“When Dreams Die”

Chapter Four

Canard, hardly grown into his muscles, placed his feet up on the coffee table and heaved a huge sigh. “So, what time is your dad coming home? I’m starving.”

“You want a pizza?” Wildwing dropped the book onto his lap and shrugged. “Dad said he’d be here late, so it’s either pizza or whatever he brings home. Trust me. We’re better off with the pizza.”

“But didn’t we have pizza last night?” the tan mallard whined. “I want real food.”

“Which neither of our parents cook.”

Canard huffed and surrendered ungracefully. “Fine. Order the darn pizza.” Even as Wildwing rose to his feet, Canard continued to grumble, “If I have pizza more than six times this week—again, I might as well as become a pizza.”

“But then you would be cannibalistic, and that’s not good.” Wildwing picked up the phone and started to dial when a flicker of blue flashed outside. The older brother followed its light, horror flooding within him at a sight that plagued him for the last six years ago. Cursing out loud, he put the phone to his ear and wasn’t at all surprised by the lack of dial tone. The phone shattered into hundreds of parts against the wall, alarming Canard.

“Hey, Wing, what—!”

The lights ceased, and a hand slapped over Canard’s beak. Wildwing put a finger to his own, shhing, and then motioned for Canard to follow.

The barely thirteen year olds crawled across the ground until they reached the cabinet at the end of the room. Canard pressed his back against the wall just under the windows, and his rebellious body shivered, though Wildwing seemed to keep calm.

“Wing—”

“Shh!”

“But Wing!”

Wildwing turned and grabbed his best friend by the collar. “Stay calm. You have to. Else, we’ll die, and they’ll take Nosedive.”

“Who?” Canard mouthed. Then it hit the tan teen.

The Firedrakes. That was the blue light.

Wildwing dug into a cabinet and opened the back of the one of the draws, revealing a secret compartment. He pulled out two puck launchers with magazines. Slapping one into place, he handed the weapon to Canard, then did the same to his own. Meeting his best friend’s eyes gravely, he whispered, “My dad taught you shoot at the gallery. You think you can do it in real life?”

Canard glanced down at the weapon in his hands, which seemed so unfamiliar. Then, he looked back at Wildwing. “Can you?”

“I have to,” the older brother stated, and just his confidence caused Canard to nod. The best friend remembered what Nosedive was like when the Fire seized him, and Canard refused to allow that to happen again. Not to mention, Wildwing told him about the slaughter at the Prime Leader’s residence. There was no doubt that the kid might be in danger, and Canard would be damned in Nosedive died because he refused to act.

Wildwing must have saw the intensity in his eyes and nodded once before moving to engage. Together, they inched forward to the edge of the room. The front door was to their left, while the door leading to the kitchen, where the back door presided, down the right corridor. With his puck launcher pointed toward the ground, so no one could kick it out of his hands, Wildwing wound the bend and headed up the stairs with minimal force. The poise Wildwing had shocked Canard, but then again, when it came to his brother, Wildwing always was serious.

As they reached the boy’s room, they shut the door quietly and barricaded it with the boy’s dresser. The small clunk on the ground awoke the once slumbering five year old, who shot up in bed. “Wildwing!” he shouted fast, but the older brother was already at the bed, gathering the bedraggled boy up in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I—I heard it! The Fire—”

Wildwing did his part to secure the boy in arms and even dropped Nosedive to his waist, so the boy could wrap his legs about his brother’s body. “It’ll be okay.” He nuzzled the boy’s head, then whispered, “Someone’s invaded the house. Canard and I are going to protect you, but I need you to be quiet for a few minutes, okay?”

Nosedive leaned forward and murmured into his brother’s ear, “But what about you?”

Canard knew how to answer this and turned to run a hand through the boy’s hair. “Don’t worry about us. We can protect ourselves.” He nodded once to Wildwing, and then, fear stole his bravado when a creek sounded in the hallway. Wildwing motioned for Canard to come around the side of the bed, and together, they crouched behind it in hopes that he would hold off whatever and whoever was on the other side of the door.

They didn’t expect the explosion blowing in from the windows behind them.

*^*^*

Wildwing clutched his brother into his stomach, hoping to shield the boy from the shattering glass and the miscellaneous debris from the explosion. He felt Nosedive’s body shake, heard the baby’s scream that erupted from the boy’s beak, and clutched his brother that much tighter. His own body quivered when he felt a pane of wood break his skin, and Wildwing bit down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming. How could he? He couldn’t let his brother know just what was occurring.

Thus, when he heard the thud the Firehawks landing on the windowsill, Wildwing whirled and squinted to see the ducks beyond the blue fire weave and fired once, twice, thrice. Canard followed his lead, and several drakes fell off the edge. Then, the door cracked when a leg forced the dresser out of the way of the door. Fire burned toward them, but Wildwing stopped short of firing at the feeling of cold steel against the back of his neck. Across from him, Canard had already been forced to his knees, a blaster’s barrel pressing down upon his head.

The Firehawks infiltrated from the hallway, all pointing their blasters at Wildwing. The teen, however, refused to discard his weapon. Instead, he forced it against his weeping brother’s skull. “Fire, and I fire.”

