The Fire That Does Not Burn
by Iscikella Zinnonn

Sitting within the Hollow Tree in the Ice Gardens of my neighborhood that night, I watched not entirely surprised as the icicles began to melt and the sprites became agitated. The temperature rose noticeably as a ring of fire appeared before me, a small black serpent slithering through the flames. Thus did I know Lord Thurfel had come to keep our appointment, even before I heard his voice bidding me to "Please enter." I held my breath and took a leap of faith and entered through the blazing heat of that ring of fire... and found it did not burn...

I suppose this is the best place to begin this tale, with that ring of fire Thurfel sent to me to guide me into the place where I was to have dinner with him on that fateful Day of the Huntress, the fifteenth of Imaerasta in the year 5100. Why begin here particularly? Because, prior to this, my contact with Thurfel had been very general. I spoke to him in public, and had conferenced with him once in sanctuary. Yet that time in sanctuary Armaxis was also there, and I was... hmmm... how to put this... pressed between two forces that made me leery.

Exactly when Thurfel's interest in me took on a more personal hue, I cannot tell ye. I myself remain entirely unsure of this, though from the beginning the firemage always treated me with the utmost respect. But I do know that when he presented me with his invitation to dine, I felt it an opportunity to perhaps talk with him without his Luukosian supporters pressing him toward the bloody "punishment" they see Icemule as deserving.

Some say I am an optimist, ever hopeful of finding a solution through non-violent means. To this accusation, I'm afraid I must plead guilty. And though much in Thurfel has always struck me as bordering on the very edge of sanity, I also have to admit there is a clever shrewdness in him, and even a kind of playful earnestness. It may well be that earnestness is all ruse but, to the mind of an optimist, it simply cannot be so.

It was during the course of this dinner that I was at last to get something of an understanding for Thurfel simply as a living being. His past is not as straightforward as many would imagine. His true regard for trade as the great equalizer of wealth and respect, his utter fascination with the sea and with experimentation on animal and plant life, his wildly inquisitive mind which causes him to ask a person about every detail of yer own life and upbringing -- these are all inherent in him. He does possess the ever-curious mind of a wizard, no question. Yet he also possesses an uncanny desire for power.

His opinion of Icemule is colored by who he is and his own ambitions -- there is no question of this either. I asked him that night bluntly if, after helping to found the town, as did all of the Ten, he wound up disappointed in the way it was governed. He found this a rather amusing thought because, though there were things in Icemule with which he was much pleased, such as the importance of magic within its walls, he still found his own race rather lacking in a sense of responsibility, and this much irked him. He mentioned, rather wryly, that he believed "the townsfolk are content to sled all day"

And so it became apparent that much about Icemule disheartens Thurfel. One must understand, for someone whose desire for power is so strong, that the object of this desire seems less than worthy of his skills -- in his opinion of course -- must prove somewhat frustrating. Though I somehow imagine that the "herd of giggling halflings" once managed to so thoroughly best him and his fellow members of the Council of Ten is a fact which does sting and stings deeply. Is there then some secret resentment in Thurfel toward Icemule? In any mortal being can there be any doubt there would be such? Yet Thurfel expressed it all so... congenially, all with a smile. He hides that resentment well, and that must also be realized. The firemage is never an open book and never will be.

Now it was also during this dinner that Thurfel's prowess as a military strategist surfaced before my eyes and sounded within my ears. Much had been made of his keep, that he allowed no one within. Indeed my dinner with him took place in his cabana and not the keep. Speculation about this odd castle was wild at this time. Halfberry had shown several, via the golden crystal orb, the cellar in Thurfel's stronghold. It was a place of mysteries many wished to plumb... and oh, how Thurfel did know it. He used this curiosity on the part of others -- and can there be any doubt he of all people knows how strong a pull curiosity is? -- and made it known that night he wished to open his keep, but that he had a "concern". That concern was that the "keep will be filled with curious folks and those who seek glory by challenging my staff."

I had to tell him this was likely, of course. Though he knew from the onset it was and was counting on just that, I am certain. For he mentioned bluntly, "If folks should decide to rampage through my keep, it might be looked at as a sign of war upon me." And he made it known that, "If a town declares war upon me, I must defend myself"

A sign of war... Fateful words...

