Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

She narrowed her eyes, “Och! Don’t be teasing an ol’ girl like me. I can see things in your eyes you have yet to discover. Some’n has lit a fire under your arse and I bet it be my Logan boy!” Mum B playfully swung a long bean back and forth at Lourdie like it was a yard stick. “Go, leave me beans. Find some new treasures or adventure. I be waitin’ to hear all ‘bout it.”

  Lourdie got up and kissed Mum B on the cheek, “Until tomorrow morning then?”

  “Aye, child, until the morn.”

  Ten

  Lucid Dismantling

  Abbey hummed to herself as she made her way to the training grounds. She knew her shadow was following her and she wondered if today would be the day that Scarlett would actually follow her into Lourdie’s class. Abbey practiced some moves for the kid as she skipped down the hall, knowing without looking back that Scarlett was mirroring everything she did. She couldn’t look back, if she did Scarlett would disappear. Therefore Abbey relied on her sensitive hunter abilities to feel Scarlett mimicking her. She had to admit, the kid was good.

  Abbey stopped at the doors. Still refraining from looking back she said, “You can come in with me, I promise we don’t bite.” She turned around quickly, but the girl was gone. Abbey hadn’t even felt her leave. “Damn, kid, you’re good,” she said, smiling at the prospect of Scarlett deciding to become a hunter.

  Opening the doors, Abbey took one look at her mentor from across the room, and her heart sank. She knew her mentor well enough to know something was bothering her. Lourdie was becoming more and more frustrated as the weeks went on that not a single hunter was able to conjure two orbs at once. She thought that in mere volume alone at least a couple elite hunters would show promise, but no. No one had been able to replicate Lourdie’s ability. Abbey had been trying herself for well over a year now. Every morning when she woke up and every night before bed, Abbey tried to conjure two orbs simultaneously. And every time she failed. To spare her mentor from feeling like a freak, she didn’t tell Lourdie of her secret experiments with dual delvirs. With all the hunters coming in for this specific training, Abbey worried about how Lourdie was handling the stress.

  Her mentor’s mood was particularly brooding today. Although Lourdie would never admit it, this sour mood was possibly because Temple was absent from her training again. Abbey had tried to lighten her mood by calling Temple ‘Mr. Hunky’ and ‘Captain Handsome Pants’ a number of times, but Lourdie never took the bait. She had barely acknowledged that Abbey was teasing her. The master hunter was gloomy, her spirit melancholy. Since the first light snow, more days than not, the training exercises were held indoors. Lourdie was the type that thrived outside in the sun. Put her in a room for too long and she withered like a flower in a vase. Still beautiful, but not as vibrant or alive.

  Abbey also knew her mentor wasn’t sleeping very well either. She lost count of the number of times she got up way too early in the morning to pee, and Lourdie was already downstairs either in the greenhouse, with Mum B in the kitchen, or off exploring by herself. Her mentor would never admit she was having nightmares, but Abbey knew she was. And she also knew they were taking a toll on her physically. The apprentice would wake up in the middle of the night to Lourdie talking in her sleep saying, ‘where are you?’ She got the sense that Lourdie was trapped or caged in most of her nightmares, as well. Abbey felt helpless every morning as Lourdie shook off nightmare after nightmare.

  Today Abbey sported a Nether shirt hoping to ward off the evil that seemed to be lurking around her mentor ever since they arrived. Abbey wasn’t superstitious per say, but the shirt couldn’t hurt. ‘I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.’ Whatever was tormenting her mentor, she would will it to go away however she could.

  Lourdie looked exhausted. Her once vibrant green eyes seemed dull, less luminous, as if tortured by shadows impossible to fight. Abbey hoped her mentor didn’t work herself to death, but she feared Lourdie would go and go until her body finally collapsed and forced her to stop.

  With the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders, Logan Templeton roamed his childhood home as the rest of the castle slept. He always had trouble sleeping the night before a full moon. What disrupted his sleep now was the fact that none of the elite hunters had been able to create two orbs simultaneously. Even the prodigy’s own apprentice was unable to conjure them. Ms. Reese must be more unique than he had realized.

