Crusader: Fireborn
By Icewyche
A.N.: "Harry" is actually named for Harry Dresden of the Dresden Files. Not that other wizard named Harry.
Chapter One: The Sky Is Falling
The little boy opened his eyes, gazing wide-eyed into the darkness. Not in fear, but in anticipation. When he was satisfied that the house was quiet, he sat up and climbed silently out of bed, making his way to the door as lightly as a cat. He was used to this by now, even knew exactly which creaky floorboard to avoid. With a little smile of triumph, he reached for the doorknob.
"Lance? Where are you going?"
He frowned...apparently he hadn't been that quiet after all. Suppressing an annoyed sigh, he turned around to see his brother Harry watching him from the other bed, big brown eyes so like his own peering owlishly from the nest of blankets. "Shhh!" he whispered fiercely. "I'm just going outside."
"Mama and Papa won't like it," Harry whispered back; Lance was grateful that his older brother at least had the sense to keep his voice down.
"They won't know," Lance replied impatiently. "Why don't you come with me? It's fun."
Harry shook his head. "It's dark out."
"Of course it's dark, dummy. How else could you see the stars if it wasn't?" Lance said reasonably. Harry didn't seem convinced, and Lance scowled. He didn't want to be in here arguing with his brother, not when the stars were waiting for him. "Fine. Stay here, then. But you don't know what you're missing."
Harry snuggled deeper into his bed, not at all persuaded. "You're going to get in a lot of trouble one of these days, Lance Charles McClain," he said. Lance scoffed quietly at that and slipped out of their room.
Lance Charles McClain. He hated it when people called him that, because it usually meant they were exasperated with him. Unless, of course, it was his brothers or his sister; they did it just to bug him.
It's dark out, Lance mocked silently to himself as he moved through the sleeping house, shaking his head at Harry's wimpishness. Hard to believe he'd been named after a wizard...after all, wizards were supposed to be strong and wise, and Harry was neither. Maybe Mama should have named him something else. Mama had named all of them after characters in books, or so she'd told them; Harry had been named for a mighty wizard who had a big dog and a talking skull, although for the life of him Lance couldn't imagine their Harry with either one. Dogs scared him, and if he saw a skull – talking or not – he'd probably run away from it screaming, even though he was ten years old already and supposed to be braver than that.
Just across the hall from them was their oldest brother Tom; Mama had named him after a boy who had been wily and clever and had had lots of exciting adventures. Tom had just turned fifteen, too old to be sharing a room with his two little brothers. (Which suited Lance and Harry just fine, because Tom snored.) He wasn't especially wily or clever, at least not as far as Lance was concerned, and didn't seem particularly interested in adventures either. What he was interested in was girls.
Lance wrinkled his nose at the thought. What was so interesting about girls, anyway? They giggled too much and they smelled funny and they never wanted to do fun things like climb trees or run because they hated to get dirty. They liked to play tickle, though – he'd caught Tom and Maryellen Shaw playing tickle behind the Shaws' barn once, and Maryellen seemed to be enjoying it. Lance couldn't understand why, although maybe it had something to do with the fact that Tom wasn't sitting on her the way he did on Lance. Maybe that was just as well, because Maryellen wasn't as small or as quick as Lance was, and she wouldn't have been able to wriggle out from under him and escape the way Lance always did.
He passed his sister Juliet's room. Juliet was twelve, almost thirteen, and had been named after a girl in a play who died for love or something...Lance wasn't really sure of the details. Their little mother hen, Mama and Papa called her, and that name seemed to fit her better since Juliet was always fussing over her two little brothers and herding them about. Juliet took her responsibility as the only girl in the family seriously. Juliet took most things seriously. Lance couldn't imagine their Juliet ever dying for love or anything else – she was much too practical for that.
