Keepers of the Flame

by Robin D. Owens

  People crowded the wooden-paneled chamber with windows showing baton insets of stained glass. All were quiet, intense.

  Bastien stood. “This meeting has come to order. Let us Sing.” Song lifted, seemed to penetrate the gloomy keep walls into the gray day. The prayer rose, speaking of dedication to Amee, the fight against the Dark, and asked for blessings. Bri thought she felt a little pulse of an answer, a warming of the soles of her toes where they met the floor, didn’t know for sure. She shared a quizzical glance with Elizabeth. What the others felt, she didn’t know.

  The meeting proceeded, Bastien following some sort of agenda, one of the female Shieldmarshalls, the archivist, Bri thought, keeping notes…by tapping a piece of paper with her finger. Nice trick if you could do it.

  Arms were tallied, spell weapons discussed, the frinkweed destruction shown on a map. At least that was proceeding well. Then the Chevalier sickness was brought up.

  Everyone turned to Bri and Elizabeth with palpable interest and no accusation.

  Following an idea that had stirred in the pool of her mind the night before, Bri stood up. The quiet intensified. “It’s time medicas fly with the Marshalls and Chevaliers to battle.”

  Immediate and loud protest. She raised a hand and her voice. “Not simply us, Elizabeth and me, but others, too.”

  “We will not allow this.” Bastien’s expression was as commanding as his voice. “You are our hope. We cannot let you fly to every battle.”

  “Just one battle, then,” Bri said. “To see if we can understand how a Chevalier is infected.” She turned and looked at the seated line of medicas behind her. “To develop a team to fly with the warriors.” Some of the men and a couple of the women nodded, determined eagerness in their gaze. Bri’s breath silently sighed out of her. She’d felt that there might be some who’d wanted to help on the battlefield.

  Her glance swept them. “If you wish to assist the Marshalls and Chevaliers on the field, let me know.” She saw fearful faces. “If you don’t, no disrespect to you.” She held out a hand and Elizabeth stood up and linked fingers. Bri felt surprised pride from her twin. “We don’t want to fracture the medical society further.” She held out her other hand to Zeres. He blinked and slowly rose, took it. “We do want to emphasize that a different way of healing should not be shunned.” She gave Zeres’s fingers a little squeeze. “It might just mean that a person is ahead of his time.”

  Turning back to Bastien, she said into the quiet room, “I believe we must do this to understand what is happening, to try to prevent it, or learn how to cure the sickness. We’ve explored every other way.”

  Alexa joined her husband. “I’ve been chosen the new Lady Knight Marshall.” A slight smile flickered over her face. “The first time ever that there have been two women in a row. I agree with Bastien and with Bri. Let the Exotique Medicas come once to see how the battle fares. We Marshalls haven’t been hidebound to our Lorebooks for a while and we would welcome on-the-scene medicas. However, the medicas must have volaran partnering training for battle. Calli, can you do that?”

  “Ayes,” Calli said. Her forehead furrowed. “I must judge how this’ll work. Marrec and I will fly to the next battle, too.”

  “I don’t like this,” Bastien muttered. “Four Exotiques on the battlefield. Asking for trouble.” He stared at Marian. “Under no circumstances will you be allowed to go.”

  She nodded. “I agree one of us needs to remain safe.”

  “No one except Bri and Elizabeth will stay together,” Alexa said. “Calli, you and Marrec will not dress in your colors. Medicas, you will not wear red and white.” Alexa smiled again and it was a little wider. “Camouflage for you. Soul-sucker leathers, maybe. They blend best with the countryside.”

  “Listen!” Bastien raised hands and Sang. Bri’s tongue thickened in her mouth, the edges of her mind fizzed and her fingertips tingled under the silencing spell. Dazed, she listened to his chant. None here could communicate of this to anyone else, could not speak within the hearing of outsiders.

  Then they were all dismissed. All the Exotiques and their men lingered. When everyone else was gone, Bastien closed the door.

  Marian sucked in and blew out a breath, then said, “Bossgond and Jaquar and I have discussed your problem.” She frowned as she studied Elizabeth, then looked at Bri. “You were magnificent when you established the healing circle. But your Songs are uneven. You worry about your parents and it stresses you.”

