Knights of the Sun Chapter One

Note: This is the first edited draft of Chapter One, not the final print edition.


 Smoke.


It was everywhere.


Watching movies as a boy, Dr. Pete Standon's preconceived notions of fire were blazing flames and freakish heat, but this was definitely the worst part; all this smoke. Raphael's hospital, where Pete worked, had been engulfed with this infernal smoke for hours, though to Pete it felt a lot longer. No one had yet been able to inform him of the cause of the fire; no doubt once everyone was safe and this cursed event had been investigated they would be told about the hospital's poor electrical system and wiring. Pete had been attempting to rescue patients from the second floor, which was mostly occupied by patients sent from the E.R., suffering non-fatal injuries but still needing observation.

He was on that floor now, helping an elderly gentleman sporting a bandage on his right ankle. The gentleman was not Pete's patient, so he did not know his name; he could only offer support in an impersonal way, and it felt wrong to him. In his mind, however, he had already nicknamed the man 'Mr. Limps', as a way to encourage himself to carry this man out of the fire. Mr. Limps was a little overweight, a couple of buttons of his blue striped pyjamas had come undone around the belly area, exposing a patch of hairy flab, his hair was very thin on top, his ankle straining with the weight upon it.

As the two struggled down the corridor on the second floor, Pete could barely see more than a few inches in front of him. Only when he felt others bumping into him as they ran, or he heard them screaming as they scrambled past, did he know that there were other survivors in the hospital, and once he had this information, he vowed to himself that every one of these patients would be joining the others in the fresh air. The shrilling of the fire alarm really wasn't helping matters, for it was near impossible to keep shouting encouragement over it and breathe at the same time. The noise coming from the fire alarm was just that: noise—a noise that was quickly becoming unbearably painful, with a loud, almost hiss-like quality, and it was hurting Pete's ears, to the point where he actually wondered if they might be bleeding.

"I'm sure it didn't sound like this when the fire started. Must've been listening to it for too long," he thought to himself.

Panic was slowly subsiding as he and Mr. Limps made their way to the fire escape—Pete knew they were almost at the door because he could see the black smoke being sucked through the small open space as if it too were trying to flee. They stepped outside and were at once greeted by glorious sunshine and flawless blue sky. Pete took in deep breaths as a paramedic rushed up the spiral metal staircase toward them and helped Mr. Limps down. The man turned in Pete's direction and for the first time Pete could see his eyes; they were a deep brown colour and Pete found himself wishing he had gotten to know him, for his eyes possessed intuition and wisdom. He bestowed Pete with a gentle smile of thanks, unable to verbalise his gratitude.

Now, the older gentleman and Pete were also assisted down the spiral staircase, which clinked and clanged as they made their way down, and he was finally able to observe the scene below him. There were three bright red, shiny fire engines placed around the hospital, at least eight ambulances and five or so police cars. All of the vehicles had their lights flashing, which, after having only black smoke for company, almost looked like fireworks. But the things that struck him most—and made him almost as sad as he was scared—were all the people; hundreds of people. Patients, doctors, nurses, paramedics, police, fire fighters; all running in different directions, some even colliding with each other, yet continuing on their way. Raphael's hospital of Seattle, was no longer the harmonious environment that Pete had looked forward to working in every morning, it was pandemonium; chaotic and frightening. He knew from surveying this scene that his beloved city would never be the same. Never again would it feel like the blanket of safety that he had grown to appreciate.

On a new grass area next to the hospital's far too small car park and surrounded by tall trees, patients and staff unable to walk were sitting or lying. Many of them had their faces in their hands, some were crying, some were shouting but the majority of them were holding onto one another. As Pete watched them comforting one another, he too felt a need to connect with someone and draw comfort from an embrace.

But then the moment passed and the shrill of the fire alarm brought him out of his contemplations, his brown eyes snapped open and he remembered the people inside. Running down the stairs, he grabbed the arm of the first official he could see, it was a police officer, a very bulky man, still wearing him sunglasses, shouting and gesturing for people to move aside.

"There are still people inside!" Pete shouted and pointed to the building.

The policeman briefly looked down to Pete, and then back up toward the chaos, he dipped his head and shouted, "Sir please keep moving! We're doing all we can."

"But they'll die! They can't see where they're going! Please go help them!" Pete was desperate. He knew this man could do nothing himself, but surely he could ensure the right people would go and get them? The policeman looked irritated, and grabbed Pete by the arm, their faces only inches apart; even with his sunglasses, Pete could tell he was being looked straight in the eye. The voice was calm, clear and almost threatening.

