Trial By Fire (Going Down in Flames)

by Chris Cannon

  “Are you all right?” her knight asked.

  “Tired, but good.” Bryn stood and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “It was an eventful day.”

  “That it was.”

  She looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

  “I love my new sword, but I definitely do not like making you bleed.”

  And that’s when she realized something. “I didn’t heal myself after the cuts.” She showed him her hand with the barely visible lines. “Do you think that’s part of the magic?”

  “I don’t know. Blood-magic is messed up.”

  “Is that a real term?” Bryn asked. “Or are you improvising?”

  “I’ve never heard it before, but it seems to fit. Now, enough big thoughts for the day. Come here.” He tugged her toward the couch. “I’m not ready to let you go.” He lay down, and she followed suit, using his chest as a pillow.

  “My dragon,” he murmured as he kissed the top of her head.

  “My knight,” she replied as she yawned.

  …

  At breakfast the next morning, Bryn noticed a certain trend. “And everyone is back to staring again. Lovely.”

  “It’s your fault. You’re the one who keeps doing weird things,” Clint teased. “Finding secret doorways. Consorting with Directorate member’s sons.”

  “What?” Valmont sloshed coffee over the rim of his cup.

  Ivy chuckled. “There’s a rumor Jaxon was seen leaving Bryn’s room late last night.”

  “So.” Bryn didn’t get it. “It’s not like I was alone with him. Valmont was there.”

  “Yeah,” Clint snorted. “People are talking about it that way, too.”

  “Stop it.” Ivy smacked Clint on the arm.

  “What?” Clint rolled his eyes. “Number one, they need to know. Number two, it’s ridiculous to think of those three together.”

  “Three? Oh, hell no.” Valmont pushed away from the table.

  And that’s when Bryn got it. “Why…” Words failed her, but the look of utter disgust on Valmont’s face made this seem oddly funny. If she laughed, he would not be pleased. She played it off as being mad. “Why would people think something so stupid?”

  “Students are bored. Rumors are fun.” Clint shrugged.

  “Fun?” Valmont grabbed a butter packet and whizzed it at Clint’s head.

  “Hey.” Clint ducked allowing the butter packet to sail over his shoulder onto the floor. “Don’t fling dairy products at the messenger.”

  “You’re enjoying this too much,” Bryn shot back.

  “I can’t help it.” Clint’s grinned. “I’m dying to ask Jaxon if he’s heard the rumors.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Bryn warned. “There’s enough strange crap going on without you adding to the situation.”

  “Fine.” Clint shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth.

  A roar reverberated through the room. Bryn whipped around to see Jaxon grab a Blue male she didn’t recognize, pin his arm behind his back, and slam him face first into the table.

  “If you ever repeat such a stupid rumor again,” sleet shot from Jaxon’s mouth with every word, “I will gut you.”

  “I’m sorry.” The boy gave a fake laugh. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

  “Not funny.” Jaxon yanked the boy to a standing decision. “Apologize. Now.”

  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his right arm and backed away slowly before turning and running for the door.

  “Still wish you could’ve told Jaxon?” Bryn asked.

  “On second thought, no,” Clint said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In Mr. Stanton’s class, everyone gave Jaxon a wide berth. Whether it was his actions or the scowl, which seemed permanently etched on his face, Bryn wasn’t sure. He avoided eye contact with her, which she didn’t really mind.

  “Class,” Mr. Stanton spoke from behind his desk, “we are going to practice transferring Quintessence from one plant to another. On a theoretical scale, this mimics how medics heal. Later, if you choose to study Quintessential medicine, you will practice on one another. In my class, you will work with plants. We don’t want anyone to sustain an accidental injury.” He passed out small potted ferns.

  Clint and Ivy sat at desks next to Bryn.

  “I sucked at this the last time,” Clint said.

