Knight Of The Flame

by H John Spriggs

  The creature stopped. It was right in front of him, close enough that Caymus could feel the moisture of its breath on his face; close enough that he could smell the scent of the pine branch it had just bitten through; close enough, surely, to do the same to him. Still, he couldn’t move. Then, with a sickening scream, like a thousand mourners crying out, it reared up, lifting its front section off the ground and raising its two forelegs into the air above him. With that movement, the spell was broken, and Caymus just had time to roll out of harm’s way before the massive body came crashing down and the legs stabbed into the space where he’d been standing, embedding deep into the tree.

  Finally, Caymus fled. He ran full with the knowledge the death lurked behind and that he dared not slow, lest it catch him. He paid no attention to low-hanging branches as they swatted his face or to the rocks and roots that stubbed his toes and threatened to trip him. He stumbled along and ignored pain. Again, he heard the creature screaming behind him—much too close—as he dodged around another pine. He didn’t dare look back; he could hear it smashing through the trees as it gave chase. He could only hope that the monster’s immense size was slowing it down, but the sounds of splitting tree trunks were evidence that it preferred to go through obstacles rather than around them.

  Feeble, helpless sounds escaped Caymus’s lips even as he poured all his strength into pushing himself as fast as possible. What was that thing? Where had it come from? The creature was something out of his most horrible nightmares. The image of how easily it had bitten completely through a half-foot’s worth of pine branch kept playing over and over in his mind. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to meet those teeth. He had to keep moving, to keep running, to keep ahead of it somehow. The scream came again and he thought it sounded closer, thought that the sound of its barreling through the forest was getting louder.

  Get to the Temple, get to the Temple, get to the Temple. He played the words over and over again in his mind, a mantra keeping him focused, keeping him sane even as tears came down his cheeks. He visualized his escape, imagining himself getting to the sanctuary doors, slamming and bolting them before the creature could get through. Then the scream came again and the image evaporated. It was so close. He didn’t know how far he’d run. His throat was dry and his lungs ached. His legs were burning with effort, struggling to meet the incredible demands he was putting on them. Get to the Temple, get to the Temple.

  Then, the unthinkable happened, and Caymus knew without doubt that he’d been caught. The certainty of it was calming somehow: it allowed his mind to free itself of any thought of escape and, for a moment, all his worries disappeared, time slowed down, and he was able to focus completely on what was happening.

  The first thing he felt was pressure on the heel of his left foot as it extended out behind him in mid-stride. The pressure was just to the left of center, on the outward side of the foot. In the instant that it happened, he hadn’t thought much of it, but when he brought the foot forward again for his next step and planted the heel on the ground, pain shot through his leg like a blade. He might have been able to keep his balance at another time, but he was so tired, had run so fast. As hard as he tried to keep moving, he couldn't make his leg obey and it buckled under him. He threw his hands out, bracing himself for a collision with the soft forest floor, and noticed a fist-sized stone in front of him, which his right hand would surely connect with. A moment’s hesitation meant that, when he landed, his left elbow was locked but his right wasn’t, and he landed awkwardly and unevenly, his left hand scraping across pine needles and moss, his right arm folding at the elbow when his palm hit the stone. He collapsed toward his right and his shoulder made contact with the obstacle, rolling it over so that a sharp edge, previously hidden, turned face up. Caymus’s momentum continued to carry him forward, but the stone caught on an exposed root and he felt it tear into his chest. Finally, his knees connected with the ground and he rebounded, flipping over the sharp surface, then rolling two times more before landing hard on his back. In an instant, the whole world went askew and he struggled to get his breath back, to reorient himself. What was probably only seconds felt like years before, finally, the trees came back into focus.

  The monster was there, shifting its weight this way and that on its spider-like legs. Caymus just lay there. He knew he should get up. His chest was on fire, and there was a dull, throbbing sensation in his heel, but he should at least try to run. He couldn’t make himself move though, had never been more terrified in his life. He found that he was whimpering like a child as the thing looked down at him, its teeth twitching, as if deciding how best to end him. With a sense of immense sadness and regret, Caymus waited for that end to come.

