Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  A second gentleman, dressed in tight black pants, ruffled shirt and shiny black boots, stepped forward. His long white hair hinted at an age his youthful physique and sparkling eyes contradicted.

  “Cassidy Sinclair, I am the Precept of the Knights Elementalis. You may call me Stillman.”

  Cassidy sensed his authority without having to touch him. Here stood a man used to giving commands and having them obeyed without question. Under the scrutiny of his measured stare, she stood a little straighter and held her breath.

  Stillman’s smile banished the tension and her mounting nerves.

  “Be at ease, child. You are welcome to this place, the Cradle of the Elements.” He strode forward and wrapped her in a tight, grandfatherly hug.

  At first contact, Cassidy sensed genuine affection, gratitude, and ageless serenity. He stepped back first and held her at arm’s length. “I believe some measure of thanks are in order.”

  “For what, sir?”

  All heads turned at the scuff of leather on stone from the opening at the other end of the room. Dev stormed in, arms cutting back and forth in time with his steps.

  Cassidy overheard Magnus whisper to Wren, “Here it comes.”

  Dev thundered across the chamber and stood over one of the triangles in the Order’s seal.

  Wow.

  He looked great dressed in form-fitting leather pants and sleeveless leather vest, every bit the primitive warrior.

  “Another meeting without me?” Dev’s nostrils flared, anger flashed in his crimson-flecked eyes. “I’ve been restricted to the Cradle, not kicked out of the Order. The least you can do is include me in—” His mouth quit flapping the moment he locked eyes with Cassidy and his posture radically changed from one of anger and violence, to one of self-conscious embarrassment.

  Cassidy watched the other Knights exchange baffled looks, except for Magnus, who grinned. Wren shifted away, quickly turning the crushed expression compressing her features to the floor. Cassidy had the decency to look away before Wren realized she had seen.

  “I…I…I’m sorry, Ms. Sinclair, I didn’t know you were here.” Dev bowed.

  “Cassidy, please, and it’s no problem. Really,” Cassidy said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Um, much better, thank you.” Dev took a step back. “I guess I’ll…be…seeing you around. Bye.” With that, he turned on his heel and hustled out of the room.

  Stillman cocked a glance at Cassidy then at the retreating Knight of Flame.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Magnus will see to your accommodations. Make yourself at home, my dear.” With a nod, he followed Dev, but at a much more leisurely pace, hands clasped behind his back. The other Knights took their cue and filed out after saying their own farewells with a wave or a nod.

  Wren slipped away at some point, leaving Magnus alone with Cassidy.

  That was weird. Dev looks better though. Amazing.

  “Let’s find you a room. I think there’s one over by the Knight of Air.”

  “That’s not the creepy guy, is it?”

  Magnus chuckled. “Who, Dronor? Nah. He’s the Knight of Water. Cyndralla is the Knight of Air.”

  So, she is a Knight.

  “She seems nice.” Cassidy said.

  “She has her moments.” Magnus led the way.

  What does he mean by that?

  Chapter 29

  THUNK. THUNK.

  Wren hit the center of the target, the knives spaced no more than a half inch apart. The old-school paper targets were set at different heights along a densely packed sand wall, peppered with the results of earlier throws.

  She grabbed another bunch of practice blades from the half-full bin, rolled to her right, aimed, threw. Another one in the middle.

  Of course he wants Cassidy. Who wouldn’t?

  She tumbled left. Balanced. Threw. Center hit on the high target.

  He hates me now.

  Executing a perfectly balanced back-handspring, she landed, sighted low and threw. Bull’s-eye.

  I ruined it.

  From sixty feet out she drilled one knife after another into the center circle. Each throw slammed into the target harder than the last, sinking in as far as the rounded handle, until the bin emptied and the targets looked like pin cushions.

  Her mind raced from one incident to the next with Dev at the center of her maelstrom. Hungry, exhausted, she needed sleep. She’d been on the go for nearly forty-eight hours straight and needed to put it in “park” for a little while.

