Knight of Flame

by Scott Eder

  Alexander stared, transfixed by the ragged flesh that jutted from below his shoulder. Blood spurted from the raw stump in time with the beating of his heart. He screamed and covered the flow with his other hand.

  Use the Shadow, Alexander. Seal the wound before you run out of life.

  Would that be so great a tragedy? Alexander shuffled to the ledge of the seven-story building. Dizzy from blood loss and his stunning reversal of fortune, he teetered. Drops of blood floated down on the breeze. He thought of the trail of blood he must have left across town in their desperate flight from the penthouse—an irregular line of crimson starbursts splattered on office and automobile windows, roadways and sidewalks. Some few may wonder how it got there. Most others, though, would simply wipe it away without a second thought.

  Those that do not succumb to the orbs, that is. At least he managed to get that part right. By morning, this town would be dead.

  He inched forward, the toes of his black Gucci loafers over nothing but air. A gust of wind ripped droplets of blood from his wound. He swayed and his head felt light.

  We are not done. Gothrodul addressed the Shadow Lord.

  “According to my father, we are dead.” Alexander stared at the small cars parked on the street below him.

  Your father is old and weak.

  Nobody dares talk about the Gray Lord like that. The dragon’s candor struck a chord.

  Your plan for this place executed at your pace would have succeeded.

  “You forget. We were not meant to succeed.” Alexander turned to face Gothrodul, arm and stump wind-milling to regain the balance the move cost him. “We were a decoy. Expendable. A way to keep his enemies busy while he played with my brothers.”

  Brothers. Traitors, more like. Not a one of them clued me in.

  Alexander, the wound.

  Alexander sent a trickle of shadow down his arm. His musings had driven the agony from his mind, but it returned as the magic took hold. The mangled wound tingled and burned as if he had plunged it into a bucket of icy water. The bleeding stopped; however, the intense pain remained.

  Lovely.

  Perhaps a change is needed. The dragon suggested. Mayhap the Gray Lord needs be replaced.

  Alexander snorted. “That could never happen.”

  Gothrodul turned his beguiling stare on the Shadow Lord. And why not?

  “Because,” Alexander responded, half-arm raised to make his point, “he’s too powerful.”

  Are you not powerful?

  “I’m no match for him.”

  Not today. But who’s to say what transpires tomorrow?

  “I grow weary of your circles.”

  You have it within you to lead, Alexander. Recruit. Train. Dominate.

  “Dominate.” He liked the sound of that word as it echoed inside his skull.

  You could be a new Gray Lord, set to rule the world.

  “Rule the world.” Alexander dreamed of someday inheriting the mantle from his father and ruling a vast shadow empire. But that dream had been shattered back in the penthouse along with the other naïve cravings for paternal acceptance and respect.

  Do you think you are the only one who feels this way? Feels that the Gray Lord has abandoned them?

  Alexander had never ventured down that road before, too absorbed in his own dark machinations to think about the motivations of his peers.

  Could there be some truth here? His mind chewed on the possibilities. Would it be possible to wrest the leadership from Bestok Molan and set himself up as the leader of shadow?

  With the might of the Last Clan, you would be unstoppable.

  The dragon’s statement hung in Alexander’s mind like a shimmering vortex. Either he gave up and threw himself off the roof to end this charade of an existence. Or, and he quickly warmed to this new concept, he realigned his goals and moved forward.

  I see your thoughts, Alexander, perhaps clearer than you do yourself. Gothrodul placed his huge head on the same level as Alexander’s. If you give up now, the Knights and, more importantly, your father, win.

  Talk of the Knights kindled his anger. His journey to ruination began at the feet of the Knight of Flame. An image of the bald-headed knight and that whore of his, Sinclair, formed in his mind.

  Develor Quinteele. That bastard killed his daughters, murdered his Rangu Copa, and destroyed his relationship with the Gray Lord. Rage bloomed in the cold wasteland of his soul, a jagged block of frigid intensity capable of inflaming the dark hearts of thousands. A strategy took shape, a two-pronged assault that would see Alexander perched atop the world.