“Hold your Fire! Hold your Fire!” The head drake, a brown mallard with long brown hair and crystal blues, raised his own blaster toward the ceiling, then put up his hand to motion for the others to do so. The only people who didn’t were the Firehawks who pointed his blasters at Canard and the one who held his blaster to the back of Wildwing’s neck.

“Boy,” the lead drake address firmly. “Do not do something you would regret.”

“Wildwing,” Nosedive sobbed into his brother’s chest.

Wildwing knew Nosedive didn’t comprehend what was really going on, just that fear and death swarmed the area. Else, Wildwing would never have a launcher to his brother’s head; he only prayed the boy wouldn’t realize just what he did this night when he got older—if he got older.

“Look, you want the kid, right?” Wildwing affirmed harshly. “Well, you can’t have him. I know all about your civil war, and I’m not going to let my brother become a pawn in it.”

He really had to no choice. The leader nodded once to the drake behind him, and Wildwing thought the next feeling would be his neck exploding. He was wrong. It was the excruciating pain that came with the wiggling of the wooden spike in his back. The agony hit a crescendo, forcing Wildwing to drop the blaster and hardly keep his brother in his arms. The leader easily drew the boy away since Wildwing no longer had the physical strength to struggle and crumpled to his knees. Then, the Firehawk actually did him a favor, tearing out the wood and pressing down hard with a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding.

The leader glared down at Wildwing as the crying teen hunched over on the ground, pain heaving through the tears coursing his cheeks and clenched teeth. The pain, though paralyzing, didn’t sear as much as the one in his heart. His father moved every so often; he watched over his brother unendingly, vigilantly. Yet, none of it mattered.

Tonight, he would lose Nosedive forever.

His brother squealed, and Wildwing’s head shot up. From the left, Canard shouted empty threats since a Firehawk restrained him with an arm twisted behind his back to hold him on the ground. However, Nosedive’s tearstained face truly maimed him. The boy struggled against his captors as the leader arched his fingers, and blue flames flickered to life. They died off a moment later when Nosedive dislodged a leg from one of his four holders and kicked the lead drake in the face, then pulled away an arm to reach out toward the white drake crumpled upon the floor.

“Wildwing!”

The lead drake snarled and moved to slap Nosedive across the face—

“STOP!” Wildwing shouted, his hand out in front of him. “Please. I’ll hold him. He wants me, and I can calm him.”

The leader whirled and surveyed Wildwing tersely. With a snap, the Firehawk behind the older brother knelt down and quickly felt the teenager for any weapons. When the Firehawk reported Wildwing had none, the leader nodded for the boy to be released. Nosedive immediately weaved about the forest of legs to dive into Wildwing’s awaiting arms, and the older brother took solace in the warmth of the boy’s hold.

“Wildwing, please don’t let the Fire touch me. Please…”

“It’ll be okay,” Wildwing promised, even as the leader crouched down behind Nosedive and once more brought the fire in his hand to life. Wildwing stared at it, for the first time mystified himself, and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see it. Nosedive, however, was not as lucky, the older brother knew. As soon the flames lit, he whined and buried one of his ears into Wildwing’s chest. The other he covered with a hand.

The Fire’s siren song called to him.

“It’s okay, baby bro,” Wildwing continued to soothe, raking a hand through the boy’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Please, Stars, don’t let the Fire be bad.

The leader gently took hold of Nosedive’s beak and lifted the boy’s head out of his brother’s chest. Nosedive whined and tried to tug his face away, but the leader held firm. Then, without any warning, he plunged the boy’s hand into the fire. Almost instantly, Nosedive’s body became overwhelmed by the blue fire. Wildwing flinched, but this time, the fire refused to burn him. Instead, it seemed to conform to his body, knowing that Nosedive needed him unscathed.

When Wildwing opened his eyes again from the flash, his heart sunk at the mere sight of his little brother’s brow. There, in the middle of the boy’s eyebrows glowed an azure fire droplet.

The leader nodded smugly, then dropped the boy’s hand. He bowed, even in his crouch. “Hello, your highness. We have searched long and hard for you.”

The boy was unresponsive, not acknowledging the words spoken to him, or the hand Wildwing continually raked through his hair.

“Baby bro?” Wildwing asked, but Nosedive refused to grant him any reply. Instead, the boy turned his glowing eyes toward Wildwing, and the teen only felt the blinding burning of Fire.

*^*^*

Kres listened to his brother’s words, heard the truth within him, and realized just what a fool he’d been with Wildwing. His brother might have manipulated him, as did Raen, but it was all done through fear. Wildwing didn’t want him to leave; if it were reversed, he would have felt the same way.

Shit.

Well, in this lifetime, he only had one problem, and it was one he could fix. He grabbed his brother’s forearm and saved himself from nodding. “Of course, I’ll help you, Raen. Isylaca is my home, too.”

As was Anaheim and Puckworld.

Stars, what had he done?

“Rest, then,” Raen urged with a slap on Kres’s back, his face suddenly so much less tense and his posture relaxed. “We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”

Before Kres even stood, though, he sent his brother a tiny smirk. “Of course, there is one thing I want you to do for me.”

“And that is?” The tone in Raen’s voice allowed Kres to know his frustration.

Kres took a deep breath. Here was where he pushed his luck. “Pardon, Calder.”

