A Blaze in the Dark (A New Dawn #1)

Chapter 25 - Fox

Your Majesty, I was grieved to learn a permit to attend Sundale's yearly Feast of the Dead market was denied. 

Fox the Ratslayer lay low in the grass, his chin resting on his hands, his stare focused. Though the frozen leaves beneath him stung his skin, his inner fire was strong enough to battle the cold.

While the water of the Right Twin splashed and gurgled on, his prey skittered around, unknowingly of the fate awaiting them. The game was simple: kill as many of those foul creatures as possible. Do not give the coughing plague a chance to spread. Save the Moondalers from the horrible disease, and get paid for it too.

From behind a piece of rotting wood on the edge of the river bank came a scuffling sound. He leapt up. He was Father's biggest disappointment. Never good enough. Never strong enough.

A scorching green bolt of fire erupted out of his hand. With a quick twirl, he shot the flames into the rat's direction. A quick squeak followed by silence as a puff of smoke enwrapped the now lifeless body.

This was how killing worked. Fire alone wasn't effective enough to assure a swift death. It had to be his deepest desire to take the animal's life, and to achieve that, he had to turn into the most lethal predator in the world.

He had tried using other memories, such as Master James threatening to bash his skull open with a horseshoe, or Hawk peeking into his brain, but remembering Father worked best. After all, fear was a weakness, hate a strength.

"That's number eleven, isn't it?" He looked over his shoulder to Katla, who was sitting a few feet from him, hunched against an ash tree, and was keeping score in his leather-bound notebook.

But his master didn't react. He just peered at his lap and wiggled his pencil in between his fingers.

Fox moaned. It wasn't the first time today, or this week, or even this month. For the past couple of weeks, Katla had become increasingly absent-minded. Something was wrong with him. As the circles around his eyes had become darker and darker, his scruffy beard and hair had lost most of their colour.

He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Katla! I caught another one."

"Well done, son," he mumbled. His fingers trembled as he marked another kill. "Eleven rats, yes. That's one more than yesterday."

"Do you wanna play now?"

"No, I'm good." He buried his chin deeper into the collar of his coat, yet continued shivering.

"But you haven't used your magic lately, and you're clearly cold."

"I'm fine. You need the practice more than I do."

That was true. He missed as often as he hit the animals. If he wanted to become the best magician ever, he had to grab every training possibility.

He turned back to the rat, whose filthy grey fur was still smouldering, and flicked his fingers. Katla was everything that Father wasn't. All that ever mattered to him was the smithy; he didn't care that he always ruined playtime.

Where the creature had been now laid a pile of ash, ready to be blown away by the next gust of wind. Fox smiled smugly.

"What did you do that for? You had a perfect hit." Katla's voice became rough and raspy. "I told you Falcon pays a bronze coin per rat."

"I... forgot? I'll hunt down another one so we can have the extra money and–"

"No, no. It's so you'd have coins for yourself."