  But when she got like this, with crazy, self-mutilating thoughts screaming around in her head, she had to move. Trying to fall asleep only made the situation worse. She had to push herself until both her mind and body were too exhausted to function. At that point, she’d collapse and sleep it off.

  Been there. Done that. Need to do it again.

  The knives weren’t cutting it. She needed a challenge, one that would knock her out for the night.

  Gauntlet.

  Wren headed for the darkened doorway in the back corner of the room where the mats ended and the floor resumed. The cool stone barely registered on bare soles toughened through harsh practice sessions over the years, but was enough to center her in the moment. Pushing thoughts of her betrayal, and the light in Dev’s eyes when he saw Cassidy, out of her immediate thoughts, she focused on the task at hand—survival.

  As she stepped through the doorway, the crystals in the Gauntlet room flared to life, illuminating the blades, mallets, open pits and other, more insidious, challenges that packed every inch of the room. To make it through to the open door on the other side required total concentration and fearless execution. Hesitation only got you thumped, or worse.

  She inhaled a deep breath and blew it out slowly. The first time she’d run the course, Dev coached her through, offering words of encouragement and goading her to perform better. His voice echoed in her head now, “Only run the gauntlet when your mind and body are fresh.”

  Whatever.

  She pulled off the loose t-shirt and faced the challenges in her sports bra and form-hugging pants.

  You can still chicken out. No one would know. She bent and stretched, loosening tired muscles. I’d know. Toes behind the safety line of the first obstacle, the room sprang to life challenge-by-challenge, until the scrape of stone and metal reached a sustained crescendo.

  I forgot how loud this place got.

  The first iron-mounted obstacle whirred and clacked. Metal bars as thick as her wrist and as long as her arm swung above her head, at waist level and near her ankles at varying speeds. No two passes were the same.

  She watched the moving bars, gauged the timing, and looked for the pattern that would keep her safe. Blowing the air out of her lungs to shrink her profile, she dove under the first bars. She twisted, lifted her left foot, dipped her shoulder, jumped up, grabbed the frame and vaulted beyond the last bar’s reach.

  Clear. Easy.

  Another agility-based obstacle squatted in front of her. Pillars of stone swung ponderously from side to side, overlapping and sometimes smacking the one next to it with a sharp report. She didn’t want to get caught between those two. Again, speed, timing and total concentration led to success here. Dev had told her not to touch the stone with her fingers or risk getting them squished.

  Yeah. No shit, buddy.

  The stones, some taller and wider than her, swung through and returned, whistling as they picked up speed. The breeze from their passing blew her short hair around.

  Dev would have sai—stop. Forget what he would have said. Just do it.

  The stone rushed by, she jumped in and slid between the passing monoliths. Dev said to—

  A stone grazed her butt, shoved her forward into the path of another. At the last moment, she slid between the last two and squeaked through to the other side.

  Bent over, hands on her knees, heart pounding, she caught her breath. Too close.

  If she could, she’d have turned around, skipped the rest a
nd gone back to her room. Better that than get hurt when the Order needed her the most. But the Gauntlet was a one way ride. Either finish or…well, finish. There was a panic buttoned mounted near the entrance that would shut this bitch down, but she wasn’t in a position to hit it.

  That’s why you always ride with a partner.

  She eyed the next obstacle, the one that gave her nightmares. Great gears meshed, driving the pistons that stabbed swords into the metal frame from the bottom and sides. At the top, a large fan, spiked with additional blades, spun lazily. Its slow pace didn’t deceive her. She knew it would descend upon her once she entered, forcing her to quickly place her feet and slide around the other prodding points.

  She nearly lost her hand the first time she went through, but Dev saved her. He jammed Cinder into the mechanism to stop the blades before they nailed her.

  Who’s going to save you this time?

  Determination pushed through her veins, adding a little extra bounce in her step.

