Call Of The Flame (Book 1)

by James R. Sanford

  “You’re serious,” she said.

  “I am. And I am sorry, Aerlyn. I never should have come into your life.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Aiyan smiled sadly. “I never should have butted into your politics then.”

  “If I believe what you say is true, then I must be grateful and act according to my conscience. Simply because the royal family no longer holds any authority doesn’t mean I cannot act for the good of my people. If I were to succumb to cowardice, how could I face them, who would I be?”

  When Aiyan said nothing, she asked him, “If I do feel threatened in my home, how would I reach you?”

  “For the safety of all I must keep that a secret. But I tell you this, Aerlyn: If your need for me is great, I will know.”

  After the cabriolet passed out the gate and had turned onto a public street, a shadow crossed Aiyan’s brow. He brooded as they clopped past the Palace of the Old Kings. The sea breeze raised the detritus of four days of games and twirled it in eddies at the street corners.

  “I tell myself,” Aiyan said, “that she would be in greater danger had I not come near her. But is that so? Their threats may have frightened her into abstaining from politics.”

  Kyric turned to him, sitting upright. “And she may have decided to vote against them on her own. She would have been in more danger without you then.”

  “I should have asked if I could dine with her tonight. She surely would have said yes.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I could not bear it if she ever felt I was forcing my attention on her.” He shook his head to drive away the thought. “But I would liked to have seen the inside and met her staff and servants, particularly the captain of her guard. It’s so easy for them to get hold of a maid or footman and force them to take the blood.”

  “As I well know,” Kyric said. He wondered if the memory of that taste would ever fade.

  They headed south along the Way of Kings, the statues of sword-wielding angels looking down upon them. All the theatres and cabarets had signs hanging on their doors that read ‘Closed Tonight.’ Aiyan had the cabbie drop them at Candles Street so they could take the back alleys and arrive at Sedlik’s house unseen. As they stepped down from the cab they could see past the old docks and into the harbor.

  Suddenly, Aiyan broke into a broad grin, pointing to a small sloop-rigged boat approaching from the southwest. “That’s Swordfish, one of the boats we use for traveling between Esaiya and the mainland.” He let out a huge breath. “At last. Let’s go down there and see who it is.”

  The wind was from the southeast, and the boat was coming in on a starboard jibe. A catboat had left the docks, heading to pass Swordfish on the port side. They were set to pass fairly close, no more than a few dozen yards. Swordfish was busy lowering its headsail, seeming not to notice when the catboat suddenly tacked and steered an intercept course. There was a puff of smoke from the catboat, and the figure of a man leaped headlong over the rudder, swimming away furiously.

  Aiyan grabbed Kyric’s sleeve. “They don’t see it,” he said. “They don’t see it.”

  It took less than a ten count, but the wait was agonizing. Swordfish tried to turn away at the last moment, but it was too late. The catboat hit and began to scrape along the hull. Then it exploded in a ball of fire and splintered wood. A roaring thunder echoed across the harbor. Half of Swordfish shattered, the other half a flaming mass that tilted over and sank at once.

  Aiyan broke into a run. “I saw someone jump from Swordfish. There could be survivors.”

  They ran down the boulevard all the way to the old docks. A few small craft circled the wreckage on the water, apparently finding nothing.

  Aiyan climbed onto the base of the statue in the harbor square while Kyric caught his breath. He scanned the water and looked up and down the shoreline. “That could be him,” he said, jumping down.

  They went down to where the fallen tower met the sea, and there, hauling himself onto the land, was a broad-shouldered man with shaggy blonde hair. He stood there, fully dressed, letting rivulets of water run from his clothing.

  “Teodor,” said Aiyan, running to him, “are you wounded?”

  “A bit of a headache,” he said, letting Aiyan take his arm.

  “Who else?” demanded Aiyan. “Was there anyone — “

  “Candidate Radic,” said Teodor. “He was at the tiller. I told him to jump. He didn’t feel the danger, didn’t see the smoke. I think he tried to maneuver . . . I looked for him in the wreckage.” He sat on a rock and emptied his boots. He wore a sword much like Aiyan’s, protected by leather wrappings, but it was a little different. The same silver locket with the emblem of the flaming blade hung at his waist. He looked at Kyric and then to Aiyan.

