Flame Caller

by Jon Messenger

  He let the end of his sentence trail away. Finally, he shook his head.

  “I never wanted this. I just wish I could hit the rewind button, you know? I wish I could just go back to a simpler time, like when we first met.”

  Sammy smiled. She sat upright and extended her hand.

  Xander smiled. “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t change everything that’s happened to you over the past few weeks but I can help us start over. Now shake my hand.”

  Xander reached out and took her hand.

  “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Sammy.”

  “Xander.”

  “Nice to meet you, Xander. So where are you from?”

  Xander smiled. “Just a small town in Tennessee. A worldly girl like you? You’ve probably never heard of it. What about you?”

  “California,” she replied.

  He was genuinely surprised. “Really?”

  “The middle of nowhere in the California desert is where I came out of the ground when I left home. So what brings you here?”

  Xander looked around at the cluster of squat buildings spread across the island. “You mean to a floating island in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico? You know... the usual. I was chasing a girl.”

  “Oh, a girl. Those are always the best reasons to start an adventure. What’s she like?”

  Xander leaned in until he could feel the heat radiating from Sammy’s body. “She’s gorgeous. Long, silky hair. Entrancing eyes. Legs that seem to go on forever.” He leaned in closer, until he could feel her moist breath on his skin. “Lips that just beg to be kissed.”

  “Yeah?” Sammy said breathlessly.

  Xander suddenly leaned back with a coy smile. “Yeah, just be sure not to tell my girlfriend I was talking about such a cute girl, okay?”

  Sammy laughed and shoved Xander playfully.

  “Are these the simpler times you meant?” she asked.

  Xander’s broad smile faltered as he looked at her. “Almost.”

  He reached out and caressed her cheek. Sammy closed her eyes and leaned into his gentle touch. She brought up her own hand and cradled his, pressing it tightly against her skin before softly kissing his exposed wrist.

  Xander slid his hand down her cheek and under her chin, tilting her head upward. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers. She responded to his touch by leaning into him, pressing her lips tightly against his as she slipped a hand around his waist.

  Xander felt his face flush with heat and knew it was more than just the warmth emanating from Sammy. Her lips were sweet and tasted of the plump grapes she had eaten for dinner. He quickly ran his tongue along her bottom lip, drinking in the intoxicating taste of her skin.

  Sammy leaned back with a sigh, as a broad smile spread across her lips.

  “Not everything is complicated in your life,” she whispered.

  He started to lean in again but she placed her index finger on his lips. “I should probably go to bed.”

  “You don’t have to go home,” he offered. “You could stay the night.”

  Sammy smiled sweetly. “Not tonight.” She noticed his obvious disappointment. “Don’t read too much into that, though. That doesn’t mean ‘not ever’.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “Are you going to stay up much longer?”

  “Just a little bit longer. I just want to work through some things rattling around my mind.”

  She looked into the deep pools of his eyes. Leaning in, she kissed him softly on the lips.

  “Don’t stay up too much later, okay?”

  Xander smiled and brushed some of the blonde hair out of her face. “I won’t, I promise.”

  Sammy stood from the rooftop and gingerly climbed back to the open window. As she stepped back inside the marble house, she could hear the wind blowing strongly behind her.

  Xander awoke the next morning feeling rested for the first time in days. Though his shutters were closed, a gentle light already filtered through the slats. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and took in a sharp breath as his feet settled on the frigid marble floor.

  Reaching up, he ran his fingers across his lips. He swore he could still taste the sweetness of Sammy’s lips from the night before. A smile spread unbidden across his face. After all the hardships he’d been through over the past week, it felt incredible to have something he could trust so completely.

  He dressed quickly, eager to start his day. He was slightly less eager to get back to training with his aunts and uncles. At least today, he would be training with Giovanni. Of all his aunts and uncles, Giovanni was the most approachable and the one with whom he had the strongest connection. The Italian was quirky and used humor Xander didn’t always understand but his laughter and smile was infectious.

  Downstairs, a cold breakfast sat on the table. He assumed that was Sammy’s doing, since he doubted any of the others on the island would actively go out of their way to help him out like that. The cold oats didn’t have the best consistency and he wondered exactly how long they’d been sitting out. They had the consistency of gruel, as though the oats had soaked up too much moisture during cooking and left to congeal for too long. Xander didn’t love all the food they ate on the island—especially since they were limited on what they could eat since they didn’t have ready access to a grocery—but this was exceptionally unpleasant. He shoved the bowl away and politely spit the oats into a napkin, being sure to scrape his tongue at the same time.

  The breakfast wasn’t normally this bad. He looked at the light seeping around the edges of the door and wondered what time it was. They didn’t have a whole lot of clocks but that usually wasn’t too much of an issue. The heat from the rising sun and the constant humidity usually forced him out of bed early. Today it seemed he might have overslept quite a bit longer than he had planned. That would explain why the oats had congealed so badly.

