Free Ember by Tess Williams

silently.
    Maybe I was too hard on the old people
back in Tiver . . . I had always thought they were strange but
they didn't hold a candle to this guy.
    Baa.
    I turned around to follow the noise and
caught site of the purple sheep again. I couldn't help but
laugh.
    “Oh, you think they're funny do you?”
    I spun back around to the old man who had
stopped his tossing.
    “You just think everything here is a big
joke? My life's work a laughing matter?”
    Taking into the account my recent
unsuccessful replies, I was a little afraid to answer.
    I shook my head. “No, not at all. I think
it's brilliant and . . . and wonderfully magical.”
    Okay, Evelyn, that was just corny.
    “Wonderfully magical?” he repeated then put
his fingers to his chin in consideration. Finally a wide smile
crossed his face. “Wonderfully magical . . . I like that. Tell me
your name strange and possible evil girl.”
    I was kinda starting to get used to this guy.
“Eve, it's Eve.”
    “Pfft,” he laughed. “Ridiculous. Your name
shall be Evangeline and I . . .” he cleared his throat. “. . . am
Adzamaruha. Meaning: lord of wisdom . . . only backwards.”
    “Huh?”
    He threw out a hand. “Do not interrupt!
People I like may call me Adzama. You, Evangeline, have not yet
earned this privilege.”
    With that he flung one last item onto the
pile, knelt down, loaded it into a small pack, and handed it to me.
“Off with you now, Evangeline. I have a long search ahead of me and
can no longer be bothered.”
    At a complete loss for words I nodded slowly,
turned around, and started down the path. After a few seconds
curiosity got the better of me. I turned around.
    “What is it you have to search for, umm . . .
Adzamaruha?”
    He yelled back through the trees. “A broom,
someone seems to have stolen mine . . . most likely an evil Meoden
spy.”
    For a moment I thought I'd remind him that he
flung it out into the trees when we'd first met. But instead I
thought better of it, turned around, and just kept walking.
    *
    Clash! Metal banged against metal as a
Meoden scout tried to block an incoming blow. He was no match for
his attacker's strength and the glowing green blade forced the
Meoden's sword down into its own throat.
    “Thoran, behind you!” yelled Cornelius.
    Without thinking, Thoran flipped his sword
around him, slicing through the gut of two oncoming Meoden. Huffing
loudly he looked at Cornelius. “You see why I need you with
me?”
    Cornelius’s brow furrowed. “Maybe, but I
could think of a better time to argue this.”
    At that he pointed to another Meoden soldier
. . . this one wasn't alone. Following behind him was a heavy,
four-legged, beast covered in the metallic skin native to the
Meoden. Chains hung upon the animal like a cloak, linked at the top
to two oversized horns. Its fiery eyes burned bright behind tufts
of steam that rose out of the creatures nostrils.
    Thoran threw his weapon to Cornelius. “You
get the little one, and I'll get the big one.”
    Cornelius caught the sword in one hand. “Next
time we run into a campsite while scouting, let's stick to just
that, scouting! ” Almost robotically he held out his hand
until it glowed with yellow wisps, then shot it out to his and
Thoran's feet.
    “Thank you,” sang Thoran, before charging off
toward the great beast. Cornelius was already heading in the
direction of the Meoden soldier.
    The two men were quick, and their movements
were marked with an obvious agility. Cornelius reached his target
first. With a cry he parried two blows then flipped the sword hilt
around in his hand, bashing the Meoden duly on the top of its
head.
    Thoran leapt unnaturally high into the air
and landed shakily on the large creature's back. Next he closed his
eyes and, within a split second, flames sprouted from his hand and
up his arm. He jabbed fiercely with his fist at the top of the
beast's head.
    Cornelius, who was still parrying off the
soldier’s attacks, quickly spun the sword around