Hot Obsidian

Ambassa makes any talent shine and Jarmin’s was no exception. But, unlike his brethren, he was the quietest of the ambasiaths around.

Time passed slowly. While Pai and Milian were busy with learning Transvolo, the rest of the boys found something to occupy themselves as well. Oasis dived into Firaskian urban life, making friends and enemies, breaking old street rules and establishing his own. After Lainuver, who was older and more experienced in the way of shadows, had joined him, the duo turned into a force to be reckoned with.

Juel and Irin spent most of their days training with young Crimson Guardians. All Lifekeepers are skilled warriors, often being taught to fight since turning three, so the boys’ guidance was very welcome at the college training grounds. Several young mages, impressed with Juel’s swordplay, removed the handguards from their swords. Several days later, they were already calling the Faizul “master” and followed him everywhere like ducklings, eager to learn anything he was willing to teach them.

Irin became a regular at the college shooting gallery. He gained some fans – but not “apprentices” like Juel – as well. Every Crimson Guardian, young and old, wanted to see him shoot. Irin never missed. Wind, fog, darkness – nothing could stop him from hitting his target. But, despite his shining talent, no one liked the grim boy. Ambassa makes many things shine, and some of them are not nice. There was an aura of cold, menacing danger around Irin and people subconsciously felt it.

While most of the team kept their activities consistent, Orion, Bala, and Kosta didn’t. Orion could join Juel and Irin at the training grounds (young Crimson Guardians enjoyed his company) or Oasis and Lainuver at their shadow “business”, or Pai and Milian in the library. Sometimes, his wanderer’s spirit became so infectious that the other boys followed his example. Then you could see Pai and Milian spar with the college students or Juel and Lainuver spend a day in the library (Einar Sharlou gave them his permission to do so). Those two always sat in opposite corners of the reading hall but borrowed the same books from time to time.

Bala and Kosta spent their days differently from the rest of the group.

Bala, who was always hungry for stories, dedicated his time to gathering all the stories Firaska could offer. Since he always valued listening to stories over reading them, his main hunting grounds were Firaskian taverns. Soon all the tavern regulars, travellers, and barkeepers knew and welcomed the cheerful dark-ski

Kosta’s case was more complicated.

At first, hungry for knowledge, young Ollardian used to spend his days in the college library with Pai and Milian but then his illness got worse. On his last visit to the library, he borrowed a book titled “Tome of Dark Creatures”. That was how he spent his time now: bedridden, coughing, and reading the darkest textbook imaginable. Kosta’s breath was wheezy, superficial, difficult; if he tried to breathe deeply, his cough returned, making the boy painfully bent double in his bed. It seemed that his lungs were slowly filling with liquid with every passing day.

Kosta’s teammates, concerned with his condition, didn’t hear a single complaint from the stoic boy.

“It’s all right,” he always said. “It happens to me sometimes but it will pass.”

One can only guess how painful his life must have been that he had learned to accept such suffering as normal.

Kosta's condition worsened with each passing day. First, he put his book of horrors aside because even reading became too difficult for him, and then he stopped talking.

Bala brought a foreign healer to him once, a powerful mage who had happened to visit the city tavern Bala was a regular at. After examining the patient, the mage healer said, perplexed,

“Physically, he's fine. His illness resembles a severe case of magical addiction but it’s unlike any case I’ve seen.” He turned to Kosta. “Tell me, my boy, have you ever been to the No Man’s Land or the No Man’s Waters?”

Kosta nodded. He indeed had travelled with his father a lot.

“Did you enter any anomalies? Handled magical objects beyond the stable territory?”

Kosta shook his head.

The healer asked him many more other questions after that but failed to determine the source of his magical addiction. In the end, the mage had to give up. He chose to be honest with the brave boy.

“There is no cure…” he began and wanted to add something hopeful and soothing, but stopped when Kosta just nodded knowingly.

The powerful mage and renowned healer, Bala’s guest left the dark apartment deeply sad and defeated. He refused to accept any payment for his wasted time.

A week had passed after the healer’s visit. Kosta looked like a ghost now, so pale and thin he had become. There was no way to help him. Even returning to the Temple of Life would not solve the problem, for magical addiction is a mysterious illness without a known cure, not something you can treat with potions or magic.

There was no more fun and laughter in the little flat that the team was currently calling home. Every morning, the boys woke up early and left as quickly as possible. They trained and learned twice as hard as they used to, grateful for any distraction that could take their minds away from Kosta’s situation, even for a little while.

Only Jarmin always stayed by Kosta’s side, keeping the silent boy company, reading to him, brushing his hair, and bringing him tea. Bala forgot all about his story-hunting and switched to recipe-hunting instead. Soon, he knew all the healers in the city and all the merchants at the market. He bought himself a bag of medicinal herbs and a cauldron and started brewing a new potion every day.

“I’ve just learned this recipe today! It’s awesomely strong stuff. It must help,” he said every time he brewed another one and added when it failed to work, “Don’t worry, I have another recipe right here…”

Bala’s optimism was the only thing that made Kosta smile now.

Clumsy as he was, Bala was good at potion-making, just as good as he was at cooking, maybe because those two things had a lot in common. His potions did produce some effect, just not the one he was hoping for: a bit of colour returned to Kosta’s cheeks, his cough became softer, and his hair grew long and shiny.

Still, the invisible disease kept filling the boy’s lungs with liquid, slowly but steadily.

***

In the begi