  Dumping the contents of the bowl into the trashcan, he wrapped his tunic around him and walked to the front door. He raised one hand to cover his eyes as he opened the door. As he expected, the sunlight was immediately blinding. Xander knew he’d kill for a pair of sunglasses. For some reason, those small necessities never seemed to make the shopping list whenever one of the Wind Warriors escaped to the mainland on an excursion. He was just biding his time until he made that trip. The island was quickly going to become much more livable.

  The street in front of his house was empty, as it was every morning. There were only a couple dozen buildings on the island but they were nearly all abandoned. He recalled the conversation earlier with Alicia and tried to imagine hundreds of Wind Warriors living on the island. It must have been a remarkable sight to behold.

  He turned toward the central dome and reveled in the click of his sandaled feet on the cobblestones. Before he reached the end of his street, he heard another set of feet rushing up from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sammy hurrying to catch up. Her face was flushed from exertion and her breath was labored.

  “What’s wrong?” he said with concern.

  He spun toward her as she slowed in front of him.

  She placed a hand on his arm and smiled despite her exhaustion. “I didn’t think you’d still be at home. I ran all over the island trying to find you.”

  Xander laughed. “Well, you found me. What’s so important that you had to run all over the island?”

  Sammy stood up straight and took a deep breath. “Your grandfather’s awake.”

  The other aunts and uncles were inside the building by the time Xander and Sammy arrived. He let the cloth tarp drop behind him as he entered, cloaking the room in its dim light once again.

  The Wind Warriors parted at his arrival, allowing him to see the elder man prostrate on the bed. The old man’s eyes were open and staring at Xander. A small, weak smile spread across his lips at the sight of his grandson.

  Xander hurried over, pushing past Patrick and Thea so he could take a spot beside his grandfather. He immediately
took the man’s uninjured hand and had to swallow hard to stop himself from crying. It was becoming a trend that he didn’t enjoy.

  His grandfather rolled his head to the side to look at Xander. Half his face was still bandaged but Xander tried his best not to focus on it. Instead, he stared into the man’s eyes and focused on his smile.

  “Hey, kid,” his grandfather croaked through a dry throat. “You look terrible.”

  Xander laughed despite himself. His grandfather rarely took anything as seriously as he ought to. Xander shook his head softly and chuckled again.

  “I guess we balance each other out, because you look like a million bucks.”

  “Yeah. A million bucks that’s been dragged through the mud and left out in the rain. I know I look bad. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.”

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked.

  His grandfather shook his head, though the movement looked as if it was painful for him. He was overcome by a wracking cough that sounded wet in his chest.

  “No,” his grandfather replied as the cough subsided. “I’m just glad you’re here right now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Giovanni coughed politely to get Xander’s attention. When he looked up, the Italian placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “We’re going to wait outside so you two can talk. We’ll be just outside if you need us.”

  Xander reached up and squeezed the man’s hand in appreciation. The Italian ushered the others outside—including Sammy—leaving him alone with his grandfather.

  “Glad they’re gone,” his grandfather said. “They’re like mother hens, all trying to sit on me like I’m their fragile egg.”

  The mental image made Xander laugh again but his laugh quickly threatened to become far more emotional. He lowered his head so his grandfather wouldn’t see.

  “Hey, hey. None of that. I didn’t raise you to turn into a blubbering kid when things get tough.”

  Xander frowned. “Things aren’t just ‘tough’ right now, Grandpa. They’re impossible. I need you to tell me what to do.”

  Another coughing fit overcame his grandfather before he could reply. Xander took a damp rag from beside the bed and wiped away the spittle that settled on the old man’s lips.

  “You want to know what to do?” his grandfather asked after forcing a deep breath. “You need to listen to your heart. What do you think you should do right now?”

  Xander shook his head. “My heart isn’t what I should listen to right now. My heart tells me to fight. It tells me to find every Fire Warrior I can find and make them suffer as revenge for killing my parents.”

  He stopped speaking when he saw the sadness reflected in his grandfather’s eyes. Xander had spent the past couple days absorbing the fact that his parents were gone but his grandfather had just woken up. He wasn’t even sure the elder man fully realized what had happened in White Halls.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Grandpa,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “I’m old,” his grandfather interrupted softly. “I’m not fragile. I knew it had happened when we got there.”

  The pair sat in silence. His grandfather turned his head away and stared up at the plain ceiling. Xander felt like he should say something else but couldn’t find the right words.

  After what seemed like an eternity, his grandfather broke the silence.

  “Can I be the wise old man on the mountaintop one more time for you, Xander?”

  “Of course.”

  “Your heart’s in the right place but you’re doing it for all the wrong reasons. You want to fight. I respect that. Under different circumstances, I’d even be right there beside you. But you can’t be some impulsive kid anymore. You’re a Wind Warrior now.”

  The exertion caused his grandfather to cough again, sounding even wetter and more dangerous in the old man’s chest than before.

  “I don’t understand, Grandpa. They killed my parents and Bart. They hurt you—”

  “They killed me, Xander,” his grandfather said matter-of-factly. “I told you not to sugarcoat it with me. I’m on borrowed time and we both know it.”