Then there was him – "my surprise baby", Mama called him. She'd named him after a courageous and loyal knight, although Papa had insisted they shorten his name to Lance. Which was okay..."Lancelot" sounded kind of sissyish anyway. He liked the name he had better. That didn't mean he wasn't determined to live up to that first name, though...he was only eight, but he prided himself on being braver than his brothers. Neither of them were willing to sneak out of the house at night to watch the stars. He was faster than them, too; he could even outrun Tom. Not that that was hard, because Tom was a big, clumsy ox of a boy, but still.
Mama and Papa slept at the far end of the hall; he wasn't too worried about waking them unless he was really noisy, but it never hurt to be careful. Besides, Papa would be grouchy if anybody woke him up before morning. When Papa got grouchy it was serious business, especially since it happened so rarely. Papa and Mama both smiled and laughed a lot, which was why so many other people in the village liked them. Of course, that wasn't the only reason people liked them...they also liked them because Mama taught kids how to read and write and because Papa was good at building things. Nobody else in the whole village was as good at building things as his Papa, Lance thought proudly. He'd even built most of their house, making it bigger to fit his family. Papa could build anything.
Lance made his way quickly through the rest of the house, heading straight for the back door. He paused when he reached it, listening intently to make sure nobody had heard him, but there was nothing but silence. Smiling happily to himself, he stealthily eased the door open and slipped outside. Just a little distance across the porch – had to be careful here, there was another creaky board – and down the back steps, and then he was running lightly across the yard towards the lake that sat behind their house. The night air felt cool and soft against his skin; the lake shimmered and the stars twinkled overhead as if they were glad to see him. He was glad to see them, too.
Giggling quietly, Lance flopped down into the grass by the lake. It was a still spring night, the best kind because the waters of the lake were almost perfectly smooth, reflecting the stars like a mirror. He could watch them all night, he thought happily. Had to be careful, though...one time he'd watched the stars too long, and the next morning everyone had been all worried and running around because he wasn't in his bed and nobody could find him. Tom had finally found him curled up in the grass by the lake, sound asleep. Papa had beaten him for that – not hard, but enough to let Lance know that he meant business – but that hadn't hurt near as much as seeing how scared Mama was. Lance had tried to be good after that, and he had been for a while, but the call of the stars was just too much to resist. So he'd started sneaking out again, and now here he was.
Propping his chin in his hands, Lance stared intently into the water, silently counting the number of glittering dots in the glassy surface. When he'd finished he looked up, not at all surprised to find that he'd missed quite a few. He always did. That was what made it so much fun, really, finding the difference between what he could see in the lake and what was actually out there.
He rolled onto his back, gazing raptly up at the diamond-dusted sky. So many stars, and there were even more out there, farther away than he could see. There was a whole big galaxy beyond Valkan VI, with hundreds of different stars and planets and people. Lance wondered what they were like. Valkan VI wasn't a big planet, and only a small portion of its surface was actually settled – "at least for now," Papa had said once. Were other worlds bigger? Did they have trees or lakes or lots of big buildings? Were there dangerous animals? What did the people look like – were they tall or short or different colors? What did they do for fun? Maybe someday he'd get to meet some of them and see those other worlds. Maybe. But for now, he was happy right where he was...lying in the grass listening to the sounds of insects and night birds, with the stars above him and his family not far away.
Lance lost track of how long he lay by the lake, watching the stars drift serenely through the heavens. But eventually he noticed that his eyelids were getting heavy...he'd probably been out here a lot longer than he should. Time to go in. He sighed and reluctantly sat up, but he couldn't resist one last look upward.
Wait...He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Were the stars...moving? He sat there openmouthed, not understanding what he was seeing as one star, then another, and then another shifted and detached from the night sky and then...fell. He stared as the stars plunged groundward, becoming bigger and brighter and then...
The first one hit with a huge boom and a burst of light that nearly blinded him. The ground shook beneath Lance, knocking him onto his side in the grass. He lay there stunned, watching helplessly as more stars hit – boomboomboom until his ears were ringing and the night sky became as bright as the middle of the day. There was a strange high-pitched sound coming from somewhere, and he finally realized that it was the sound of people screaming. Mama! Papa! That jolted him out of his trance and he scrambled frantically to his feet, slipping on the grass as he ran for the house. I have to get to them!
