Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  I ran out of years. Like her family, the fire pit and all the flammable items were long gone.

  No time for those thoughts. Back to business. Cassidy jammed a mitt on her hand and tossed the other, along with one of the potholders, to Wren.

  “Try this.”

  Wren examined the items as if they were alien artifacts. Evidently cooking wasn’t one of her ninja skills.

  “You’re sure about this?” Please say no.

  Wren nodded. “Let’s pull his legs.” She took up position over his right ankle while Cassidy stood over his left. Both ankles were fat as overripe melons with no sign of actual bone structure beneath the bruises.

  The heat from the knight-shaped furnace baked her skin. The thought of pulling on his shattered legs didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. It would probably do more harm than good. Although, they did need straightening so the bones would set properly. By the way they bent and curled, they needed surgery and pins and rehab and everything else modern medicine could throw in there to get him up and around. But if his spine was injured too, all bets were off.

  “We pull on three.” Wren said. “Ready? One. Two. Three.”

  Dev’s ankle squished in Cassidy’s hand, grossed her out, but she’d dealt with worse. Wren, though, dropped it like a hot potato and heaved her partially digested donut onto the lawn.

  Poor kid.

  “Sorry.” Wren wiped away the sick and looked pitiful.

  “Hello the house.” A tenor male voice hailed from the back yard. “Is anybody home?”

  “It can’t be.” Wren brightened and took off around the corner.

  “Wait, are you expecting someone?” I’m going to tie this kid down.

  Cassidy caught up in time to see Wren leap at a man in the yard. Blond hair, beard and mustache, average features, average height, a little on the thin side, he caught her in a one-armed bear hug. Obscenely baggy clothes hung from his spare frame and he carried a guitar case that looked to be as big as he was.

  “How did you know?” Wren asked.

  “Stillman. Said you might need some help. Gave me this address a week ago.”

  “I thought you were touring in Japan.”

  “Ja. Had to cancel some dates. The band’s not happy. May give me the boot.”

  Cassidy cleared her throat.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. Cassidy, this is Magnus.”

  Magnus set his giant guitar case to the side and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I am called Magnus Siggurdson.”

  Shaking hands with the man was like grasping a rock—strong, hard, and rough. From the touch she sensed his concern and unease, but no aggression or danger.

  “Likewise, Mr. Siggurdson. Do I detect a Scandinavian accent?”

  “Ja. Jag kommer från Sverige.” A mischievous smile lit his face.

  Wren smacked Magnus in the arm. “Be nice.”

  “Aj.” Magnus rubbed the spot where she hit him. “Sorry. I said that I was from Sweden.” He looked around the frozen yard. “I see our boy is in bad shape.”

  “He’s over here.” Wren led the way.

  Magnus dropped to one knee next to Dev. “Damn, Sparky, you look like hell.” He slid back, his only concession to the intense heat. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We were trying to move him to the back patio so we could start a fire for him.” Wren said.

  “Ja, fire is good.” He shook his head. “But to drag him there…would have caused more harm.”

  Wren flipped a side-long look at Cassidy.

  Score one for the EMT.

  “What choice did we have?” Wren asked. “Look at the fence. We couldn’t leave him here.” The frost had nearly reached the top and would soon invade the neighbor’s yard.

  Magnus grunted. “Where did you want to build this fire?”

  Cassidy had heard the word too many times now to take a chance. There would be no fire in her house. None.

  “There won’t be a fire.”

  “Ms. Sinclair. He needs a fire now or he will not survive the day,” Magnus said.

  “No.” Cassidy shook her head and crossed her arms. “Not here. Take him and go.”

  Magnus glanced at Wren.

  “Dev needs that fire.” Wren approached Cassidy, hands out, palms up. “We can’t risk moving him very far. We don’t need to take him inside, though. He can stay on the patio. But he needs that fire.”

  “What’s the fire going to do for him? Do you honestly think there will be anything left of his brain after that body temp?” She pointed at the heat shimmering off Dev’s body. “A temperature over one hundred seven degrees causes brain damage and his temp must be like three hundred to eat through these oven mitts. What kind of cognitive ability will he have left after this?” Cassidy ran her fingers through her hair. “His body is nearly destroyed and you can forget about him ever moving around again.”

