by Jeff Kish
The town is eerily silent. While the darkness and emptiness aid his stealth, he’s nervous his movements will be heard breaking through the quiet as he approaches his target. The structure he had seen from the hilltop covers a footprint several times the size of the surrounding homes. He finds guards patrolling the front of the facility, and at least one is on the roof. Despite the danger, Era finds himself exhilarated as he finds the southern wall of the fortress and shapes an opening large enough for him to enter. After verifying no guards witness his intrusion, he enters and seals his entrance. No sooner does the hole close than he hears muffled voices approaching, and he ducks into an empty room. Though focused on hiding, he cannot help but eavesdrop on their conversation as they pass by.
“The Fireman, eh?” one of them asks. “They sure aren’t messing around.”
“Neither is the prince,” his companion responds. “The bosses have really done it this time. If the military actually shows up, it will be a crazy battle.”
“No offense to the Allerian military, but they don’t stand a chance against the Fireman!” The voices grow faint as they move away. “He should really bolster our…”
Quiet once more, Era ponders the tension in the air as the soldiers conversed, and how they didn’t seem concerned about his earlier duel. If they are still looking for him, he must be a lower priority than whatever else is going on. The notion is almost disappointing.
He leaves his hiding place and continues onward until he finds a stairwell. Basements are rare enough when a structure isn’t made from caked earth, and it’s suddenly clear why they had such a talented earth shaper among their ranks. Assuming they have a few more around, there is no limit to what they could construct.
He descends the stairs, trying to quiet his racing heart as he is besieged by flashbacks from his failed barracks raid. He hurries down an empty hall and creeps up to an open doorway, where he discovers two soldiers chatting at a table inside. Though he tries to hurry past, he hears one of the occupants cry out, “Who was that?” followed by the shuffling of feet. Instinctively, he reverses direction, slips into the occupied room, and slams the door behind himself.
“H-Hey! Who are-?” is all the first can say before Era clocks him across the head with a blunt earth club.
The other clumsily draws a sword while screaming, “WE’RE UNDER ATTA-!” before he’s also silenced as Era jams the club into his stomach, and he falls to the ground, gasping for air as Era sharpens his weapon into a blade. “I’m looking for my friend,” he says aggressively. “Where is she?”
“Your… friend?”
“Yes! Where do you keep your prisoners?”
“D-Down the hall and on the left,” he stutters while pointing with a shaky hand.
Era turns to leave, but a thought crosses his mind. “This town… it’s quiet, and you have a fortress built into the middle of it. Everyone around here is tense. What’s going on?”
The young soldier meets Era with disbelief. “You’re Valvoran, right? You really don’t know?”
“Pretend I don’t and tell me.”
“You invaded a Krypta base!” he hurriedly exclaims. “We’ve been on guard for several nights because we think the prince is going to lead an attack on us. They even sent the Fireman to defend our stronghold, though all the upper ranks evacuated.”
Even Era is surprised at how readily the young soldier divulged so much information. “Just who is this Fireman everyone keeps talking about?”
“A Krypta special operations officer,” he explains. “He just arrived tonight, along with a small entourage of reinforcements.”
“And Corpit Luk?”
“Corpit? He’s gone, along with the other bosses.”
Era sighs, realizing their bad luck has struck once again. “I’ll kill you if you step out of this room, so don’t try to follow me. Got it?” With that, he leaves the room and shapes the adobe wall so the door won’t open.
Following the talkative Krypta agent’s directions, he soon finds the prison room with his partner chained to the wall within. “Jem!” he whispers as he rushes to her side.
She offers a weak smile. “About time, Era…”
Jem is trapped near two other scraggly captives in the spacious prison cell. This organization is apparently accustomed to taking prisoners, considering the numerous torture devices lying around the perimeter, which causes him further alarm. “Did they hurt you? Tell me what they did!”
“Just took a few punches. Nothing grotesque,” she replies, realizing the décor might indicate otherwise. Finding her strength, she urges, “Now get me out of here!”