Now I know many do not agree that Thurfel's intent in making this stance so blunt was actually to encourage such action on the part of the townsfolk, but of this I still myself have absolutely no doubt. He was playing war games... mind games. And, sadly, in this regard he played them very well.

To understand the rest of this tale, let me relate an incident that happened just after Thurfel magically transported me back to town from the cabana after our dinner was complete.

A certain young cleric was wandering Thurfel's Island with a rogue who was "showing him the sights", so to speak. After Thurfel saw me safely off, he apparently got restless and began wandering his island himself. He came across the cleric and his companion just as the cleric was remarking on the "garishness" of the colors of Thurfel's various creatures on the island. The firemage took the pair by surprise as he asked, "What color then would you recommend for a creature?" Swallowing his fear, the young cleric replied, "I've always liked gold." Thurfel nodded and stated, "Very well then, my next creature will be gold," before heading on his way.

It also behooves here to make some mention of the Grahnke, a particularly vicious ogre/troll mix Thurfel had "altered" in his laboratory. (It is wise to remember Thurfel himself has said he cannot create life, only alter it.) The Grahnke had apparently bitten through its manacles and escaped the keep, but not before killing several of Thurfel's servants. Indeed, the Grahnke returned several times over the course of a few weeks and made more murderous attacks within the keep. Thurfel told us to be leery of this beast he admitted he had failed to control, and many searched the island for it, though to no avail... at that time in any case.

Thurfel would now and again make himself evident on the island and talk with folks of many things: the Grahnke, his idea for a retreat for those of the wizardly profession to share magical knowledge, his desire for Icemule to gain in commerce, the ancient dwarven city he believes lies under Talbot's tomb, and even as to what he considers the current disposition of the entombed nine. Always he insisted his aim was not to hurt Icemule, though knowing what is truth and what is lie when spoken by one of such guile is never easy. But he would mention that idea of "a sign of war" with regard to his keep being attacked very often. He was definitely pressing the point.

One night, after Thurfel had interviewed Tierus for the apprentice position, the firemage took me into his keep at last. Though many, I'm sure, will willingly relate the story of how his serpent enfolded me and spirited me within, for now I fear my missive grows long and thus will I bypass further revelation in this particular.

I should have been more circumspect and I freely admit it. Halfberry had told several that he could read "only a little" and couldn't write at all. Why then I believed Thurfel when he spoke of one of his servants finding a journal in Halfberry's room, I am ashamed to say I don't know. Excitement with the idea of there being someone to help Icemule in the person of relatives of the hapless Halfberry is all I can honestly chalk it up to. Or perhaps a secret wish for Ilvane to finally be allowed to settle her feelings of intense grief regarding Halfberry's sad demise. But for whatever reason, I did believe Thurfel's tale of Halfberry's forgotten family. I told Ilvane, Arimantis, Aranrhod and Iansen of this, and of the existence of the journal itself. Our plan was to steal the journal when Thurfel opened the keep. Thurfel had promised me a private tour of the keep beforehand, and I was determined to use that tour to find out the location of the journal.

As fate would have it, there was no need to even attempt such an enterprise. Thurfel did indeed provide me a private tour of the keep... on the very night the Northern Fury Guard, under the guidance of a man named Fullberry who claimed to be Halfberry's brother, attacked the stronghold.

Now I had previously only seen Fullberry once from a distance. And it was not until later than I would learn Fullberry first "appeared" in Icemule the day before Thurfel himself told me of Halfberry's family. Something about Fullberry, when I heard of him -- which wasn't until he had met several times with the Northern Fury Guard -- just didn't sit right with me.

As he gave me the tour of the keep that night, Thurfel was being particularly charming and complimentary. That he, for whatever reason, desired my good opinion was most apparent. I was sincerely flattered by his attention, even as I tried to keep mental notes in my head of various places within the keep. Oddly, Thurfel had left his bodyguard in the main room while we wandered his stronghold. I was not suspicious of this at the time, but perhaps I am simply too naive.

