Blaze (The High-Born Epic) Page 8

  The fire was acting like I felt, he thought.

  He concentrated on the flames in the tree.

  For a few seconds, he felt nothing, and then he perceived the fire around him in a way that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was another sense all together. The fire was an extension of him.

  He reached for the fire in the tree, calling it to him. The individual blazes suddenly leapt from the tree as if they were alive and came to him as a dog answering its master’s call. The flames coalesced into a small, fiery orb that hovered above his hand. He looked at it for a moment and could feel something coming out of him that was feeding it. It was strange, but he simply knew how to shut it off.

  The small fireball snuffed out of existence.

  Then he looked around. The fire that had begun at his feet had spread through the dead leaves rather quickly, and it just a few more moments it would be severe. It had radiated out from him in a near circle, and he was standing in the center of it. He concentrated, reaching with his mind, as extended his hand out in front of himself. The flames behind him circled and spiraled around his body to meet the flames in front of him, both jets of fire converging into one large fireball. He turned his palm over and regarded the popping fireball… He held it there for a moment… then he released it.

  However, he was still burning furiously. Thankfully, there was only moist dirt directly around him now, so the immediate threat of a forest fire was over. He searched with this newfound sense until he found the source of the fire. It was coming from within him, all throughout him, and all around him, all at the same time. It was a little more difficult to shut these flames down, and he failed on his first attempt. He was puzzled. Then it came to him.

  Harold placed his hands in front of himself and created a space in between them. Then he focused his thoughts on that spot. At first, nothing happened. Then, the fire on his chest leapt toward that point and he pulled on them. It was as if the flames were a bed sheet draped over him, sliding from both his head and feet toward the center of his body, and then contorting and twisting in on itself until it became a small iridescent, blue flame that he held in the space between his palms.

  It was so beautiful that Harold just looked at it. The blue flames were actually reflecting the surrounding scenery. It was like a sparkling mirror made of blue flames. It was almost hypnotic. He stood there, rolling it around, watching the glimmering blue fire always reach for the sky no matter which direction he turned it. He stared for about a minute and then remembered that he was naked.

  Then, he extinguished the luminous blaze.

  “Well,” he said as he looked down at his unclothed body. “Wonder how I’m gonna’ explain this.”

  Chapter 9

  Harold peeked around the tree. Only the field separated him from the barn. He looked across the open area toward Foxx Hole. Children were playing everywhere, and the surrounding fields were full of plowing farmers. There was no way he could make it across the field without being seen. He had managed to find some large ferns that did a decent job of making him modest, but he would have still been embarrassed to be seen in this condition.

  He thought for a few minutes while watching for anyone coming toward the woodline. He knew he could run very fast now, and if he waited until the right moment, he might actually make it across the field without anyone seeing him. It was quite a distance away though.

  “I wonder if I can disappear and reappear like I did at the river and a little while ago?” he whispered to himself.

  He thought about the river. He had moved the distance without even thinking about it. He had just simply needed to do it. When he was tumbling through the tree, he had been scared of the ground, and had just wanted to get away from it. Whatever the disappearing and reappearing was, it had happened almost by instinct. Harold pondered for a few moments. There had been a great deal of danger involved in the other two events, but there wasn’t any danger here, just embarrassment. However, he had learned to consciously control the flames just a moment ago, so he didn’t think there was any reason that he couldn’t learn to control this as well.

  But first he wanted to practice. He stood up and walked back into the woods. Once he had found a good spot, he looked farther down the woods to a point that was fairly open about twenty-five or thirty yards away. He focused his thoughts on the center of the open area.

  Nothing happened. He spun around, changing his position. Nothing happened. He reached out with his hand. Nothing happened.

  “Boom!” he said, while flinging open his arms.

  He didn’t move an inch. Then, he tried for a few more minutes with no more luck than he had already experienced.

  “This is going to be tougher than I thought,” he said to himself.

  He found a tree to sit against, and he sat there until he no longer felt frustrated. Then, he closed his eyes. He began taking deep breaths, and soon he felt calm. He listened to his surroundings. He could hear the birds chirping… the wind blowing… the leaves rustling… the children of Foxx Hole playing in the distance… he heard a forest critter, probably a squirrel, running far to his left.

  When he could hear his heart beating, he reached for source of the fire. It was all around him, and yet it came from within him as well. He could make himself start flaming now if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was strange: on some level, he had been aware of this sense his entire life, but had just ignored it. He was part of something larger. The air… the earth… it was all the same… he felt that he could move through it without actually walking.

  He could feel it more deeply now. He began pulling on the power he felt, drawing the two points in space together, using the source of the fire to help him. It was almost like he was stretching the air. Fire flashed in his mind as he felt the air burn, and he was vaguely aware of a momentary movement.

  He opened his eyes.

  He had done it. He had moved without moving. He wasn’t exactly where he had been looking, but he was very close. Probably less than a yard from where I wanted to go. He looked around, there was no fire this time, but there was black mark on the ground where he had just been. He checked under him, and found one there also, but neither spot had active flames rolling across them. He thought it strange that the other times it had happened, he had heard thunder and fire had been everywhere afterwards.