  Bri shot her a sour look. “You think?”

  “I thought we’d made the matter clear that we would be distressed if our parents were worried about us,” Elizabeth said.

  “Point is…” Alexa tried and failed to hitch a hip onto the table that was too high for her. Bastien picked her up and set her on it. She smiled at him and went on, “None of us can afford distractions. Not now and not in the crucial months to come.” She gestured to Bri and Elizabeth. “You got a problem—” she waved to the rest of the Exotiques “—we have a problem. So…” Now she stared at Marian. “Fix it.”

  Nodding, Marian said, “I can tell that you’ve followed all the necessary requirements for the ritual. So we’re moving up the schedule. If you’re agreeable to spending the day in solitude on Bossgond’s island, we’ll try to reach your parents tonight.” Marian grimaced. “They’ve been going to bed early.”

  Bri sagged. Sevair put a strong arm around her waist. “That’s good.”

  “It hasn’t been easy restraining myself,” Faucon said lightly, brushing Elizabeth’s cheek with his finger. “Let’s go make arrangements.”

  “Excellent idea,” Marian said, and they filed out.

  Sevair’s iron grip on Bri’s wrist radiated temper. They stayed. He kicked the door shut, muttered a locking spell and Bri knew her impulsiveness had landed her in trouble again. She had also decided that she didn’t like the room. Lots of negative energy. Much of it from the man beside her.

  “You must be mad,” Sevair said through gritted teeth. His hands clamped around her upper arms and he lifted her from her feet. She’d never seen him so angry—pale under his golden skin, mouth thinned tight into a narrow line.

  “Don’t call me mad.” She wet her lips. She didn’t mind being eccentric, New Age, different, but she’d never been—hardly ever been—out of her mind.

  He plunked her onto her feet. She glared up at him. “It’s time medicas go to the battlefield.”

  “Let them go. You stay here.”

  Eyeing him, she did a quick pace around the council table. “We need to determine the cause of this sickness.”

  “Let someone else do that.”

  She stopped, put her hands on her hips. “It’s our responsibility. The Exotique Medicas. You understand all about responsibility.”

  Jaw clenched, he turned away.

  Bri continued. “We can’t just stay here and watch people die. I can’t do it.” Her breath caught and she hated that. She steadied her voice. “We have to take action!”

  He swung back, hands fisted at his sides. “You’ve tried to heal every single Chevalier, no matter how tired you were.”

  “Tried!”

  “Elizabeth and you have done autopsies.”

  Bri rubbed her temples, sure the silver would be sprouting any minute and wouldn’t that surprise everyone if she got home. When they got home. Elizabeth already had a swatch over her right ear. “We tried pulling the tumor and its tendrils from a living body. Elizabeth even kept one poor woman alive after her soul had gone, as she tried to surgically remove the mass.” Bri had bowed out of that experiment. Most of the medicas had thought the invasive procedure an abomination. Zeres had assisted Elizabeth. Since then, Bri’s medica friend and Elizabeth had gotten along just fine.

  Bri tugged at her hair, brought it around to look. Still brown. “There must be an answer on the battlefield.” She sucked in a breath. “And the new Marshall team needs all the help it can get.”

  “You haven’t done this on Exotique Ter
re,” Sevair snarled.

  Stiffening, Bri said, “I’m not trained in military medicine. But I can organize health care workers and the sick in refugee camps, and Elizabeth is an emergency-room doctor. We can put a battlefield medica team together and train them. I think some of the men have been itching to do this for years, just couldn’t go against tradition.” She glanced at Sevair. He was still tight-lipped, seething. Standing her ground, she lowered into her balance. Nothing would move her on this. “I don’t think Faucon will make this much trouble for Elizabeth.”

  “He’s a warrior, and you can bet everything you own that he’ll have an extra team of his Chevaliers protecting her alone.”

  “Protecting me, too.” Bri jutted her chin.

  “Ayes. If you stay near her.” Sevair’s lip curled. “When do you ever stay in one place if not constrained?” Finally spitting out what was really bothering him, she was sure. In two strides he was standing toe-to-toe.

