Fire Serpent
David J. Normoyle
Copyright © 2018 by David J. Normoyle
All rights reserved.
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Contents
1. Monday 05:55
2. Monday 07:30
3. Tuesday 07:45
4. Tuesday 08:20
5. Wednesday 11:05
6. Wednesday 13:15
7. Wednesday 13:40
8. Wednesday 14:10
9. Wednesday 16:05
10. Thursday 16:50
11. Thursday 17:35
12. Thursday 18:25
13. Thursday 19:45
14. Thursday 20:15
15. Thursday 20:40
16. Thursday 20:55
17. Thursday 21:50
18. Thursday 22:15
19. Thursday 22:45
20. Thursday 23:20
21. Thursday 23:35
22. Thursday 23:55
23. Friday 00:10
24. Friday 00:25
25. Friday 00:55
Further Information
Also By David J. Normoyle
About the Author
Chapter 1
Monday 05:55
The Oasis. The ground was brown and parched; the air shimmered with a heat I couldn’t feel; a wall of flame towered into the sky so high I could see no end.
The Oasis. The section of Brimstone that the powerful fire elemental known as Uro had claimed as his own by surrounding it with a giant fiery shield wall.
The Oasis. Although it existed in a different dimension, it was more familiar than almost anywhere else I knew. Although I had never physically been there, in my dreams I came each and every night; although uninhabitable and bleakly inhospitable to anyone from my world, it had begun to feel like home.
As I always did when I entered the dream, I walked away from the Shield toward the center of Uro’s domain. As she always did, Sash waited for me. This time, though, she didn’t return my smile; she looked different, more unsettled.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It can’t go on,” she said, casting her eyes downward. “This isn’t right. This isn’t normal.”
It was hard to disagree with that. Sash, the girl who I’d killed, returning nightly in my dreams. How could it be right? How could it be normal? Yet, I did disagree. “It has to go on.” I didn’t go to sleep each time striving to arrive at the Oasis. Yet I always came here. “And it is better this way.” I looked forward to meeting her. It wasn’t like a normal recurring dream where exactly the same thing happened each time. Sash and I chatted with each other. I couldn’t always remember the exact conversations the next morning, but I always woke with the warmth of a connection shared. What was the alternative? To, instead, have recurring nightmares about the moment her body hit the ground with a cold thud?
She tilted her gaze upward, looking straight at me. “You know I’m not alive.”
I shook my head. “I know I killed you. But I don’t believe that you are truly dead.” I looked beyond Sash at the distant wall of fire. “The Oasis and the Shield exist, and I learned about them through this dream. That means this can’t just be just my imagination. Right? That means you aren’t just dead.”
Sash shook her head. “Wrong. The best lies are wrapped in truth.”
My mouth felt dry, and I fought a compulsion to turn and run from her. But I had to face this. “What is this so?” I threw my hands wide to indicate my surroundings. “And who are you if not her?”
“I am your own projection of her,” Sash said. “Your own thoughts, your own memories, keeping me alive in this dream because you are unwilling to let go.”
“I don’t believe that.” I didn’t want to hear it, at least. “We have talked countless times. Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Perhaps you are finally ready to come to terms with my death.”
“Clearly, I’m not.”
“At least you are ready to start,” she said. “I should go.” She turned away.
“No, don’t. Wait.”
She half turned back. “You can’t dwell on the past,” she said. “You did what you thought you had to at the time. There comes a time to move on.”
“Do you forgive me?”
“As Sash, I can’t forgive you,” she said. “It would be a lie. I’m your own thoughts, remember.”
“Still, it would help me.”
“A ghost can’t return and fix everything for you—that’s not how things work. Can you forgive yourself? That’s something only you can figure out.”
“Can the rest of the world forgive me?” Since killing Sash, I’d also stripped fire sentinels all over the world of their power. “Or maybe it’s not about forgiveness; maybe I have to pay for my sins.”
“Making something right is the only true way to pay for having done wrong.” Sash turned fully away from me, and began to walk. My gut clenched, and I raised my arm, wanting to call her back. I didn’t say anything but willed her to turn around.
And she did hesitate then turn. “Since we aren’t going to see each other again,” she said, “I have a last request.”
“We aren’t?” I let my arm fall to my side. “Are you sure?”
“Give Uro a chance,” Sash said. “Don’t reject what he has to say until you’ve listened to him.”
“Why would you ask that?” And if Sash was a projection of own thoughts, why would I ask that of myself.
“You’ll understand in time.” She gave a smile that was half-sorrowful, half-I-didn’t-know-what. “At least, I hope so.” She resumed walking away.
In the shimmering air, my view of her faded away, then reappeared. Then I saw only air and fire. I caught a final flash of her shoulders and the back of her head. Then she was completely gone.
I fell to my knees.
My eyes popped open, and I sucked in a quick gasp. I didn’t move to get up. I waited for the memories of the fire walls and the shimmering air to fade away, allowed myself to fully ground myself into the reality that I was actually lying in small bed in a single roomed cabin.
