Nearly a month passed since the Spirefell incident before Kargon awoke. Groggy eyes opened slowly and he choked out a breath. In lieu of sandy air he felt the rush of a fresh cold breeze. A small window in the brick room allowed sunlight in. The lack of bars or a screen allowed for nature to enter and leave as it pleased. Residents were supposed to deal with any issues that arose from the small opening. The memory of such an expectation helped the half-elf realize where he was. The Sanctuary of Spiritual Combustion was unlikely to change the rules that worked.
Further examination was difficult with Kargon’s entire body covered in bandages. He forced his right hand over his torso to his left arm to tear off the tightest bindings. Once those were undone the rest were easily removed. Wounds had almost healed completely but some left scars. There was no mirror in the room since they were unnecessary in training. But the obvious pressure on Kargon’s face bothered him. Upon touching it the reason became obvious. The most prominent scar was one cutting from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek. Part of him felt weak for having been scarred so heavily while another was proud of the mark of a warrior.
“Kargon, there are robes on the table,” Master Avant said loudly from the other side of the closed door.
“Ah, thanks.”
The small room only had space for a bed and medium sized table with two chairs. Kargon took one look at the cream colored robes and sighed. They were loose fitting and never felt secure. Apparently that was always the case regardless of who wore them. The half-elf tied a cloth belt tightly around his waist before making sure everything looked acceptable. Both chairs were pulled out from the table then he opened the door to invite Master Avant inside. A tray with a tea kettle, cups, and biscuits balanced in one hand as he stepped inside. Even two decades later his presence sent a chill down Kargon’s spine. It was a common reaction from any student who had fought against the master.
“How long have I been out?” Kargon asked as he took the tray and placed it on the table. Slow deliberate movements tested his strength as he lifted the kettle and slowly filled two cups. By the time Master Avant sat down, a cup of tea awaited and the biscuits were open. Kargon sat down and patiently awaited a response. A long breath hung in the air as the master appreciated the drink.
“One month,” he finally replied. A long explanation informed Kargon of how he was healed, self-immolated, then teleported here to be treated.
“I need to thank Vofric for saving me from the brink,” the half-elf sighed. “I’m guessing none of my stuff survived.”
The master shook his head and produced a pouch from his hip. Carefully he pulled out the familiar goggles Kargon had received when he left home. The half-elf was pleasantly surprised when Master Avant handed them over with no coercion needed. Much to both’s shock, the goggles were completely unscathed. Even the lenses were as pristine as the day Kargon received them.
“May I ask where you received those?” Master Avant asked.
“Pops gave them to me,” the half-elf answered.
“I see. Do you know what an Artifact of Arcana is?”
Kargon nodded. “The prince of Dawncaster had one.”
“Yes. The demon king retrieved one in Spirefell as well,” the master sighed. “Diverse planes had a hand in crafting the tools. One such tool was created by a conglomerate of fire giants and dwarves. Goggles created to see through fire.”
Kargon couldn’t help but snicker. “I don’t see how that’s on par with a staff that harnesses moonlight.”
“I’m not done. The ability to see through flames was secondary. It was a necessary component to assist with the unseen effects of the primary function.” The aged mentor took a long breath and leaned back while remembering information he’d taken note of specifically for this conversation. “Fire giants are unable to refine their mana. Thus their fiery attacks are wild and uncontrolled. With the goggles, Pyromanic, they are able to refine and empower their magic. It puts their magic nearly on par with high elves.”
“Pyro… manic?” the curious student muttered. “Pyro is understandable but why ‘manic?’ I know fire giants are inclined to rage during combat but the goggles have little to do with it.”
“Even I do not have the answers as to another race’s thought process when naming their creations.”
“That makes sense. But, I’m confused about something. If fire giants and dwarves made the goggles, shouldn’t they be the only ones who can use it? How come I can?”
