A Love Like Fire: High Fantasy M/M Romance (Juxtan Book 1)

by Tricia Owens

  "I thank you all for taking the time to be here," Hadrian's father was saying. "I am Gavedon ni Leyanon. It is by my invitation that you are here."

  A small murmur began at the far end of the room. Caledon was unsure of the reason for the disturbance. He did know that he was perturbed that Gavedon hadn't bothered to introduce his son.

  Gavedon was a handsome man, Caledon would give him that. Hadrian would probably age just as well, though with the softer touches to his face that Caledon now realized must have come from Hadrian's mother. But though Gavedon was attractive, his looks held a curious emptiness. To Caledon, the man was like a cold glass window that looked upon a shadowed room.

  "I see that some of you recognize my name," Gavedon continued, smiling.

  Uncomfortable with the man's smile, Caledon spared a look at the crowd of mercenaries. He saw young Fyen, Alena's man, at the side of the room looking eager and excited at the prospect of well-paying work. Caledon smiled to see him. Toward the front, near the dais, Caledon spied Tye. His friend was frowning.

  Troubled by his friend's expression, Caledon returned his attention to the dais. Hadrian remained staring at the floor, for all the world looking as though he were in a trance. Unease built within Caledon. Years spent listening to his instincts had him double-checking his route down the hallway to see that it was clear. He mentally shook himself. There was nothing to fear here. He was in a room full of mostly heavily-armed, well-trained men.

  "For those who do not know me," Gavedon continued, "let me introduce myself. I am the same Gavedon ni Leyanon who founded the Order of the White Shard. It is by the Order's business that you are here. I have no need for an army of mercenaries. I have no need of any of you at all."

  Sorcery!

  The word rolled through the crowd like a tumbleweed. Caledon's eyes shot to Hadrian. A sick feeling began to grow in his stomach as he recalled a conversation with Hadrian, early into their acquaintance:

  "What are you, a mage in disguise? Or worse, a sorcerer?"

  "Would that be so bad?"

  Caledon shook his head. He closed his ears to the increasingly agitated murmurs from the crowd. They were mistaken...A sudden shout from the back of the room made all eyes turn around.

  "The doors are locked! What treachery is this?!"

  "No," Caledon muttered. He knew at once that more was amiss here than he comprehended.

  "Thank you again for coming, gentlemen," Gavedon said, his voice remaining smooth and controlled despite the rising shouts and the pounding against the doors. "You've made my task a much easier one."

  Through the shouting and jostling as men began to push for the door, Caledon heard Gavedon speak to Hadrian.

  "It is time," he said to his son.

  For the first time since his father had begun speaking, Hadrian raised his face. His eyes were as hard and dull as stone as they looked out upon the throng. He spoke a single word: "Fire."

  The nightmare began.

  Caledon had never seen sorcery at work. He hadn’t known that fire could be conjured from the air and that it could roll out like a twitching, golden rug and swamp a dozen men in its path. Screams filled the air; smoke billowed up to the high ceilings. Caledon stared aghast as men burst into living torches, their clothes and hair streaming with fire. A mad rush began for the doors. Men were trampled in the frenzy while others were crushed against the walls. The stench of burning meat and hair began to thicken the air and when Caledon caught whiff of it he bent and gagged.

  More flames filled the room, flaring to reach from wall to wall. Caledon retreated back into the dark hallway, avoiding the stampeding mercenaries as they sought the main doors. The air above the crowd shimmered with heat and smoke. Choking and retching on the smells, Caledon peered through the undulating air to the dais.

  In spite of all that was occurring before his very eyes, Caledon refused to believe what was happening. This must be a mistake. A dream. Hadrian was an innocent, the most harmless creature Caledon had ever come across. Surely this was some trick of his imagination. It had to be.

  But he found Hadrian and his father still in place. And although Hadrian's beautiful face was untouched by the stress and trauma of what was happening before him, Caledon could read his lips forming the same word over and over: fire.

