His grandfather launched into the air, carried upward on a sudden gust of wind, just as the bench ignited in flames and sparks. The wind died when the old man was nearly twenty feet in the air, leaving him hovering as he redirected the wind flow. A sudden downdraft of pressurized air slammed into one of the Fire Warriors, driving the man into the ground with violent force.
“Run, Xander!” his grandfather yelled. “I’ll hold them off.”
“No way,” Xander replied. “I can help.”
He was stepping toward the dark-robed men when the ground in front of him erupted in a wall of flames. The flames burned nearly white with an intense heat that washed over him. Xander staggered backward as his clothes began to smolder and the air burned in his lungs.
He could barely see his grandfather land on the far side of the flames. He heard, rather than saw, a roar of a tornado as it touched down, uprooting one of the trees in the park. Xander saw the silhouette of a man being launched high into the night sky and didn’t envy the painful landing he had in his future.
Beyond the wall of flame, sparks roared into the night air. Balls of flame exploded against the ground as they sought the agile old man. One of the Fire Warriors stretched out his hands and a jet of flame poured across the field. His grandfather rolled to the side but the flames ignited the side of his shirt. A quick arctic breeze froze the shirt and extinguished the flames but Xander could hear his grandfather’s labored breathing over the din of battle.
He waved his hand and a futilely small gust of wind crashed against the wall of fire. Instead of breaking through, the wind only fed the flames that grew more intense in response.
Frustrated, Xander stepped further away. Maybe his grandfather was right? He barely knew how to control his powers. Maybe he was a bigger liability by sticking around. Maybe he should run, like his grandfather had asked.
A scream split the air, a throaty yell that sounded close to a mix of pain and coarse coughing. Xander knew that sound and the cough that accompanied it. His grandfather was hurt.
He closed his eyes and bit back the tears of frustration. “Please, I know you can hear me. You used me as a vessel when you helped save that man from the bus. Help me save another of your children. Use me however you have to, just save my grandfather!”
The wind turned from a faint breeze to a gusting hurricane that nearly knocked Xander from his feet. The wind blew from behind him but never passed his body. It poured into him like water into a pail, filling him quickly to the brim. The gusting wind whispered to him as it filled his essence, speaking in a language he didn’t understand but telling a story he knew all too well. In that divine moment, Xander reached a point of celestial clarity.
With a wave of his hand, the wind crashed into the wall of flames. The fire swirled madly before burning down to hot coals on the ground. Xander stepped through, his eyes glowing a frigid white in the moonless night.
The Fire Warriors were frozen in a horseshoe around his grandfather, who knelt on one knee clutching his chest. Before the first Fire Warrior could turn toward the new threat, Xander formed a ball of air in his hand and whipped it outward. The ball crashed into the nearest warrior, lifting him from his feet and throwing him into the depths of the park. Xander heard him crash into a tree and heard the splintering of wood from the impact.
He easily turned the ball on the next Fire Warrior, striking him in the back and sending the warrior sprawling into the mud.
The rest of the Fire Warriors scattered as Xander continued his assault. From the corner of his eye, he saw a ball of flame soaring at him. A flick of his wrist turned the blowing wind into hurricane strength, which easily deflected the fireball. He turned the wind on the Fire Warrior that attacked him, sending him tumbling end over end into the woods.
“Stop right now!” a voice yelled from across the park.
Xander turned to the sound and found a warrior holding his grandfather by the throat. In his other hand, fire roared between his fingertips. Xander could see the anguish on the old man’s face and knew that even the hand that held him in place had to be hot enough to burn his flesh.
“Turn down the wind or I’ll burn the old man to the ground.”
The smoldering white in Xander’s eyes faded and the wind that whipped his hair about receded into his body.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Xander asked, holding his arms out wide in a show of surrender.
“We’re claiming what’s ours,” the Fire Warrior replied.
“By killing the Wind Caste? I may be new to this but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
The warrior laughed derisively. “And you think we should, wait another sixty years until you finally decided to have the decency to die? Lord Balor might have waited for this old man and his crew to pass on but you’re something different. We won’t wait for any longer before we take what’s rightfully ours.”
“It’s not yours,” Xander replied. “It’s still mine! I just found out that there’s this whole world that I never knew existed. I just found out I’m something far more special than just another slacker college student. I’m not about to give that up just yet.”
“You can’t stop us. Wind feeds the flame, remember? The best thing you could have done would have been to die when Sammy tried to kill you. Now you’re going to die and she’s going to suffer for her failure.”
The mention of Sammy ignited a flame in Xander’s chest. There was no reason why he should be so willing to protect her when she had clearly betrayed him, but the moment the warrior threatened her, he felt himself grow dangerously defensive.
“Not if I take away your fuel,” Xander growled.
A bubble appeared around the Fire Warrior’s hand. When Xander jerked both his hands backward, the air was sucked out of the bubble in jets of pressurized air. Without the oxygen to feed his flames, the fire on the warrior’s hand disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“What did you—?”
The warrior couldn’t finish his sentence as another bubble appeared around his head. Sammy had wondered if he could truly pull the oxygen from the bubble when he had her trapped. At the time, he wasn’t sure it was even possible, much less if he could have done it to her as a punishment. In this instance, he felt significantly more confident and justified.