  At first, it didn’t make sense to him why it hadn’t happened this time as well. He contemplated the situation for a few moments. Then the answer came to him. He had been highly emotional the other times, and the thunder and fire had reflected his emotions.

  The fire acts like I feel.

  Controlled fire could make instruments of creation and life, like the farm tools Sarah and Mr. Willie made. And it could make weapons of death, like the vehicles the High-Born had. An uncontrolled fire could burn down an entire village or forest.

  Harold suddenly felt an immense responsibility on his shoulders. Fire can forge a better day, or it can destroy everything in its path. The fire in him was powerful, and it had to be respected. He had to control it. He could not allow it to control him.

  Harold focused on the source of the fire again as he chose another location. He stretched the air, pulling the two points together, fire flashed in his mind, and he felt the air burn again. And he was there.

  Then he tried it a third time and it worked yet again.

  For the next half hour, Harold flashed across the woods about three dozen times to various locations. Then, he felt he was ready to try to get across the field and he set out for his house.

  In a few minutes, he was staring at the barn from the just inside the treeline. Harold took a deep breath as he sat down. The barn was much farther than any of the distances he had practiced crossing. It was easily more than a quarter of a mile away, but probably not more than half a mile. As he crossed his legs, he closed his eyes and calmed himself. He took a few deep breaths and found the source of the fire. Then, he began reaching for the barn. He could feel it com
ing to him, but it wasn’t coming easily. He pulled harder and it kept getting closer. The strain was more now, but he still had quite a distance to traverse. He grunted with effort as the strain worsened.

  It was similar to swimming a long distance under water in that you could only go so far before you had to come up for air. Harold began growling as the image of the barn grew in his mind, but he was still not there, and he was straining so hard that he was beginning to shake. He started getting angry, and he tried to stop it, but it was too late. Flames burst over him. He heard thunder, and flames exploded in his mind.

  He felt a great shaking and he heard the mule braying. He opened his eyes, and found that he was in the barn… or rather, partly in the barn. He had not quite made it, and he noticed that he was sitting in a smoldering crater at the back of the barn. Part of the back wall of the barn had been burned around him in a perfect semi-circle. The mule was moving back and forth in her stable braying and kicking. Harold noticed that a great deal of the barn’s interior had been flash scorched, and some of the hay was on fire.

  He was on fire as well. He concentrated on himself to begin with, and extinguished the flames covering him. Then, he reached for all the other fires. One was on the mule, and the hay was about to be blazing. He pulled on the fire, and it came to him, flickering and fluttering like a stream of fireflies. The mule calmed almost immediately.

  “Good job, Harold,” he said to himself. “Everyone in sight probably heard and saw that, and you’re naked again.”

  A thought struck Harold and he found it almost immediately. An empty fertilizer bag sat in the corner. He ran to it, punched the bottom out of it and quickly pulled it around himself. Then, he sprinted as quickly as he could to the house, glancing from side to side as he ran. He was able to register that people were pointing at something far in the distance in the direction of the woodline. Apparently, they had heard or seen something from the spot that he had left, but they had not seen where he had landed. That was close, he thought.

  The window to his bedroom was almost always open, and he quickly climbed into his room. He hurriedly put on the overalls that Cooper and Ollie had gotten him. Then he calmly walked out of his room into the kitchen where he found Aunt Nean sitting at the table reading a book that he had never seen. Harold also noticed a complete scarlet-colored dress on the table along with some sewing supplies. She jumped in surprise, putting her hand on her chest.

  “You startled me, Harold,” she said. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought that you would be working on Jim’s field.

  “You didn’t hear that racket?” Harold asked as he pointed outside.

  “What?” she answered. “That thunder? Yes I heard it, but it sounded like it was a good piece from here. I don’t think that’s got any rain in it for us.”

  Maybe it’s not as loud as I thought. Then he remembered that he did have some control over it, but not total.

  “I’m finished with Jim’s field,” Harold answered.

  Aunt Nean looked at him suspiciously, “Hmmm... you finished it pretty quick, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “The mule was acting good today.”

  “Well,” Aunt Nean said. “It’s about time she did.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It is. You’ve finished Maggie’s other dress,” he said as he pointed at it. “You want me to take it to her now?”

  “It can wait a little while,” she said.

  He shrugged and asked, “What are you reading?”

  “It’s an old schoolbook,” she said.

  She had told Harold some years ago that all children used to go to something called school where they learned about many different things.

  “What is it trying to teach you?” he asked.

  “English, and the grammar that goes along with it,” she said.

  “Would you get in trouble if the High-Born knew about it?” he asked.

  “Probably,” she replied.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Well, Harold,” she said. “Probably because the High-Born don’t want us to know anything other than what they tell us. We are much easier to control that way. Dumb people are defenseless against the educated.”

  “Can you teach me?” he asked.

  “I can teach you some things,” she replied. “The things I don’t know, we can learn together.”

  Harold smiled as he sat down at the table.

  “This was my great-grandfather’s book when he was allowed to go to school,” Aunt Nean said. “I was told that his mother was an actual college professor.”

