Laws of Pyromancy

Jahl had been ready for hours, but now the prospect of dying or, best case, killing Ogden, was eating at his whole being.

Ogden was not his friend, but that didn’t mean he wanted to kill a student he had been studying with for the last five years, since the age of sixteen. Trial Law was very clear that only one adept can emerge from the battle. Jahl knew any mistake today would be exploited to its maximum possibility of his failure—including death. It was time to find out who lives, and who dies.

Jahl exited the dorm, wooden door slamming behind him. Psiwielder Thod, already outside the adept barracks, gestured, grinning. The psiwielder was wearing his ceremonial crimson robes with yellow half-sleeves trimmed in silver flames, a mark of his status as a pyromancer. His nose was bent, which gave him the appearance of a buzzard. His bald head bore the five, etched psyrunes curving in a circle around his head. His face was a roughly creased visage of someone who had been close-quarters to fire and smoke for twenty years, as was his hairless skin.

Jahl relished the fresh air and bright sunshine of the courtyard. The chamber, what students referred to as the ‘Oven’, was a bleak and fire-blasted place. He would be there soon to have his fate decided.

“Time for the trial, Jahl,” Thod said, adding, “I hope your head is in the right place.” He gave him a reproachful look, claw nose dipped. “Keep your concentration and focus in your moment if you want to survive. Try not to be like Gilan. He let his gift devour him.”

Jahl bit down hard to trap his tongue. You could have saved him, the specter taunted, looking out of Galin’s burned out eye sockets. You know this to be true. The smell and heat pulled at his mind, threatening another flashback.

Jahl willed the memory away and put it back in its unlit corner of his mind for now. He had to be ready.

Psywielder Thod brought Jahl to the Discipline Chamber first, dropped him off, and then left to the get the remaining adept for the duel: Ogden.

Jahl sood at the center of the Oven’s square floor of black stone veined with yellow and red ores. The four pillars held the braziers that fumed. The smells and the suffocating warmth. The memory started to resurface…but Jahl pushed it back down into the darkness. Not today. Today would be his day of revenge. But he had to defeat Ogden to have any chance.

Speaking of, Ogden, his fellow fifth year, who was built at the shoulders and chest more like a psybreaker guard, strode in, clacking his ignition bracers together one way, then the other. The resulting sparks accented the crimson in his eyes. His head was bald, as was the result of the discipline—like all pyromancy adepts, no hair anywhere and toughened tanned skin, almost leathery. He wore white, half sleeve robes trimmed with amber flames. He stretched and molded the sparks he struck, fashioning butterflies, ravens, rabbits, all fiery conjures manifested, then snuffed.

“Didn’t realize we were warming up?” Jahl said, smiling close-lipped. It did not touch his eyes.

Suddenly, how weak Gilan had been from the beginning rattled Jahl like a physical blow. Of course, he had not survived! One with the gift was seldom so…innocent. No! Jahl cautioned himself. Be in your moment.

“Where’s your moment,” Ogden whispered, referring to one of the Laws, dispelling all his fiery constructs with a wave.

“Enough!” Psiwielder Thod bellowed, his voice booming in the chamber. “Before we start the duel, know well that only one will emerge victor. You will use the extent of your training to defeat your opponent, to the death if necessary. To the scar, if you’re feeling merciful.”

Psiwielder Thod, gestured before him. He no longer needed the ignition bracers, and he fashioned a gout of flame that projected to the ceiling. It developed into a ball of fire about the size of one of the braziers. The illumination from the fireball blasted the chamber into full daylight. Charred marks on the walls, burned blood on the floor, scatterings of ashes here and there all came to light. One reminder of someone’s death or worse at every turn.

“When the fireball dissipates, the duel has begun. Remember the Laws of Pyromancy, lest you force me to immolate one of you,” he said, as if explaining something simple to children.

Jahl couldn’t stop grinning. He felt his teeth barred and the pressure pained his jaws. But he could not stop. His eyes bore into the ball of flame spinning and spurting fifty feet above him. It was starting to decrease in size. The 10-foot diameter sphere become less, then, suddenly, 5 foot around. Jahl risked a look to Ogden, who was also watching the fireball shrink, his wrists at the ready to strike his ignition bracers together.

Jahl’s hands stayed at his sides. He switched his gaze back to the fireball. It was now perhaps one foot across. It stopped spinning and began to reduce rapidly. Jahl had maybe five seconds. Maybe less.

Four seconds. Three. Two. One…

The clash of Ogden’s ignition bracers rang in the chamber, echoing off the walls, as a spark flew from the steel and became a lash of flame that zagged across the room toward Jahl.

Jahl didn’t move. He held his hands, palms outward, and planted his feet. The flame reached him in a swirl of heat but he absorbed its energy, as he had done during dozens of training sessions. The fire left Odgen’s fingertips only to wink out as Jahl drew the energy into himself.

Ogden frowned, straightening from his attack posture, holding his hands over his head. Psiwielder Thod bemusedly watched the match.

Jahl stared, grinning maniacally at Ogden. “More,” Jahl said quietly. “Show me more.”