  Caledon wanted to scream his denial. Hadrian couldn't be a sorcerer. It was impossible. Yet his memory held bits of conversation holding a truth he’d blithely ignored. He remembered the many claims Hadrian had made about how capable he was of taking care of himself. Caledon had been convinced Hadrian was bluffing. Hadrian, as had become painfully clear, had been telling the truth.

  Rage filled Caledon. Betrayal. He looked with wild eyes at his fellows―friends he had spent most of his life with―as they howled and screamed as they were consumed by sorcerous fire. His hand went to a dagger and he hefted it, wanting to hurl it with all his might at the men on the dais.

  But before he could cock his arm back for the throw, a wall of flame swept toward him. He dove into the hallway and felt the heat sear his back, singeing his hair. He gasped against the floor, finding the air too thin and smoky to fill his lungs. Choking, he climbed to his feet and staggered down the hallway.

  He burst through the door and coughed in the crisp evening air. From the front of the Guild he heard the doors bang open as the mercenaries finally smashed through it. Greasy black smoke spilled out into the street, trailing like greedy fingers after the men who ran from the building. Some were bloodied from the trampling inside. Some were hideously burned or on fire, collapsing to the dirt to roll in it.

  Caledon limped toward them, looking for Tye. Just as he reached the front of the building, a ball of fire blasted through the front doors. Screams rent the air as the mercantile across the street from the Guild exploded into flames. Shopkeepers and customers ran out only to be drenched in scalding fire as it burst from the Guild again.

  "Gods!" Caledon cried, his voice cracked. These were people he knew, people he spoke with every day and they were burning. "Over here!" he shouted at a young woman who'd lost her sense of direction in her panic. "Over here!"

  She turned to him, a brief relief clearing her horrified face. She started toward him when a tongue of flame licked out and wrapped itself around her. Caledon's screamed echoed the woman's as she pinwheeled away, batting at the flames that blackened her skin.

  Caledon sobbed and tore at his hair. He needed to find Tye. He needed to get his friend out of here—

  "Fire."

  Caledon spun on his heels, nearly tripping in his fear. Gavedon and Hadrian had exited through the front doors of the burning Guild. Behind them, the roof of the building crashed down in an explosion of wood, sparks, and flame. Caledon staggered backward, throwing himself around the corner of a tavern. He watched the two dark-haired men split up, heading in opposite directions down the street.

  Hadrian was heading his way.

  Caledon lost his mind then. Rage flooded his veins, making him shake so hard his limbs threatened to tear off.

  "Hadrian!" he screamed, storming out into the street. "What are you doing?!"

  Fire answered him, billowing across the street like golden banners.

  Caledon sobbed, wiping at his soot stained face as tears of anger and grief threatened to blind him. "You bastard!" he cried out, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this? Tell me why?"

  The black-haired sorcerer continued to advance, following the trumpeting of more sorcerous flame and the horrific chorus of human suffering.

  Caledon choked on his own tears. Strength left him and he fell to his knees. Hadrian's blank gaze fell on Caledon, then passed over him as though he didn't exist.

  "Fire," Hadrian repeated.

  Caledon fell onto his back as a cloud of flame roared above him. He covered his face with his arms as fiery heat threatened to burn off his skin. He heard more agonized screaming. Wood cracked and snapped as more buildings caught fire. A deafening roar shook the ground as th
e mercantile collapsed in a heap of flaming wreckage.

  Caledon rolled over and coughed into the dust. When he managed to raise his head, he saw that Hadrian had turned away from him and was sending fire after a group of fleeing mercenaries. Caledon knew those men. He'd played cards with them only yesterday. Run, he thought desperately. Please get away.

  But fire knocked them down like wooden toys. Their bodies burned just as easily.

  Caledon wept into the dirt. This was his fault. He had brought these men here, he had encouraged them―gods, he had overcome their reservations and pressured them to be here. He knew in his heart that Fyen must be dead. Ah, gods, Alena, forgive me... And his best friend―

  His thoughts seemed to magickally summon Tye. Caledon looked up with wide eyes as he heard a familiar voice scream from down the street.

  "You won't get away with this, you murderer!"

