Order of the Fire Box Set

by P. E. Padilla

  “Get behind us,” he growled at Kate. “We’ll get you out of here. None of these slimy, slug-faced, scab suckers are going to stop us.”

  Kate blinked at the man. What? How was he there? What did he want her to do?

  Koren took one of her arms and Aurel took the other. They maneuvered her into position, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she wasn’t fighting for her life. She still had her shield and her sword in hand, but there were no enemies. She was in a protective box made of the shields of the Reds.

  “Shield wall…retreat,” Phileas boomed. The squad seemed well trained. In an orderly manner, they backed up toward the gate, another squad covering them so other demons didn’t flank them.

  And then sunlight kissed Kate’s skin. She stepped through the gate and into her own world again.

  Tears she didn’t know she had remaining in her flowed from her eyes as she looked at the scene before her. There was what looked like the entire force of the Order, rank upon rank of soldier, in formation. The front ranks maintained a shield wall, fighting the demons that were still coming through the gate, while those behind them waited. As she watched, they rotated, the rear ranks coming forward to take a turn while the others stepped back for a well-earned rest.

  She and the remaining Black were absorbed into the shield wall and then into the back ranks, a small pocket opening up for them to move. Before she knew it, they were beyond the front lines and blue-robed figures swarmed them to render aid.

  They were safe. Or as safe as they could be in a world with demons invading.

  Kate pushed her way through two of the Blues who were trying to check her wounds. One of them said something, but she didn’t hear exactly what he said. Her eyes were fixed on the small platform in front of her, one of the stages where officers stood to yell commands to the soldiers. This particular one was empty, but she planned on changing that.

  She tried to take the shield off her arm, but some of her skin was melted to it. The weak pull she had attempted caused pain to rip through her arm and up into her shoulder, ending in her head and making her dizzy. She stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth. She tottered, but one of the Blues put his hands on her upper back to keep her from falling over.

  When the wave of nausea and pain subsided, she turned to thank the man and then clambered up on the platform without trying to remove her shield again. They would have to rip it off her skin, something she did not look forward to, but that would come later. For now, she had to see what was happening. Her ankle made the climb even more difficult, but she managed it.

  The sun was high in the sky, glaring down over the assembly in front of Kate. She realized she still had her mask on. It helped to shade her eyes from the sun. She had gotten so used to wearing it, she had to reach her hand up to touch it to confirm it was indeed still there.

  She quickly forgot about her mask when she surveyed the battlefield.

  The forces arrayed against each other were more numerous than she had ever seen before. The entire Order must have been on the field, including all the Black. Besides the knot of Black she had just come from, she could see them scattered throughout the battle, each one doing their jobs to keep the shield wall from collapsing. As she watched, one of them went down. She thought she saw some kind of blur and then the man dropped as if he was unconscious. The demons nearby quickly ripped him to shreds with their claws.

  She blinked, not believing what she had just seen.

  But it was not all bad news. Even as she gazed to the gate, she saw section after section of the shield wall holding and even advancing. Kate had never seen the officers pushing the men forward like that, pressing the demons to the very gate.

  The demons gave ground reluctantly at first, but then realized they were being channeled back toward the open gate. With no choice but to flee or die, the greater number of them streaked through the gate back to their own world, screeches and screams on the air long after the bodies had disappeared in the darkness.

  Then the shield wall was right at the gate. Several of the men looked to the officer, obviously wondering if they were to go into Hell again, as some of them did to save Kate and the other Black. The officers commanded the wall to stand there in defense.

  After an interminable interval, the doors of the gate creaked into motion, slowly closing. Within a minute, it clanged shut and, just like that, the battle was over. A collective sigh seemed to filter through the ranks as men who had been fighting for their lives, for who knew how long, slumped in relief.

  The officers barked commands, and the normal complement of Reds stood in wait in their usual positions. The other troops broke ranks and headed toward the Great Stair in an orderly manner. Soon, only the wounded and the Blues treating them were left of what Kate thought was probably the largest single engagement in Order history.

  It was that moment when Kate’s knees took the opportunity to fail her. She pitched forward, threatening to fall off the platform on which she was standing, but four strong arms snatched her shoulders and upper arms and kept her from the tumble.

  Kate turned to thank the blue-clad men and found herself staring into Wilfred’s eyes.

  “Kate?” he said. It confused her at first, but then she realized that though he had seen her mask hanging on her belt before, he had never seen it on her.

  “Yes, Wilfred,” she said tiredly. “It’s me.”

  He didn’t say another word, just threw himself at her and hugged her as if she was a rope and he was a drowning man.

  Kate cried out in pain and Wilfred jumped back as if burned.

  “Ribs,” she said. “Cracked, maybe broken.”

  It seemed like Wilfred finally really saw her and the shape she was in. “Oh Kate, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you.” He pulled on her shield and she screamed louder as sections of her skin were torn off. Wilfred released the shield with a look of horror on his face. He darted glances at the two men holding her up and seemed to shrink in on himself.

