Flame Caller (9 page)

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.”

Abraxas turned back toward the nervous
bartender. “Now, I hear there have also been some odd weather
events happening further out in the ocean. Tell me about
them.”

“
Come, Xander,” Giovanni
said as they walked into the marbled courtyard. “It’s time to
fly.”

Xander smiled as he and the Italian
kicked off from the ground in a gust of wind that send dirt and
dust billowing behind them.

“
You seem to be in a
better mood today,” Giovanni said as he darted quickly past
Xander.

The two men flew gracefully through
the air. The red roofs of the island’s buildings quickly grew
miniscule far beneath them as they soared toward the shimmering
walls of the waterspout.

Xander smiled at the Italian man as he
flew past. “I was able to get some decent sleep last
night.”

“
It’s about time. I’ve
always said that a man needs three things: a full belly, a
well-rested body, and a beautiful woman. You’ve neglected two of
those but at least you’ve managed the most important of the
three.”

Xander laughed as he released the
pocket of air beneath him. He dropped into a free fall, reveling in
the air whipping past his face. His speed increased until his eyes
watered and his skin stung from the wind. As the island rocketed
upward to meet him, Xander summoned another bubble of pressurized
air and rode it upward.

Giovanni followed close behind, giving
the younger Wind Warrior a sturdy chase. Xander turned gracefully
in the air and shot toward the wall of water on the perimeter of
the island. The air bubble beneath him rolled over his body until
he was cocooned within its interior. When he struck the water, it
splashed harmlessly over the pressurized air while he remained
completely dry.

Despite the wind howling in his ears,
he could hear a second splash as Giovanni followed him
outside.

Beyond the punishing waterspout, the
endless ocean stretched in all directions. The tang of salty water
filled Xander’s nostrils, mixing with the faint fishy smell of the
sea. He raised a hand and covered his eyes as the sun glistened off
the rolling waves below.

“
Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Giovanni asked as he came to rest just above Xander’s
shoulder.

“
It is,” Xander whispered,
suddenly wishing he had brought Sammy out to enjoy the view. She
lacked the ability to fly, which excluded her from enjoying some of
the more enjoyable aspects of being a Wind Warrior.

“
Come,” the Italian added.
“We aren’t protected out here. Let’s return back inside the
waterspout.”

Xander frowned, realizing that the
waterspout and the island had inadvertently become his prison. They
were secluded for their protection but it also left him feeling
isolated. Without television or internet, he had no idea what was
going on in the world. The realization only added to his concern
over the friends he left behind.

Xander heard Giovanni rush past him
and turned to follow. Together, they dove near the ocean, leveling
off close enough to reach out and touch the white-capped waves that
rolled beneath them. They burst through the bottom of the
waterspout and flew into the dark shadow of the island.