  Sword blades flashed and jabbed throughout the frame.

  The first time she braved the Gauntlet, she had asked Dev why the blades were dull. His response made perfect sense. He told her that the obstacle tested a warrior’s concentration and reflexes. It wasn’t supposed to kill anyone; but, and he made sure he had her attention, if you get hit with one of those blades it will definitely ruin your day.

  She stepped up to the whirling, shining steel and wiped her palms on her pants.

  Analyzing the pattern, she waited for it to restart and leaped in. Her foot slipped out from under her and she went down on one knee, throwing her out of position. The blades at the top of the frame dropped fast, scything the width of the obstacle’s cage.

  Wren flattened herself against the floor, hoping that the blades would stop before they thwacked against her breasts and ribs. If they could slice off a hand, they could do some major damage to other, more tender, parts.

  Six inches…the blades whirred closer. Their breeze kissed her face. She clenched her eyes tight, grabbed the legs of the cage and braced for the impact.

  Who will be the one to find me?

  The first sword grazed her breast. Oh man, oh man. She clenched her jaw, but the blades stopped and the entire room wound down. Bars, blades, and stones reset to their starting positions.

  “You know better.”

  Father.

  The pressure on her chest let up and Wren opened one eye to see the blades rise to the top. Heat flooded her face and hot tears fell.

  “Come out of there.”

  Her lip quivered. “No.” Her voice sounded wet and miserable to her ears.

  “Please come out from there. It’s safer to talk over here.”

  Avoiding his eyes, she retraced her steps through the obstacles. Stillman sat on the floor near the entrance and opened his arms wide. Wren melted into his embrace. The fit had changed, but in his arms she still felt like a little girl.

  “It’s okay.” Stillman stroked her hair and rocked back and forth. “Everything’s alright, little bird.”

  Her heart swelled when she heard his special name for her.

  “He hates me, Father.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “Yes, he does, and I don’t blame him.”

  “I need to tell you something and it’s not going to be easy for you to hear,” Stillman said.

  Wren swallowed the lump in her throat and sat up, putting a little distance between them. The dark circles under his eyes were new and the seams of his face like wide cracks in his armor.

  “I’ve seen things.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

  “You’ve had more visions?”

  “I always have visions, Wren. Knowing what they all mean is an entirely different matter, I’m afraid.” He licked his lips. “Catching a glimpse of the future without knowing the full circumstance is more curse than gift, but I’ll take any edge I can get in the battle against Shadow.”

  “What have you seen?

  “I saw the rise of Shadow in Tampa. I saw Dev losing control, but I didn’t know when it would come to a head.”

  “I know. That’s why you put me with him. To watch him.”

  Stillman nodded. “Yes…and no. While I am the head of the Order, I am still a doting father. I may not have given you physical life, but I love you no less for that. I saw the adoration in your eyes whenever he entered the room. We all did.” He shook his head. “I thought it nothing more than a passing crush. And, by having you work closely with him, I thought you would outgrow it.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “No.” Stillman’s face softened into a sad smile. “Please, forgive an old soldier his short-sightedness. I may have lived for a long, long time, but I still make mistakes, and I feel that I made a, how do they say it now, a ‘doozey’ in this case.”

  Wren lowered her head, letting his words sink in. He didn’t reveal anything she didn’t either already know or had suspected. It also didn’t do anything to alleviate her feelings of betrayal and desolation.

  “There’s something more,” Stillman continued. “I see this Cassidy Sinclair playing a larger role in the coming events, but exactly how…” He shrugged. “She will change things. Of that, I am certain. It is good that she is here with us now.” Stillman lifted Wren’s chin with two fingers. “Know that you have done nothing wrong. The Knight of Flame was too far down the path for you to save him. That was never your responsibility. It needed to come to this. You did your duty. Remember that.” He got up to leave. “You should get some sleep. I see long days in our future.”

  Wren got to her feet. “Even I can see that.”

