Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Abbey got excited the more she thought about the trip and spoke a little too loudly. “I know I know! And, OMG, I can’t wait ‘till my last hunter trial on the blue moon! That means that when I get back I’ll be a full-fledged hunter. Hmm, I wonder if I’ll get an apprentice.”

  “Dude!” Malcolm whispered. “Be wary. Dociles at one o’clock.” A little louder he said, “Dude! You totally have Nether-brain. I thought you were gonna cut down on the gaming?”

  Abbey looked up in horror not realizing she was rambling on so loudly about court secrets so close to their school, so close to normal humans. “Oh crap! Sorry.” She hung her head down in shame.

  “No worries. That’s why you’ve got me.” Malcolm nudged her then crouched down to her eye level, “Shorty. Hobbit. Rrrrunt.”

  Abbey halfheartedly hit his arm, ashamed at her loud outburst.

  Malcolm’s voice was kind and understanding. “It’s okay, squirt, no one heard you. Just be careful,” he smiled and nudged her again. “Nobody’s perfect, runt. Not even you.”

  Abbey slugged him a bit harder and gave him a crooked smile. Malcolm was cool, even for a nerd.

  “Okay, okay. I yield, I yield.”

  The two guardians both became more careful of what they said as they neared the rest of the students lingering outside the school.

  S.B. Devere was a private school that all New York King’s Court kids attended, but with a lot of dociles, also known as regular ol’ humans, sprinkled in. Even some of the faculty were dociles, teaching everything from math to history, well, standard history that is. Guardians and sleepers taught court history to pre-gloamers and apprentices that filled in the missing pages. Even the headmaster was a guardian.

  The French renaissance style building took up virtually the entire city block. S.B.’s Parisian facade of buttery cream stones was a warm and inviting contrast against the cool slate hues in its Gothic details. Weathered grey green copper downspouts looked like twisted rope columns snuggled into the building’s corners. Gothic influenced pointed stone arches adorned every window and door, in soft tones of grey and mist. Water and time had slowly created white weeping lines down their decorated facade of swirling leaves. Lifelike, bas-relief vines, grapes, and their leaves mingled harmoniously with the dragons, artistically chiseled into warm sandy stone that framed every arch beneath its Gothic hood. Above the entrance, the school’s crest was carved out of a massive stone, the building’s own badge of honor. The sculpture was a less elaborate version of the coat of arms from Marcus Vaughan’s bloodline and heraldic achievement. The shield was reminiscent of a blade’s tip. From behind, a dragon with its wings expanded, created the crest and side supporters, as a sword pierced the shield from above. A bare ancient yew decorated the shield front and a dancette line banner, representing water, anchored the coat of arms and held the school’s motto.

  Abbey found the academy’s motto humorous every time she passed under the building’s large arched entry. S. B. huh? Sir Bedivere, your descendants have quite the sense of humor. The motto read: ‘S.B. Devere Academy: Molding Future Lords and Ladies.’

  Abbey had breezed through her first class Geometry, struggled yet again through English, and now she was headed briskly to her favorite class of the day, besides hunter training that is, King’s Court History. She and Malcolm had pored over the ancient scrolls in the Vaughan’s Reliquary for hours on Sunday to prepare for today's lecture on her favorite subject: Sir Yumalicious Lancelot.

  Headmaster Maxwell Frobisher held a pretty laid back class, but insisted on punctuality. Abbey took her seat next to Malcolm seconds before the bell rang. It wasn’t her idea to have her blasted English class on the opposite end of the building and three flights down from Court History. English was the only subject she wasn’t excelling at. Granted she was almost two years ahead in the rest of her classes, but if she were ahead in English as well, it would be right down the hall from Court History. She sucked at persuasive and public speaking, which apparently was the only thing on the docket for the entire year. That’s why she hoped and prayed that she and Lourdie got enough vacation time to go to Blarney Castle. Abbey desperately wanted the gift of eloquence one gained from kissing The Blarney Stone. She often felt like she was tripping over her own tongue, as if English wasn’t her first language. She would come back and kick public speaking right in the blarney. Abbey giggled to herself. Blarney, you are so going to be my new buzz word after I kiss you.