  Kate was pretty sure he had never heard her scream like that before. The guilt-ridden and apologetic look on his face would have made her laugh if she wasn’t in so much pain.

  Another Blue gently pushed Wilfred out of the way and stepped in front of Kate. “Burns on your arm, with some skin melted to the metal and leather, damaged ribs, severe cuts everywhere, portions of your scalp abraded, at least a sprained ankle—though there are probably some broken bones in there by the look of it—and a host of bruises. Is there something else I need to know about before we begin to treat you?”

  The pain had made her numb and she was beginning to think straight. “Isn’t that enough?”

  The man chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is. We have a stretcher here and would like to take you to the chirurgeon. May we?”

  Kate closed her eyes slowly and then opened them. She was having trouble focusing. “Yes. I think I would like that.”

  Without further delay, the two Blues helped her onto the stretcher, picked up the ends, and began carrying her toward the fortress, Wilfred loyally pacing right behind.

  41

  Kate woke up in a sick bed, something she regretfully seemed to be making a habit. The events since the gate had closed were fuzzy, but she did know that she was in a large room with several other beds, all of them with people in them. Injured people.

  She lifted her head to look around and the room spun so fast, she had to close her eyes for fear of becoming nauseous.

  “It’s the herbs the chirurgeon gave you,” Wilfred’s voice told her. “They help with the pain and allowed you to rest for a while.” He chuckled. “They gave you an extra dose to put you to sleep when you almost injured the three men who were trying to gently remove the shield from your arm.”

  Kate opened her eyes again and saw her friend. Despite the chuckle, his face was serious and drawn. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Like the West Tower fell
on me,” she said. “Twice.” She worked her mouth, trying to get the sandy, fetid taste from it.

  Wilfred brought a cup to her lips. She opened her mouth and he tipped a small dribble down her throat.

  Kate cleared her throat. It felt less scratchy. Two more drinks and she was ready to speak.

  “Ugh. Thank you. How long have I been in here?”

  “Only five hours. We’re running low on herbs, so you were given only enough to let the healers do their work. The chirurgeon said to tell you he was sorry he couldn’t spare enough for you to sleep for longer.”

  “Is it that bad?” she asked. “What happened?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” a familiar female voice broke in. “You saved the Order. Again.”

  Molara came into view and gently wrapped her arms around Kate, then kissed her forehead. “From what I hear, we have some new legendary tales in the making. Not that it’s any surprise.” The wisp of a smile that was on her face fled and she adopted the concerned look Wilfred was wearing. “How are you, Kate? I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “We all were,” Wilfred added. Was that tension between the two of them? Kate couldn’t be sure. Things still didn’t seem quite real, like she was seeing the world through a dirty set of spectacles.

  “But what happened?” Kate asked again. “I know what happened on my side of the gate, but have no idea what transpired on the fortress side.”

  “That,” another voice said, “is quite a story.” Kate should know the voice, but she couldn’t quite place it. Damn her diminished mental state. She hoped it was an effect of the herbs and not that she had been struck senseless.

  A flash of black entered her field of vision and she tilted her head slowly—so as not to repeat her earlier experience.

  Captain Phrixus Achard stood there, as large as he had ever been. He himself sported a few bandages, and three shallow gashes ran across his left cheek.

  “First off, I have to congratulate you not only on your successful mission, but on finding Koren and returning him to us. You exceeded any reasonable expectation in everything you did.”

  “Koren…” Wilfred said. “Koren Merklen? Isn’t he dead?”

  “Not hardly,” yet another voice said, “though it feels like it.”

  Kate moved her head again, to the other side of her bed. Koren’s grizzled face smiled at her. He was in the bed next to her, his wild hair matted with blood—though it looked as if an attempt had been made to wash some of it out—and stripped to the waist. Cuts, bruises, and other injuries Kate couldn’t see because they were covered by bandages, some of them with red seeping through, were everywhere.

  “Oh, Koren,” Kate said. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, but I am happy to see you whole. Mostly.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, girl. As Phrixus said, you did better than anyone could expect of any member of the Black. Better than most would say was possible. You killed that bastard—both of them.”

  “Wait,” Wilfred said. “Both of who? What was your mission? Where did you find Koren? What’s going on?”

  Kate turned her head back to the captain.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’ll all come out anyway. It probably already has. The classified nature of the mission has changed now that it’s complete. Go ahead and tell them all about it. And while you’re at it, we can consider this a debriefing. There are details I still don’t know. Your team—the ones that are still able to—gave me some information, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “The ones that are still able?” Kate said, her thinking clearing up with the rapid beating of her heart. “Where is my team? How are they?”

  “They’re here,” Koren said. “This room was set aside for us, for the Black. Aside from Jurdan, of course, the rest of us are still clinging to life, if barely. Benedict is the worst. He lapsed into a sleep that the chirurgeon hasn’t been able to break yet. Everyone got beat up and slashed, but we’re still here with you.”