  “Watch me.” Ivy touched the leaves of her plant. “I’m visualizing drawing the green color from the plant.” The plants leaves darkened and turned brown. Then she touched the other fern. “Now I’m imagining pouring the green into this plant.” The fern perked up, sending fronds out in all directions.

  “You’re really good at that.” Bryn held her hand above the plant and concentrated. Nothing happened. She closed her eyes and focused on feeling power flow up from the fronds. When she opened her eyes, the plant hadn’t changed.

  “Crap.”

  “And you want to become a medic,” Clint teased.

  “You try it.” Bryn pointed at his plant.

  “Fine.” Clint cracked his knuckles and then touched the leaves of his plant. Lightning crackled from his palm, shattering the clay pot and spilling dirt on the desktop.

  “Looks like we both suck at this.” Clint scratched his head. “Now what?”

  Ivy held out her hand. “Give me your ferns.”

  Clint did as she asked. Ivy drew the life force from the donated plants and infused her fern with Quintessence, almost doubling it in size.

  Bryn shoved her plants to Ivy and watched as Ivy transferred the Quintessence and caused the plant fronds to twist and bend so they curled back on themselves creating a heart shaped topiary.

  “We should find out if you could help with the decorations for the Valentine’s Day dance,” Clint said.

  After class, Bryn and Valmont headed toward the library. “How can I heal a person but not be able to do the stupid plant transfer?”

  “You can’t be great at everything. You have your gifts, and Ivy has hers.”

  He was right. “That’s a mature way to look at it.”

  When they entered the library, a Red guard stopped them. “Miss McKenna, your grandfather would like a word with you. He’s in the archives.”

  For a split second, she thought about accepting this directive at face value, but the moment passed. “I don’t mean to be rude, but the last time I blindly followed one of my grandparents’ employees, someone tried to kill me, so could you ask my grandfather to come upstairs?”

  “I understand your concern, but I cannot leave my post.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed, explaining the situation to the person who answered. Then he passed the phone to Bryn.

  “I require your assistance in the archives, Bryn. Bring your knight and that sword you commissioned for him with you.”

  “Yes, sir.” She started to pass the phone back to the guard. “I don’t suppose I could keep the phone.”

  “No.” The guard plucked the phone from her hand and pocketed it.

  “It was worth a shot.” Bryn headed for the front desk.

  “How do you know it’s him?” Valmont asked.

  “He said something only he would know.”

  When they reached the trap door, Valmont frowned. “I’m not sure if I should go first or guard your back.”

  His high alert status seemed a bit like overkill. “You can go first. I can roast anyone who sneaks up behind me.”

  “I don’t like this.” Valmont held his sword at the ready and descended the staircase. They reached the landing with no issues. A pair of guards stood in front of the open door. They waved Bryn and her knight through.

  “There you are.” Her grandfather waved her over to wall where the secret door should have been. “Open the door.”

  “How did it end up closed?” Bryn asked.

  “The guard inside didn’t come out at his appointed time.”

  Crap. That couldn’t be good.

  Valmont held out his sword. Bryn gritted her teeth and slid he
r thumb down the ice-cold blade. Her blood rolled down the sword edge toward the wall and the door became visible.

  One of her grandfather’s guards yanked the door open. Inside, the room looked much cleaner than Bryn remembered it. Books were shelved. The dust and cobwebs were gone. The glass cases gleamed. The old oak table had even been polished to a shine. It would have been an idyllic scene if only a guard wasn’t lying on the floor foaming at the mouth. Bubbly spittle dripped down his chin as his body twitched and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Call a medic,” her grandfather ordered.

  “I don’t suppose he’s epileptic?” Bryn said, knowing the answer.

  “That is a human disease,” her grandfather replied.

  Maybe she could help. Bryn crossed the threshold into the room.

  “Don’t,” her grandfather warned.

  “I’m going to see if I can help with Quintessence,” Bryn argued.

  “Freeze.” Valmont’s fear sounded real. “Back up slowly.”

