Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword Read online

CHAPTER 3

  Glasgow Green

  "Huv youse nae hames tae go tae?" called out the barmaid to the disparate group of her remaining patrons of which Dirk and I were a part. Reluctantly, we stepped down off the barstools, slipped on our jackets, and walked out into the city of Glasgow at night. Although there were probably about a half dozen of us filing out the door of her bar, I truly suspected that the barmaid was probably most pleased to be getting rid of the two of us more so than the others, since we'd spent most of the evening nursing the same two beers, whilst simultaneously coming up with excuses not to talk about what happened two days ago on New Santorini Island.

  Needless to say, it had not at all been a pleasant departure from the cave. The gruff old Grand Master was none too pleased that Dirk should refuse the Sword; I guess telling Dirk that he had a choice was just his way of being polite. When it was clear that Dirk was serious about not accepting the gift, the old man ordered Aaron and a few other monks to "Get us the hell out of his sight." Aaron quickly accommodated the old man, and delivered us to the wharf without speaking at all to us along the way.

  Neither did we have much to say to each other on the ferry. Dirk wasn't flirting as usual, and all of the other passengers, of which there was only a handful at this time of day, just left us alone, as if there had been some kind of invisible, impenetrable bubble around us the whole time. Dirk didn't seem to notice though. He just kept his nose in his laptop until the battery ran out, and then took to staring out the window at the waves. Appropriately, a storm was gathering on the distant horizon.

  I watched him for a large part of the two hour trip, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Finally, I had to admit that the only thing I was certain of, was the fact that my own mind was ablaze. Not only was the Flaming Sword real, it had chosen another Knight, and it wasn't me.

  After all these years of wondering and fantasizing, the Sword was REAL.

  Imagine all the good that could be done with it. All the lives that could be helped; all the lives that could be changed. It was an awesome responsibility, and I had to admit that I could understand why Dirk didn't want it. I had sought it out. He had only come along for the ride, and he had been chosen almost by mistake.

  We spent the next two days biding our time in Glasgow while waiting until tomorrow's flight out of here, as well as doing our best to avoid reporters.

  The news of the Sword coming to life again and choosing a new Knight was, as should have been expected, all over the media, and news organizations from all over the globe had descended en-mass on Glasgow, Oban, and the island to track down more information. Thankfully, not too many details had been released as of yet, other than the fact that the new Knight was an American (which was funny because they didn't even get that right, seeing as Dirk and I were both Canadian). The Brotherhood was obviously doing a bang-up job in managing the media, because nobody appeared to even be aware that Dirk had turned the Sword down.

  We had seen one news item the other day (one that had been repeated over and over again in the absence of any real information in the age of twenty-four hour news outlets) that showed the other members from our tour group being interviewed. They didn't really have much to offer, which said to me that the brotherhood had been able to convince them not to talk, presumably with hush money. The most forthcoming among them had been the Texan who, sporting a large white bandage where his signature hat should have been, spoke mostly about how it "shoulda" been him, and that it was some skinny runt who got it, which was funny, as he'd been unconscious during the actual revelation of the Flaming Knight.

  We had tried to move our flight up by a couple of days, but had been unable to, so we just tried to keep busy, and keep our minds occupied. We'd spent our last day walking around the downtown core, exploring museums like the People's Palace and the Winter Gardens, and as evening settled, we had visited the pub that we're now standing in front of.

  We looked across the street towards the large park in the middle of the city called Glasgow Green, and I noticed how wistfully Dirk was staring at the trees that we could see there. Instinctively, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

  We had both been raised in Northern Ontario, and had spent a lot of time as kids exploring the northern Canadian bush. But, where I had certainly always appreciated nature, Dirk's connection had always been much deeper-it was like he was a part of it, and it, of him. I've never seen anybody more comfortable in the wild, and never seen the wild more comfortable with any other person. Hell, I'd even seen animals come out of hiding and approach Dirk directly. It's uncanny really, and it's something I've never understood, but I've certainly learned to respect it.

  I know that the last few years have been difficult on Dirk in a city like New York, because whenever he gets stressed, he needs trees, open water, and a marked lack of concrete to make himself feel better.

  After what had just happened to him a few days ago, I knew without having to ask that the park across from us was calling to him in ways that I could never appreciate.

  Dirk looked at me as if he knew that I already understood what he wanted. His look also said that he knew that I wasn't about to refuse him either, even though I was more than a little nervous about it. I've been paying pretty close attention to our surroundings over the last couple of days, and I was pretty sure that we were being followed, by something more than just the press. I keep spotting somebody in a trench coat, but keep dismissing it as unlikely that he's actually following us, because who would be so obvious as to wear something as clich?d as a trench coat to tail somebody in this day and age?

  We crossed the street, entered the park, and made our way towards the trees along the shores of the River Clyde. Since it was the middle of the night, we pretty much had the park to ourselves.

  Somewhere south of the Nelson Monument, at about the time we entered the moon-cast shadows of the trees, I heard Dirk take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could sense him relaxing, and wondered why we hadn't thought of this yesterday, or the day before, or of doing it during actual daylight for that matter (although I suspect that there would have been too many people around at that time though).

  Dirk dropped to the ground, and leaned his back up against a tree. Then he pulled a mickey out of his laptop bag, and took a quick swig of its contents before offering to me, even while he grimaced as the liquid singed its way down his throat.

