Order of the Fire Box Set

by P. E. Padilla

  The older man noticed her wince. “Yes, you had a shallow scalp wound. Some facial expressions may hurt for a couple of days. It’ll be fine. The scar should be invisible with all your hair covering it.”

  “Thank you chirurgeon,” she said. “I’ll do my best to heal properly.”

  Kate got up gingerly, not sure how it would feel. It was fine, though she felt tugs and pain in different places on her body. They had dressed her in new blue robes and washed her—she wondered who had taken her old clothes off and done the cleaning—so she was already presentable. She gently ran her fingers through her hair and accepted that the Captain of the Black probably didn’t care if she looked pretty or not.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Bernar walked slowly alongside Kate. She waved to Wilfred as she left the room, and he waved sadly back at her. She felt bad. He had waited all that time for her to wake up, and now she was abandoning him. She’d make it up to him later.

  When they got to the section of the city where the Black was based, Bernar pushed through the door without knocking. Kate followed close behind.

  Once in the room, he stepped to the side, allowing Kate to see inside. It was a large room, with tables strewn about and a desk in the corner. Some stray chairs were scattered across the floor as well. Some kind of meeting room, it seemed.

  But that wasn’t what caused her breath to catch.

  Thirty-seven men stood at attention in front of her, in perfect ranks, Bernar Giron having taken his place in line. At the front was a man she had seen but never met, Captain Phrixus Achard. The leader of the Black Command.

  As one, they snapped their fists to their chests in salute.

  Kate’s mouth dropped open, and hot tears crawled down her cheeks.

  “So, Kate,” Phrixus said, “are you ready for your next test?”

  Letter to the Reader

  Dear Reader,

  Kate came a long way from the duke’s daughter to hero of the Order of the Fire, didn’t she? Things seemed to have worked out well for her in the end.

  But what challenge was Phrixus Achard, the captain of the Black Command, talking about? Kate’s bravery and skill were recognized by the Black, but what does it mean? More importantly, what dangers come with the promise of a challenge?

  I appreciate you reading my story and sharing Kate’s adventures, but this isn’t the end. There are still troubling issues with the Order, not the least of which is the apparent prejudice some of the officers have regarding the Black. Could it be the symptom of a greater problem?

  The second book in the Order of the Fire series is already written and will be out soon after this book hits the shelves. In fact, the entire trilogy will be available in a rapid-release style within three months of when the first book (this one) is out. Continuing with Kate’s adventures is just a click away. Check out Hero of Fire (book 2) at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07P16BVMS/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i10 to continue the adventure.

  Please, if you would be so kind, leave a review for Call of Fire. With so many distractions in today’s modern life, the reviews help in bringing attention to my books and drawing in new readers. There’s nothing like posted reviews to help people confirm that a book is right for them. The more readers who leave comments the more I can develop future books to include the elements the readers like (and to reduce or eliminate the things they don’t). Thank you in advance for helping me out by leaving a review.

  If you liked this story, you might enjoy some of the other books I’ve written. They are listed in the last couple of pages of this book. Once again, thank you for reading,

  P.E. Padilla

  p.s. If you would like to get information on upcoming books, please visit my web site at pepadilla.com and join my PEP Talk newsletter.

  I also appreciate any comments I receive, so please feel free stop by my web site and comment on the site itself or to send me an e-mail at pep@pepadilla.com.

  Author Notes

  Creating this book was a strange process for me. It didn’t start out as the rest of my stories do, and it didn’t progress in the same manner, either.

  This book began as a summary of a story and a cover. Both were created by someone else. The cover is what caught my eye, but I loved the story as well. I bought them. This is very unlike my normal process where I come up with a concept and then build a story around it, eventually getting to the point where I’m ready to contract a cover artist and get a cover made.

  With some of my books, I haven’t even come up with a title before the book is actually written. With this book, the title was already right there on the cover I bought from the start.

  It was an interesting process, taking someone else’s idea and making it my own. Truth to tell, I don’t even clearly remember which parts of the story were my own and which were present in the original. It doesn’t really matter. The fact is, I took what I bought and I turned it into something that was my own creation. But it was tougher than I thought it would be.

  I had difficulty finding “flow” when writing. The story, though complete, is shorter than most of the other books I’ve written, significantly so. It eventually came together, but it took more effort and spawned more frustration than I would have thought it would. As a comparison, book two is almost twice as long as this book.

  Would I do it again? Yeah, probably, but I’d have a better idea of the difficulties before I started and would allow myself extra time to get it done. The process probably made me grow as a writer, so it will benefit me in future projects in ways that I can’t quite put a finger on right now. Suffice it to say, I had to learn to think in slightly different ways than I’m accustomed to, so I guess it was a good thing.

  The second book in the series, Hero of Fire, is completely my creation, and it’s closer to the length of many of my other books. It will be off to the editor soon. Even before that, I’ll start writing book three, Legacy of Fire. I plan to release the books about a month apart from each other, so there won’t be a lot of waiting around to finish off the trilogy.