“Us too!” one of the other prisoners pleads.
“Yes, yes! We have families!” shouts another.
Era glances back to Jem. “Should we save them?”
“Heck no! These creeps can’t keep their feet to themselves,” she sneers. “I had to bruise them before they stopped coming after me.”
One of them grimaces. “Gal’s got a sharp kick.”
“Tell me about it,” Era agrees. “She also has a strong punch, and don’t you dare think of-”
“Focus, Era!” Jem interrupts. “The guard has a key, but I don’t know where he went.”
“Forget the key. Just pull the chain tight,” he says, brandishing his weapon.
“There is no way you can slice through this,” she argues. “It’s tempered steel!”
“Let me try.”
Though resistant to the idea, she relinquishes and pulls one of her chains tight.
The earth shaper pours his efforts into sharpening his blade, striving to summon the strength he discovered hours earlier. He strikes the chain with all his might, and a deafening clang rings out. “Yeow!” he exclaims after the deflection, dropping the earth and shaking his hand. Though he fails to slice through, the damage is significant.
“Told you…” Jem says, failing to hide her surprise at the near success.
“One more time,” he says as he gathers a new sword.
Fascinated, she pulls it tight once more. Era lets loose another chop, and this time the chain breaks in two.
Now panting, Era again drops the earth sword and rubs his hand against his leg while collecting his breath. “That takes… a lot out of me.”
Jem dangles her broken chain in disbelief. “Era, since when can you slice through steel!?” He doesn’t offer a response.
“Come on, sonny!” one of the other prisoners complains. “You can set us all free like that! Don’t be so cold!”
He winces at the thought and persistently reforms his sword. “Sorry fellas, I think I only have the strength to free this one.” To Jem he says, “Pull the other chain tight.”
Jem starts to oblige, but she suddenly shouts, “Era!”
The corner of his eye finds a brilliant burst of flames incoming, and he reshapes his sword into a shield to protect himself. When the fire dissipates, Era lowers his weapon to find a masked soldier standing in the doorway, his hand grasping a bulky rune still aimed at the intruder.
“I know not your intentions, little thief,” the new arrival bellows, his chin raised. “However, I can assure you of one thing. You have just been found out by…” With dramatic flair, he thrusts his index finger at Era and shouts, “THE FIREMAN!”
Chapter 12
Era has no words as his brazen opponent seems content to silently point. The stranger is dressed in tanned leather, with thick boots and a cloth scarf pulled loosely over his mouth and neck. Thick googles protect his eyes, and he sports an orange, wool cap.
Regardless of anything else, Era realizes how cornered he is. The clamor from even a brief skirmish will bring the rest of the base rushing down on him, and, being in the basement, he cannot simply tear down one of the adobe walls and escape. To complicate matters, Jem is directly behind him and could end up in the line of fire should his opponent unleash another flamethrower.
The newcomer suddenly gets shoved from behind. “Hey! I can’t see!” a voic
e cries out. “Let me in!”
With an exaggerated sigh, the Fireman moves to the side, allowing a youth about Era’s age into the room. The Allerian has bright orange hair that hangs loosely to his neck, and his manner of dress is similar to the Fireman, though he lacks the goggles and cap. “Wait, just one guy?” he asks in disappointment.
“We must be ever vigilant, my overanxious pupil,” his instructor rebukes. “This one intruder may be a military scout. We will capture him and make him tell us everything he knows.”
“He’s Valvoran,” his apprentice points out. “He can’t possibly be with the royal forces.”
“That is why we’ll question him!” the boisterous Fireman exclaims before readdressing Era. “However, first thing is first. Little thief, you may not have that prisoner! Find your own prisoner and leave ours alone.”
“She belongs to me,” Era says as he sharpens his blade. “Let us leave or I’ll cut you down.”
“Tsk, tsk,” he replies. “I’m afraid I can’t simply turn my back on your actions, little thief.”