We had finished touring the ground floor of the keep when we returned to the main room for refreshments. Thurfel had ordered his servant Flindyl to have wine brought up from the cellar before we began our rounds. I assumed we had returned to the main room to partake of that wine before exploring the upper floors of the keep. We had only stood in the main room a few minutes when the commotion began.

It seemed the keep was under siege. And, while Thurfel insisted he "wished Icemule no bad intentions", he nonetheless bid his soldiers attack as he had said he would... in the name of self-defense.

With the townsfolk, in fact battering the door with a huge tree, was the beast, the Grahnke, Thurfel's troll-ogre creation, and Fullberry, regaled all in gold from his head to his toes. And it was Fullberry who first burst through the portcullis when it finally gave way to the persistent battering of the Grahnke, and Fullberry who immediately struck out not at Thurfel, but at me... killing me in one fell blow. And I knew in that split second I gazed upon him before Fullberry swung at me, I just knew -- Thurfel's gold creature in all his glory leading the "charge into war" Thurfel wanted, had strategized and executed all with perfect timing.

I was later to hear that Fullberry first claimed to be Halfberry's younger brother, then his elder brother. I was later to hear that Fullberry preferred not to speak to those who had been friends with his "brother" before his death: Ilvane, Arimantis, Iansen and Aranrhod. I also learned that Fullberry had searched the ashes in the cracks of the floor of the mausoleum seeking a teal crocodile pin which he called a family heirloom, a pin Halfberry himself had told us Thurfel had given him and which Thurfel badly wanted returned to him. I also heard that Fullberry easily commanded the Grahnke. And, with Thurfel the supposed object of his vengeance standing beside me, Fullberry yet first chose to kill me, unarmed as I was and no threat. That no one bothered to question any of these inconsistencies in the story and personality of Fullberry, I still find absolutely amazing. It is something I must attribute to that mortal failing for blood lust.

Fighting went on all around my body as I lay dead within that keep. Thurfel himself lifekept me. And he quickly dispatched Fullberry and the Grahnke. He used a scepter he carried to transport himself about the keep as the battle raged. I saw many fall in that room where I lay, many on both sides.

Later, when he returned to that main room where lay my corpse, Thurfel arranged for Arianiss, a cleric of Luukos and one of his supporters, to take me into sanctuary and raise me. Though I was grateful for the unexpected concern and solicitude of the firemage, being raised by one of Luukos was... most disconcerting. I, however, bit my tongue and said nothing to Thurfel on that particular score, though I did at this time, realizing the whole ruse he had used, ask him most sadly, "Why is death always the answer? Life should be the answer." His only response was that he did not know why it was so, but that I had nonetheless been slain by the very forces I sought to defend. Thus he begged me to "go to safety".

I was still too weakened to use spirit guide, and still had serious scars that impeded my sway over spiritual magic. I therefore tried to simply leave the stronghold, but that was a mistake and I wound up being attacked by the enraged guard dogs of the keep and killed again. The cleric Gigehe came across me, lifekept me, and dragged me about as he sought Thurfel, though I told him there was no reason to do this, that I was not Thurfel's concern. He yet insisted that I seemed to be of some importance to Thurfel and persisted in his pursuit of the firemage. Catching a glimpse of the halfling wizard as he passed through a curtain of shells at one point, Gigehe dragged me through several more rooms before a soft voice came to my ears, Thurfel's voice... "Please forgive me for being unable to protect you, I have fled to safety in order that no more blood shall be spilled needlessly. The keep belongs to Icemule. For now."

Yet I knew nothing was over. Thurfel had arranged this war. He wanted it. And yet oddly, as I recalled my own words to him, I could not help but wonder if I had been the cause of him abandoning his home even temporarily, and felt guilty for having, perhaps, been such a cause.

Many have failed to understand this last sentiment. I am not entirely certain I understand it fully myself. It is just a feeling which nagged at me then and nags at me still at times. Perhaps Thurfel intended and intends this as well -- for me to feel such guilt. I do not know.

I only know that nothing is over, nothing is done, and that the fire with which Thurfel chose to surround me that first night when he brought me into the cabana for dinner glowed intensely hot but did not burn. Yet in the end all fire has to burn, doesn't it?

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