Blaze (The High-Born Epic) (24 page)

Part II

“
The Journey”

Chapter 21

              Harold sat up and looked around the town circle as he wiped his red and swollen eyes.  The people of Foxx Hole were scattered all about in the town circle.  Many were still holding each other, and some were lying face down, still clearly weeping.  Others seemed to be passed out and laid motionless in the dirt and grass.  A few of the men were shouting at the top of their lungs as they used their fists to vent their anger on the sides of buildings and trees.  There was even one woman walking around, mumbling unintelligible words and phrases.  Strangely, she was actually laughing and dancing. 

             
Of all the people Harold could see, he felt the most pity for her.

             
He looked down at Sarah, and he didn’t remember when or how, but he and Sarah both had ended up lying on the ground just holding one another as they did their best to comfort the other.  He didn’t even know how long they had lay there amidst the sprawl of mournful villagers.  Sarah was coming to her senses and she looked up at him through her puffy eyes.  He didn’t know what else to do but stroke the side of her face.  She grabbed his hand and kissed it as though it was a precious gift.  He could see her tears returning, and he pulled her into another hug.  She embraced him tightly and made a couple more whimpers, and then composed herself.  She didn’t look at him, she just left her head on his shoulder, and she breathed calmly while he twirled her hair and held her.

             
His thoughts were starting to clear, and he looked around the circle again.  He didn’t pay attention to any of the wandering people, he just blankly stared.  A light wind blew in his face, and he saw something drifting in the air.  He gritted his teeth and looked at it from under his eyebrows as he reached out with his hand.  He didn’t even have to try to catch it...

             
...The piece of scarlet cloth simply floated into his hand... 

             
He slowly cut his eyes towards the fenced-in area, and the floating image of Colonel Foxx.  His feral gaze seemed to be pulled to it almost against his will.  Ground into the dirt at the base of the pyramid was a little ragdoll named Betsy.  As he stared at the doll, he listened to the wails of sorrow and crying all over the town.  He looked over the townspeople as he clenched the cloth.  His breathing quickened as tears of righteous anger began overwhelming him and a vision of storm clouds rolled through his mind.

             
As he looked across the stores, he passed by the blacksmith shop, and his eyes locked on it.

             
“Does your dad know what I can do?” he asked.

             
“No,” she said, still hiding her face on his shoulder.

             
He gently pulled her away from his shoulder, “Go tell him, and make sure he knows that you’re not loose-headed.”

             
“Why?” she asked with the look of a child that had just been disciplined.

             
“Do you trust me, Sarah?” he asked as he gently stroked her hair.

             
She nodded.

             
“Go get him and bring him into y’all’s shop, and lock the door so he can’t get away.  And don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt him.”

             
She looked at him strangely, and he just nodded as he stood up and helped her to her feet.  Harold heard a whimper to his left, and he turned to see Scape lying on his side in a pool of blood.  Harold sneered as he saw a trail of blood behind him.

             
“Ohhh, Scape,” Sarah said as she walked to him and knelt beside him.

             
She tenderly stroked his head and his wild, green eyes just blinked at her.

             
“Harold,” Sarah said as she looked over Scape.  “His leg is gone.”

             
“They shot it off,” Harold said as he knelt down by Scape.  “We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

             
Sarah was beginning to cry again, “How?”

             
Harold closed his eyes as he grappled with the torrent of emotion rushing through him, and he thought for a moment.  The wrongness of what had just happened, and the evil he had just experienced kindled the fire within him.  He poured his resolve into his hand, and a small flame blinked into sight just above his palm.  He opened his lightly-glowing eyes and gently placed his other hand over Scape’s eyes.  Then lightly pushed down on his head, and seized the wound with his fire.  Much to his surprise, Scape barely even flinched as his injury cauterized.

             
“Go get your dad,” Harold said as he cradled Scape in his arms and stood.  “I’ll take care of him.”

             
  Sarah nodded and she walked away looking for her father.  Scape nestled his head in the crook of Harold’s arm as they walked toward the outskirts of the town circle.  He quickly found a spot behind a house where no one could see him, but from which he could see the blacksmith shop.  He called to his fire as he pulled on the air, and with only a light rattle around him, he appeared in the forge.

             
It was mostly enclosed and he looked around.  There were several anvils of different sizes and many hammers.  There were all manner of nails and farm tools scattered around the shop.  Some of the tools looked like they had just been made and others were in various states of disrepair.  He took Scape to the back and laid him on the floor.  He looked around and quickly found some old burlap and made a bed for Scape.  After he placed Scape on it, he found a bowl and filled it with water.  He placed the water in front of him, and Scape lapped in it a few times.  Then he closed his eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep.