"There are plenty of people out here that need help. We are doing our best. Move to one side or help the injured. Either way, stop bothering me. I'm busy."

He released Pete's arm and continued gesturing people to move away from the fire escape, shouting instructions to other members of the rescue team. Pete looked at the police officer once more, then surveyed the scene around him. Everyone was running to help, trying to serve, to protect and rescue and here he was, being told to 'move aside'. With that, Pete Standon made his decision. He turned back toward the hospital, toward the clanging spiral staircase and the fire escape. The police officer grabbed his arm in an attempt to stop him, but Pete just yanked it back and ran up the staircase two at a time.

As he stepped through the fire escape, he was met by more smoke. There seemed to be so much more smoke now, his white shirt was grey and his tanned face was black. He squinted as he tried to home in on the desperate voices.

"Hello? If you can hear me, walk toward me! I'm a doctor…" His calls were interrupted as he broke down coughing and gasping for air. He put his hands over his mouth but to no avail; he was struggling for breath. Still he persisted forward, even though he could not see in front of him, the thick black clouds swirling around and filling the hallway. He was losing his balance; walking was becoming so difficult, his feet dragging like dead weights along the floor. He reached out with his right hand, his left covering his mouth and nose, but he could find nothing against which to steady himself—no wall or chair, just smoke, and as he strained to keep moving, his legs gave out. Pete crumpled to the floor. The shrilling of the fire alarm seemed impossibly loud now, his ears burning from the noise and he couldn't breathe. Why were his eyes closing? He didn't want them to, he needed to get up. He tried in vain to lift himself using his elbows but they collapsed and he was flat on the floor, no sound of people running past,  just him and the infernal shrill of that fire alarm.

Then, very gently, almost in slow motion, a hand touched his; the softest fingers glided over his, gripped his hand and began pulling him up. His legs were suddenly strong again; they had stopped shaking. He took in a long deep breath and didn't taste smoke. He could breathe normally, although he still couldn't see. Squinting through the smoke, he could make out only a white blurry figure, with what looked like long dark hair but he couldn't name the colour. From the softness and size of the hand he suspected it was a woman. The most surprising and comforting thing of all was that he could no longer hear the fire alarm—had it been turned off? He heard nothing but a calm silence that filled the hallway, and as his rescuer gently guided him forward the smoke dispersed at her feet, slowly rising left and right clearing a path for her.

"Is everyone else OK?" Pete asked, fighting the urge to scream. He feared that the fire alarm may still be going off but he had simply gone deaf, he really hoped this was not the case. And what was that he could smell? The faintest hint of lavender—was it the smoke?

"They're fine Pete, just follow me." The figure didn't turn her head—she was speaking barely above a whisper but Pete heard her and continued to allow her to lead him toward the fire escape.

"You know me? Are you a doctor or nurse? What's your name?" These were strange things to be asking, he knew, but the questions were falling out of his mouth; he needed to know who she was. They were nearing the fire escape; he could see the smoke being sucked out again and sunshine getting closer.

"My name is Veil. Watch your step." As she spoke these words, Pete was outside, shielding his eyes from the too bright sun with his hand—the hand that Veil had been holding and now she was gone. He looked down the staircase as paramedics raced up to greet him; the shrilling had returned and he was feeling weak again. He allowed the paramedics to guide him down the stairs toward the ambulances. He didn't fight them, for he knew he needed oxygen, but he continued to scan the area in search of Veil and couldn't find her.

He was being led by a paramedic with long hair in a ponytail—a man with strong arms and hands, gently guiding Pete past the roar of people and vehicles to the furthest ambulance, where he was sat down and an oxygen mask placed over his face. The paramedic looked at him with concerned grey eyes and a soft smile. Pete took some deep, grateful breaths, his eyes once again roaming the area in search of Veil. When he looked back, the paramedic was gone. Pete pulled the mask from his face and stumbled out of the ambulance, frantically scanning the area, now searching for both Veil and the paramedic. There were so many people and it was hard to distinguish any facial features; everyone was beginning to look the same. He looked across the street, to where there were no people or flashing lights, and saw a small group of figures slowly walk away and turn down an alley. He recognised Veil immediately, her dark purple hair blowing in the wind and he could just about make out her profile. The other figures were doctors, nurses, firemen and the paramedic who had helped him in the ambulance. Pete ran across the street to chase after them. He was beginning to have difficulty breathing, but continued running faster and faster, until he reached the alley.

He saw no one. Just bricks and windows and trash cans. But he could smell something. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that smell, smiling as a wave of tranquillity filled him. The smell was lavender.