  I could go on and on about how this book is different than most of my other stuff (shorter, less magic, the world is not as complex, etc.), but I won’t. Instead, I’ll get back to writing the next book in the series so you won’t have to wait as long to get them.

  For your amusement, I’ve included an alternate cover I had created. My PEP talk newsletter subscribers voted and the original cover won out. I love them both (the covers; I have more than two subscribers!), but am happy with the choice.

  Call of Fire -Alternate Cover

  1

  Kate Courtenay watched the man dressed in all black and a death’s head mask stride toward the demon commander. The creature was more than twice the Order soldier’s height.

  But the Black were the elite of the Order of the Fire. They waded into battle when the shield wall faltered. They entered the gates of Hell to take the battle to the demons on their home ground. They were the ones who carried the hope of every soldier of the Order, especially in a situation like this, where the demons held the upper hand.

  Kate’s eyes grew to twice their normal size, and a lump formed in her throat and traveled down to her belly.

  The demon commander had hurt the Black brother. He tottered before it, helpless. If someone didn’t do something quickly…

  The twelve-foot-tall demon dropped its great weapon, reached down, and tore the head off the man in black. The monster casually tossed it through the air. The head bounced off one of the shields of a red-cloaked infantry fighter and landed on the blood-soaked ground with a wet thud.

  Kate’s blue robes swished as she jumped down from the platform from which she had watched the battle. Her armor had been taken away when they gave her the Blue—the robes that meant she was a maid, a support worker who didn’t fight—and she wasn’t allowed to carry a weapon.

  They could all run themselves right to Hell. She would fight, and there were plenty of weapons at hand.

>   She snatched one from the ground. The fallen Red nearby wouldn’t be needing it anymore. As she glided toward the demon commander, she kicked a shield into the air, slipping her arm into the handle as it flew.

  She started running.

  The demons, still cheering and shouting in those horrid voices, didn’t pay her any attention. The larger beast roared its defiance against the Order, still celebrating the defeat of their hero.

  Kate launched herself into the air, straight at the big demon.

  And the battle was on.

  In a few short moments, Kate had downed the demon, removing its head in front of all its fellow demons.

  But Kate didn’t stop there. These monsters had attacked the Order, her family—even if they didn’t treat her like part of the family—and that she could not abide.

  She whirled, twisted, and flowed from movement to movement, each one having definite purpose. She dodged demon claws and teeth and dished out death to any of the monsters near her. She cut a wide swath through the dark, twisted bodies, never stopping for more than a moment to gauge the next target.

  Flashes of red swirled around her as the shield wall rallied and snapped back into formation. They surged forward, eventually passing her in their charge, both due to her slowing down from exhaustion and their momentum from crushing all the demons before them.

  Blood loss from all the cuts and gashes she had received finally made her stop to rest. She dropped to her knees, catching one last glimpse of the red cloaks pushing toward the gate.

  Then the world spun and darkened, and she lost sense of where she was.

  When she woke, the hero Bernar Giron retrieved her and ushered her to meet with Phrixus Achard, the captain of the Black. She stumbled into the room, following Bernar. She was still weak from her injuries, hardly able to make the trek to the room. She found the entire Black Command there with the captain.

  They snapped to attention and saluted her.

  “Well, Kate,” the captain said. “Are you ready for your next test?”

  Kate worked her mouth and tried to speak twice before it came out in a croak. “What…what is this?”

  “It’s very simple,” Phrixus said. “You have shown yourself to be everything that defines the Black in the Order of the Fire. An expert combatant, a fearless warrior, a selfless hero. I am officially inviting you to become one of us. If you so desire.”

  She tried to speak again, but once more, words wouldn’t come. She put a finger up to scratch an itch on her face and found her cheeks wet with tears.

  With a great effort, she controlled her breathing, which was quickening as her heart galloped in her chest, and she slowly made the words. “I haven’t even been in the Order a year. How can I join the Black?”

  Phrixus laughed, a deep, bellowing sound that shook her but made her feel a bit better. She knew he wasn’t laughing at her. “It is something. The Supreme Commander told me no when I suggested it. When I told him I would resign if he didn’t agree, he came around.”

  “You…resign?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. There was never any chance he would let me do it. Some of the others on the council, yes, but not Berart. So, I ask you again, would you join us?”

  “I—” Kate intended to talk the man out of it. It was a joke; it had to be. There was no way the most elite unit in the Order of the Fire would take a nineteen-year-old girl.

  “Yes.” It surprised her, but it felt right. “Yes, I would like to join you.”

  The other men in their black armor and cloaks seemed to breathe out at the same time, as if everyone had been holding their breath. Many of them smiled at her. She smiled weakly back.

  “I know it is sudden, and you are not recuperated yet from your heroic actions on the battlefield,” Phrixus said. “I wanted to ask you as soon as possible so we can make preparations for you. Jurdan here will show you where you will be staying. Take your time, heal, and rest. Report to me when you are ready to begin your training.”