  “Kyric is my friend, and he’s a friend of the order as well.”

  “I am?” Kyric said.

  Teodor smiled thinly. “What Aiyan has told me is that you know of the Knights of the Dragon’s Blood, and the true purpose of our order. And that you are worthy of trust.”

  He turned to Aiyan. “Master Bortolamae was worried about you. I take it his concern was not misplaced.”

  “We can’t stay on this spot,” Aiyan said. “Chances are that one of their informants has a spyglass on us right now.”

  They crossed the harbor road, and pushed through a small crowd at the square where everyone vied to see what was happening on the water. Entering one of the quiet alleys, the only sound was the rhythmic squish of Teodor’s boots.

  “Radic was going to stay with the boat and return to Esaiya when I had some news of you,” he said.

  Aiyan threw out his arms. “They must have been waiting for days. Can you imagine the preparations involved in this kind of ambush? They would have to have a pair watching Esaiya. They would need a series of signals, or a series of very fast horses, and a second set of watchers to confirm you were heading for Aeva. The crew of the bomb boat would have to live aboard and be ready at all times — probably a third set of watchers to signal them. I saw one swimming for it, and I’d wager there was another blood-charmed sailor to stay and make sure it went off.

  “Morae foresaw this. When I stole the rudders he was afraid I would summon a band of knights from Esaiya. He planned to kill them all at once.”

  “Doesn’t this Morae know that the full force of Esaiya would retaliate?” Teodor said.

  “After the Senate votes day after tomorrow, I’m sure they plan to fade away and leave it all for Lekon to run. I’ll explain it all later. I’m very happy to see you my friend, but now that I see the depth of their commitment I wonder if the two us will be enough. They want this very badly.”

  CHAPTER 13: Cinnamon upon a Pillow

  It came to him in a dream, of course. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mother Nistra stood over him while he recited the Edda of Derndra, staring at him with her dragon’s eyes.

  And Derndra conceived his third grimoire

  To be written in the blood of Aerth

  An ink too great for thrice cursed vellum

  Fresh virgin skin it could not burn

  So lifted he his Wirmen progeny

  Rattus eyed and fingered hand

  Bred in filth with demon's milk

  Sinews formed for thievery

  The call to newborn flesh inculcate

  He sat up in bed, fully awake. Yes. That was it. The Wirmen. They had been created to steal infants in the dead of night. He struck a light, tiptoed downstairs to wake Aiyan, and found him already awake.

  He was dressed in his field clothes, and in the process of loading the double-barreled pistol.

  “Something has happened to Teodor.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We are bonded by the secret fire. Look, we have no time for conversation — get dressed quickly and bring weapons.”

  Kyric ran upstairs and was back down in two minutes.

  “It’s half past four o’clock,” Aiyan said. “There will be no
cabs out at this hour. We will have to run.”

  The streets were empty and Aiyan set a steady pace that they could sustain for a while. It was over two miles to the royal residence.

  After the attack in the harbor, Aiyan had decided to keep a surreptitious watch on Princess Aerlyn. He told Kyric and Teodor that he would slip over the wall once darkness fell, but Teodor had said, “I can see the fatigue around your eyes — you’ve been on the run for over a week. Allow me to do it. I feel well rested, even after what happened today.” Aiyan had agreed, no doubt grateful he didn’t have to bring another lodger back to Sedlik.

  Kyric had a stitch in his side and was struggling to keep up by the time they reached the estate. Something indeed had happened. Torches stood on poles at the gate, illuminating guardsmen standing with bayonets fixed. Kyric could see lights moving around the house and out on the grounds.

  An officer, the same one who had been there that morning, had just reined his horse to a halt as Aiyan ran up to the gate. He shook his head in confusion.

  “The Princess commands you to be admitted should you . . . happen to come here,” he said uncertainly. He climbed down from his mount. “Here, you can use my horse.”