  I took the mickey, sat down beside him, and asked, "What's in it?"

  "We're in Scotland," he replied dryly. "What do you think?"

  I took a timid sip, and handed it back to him as I coughed the scotch down.

  "Smooth," I squeaked. We'd never been heavy drinkers, but this did kind of feel like the kind of thing that you'd do in this situation.

  "You're wondering why I did it aren't you?" Dirk said as he took another tepid swig.

  He didn't have to specify what he was talking about. I'm sure neither one of us had been thinking of anything else, despite our best efforts.

  "Well," I answered lightly. "The thought had crossed my mind."

  He smiled tightly in response, and said, "I've been giving this a lot of thought, and it's mostly because of my father."

  "Your father?" I asked in confusion. Dirk's father had been a well known surgeon before they moved to our home town, and I know that their relationship had been rocky over the years. He hadn't been around much when Dirk was growing up, and his obvious wealth was just another convenient reason for the school yard bullies to go after Dirk. "I don't understand."

  "I don't think I can handle that kind of power. What it would do to me. Like what it did to him."

  I thought about this for a moment before offering, "I still don't understand. Sure, your Dad was good at his job, and had a lot of power in the community, but the Sword represents a different kind of power. It's not the same thing at all."

  "Isn't it? For him it was the same. For him, when lives were in his hands, he was playing God, and he knew it. How is that differ
ent than what I'd be doing with the Sword?"

  I had to admit that maybe Dirk had a point, but he wasn't finished.

  "I watched that kind of power go to my father's head. He was the big fish in a small pond, and he got arrogant and aloof as a result. He got overconfident, and was convinced that he couldn't fail." Dirk paused, and took another drink before continuing. "When Mom got sick, Dad was convinced he could fix her, and he ignored the advice of real experts, refused to take her to the specialists in Toronto, and she just got worse."

  Dirk was about to lift the mickey to his mouth again, and then thought better of it, and handed it to me instead. I knew where he was going now, but didn't want to interrupt him.

  "Mom died because of what he did," he finally said. "I'm sure of it. Even afterwards, he never admitted his role in it. It was always somebody else's fault. Always."

  "And you're scared that, if you accept the Sword, that you'll turn out just like your father?"

  "I know I will. I already have. There are so many things in me that I'm noticing that are just like him, and it's not just that I look like he did at my age. I handle things the same way. Have the same temper. The same sense of humour. The same impetuousness." He was pulling at the grass now with his hands, and tossing the blades away from him as he spoke. "But I do have one thing that he'll never have. I know my limitations. I know the temptations that I should avoid. Because of this, I know that I can't deal with that kind of power, so I won't accept it. I can't. People could die."

  I had rarely seen my best friend this serious. There wasn't much that rattled him, and he was the kind of person that made light of every situation, no matter how ominous. This was also the first time that I'd ever heard him speak about his feelings for his father, and how much it concerned him to be so much like a man that he so obviously disdained. Suddenly, so much about Dirk made sense. It was no wonder that he always avoided real responsibility and the recognition that often came with it: he didn't want to risk having his ego stoked. He'd seen up close the kind of hubris that it could lead to.

  "I had no idea," I said finally.

  "Nobody did."

  We sat for a time in silence, listening to the sound of the city beyond the river, and the boats that moved back and forth across its dark water. Occasionally, a light from one of the boats would sweep into the trees, creating light and shadows that would play across the grass.

  "I don't know what to say Dirk. I have no idea exactly how the Sword works, and I'm really sorry to pull you into the middle of something that I wanted."

  He snorted an acerbic laugh, and muttered something that sounded like an acknowledgment of my apology. "It should have been you," he added.

  "You're damn right it should have me," I replied while taking another swig from his mickey.

  "You're more the superhero type," he continued. "Hell, even your name screams secret identity name. Mark Allen," he said in a deep and mysterious voice like the kind that you hear in the movie trailers. "By night he's a Superhero, and by day, a mild-mannered... Hey what do you do with yourself during the day anyhow?"

  Dirk continued to talk in a tone of voice that made it clear that he was beginning to feel better, but I had stopped listening because I had become aware of a movement off to my left. There was a figure slipping quietly between the trees, pausing behind each one in what was an obviously vain attempt at not being seen. And, if I wasn't very much mistaken, the figure was wearing a trench coat.

  I nudged Dirk's arm and gestured towards the figure, now about a dozen meters away.

  "Who is that?" he asked quietly. "Is that a woman?"

  "I've no idea," I answered in a whisper. "But I'm going to find out. Keep talking like I'm still here. Then, in three minutes, cough loudly."

  I rolled into the dark shadows behind our tree, and crept closer to our mysterious guest, keeping the tree that he was hiding behind between us. When I was right on the opposite side of the tree, I crouched low and waited. Behind me, Dirk started to have a very loud coughing fit, and I took that opportunity to leap up, grab a low lying branch, and swing on it so that I landed on the other side of the tree, right behind our very surprised spy.

  Immediately, I assumed an offensive pose with my hands out in front of me, and demanded, "Who are you, and why are you following us?"