  Okay. The hair on the back of Bryn’s neck stood up. Something was really wrong. She retreated toward Valmont. When she was back over the threshold of the door, she noticed he was staring at something beyond her in the room.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Your knight has a keen eye.” Her grandfather pointed at the wall next to where the man lay. Small silver darts were embedded in the bookshelf. “I’m guessing the poisonous darts that hit him are lodged in his back.”

  “Poisonous darts? From where?” She scanned the room and noticed an open display case. “Do you think he took something from the case?”

  “Something not meant for him,” Valmont said. “Do you remember what was in there?”

  “Daggers,” Bryn said. “I remember seeing them last night. They were etched with different elements like your sword.”

  “So the displays are booby trapped,” Valmont said.

  A chill ran down Bryn’s spine. “We need to shut that case before someone else is hurt.”

  One of the guards stepped forward. “Sir?”

  “It has to be me,” Valmont said. “The artifacts are all meant for knights.”

  No way. “How do you know they were meant for a hybrid knight? What if that case held items only the knight of a Black dragon could touch?”

  Valmont paused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Footsteps rang out from the outer foyer. Medic Williams dashed into the room.

  “Stop,” Bryn’s grandfather said. “The room can be lethal.”

  Medic Williams looked around wide-eyed. “Good to know, but how can I treat the man if I can’t reach him?”

  “Do you think those darts could puncture dragon scales?” Bryn asked. “I could shift and grab him.”

  “No,” both Valmont and her Grandfather shouted at the same time.

  “Fine.” Bryn held her hands up in surrender. “What’s your idea?”

  “I believe if we shut that case, the room will be safe.” Her grandfather pointed at the medic. “Gently use your wind to shut that door.”

  The medic produced a small twister in her hand and stretched it out across the room, nudging the door closed.

  A sound like gears grinding drifted through the room.

  “Did that case just reload?” Bryn asked.

  “Probably.” Her grandfather waved his hand toward the man on the floor. “I believe it is safe for you to treat him now, although he might be past the point of help.”

  The man on the floor was no longer twitching. The spittle foaming from his mouth had turned a reddish pink. His eyes staring up at the ceiling were milky white.

  “Damn it.” She should have tried to help him.

  The medic performed a quick examination and then rolled him over. “He was past help sixty seconds after these darts lodged in his back.” She pulled a phone from her pocket and spoke to someone about body bags. The fact that she used the plural of the term made Bryn wonder if more deaths were expected.

  “The dagger.” Valmont pointed to silver knife etched with fire, which had been under the man’s body. “Should I try to return it to the case?”

  “Does it speak to you?” Bryn asked.

  “It’s whispering like the sword did. I think that means I can handle it without being attacked.”

  “The case reacted to someone removing an item. In theory, putting one back should be safe,” her grandfather said.

  “Or he could keep it,” Bryn said. “Since he is attuned to it.” She liked that idea a lot better.

  Valmont retrieved the dagger and weighed it in his hand. “Mr. Sinclair, what would you like me to do?”

  Her grandfather appeared pleased with Valmont’s question. “Replace it in the case.”

  Not the option she would have chosen. Bryn bit her lip as Valmont found the mechanism that opened the glass. He replaced the knife and closed the door. No deadly darts appeared. Although the weird gear-grinding noise happened again.

  A second medic appeared with the requested body bags. Bryn turned away. This wasn’t something she wanted to witness.

  Valmont walked around so he was facing her. He looked at his watch. “Basic Movement will end in ten minutes. We should go to lunch if your grandfather doesn’t require your assistance.”

  Bryn turned to her grandfather. “Do you still need me?”

  “You may go. I’ll warn the guards that they aren’t to remove anything from the cases.”

  “How do you know the books are safe?” Bryn asked.

  “We don’t,” her grandfather replied. “But Miss Enid wears gloves when she works with them.”