  Deciding to enjoy the winter’s temporary reprieve, he headed towards the training courtyard and the unusually warm weather. The sound of someone creating orbs drew him closer. He could hear them being made almost on top of each other. Silently, he counted their creation as the delvirs hummed, snapped, and popped. One… Two… Three? There was only one person able to create orbs that quickly. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Lourdie intrigued him. He stood in the courtyard’s colonnade of archways and watched the beauty. A subtle hint of buttery caramel and persimmon danced around her, the scent was intoxicating.

  Lourdie appeared to be deep in thought and mad at the world as she hurled orbs at the iron practice targets. He smiled, looking at the chain mail relics adorning her wrists. They were more feminine than his own wide banded cuffs of intertwining leather and metal, but they enhanced her strong hunter presence, all the same. The thought of them sharing anything in common had perturbed her to no end once she realized he, too, had wrist Rhan’Delvins. The thought of them sharing this one thing in common had amused him entirely. He chuckled to himself now, reveling in the thought of her pending outburst once she realized his weapon of choice was also a stun baton.

  Knowing an encounter would only result in a clashing of wills, he allowed himself only one brief tormenting glimpse before giving her privacy. She had her long chocolate hair pulled into a low pony tail, revealing her penetrating green eyes and pouty pink lips. Lourdes was a rare beauty that didn’t know how exquisite she was. Her elegant grace defied logic as she practiced her favored fighting style.

  Temple had been asking Marcus Vaughan for months to let this extraordinary hunter come train the best guardians from around the world, but Marcus didn’t play well with others. Finally the man had relented, all be it only after a call from a very infuriated Trista. Temple wondered why Marcus had kept her dual delvir ability from the rest of the courts for so long. He knew the man would have to answer to Trista soon enough as he watched the hunter in awe. Her movements were purely instinctual, never faltering, and never off balance. He’d never seen a woman so lovely yet so deadly. The knight laughed to himself. And the deadliest wit to match, at my expense of course. He was charmed by her dry wit and would suffer her wrath willingly any day. A refreshing change had come to the Cloak in the form of Lourdes Reese. She was a born leader that never followed in anyone's footsteps. Ms. Reese had made that fact known from the moment he first met her, defying his warning and continuing on towards Porthleven to see the waves for herself. From that chance meeting he had gained an instant respect and admiration for the hunter. He had rushed inland to the town of Helston like a schoolboy, to make sure she had coffee by lunchtime. Bribing Mum B with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of Irish wild flowers to bite her tongue about where the coffee and roses had actually come from. His favorite old woman in the world mumbled her objection under her breath, something about a big heart and keeping it hidden. He had kissed her cheek again saying she was the only woman for him as she shooed him out of her kitchen.

  This rare training opportunity had finally been a professional courtesy between two knights. Temple had not anticipated his attraction to Marcus’s finest hunter as a woman. He had not allowed himself to think of such things in years, not since his mother and father were attacked during his wild and carefree youth. Logan brushed his right hand down his left rib cage over the hidden heraldic achievement tattoo. He subconsciously tapped the raguly line that had been his personal addition to the family crest. He knew its placement by heart. The symbol slashed through the middle of the tattoo and resembled a thick serrated bla
de. Still blaming himself for his parents’ death, Temple let out a long sad sigh. This reminder of Laird and Grace Templeton’s netherwalker attack while covering for their playboy son was permanently etched into his skin and court history. Through smoke and flames, the unbearable scene he stumbled into that night had instantly sobered him into adulthood. That very night, he had taken on the responsibilities of Knight of the King’s Court for all of Europe and had never looked back. He watched Lourdie once more this time with a bit of sadness, wishing his parents could have met this fierce hunter. They would have instantly adored her and her fire.