The air escaped the bubble in an audible gush. The Fire Warrior gasped for air that no longer existed in the personal vacuum around his head. His lungs screamed for relief as the oxygen was pulled from them as well. Three seconds later, as the lack of oxygen reached his brain, the Fire Warrior released Xander’s grandfather and pitched forward, unconscious. Xander released the bubble before he hit the ground, making sure that the man lived while also making sure nothing blunted the impact as his face struck the ground.
“Who’s next?” Xander yelled to the few remaining warriors.
In response, they turned and ran into the woods, not eager to fight the newly minted Wind Warrior.
When he was sure it was safe, Xander rushed over to his grandfather’s side. The old man propped himself up on a knee with his hand pressed against the ground. Xander slipped his grandfather’s free arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet.
“Can you walk?”
His grandfather nodded. “I’ve been through worse. Are any of them still around?”
Xander looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “There are some around but none that are in any condition to answer questions.”
“They’ll be back,” the elder man groaned. “They’ll come back with even more Fire Warriors and overwhelm us.”
“What would you have me do?”
“We run, like we should have done in the beginning.”
Xander shook his head. “You heard my dad. He won’t leave White Halls.”
“I know, Xander. I don’t plan on taking him with us.”
Xander would have stepped back in surprise if he hadn’t been bearing so much of his grandfather’s weight. “Just like that? Y
ou just want to leave them to face the Fire Caste alone?”
“The Fire Warriors don’t care about your dad and mom. They’re normals, not part of the Wind Caste. It’s you and me that they want.”
Xander looked over his shoulder and down the street. In the far distance, he could see the glowing porch light of the house he grew up in. Everything he’d ever known existed in that house and in this town. The thought of leaving White Halls scared him to death.
“Where will we go?” Xander asked.
“We’ll join the others Wind Warriors. We’ll need to warn them that the Fire Caste has declared war on our survivors anyway.”
“The Fire Warrior mentioned a name—Lord Balor. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“No, but it wouldn’t, would it? The Fire Caste didn’t even exist when I was doing most of my work as a Wind Warrior. But we’ll keep his name in mind. I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him.”
Xander’s gaze fell once again on the house in the distance. Beyond their street, they could hear the police and fire sirens screaming into the quiet night. Around them, the few houses that existed on their rural street were coming to life, with lights turning on in the windows of curious onlookers.
“I know you want to say goodbye, Xander. Make it quick. We don’t want to be here when the Fire Warriors come back and I sure don’t know how to explain this to the police. We need to hurry.”
His parents stood on the porch when Xander approached. He wasn’t surprised to see the tears gleaming in his mother’s eyes. His father’s tears, however, startled him. His father didn’t bother concealing his emotion and instead let the tears roll into his beard.
Xander felt a tightness growing in his chest as he climbed the few porch steps. He had returned to the house to angrily confront his family about their lies. Knowing the truth and knowing the danger it represented, he suddenly found an uncanny bond with the parents that had tried so hard to keep him protected from the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed as he reached the porch.
His father shook his head before wrapping his arms tightly around Xander’s back. Xander buried his face in his father’s shoulder. He felt his mother’s arm wrap around his back and she joined the two men.
When they finally broke their hug, his father wiped his eyes. “All I ever wanted was to keep you from this life. This,” he said, gesturing to the scorched and smoking ground in the park, “it’s just the beginning for you. Promise me something, Xander. Promise me you won’t let it consume your life. You deserve so much more than spending the rest of your life being a Wind Warrior.”
He placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. He wanted to say something reassuring but couldn’t find the words. In the end, Xander settled for a simple nod of his head.
He embraced his parents again, fighting against the strange sinking sensation in his gut. Their farewell seemed far too final for his liking.
“I’ll see you guys again soon,” Xander said but his words felt hollow even as he said them.
He could see his parents’ reservations reflected in their eyes as he spoke. They didn’t seem any more certain of his words than he did.
“We have to go,” his grandfather said from the base of the steps.
Xander half turned toward the older man. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of approaching police and fire vehicles. He was far more concerned about the sounds he wouldn’t hear, like the Fire Warriors returning to finish what they began.
With a sigh, Xander turned back to his parents and embraced them one last time.
“You can come with us, you know,” he whispered into his father’s ear.
His father shook his head. “Our lives are here now. The world you’re going into has no place for normal people like us.”
As they broke their hug, Xander turned toward the stairs. His mother clung to his hand a second longer before regrettably letting him go. Xander took the steps quickly and joined his awaiting grandfather.
“Take good care of him,” his father said reproachfully to his grandfather. “You keep him safe.”
To Xander’s surprise, his grandfather didn’t offer a scathing retort but instead nodded in agreement.
The pair of Wind Warriors walked away, turning down the street that led back to the park. Xander stole a glance over his shoulder and saw his mother leaning heavily against his father’s shoulder.
“I’m worried about them,” Xander said.
“I know,” his grandfather conceded. “I am too. I’m going to have another warrior come watch them for a while, just until I’m sure the Fire Caste is going to leave them be.”
He stole one last glance over his shoulder and thought about all he was sacrificing by leaving. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his parents again. Jessica, for all her faults, had been a close friend for years. He wouldn’t have the chance to say goodbye to Sean, who had been his quirky best friend since they were children. All he could do now was pray that they remained safe long after he left.
“They’ll be safe,” his grandfather said, as though reading his thoughts.
“I know,” Xander said. “I just get the feeling I’ll never see them again.”
His grandfather sighed. “I hope you’re wrong—I really do.”
Wind Warrior Page 7