Raen’s face darkened, even though the huge bonfire’s light brightening the area. “No way. He almost killed you. He deserves the same fate.”

“But he did it for the right reasons, even if the execution was wrong,” the boy pressed, stealing the carafe off the table and taking a swig. “He really didn’t see a way of saving me. The Saurians had already tortured me—”

A single finger raised. “He should never have delivered you to the—”

“—and he came back for me.” He put his brother’s finger down. “Not to mention that we were being chased by crazed—”

The finger raised again. “So, he should have outrun them, fought them—”

“—and he would have died and I captured again.” The finger lowered. “Then, I would have been tortured a second time. Would you have rather me dead than tortured?”

Kres saw the whites of his brother’s eyes show, and the older brother replied, incensed, “Don’t make me answer that. If there is ever a chance I could get you back, then…but I would never want you to suffer. So, please don’t make me.” Raen sighed, then point a finger directly at Kres. “But that doesn’t excuse his actions. A guardian should never kill his/her charge, no matter what.”

“Agreed.”

“He did save you again, though…”

“And he’s your best friend,” Kres interjected, sitting back and crossing his legs on the table.

“Which was the reason why I put him on you in the first place.” Raen snatched the carafe from his brother and shook his head. “Fine, I’ll pardon him, but I don’t know if I’ll put him back on you. I just don’t know how much I can trust him anymore. Not with you.”

And yet, my little emberling, I’d trust him with you, more than any other thing, child.

Kres’s eyes shot toward the fire.

Come. Touch me, little one, and you’ll see what I mean, my son.

“Kres?” Raen asked, but Kres hardly heard him. The boy stood, drawn by the Fire’s voice in a way he hadn’t been since he embraced it, but he knew she knew.

She knew him more intimately than anyone save two, and Kres needed to know the other two. If he could just remember…

And he stretched his hand out to the flames.

“Kres! No!”

The blue fire whirled about him, surging up his body to linger about his face before fueling the blue fire aura, and suddenly, the memories crashed down up on him, as if he experience them himself, as if he’d seen and lived and…

He did.

As his legs buckled underneath him and he gave his head one fierce shake, he realized that this person—Kres—was, in fact, he. He lived this life; he was born of the flame, like he was always told. They weren’t dreams.

Unless Anaheim was.

Yet, at the moment, Kres couldn’t deal with that. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and his brother’s concerned face came into view once more, and Kres hesitated for a moment before bowing his head. As the memories from his time in Isylaca returned, stammered words spilled from his beak, a promise broken, a duty fulfilled.

*^*^*

“Open the drapes.”

Calder raised his head as two beings entered the tent, one infinitely taller than the second, his muscles filled out, his head raised as if owning everything and everyone, which as king, Raen legally did.

The king’s furious glare pored down upon Calder, firm and stern in its damnation, and Raen effortlessly raised his sword. Ducking his head, Calder gulped and awaited the blow that never came. When Raen swiped, the leather ties holding Calder’s arms above his wrists gave way. The guardian looked upward just in time to catch the sword thrown down to his knees him and the smile sent his way.

“Thank you,” Raen simply said, a tenderness and unspoken apology within the words. “You are absolved of any and all sins upon my brother. Come. Ride with me.”

And then he left, leaving Calder alone, his mind reeling.

…what?

*^*^*

Nosedive kept his eyes screwed shut, not wanting to show his weakness, not wanting to give the Saurians any satisfaction. Unlike the last time someone carved his skin recently, he wasn’t out in the blisteringly cold weather or unresponsive because he was a Firehawk, and they couldn’t live in such cold temperatures. Luckily, Raen had taken precautions to make sure he dressed warmly with the appropriate clothes and that the castle was always heated.

Too bad the Raptor was heated, too. At this moment, he wanted to be nothing if not unconscious.

Wraith’s demonized leer only grew as he drew more blood from his own voodoo doll. Siege—or was the Chameleon?—had strung up him in an X-formation in a small, circular room, but Wraith waited until he once more gained consciousness to begin. Apparently, he enjoyed sadistic torture. Lucky Nosedive.

Slowly, with the edge of his cane, Wraith tore through Nosedive’s feathers and skin, first cutting the boy’s arms and then his torso. Nosedive recognized many of the cuts from his time in the past with droplets of fire, waves of water, and even a few snowflakes—or so it seemed. Then again, Nosedive was looking at them from upside down, and most of the time, his eyes were squeezed so shut that tears couldn’t escape.

His body trembled from more than just the pain, and he breathed haggardly as Wraith continued his assault. Blood seemed to actually coat his body from head to toe, even though he still had on his jeans. His boots he wasn’t lucky enough to have kept, and even Wraith’s decorations adorned him his feet.

“A few more, Son of Fire, and then, we shall free you of your namesake.”

Somehow, Nosedive found enough energy to retort, “Good luck. I hear it’s pretty possessive.”

The effort left him heaving and Wraith with narrowed slits of malevolent, amber anger for eyes. The mage reached out, then and to Nosedive’s shock, ran a tender hand through his bloodied hair.

“You need not worry. I will take it all from you. All of it.”