  Chancing one last glance, he saw Lourdes let her hair loose. It fell gracefully around her shoulders and down her back. She sat down on the wintering grass and brought her knees to her chest. Tucking her chocolate locks behind her ears, she slowly created a single orb and studied it. Her one hand balanced the orb while the other touched the ground, letting blades of grass slip through her fingers, almost as if she were drawing power and strength from the earth. It was apparent that the three weeks of unsuccessful training were heavy on her mind. He wished he could ease her frustration.

  The subtle aromas of persimmon and caramel tickled his senses again. To merely look upon her was sweet agony. He let out another silent sigh and walked away, leaving the ethereal creature in peace. For some reason, an ancient bedtime lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child, popped into his head. His mother told him once that the lullaby had been written by Lancelot himself and that he had sung it to his own children every night. Temple hummed peacefully as he climbed his bed chamber’s steps.

  Finally exhausted and having rooted out the remnants of yet another bad dream, Lourdie sat down in the cool grass and drew her knees to her chest. She sighed and thought to herself, I should really talk to Marcus... about all of this.

  Without even having to whisper her word against her relics, she slowly created an orb. She gripped the ground with her free hand for support. She felt as if she would fall off the earth and be hurled into outer space. How is this possible? What’s happening to me? She twisted and played with the dried brown blades of grass trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Unbeknownst to the distracted hunter, the blades of grass softened and became chlorophyll laden under her touch.

  If she couldn't even understand the powers stirring within her, how was she supposed to teach them to other hunters? The tormented guardian was gobsmacked when she had created the third orb. Creating this last orb without even uttering a single word against her relics was yet another confounding mystery. Lourdie let the orb vanish in her hand, almost afraid of the seeming growth of her powers. Get a hold of yourself, Reese! You have a job to do. Worry about yourself later.

  Slowly, the hunter calmed her nerves, playing with the soft grass with both hands. Taking long deep breaths, Lourdie closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She started humming a song. An idea hit her like a bullet. Such an obvious idea, she could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Screw Temple and screw avoiding my combat style! She was tired of feeling like half a hunter, pussy footing around Temple’s aversion to her techniques. It was her class and she would run it her way. The thought occurred to her that she was going about training these hunters all wrong. They were the best of the best from around the world, lethal, quick, and trained in most martial arts. That was the base to build upon. Start with their strengths and work up to the impossible task, if nothing else maybe she could increase their speed between creating orbs by increasing their stamina and focus. Relieved of her anguish and able to think clearly again, Lourdie opened her eyes and stopped humming abruptly. What am I singing? She swore she had never heard such a melody before. It seemed familiar, but she knew somehow that it was an ancient secret.

  The sleep deprived hunter wasn’t going to waste any more time. Her epiphany had put a renewed spring in her step. She would institute her new tactic in class this morning or die trying. She was tired of feeling like a failure, enough was enough.

  The warm morning had turned into a beautiful sunny day as Lourdie headed to the outside training grounds. The mentor found her apprentice in their usual warm up corner. Abbey was bobbing her head to the music coming out of her iPod as she stretched. Lourdie approached the young guardian, grinning from ear to ear.

  “I know that look. What’s up?” Abbey asked, tilting her head to the side and squinting.

  With her old confidence back, Lourdie smiled wickedly at her apprentice as she put on a virtual backpack.

  “Drowning Pool, Let the Bodies Hit the Floor?” Abbey asked eagerly.

  “Hmm, I like it,” Lourdie crossed her arms and winked. “But first, I think it’s time I properly introduce myself. Do you have American Woman by Lenny Kravitz?”

  “Oh, hells yeah!” Abbey knew exactly what Lourdie was about to do. “Let’s do this.” She pulled the earbuds from her iPod, put her device in the waiting speaker system, and turned the volume all the way up. She quickly grabbed a stun rifle out of the rack and joined her mentor in the center of the courtyard.

