Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  “Who did you burn?” Magnus asked.

  “Véronique. We were pledged to be married before I went to Paris. But then I came home…changed.” Dev’s voice dropped low. “I was raw. Body shattered, emotions in tatters. But my spirit, Magnus, my spirit was alive.” Dev saw the sparkle in his fellow Knight’s eyes, saw that he’d experienced a similar feeling. “Before that prison, before the Templars, I had a life—a growing trade, and the love of a beautiful woman. I thought a year or so with the most skilled artisans in Christendom would take me to the next level, teach me something I didn’t already know.” Dev shook his head. “Véronique and I agreed, and so I left with Grand Master DeMolay the next morning.

  “She was beautiful, Magnus. Tall, slim, long auburn hair, full lips, skin the color of honey, eyes the color of the Mediterranean.” Describing her aloud for the first time in more years than he could count brought her image alive. With it came the buried truth he’d run from for centuries.

  “The first few days were the worst. After escaping from the prison, I hid in a dress shop. Weak, hungry, and broken, I lay on the wooden floor and waited to die. I thought of her often, of how she would find another and follow her dream of a family. It hurt, but it was better that than her seeing me in such a diminished state.”

  Dev scraped his hand over the stubble on his head. “When the sun shone in my eyes through the front windows that first morning, I expected the owners to walk in and find me. I imagined the shriek at the blood stains on the floor. But they never came. As the day wore on, my inner fire burned and my body healed.”

  “How did it feel?” Magnus asked. “The fire?”

  “Glorious. Like the sun shone from my soul.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “By the end of the second day, I was up and about. Lucky for me the rats insisted on inspecting the newcomer. When they got close, I snatched them up and choked them down raw. I found some stale water in a rain barrel out back. It was gritty and tasted of tar, but got me by. By the third day, the rats stopped coming. Either they smartened up or I ate them all. I took the miraculous healing of my wounds as a sign that it was time to go home.”

  “I’ve had to eat rats myself.” Magnus said. “They’re not bad in a stew, but raw and squealing…”

  “I killed them first. Didn’t just suck them down alive.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You did what you had to do.” Magnus squirmed.

  “Believe what you want. Anyway. That evening I tied a rough-spun skirt around my waist, stuffed an extra shirt into a burlap sack and struck out for home. I kept to the shadows until I was out of the city since I expected the soldiers to be out in force looking for me, but didn’t see a one.”

  “Maybe they didn’t realize you escaped,” Magnus said.

  “More likely they thought I burned up with the guards in the room. Regardless, I made it out and each day I felt better and better and better. The fire spoke to me, not so much in words, but in feelings and intentions. I still wasn’t sure what kind of agreement I had made, but if the flame could be believed, it would serve me well. I travelled on foot for weeks, avoiding the main roads and villages, living off whatever I could catch or pick until I reached my home.”

  Dev’s voice grew thick and husky. “It’s hard to describe the feeling of coming home when you never thought to see it again. My heart melted as I saw my parent’s inn; but, before I could go home, I needed to find Véronique, had to tell her I was back. The hour was late, well past midnight, with long hours yet before dawn. Not being able to run right over and grab her in my arms near killed me, but I took the opportunity to wash up with a dip in the sea, and to change into the spare set of leathers I kept in the forge.”

  “Did you burn through your clothes often back then?”

  “More than I should have.”

  “Some things never change.” Magnus smirked.

  “The coals were cold, but my tools lay exactly where I left them. It gave me hope that what I’d hidden under the anvil a year before would still be there—a pouch with two gold rings. They were far from perfect—even though I spent weeks trying to get them just right before I left.

  You know what’s funny, Magnus?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can make perfect weapons, but when it comes to everything else, I fail. Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me.”

  “You trying to pull a Freud?”

  “Ja Ja. Lie back und tell me about your mother.”

