The Fire King

by Paul Crilley

  Kelindria opened her eyes and blinked. The Dagda still stood before her, complaining. As always. He was growing wearisome.

  “I repeat, how are you going to stop him? The Fire King is not someone you summon lightly.”

  Kelindria rounded on him, her fury causing even the mighty Dagda to take a step backward.

  “Don’t you think I am aware of that? Look at me! Look at me! I gave everything to make this plan work, so do not dare stand there and lecture me! Leave me now. And if you are unhappy with what I have done, feel free to take your followers and depart London. In fact, I think it may be better for all concerned if you did just that.”

  Black Annis moved over from the wall, followed closely by Jenny Greenteeth. “You should remember who supported you, Kelindria,” she said. “It is not wise to turn your back on those who helped you into power. Loyalty is a coin that should be collected and held close.”

  “Is that so, Annis? And who are you to talk of loyalty? Do you think I did not know you and Greenteeth were spying for the Dagda? Did you think I was so stupid not to have you followed when you reported back to him?”

  Annis glanced uncertainly at the Dagda. That look alone, that brief look of fear, was enough to send a warm glow through Kelindria’s stomach. And speaking of warm glows …

  Kelindria stood up and approached one of the torches attached to the wall. She looked into the flames.

  “Attend, Fire King. I have a task.”

  Kelindria stepped back just as the flames shot up the wall, revealing the roaring outline of the Fire King’s head. He turned his red eyes to Kelindria.

  What do you want? I am feeding.

  “I have some morsels for you.” Kelindria turned and pointed at Black Annis and Jenny Greenteeth. “Take those two. They are water spirits. You cannot kill their essence, but their bodies are yours. Burn the moisture from the bodies.”

  Black Annis paled and turned to the Dagda. But he hastily backed away.

  “My lord,” said Annis. “Protect us—”

  Her words ended in a shriek of pain as a fire blossomed into life inside her body. It flickered through her sodden rags, bursting out of her chest in an explosion of steam. The same was happening to Greenteeth. She dropped to the ground, writhing in pain as her body was burned from the inside. Annis tried to slap the fire out of existence, but all she did was set her arms alight.

  She turned to Kelindria, fury giving her strength. She took a step forward, her clawed, burning hands outstretched. He mouth was open in a snarl of pure hatred. Flames flickered from her mouth, drying up the black water that trickled down her chin. Fire burst out of her eyes.

  She screamed, then collapsed onto the floor. The flames quickly consumed the bodies.

  Kelindria waited for the fire to die down, leaving behind a black smear on the tiles. She smiled at the Dagda. “Your services are no longer required. Leave now, or suffer the same fate.”

  “You go too far, Kelindria. This was meant to be our plan. Not yours.”

  “Things have changed.”

  The Dagda hesitated, then swept out of the room, his followers running to keep up. She had made an enemy there, she knew. But so be it. He wasn’t strong enough to challenge her. She had made sure of that.

  “I wish to be alone,” she said.

  Her new court bowed and backed hastily out of the throne room. Kelindria waited for the doors to close before turning her attention back to the Fire King.

  The Morrigan had been right. She had to stop the girl before it was too late.

  “Where are we going?” asked Emily as she, Jack, Wren, and Merlin moved as fast as they could through the London streets. Jack and Wren were supporting Merlin, trying to keep him upright as the enchanter attempted to lead them through the city.

  Merlin ignored her, turning onto a side street. He paused and swore beneath his breath, staring at the flames licking across the roofs of the buildings at the far end. There was no way they would get through that. He turned back onto the main road and carried on moving northward. He was trying to get around the fire, but for what reason, Emily had no idea.

  “Merlin?” she said.

  “I need to get to my workshop,” snapped Merlin. “It’s as simple as that. I can’t even begin to do anything to stop this Fire King if I don’t get to my workshop.”

  “So you can stop him?” asked Emily hopefully, running to catch up.

  Merlin hesitated. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Can’t you just”—Jack wiggled his free hand in the air— “cast a spell or something?”

  Merlin stopped walking so suddenly that Emily bumped into him. Wren almost pulled the old man off his feet before he realized they had stopped walking. Merlin turned a furious gaze on Jack. “Number one: I can’t cast any spells right now, because I have no power. I hid it away before Nimue captured me. Just in case Morgan Le Fay came sniffing around and tried to steal it. That’s why I need to get to my workshop. Right now I’m as much good to the fight against the Fire King as you are. I can’t even walk unassisted!”

  “Excuse me!” snapped Jack, offended. “I’ve done my bit. You wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for us.”

  “And number two,” said Merlin, ignoring Jack’s outburst, “even if I did have my power, you don’t just”—he wiggled his fingers in the air, mimicking Jack—“‘cast a spell or something.’ It doesn’t work like that. Spells have to be prepared, tailored to requirements. It can take days to prepare a really good enchantment.”

  So William had been right all along, thought Emily. Merlin really couldn’t help them. “What about the Raven King?” she asked.

  Merlin rounded on her. “Where did you hear about the Raven King?” he asked hopefully.

