Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  Hearing her pain, Dev flared to blue and advanced.

  “Uh uh uh.” Agridda waggled her finger and bounced the helpless girl. Her wounds tore open and Wren gasped. Bright red life rained down.

  It stopped the Knight of Flame cold.

  “Cyndy, can you do something?” Dev whispered.

  “Not without killing our girl outright.”

  Agridda looked up at her prey. “Yesss. That should do it.” The spikes retracted and Wren fell hard. Agridda backed away. “You may have her now.” The shadow elements holding the Maven’s form together dissolved and floated away, except for the eyes. They didn’t move and her voice sounded from all sides.

  “My father sends his regards.” The yellow eyes blinked and were gone.

  Dev rushed to Wren’s side and dropped his flame, Cassidy and her bag right behind. She pushed him away from the wounds so she could take a look. Dev grabbed Wren’s clammy hand. Her face crinkled in pain and her blue lips quivered.

  After a quick look at the gaping holes through Wren’s chest, Cassidy turned to Dev and, with the first tear rolling down her cheek, she shook her head.

  No.

  Cyndralla knelt at Wren’s shoulder.

  “Cyndy?”

  “I’m sorry. She is beyond my power to heal, but I can ease her suffering.” She placed her lips on Wren’s brow and breathed a little magic into her. Immediately, Wren’s features softened and she opened her eyes.

  “Hi guys.” Wren’s voice was barely there.

  “Save your strength,” Dev whispered.

  “For what?” She tried to smile, but only one side lifted. “Cassidy?”

  Dev nodded. He couldn’t speak. A wisp of steam rose from the corner of his left eye. Magnus knelt by her shoulder and answered.

  “You saved her, bird brain.” His moustache quivered as he wiped his tears away.

  Her eyes lit up at Magnus’s voice. “Block head.”

  Cassidy knelt at Wren’s hip and took her other hand.

  “Cass,” Wren’s voice little more than a vibration on the air, “Take care…of…him for me.”

  “I will.”

  Dev, Magnus, Cyndralla, and Cassidy huddled around the young girl that had become an important part of their lives, their friend, their sister. They sat with her, offering some small comfort in their touch.

  “I love you.” Dev’s voice cracked.

  As she took her last breath, her lips curled up.

  Dev bowed his head over his fallen sister, gripping her slack hand in both of his.

  I’m so sorry.

  He’d lost too many people in his life—parents, friends, brothers-in-arms. And now Wren. His gaze drifted to Magnus, Cyndralla, and finally Cassidy. Who’s next?

  “Develor, we need to get back.” The Knight of Air looked around her. “I don’t know if Shadow’s minion is gone, but we cannot chance it.”

  Cyndralla, ever the practical one.

  Numb, he picked up Wren and laid her head against his chest.

  So cold.

  The others moved about, presumably taking care of business, but Dev was beyond caring. He moved and did what he was told, plodding along behind Magnus, stopping long enough to collect what was left of Dronor and for Cyndralla to create a gateway back to the Cradle.

  A grim faced Stillman waited for them on the other side, eyes hidden in sad shadows.

  Sadness, but no shock. He knew!

  Dev fought every fiber of his being to keep the flames from incinerating the old bugger on the spot. There’d be time for questions and a barbeque later. But for now…he gazed down on the peaceful face resting against his chest. Unlike bullets or fire or blades, Wren’s cold seeped through his armor and chilled his soul.

  Tiny shuffling steps brought Stillman over. Hands shaking, body trembling, he reached out to his adopted daughter, but Dev turned away, refusing the old man that last contact.

  The bastard knew and sent her anyway.

  “Come.” Stillman turned and struck off down the hallway alone. “The Chamber has been prepared.”

  Chapter 41

  THE SOLEMN PROCESSION MARCHED DOWN THE hall toward a silver door etched with the emblem of the Knights Elementalis. Stillman led, his steps measured, dignified. Magnus bore Dronor’s remains while Cyndralla carried his elemental rapier—golden hilt with an oval, sea-green sapphire in the pommel—presented at chest level.

