Chronicles of Fire: Rise of the Elementals

By J.P. McNeill

Jake Wadsworth had never heard of The Elementals. He appeared to be an ordinary seventeen-year-old who attended Greenville High School, had a girlfriend, and was captain of the fencing team, but what Jake didnt know was that he himself is an Elemental. He is able to create and control fire. The only person who knows the truth is his mother, but Jake has never met her.
Jake learns the startling truth on his eighteenth birthday when he is given a scroll, which was discovered with him when he was found abandoned as an infant. The scroll warns of an ancient cult, known as the Order. Eighteen years previous, the Order had successfully murdered all of the Elementals or so they thought. Jake, is the only one that remains.
Now Jake is all that stands in the way of the Orders evil scheme to resurrect their dark mistress from her ancient prison.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456726782

J.P. McNeill

The Chronicles of Fire, Rise of the Elementals is J.P. McNeill’s debut young adult novel. J.P. is a graduate of Wentworth Military Academy and Kent State University. A freelance writer, J.P. lives in Ohio where he separates his time between his writing website, McNeillink.com and working on the second book in The Chronicles of Fire Series, The Scepter of Souls.

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© 2011 J.P. McNeill. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 4/5/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-2677-5 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-2678-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-2679-9 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010919588

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

For my family, who inspires me in everything I do, especially my mother. It is because of you I write this story now. This, in secret, is our story.

For Jerry McNeill, the man who was a true inspiration in my life.

You will always be remembered.

And

For Connie, Julie, Nikki, Jackie, Natalie, and Zepher who heard the story first.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

The Musketeers

Chapter Two

Practice

Chapter Three

The Match

Chapter Four

Darkness

Chapter Five

Dr. Roan Orbit

Chapter Six

The Order of Darkness

Chapter Seven

Homecoming

Chapter Eight

Birthday

Chapter Nine

Truth

Chapter Ten

Fire and Snow

Chapter Eleven

Elemental

Chapter Twelve

Final Farewell

Chapter Thirteen

In Plain Sight

Chapter Fourteen

The Librarian

Chapter Fifteen

An End

Chapter Sixteen

Lost Love

Chapter Seventeen

Taken

Chapter Eighteen

Desperate Attempt

Chapter Nineteen

Elemental Stones

Chapter Twenty

Reunion

Chapter Twenty-One

Avenging the Fallen

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rise of the Elementals

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Prologue

Maybe you can’t change the world, but you can change the people you meet, and change them for the better. Jerry McNeill

November 25, 1992

St. Michael, the Protector Church, Greenville, Ohio.

Father Walter O’Malley was unusually restless this night and he felt that a walk around the churchyard might calm his nerves. His black jacket clung to him, soaked from the relentless rain and the cold autumn air causing the hair on his neck to stand on end, but the weather didn’t bother him. He couldn’t break his mind from his dream.

For the past two weeks, he experienced nightmares. Each so real he would wake up panting and covered in a sweat. The dream was always the same. He would open his eyes and he was enveloped in darkness, feeling as if he were suspended in mid-air. No matter how loud he shouted, there was no sound except for the echo of his own voice. He was alone in the void. Suddenly a piercing screech came from overhead. The sound was better described as a shriek from some large carnivorous animal on the hunt. The sound pierced Father O’Malley’s mind like a hot iron spike. The creature slowly emerged, its murderous red eyes set on making the man its next meal.

O’Malley could feel the creature’s hot breath on his face. It reeked of rotten flesh and death. He could almost imagine the creature’s jaws slowly closing around his helpless body, but before the creature could devour him a faint group of lights began to glow around him. As the lights glowed, the traces of a melody began to play. O’Malley counted five lights, and each glowed like a gemstone in a brilliant light, but these stones were giving off their own light, each a different stone, emerald, sapphire, ruby, diamond, and opal. The creature shrieked as the emission of light struck it. O’Malley felt like his head was going to explode, and then there was silence. He would wake up in his room, alone and shaking. What was this creature and why do I keep having this dream?

A cloaked woman crouching over the steps of the church broke Father O’Malley‘s train of thought. She was humming the melody from his dream. Just hearing the soothing song caused a wave of relief to flow over his troubled mind. The cloak she wore was velvet. It was as pink as rose in full bloom and was trimmed in a golden thread design that the priest had never seen before. O’Malley faced the woman in awe, unable to speak, not wanting to speak. Finally, he gained control of his senses and tried to speak to her. Are… are, you okay, Ma’am? He finally asked.