  Aiyan leaped into the saddle and hauled Kyric up behind him. They galloped to the house. A butler quickly ushered them through the fine marble entryway, past ornate tapestries, and up a mahogany staircase to the royal suites. Aerlyn stood at the open window of a child’s bedroom, still in a night robe, her hair disheveled. Kyric could hear Kaelyn speaking to someone in the next room.

  Aerlyn turned to them, her eyes wide and her face pale with shock.

  “Aiyan,” she said. “They’ve taken my son. They’ve taken Eren. I — ” She tried to say more, but her voice caught and she stood there helpless, her mouth moving silently, until at last a sob escaped, then another, then another. And for all her wealth and all her influence, Kyric thought, he had never seen one so destitute.

  Aiyan went to her and took her hands. “We will find him,” he said. “We will find him.”

  “I heard a cry,” she said, catching her breath. “When I came in the window was open and he was gone.”

  Kyric looked out the window. The drop to the garden below was fairly long. The wall was unblemished stonework and there was no trellis or drainpipe or anything that could be climbed, but broad spots of moisture ran from the windowsill to the ground like little footprints.

  “What kind of man,” Aerlyn demanded, “can come into my house unseen and carry away my child?”

  “It may not have been a man,” Kyric said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” said Aiyan, staring daggers at Kyric. “For now we must search the grounds for subtle signs your people will not know. I will return to you shortly.”

  Once outside with a lantern in his hand, Aiyan led Kyric into the darkness. “We must find Teodor first. If he is alive the flame will guide me to him.”

  He took out his locket and opened it. A blue-white flame burned there, the same spirit fire Kyric had seen on the edge of his sword. Aiyan held it up like a compass, and the flame drew strongly toward the south. They went in that direction, and walked all the way to the wall before they found Teodor behind a thick hedge. He sat against the wall, a torn shirt tail wrapped around his upper thigh as a bandage.

  Next to him lay the bloody carcass of some foul creature.

  “I thought it best to hide and wait for you,” Teodor said.

  “No sense in drawing undue attention,” said Aiyan. “Can you walk?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t put any weight on this leg.”

  “We need to get you over the wall before the dawn comes. You and this.” He held the lantern over the carcass.

  It was the size of a small woman, with the rough skin of a hairless dog, hands with tiny claws that were as much human as rodent, and legs made for both walking upright and bounding on all fours. Set in what was more of a snout than a face, round eyes of solid black reflected none of the lantern light. It was the long black whip-like tail that gave it the appearance of a rat.

  “A Wirman,” said Kyric.

  “They were fast and silent,” Teodor said. “I didn’t see them until the first one came out of the window with the boy. I thought there were only two. I killed this one and had the kidnapper up a tree when the third one hamstrung me.”

  He held out an arm, and they helped him up to stand on his good leg. “Aiyan,” he said softly, “I never felt them in the realm of power. I sensed no danger when I was attacked from behind. They are invisible to the spirit eye — how could that be?”

  “We will ponder it later,” Aiyan said, “but now we need to go.” He suddenly stopped. “None of them were wearing a collar or other kind of ornament were they? A bracelet or bangle perhaps?”

  “No,” said Teodor. “They were all as you see this one.”

  “Hmm.”

  With a leg up from Aiyan, Kyric pulled himself to the top of the wall, and together they managed to get Teodor up and over. They passed the carcass of the Wirman down to him then headed back to the main house. Aerlyn, now fully dressed, met them at the entrance.

  “They have fled,” Aiyan said to her. “Was there anything left behind? A note perhaps?”

  She nodded, her eyes closed tight. “A sprinkle of cinnamon on his pillow. I know what that means.” She clutched at his arm. “Aiyan, if I vote with them, will they return my son unharmed?”

  He took her hand. “That will not be necessary, Princess. Because I will go and get him this very day. Did you by chance save a lock of his hair when he was a baby?”

  “No,” she said, a quiet teardrop slipping from one eye. “Why?”

