Free Magician Prince by Curtis Cornett

shouted, but neither man
obeyed, failing to understand the logic in their savior’s command.
Instead, Byrn hauled them both over the edge and into the open
air.
    Kennath screamed in fright, but Sane managed
to hold his fear at bay, trusting that Byrn knew what he was doing.
By the gods, he hoped Byrn knew what he was doing.
    Wings of flame, each one twice the length of
a man, sprang from Byrn’s back and he flapped them in an attempt to
gain altitude that was only marginally successful. Heat gusted
below them with each flap providing extra lift as their descent
slowed and they began to chaotically fly like a wounded bird.
    A fortuitous gust of wind swept them up into
the air and the trio of wizards soared on the wings of fire even
higher. Flying was a simultaneously liberating and terrifying
experience and Sane found himself looking down on the castle
grounds as they quickly flew overhead. A mad laugh burst from his
lips and he wondered if this was some fantastic dream. They began
to descend towards the castle’s protective wall and sailed over it
easily before coming to a landing some distance away. Byrn’s wings
evaporated into the air and the streets suddenly seemed very dark
for their absence.
    “You’re the Firehawk,” Kennath pointed at
Byrn. “I had heard rumors from across the Great Sea that the
Firehawk had returned to save the dwarven magicians, but put no
faith in it.”
    “I helped the dwarves,” Byrn admitted, “just
as they helped me to get back here. There will be plenty of time
for that later, but first we need to get out of the city.”
    Byrn led them for some time until Sane was
well lost within the warehouse district of Mollifas, but the older
sorcerer followed his younger counterpart without question in part
because he feared that if he stopped to think or rest even for a
moment he would not be able to get his old bones moving again.
    “Are you alright, sorcerer?” asked Kennath,
but there was a hard edge to his tone that warned Sane that
Kennath’s concern was more for himself than for Sane. If he were to
slow the younger magicians down, then Kennath would not hesitate to
abandon him. “Perhaps I should hold that for you,” he reached for
the staff and Sane pulled away reflexively.
    “Back off, Kennath,” Byrn told him
flatly.
    “Not to be ungrateful, but, Firehawk or not,
why should I listen to you, Baryn?” Kennath asked. After clearing
the castle gate Byrn had done away with the old man disguise, but
Kennath knew the young sorcerer by no other name.
    Byrn smirked to himself, “Feel free to go
your own way,” but Kennath decided to follow the sorcerers, at
least for a little while longer.
    Soon, they reached an old, abandoned
warehouse and Byrn led them inside. The building was mostly empty
except for a small pack of supplies that Byrn had stashed there a
few days earlier. The pack contained some fresh fruits and jerky
along with several changes of clothes. Byrn gave out the clothes to
his companions and some of the fruit to Sane.
    “Eat up,” he said, “We need to be on the move
soon before anyone realizes that we are no longer on castle
grounds.”
    Sane thanked him and hungrily took a bite of
an apple. He nearly wolfed it down to the core. Something seemed
wrong. There was something missing, but Sane could not put a finger
on what that might be. Sari! His heart skipped a beat in worry.
“Byrn, where is Sari? Is she alright?”
    “She is well,” Byrn told him, “but Sari
decided to stay with her own people. She said it was time that she
remembered how to live as an elf. Our war is not her war and her
people need her now. Shatala is ill.”
    Sane nodded. “Sari was young for an elf when
I first met her and that was nearly forty years ago when she
decided to follow me to the world of humans. She has spent more
time among our kind than she has her own people. Perhaps it was
time for her to return.”
    Byrn pulled a wooden rune from one of the
packs and placed it in Sane’s