  Cassidy walked with Dev who cradled his lost sister like a sleeping babe. More than once he caught her concerned glance as they traversed the Cradle in respectful silence. But he was under control now. For Wren, he had to be. This was her moment. The reckoning with Stillman would come later.

  The silver door swung silently inward to reveal the majestic Chamber of Reflection. Dev had only been here once before, when his former assistant, Milosh, passed away. A vast round vault, the Chamber served as the spiritual center of the Order. A wide rock shelf circled the perimeter of the room, providing access to memorials of the past. Bas relief sculptures of former Knights and supporting members of the Order, stacked up as far as the light touched, watched over the ceremonies performed in this room.

  In the center of the chamber, beyond a chasm spanned by a slim bridge of obsidian, rose an island. Aside from a rock platform at the terminus of the bridge, and four stone pillars rising mere feet above its mirrored serenity, a lake of quicksilver covered the island’s flat surface.

  Stillman led them onto the shelf and halted before a troop of golden muncles.

  Regal, captain of the Cradle’s defense force, and his honor guard of muncle warriors blocked the entrance to the obsidian bridge. Far larger than Bob and Garison, the golden warriors reached as high as Dev’s chest with shoulders as broad. The blades of their golden halberds glinted above their heads. In addition to the long-weapon, each wore a short sword at its belt.

  The captain bowed to Stillman and handed him a long golden staff. The Precept accepted the offering and nodded in return as Regal and his troops moved aside.

  The slender bridge forced them to travel in single file. There were no guard rails and Dev felt Cassidy come up close behind him during the crossing.

  On the platform, Stillman took up position a little apart from the others and bade Magnus and Dev come forward. “Lay Wren and Dronor on the surface,” he directed.

  Dev kissed Wren’s forehead before placing her atop the reflective lake. The quicksilver didn’t stir, supporting Wren’s weight as if she lay on a mirror. Magnus laid Dronor out as well. Duty complete, both Knights stepped back.

  “Cyndralla,” Stillman intoned, “Please lay the rapier on Dronor’s breast.”

  Cyndralla did as commanded, then stepped back.

  Staff gripped tight in his right hand, the Precept raised his arms and faced the quicksilver to begin the rite. The Knights snapped to attention, hands clasped tightly behind rigidly straight backs. Cassidy followed suit, observing their ceremony with the same level of respect and honor.

  “Lords of the Elements,” Stillman’s deep voice boomed across the lake. “Many centuries ago my brothers and I devoted our lives to the search for knowledge. Some of us soared in the light, while others delved in the dark.”

  Brothers? Light and dark? I don’t remember that from the previous speech. Dev glanced over at Magnus who returned his quizzical expression.

  “In my quest, I found a way to communicate with you, the prime elemental spirits of our world. Against the massing forces of Shadow, we forged an enduring alliance.”

  Stillman paused. Unease crept over the Knight of Flame, as if he were being watched. He wanted to drop into a crouch, and scan the area, but this situation was far from normal. Nothing here would hurt him or his fellows, but that didn’t stop his skin from itching or fill the hollowness in his gut.

  Power built around them, a pregnant expectation that something momentous would happen any second.

  Cassidy sidled closer. She must have felt the effects as well.

  Stillman set the e
nd of the staff on the platform and let it sink a few inches into the stone.

  “What’s going on?” Cassidy whispered out of the side of her mouth so only Dev could hear.

  “He’s invoking the Elemental Lords.”

  “I call to you now, Lords of the Four Elements, to attend this gathering and accept one of your own. As you manifest, and it please you, speak in the common tongue of man so that all may benefit from your wisdom.” Stillman drew a perfect upside down triangle, cutting through the hard rock of the floor as if it were water, and crossed the tip with another straight line. A single, rumbling word issued from his mouth. To Dev it held the power of a rockslide and carried the scent of grass and rich soil. Earth. The ground shook.

  Magnus stood a little taller.

  From out of the first pillar over the lake climbed a large figure, similar in shape and definition to the much smaller muncles. Only this version had a fully realized face with deep-set blue topaz eyes and full lips.

  “Cernusen ap Gwyddno, I hear your call.” The voice of the Earth Lord rumbled through the chamber. Its abyssal bass rattled the walls, the floor, and the ribs of those attending.

