Blaze (The High-Born Epic)

by Jason Woodham

  “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.”

  “What did Aunt Nean and Mrs. Annie-Jane have?”

  “I’m pretty sure that those are bullets that f
ell out of the tank somehow during the fight,” he replied. “They’re all made from High-Born metal.”

  Harold reached and took the chain from Willie. He began walking, and when the length of the chain tightened, he just leaned into it. Willie’s eyes opened wide as Harold practically ran with it. Once he was at the back of the shop, Harold reached down and picked it up as if it were a sack of corn meal, and walked into the forge with it.

  As he walked inside, he saw Aunt Nean’s and Annie-Jane’s jaws drop. Willie came in breathlessly behind him and he dropped it in the middle of the shop.

  “I can forge this, Mr. Willie, but I need your help,” Harold said with a seriousness that caused the adults to look at one another, confounded. “I aim to get the children back.”

  “You’ll get yourself killed,” Annie-Jane said.

  “I don’t know how I let myself believe this foolishness,” Aunt Nean said as she put her face in her hands. “I’ve lost them, I can’t lose you too.”

  Harold could see that they were beginning to lose their nerve. He knew words weren’t going to be enough to harden their resolve. So, he looked around and saw what he needed to change their minds.

  He walked to the largest anvil in the shop, squatted beside it, and lifted it. He held it out to them with only one hand. Then, he lightly tossed it to his other hand and back again as they watched in amazement. Flames rolled over Harold, and he stood there, silently, eyes glowing as his fire shone through the coming night, bathing all of them in bright light.

  Annie-Jane went to her knees, and put her face in her hands as she began crying again, but she didn’t take her eyes from the hope she saw standing before her. Silent tears ran down Aunt Nean’s astonished face, and Willie started laughing and crying at the same time. Sarah wiped her eyes and just smiled, proudly.

  Harold focused his thoughts on the anvil and it began glowing red.

  “I... will... get the children back. I didn’t know what to think when this first happened to me, but...” he hesitated as he looked at the others, “After tonight... I know that I am meant to fight the High-Born.”

  They all looked at each other, still in stunned amazement.

  “Mr. Willie,” Harold said, trying to force him into thinking. “What do I need to do to make a sword and armor?”

  “How are you going to fight them with only a sword and armor, Harold?” Aunt Nean asked.

  “He can do other things too, Ms. Nean,” Sarah said as the others turned to look at her.

  Harold flashed, and appeared behind them. They all turned and looked at him.

  “The armor is only for back up,” he said, and flashed back in front of them. “I doubt they’ll even be able to hit me. I want armor just in case.”

  “Mr. Willie,” Harold said again. “What do I need to do?”

  Willie shook his head, and said, “We’re going to need a bigger hammer than any I have.”

  Harold dropped the large anvil, and reached to it. The redness of it faded as a sliver of fire ran from it into his hand.

  Harold looked around.

  The shadows jumped as he walked to one of the smaller anvils and lifted it. He placed it on top of the larger anvil, and concentrated as he poured his fire over it. It was red hot in just a few seconds. Then, he grabbed it and began molding it with his hands. After a two more jolts of fire, and a couple minutes of molding and twisting, a red hot square piece of metal that resembled a hammer head sat there. He found a smaller hammer that he quickly melted. He stretched and pulled on it until it became a glowing cylinder a little more than two feet long.

  He plunged it into the square block and stepped back. He reached for the fires within it and pulled them to him. In the space of a few seconds, a cooled, anvil-sized hammer was laying in front of him. He lifted it and swung it around a few times.

  “Will this do?” he asked Willie.

  Willie finally seemed to be getting hold of his senses, “Yes, given as strong as you are, and how much heat you can make, I think it might. We probably need to start with the armor first, we won’t have to fold it.”

  “Fold it?” Harold asked.

  “We’ll worry about that when we start making the sword,” he said. “Can you cool the metal without water?”

  “To a point,” Harold said. “I can also feed the fire from within myself if needed, but it makes me tired. I won’t get as tired if y’all feed me air.”

  “Nean, Annie-Jane, Sarah, get on the billows,” Willie said. “I’ll man the water if we need it. Alrighty, Harold. Get that piece of tank armor up here.”

  Harold picked it up and laid it on the anvil in the position that Willie told him. After a few minutes of instruction, Harold heated the metal, and it took nearly a minute to get it hot enough to mold. He did his best to keep the heat around him, and for the moment, Sarah and the others seemed fine. Then he struck it, and sparks flew. The women pumped the billows, and Harold hit it again, and a loud bang sounded.

