Every man, woman, and child, bond and free alike, has a fire in them. All their fires are very different. Mine, it burns steady, consuming little, like the flame of a candle. My brother's flickers from time to time, if it has not yet faded completely. It seems he is content to simmer in the daily tasks of a soldier, patrolling, training, but never believing in a truth, fighting for a cause other than his own survival. Without new fuel, new activities, he will eventually burn out, ashes of the man he could have become.

The boy he sent was a different matter entirely. His flame was so intense I could almost feel the heat from him when I first saw him at my temple door. With inflamed passion, he argued with the slum girl that accompanied him. They didn't notice my presence immediately.

"I did not kill the creature voluntarily. It committed suicide rather than be taken captive. There was nothing I could do," they boy said.

"But you feel no regret, no remorse for the part you played in it's death?" The girl seemed abhorrent at the thought.

The boy touched his cheek where three new, parallel scratches had just stopped bleeding. "It's got it's revenge."

"But, how can...oh!" The girl jumped slightly as she noticed me.

"I apologize, children. I did not mean to startle you," I said. "I am Brother Lanchard. Brother Taggard said you wished to speak with me?"

"Yes, Sir," the boy spoke. "Your brother says you're quite a healer. My arm..." As he turned to face me, I saw the red bandage, slightly dusty and very faultily applied. It was standard military issue, and drastically ineffective.

I, of course, was appalled. "Good Flame, son! Bound like that you could lose the use of your arm! Come, come quickly, follow me, child!" I rushed him into a treatment room. The young girl followed us, though she stayed well out of the way of the proceedings.

I gave him a bite stick and I treated him as best I could. The injuries to his face were minor, as was the scratch on his leg, but the wound on his arm could easily have disabled the arm forever. His injuries made it clear that he'd fought a bear or similar creature. Once I was finished, he collapsed into an exhausted sleep, which was expected. By this time it was deep into the night.

When he was asleep and I about to leave, the girl took a step from her corner and spoke up. "Will he heal?" The concern in her voice showed some deep attachment with this boy.

"Your brother will be fine," I said. "He should be ready to return to the field in two weeks, though, knowing these soldiers, he'll insist on returning sooner than that."

She smiled amusedly and said, "He's not my brother."

"Your beau, then?" They were both young and, beneath the grime, she was rather fetching. It could easily be so.

She laughed softly. "Not hardly! We met only today."

Her attachment was greater than I would have expected in a single day. I may have been old then and older now, but I have yet to lose my vision of young love nor my memory of the time. "Your attachment is more than that of casual acquaintances. You know him by reputation, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "Does he have a reputation, then?"

"None I know of. Come, I can see your wish to talk at length, but this is not the place. We will speak in the library." I offered my arm. "Escort an old man?"

She chuckled softly. "A gentleman never grows old." She took my arm, and we began to walk in silence.

Some internal struggle waged in her, I could see. She kept opening her mouth to speak, but stopping herself. Before the silence became binding, I broke it. "My child, what troubles you?"

She lowered her head and smiled. "I truly am transparent in my youth. My few years leave me without experience in hiding my troubles." She raised her eyes to mine and the smile left. Fear took it's place. "That man... I'm looking for someone in this city, and I think he may be the man I seek."

I pondered this for a few paces. "You don't know?"

She shook her head. "I'm alone in this city, and the description of the man I seek is vague."

"If he's the man you seek, should he not recognize you, by name if not by face?"

"No. While I know little of the man I seek, he knows less of me." She watched the marble walls and oak doors pass us by. As we turned down another hallway, she gasped.

"My child?"

"That is so beautiful!" She released my arm and dashed up to a great painted-glass window. "As if the air itself holds the image!" She passed her hand along the window without touching it, almost afraid to touch it, as if it would dissipate if she did.

"Beautiful image, isn't it? The glass-blowers outdid themselves on that one. "I smiled at her naiveté. Few commoners had ever seen glass. "You can touch it. It is fragile, but not vaporous."

She extended her index finger and gently touched the glass. "Oh!" She recoiled.

"My child? What happened?" Had she cut herself on some carelessly sharp edge?

"Cold..."

I smiled. "That is the image of the Holy Flame, the being this Temple is dedicated to."

She looked to make out the picture, started slightly, and whispered something. Then she turned and asked, "You worship that being?"

"Yes. The Holy Flame helped bring this world into existence and provides all men with warmth and light and strength. What greater creature could there be?"

