The Boys of Fire and Ash

by Meaghan McIsaac

  “Urgle!” I heard Digger bark. “Stay away from there. Let Crow work.”

  I ignored him and quickened my steps. The man had to be pretty old. He looked old. He had as much hair on his face as he had on his head, and his throat bubble was more pronounced than any I’d ever seen. How old would that make his Little Brother?

  Crow’s hands and forehead were stained with the man’s blood as he dabbed at the wound. He hadn’t noticed me.

  “Crow,” I said.

  “Hand me that.” Without taking the time to look at me, he pointed to a clean rag at the edge of the Platform.

  I did, then continued. “Crow, anyone recognize this guy?”

  That made him look at me. “What? No. Why? You know him?”

  “No. Does anyone?”

  Crow just stared at me blankly.

  “Urgle!” Digger was on his feet, making a beeline for me and Crow. “I said let him work!”

  “Work this,” I growled, and showed him my bare arse.

  Crow threw his arms out over the unconscious man. “Cover that up, Urgs. I’ve got a sick Brother here!”

  Before I could, Digger made it to the Platform and put me in a headlock. “Wanna show off your backside, eh, Urgle? Well, then get on up here.”

  He may have been lanky but he was still pretty strong, and as his bony arm crushed my windpipe, he hauled me up onto the Platform to show off my naked cheeks to the whole A-Frame. Everyone broke into laughter at the sight of me and all I could think about was chucking Digger’s stinkin’ Leaving Day present into a Hotpot.

  Crow wasn’t laughing.

  “He had a good point,” Crow said, his attention ever on the patient, even though Digger and I were putting on a pretty amusing show.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” said Digger, ignoring my desperate clawing at his arm.

  “Brother,” I gasped.

  “Speak up, Urgs!”

  I pushed my voice past the force on my neck. “His Little Brother!”

  Digger released me and the whole A-Frame went silent. The eyes of all the Ikkuma Brothers were on me…and my bare arse.

  “Keep it down, Useless!” yelled Fiver, followed by a few scattered snickers.

  I felt my cheeks burning. I was blushing in front of everyone and I scrambled to yank up my Larmy skin.

  It was at this point that Digger decided my question was worth asking, and then, like it was his idea all along, he addressed the Brothers.

  “Does anyone,” he yelled in his best leader voice, “know the Little Brother of this man?”

  Silence.

  “Does anyone,” he tried again, “know this man?”

  “It’s hard to know what he looks like,” said a little voice, “with that beard.”

  Cubby was right. The man had a full-blown bushy red beard that covered half his face. Not to mention how filthy and bloody he was. It would be hard for anyone to recognize him.

  “Shave it off?” Digger whispered.

  “What?” I said. “You mean should we shave it off? Or are you asking me to shave it off?”

  “You know how to shave?” asked Digger, raising an eyebrow.

  “You’re the one with the face fluff on his chin!”

  “I don’t shave it!”

  “I’ll shave him,” said Crow. “Get me a knife. And round up all the Big Brothers. If anyone is going to recognize him, it’ll be them.”

  —

  It had taken Crow a ridiculously long time to hack off all that facial hair; the Little Brothers had fallen asleep by the time he’d finished. Crow had left a number of new cuts for the guy to add to his already impressive collection of wounds, but at least now we could see him.

  All the Big Brothers, there were about thirty of us, huddled around the comatose stranger. We stared. I racked my brain, trying to remember all the faces of Brothers that had left.

  “I know him,” said Shroomers.

  We all turned and stared at the chubby fifteen-year-old. He had his head down, shifting his feet.

  “Well?” Digger was impatient. “Is he your Big Brother?”

  Shroomers shook his head. “Cole’s.”

  Everyone froze at the name. Cole was dead.

  No one spoke. I didn’t know if they were all taking a moment to remember Cole or what, but I figured we had to get on with it.

  “Well, that explains why no one recognized him immediately.”

  Av shot me an angry look. I guess that was insensitive.

  “What’s his name?” asked Digger.

  “Blaze.”

  FOUR

  My bleary eyes blinked open and I stared groggily into the dark. Something had startled me out of sleep, and I groaned when I realized what it was—Cubby.