             
Harold then walked back to the forge to wait.  While he paced back and forth, he picked up many of the hammers, and examined them.  After several more minutes of just loitering around the shop, he decided to sit down. 

             
The memory of the mass kidnapping rolled over him, and he nearly started crying again.  He pushed the thoughts away, and he wondered what else the High-Born had been doing to people since the Forgotten Nations fell.  How long had they been perpetrating such atrocities upon people like him?

             
He heard the door open, and people entering the shop.  He took a deep breath and covered himself with flames, being careful not to damage his overalls.

             
“Don’t run when y’all come back here,” Harold said as he could hear them coming.  “I’m not going to hurt any of you.”

             
“Harold, we’ve had a bad enough night without—” Willie was saying as he walked around the corner and froze when he saw Harold.

             
Willie shouted and turned to run for the door, only to see Harold in flames in front of him.  Harold then doused his flames.

             
“Mr. Willie,” Harold said.  “It’s me, and you’re not crazy, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

             
Willie just looked at him wild-eyed.

             
“Will you help me or not?” Harold asked.

             
Willie looked around and pinched himself, and then said, “I must’ve done turned loose of my head.”

             
“No, daddy,” Sarah said from behind Harold.  “It’s just like I told you it was.”

             
“Mr. Willie,” Harold said.  “We really don’t have time for this.  And we’ve all had a bad night, but I can and will get the children back if you help me.  So, will you help me or not?”

             
Willie looked at Sarah, and back to Harold, “Do it again.”

             
Flames slowly covered Harold.

             
“How do you keep it from burning you overalls?” Willie asked.

             
“Believe me,” Harold answered as he doused his flames.  “It wasn’t easy for me to learn.”

             
“What is it that you want from me, Harold?” Willie asked.

             
“The story that you used to tell to Sarah and Scott about Tiger-Man and Wolf-Man is real, isn’t it?”  Harold asked.

             
“Yes, it is,” Willie answered.

             
“I don’t really know what it is I need from you but it has to do with them and this forge,” Harold said as he gestured around him.

             
Willie’s eyes widened, “How do you know about them?  I haven’t brought any of the pieces out in over a decade, and no one but wife even knows about them, not even the kids,” he shook his head.

             
“I don’t know how I know, I just know that I know,” he replied.

             
Willie thought for a moment, and then he suddenly began to scratch his beard.

             
“How hot can you make yourself?” Willie asked.

             
“As hot as I need to,” Harold answered.

             
Willie looked around as if thinking hard about something, and then he looked at Harold.

             
“I’ve never been able to shape any of them because I could never make them hot enough,” Willie said.

             
“What?” Harold asked.

             
“The things you need,” Willie smiled.  “I’ve got to go to the house.  In the meantime, Sarah, get the spare billows ready.”

             
“Which ones?” she asked.

             
“All of them,” he replied as he moved to the door, clearly excited, “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he stopped in the open doorway, “And fill all of the buckets with water.”

             
Sarah looked at Harold with a surprised smile, and Harold shrugged as they both began doing as he had said.  Harold walked to the well and began pumping, and watched the water fill the first bucket.  Sarah began placing the billows around the main anvil.

             
“You better put them farther back than that,” Harold said.  “I can keep most of the heat right around me, but if I lose my concentration, I may accidentally burn y’all, if y’all are that close to me.”

             
Sarah nodded and began repositioning them.

             
By the time the fifth bucket had been filled, Aunt Nean and Annie-Jane walked through the door.  Aunt Nean and Annie-Jane each had a large, metallic, glistening cylinder that tapered down into an almost needle-like point.  They carried them on their shoulders and they seemed to be fairly heavy, but the women moved with them with only a little bit of difficulty.  The metal was so bright that it nearly seemed to be a warped mirror.  They sat them down.  Aunt Nean’s face was red with effort, and though he could tell she had been crying, he could see that the sorrow was now being pushed back by something else.  He looked at Annie-Jane, her jaw was firmly set and he could hear her muttering angrily.

             
“Willie needs your help outside,” Aunt Nean said.  “He’s in the back.”

             
When Harold walked outside, he didn’t see Willie immediately.  But he looked down the road and he could see Willie dragging something.  He was using a sled, and was making progress, but very slowly.  Harold jogged to him.

             
“I believe that even a High-Born would have trouble moving this thing,” he said pointing at the sled.

             
A large piece of metal was laying on it.  The piece was about as tall as Harold was, and nearly that wide.  It was curled at one end and all of the jagged edges had been blackened.

             
“What is it?” Harold asked.

             
“It’s a piece of the tank that I saw the tiger man and wolf man tear off,” Willie answered as he stood up to take a break.  “My father, and my brother, and me were able to drag it off before more High-Born showed up and took away the wreckage.  I’ve hidden it for years, trying to figure out how to forge it, but I need hotter fires, and machines.”