The Flame of Wrath

by Christene Knight

  “The priests of Virtue are my guests,” Angelos explained with a gracious smile to the clergymen. He motioned for the others of the room to sit. “Please,” he said.

  The men of the order immediately sat while thanking their kind host. The other guests in attendance however did not move. Their heads turned in Autumn's direction as the Queen stood quaking with quiet rage.

  Autumn knew that things had changed since she had last been within her beloved lands, but she could not abide by this obvious disrespect to her father's house. The offense was made worse that it had come at her brother's invitation.

  “Not in our father's house,” Autumn uttered softly.

  The guests quietly held their breaths in anticipation.

  Angelos stopped with his goblet near to his lips. “Come again,” he asked. He turned his head to expose his ear more fully in the direction of his soft-spoken sister.

  “Not in our father's house,” Autumn said. This time, her voice had been laced by the distinctive sting which left no room for debate with her words.

  Angelos huffed in astonishment. “You would deny a King his comrades?” he asked.

  “I would deny my brother the right to insult his land, his people and his father,” Autumn said. Her eyes chilled to a cold winter storm as she turned to take in the priests. Addressing them pointedly, she said, “You will leave.”

  “Autumn!” Angelos snapped. He favored the priests an apologetic look. Then his eyes returned to his sister, glaring into her for making him look like a fool. “Apologize,” he ordered.

  “You do not rule here, Angelos,” Autumn said. Her words caused quiet gasps to fill the room. It was the first that anyone had corrected King Angelos' habits of breezing into the province as though it were his own personal looting haven. He often dipped into the kingdom's treasury and used its monies to fund whatever he wished. Whether that thing was for himself or for his own kingdom, he made no distinction. No one had dared to stop him because by birth, he did have claim to his father's estates. Having Lady Autumn home meant that she could put an end to his greed.

  “You will not make a mockery of our father's beliefs,” the Queen said. “Do that in the kingdom your murders bought you.”

  Angelos swallowed violently. He darted his eyes to all those nervously taking him in. Before he could act, the priests rose from their seats.

  “Do not trouble yourself, my Lord,” a priest said gently. “We know of your legendary kindness to the church.” The priest shot a cutting look to Autumn. “Pity that not all the Angels royals share that trait.”

  The priests fled from the room with Autumn's lancing stare following after them.

  Angelos stood tersely. He crossed the length of the great room then moved to stand at his sister's side. “I cannot believe your behavior,” he chastised. “Do you have any idea the level of dishonor and shame you have just welcomed into---?”

  “Do not speak to me of such things,” Autumn argued with burning eyes. “How dare you bring those men here? Have you no shame?”

  “Autumn,” Angelos growled warningly.

  “Our ancestors weep for how far we Angels have fallen, but none as tragically as the ones whose name you defile.” Autumn turned her head away from her brother in disgust.

  Angelos staggered backward as if those words had physically struck him. His eyes darted quickly about the room. The others turned their heads so as not to meet his gaze.

  Outrage swelled inside him with a bitter life. “I am every bit the King my father was,” he hissed to all those present. “Better!”

  The dark-haired royal of Black Flame looked upon her kin with sadness rising inside her eyes. How could someone, who had been given so many opportunities still be so poor of heart and soul, she wondered. “Leave, cousin,” Echo whispered. “Before you shame yourself any further.”

  Angelos' eyes were wild. His fists balled. “I will not be banished from my ancestors' house.”

  One of the late king's trusted advisors lifted his voice in the unnatural silence which followed. “There is an authority capable of banishing you from these walls, my Lord,” he said. His aged wisdom revealed itself in the warbling tone of his voice. “For you see though it may always seem so in our hearts, it is not your father's house any longer.” His head rose nobly as he relied more heavily upon his cane to straighten his weary back. “This is the hallowed house to Queen Autumn of Angels.”

  Before Angelos could utter another word, the man continued. “Had you wished to lay claim to Angels, you should have contested succession long ago. Instead, you chose to leave it for others to tend to. Your sister took the mantle with honor on the battlefield.” His eyes narrowed themselves more keenly in the King's direction. “The battlefield to a war you helped to begin.”

  “Mind your tongue, old man,” Angelos warned the elder.

  The old man pressed on, ignoring the warning. “It is hers.”

  Guards began to move into the room in preparation of the King needing to be forcibly removed.

  Angelos leaned forward. He spoke softly into his sister's ear. “I will leave but only long enough for tempers to cool,” he said. “You and I will speak again.”

  Autumn tightened her fists as her brother left. Her eyes closed, banishing away tears. She listened to the sounds of his boots growing further away until, at last, they were gone.

  Slowly she released a quaking breath. The Queen opened her eyes to take in all those looking to her expectantly. “I am sorry that all of you had to see such unpleasantness on a night meant for celebration,” she said. Her head was lowered as she stared down at her empty plate.

  Much to Autumn's surprise the room erupted into loud applause and boisterous cheers. She lifted her head with wide eyes as she stared to their smiling faces.