  “She doesn’t know, does she?” Magnus asked.

  “It wasn’t for me to tell her,” Wren said.

  Magnus rose, put his hand on Wren’s shoulder as he passed, and walked over to Cassidy.

  “Ms. Sinclair. You’ve seen strange things in the past twenty four hours, ja?” Magnus’s voice was low, intense, but not condescending.

  You might say that.

  “Yeah. And?” Cassidy asked.

  “You’re about to see more.” He turned to Wren. “Can she be trusted?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Wait. Trusted?” Cassidy backed away from the three of them. “Look, I don’t want to be brought into anything crazy. I’m a simple reporter who writes fluffy little articles for a small time weekly press.”

  “Reporter?” Magnus frowned at Wren.

  Wren shrugged.

  Magnus studied Cassidy, evaluated every inch of her five foot seven frame. Whatever they were concerned about, she didn’t want any part of. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

  Magnus’s scrutiny made her uncomfortable.

  “Look, tell me or don’t tell me. But please, stop staring at me like that.” Cassidy shuddered and put on a brave front while her insides quivered. “You’re creeping me out.”

  Magnus smiled. “Okay. I ask you not to report on anything you see or anything about us at all.”

  “I know. I know.” Cassidy brushed him off. “You’ll kill me if I do.”

  “No.” Magnus’s tone turned serious. “We don’t work like that. The Knights Elementalis are an ancient order formed to defend humanity against the forces of Shadow. We don’t kill unless there is no other way.”

  “We’re the good guys,” Wren chirped.

  “Knights who?”

  “Elementalis.” Magnus turned to Wren. “Where are we going?”

  “On the patio, by the glass doors.” Wren moved to Cassidy’s elbow.

  “I’m going to move him now.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “As you can see, Dev is…different.” Magnus paused again, searched Cassidy’s eyes. She nodded for him to continue.

  “I, too, am different. Dev’s element is fire. He can control, shape, and wield it. My element is earth. I’m telling you this because in order to move my brother, I need to become the earth. I need to change.”

  Cassidy’s fear spiked at that last comment. “What do yo—?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Magnus squatted, untied his Doc Martens and kicked them to the side. Barefoot, he wriggled his toes in the frosted grass and sighed. The joy in his face at that simple pleasure surprised Cassidy. Despite only having known him a few minutes, she liked him. He seemed open and genuine.

  Magnus turned to her. “On my honor as a Knight, I vow that you are in no danger from me.”

  Cassidy’s pulse rate jumped even though she believed him. It wasn’t every day that a total stranger came into her life and told her he meant her no harm. That only happened in the movies, right? Still, she backed away a step, just in case.

  Magnus smiled, st
ood up straight and closed his eyes.

  Cassidy’s skin prickled and she felt a slight tremor through the rubber soles of her flip-flops. The cold air hung tense and still.

  Magnus changed, grew until he stretched the seams of the t-shirt and jeans that used to hang off of him. His face and beard filled out too. Gone was the meek, average Joe. In his place stood a Norse giant—seven feet tall, long blond hair and great bushy beard, sculpted face, bulging muscles.

  My god. Mouth open, Cassidy couldn’t help but stare. She placed her hand on Wren’s shoulder for balance as her notion of reality teetered.

  “That’s phase one,” Wren whispered in her ear.

  The giant’s skin, at first tan and smooth, began to change. His color faded—dark tan to tan to white to cream to a dull gray. Small rough patches, pock marks and odd whirled patterns formed on his surface.

  She could feel Wren watching her for signs of distress or fear, but if anything, she felt…alive. Magnus’s transition was magic, pure and simple. She was a witness to the spectacular that she’d only read and dreamed about growing up. No way would she do anything to interfere. Instead, she watched in awe.

  Magnus crouched, stone scraped against stone. With a father’s tenderness, he cradled his friend’s hot, limp body against his granite chest.