  Caledon looked on in rising horror. "Tye, don't!"

  But his best friend, mad with grief, didn't hear him. Tye rushed at Hadrian's back with his sword drawn, tears streaked down his smoke-smudged face. When a spark of fear for Hadrian shot through Caledon, he ground his teeth together in self-hatred. No mercy! No mercy for him!

  Any fear for the sorcerer was wasted. Tye didn't get within ten feet of Hadrian before the sorcerer calmly turned and blasted the mercenary with a fistful of fire.

  Tye's mellow brown eyes burned black. His mouth opened in a scream that was swallowed by the roaring flame around him. His head was a cap of fire, his limbs flailing ribbons of gold. He spun once before collapsing to the dirt where his body twitched and smoldered.

  It was the last thing Caledon saw before he went mad. Shrieking Tye's name, he lurched to his feet and sprinted toward the smoking lump in the street. He didn't care that Hadrian turned toward him. He didn't care that his soulless silver gaze was pinned upon him. Let me die. Burn me. Flame rushed past Caledon so close that his clothes smoked. The force of the shooting fire lifted him off his feet. He crashed into discarded kegs beside the ruins of what had once been a notary and he lay there, moaning in pain.

  Consciousness flickered teasingly. He heard sounds he never wanted to hear again―the screams of those being burned alive, the wails of those watching their loved ones die. The air was so thick with the stench of fire and death that he thought it would never leave his lungs; he would breathe the horrible miasma forever.

  Time passed for Caledon without his knowledge.

  Gradually, his wits cleared. He blinked painfully, slowly realizing where he lay. Like an old man he crawled on hands and knees out of the refuse and into the street. He saw no sign of either Hadrian or his father. The buildings that had once stood on this street had been reduced to smoking heaps of charcoal. For the first time since Rhiad's founding, Caledon could see all the way to the docks. Not a building remained to impede his view.

  And what a view it was. Black and gray smoke hung like storm clouds over the corpse of the town. Some parts of the sky were lit gold and yellow by fires that yet blazed on the ground. Sparks flew up periodically as fire-weakened structures collapsed to the ground.

  Caledon became aware of the weeping, a soft wail like the haunting cry of a thousand mourning spirits. So, there were some who had been left alive. It was a small mercy after what he had witnessed this night.

  He stood on shaky limbs, unafraid that Hadrian or his father would see him and come finish him off. Caledon no longer feared death. He no longer feared a lot of things. A part of him that had once held space for feelings of love and hope was now empty, seared clean by the sorcerous fires that had razed his town. Into that cavernous space he poured his anger, his despair, and his fury. He stirred that pot of hatred until it churned. He fanned its flames as surely as the sorcerers had fanned the flames of their destruction.

  Caledon turned his eyes to the burned-out sky above him and he made a vow. He would find Hadrian and his father. He would hunt them down though it cost him his life and the lives of those around him. He would carve out Gavedon's heart and he would feed it to the man. And when he found Hadrian...

  Caledon bent at the waist, his body wracked with dry heaves. When he found Hadrian he would exact a revenge upon him that befitted the lives of those who were lost here. Killing Hadrian’s father would be only the first step. The first of many bitter ones.

  "I will not sully the name of ni Agthon with what I do now in my course for revenge," Caledon said in a hoarse, smoke-ravaged voice. He coughed and spit up dark phlegm. "From this day forth, I will answer to Caled." His voice rose in volume. "I will be the bane of Gavedon ni Leyanon and his offspring!" His voice cracked, the tissues of his throat tearing. "I will hunt them to the ends of the land!" he continued in an hysterical shout. "Do you hear me? I will make them pay!"

  Weeping, Caled dropped to his knees. His nails dug bloody furrows into his palms. "I will make them pay," he whispered, staring at his burning town. "They will pay."

  A lock of black hair, bound by a ribbon, fell from his tunic to the ground. Caled stared at it with empty eyes. With a hand that trembled, he pulled his dagger free and stabbed it into what remained of his love.

  Chapter Ten

  Hadrian blinked, and the world returned.