  Professor Frobisher tapped the face of his watch twice with his pencil’s eraser, smiling at Abbey. She shrugged her shoulders in mock surrender. He had joked that he could set his watch by Abbey’s entrance into class and the two seconds she always had to spare. It was their Monday morning ritual.

  The classroom was more like a private library. Connected to the Headmaster's office, rich wood paneling and thousands of books lined the two story walls of the room. The room housed every book imaginable from poetry to pulp fiction, but not a single King’s Court document was in sight. Those were all kept in the humidity controlled vault in the Vaughan building, for security and preservation. Some of the documents were so old they were kept under glass, never to be touched by human hands again. Luckily, technology gave guardians the ability to read the majority of the delicate documents electronically, but still not all. The Reliquary housed deep below each King’s Court contained the comprehensive archives collected by the guardians over the centuries. The records had remained painstakingly hidden from dociles for over a thousand years.

  The class was quiet and attentive as their Head Master started his lecture. The man had an air of elegance around him that demanded respect but gave it just as willingly. The sixty-seven year old wore the same school uniform as all the children, even down to the blue and white plaid tie. He was old school in his beliefs. If he wasn’t willing to wear the school’s uniform he couldn’t expect anyone else to wear it. The students at S.B. respected their Headmaster so much that not one student had altered their own uniform since he took the position over fifteen years ago. Abbey had even seen him sporting a matching blue and white plaid beret when he drove his 1960 Austin Healey convertible to school on each sunny day of the year. His short black hair had greyed over the years, which added to his distinguished appearance. The guardian’s dark ebony skin glowed under the sun’s light, like a vibrant man half his age. It was obvious that he loved what he did and the years had been kind. Being a guardian was his life, but teaching was his passion.

  “I hope you all had time over the weekend to look through some of our historical documents. But first, can anyone tell me what the general public believes led to the downfall of King Arthur’s reign?” The Headmaster tapped Abbey gently on the shoulder with the eraser of his pencil. “Thorne, feet off the desk,” he said in a quieter tone. Professor Frobisher paced down the aisles of students. “Anyone?”

  Malcolm raised his hand. Malcolm always raised his hand.

  “Anyone besides Daniels? No one? Alright, Malcolm go ahead.” Professor Frobisher smiled fondly at his star pupil.

  “Most dociles and neophytes believe, and legends say, that Sir Lancelot had an affair with Queen Guinevere that devastated King Arthur leading to the downfall of Camelot,” Malcolm blushed.

  “And did they have an affair? Abbey?” Professor Frobisher asked, taking a seat at his large antique desk at the front of the class. He leaned back and clasped his hands across his lower chest.

  “No. It was a smoke screen allowing the newly founded King’s Court to cover up the truth about the netherworld, shadowskins, and King Arthur’s death at the hand of a Nevra-Hsi. Lancelot’s sacrifice allowed them to disappear into history and legend.” Abbey said. Take that Mr. Public Speaking.

  Malcolm recovered his courage to speak again since they weren’t talking about sex anymore, “Yeah, Sir Lancelot was so honorable and grieved the loss of Arthur so much, he volunteered to take the fall for the lascivious act. Spreading this salacious story was also one of the first uses of subterfu
ge by the court scrapers.”

  Lascivious? Salacious? Subterfuge?! Really, Malcolm, Abbey sighed. Mr. Blarney Stone, here I come!

  “Excellent,” Professor Frobisher beamed.

  Abbey leaned her chin on her hands. The Head Master taught history like it was the number one movie at the box office. His stories always had action and suspense intertwined with love and betrayal. She couldn’t help but daydream about Sir Lancelot on a white horse and shining armor as Professor Frobisher continued his history lesson about her favorite knight.

  Lourdie sat down in the cozy reading chair in her living room and pulled her knees up to her chest. She looked out at Central Park’s beautiful fall trees as she sipped her morning coffee. Yellows, reds, and vibrant oranges mingled with dark and electric greens on Mother Nature’s canvas.

  The hunter dialed her phone, “Hi, Daddy. Whatcha working on?”

  “Hi, Lourdiebug. Oh, still chasing my elusive white whale, honey. You know me.”

