Fire Sorcerer (The Sentinels Book 1)

by David J Normoyle

“Lots.”

  “Perhaps we should call the police,” another customer said.

  “Go ahead. I don’t care.”

  “What do you want?” Flavini asked.

  “I don’t know what to do. The Reds have my friend and won’t let her go. I need more help. One time and I’ll never bother you again.”

  Flavini came out from behind the counter.

  “I can deal with him,” Ray said.

  Flavini put his hand on Ray’s arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Flavini approached me, leaned close and spoke low enough so only I could hear. “The Lusteer sentinel currently goes under the name Robert Bobbit. He generally hangs around the Lusteer golf course. Perhaps he will help you.”

  Another sentinel. An experienced one. That sounded like exactly what I needed. “Thank you.”

  Flavini stepped away from me. “Get out. And remember: this is the last time. Don’t come back again.”

  Chapter 28

  Thursday 15:40

  The Lusteer driving range was an outdoor one, facing up a slope with 100, 150, 200 and 250 yard markers. The club pro had directed me there but, until I saw one man hit a ball way past the 250 marker with an iron, I wasn’t sure Robert Bobbit was among the five men hitting balls.

  I approached the big hitter. “Robert Bobbit?”

  He looked up. “Don’t call me Bob.”

  “I didn’t.” Bobbit wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

  “Just making sure you are aware of the problem,” he said. “People love to call people named Robert, Bob. And what do I have then? Bob Bobbit, that’s what.”

  “I can see how that would be a problem.” This was the sentinel? One of the famed guardians of humanity? And I’d thought the universe had gone wrong in picking me. “Can we talk?”

  “We are talking.”

  “Somewhere more private.”

  “I’m retired.” He rolled a ball in front of him, took a quick practice swing, then stepped forward and hit. The golf ball arced high into the sky, hooking wildly left, though it had to have gone over three hundred yards.

  “What are you hitting?” I asked.

  He lifted up the base of the club to show the lettering. “8 iron.”

  “I’m not an expert, but shouldn’t that club only be going half that distance?”

  “You aren’t going to leave me to practice in peace, are you?” Bobbit asked.

  “Not even if you get a bearded man called Ray to throw me around.”

  “If anyone does the throwing, it’ll be me,” Bobbit said before blasting another golf ball over the horizon.

  I nodded. “And I’m sure I’ll be thrown past the hundred marker if you decide to go that route. But I’d prefer to just talk.”

  “Hmmppphhhh.” Bobbit picked up his basket of balls and slung his golf bag onto his back. “Come on, there’s a short-game range around the corner which is always empty.” He walked around the back of the driving range and through a gap in a hedge. I followed, a step behind.

  At the reaction from the shades in the office when they’d decided I was a sentinel, and from what I’d read in that one article on the internet, I had expected Robert Bobbit to be an indomitable warrior.

  Instead, he was middle-aged, balding, and slightly overweight. At least his strikes on the golf ball showed something, though I wasn’t sure what. I made a face at the Hawaiian shirt on his back. Was I going to have to rely on him to rescue Jo?

  At the short-game range, Bobbit put his basket of balls on the ground, chose a club and lined up to a practice green a hundred paces away, then stroked the ball far over the green into the cluster of trees beyond it. “So what’s your story?” he asked me.

  “I’m like you.” I looked him up and down, then decided to rephrase. “Or more accurately, I’m a sentinel. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “So you are the rogue?”

  “The what?”

  Bobbit leaned over another ball, then swung. He barely put any energy into the stroke, yet the ball overshot the green. “They don’t design clubs for the likes of me. I can reach any green in one, but once I’m inside two hundred yards, I can’t get any accuracy.”

  “Maybe golf isn’t for you.”

  “I figure that it would be unfair to enter contests that rely on speed or strength, since I’d win those easily against normal humans. But with something like golf, I should be allowed to compete.”