  The mysterious figure was dressed a little too much like a spy, almost as if he'd mimicked something that he'd seen in an old pulp magazine from the 60's. He wore a wide-brimmed fedora, a long dark trench coat (with an equally dark shoulder bag that look almost like a purse), and dark sunglasses, even though it was well past midnight. If it weren't so serious a situation, I'd have assumed that he was being ironic.

  The wannabe spy slowly took to his feet in front of me, and through a very familiar smile said, "It's about time you saw me. I've been tailing you obviously for days."

  "Aaron?"

  Just then, Dirk appeared beside me. He looked Aaron up and down and said, "Nice fashion choice."

  "Thanks," answered Aaron, apparently unaware that he was being teased.

  "What are you doing here?" I demanded. "I thought the brotherhood was done with us."

  "The Grand Master can be a little..." Aaron paused while looking for the right word. "Well, obstinate."

  "I'd noticed," offered Dirk sardonically.

  "He can be difficult at times to deal with, so I thought I'd come and try to talk to you myself. I followed you because I'd wanted to see if you'd changed your mind," he said directly to Dirk.

  Dirk hesitated for a second. Finally, he answered, "I haven't. The answer is the same. Find another Glimad."

  "Gilmat."

  "Whatever."

  "Um, Aaron," I interrupted. "Did you come alone?"

  "Yes," he replied. "Why?"

  "Then who are those other guys?" I pointed to an area of the forest between us and the water, where a group of darkly-dressed men were currently sneaking around in the trees, their presence having been briefly revealed by a passing spotlight from a boat on the River Clyde.

  "I've no idea."

  As we watched, another light panned by, reflecting off shiny cylindrical metal objects in their hands.

  "They've got guns," I observed a little more matter-of-factly than I had intended.

  "Crap," offered Dirk helpfully.

  Immediately, I began to push Dirk and Aaron forward, towards the monument. "Let's move then shall we? Perhaps find some cover?"

  As we ran out from underneath the trees, I was alarmed to notice that several of the closest street lamps had suddenly gone dark. We hadn't gotten much farther before the first flash of light came from the forest. Although we didn't hear any gunshots, we could hear the unmistakable sounds of tiny metal objects whipping through the air above us. Immediately, we dove for cover behind the base of the Nelson Monument.

  "They've got silencers," I offered, as I heard a couple of bullets slam into the stone on the other side of the wall. Interestingly, none of the shots have been all that close yet. Either the silencers were affecting their aim, or they were purposely trying to miss.

  Unless they're just really bad shots.

  "Who the hell is that?" hissed Dirk at Aaron from his crouched position behind the wall.

  "Damn," answered the monk as he pulled a cell phone out of his shoulder bag, and punched at the display. "I was afraid of this." He was connected almost immediately, even as a few more tiny missiles whizzed by above us, spoke a few words into the phone along with our current location, and ended the call. "I've asked for back-up but... well it'll take several minutes."

  "I don't think we have that much time," I said. "It won't take them very long to figure out that we don't have anything to defend ourselves with." I looked at the monk. "You don't happen to have a gun do you?"

  He shook his head distastefully.

  "Wait!" demanded Dirk. "Go back a bit. You said you were afraid of this. What exactly were you afraid of?"

  A bullet grazed the side of th
e obelisk behind us, sending a few tiny chips of stone clattering onto the ground around us.

  "Well you weren't exactly alone in the cave when you pulled out the Sword were you?" countered Aaron.

  "I told you, it was an accident."

  "It doesn't matter Dirk," Aaron answered, almost kindly. "Somebody's obviously figured out who you are. Somebody's either after the Sword, or is trying to make sure that you never use it."

  I'd had the same concerns, which is why I'd been watching our back so vigilantly the last couple of days. This trip to a darkened, and relatively deserted park late at night was the first real opportunity that we'd given for somebody to make a move.

  Damn. What was I thinking, letting Dirk talk me into coming here?

  "Well it's a good thing that we don't have the Sword then," I said. "All we have to do is figure out how to get away..." Something in Aaron's expression gave me pause. He was looking at me with what appeared to be a sheepish expression, but I couldn't tell for sure because of how dark it was.

  "We don't have the Sword right Aaron?"

  "Well, not exactly," he answered as he reached into his shoulder bag again, and pulled out the sheathed dagger that was the Flaming Sword.

  "WHAT THE HELL! WHAT..." The rest of Dirk's impassioned words were lost in another hail of silent gunfire. More stone chips from the monument rained down upon us, and we ducked down even further behind the protective wall.

  "DO YOU MIND?!!" yelled Dirk towards the distant assailants, his voice squeaking in a way I hadn't heard since he went through puberty. "You're damaging a national monument!"

  Ignoring Dirk's continued, and increasingly nonsensical rant, I moved closer to Aaron. "You brought the Sword with only yourself to protect it?" I asked the monk pointedly. "Isn't that a little reckless?"

  "Not if Dirk uses it."

  More gunfire slammed into the stone retaining wall behind us, as Dirk continued to vent his frustrations, partly at the assailants currently peppering the monument with bullets, but mostly at Aaron for bringing the Sword back to him.

  I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little.