  “Are you and mom still in Seattle?”

  “Yeah. I’d say for about another four months or so. I tell you, this sabbatical has been fascinating. And, the people we meet! The ideas on finding alternatives to relics are just flowing back and forth between us. It’s been amazing.”

  Lourdie began to play with the seemingly inanimate links of chain on one of her relics. She smiled in admiration of her father’s dedication to his lifelong quest. “Well if anyone can make a banishing device all guardians can use, it’s you, Daddy.” The master hunter’s relics, a twin pair of wide cuffed chainmail bracelets, adorned her wrists delicately. They sat snugly and comfortably against her skin. Lourdie envisioned her relics holding the memory of her battles, the intricate chains moving, almost oscillating with pride from each netherwalker battle she waged. A stray thought flashed through her mind as she fantasized about an impossibility. She pictured hundreds of tiny marble sized orbs dangling, clinging to each malleable silver ring in the links. Like rows of bullets, all the way around her relics, the luminous purple delvirs pulsed in her imagination. An ammunition cuff full of live orbs. Now that would be fantastic!

  “It might get my creative juices flowing if I had my helper here so I could see her Rhan’Delvins in action. No one can manipulate delvirs like you do, honey. When are you coming for a visit?”

  “Well, speaking of orbs, Marcus is sending me and Abbey to Porthleven for her final trial,” Lourdie let out a quiet sigh, “And I’m supposed to train some of their hunters how to create two orbs at once.” She stopped fidgeting with her relics and looked down at the trees again, “Dad, I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “Lourdie, don’t worry so much, honey. Those hunters will either pick up your ability or they won’t. The pressure is on them, not you.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re right. I’ve just never been asked to do something like this before. Even Abbey hasn’t been able to replicate my ability. I don’t know, it just feels like I’ll be under a microscope.” Lourdie bit her bottom lip nervously.

  Alistair Reese laughed, “You battle monsters the size of cars for a living, don’t sweat the small stuff, honey.”

  “I know,” she couldn’t help but laugh too. “Well anyway, we’re going to be there for about three months, so I should be able to come visit sometime after that.” Lourdie tried not to sound worried anymore.

  He knew his daughter better than that, “You don’t have to impress anyone, honey. Your talents speak for themselves. Twenty-two is an exciting age to be. You’re about to embark on a wonderful adventure, remember that.”

  “Yeah?” She bit at her bottom lip again.

  “And besides, you’re too young to worry so much. You don’t want to get wrinkles like your old man do you? So quit furrowing your brow and biting that lip and try to enjoy yourself.”

  Lourdie smiled into the phone. “Thanks, Daddy,” she said and started to relax.

  “Anytime, Lourdiebug... Lissie! Vaughan is sending Lourdie to Porthleven,” he said pulling the phone away from his ear.

  “Lourdie’s on the phone? I’ll be right there, Alistair, give me one minute.” Alessandra Reese’s muffled voice came through the phone.

  “What’s mom up to?” Lourdie chuckled.

  “She’s working with some other scrapers to update their Walkerware on the web. They have a long road ahead of them, trying to stay one step ahead in this technology boom.”

  Lourdie chuckled again, “Do they have an app for that yet?”

  Alistair laughed, “Not yet, here’s your mom, honey. Love you.”

  “How’s my little Lourdiebug?” Alessandra doted.

  Mother and daughter began their girl talk and Alistair laughed in the background from time to time, stating how smart and witty his Ladybugs were. They talked about everything from boys, or lack thereof, to Abbey and how she was adjusting.

  “To lose her mother like that at such a young age, not knowing she’s a guardian...” Alessandra got a little emotional, “Let Abbey know she’s welcome to come visit with you anytime. We’d love to meet her. We could have a girls’ night with hot fudge sundaes and a TV marathon of her choice. We’ve got the original versions of Star Wars, or there is a fun new show called The Hundred I think you girls might enjoy.