  “I need something that, ah, has many layers of his scent upon it, more than the clothes he wore yesterday.”

  “My master of hounds had already taken the dogs around the grounds. They have scented nothing that they could follow.”

  “That may be,” said Aiyan, “But I know a dog that can find anything if he has the scent. I need something was almost a part of Eren — a ring he always wore, a hat, a penknife he always carried.”

  “I know what,” she said. She ran upstairs and returned with a leather bag.

  “These are his favorite toys,” she said. “He plays with them almost every day.”

  Aiyan took the bag from her. “I will find him, Aerlyn.”

  “I know you will try,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.

  He looked deeply into her eyes, forcing her to look into his, to see his unshakable resolve. The eastern sky had begun to lighten, the stars there fading away.

  “I will find him, Aerlyn. I swear by the name of my sword and upon the secret fire that I will return him to you before you see another dawn. I swear it.”

  They left her there, and followed the driveway back to the gate at the run, silent but for the sound of their footfalls against the gravel. Teodor waited for them, away from the street at the far corner of the wall. Kyric helped Teodor hobble along while Aiyan dragged the carcass of the Wirman. They searched the southern length of the wall until they found the slimy footprints they had seen at the house. These led them back to the streets and to a storm drain. The grating that should have covered it was gone.

  Aiyan dropped the carcass into the drain opening. “No point in trying to follow the Wirmen. They will have already taken the prince to Morae, and I doubt he is anywhere in the sewers.”

  “What now?” asked Kyric.

  “Pitbull.”

  “Ah,” said Teodor, “the dwarf magician.”

  They limped eastward along Veleriand Boulevard as the sun rose, at last seeing a cab as they came to the Way of Kings. Aiyan whistled it down and gave the driver directions. The city was slowly returning to life after its day of rest, the streets running with the aroma of bread wagons as they hurried by.

  It turned out that Pitbull lived on a narrow street by the river, only a mile from Sedlik’s house. It was a sprawlin
g neighborhood of squat, stucco-covered houses. They found him standing in his vegetable garden behind a short rickety fence, water can in hand. Kyric heard him curse under his breath as they pulled up.

  “Aiyan, I haven’t even had my breakfast yet.”

  Aiyan threw a full kandar at the driver as he leapt from the cab. “I need you now my friend as I have never needed you before.”

  Aiyan explained everything to Pitbull, handing him the bag of toys. When he was done Pitbull said, “Take my wagon and go get all you need. I’ll purify Teodor’s wound — no telling what kind of filth or poison those creatures leave with their bite. By the time you return I will have cast a ritual finding.”

  Pitbull’s son, Rellen, the teenage boy who had driven him the morning of the archery tournament, hitched the donkey cart and brought it around for them. Aiyan drove while Kyric squirmed impatiently. “This isn’t any faster than walking,” he said.

  “That’s alright,” Aiyan said. “We will need all our strength before this day is done.”

  A hay wagon had overturned in the avenue, so Aiyan made a detour through some side streets. When they finally arrived at Sedlik’s house they parked on the street and went in the front door.

  “You must keep the doors locked at all times,” Aiyan called, slamming the door behind him. “How many —.“ Then he saw Jazul Marlez sitting with Jela in the parlor, sipping coffee from a delicate porcelain cup.

  “Join us,” Jela said cheerfully. “Jazul is leaving tomorrow and came to say good-bye.” She paused and looked at them more closely. “What is the matter?”

  Aiyan hesitated, and Kyric thought he was about to lie to them. “Prince Eren had been kidnapped,” he blurted out, deciding against deception. “A few hours ago.”

  “What?” shouted Jazul, leaping to his feet. “How?”

  Aiyan quieted him with a wave of his hand. “Jela, I need you to quickly make a breakfast for us. A large one that will hold us all day. Kyric, there’s some scraps of linen in the cellar. Tear them into strips for bandages. And bring the axe up as well. The keg of gunpowder too. I’ll gather all the firearms and see them freshly primed. Don’t let me forget to clean the frizzens as well. Please forgive us Marlez, but we are making ready to mount a rescue.”