  "Dirk, relax," I implored. "Just take it easy." He eventually stopped ranting, sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep it from moving anymore, and glared at me. "Look over there," I told him, gesturing towards the open field between us and the museum. A group of obviously drunk students were cavorting about on the grass, and were clearly headed in this direction, albeit in a very meandering fashion. They hadn't heard the gunfire because of the silencers, and obviously hadn't noticed the flashing of the muzzles yet either or, if they had, had assumed that somebody was using a camera with a flash.

  "The gunmen have to be stopped before somebody gets hurt," I said. "I don't like it any more than you do, but you're our best chance right now." If only I had my protective gear, this wouldn't necessarily be the case, but I couldn't afford to think with my ego now, not when lives were at stake.

  Dirk looked over my shoulder towards the group of students. He sighed bodily.

  "Fine," he whispered as he slipped the strap of his laptop bag over his shoulder and handed it to me. "Give me the Sword Aaron."

  Aaron handed him the sheathed dagger, and Dirk looked at it for a moment.

  "How do I? How do I turn it on?" he finally asked.

  "Honestly," answered Aaron irately, as if Dirk were a dull child. "Just pull it out of the sheath."

  "Y'know, I've never done this before," said Dirk as he gripped the hilt in one hand and the sheath in the other, even as Aaron reached out and angled the Sword so that it would be pointing away from us when it enlarged. "At least I've never done it on purpose, you'd think that maybe you'd have just a little more..."

  Whatever else Dirk was saying was lost in a blast of white noise and a gust of imploding wind as the transformation occurred. I was trying to pay attention to what was going on, but it all happened so fast. As quickly as the Sword expanded to its full length and caught fire, the Flaming Knight's armour faded swiftly into existence. I couldn't help but smile at this concrete reminder that the legend was real, even as I felt a twinge of jealousy that it wasn't actually me inside the armour.

  "How does it feel?" I asked.

  "Not bad this time actually," answered Dirk's voice from behind the newly materialized visor. "It's actually not all that different than not having it on at all. Maybe it's because we're not in a cave anymore, but it doesn't feel nearly as claustrophobic. In fact..."

  "Do you two mind," Aaron broke in. "We're in a bit of a firefight right now. Can you save your discussion until later?"

  Speaking of the firefight. Something was different.

  "Listen," I said. "There's not as much gunfire." I looked around us to either side out into the shadows. "Somebody's on the move. Likely to try and flank us because they've finally figured out that we're unarmed. You'd better go now Dirk."

  "Me? Go where?"

  Aaron sighed and muttered something that sounded like, "Heidni'baw" before saying, "Out there. Listen, although it may not feel like it to you right now, you're fully armoured." The monk picked up a chipped piece of stone, and tossed it at Dirk so that it bounced off the invisible magic shield that we'd discovered back in the cave. "And nothing can get through, not even bullets."

  "You sure?"

  "Positive."

  "Not even bullets?"

  "Would you just get out there please?"

  I could hear Dirk taking a deep breath, and watched as he stood up tentatively. Almost immediately-and perhaps more than a little predictably-he was fired upon. The remaining shooters focused their shots on this new target but, just as Aaron had promised, each and every bullet bounced off in a little spark of electric yellow. But it wasn't so much that they bounced off the armour like ricochets, it was more like the bullets were simply stopped short in mid-flight to fall impotently to the ground.

  Through it all, Dirk was holding his arms up over his head while screaming. I was concerned at first, until I realized that it wasn't a shriek of distress coming from my friend, because it had begun to morph into what was obviously a gleeful exclamation.

  "HOLY FUCKING HELL!!!!" Dirk screamed as he slowly lowered his arms to watch the bullets continue to careen ineffectively off his helm, arms, and chest. "I'M FUCKING BULLETPROOF!"

  All at once, he seemed to realize that he was still holding a burning Sword, so he lifted it up above his head, and took off abruptly in the direction of the gunmen, while screaming, "I'M BULLETPROOF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!"

  I looked over at Aaron sheepishly. The usually reserved monk had an obvious expression of shock on his face. I'm gathering he'd led a fairly sheltered life cloistered at Castle Redstone, and Dirk's very colourful language was catching him off guard.

  "You have to admit," I offered through a weak smile. "What Dirk lacks in eloquence, he makes up for in spirit."

  Off in the trees, I could see the Flaming Sword waving around above Dirk's head, and I could hear that he was still screaming obscenities. There weren't any more flashes of light on his armour either, indicating (I assumed) that his attackers were now on the run, having realized that the Sword-waving lunatic coming at them was impervious to their bullets.

  Through it all, I continued to pry the darkness on either side of us watching for movement, and my vigilance paid off. In the shadows off to our left, just slipping out of the trees, was a man with a gun. I smiled a little mischievously once I realized that, since he was still intent on attacking us, he was apparently out of touch with his companions, since he obviously didn't know that they were currently fleeing the scene.

  Immediately, I was on the move, trying to draw his fire away from Aaron. If I could just keep moving, and maybe if he was a bad shot, I could take advantage of the sparse cover, and get close enough to disarm him.

  I felt incredibly naked without my KnightLight protective gear. Sure, it's not like it would make me bulletproof like Dirk, but it would have helped a little. No matter, I didn't
have a choice; I had to act right away before the gunman had a chance to corner us.

  Before I got far though, I heard Aaron say something behind me that I couldn't quite understand. Before I could ask him to repeat it, I watched incredulous as the man dropped the gun clumsily, only to have it tumble out of his immediate reach.