  “I, uh, yes sir.” Kate straightened to attention and saluted him, fist slapped to heart. She thought she might have torn some of the precious stitches the chirurgeon told her to be careful of.

  He must have noticed the wince, because the captain smiled. “At ease. Don’t tear your stitches for a salute. We are a little more informal here in the Black. You’ll see. Go on. The sooner you rest and heal, the sooner we can integrate you into our little group. Thank you for your service, Kate, and welcome to the Black.”

  2

  Kate’s escort, Jurdan Vora, was just shy of six feet tall and fit like all the Black. He kept his blond hair long and, at least for now, it swung freely as he moved. His neatly trimmed moustache and beard gave the effect of a dashing hero type.

  The Black noticed Kate looking at his death mask, swinging from a loop on his belt. He raised his eyebrows at her and unhooked it, holding it up so she could see it better.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” she said, not quite knowing what to add to that one word. “It’s very…distinctive.”

  He laughed as he turned it toward his own face. “Distinctive. Yes. The masks are something of a signature of the Black. A flourish, a bit of showmanship. Something that others instantly recognize as a symbol of the Black Command. It’s said that the demons know of the masks and cower in fear from them. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s a nice thought.

  “We choose our own death masks. In fact, traditionally, each of us would actually make our own masks. That’s no longer the way, though. Now, artisans will custom-create masks and some even have finished masks that a new brother…or sister”—he bowed his head toward her—“can choose and start wearing immediately. It’s a personal choice.”

  Kate took the information in while she studied Jurdan’s mask. It appeared to be some kind of metal, lacquered in white. And it was long, as if someone had taken it by the forehead and chin and stretched it. The jet black eyes—some kind of fine cloth covering the holes but still allowing sight—swooped up into elongated teardrop shapes, and the stretched triangle of the mouth seemed somehow…hungry, inverted and opened wide with the top teeth and fangs painted in fine detail. The whole mask was wedge-shaped, with the chin pointed like the bottom of the mouth. Perhaps not particularly scary, but it was mesmerizing.

  “Some want to be as frightening as possible,” Jurdan continued, “while others choose to match their personalities. For some, that is the same thing.” He laughed again. “It is completely up to you. I look forward to seeing what you choose.”

  They had been walking while they talked and approached a door in the Black section of the city buildings.

  “Ah,” Jurdan said. “And here we are.” He opened the door and stood back to allow her to enter. “It is the women’s barracks for the Black.”

  Kate stepped inside and found a room with four beds in it. They were spread out more than the barracks she had been in before, but those rooms had a dozen beds. This chamber seemed downright spacious, as far as barracks rooms were concerned.

  She turned to Jurdan, opening her mouth to ask a question.

  “Yes, it’s all yours. There have never been many women in the Black. In fact, the most we’ve had at one time was two. Still, having a small barracks room like this with four beds seemed to be the most logical way to go about it. Right now, there is exactly one woman in the Black, and she is standing before me. Maybe women don’t like our color scheme, or they find our masks repulsive. I don’t really know.

  “This means, of course, that the entire room is yours. Congratulations. You have a room as large as many of the officers.” He winked at her. “Take your time, rest and heal. The captain told me to tell you that when you feel up to starting your training and education officially as one of the Black, report to him and he will make it so. Until then, you may do as you please. There are two uniforms and one cloak in the wardrobe there.” He pointed toward a large cabinet with double doors. “So you will present yourself as one of us.�
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  “Thank you, Jurdan. I appreciate your help.”

  “It is my pleasure, Kate.” He saluted her. “Welcome to the brotherhood…ahem…sisterhood. Well, welcome to the Black. Don’t get used to salutes, though. We normally don’t go in for much of that. Make sure you ask if you need anything, of me or any of the brothers. You know where our barracks are. We’re just down the hall. I will let you rest now.”

  He turned on his heels and headed down the hall. The clop of his boots eventually faded, and she was left with the silence of her new room. She had to figure out which of the beds to sleep in. Maybe she would take his advice and rest a little. She had plenty of time for other things later on. Her body ached and her stitches hurt, and all she wanted was to lie down.

  Picking a bed, Kate settled onto the mattress stuffed with a mixture of wool and straw. It was much better than the beds she had as a Red or a Blue, though still vastly inferior to the beds she had been used to in her father’s estate. With that thought in mind, she drifted into a comfortable slumber as her mind wandered.

  She was eight, and the children of several visiting nobles were arrayed around her brother Jonathan. As always, he was the center of attention and she merely off to the side. He had always gotten along better with other kids than she. He was naturally more pleasant to be with, she guessed.

  “Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s go and make our maid, Magda, run herself ragged bringing us things from the kitchen. She has to do what I say.”

  The other children laughed and nodded and said it was a great idea. Little Kate didn’t think so, but she didn’t say anything. Her brother must have seen it in her face.

  “Not you, Kate. You’ll just muck it all up. Go find something else to do.”

  She stood there, lip quivering, but there was nothing she could say. The others ran off, laughing, some of them directing it at her.