Fire

by Cheryl Twaddle

  "What do you mean, mean, mean?" Marshal didn't seem to like this part of the story. "Extinct?"

  "You know," I said. "Gone. Erased. But, according to stories that were written about them, before they disappeared from whatever it was that made them disappear, some kind of talking wolf hid them in all the different worlds."

  "Talking wolf, wolf, wolf?" Marshal asked.

  "Yeah, I know," I said. "It sounds real stupid but these people actually believe these stories. Well, at least Gregorius and Jeremiah do. Anyway, these Fire People are supposed to come back here and help the ruling family solidify its dominance over everyone. At least, I think that's what's supposed to happen. I don't know. I just know that the only thing that's keeping us out of some jail cell or, maybe, even killed, is that you're with us and they think you belong to these Fire People."

  "Why do they think that?" he asked.

  "Because you have red hair," I laughed. It sounded so absurd every time I thought about it but I knew that's what they truly believed.

  "My hair, hair, hair?" he reached up and touched his hair with his hand.

  "Can you believe it?" I said. "The colour of your hair has actually saved our asses."

  "Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "These people have been underground for too long. Even the short time we have to spend underground to get away from the winds drives people crazy. These people spent centuries? They're insane, insane, insane. And who are these people you mentioned? Gregori-what and Jeremiah?"

  "Gregorius," I corrected him. "He's what they call the Second. His family has ruled this world forever, passing down the title of First from generation to generation. Right now his sister, Amelia is the First and is in charge. We haven't met her yet. Gregorius is her only brother and holds the title of Second, meaning..."

  "If his sister dies, he takes over," Marshal finished for me.

  "Yeah, that's right," I confirmed.

  "And Jeremiah?" he asked. "Is he the old man who fixed, fixed, fixed me?"

  "Very good," I smiled. "Jeremiah is the old man who fixed you. With stones I might add."

  "Stones, stones, stones?" he started to reach behind him to check his wound when I heard a small cough from the doorway. I turned to see Jeremiah standing there and wondered how long he'd been there. I didn't even hear him come in.

  "I think I should explain the stones to you," he smiled and walked over to his patient. He helped Marshal find the stone embedded into his back and run his fingers over it. Marshal looked at me with a look of panic on his face.

  "Is that inside my back, back, back?" he asked. "How'd...?"

  "It's okay, Marshal," I said, trying to reassure him. "The stone saved your life."

  "Your friend is right," said Jeremiah as he lifted the bandages off of Marshal's wound and examined it closely. "In this world, we use elements from the land, such as rocks and crystals, to help heal us."

  "From the land?" Marshal asked.

  "When it looked like the fall of our world was inevitable, many people started building underground chambers in which to dwell until the skies cleared and they could return to the surface," explained Jeremiah. "They had the means to grow their own food and generate their own water but they needed the sun to power their greenhouses. They knew this wouldn't be possible until the skies cleared above. Until then, they had stored enough food and water to sustain them, or so they thought. The Collapse, you see, had darkened the skies far longer than anyone anticipated. For centuries this world was covered in darkness. Eventually their supplies depleted and ran out. They had to use whatever they could to go on. They started a diet of worms and insects and small animals who had, themselves, burrowed underground to escape. Months turned into years and years turned into centuries. They did what they could to survive but it was hard, almost impossible. Knowledge was lost, time was non-existent and the population became smaller and smaller."

  "Soon, sickness became the biggest enemy," he continued. "With no more medicine left from the old world, they started growing fungi and digging roots. They learned to create new medicines and they worked, for a while, until even their numbers dwindled. Then, one day, while digging for roots, a small girl discovered a crystal. It was green, about the size of my thumb and more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. This was a treasure she didn't want anyone else to know she had, so she hid it in a small bundle of clothes, her only possessions. During the next week a severe sickness swept through the survivors, killing many and leaving others on death's doorstep. Everyone suffered from its effects; everyone except the small girl."

