Rise of the Whiteface Order by M. A. Torres

Author:M. A. Torres
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Spire Books
Published: 2020-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen:

The Has-Been

“You’re Brealin?” asked Matthew incredulously. “You should get an Oscar! You had us fooled!”

The boy stared at him, confused.

“How would he know what an Oscar is, dummy!” scolded Jake.

“I expected you to be bigger and redder. I thought you had muscles, like the painting at Castle Randall.”

“Disappointed, are you?”

Jake chuckled. “He talks like Yoda.”

Matthew cleared his throat. “Sorry Mr. Brealin, that’s not what I meant.”

“I can exist in many forms,” responded the fallen god of fire. His eyes were crystal clear once again, and his flaming hair had dissipated. “I can be big or small; young or old; man or woman. I can become any physical shape I wish to be. The only form I can no longer assume is that of the spirit.”

Olee and Arnon left the room. Viktor remained with them, standing silently by the large wooden door to their right. The flaming whip had burnt out, its remains lying on the floor beside the boys.

“Your horses are alive and well. They were delivered to your men at the city square moments ago,” informed Brealin.

“Great. Thank you,” said Kevin.

“Yes, thank you,” agreed Sven.

“I apologize for being such a nuisance. I sensed my weapon close, and I sensed you were seeking my assistance. I had to see for myself what kind of people were in possession of Flameclaw, and whether they were worthy of my assistance or deserving of my wrath.”

The boys chuckled nervously.

“We understand,” said Kevin.

Brealin moved closer. “What are your names?”

Kevin adjusted his glasses. “I’m Kevin, of House Martinez.”

“I’m Jake, from House Stevens,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“Hi, I’m Matthew, of House McCall.”

“My name is Sven.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you all,” said Brealin.

Virgil walked into the room, carrying the boys’ bags. He placed them atop the table. “Your possessions.”

Kevin opened his bag and pulled out Flameclaw. It lit up, its flames dancing along the blade’s edge.

Brealin’s eyes widened, a large and proud smile stretched across his face. He approached it, admiring the blade’s beauty. “Flameclaw... created by Mother Amos from the claws of the Red Dragon,” he said.

“The Red Dragon?” asked Kevin.

“A rare, mystical and ancient creature that exists in certain dimensions. Their purpose—to protect their realm from demons and rogue gods. The fire of this blade is said to be the fire of the Red Dragon himself.”

Brealin raised a hand to it, appearing to caress the blade from afar. Moments later, he lowered it and turned his gaze onto Kevin.

“My blade was earned by a young knight. Jey, of House Taylor is his name. How did you come to possess it?”

“Jey was killed by a dark knight named Raven,” responded Kevin. “It happened right in front of me. I picked up the sword, and it lit up.” Kevin held it out. “Would you like to hold it?”

Brealin’s face brightened with excitement. “I... would.” He reached for it, but paused inches from the hilt. Then he pulled back, shaking his head. “But that would be impossible. I lost that ability thousands of years ago.

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