She backed away from the window and rejoined me. "I've never thought of any being as supreme. As you discover new things, the new will eventually overpower the old." Our walk continued.

I shrugged. "All possess their own belief. It's not my place to tell you what to believe, or even what I believe unless you ask. How do you plan to determine if the boy sleeping in the other room is the man you seek?"

"I'm not sure. What do you know of him?"

I laughed deeply. "Precious little. What do you know of him?"

"I know only that he risked his life to save mine."

"Ah, so the connection I see is that of rescuer and rescued. Is the man you seek a rescuer?"

By this time, we'd reached the library. I pulled her chair. She spoke as she sat. "Thank you. The man I seek should be more than a mere rescuer. He needs to be a hero, or... well, I've been sent for his help."

I pushed her chair in and took by own seat across the stone table from her. "What else do you know of this man you seek? A single act of heroism is not enough to identify a specific hero from all others."

She shook her head as though disagreeing with herself. "Little was told me of him. I suspect little is known. I know he's our only hope, he's a mighty soldier, and a great leader of men. He's the only one who can save us from a great army."

This seemed odd. The only great army I knew of was the one Dyluk himself was a member of. "What great army endangers your people? What threat can defeat the Royal Army, only to be defeated by one young man?"

Her hands gripped the edge of the table. "The nature of the threat doesn't change the nature of the man I seek."

I could see I'd made her uncomfortable. "I only seek to help. I'm sorry to bring such worry to you."

Her hands relaxed their grip a little, but she didn't speak.

We sat in silence for a moment. "I should show you to your room," I told her. "It's too late for such discussions."

"Yes. My room." She stood.

"This way."

* * * * *

The silence morning shattered with a scream of "DEVIL!" I nearly fell out of bed and stumbled, trying to shake off the sleep, down from my room toward the sound. More screams followed, so strained that there were no words in them. I ran until I found myself in front of Dyluk's door. It was locked from the inside.

"Get the key, brother, and hurry!" I yelled to one of the crowd of fellow priests that had gathered. After he had gone, I knocked.

"Dyluk, are you alright?" In answer, I received another blood-curdling shriek as the tip of Dyluk's sword stabbed two inches through the door toward my head. I could not imagine anything so horrible that it would produce the torment I heard in the screams. Where was that key?

The girl appeared by my side. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. The door is locked. I've sent for the key." She was white as a ghost and shuttered with each scream. "Poor child," I said, embracing her. "Comfort your mind! We will help him."

The priest returned with the key. I took it and opened the door. My eyes met disaster.

The room looked to be a battle site. Other than the damaged door, there were two smashed chairs and a shattered hat rack, bedding covering the floor, and a sprinkling of blood over everything. Dyluk stood on the bed, horrified and holding a piece of the hat rack, broken into a sharp point. "Devils! Devils, hiding devils." he whispered to himself. He twisted this way and that looking for some threat.

"Dyluk!" screamed the girl behind me. She frantically shoved past me and dashed up to the bed. Dyluk turned, ready to battle the noise he heard. When he saw the girl, however, he stopped and relaxed the weapon.

"Boy! What has happened?"

Dyluk looked a me and dropped his crude spear. He brought a hand up against his puffing chest. "Devils. I thought..." He seemed to realize his situation and climbed off the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Your bandage," the girl said. She reached out toward the bandage. It had partially come off and the blood was trickling down his arm. He grabbed her arm and forced her to lower it as he passed.

He came to the door and whispered to me, "Brother Lanchard, I urgently need to talk to you."

"I would think so. Let me organize the clean up here, then we can talk."

He looked at the door. "My sword," he answered feebly, face ashen and jaw clenched. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"No."

Relief bowed his head and unclenched his jaw. He brought his hands up to his eyes and hesitated. Then he stood up strait, took ahold of his sword, and removed it from the door. I thought to stop him, but he seemed to have regained his wits. He placed the sword in his sheath and walked out of the room.

My fellow priests backed away as he passed. I would have to talk to them later about appearances.

The girl followed. I called in some of the brethren to clean up and assess the damage. Then I went to find the two, especially Dyluk. He had said he wanted to talk, and I wanted to hear what he had to say. How would explain what he did?

In time, I found them in the hallways, arguing.

"I can't help you!" Dyluk said. "I have troubles enough of my own!"

"You can! You already did! I'm certain you're the one I was sent for!" Though she was screaming, her stance was calm and her expression almost emotionless. Almost, not quite.