  An image of Ollie tiptoeing down the river bank flashed through Harold’s mind. Another boom echoed around them. He thought about Cooper the day they planted the seeds in the field. He shouted and another boom echoed. Scott wearing his burlap helmet and tapping him on the shoulders came to his mind. Sparks shot over the women as another boom cascaded. Willie gave some instructions as he poured some water over himself. Harold saw Maggie spinning in her dress, and the entire room rattled as the hammer clanged. Willie poured some water over the sweating women as he lent Harold his years of knowledge.

  Harold could see Cooper running for the gate holding Ollie’s hand as he made a hopeless attempt to get himself and his little sister to safety. Another shout echoed as the hammer thundered. ‘Fire-Man is my friend!’ reverberated in his ears as the hammer crashed down again. His eyes began glowing brightly, and a trail of liquid fire trickled down his cheeks.

  Willie occasionally poured some more water over himself and the women as Harold hit the metal over and over, sparks flashing every time the hammer clanged. Harold heard Maggie’s wail, and he saw her crying face and tear-filled blue eyes floating above the Kristall. The flames on him began roaring, and the shadows in the forge trembled around them as Harold’s light beamed through the darkness. He gritted his teeth and raised his hammer...

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  As the others used the billows to feed him air, they would sometimes glance at him... The thing before them was no longer a young slave from Foxx Hole... It was something else entirely... The blue and red flames racing over the fiery creature in front of them bespoke of an elemental force... And... It raised its hammer...

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It saw Willie’s sweating face tell it something. It grunted as it grabbed the glowing metal, and bent the metal to its will. Then... it raised its hammer...

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It was something more than human. It was a force of nature that would not be stopped. It was the flaming harbinger of a forming storm... And they... could hear its thunder...

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It could feel the source of its fire beginning to overtake its thoughts.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  The feeling was strange. It was powerful... And... It would find the children.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It saw Sarah sweating as she followed her father’s instructions.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It was vaguely aware of Willie pouring water over Aunt Nean.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  Long-denied justice burned within the creature as Annie-Jane wiped her brow.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  Red-hot metal yielded to its strength.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  It was aware of something going on in the town circle.

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  A blonde woman with puffy eyes looked to her left as she heard something, and a man in dirty overalls wiped his nose as he looked toward the blacksmith shop.

  A faint orange glimmer seemed to flicker from its d
oor.

  A distraught little boy with brown eyes whose best friend had just been taken tugged on his father’s hand and pointed.

  An orangish glow was coming from the blacksmith shop now.

  A man with a straw hat looked around, trying to find the thunder he was hearing. A little girl with green eyes hugged her grandfather as he pointed out the source of the noise to his wife.

  A bright orange light was burning furiously from within the blacksmith shop.

  Soon, the entirety of Foxx Hole was looking in the direction of the blacksmith shop, and they could feel slight tremors in the ground every time they heard the strange thunder...

  BOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

  Chapter 22

  About midnight, Harold looked up. Willie was soaking wet, but he was actually smiling and drinking a cup of water. Annie-Jane was sitting down in a chair, fanning herself while she drank water. Aunt Nean dabbed her own face with a handkerchief as she downed the last of her water. Sarah walked back in the forge with another pail of water, and handed Harold a mug.

  He drank it swiftly, and then another just as quickly. He filled his mug again and took a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair, and took a sip of water. He looked at the ground in front of him. Quite a bit of the metal still remained, and the various burned pieces littered the ground of the forge. He looked back to his right at their creation. Although it wasn’t a full suit of armor, it would cover a lot. All of the pieces had been blackened so that they would not reflect the light well.

  The shoulders of the chest piece were actually going to hang over some, and were going to provide some moderate protection for his upper arms. The forearm pieces had turned out very well, and thanks to some chains that he could tighten with a quick pull and snap, they would fit nicely. He also had hand guards with chain bindings as well. The girdle was made up of four pieces. It had a rectangular front and back piece and two square side pieces linked together neatly with several short links of chain. The thigh pieces fit under the girdle and could be linked with chains. Small knee coverings also hung from chains, and he had two shin guards that could be buckled with chains. Aunt Nean had just finished sewing pieces of metal onto Willie’s best pair of boots that fit Harold very well. His helmet was very rough and angular and rose from his chin to a point just in front of his nose, and fell from his forehead in another point, but the two did not touch.