Nosedive didn’t doubt the Saurian as Wraith released him and stepped back to survey his work. When he nodded, content, he clapped his staff’s bottom against the ground, and Ancient Saurian dribbled from his whitened lips, just as the bluish aura dribbled from Nosedive’s body to Wraith’s fingers.

*^*^*

Kres found himself nuzzling up against Raen, dipping his head against his brother’s back in an affectionate embrace as they rode together toward Flarasia. His brother patted his hands and glanced over his shoulder, though Kres doubted his brother could actually see him well.

“Hey, kiddo. You okay?”

No, he wasn’t. Nothing was okay, and to some extent, the dreams in Isylaca seemed more real and natural now than those of Anaheim. His brother was still biological related to him, and though he was on his way to speak to his mother and beseech her about the Goddess, he was safe in his brother’s hold. In Anaheim, he had passed out, and he doubted he would ever awaken again.

Instead of explaining all that, he simply nuzzled deeper into his brother’s back and waited for Flarasia to come.

*^*^*

It wasn’t an exact science, not by any means, but at times, it was damn near perfect indicator of Nosedive’s emotions and wants. Wildwing, when he first received the position almost ten year ago, had no idea what Flare Warrior meant. Now, having spoken to the Fire Goddess, he realized what it was to be the guardian of Son of Fire.

Hell, he’s been doing that since the first time he met the kid sixteen years ago.

Yet, he knew for a fact that Nosedive was in trouble or hurt when blinding pain plunged through his unsuspecting body and his taint glowed even through his long-sleeved shirt.

“Hey, Wildwing,” Duke’s concerned voice sounded across the table, and the former thief put a hand on the trembling leader’s shoulder. “You alright? You want me to get Tanya?”

“N—No, I’m fine,” he lied, holding his burning taint and quickly stood. He didn’t know why but never felt comfortable explaining the situation to the others when it came to Nosedive, he, and the Firehawk titles. “I must have just slammed my arm somewhere, and I got pain through it. Nothing big.”

He thought he had actually dodged Duke’s suspicion radar when the former thief flicked his paper and shrugged. “Okay. If you need something, though—”

Canard ruined it. He burst through the door, his hand over his arm, panic written on his face with worry lines. “Wing, I think something’s wrong with the kid.”

The first time being given the power of a Flare Warrior, and already, Canard was freaking out. Great.

“The kid?” Duke echoed, shooting to his feet and switching to his battlegear. “Where he is?”

“He left hours ago to think after we got into a fight,” Wildwing fibbed again. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, but then again, the fight was almost a brawl. One usually doesn’t take well finding out they’d been lied to by the closest people to him/her, and Nosedive was no exception.

Thus, a thousand options and situations ran through his mind. Though usually he didn’t receive pain if Nosedive simply scraped his knee, he normally was granted the pleasure at least once per hockey game. Therefore, this could simply be the Fire telling him to find his brother.

Or it could be much worse.

He cursed himself. Why did he ever allow his brother to leave when he knew there was danger? The Saurians had gone after the Son of Fire once; why wouldn’t they go after him again?

Duke already had flipped open his comm. and scanned the area to find Nosedive. “He’s at the mall.”

Wildwing looked down at his taint.

Or he was.

“Everyone to the hanger! Now!” Canard shouted in his comm. unit, then shrugged when Wildwing glared at him. “What? You expected to do this alone? If it is the Saurians, we’re going to need the team during the confrontation.”

Canard was right, Wildwing hated to admit, when Drake One’s alarm blared through the Pond.

*^*^*

“Halt!”

Kres jerked awake, and he blinked back the sleepiness in his eyes. He would have wiped it away, but wringing his wrists, he once more found them bound in front of his brother.

Raen hardly noticed his discontent and turned to the general to his left—Hrasfeather or something. “General.” Great. Even though Kres had his memories again, he still didn’t know the generals? How was he supposed to learn their names if Raen didn’t say them? Maybe he didn’t even know them. “Please keep the troops stationed here. I don’t want to alarm the queen into thinking we are invading. I’ll just take a small group into the city.”

He reined his horse about, and now, Kres actually thanked the Stars that he had been tied to his brother, else he would have been thrown. “Tasha,” he bowed to the female duck elegantly riding side-staddle. “Would you mind accompanying me into the city?”

“Of course, your grace.”

Raen didn’t ask his two guards, but Kres instinctively knew they would join them. Thus, that was five, including Kres himself. He guessed that was enough.

He guessed wrong. Apparently, Raen trusted Calder’s warring skills, if not his judgment. “Calder, I expect you at my brother’s side this whole time. I do not know what these Firehawks will do, but I know one thing. I don’t trust the queen, especially if she wishes her son once more by her side.”

Wide-eyed, Calder simply stared at Raen in shock, but he quickly suppressed the emotions and nodded once rigidly. “Of course, your grace. I will forever be at your brother’s side.”

“Good.”

As they detached themselves from the group and started at a faster pace, Kres flexed his wrists and shouted over his brother’s shoulder, “I’m awake now! You can cut me loose!”

Raen uttered something with a chuckle and failed to comply with his request, but Kres lost interest quickly once he realized he slept without awaking in Anaheim.

Was Nosedive Flashblade dead—or was he nothing more than a dream?

