Hero of Fire Read online

  Hero of Fire

  Order of the Fire Book 2

  P.E. Padilla

  Copyright © 2019 by P. E. Padilla

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Covermint Design

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  PEP Talk

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Letter to the Reader

  Author Notes

  Newsletter

  About the Author

  Also by P.E. Padilla

  1

  Kate Courtenay watched the man dressed in all black and a death’s head mask stride toward the demon commander. The creature was more than twice the Order soldier’s height.

  But the Black were the elite of the Order of the Fire. They waded into battle when the shield wall faltered. They entered the gates of Hell to take the battle to the demons on their home ground. They were the ones who carried the hope of every soldier of the Order, especially in a situation like this, where the demons held the upper hand.

  Kate’s eyes grew to twice their normal size, and a lump formed in her throat and traveled down to her belly.

  The demon commander had hurt the Black brother. He tottered before it, helpless. If someone didn’t do something quickly…

  The twelve-foot-tall demon dropped its great weapon, reached down, and tore the head off the man in black. The monster casually tossed it through the air. The head bounced off one of the shields of a red-cloaked infantry fighter and landed on the blood-soaked ground with a wet thud.

  Kate’s blue robes swished as she jumped down from the platform from which she had watched the battle. Her armor had been taken away when they gave her the Blue—the robes that meant she was a maid, a support worker who didn’t fight—and she wasn’t allowed to carry a weapon.

  They could all run themselves right to Hell. She would fight, and there were plenty of weapons at hand.

  She snatched one from the ground. The fallen Red nearby wouldn’t be needing it anymore. As she glided toward the demon commander, she kicked a shield into the air, slipping her arm into the handle as it flew.

  She started running.

  The demons, still cheering and shouting in those horrid voices, didn’t pay her any attention. The larger beast roared its defiance against the Order, still celebrating the defeat of their hero.

  Kate launched herself into the air, straight at the big demon.

  And the battle was on.

  In a few short moments, Kate had downed the demon, removing its head in front of all its fellow demons.

  But Kate didn’t stop there. These monsters had attacked the Order, her family—even if they didn’t treat her like part of the family—and that she could not abide.

  She whirled, twisted, and flowed from movement to movement, each one having definite purpose. She dodged demon claws and teeth and dished out death to any of the monsters near her. She cut a wide swath through the dark, twisted bodies, never stopping for more than a moment to gauge the next target.

  Flashes of red swirled around her as the shield wall rallied and snapped back into formation. They surged forward, eventually passing her in their charge, both due to her slowing down from exhaustion and their momentum from crushing all the demons before them.

  Blood loss from all the cuts and gashes she had received finally made her stop to rest. She dropped to her knees, catching one last glimpse of the red cloaks pushing toward the gate.

  Then the world spun and darkened, and she lost sense of where she was.

  When she woke, the hero Bernar Giron retrieved her and ushered her to meet with Phrixus Achard, the captain of the Black. She stumbled into the room, following Bernar. She was still weak from her injuries, hardly able to make the trek to the room. She found the entire Black Command there with the captain.

  They snapped to attention and saluted her.

  “Well, Kate,” the captain said. “Are you ready for your next test?”

  Kate worked her mouth and tried to speak twice before it came out in a croak. “What…what is this?”

  “It’s very simple,” Phrixus said. “You have shown yourself to be everything that defines the Black in the Order of the Fire. An expert combatant, a fearless warrior, a selfless hero. I am officially inviting you to become one of us. If you so desire.”

  She tried to speak again, but once more, words wouldn’t come. She put a finger up to scratch an itch on her face and found her cheeks wet with tears.

  With a great effort, she controlled her breathing, which was quickening as her heart galloped in her chest, and she slowly made the words. “I haven’t even been in the Order a year. How can I join the Black?”

  Phrixus laughed, a deep, bellowing sound that shook her but made her feel a bit better. She knew he wasn’t laughing at her. “It is something. The Supreme Commander told me no when I suggested it. When I told him I would resign if he didn’t agree, he came around.”

  “You…resign?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. There was never any chance he would let me do it. Some of the others on the council, yes, but not Berart. So, I ask you again, would you join us?”

  “I—” Kate intended to talk the man out of it. It was a joke; it had to be. There was no way the most elite unit in the Order of the Fire would take a nineteen-year-old girl.

  “Yes.” It surprised her, but it felt right. “Yes, I would like to join you.”

  The other men in their black armor and cloaks seemed to breathe out at the same time, as if everyone had been holding their breath. Many of them smiled at her. She smiled weakly back.

  “I know it is sudden, and you are not recuperated yet from your heroic actions on the battlefield,” Phrixus said. “I wanted to ask you as soon as possible so we can make preparations for you. Jurdan here will show you where you will be staying. Take your time, heal, and rest. Report to me when you are ready to begin your training.”

  “I, uh, yes sir.” Kate straightened to attention and saluted him, fist slapped to heart. She thought she might have torn some of the precious stitches the chirurgeon told her to be careful of.