  “Forgive us, Majesty,” an elder noblewoman said. Her face and eyes were smiling brightly. “We rejoice only because for too long the brotherhood of Virtue have moved about this land as if they had some right to it and King Angelos---” She cleared her throat. “Well he has just not conducted himself as one of our clan.” She balled her fist and shook it with a continuing smile. “It was good to see them get what was coming to them.”

  The noblewoman blushed darkly surprised by her own words. Together, she and Autumn laughed, feeling the tensions of the room shatter.

  Autumn fondly gazed about the room as together they all sat down to dinner. As the meal was served, something inside of her left this moment. It ventured beyond the crystalline windows to the outside world she yearned to inhabit. It would not be long before she knew she would have to break away from the others to find her solace within the Nature that she loved.

  ********

  When the hellish sounds of war thrive around you, all one wishes for is the sweet sound of peaceful silence. At least, that was what Autumn had yearned for most. It had come to be her greatest fantasy that she would shed the armor of her warring life and lay peacefully along the lake's edge with her family's castle in the foreground as she had through much of her life.

  With the moon high in the sky and the stars peeking through the migrating clouds, she saw that fantasy made real.

  Autumn removed her forest-green cloak from her body. She ignored the beads of water clinging to the blades of grass. They only served to further remind her that she was in fact home among her kin. In every direction she gazed, a familiar sight brought her contentment because they were the milestones to her memories.

  A pale yellow chiffon embraced her body tenderly. It showcased the statuesque length of her athletic build. She lowered soundlessly to the ground. Her ears perked, listening to the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. With a feline stretch, she uncoiled. Her gracious form was cradled by a soft pillow of lush green which carpeted the land. She rested her weary head against the elegant expanse of her arm.

  It was then that for the first time in a very long time, sleep came to her almost instantly.

  Autumn might have been a lovely yellow flo
wer among the whispering green were it not for the frown slowly beginning to transform her expression. She exhaled deeply while lost in dreamless sleep.

  Against the silence creeping over the night, a small cough left her lips. It sent a wisp of cloud beyond her mouth. The airy breath lingered near her lips. Then it beckoned another to follow it into the night.

  ********

  Ethereal music flooded the cathedral. The practicing choir lifted their voices to the night as a true testament to the spirit alive within them. Their soulful voices resounded loudly throughout the grand building. Their melodies echoed off the arched ceilings, tickling the polished wood while kissing the stained glass. Still, it was the warm intimacy provided by the candlelight which inspired the hushed tones to leave everyone within this place of worship.

  As a faith, the followers of Virtue had not existed long though by their traditions and even the seeming timelessness of this cathedral one would have easily thought otherwise.

  The man garbed in airy white robes was a perfect example of a sight which might have always been there. He was the solemn spirit to haunt these walls while others slept. His pale white hair gathered at the base of his proud head, tied neatly to end just beneath his neck. About his neck hung a glistening gold necklace. It bore the sign which was the founding principle to their religion. It was the light, their sacred flame.

  His hand reached to light another candle when a loud noise disturbed his tranquility.

  The doors burst open mightily. A young man of the order came rushing toward him. His black hair was wild from the winds his haste had created. The dark pools of his brown eyes were panicked. “Bishop,” he cried. “I'm so glad that you have returned. I was fearful you were still attending dinner with King Angelos.”

  The bishop shook his head with a sigh. “No, Queen Autumn seems to carry the torch of hatred for Virtue her father had,” he grumped.

  The young priest did not seem to hear his words. “You must come.” He panted breathlessly. “There is talk.” Violently, he shook as his mind raced. “So much talk.”

  The bishop extinguished the flame within his hand only after having tended to the candle. He sighed softly. Then with a patient smile, he said, “You must slow down. Now please, tell me. What is it that has you so upset?”

  “A miracle!”

  The young priest paused as his eyes took in their surroundings. “No,” he corrected himself. “It would have been a miracle. Now... now it is a----” Again, he paused. He thought carefully before speaking again a moment later. “A 'problem' of the greatest sense.”

  Still not understanding, the bishop frowned.

  “Another child has been chosen.”

  The color drained from the bishop's face.

  “A Dragon Child is to be born. The successor is coming.”

  The bishop heard the loud gasps of those few quietly praying within the pews. He whirled around, having forgotten that they were there. “Get out,” he commanded. “Go!”

  He forcibly ushered them out before slamming down the large wooden plank to seal the doors. With a trembling breath, he walked toward the dark-haired priest. “Do you realize what will happen when news of this reaches the Empress?” he asked. “The old ways are gone. This child would reawaken lost hopes.” He crossed his arms over his body tightly.

  The words next to leave his lips were not directed to the priest. That much was made clear by their muttered quiet. “The Knights would come. They would punish our entire province for being the home to---” He gasped. “An abomination. The Empress never punishes one. She punishes the many. We would all suffer for this.”

  “What can we do?” the priest whispered.

  Suddenly hazel eyes met dark brown.

  The priest shrank away from what he saw inside their depths. He shook his head slowly in horrified realization. He looked down to the thick book within his hand. Inside the book, it preached of love and acceptance. It was then that he felt the sickening rise of hypocrisy churning within his stomach.