  Kate let out a breath. She had seen too much death. Even one of her team was too much. Her eyes threatened to form tears when she thought of Jurdan, but she was so dehydrated, all she felt was a gritty kind of sadness in her eyes.

  After a few more drinks of water and several pillows piled behind her so she could sit up, she told everyone of her adventures. From the mission’s original objective and all her discoveries to the final battle where not only the demon lord but also the mage were killed, she related everything she could remember. Koren added a few details about his captivity, but mostly remained silent.

  “And when I crushed the anti-firestone, I was able to harm the demon commander and the others,” Kate said.

  Molara had been bouncing on her toes, an anxious look on her face, from the first time Kate had mentioned Arkith’s magical gems. Kate decided to end her poor friend’s misery.

  “Yes, Molara, we brought back a sample of the anti-firestones. Koren?”

  “I have it right here,” the hero of the Black said. He handed the bundled package to Molara, who took it reverently. “Be careful with that. If you touch it while you wear a firestone, it’ll bite you.”

  “You can study it at your leisure,” Kate said, a small smile gracing her lips, the first one since the battle.

  “We don’t believe there were more of the stones,” Kate continued. “The battle seemed to be a test for the one the demon commander wore, something to make sure the effort to make larger ones was worth the trouble. With Arkith dead, that particular threat is believed to be canceled.”

  The others asked questions, even the wide-eyed Wilfred, who seemed to be in a daze that he was included in the debriefing.

  “And that is our story, but I would like to know what has been happening here while we were gone,” Kate said. “I don’t even know how long we were in Hell. Time works differently there, it seems.”

  “You have been gone for almost three weeks,” the captain said. “During that time, there have been a few small attacks, but the gate has been very quiet. Until yesterday. When the gate opened up, it felt different. I can’t explain it, but there seemed to be a fell feeling in the air.”

  “Probably due to the anti-firestone,” Molara said.

  “Perhaps. It was immediately apparent that it was a big battle. The demons kept flooding out. We called in the alternates, and then those who were not scheduled to be on call, then all the Black. Eventually, the entire Order was on the field. Luckily, there were even personnel from Faerdham Fortress here visiting.

  “Then we saw that there was battle beyond the gate, within Hell itself. Koren and the others somehow slipped through the demons using the gate and got behind the lines. They turned over Benedict and Jurdan’s body to the Blue and had a very short discussion amongst themselves.

  “I watched them from one of the platforms. When they turned and headed back into Hell, I thought I knew why. The demons didn’t notice them until they were already back through the gate, and then they were suddenly attacked, as if they had appeared in their midst suddenly. The blinding stones running out of power, I assume?”

  “It must have been,” Molara said, “though I don’t know how they lasted so long.”

  “Yes,” the captain said. “That sounds reasonable.” He turned back to Kate. “Your team charged in to where you were fighting your own battle. By that time, I had taken a few of the other Black around me and rallied support to go to you.

  “We were almost too late. For the first time in the history of the Order, the shield wall actually entered Hell. We escorted you out, and we all ended up here. You saw the Red push the demons back. They were demoralized after the deaths of their leaders. You also saw the gate close, so I think you are all caught up now.”

  “One more thing,” Kate said. “While I was watching the battle, I saw a Black brother—I’m not sure who—in the middle of combat. He had just finished off his opponents and was in a small clear pocket, and he just dropped to the ground as if he had been clubbe
d over the head. The demons rushed in and tore him apart.”

  Captain Achard gulped and shifted his gaze from Kate to Wilfred. Kate understood.

  “Wilfred, can you leave us, please?” Kate asked.

  “No, Kate,” the captain said. “It’s all right. Wilfred, what we are about to speak of is of a sensitive nature. You are loyal to Kate and to the Order, so I will allow you to stay if you can promise none of this will ever be discussed with anyone outside this room. Molara is already cleared for such high-level information. If you don’t think you can keep the secret, then you should probably leave.”

  “I…I won’t say anything,” Wilfred said. “Molara can make me sign one of those magic oath things if you like.”

  “Very well. We’ll do that first chance we get.” The captain addressed Kate again. “I saw something similar, though I had thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Dervis Malarie was moving toward a pocket of heated battle and he suddenly dropped to the ground like you describe. His body was quickly attacked by the nearest demons.

  “All told, we lost seven of our brothers yesterday in the main battle, not including Jurdan or three others who were in the detail to bring you back through the gate. That is unprecedented. Even in heavy combat, we shouldn’t have lost that many. There is something sinister going on.”

  Three more brothers, dead. Dead because they believed in her and went to help her when she was facing sure death herself. Kate put her hands to her face and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Before she could open them, the door banged against the wall. Kate jerked her head toward the sound and saw Bernar Giron standing there, his features drawn and his clothes ragged. He had been away from Gateskeep on a mission, and Kate had not seen him since he had escorted her to the captain so many weeks ago.

  “Pardon me, Captain,” Bernar said in his deep, gravelly voice. “We have problems. Big problems.”