  Awake the kid was annoying enough, but asleep he was worse. Every night over the last few months he’d wake me up with his coughing fits, hacking up snot and phlegm over and over in his sleep. It was a common thing in the Ikkuma Pit. Some of the Brothers’ lungs just weren’t built to take all the smoke and ash flying through the air all day, and Cubby was one of those Brothers. I knew he couldn’t help it, but I felt like his stupid coughing was just another reason everyone thought I was so useless, just more proof for Fiver that I was a lousy Big Brother.

  I slammed my fist onto my cot and mustered the strength to get out of bed.

  I stood on lazy legs and wiped the cold drool from the side of my face, then reached for the little cup dangling from the underside of Cubby’s hammock. The hearth fire had died; the quiet hissing of the fading embers and the smell of smoke floated through darkness.

  Half asleep, I stumbled towards the back. The water holder sat tucked in a corner beside the Platform—a drink usually helped stop the little rat’s incessant coughs. He kept hacking and I could still hear him, his hoarse cough joining the din of snores, groans, and sneezes of all the Brothers.

  The muffled call of the pasty creatures sounded in amongst the noises, and I realized they were still out there, waiting. But what for? Blaze, I guessed. If they wanted him so bad, at least make a decision. Either come in and die or go back to wherever they came from. I just wanted that awful screaming to stop.

  Then I felt my foot come down on something soft, a sleeping body, and I shifted my weight to my other foot to keep from stepping on it. Too late. My confused lazy legs gave out and I came crashing down on a Brother.

  “Argh! What the Mother?” growled the figure beneath me. It was Fiver.

  I scrambled off him, scurrying like a frightened Cavy, hoping to hide myself in the dark. A punch from Fiver’s big ugly fist was like getting hit by the full force of a raging fire mountain. I wasn’t about to take that kind of pain in the middle of the night. He grabbed my leg and pulled me back.

  The feathery tickle of his curly hair grazed my hand and I grabbed a fistful, wrenching it.

  He growled and grabbed my hand, but I kicked his side.

  “Oof!” he coughed.

  I tried to step over him but my knee hit the edge of the Platform. I heard him shifting in the dark, searching for me, so I scrambled up onto the Platform on my hands and knees. That was when I remembered Blaze. I froze. All I could hear was Fiver’s growling.

  I felt around me, my hands only ever touching the wood of the Platform, never Blaze’s unconscious body. He wasn’t there.

  “Shh!” I snapped at Fiver.

  “There you are, you little—”

  I was afraid Fiver would pounce. My hand shot out in front of me and my palm slammed into his nose. He cried out.

  “Shut up!” I said again. “He’s gone!”

  “I’m bleeding!”

  I strained to listen, expecting to hear the stranger shifting in the shadows behind me. I had a sick feeling the two of us would be jumped at any second. But Fiver was groaning and sniffing, and it was blocking the background noise.

  “Urgle! I’m gonna kill you for this. I’m— Wait, who’s gone?”

  Finally the big oaf had heard me.

  “
Blaze,” I rasped.

  The two of us stayed frozen in the dark, our ears searching for any sign of the stranger.

  Nothing but snores, and coughing, and a mumbling sound.

  “Wait, hear it?” I whispered.

  The mumbling voice was gruff and deep, unfamiliar, not one of the Brothers.

  “I see you, I see you,” it hissed, “filthy demon Tunrar. Bah!” It was coming from near the entrance, along with the shuffling sound of feet. Blaze was up and he was moving.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Fiver.

  I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But if he was moving, Crow had fixed him good enough. He was feeling better.

  I scrambled off the Platform and headed for Crow’s sleeping space as best I could. I felt Fiver’s desperate fingers touching my back every so often as he tried to follow me through the dark.

  Again, the cry of the creatures somewhere in the distance invaded the A-Frame and my head knocked into the post that held up Crow’s hammock. My eyes welled with tears and I cursed as Fiver grabbed my arm and moved in close to me. He was panting, his rank breath wrinkling my nose. He was scared.

  I reached up and felt around, my hands landing on Crow’s sleeping face.

