” Niamh said.
“Yes, I know. But this is just a better reason for me to learn some more powerful spells to defend myself!” Asher reasoned.
“I told you, Asher! I can’t risk it! I don’t think you’re strong enough yet…” Niamh said sadly.
“Don’t think? Either you know or you don’t…” Asher argued.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I found out that it was the spells I taught you that ended your life, Asher…I care for all my pupils, you especially,” Niamh explained, the energy in her eyes beginning to dim and weaken in their flow.
“…please, Niamh. I’d rather die trying to actually defend myself than die because I didn’t even have the potential to try,” Asher pleaded, putting a hand on his master’s shoulder.
Niamh lowered her head and walked away, returning towards the throne.
Asher huffed out a heavy sigh and slammed his sword into the ground. With another sigh he sat down and crossed his arm over his chest. “Fine, then I’m not leaving until that assassin is dead or you teach me some new spells, whichever comes first.”
Niamh shook her head, mumbling to herself. It looked to Asher that she was having an argument with herself, but he could not hear what she was saying. Leaning close to hear what Niamh was saying, Asher overheard the last few lines of her personal conversation.
“Oh curse my feelings for him…” Niamh pouted, stomping her foot on the ground and stiffening her arms. She calmed quickly and said softly, “Sepulcher, have mercy on his soul…”
Asher quickly straightened, acting as if he had heard nothing as his master began to walk towards him, a troubling smile on her face.
“Alright, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll teach you some new spells…” Niamh said, a grin on her face.
“Great! Wait…what’s the catch?” the weary Asher asked.
“You have to promise me that you’ll come visit me someday when you don’t need something! And you’ll have to stay with me the entire day…promise?” Niamh said.
“But…you have classes, surely I could not interrupt those?” Asher argued.
“I know, and you can help me with them! There are only 2 a day, surely that isn’t too hard,” Niamh snapped back.
Asher grumbled, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Whatever…I’ll do anything…”
Niamh giggled and plopped down on the ground before Asher. “Good! Then it’s all settled. For the next week you and I will meet at this time every day. First I’ll teach you how to unlock the secrets that are contained within that magnificent sword of yours, but you’ll have to master it on your own time. Second, I’ll begin showing you some more advanced spells that only the high adepts of Vandehka know. But you must make sure you only use them in a desperate situation! Do not go about trying them for fun, you hear me?” Niamh said sternly.
“But of course…they are for self defense and if my current listing of spells will not suffice,” Asher agreed.
Niamh smiled widely and nodded her head. “Alright, now close your eyes.”
Asher looked at her curiously but closed his eyes anyways. He suddenly felt Niamh’s lips pressed against his forehead and then the warmth of her breath as she spoke some ancient words that he could not comprehend.
“It’s ok to open your eyes now,” Niamh said loudly.
Asher opened his eyes and looked around. Nothing seemed different at all, except he felt a sudden surge of power within him, and of course the heat in his face. He rubbed his forehead to see what Niamh had done, but felt nothing. “What the…”
“Oh~ You’ve got the mark of determination! Suits you well,” Niamh said with glee, tapping Asher’s forehead.
“What are you talking about? What marking?” Asher demanded.
“Just look at your reflection in some water later and you’ll understand. You know those strange markings that the high adept have on their foreheads?” Niamh asked.
“You mean the ones that you can’t really see unless they’re casting stuff?” Asher asked.
“Well yes, you can’t see them unless their casting, I forgot about that. I can always see them though,” Niamh explained.
“So I have one of those!?” Asher said, rubbing his forehead again.
“Yes, the mark of determination. Shows your type of adept skill. I need to know what type you are so I can teach you further,” Niamh said.
“Does this mean I’m a high adept now?” Asher asked, excited.
“…no, it means you’ve got heighten magical awareness to your own spells…the high adepts just use it to signify themselves because they’re the only ones who should have them,” Niamh said with a shrug.
“So I don’t get their cool robes…?” Asher asked, sounding depressed.
“Well, if you manage to do well in my training then I’ll see about raising you to the high guard, they have ‘cool robes’ as well,” Niamh suggested.
“Alright! Mine were kind of getting old anyways,” Asher said happily.
“Now you understand that this is no time for fun and games? The training is intense to prepare your body to handle such spells, and if I find that you cannot sustain them, then I’ll remove you from the training immediately and remove that marking until you are truly ready,” Niamh said strictly.
Asher nodded his head, the determination that marked his form showing clearly in his burning eyes.