  “Cernu—?” Cassidy leaned over and asked as quietly as she could.

  “Cernusen ap Gwyddno,” Dev whispered. “Stillman’s real name.”

  Stillman bowed from the waist, a reverential acceptance of the elemental lord’s presence. The floor smoothed out of its own accord, ready for the next symbol. Again, Stillman placed the staff’s tip into the rock and slashed with precise movements. He drew another triangle, this one right-side up. With a finishing flourish, he sliced the pinnacle with a horizontal line. Air.

  His lips formed the word of summoning. Soundless, a burst of power emerged, gained strength and careened around the chamber as a storm gale. Cyndralla smiled and her eyes glistened. The tempest reached a crescendo and funneled over the second pillar in the pool.

  “Cernusen ap Gwyddno,” the words of the Lord of Air streamed across the distance, buffeting the Knights and Cassidy with their blustery power. “I hear your call.”

  Stillman bowed to the elemental lord and drew the next sign—a perfect upright triangle. Fire. Dev opened himself to the presence of the Lord of Fire and Stillman spoke the word. It blasted from his mouth like the eruption of a volcano, filling the vast chamber with intense heat.

  A gout of flame burst from the third pillar, changing color from orange, to red, to blue to the purist white.

  How did he reach white? This embodiment of the Fire Lord rocked him. Dev had mastered the range of temperatures, from soft, warm amber all the way through the deep indigo inferno. Until now, he’d thought a flame so pure that it burned white nothing but a myth. The power of the Fire Lord filled his diminished reserve, its righteousness coursed through him in a cleansing scourge, dispelling any lingering doubts of his nature or purpose.

  The other Knights shielded their eyes from the radiance until the lord dimmed his aspect to a more acceptable level.

  “Cernusen ap Gwyddno, I hear your call.” The Lord of Fire’s voice crackled and popped, like a bonfire fed with sap-filled pine, and made Cassidy jump.

  Stillman bowed and drew the last image. A perfect triangle, pointed down. Water. His voice faltered. The word of summoning didn’t carry through the room as the others did, but dripped from his suddenly slack lips to fall flat on the shimmering lake surface. The old alchemist succumbed to the loss of his friend and daughter and toppled forward off the ledge.

  Dev rushed forward, but their fallen leader was lifted by the very lord of that summoned element. The being held the Order’s commander in his arms, much like Dev had held Wren earlier, and set him gently upon his feet on solid ground.

  The Lord of Water regarded the remaining Knights as they stood in various poses in their haste to help their leader. He bowed to them before slipping under the surface and flowing up the last pillar to reform in the shape of a translucent man.

  “Cernusen ap Gwyddno, I hear your call.” The Lord of Water’s voice fell on the Knights like a warm spring rain. It buoyed Dev’s spirit and eased a fraction of his pain.

  Stillman, recovered enough to bow to the water lord, leaned heavily on the golden staff. “Lords and Knights. We have come to send our Brother, Dronor, the eighth Knight of Water, on his final journey. Lord,” Stillman addressed the Lord of Water, “Dronor has fought through the years with strength and valor. In battle this morning, he sacrificed himself to save a fellow Knight from the forces of Shadow. In honor, please take him home.”

  At the mention of their ancient foe, the Elemental Lords bristled. The quicksilver around their pedestals boiled.

  The Lord of Water raised an open hand toward his Knight and called his champion home. The surface of the water bubbled around Dronor’s remains. Churning slowly at first, it quickly gained momentum until it boiled and frothed, completely covering the Knight in its liquid turbulence. As the essence of water lowered his hand, the surface resumed its smooth-as-glass calm. The Knight had vanished.

  After Dronor’s acceptance, a brief rumble shook the back wall, accompanied by a plume of blue dust. When the dust cleared, the newly carved image of the Knight of Water appeared on the wall.

  Rain fell in a light drizzle on the Knights and dotted the surface of the lake. “Another champion will be chosen.” With that, the power holding the liquid man-shape together fled the chamber, sending the water crashing to the top of the pillar.