Era’s eye twitches at the repeated use of the name. “Little…? I’m pretty sure I’m taller than you.”
“He is,” the apprentice affirms.
The Fireman crosses his arms. “Irrelevant! Now, Garn, I want you to run upstairs and get reinforcements.”
“Then why did you insist on sneaking down here with me in the first place?”
The Fireman scratches his cheek and admits, “Because it would have been embarrassing if I’d told everyone there were intruders and happened to be wrong.”
“You’re too obsessed with your image.”
“That’s because I’m the Fireman.”
“That’s not a reason!”
Amidst the distraction, Era subtly winks back at Jem, who pulls her chain tight as he heaves a strike into it. The link splinters and pulls loose, but it fails to break. He raises his sword to make another go at it when the fire maker unleashes another barrage, which Era again manages to block by shaping his blade into a shield.
“Ah ha! An earth shaper!” the Fireman exclaims as ceases his assault. “You see, my pupil, it is important to study your opponent. These kinds of observations can be the difference between life and death.”
“Then why didn’t you notice him use that exact defense earlier?” Garn retorts. “And for crying out loud, he’s holding an earth blade!”
“Precisely! Excellent observations,” the Fireman declares as he draws a sword. “Well met, little earth-shaping thief, but I’m afraid our fun must come to an end.”
Era restores the shape of his sword as his body tenses. If the officer has half the talent he boasts, this is going to be a challenging fight. Fortunately, the exuberant interloper seems intent on challenging him without calling for support. While still gripping his blade, Era rests his knuckles on the ground and starts shaping the earth below.
The Fireman cracks his neck from side to side while stretching his arms. “Remember, Garn. A proper stretch will save you a nasty cramp later. Best to warm up!”
“Just give me some fire! I’m ready to go!”
“But you aren’t fighting, remember?”
“Oh! I mean… Give me some fire, I’m cold?”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” his teacher asks as he enthusiastically blasts his student with a flamethrower. Era cringes at the sight, but the fire shaping apprentice remains unharmed as he expertly compresses the explosion to a manageable size. The dancing flames stick to his fists like glue, and he claps his engulfed hands in excitement.
“Now, stand back and take copious notes, my apprentice,” the Fireman says as he steps toward his opponent. “This should be an educaaaiiiiiieeeee!!” he shrieks as he plunges into a sinkhole.
Jem’s jaw drops, and even Era seems surprised with how deep his trap goes. They finally hear his victim hit the bottom, and his groans echo from the small crevice. Era glances to his partner and cracks a smile. “Okay, that was easier than I thought it would be.”
However, the apprentice doesn’t seem concerned. If anything, he appears excited by the turn of events. “I’m impressed you took out my master. You’re quite the strategist,” Garn compliments as he readies a stance, his fists ablaze. “Let’s see how I stack up!”
Hoping for another quick confrontation, Era stands and readies his blade, shaping it into a dull surface. For the first time, Era notices the bright orange eyes begging him for a challenge. A chill goes down Era’s spine as he’s reminded of Di’s explanation that eye discoloration is indicative of a rare level of elemental talent.
Anxious for action, the fire shaper flings a fireball at Era, who bats it away with his sword. However, the fireball remains attached to Garn’s hand via a trail of flames, and it whizzes back at Era, who barely notices it in time. He deflects it again just as Garn throws another searing orb at Era’s head with his other hand, which he barely dodges.
Garn dances backward while reeling in his fire, and he forms a wall of flames that pushes Era to the back of the room. The one-armed earth shaper pounds the adobe wall with his palm and shapes the earth in front of him to rise and protectively trap him in the corner. His hand still on the wall, Era closes his eyes and feels throughout the room. ‘It’s all adobe… It’s all attached…’
“Come out!” Garn shouts, but the ground at his feet suddenly begins to tremble. He leaps backward just in time to avoid a pitfall that opens up as Era drops his barrier. As Garn regains his footing and starts to reel his flames back in, the ground under his foot raises sharply, and it’s all he can do to catch himself with one hand on the wall.
