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Isitar's strides were massive, and Raemos felt as though he was neither dragged nor pulled, but that he was made to fly through the air behind the huge... beast? Person? The khehorian seemed to be right on the verge of person and beast, and it made Raemos uncomfortable.

"Here!" said Isitar, stopping, "This is my camp! And now I shall show you the secrets of fire!"

Raemos stumbled to catch up, still overwhelmed by what had been, previously, a quiet day.

The camp itself was very spartan and unremarkable - a few bags among the desert just outside the Tukyre walls.

The Khehorian took out a massive piece of rocky armor, and then took out very familiar quills and ink, along with some bright, warm-looking feathers. "These feathers" he explained, "Are from the Fuereches. They are poisonous but their feathers hold fire inside... Fire you can release!"

Raemos was starting to get used to the khehora's booming voice and bombastic nature. It made him seem like more of a person, actually, and it was comforting to Raemos.

Somewhat. Teeth and fangs and claws still concerned him.

He nodded mutely and watched as the Khehorian used it's thick, bony claw to grind the ingredients together, stirring them until they reached the usual texture and consistency for enchanting.

Then, with almost paradoxical delicacy, the Khehorian took up the pen. "My claws work well for this," he explained "But the quills hold the magic better and are, mmm... cleaner." he dipped it into the ink mixture, "My love taught me that, and she is brilliant and beautiful..." He began making broad runes, which Raemos automatically started to memorize - he'd memorized runes so often, from his tomes and recipe books and from watching other enchanters work, that it was beginning to become second nature to him.

The runes for this enchantment, he realized, were typical of many enchantments: Large and broad to set the theme, and then smaller and smaller, to form the details and aesthetic patterns. Runes of protection were carefully joined with runes of burning and heat. As it came together, he understood. This was not a spell to bring fire to the enemies. It was a spell to hold fire back, a defensive series of runes. That made it very different from the fire enchantment he knew, and more suitable for armor.

He sat attentively as the Khehorian finished, so focused on the runes that he forgot, for a moment, that it was a khehorian. "There!" boomed Isitar, and he remembered again, "Done!" It turned and smiled toothily at Raemos. "Now you know how to imbue armor with the protective heat of a volcano!"

"Er." Raemos said, smiling, "Yes..."

"Now we go and hunt some of the feathers!" said the dragon-man. He looked up and smiled, "Ahhh! And they are right above us!" Raemos felt a sense of deep misgiving. The shape next to him changed, becoming larger and more bestial. "Let us fly, Raemos Medrol!" growled Isitar, now a khehora. Raemos's misgivings grew as he was suddenly bodily picked up his clothes clasped in huge talons, "Let us fly!" And with a massive whoosh of wind, and a flap of the Khehora's wings, and a undignified yelp from Raemos, they were in the air, the ground falling away beneath him.

Suddenly, Raemos had a sneaking suspicion that this was not the teaching-and-hunt reward that the khehora had advertized. "What are you doing?!" he cried, stilling his limbs, which really wanted to flail in panic at the sheer height... which would not be a very good idea.

"The best place to fight the Fuereches is in the air!" said the Khehora, "So that is where we are going!"

Raemos had fallen from barns before. This was higher than a barn. And this time, unlike the time all those months ago, there was no Vona to catch him and no mechanical wings to save him - they were still under repair. "But are you sure I should be flying too, sir?"

"Oh yes!" said the Khehora, and Raemos knew this was more than just a learning exercize. Or it was a different sort of learning exercize. "Would you rather be falling, Raemos Medrol?"

"No sir."

"Good. They are up there." Raemos looked up, past the great girth of the Khehora, and saw, in the sky, a multitude of twining, flapping shapes. They were beautiful, enough to make him forget that a fall would kill him at this height.

"Isitar!" called a voice, familiar and musical, and a four-winged shape soon joined them. "Isitar, thats enough! Don't traumatize the poor boy!" said Cearlan. Raemos looked at his gorgeous features and found, to his relief and consternation, that the orderite was clearly amused. "He was intimidated enough when you walked into the tent! You don't have to scare him shitless!"

The Khehora growled from above him. "But he needs to learn."

"He's never going to look at Celieda again, and he certainly won't touch her, so you don't need to rub it in. Really, Isitar, give the kid a break he's... how old are you Raemos?"

"15... in a few months sir..."

"Yeah! He's young! She's beautiful! Can you blame him?"

Another growl from above him. "Well... He can look." said the khehora.

"All right. I think you've made yourself clear. Now put him down before he gets hurt."

"He won't be hurt." said Isitar, and they were suddenly higher and closer to the coiling creatures. "I know what I am doing, Cearlan."

"Wonderful." Cearlan sighed, following them, "That's what I'm worried about."

Raemos did not feel safe as the khehora roared, crunching down onto one of the wiggling serpents before wheeling away in a dizzying turn. Raemos held back his upset stomach and, hoping to avoid being teased later, threw a bolt of magic at the flock. He was turned before he could see the result, but from the screeches, he thought he must have managed something. As Isitar made his dizzying turn back to the flock, Raemos realized to his dismay that they were coming at them... they were attacking. They had stingers, he remembered from his readings, and poison.

He moaned, half from airsickness. What had he gotten himself into? He threw another blast of magic at them and suddenly felt his scalp prickle with heat, a gout of blazing flame gushing from above him.

Right.

Firani.

Pain, searing, but not fire, stung his leg and he grabbed the serpentine form, stinger attached and threw it off as Cearlan came up beneath them and cut it down. He heard a loud crunch from above, and a mighty roar. The Fuereches scattered and, to the gratefulness of his stomach and his clothes, they descended.

Raemos was released from the clawhold and tumbled to the ground. He felt covered in bruises, and the wounds he had gotten were beginning to do more than hurt.

"So." said Isitar, still a khehora, still massive and powerful and dangerous. "I have taught you something of the ways of fire."

"You... certainly have." said Raemos, sitting up painfully as Cearlan helped him, "And I think I understood your lesson."

"You did?" said the khehora, surprised, shifting with a shimmer of air into his dragon-man form, "I was being subtle..."

"Oh yes, I understand, loud and clear." He cringed with pain as the venom began to work its way through his leg. "Loud and clear, sir."

"Oh." The khehorian dropped a pile of feathers at Raemos's feet. "Then these are for you."

"Thanks." said Raemos, wincing.

"Your welcome." Isitar looked up, "I'm going now. You two have a nice day and, uh..." he flicked his tail, "Sorry about the stingers."

"No problem..." said Raemos as the Khehorian took to the skies and left them.