Order of the Fire Box Set

by P. E. Padilla

  She cried a little, but stopped when she realized she wouldn’t have liked being part of their games anyway. She went to where the soldiers trained and watched them doing exercises for a little while, but then got bored. She finally settled on going to her favorite room in the house: the library.

  When she stepped into the room, her eyes immediately went to all the pictures of the men on the wall. Some of them had funny hair styles and ridiculous beards, but she knew they were her relatives, men who lived long ago, like her grandfather, so their silliness was acceptable. She started when she noticed her father in his favorite chair. He had been so quiet, she hadn’t noticed him.

  “Do you not want to play with the others, Kate?” her father said.

  “No,” she said. Her lip started to quiver again and her eyes got liquid. “They don’t like me.”

  “Oh, my little dear, of course they do,” he said as he picked her up and put her on his lap. “Sometimes they just don’t know what to do with you because you are so special. In a few years, they will grow out of the silly things they do, and then they will realize that they should have been better friends with you all along.”

  “But that means I will be alone for a few more years.”

  Her father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He barked a laugh, but cut it off short when he noticed her nonplussed expression. “I’m not laughing at you, Kate, but at how easily you cut to the heart of the matter. It may be that it takes a little while for them to come around, but they will. Once they realize how special and important you are, they will come around.

  “In the meantime, you can keep me company for now. As you can see, I am alone, too.”

  “That’s just because you escaped the others and came here for some quiet,” she said.

  His smile nearly split his face in half. “Yes, you’re right. Such a smart girl.”

  Kate grew tired of the conversation and turned her attention to the weapons on the walls. Some of them were named and hung underneath the portrait of the man who used it. One man even had a dreadful mask beside his picture. She shuddered at it. It seemed mean.

  “Do you want me to tell you about the Order of the Fire?” her father asked, watching her reaction to the historical pictures and items.

  “Yes.”

  “What would you have me tell you?” he asked. “You know the Order formed to protect the world from demons. They stay near the Gate to Hell so that when it opens and the demons come to eat all the people, the soldiers of the Order fight them and send them back to where they belong. Would you have me tell you of the heroes of the Black, such as your great, great, great—oh, however many greats it is—grandfather Fulin? Or would you like to hear about Aimery Carlyle or of Branimir Bealda?

  “Tell me about your grandpapa. I want to hear about how he joined the Order and made you a duke.”

  Her father laughed again. “Again? But you have heard that story a hundred times.”

  “Then I must hear it one hundred and one.”

  “Very well. There is no dissuading you, I think. Drascom Courtenay, my grandfather, grew up surrounded by men who had been, or were at the time, in the Order of the Fire. He listened to their stories endlessly, announcing from a very young age that he, too, would join the Order. As soon as he was old enough, of course.

  “He trained hard and asked his relatives, including his father, about life in the Order. All boys of noble families at that time learned the sword, and he took to it with relish, becoming quite proficient.

  “When he finally went away to train at the fortress, he swore they would hear great and heroic things of him. He wasn’t mistaken. The news—”

  “Wait,” Kate said, holding her hand over his mouth. “What about the trials? How did he get into the Order? What did he do?”

  “We’ve spoken about this before, Kate. I know nothing of the trials. No one of the Order ever speaks about the trials, regardless of how many times they are asked. And as we’ve discussed, no matter how many times you ask me, I don’t know about the trials.”

  She frowned at him and harrumphed, but removed her hand from his face and settled back into his lap. Her pouting lower lip and the rolling motion of her hand to tell him to continue made him chuckle.

  “As I was saying, the news that came back from Gateskeep with soldiers on leave was of great and heroic deeds, just as Drascom said they would be. He gained the orange of the sergeant rank, and then the white of an officer. He was one of the youngest to ever do so.

  “In a great battle against a demon commander known for its clever tactics and ruthless nature, the Order was hard-pressed, losing many men. The shield wall began to break, and even the Black could not hold back the tide of demons.

  “A lone demon slipped through the line and mounted the platform where the higher officers were developing strategy. It killed two of them before Drascom himself cut it completely in two with his great sword.

  “There was no time to wait for other officers to get there, so Drascom took command. He maneuvered the Red, even using the Blue as bait for a trap, and with the Black’s approval, utilized three of their number. He managed to channel the demons into a trap where they were decimated by hidden archers and finished off by the shield wall. The demon commander was left without his troops around him, and Drascom himself faced the monster and killed it in single combat.

  “For his heroism, and especially for the strategy he devised to save the day, he was promoted to the rank of major. As you very well know, he obtained another promotion again later for his outstanding service, retiring from the Order with the rank of Colonel.”

  Hammond Courtenay made a little seated bow toward his daughter.

  “That’s not all,” she said.

  “Do you desire his entire life history?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “I wanted to hear about how he made you a duke. You haven’t finished.”