Though Kargon asked the question, part of him knew the answer. Though it didn’t make sense no matter how he considered it. Velana was obviously an elf with her natural inclination for magic with no need of a conduit. The obvious outlier was Zigon. He wasn’t significantly short or gigantic. The man was only a few inches taller than Kargon who himself was barely six feet. The only other trait that was obvious to fire giants was their rage. While Kargon couldn’t deny his swift anger in a fight, that felt like something that happened to everyone. Zigon hadn’t so much as raised his voice during his son’s life. The confusion was apparent on his face and Master Avant took pity on him.
A scroll in his pocket was retrieved then placed on the table. Softly placing his talon on the paper and a push sent it to Kargon’s hand.
“Take your time. I will wait,” the master said as he poured himself another cup of tea.
Unfurling the letter and reading the first line took him back to the moment his mother called him home during his last stay at the monastery.
My Little Firecracker,
Your father and I were expecting a letter or conversation sooner regarding your origins. We should have discussed it before you left but hesitated. Zigon holds much fear in regards to his past but it is outweighed by his concern for your well being. You are correct in assuming your fire immunity comes from your father; a fire giant. He is the cause for your elemental affinity as well as your explosive temper. It was a big concern for us as you grew and we turned to Master Avant for aid. He can explain anything else you may need to know. I know you are likely wondering why your father is so small for his race. I would say it is unimportant at this time but you never did like that answer. Years before you were born, he chose to sacrifice all his abilities and power to be with me. I will tell you all about it when you return from your journey.
We miss you and wish you luck on your adventures. Take care of Aisha.
Love,
Mom and Pops
Kargon read over the letter a few times while muttering to himself. Messy hair from his long rest brushed into his periphery. Gently gripping a few strands between two fingers allowed him to pull them off and examine them. The hue was only slightly lighter than that of Zigon’s. The calm man had always insisted Kargon learn to speak about his feelings. Explosive expression was frowned upon unless used productively. Even with the anger diminishing as Kargon got older, it always came back in a fight. He’d never admit it but the rage felt good. The idea of it empowering him felt childish but now he was sure that was the case.
“Pops is a fire giant. I’m a fire giant,” he said. “Or half of one. Guess that’s good enough for Pyromanic.”
“It is not simply ‘good enough’ but better due to your half elven descent,” Master Avant explained. “It allows you to refine your magic naturally. The goggles improve it further. That is why your flames have begun to take a near solid property.”
“You’re the one who taught me to refine my flames in the first place. And based on what Mom said in the later I take it you knew what I was the first time I came here.”
Master Avant chuckled. “You say that like you had any say in coming here. No, your rage began to manifest wildly when you were a teenager. Even being near your mother manifested flames. Neves was in danger the moment you had an outburst.”
“Right.” Kargon sighed. “They asked some travelers about you when they overheard something about the monastery. You did them a favor.”
“Yes, your magical capabilities intrigued me. I don’t need to remind you what a rowdy student you were. So much so that only I could mentor you for fear that you may attack someone in a fit of rage. I am happy to see that my lessons stuck.”
Kargon listened intently as he reminisced about years of lessons with Master Avant. The calm tea drinking monk in front of him was far different from the squawking angry teacher. A chill ran down his spine at the memory of ruffled feathers turning his master into a huge beast. The smirk on lips quickly faded as his thoughts turned towards Elmud. Kargon let out a slow breath while staring out of the window.
“It wasn’t enough to win against-”
“The dragonborn. I’m aware.” Master Avant interjected. “Training alone with not so much as a dummy is not enough to prepare one for a journey like the one you accepted.”
“I couldn’t deny Aisha. The other options wouldn’t show her the respect she deserved.”
“Does she deserve to kneel next to your decrepit body and weep?”
The words stung worse than the pangs of pain from Kargon’s scars. Though he was unconscious, the memory of his best friend yelling over his body was burned into his body. Brief consciousness gripped him when she tried to shock him back to life. Nothing should ever make Aisha unhinged enough to try that. Least of all the person she asked to be her guardian.
“I need to join them again,” Kargon said.
Master Avant wasn’t the kind of bird to beat around the bush. There was no reason to stop Kargon. But he would not leave here without being fully prepared for the dangers lying ahead. That was the entire reason the master had allowed his foolish student a place to rest.
