Fire Prince

  **

  Andin was in his classroom grading midterm essays when Perc ran in, “Andin we saw another window!” He didn’t understand at first. Then she added, “Another portal!” Andin jumped out of his seat heading to the lab. Percaphia grabbed his tunic in the hallway, “No, you have to wait; if it’s still open you’ll collapse it!” The wind whimpered out of the prince’s sails.

  Pacing in the corridor he asked, “Did you see anyone in the window?”

  Perc nodded, “Yes, he was Beldurian; I’m not sure how long they have either. Professor Nobidan told them they would reopen a window every hour Pelagic time to establish some sort of timetable with Beldur.”

  Andin pulled out his chronometer, “When I first came here noon was two and a half hours after Beldurian noon.” Perc ran off to tell the research staff. She came back a minute later waving that it was okay for Andin to follow.

  Relief from weeks of boredom and frustration brightened the air in the lab. “Prince Andin, a Councilman Bostil says hello,” said a grinning Nobidan.

  “Tell me everything,” demanded Andin.

  “We opened a window to continue our energy testing series, after about three minutes of trying to send magical energy though the portal we took a break. It was then I heard a voice coming through the window. Within the illusionist’s plane there was another window open with your friend sitting on the other side, quite a talkative fellow.”

  A wave of happiness washed over Andin, he could send a message to his father. “Make sure you synchronize your clocks when you establish contact again,” said Andin.

  Nobidan pointed at the two large chronometers being brought into the lab. “Any messages you would like to send to Beldur?” asked the ecstatic professor as if such a feat were commonplace.

  Andin thought about it for a moment; he needed to tell his father that Marth Prestle was killed by another. The message would have to pass through at least two mortal hands before it reached Bellos. Andin was sure any missive he sent through the window would be reported to the Brothers.

  “Prince Andin?” said professor Nobidan.

  Andin snapped out of his inner monologue, “Oh, tell my father I’m teaching at the Academy and that I miss the snows of Beldur.” The fire prince couldn’t think of anything that would explain the situation secretly. “Fake’s plane must be in some sort of crossroads position for these windows,” suggested Andin.

  “It seems that way, and if the Ventians know of this magic like you say we could be seeing them soon as well,” added Nobidan.

  Percaphia was copying some of Nobidan’s notes. The research staff regained the same excitement they had when they were first starting. Andin watched as the Pelagic scientists buzzed about. This revelation was marred with the same evil feeling he had felt growing near the natural portals.

  In the prince’s mind he saw his father standing in the same room as Councilman Bostil, feeling the same darkness he felt. For just a fleeting moment Andin felt something new; like a small burden had been lessened on his chest. The crystal! He thought.

  Andin lifted the collar of his tunic and looked down at the crystal. The hint of a hint of something within the crystal had evaporated; it was as dull as ever. He stared at it for too long. Percaphia saw Andin’s strange behavior but said nothing.

  The fire prince had to leave the lab; the next window would be opened in a few minutes. Leaving the room that could let him communicate with his father tore at Andin. This power belongs to the gods not men, thought Andin in jealous anger.

  The universe appeared to him in this moment to be inescapably cruel. Immortals had forced a doorway open before – why not again? Why should I be denied; I taught them how to create the damn things! His eyes burned as if he were about to tear the Academy down.

  He made his way outside before shouting and unleashing a wave of fire at the indifferent waves. Confused and frustrated he lay on the shoreline staring at the clouds; hoping to find relief from consciousness. Fake walked up from the opposite direction.

  “I’ve never seen you angry like that,” noted Fake who conjured a caricature of Andin with steam pouring from his ears.

  “It’s a Beldurian thing; our fire hearts must always smolder to keep beating, but if I let my anger control me it would burn me to pieces.”

  “Well what would you call that?” asked Fake who witnessed the river of fire from the distance.

  “Getting my anger back in control,” answered a calmer Andin.

  “Are you always angry then?”

  “Yes.”

  Fake lowered himself to his friend’s side in the sand. The caricature of Andin started acting obscenely on Andin’s thigh. The fire prince couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you?” asked Andin.

  “Dissatisfied,” sighed the illusionist.

  “It never happens the way you envision does it?”

  “I spent hundreds of years alone, trying to distract myself from my own prison. The second worst punishment in Pelagos is banishment to the barren western isles, mortal men left alone go completely mad in a few short years. In my canvas I was with no one, with crystal clear awareness of it.”

  “Insanity is asylum for some,” said Andin.

  “Sanity was my dungeon.”

  Andin’s miniature was now being chased by a matching one of Fake wielding a large mallet. After a short chase the tiny Fake had squashed his prey on Andin’s knee. “What were you so mad about anyway?” remembered Fake.

  Andin told Fake about how they saw another window in Fake’s Canvas. Fake badgered Andin for being angry at such a good thing. “Do you think your dad will know about our mystery man?” asked Fake.

  “I’m not sure, but there is no way of asking him about it secretly.”

  “Can’t you send him a coded message?”

  Andin sat up, “It would be obvious I was hiding something.”

  “If they are reporting your messages back to the Brothers they would think you were hiding something no matter what already.”

  “Well if it’s good enough to defy the scrutiny of the Brothers than I think my father would also be unable to decode it,” countered Andin.

  The two stood up and walked inshore towards the palm trees. Andin’s guard was down and Fake was in the mood for a chase. “Hey you remember that time I stole your mattress and hid it on the Thresher?” he asked coyly.

  “They sailed off and I slept on the couch for a week, yes I remember,” growled the prince.

  “You know that big chair that you love?”

  “You didn’t,” said Andin as his face went sour.

  “I did.”

  Andin wasn’t sure what would happen if you decapitated an immortal, but he was set on using Fake as his guinea pig. Dodging balls of magma Fake leapt through the palm grove laughing. “Next time I’m not telling you where I put it,” taunted a maniacal Fake.

  “I told you a hundred times there was only one chair.” protested Andin.

  “Liar.”