  Being able to hit the ball twice as far as everyone else meant it wouldn’t be a fair contest. “Why do you need to compete?” I wanted to turn the conversation away from golf, but I didn’t want to be too pushy. I’d learned from Flavini that simply demanding help doesn’t always work.

  “I want to make use of my gifts.”

  “Playing golf? Isn’t that wasting your gifts?”

  “Sports stars are the true heroes of our age. The modern Achilles is Tiger Woods, though his weakness isn’t his heel, it’s a different part of his body. Lebron James is Hercules. Tom Brady is Ulysses. Cristiano Ronaldo is, I don’t know, Atlas perhaps. He’s already managed the god-like body; his sculptor wouldn’t have to exaggerate in making his statue.”

  “It’s just sports,” I said.

  “They get riches and are feted by the masses, and for what? They don’t have to risk their lives.”

  “And you do?” Despite any abilities he might have, Robert Bobbit didn’t look like he moonlighted as a superhero.

  “In my time.” He nodded. “Very few know about what I did. Golf pros get acclaim from millions for efficiency in knocking a small white ball into a hole. No one knows about the time I defeated the phoenix shade who wanted to burn down the city.”

  “You did?” That came out with too much disbelief, so I repeated the words with more conviction. “You did. Fantastic.” Despite appearances, Robert Bobbit was exactly who I needed. “That means you’ll be able to help me. Hugo Yarley has kidnapped a friend of mine, a girl named Jo, and he wants to turn her into a shade.”

  “Yarley can summon elementals from Brimstone now?”

  I shook my head. “Jo already has an elemental inside her. Yarley is making sure I don’t get a chance to free her.”

  “Ah.” Bobbit dragged another ball in front of him with the blade of the club. “Your doing, I presume.”

  “How does everyone know that I caused her to be possessed?”

  “Because you are the rogue sentinel. Aren’t you?”

  “What’s a rogue sentinel?” First I was a fire sorcerer, then a sentinel, now a rogue sentinel. It was hard to keep up.

  “A sentinel who is using his powers recklessly,” Bobbit said.

  “No, it’s the opposite in fact. I’ve been beaten to a pulp and refused to use my magic.”

  “That your friend is possessed says otherwise.”

  “I had no choi—” There was no point in justifying what I had done. The important thing was making it right. “I know where she’s held. If we leave now, we’ll be able to get to her in time to save her.”

  “I’m retired.” Bobbit hit another golf ball. This one bounced onto the practice green and skidded off. “Ha. See how close I got that one.”

  “I saw.” It landed several eons away from the PGA tour.

  “I’ve got the length off the tee. I just need to work on my short game.”

  Which was why he spent the afternoon on the driving range instead of the putting and chipping green. “How can you be retired? It doesn’t seem something you can retire from.”

  “I’m not allowed to use my powers. Orders from Walker.”

  “Who is Walker?”

  “He’s the leader of the sentinels.”

  We had a leader? “I didn’t vote for him.”

  Bobbit chuckled. “You can bring that up to him at your trial.” He lined up another ball. This time, he didn’t even try for accuracy, blasting it into the trees beyond the golf course.

  “Trial?”

  “He sent me several messages about bringing in the rogue
sentinel. But he can’t force me to retire, then order me around. That’s not right.”

  “A trial for what? I didn’t do anything.” That wasn’t exactly true.

  “Save it for the trial. If you didn't know the consequences, you may have some leeway.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Beelzebub’s bouncing balls. I was going to have to face a blasted sentinel trial. If I didn’t have enough to worry about. “That’s for later. For now, what do I have to say to you to get you to help me?”

  “You want to save a single girl? I can’t use my powers for that. Walker would have my head.”

  “Why?”

  “There’re already too many elementals in the world, and more coming fast. That’s why Walker is cracking down on rogues and retiring those who he considers dangerous. Forget about this girl, chances are it’s too late for her. Best to keep your head down between now and whenever your trial is, and hope Walker is lenient.”

  “You don’t understand. I simply must save her.”

  Bobbit shrugged.