The woman stood upright facing him. Her face was shadowed in the darkness of the night and the cloak. She was of average height, but that was the only thing average about her. The cloak shrouded her entire body, hiding most of her features. The hood of the cloak was drawn over her face, hiding all but her ivory pale chin and her full rose-red lips. She did not speak; she just stood there, frozen in time.

She’s not a part of the congregation, O’Malley thought to himself. He could see out of the corner of his eye that on the steps was a large wicker basket. He turned his attention on the basket for only a moment and then looked back to the woman, but she was gone. The priest darted down the alley adjacent to the church, hoping to catch her; but as he rounded the corner, there wasn‘t a single trace of her. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked back to see what had been the focus of the woman’s attention. The basket contained an infant swaddled in a fire-red blanket. Father O’Malley stared into the infant’s amber eyes; he was at a loss for words. The child was motionless, staring up into the old pastor’s eyes. Also resting in the basket was a scroll made of some sort of rough leather.

Who are you, little guy? the old man asked the boy as if he expected to get a response from the child. The child surprised him when he looked over to a note attached to the basket. Father O’Malley plucked the note out of the basket. The note read this:

This is my son Jacob. Because of unforeseen circumstances, I am unable to protect him. Please watch over him and do not tell him about anything that has transpired this night until the day of his eighteenth birthday. The scroll must not leave the church and cannot be opened by anyone but Jacob on his eighteenth birthday. The date is a week past. On this date, present him with the scroll, which will provide him with the path to the truth of whom he is and why I cannot be with him. I beg of you, inform no one of the scroll including Jacob. It is of the utmost importance that you keep all that has transpired this night a secret for his safety. I want you to let my son know that his mother loves him dearly, and I hope that the day will come when we can be reunited once more.

Sincerely Clementia.

Father O’Malley read the note twice before he picked up the basket containing the child and headed into the warmth of the church. He decided to call the rectory housekeeper, Joan Wadsworth. Joan had been working for St. Michael’s for the past eighteen years and was well known within the small community. She would know what to do with the boy. Joan arrived less than twenty minutes after receiving the call. Her slate gray Oldsmobile sputtered in protest as she pulled up to the curb. As she approached the door, Father O’Malley was already waiting for her. In his arms, she could see the child that her pastor had recently spoken.

How is he? she asked. She was barely audible over the torrent of rain outside.

He is still sleeping. He hasn’t made a sound since I found him.

May I see him? She stretched out her arms to grasp the child. Father O’Malley nodded and handed the boy over. Joan cuddled the baby in her arm, smiling gently at the peacefully sleeping infant. What are you going to do with him?

That’s why I called you here, Father O’Malley said eagerly. I have no idea what to do. I thought of handing him over to the authorities, but that was against the mother’s wishes. I wanted to know if you could think of any family that would be willing to take this child in and care for him.

The room was silent for several minutes; and then Joan spoke up, Well, you know that my husband, Jerry and I… she paused, looking away, her cheeks were red with embarrassment, …could never have children of our own and I know that he would support me in the decision to adopt this child. Her voice trail away and she looked into the face of the dozing child and then into the priest’s face; her aged eyes behind her wire-framed spectacles gave a look of longing that he knew he couldn’t refuse.

Ohhh… muttered O’Malley. This was a much-unexpected turn of events to an already strange night. Umm, well, if you want to take care of him, I see no reason why you and your husband should not.

Are you sure? Joan asked, feebly attempted to hide the excitement in her voice.

Of course. Do you need anything to take care of him?

Well, actually yes…

It was another hour before Joan had all that she would need to take care of young Jacob from the churches supply garage. Father O’Malley waved goodbye from the rectory as he watched Joan drive away, eager to show her husband the newest member of their little family.

Father O’Malley slowly staggered to his room, exhausted from all of the night’s occurrences. As he exchanged his clothes for his pajamas, he looked to the end table beside his bed. There sat the scroll. He noticed for first time a strange fire-red ruby talisman connected to the scroll. He walked over to the table and picked up the scroll. Turning it around in his hands, he looked it over. The ruby glimmered as if it were alive. The intensity was breathtaking. As he peered into it, it reminded him of the ruby in the darkness. He shuddered, thinking about the nightmare that hadn’t crossed his mind since the strange encounter with the mysterious woman and the finding of young Jacob. Taking a deep breath, he sighed with relief as he took the scroll and placed it in the far back of the drawer of his nightstand, sure that it would not be disturbed for the next eighteen years.

