“It lacks elegance, admittedly,” sniffed Bekkit. “But if it practices, one day it may soar through the skies like one of the greats.”
“When that day comes, will you finally stop referring to me as ‘it’?”
As expected, the strange little being deigned not to reply. For once Benin didn’t mind. He could handle a little disrespect in exchange for the sprite sharing its knowledge, especially if he continued gaining new spells as a result.
His excitement at mastering Levitate after just a couple hours’ practice began to fade when he pictured the others’ less-than-enthusiastic reactions.
He didn’t need them lecturing him on the impracticalities of practicing fire magic in the middle of a forest. He was more than aware, but it’s not like he had a choice. They were leagues from civilization, and he actually had an instructor who knew about pyromancy. He and Bekkit were to be ’brothers in fire’, according to the sprite. Despite its current attitude of disrespect, this was an opportunity he’d be a fool to pass up.
Spending time alone with the sprite had also yielded some rather interesting conversations.
“Back in my day they called me the Calamity,” he was saying now.
“You mentioned that once or twice.” Eight or nine times.
“I rained fire from the skies. Turned armies into ash.”
“Sounds impressive.” Benin tried not to let his skepticism show. He suspected the tiny creature was full of wind, but didn’t want to risk disrespecting the only person who had the potential to actually teach him something useful.
“I could have razed this entire forest in the blink of an eye. It could too.” The sprite sighed wistfully as he pondered the clearing. “Though given our allies’ presence in the vicinity, I suppose it is a good thing we did not.”
The only reason for that was Pyra. The emberfox had such mastery of her element that she could absorb fire as well as produce it, manipulating the very air to smother flames as easily as stoke them.
Why am I surprised? Of course she can do that. She’s an elemental creature—she’s literally of fire. Of course she can do whatever she wants with it.
Bekkit watched her too. “I have a question, if you will. Mages are usually accustomed to select an arcane companion of their paired element—in your case, air—or, very rarely, of an opposing one. Yet you chose to match your fire with yet more flame.”
There was a short pause. “You said you had a question?” Benin prompted, somewhat irritably.
“Why?”
“I…”
Why had he chosen the emberfox? It definitely hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when he entered the Menagerie.
“I saw her, and it just felt… right. When I first came close to her, I thought we’d bonded. We had this moment… but it turns out I was wrong.”
Tears stung his eyes. He blinked furiously. On the other side of the clearing, the emberfox twitched her tail in annoyance. It was something she always did when she sensed him spiraling into self-pity. It seemed the little creature had no empathy.
“I saved you!” he burst out. “Will you just quit your sulking and let us work as a gods-damned team?”
It turned to glare at him. He tried to swallow his frustration. He held out a placating hand and added more gently, “Please?”
The emberfox seemed to consider this. After a moment it trotted over, halting a few steps away and peering suspiciously at Benin’s outstretched fingers. It edged closer. He could feel the heat of its aura as its nose came closer, almost enough to touch…
Its whiskers brushed his palm. An instant later the skin they’d touched began to bubble and blister. Searing pain rushed up his arm and Benin cried out, snatching his hand back and cradling it against his chest.
He tried to glare at Pyra, but everything was blurry.
“Are you crying?” Bekkit alighted on his shoulder.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not crying! It’s just been… raining.”
The sprite squinted up at the sky, clear blue beyond the branches, then back at Benin. “On your face?”
The mage wiped a sleeve angrily across his eyes.
“You should bond soon, or seek out another,” Bekkit told him gravely. “As I’m sure you’re aware, familiars have vastly larger mana pools than most mages. You’ll need to draw on that, along with their other benefits, if you’re to maintain spells like Levitate for any reasonable amount of time.”
He wasn’t wrong. Benin had managed to keep the spell active for a mere handful of seconds, yet even that had taken a good chunk of his available mana.
“I rescued her from the Menagerie,” he found himself saying. “I thought she’d be grateful, but she seems to hate me. She’ll follow me around, but whenever I try to go near her she snaps at me. I don’t understand what she wants.” All the elation he’d felt at mastering his new spell was gone. The gray cloak of despair had returned.
“’Tis a noble and difficult goal, figuring out where one stands. One can spend their entire life on this world certain of their place within it, only to one day have it all pulled out from beneath them. The important thing is to keep seeking not only where one stands, but where one ought to stand.”
Benin eyed the tiny speck, barely visible on his shoulder. “Ket’s right. You really are a cryptic turd.”
“The universe works in mysterious ways,” the sprite replied.
Was that… a joke?
Benin crossed his arms. “You weren’t referring to yourself at all just now? All that stuff about not knowing where you stand?”
“What does it mean?”
“Well, since you emerged from that necklace like some sort of deranged djinn, you’ve been doing your best to help Corey. Yet one moment he’s taking your advice, and the next he’s telling you to shut up. Must be pretty frustrating, especially since you’re stuck with him.”
“For now,” he thought he heard the sprite mutter.
“I guess he would be suspicious, though,” Benin mused. “You did arrive at an… interesting time.”
“I was an