"You're ‘certainly' wrong! You..." He stopped, venom in his breath, as he saw me. He calmed himself and said, "I'd like to talk to Brother Lanchard alone, if you don't mind.'

"Very well. We'll talk later." She turned and left before he could disagree.

He exhaled sharply, as though breathing her out of his mind, and turned to me. "Can we talk now?"

"Yes, my son. You may talk, I will listen. But I believe you want more privacy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Follow me, then. And save your ‘sir.' That's a military title. I am not a military man, but a man of religion, of learning."

"What you mean to say is that you learn to heal whereas I learn to kill." He was observant.

"I suppose I do hold military life in a less than high regard." I chuckled.

"Please don't speak in riddles. When you mean that you don't like soldiers, say ‘I don't like soldiers.' It makes you sound sly, deceitful, and long winded." I'd have been offended, but he wasn't really listening to our conversation. He was walking, staring at the floor and wringing his hands, and talking to remove the silence. He was afraid.

We reached my private study. I held the door for him, and we both sat. He glanced around at the red velvet décor and chuckled nervously. "After what happened, I wish you'd picked a place with less red."

"Oh? And what is wrong with red?"

"My sword... the thought that I might have hurt someone." He lowered his head slightly and rubbed his eyes. "And what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"I saw the Slum Route, the muddy path, the pathetic shells of houses. And I saw the nightmare, the devil, that black fiend whatever it was." He paused, trying to find a word.

"Can you describe it?"

"I suppose. It's about 4 feet tall, black-green skin, hunched way over, long black hair. It looks like a person that was burned all over, like walking ash, except that it was hard when I hit it."

"You fought it in your dream?" Of course, the common military reaction, kill it first.

"Yes, just like I fought it in reality yesterday. Same moves and everything."

"In reality? You saw this thing, fought this demon in reality?" No such thing exists. It couldn't.

Yes. It gave me this," he touched to his cheek, "and this," he pointed to his bandaged arm. The wounds were real enough, I'd treated them myself. Perhaps the creature he spoke of existed, too.

"So, in your dream, what happened after you fought the beast?"

"Well, while I was fighting it, just as I was going to beat it the same way I beat it in reality, another one jumped me from the side. Fighting two, now, I was constantly backing up, losing ground. I backed into another one, and so on until I was surrounded by them, too many of them, and I was struggling to survive. They knocked me down, beat me with their fists, raked me with their claws, and took my sword.

"I covered my face with my hands for a moment to protect my eyes, but then the attacking stopped. I removed my hands and looked up to see the original creature holding my sword above me the same way I held it above it in reality. It waited for me to kill myself the way it had, but when I didn't, it raised the sword and screamed. My soul shook with the sound! Then it brought down the sword.

"With a gasp, I rolled out of the way and fell off a small ledge. I landed on my sword in it's sheath, so I took it and turned to defend myself once again, but they were gone. Hiding, I assumed. Then I heard a noise behind me. I turned and drove my sword as hard as I could. It planted deep and wouldn't come out, so I jumped to the side, stumbling over and through the demons, swinging wildly until my hands found a spear.

"Well, you had seen me by then. You know the rest." His intense eyes lowered and he sat back into his chair.

I sat silently. Did he know where the dream and the reality separated? It was obvious that he'd had a terrifying nightmare, from which he awoke by rolling out of bed onto his sword. However, his actions had continued as though he was in a dream. Was that not the very definition of madness, inability to tell reality from fantasy?

What should I tell him?

He broke the silence. "What do you think my dream means?"

This was easy, I interpreted dreams for civilians at least daily. "It seems to me that you fought against an embodiment of evil, showing your inclination to be a good man. But more evil constantly arose, showing that you don't know if you can defeat it all."

"I can guess that much myself. I wanted to know what it means to have that dream come true."

I was startled by this. "Come true? Did you dream this dream before the battle as well?"

"Yes. I've had this dream many times before. At first it was an unseen evil, then it was one of those creatures, then it was many of those creatures. It progressively gets worse." He looked into my eyes. "As I see worse of the world, the dreams show worse to me. One level of it came true. Does that mean they all will?"

Now he believed he dreamed the future. I rubbed my forehead. Was he truly insane? Was he a danger to others? And I am alone with him. Is he a danger to me?

"Dreams only show the future by coincidence. The future is not yet written, so it cannot be seen."

He smiled. "Thank you. That is reassuring." He began to stand, so I did. We shook hands and he began to leave.

"Dyluk? What were you discussing with the girl?"

He stopped and turned. "Her name is Celesia."