Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  “So will I.” Dev reached out to put his hand on Stillman’s shoulder, but hesitated. He’d never touched the Precept in anything other than an official capacity, and didn’t know how his gesture would be received.

  Screw it. Dev grasped Stillman’s shoulder and almost jumped when the Precept laid his hand on top of Dev’s and squeezed—a simple gesture of shared grief that brought tears to the Knight of Flame’s eyes.

  “Oh, I have additional news.” His voice husky, Stillman strode to his desk and unrolled a long sheet of parchment. “A message came a little while ago. Evidently in a press conference this morning, Gray announced that his company has deployed a new vermin control system across the Tampa Bay area to combat the insect infestation.”

  Dev frowned. “He deployed the orbs.”

  “So it would seem. He also said that the people should expect to see a dramatic difference within twenty four hours.”

  “That doesn’t give us much time.” Dev ground his teeth in frustration.

  “There’s more.” Stillman grinned, a nasty, sly piece of work that piqued Dev’s curiosity. “The last part of the press conference was an invitation of sorts. Gray mentioned that if his competitors had a better way to deal with the vermin, they should meet him in his office tonight.”

  “The bastard called us out.” Dev’s imagined his own grin a mirror to that of Stillman’s.

  “That’s the way I see it.”

  “Of course, it would be rude for us to turn him down.” Dev’s fire woke at the prospect of avenging his little sister.

  “Indeed.” Stillman spun about, the color returned to his face and the spark to his brown eyes. “Get Magnus and meet me in the Womb. I’ll be there after I check on Cyndralla’s progress.”

  Dev wondered if he should grab Cassidy on the way, but settled on Magnus reasoning that if Stillman wanted her involved, he would have mentioned her by name.

  Excitement buzzing inside, he jogged to his brother’s room.

  It’s about time.

  Chapter 46

  CASSIDY HAD BEEN OUT OF THE water too long. Aside from a few hours of sleep when she first got there, she hadn’t been able to rest. First the hospital and that dick, Alexander Gray, then her house, the barge, Wren…she needed time to decompress, to find some small level of sanity. When she asked Dev about a pool or underground lake, or even a bathtub at this point, he gave her directions to Dronor’s room on the opposite side of the Cradle from his forge.

  The thought of swimming in the Knight of Water’s personal pool grossed her out. It wasn’t that he just died, but her gift told her he was a pig, and she didn’t know what else would be swimming around in his water. It would probably take a tanker full of chlorine to scour his yuck away. Expectations low and dropping further she imagined a small pit, half-full of brackish slop waiting at the end of her journey.

  She smelled the fresh water long before she got to Dronor’s room—a clean scent reminiscent of the stream in the backwoods of her Grandpa’s farm where she swam as a child. Her steps quickened.

  Barren, Dronor’s room held no furniture, no mementos of his long life, nothing to prove he ever existed.

  Wow. Where’s his stuff? Not even twenty four hours and his life is gone.

  All the negative thoughts and feelings that had been piling up vanished with her first glimpse of the gorgeous pool. Wide and deep, it took up most of the cavernous room. Like the other rooms in the cradle, crystals on the walls provided the ambient light, but she noticed a few under the water that gave the pool an inner glow.

  Beautiful. I know it’s going to be the perfect temperature.

  She stripped down to her skin and dove in. Her lithe form knifed through the warm water, until she reached the wavy bottom of soft sand and pushed off to find the surface once again. Sparkling bubbles made into bright little gems by the underwater lights trailed her every movement.

  As she dunked her head under, she heard that strange voice again, the one from her own pool, the one that had swam with her all her life. More than a voice, it felt like a physical presence in the water with her. She should have been frightened, but instead a sense of peace washed over her. In this magical Cradle, anything could happen. A sentient pool wouldn’t even crack her top ten weird and wonderful list.

  Breaststroke in one direction. Flip. Backstroke on the return lap. As hoped, the water caressed her immediate cares away, transporting her back to happier times of whiling away the hot summer days with her parents and Amy.