  “How old are you again?” he said. Puffing out a breath at her, he continued. “Fine. Drascom Courtenay was the eldest son of the count, but when his father died, many years after Drascom joined the Order, he became the Count Courtenay, a title that had itself been obtained when Fulin Courtenay, of the Black, retired and received his pension, land, and a title. Because the two ways to get a title in the Order are to retire as either one of the Black or as one of the Gold, Drascom—being of the Gold—earned a title. When one who already owns a title is granted another, they either hold more than one or, if the king desires, they may rise in station.

  “Drascom was a favorite of the king, and so, when he retired from the Gold, he was raised from count to duke. And that, my dear, sweet Kate, is how my great-grandfather made me a duke.”

  “You may make your bow now,” she said, raising her chin.

  He did so, just before poking his finger into her ribs and tickling her. She giggled and twisted, trying to escape, but only succeeded in laughing until tears came out of her eyes.

  “There, is that sufficient for my lady?” he asked her when her breathing was back to normal.

  “Yes.” She put her small hand to her chin and made a humming sound. “I think I will join the Order. I bet they do not spend their time trying to make poor Magda run in circles.”

  A knock at the door startled the adult Kate from her dreaming and caused her to jump. The pain in her stitches threw her into wakefulness immediately.

  “A moment,” she grunted hoarsely and swung her legs to the floor. She cleared her throat and tried again. “One moment please.”

  She stumbled to the door and opened it, revealing the smiling face of Wilfred.

  3

  Wilfred Gaylord Lisney was the closest thing Kate had to a friend. Though their relationship had a rocky start, she had come to recognize him as a good-hearted—if sometimes painfully naïve—young man. He was in the Blue, a good thing; with a weapon, he was more likely to harm himself than an opponent.

  He convinced Kate to walk to the dining hall to eat something. She figured it would be good for h
er to stretch her muscles, and she was hungry anyway.

  On the way, quite a few of the passersby stared at Kate. When she turned toward them, they averted their gazes, but she saw clearly in her peripheral vision that they observed her carefully.

  “What’s everyone’s problem?” she asked Wilfred, who walked happily alongside her, his blue robes swishing with the movement.

  “What? Oh. You mean why is everyone looking at you like that?”

  “Yes. What is wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” he said. “You’re kind of famous now, and walking around wearing those black clothes and the black cloak doesn’t help. You know how people normally look at the Black when they pass by. You were the same way. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, I guess I do. Still, famous? I am not famous.”

  Wilfred stopped and turned his boyish face to her, his eyes drilling into hers. “Kate, you killed a demon commander that had just murdered and ripped the head off one of the Black, an experienced soldier. Then, you continued on and killed dozens of regular demons like they were standing still. You single-handedly rallied the Order and turned what may have been the biggest defeat in decades into a victory. Uh, yeah, you’re famous. No one will forget that for a long time. People are going to stare. You should probably get used to it.”

  Kate didn’t have anything to say about that silliness. She did what she had trained to do. Why was everyone making such a big deal of it?

  A while later, when they’d almost finished their meal, Kate thought about it again and allowed herself a small smile. She was in the Black. Well, except she hadn’t actually been sworn in yet. What would happen if they decided not to let her in? Was she on some kind of trial period or something? What if she had to go back to the Red? To the Blue?

  “Kate,” Wilfred said firmly. “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “You sort of zoned out there for a minute. Are you all right?”

  “Um, yes. I’m fine. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought. I should probably go and rest some more.”

  Wilfred looked deep into her eyes as if he could read her thoughts, but then his smile came back. “You’re right. You probably shouldn’t push it. I’ll walk you back to your room and you can rest some more.”

  They walked back to her barracks and Wilfred bid her a good evening. She closed her door and fell—gently—into her bed, this time sleeping the entire night through without dreams.

  As the days passed, Kate felt stronger and stronger. She was not allowed to train physically for fear of tearing her stitches or opening up her healing wounds, but she wanted to prepare for her inclusion into the Black.

  After agonizing over what to do for almost an entire day, it came to her. She had developed the habit of going to the library soon after she arrived at Gateskeep. Before, it had filled the lonely hours between shifts at the gate. Now, the library might help her in her new role. She began to frequent the place every day.

  Kate had several different projects, not the least of which was researching the different types of demons.

  It seemed to her that they still knew so little about Hell and what lived there. The Black had managed sorties there a handful of times, but it remained largely an unexplored mystery. Over the years, archivists had identified several types of the monsters. Kate had originally thought demons were like humans, all the same but some with abilities that others lacked. That wasn’t the way it worked at all.

  She was well familiar with the run-of-the-mill demons used as shock troops. They were the ones she had seen in her trial and—even closer up—in Faerdham Fortress. On the shield wall, she had been face-to-face with many of them, just the metal of her shield separating them. And, of course, she had killed many of them.

  The Order called those demons grunts, fodder demons, or simply troops. The Order didn’t bother with fancy names. The Tan Command—the researchers—probably had their own classification system, with high-sounding names to go with it. The books she found were general, though, made for the common soldier.