  Well, that certainly makes things easier.

  I covered the ground between us quickly, even as the assailant pulled a knife and launched it at me. Reflexively, I studied the end-over-end twirl that it made as it spun towards me, timing it perfectly so I knocked it out of the air with my forearm on a spin when the hilt was closest to me. The move, although successful, was purely instinctual, as I'd momentarily forgotten that I wasn't wearing my padded outfit, and my lower arm was on fire where the hilt of the blade had bounced violently off of it.

  That'll leave a bruise. But I suppose it's better than the alternative.

  Not to be deterred, the man pulled another knife.

  He's got two knives? Bet he wishes that he had two guns as well eh?

  I was too close for him to throw the second knife, so instead, he held it up towards me in a threatening show of force. I pretended not to notice as I ran towards him, offering him a tempting target to slice at. Predictably, he attacked just as I had anticipated, thrusting violently towards my stomach which-surprisingly for him-wasn't anywhere near where he had expected it to be, because I had executed a quick side flip, landed on my hands, and in the process kicked the knife out his hand. I quickly regained my feet, launched myself over the assailant using his shoulders as a vaulting horse, wrapped my arm around his neck in a tight sleeper hold, and pulled him forcefully backwards to his knees.

  Within moments, he was unconscious. By then, Aaron was standing beside me again, holding the man's gun, and handing me something from his shoulder bag that I could use to secure the man's wrists. Off in the distance, I could hear the sound of squealing tires, something that I hoped indicated that Dirk was successful in scaring off our attackers. I looked around the area for further signs of movement, but I didn't see any.

  Satisfied that our captive was breathing and comfortable, and that I hadn't hurt him unduly in the melee, I lay him on the grass and turned to face Aaron.

  "What was that exactly?" I asked directly.

  "What was what?" he replied immediately. I couldn't tell if he was just playing around, or if he was generally trying to act ignorant.

  "That thing you said," I replied. "Just before the gun flew out of this guy's hand. It was some kind of incantation wasn't it?" Over the years, I had done a lot of research into magic, with the aim of possibly using it to enhance my own crime-fighting abilities. I strongly believed it to be real, having surmised that it was the only explanation for the existence of the Flaming Sword. Unfortunately, the only thing I'd been able to discover in the process was that most of the magic within easy reach-at least the kind that you can read about on the internet-is little more than hogwash.

  Still, I remained convinced that there was real magic in the world. I had heard sworn testimonies about it; had even intercepted serious rumours supporting this theory, but I had never actually witnessed it.

  Until now.

  "Come to think of it," I continued to Aaron. "I heard you whisper something in the cave the other day too, just before the Texan mysteriously collapsed."

  Aaron looked around almost nervously before responding. "I have limited skill in the dream language," he finally admitted sheepishly. "It has its uses."

  I made a mental note to ask him more about this dream language, but for now, I had bigger issues in need of resolution.

  This Aaron is obviously not all that he seems to be.

  "Well that explains it then," I said.

  "Explains what?"

  "Why you would risk bringing the Sword out in public like that alone," I answered. "And why the bullets were missing us by so much. You're not so helpless after all."

  I couldn't tell for sure in the dark, but I was pretty sure that his face had reddened a little bit in embarrassment. I could hear Dirk coming back towards us now, his footfalls a little heavier than usual because of his armour. I picked up the laptop bag from beside the monument where I'd left it to go after the gunman, and we had begun to walk in Dirk's direction, when I froze, a new thought suddenly occurring to me.

  "Wait," I pulled on Aaron's arm to bring him to a stop. "You could have neutralized the gunmen right from the start couldn't you? You didn't though, because you wanted Dirk to use the Sword."

  Aaron was smiling now as he looked at me, his eyes studying each of mine in turn as he spoke. "I saw the way you set out to draw the gunman's fire away from me earlier, and the way you took him down. You are very skilled, perhaps even brave ... and you are also very shrewd," he paused. "Still, you give me far too much credit sir, I..."

  The rest of Aaron's speech was interrupted by Dirk who was now standing beside us shaking the Sword furiously again, like he had in the cave the other day.

  "How do you shut this thing off?" he asked slightly irritated.

  "Put it in the sheath that is now on your hip," answered Aaron gesturing at it, apparently not feeling it necessary to explain that the same sheath that had held the Sword earlier had been magically transported to Dirk's belt once he had transformed into the Flaming Knight. "That will make the Sword stop burning. Once you strap it in place inside the scabbard, the armour will disappear as well."

  Dirk did as instructed and slid the Sword into the sheath. Immediately, it stopped burning. He then fumbled with a thick leather strap that he slipped over the Sword's cross guard to secure it. Once again, I'm witness to the shrinking phenomena, and watch as the Sword and its matching scabbard are reduced to the dagger size that it had possessed when first I saw it. Then, the armour dissolved around Dirk immediately, leaving the shrunken sheathed Sword attached to his regular belt, and exposing a wide-eyed man, shaking with obvious excitement.

  "That was cool!" was all that Dirk could say initially. "The bullets..." he was demonstrating with his hands as he spoke. "They just bounced right offa me!"

  "Oh no," said Aaron looking into the trees where Dirk had just emerged.

