Call of Fire

by P. E. Padilla

  Regardless of the reason, her world felt like it was ending. For so long, she had thought only of joining the Order. The trial could not be repeated. Each person had exactly one chance to get in. And she had been refused.

  As she dragged herself away, she heard a man’s voice, possibly the one who was bragging about passing earlier.

  “What do you mean I need to go? I didn’t pass? Are you telling me I failed? I can’t have failed.”

  Two large men in the Order’s livery passed Kate on their way toward the table. She almost turned to see what they would do with the man, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She had her own problems to deal with.

  She kicked at a pebble on the roadway. There were other people around still, the same people she had been watching before her trial, the revelers. They were happy, laughing, some singing.

  How it irritated her.

  Though it only took her minutes to get to the trial that morning, it took nearly an hour for her to get home in the slowly fading afternoon light. It wasn’t because of the crowds or the distance. It was because she didn’t know how she could ever face anyone again. It was bad enough thinking about telling her family, but Dante? He would be so disappointed. All those years of training, and for what? So she could be a caravan guard?

  No, she’d have to get married and be some stuffy lord’s wife and raise little lordlings and be worthless to the kingdom except for raising others who might be good enough to join the Order. She didn’t think raising children was worthless, really, but it was a waste of her talents.

  She sat on a bench near her family’s estate, put her head in her hands, and silently wept. She didn’t much believe in crying—it seemed to serve no real purpose—but her heart ached in her chest so strongly she thought it might explode, and the tears poured from her.

  She regained control of herself in a few minutes and angrily wiped the moisture from her face and eyes. She might be a failure, but she absolutely refused to be a weak, crying wretch.

  No longer able to find an excuse to delay, she shuffled onto the estate and headed for the east wing and her rooms, hoping to never have to see anyone again.

  As miserable luck would have it, her wish was not granted. Dante was sitting under a tree reading—something she hadn’t seen him do very often—and he caught sight of her before she could hide.

  Her mentor put a thin strip of leather on the page and closed the book. He didn’t say anything, but that rough, weathered face showed something she had rarely seen: sympathy.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kate said, the tears suddenly making a reappearance. “I failed you. I failed everyone.” Her breathing came in gasps, and she started sobbing.

  “Now there,” Dante said, wrapping his arms awkwardly around her. “There is an old soldier saying. ‘The greatest victory often comes right after the darkest defeat.’ Don’t fret about it, Kate. The world is not ending, nor is your life. You failed no one. No matter what the ending, you have always, and will always, make me proud. Take a little time, have a nap, and after your rest, things will seem a bit brighter. I promise you.”

  She wiped the fresh tears away as if they were poison. “A rest? I just want to sleep the rest of my life. All those years, all that work. What did I do wrong?”

  “Careful now,” Dante said. “You know you cannot talk about it. Trust me, girl. Take your rest, let your mind relax, and things will be better. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then do it. I’ll get the cook to send you up something so you don’t have to deal with others. Rest up. It will make all the difference.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes. “You are one of the finest sword-wielders I have ever crossed swords with, practice or real steel. You are strong. You will be well. Trust.”

  Kate sniffed once more and nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Dante. For everything.”

  “It has been and continues to be my honor and privilege, my Lady Kate.” He bowed to her, and though she had seen it before, this time it seemed to be more serious, more sincere.

  She had an urge to curtsy back, but her stricken spirit prohibited it. Instead, she continued on toward her rooms, hoping no one else would see her before she made it safely to her closed door.

  But as she took the last step toward her room, her brother blocked her path.

  “Good afternoon, Kate,” Jonathan Courtenay said, stressing the last word like the thrust of a knife. “Fancy seeing you here. At home. Going to your room. Why are you not celebrating your acceptance into the Order with all your soldier friends? Hmmm? Could it be that they have rejected you? Could it be that despite all your silly dreams, you are not good enough to crawl through the mud and blood and swing a sword at demons? What say you, Kate?”

  Kate’s first impulse was to punch her brother right in his grinning face. Her fingers tingled, and she balled them into a fist. It would feel so good just to…

  “Jonathan!” their mother’s voice cracked like a whip. “Do not antagonize your sister. How many times must I tell you a gentleman does not act in such a way? A duke’s son should definitely not act thus.”

  “I…she…it was just a small joke, Mother. I was simply trying to lighten the mood in this somber occasion.”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” Cheruse Courtenay flicked her hand down the hallway. “Go lighten someone else’s mood. Leave Kate be.”

  Jonathan mumbled as he began to go. Just before he turned completely and shuffled away, his eyes met Kate’s and he grinned. It was a feral, predatory expression.

  Kate contemplated chasing him down and pounding him into the floor, but her mother faced her with sympathy in her eyes.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, reaching her arms out. Kate went into them and squeezed her mother tight. The tears started to flow again. “Come on, let’s go to your sitting room. The hallway is no place for this discussion.”