  “I’m sorry if my wanting to return home hurts you. But you knew all along—”

  He kissed her. Hard and hurting and wanting. She heard all from him, felt all. Tough muscles, warm heart, Sevair. She loved the tensile strength of him, his working-man’s muscles. Then he set her down again. Met her gaze with an intense one of his own. “There’s nothing to do but go to battle with you.”

  Fear spurted through her. “No! You’re not a Chevalier.”

  “You’re not going alone.” His jaw clenched, relaxed. He touched a big-bladed knife at his hip. “I can fight.” After one last sizzling look he headed for the door. “I’ll be going to that Circlet’s island with you, too. Where you go, I go. Faucon isn’t the only one who must organize for an absence. I’ll talk to someone about the battlefield. Luthan, I think.”

  Then he was gone and her heart thumped hard and she wondered what she had done by being responsible.

  Night had fallen and Bri was twitchy. She and Elizabeth held hands and stood in the middle of a candlelit pentagram. Despite that fact, everything seemed sharp and distinct, the other Exotiques, their men, Sevair, Faucon, all surrounding her. Having Sevair here added to her nerves. She yearned to see her parents, yet also thought it was his steadiness that kept her calm. He was letting no hint of his own emotions disrupt the circle. Bri met Elizabeth’s eyes.

  Sevair cares for you, Elizabeth said.

  And Faucon cares for you. We’re going to leave some cracked hearts when we return home.

  Ayes, Elizabeth said, and Bri didn’t think her twin realized she’d spoken in Lladranan.

  “Let us begin,” Bossgond intoned.

  Elizabeth quivered like a too tautly strung door harp beside Bri. Probably she had a better idea of what they’d face in the Dimensional Corridor.

  Song rose around them. Bri hadn’t listened to her music player for days, and that odd thought had her nearly giggling. Elizabeth sent her an incredulous look. The Song brought pale blue light that caged them, then the room faded away and a shadowy door appeared in the tube of light. The door opened.

  Before she could say anything, they were shot into a…space. Bri had read of the awful winds of the Dimensional Corridor, but she felt nothing. Elizabeth, holding so tightly to her hand that Bri’s finger bones scraped together, pointed.

  In front of them lay their parents, twined around each other in bed, appearing exhausted in the moonlight, sleeping. Tears sprang to Bri’s eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at them.

  Now! screamed Elizabeth into her mind.

  Bri scowled at her, then heard it. A sound like the ringing of their parents’ phone. Bossgond and Marian and Jaquar.

  Daddy, she whispered, and felt a push, a pull and she was connected to deep, slow images of the sleeping mind of her father.

  More ringing.

  Answer the phone, Daddy, Bri prompted.

  32

  Bri, baby, is that you? Even in sleep hope leapt in their father. He pulled Bri’s mother closer as if wanting to share good news.

  Yes, Daddy, it’s me, Bri. Brigid idjit. She’d hated that childhood name. She remembered the carefully crafted script. I’m so sorry we couldn’t get through earlier. One of my friends who runs a refugee camp needed some immediate help. Daddy, people are dying. That wasn’t in the script, stupid! I convinced Elizabeth to come with me. She’s a wonder.

  Bri? he asked groggily.

  But Bri turned to Elizabeth.

  Hi, Dad, Elizabeth said breezily. Just wanted to let you know everything was ok. Bri and I have been sick that we couldn’t reach you earlier. Communication with the States isn’t easy.

  Understatement.

  Can you put Mom on?

  Bri felt her mother’s thoughts stir.

  Hi, Mom, Elizabeth said.

  My Elizabethie! Tears dribbled from under their mother’s eyelashes.

  Elizabeth gave a choked laugh. Yes.

  Their mother sniffed. Where are you?

  Africa, a refugee camp. We’ll be back soon. Only temporarily. Elizabeth’s mind-voice faltered, broke. Just calling to say we’re all right.

  Thank God, thank God, my girls are safe.

  Yes, Elizabeth said. Here’s Bri.

  The link with her mother was strong and sure now. God, how she loved her parents! Hi, Mom. We didn’t mean to worry you.

  Bri, you never do. A bit of a scold.

  Elizabeth and I are safe, we’ll be fine, back soon. I love you.