A huge fireball landed in front of him with a whumpf. A giant's invisible fist smashed him to the ground, and for a moment there was nothing but white light and scorching heat and something heavy sitting on his chest – he couldn't even draw breath enough to scream. When his senses cleared, the way to the house had been replaced by a wall of fire taller than he was...and it was headed right for him. He could see it moving over the grass, could feel its burning fingers reaching for him, could smell his hair and clothes starting to smolder.
Lance stopped thinking. Pure visceral instinct took over and his world narrowed to nothing but run. He turned and darted back the way he'd come, heading straight for the lake. When he reached its bank he didn't even hesitate, but flung himself into the water at full speed.
The lake was icy cold, a shock after the terrible heat of the fire. It stabbed into him like a hundred knives; Lance unthinkingly opened his mouth to scream and got a mouthful of frigid, muddy-tasting water. He surfaced awkwardly, flailing and choking and coughing, treading water out of sheer survival instinct. What was he going to do now? The water was so cold it was making his arms and legs not work right, but he couldn't get out either, not when everything around him was fire. He kept on treading water until he couldn't anymore, and then he just lay back and let the water hold him up.
He didn't know how long he floated there, his mind drifting along with his body. The stars had stopped falling but the sky still glowed orange and red and yellow, and he gazed up at it with dull, unfocused eyes. Somewhere in the very back of his mind he knew he should probably be afraid, or sad, or something, but he just couldn't muster the energy. Even the chill of the water didn't really hurt anymore...it was just there. He was so sleepy... The colors in the sky shifted and swirled, and he wondered vaguely if he could touch them. His hand lifted, reaching weakly for those beautiful dancing flames.
Somebody shouted, and Lance heard splashing. Then a man dressed like a soldier was suddenly beside him; Lance jolted in surprise and the abrupt movement sent him under the water. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him out, coughing and sputtering, and then he was being cradled against an armored chest and carried to shore. There was more yelling – something about "alive" and "help over here". The soldier set him carefully on the ground as more soldiers appeared around him. Somebody wrapped him in something that was thin and crinkly, like the stuff Mama wrapped food in to keep it from going bad. It seemed silly, but it also made him feel warmer and the fog started to clear from his head a little bit. A light shone in his eyes, making him flinch. All the soldiers seemed to be talking at once and he couldn't make any sense of it...he caught words like "impact zone" and "hypothermia" and "evac", but they didn't mean anything to him. He was tired and still kind of cold and he wanted to go back to bed. He didn't want to make Papa angry at him for staying out so late. Where were Mama and Papa, anyway? Why hadn't they come to find him instead of these strangers?
The soldier who'd pulled him from the water gently lifted Lance, and as he did Lance found himself looking over the man's shoulder at his house. Except...there was no house anymore. There was nothing but fire. The big tree he liked to climb on even though it made Juliet nervous, the porch where Papa and his friends played cards, the yard he and his siblings had played in, the rooms where they'd all been sleeping when the stars came down...it was all gone, vanished in the inferno. And it had taken his family with it.
A howl like a wounded animal's tore its way out of his throat and he began kicking and punching, lashing out at everyone and no one with a strength and fury he didn't even know he had. He felt the soldier's arms tighten around him so that he couldn't get away, heard the man yell about something called a "medic". Lance didn't know what that was and he didn't care. He had to get away from these people. He had to find his family.
Something jabbed his arm, making him scream from the sudden pain. The strength drained from his body, leaving him as limp as one of Juliet's rag dolls. He tried to struggle anyway, but his arms and legs wouldn't do what he wanted them to and all he could manage was a weak moan of frustration. He could vaguely hear the strangers saying something, but they sounded far away now and he was so very tired. Strong arms lifted him and carried him off, and Lance managed to keep his heavy eyelids open long enough to look back one last time at what had once been his home. What had become his family's funeral pyre.
They were all gone now. And he was alone.
Then the fire went away, and everything went dark.