  As his mind cleared, and he cast off the limiting shackles of his previous life under Bestok Molan, Alexander watched the dragon from out of the corners of his eyes. An evil intelligence sparked behind those cold, black orbs. Gothrodul’s comments were too directed, too convenient to be spontaneous.

  No. This was a well thought out campaign to get me to turn. He needs my help to find those dragons.

  Alexander sensed the smile on the dragon’s thoughts. I do have need of you, Alexander. Gothrodul inclined his massive head. Our destinies lie along similar paths.

  He accepted the dragon’s words. An eleven hundred year association had some benefits. A fresh determination gripped him, focused his thoughts on the future. A sharp, debilitating pain from his missing arm drew his attention away from the new direction.

  We cannot have that.

  Calm and determined, he concentrated on the wound. A dark vine, thin and wiry, popped out of the bone fragment, flailed and lengthened until it matched its predecessor. At the wrist, it broadened into a hand that sprouted fingers and a thumb. Satisfied with the black and glossy look, he flexed his new arm and tested his grip.

  Strong.

  Before mounting the great beast, he turned and surveyed the Tampa skyline. “When I first set foot among these worthless hovels, I was naïve. Eager to please my master, I ignored my own instincts. But no more.” He climbed aboard the dragon. “After being fired and tempered by the Knights, I leave this place reforged.”

  Where to, Alexander?

  “North and west, my friend. Time to leave this training ground behind and find my brother.”

  Which one?

  Alexander thought for a moment before responding. “Thargen, I think. Relegated to even worse places than I, he is our best chance.”

  North and west it is.

  Chapter 56

  CYNDRALLA FLEW SOUTHEAST AWAY FROM THE building surrounded by what must have been every police car and fire truck in the city of Tampa. Cassidy watched the first responders surround the building and charge through the front doors.

  She put the events of the past few hours out of her mind and reveled in the peacefulness of this lone minute. A cool breeze brushed her face. It felt nice after the oven of the stairwell and the craziness of the encounter with Gray. She pressed her cheek into Dev’s back.

  As a girl, she dreamed about a fairy tale moment like this. Usually, though, her prince picked her up on a magic carpet, but a purple dragon worked just as well.

  Passed out, Stillman’s head rested against the back of the Knight of Earth.

  Cyndralla banked left, beat her tremendous wings, and accelerated away from the water.

  “Where are we heading, Cyndy?” Dev asked.

  After Gray.

  “What about the orbs? We need to spread the elixir, protect the people,” Cassidy said.

  No. The Knight of Air’s response brooked no argument. We follow after Gray and…

  “And?” Cassidy prompted. Cyndralla was scared and on edge. Something had really upset her and she didn’t want it to show.

  And nothing, fledgling Knight of Water, stay out of my emotions.

  “We need to protect the people, else why are we even here?” Cassidy asked.

  Cyndralla sped up and ignored the comment.

  “Cyndralla, how many dragons are there?” Cassidy asked.

  Only m—I thought I was the last until I came he
re tonight. There is another. I smelled him when I picked you up and I must find him.

  “Another dragon?” Dev asked. “After all this time, how could you not know?”

  I…I do not know. Cyndralla’s frustrated growl rumbled across the mental link. But I need to find out.

  “I understand, but we must save as many of these people as we can,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s what we do,” Dev backed her up.

  Gray is weakened. We can stop him now. Cyndralla sent.

  “Right on, sister.” Magnus chimed in. “We can stop that shadowy bugger before he escapes.”

  “You would doom the people of Tampa?” Cassidy asked, anger fueling her words. “Maybe Gray is weak, but the dragon was not injured. They are probably miles away by now in who knows what direction.”

  “I know,” Cyndralla said.

  “We need to save the people. Here. Now.” Cassidy felt the dragon’s emotions shift.

  Cyndralla roared—a monstrous din filled with anger and frustration that rattled Cassidy’s teeth.

  The Knight of Air banked again. We go to Hillsborough Bay to distribute the elixir. Cyndralla beat her wings and increased speed.