  My little girl. The memory rushed back, but not the pain. It was a happy time, one that she could prop up on her mantle and live with. She slipped under and suspended her hold on the world of air. Sounds faded. Sights dimmed. Cares retreated. Her heartbeat thumped in her ear as she hung suspended between elements—earth below, air above.

  Images of Wren came to her there, in that limbo. While Cassidy had only known her for a few days, the impact on her life was profound. Salty tears, shed for the girl who had saved her life in so many ways, merged with the crystal clear element around her.

  Welcome, daughter of the waves. The words permeated her skin and spoke to her soul in a language she was at last ready to understand.

  I…I can understand you.

  Excitement bubbled up inside her as beads of water tickled her skin.

  “It is well, Cassidy Sinclair. I am the lord of this element.” The Lord of Water spoke through the natural sounds of the water all around Cassidy.

  How do you know my name?

  “I have known you for as long as you have been you.”

  Why now? Why make your language known to me?

  “I have chosen.”

  Chosen? Cassidy had an idea where this was going. A deep feeling of honor suffused her spirit. It all started to make sense.

  “I need a champion.” The water bubbled around Cassidy, holding her in place.

  Unable to move her body, she felt her lungs tighten and realized she’d been under a long time. She wanted to breathe.

  “Let go, Cassidy Sinclair.”

  She kicked, waved her arms, reached for the surface, but remained locked in place. She stretched her toes toward the bottom, but it was too far down. Fear gripped her, added strength to her fight against the force holding her in place.

  Let me go. I need to breathe.

  “Breathe of me, Cassidy Sinclair, be my Knight.”

  What if I don’t want to be your champion?

  The bubbles propelled her to the surface where she breached and filled her lungs, but the conversation wasn’t over, the choice not made. Do I want to be a Knight? What does that really mean?

  Gathering her nerve, she took a long, deep breath, one that would sustain her for many minutes out of the air, and dove to the bottom. Bubbles surged and held her in place while the communion continued.

  “The elemental knights are a force of good, with Water equally partnered with Earth, Air and Fire, to defend mankind. Though we are small in number, together we have great strength.”

  I am no fighter like Dev or Magnus.

  “Nor should you be. As in all things, a balance must be struck.”

  As above, so below.

  “I see you are not totally unschooled.”

  Cassidy felt a wash of satisfaction flow through the water.

  My father was an avid collector of old books and his interests dipped a little into the occult.

  “Balance. Fire, he is the strongest fighter. Earth, the protector. Air, the intellect. The role of water, therefore, deals in matters of the spirit or emotion.”

  Forgive my question—

  “There is no need for formality between us. Ask and I shall answer.”

  From what I saw, the previous Knight of Water was more intent on fighting than on tending to the emotional stability of the Knights.

  “Dronor was once a powerful Knight, strong in his conviction and resolve. Vigilant. Over the course of time he lost his way, grew envious of the others and their apparent power. Towar
d the end he realized his error and tried to atone, but it was too late.”

  Cassidy felt an overwhelming sadness embrace her.

  “The dark powers stirring in the world are vast, far larger than it appears at the moment. The Order needs your power if there is any chance to stop Shadow.”

  Power? I don’t have any power.

  “Your gift is your power, Cassidy Sinclair. Wielded by the Knight of Water, it could turn the tide of battle.”

  She didn’t see how sensing emotion through touch could be that powerful, but she wouldn’t discount it. Can you tell me more of the enemy we face?

  “If it were in my power to know, I would tell you; but, alas, I can only feel the stirring of the waters.”

  Cassidy felt the Lord of Water’s frustration.

  “I offer you a new life, Cassidy Sinclair, an opportunity to protect the helpless and defend the weak against the forces of Shadow in all its guises. What say you? Breathe now, child, and return to me with your answer.”

  Fractured thoughts and scraps of emotion swam through her mind as she rose to the surface. Amy, her parents, her job, her home, her life. All gone. Another round of images flew by. Wren, Magnus, Dev, Alexander Gray, the dead reporters at the hospital, the anguished, gray-hued face of the head nurse as she lay in a puddle of blood, the little girl who, without her help, would have been another of Shadow’s small victories. All those loose bits of time, though poignant and at times gruesome, screamed to her of a greater purpose. The forces of Shadow, be they Alexander Gray or someone else, had to be stopped.