  "What?" I asked, alarmed, even as I saw Dirk's hand reach instinctively for the Sword. "Are they back?"

  "No, it's not that," he replied. "Look."

  Between us and the river-along the path that Dirk had chased the gunmen earlier-several trees, a couple of bushes, and at least one park bench, were on fire.

  "Oops," offered Dirk through a lop-sided grin which was accompanied by a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. "I don't suppose this Sword has a water setting?"

  Immediately, we began to run towards the fires. Dirk and I were both in the process of removing our jackets to smother the flames, when two black suburban vans skidded to a halt on the path ahead of us. Before either one of us could react though, Aaron was telling us to stand down.

  "That's our backup," he assured us. "You can relax."

  Sure enough, even as Aaron spoke, another tunic-clad bald monk was jumping out of one of the vans even before it had even pulled to a full stop and he was calling out Aaron's name. "Is everybody OK?" he asked.

  As Aaron told the first monk what had happened, two others had grabbed extinguishers from the back of one of the vans and had gone to deal with the fires. When they had returned, Aaron asked them to get our captive and put him in the back of the first of the vans.

  At about this time, we realized that we were no longer alone at Nelson's Monument. The flurry of activity had finally begun to attract onlookers, most notably the drunk students that we had spotted earlier. No doubt, it was just a matter of time before the authorities arrived, so Aaron told us to get into the back of the second van, while he left two of his brothers behind to deal with the police once they got there.

  They wouldn't have long to wait apparently, because, as we followed the first van out of the park and on to Clyde Street, we met with a couple
of police cars on the way into the park. I couldn't help but notice that our driver didn't even slow, but simply exchanged knowing nods with the driver of the first police car coming in.

  It would appear that this brotherhood is very well connected, considering that we're being allowed to leave the scene of a fire fight with one of the shooters as a captive.

  Traffic was sparse this time of the morning on the streets and freeways of Glasgow, as our two vans travelled south-west through the city at a brisk pace. Dirk and I were sitting beside each other in the back seat, with Aaron facing us on the bench opposite us. Dirk put his head back and closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply in what obviously an attempt to calm himself. I decided not to interrupt him, while I gently rubbed the bruised area on my forearm where the assailant's knife hilt had made contact. It was very tender to the touch, and I could already feel it swelling. I'd have to get ice on it soon before it got much worse.

  After a time, when it was clear that nobody was willing to be the first to speak, Aaron started fishing around in his shoulder bag, eventually pulling out an electronic tablet. He flipped open the cover, powered it up, and began doing something that I couldn't see, so I instead began to look out the window at the city slipping by.

  We travelled in silence for a while, until finally it occurred to me to ask Aaron, "Where are we going?"

  "Your hotel room isn't safe anymore," he answered plainly, looking up from his tablet. "The brotherhood has a private hangar at the airport, so we're going there. At least for now." He looked over at Dirk. "That is, until we decide what happens next."

  "What does happen next?" wondered Dirk as he opened his eyes. He was still shaking with excitement, and presumably adrenaline, and he still had a goofy grin on his face despite his short meditation.

  "Well, I suppose that's up to you," Aaron said. "I see that you've still got the Sword on your belt." The monk gestured to the sheathed dagger.

  Dirk followed the direction of the monk's pointing finger. "That doesn't necessarily mean that I want to keep it." His smile was quickly fading, although his eyes were still wide with shock.

  "I understand. But you also have to understand that, whether you want it or not, the word is out there now." As if to punctuate his point, he flipped the tablet around so that we could all see it. Immediately, I recognized a YouTube video window, even as I realized that the reason that the moving images currently appearing in it were familiar was because I had just experienced them myself, not more than a half hour before.

  "Crap," understated Dirk beside me.

  Although the video was dark, grainy, and obviously filmed at a distance with a zoom because of how shaky it was, it was still pretty damning. You could clearly see a figure wearing a knight's garb standing by the Nelson Monument and holding a flaming Sword, as bright sparks that were obviously ricocheting bullets speckled his chest and head. On the video, a few voices expressed incredulity before they were hushed in time to hear the distant voice of the armoured figure loudly, and quite obscenely, announce that he was bulletproof, before setting off down the path waving the flaming Sword above his head. At this point, once the Flaming Knight had disappeared out of sight, the video ended abruptly as it had begun.

  I looked at the information bar beneath the video player. It had only been uploaded ten minutes ago, yet already had over two thousand views.

  "I suspect," said Aaron, "that by morning, it will be.. what is you call it? Vital?"

  "Viral," I corrected, my throat suddenly dry.

  "We managed to contain things on the island," the monk continued. "But this is different. The word is out now. We can't quell this."

  "This is your fault you realize," Dirk said, his words moderately vitriolic. "You brought the Sword to me."

  "But I didn't bring the gunmen."

  "You sure about that?"

  Instead of responding verbally, Aaron simply returned a withering glare. It was the kind of look that I was used to getting from Kimberly. It was the kind of look that combined the accusation that I was wrong with the imperative that I stop talking immediately. Dirk had apparently had some experience with this glare too, because he acquiesced to it, and didn't immediately respond.

  "Could we claim that it's all a hoax?" I asked hopefully.

  "That might convince some, but there are others who will believe it." Aaron looked at Dirk directly, almost sympathetically now. "I'm sorry to say it Dirk, but you, and your family are targets now."