  "You see," Jeremiah said as he finished replacing the bandages and helped Marshal lean back on his pillows. "The girl had been using her small bundle of clothes as a pillow and, therefore, had been sleeping with the crystal right next to her head. When one of the elders realized the girl had no sign of the sickness, he decided to search her possessions and find the secret to her wellness. It wasn't long before he found the crystal and, when he picked it up, felt its vibrations."

  "Vibrations?" Marshal seemed skeptical. Rocks didn't vibrate, did they?

  "Yes," answered Jeremiah. "The crystal had a distinct vibration and when the elder held it in his hand, he felt a warmth come over his body. You see, he had been luckier than the others in that the sickness had not struck him as hard but it had still settled in his body, leaving him weak and tired. When he held the crystal, however, he felt his strength returning as if the rock was giving his body energy to fight back the weakness in his bones. He demanded the girl show him where she found the crystal and she took him there. They dug up more of the beautiful green rocks and started placing them with the sickest."

  "What happened, happened, happened?" asked Marshal, captivated by the story.

  "They got better," Jeremiah smiled. "Not all of them, of course, some were beyond the miracle of the rocks. But a great number recovered. The rocks were then passed through the entire community and, gradually, the sickness left. This led to a very thorough investigation of rocks and crystals and how they affected our entire well-being. What those people discovered deep under the ground, hiding from a world that had fallen into darkness, was life-changing. No, not just life-changing; revolutionary. Our entire species was saved with those crystals. I believe that the human race would have perished long before the Fire People came and helped us emerge from the darkness. Ever since, we've used the elements of the land to cure almost every ailment our bodies suffer including, I'm happy to say, bullet wounds."

  "Lucky for us," I said as I squeezed Marshal's hand.

  "Yes, yes, yes," said Marshal. "I am very lucky, lucky, lucky. Thank you Mr. Healer for saving my life."

  "Jeremiah," said the old man with a smile that lit up the kindness in his eyes. "You may call me Jeremiah. Tell me, how are you feeling? How is your fever?"

  "I feel okay," Marshal said but I could see that he was still weak and tired. We should leave and let him sleep but it was going to be hard to leave him by himself again. Now that he was awake, I wanted to sit by his side and hold his hand. "Just tired, tired, tired."

  "Yes, I can imagine," said Jeremiah. "Nicky and I will take our leave and let you rest."

  "No, no, no," I guess Marshal didn't want to be left alone or, at least, alone with Megan who he didn't even know. "Could Nicky stay? Please, please, please? Just until I fall asleep?"

  "I'm afraid that's not possible," answered Jeremiah, talking like a doctor giving very strict instructions to his patient. "Nicky must return to her friends. Everyone must get their rest because, hopefully, this afternoon we'll be going to the Huxley House to meet the First. Amelia will have many questions for all of you and you'll need all of your energy to answer them."

  "We're going to see Amelia today?" I asked. Part of me wanted to wait and make sure my friend was well on his way to a full recovery and part of me couldn't help thinking that the sooner we met with this First girl, the sooner we could get back to help Max and Barker. "I mean, Marshal just
woke up. Do you think he'll be ready to go by then?"

  "Oh, I think so," Jeremiah said.

  "And Gregorius?" I asked, knowing how angry the Second would be if he missed introducing a member of the Fire People to his sister.

  "I can't wait forever for Gregorius," said Jeremiah, obviously still irritated with him. "It's only a matter of time before Amelia learns of your presence and I am not going to face her wrath for delaying introductions."

  "Fine," I stood up and leaned over and kissed Marshal on the forehead. "You'll be okay. The others and I are just upstairs, not far. You need to rest."

  "But, Nicky..." he glanced sideways at Megan and I could see he was uncomfortable being left with this stranger.

  "You'll be okay," I tried to reassure him by whispering in his ear. "Just close your eyes and sleep. No one will bother you when you're sleeping." I started walking towards the door, then turned and looked at my friend one more time. "I'll see you later, okay?"