“You need to train,” Master Avant stated firmly, drawing his student’s attention.
“Master, while I understand the thought, I don’t think the other mentors here will do much good for me,” Kargon said. “And training on my own is pointless. Like you said, I don’t even have a dummy.”
“Do not presume to know my plans. The other mentors are meant to train our students to find balance. That was never what you needed. Like before, you will train with me.”
The words made Kargon shudder but he did his best not to let it show on his face. His master stood up slowly and continued.
“You must learn the proper utilization of your magic through a conduit. Combat techniques must be altered to overpower enemies you never expected to face.” He stood over the student and said softly. “Since the day we met you have refused to wield a weapon. I will refine you into one that is unmatched. That is, if you agree.”
“Why wouldn’t I agree?” Kargon asked.
Master Avant replied, “You are not the only one growing in strength. So will your allies. As will your enemies. They all have far more experience than you. Dangers will grow exponentially with the demon king making his presence known. While you may accept my training, there is the possibility I won’t allow you to leave. My expectations are higher than they used to be. And if I recall you were quite vocal about their level of impossibility.” A brief smile passed his beak before the firm demeanor returned. “If you agree, it is while knowing that I will push you further than any past student of this monastery. And you must pass all my tests satisfactorily for me to approve your departure.” The master turned and opened the door. “Take the night to think about your choices and come see me in my office tomorrow.”
Before he could take a step, Kargon answered.
“I’ll do it. I get everything you’re saying but it’s just a long winded warning.”
“Are you only saying you’ll do it due to my ‘long winded’ phrasing?” Master Avant grumbled and turned to face his student.
“No! Of course not.” Kargon protested. “It’s just that Aisha… Everyone is waiting for me.”
Though he stumbled over his own words, his resolve was clear. Confidence in the decision was marked clearly on Kargon’s face. Short of threatening to end his life, nothing would stop him. Even that may not be enough. It was the same assured look a young half-elf had worn when swearing to run off and help his family. The wild abandon of a fire giant burned in the easy-going man wrapped in loose fitting robes.
Nearly a month passed since the Spirefell incident before Kargon awoke. Groggy eyes opened slowly and he choked out a breath. In lieu of sandy air he felt the rush of a fresh cold breeze. A small window in the brick room allowed sunlight in. The lack of bars or a screen allowed for nature to enter and leave as it pleased. Residents were supposed to deal with any issues that arose from the small opening. The memory of such an expectation helped the half-elf realize where he was. The Sanctuary of Spiritual Combustion was unlikely to change the rules that worked.
Further examination was difficult with Kargon’s entire body covered in bandages. He forced his right hand over his torso to his left arm to tear off the tightest bindings. Once those were undone the rest were easily removed. Wounds had almost healed completely but some left scars. There was no mirror in the room since they were unnecessary in training. But the obvious pressure on Kargon’s face bothered him. Upon touching it the reason became obvious. The most prominent scar was one cutting from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek. Part of him felt weak for having been scarred so heavily while another was proud of the mark of a warrior.
“Kargon, there are robes on the table,” Master Avant said loudly from the other side of the closed door.
“Ah, thanks.”
The small room only had space for a bed and medium sized table with two chairs. Kargon took one look at the cream colored robes and sighed. They were loose fitting and never felt secure. Apparently that was always the case regardless of who wore them. The half-elf tied a cloth belt tightly around his waist before making sure everything looked acceptable. Both chairs were pulled out from the table then he opened the door to invite Master Avant inside. A tray with a tea kettle, cups, and biscuits balanced in one hand as he stepped inside. Even two decades later his presence sent a chill down Kargon’s spine. It was a common reaction from any student who had fought against the master.
“How long have I been out?” Kargon asked as he took the tray and placed it on the table. Slow deliberate movements tested his strength as he lifted the kettle and slowly filled two cups. By the time Master Avant sat down, a cup of tea awaited and the biscuits were open. Kargon sat down and patiently awaited a response. A long breath hung in the air as the master appreciated the drink.
“One month,” he finally replied. A long explanation informed Kargon of how he was healed, self-immolated, then teleported here to be treated.