  He must have noticed the wince, because the captain smiled. “At ease. Don’t tear your stitches for a salute. We are a little more informal here in th
e Black. You’ll see. Go on. The sooner you rest and heal, the sooner we can integrate you into our little group. Thank you for your service, Kate, and welcome to the Black.”

  2

  Kate’s escort, Jurdan Vora, was just shy of six feet tall and fit like all the Black. He kept his blond hair long and, at least for now, it swung freely as he moved. His neatly trimmed moustache and beard gave the effect of a dashing hero type.

  The Black noticed Kate looking at his death mask, swinging from a loop on his belt. He raised his eyebrows at her and unhooked it, holding it up so she could see it better.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yes,” she said, not quite knowing what to add to that one word. “It’s very…distinctive.”

  He laughed as he turned it toward his own face. “Distinctive. Yes. The masks are something of a signature of the Black. A flourish, a bit of showmanship. Something that others instantly recognize as a symbol of the Black Command. It’s said that the demons know of the masks and cower in fear from them. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s a nice thought.

  “We choose our own death masks. In fact, traditionally, each of us would actually make our own masks. That’s no longer the way, though. Now, artisans will custom-create masks and some even have finished masks that a new brother…or sister”—he bowed his head toward her—“can choose and start wearing immediately. It’s a personal choice.”

  Kate took the information in while she studied Jurdan’s mask. It appeared to be some kind of metal, lacquered in white. And it was long, as if someone had taken it by the forehead and chin and stretched it. The jet black eyes—some kind of fine cloth covering the holes but still allowing sight—swooped up into elongated teardrop shapes, and the stretched triangle of the mouth seemed somehow…hungry, inverted and opened wide with the top teeth and fangs painted in fine detail. The whole mask was wedge-shaped, with the chin pointed like the bottom of the mouth. Perhaps not particularly scary, but it was mesmerizing.

  “Some want to be as frightening as possible,” Jurdan continued, “while others choose to match their personalities. For some, that is the same thing.” He laughed again. “It is completely up to you. I look forward to seeing what you choose.”

  They had been walking while they talked and approached a door in the Black section of the city buildings.

  “Ah,” Jurdan said. “And here we are.” He opened the door and stood back to allow her to enter. “It is the women’s barracks for the Black.”

  Kate stepped inside and found a room with four beds in it. They were spread out more than the barracks she had been in before, but those rooms had a dozen beds. This chamber seemed downright spacious, as far as barracks rooms were concerned.

  She turned to Jurdan, opening her mouth to ask a question.

  “Yes, it’s all yours. There have never been many women in the Black. In fact, the most we’ve had at one time was two. Still, having a small barracks room like this with four beds seemed to be the most logical way to go about it. Right now, there is exactly one woman in the Black, and she is standing before me. Maybe women don’t like our color scheme, or they find our masks repulsive. I don’t really know.

  “This means, of course, that the entire room is yours. Congratulations. You have a room as large as many of the officers.” He winked at her. “Take your time, rest and heal. The captain told me to tell you that when you feel up to starting your training and education officially as one of the Black, report to him and he will make it so. Until then, you may do as you please. There are two uniforms and one cloak in the wardrobe there.” He pointed toward a large cabinet with double doors. “So you will present yourself as one of us.”

  “Thank you, Jurdan. I appreciate your help.”

  “It is my pleasure, Kate.” He saluted her. “Welcome to the brotherhood…ahem…sisterhood. Well, welcome to the Black. Don’t get used to salutes, though. We normally don’t go in for much of that. Make sure you ask if you need anything, of me or any of the brothers. You know where our barracks are. We’re just down the hall. I will let you rest now.”

  He turned on his heels and headed down the hall. The clop of his boots eventually faded, and she was left with the silence of her new room. She had to figure out which of the beds to sleep in. Maybe she would take his advice and rest a little. She had plenty of time for other things later on. Her body ached and her stitches hurt, and all she wanted was to lie down.

  Picking a bed, Kate settled onto the mattress stuffed with a mixture of wool and straw. It was much better than the beds she had as a Red or a Blue, though still vastly inferior to the beds she had been used to in her father’s estate. With that thought in mind, she drifted into a comfortable slumber as her mind wandered.

  She was eight, and the children of several visiting nobles were arrayed around her brother Jonathan. As always, he was the center of attention and she merely off to the side. He had always gotten along better with other kids than she. He was naturally more pleasant to be with, she guessed.

  “Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s go and make our maid, Magda, run herself ragged bringing us things from the kitchen. She has to do what I say.”

  The other children laughed and nodded and said it was a great idea. Little Kate didn’t think so, but she didn’t say anything. Her brother must have seen it in her face.

  “Not you, Kate. You’ll just muck it all up. Go find something else to do.”

  She stood there, lip quivering, but there was nothing she could say. The others ran off, laughing, some of them directing it at her.

  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?”