  He found himself standing on a swaying boat with his father at his side. Stars blanketed the sky above their heads. Ahead loomed the dark bulk of what appeared to be Shard’s Point Isle.

  They were heading home. But where had they come from?

  And then memory returned.

  With a gasp, he spun. The coast glittered with fire. Black smoke clogged the sky, hiding the stars above the mainland. Nothing was left of Rhiad but a handful of boats tied up at the docks that had managed to avoid the flames. It was though the entire town had been wiped out of existence.

  "Please tell me I'm dreaming," he said, aghast. "Please tell me this is a horrible nightmare!"

  "You did well," was the answer Gavedon gave him. "Everything will be better from now on."

  Hadrian’s disgust and horror rushed over him like a wave of sewage. He vomited on the deck.

  “By the gods!” Gavedon exclaimed, hastily stepping back from the mess. “Be a man, Hadrian!”

  “What man would murder innocents as we just did?” Hadrian rasped as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What man would show more emotion for his boots than for the people we left dying back there?”

  “They were vermin,” Gavedon said dismissively. “Any one of them would have gladly slit your throat for a coin.”

  “That’s no justification for what we did!”

  “There is justification for every action. The sooner you accept that, the more you will achieve.”

  Hadrian stared at him. His father had always been untouchable to him. He was Hadrian’s metaphorical Fieran’s Peak—out of reach, something to aspire to. But now, with what he’d learned and seen of his father, Hadrian reassessed.

  “Is there anyone you would bleed for?” he asked in a shaky voice.

  Gavedon shot him a dark look. “Take care, Hadrian. You’re in my good graces currently, but that could easily change.”

  The waters grew shallow. Gavedon ordered him to pull the boat ashore. Hadrian obeyed out of a need to put space between them. He tied off the boat at the dock and then turned and marched for the castle without waiting to assist his father in disembarking as he usually did.

  “Hadrian, come back here.”

  No, he thought. You’ve no right to demand anything of me anymore.

  “Hadrian!”

  He would collect what little he owned—mostly books, some clothing—and then he would leave, seek the Council of Elders.

  “You will answer to me, Hadrian.”

  His father followed. It was perhaps the first time that Hadrian could recall it happening. Normally it was the other way around, with Hadrian begging for the scraps of his father’s attention.

  “I’m leaving,” he told his father without slowing his steps. “I want no more
of the Order.”

  “You’re not leaving.”

  Sparks shot past his head and over the walls of the castle, shocking Hadrian into jerking to a stop.

  “Everyone, awake!” Gavedon shouted in his great, booming voice. “Come to me!”

  Light began to flicker in the windows of the castle as Order members roused and lit candles. They would come out, Hadrian knew, no matter that they had all been asleep. They would do anything that The One ordered them to.

  He spun on his father. “Why are you calling them here?”

  “To ensure you don’t do something foolish and attempt to resist us.”

  Resist. The word had never entered his mind when it came to Gavedon or the Order. ‘Obey’ was the word Hadrian was familiar with. It was the word that defined his every interaction with his father.

  But look at what obeying him had caused to happen. A sob caught in Hadrian’s throat. If only he had learned the word ‘resist.’ If only he had dared to be courageous. Obeying had destroyed him. It had destroyed so many others…

  He would obey no more.

  “Send them back,” he told Gavedon. “My issue is with you, not with them.”

  Gavedon drew to a halt. “What issue do you have with me?”

  The question was no question. It was a threat. A dare. A gauntlet thrown which Hadrian had shied from time and again.

  “I-I want you to admit that what we just did was criminal,” he stammered.

  Gavedon began to laugh. The taunting lilt of it enraged Hadrian. It filled his head with a swarm of bees.

  “You were wrong!” he screamed. “And I was wrong for not fighting you and—oh, gods, why did we do what we did?”

  White robed figures began emerging from the castle.

  “Go back inside!” Hadrian shouted at them.

  The first few members slowed, shocked, no doubt, at hearing Hadrian raise his voice to them.

  “Ignore him,” Gavedon called to them. “He’s throwing a tantrum over his lost lover.”