  Dev ignored him and continued. “Rings in hand, I waited outside her window until the sun rose. As soon as her curtain moved, I was up and running. I listened at her window while her beautiful humming graced my ears, then risked a glance inside. She sat and brushed her hair on the edge of her bed. ‘Véronique.’ I whispered, but she didn’t hear me. ‘Véronique.’ I called a little louder and she turned. I guess she didn’t expect to see my face in the window because she inhaled to scream. I dove in the window and clamped my hand over her mouth before she got the sound out.”

  He waited for a sarcastic comment, but Magnus kept quiet.

  “Her eyes were frantic, and though she looked directly at my face she didn’t recognize me. I tried to calm her down, said her name over and over, but she struggled in my arms. She bit my hand and woke the fire. It crept through my system, bringing with it anger and more strength than I’d ever wielded before. It felt amazing. I was a god. I squeezed her chin and held her still until her wriggling ceased and I saw the recognition spark in her eyes.”

  Magnus nodded.

  “She said my name and touched my face. I can’t tell you how much I’d yearned for that moment. My heart pounded so hard I thought she might hear it. Her tears rolled over my fingers and she told me she thought I was dead.”

  “You were,” Magnus said.

  “Huh?”

  “You were dead. The fire brought you back, gave you life.”

  Dev rejected the concept. Fire destroys. “No. It only gave me the power to get free. I exploded and killed those guards. That, to me, sounds like destruction.”

  “Let me ask you this.” Magnus paused, tone serious and low. “Had you given up? Did you lie in your cell and want it all to end?”

  How could he know?

  The big man closed his eyes and dipped his head. “Your body was broken. You’d given up hope.” His eyes opened, vision focused on an image from long ago. “You wanted it to end, longed for the freedom of death.”

  He’s been there himself. “Yes.” It was barely a whisper.

  “My friend, fire gave you life much like earth gave it to me.”

  Could it be? No, he doesn’t know the rest. Doesn’t know what I did to Véronique.

  “Wait, Magnus, let me finish.” Dev took a steadying breath. “I cupped her face in my hands, but I couldn’t control myself. I was so happy to see her. So excited to be home, to get on with our lives together. ‘Your hands are hot,’ she told me. ‘Dev, you’re burning me,’ she told me. But I didn’t get it, I wasn’t listening, and all I could see was her pulling away from me. She slapped my hands. I felt rejected, I felt angry. Why would she do that? I loved her, thought of little else but seeing her gorgeous face and kissing those soft lips. Yet now that I was finally home, she was pushing me away.”

  The emotions came back hard. His hands smoldered. “The fire rose inside me, fanning my anger until it boiled over. I couldn’t control it. My hands burst into flame. I don’t know who screamed first. Me, at the shock of seeing my skin aflame or her at the pain I caused her.”

  He remembered the smell, that uniquely sweet aroma of burning skin.

  “I released her, but the damage was done and our combined screams woke the rest of the house. Loud footsteps pounded down the hall outside her door. Fire spread to the rest of my body, engulfing me from head to toe. The heat must have been intense, but I didn’t notice until the flames rolled across the bed linen and climbed the curtains. Véronique curled up in the corner
farthest away from me and the spreading inferno, mouth frozen in terror. I saw myself reflected in her eyes—a monster, a demon, a destroyer. I wanted to stay, to assure her that this was all a mistake, but the door burst in on the foot of her father. He took one look at me and crossed himself. I leapt from the window and ran off into the dawn, away from the screams, away from what I’d done, away from the only woman I ever loved.”

  With his tale finally told, his emotional secret born in words and unleashed upon the world, Dev felt a release. Like a muscle cramped for centuries finally relaxing.

  I guess I’ve been running ever since. No roots. No past. No pain.

  “When did Stillman find you?”

  “Two weeks later. Naked, lost, and shivering under a tree on the outskirts of Genova, Italy. I was convinced I was a demon and wanted to die. I hadn’t eaten or slept in days, kept off the roads and out of sight. When Stillman caught up to me, I was on the verge of charging into a monastery and demanding they put an end to my blasphemous existence.”

  “Are you a demon?” Magnus gaze pierced into his soul.