  "Later, later, later," he said and closed his eyes before we left the room.

  Chapter 8

  Max and Howling Wolf

  Max lay on the hard, cold ground trying to see the stars and wondering how much longer he could go on. Howling Wolf had done everything he could to persuade Max to tell him where Nicky and her friends had gone. He said nothing, insisting he was just as confused as the warrior leader. His friends had abandoned him, leaving him to face the Blood Demons on his own and he was pretty pissed about it. That was his story but Howling Wolf didn't believe him.

  He tortured Max mercilessly but he didn't perform the torture with his own hands, of course. Instead, he would pick a different man every hour or two to do the job. After about the fifth man, the faces seemed to blur into one for Max. To add to his broken ribs, he now had lumps and bruises on every part of his body. His left hand was probably broken because he had made the mistake of using it to defend himself from punches that were being thrown to his face. His stomach had been kicked so many times that, now, every time he coughed, a little blood escaped onto the white snow around him. He was coughing a lot, too, and shivering even though his skin felt like it was on fire. He was sick; most likely he was overcome with a cold from being left outside with little water and even less food. It had made him weak and weakness lets in sickness.

  He wasn't allowed near the fire and could only get up when he had to relieve himself which he had to do in front of whoever his torturer happened to be at the time. It amused him that Howling Wolf had given his men orders to watch him piss. How worthless your life must be to have the job of watching a grown man urinate. He happily pointed this out to them which usually resulted in another kick or punch. It was worth it to see the humiliation on their faces. His face, on the other hand, was not in good shape. He had definitely taken a whole lot of blows to the face. So many times, Howling Wolf's men would punch him or smack him with the back of their hands. His lips were puffy and bleeding, his cheeks were bruised and cut and his eyes were so swollen, he could barely see out of them.

  After hours of constant beatings, Howling Wolf gave up. He wasn't getting anywhere with the torture and, if he pushed it any further, the Scot might actually die. The warrior had to think of another way to make his prisoner talk. Max considered the end of the beatings as a small victory. He had outlasted his captor but knew that Howling Wolf would not be happy about it. He would have another way to make him talk, Max just didn't know what it would be. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

  He finally got his right eye open enough to see the sky. It was dark but he saw no stars. Maybe his vision was off or maybe the sky was empty tonight. He caught a scent of something that made his stomach turn and he begged himself not to vomit. He had no energy to get up on his hands and knees and heave out an empty stomach yet, he knew that if he stayed lying on his back, his vomit would definitely make him choke. He swallowed back the bile in his throat and turned his head to the right and saw the bodies of the men Howling Wolf had killed to mark the spot of the portal. They had been pinned to the ground with branches gathered from the distant trees. Their bodies were starting to decay and Max knew this was the odor he smelled. He closed his eye again, trying to remember how he got here.

  After he stopped the beatings, Howling Wolf had ordered his men to stand Max up. If the Scot wasn't going to tell him where the others went, then they would go back and wait for them to reappear. Surely, they wouldn't leave Max behind. He was convinced they would be back for him and he intended to be there when they did. Max couldn't walk, he could barely even stand. Howling Wolf ordered he be put on a horse and strapped on so he wouldn't fall off. It was a good thing they secured him because, as soon as the horse started walking to a rhythmic pace, Max passed out. He woke up when they dropped him to the ground beside the dead men. That's when he tried to open his eyes to stare at the stars.

  "Wake up!" Howling Wolf was kneeling beside him. He reached down and grabbed Max's jaw in his hand and shook his head causing pain to shoot straight to his brain. "There will be no rest for you. You will stay awake to welcome your friends when they come back. Then I will make them talk and tell me their secret to disappear. I imagine it won't take long, they are not as strong as you."

  "You really think they're coming back?" Max asked, coughing out blood that dribbled onto Howling Wolf's hand. The warrior pulled his hand back like it had been touched with a hot iron. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and quickly wiped away the blood. Max laughed at this and turned his eyes to the sky again, "Imagine! The leader of the barbaric 'Blood Demons' afraid of a little blood! How ironic!"