  Emily cast a doubtful look at the others. They had already told him about the Raven King. Back in Cob’s office. Was his memory really that bad?

  “Uh … Someone from the Invisible Order was looking for him.”

  Merlin cackled and clapped his hands together. “Splendid. Change of plans, then. Take me to this person.”

  “We can’t. He’s dead.”

  Merlin’s face fell. He glared at Emily. “It’s very cruel to get peoples’ hopes up only to dash them,” he said. “It’s bad for the heart.”

  “Uh … excuse me,” said Jack. “But should we be worried about that?”

  The other three turned to see what Jack was talking about. They had been heading east using Thames Street and had already turned onto Trinity Lane, intending to use the narrow road to head north and then circle around the fire to wherever Merlin wanted to go on the east side of the city. At the speed the flames were going, they should have had plenty time.

  They didn’t. Somehow the fire had converged behind them, traveling quickly along Thames Street to enter Trinity Lane at the southern end. They could clearly see a swarm of salamanders crawling over one another in haste, skittering across buildings and roofs, leaving trails of flame in their wakes.

  “Are they … are they looking at us?” asked Emily.

  “It would appear so,” said Merlin. “It seems the enemy is aware of our escape.”

  They turned and moved as fast as they could go, but with Merlin unable to walk on his own, that wasn’t very fast at all. The fire was gaining. Emily could feel the heat against her back, pushing her, daring her to slow down even slightly. Merlin was trying to move faster. His face was pale and slicked with sweat. His white hair was plastered against his skull, and every time he threw a worried glance over his shoulder, Emily could see the fire reflected larger and larger in his eyes.

  The noise behind them was horrendous. The crackling of flames, the crashing of collapsing buildings, the screams of those trying to escape this unexpected change in the direction of the fire. Those who lived around the area had probably thought themselves safe. Probably thought they had until tomorrow before they had to leave. But now the fire had come to them sooner than expected, and no one was ready for it.

 
And then they lost Jack.

  Merlin had ordered them onto a narrow street, saying they could use it to bypass some of the busier roads that would now be filled with panicking Londoners. Emily had turned around to check on the fire, and when she turned back, Wren was the only one holding Merlin up.

  She skidded to a halt, staring wildly around. “Jack?” she shouted. “Jack!”

  There was no sign of him. The fire was only twenty paces away. The salamanders leapt and scrambled across the cobblestones, their eyes glowing orange, tongues of flame darting in and out as they ran straight toward them.

  Wren was looking around frantically.

  “Where is he?” Emily shouted.

  “He was here only a moment ago,” Merlin replied, struggling to be heard over the roar of the flames.

  Emily looked around in despair. She could see in Merlin’s eyes that he thought Jack already dead.

  “We don’t have time,” Merlin shouted. “Not if we are to stop this from spreading.”

  “You already said you don’t know if you can stop it!” she screamed. “I won’t leave Jack behind!”

  A small alleyway opened off to their right. The salamanders climbed the wall of the building on one side, leaping across the gap to land on the thatched roof opposite. In seconds, the building was ablaze.

  Wren hurried over to Emily. He leaned close to her ear and shouted, shielding them both from the flames with his arm. “You’ll die here if you don’t move,” he screamed. “I know it’s painful, but we must leave, Emily!”

  And then Emily saw a shadow behind the flames that now draped across the small alley like a curtain. She stared at it a moment before realizing it was growing darker and darker. Her eyes widened.

  “Move!” she shouted, pushing a rather startled Wren aside. He staggered away, Emily quickly following. And just in time, two massive horses leapt over the flames and landed directly where they had been standing. The first horse’s hooves struck sparks as the rider yanked the reins, guiding the horse quickly away from the heat and the smoke. The second horse was attached to the first by a length of rope. It moved forward and the rider leaned forward to pat its neck.

  It was Jack.

  “Jack!” shouted Emily, struggling (and failing) to keep the joy from her voice. She tried to sound firm. “Did you steal those horses?”

  He grinned down at them. “No. I saved them. There’s a difference. Now. Who wants a ride?”

  William, Corrigan, and Katerina had retraced their steps through the fey prison and along the tunnel that led back to St. Sepulchre. After that it had only been a matter of cutting an almost direct line east through the city as they traveled the one and a half miles to the Tower of London.

  The fire hadn’t reached this far north, but they could still see it in the distance, still smell the choking smoke, still hear the screams and curses of the Londoners. They passed plenty of them as well, pushing wheelbarrows filled with belongings, carrying children on their backs. They all had one thing in common: a confused, dazed expression on their faces, as if they couldn’t believe this was actually happening to them.

  William breathed a sigh of relief when the imposing stone walls of the Tower of London came into view. It wasn’t just the tower, of course. The tower itself was simply one of many structures inside the walls of the fortifications. They slowed as they approached. The gates to the tower enclosure were wide open. He could see some men pushing wide barrows covered with blankets. A tall man was shouting at them to hurry and catch up with the others.

  Of course, thought William. Weren’t the crown jewels held here? And he was sure there were other valuables, as well. This must be the last of the trips to protect anything of value from the approaching fire.