  “No.” Dev’s quiet response didn’t convince either of them.

  “What kind of bullshit answer is that?” Magnus pushed. “Are you a demon? Because it sounds to me like you were a kid who didn’t know any better. A kid who unwittingly caused an accident.”

  “I burned her, Magnus.” Dev’s hands shook. He met Magnus’s stare reluctantly. “Her face melted in my hands.”

  The Earth Knight’s features hardened. “Did you mean to do it? Did you mean to hurt Veron—”

  “Of cours—”

  “If your answer is yes, Develor Quinteele, then I will kill you myself.” Magnus stood and called on his element. It answered quick and hard, increasing his size and turning him to granite in seconds.

  If my answer is ‘yes’ then I deserve to die.

  Magnus wrapped Dev in a bear hug. “Which is it, Develor Quinteele?” He squeezed, lifting Dev off his feet.

  “No. I didn’t mean to do it. I loved her. Wanted to marry her.” The air rushed from Dev’s lungs as the pressure increased, but he had one more thing to say. “I would have given my life for her.” Dev fell to the floor as Magnus released him.

  Eyes closed, the Knight of Flame drew in a deep breath. The stillness of the moment and his brother’s words settled into his soul.

  “Well?” The menace was gone from Magnus’s voice.

  “No, Magnus. I am not a demon.” No puffed up bravado. No delusions. Only truth, plain and simple. Dev climbed to his knees and bowed his head. His heart-felt admission worked its way through his conscious and subconscious mind, bringing order to the chaos wrought by long years of guilt and self-loathing.

  Magnus placed his hand on the back of his brother’s head.

  “Tomorrow begins a new life, my friend. Accept it.”

  * * *

  Dev’s head swam from the revelation as he headed back to his room.

  A new life? What about this old one?

  Exhausted and emotionally drained, he wanted to hit the stone and wind down for a few hours. Disconnect from all the emo shit and take a breather.

  It’s not a new life I’m looking for, my friend. I just want my own life under control. Balance. It all comes back to that. Maybe Stillman knows what he’s talking about.

  Speaking of the old guy…

  Dev stopped outside Stillman’s office. The reception area was dark and empty, but a glow shown from the library door. Normally he wouldn’t dream of intruding, but his instincts drove him forward into that light.

  Books, books, books.

  The place smelled…old. Moldy tomes filled dozens of freestanding bookshelves in perfect rows and columns through the center of the room. Two walls were reserved for parchments and scrolls that required special treatment or wouldn’t fit into the regimented world of bookcases. The others housed cabinets with thousands of drawers and cubbies for storage of powders and the other crap alchemists needed to do their thing.

  In the floor near the front of the room, another seal of the order gleamed, its triangles done in gold and onyx joined by a mother-of-pearl ring in the center. Above it hung an elaborate tapestry of Arthur and his knights.

  He’d stood in Stillman’s office a million times and never once ventured back here.

  So why now? Looking for something, but not sure what, Dev walked the lanes. Crazy geometric symbols with arcane lettering decorated most of the available wall space. Even the ceiling sported mystic artwork, but nothing grabbed his attention. At the back of the room he found more of the same.

  There’s nothing here. On his way out, he noted the tapestry. Similar in subject to the one in Stillman’s reception area, this one was taller than Dev, and displayed a far greater level of exquisite detail than he had seen in a tapestry before.

  It’s like a high-def version. Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin. There was something familiar about the graybeard. Up close, he looked a lot like Stillman. Same nose. Same facial structure. Same eyes. I wonder if they’re related.

  “So why do I care? Why did you call me in here tonight?” Dev asked, but the tapestry didn’t respond.

  Great. Now I’m talking to cloth. Arthur was, well, Arthur. The greatest of the Earth Knights. Lancelot, Knight of Flame, based his power on love.

  “Lancelot, too, was out of balance.”

  Dev didn’t turn at the quiet voice of Stillman, but continued his inspection. The Precept placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “That’s why he betrayed his King and the Order.”

  “Out of balance.”