  “All the more reason to get revenge.”

  “No. Wind Warriors don’t fight for revenge. We fight for one reason only—to protect humanity. We old codgers have forgotten that. We’ve given up on humanity, knowing that the Fire Caste is coming to cleanse the world. If you want to fight and if you want them to fight with you, remind the others of the old ways. Remind them that we’re all that stands between humanity and the end of the world. Fight for the people, Xander. Find someone worth fighting for. Fight for that Fire Warrior girlfriend of yours. Heck, fight for that fat friend of yours back home, if that’s what it takes.”

  Xander laughed again. “His name is Sean.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just remember all the faces of the people that you want to fight for. Keep them in your heart and you’ll always be fighting for the right reasons.”

  Xander sighed and laid his head on his grandfather’s arm. “I want to fight but how can we hope to win? There are so many of them and so few of us left. One of them did all this damage. What chance do we have?”

  His grandfather pulled his arm free of Xander’s grip and used it to hook the back of Xander’s neck. His grandfather pulled him in close until he could smell the pungent scent of his injuries.

  “You want to win this war?” his grandfather asked. His voice was frightening clear. “If you want to win, you need to find the Elemental. She’s the only one that can help you now.”

  His grandfather let him go and settled back onto the bed. Another coughing fit wracked his body.

  “What’s an Elemental?”

  His grandfather didn’t answer. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of a sleeping man.

  The brackish water lapped at the pillars supporting the outer deck of the Louisiana restaurant. From the edge of the deck’s railing, patrons could see the crashing waves of the Gulf of Mexico beyond the stagnant eddies on the edge of the river delta. A stairwell on the edge of the deck led down to a small dock where a single, large boat was moored. The still, dark green waters clung to the side of the sturdy motorboat, leaving a slimy film along its hull.

  The restaurant was hardly on any major roads through the region. Most of the patrons were regulars who lived and worked in the area. Strangers came by only by accident when they had turned inadvertently from the main thoroughfares. The presence of strangers was unusual and often met with surprise. As quickly as they came, the strangers often ate and left without looking back at the meager restaurant.

  When the door opened late that evening and strangers entered, all sets of eyes within the restaurant turned toward the small group. These strangers were unusual, even by the restaurants lowered standards. Most of the group wore leather masks that concealed all of their faces except their eyes, mouths, and chins.

  The restaurant’s owner rolled his tongue around the roof of his mouth, trying to remove the sudden taste of ash. The stranger’s presence carried with it the scent of rotting eggs and the owner wrinkled his nose from behind the narrow, wooden bar.

  He opened his mouth to speak but immediately shut it when a man pushed his way through the throng of leather-bound strangers. Unlike his counterparts, the new man’s features were hidden entirely underneath the folds of a bulky robe. A long hood hung low over the man’s eyes, casting his face in deep shadows.

  The man walked with a limp, practically dragging an injured right leg behind him. Though his body was disguised well beneath the layers of fabric, he obviously held one arm in close reverence to his body.

  When he was in front of the rest of the group and standing in the middle of the restaurant’s rounded tables, the new stranger spoke.

  “And this dung heap is the closest point to the Wind Warriors?” he asked to one of his masked compatriots.

  Before the bartender could speak, one of
the dark-clothed men nodded hastily. “We’ve watched them land near here upon their return to the mainland.”

  “Good,” the heavily cloaked man said before turning his attention to the stupefied bartender. “I’m looking for the owner of the boat docked outside,” the man said. His words were muffled and slurred as though his lips were unfamiliar with forming the sounds.

  The owner cleared his throat. “That would be me. What can I do for you?”

  The restaurant’s regulars, normally hearty men, moved aside and took refuge near the restaurant’s far walls. The owner felt the urge to shrink away from the new stranger as strongly as they did but the concealed gaze of the stranger kept him rooted in place behind the bar.

  “I have need of your boat.”

  “It’s… uh,” the owner stammered. “It’s not really for sale.”

  The owner could sense the sinister smile beneath the robe. “I clearly misled you. I had no intention of paying for it.”

  “Listen, pal,” the owner said, gaining some nerve against the man’s thinly veiled threat. “I don’t know who you are or why your whole crew is dressed like you’re coming from some crazy Goth convention but you ain’t taking my boat.”

  The owner’s hand dropped beneath the bar and closed over the shotgun concealed there. Before he could pull it free, the lead stranger extended his hand from beneath the thick sleeve. His fingers were warped, the skin pulled taunt over the bone. The man’s palm and wrist were mangled from severed burns that still oozed from their freshness.

  Flames engulfed the man’s hand in a sudden burst. The fire swirled around his hand as though possessed before launching forward toward the nearest table. The glass mugs exploded from the sudden heat as flames consumed the entire tabletop.

  The owner slowly withdrew his hand from under the bar and raised them defensively over his head.

  “You want the boat,” he stuttered. “It’s yours.”

  “Good,” General Abraxas replied as he took an unsteady step forward. He craned his head toward one of his men. “Load the… equipment.”