Order of the Fire Box Set

by P. E. Padilla

  Captain Achard sat at his desk, staring toward the wall, lost in thought. As Kate crossed the threshold, his eyes snapped to her and widened a bit. If he was so distracted that she made it all the way to his doorway before he realized she was there, he must have been intensely focused on something

  “Kate. Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon, Captain,” Kate responded, standing at parade rest. She had been scolded numerous times for standing at attention, but she could compromise no further than the slightly more relaxed stance. “I was wondering if I could have a word.”

  He observed her, rolling his eyes slightly at her rigid posture, but he apparently didn’t want to bother with telling her to stand or sit more comfortably again. “Of course. Any time. What’s on your mind?”

  “I heard about the new procedure for changing the guard at the gate,” she said. “And how the numbers of Reds at the gate have been reduced.”

  The captain didn’t say a word, but his face briefly showed disgust, as if he had just bitten into a rotten fruit. The expression quickly went away.

  “I take it you don’t like the changes any more than I do?” she continued. “Captain, what happened while we were in Hell? Since we came back, things have seemed different. Honestly, I almost feel as if I came back through the gate to another world, similar to the one I left, but different in important ways. I’ve seen Reds come close to spitting on Black brothers, and these changes in the way we defend the gate are completely ridiculous.”

  “Sit down, Kate,” he said. She did so. “Things have been changing for the last year or so, but especially in the last few months. Some of the things you describe were starting even before you joined the Black, but yes, they seem to have accelerated while you were on your mission.

  “To be completely truthful, I don’t know if these are just separate things that are happening or if they are all related somehow. There have always been different opinions, even different factions, within the Order. I have read or heard of clashes of high-level officers that, unchecked, could have torn the Order apart.

  “We are so far from the capitol, we operate almost as another kingdom. The chain of command protects us from some dissension, but humans are humans, so there will be disagreements. With all that said, I will admit it makes me uncomfortable. It seems to be getting worse, but I don’t know the reason.”

  Kate deflated. The captain always seemed to have everything under control. The fact that he himself felt out of sorts definitely concerned her.

  “Is there nothing you can do?” she asked.

  “I’ve been trying to discuss it with Berart, but he has been too busy to see me. Once I can talk with him, I may know more, and he may have ways for us to help. For now, though, I am trying to keep a low profile and my ears open.”

  Berart de Maligny was the Supreme Commander of the Order of the Fire. He was a staunch supporter of the Black and of the captain. Kate hoped everything could be corrected with a conversation between the two men, but the captain being unsuccessful in seeing Maligny had her concerned.

  “I suggest you do the same,” the captain continued. “I know you haven’t had much training in espionage while within a hostile environment, but you should learn about it from the others and use those techniques. It’s almost as if we are in an enemy kingdom. Keep aware and be careful.”

  “Yes sir, I will.” Kate got up to leave.

  “Kate?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “If you hear or see anything that may help us unravel this mystery, please report it to me immediately.”

  She forced a slight smile. “I absolutely will, sir.”

  “Oh, and Kate?” the captain said to her retreating form.

  She turned toward him again. “Yes, sir?”

  “This is all on a need-to-know basis. Do not trust this information with anyone other than the Black.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “And Molara. You may tell her. You may enlist her help, too, if she is willing.”

  Kate graced him with a smile, snapped to attention, and saluted.

  “Go on,” he said with a chuckle, “get out of here.”

  Two days later, it was announced that Phrixus Achard, leader of the Black, had been censured and demoted to the rank of lieutenant. The Black were now to report directly to Major Aedmund Travada until a new officer was placed over the special unit of the Order.

  Kate had heard a buzz as she was walking through the city and found her way to one of the parchment announcements that had been posted about the captain. She stood in disbelief, mouth open and eyes blinking, trying to make sense of it. Censured? What did that even mean? She knew what the other part meant. She would no longer be reporting to Phrixus Achard.

  “It’s about time they started to rein back the Black,” a voice off to Kate’s left said. “Those freaks have always just done what they wanted. Walking around in their stupid masks like they owned the whole damn Order.”

  “Yeah,” another voice said. “One step closer to getting rid of them completely. Good riddance, I say. He and his minions are only good for cleaning up shit, preferably with their hands.”

  Kate turned to see the speakers. They were two Reds she didn’t recognize. She glared at them, still coming to grips with what she had read, let alone what they were saying.

  “What?” one of the Reds said. “You got something to say, Black?”

  Four other men in red armor positioned themselves around the speaker, obviously trying to intimidate Kate.

  She paused for a moment, until what he had said finally sank in. She turned her body fully to face the five, a ghost of a smile playing across her lips. Thoughts of a little physical exertion to vent some of her frustration crossed her mind.

  Kate shook her head to dislodge the thoughts. She couldn’t be baited into a confrontation. The last thing she needed was to get in trouble and make things worse for the Black. “Go to your barracks, Red. You don’t want to start anything with me.”

  “Really? I don’t want to start anything with you?” the big mouth said. He looked her over, scanned her snug-fitting black armor. “You could be so lucky. I think you’d want me to start with you and make you finish, though you’re probably not worth it. All looks and no play.”