  “Right. Where you find your power in anger and rage, he found his in—”

  “Love,” Dev said.

  “Yes. The balance you seek lies somewhere in between.” Stillman leaned back on his desk. “I know you, Develor Quinteele, I know what you’re made of.”

  Great. Another head job. I think I’ve had enough for one day. Sleep. I need sleep. Stop all this sniveling. A couple hours downtime and I’ll be good to go.

  “Once again, sir, you’ve given me much to think about. Thank you.” Dev bowed and left the room.

  Love. Beauty. Intimacy. They all went hand in hand. I went all flame-on over Véronique, who’s to say it won’t happen again?

  Chapter 34

  FRUSTRATION FUELED THE TENSION IN THE Womb. Dev paced across the open end of the table, shooting glances to the spinning globe. Red, white and brown lights in Wales, blue light in Florida. Dronor had been gone too long without checking in.

  What the hell is he doing?

  Stillman, Magnus and Cyndralla sat in their appointed places around the table while Wren and Cassidy occupied other seats brought in for them.

  He should have been back, or at least reported in. Freakin’ waste of an element.

  “We can’t just sit around here and wait for Gray to make his next move,” Magnus said.

  Dev slapped the table. “What choice do we have?”

  “We do not have enough information to formulate an appropriate strategy,” Cyndralla commented.

  “I’m sure Dronor will be back soon.” Stillman’s confidence and calm demeanor kept the room from erupting.

  Dev eyed Cassidy then Wren. Both women stared at the agitated Knights, their eyes bright as stars, and kept their mouths shut.

  No help there. His relentless pacing continued, but when he checked the globe, the blue light had joined the others. “He’s back.”

  As one, everyone shot to their feet when Dronor stumbled into the room. Dripping wet, breathing hard, he held his tongue until he fell into his seat with a theatrical sigh.

  Drama queen.

  “I…found…them.”

  Everyone spoke at once until Stillman held up his hand. The room fell silent except for the labored breathing of the Knight of Water.

  “Well done.” Stillman took the lead. “What did you find?”

  “Shadow magic, a large concentration, must be the orbs.” Dronor gasped
and his chest heaved.

  Spare me.

  “Where?” Stillman asked.

  “Near the port, run down barge.” The Knight of Water’s breathing evened out. “At first glance, I thought it abandoned, but found a new security door behind a false wall in the pilot house.”

  “Any guards?” Dev asked.

  “None on the outside, but I don’t know about inside.”

  “We can’t take a chance.” Stillman’s voice held the edge of command. “We strike tonight. Midnight. Use the time between now and then wisely.” He turned to the Knight of Air. “Cyndralla, we need something to get through that door and a gateway. Magnus, Dronor, Wren, get your kits together. This should be straight, hard and fast. In and out. Bring a few samples back, destroy the rest. Kill any shadows you find. Sinclair, you’re with me.”

  Cassidy jumped when he addressed her directly.

  Dev waited for his orders, breath held in hopeful anticipation, but the Precept didn’t acknowledge him.

  Stillman held the gaze of each of the participants until they nodded.

  “We meet in the portal room at twenty three hundred for a last minute check and brief. Dismissed.”

  “Sir. What about me?” Dev rushed over to block Stillman’s departure.

  “You have your orders, Quinteele.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get control. But you need me out of control against Shadow.”

  Stillman tried to push by, but Dev grabbed his arm.

  “The team can’t do this without me.” Dev held his anger in check before he doomed his cause with a fiery outburst. “Someone could get killed.”

  Stillman moved in, nose to nose, brown eyes hard and resolute. If he noticed the knife-edge upon which Dev balanced, he gave no indication. “Dismissed.”

  Dev backed down as the group filed out. Cassidy squeezed his arm as she passed.

  Inside, Dev raged. His warrior’s spirit railed against the decisions made against him. Right or wrong, he needed to be in that battle. The Order needed him to fight, not sit around a freakin’ campfire singing Kumbaya and discovering himself. He was there, he was healthy, and he was ready to kick ass.