Fire roared about her, and terror tore Flame from her deep sleep. With practiced focus, she quashed the terror and the flames roaring about her faded, then vanished.

“That’s five nights in a row, my queen,” echoed a calming voice from the far side of the heavy bronze door.

“Damn it, I know," she barked at the closed door. "Bring breakfast and clothes. Cheap linens. My control’s not been this bad in a hundred years.”

Even as she was speaking those words, the bronze door had opened and two young men she had never seen entered, one with her breakfast tray, the other carried a simple linen shift and the voice soothed, “Already taken care of, my queen.”

“New servants,” she asked the hidden speaker beyond her walls as she eyed the young men.

“Yes, My Queen. I’ve paid off six servants and sent them home. I hired two more to replace them.” The voice sighed, “They were becoming unreliable.”

A tiny flame crawled up her arm, and the young men jumped back in fear. She let out an exasperated breath. She hadn’t killed anyone by accident in years. Her iron will quashed her irritation, and the small flames dancing on her arms vanished. “Was that really needed,” Flame asked the man forbidden to look on her on pain of death. She sighed again. This time a flame raced down her hairless body to her toe, and the man holding her shift became entranced. This one would not last long, either, she mused. The flame vanished, and she took the shift from him and began dressing.

“Because of my Nightmares,” she asked.

“Or whatever is causing them,” he said in a barely heard voice.

Her heart sped up, and tiny flames danced across her arms again. “You think something is causing this?”

A whistle filled the room and Flame watched the two young men stop, turn, and leave as the priest had trained them to do when that whistle sounded. Then the deep voice filled her room, “Duufaan, thinks so. She’s having them, too.”

Furnishing exploded as white hot flames of pure rage engulfed the room. “How do you know the Mistress of Storms is having nightmares,” she roared, sending white flames shooting out the still open door.

The voice was calm and measured. “She sent word. And a message for you.”

Her voice raging as much as her fires, she demanded. “How dare she contact my priest! What message.”

“Here is what she sent: I’ve requested the Mistress of Life and Mistress of Death come here. I ask the Mistress of Fire to come too. Father is waking.”

Every flame vanished. For the first time since she and Duufaan had fought, Flame was cold.

“My queen,” came the voice, filled with concern.

“So, this is it,” she whispered.

“This is what?

He must have wonderful ears she observed to herself. “It is the end, or a beginning. The Mistresses of Water and Earth, called Life and Death, will leave their kingdoms and join the Mistress of Air in hers.” Unseen by any, a tear started down the cheek of she who never cries. “Without me, they have little chance of stopping father and will again become his slaves.”

The voice had an uncharacteristic trimmer when it asked, “What will you do?”

The lone tear fell from her chin. “I’ll go. We’ll fight. And we’ll die. But the four of us together can take the Father of Magic with us, but only acting together.”

“Surely with the priest and armies of four kingdoms you can prevail. The Lord of Magic’s kingdom lies in dust. Your sister destroyed it centuries ago.”

She ignored his words. “After we are gone, none of my priest will be able to call fire.”

Fear rang in his voice. “And other priest?”

“No healing from the Life Priest, no killing of the insects and pests in the crops from the Death Priest. I banish the Storm Priest years ago from this lands, but they too, will be powerless.”

His voice rose. “There must be another way. People cannot survive without the priest.”

Shaking her head with none to see it she answered. “The people lived before we created the priest and shared our power with them. They can do so again.”

The voice she'd listened to for years now had a whine she hadn’t heard from him before. “Is there no way to ensure your father does not wake? Was that not why your sister destroy his kingdom.”

Taking a steadying breath she answered him. “She destroyed it to prevent them from waking him but he can still wake on his own. I may hate her, but if the Mistress of Storms says he is waking; he is. It is not something she could be wrong about.”

“Do you have to fight him?”

She shuddered. “If the Lord of Magic walks the earth, I am his slave again, as I was before he slept. That is part of his nature and mine. You do not want to be part of a world where he controls all four elements along with his power over what is real. Nor do I. I would rather die and take my power out of this world.”

His voice now trembled. “You have melted the hinges, and I can no longer close the door.”

Clothing herself in bright hot flames, as had been her habit long ago when she use to walk the streets, she said. “It matters not. I am leaving the temple and the rule for the priest not to look on me is no more. The doors are not needed. Come out. Let me see the face of the man I have been talking to all these years.”

“As my queen commands.” The terror in her high priest’s voice was unmistakable, and she almost canceled her order.

Then the fat bearded man dressed in silks and gold, who did not match that voice stepped into view and looked on her for the first time. Nor did all the jewels he wore go with a man she had set to protect her people. Seeing all that wealth he wore she almost withheld her warning. “I travel to the Palace of Storms. Since I will need all of my power when I enter, I will destroy every one of my flame gems the day I arrive there. If a priest is still wearing one then, he will go up in flames too.”

Panic crossed his face. “How will we protect our people from the Magi?”

The plea was a weak one and facing him saw losing the power to call flame terrified him. Did he have that many enemies?

“They’ll not be a problem when the father of magic is gone.” Eyeing his jeweled robe, she realized with the priest and Magi no longer robbing the people with their magic the world might just be better off when she and her sister were gone. Maybe, just maybe, a world without magic would be a better world.

Soutenir James R Steinhaus

À propos James R Steinhaus

I write Science Fiction and Fantasy

I am currently in the Philippines with my lovely wife Maridonna. I write a mixture of Science Fiction and Fantasy

Nightmare of Flame

Flash Fiction: Quantum Copy

Kill?