“I need to thank Vofric for saving me from the brink,” the half-elf sighed. “I’m guessing none of my stuff survived.”
The master shook his head and produced a pouch from his hip. Carefully he pulled out the familiar goggles Kargon had received when he left home. The half-elf was pleasantly surprised when Master Avant handed them over with no coercion needed. Much to both’s shock, the goggles were completely unscathed. Even the lenses were as pristine as the day Kargon received them.
“May I ask where you received those?” Master Avant asked.
“Pops gave them to me,” the half-elf answered.
“I see. Do you know what an Artifact of Arcana is?”
Kargon nodded. “The prince of Dawncaster had one.”
“Yes. The demon king retrieved one in Spirefell as well,” the master sighed. “Diverse planes had a hand in crafting the tools. One such tool was created by a conglomerate of fire giants and dwarves. Goggles created to see through fire.”
Kargon couldn’t help but snicker. “I don’t see how that’s on par with a staff that harnesses moonlight.”
“I’m not done. The ability to see through flames was secondary. It was a necessary component to assist with the unseen effects of the primary function.” The aged mentor took a long breath and leaned back while remembering information he’d taken note of specifically for this conversation. “Fire giants are unable to refine their mana. Thus their fiery attacks are wild and uncontrolled. With the goggles, Pyromanic, they are able to refine and empower their magic. It puts their magic nearly on par with high elves.”
“Pyro… manic?” the curious student muttered. “Pyro is understandable but why ‘manic?’ I know fire giants are inclined to rage during combat but the goggles have little to do with it.”
“Even I do not have the answers as to another race’s thought process when naming their creations.”
“That makes sense. But, I’m confused about something. If fire giants and dwarves made the goggles, shouldn’t they be the only ones who can use it? How come I can?”
Though Kargon asked the question, part of him knew the answer. Though it didn’t make sense no matter how he considered it. Velana was obviously an elf with her natural inclination for magic with no need of a conduit. The obvious outlier was Zigon. He wasn’t significantly short or gigantic. The man was only a few inches taller than Kargon who himself was barely six feet. The only other trait that was obvious to fire giants was their rage. While Kargon couldn’t deny his swift anger in a fight, that felt like something that happened to everyone. Zigon hadn’t so much as raised his voice during his son’s life. The confusion was apparent on his face and Master Avant took pity on him.
A scroll in his pocket was retrieved then placed on the table. Softly placing his talon on the paper and a push sent it to Kargon’s hand.
“Take your time. I will wait,” the master said as he poured himself another cup of tea.
Unfurling the letter and reading the first line took him back to the moment his mother called him home during his last stay at the monastery.
My Little Firecracker,
Your father and I were expecting a letter or conversation sooner regarding your origins. We should have discussed it before you left but hesitated. Zigon holds much fear in regards to his past but it is outweighed by his concern for your well being. You are correct in assuming your fire immunity comes from your father; a fire giant. He is the cause for your elemental affinity as well as your explosive temper. It was a big concern for us as you grew and we turned to Master Avant for aid. He can explain anything else you may need to know. I know you are likely wondering why your father is so small for his race. I would say it is unimportant at this time but you never did like that answer. Years before you were born, he chose to sacrifice all his abilities and power to be with me. I will tell you all about it when you return from your journey.
We miss you and wish you luck on your adventures. Take care of Aisha.
Love,
Mom and Pops
Kargon read over the letter a few times while muttering to himself. Messy hair from his long rest brushed into his periphery. Gently gripping a few strands between two fingers allowed him to pull them off and examine them. The hue was only slightly lighter than that of Zigon’s. The calm man had always insisted Kargon learn to speak about his feelings. Explosive expression was frowned upon unless used productively. Even with the anger diminishing as Kargon got older, it always came back in a fight. He’d never admit it but the rage felt good. The idea of it empowering him felt childish but now he was sure that was the case.
“Pops is a fire giant. I’m a fire giant,” he said. “Or half of one. Guess that’s good enough for Pyromanic.”