  “Thank you.” Cassidy clasped her knees around the dragon’s back and squeezed her Knight tight.

  Are you ready, Knight of Water? Cyndralla asked.

  “Ready for…?

  You need to feed the elixir through the water treatment pipes and into the sewer streams to counter the shadow magic in the orbs.

  Is this chick crazy? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

  No, I am not crazy.

  Crap, she heard me.

  You have the ability to manipulate the flow of water, Cyndralla thought. Use it.

  “Is there some other way?” Dev asked and squeezed Cassidy’s knee.

  Not and be sure the area is covered sufficiently. Cyndralla replied.

  “But—” Cassidy said.

  Cyndralla snapped her mighty jaws. The more we argue, the less time we have. There is no other way. You must do it now. Over the bay, the Knight of Air dipped her wings and dropped close to the surface. Dive in and get attuned to the water. Find the entranceway and let us know when you are ready to command the counter magic.

  Cassidy lifted her right leg over, slid off Cyndralla’s scaled back, and splashed down. The warm water soothed her tired muscles and eased her stress. She wanted to close her eyes, luxuriate in the caress and gentle rocking of the small swells, but she had a job to do.

  “You can do this, Caz,” Dev shouted.

  Yeah, right. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. Get attuned to the water. What the hell does that mean?

  In the middle of Hillsborough Bay, Cassidy Sinclair, the newly anointed Knight of Water, took a deep breath and sank below the surface. The world closed in until only she remained. Sound vanished, replaced by the all-encompassing drumbeat of her heart. Like she did in her pool back home, she reached out with her senses to feel the walls around her. Instead of marcite-covered concrete, her consciousness raced over the sandy bottom of the bay until it ran ashore or touched a man-made obstruction. A low murmur, similar to the one she encountered in the Cradle, whooshed between the pounding in her temples. It took her a moment to recognize the language of the sea and the waves; but, once she did, that primal knowledge flooded her mind. Local tides, depths, landmasses, temperature changes, sea life and the human intrusions of pipes, roads and filth flooded her awareness.

  Attunement. This must be what Cyndralla meant. It’s beautiful.

  She rose to the surface and peered into a collection of anxious faces. “I can hear it.” Her voice filled with awe. “The water. It spoke to me.”

  “Good,” Magnus said. “Now ask it for directions.”

  Dev punched his arm. “We don’t have much time.”

  Cyndralla sent her thoughts to the team. I sense the buildup of Shadow. We are out of time.

  I’m too late.

  “Caz, you need to command the water. Make it move.” Encouragement sparkled in Dev’s eyes.

  Cassidy felt his confidence in her shining like a beacon. She took a deep breath and sank home.

  A voice in the water told her to breathe, to relinquish her hold on the air and drink deep of her element. She hesitated. Thirty-three years of air breathing wasn’t something to be kicked to the curb on a whim.

  Trust. The watery command sounded familiar, but different from the tone of the bay. You are safe, Knight of Water. Your element will sustain you.

  The Lord of Water himself.

  With his encouragement, she discarded her last reservation along with her tightly held breath. Oxygen-rich water rushed in to fill the void. The water hurt, burned her lungs.

  Something’s wrong.

  She flailed her arms and legs, tried to cough it up, but it refused to budge. Gradually, as her body got used to the change, the pain lessened and finally disappeared. Soon it felt like she’d been living underwater her entire life. Normal. Natural.

  Water swirled around her waving arms. Move the water. How do I do that? She brought her hands together in an underwater clap and felt the surge around her fingers and over her forearms. The water didn’t so much move forward as part and reform around her.

  Brute force isn’t the answer.

  Cyndralla’s thought burst through. Hurry, Cassidy. The orbs are breaking. Magnus can taste it.

  Mind racing, she thought of all the mechanical ways to move water—rudders, propellers, even the big paddle wheels. None of those would help. The light hairs on her arms waved in the current. She sensed millions of little droplets dancing across her skin as they went about their water-borne lives.