“Now I gotcha,” Era mumbles to himself as the wall swallows Garn’s hand the moment it makes impact.
The flames on the entrapped hand are instantly extinguished, and the fire shaper struggles with all his might to yank himself free. “Stop using the room as a weapon!” he yells as he surrenders to his shackle and, with his free hand, flings a wave of fire at Era, forcing him to abandon his position.
The moment Era removes his hand from the wall, Garn is able to yank his fist free. However, now with half the flames he previously had, he realizes he’s at a disadvantage. With a devilish grin, he snatches the lantern off the wall and smashes it. The oil violently ignites in his hands, and the blaze tears through his clothing as he works to contain it. “Can’t make a fire without burning a few shirts!” Garn exclaims.
Even from across the room, Era has to shield his eyes as the burst of energy stings his skin. He can’t help but think back on his encounters with the fire shaping Valvoran commander. While this opponent seems to lack the experience of such a military veteran, his shaping skills are certainly comparable. Suffocating from the heat, Era has no choice but to retreat to the corner and bury his face against the wall.
“I thought you were strong!” Garn cries out amidst the roar of the flames. “You’re the earth shaper from earlier, right? I heard you shaped a man’s fingertips right off!”
The exclamation alarms Jem, who has been applying ice just to cool her skin and remain conscious. She looks to Era with wide eyes, wondering if it could be true.
“I’m so disappointed!” Garn exclaims while approaching the cowering earth shaper, enhancing his flames with every step.
Suddenly, Era heaves a mass of shaped dirt straight at his approaching opponent. Before the fire shaper can give it any thought, he brings his arm up to deflect the projectile, which turns to loose sand by the time it hits him. As he tries to recover, he realizes that, despite the intense heat, Era is on top of him, his earth club reformed. Garn jumps backward just in time to avoid a strike to the side of his head, but Era swiftly follows up by spinning around and jabbing him in the gut.
Garn falls to his knees, the air knocked out of him, and Era mercilessly kicks him backward. The fire shaper falls to his back and loses control of the flames, which dissipate into the air. The sudden loss of intense light causes everyone to momentarily lose their vision, so Era lea
ps onto his fallen opponent in the darkness, ready to make a clean knock-out with an earth-encased fist.
“I give, I give!” Garn squeaks out as he covers his face, still gasping for air.
The temperature rapidly drops, and Jem stops covering herself with ice while breathing deeply. She strains her eyes, uncertain how Era pulled off the victory.
As Garn’s eyes adjust, he realizes how Era made his assault. The earth shaper’s face is covered with a thick mask of dirt. “How are you… Are you shaping that with your face?”
Era stays his hand and cautiously gets off his victim, allowing the mask to crumble. “Get your hands against the wall.”
“Alright, alright,” Garn relents as he gets to his knees, still coughing. He places his hands against the adobe surface, and Era rests his palm on the ground and again sucks Garn’s hands in to his forearms. Impressed, Garn twists his head around and says, “You are strong!”
Still panting, Era again wipes his brow with satisfaction. “Same to you. Don’t pull your hands out or I’ll knock you senseless.”
“I’m good!”
“Great job, Era!” Jem shrieks with relief. “Now get me out of this thing!”
Though exhausted, Era reaches to the ground to reform his sword, and Garn’s jaw drops as the cloak slides aside to reveal his injury. “No way! You only have one arm?”
The maimed warrior rolls his eyes. “You really just now noticed? We’ve been sparring for five minutes!”
“I was just trying to fry you to a crisp,” he admits, a little too honestly. “Geez, how did I lose to a gimp?”
Opting not to continue the conversation, Era strikes at Jem’s chains, this time severing them and setting her free.
“Finally!” Jem exclaims, though she frowns at the shackles still on her wrists. “I think we still need to find that key, though…”