  Then Bri could feel, touch, hear everyone, Elizabeth, her Dad, her Mom. Their love meshed them together. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. She was losing it so she shut up, waited for the all important words.

  We love you, their mother said. I love you, Elizabeth. I love you, Bri. Be safe.

  You, too, Elizabeth said. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad.

  We love you. I love you, Bri, I love you, Elizabeth. Their father’s tones were warm.

  Sleep, and remember, Bri and Elizabeth said together, and that particular phrase was the spell’s end, backed by all the Power of those in Lladrana.

  Everything went dark. Still. Then a tremendous boom rattled her bones and she and Elizabeth were back in Bossgond’s tower, hugging each other and weeping.

  They’d spent the night in Marian’s tower. Never in her wildest dreams had Bri ever thought that she’d sleep in London’s Tower Bridge. But she wasn’t in London, was sure Tower Bridge didn’t have a lovely teal-appointed guest suite, and with Sevair there, she didn’t do much sleeping. She’d been an emotional mess and he’d carried her all the way from Bossgond’s tower to Marian’s, passing the low buildings of the Circlets’ school on the way. The sex, of course, had been magnificent. He’d been urgent, he’d been tender, he’d been strong. And she’d responded to him, let her passions reign, touched him and kissed him and caressed him until all she heard was his moans and not any sounds of the corridor or Earth beyond. Then they climbed to ecstasy and fell from the peak and shattered together.

  When Bri saw Elizabeth at breakfast at Bossgond’s she figured that Elizabeth and Faucon had had as athletic a night as she. The other Exotiques all had a glow to them and the men appeared supremely satisfied.

  The food was great, but didn’t hold Bossgond’s interest. They were eating in his round tower room where the intricate brass telescope was and he fiddled with it all during the time the others were eating.

  “Ah!” he finally said. “Your parents are awake and discussing your telephone call.” He sent a wrinkle-faced smirk over a bony shoulder at them. “They wish they’d asked for more details.”

  “Naturally,” Jaquar said, putting jam on toast.

  Bossgond turned back to the telescope, grunted with surprise.

  “What?” asked Marian, Bri, and Elizabeth all together.

  “They are using that communication device to call someone,” Bossgond said.

  Bri shared a glance with Marian.

  “Ca-see-dee,” Bossgond reported.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She almost dropped her fork.

 
After a moment, Bossgond said, “A man who has also been worried about you. I do not entirely understand the Eeng-lish. But there is a…project?”

  “That man has been trouble since we first met him,” Bri muttered. Elizabeth wasn’t looking at Faucon. “As for projects, plenty of them. I should have signed up for nursing school, but that probably didn’t ring any bells for him. Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth finished chewing her syrup-covered waffle and replied, “I’m sure there’s paperwork I would have submitted for my position at Denver Major.” She put down her silverware and rubbed her eyes, looked at Marian. “I’m supposed to take up my first hospital job in under two weeks. This could ruin my career.”

  The air pulsed with emotions. Everyone in the room wanted to convince them to stay. No one said anything. Bossgond had turned away from the telescope and studied them, rocking on his heels.

  Jaquar coughed. “Luthan sent word that the Singer has revealed a new prophecy regarding the Exotique Medicas.”

  Bri set down her orange juice so hard it slopped. Now everyone’s attention was focused on Jaquar. Marian appeared serene. She already knew, probably as soon as Jaquar, the bond between them was that intimate. Bri didn’t know whether to envy or fear that sort of bond.

  “Go on,” Elizabeth said steadily.

  “The Chevalier sickness and whether the Exotique Medicas stay or go will be resolved in two weeks.”

  Before Sevair placed his knife on the table, Bri saw his fingers tremble. It gave her a pang.

  “The Singer has a good forecast rate?” Elizabeth asked, her voice a little high.

  “Ninety-seven percent,” Marian said.

  “Then it will be finished. Fine. Good.” Now Elizabeth sounded stilted.

  “Any more detail to that prediction?” Faucon asked casually. His fingers clenched around his fork.

  “Not that Luthan said, and, I think, not that the Singer told him. Some friction there. Luthan’s not a man to follow others blindly.”