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Chapter One

The Musketeers

Grandpa stood at my door. His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear any words coming out. I could only hear the monotonous voice in my headphones. I pulled them off. What’s up? I asked.

Whatcha listening to?

"Just a book for school."

Grandpa rolled his eyes. You know, back in my day, we actually read the books instead of having someone read them to us.

Didn’t you also walk five miles to school, up-hill both ways?

Grandpa chuckled at my remark. That’s right. Just like you’re going to be. In five more minutes.

I looked at the small clock sitting on my dresser and realized that he was right. Crap it’s 7:30 already?

You got it. I came to tell you that Ben called and said he would be here in a few minutes. With that, he turned and left my room. I could hear his heavy work boots announcing his presence with every step down the hall towards the kitchen. I tossed my iPod in my pack and darted down the hall. Grandpa and Grandma were sitting at the small metal folding table in the center of the kitchen, each with a steaming hot cup of coffee, focusing intently on the seven, small wooden tiles sitting in a rack in front of them; each tile had a letter on it. The game of Scrabble had been a favorite past time for them since before I was born. Grandma always won.

I had asked my grandfather about this when I had been younger. With a hearty laugh and a twinkle in his eye, he told me It’s better to lose to her in a game and let her think she won, than to beat her and have her sore at me for the rest of the day. That was my grandfather, Mr. Chivalry.

Well, good morning, Jake! my grandmother sang in her raspy voice, her eyes never breaking the concentration from her game pieces.

Good morning, I replied.

MAP Grandpa announced, in triumph. That’s double word score, which is fourteen points. He continued, obviously very pleased with himself.

Nice play, my grandmother said, not even phased. You better get going, kiddo, or you and Ben will be late, tell Ben we said hello.

I will, I promised as I headed out the door, grabbing my old letterman jacket from the pegs holding it suspended by the door. As I was slipping on my sneakers, I heard my grandmother shout, ZIPPER! I wheeled around in enough time to see my grandfather’s face of victory disappear into a face of despair.

Ha-ha, that’s a triple letter score and a double word score on a Z that’s a total of 78 points. Grandpa just gave me a reassuring look and then winked at me. "

See you later, I called as I headed out the door.

Bye. Love you, they called in unison.

Ditto, I’ll see you tonight.

Hey man, hurry up or we are going to be late, Ben called from his yellow Mustang. It had been a sweet-sixteen birthday present from his parents, and what a birthday gift it had been! Within the first week of receiving the car, Ben had been pulled over and ticketed for speeding. He had been clocked going thirty over in a sixty-five zone. Of course his parents got him out of trouble and footed the bill.

I don’t think that is possible, not the way you drive.

Ben throttled the engine in agreement. It was only a five-minute drive to the school when Ben was behind the wheel. I threw my backpack and duffle bag into the back seat of the car and got in. No more than a second from the moment the door was closed we had taken off down the street. So, are you ready for practice today?

You don’t have a chance, if that’s what you’re asking.

I don’t think you’re going to beat me, Ben was unable to hide the anticipation in his voice. My instructor taught me a new series of moves which should keep you on the defensive, allowing me to obliterate you.

I wasn’t going to worry about it; Ben was without a doubt one of the best fencers on the team. His parents had hired a former Olympic trainer to assist him in his technique, but he still couldn’t touch me.

We arrived at school five minutes before the morning bell rang and headed off to our separate classes. Probability and Statistics was my first class of the day, and it felt like a trip to the dentist. Mrs. Craven, the teacher, was a woman of small stature; she had a voice that could shatter glass. Her high-pitched shrill reminded me of nails on a chalkboard.

Everyone, take your seats, The Craven, as the student body had nicknamed her, screeched. I grudgingly moved to my desk. Mathematics was my Achilles heel and as a senior I was required to take an elective math course. When Ben had selected calculus, I thought he had finally gone over the edge. I had picked probability and statistics, even though it was math, I had to admit that it kept me interested. For the past week we had been learning about the probability of receiving a high card or a low card in the game of blackjack.

How are you? Ellen asked.