*^*^*

“Why don’t I like the tone in your voice?” Wildwing whispered rhetorically, though Canard seemed to take it seriously.

“Because what I have to say makes it serious.”

Apparently, whatever Canard found bled the conversation dry, and Wildwing dreaded what would come next; Nosedive needed him, he knew. The question simply was: How badly?

“I found Nosedive’s comm. unit upon a bench at the mall,” Canard revealed, distraught. “I don’t see any signs of a struggle, but that doesn’t mean anything. At this time at night, I doubt anyone would have seen anything. Not to mention…the bench’s wet.”

Wildwing smacked himself in the head. He should have just hog-tied the kid and tossed him into his room to cool off. Now, most likely, Dragaunus had his baby brother, and just what the lizard would do to a Firehawk sent his blood running cold and his heart pounding uncontrollably.

Leaning against the wall at Orbital Industries, Wildwing took a deep breath and hardened his resolve. He needed to be ready for whatever the Saurian threw at him, especially if they had Dive. They would most likely use his brother as a bargain chip if they could or worse.

Why did all this thoughts involving Saurians and his brother seemed to end with “worse?” He came to the mental conclusion that no matter what he thought, the twisted, malevolent, sadistic Saurian could always think of worse way to torture his brother, and he quickly stripped the thought from his mind. They would find Nosedive, and then, they’d make the Saurians pay.

Not necessarily in that order, though.

As he heard a box tumble in the lab, Wildwing nodded to Mallory across the hall and turned into the corridor. The noise originated beyond the first door to his right, and Wildwing wasted no time in kicking it open. Then, rushing inside, he was wrong once more.

Nothing prepared him to see Wraith weaving the blue fire about his hands.

No…

“Where’s the kid?” Duke demanded, coming to Wildwing’s side and slashing his sword across the air. “What have you done with him?”

As the fire brightened in Wraith’s hands, for the first time, Wildwing heard her, her angelic voice sounding desperate and panicked and full of fear. Please, you must save the Son of Fire, Flare Warriors! You were chosen by him, trusted unendingly and unselfishly. He protects you as much as you protect him. Do not fail me, my warriors. Do not fail him.

Wildwing raised his gauntlet and fired once shot at Wraith. The mage disappeared in a fury of blue fire, much like Drysith had done, and Wildwing instinctively knew where he would turn up. He turned just as Wraith formed behind him and blocked the blast of blue fire before retaliating with a fist to the elderly Saurian’s face. The force slammed him into Grin, but fire burned up Wraith’s body, singeing the burly duck’s feathers. The heat automatically forced him to let go of Wraith, allowing the mage to smirk at the ducks while still enjoying his new found power.

“Tell me, Mighty Ducks. How do you put out fire?”

Water! Wildwing thought and immediately looked around for a spout that a lab would sure to be sure to have. Instead, Wraith responded, “You take its heart, its inner core, and stab it.”

As he raised an arms above his head, his cloak’s sleeves fell to his elbows, revealing his brown scar of a flare stabbed by an icicle.

Wraith had harmed his brother.

A blaster shot hit the ground never Wildwing’s feet, and he jumped over its beam before turning and shooting over and over at the hunter drones coming at him. When they began to overwhelm him and his team, he shouted, “Scatter!” and his team ducked behind various lab tables for cover. Wildwing, on the other hand, sought Wraith. The elderly Saurian met his eyes across the way and began to conjure up a huge ball of blue fire. Wildwing had only seen it occur once in his life, and he lived through it then.

He wouldn’t risk a second time, not when his brother needed him.

“Team, aim for Wraith!” he shouted, and thank the Stars for their aim. More than one puck smacked into Wraith’s stomach, causing the Saurian to tumble off the platform. In a fury of blue flames, he disappeared, and in a flash of green, so did the hunter drones.

Wildwing pounded his fist against the lab table, almost breaking it. Wraith had stolen his brother’s Fire, and what that did to his brother, Wildwing shivered to even think. He needed to find Nosedive—now. The question was: How?

*^*^*

Raen lost his cape as the descended down the mountains to the valley with a river of lava. Calder lost his and his tunic through the perfectly round tunnels, while even Lady Tasha pulled her hair back into a fluffy ponytail and tore her sleeves from her dress, showing off her sculpted arm muscles.

Truly, if Raen only loved her as a companion, then Kres wanted her. She was stunning, despite her seven years of age.

If Raen knew he thought that, since Tasha and he were the same age, he would have probably been slapped up the side of the head.

Instead, Kres gulped as the horses came to a stop before the massive golden gates of the underground city. The gates were exquisite with orange flames running up their crossed frames and a bright, burning blue droplet in the middle. The colors were magnificent to the younger drake, who squeezed his arms about his brother’s torso only harder.

Raen smiled back. “Do not worry. It will be fine.”

Sure, but then why was Grin striding forward to meet them? That was not fine! The burly duck looked as angry as Kres had ever seen him, and a part of him doubted he ever would him any madder—except for now, that was.

Grin halted just before Raen’s mount, glanced at the bindings holding Kres to his brother, then surveyed the rest of the ducks. “If you have come seeking entrance into Flarasia, you have come for nothing. We will never permit Ice Drakes after the travesty they endowed upon our nation and the exploitation of our generosity.”