  Before the creature could strike, however, a twang and a whooshing noise pierced the night. Caymus couldn't see where the sound had come from, but in the moment the creature turned its head to look, the arrow made purchase, striking it in the head and bouncing off its carapace. By the time Caymus had thought to look for the source, he heard another twang of the bowstring and a second missile came streaming through the darkness. This arrow bounced off just as harmlessly, but the monster lifted its front legs and screamed.

  Caymus finally saw Milo, walking quickly toward them, already nocking another arrow. He turned toward his fallen friend. "Run, Caymus!" he shouted, then turned his attention back to the creature and loosed another arrow. This one struck inside the creature's mouth, still not penetrating, but making the creature recoil all the same.

  Caymus scrabbled backwards as it regarded the new threat and started advancing. "Milo! What is—”?

  “I said run!" Milo shouted again, backing away from the creature and producing yet another arrow.

  Caymus didn't wait any longer. His chest still aching madly, his foot shooting pain up his spine, he got to his feet and managed to stumble into a run.

  “By the wind's grace!" He could hear Milo's voice faintly behind him as he burst from the tree line and into the grass that surrounded the Temple. Almost there, he thought, but when he glanced up from the ground, all his hope evaporated.

  The scene made him sick with horror. He was still a good half-mile away from the Temple, but he could see three more of the monsters moving around the doors to the sanctuary, while still another scuttled around a far corner of the east wing. He could see movement, too, on the roof of the building and thought he could make out the silhouettes of people up there.

  As the vision played before his eyes, he drew slowly to a halt. His chest was on fire. He doubled over and craned his neck up to look. Should he continue? He couldn't possibly get through the doors with those things crawling around and he knew the door to the loading area would be locked and bolted by this time of night. Shouldn't he turn around and help Milo face the one in the forest rather than try to take on this whole group? Maybe it would be best to just flee the area entirely and ensure his own safety?

  No. That would be cowardly, not in the spirit of his teachings at all. Still, he had to do something. He turned around. He couldn't hear the shrieking anymore. What had become of it? What had become of Milo?

  As if in answer to his unspoken thought, his friend came dashing out of the trees, his bow slung over one shoulder. He seemed uninjured, though some of the feathers from his left arm where missing. Caymus shouted toward him. "Milo, are you alright?"

  “Fine, fine," Milo panted. He stopped next to Caymus and looked toward the Temple, taking in the scene. "Looks like up on top is where we need to be," he said, pointing to the moving shapes on the Temple's ramparts. "I don't suppose you know any clever ways of getting up there?"

  Caymus shook his head, still breathing hard. "If we get into the sanctuary, there are stairs to the top, but we'd have to get past those things and through the door first." He looked behind them again. "What about the other one?"

  "I was faster," said Milo. "I lost it back there, but if it can track at all, it'll be here before long.” He looked at Caymus’s foot, where the light ma
terial of his shoe had become soaked with blood. “If that happens, there’s no way you’ll stay ahead of it. We need to get moving. Come on!"

  The pair started toward the Temple at a brisk jog. Caymus was only just noticing that he had a rather pronounced limp. "Are those doors likely to be locked?" Milo said, between breaths.

  Caymus was clutching his chest. Beyond the fire in his lungs, he wasn't sure what kind of damage he might be doing to his heel with each excruciating step. "With all those things outside, they probably dropped the iron grate," he said. "It comes down out of the ceiling, like a second door. No way they'd be able to get it up in time for us." He turned to his friend. "Milo, what are those things?"

  "I have no idea,” Milo responded. "All I know is that one back there was about to make wormsmeat of you, and I don't suppose those," he pointed to the others, now all gathering around the doors, "are much friendlier." He looked up at the roof again. "If we can't get through the door, we're going to have to be creative. How good a climber are you, Caymus?"