  Chapter 30

  THERE WERE ONLY TWO WINGS OF the Cradle with empty rooms and Dev strolled through the first one, poking his head into all the doorways.

  Where did Magnus take her?

  Pace nonchalant, hands in his pockets, he ambled along. If he ran into her, he didn’t want it to be so obvious that he’d just spent the last thirty minutes tracking her down.

  I can’t believe she’s here. What happened? The last room at the end of this hall was empty as well. Figures. She’s on the other side.

  He retraced his steps and turned down a side hall.

  Hi, Cassidy. No. Hi, Ms. Sinclair. No. Hey, Cassy. Dev shook his head. Hello. Remember me?

  “Will this be enough?” Magnus’s question drifted out of Cyndralla’s room.

  “I do not know yet,” Cyndralla said. “You just gave me the new sample.”

  “I thought you were magic.”

  Dev sauntered in as the Knight of Air walked around the purple metal table that stood near the center of her cavernous purple room. Everything was purple—tables, chests, shelves, even the stone walls shone a pale shade of purple. Smaller tables, arranged in a semi-circle behind the main work space, held containers and vials filled with different colored powders, crystals and liquids.

  Toward the back of the room, a flattened mound of loose silk, cashmere and fine, treated furs spilled out over a large area big enough to park a small plane. Above the heaped fabric, hung a large tapestry depicting two dragon silhouettes encircling a miniature version of the world. A golden rune sparkled in the center of the globe. Dev had asked about the piece years ago, and Cyndralla told him it was based on a myth her father told her when she was a youngling.

  “Damn, Cyndy, what’s with all the purple.”

  “I like purple. Now, hush.”

  Magnus nodded to his friend as Dev took a spot next to him and leaned his elbows on the table. The usually cluttered surface had been cleared to make room for a lead-lined x-ray smock they’d spread across it. Six jagged segments of what looked to be a broken ostrich egg made of glass lay in its center. Whatever it was, Cyndralla wasn’t taking any chances. She’d covered it in a blue suspension field. Blue was stronger than yellow, but not as intense as pink.

  So she is concerned, but not crazy scared.

  “Where’s Cassidy?” Ignoring the shie
ld, Dev reached for a curved shard. The glass was at least an inch thick, the inside blackened.

  Cyndralla smacked his hand. “That is not for touching.”

  “Alright. Alright.” Hands at his side, he peered at the specimens through the magical haze. “What are they?”

  Austere in her sleeveless white dress, she grabbed a long crystal rod from her desk and flipped over one of the charred pieces.

  “New samples of that shadow magic.” Magnus said. “I grabbed these at the hospital this morning.”

  With the snap of her fingers, Cyndralla called a beam down from the ceiling that penetrated the shield and bathed the shards in bright light. As she concentrated on the shadow orb remnants, she chewed the inside of her cheek.

  “You know, Cyndy,” Magnus’s voice came out as a deep rumble, “You look pretty when you work.”

  Her eyes flicked up, then back to her work. A hint of a smile played across her lips.

  “What happened?” Dev asked.

  Magnus moved in close. “Your friend Gray opened up a can of whoop ass on St. Matthew’s this morning.” He whispered so as not to disturb Cyndralla. “Lots of people dead. Cassidy was there and she saved a little girl.”

  “She must have been covering the story for her newspaper.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She was there with Gray. As his guest.”

  Anger sparked. Dev clamped his teeth together to stop the loud curse from interrupting Cyndralla’s research. “You’re wrong.”

  “Sorry, brother, but that’s what she told us.”

  Rage boiled. Dev felt an overwhelming need to attack, to fight something, anything. His friend was close and could take a good beating. He pulled back his fist.

  Magnus eyed him, one eyebrow raised.

  What am I doing?

  Cyndralla murmured a phrase that prickled his skin. She waved her palm over the shards in a slow circular pass. A thin, black tendril rose up from the largest piece. When it hit the magical blue light, it fizzled and disintegrated.