“As King Raen of the Ice Drakes, ruler of Isylaca, I humble apologize to you and all your people for the pain and suffering my father and his forces caused, and I come with a peace offering and hopes of an alliance against a possible common enemy.”

Grin shocked Kres by snorting in his throat, then spitting on the ground before Wildwing’s horse. “After what you have done to our queen, you wish our help? Leave, intruders, and forget you ever came to this place.” As he retreated, he shouted over his shoulder, “And I am being merciful. If you do not leave within a moment’s time, king or not, I will sever your head from your body and mount it in our center square for our people to rejoice.”

Raen never lost his composure. “I bring Queen Flarren her long lost son Kres, the Fire Heir to Isylaca and Flarasia, the Son of Fire.”

That shocked Grin enough for him to stop short, then flung a flippant hand. “Impossible.”

“Well, I guess then you’ll have to explain to the queen once she finally does meet Kres how you turned the boy away years earlier, delaying their reunion.”

Not that Kres ever really cared, but at that moment, he realized why his brother was king. The delivery was perfect to manipulate—slipped in with the right amount of nonchalance, not quite demanding but not quite abandoning the topic. He never commanded, but Raen made the person actually conform to his will by their own accord. Then, to add to the operation, Raen reined his horse about to show Kres’s golden hair.

“Come on. If the guards will not allow us entrance, then we might as well go home.”

Before he even ground his heels into the horse’s flanks, a shout blared, “Wait!”

No matter how much time had passed, the facial features, his glowing azure eyes, and his golden hair revealed Kres’s identity.

He was his mother’s child.

Cutting through the binds holding his brother’s wrists, Raen put out his arm to help Kres climb down. Complying with a grunt, Kres jumped off the horse and allowed Grin to creep toward him. The burly duck’s thick fingers hovered in the air just before Kres’s cheek, afraid to touch, else the boy might disappear. To Kres’s credit, he didn’t even lean away. He held his ground and waited for Grin’s probing fingers to touch him—only they didn’t. Instead, the hand drew orange fire from its grasp.

This time, Kres did take a half step backwards, frightening memories and childhood fears still alive in his mind, but Grin lurched forward to take the boy by the hand and share his fire. The fire raced up Kres’s arm, searing off his shirt sleeve, before twirling about his neck and hair to climb to the spot in the middle of his brow, where a fire droplet glowed vibrantly and clearly for all to see—the mark of the Fire.

Grin whirled. “Open the gates! Now! The Son of Fire has returned home!”

The other guards protecting the massive gates gaped with shock, and when Grin snarled at them to hurry, they quickly dashed to their posts. The gears cranked and squeaked with age, and slowly, they opened to reveal the city below.

It wasn’t underground. In fact, as he and Raen rode onto the edge of the cliff overlooking the city, they felt the rays of the daystar flowing down into the bowl of the mountain in which the city was hidden. From the left side of the city flowed a lavafall, which slapped into a small basin, creating a lava river that ran through the entire city. The intricate housing complexes and stores were made out of what appeared to be blackened marble, shiny from being polished to an extreme, though Kres knew instinctively they were made from blackened ash. Hardened rock streets traveled through the city, leading to the castle, which rose almost to the top of the bowl. Pure white with a glimmer of blue and orange, it appeared made out of sandstone and lias stone, its merlons rounded to a point, its protection only that of the lava moat. Yet, even the drawbridge, a fireproof substance itself, stretched across to allow access.

About the city, blue flares suddenly shot upward, as if greeting Kres home, and like he remembered, the siren’s song whirled about the teenage duck, for no one to hear but the boy. This time, he didn’t flinch at the beautiful ballad. Its once fearful draw dissipated, and instead, its gentle message of sadness and longing ended. Comfort and joy overwhelmed his senses, and he hopped off the horse.

“Kres! Wait!” Raen yelled, but he couldn’t. He had to see her, not the Fire Queen. No. Now, after all this time, he knew the truth, more astounding than he ever thought possible, more loving than he ever knew.

As he ran through the streets, led by the music, the Firehawks, dressed in oranges and blacks and whites and yellows, fell to their knees, but he ignored them, as he ignored the galloping thundering down the mountain and into the streets behind him.

Nothing mattered, nothing but the song—and the person who sung it.

Kres slowed to jog before halting all together just before the bridge. There, three ducks stood—two he knew from life experiences. The first, grey feathers and hair, matched with a hazel eye and an eye patch, could be no one other than Ducques. Like always, he wore his sword, though this time it weighed down from a holster on his hip. Next to him and flanking the middle Firehawk stood a flame-haired mallard, as familiar as the first. Her now amber eyes gazed at him thoughtfully, and her dress mirrored that of Ducques, with slight changes. While Ducques wore black breaches and boots with orange and blue accents, Mallory wore a short dress with slits up the sides to allow for easier movement. Her orange tunic led to a flowing, black cloak, as did Ducques, but her right hand rested upon a blaster on her thigh, not a sword. Upon her left forearm and mirrored upon Ducques, was the mark given to those closest to Fire—a fire droplet slashed by an icicle.

But Nosedive barely saw them.