  Grunts were the humanoid type demon of about the same size as a human, or slightly bigger, with claws, sharp teeth, and different types of horns growing from their heads. They ranged in color from dark red to ash grey, but most were dark. This type did not have much more than moderate intelligence or magical powers except strength and speed greater than humans, but not so much greater that a skilled human warrior could not kill them.

  Provided there was a firestone somewhere near, of course. All demons were nearly invulnerable to human weapons unless weakened by a firestone. Around Gateskeep and Faerdham Fortress, the larger firestones ensured the entire area was under their effects, but out in the larger world, the individual firestones each Order soldier wore at all times would be necessary to carry on effective combat. Kate fingered her own firestone, hung from a cord around her neck, as she thought about it.

  Kate ran her finger over a drawing of another type of demon, the goliath. She recognized it as the big monster that caused so much trouble a few days before when it died on the Great Stair, blocking relief troops from reinforcing the gate forces. They were also humanoid, more than twenty feet tall—the one she saw was closer to thirty feet—and had strength and durability that would be expected of such a size.

  Interestingly, the goliaths were particularly susceptible to firestones, and for that reason were not seen often on the human side of the gate. It would be an exaggeration to say they were vulnerable on the Order’s side, but as she herself witnessed, they died more easily than would be expected of such monstrous creatures.

  Demon commanders were taller than the normal troops, but smaller than goliaths. They ranged from seven to twelve feet and carried more muscle than the grunts. They also differed in color, being lighter and sometimes even close to human coloring. Some wielded magic, though the firestones seemed to interfere at least slightly with their casting.

  Kate stopped reading when she heard whispering nearby. Turning, she saw several obviously new recruits chittering and darting glances at her.

  For some reason, it irritated her. She stared at them until they became uncomfortable and eventually left the library. She sighed, wondering why it annoyed her so much. She probably would have reacted the same way if she had been in their shoes. Back when the Black had a mystery and majesty she didn’t understand.

  Great, now she sounded jaded. She still had reverence for the Black. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet that she was one of them. Or maybe it was because she wasn’t officially of the Black yet.

  All she knew was that she wanted to be doing something, something combat-related. She returned the book to its proper place, nodded to the librarian, and went to get something to eat. Food and rest would make her attitude right. She could always come back and study later. There wasn’t much else she could do at the moment.

  For almost two weeks, it was the same thing. Kate would visit the dining hall at approximately the same time, half the time meeting Wilfred there and the other half eating alone. She got used to other members of the Order staring at her.

  A few times, she shared a meal with Black brothers, but she hadn’t developed a bond with any of them yet. She was still in limbo, part of the Black but also not. Interacting with them was awkward for her until she had officially been accepted into the elite group. They had never given her any indication that they thought that way. It was simply what she expected, accurate or not.

  With the rest of her time, she walked the city, even speeding her steps up to a jog toward the end if her healing body allowed.

  And she went to the library. She studied everything she could find on what Hell was like on the other side of the gate and what types of demons lived there. She read of demon beasts—and their subset magma beasts—and of dervishes and demon lords. It was interesting, but not very exhaustive. For an organization whose sole purpose was to fight the creatures, the Order had surprisingly little information on their foe.

  She did find some rather compre
hensive works on the anatomy and physiology of demons, at least of the types that had been identified. There was a special unit of the Tan, of all things, that captured demons for study. That was where the demons in the cages at the fortress and during the trial had come from. Some of the specimens they captured were dissected and studied to determine how they worked, as well. The books were fascinating, but other than giving Kate a better idea of where vital organs were—so she could more efficiently kill the monsters—there was not a lot that seemed useful.

  Finally, her stitches had healed enough that she had full range of movement without too much pulling or any tearing of her skin. She ran herself through a moderate workout and was pleased that she seemed as competent as a normal person. Not as capable as the common Order soldier, and definitely not as skilled as she herself was at her peak, but it was a start. Her fitness level was deplorable, but she would train and gain that back quickly.

  “Captain Achard,” Kate said, standing at attention and saluting the captain of the Black. “Kate Courtenay reporting for duty, sir.”

  The captain leaned back in his chair behind his desk and smiled. “You’re feeling fit and ready for your training?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But I’ll have to ask you not to get carried away with the sir stuff and saluting and all that. It’s fine when we’re in a public or official setting, but when we’re in our own part of the compound, there’s no need for that. Understand?”

  “Yes s—yes.”

  “Good. Give me the rest of today to make some preparations. Report to me tomorrow morning. There are a few things to do before you start physical and…other training.”

  Kate left the captain’s office, her heart pounding. This was it. She was really going to begin her training with the Black. She realized as she got back to her room that she didn’t know what that meant. What kind of training and “other” things would she have to do? As much as she studied in the library, she hadn’t found anything specific about the Black. They were a mystery, which she guessed fit since they were the special forces of the Order.