  Several things popped into Kate’s head, but she didn’t say any of them. Typical of a stupid man to go right for that topic. If anything made her decide not to pummel these men, that did it. It showed just how worthless they were.

  She turned to leave.

  “All of you shut up,” a new voice said. “You’re stupid if you think it’s wise to pick a fight with one of the Black.”

  Oh, no. Kate recognized that voice. Please, please don’t be…

  Wilfred pushed his way through the crowd and stood in front of the five Reds. He looked comical in his loose-fitting blue robes, eyes wide and panting his breaths. Kate had no doubt that some of it was anger, but most of what Wilfred felt had to be fear.

  Kate knew where this was going and was already crossing the space between her and the Reds when the loudmouth swung a fist at Wilfred.

  Her friend froze, eyes going wide and then clamping shut as the man wound up—he telegraphed the punch so horribly, even Wilfred should have been able to dodge it—and prepared to knock the Blue into the crowd.

  The punch never landed.

  Kate made it to the man in time and slapped the blow aside, just enough that it went wide. The surprised Red stumbled, trying to regain his balance. While slowing her run, Kate kicked the left leg out from under the attacker and the man plummeted toward the ground, not even having enough time to put his arms down to slow his fall. His face struck the stone walkway and slid.

  Kate finally stopped her momentum and turned to the other four. “I will say one more time, you do not want to push me. Take your ridiculous opinions and leave. I will not warn you again.”

  She knew, of course, what would happen. The four remaining men looked at each other, then
at their fellow on the ground, face bleeding, and finally to Kate.

  They charged as a group.

  Kate pushed Wilfred out of the way as he opened his eyes to see what was happening. She let out a little sigh. Why were men generally such idiots? She didn’t put her deathmask on, didn’t want to highlight the fact that she was one of the Black. She would get in trouble for this, but the men were committed, and there was nothing left but to play it out to the end.

  Kate stood patiently waiting for them to get within range. When they did, she sprang into action.

  All four threw punches at her, three of them wide, swooping hooks and the other a straight jab. They all were trying to hit her with their right hands balled into fists, so from the beginning the two to her left were in awkward positions, aiming their blows across their chests to target her.

  She took a half step to the left and a full step forward, punching upward on the forearm on one of the arms throwing a hook. The blow went wide and the attacker stumbled into the other man on her right, the one throwing the straight punch. They tangled up for a moment as she dealt with the two on her left, now lined up alongside her.

  One of the men tried to adjust and swing all the way around, spinning himself in the process. Kate kicked at his right knee and it buckled, throwing him onto the ground. She had used a soft kick to the rear of the leg, not doing any damage but simply making the leg collapse. She’d get into more trouble if she crippled someone.

  The second man on her left pulled his punch and threw his left arm out at Kate. She snatched it out of the air and yanked. The off-balance attacker stumbled toward her, then past her, crashing into the other two attackers who were just disentangling themselves from each other.

  All three went down in a heap. Laughter bubbled up from some of the onlookers, Wilfred included.

  “Stop while you may,” she told them calmly. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “If you attack me again, I will be forced to react more firmly.”

  The four men regained their feet and looked to each other as if they were seeking some kind of support. The loud-mouthed man—now up from the ground and wiping blood from his face—nodded and they came at her again.

  She tsked. “So be it.”

  This time, the men didn’t even finish winding up for their pathetically telegraphed blows. Kate lunged in and threw a series of punches at them while slapping their arms away before their strikes were fully formed.

  Her right fist scooped up into an uppercut into the leader’s stomach, lifting him up onto his toes with the force. As all the air was forced from his body, the scent of onion wafted toward Kate.

  She hated onions.

  She hit him again, this time with her left hand to his jaw, dropping him to the ground like a felled tree.

  Spinning, Kate swept her foot out and knocked the legs out from under one of the other men. He fell hard onto his back, his head bouncing from the stone of the walkway.

  Without losing momentum, Kate’s foot came up in an arc and knocked away the haphazard punch another of the men was trying to throw at her. Her kick spun him around so he faced the remaining attacker. She casually punched the back of his head with her right fist, and he dropped at the feet of his friend.

  Kate stopped instantly, resuming a normal stance and staring at the only one of the five still standing.

  He gulped. Then he jumped toward her, his fists coming up to hit her with a punch from each side.

  Kate dropped into a low stance and delivered a straight punch into the man’s jaw. All his forward momentum stopped, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell, seemingly in slow motion, to tumble on top of his buddies.

  The last of the attacking Reds fell, and Kate scanned the crowd that had gathered as the now supine men had taunted her and blustered. She met the eyes of several of them, but none could keep her gaze. With no further action forthcoming, they started to disperse.

  Wilfred was still standing where he had been the whole time, where he had climbed to his feet after Kate had pushed him away from harm.

  He had a silly grin on his face.

  “Thanks for that, Kate,” he said. “That guy was going to clobber me.”