  “Hey! Hey!” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Wake up!”

  “Urgs?”

  “Yeah! Get up. Blaze is on his feet.”

  “What?” Crow was groggy, he hadn’t quite come to.

  Fiver scoffed in the dark and I heard a scuffle, then a body slammed against my shoulder and pushed me back.

  “Hey! Easy!” yelled Crow.

  Fiver must have grabbed him and pulled him down off his bed, because in that instant Crow was standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Blaze!” snapped Fiver.

  “He’s up,” I said. “Listen.”

  Crow said nothing for a moment.

  “Not the baby, not my baby, can’t let them have the baby.” The mumbling was faster now, rambling. “What have I done? What have I done?”

  At that, I felt Crow move away from me. He was headed for Blaze.

  “Hey! What are you—?” I knew Crow wouldn’t answer. When Crow was focused on something, everything else fell away from him. I reached back towards Crow’s sleeping space and felt around for anything. I felt a heavy pot, and clanged a bowl. Fiver figured out what I was doing and followed suit. Armed with cookware, we tried our best to follow Crow.

  It was tough, especially with Fiver’s clumsy hands constantly reaching out for me making me jump. I could hear Crow, a long way in front. My best guess was by the fire pit.

  Suddenly, a small flame lit up Crow’s face.

  “Psst!” He motioned to us, waving his little torch.

  Thrilled to have light, Fiver and I scurried over to him.

  “You better not break those,” Crow said when we reached him.

  I looked at the charred black skillet in my hand, then the wooden spoon in the hands of Fiver. We looked pathetic.

  Crow suppressed a smile and led the way.

  We passed the entrance, headed towards the front corner where Av and his Little Brother slept. The mumbling was easier to hear now, Blaze was close.

  “Beginning is secrets…. Beginning is lies!” Blaze’s outline appeared in the light of the torch. He was pacing back and forth, not far from Av and Goobs’s sleeping place.

  He was shaking his head back and forth, over and over. Crow broke away from me and Fiver, moving in for a better look. “Look at his eyes,” he told us.

  In the light of the torch I could see Blaze’s pale blue eyes, not fixed on anything, like he was looking inside, not out.

  “He’s asleep,” said Crow.

  Beside me, Fiver snorted a laugh.

  “Stolen secrets!” Blaze went on, pulling at his hair, scratching his neck. “Hidden victory! End to the Beginning!”

  “What’s the Beginning?” I asked.

  Crow just shrugged and reached out to touch him.

  “Uh…,” I whispered, “I’m not sure that’s the best—”

  As soon as Crow’s fingers touched the man’s arm, the blank eyes filled with consciousness, wild and confused. He grabbed Crow by the throat and threw him to the ground, torch and all.

  Fiver pounced just as quick, jabbing the spoon handle into Blaze’s side with his right hand, wrapping his left arm around his neck.

  Blaze grunted in pain but never let go of Crow, who was gurgling as he tried to breathe.

  Dumbfounded, I couldn’t move.

  I felt someone grab the skillet from my hand, and Av stepped into the torchlight. He brought the skillet down with an assertive thunk, straight onto the back of Blaze’s head.

  Dazed, Blaze released Crow, who rolled away, rubbing his neck and coughing.

  Fiver let go of Blaze and the man stumbled onto his hands and knees, trying not to pass out. Then I caught Av’s face: he was catching his breath through his nose, his mouth tight with anger. He wouldn’t look at me.

  “Way to protect your Brother. Big help there, Useless,” panted Fiver. “Thanks for that.”

  My insides withered. I was useless.

  FIVE

  I woke to the sweet smell of Larmy pig being cooked up in the fire pit. Pungent herbs tickled my nose. It was the smell of celebration. Excited voices, crackling fire, and sizzling meat filled my ears.

  I opened one eye and saw a group of Brothers tending to the fat Larmy roasting on a spit. Crow sat among them, picking at a sprig of herbs.

  That was when I remembered Blaze, his giant hand wrapped around Crow’s neck in the fading torchlight. My stomach churned and I rolled over, begging myself to go back to sleep.