  Little droplets filled with emotion and purpose, filled with life.

  Hurry, Cyndralla’s thought intruded.

  Focus on one drop.

  Cassidy imagined a single mote in the untold gallons around her and concentrated on getting that single drop to circle her fingertip. In a bay full of millions of gallons of water, she couldn’t see the result, but she felt it. The drop caressed the tender skin at the base of her nail in its journey.

  Excited, she tried again with similar results.

  That’s it.

  Thinking bigger, she grouped the drops together into a wave and instructed it to flow around her. This time, she felt the flow of the water push against her, opposite the outgoing current.

  Yes. Bigger. Faster.

  Still in control, she drove the wave around her. Faster and faster it spun until the pressure pushed her to the surface in the mouth of a water spout.

  “Any time now, Caz,” Dev called down and upended one of two lambskin bladders. A glittering silver waterfall arced into the bay next to Cassidy.

  “Cyndy,” Magnus asked, “How long will it take to flow thr—”

  Cassidy responded before Magnus could finish his question. “Minutes.” The elixir felt different, an alien liquid in her water. Its density greater than that of the salt water, the magic quickly settled near the bottom in a glittering pool. Its texture was oily and it slipped through Cassidy’s growing control on her first few attempts. Another cascade splashed into the water nearly in the same place. The two doses attracted each other, merged into a single blob.

  Millions of tiny creatures died as the shadow magic began its devastating work. The taint of their extinguished lives a greasy smear in the water that leaked into the bay. It fouled her concentration.

  She tried again, collecting the elixir into a large reflective globe that she pushed towards the pipe. As her grip held, her confidence grew. The silver ball increased speed, raising a lump on the surface of the water.

  When it got closer to the treatment plant’s entrance, she squished it down and rammed it into the pipe. Reversing the water trail from the bay to the sewers, she navigated the silvery liquid through a complex series of sluices and pumps. In the sewers, pipes descended from all angles, feeding noisome waste to the main line. At these junctures, sh
e fractured the magic and sent a portion spidering down the lines until it fizzled against the first traces of the orb’s deadly magic.

  Within minutes, Cassidy deployed the elixir across the region.

  Exhausted. Disgusted. Cassidy ascended to her waiting brethren. When she broke the surface, Cyndralla swooped in low for Dev to lower a hand. He lifted Cassidy up and sat her between himself and Stillman. Back in the world of air, she needed to expel the water from her lungs to breathe and hoped it wouldn’t be gross like in the movies. She hated when the divers ended up puking that breathing gel all over the platform. As the air came in to claim its territory, the water gently receded through her pores.

  Aw, that was nice.

  You’ve done well, Knight of Water. Approval and satisfaction infused Cyndralla’s thought.

  Cassidy had never felt this tired. Sleep pulled at her eyelids. Warm arms wrapped around her like a down comforter and she leaned back into her Knight of Flame.

  “Welcome back, Caz.”

  Chapter 57

  WITHOUT THE TOWERING PRESENCE OF THE Elemental Lords and the company of his fellow Knights, the Chamber of Reflection seemed little more than a tomb. Dev passed the silent muncle sentinel and his guard, who solemnly nodded their golden heads. He’d been dreading this visit and found myriad reasons to avoid this section of the complex.

  After four days of recovery and shirking what he felt was his responsibility, the time had come. He couldn’t explain his apprehension, didn’t know why visiting Wren’s memorial set his nerves alight. Under the judging stone eyes of those who had gone before, the weight of his actions bowed his broad shoulders and slowed his steps.

  He followed the ledge. Wren waited for him on the other side. Her stone likeness, etched into the curve of the back wall, watched his approach. Beneath her delicate chin, forever blazed the firebrand symbol of his element.

  “Hello, Wren.” The carved face stared back. “Gray got away, but I got the Shadow who killed you.” His bottom lip quivered. “We almost lost Magnus, but he’s a tough stone to crack. Your father took a nasty whack to the head, but he’s okay. And Cassidy…”

  “And Cassidy what?” The soft voice of the Knight of Water washed over him.