Several blankets were draped over me. A wood fire in the evenings was the only form of heating, and the nights were cold, especially when it was windy because the windows and door did a poor job of keeping out drafts. From the amount of light in the room, I estimated dawn was close. Once I’d become accustomed to the rhythms of living out in the wilderness, sunrise had become the natural start to my day. I pushed off the blankets and quickly dressed in the morning chill. I crossed the room, picked up my boots from where they stood by the door, then I stepped out onto the porch and put them on. I stamped my feet to warm them.
Although most of my conversations with Sash had drifted from my mind before I was fully awake, this one remained seared in my brain. I replayed it in my mind several times until the chill forced me to move. I started out unsure of where I was heading until my feet guided me onto a path that wound upward. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I increased my pace, only to slow again when I entered a cluster of trees.
I broke out of the tree line just as the first glimmers of sunlight were emerging from behind the distant peaks. I sped up, deciding I wanted to get to the highest point of the ridge in time for sunrise. I kept increasing my speed until I was moving faster than humanly possible, a spurious use of my sentinel powers. The ground moved below me in a dark blur. It was both reckless and exhilarating to race against the sun like this for no good reason. Reaching the ridg
e, I turned to sprint along it until I came to the highest point. I then came to a sudden stop and gazed out across the lake. Although my breath came fast, I didn’t need to gasp for oxygen. A thin layer of sweat coated my skin. My heart beat strongly in my chest, and blood pumped through my body. The earlier cold was long forgotten.
A nimbus of orange light outlined the top of dark and distant mountains. The low sun sent a thick spear of red light reflecting along the surface of the lake. My chest tightened. It was just the play of light across the water, but, in that moment, I saw the sun wielding a fire spear, aiming it at my heart. A moment later, and that image was gone, banished into part of my mind that conjured ridiculous fancies.
I’ve seen this episode too many times, Jerome thought. Sunrise over lake. Pretty, but it has little rewatchability. Nothing much happens. Certainly not worth breaking into a sweat for.
Can’t put a price the sense of tranquility and serenity it brings, I thought, referring to previous sunrises. This morning had been different; this morning, the sun aimed a fiery weapon toward at my heart.
Jerome, the elemental who resided my barbed wire necklace, usually only had something to say when he wanted to mock me. Most of the time I didn’t much like Jerome, but I had to make the best of it. Out here, it was nice to occasionally hear another voice, even if it was him.
Hey, it’s not my choice you went back on your deal to find me a body, Jerome thought. Not like I want to be stuck here.
Annoyingly, I couldn’t block him from reading my thoughts. Jerome never used his ability of knowing what was in my head for anything useful, it seemed. He could follow my dreams, so he should have been able to tell me that Sash was just a manifestation of my thoughts. Did you know? I asked.
Of course. Only an idiot wouldn’t. She’s dead, fool.
Why, Jerome? I thought. Why didn’t you tell me?
It kept you happy, he thought. It gets pretty unbearable inside your head when you get depressed.
There must be more to it. It couldn’t all be self-delusion. I turned away from the sunrise and started back the way I had come, running the scenario from the dream through my head once more. Why would I encourage myself to listen to Uro? The powerful fire elemental had been an enemy from the start, probably my greatest enemy. It had been he who had been manipulating Sash, forcing us into conflict against one another.
My hand fell to my hip pocket, checking for the smartphone that I knew wasn’t there. A phone wasn’t an everyday item for me anymore; not a single soul knew my number. I only used it for learning how to survive in the wilderness. Each time I had logged on, I had avoided any site that might have news and gone straight for YouTube videos and how-to articles about spearfishing, setting traps, and skinning deer.
The world could be on fire for all I knew. Was that was what the sunset had been trying to tell me? I shook my head and started back down the trail through the trees. I had avoided finding out what was going on in the world because I didn’t want to be tempted back into the fight. From the moment my powers manifested themselves, everything I had done had gone wrong. The best thing I could do for myself, for my friends, and for the world was to stay the hell away. That had been true before I became the last fire sentinel, and it was doubly true since.
Arriving back down to level ground, I came to a stop and glanced around. The cabin I had lived in for the last six months was small but study, built from thick logs. The roof extended several paces over the front of it to give a porch area, used to store the firewood which was currently stacked so high that the top of the piles were hidden under the eaves.
The cabin had been there when I first arrived, of course, but much else was changed, improved. Leaning against the stacked firewood was a pair of hand-carved harpoons, their tips green with algae residue. Against the back wall, a lean-to shelter had been constructed. The shelter was draped with animal skins, and inside hanging from the ceiling were the carcasses of varied types of local wildlife.