  Conversations stopped as claws scratching stone and heavy, snarly breathing came from the dark corners of the archways. Netherwalkers slithered out of the shadows and started circling mentor and apprentice as the music began to play. Weapons hummed to life as the duo stood back to back. Their moves rivaled those of any martial arts movie, weaving and dodging deadly blows as they moved in unison. They took out creature after creature effortlessly. The precision in their strikes was unparalleled. Mentor bent forward stabbing and stunning a krim while her apprentice used her back as a springboard and banished another. Abbey flew effortlessly, tumbling in midair over the creature’s encased body as it disappeared. The master hunter then ran vertically up a wall out of the way of deadly sharp claws. The class watched as the skilled climber balanced on the ledge a full two floors above them. Abbey threw her an orb as another creature followed up the wall. Lourdie encased the creature and jumped from her perch to the ground as the orb imploded. The fall would have broken any docile’s bones, but a hunter’s body was stronger, faster, and more resilient than a normal human’s. Lourdie had always used a hunter’s greatest weapon to its fullest potential, and soon her class would too.

  Lourdie conjured even more shadowskins as other krims were banished. Without words, she was demanding and challenging the other hunters to join in.

  The hunters gravitated towards Lourdie’s combat moves like they had been lost in a desert for weeks and she was their oasis. They were easily proving they were the best from around the world. None of them had to be asked to join in. One by one they began mimicking Lourdie and Abbey’s techniques and joined the battle.

  Taking a break and admiring the other hunters, Lourdie noticed a familiar silhouette not participating in the battle. It was Bishop. He was standing in the dark colonnade on his phone. He waved Lourdie over with a smile. She wondered how long he had been watching, but had no doubt who he was on the phone with. Oh shit!

  After her brief conversation with Bishop, Lourdie reluctantly left the exterior courtyard behind. The new approach to training the elite hunters was working so well, she actually felt proud. It was the first day in weeks she had felt like a successful teacher. Although the hunters could still only conjure one orb at a time, the combat training she provided them made her feel at least a modicum more effective. The hunters were eagerly practicing her combat moves as she left. Bishop had said Temple wanted a private word with her. Bring it on, she thought. With some of her old confidence finally shining through, she was ready for a fight. If he didn’t approve of her training, he could just find another hunter to do his bidding. She grinned to herself. Ha! Good luck with that. She psyched herself up for the inevitable war with the man. I’ll show you uncomfortable!

  Temple waved her into his office as he was speaking with someone on the phone. He seemed surprisingly at ease. Still breathless and sweating from the vigorous combat training, Lourdie admired the space while she waited. To say the knight’s offic
e was the opposite of Marcus’s back in New York was an understatement. It was also probably his cousin’s worst nightmare as well. Everything in Trista’s office had been elegant, sparkling, and modern. This subterranean space was truly a man’s cave, with the lack of windows accentuating the cave-like feel.

  Adorning the stone walls on either side of Temple’s desk were two colossal museum quality oil paintings, holding the room’s only ‘views’ of the outside world. In one painting a sea storm raged and waves swelled against a brilliant orange sky illuminating a very young Porthleven. The other painting was an artist’s interpretation of twelve knights on horseback overlooking Loe Pool and the future site of Castle Clogyn. Books lay in small stacks, some still open, around a well-worn brown leather sofa in the corner of the room. A blanket was haphazardly draped over one of the curved arms and the seat cushions were dented and faded from many night’s sleep. The space was comfortably messy and had an air of welcoming disarray. An empty lunch plate was still on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be a small glass bowl of cat food. An elegant threadbare oriental rug grounded the casual seating area as a table lamp washed it in a soft glow. A very old small wooden table with two chairs was tucked into a dark corner, clinging to the stone walls. The decorative chess set atop the table appeared to be in mid game, but from centuries ago. A layer of dust hid the shine of the silver and gold pieces. Lourdie had to admit that the office was quite warm and inviting for being underground and for being Temple’s, no less.

  Lourdie approached the man’s desk, but decided to remain standing as the knight’s last appointment was still seated in one of the two chairs facing his desk. Lourdie smirked. A small black cat with bright green eyes blinked up at her from the wingback chair then snuggled back to sleep. Dual computer monitors, a tablet, countless mail, and even more open books, cluttered Temple’s desk.