Before her guards stood the Fire Mistress. Her pristine body, supple and beautiful with more than its physical features, would have been hypnotizing to any duck—Ice Drake or Firehawk—and the blue, A-line gown she wore only accented her curves. It hugged her tightly about the bosom area, then clung to her waist before plunging to the ground. A slight collar wrapped about her neck, then attached her the sides of her dress, while her arms were completely bare except for the blue cuffs about her forearms. Her golden hair was tied back and pulled upward into a loose bun that flowed into a tail, and a sparkling blue band, hardly thicker than one of her elegant fingers, held her crown and tied just under the hair in the back. Her peach feathers were more vibrant than any before, practically the color of fire when it first burned to live, and her eyes were that of the core of the fire itself, what it lived for and what it could never live without.

Queen Flarren of the Firehawks was the name she’d taken to tie herself to the mortal world when she birthed a mortal son, but to the Firehawks, she was something more than any Ice Drake could ever comprehend.

Goddess Flarasia, Fire itself in its purest sense.

Kres heard the horses’ hooves clap the rock until they stopped behind him, and his brother and friends stopped before him. They jumped off their horses, while the townspeople gathered before their goddess.

Kres crept forward to her, his body moved by instinct. Though he’d only been with her the shortest time in his young life, he knew who was she, had heard her most of his life. He swept down to his knees in a regal bow he’d only done for his father and his brother, and the goddess took his cheeks in her immaculate hands as droplets of blue fire coursed down her flushed cheeks before she bent down to plant a kiss upon Kres’s bow.

In a fury of fire, he accepted her embrace with a new outfit—black boots like Ducques and Mallory’s but blue weave whirled up his black breaches. A blue tunic decorated his torso with the emblem of the Firehawks before a cloak fell to his knees. Then, urging him to stand, Flarasia smiled more gently and tenderly than any before, and she swept him into a choking embrace.

“My son.”

“Mother,” he returned, equally as moved. He hid his face within her gown, though no one had any doubt the boy’s emotions flowing from his trembling eyes.

After sixteen years of turmoil, fear, and pain, the Son of Fire finally found his place in the world—home.

*^*^*
“Why did you really come?”

The inquiry startled Raen, but the king recovered quickly. “Returning your son couldn’t have been a gesture of goodwill, Goddess?”

Crossing her legs in the chair and holding out her hand to take the glass from her servant, Flarasia met Raen’s query with a smirk before sipping of her wine. As their eyes remained locked, the young king found himself captive once more within them, though he kept his wits. After all, he’d spent the last sixteen lost in the same eyes.

Sipping the wine himself, he swallowed hard and found himself talking once more, “I am sorry to regret that you are correct, Goddess. My kingdom has come under attack by lizards from the outer lands. They wish to destroy all that we are, and their first stepping stone in doing so was stealing your son and draining him of Fire.”

Flarasia nodded knowingly, then waved her servant away with a brisk fling of her hand. Once the female left, the goddess gracefully raised from her seat and moved toward the window of her study to look over the castle’s guards—where her son currently resided. Apparently, the boy attempted to get her guardians to fight King Raen’s to see who was tougher.

“Raen…I respect you, probably more than I should being the first born of the drake who raped me and stole my only son.” She turned slightly, and Raen felt her eyes scrutinizing his movements, even though he only swirled the wine about its glass. “Nevertheless, I do not trust you enough to frivolously give you my army with which to play. You must meet me halfway, your grace.”

She was willing? He never expected it to be that easy, even if he did reunite mother and child. Sipping his wine, he stood and came to stand next to her side and see exactly what she did.

Oh, Stars…no.

“He is a gentle boy, Raen, and you have done splendidly in keeping alive. I can only surmise what he went through, a Firehawk in an Ice Drake world, a son of your father.”

Raen bowed his head to accept her compliment, even though he felt her fire searing his heart ever so slowly. “Thank you, Goddess. He is not unscathed, but he is as closely to it as I could keep him. I only wish to prevent him further harm, as I’m sure you do.”

She interpretted his meaning simply by the expression upon her face. “All the more reason to keep him safe and out of the way of the fighting in Isylaca. You must agree, your grace.”
“The Saurians are hungry. Even if you were to keep him in Flarasia, he would still be in danger. If Isylaca cannot repel the Saurian attacks, then all of this will fall as well.”

It bothered him how calm she was, as if unmolested by the war threatening his kingdom, her kingdom, and her son’s life. Yet, anguish contorted her face, if only for a fraction of a moment, and he realized even a goddess felt, if not as noticeably as he. “I am aware of the circumstances. The Saurians, unfortunately, pose a more dangerous threat to our nation than even yours, your grace. They fear ice, as do we. Thus, my kingdom would be a perfect abode for them and me for their overlord. Why do you believe they went after the Son of Fire? They wished to use him to trap me.

“Sadly, my power does not work like that. The Firehawks are bound to me, and thus, they have the gift of Fire. However, in order to truly steal Fire, more than just my son would have to be killed.”

“Though you would significantly be harmed since there is no one closer to Fire than the Son.”

“Yes.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching contently the boy below as he abandoned his attempts at the would-be match and instead, sat cross-legged by the edge of the lava moat, dipping his hands in and out of its heated water.