  Once they were behind the closed door, Kate’s mother kissed her daughter on the forehead and wiped a tear away from her cheek. “I’m so sorry I overreacted this morning. I lashed out from my own pain. The thought of you leaving, going into danger…I acted poorly, and I am sorry if I said things that hurt you.

  “Now, tell me all about it.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Kate sobbed. “I don’t know what I did wrong. They made me sign something agreeing not to talk about the trial and then told me to leave. They didn’t even tell me how I failed. What am I to do?”

  “Anything you want, dear. I know how much you had your heart set on entering the Order, but there are other things in life.”

  “Things like what? Getting married, having children, being the perfect court lady? I don’t care about those things.”

  “I know, I know,” Cheruse said. “There are other things in the world, and you can do whatever you want to do. Within reason. Take some time, find something you are passionate about. Perhaps soon you will feel about it the way you do about joining the Order.”

  “Other things are not the same,” Kate said. “I have wanted to be in the Order, to really live the family history, my entire life. I can’t just let it go and take up a hobby, hoping I’ll love it as much. The Order was my one chance to make a difference, to have a purpose, to…”

  “To fit in?” her mother asked.

  Kate’s eyes flashed, and her brows rose. Her mother had hit the reason squarely. Was it that obvious to others? “Yes.” Kate sighed. “To fit in, too. At least a little bit. The Order, the sword and shield, all that, it’s who I am. Who or what am I without it?”

  Cheruse leaned in and hugged her daughter again. “You are my beautiful, strong, intelligent, and skilled daughter. The daughter of Duke Courtenay. The envy of many, and the desire of others. You are still special, still a hero, even if you will not swing that sword of yours at demons for the next thirty years.”

  Kate closed her eyes and sank into her mother’s embrace. She loved her mother, but the woman just didn’t understand how Kate’s life was over with the death of th
e dream she’d held for most of her life.

  “Take a nap,” her mother said, releasing Kate and kissing her hand. “Eat something, get some sleep, and things will seem a little clearer, maybe a little better, when you get up.”

  “That’s what Dante said,” Kate said. “It seems everyone is in league to get me to eat and sleep. Very well. I will try your way. It won’t help, though. This is too big, too disastrous.”

  “Just try. We’ll talk again when you’ve rested up.”

  A soft knock at the door broke their conversation. A servant in Courtenay house livery entered and bowed. He held a covered tray, the smell of roast lamb oozing from beneath the cover. Another servant followed, this one with two pitchers and cups on her tray.

  “Ah,” Cheruse said. “It seems your sword master is one step ahead of me. Dante always was a good planner. I will leave you to your meal and your rest. We will talk later, my love. For as long as you want and about as much as you like. Is that acceptable to you?” She winked as she said it.

  “It is, Mother,” Kate said, adopting the formal tone her mother was playfully using. “Thank you. I am so sorry I failed to prove myself, even though you have never been fond of my plans to join the Order.”

  Cheruse laughed and hugged her daughter again. “You can’t blame a mother for wanting her daughter close…and out of danger. Eat now, rest. I will see you soon.”

  She left, followed closely by the servants after they had set up the food on Kate’s table. Alone with her thoughts and her meal, Kate sighed and began to mechanically eat. She would rest, as advised, and then she would figure out how to turn this tragedy on its head and get the Order to reconsider. She was a Courtenay. She would not give up easily. Maybe her father could use his influence in some way. But no, that was not the way.

  Kate fell into bed after eating some of the food brought to her. She danced between sleep and wakefulness, and time passed.

  A sudden, loud knock at her door jerked her out of the dozing she had fallen into. Muttering unladylike curses, she wiped at her eyes and stumbled toward the door in her sitting room. A glance at the clock—a luxury many could not afford—told her it was midnight. Who would be rapping so forcefully on her door at such a time of night?

  She opened the door to reveal a young man, a boy really, in the livery of the Order of the Fire. The burnt orange color almost hurt Kate’s eyes in the lamps the servants must have lit as she slept.

  “If it pleases your ladyship, I have a summons for Lady Katherine Courtenay to attend orientation at the palace before she must travel to Faerdham Fortress for training.”

  Kate blinked at the boy, unable to process what he had just said. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

  “If it pleases your ladyship, I have a summons for Lady Katherine Courtenay to attend orientation at the palace before she must travel to Faerdham Fortress for training.”

  It made little more sense the second time. Kate tilted her head at the boy. “I am to go to the palace?”

  The boy nodded.

  “For orientation?”

  He nodded again.

  “And then I am to go Faerdham Fortress to start my training?”

  He nodded firmly and smiled.

  “Training for what?”

  The boy’s smile dropped. “Why, for the things you must know to be a soldier of the Order of the Fire. My lady.”

  The fog in her head finally cleared, and what he was telling her blasted through like bright sunlight burning away the morning mist. “I…I am to be trained to be an Order soldier? I have been accepted? I did not fail my trials?”

  The boy squinched one eye and looked toward the ceiling as if he was trying to figure something out. “Yes, yes, and no. My lady.” He picked up a parcel she hadn’t noticed from the floor next to him and handed it to her.