  “She would love that. You know, even with all she’s been through in her life already, she’s the best pupil I’ve ever trained. Mom, she’s amazing, a natural hunter with an incredible inner strength. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “I have,” Alessandra beamed. “And, Lourdiebug, I know you're worried about training the hunters in Porthleven, but don’t. They asked for you specifically because you have a gift. Just be yourself, and don’t work too hard. Who knows, maybe you will even meet a boy.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve gotta go, though, mom, or I’ll be late,” Lourdie said remembering the time and also avoiding the subject.

  “You’ll be surprised how many boys there are at Castle Clogyn that are your age. And don’t get me started on the accent.”

  “Mom?”

  “Okay, Okay, I won’t push my luck. I miss you, Lourdiebug.”

  Most of S.B.’s students were outside for lunch enjoying the last sunny days before it got too cold. Abbey was talking to Malcolm and some of their other classmates as a jet black Hayabusa came roaring down the quiet street. Abbey’s senses began to stir. Being a hunter, she already knew the person was a guardian, just not who. Through the gloaming bond all guardians got the sensation when another of their kind came near, but it was so faint that some often missed it. ‘It’s like wind on your skin, a ring in your ear, or a flutter through your veins. A good hunter pays attention to the subtleties,’ Lourdie always said. Her mentor had taught her to notice every change no matter how small or insignificant. Most guardians simply relied on eye contact when recognizing one another through the bond, but Abbey kept all the tools in her arsenal honed, both mentally and physically.

  As soon as Abbey saw the bike’s black cherry paint turn to deep purple then back to black under the sun’s glare, she knew who it was. The visitor parked the mouthwatering motorcycle and many of the students stopped and stared. The guardian was hidden behind knee high leather biker boots, dark blue denim jeans, a skintight black leather jacket, and a black helmet with a purple mirrored visor. Abbey chuckled. It was just like watching a scene from a movie. All their conversations stopped and heads turned just as some killer tune started to play.

  The hunter took off her helmet and thick chocolate waves with natural caramel highlights fell down past her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes sparkled above her full pink lips. She walked with purpose towards the academy’s steps, turning her head at the last minute and winking at Abbey. Lourdie was the best hunter there was, so of course she knew exactly where her apprentice was sitting. So why was the master hunter so oblivious to how beautiful she was and how the masses of boys reacted to her? Even the swagger and sway in Lourdie’s hips gave off sexual energy Abbey knew her mentor was unaware of. When do I get
to look like that? she thought.

  The dociles around Malcolm thought Lourdie’s wink had been directed to him. Malcolm blushed as students chucked him in the arm and patted his back. Abbey let the mere mortals revel in their fantasies. It was good street cred for her nerdy archivist.

  Lourdie and Abbey’s roles changed from unknown visiting professional and teacher’s aide to mentor and apprentice as they entered the long hallway leading to the school’s gymnasium.

  The Novice Hunter Training and Self Defense course was a new class at S.B. taught by Professor Ryan Kapoi. The concept was actually new to the entire King’s Court as well. Courts relied solely on hunters to do all the banishing around the world, but Kapoi had the idea to train all guardians how to fight and defend themselves if need be. A determined Kapoi had finally gotten the go ahead from Vaughan and Headmaster Frobisher to spearhead the growing movement in New York. The class was an overnight success. The sign up was so large, in fact, that Kapoi had asked Abbey and several other senior hunters to be his aides for the semester.

  Abbey knew Lourdie was here for the first year hunters’ orb training, but Professor Kapoi must have asked her to come in early and help with the novice training as well. After Malcolm’s broken arm incident, he was probably a little apprehensive about throwing orbs to any more novices. Nobody can manipulate orbs quite like Lourdie can, nobody, she thought to herself.

  Abbey looked down at her drab grey gym clothes in comparison to Lourdie’s Manhattan chic threads and sighed. At least she had had the forethought to dress the dull color up a bit with her knee high black tube socks with three pink stripes. Her black and pink kicks made her feel a touch more stylish as well, but only a bit more. Abbey fidgeted with her weapon in her shorts pocket wondering where Lourdie was concealing her stun baton considering she wasn’t wearing her sexy cargos today. The woman’s sleek outfit was killer. Abbey couldn’t wait to go shopping.

  The apprentice tapped the helmet under her mentor’s arm. “Love the new toy, by the way. When do I get a ride?” she said bouncing up and down as they entered the gym.