  That didn’t seem like enough of a safeguard, not that anyone asked her opinion. If touching the books was safe, was the information inside of them harmless? The symbol she’d seen in the book before it had crumbled was the same symbol tattooed on the dead boy’s wrist in Dragon’s Bluff. To her grandfather, that symbol meant treason. The fact that Bryn had found a drawing of it tucked away in her mother’s secret hiding place made her think it hadn’t started out bad. Perhaps, it had once been a symbol of free-thinking. After the attacks on innocent people, though, it definitely meant something deadly.

  “There’s something I forgot to mention about one of the books. The one that fell apart when I touched it.”

  Her grandfather glanced at the medic. “Let’s talk over here, so we aren’t in the medic’s way.”

  Worked for her. Valmont followed along, and her grandfather didn’t object. Once they were across the room, Bryn said. “The page I tried to turn had the same symbol the dead boy had on his arm in Dragon’s Bluff.”

  Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “And why are you just telling me this now?”

  “I wasn’t keeping it from you. In all the excitement of finding the room and calling you to make sure you had a chance to investigate before Ferrin, it slipped my mind.” That should earn her some bonus points. “Plus, it disintegrated so there wasn’t anything to show you.”

  “It’s good you remembered and that you shared the information with me.”

  Bryn breathed a sigh of relief. Interactions with her grandfather could be exhausting.

  “You should go to class now.”

  “Can I ask you a question first?”

  “I may choose not to answer, but you may ask.”

  “In the book, family names were listed by the different symbols of the elements. Was there ever a time when that mark didn’t mean treason?”

  “Originally it represented the elements, but a group of rebels repurposed it to mean dragons who fought against the status quo, against the Directorate.”

  “So that book wasn’t necessarily bad?” Bryn asked.

  “No. It was more than likely a ledger where family traits were recorded. I don’t have to tell you not to share any of this information with your friends, do I?”

  “No.” That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to share with Clint and Ivy. One other thought bothered her. “What about Jaxon?” Not t
hat she felt the need to share with him, but she knew he would ask. “He’s persistent, and sometimes it’s easier to share with him just to make him go away.”

  Valmont said something under his breath she didn’t quite catch, but she bet it wasn’t complimentary.

  Her grandfather actually grinned. “It’s good that you’re coming to understand one another.”

  “You have no idea how frightening that concept is to me,” Bryn said and then laughed because she didn’t want to tick her grandfather off.

  He patted her on the back. “In time you’ll become formidable political partners much like your grandmother and I. Feel free to share with him what you wish, but I advise you to always keep a few details to yourself. Most of what happened here this afternoon will go into a report, which Ferrin and the other Directorate members will read tomorrow morning. So Jaxon will hear about this through his father.”

  “Is there always a bit of espionage between the Directorate members?” Bryn asked.

  “It’s what makes life interesting.” He checked his watch. “I’ll make your teachers aware of why you missed class. You’d best be on your way to lunch.”

  By dinner everyone on campus had heard of the guard’s death, but they were divided on how he died: a giant ax beheaded him, a sinkhole opened up and swallowed him, or a sword from one of the cases slayed him.

  “With every stupid rumor I hear, my opinion of my fellow students declines.” Bryn sat in her dorm room on the couch with Ivy while Clint and Valmont sat in the wingback chairs. She’d waited for them to be alone to discuss what had really happened in the archives of the library. “Just so you know, you have two choices. I can share the real story with you, or you can be happily ignorant.”

  “Everyone knows a guard died. It’s how he died that’s in question,” Clint said.

  “Right,” Ivy said, “so I think it’s safe to tell us.”

  “Okay, here we go.” She shared the manner of the poor man’s death and the details about the lethal display case, but not the existence of the secret room or the bracelet.

  Ivy pursed her lips in thought. “I guess the moral of the story is, if you come across a random display case, do not attempt to open it or remove any of the pretty, sparkly objects inside.”