  Kate sighed. “Sure, no problem. You know, Wilfred, you probably shouldn’t start fights like that with groups of men. It’s a good way to get hurt.”

  He looked at his feet sheepishly. “I know. I just got so mad at what they said. And you weren’t defending yourself.” He turned his eyes to the men moaning and moving, trying to get groggily to their feet. “At first, I mean. Verbally.”

  Kate wanted to tell him she’d had things in hand, that he escalated the entire situation, but she didn’t. His downcast eyes and slumped shoulders told her he already knew he had made things worse.

  “Well, what’s done is done,” she said. “Let’s go. No sense in staying around to watch them get back up.”

  He nodded absently, but noticed with a jerk when she started walking away. With one more startled look at the five men, he hurried to catch up to her.

  Kate had hardly closed the door to her room in the Black barracks a little later than a messenger came knocking. She opened her door to find one of the young Blues standing there.

  “Kate Courtenay,” he said. “You have been commanded to attend Major Aedmund Travada immediately.”

  She didn’t bother asking why. She already knew. “Very well. Thank you.”

  Kate began to close the door, but the Blue cleared his throat. Kate lifted her eyes from the door latch to him, raising an eyebrow.

  “The Major stressed that it was to be immediately.”

  “Yes,” Kate said. “So you said. Am I to go without my cloak?”

  “Your cloak?” the boy said, his voice not sounding as sure as it did a moment before.

  “Yes, my cloak. I am retrieving it. If you wish to stand there and watch me do it, very well.” She left the door ajar as she took up her cloak from the rack by her bed and swung it over her shoulders. She readjusted it so that the hilt of the sword scabbarded on her back poked through the hole made for the purpose and walked through the door. She closed it on the way out and walked by the Blue, his mouth hanging open.

  “Are you coming?” she asked, “or do you have other tasks to attend to?”

  “Y-y-yes, ma’am,” he said, but Kate didn’t know which question he was answering. She continued on her way, putting him out of her mind. She had to prepare herself for her meeting with the major.

  7

  The major’s office was in a different building than the Black headquarters. All officers ranking major and above were located at the Command Center in the center of the city fortress. Aedmund Travada was the Executive Officer—the XO—for the entirety of Battalion 1. That meant he was in command of more than a thousand soldiers in the Order.

  Kate wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel about that. Aside from her hallway encounter with Field Marshal Antoni Sena, this would be the highest-level person she had interacted with. She knew in her bones that rank didn’t make someone better, but it was still intimidating.

  As she headed to the building, Kate focused on her breathing. Nice, slow breaths, intentionally moving the air in and out of her lungs, that was the way to calmness. It was one of the first things Dante had taught her, and it was probably the most useful. What would her old trainer say about the pickle she was in right now?

  You never could stay out of trouble, he’d probably say, flashing that disappointed yet still amused look he seemed to pull off effortlessly. If he only knew how much trouble she had been in since joining the Order. He might even break out into a guffaw, though she found it hard to even imagine such a thing.

  Focus. She needed to focus.

  The secretary in front of the major’s office was someone Kate had never seen before. She wondered how basic training had gone for the woman. She was most likely the most beautiful woman Kate had ever seen, even in her drab grey Order uniform. Kate was disappointed in herself that she thought
immediately that the woman probably got her position solely for her appearance and that she probably couldn’t even identify the pointy part of a sword.

  How had that thought crept in? She was even more nervous than she thought. Either that, or her time in the Order had changed her more than she cared to admit.

  “I’m Kate Courtenay, reporting to the major as ordered,” Kate said to the secretary. She was pleased, at least slightly, that her voice didn’t waver.

  “Oh, Soldier Courtenay,” the woman said, flashing a smile that should have been outlawed in most of the free world. “Of the Black Command. Please let me just say that I am so excited to meet you.” The secretary put one hand on her belly and took a breath. “I am such a big fan. You are the only woman to attain the Black in forty-seven years. And so gorgeous on top of it. You are an example to all the women in the Order.”

  Okay, so maybe the woman wasn’t so vacuous as the stereotype. She did articulate her thoughts intelligently.

  Kate realized she hadn’t said anything and was staring into the woman’s eyes.

  “Uh, thank you,” she said gracefully. “It’s always been my dream…to be in the Order, I mean. And the Black.”

  “Well, I am honored to meet you. I’d love to hear about all your many brave acts sometime.” The woman cleared her throat, pushed on her tummy with the hand that was still there, and took another breath. “Yes, so Major Travada is expecting you. You may go right in.”

  Kate nodded. “Thank you.” She headed through the door. As she did, the secretary’s whispered “good luck” reached her ears. Kate stepped through into the office and realized that she couldn’t even remember what color the woman’s eyes or hair were, or if she had given her name. She must be more nervous than she thought.

  Snapping to attention, Kate put her fist to her heart and announced herself. “Kate Courtenay reporting as ordered, sir.”

  Aedmund Travada was not an imposing man. He might have been, once, but he was definitely no longer so. He had the look of a man who had been sitting at a desk for too long and the scowl of one who had a grudge against the rest of the world.