  "What?" Caymus said.

  "Climber," said Milo, simply.

  "Good enough, I guess," said Caymus, not sure he liked what the priest was thinking, considering his injuries. "But Milo, my chest. My foot. If you're planning on going up the wall—"

  "Don't worry about it," Milo said, a wry grin on his face. "I'm going to help you."

  Caymus then heard an all-too-familiar scream. He turned to see the creature Milo had been shooting at as it erupted from the trees in pursuit of them. The thing’s long, sharp legs propelled it along the ground at a distressingly fast pace.

  "Time to run," said Milo, and Caymus managed to summon up just a little more strength, to ignore just a little more pain, and ran. Milo kept pace, his light, natural quickness helping him keep up with Caymus’s long strides. They were now more than halfway from the edge of the forest to the temple walls. If they could just keep ahead of the creature, they might just make it—that was, if Milo's 'help' was enough to get them up the wall.

  As Caymus wondered about Milo's plan, he saw one of the other four creatures, still ahead of them, glance in their direction and then turn its attention back to the sanctuary’s entrance. Whatever they were, whatever the reason they were here, they were currently more interested in getting through those doors than they were in chasing the two people dashing across the lawn. One of them tested the heavy oak’s integrity by hurling its huge body against it. Caymus could hear wood crack and splinter as it struck. The delay between his seeing the action and hearing the sound would normally have summoned some amount of curiosity in him; now, it was just unsettling.

  More pressing at the moment was the monstrous thing chasing them. He chanced another look behind; it appeared to him larger than before. It was gaining. "Milo, I think it’s getting closer!”

  “Stop looking back!” yelled Milo, himself looking straight ahead. They were about a hundred yards from the wall now. Caymus could now see that there were more people on the roof than he had first thought, and that many seemed to be gathering to watch them. He could hear yelling and could imagine that they were beckoning him, willing him to make it before the creature got too close.

  Milo was beginning to trail, slightly. Out of the corner of his vision, Caymus saw his friend's eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration. He slowed slightly to match his speed, but Milo wouldn't have it. “Keep moving,” he said, shooing him further ahead. Caymus considered making an argument about leaving him behind, but he kept his voice still when he realized what the air priest was doing. Near the base of the western wall, the grass was being blown about as though by some whirlwind. It blustered about, this way and that, until finally each blade leaned inward as though it were being pulled toward the building. Specks of dust and small dirt clods shot up the wall, easily clearing the third story. Caymus could just imagine the force of the stream of air now shooting up the temple wall, the same force he'd seen his friend use countless times to slow a long fall. This was Milo's help. He hoped it was enough.

  With forty or so yards to go, Caymus started being able to make out the voices yelling down to him. He couldn't distinguish the individual speakers, but they all seemed to be shouting his name. He was also able to feel the air around him being sucked toward the column of wind Milo had created. His injured heel momentarily forgotten, he pushed himself as hard as he could, hoping against reason that he was staying ahead of the creature.

  Milo was still behind him. How far, he didn't know, and he didn't dare look.

  Finally, he reached the western wall of the Temple. He didn't take time to slow down, instead allowing his body to simply slam to a stop against the hard surface. He was nearly disoriented by the sudden tumult of noise: The shouts of his fellows on the roof, the screams of the monster that was chasing him, even the sound of his own blood rushing through his head were all drowned out by the incredible din of the wind blowing past him. He desperately wanted to cover his ears, to wrap his arms around his head and block out the deafening noise, but instead he forced his hands to reach out for the rough stone wall of the Temple and find a way to climb. With relief, he found that, even with his injuries, the large spaces between blocks of granite and the immense force of the air lifting him up made the ascent easy. After he had gone a few feet, he looked over his shoulder to be sure Milo was coming.

  He wasn't. The priest was standing still about thirty yards away from him, his arms raised towards his creation, his hands open, driving the air upward. His mouth was contorted into a savage grimace, his eyes shut tight. Behind him, the creature was still moving, still running with its terrible speed. “Milo!” Caymus shouted. He considered dropping back down.