  Dev moaned. His loose limbs slumped around those bulging granite arms.

  How the hell is he still alive?

  The stone man turned and took one gentle step, trying his best not to jar his feverish passenger, but as Cassidy noticed Dev’s tight eyes and clenched jaw she winced.

  Another step, another wince. Cassidy followed behind, focused on Dev’s face. She couldn’t look away.

  Half-way to the patio, his eyes flashed open and his crimson eyes lanced into Cassidy. She didn’t think he actually saw her, but reacted more to the movement.

  “He opened his eyes,” Cassidy reported.

  As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Dev closed his eyes and mashed his lids shut. A second later, he burst into flame.

  Cassidy screamed before the world collapsed to a pinpoint of vibrant color and winked out.

  * * *

  Cassidy woke to a darkening sky, a comfy position on her couch, and a clear view out of her glass doors. Back to normal, Magnus squatted over the flaming body on her patio.

  Fire!

  Cassidy jumped up and ran to the garage. She grabbed the fire extinguisher, raced back to the patio, and whipped open the door. “Move!” she shouted.

  Magnus twisted around, a stick raised in his hand. Wren slouched in a wrought-iron chair she pulled over from the table, one leg draped over the arm.

  “Get out of the way!” Cassidy squeezed the handle and the foam shot out, but Magnus grabbed the hose and pointed it away. Instead of gushing all over Dev, it blew into the air, coating the hot dog at the end of Magnus’ stick in a blanket of white.

  “Stop.” Cassidy fought against the misdirection and tried to realign her hose. “Can’t you see he’s burning?” Can’t let him burn. Not again. She couldn’t breathe. “Let me go.”

  “Can’t do that.” Wren uncoiled from the chair, came to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You can stop that now.”

  “He’s burning,” Cassidy cried, “Don’t you see that?”

  She fought harder than she’d ever fought before. Tears streamed down her cheeks. As the spray sputtered and stopped, so did her strength. Though she gripped the handle and willed more flame-smothering foam to burst forth and coat the burning man, nothing came out.

  Magnus released the hose and Wren pushed her arm down. Cassidy collapsed to her knees on the hard tile.

  She couldn’t look away. Morbid curiosity kept her riveted to the whirls and snaps of the devouring yellow flame. Soon his skin would blacken, bubble and melt away from the bone. She sniffed for the scent of roasting meat, but didn’t smell anything except…hot dog.

  Hot dog?

  Magnus and Wren had set a barbeque grill on its side and lit the propane burners, which blazed at full strength. Blue flames reached out for Dev’s bald head. She searched his face, looking for…what? Signs of pain? The expression on his face wasn’t one of intense agony, but of peace.

  Oh my god. He’s dead. They’re cremating him. On my patio. They’re getting rid of the body.

  “I won’t tell anyone.” Cassidy whispered and backed toward her door. The spent extinguisher dropped with a clank. A thin arm covered her shoulders in what was probably meant as reassurance, but felt more like a trap.

  This whole thing was a trap—the rescue, the loss and subsequent discovery of their protector, the appearance of the giant and now the immolation on her back patio. It was all some twisted way for life to mess with her again. Taking Amy wasn’t enough. Just as she started her climb back, it knocked her back down.

  “I think it’s gone.” Magnus said.

  How could he refer to his friend as an “it” when a short time ago it looked like he cared so much?

  “Yep. It’s a goner,” Wren said.

  You little bitch. I thought you cared.

  “How can you be so callous about this?” Cassidy blurted. “You’re friend just died and during his cremation you act like he never mattered. I thought you loved him.”

  Wren had the decency to flash a deep red across her cheeks and her eyes got huge.

  Magnus laughed. “I knew it.” He pointed at Wren and held his belly. “Wren’s got a cru-ush. Wren’s got a cru-ush.”

  “Shut up.” Wren crossed her arms and pouted. “Shut. Up.”