  "Fucking hell," muttered Dirk.

  "Not to worry though. We've put guards on your father in Toronto." Dirk seemed to find this very funny, and laughed derisively at what Aaron had just said.

  "Why is this happening?" I asked pointedly. "Why is Dirk a target?"

  Aaron chewed on his words a little bit before finally offering them up. "Like I said earlier, somebody is either after the Sword itself, or is trying to kill Dirk in order to keep him from using it. I don't know which."

  "Who?" Dirk and I asked it at the same time.

  "We have our suspicions."

  "We have our suspicions?" I mimicked. "That sounds suspiciously to me like you know more than you're willing to say."

  Aaron had no response to this, so I continued, "Back in the cave, you said that the need for the Flaming Knight was great, and that there was a danger unlike any other coming. Is this related?"

  Aaron hesitated before responding, "I can't say. Not here. Not now. Especially when I don't know if Dirk is going to accept the Sword or not."

  "So, let me get this straight," offered Dirk. "I'm in untold danger if I accept the Sword, but you can't tell me the nature of that danger until I accept the Sword."

  "Don't forget the part about the fact that you're in danger if you don't accept the Sword too," I offered mockingly.

  "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me of that part," Dirk said, his voice turning caustic. "Hell of an organization you're running buddy. You routinely put civilians at risk by letting them tug on the Sword knowing that, if somebody actually does pull it out, their life is in danger."

  Aaron raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought that, if anybody understood how an ordinary citizen can make a difference in the world, it would be a registered vigilante."

  So he's done his homework has he? He knows where Dirk's father lives, and he knows about our operations as KnightLight.

  "This should be nothing new to either of you," the monk continued. "You put yourself, others, and those you care for at risk everyday when you go out in public and fight crime, even if you are wearing a costume when you do it. The Flaming Sword could take your work to a whole other level, especially considering that it comes with the support of the Obsidian Brotherhood who, for centuries, have been sworn to support the one who wields the Sword, and fight the same just cause. With this Sword, you could become a symbol of hope for your community, even for the world at large, the same way that the last Flaming Knight was."

  What he was saying wasn't all that unusual so far. In fact, it had been exactly the same thing that I had wanted to do with the Sword had it chosen me instead.

  "The Sword is not asking anything unusual of you," continued Aaron, an edge creeping into his voice that I'd not heard before, "and it is not anything that you weren't already doing, so let us please put an end to your declarations of unwillingness and your professed inculpability." He looked back and forth between us, but his eyes finally found Dirk's and held them firmly. "You say that the Sword came out of the wall by mistake Dirk, but I think that you will find my friend, that nothing ever happens in this universe by mistake."

  At that moment, we pulled into a large garage while the other van kept driving towards an old abandoned warehouse down the road.

  "We're here. I'll give you both a moment to talk it over." He called to the driver, and both of them stepped out of the van and closed the doors. Behind us, I could hear the click and hum of the garage doors descending.

  "He's got a point Dirk," I said.

  "Yeah? So
what."

  "I know that this whole vigilante thing has always been my idea-even my obsession at times. But, you've never said no to being a part of it with me. You even moved all the way to New York City with me because of it. Although you've rarely been involved in the actual hand-to-hand fighting, you've still been there, giving me the support I needed." I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Truth be told, I couldn't have done it without you; I can't do it without you. But Aaron's right. That makes you guilty by association. You want this life as much as I do. You want to make a difference, because you have been making a difference."

  Dirk continued to stare forward, fidgeting, but not responding.

  "You were great back there," I continued. "You know how hard this is for me to say when you know how much I wanted this Sword, but I have to admit that you've got guts. I don't know if I could have stood up the way you did back there in that hail of bullets." Dirk smiled in spite of himself, as if remembering the heady feeling of being bulletproof. "And about what we were talking about earlier, about how you're afraid that you'll succumb to the same arrogance that your father did. I want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about, because you've got something that your father never had."

  Finally he looked at me, "What's that?"

  "A best friend, who is willing to kick your ass into next week if you ever start getting full of yourself, invulnerable armour or not."

  Finally Dirk smiled at me, and even chortled a bit.

  "What's more," I persisted. "I'm confident that the Sword chose you for a reason, whether you believe it or not. It was able to see something genuinely worthy in you that you couldn't see yourself. Perhaps it was your self-awareness of how much you're like your father that did it. Perhaps the Sword saw that you had the potential to overcome the same temptations that others could not. Whatever it was, I'm pretty sure that, if there were any real danger of absolute power corrupting you absolutely, the Sword would not have awoken for you."

  Dirk's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. Finally, he said, "So, what should I do?"

  "Well, you know what I would do, but that doesn't matter. I don't want to tell you what to do. But think about this. You're unfortunately in danger no matter what you decide, but if you take the Sword, you'll at least have a half decent chance of protecting yourself and the ones you love. And you'll also be able to do some real good in the world."

  Dirk cleared his throat. "It still should have been you."

  "You're damn right it should have been me."

  "Still, that was a hell of a rush earlier. Being bulletproof and all," he added. Then his voice got quiet. "I guess I can play the hero." Suddenly he started speaking louder again as he finished, "But I'm not doing this without you."