  “Keep moving.” Milo's voice was faint, carried quickly away by the wind, but it was definite, certain, leaving no room for argument. Caymus climbed, and climbed fast. His heel throbbed whenever he put his weight on it, but the pain was bearable. Mostly, he was finding foot- and hand-holds in the crevices between the stones of the wall, but the stones themselves had rough and uneven surfaces, also allowing him some traction. He noted, too, that after the first ten feet or so the going became easier as the masonry became less well tended and afforded him solid grips. He became extremely thankful for those grips when, as he was about halfway up the wall, the wind stopped, suddenly.

  Caymus's first sensation was that of falling, but he dug his toes into their purchases and gripped tightly with his hands. His heel threatened to give in to the pain, but he was able to hold on. In the next moment, however, he was overcome with shock and grief. If the wind had stopped, it meant the creature had reached Milo. It meant his friend was dead. The shock of it stripped his mind away from him as he pressed his forehead against the wall and tried not to imagine the scene below, tried not to think about the sacrifice Milo had just made for him.

  Now that the roar of the wind was gone, however, Caymus’s ears were telling him a different story. Sounds of shock and amazement emanated from the roof. “Flames above!” drifted down, as well as, “Look at him go!”

  With renewed hope, Caymus quickly turned his head and looked over his shoulder, almost dislodging himself in the process. From his position it was hard to see but, if he strained, he could just make out Milo bolting with incredible speed toward the wall, the creature mere inches behind him. Come on, Milo, he thought as a single whispered word escaped his lips: “Please.”

  Milo had been right, earlier. He was faster than the creature, if only just, and by the time he reached his goal, he had managed to pull away by a couple of feet. More impressive than that, though, were his acrobatics once he got there. A couple of yards from the base of the building, he leapt with delicate grace towards the wall, planted his leading foot firmly, then pushed back off, directly toward the pursuing monster, which had slowed to avoid a collision with the unyielding stone. Before it could open its jaws to grab him though, he pushed back off its head with his other foot, gaining precious extra height before coming back in contact with the
stone surface, a good ten feet up. Milo's lithe body scrabbled more than it climbed, but he quickly ascended. As the creature scraped and prodded at the granite, trying to give chase, it screeched in frustration.

  The cheering from above was electrifying as Milo made his way up to the spot where Caymus still clung. He was grinning at him like the whole thing was no big deal. “Hello, Caymus,” he said when he reached him. “My word, what are you doing stuck to a building?”

  Caymus couldn't help but grin back at him, but smile turned to grimace as his heel flared into fresh, hot spasms of pain and he realized that he wasn't out of danger yet. He couldn't keep weight on it anymore, and he had to dig in even harder with his hands. He could feel the stone cutting into his skin and was almost certain that one of his fingernails was tearing off. The creature was still down there. If he slipped, even just a little, he died. “Milo,” he said between clenched teeth, “I can't move any further. I can barely hold on.”

  Milo looked up, and with a relieved note to his voice, said, “I think you'll manage,” as a thick cord of rope slapped the wall between them. Caymus looked up too, and saw Rill waving down amongst a dozen other concerned faces.

  “Can you tie him off?” Rill yelled down.

  Milo nodded, moved right alongside Caymus and, using one arm, deftly looped the rope under his arms. “Did you know you can tie a bowline with one hand?” he said, and tied the rope on to itself, just above his head. He then signaled to those above that he was done, and Caymus felt himself being pulled up. The rope was tight and painful under his armpits, but at least Milo had avoided letting it put any pressure on the gash in his chest. Caymus tried to help, to do some of the climbing himself, but there wasn't much strength left in his legs, and the crowd above did most of the work of actually lifting his huge mass. Milo climbed alongside, keeping a watchful eye on him. Caymus was amazed at how easily the priest moved, making his way up a sheer stone building as quickly as another man might stroll down a riverbank.