Despite my time spent in the Oasis, I hadn’t just been living in my dreams and ignoring reality since I’d left Lusteer. I had learned what I needed to survive, to prosper even, away from civilization. Although I’d used my sentinel powers occasionally—giving me a burst of speed when hunting, or providing me the strength to carry a full deer back from a distant valley—I’d used that power less and less as time went by. The achievement of eking out a life for myself in these woods, if it was an achievement, was all me. It wasn’t the sentinel power.
Still, even that felt empty. I cast a glance around once more. Had I felt so disheartened about my life yesterday? I thought not. Despite being alone, I had thought myself to have been happy with my day-to-day living. It didn’t provide an exuberant joy, but rather a quiet contentment.
However, as I gained expertise, life had become easier, and, paradoxically, the less I had to struggle to battle the elements and hunger, the less satisfaction each new day brought. Each sunset I experienced was a little less awe-inspiring, a little less thrilling. Perhaps Sash’s revelation was just the trigger for these new feelings, not the cause.
I craved the new, the unexpected.
I had planned on spending the day fishing, but with no immediate need for food, my feet had only taken a few steps toward the harpoons and nets, when I instead returned to the cabin. Without removing my boots, I crossed the room and pulled my smartphone out of a drawer and switched it on. While I waited impatiently for the phone to boot up, I scowled at the trail of mud I’d just left on the floor. Still, I made no move to remove my boots. I launched the browser, and typed in ‘Lusteer latest news,’ and clicked search.
A broken icon appeared. Which wasn’t in the least surprising because I could never get a signal inside the cabin. I needed to ascend back up to the ridge. I was halfway out the door when I came to a sudden stop, realizing that I would need phone credit in addition to a signal. I wasn’t thinking at all that morning. The wisest option was to forget this impulse and spend the day spear fishing.
Instead, I pocketed my phone and walked to the pickup truck. The door was slightly stuck, and I had to use a little extra force to get it open. I turned the key. Nothing happened. Beelzebub. When Danny had bought the truck for me, he’d told me that it’d treat me well if I treated it well. Instead, I’d left it sitting unused out in the cold and rain for weeks at a time.
I tried again, pumping the gas. It gave a little whine. “Go on, you beauty,” I told it. “You have this.” I turned the key once more. The pickup gave a little cough, and it spluttered. I slammed down on the gas, and the engine fired into life.
I did a wide turn, directing the pickup down the dirt track that led away from the lake. It bumped and jolted along for a few hundred yards, then the track merged with a gravel road and, after several winding miles, I reached tarmac.
The nearest shop, a mile further on, was attached to a rundown petrol station. I was planning on driving on, choosing a shop further from the lake cabin, but, impulsively, I pulled in. Previously, I had tended to choose shops farther away rather than close while avoiding buying provisions at the same place twice.
The door dinged as I entered. The shop clerk looked up from where he sat behind the counter, scowled, then returned his attention to the TV in the corner. I started down the first aisle. Although I had come to top up my mobile with data, I decided to stock up while I had the chance.
Please don’t buy any beans, Jerome thought.
I don’t think I need beans. Still dozens of cans uneaten.
Well, throw out those when we go back and don’t buy any more. We’ve already eaten many lifetime’s worth since we arrived.
There is no we. You haven’t eaten anything, Jerome.
I still experience the taste and feel the sensation of cold beans congealing inside your mouth while you chew.
I shuddered. Sometimes having the elemental sharing my head was bearable, other times it was annoying. And occasionally it was downright creepy.
The shelves were r
ather bare, and I wasn’t sure if it was the poor lighting, or the thin layer of dust, but nothing looked particularly appetizing. To spite Jerome, I made a beeline straight for the row of beans on a high shelf, and I was reaching for a can when something made me turn around. My gaze was drawn toward the TV. On screen was a distant view of skyscrapers with a dark shadow flickering past the tops of them. The shadow was just a smudge, but considering the size of the buildings, whatever it was had to be huge.
I stepped closer to the TV, then closer still. As the camera zoomed in, the creature came into focus. A long neck stretched forward and wide wings angled backward as it dived. Red and yellow scales glittered.
The icon in the corner showed that I was watching network news. Even so, I should have thought it was from a clip a movie. I should have assumed that such a scene could only be computer generated fakery—perhaps a trailer from a big budget fantasy adaptation.
But I recognized the outline of skyscrapers that the beast flew past. And, though it was impossible to know for sure, I knew exactly what I was seeing.
Connor Duffy had finally returned to Lusteer.
And he was a dragon.
Chapter 2
Monday 07:30
Connor Duffy.
I’d heard that he was become something greater, a figure that the denizens of Brimstone could rally around; I’d been warned he’d return to Lusteer. This though. I shook my head. He’d become a bloody dragon.
The worse thing was that it was my fault. Duffy was a crooked policeman who had occasionally come to my aid, though he was usually serving himself in some way. After defeating Yarley, the fire sorcerer, I had become possessed by three elementals, and, in the chaos of the battle, I had dispelled them from myself, sending them into Duffy.
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