  Kate replicated the boy’s expression. She was to be trained, she was to be an Order soldier, and she did not fail. She did not fail.

  “Whoo!” She grabbed the surprised boy and hugged him. “I made it. I didn’t fail!”

  The boy’s strangled sounds reminded her what she was doing. She released him, and he stepped back, smoothing out his tabard. He did his best to stand straight and act as a good squire or messenger should, but his red face ruined it a bit.

  “Yes, my lady. As I just told you. Several times.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, but then gave him a smile. “So you did. Thank you.” She reached into her purse, took out a fat gold coin, and handed it to him. “Do I have time to say goodbye to my family?”

  “You do, my lady. You are to report before two hours have passed. The parcel includes your recruit robes. Take whatever small tokens or weapons you are able to carry on a march of many days. You will need nothing else. You will be clothed in Order uniforms, and if you have no weapons of your own, they will be issued to you. Congratulations, my lady, on your successful trial and your future service to the Order.”

  With that, he turned and left. It seemed to Kate that he was trying hard to keep his steps slow, but he had the look of someone who wanted to run away, his steps short but quick and his head swiveling as if someone else might ambush him with a hug.

  Jonathan came out of his room down the hall, bleary eyes locking onto her. “What are you about, making so much noise in the middle of the night? Go to bed, Kate. Are you still crying about failing in your trials?”

  “As a fact, I am not, Jonathan.” She invested it with the same scorn he had used with her name earlier. “I have just been told to report to the castle to start my service with the Order. I will leave shortly, and you will not have to worry about me making noise here any longer.”

  As she went back to her room to gather the few things she would take, she smiled. The look on her brother’s face was priceless. It was equal parts surprise and disappointment. Let him think about how all her dreams had just come true. She had more important things to do.

  Kate’s father was very happy for her, her mother less so. Though she was happy her daughter had been successful, worry creeped into her face as she obviously thought about the danger involved.

  Dante was standing in the hall when Kate left her parents’ rooms. He winked at her. “Did I not tell you a little rest would make things better?”

  She rushed to him and wrapped him in a hug. “You knew all along, didn’t you? You old cad.”

  “I knew. They always delay telling you that you have passed. It builds character, so they say. I think they just like to inflict the same torture upon people as they themselves had to face. I never had a doubt they would choose you. They would be mad not to. You understand why I could not say so, of course.”

  “I do. Oh, thank you Dante, for everything you have done for me. I never would have made it without you.”

  “Sure you would have. I had the privilege of training you, but nothing could have stopped you from getting in. I will be hearing great things about you, I’m sure. Just promise me that you will not let it make you forget caution. No one is too big or too good to fall. Remember that. Be wary and be safe. I will see you when you are granted leave to come home for a rest between battles.”

  “When will that be?” she asked.

  “There’s no telling. Things are…complicated right now. I’ve heard that the Order is having a difficult time. They need more soldiers, but they can’t relax the requirements. Some of those still inside have said they might do more trials than is customary, maybe once a year, or even more than one in a year. Worry about getting through your training and getting your assignment, and leave will come when the Order can spare you for a time.”

  With less than a half hour to spare, she made her way to the castle. She carried her shield and wore her sword but had nothing else but the clothes on her back and an ornate hair clip. Dante had given it to her a few years back when her hair was constantly getting in her face while sparring. She smiled as she fingered it and entered the castle to start her ne
w adventure.

  7

  Kate had been to the castle many times, of course, but as she stepped through the doors to the reception hall, her breath caught. The colors and flags of the Order were everywhere—the main red-orange flag and the individual color flags for the Order commands—obviously having been moved from the test site to the castle, but that was not what affected her so. Well over a hundred people milled around, dressed in the same brown robes she wore. The other successful candidates.

  Her stomach flipped over. This was her new family. She smiled, but it dropped quickly off her face when someone stumbled into her from behind.

  “Get out of the way, girly,” a rough voice said. “Gawk on your own time. I have to get to where I can kill me some demons.”

  “Pardon me,” she said on reflex, stepping out of the way.

  A muscle-bound man, probably in his mid-twenties, sneered at her and moved off to one side of the room. His lank, greasy, hair made Kate think of the type of men who loitered about the taverns near the river dock. She had seen them on trips to the city and had been warned by her mother that they were the lowest kind of person.

  Well, he was to be family now, so she would have to get along with him. She nodded and smiled at him, but he simply muttered something she couldn’t make out and continued on his way.

  The Order soldier standing near the door pointed to an empty spot among the milling crowd. “You should stake out a spot. The captain will address you recruits in a moment, and then it’ll be time for sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” she said, finding one of the few open areas and heading toward it.

  A few minutes later, a man with lieutenant’s insignia on his yellow uniform stepped up onto a makeshift stage that had been created with crates and boards. He cleared his throat, and the muted conversations in the room died down.

  “Welcome,” he said, with an air of someone reading a script rather than conveying a warm welcome. “Captain Terrick Abney has a few words to say to you. But first, there will be the oaths.”