  With the ghosts of her past put in perspective, the immortal words of Spock floated through her head, “The needs of the many….”

  Cassidy sank below the water and filled her lungs with her chosen element. Bubbles surged around her, blocking her vision. Confused, she couldn’t tell up from down. Her lungs burned.

  Is it supposed to be like this?

  Her heart thumped deep in her chest then stopped.

  A bright light infused the water all around her as the Lord of Water empowered his champion.

  Chapter 47

  DEV AND MAGNUS ARGUED AND JOSTLED their way to the Womb. Dev bounced Magnus into the wall to make a point.

  “So how do you propose we defeat her?” Magnus rebounded and sent Dev crashing to the wall on the other side. “Our weapons won’t hurt Aggridda. Your fire seemed to do a little damage, but didn’t keep her away.”

  Dev nodded. “She stayed out of Cyndralla’s light, but we’re not sure if that’s because it hurt her or because she wanted to.”

  Magnus huffed. “So basically, we don’t know shit.”

  “Right.”

  Stillman met them in the hall. Gone was the shambling gate of the defeated old man, he moved with the power and grace of the Precept of the Knights Elementalis. “Come.”

  The Knights fell into step behind their commander.

  “Where are we going?” Magnus asked.

  “To the Chamber. A new Knight has been chosen.”

  “Cool. What’s the word from Cyndy?” Dev asked.

  “Not good. She’s exhausted and frustrated. She’s used every spell she could think of. Even reverted back into her natural state and tried with muscle and claw, but to no avail.”

  Magnus squirmed. “I bet she hated that. I think it’s been a while.”

  “Centuries,” Stillman admitted, “But she’s pulling out all the stops.”

  “What’s next?” Dev asked.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Stillman said.

  The silver door to the Chamber stood open, expectant. The trio filed in. As before, the golden muncle, Regal, stood in front of an honor guard and held out a royal blue satin robe lined in silver filigree. Stillman grabbed it and headed for the landing.

  The Lord of Water stood alone atop his pillar over the churning quicksilver pool. The transparent being raised his arms and a block of the reflective liquid rose up in a solid mass roughly the height of a man. The crash of breaking surf and the roar of a waterfall careened off the stone walls of the chamber and broke over the viewers in an exuberant wave of sound.

  Dev didn’t have to understand the primal language to feel the intensity of the emotion unleashed in the room. The Lord of Water welcomed a new champion.

  Cassidy should be here to see this.

  Layers of liquid silver dripped down the suspended form, eroding the dross, until details emerged—shiny face, thin, round shoulders, long legs, narrow waist, round hips, full breasts. She clutched a short, curved sword with a swooping edge in front of her.

  A woman. Beautiful. If Dev were to sculpt the perfect woman out of silver, it would look exactly like her.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Creation complete, a storm opened up above the figure and washed the last of the quicksilver away. Streams of liquid silver washed down flawless, tan skin and out of long, auburn hair. Then she opened her eyes—glacial blue.

  Dev’s heart stopped. Cassidy was the new Knight of Water. The pieces fit together—her love of water, dedication, selflessness. It all made sense and Dev whole-heartedly agreed with the Lord of Water’s choice.

  Aided by the elemental lord’s power, unabashed and unhurried, Cassidy walked across the quicksilver surface to the outstretched cloak offered by Stillman, who looked away from her nakedness out of respect. After adjusting the garment, she smiled at the stupefied men.

  “Come on, boys. Was it really that much of a stretch?”

  * * *

  Cassidy was exhausted by her ordeal. Dev put her to bed, hoping to grab some down time himself before the attack on Daegon Gray later that night. Stillman set the time and laid out a simple plan. At ten o’clock, Dev, Magnus, Stillman and the new Knight of Water would storm the Daegon Gray building, take out all of the Shadow minions, kill Alexander and his daughter, stop the opening of the orbs and get away before the police arrived. Cyndralla would continue her work with the orb.