  The wide barrows trundled through the gates and turned north into the city. The gates were left open behind them, so they had no trouble slipping inside. A second wall confronted them, with a smaller gate set into the thick stone. It was also open. They hurried through and finally found themselves within the walls of the Tower of London.

  A wide sward of grass lay before them, receding into the darkness. The grass was dotted with houses and buildings. It looked as though hundreds of people lived here. But within the entire enclosure there was only one building that could be the actual tower.

  William stared up at it, outlined against the dark sky. It actually wasn’t really a tower. It looked more like a castle—a huge, square structure with four turrets reaching into the sky above the battlements.

  They hurried across the grass. The building stretched almost a hundred feet above them, an imposing fort with gaping black windows that stared down at them. The door to the tower was raised high off the ground, reached by a set of wooden stairs. They hurried up the stairs and tested the door. It was unlocked, and it led into a corridor brightly lit by torches. William opened the first door he came to and saw bags of flour piled up against the walls. Another door revealed casks of wine, and yet another folded linen stacked neatly onto shelves.

  “Excuse me for asking,” said Corrigan, “but what exactly are we supposed to do here? That journal was rather vague.”

  William hesitated. He wasn’t sure himself. He had been rather hoping an answer would present itself when they arrived. Where were they supposed to speak the words of the spell?

  There was a set of stairs at the end of the corridor. Maybe there was something on the other levels of the tower? He ran up to the second floor. The doors here led into richly furnished apartments and bedrooms. But there didn’t seem to be anything that would help him. What had he been expecting? A shrine? A crypt with an inscription that read here lies the raven king?

  That would have been nice, but when was life ever as simple as that?

  He kept looking. And it was only when he opened a door at the far end of the passage to find a chapel that he thought maybe life was as simple as that after all.

  William stepped inside. Arched windows let in the flickering orange light of the fire. Thick pillars circled the walls, linked together to create high stone arches that surrounded an empty space in the center of the room.

  William looked around hopefully. Maybe this was the place? A chapel made sense. Maybe there was a hidden crypt somewhere that held the Raven King, and he would wake up when the incantation was recited.

  William took the journal from his pocket and opened it to the relevant page. He cleared his throat and read:

  “Acht’in segara. Betan mie alora ti. Vitaj’kel, amata yi.”

  William finished reading and stared dubiously at the book. It didn’t seem much of a magical spell, did it? What did it even mean? What language was it?

  He waited. Nothing happened. The orange light of the fire seemed to have grown brighter, the fiery light pulsing against the walls. Maybe he had he read it wrong?

  “You’d better see this,” said Katerina, appearing at the door.

  William turned, but Katerina had already disappeared. He hurried after her, following her up a winding staircase that led to the battlements and out into the night air. William had a brief hope that maybe the Raven King had awoken somewhere in response to his words and was already battling the Fire King, but one look at Corrigan’s face told him this wasn’t so.

  He joined the piskie and Katerina and stared out over London. From here he could get a clear view of the fire, could see the extent of the damage to the area of the city to the north of London Bridge.

  “Look there,” said Corrigan, pointing to the east, then to the north, areas the fire hadn’t touched yet.

  For a few seconds William couldn’t see anything untoward. But then he saw figures moving in the darkness, streaming through the streets in their direction. It was fey. All kinds of them.

  And they were all armed.

  “Are they coming for us?” he whispered. “How could they know what we are doing?”

  Corrigan shrugged. “The question is, do we stay and try and raise this Raven King, however we’re supposed to do that, or do w
e get out while we can?”

  “We can’t run,” said William. “Not after all we’ve been through.”

  “Have you tried it yet?”

  William looked away.

  “Didn’t work, did it?”

  William didn’t reply. He gazed out over London and noted something flitting through the sky. He squinted against the smoke that was hanging over the city. It was those white ravens, swooping above the approaching fey, hundreds of them gliding through the darkness.

  “Look over there,” said Katerina urgently.

  She was pointing toward the fire. As they watched, the flames seemed to shift, as if blown on a wind. Except there wasn’t any wind blowing in that direction. The roaring conflagration funneled through the city streets toward the Tower.

  “It’s coming for us,” said Katerina.

  It was then that William saw the two horses. They were galloping ahead of the flames, turning corners, skidding into alleys. As he watched, the fire switched direction, leaping across a thatched roof in an attempt to catch them.

  “It’s not,” said William, puzzled. “The fire is after those horses.”

  They watched the distant horses as they tried to outrun the flames. But the fire seemed to anticipate their movements. It split and curved around buildings, leaping from roof to roof, leaving blazing trails in its wake. The horses disappeared from view every now and then, the buildings obscuring their vision as the animals tried to frantically shake off their pursuer.

  When the horses next appeared, they were much closer. So William was able to see the figures on the first creature’s back. He stared in shock.

  “That’s Emily,” he said softly.

  It was. It was Emily and Christopher Wren on the first horse, Jack and another person on the second. The horses were flagging, moving slower and slower as the frantic rush through the city took its toll. But still they kept going, turning into side streets, doubling back on themselves, trying everything possible to shake the stalking flames.