Ogden snorted and smashed his bracers together, igniting another spark he manipulated into a tongue of flame that encircled Jahl and began to close around him. Jahl stood his ground as he outstretched his arms, again holding his hands palms outward. The circle of snapping flame lazily danced as it let go its tail and began to funnel into Jahl’s palms, his eyes glinting with crimson light as he absorbed the attack. The fire circle was doused and the chamber fell quiet—again. Jahl gazed at Ogden, crimson eyes flashing, bleeding yellow streams of heat energy into the air.

Ogden’s face blanched, his psyrune’s light fading on the back of his head as he lowered his arms.

“More,” Jahl said in a deadly tone. “Surely you have more.” His own psyrune pulsed and glowed with the same yellow luminance that was spilling from his eyes. The maddening grin was still on his face.

Ogden adjusted his robes and twisted his steel bracer on his left wrist. His crimson-tinted blue eyes appeared violet. He gave a confident smirk. “All those training sessions,” he said, voice dripping with malice. “Other adepts fleeing your attacks. Yielding to you. Makes you think you don’t need to attack me. You overestimate yourself, which means you are making the fatal mistake of underestimating me!” He shouted the last, clanging his ignition bracers with hands he had moved behind his back. The unseen spark blossomed into a sword of blue flame that roved over the floor, floating before Ogden, bathing him in azure light.

Psiwielder Thod held his bare chin thumb and forefinger, narrowing his eyes. Jahl had seen his ‘waiting for carrion’ expression. Too many times. Including that day five years ago.

The fire sword swept toward Jahl, point first. Jahl threw up his right hand and closed it in a fist. The sword stopped its fiery advance, quivering and losing form. A yellow halo surrounded the blade of flame and the intense blue faded to a sea green, then became yellow, the light arcing into Jahl’s already pulsing eyes. The fire sword vanished. The air surrounding Jahl erupted into yellow flame, only to have it draw back into his body. His hands and eyes both were now saturated with light as if they were forged of energy.

Then, quickly, Ogden launched another blade of fire. Jahl closed a fist and it evaporated into a shower of embers that darted like little magnets into his eyes. The air around Jahl was rippling and spitting sparks. He had yet to even touch his ignition bracers together.

“Adept Jahl,” Thod’s voice cautioned. “May I remind you that the Laws compel you to mount some form of attack to defeat your opponent. Defeating your opponent’s attacks will not give you victory. You must defeat him!”

Ogden looked at Psiwielder Thod. “If he won’t fight, he can’t win. So, I win, when he gives up.”

“Adept Ogden,” Thod began.

“No!” Ogden spoke over him. “The last three adepts yielded to Jahl. All three scarred or released by mercy!” He spat the words. “We knew this day would be no different! Even though he knows the Laws, he spits at them now!” Ogden paused, crossing his arms. “And we all know why,” he added menacingly.

“Adept, you forget yourself,” Thod managed.

“Forgetting?” Ogden barked laughter like a thunder clap, gesturing at Jahl.

Jahl was unmoving, energy swirling in the air around him.

“That is precisely the problem with this coward,” Ogden continued, starting to pace. “He can’t attack because he can’t get over that his friend fouled up five years ago and killed himself in his first trial!”

Jahl’s lips quavered, but he did not move to ignite his bracers. Jahl gave a cry that reverberated in the chamber and charged Ogden, yellow flames and light trailing his path behind him. He tackled the astonished adept to the ground, folding him in his arms and legs.

“Do you yield?” Jahl hissed.

Ogden punched backward with his elbow, but couldn’t get enough space or position to do any damage. Jahl closed his arms around even tighter as his hands inched closer to one another.

“I’m not a coward, Ogden,” Jahl whispered in Ogden’s ear. “I was just…feeling my moment.”

With a soft clang, Jahl’s ignition bracelets came together. The spark flew into Ogden’s face and exploded. Jahl turned his head and released Odgen rolling away. The smoke and flame of the blast started to clear, the sound of Ogden coughing. The adept rolled to his feet; his ignition bracers positioned to sound once again.

“And now you can have your fire back!” Jahl yelled, clapping his hands together.

At that moment, yellow, blue, and violet flame coursed from Jahl’s body and slammed into Odgen. The sudden infusion of energy put Ogden on the defensive, but too late, as he was still stunned by the explosion. He could not repel the wrathful flame and energy blasting into his body. The heat blistered Ogden’s face and body’s skin. He began to shriek and fell to his knees. Jahl moved closer, the energy hungrily devouring his opponent, roasting him like gamestock on a spit. Ogden’s screams began to die down with the fire until both were silent.

Psiwielder Thod approached, applauding. “Excellent, adept. “I thought—”

“My friend.” Jahl said, body heaving, struggling to stand. “I wonder if you remember, his name?” Jahl added, smashing his ignition bracers together. His eyes still leaked power.

“What’s this now? The trial is over…” Thod attempted.

“Mine, maybe,” Jahl said in a low tone. “But I’m talking about yours, Psiwielder Thod.”

Thod’s expression became bewildered. “What are you saying?”

“His name was Gilan!” Jahl shouted, spittle jetting from his mouth. He straightened his stance. More cooly, he added, “I mean, it’s time for your moment, Psiwielder Thod.”