  “And you must help me.” If I am to have any hope, I mentally added.

  “I’ve saved plenty of people in my time,” Bobbit said. “And I’ve tried to save others and failed. And years later, sometimes I think back and can’t remember who lived and who died.”

  “So that’s it. You’ve given up. You have the power to make a difference, and you are just going to play golf.”

  “Not just play golf. Become one of the greats. Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods, Rory McIlroy, Robert Bobbit.”

  “It’s not just any girl. She’s worth saving.”

  “They all are.”

  “She can hack into any computer system yet invented. Her wall is plastered with inspirational quotes from Mahatma Gandhi and Steve Jobs and others. She is such a good person it breaks my heart that the world might not have her in it anymore.” I felt myself choking up.

  “There are other fish in the sea.”

  “You ass. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a girl.” I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to strangle him.

  “Well, you have to do what you have to do. Hugo Yarley’s not as bad as others, in my experience. I’d nearly say you have more to fear from Walker. So use your other powers, but keep your magic under wraps.”

  “Other powers?”

  “You know, speed, strength, ability to drive the ball six hundred yards.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have those.”

  “What age are you?”

  “Nearly eighteen.”

  “If you started using magic, then everything else shouldn’t be too far behind,” Bobbit said. “You are still young though. How’s your healing ability?”

  I remembered how quickly I recovered from Jace’s crowbar. “Fast.”

  Bobbit nodded. “What about your multani?”

  “My what?”

  “Your weapon.” Bobbit put his golf club to the side and held out his hands. A stream of fire materialized and I jerked away. The fire didn’t shoot into the air, though; it settled into a solid-looking shape. He swung it through the air in front of him.

  Once I recovered from my shock, I examined the weapon more closely. It reminded me of Kylo Ren’s light saber from the new Star Wars, but it wasn’t in the shape of a sword. It didn’t give off heat, and it clearly didn’t burn Bobbit’s hands. “What is it?” I asked.

  “A halberd. You know, like the Swiss guards in the Vatican use.”

  “Not really.” It looked like a long staff with a small battle axe on the end. “Wait a minute, I thought you said you aren’t allowed to use magic.”

  “Every sentinel has a multani which doesn’t require magic use.”

  That made no sense. “It’s a burning weapon that has appeared out of nothing. And you’re telling me that’s not magic.”

  “I don’t make the rules.” He touched his stomach. “Though it looks similar to an outsider, my fire magic has to be summoned from my core and feels like rising heat as it emerges from me. It can be channeled in many different ways. The multani just appears, effortless, and always the same.” Bobbit lowered the head of his burning pike toward the ground, lining it up like a golf club. I took a step back. He swung, and the fiery halberd whooshed through the air. At the end of the swing, Bobbit held his pose, the pike high in the sky above his head. “Every sentinel’s multani is distinct. But there are old stories of multani changing occasionally. I had hoped mine might turn into a golf driver.”

  “Seriously?” This joker was truly an ass. “I think a weapon with pointy things on the end of it is better. In case you ever decide to fight bad guys again.” Seeing the fiery halberd was getting me excited. “Should I be able to summon one of these multani?”

  Bobbit’s halberd disappeared. “Of course.” Then he reconsidered. “If you live long enough to figure out how.”

  “Can’t you tell me how?” Figuring out how to use a multani was as close to finding a horcrux as I was going to get.

  “I can’t teach it,” Bobbit said. “It has to happen effortlessly. It’s like a baby calf’s first steps after it's born. It has spent its whole life swimming in fetal fluid, yet within a few minutes, it can walk.”

  “So I just have to be born.” Surely my hopes were not going to be dashed again. I held out my hands and willed a fiery halberd to appear. It didn’t. My brow furrowed as I concentrated.

  “Don’t try too hard. Otherwise, you’ll just form a weapon with magic, which is the last thing we want. Remember, every sentinel’s multani is different.”