  Simple. In and out. No sweat. Dev walked into his room, plopped himself down on his stone bench and slapped his hands over his eyes. Gray is flesh and blood. If we can get close enough, we can take him. But the other one…

  Quick, light steps approached his room and Cyndralla flitted inside. “Help me.” She placed the orb, safely shielded behind her magical pink ward, in a circular hollow on the anvil. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve hit it with heat, but I want to try something hotter. I need your fire.”

  “You got it.” Dev leaned in close to the orb. “Can I hold it?”

  “Yes, of course. Your hands will not penetrate the shield.”

  “Then how will my heat get...” Magic is so not my thing. I’ll take fire and metal for the win.

  “Develor,” Cyndralla slowed down as if talking to a child, “your flesh cannot breach the ward, but your heat will.”

  “No worries then.” Dev picked up the orb and tossed it from hand to hand like a basketball.

  “Stop that.” Flat. Out of patience. Exhausted. Dark circles marred her usually pristine countenance.

  “Sorry.” He placed it back on the anvil. “I’m going to call the fire so you might want to protect yourself from the heat.”

  “Do not worry about me.” Cyndralla sat on the stone bench as if it were a throne. “Commence your cooking.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lava responded to his call and filled the trough. The temperature of the room quickly surpassed human tolerance. Cyndralla showed only minor distress.

  Blessed fire filled his being as he cradled the deadly orb between his hands. He drew more strength from the lava, opening the conduit as wide as he could, and channeled the flow to the item between his hands. All the heat, all the fiery power flowing through him, rushed to his hands and they exploded in bright orange flames that licked and rolled over his hands and the item they held.

  Having conjured a magical barrier between her and the building heat, Cyndralla watched eagerly from the edge of the bench. “Hotter,” she said.

  He will
ed the flame hotter. Orange deepened to blue and the shadow vessel baked, but there was still no change.

  “Come on, Knight of Flame. Is that all you can do?” she said. “Where is that legendary rage? All I see is a tiny human with hot hands. Come on! Push it!”

  Intent. Desire. Emotion. Dev fed the fire with bits of himself—the anger of being defeated, the embarrassment at his loss of control, and the grief over the loss of Wren. The temperature rose, the flame darkened to deep purple.

  His hands shook under the strain. He pulled more through the connection with the lava, drawing until he thought he would burst with the sheer volume of power coursing through him.

  Cyndralla’s dress smoked, the hem at her sleeve scorched. “Keep going, Dev.” Desperate, she pleaded with him to hold on. “It has to work.”

  Smooth and cool, the orb felt exactly like it did when he first picked it up. He wanted to hurl it at the wall, watch it shatter into a million dark pieces, but he knew the impact would have no effect and the action paint him, once again, as a petulant, out of control child.

  No, the answer to the riddle of the orb existed, he just hadn’t found it yet. As he maintained his volcanic attack, the usual range of rage-inducing thoughts sparked in his mind with no increase in flow or heat. He’d reached his max and still the damn thing remained unblemished.

  Balance. Unbidden, Stillman’s voice rose above the cacophony of destruction playing in Dev’s head.

  The Knight calmed the rage in his soul, stopped the whirlwind of chaos spinning in his head. The color of his flame changed, backing down from purple through the range to flicker a merry yellow as his draw on the elemental force slowed.

  “What are you doing?” Cyndralla cried out. “You cannot give up now.”

  Dev ignored her. Beauty. He pictured the majesty of Cinder and the elegance of Cassidy encased in liquid silver. With the flash of each image, his power grew. Increasing the pull on his element, he once again channeled the flow to his hands and into the orb. Orange flames flowed into red.

  Another image came to mind, this one of the excitement on Wren’s face as they drove up to Club Mastodon before this whole whirlwind started. It brought along a spike of righteous rage that added fuel to Dev’s building fire. The flames changed again, red deepening into the light purple range.