"Veil," he thought to himself. "What a great name."



They stood in their hundreds, a million miles from Earth, looking down at the hospital, people were still hurt and the building was going to need a vast amount of work in order to have it standing the way it was before, but the chaos had dissipated and no one was trapped. Shye took a step forward and smiled, the edges of his mouth meeting his blue grey eyes. He reached behind him and took the tie out of his hair freeing it from the ponytail—thick, wavy, chestnut hair that framed his face and tickled his broad shoulders. He glanced up in front of him and saw Dusk looking his way and smiling; he smiled back and noticed she too had returned her incredibly long blonde hair to its natural place, flowing to her hips and free to move in the breeze; Shye loved it most when it was like this; he loved to watch it being blown around. As he drank in all of her beautiful face, he stopped at her eyes: the clearest colour green, resembling a glass wine bottle when the sun shines through it. There was such vibrancy and happiness in those eyes, but also an element of regret and being withdrawal. Shye recognised those emotions, for his eyes reflected them everyday.

Reluctantly he drew away from Dusk and looked to the rest of his team, feeling an astounding pride for the group and what they had achieved. Many people in the hospital were saved today; the fire hadn't been anticipated—certainly not the amount of smoke that managed to weave its way throughout the entire building. But he and his fellow Guardians had rescued more than they thought possible and in time would return to help rebuild the hospital, but for now the rescue teams had it under control. Shye took in everyone who had landed back home; there were thirty altogether: a big group for a big cause. Everyone was pleased with what they had accomplished that day, and the first timers were talking excitedly about the roles they had played; various police officers, paramedics and doctors blending in on Earth if only for a few short hours. His gaze shifted from the crowd, to take in their home, Aureia. After all his years there, the beauty of it could still take his breath away; such a sense of peace.

Behind his team, stood the homes of thousands of Guardians, modest houses built with their own hands and resembling large huts, bunk bedded on top of one another, creating enough space for two families. There were no roads in Aureia; the small kingdom was placed between Earth and Heaven before Earth had a name, and there was one tall building—so tall, in fact, that no one could see the top of it, no matter how long they looked up at it. This tower was known as Unenda, miles away from the little houses, with no doors or windows and Guardians were forbidden from it. Shye was one of the few who knew the reason for this, because Sol had told him. Sol, the leader and creator of their world, was a Sun priestess, the last of her kind and for as long as she had ruled over Aureia, the city had seen neither sunset nor dark cloud. Sol created and kept it a place of eternal light; everything was touched by sunshine, no darkness and no shadows. That was Shye's favourite thing about Aureia; no shadows. He and almost every other Guardian were afraid of the dark, and forbidden to fly to Earth after sunset for this reason—not that Shye ever would, he loved being in Aureia and hated to leave, no matter how brief the trip to Earth was.

He turned his attention back to the Guardians that had returned to Aureia with him. They were all smiling and few had retracted their wings; he could feel his own wings, powerful against the breeze, moving gently against his back. Shye had one of the biggest pair of wings, almost 10ft in width and very impressive. Almost 30,000 feathers made up the wingspan and each feather had a tint of reddish brown, just like the colour of Shye's hair. Every feather had its purpose and each one helped him fly, if one feather of his wings was hurt in some way, every other feather felt the pain. At the hollow of his throat was a pendant on an unbreakable silver chain, the pendant bore a remarkable resemblance to his own wings and appeared to have every feather in place, just like his real ones, and when the light hit it, there were hints of gold and brown.

As Shye continued to scan the group and his home, he realised someone was missing; his brow was drawn as if angry, for one Guardian on that day's mission had behaved recklessly. It was his unwanted duty to chastise the individual and he knew their whereabouts: the Window. In the middle of Aureia, with a large, wide space surrounding it, was a gap in the clouds above Earth. Five miles in diameter, it allowed the Guardians to look down to Earth, to see those they were guarding and monitor progress on a mission. All Guardians were welcome to use the Window and it allowed them to see anyone, anywhere on Earth. He gently closed his eyes and with a grim smile on his face, he reached up and grasped the pendant to his chest and then pressed it to his heart. His wings began to glow with a bright orange light around them, then slowly disappeared as if receding into his back. When they were gone, he started walking toward the Window, knowing who he would find there.

All content Copyright © J P Walker.

Knights of the Sun is Book One of the Knights of the Sun Trilogy, by J P Walker - available for pre-order from September 2013, and from all good book stores from December 2013.

For more information / to buy a copy, please visit www.beatentrackpublishing.com/knightsofthesun.