“It is not simply ‘good enough’ but better due to your half elven descent,” Master Avant explained. “It allows you to refine your magic naturally. The goggles improve it further. That is why your flames have begun to take a near solid property.”
“You’re the one who taught me to refine my flames in the first place. And based on what Mom said in the later I take it you knew what I was the first time I came here.”
Master Avant chuckled. “You say that like you had any say in coming here. No, your rage began to manifest wildly when you were a teenager. Even being near your mother manifested flames. Neves was in danger the moment you had an outburst.”
“Right.” Kargon sighed. “They asked some travelers about you when they overheard something about the monastery. You did them a favor.”
“Yes, your magical capabilities intrigued me. I don’t need to remind you what a rowdy student you were. So much so that only I could mentor you for fear that you may attack someone in a fit of rage. I am happy to see that my lessons stuck.”
Kargon listened intently as he reminisced about years of lessons with Master Avant. The calm tea drinking monk in front of him was far different from the squawking angry teacher. A chill ran down his spine at the memory of ruffled feathers turning his master into a huge beast. The smirk on lips quickly faded as his thoughts turned towards Elmud. Kargon let out a slow breath while staring out of the window.
“It wasn’t enough to win against-”
“The dragonborn. I’m aware.” Master Avant interjected. “Training alone with not so much as a dummy is not enough to prepare one for a journey like the one you accepted.”
“I couldn’t deny Aisha. The other options wouldn’t show her the respect she deserved.”
“Does she deserve to kneel next to your decrepit body and weep?”
The words stung worse than the pangs of pain from Kargon’s scars. Though he was unconscious, the memory of his best friend yelling over his body was burned into his body. Brief consciousness gripped him when she tried to shock him back to life. Nothing should ever make Aisha unhinged enough to try that. Least of all the person she asked to be her guardian.
“I need to join them again,” Kargon said.
Master Avant wasn’t the kind of bird to beat around the bush. There was no reason to stop Kargon. But he would not leave here without being fully prepared for the dangers lying ahead. That was the entire reason the master had allowed his foolish student a place to rest.
“You need to train,” Master Avant stated firmly, drawing his student’s attention.
“Master, while I understand the thought, I don’t think the other mentors here will do much good for me,” Kargon said. “And training on my own is pointless. Like you said, I don’t even have a dummy.”
“Do not presume to know my plans. The other mentors are meant to train our students to find balance. That was never what you needed. Like before, you will train with me.”
The words made Kargon shudder but he did his best not to let it show on his face. His master stood up slowly and continued.
“You must learn the proper utilization of your magic through a conduit. Combat techniques must be altered to overpower enemies you never expected to face.” He stood over the student and said softly. “Since the day we met you have refused to wield a weapon. I will refine you into one that is unmatched. That is, if you agree.”
“Why wouldn’t I agree?” Kargon asked.
Master Avant replied, “You are not the only one growing in strength. So will your allies. As will your enemies. They all have far more experience than you. Dangers will grow exponentially with the demon king making his presence known. While you may accept my training, there is the possibility I won’t allow you to leave. My expectations are higher than they used to be. And if I recall you were quite vocal about their level of impossibility.” A brief smile passed his beak before the firm demeanor returned. “If you agree, it is while knowing that I will push you further than any past student of this monastery. And you must pass all my tests satisfactorily for me to approve your departure.” The master turned and opened the door. “Take the night to think about your choices and come see me in my office tomorrow.”
Before he could take a step, Kargon answered.
“I’ll do it. I get everything you’re saying but it’s just a long winded warning.”
“Are you only saying you’ll do it due to my ‘long winded’ phrasing?” Master Avant grumbled and turned to face his student.
“No! Of course not.” Kargon protested. “It’s just that Aisha… Everyone is waiting for me.”
Though he stumbled over his own words, his resolve was clear. Confidence in the decision was marked clearly on Kargon’s face. Short of threatening to end his life, nothing would stop him. Even that may not be enough. It was the same assured look a young half-elf had worn when swearing to run off and help his family. The wild abandon of a fire giant burned in the easy-going man wrapped in loose fitting robes.
