Blaze (The High-Born Epic) (18 page)

             
“It doesn’t burn you?” she asked.

             
“It’s strange,” he said.  “I can feel the heat, and I can feel it get hotter and hotter, but it doesn’t burn, and it doesn’t make me sweat.”

             
“That is weird,” she answered.

             
He twirled the stick around for several moments, but then it suddenly burst into flames and fell from his hand in ashes.

             
“I figured I’d practice on sticks until I had it figured out,” he said.  “Because I’ve burned up two pairs of overalls already, and three pairs of these burlap shorts.”

             
“Try it again,” she said.

             
He found another stick and surrounded it with flames, trying to keep them above it.  Sarah walked around him, looking at the stick.  She twisted and turned her head as she looked at it.  Then she grabbed his arm and held it still as she studied it more.  Suddenly, the stick caught fire, and fell from his grasp.

             
“Do it again,” she said.

             
Harold picked up yet another stick and surrounded it in flames.  He let her turn his arm like she wanted, and she moved it around for about a minute.

             
“You focus the flames above the stick, right?” she asked.

             
“Yes,” he replied.

             
“Hmmm...” she said as she crossed her arms and rubbed her chin.

             
The stick fell from his hands in flame and ash.

             
“Daddy always says fire doesn’t make heat,” she said as she picked up another stick.  “He says that heat makes fire.  Maybe if you tried to control the heat and not the flames.”

             
Harold almost felt how correct she was.  She tossed him the stick.

             
“If that doesn’t work,” she said and raised her hands.  “Then I don’t have a clue.”

             
He focused and called the flames to his hand.  They licked up and down the stick, and almost immediately, Harold’s perception changed.  He could almost see something inside the flames.  They were so small and tiny that he doubted he was seeing anything at all, but they seemed to move in response to his thoughts.  He focused on those things, and he felt them moving toward the stick, but he pulled them back into the flames.  They kept trying to radiate out of the flames, but as long as he thought about it, they didn’t move.  It was actually easy after just a few moments of practice.

             
“That’s it, Sarah,” he said, and started laughing.  “You did it!  I’ve just been focusing on the flames, not the heat that makes them.”

             
“Glad I could help,” she said, smiling.

             
He held the fire around the stick for several minutes, and then doused them.  He stepped back from Sarah, and smiled.

             
“Sorry to spoil your chances to see me burn them off,” he said as he leaned his head back and opened his arms.

             
He could feel the heat coming as he called to it, and he pushed it just above his skin, being careful to give extra protection to his shorts.  Fire erupted all around him, and he looked down.  His shorts were still there.  In fact, it was much easier to control this way.  It was almost as effortless and as natural as breathing.  Controlling the flames was like making himself breathe in a certain rhythm, but focusing on the heat was like allowing his body’s natural rhythm take over.  It reminded him of just letting his breathing happen—it tended to work better.

             
He got a running start and began tumbling through the forest, flames flickering and bouncing around him, and suddenly he flipped high into the air and vanished.  He appeared about ten feet above and behind Sarah and she turned to watch him land perfectly on his feet.  He stood there with his arms crossed, fires blazing, and clothes intact.

Chapter 16

              They walked back into town hand-in-hand, laughing and giggling.  Harold noticed that the sun was still well above the trees and it would still be a while before dark.  As they walked back towards her house, Harold thought he saw that same look she used to give him a couple of times.  The road was not too busy, but many of the people of Foxx Hole were on their porches, and they waved to several of them as they continued walking to her house.

             
When they walked onto her porch, Scott ran out of the front door.

             
“Hey, Harold!” he half-shouted.  “You wanna’ see somethin’ neat?”

             
“Sure,” Harold replied as he saw Cooper coming down the hall.

             
Scott snagged his hand and began pulling him down the road, back in the direction from which he and Sarah had just been.  Harold looked at Sarah who was shaking her head and laughing.

             
“Sarah,” Scott said.  “You can’t come, but go tell momma that we won’t be long.  ‘Cause I’m really hungry.”

             
“Okay,” Sarah replied.  “I’ll let her know.  Y’all be careful.”

             
Scott broke into a light run, and Harold had to quicken his pace to keep up, and Cooper wasn’t far behind them.  They darted down the road, and Harold could see the people just rolling their eyes as they saw Scott coming.  They all just stepped out of his way, and shook their heads at his exuberance.

             
After a few minutes, they broke through the woodline and Scott was still going strong.  Harold was right behind him, and Cooper was nipping at Harold’s heels.  They jogged for several more minutes with Scott making an ever-so slight bend to his right the entire time.  Harold just kept following, and just when he thought they were going to start seeing the signs telling them that the detection grid was less than 200 yards away, Scott stopped.

             
He looked around, pointed at a very large pine tree, and said, “This is it.  This is the place.”

             
Scott walked to the tree and took ten steps.  He stopped and began wiping away leaves to reveal a large slab of wood.  He bent down and pulled it back, and motioned for Harold and Cooper to follow him as he walked down a staircase.  Harold raised his eyebrows and followed just behind him.

             
The stairs went much farther than Harold expected, and soon they were nearly thirty feet down, and he heard a metallic thud.  Scott was pulling on something that looked like a door, and it rattled open.  Then he pulled a candle out of his pocket.

             
“I usually bring something to light this with,” Scott held it up to Harold.  “But since you was with us, I figured that you could do it.”

