Heart of Flame

III. Ends in Fire

"Sometimes I wonder if you're nice to me just so I'll let you out someday. I mean, I would," Sorne said as she scrubbed the dungeon floor. Luken had been sincere when he meant she would have terrible tasks. This was his most recent attempt to break her, but he was beginning to lose interest after three months. She had taken the assignment without a word of complaint, which infuriated the steward. It gave her the opportunity to sit and listen to Nagar, who was becoming a better and better friend with every passing day. She purposefully took her time with this particular task. She was beginning to learn the orc's language as he improved his grasp of Genevais, which was fortunately simpler than she had feared. Still, she was a novice and so her attempts were less than graceful. Most of her vocabulary revolved around combat, tactics, and weapons.

"You need more training. It is not time for me to leave." Nagar chuckled. "Now say that in orcish."

Sorne tried, stumbling over the words. She sighed when she finished her attempt. "I sound like an idiot."

"You're learning. Everyone sounds foolish at first." The orc warrior lifted himself up on the bars by one arm. He could do pull-ups if he strained at the edge of the collar. Sorne knew that he was desperate to keep his muscle despite his confinement, should he ever need to fight again. "A year or two and you will have it. You are a quick study. Quicker than me."

Sorne glanced up at him. "So you were njoshari?"

"Yes," Nagar said. He sounded proud. "One of the best, a Goth in my own right. I can make my skin as hard as steel, my steps as fleet as the wind. But it requires energy. Aldana exhausted me. If an avalanche had not cut off my retreat, I would have slipped his grasp."

"Could you teach me how to do that?" Sorne asked.

The orc's eyes gleamed in the darkness as he pulled himself up again. "Perhaps. Do you know much of magic?"

"Nothing," the girl admitted.

"Good. You will be a blank slate." The orc cleared his throat. "Magic has laws, but a njoshari is not a mage and so you do not need to worry of them aside from one: all power has its price. What I do is not casting a spell; it is only channeling energy. Magic is the...changing...of life. It always draws from a source, as every river has its roots. For an orc, rage is the catalyst that begins the flow, like a dam breaking. Hatred and anger, these frighten people, but they also have their uses."

Sorne nodded slightly. She certainly had anger. "So you build barriers in your body to make it tougher?"

Nagar nodded. "Turning the cleaving blow of a sword or an axe into a scratch. It takes dedication, Sorne, just as fighting does. Are you prepared to work at it?"

She smiled. "Of course. You know me."

The orc grinned. "Very well. You will learn the chants, and then the runes that help channel through the body. The markings are not necessary. However, they are wise, as they ease the strain. It will be some time before you are able to maintain it for any length of time, of course. That said, even a novice is dangerous."

Sorne liked the sound of being dangerous. Already she was making progress by leaps and bounds. She would be no match for an orcish warrior, one who spent a life at war, but she had a chance against the Genevais guards or brigands that she might run across near Mauléon. Nagar's lessons filled a void in her heart, one she had barely even been aware of. She slept like the dead for those few hours every night, exhausted from working or training. It was beginning to pay dividends. Under her dress, her muscles were growing and toughening. The beatings that Luken liked to dish out when he was in one of his moods had become trivial to shrug off. She hadn't been a soft girl to start with, but now she was beginning to come into her own.