  I smiled. "I'm not going anywhere. Shall we tell Aaron that we're about to finally make his boss smile again?"

  "Seems unlikely," he answered. "But sure."

  We opened the doors to the van and stepped out. Aaron was standing over by a window, leaning against the sill, his arms crossed over his chest, and a petulant look colouring his face.

  "So, what's next?" asked Dirk.

  "Is that a yes?" demanded Aaron, his arms still crossed.

  Dirk looked at me smiling. "Yes," he said firmly. "It's a yes."

  Aaron clapped his hands together and grinned. "Excellent," he said as he walked towards us. "It's time for us to go then."

  "Where?" I asked.

  Aaron looked at me, a resigned expression on his face, as if he were looking for some support from me as well.

  "Where else?" he answered. "Back to the lion's den." A sudden thought occurred to the young monk, as if for the first time. He looked at the small Sword on Dirk's hip and exhaled heavily.

  "The Grand Master's going to be pissed isn't he?" offered Dirk helpfully.

  Through a weak smile, Aaron responded, "That's the best case scenario."

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  The story continues in:

  OBSIDIAN FIRE, BOOK 2

  Revelations of a Secret Brotherhood

  Join our mailing list to be get notification when the next book is available, by sending an email to the author at [email protected].

  Also by Dwayne R. James

  Gingers&Wry

  The collected observations of a stay@home Dad

  with three red-headed children.

  The official Gingers and Wry Web page:

  www.gingersandwry.com

  Short Description

  When I was laid off in January of 2009, it turned out to be one of the best things to ever happen to me, even though it was immediately followed by the news that my wife was expecting twin boys. This book is all about the hilarious misadventures that followed in the next four years, as I learned to balance my new life as a stay@home Dad with my lifelong dream of pursuing a creatively driven life.

  Long Description

  Gingers and Wry is frequently hilarious, occasionally poignant, and consistently honest-sometimes, brutally so.

  The book is a collection of quips and comments, originally posted online, threaded together by a narrative that describes four years in the author's life as he moves from being laid off, and into his new role as a stay@home Dad for twin boys.

  It humorously documents the challenges and rewards of raising two tenacious toddlers and an opinionated teenaged daughter, all of them redheads.

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  The Princess Etheria Chronicles

  The official Princess Etheria Web page:

  www.princessetheria.com

  Short Description

  When Princess Etheria decides to disentangle the entwined antlers of the combative buck deer in the remote glade of her enchanted forest that morning, she must reflect on the lessons that her father has taught her over the years and unlock her own true magical potential. Her unique solution is sure to transform your life as well, just like magic.

  Long Description

  Taken together, the Chronicles form a philosophical fairy tale that takes the wonder of magic from "Harry Potter", mixes it with the law of attraction from "The Secret", and places it in an enchanted forest that is right out of Disney or Narnia.

  Aimed at an adult audience both young and old, the fairy tale engages the reader's imagination by promising them that, since this particular enchanted forest exists in a world of our collective dreams, it is actually accessible to each and every one of us. In fact, in the introduction the narrator even goes so far as to tell the reader that this forest is different from all other fantasy realms, because it's the only one "...that you've actually visited yourself".

  In the story, Princess Etheria is confronted with a challenge, that of separating two buck deer whose antlers have become hopelessly entwined by a bitter argument that has spanned centuries.

  As she works on figuring out how to disentangle the combatants, the Princess must reflect on the lessons that her father, the King, has taught her over the years, and, in so doing, unlock her own true magical potential.

  In the process, she discovers such things as:

  the true nature of magic in the Universe

  why we limit ourselves

  the reason behind helping others

  overcoming guilt

  why bad things happen to us

  the nature of perfection in a paradoxical Universe

  Her solution to the conflict is wholly original. The magic words that she ultimately finds are sure to transform your own life, and change your world as well, just like magic.

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  About the AUTHOR

  Watercolour artist and author Dwayne James lives in Peterborough, Ontario where he writes and paints as often as he can, that is when he's not spending time with his young daughter, toddler twin boys, and his very forgiving wife.

  Dwayne has a Masters Degree in archaeology, something he claims is definitive proof that he knows how to write creatively. "Indeed, the most important skill I learned in university," he
posits, "is the ability to pretentiously write about myself in the third person."

  With no formal art training, Dwayne has always preferred the self-guided, experimental approach. In fact, he taught himself how to illustrate archaeological artifacts while completing his Master's degree at Trent University. Said his thesis supervisor at the time: "There might not be much in the way of coherent theoretical content in Dwayne's thesis, but damn, it looks pretty!"

  Dwayne had played with watercolours a little in his life, but it has only been in the last few years that he truly began to experiment and develop his style. An avid paddler and wilderness nut, it's natural that most of Dwayne's paintings should reflect this passion.

  After spending close to a decade as a technical writer at a large multi-national computer company, Dwayne opted to look at their Jan 2009 decision to downsize him as an opportunity to become a stay@home Dad for his newborn twins, and pursue his painting and writing whenever the boys allow him to do so.

  It is a decision that continues to make him giggle with wild abandon to this very day.

  Visit Dwayne online:

  His personal Web page:

  www.dwaynerjames.com

  His virtual art studio and store:

  www.resteddy.com.

  His Facebook page:

  https://www.facebook.com/dwaynerjames