  “My lords, another of our number has fallen this day.” Stillman’s form slumped further down the staff. Dev took a step toward him, but Stillman waved him off. “Wren Peterlin, my daughter of the heart, sacrificed herself in the battle against Shadow to save one of her own. While not a chosen elemental champion, her valor, honor and sense of duty was equal to any in this room.”

  Dev nodded, as did Magnus and Cyndralla, and sent a flurry of thoughts to the fire lord to support Stillman’s claims.

  “My Lords, I beseech you. Not as the Precept of the Knights Elementalis, but as a father. Will one of you accept her into your embrace?”

  The Lord of Fire flared—a bright column of bluish flame towering toward the unseen ceiling. The heat from the display rushed over the chamber in a wave. The quicksilver in the lake hissed and bubbled, but the fire lord’s intensity declined as it reached the Knights, arriving hot, but bearable.

  “My champion,” the Fire Lord began, “has recommended her unto mine realm. Upon his word, I accept her.” The elemental changed color, dimming to a soft yellow.

  “Thank you.” Stillman’s voice shook with relief as he fell to his knees. “In honor,” his voice broke, “please take her home.”

  A pale glow surrounded Wren’s body, highlighting her peaceful slumber. The light intensified, growing brighter until it was painful to look upon. Then, with a tremendous flash, Wren winked out and journeyed to the realm of fire. The back wall trembled and, in a puff of red smoke, the carved image of Wren appeared.

  With a nod to Dev, its champion on Earth, the Lord of Fire shone crimson then vanished, leaving spots in the vision of those looking on.

  Cassidy rubbed her eyes.

  Stillman bowed. “Thank you, Elemental Lords, for attending this ceremony.”

  The Lord of Earth and the Lord of Air nodded to their respective champions and left with a rumble and a breeze.

  With the departure of the Elemental Lords, the Chamber of Reflection seemed reduced, empty. Dev looked into the distance, over the quicksilver pool to the edge of the chasm and beyond to the far wall. He could barely make out the newest addition to the family etched in stone for all time.

  I’ll visit you often.

  Stillman’s unsteady gait made navigating the bridge difficult. Dev stayed close, offering the distraught Precept his support when he drifted too close to the edge. Despite the added challenge, they crossed safely.

  Regal clomped over to the Precept and offered his metal shoulder. Stillman leaned heavily on the muncle captain as he m
ade his way to the silver portal.

  Dev had questions, but given Stillman’s obvious distress, they could wait until the next day. Nothing he did or said would bring Wren back and, despite his desire for the truth, he believed a father had the right to grieve.

  Over his shoulder, Stillman voiced one last command before beginning the solitary journey to his quarters.

  “Get some rest. This battle has just begun.”

  * * *

  Jester stood upon the anvil and glared at Dev as he walked into the Forge. A patchwork of different colored stone—tan, brown, gold, and white—the forge’s muncle posed with his big stone fists resting on non-existent hips and a wavy line across his face. A spark glimmered in its emerald eyes.

  “I see you’ve been hanging with Wren. She used to stand like that when she was mad at me too.”

  At the mention of their absent friend, Jester lost his fierceness and his mouth curved down.

  “I know, buddy, I miss her too.” Dev slumped on the stool in front of the anvil. “I can’t believe she’s gone.” He picked up a long metal file and spun it slowly between his fingers. “Huh. She used to take my files all the time, drove me nuts. Silly girl. But now…” Reaching to the counter, he reverently placed the tool in its proper slot.

  Jester clopped to the edge of the anvil and bonked Dev on the head with a hard motley fist.

  “Hey.” The Knight’s anger bristled. “Stop that.”

  The muncle straddled the anvil’s horn, kicked his stick thin legs, large block feet swinging like mallets, and watched Dev expectantly.

  Dev wasn’t sure what to say. They’d been close for a long, long time, done many projects together, but he hadn’t been around much since the Tampa assignment and he felt like he’d abandoned the little guy. “Thank you for all the metal.”

  Jester handed him a gold nugget and pointed to the trough.

  “What? You want to make something now?”

  The muncle nodded vigorously, nearly shook himself off his seat.

  “Sorry, bud. I’m not up for it. Maybe a little later, alright?” The Knight of Flame got to his feet and glanced around his room.