  “What’s a college professor?” Harold asked.

  “About the only thing I know is that they taught people who had finished something called high-school,” she said.

  “They went to school a lot in the old days, huh?” Harold asked. “They were lucky.”

  “Yes,” she said. “They got to learn a lot.”

  Aunt Nean and Harold then looked at the book for a moment.

  “Harold,” she said. “You can’t say anything about what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

  “I won’t say anything, Aunt Nean,” he replied.

  She looked around, nearly whispering, “I know some Algebra, and a lot of this English stuff.”

  “How?” Harold asked.

  “Our family has passed it along for generations. We can’t write it down on paper or anything because the High-Born might find it. And we don’t teach each other until we’re old enough to keep our mouth shut,” she said and put her finger over her mouth. “You’re old enough now, and I will start teaching you, if you’re ready to learn, that is?”

  Harold smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am. I want to know.”

  Aunt Nean smiled and then pointed to a sentence in the book.

  Chapter 10

  As Harold walked into the town circle, he looked at the scarlet dress in his hands and thought that it was perfect for a little girl. His thoughts drifted to the prior night’s lessons and he recalled the basics about subjects and verbs that Aunt Nean had taught him. While those fundamentals lingered in his mind, he glanced toward Mr. Willie’s shop. As Colonel Foxx’s image hovered over everything, Harold noticed that the shop keepers were closing for the day. Some were sweeping off their front doorsteps and others were wiping down their windows. He looked at the blacksmith shop for several steps and then turned his head back to road number two.

  Phil’s yard soon came into view, and he could see Maggie running around. She was giggling and chasing a flutter-bug. The bright yellow creature flew off into the sky while Maggie held up her hands. She stopped running as it flew out of her reach and stood silently, watching as it faded from sight. Her head darted from side to side as she tried to find something else to entertain her and then she saw the ant bed. She ran to it and jumped, landing with both feet right beside it. She pulled a long sprig of grass from the ground and began picking at the ants. Harold stepped close to her and she looked up and smiled before she ran to the front door.

  “Daddy! ‘Dat nice man ith hewe!”

  Phil walked onto the porch and waved at Harold. Harold returned the wave.

  “Here you go, Phil,” Harold said as he handed the dress to him.

  “Ith dat for me?” Maggie asked as she hid behind Phil.

  “Harold,” Phil looked puzzled. “This isn’t the material I gave you.”

  “Consider it a gift for Maggie’s birthday,” Harold said and held up his hands. “Before you object, I insist that she have it.”

  “Daddy, ith dat for me?” Maggie asked again eyeing the dress excitedly.

  “Yes, baby, it is,” Phil said as he knelt down and gave it to her. “It’s your birthday present.”

  Maggie’s eyes lit up, “When tan I weaw it?”

  “Your birthday isn’t that many days away,” Phil said as he lifted her to his hip and kissed her on the cheek. “You can wear it then. Tell Harold, thank you.”

  “Fank eww, Hawold. It ith sooo pwetty. I tan’t wait t
o weaw it.”

  “A pretty girl needs a pretty dress,” Harold said as he rubbed her head.

  “Thank you, Harold,” Phil said as they shook hands. “It really means a lot to me.”

  “I’m just glad I could help,” Harold replied.

  “You really are a special guy, Harold,” Phil said. The look in his eyes seemed to convey a deeper meaning. “Is there anything that I could help you with? It’s the least I could do for you getting her this dress?”

  “I’ll let you know if there is, but I’m going to head on back home now,” Harold said and nodded. Then turned and began walking away.

  “Why don’t you stay for a little while, Harold?” Phil asked.

  “I need to get on back to the house. It won’t be long ‘til Aunt Nean is finished cooking supper,” he replied and thought about his upcoming training sessions, then stopped. “You know what, Phil? There is something you can help me with.”

  “What is it?” Phil asked.

  “Do you think you could round me up a dozen or so burlap bags?” Harold asked.

  “Come back in a couple of days, and I’ll have you two dozen,” Phil smiled.

  “Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it,” Harold said as he began walking down the road.

  “Alrighty, then. I’ll be seein’ you around,” Phil replied. “Tell Harold bye, Maggie.”

  “Bye, Hawold,” Maggie said and cocked her head to the side while she waved.

  “Bye, Maggie. See you later, Phil,” Harold replied.

  “Have a good night, Harold,” Phil answered.

  Harold quickly made his back through the town circle, passing under Colonel Foxx’s image as he crossed to road number six not even bothering to even glance at the blacksmith shop.

  When he got back to the house, supper was nearly finished and Cooper and Ollie were already sitting at the table. Aunt Nean spooned out the portions and then they ate, talking about nothing it particular. Ollie talked about the girl down the road and her new rag doll, and how they fed it and rocked it to sleep. Cooper talked about the tiger men and wolf men tearing up the High-Born tank. Aunt Nean just smiled, and tenderly asked questions to which she already knew the answers. Harold realized that she just liked to hear the children talk about anything, no matter how unimportant it seemed. Soon, they had finished supper and Cooper and Ollie were in their room.