Thod chuckled. “You mean your debt to me, for all that I’ve ever taught you? For making you strong and stronger still?” He pointed at Ogden’s smoldering remains. “That is your enemy, there, lying in a heap of ash because of your power that I showed you!” Thod thundered.

“Not my enemy!” Jahl raged. “Or my friend. Just a target. A target you taught me to hit, again and again, over years of smoke and flame and pain. And some targets you taught to hit themselves, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be so limited, Adept,” Thod reprimanded. “You are clearly remorseful, breaking a Law saying thus!”

Jahl shook his head. “My law, today, Thod. My law and your moment. Your law is over.”

“You’re not serious?” Thod posed, breathless, outraged. “I’m the psiwielder, Adept! I’m—”

“You’re the reason Gilan died, and dozens like him!”

Thod nodded. “Yes. But, you, too, Adept. You, or any of the eleven adepts there that day of First Trial could have. But none of you did, because you knew your place in the Laws. Knew how important the Laws were and are. Even now, you doubt yourself, know that I am right. You are the killer, Jahl! I am merely the teacher of a discipline.”

“I am the teacher now.”

Jahl held out his arms and his ignition bracers fell off and hit the stony floor with a clank. He then raised his arms above his head.

Thod laughed again. “You surrender then? Of course, you do! You know that I could destroy you with a thought! I’ll try to remember your obedience when the psybreakers arrive to peel off your psyrune!”

The grin Jahl wore during the trial returned to his face. The four pillars holding the braziers began to tremble. Jahl turned his palms toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes as the yellow energy began flowing from them again.

Thod gasped. “Lawbreaker! You practice without your bracers? I’ve not taught you this yet!” Thod paused, peering at his student. “It can’t be…there isn’t a way that I could not, did not know?” he stammered in shock.

“I told you, Thod,” Jahl said icily. “I am the teacher now.” Jahl opened his eyes. They shimmered with crimson and yellow light. “You are my student.”

Fire from atop the braziers started to spill over and down the obsidian sides of the pillars, flames rolling to the floor of the chamber.

Thod eyes darted to each of the four pillars, an expression of anger mixed with bewilderment growing on his creased face. “No matter what you are or who you think you are!” Thod raged. He brought up his hands, the fire pooling where he gestured, away from him, and toward Jahl. “Now I will end you, Adept! And replace you in the next culling just as easily!”

“Never again, Thod. You are my student and today you will be taught by me.”

Thod gestured again and the fire gathered and churning waves of flame rolled against Jahl. The fire broke like water on rock as Jahl whole body poured with yellow and crimson light. The waves of fire began to reverse their direction, flowing back toward Thod. Jahl created a monstrous wave of fire that raised up like a furious titan elemental and then crashed it down upon Thod. The psiwielder’s body obliterated upon the waves’ crushing impact, his screamed words were snuffed out by the roaring tempest of fire that devoured him leaving scorched stone and a pile of bones in its wake.

Suddenly, the entire chamber erupted in a conflagration that consumed the walls and the floor, Jahl standing at the center, a glowing being of pure fire and light. A psybreaker, dark, diamond armor glinting in the firelight, appeared at the entrance, his psyblade a shard of shadow in his gauntleted hands.

Jahl swept the fire to flow down the wall above the entrance way. The psybreaker, whose armor and discipline were proof against any psionic power, was laid to waste by liquid flame and stone pouring onto his body in gushes from above. As if caught in a volcanic waterfall, the psybreaker bent to his knees, then flattened, then burned, black diamond armor cracking and splintering under the heat. The next psybreaker came and suffered the same fate. And the next.

Jahl stepped forward, his form engulfed in flame, blasting the walls, the pillars, the floor with liquid fire, the stone starting to melt as it succumbed to insurmountable heat. He continued to the exit, pushing the rolling holocaust along with him. He entered the hall and the screams started.

Jahl halted his rampage right outside the Hall of the Fallen. He reigned in the destructive waves of flame and molten stone cooled as he depleted the heat of the entire mass just with his will. Everywhere hissed and spat with dying fire. Jagged plumes of gray smoke swept through the hall in a tornadic gale. Other adepts that had fled now collapsed outside the hall, their skin blistered from heat, choking on smoke, some crying and still screaming, some even laughing.

Jahl stared into the Hall of the Fallen as he nullified the remaining fires and disintegrated the remaining smoke. He could hear the din of more psybreakers approaching. He continued walking into the hall. Frightened adepts shunned from him, some cursing him, others immobile with fear.

He stopped in front of Gilan’s urn. He remembered the day they both entered this hall for the first time. Looking long and forlornly at Gilan’s urn, Jahl felt an exhaustion that bore deep into his soul.

“Would you have ever believed I would be the Exigent Pryromancer all those years ago?” Jahl asked softly, touching the glass with an open hand. His breath fogged the glass. For the first time, the horrible memory did not return. It had been replaced, now that the specter had been satisfied. “Our moment, Gilan,” Jahl whispered, closing his eyes.

He did not feel the psybreakers’ psyblades dividing his mind from his body.