             
Harold snapped his fingers and the candle blinked to life.

             
“I’ve got a couple of torches down here,” Scott said.  “So we’ll be able to see everything better.”

             
Scott walked into the darkness carrying the candle and Harold could see that it was a very large room because the candle’s light did not reveal any walls.  Harold and Cooper watched as Scott walked out into the darkness and turned to his right.  Harold saw a metallic wall come into view and he saw something hanging on the wall.  Scott rose to his tip toes and lit the oil lantern, and it immediately lit up a vast portion of the room.  It illuminated so much that Harold saw the other torch on the far wall. 

             
“Hold on, Scott,” he said as he reached for the flame on the top of his candle.  Harold flicked his wrist and a small orb of fire flittered through the air from the candle and struck the torch.  Instantly, the room came into full view, and Harold was surprised by how much it actually illuminated.  Harold looked around and realized that it was quite large.  He could see several open boxes whose contents had long since been used.  Either side of the large rectangular room was lined with bare shelves, and near the back of the room sat a large table with about a dozen chairs around it.  At the back of the room was another door that Harold suspected held a bathroom behind it, and line against the rear wall were five empty beds all separated by partitions of stacked boxes. 

             
Scott nodded at Cooper and he went to the shelves where Harold could see several dozen books lying.  As Cooper pulled one of them off the top, Scott said, “Okay, Harold, Cooper told me that you want to be in our secret-base club, but first you gots to swear that you won’t say nothin’ to nobody about it.”

             
“I promise, Scott,” Harold said.

             
Cooper walked up behind Scott and took the candle from his outstretched hand.  Harold felt himself beginning to smile.  In the candlelight, he saw that Cooper was also holding something else as well.  He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but then Harold saw him give Scott a burlap bag. 

             
Scott reached inside and pulled out two pieces of ratty burlap with sticks poking out from all over it.  Scott handed one to Cooper, and then began pulling and twisting on his.  After a moment, he shook his head and took Cooper’s away and gave him his.  Then, he began pulling on the one he had taken from Cooper while Cooper fumbled with his own piece of burlap and sticks.

             
The boys finally stopped blundering around with the pieces of cloth, looked at each other and then nodded.  Then they put them on their heads, and they vaguely resembled helmets.  One of the sticks in Scott’s helmet stuck out at an odd angle, giving the little boy a slight look of madness, and Harold found himself beginning to giggle.

             
“This is serious, Harold,” Scott said, his eyes suddenly getting very large.  “It’s like when the Golden Samurai and the Emerald Knight meet the old wizard.”

             
Scott nodded to Cooper and he pulled out another piece of burlap and sticks.  Cooper then walked to Harold and motioned for him to bend over.  Harold obliged and Cooper placed it on his head.  Harold could see his shadow on the wall, and judging from how it looked, he had to appear loose-headed.  Scott reached into the bag and pulled out two sticks.  Harold noticed that they had smaller sticks tied at the bottom of them.  Then he realized that they were makeshift handguards.  Scott held up his stick, and nodded to Cooper who then raised his own.

             
“Kneel before me and be knighted, Harold,” Scott said.

             
Harold did so and Cooper handed him an old book.  Harold noticed that it had dried mud all over its crumpled pages.  Harold caught a glimpse of numerous drawings, and things that looked like bubbles full of words inside its pages as Scott flipped through it.  He finally stopped flipping pages and was deep inside the book.

             
“Repeat after me,” Scott said as he raised his sword with his right hand and held the book in his left while reading from it.

             
“I do hereby solemnly swear to be loyal to the powers of good, and not shy away from the forces of evil whenever and wherever they assail me.  I shall plead the plight of orphans, widows, and the poor.  I shall feed the hungry, and I shall defend the helpless and protect the innocent from the powers of tyranny.  I shall defend the honor of my lady, and I shall honor my family.  And, with all of my heart and soul, I shall fight the battles that others cannot because that is the destiny of my power.”

             
Harold lightly gulped as he repeated the last of the oath.  Scott then tapped Harold on the right shoulder.

             
“I dub thee, Sir Harold,” Scott then tapped him on the left shoulder.

             
Harold lingered for a moment, and then Scott said as he looked at the book, “Oh yeah, sorry, there’s more...  Now go forth in the name of all good folk, and slay the dragon that lurks in the dark places of the world.”

             
Harold watched as Scott and Cooper stepped back, and brought their sticks across their chests and bowed their heads to him.  Scott then stepped forward and gave Harold his slightly curved stick.

             
“Rise, Sir Harold,” Scott said.

             
Harold stood up, holding the stick.  He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a terrible sense of responsibility as he looked at the two little boys’ idolizing eyes.  Harold called to his fire and flames licked up and down the make-shift sword in his hand.  He could see the wonderment and amazement in their gaze as he doused it.

             
“This is a nice sword, Sir Scott,” Harold said.

             
“Yeah.  I made it like the one from the Golden Samurai and the Emerald Knight, ‘cause they practice sword fighting with each other, and they figure out that the Golden Samurai’s sword cuts better than the Emerald Knight’s sword.  But the Emerald Knight knows more fire magic than the Golden Samurai.  So, the Golden Samurai makes the Emerald Knight a katana blade.  The book says that a katana blade was the best kind of sword you could have.  Anyways, ‘cause he’s happy ‘bout his new sword, the Emerald Knight teaches the Golden Samurai more fire magic, and they go off on their quest to find the dragon.”