  “Ms. Sinclair,” Magnus said, “You don’t understand. I,” he looked to Wren, but she turned away, “…we apologize for putting you through this nightmare. If there were another way of ensuring our friend’s survival, rest assured we would have done so.” He laid down the stick with the white-washed hot dog speared on the end. “I said before that we were different, that Dev had an affinity with fire. Ja?”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “It goes beyond that. In essence, he is fire. It cannot hurt him, but he can use it to heal. The hotter he gets, the faster he heals. That’s why the fire was crucial.” He gestured to the patio and surrounding grass. “See? He pulls the heat from the grill instead of the ground and the air like he did before.”

  It seemed plausible, in a way, but too fantastic to believe. I canna’ change the laws o’ physics, Captain. Mr. Scott’s catch-phrase played in her head.

  “Where did you get the grill?” Cassidy asked.

  Magnus shrugged. “Your neighbor,” he pointed to the Murphy’s house next door, “Donated it for the cause. We’ll return it when we’re done.”

  “I see.” The things she’d witnessed in the last twenty four hours rocked her belief system, and she did her best to hold it together. Fire. Earth. Knights. What next, dragons?

  She stared into the flames crackling over the body of the man—no, sorry, Knight—on her patio. Fire flickered over every single inch of him like the Yule log her father lit on Christmas day. That never seemed to get eaten by the fire either. Though it went against her idea of the natural rule of the universe, she had to admit he did look…better. His breathing came easier and his legs weren’t nearly as puffy as they were earlier.

  For the first time, she looked beyond the flames and the injuries, to the man beneath. Strong arms. Muscular chest. Handsome face. Tight bu—

  “Hey, why didn’t his eyebrows burn off?” Cassidy asked.

  “What?” Magnus asked.

  “All his other hair burned off, right. Why does he still have eyebrows?”

  “They did.” Magnus seemed pleased to spill another of Dev’s little secrets. “What you see now is a tattoo. He had them inked in Hong Kong a long time ago after he saw his reflection without them. He looked pretty goofy and, well, wrong I guess is the right word.”

  “No way.” Cassidy bent for a closer look. “Wow. They look so…so real.” She straightened and turned to Wren. “Now wha
t?”

  “We wait.” Wren flopped back into her chair.

  Magnus flicked the ruined dog from the end of his stick and speared two more from the package next to him. With a wink at Cassidy, he lowered the pink tube steaks over Dev’s forehead. It didn’t take long for the classic aroma of a summer-time barbeque to fill the air.

  “Here. Take a picture.” Magnus flashed a cheesy smile. “He’ll love this when he wakes up.”

  “Oh, Magnus, stop,” Wren said, but laughed at the sight.

  “What? He’d do the same if our roles were reversed.”

  “True.”

  Cassidy listened to the friendly banter. It reminded her of the clambakes she and her friends used to have on the beach, sitting around giving each other crap while the water boiled and the campers in the group insisted on burning s’mores.

  “Hottodoggu ga dekita. Hoshii?” Magnus said.

  What language was that? I hate when people do that, makes me think they’re talking about me.

  “Hai.” Wren sat up and caught the dog that Magnus threw, but it was too hot and she juggled it until it cooled.

  “That’s rude, you know,” Cassidy said.

  Both Wren and Magnus looked her way.

  “To speak in a language that we don’t all understand, and on my patio, and after what you people have put me through.” Cassidy couldn’t stem the tide and the words kept coming. “Are you talking about me? What did you say? I’m right here. Just come out with it.”

  As Cassidy scolded, Magnus’s and Wren’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.

  “Cassidy,” Wren stood up, clasped her hands in front of her chest, and bowed from the waist. “You’re right, and I apologize. We spoke out of habit and without thought to you.”

  “I, too, apologize,” Magnus said. “I like to practice other languages when I have the chance and, since Wren speaks Japanese, I spoke without thinking.”

  Somewhat mollified by their apologies, Cassidy relaxed. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘Dogs are done. Want one?’“ Magnus answered.

  “Oh.” Cassidy felt the warmth creep into her face. Nice one, Sinclair. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to bite your heads off. It’s just…it’s been a long day.” She looked away. “So, um, how many languages do you speak?”