  "I am not afraid of blood!" Howling Wolf snapped. He didn't like being laughed at; it reminded him of the humiliation they put him through at the white man school. "You have lived an evil life with your drink and your women. Your blood is tainted and I don't want it to stain my hand."

  "Save the sermon for your men," Max said, still laughing. "I don't believe my blood is any more tainted than yours and even it was; who cares? Down here there is no god no matter how much you try to preach of one. I doubt there's a god anywhere but I don't have to tell you that, do I? Just the idea of a god is good enough to keep your men in line, isn't it?"

  "You're clever, my friend," Howling Wolf smiled and leaned closer to Max so he could whisper the next words. "You had me figured out from the first time I met you. I could have killed you then but you were lucky. You saved my life and I had no choice but to let you go. I won't let you go now. Even if your friends magically appear to save you, I will make sure an arrow pierces your heart and you breathe your last breath before any reunion can happen."

  "I've decided that arrowhead you wear around your neck is your grandfather's," Max said, ignoring the threats to his life. He had noticed the necklace the first time he met the fierce warrior. He had made a mental note of it but hadn't thought of it since. Now, as Howling Wolf leaned closer over him, it escaped from his shirt and dangled in the air. "If it was your father's, you would have had someone that loved you and taught you how to be a man but you've failed in that. That's why it must be your grandfather's; someone who died when you were young but lived long enough for you to enshrine their memory in a saintly glow. This is the god you make your people bow down to; a little boy's memory of a man who could do no wrong and, perhaps, the only man who truly loved you."

  Howling Wolf clutched the arrowhead and stuffed it back into his shirt. He stood and looked down at Max lying on the ground bruised and broken. He was angry that someone who had lived such an impure life could see right through him as if they were equals. Howling Wolf was pure; he had never touched the poisoned drink nor had he been tempted by a woman. He lived to please the memory of his grandfather and his grandmother, to be worthy of all that they fought and died for. Damn this man for seeing this when no one else ever did, not even his parents. He kicked Max hard, his boot catching part of the Scot's arm, then spit on him and left him there curled up and grabbing his arm in pain.

  Max was thankful the ki
ck didn't land on his stomach again but having it land on his arm wasn't much better. He clutched it with his other arm and rubbed it with his hand. It was numb and he tried to get the feeling back. For the first time since the portal closed in front of him, he wished he would never see Nicky again. To see her would mean that she came back for him and he didn't want that. He was afraid of what Howling Wolf would do to her and the others. The man knew no mercy and Max knew that Howling Wolf would snap Nicky's neck easily and with great joy.

  He rolled over on his side, on the good arm, and curled into a ball. The pain had made his body shiver in the cold. He blew hot air into his cupped hands and tried to open his eyes again. It was still dark but as he looked off into the field of tall grass, he saw the eyes. They glinted in the moonlight and he could tell they were staring at him. He smiled to himself and nodded his head slightly to acknowledge his presence. Barker lowered his head and backed up through the grass then got up and ran away.

  Chapter 9

  Jeremiah came back to get us later that afternoon. Marshal had slept for a few hours after I left him in the morning and, according to the old healer, was feeling much better. Word had gotten to Amelia that Gregorius had disappeared again and Jeremiah was sure it was only a matter of time before she found out about us. He wanted to bring us to meet her before that could happen.

  I didn't care if Amelia knew about us already or not. I just wanted to find the person who could help us get back through the portal. If this girl could do that than the sooner we met her, the better. We left the room and followed Jeremiah down to Marshal's room. The healer was right; Marshal looked fantastic. The sleep had done him a world of good. He had been put into a 'mobile' chair which was essentially a wheelchair and was waiting for us. Jeremiah insisted he use the chair. Marshal may have looked a whole lot better but he was still too weak to go for long walks. After we had all given Marshal hugs and smiles for his remarkable recovery, we followed Jeremiah to the Huxley house.