Ashvale Holds Its Breath
The square of Ashvale had never been more crowded, nor more still.
The horses of the riders stamped the earth, iron hooves striking sparks. The stag banner creaked in the wind, a reminder that Ashvale's hush was ended.
Kaelen rode upright in the saddle, helm under his arm, pale hair shining like steel. His face was unweathered like that of Sir Caldus's veterans—this was a man too young to be worn, yet aged by pride.
By his side, the priest of the Pure Flame lifted his silver staff, lips working in low incantations, eyes burning at the dragon like a torch igniting kindling.
And before them all was Lioran, cloak black, Kyrris at his back, the hatchling's scales glowing with an eerie heat.
No villager dared stir. Children held their mothers. Men tightened their grips on their staves, though none really thought wood could stop flame.
Kaelen's words still hovered in the air: You are commanded to kneel.
....
Defiance
Lioran moved forward, ash crunching underfoot. His gray eyes met Kaelen's, calm and burning.
"Kneel?" His tone sliced like a knife across stone. "To a duke to whom I have not sworn? To a priest who knows only fear of flame?"
Gathered murmurs ran through the villagers.
Kaelen's face clenched. "You are on the duke's land. By his law, every hearth, every hut, every animal belongs to him. You—" his eyes flashed to Kyrris, nostrils flaring—"and your beast belong to him."
At that term, Kyrris showed its teeth, smoke hissing from its nostrils. A deep growl shook, trembling the air.
The priest hissed, holding his staff higher. "Demon spawn. Tainted flame. The Church pronounces you unclean. Kneel, and perhaps your death will be quick."
Gasps were heard. Mira covered her mouth. Old Tomas's cane fell once upon the ground, but he remained silent.
Lioran leaned his head. "Unclean? Why is it that fire responds to me and not to the prayer of your people?" His hand rose, and sparks danced on his fingers, curling about like restless snakes. "Maybe you are the one who is not worthy."
The villagers stepped back, horror and wonder commingling.
.....
The Knight and the Boy
Kaelen dismounted, boots kicking against the ground. He stood a head taller than Lioran, broad-shouldered, steel-armored, sword at his hip.
He advanced, step by careful step. His eyes never left Lioran's.
"I am Ser Kaelen of House Draemir," he stated, voice carrying across the square. "Knight of Duke Rhaemond, heir to his banners, destined to lead men in combat. Who are you, boy? A peasant who is playing with fire he doesn't own?"
Lioran's mouth twisted slightly. "Who am I?"
The spark burned inside him. Flame danced on his hand, a ball of light that beat with his heart. His cloak rustled with movement, as if the wind moved it.
"I am born of fire."
Kyrris bellowed, wings blasting wide, smoke plume rising toward the heavens.
The villagers dropped to their knees, crying prayers. Even Mira took a step back, her eyes watering.
Kaelen's jaw clenched, hand tangling across the hilt of his sword. "Then let us see if your fire can withstand steel."
...
The Priest's Warning
Before Kaelen drew, the priest moved sharply forward, voice slicing.
"Ser Kaelen, beware! This is no honor duel. This is abomination. To strike him here is to bring flame upon us all."
Kaelen's lips curled. "Are you afraid, priest? You call him abomination, yet you tremble before him."
The priest's eyes turned sullen. "I have no fear of fire. I purify it. But the duke directed you to test him, not kill unto him. We must go back with tidings. The armies will be coming. The Church will march. And boy and monster will be cleansed in proper fashion."
Grunts of shock spread among the villagers. Armies… the Church…
Mira staggered forward, her voice breaking. "Please! There has been too much blood spilled! Do not bring more war here!"
Kaelen's eyes darted to her, then returned to Lioran. His eyes blazed with something not just duty—but competition. He coveted the boy's defeat for himself.
....
Trial by Flame
Lioran's voice rose, firm, commanding.
"You ride into my village under banners and decrees, demanding kneeing like vassals. You will not find me bent. Try me here, if you will. Otherwise, slink back to your duke and inform him: Ashvale is defended. Fire has come."
The villagers gasped.
Kaelen drew his sword with a hiss from its scabbard, steel shining in the light. "So be it."
The priest hissed once more, but did not halt him. His eyes shone instead, as if awaiting the clash of flame and steel.
Kaelen walked into the square, lifting his sword in salute. "One blow, boy. If you live, you can say your fire is worth more than ash."
Lioran's mouth widened in a cold, thin smile. "Very well."
....
Clash
The square fell silent.
Kaelen charged, steel glinting. Villagers screamed, Mira's voice shattering into a howl.
But Lioran did not retreat. He drove his hand outward, the ember blazing to life. A lash of flame shot out, striking Kaelen's blade, engulfing it in flames. Sparks thundered, steel shrieking red-hot.
Kaelen stumbled but pushed on, blade cutting through fire like a share cutting through earth. The sword sliced, scraping against Lioran's cloak.
Lioran winced, knees almost collapsing—the effort of carrying such heat scorched his frail form. Blood kissed his lips.
But Kyrris screamed, charged, flame spewing from its mouth. A column charred the earth between them, isolating Kaelen. He jumped back, covered his face, armor crisped.
The villagers cried out. Some collapsed to the ground, others ran into the huts.
.....
Stalemate
Kaelen dropped the sword, hair stuck to his face with sweat, face flushed. His eyes seared with both anger and something else—something akin to excitement.
"You. are no peasant," he acknowledged in a tight voice.
Lioran cleaned blood from his chin, upright in spite of the shaking in his legs. His tone was steel. "Remember that. Next time you threaten me with steel, you might not get to breathe.
The priest lifted his staff, eyes flashing. "Blasphemy! The Church will not stand for this!"
But Kaelen raised a hand, gaze still fixed on Lioran. "No. That's enough. We've seen what we've come to see."
He put away his sword, moving back to his horse. "The duke will be told of this. And when he arrives, he won't arrive with five riders."
The stag banner fluttered in the wind.
Kaelen mounted, gaze lingering on Lioran as though carving him into memory. Then, with a sharp command, the riders wheeled about and departed, hooves thundering down the road.
.....
Aftermath
Ashvale exhaled as one, though no relief came. Whispers erupted again, louder than ever.
"They will return…"
"The duke will come…"
"The Church will burn us all…"
Mira fell to her knees, clutching her head. "You've doomed us, Lioran…"
But Lioran remained there in the square, Kyrris clinging warmly to his side, the ember pulsing in his chest. His lips twisted into a hard smile.
"Let them come."
His eyes blazed with gray flame.
"The world has slept too long without fire."