  But I couldn’t. All I could do when I closed my eyes was see the night play out again and again. Crow gasping for air, Av unable to look at me. I’d just stood there, like a scroungee. And Blaze’s crazy eyes, his crazy words. End to the Beginning. Whatever that meant.

  The bed began to shake and the pots above me jingled as Cubby scrambled onto my cot.

  “What?” I grumbled.

  Cubby said nothing. He crawled up onto my legs and sat, his back resting against the wall as the circulation to my feet was slowly being cut off. I let him stay there, too exhausted and humiliated from the night before to bother with him.

  “Digger said we should all be celebrating,” said Cubby quietly.

  “Celebrate what? Blaze?” I laughed.

  “Yeah. The return of our Brother. He’s better today. Says those monster things were chasing him for days. Digger’s giving up the Larmy pig he was saving for his Leaving Day Ceremony to make this a real big occasion.”

  Never mind that the man attacked Crow.

  “Digger’s an idiot.”

  I turned my head and let my eyes drift over to him again. He was dressed different, I hadn’t noticed the new colorful hide draped over his shoulders. One of Blaze’s.

  The excited cheers of a dozen games taking place outside drifted into the A-Frame.

  “So why aren’t you out celebrating?” I asked. “Sounds like they’re playing Screamers out there.”

  Cubby said nothing, rocking his legs.

  “You love Screamers.”

  He still didn’t respond. I turned over and smacked him on the forehead. “Why aren’t you playing?”

  Cubby’s lower lip was trembling as he tried to dislodge his caught voice.

  “Fiver?” I asked. I could only imagine the hideous things he’d said to Cubby after last night.

  Cubby shook his head.

  “Wasted?”

  Cubby nodded.

  I kicked the kid off of me and rolled out of bed, ready to go give Fiver’s Little Brother what was coming to him. Wasted was becoming more vicious every day, and in that moment I had every intention of beating the Fiver out of him.

  “No! No!” said Cubby, desperately grabbing my arm and pulling me back onto the cot.<
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  “No what?”

  Cubby’s big eyes darted out towards the Brothers cooking the Larmy, right at Crow.

  I felt sick. I was pathetic, useless, and by now the whole A-Frame must have known it…and so did Cubby.

  He let go of my arm and stared at his fidgeting fingers.

  My throat had suddenly gone dry. “What’d Wasted tell you?”

  Cubby focused on his dirty fingers, deciding how to answer. I watched them too, having lost the courage to look him in the eyes.

  “He said…you were a coward—”

  A cold wave of shame ran up my left side.

  “He said…you would’ve let Crow die—”

  A wave up my right.

  “He said you were no Brother. And Av”—Cubby’s face was streaming with tears—“Av didn’t say anything. Av was right there and he—” He looked at me, desperate to understand. “He didn’t stop him. He didn’t say anything.”

  His big green eyes pleaded with me, begging me to tell him something, anything—that it wasn’t true maybe—but I had no words for him. What could Av say? He’d seen me with his own two eyes, standing there, watching Blaze attack Crow. A Brother wouldn’t just stand there. A Brother wouldn’t watch his Brother get attacked. A real Brother took care of his Brothers. So what did that make me? Wasted was right.

  I lay back down, facing the wooden wall of the A-Frame. “Just go play Screamers, Cub.”

  He didn’t. He stayed on my cot, sniffling. Miserable in our shame, the two of us sat together, unable to face the Brothers, all because I was a coward.

  I could hear him laughing—Crow—while he instructed his Little Brother, who was having trouble stripping herbs. I squeezed my eyes tight and there he was, gasping for air while Blaze held him tight around the neck. Blaze. My nostrils flared at the thought of him. The delicious smells that filled the A-Frame and the squeals and laughter outside were all for him. His scar marked him as a Brother, but it was him who tried to kill Crow. Didn’t anyone care about that?

  End to the Beginning. Those were his words while he slept. How many other lives had he tried to put an end to?

  A loud bang suddenly tore through the quiet. I shot up and waited, silently listening. Cubby was frozen beside me, the Brothers roasting the Larmy still as stone. The cheering outside had stopped, everything was at a halt. The sound had been deafening, like the Fire Mountains when they got angry.