I’m good, I replied in a whisper so I wouldn’t draw The Craven’s attention.

So you ready for the match? I could barely hear Ellen over the shrieking of Mrs. Craven describing the odds of cards dealt in poker.

I think so. In truth I hadn’t given much thought to tomorrow’s fencing match against the Littleton Knights.

What do you mean, you think so? The question was loud enough that it caught The Craven’s attention.

Do I need to separate you two? Mrs. Craven asked.

No, Mrs. Craven, I quickly replied. Ellen had asked me to explain the rules of poker to her. I lied.

Mrs. Craven stared at each of us for a moment, she wasn’t buying it. Ms. Marks, there is a diagram on the back of the handout that lists the hands in poker,

That was close. Ellen whispered.

For the rest of the class period, Ellen and I sat, listening to the odds of receiving specific hands in poker. When bell finally sounded, Ellen and I quickly rushed out of the room to meet up with Ben by our lockers.

We’ve been practicing for the past two months for this match and you are with out a doubt the best with the épée and you say you think you’re ready!

I’m not the best…and besides you mop me up with the saber every time. Her eyes lit up at the compliment. It was true. When it came to the curved, dull, slashing weapon. I was mincemeat before her. Ellen was the only girl on the team, but she held up her end. The team hated it when the coach paired them up to spar with her because it meant that when they lost, they would be the targets of ragging until a new person fell before her blade.

Hey guys, Ben shouted over the roar of lockers slamming and conversations of hundreds of students at Cavern High. Ellen and I snaked our way through the crowd to where Ben stood. You two look cute enough to be a couple.

Ellen thrust a sharp jab into Ben’s right shoulder. Ouch, okay, I was just kidding, Ellen just shot him a wicked look. The three of us had been friends since freshman year. We spent so much time together, both fencing and hanging around at Ben’s Estate, as we called it, that the town had dubbed us the three musketeers.

So, Ben thinks that he’s going to beat me in practice today.

You have a better chance of sprouting wings and flying, Ellen choked out in between laughs. You haven’t even scored more than four points on Jake in the last twelve bouts,

I guess it’ll be a pretty good show when I beat him, then, Ben snapped. Ellen’s comment had obviously struck a nerve.

I’m just kidding, Ben. I’m sure it’ll be a good show.

The four-minute warning bell suddenly sounded over the hysteria. Well, I’ll see you two in lunch. I snatched my government book and homework and tossed it into my backpack.

Lunch, my favorite class! Ben said.

Yeah, we’ll see you later. Ellen began pushing Ben towards their Spanish class. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your comment, Ben. Tonight it’s going to be just you and me at practice. I couldn’t help imagining the look on Ben’s face after she had mopped the floor with him in front of the rest of the team.

When the lunch bell finally rang, I was relieved. Government class was normally interesting; but today Mr. Thompson forced the entire class to watch School House Rock and sing the I’m just a Bill song.

When I got to the cafeteria, I began looking around for Ben and Ellen. There wasn’t a trace of them anywhere. That wasn’t unusual. Ms. Kensington, the Spanish teacher, often wouldn’t let certain students leave the classroom until they had described a picture or some object in the room entirely in Spanish; knowing Ben, that could take a while.

I decided to just get my food and meet Ben and Ellen at our usual table.

Hey, Jake, you ready for the match Friday? I turned around to see Cory Walker, a freshman of small stature, both physically and socially. His appearance didn’t help any. Cory was a military brat and it showed. He wore thick, military issue glasses that gave him the appearance of a geek, his flat top haircut made his head look like a square.

I was annoyed with the topic. Sure. I hoped the conversation about the competition would just end there, but it didn’t.

There’s going to be, like a dozen teams there, including the Knights. The Knights are the number one ranked team in the state. Cory rattled on.

It’s no big deal, It wasn’t that I was overconfident in myself, I just didn’t care. I had other things on my mind. Homecoming was quickly approaching and I still hadn‘t worked up the courage to ask Ellen. I bought my burger and fries and headed over to the lunch table. Cory trailed behind.

By the time I reached the table, Ben and Ellen had arrived. Ben’s face burned with frustration; and by the look of Ellen’s terrible attempt to contain her laughter, I could tell that Ben had a difficult time with Ms. Kensington in Spanish.

How can you expect me to know the capital of Mexico? Ben asked. Do I look like I live in Mexico?

At this point Ellen lost control and started rolling