“I am a goddess and the protector of the Firehawks, Raen, as you are the protector of the Ice Drakes, if not more so because of my stature to them. However, you must realize your father changed my kingdom and me, personally, forever when he came to us with his army. He did something no one before him could.”

Raen turned toward her, and once more, her icy exterior froze her features. Her beak raised high, she glared out over her city; he found himself hanging upon her words, wanting to continue.

She did so at her own pace. “He made me feel, Raen. Before, I never knew love or pain. If one is to rule over a people fairly, one must do so without emotion, for fear of a compromised judgment. When I lost your brother, however, I realized just what my people felt, how they cried and why they cried, and I, too, cried. Perhaps it has made me a better ruler. I do not know, but that does not matter at this point and time. What matters is what I can do and what I am willing to do.”

Raen heard the finality in her voice, and he slammed the wine glass against the stone windowsill, shattering it instantly. Blood leaked heartily from his hands, and with a hiss, he felt Flarasia’s fire, cauterizing the tiny wounds in his hands. Through his clenched teeth, he muttered, “Come out with it, Goddess. Let us be forthwith. What do you want?”

He knew. Looking down at the forsaken boy by the river, oh Stars, he knew.

“Call me what you will, your grace, but I am a mother first and foremost. Perhaps this is selfish, but even I would not survive losing my son twice. And I refuse to endure another separation.”

“So, you would rather risk his life and your kingdom for your own happiness?” Raen shrilled.

The goddess closed her eyes for only a moment. “Aren’t you? What I ask and what you want are one and the same—the Saurians eradicated before they hurt all we hold dear. All you ask for are my forces, and all I ask in exchange is my son. Yet, if you decide not to take my forces, then you choose your brother and your happiness over your kingdom. As I said, we both want my son, and we both want victory. You can have one or the other.”

“And you can have both.”

“And I can have both. After all, your grace—”

He finally saw the mortal within her when the smile parting her lips grew into a glistening display of life.

“—I am a goddess, and I do not choose.”

Raen huffed and turned toward the outside once more, his hands pleadingly gripping upon the windowsill as he stared at his brother. “You’re not being fair. You’re asking me to save our kingdoms without any reward, for if I choose my kingdom and take your forces, then I am also saving your kingdom while saving my own. But if I choose my brother over my kingdom, both our kingdoms will fall to the Saurians, and Kres will be killed.”

“It is a painful decision, your grace, one which I have no doubt of your answer.” She patted his hand and leaned close to his ear, so only he could hear. “However, I am not simply asking you to leave my son here. If I wanted, I could restrain him, but I do not wish to hold my son against his wishes.”

Raen craned his head to see her face completely and her beautiful features. What could she possibly—

“N—No.” He shook his head rigidly and staggered away from the window, only steadying himself once he reached the couch. “You cannot. I—I—I cannot. Don’t you see what you will be doing to him by making me—It will destroy him.”

“What you mean is, ‘It will destroy you,’ ” the goddess said easily, sauntering over to his trembling form and placing a hand upon his chest. Under his tunic, his left forearm glowed fire blue. “Now, you must decide, Raen, King of Isylaca and Brother to the Son of Fire, what is most important to you: Kres’s life or his love.”

*^*^*

The pain overwhelmed him to the point that all Wildwing’s nerves felt as if they were on his fire, but yet, he refused to relinquish to his brother. He had no other against that which he fought, and he didn’t care. If the Firehawks wanted to sacrifice his brother to the Fire, he certainly wouldn’t let him. If they wanted to steal his brother from him, fat chance. If the Fire was the worst they could do, then he would endure it. If it wasn’t, then he would endure what it took to keep his brother safe—from them, from the world, from anyone who tried to split his brother and him. He wouldn’t give in—no matter what.

And the blue flame drained from his brother’s body to circle about Wildwing’s left forearm. The pain eased until only the forearm burned, and then, in a flash of blue light, it and the pain faded completely—revealing the blue taint upon the skin and feathers of a fire droplet crossed by an icicle.

As Nosedive slumped tiredly in Wildwing’s arms, the leader’s snatched the teen’s arm and gasped, “No. It’s not possible. You can’t have possibly connected with him on such an intimate level—not an Ice Drake and a Firehawk. You can’t possibly be a Flare—”

The leader grunted suddenly, as did the Firehawk holding Canard. Together, they crashed to the floor, which prompted more pucks to barrage the room. Wildwing ducked his head as blood splattered and body thumped lifelessly, and he tried to keep his control by holding onto the boy in his arms. If this was necessary to keep him alive, then so be it. As long as none of the Firehawks alerted their superiors or anyone else that they had found the Fire Heir, then no one would know to come looking for them.

And no one did—until Drysith.

Once the pucks stopped and all the Firehawks laid on the floor of the boy’s bedroom, Wildwing tentatively raised his head, only to be besieged by his father’s tight embrace.

“Thank the Stars you are both alright! When I called and didn’t get even a ringing…” His panicked voice gave way to fear at the sight of Nosedive asleep in his brother’s arms. “What’s wrong with Dive? Is he—” He stopped short, then saw the taint upon Wildwing’s forearm. It glowed a light blue, and less than a moment later, Nosedive stirred, draining the blue glow from Wildwing but leaving the taint.

Love, for the first time, was tangible.

To Be Continued…