The Primordial Flame

Chapter 1: Opening Doors Alexander stared at the broom so hard he thought it just might catch on fire—that’s how much he hated it. His blue eyes blazed and his brows furrowed, just like his father if he’d realized it, making his twelve year old features look frightening in a rather amusing way. Alexander still had that youthful innocence about him; too much of it to be truly intimidating—however, there was no mistaking the sincerity of his anger. He shook the broomstick with slight white hands poking out of his blue far too large robes, cursing it under his breath. Every day for six long months, he pushed that rotten broom back and forth across Professor Tawdry’s dilapidated keep. Sure, he did other chores for the old wizard, like the laundry, the dishes, picking up the laboratory, tending the herbs—he never got to actually pick them—but it was the sweeping he hated the most, and the broom. It’s worse than being at home! Even Mom isn’t this nit-picky! That was true. Here he had to do everything, absolutely everything in a particular way. If he swept in the wrong direction, used too much soap, skipped an insignificant step in Professor Tawdry’s exacting sequence, whatever, he had to do it all over again. I thought I apprenticed to be a wizard not a scullery maid! His studies, if that’s what you wanted to call them, were almost as bad. Professor Tawdry didn’t have him learning or memorizing spells—not even one. Instead, Alexander was relearning all of his lessons from grammar school. The professor was especially intent on Latin. He didn’t explain his reasoning; he just started over again with pronunciation, as if Alexander had never heard the language before. Even the most backwards communities taught their children Latin before grammar school! Alexander reminded professor Tawdry of that, and for his cheek, he had to recite Professor Tawdry’s favorite limericks while hopping up and down to the syncopation of the words, just so he’d get it right. He thought he finally caught a break when the professor announced it was time to start lessons in elvish. Mom’s a druid priestess; I already know elvish! He was wrong. Professor Tawdry simply shook his head, and scolded him between chewing on his mustache and chewing on his pipe, looking at him over a pair of round spectacles. “Young Alexander, there are nine distinct dialects of elvish. You won’t get very far speaking the Tulari dialect to the Sylvan queen!” He’d laughed as if he’d actually made a joke. Alexander grimaced at the thought—Professor Tawdry’s quirky sense of humor was as dry as a stack of bones left in the desert for a few centuries. There was more, much more. There were the many mortal dialects, dwarvish, secret-dwarvish, goblin, giant, demon and dragon—“You can never know too many dragon dialects, it’ll save you from burning, freezing, or spending a few weeks dissolving in their belly.” That was just the spoken part of language. The writing was much worse. He shook his head and grumbled. I’m twelve, but I’m writing the alphabet as if I were six, what’s up with that? Even so, he could never perform up to Professor Tawdry’s demanding standards. The old wizard criticized everything, yet when he scrawled a note for Alexander to take to town that’s exactly what it looked like—some half thought out scrawl of spidery letters that was barely readable. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a wizard; I just don’t get it. As the thought hit his brain, Alexander could see the hard chiseled face of his father sink into that deep, deep scowl that he used when hunting demons. Demons hated that scowl, and they generally crept back through their wormholes into whichever one of the Nine Hells they came from. “Never give up, especially because it’s hard!” That’s what he’d say. That just made Alexander angrier, and he stared back at the accursed broom. What are you looking at you stupid broom! I’m stuck here with no friends, no fun and only you for company! What are you doing, laughing at me? I’ll teach you to laugh at me! Whoosh! The straw bristles went up in flame. Alexander was so surprised, he didn’t drop it, put it in a bucket of water or throw it outside—he just stared at it. “Well that’s an interesting way to sweep the floor,” Professor Tawdry said, coming down rickety stairs. “I think spreading ashes about rather defeats the purpose.” “It just happened by itself, Professor,” Alexander stammered, knowing he was in trouble. “I don’t know what did it.” “You did it, Alexander!” Tawdry smiled and patted him on his head. “Go put that out before you start something else on fire. It’s time for you to make some magic!” Alexander could hardly contain himself. Magic, at long last, he was going to learn magic! He dunked the burning broom into the mop bucket, placed the broomstick into the corner and rushed up to Professor Tawdry. The old wizard smiled and led Alexander to the front door, saying, “I’ve a good idea where your talent lies but you never know. Now that you’ve had your first magic hiccup so-to-speak, we need to investigate all possibilities.” “What are we going to do?” Professor Tawdry grabbed his staff from the closet and stepped through the door. “We’re going to put you through the four elements, Alexander.” He strode into the knee-deep snow, heading around the keep toward the woods out back. A stream rushed by, babbling noisily. As they passed around the keep, the water wheel came into view. It was old, slimy with moss and it groaned as if forever weary of its unending labor. They joined the path next to the stream and headed into the woods. Professor Tawdry led the way, speaking without turning his head and making it very hard for Alexander to understand him. The Professor demanded Alexander say things in a loud clear voice, but he himself tended to mutter a lot, and when he wasn’t muttering, he mumbled. “We are going to find out if you’re attuned to one of the primary elements: earth, water, air and fire,” he announced as if talking to himself. “Every wizard or witch has an affinity to one of them, sometimes more than one. I am a terra-incantus, meaning I have an affinity for spells dealing with the elements of the earth. That is why I’m so well versed in manufacturing gates to the other levels of the earth or anywhere in Midgard. It didn’t start out so well, though. During my testing, I popped myself into Und, the third plane of Hell. That was an eye opener I’ll tell you!” Alexander had no desire to visit Hell. With a growing amount of trepidation, he followed the old wizard through the trees. The depth of the snow was shallower under the trees so the walking was easier. The wizard seemed to have said what he wanted to say. Now he was quiet and Alexander asked no questions. The only sounds were their breathing and the slosh of their feet through the snow. It was quiet in a way only winter woods were quiet; a very soft, lonely quiet that made the rest of the world seem like it was far, far away. They stayed on the trail until the sound of the water wheel faded to nothing and the stream was a distant gurgle somewhere off to their left. Through the pines, Alexander spied a crumbling ridge of rock. It was slick with ice and snow. There was no way to climb it, and there appeared to be no path up the face. Professor Tawdry continued toward it anyway, and as they got closer, Alexander saw a dark shadow under a bulge of snow. It was the mouth of a cave. Long icicles hung from the upper rim, making it look like the open maw of some terrifying beast lying in wait under the hillside, waiting for some unsuspecting prey to venture too close. Professor Tawdry stopped next to the entrance and peered in. He sniffed and pulled at his beard. “It doesn’t appear that we have any visitors this year.” “Visitors,” asked Alexander. He didn’t like the sound of that. The old wizard grimaced. “Every few years we have a young male cave bear spend the winter in here. I lost one of my best students that way.” He nodded. “In you go.” T