  ********

  On a night in which his heart should have known only joy, he found himself aching with loneliness. Angelos rode along the countryside, listening to the sound of his horse's slow gallop. He remembered the image of the files returning home for what they had been told was a reprieve. The truth was, they would never be restored enough to fight as they were expected to. That knowledge disgusted him. He slumped forward a bit, relying upon the saddle horn to steady him.

  His sister had been at the front. He shook his head. That wasn't true. She was not merely at the front. She had been leading it in their father's stead. A sickening feeling filled him as he remembered receiving the news that his father was dead. He might have gone to the front to take his place as King. After all, he was the first born. The throne was his by birthright, but he didn't need his father's kingdom. Aurea had given him one of his own along with all her Knights. Knights Reign was more than he could have ever dreamed.

  He winced, demanding honesty of himself. Having his own kingdom had nothing to do with the reason he had not come to the front. He had chosen not to come because he had left the true battle for others to shoulder.

  When news spread across the land, foretelling the brutalities faced by the Pyrosian forces, he was gripped by fear. He had thrown himself into his work on the Empress' behalf rather than face the war. It had been easy to lead the first wave. In that part of the war, he had fought villagers. They never stood any real hope of resistance.

  He stopped, overlooking the land he loved. A tear fought to escape his eye but he commanded it away. The very last time he had seen his father, he had been asked, “What kind of man have you become, Angelos?” As he took in the night, he wondered that himself.

  It was clear that his sister did not respect who he was. She had made that clear by her words at dinner. Still, Autumn had a kind heart. She might eventually forgive him. His father however was another issue entirely. There would never be forgiveness from him.

  A quiet fury began to boil in him. Even in death, his father still haunted him. Now the approval he had yearned for his entire life was even further from his reach.

  A pained cry from above called Angelos to look to the sky. His owl was zealously coming to retrieve him. He reached out his right hand. He braced himself for the impact soon to come. His eyes focused on the bejeweled silver staff gripped between his owl's feet. Roughly, he felt the sting of the staff greeting his palm. He was whisked off of his four-legged mount to join his brave steed of the skies.

  Angelos stared down at the world seeming to fall away from his feet. He lifted his other arm to firmly grip the staff with both hands. Holding fast, he stared up at his magnificent creature. With all of his being he wished that his animal companion could express the fear he so clearly saw inside its dark black eyes.

  The owl flew high into the clouds. It burst through them into the dazzling night. It kicked roughly, tossing its rider into the air above before swooping down to catch Angelos upon his back.

  Angelos reached out, gently patting the owl's back. He held fast to the saddle as his cape danced violently in the winds.

  Together they flew with a speed only desperation could give.

  ********

  The forest surrounding the lake had distorted. Each tall tree grew gaunt while lost amongst the dense fog. Its body was steeped in shadowy readiness. Its hands outstretched to ensnare any unwelcome invaders. Faces of anger glared down on those traveling through its littered forest floor.

  Thickly, the copious silver blanketed the ground. It gripped possessively at the Virtuous' ankles, attempting to pull them down into its depths.

  When at last they had crossed over the threshold to the shore, the fog was near blinding. It was all but impossible to see more than an arm's length ahead. The only reminder of the lake's nearness was the loud beating of the water against the shore. It seemed that on this night of temperamental elements, the water was no different.

  Together, the children o
f Virtue stumbled along the shore.

  Leading the others, the bishop held up his torch. He whipped it from side to side burning off some of the veil to blind his eyes. At his back, the sobs began.

  “Demon mother,” the bishop breathed fearfully.

  ********

  Blood turned to frightful ice as a scream shattered the silence. Angelos recognized that voice piercing through the distance into his very heart. “Faster!” he urged. “Faster!”

  When the shore was within sight, his owl descended to a safe distance, but Angelos could not wait. He leapt from his mount landing with a quaking brutality between the mob and his sister.

  Angelos savagely drew his sword. He had stolen the lives of so many with this weapon. Those times, he had done so in the names of causes which meant nothing to him. These people could only imagine what he might do for something he actually cared for.

  “King Angelos,” the bishop began, “you must stand aside.”

  “Why have you attacked my sister?” Angelos demanded.

  “Look at her. Look at what she has become.”

  The dark-haired knight stole a glimpse over his shoulder. He gasped.

  Autumn trembled. Every breath she took, she expelled the silver thickness of smoke. She choked out a sob that accompanied her tears of blood. With fear and confusion abound within her blue-gray eyes, she silently pleaded with her brother.

  “You have been visited by the Dragon,” Angelos voiced hoarsely.

  The Queen's hand slid shakily down to her abdomen. Autumn felt the undeniable heat coming to touch her palm. She smiled despite herself then shifted her eyes to the angry Virtuous. The glare they received was a look which Autumn had only used upon the battlefield. It usually came before a quick death.

  Autumn grew a little lower to the ground, solidifying her stance.

  Angelos shook visibly. He looked between his family and his duty. A war began to wage itself inside of him. He had unfortunately found himself in this dilemma before. The previous time he had chosen duty. What would he decide this time?

  One exchanged gaze between the siblings told Autumn that her brother was undecided in his loyalties. That hesitation frightened her. It did however make her own decision that much clearer.