  It sounded a bit like Harry Potter and his stag-shaped patronus. However, it had taken Harry a school year to learn how to do that correctly, and I only had a few hours before Jo was gone forever. I had to get Bobbit on my side. “Robert, your multani hasn’t turned into a driver yet. I think there’s a reason for that. Your people-saving days aren’t over.”

  Bobbit picked up his 8 iron again and hit his last ball, overshooting the green as usual. He then picked up the empty basket. “Good luck to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to practice.”

  I growled under my breath as I watched him walk away. “If you reconsider, come to Burgundy’s bar this evening!” I shouted after him. “I’m going to save her or die trying.”

  Chapter 29

  Thursday 16:10

  In the golf club parking lot, I sat on the Vespa and considered. I had no confidence that Bobbit would come to help me, but it was a possibility. What else could I do to aid my chances? I took out my phone and checked Twitter. Unsurprisingly, I had received no further response from RedWhiteandTrue. I considered for a few moments, then typed out a message. “Burgundy’s this evening. Everything will be going down. Thank me later.” I pressed send.

  I didn’t think that whoever owned the Twitter account would arrive—he clearly preferred operating in the shadows—and even if RedWhiteandTrue did come, I didn’t see how he would help. It was a Hail Mary pass, but the Hail Mary was used for a reason. When things were desperate, the low-percentage throw-it-and-hope was better than not throwing.

  A drop of rain fell on my head, and I looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were literally swirling on the horizon. Thanks for the warning, God, I thought. As if I didn't know.

  I started the Vespa and drove out of the golf course parking lot. The course was on the outskirts of the city, so I had at least a half hour drive back to Burgundy’s. After that, I had no idea what was going to happen. I directed the Vespa onto the highway.

  It’s too soon. You don’t have all the horcruxes, Jerome thought.

  It was the first time Jerome had projected any thoughts since I’d fought him off the evening before.

  Don’t you dare say anything, I thought back. You just want me to lose. He wasn’t to be trusted. He had urged me to confront Jace and then tried to take advantage of the resulting injuries.

  I can’t take over your body if you are already dead.

  You aren’t helping your case.

  I might have
wanted you weakened, but I don’t want you dead. If they bury you with me around your neck, you’ll be the lucky one.

  That’s a comforting thought, at least, but what’s your point?

  Jace won’t hold back next time. It’s in my interests for you to survive.

  What do you know about horcruxes anyway?

  Enough to know you haven’t found any.

  Much as I hated to admit it, Jerome was right. I’d thrown a few Hail Marys but hadn’t found any horcruxes.

  You’re really mangling your metaphors there. Think of the poor creature who is forced to share your thoughts. Namely me.

  Shut up.

  I glanced to the west where the skyscrapers of the central business district were silhouetted by the setting sun. I still had a few hours before Jo would become transformed. Was there something I had forgotten?

  Suddenly it came to me. An off ramp was coming up, so I shot across three lanes of traffic. One car violently swerved to avoid me and another one fishtailed as the driver slammed on his brakes. Traffic accidents and I were becoming close companions.

  I shouldn’t have put the thought in your head about what your death would mean for me, Jerome thought.

  I ignored him and headed directly toward the setting sun. In my sightline was the biggest skyscraper in the city, Verge Tower.

  Recalling my previous meeting with Richard Sulle, an involuntary shiver ran down my back. He claimed to be human, but both Hugo Yarley and Harriet Ashley answered to him. He had also, before anyone else, known all about me.

  Chapter 30

  Thursday 17:25

  A big central fountain dominated the Verge Plaza with skinny metal sculptures spaced out around the edges. I barely glanced at anything as I sprinted past. Thousands of men and women in suits, most holding briefcases tightly to their sides, spilled out of the entrances of Verge Tower.

  The closer I got to the skyscraper, the thicker the crowd and the slower my progress. At the doors, I rudely shoved through a bunch of people to get inside. At the reception desk, I hesitated. What were the chances that Sulle was here, and even if he was, would he see me after hours without an appointment?