Hunter Brown and the Consuming Fire

by Chris Miller

  “Can I pick her up?” Trista asked, already reaching out before I could respond.

  “Sure, you can pick HIM up!” I answered, making sure to add emphasis on my gender of choice.

  She bent down and carefully lifted the furry creature out of the backpack, cradling it in her arms like a baby. It seemed content with her and snuggled tightly to her chest.

  “What’s her name?” Trista giggled, ignoring my previous comment and scratching it behind the ears.

  “I haven’t really thought of one yet, at least nothing that fits him. And stop calling it her; it’s my pet and I say it’s a boy, I think.”

  Trista rolled her eyes.

  “Some pet. You haven’t even named it yet.” Trista turned to the creature and in her sweetest voice added, “We’ll have to fix that won’t we, little one? You’re too cute to not have a name!”

  “Hungry,” it said abruptly. It was the first time Trista had heard it speak, and she nearly dropped the thing in response.

  “It can…talk?” she said warily.

  “Yeah, cool huh? And that’s not even the half of it. He can disappear too! But he usually only does that when he’s near a really bright light.”

  “Disappear?” Rob repeated, fascinated by the thing. “That’s sweet! Are you sure you should keep it though? I mean, you hardly know anything about him. He could be dangerous.”

  “Relax,” I said. “Does he look dangerous to you?”

  “I guess not,” Rob said in agreement, finally reaching out to pet the little critter. It cooed at Rob’s touch and made him crack a smile. “I have to admit, he’s pretty cool.”

  “Besides, if he starts to be trouble I can always get rid of him later.”

  “Hungry,” it said again, this time a bit more forcefully. He scurried up Trista’s arm and perched himself on her shoulder. He started picking at her hair in search of food.

  “Hey, cut that out!” Trista said with a smile. “What do you feed her anyway?”

  “Him,” I stated firmly. “So far, he’ll eat whatever I can find. It’s practically the only way to keep him quiet.”

  “I’ll bet it’s still a baby,” Trista expressed, pulling the creature’s hands away from her hair once more. “My baby brother eats all of the time too. It’s what they do.”

  “Yeah, well, he better get full soon or I won’t have anything left to feed him,” I said, digging through my pack for a snack. “Here, try these. He seemed to like them.”

  I tossed a snack bar her way, which she caught one handed. The furry creature scurried across the back of her neck to the shoulder closest to the treat.

  “Boojum bars?” Trista asked with a smile, as she examined the packaging.

  “Yeah, they’re really nasty health bars,” I said.

  “I know what they are, and they’re not nasty. They’re my favorite. Taste so good they can’t be bad,” she said, singing the last line from the commercial jingle.

  “Well, they taste so bad, you can have them!” I sang back in jest, proud of myself for coming up with it on the spot. Rob laughed at my joke. Trista stuck her tongue out at us and tore open the wrapper.

  “Boojums!” the little creature shouted happily, when at last he saw what we were talking about.

  “That’s right,” Trista chuckled, tickled that the creature liked her kind of food. “Hey, that’s it! We should call her Boojum. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged, not wanting to admit that I kind of liked it.

  “Please, please? I’ve never named a pet before,” Trista begged, grabbing and squeezing my arm gently. Her green eyes sparkled with hopeful anticipation of my response. She had obviously perfected that look on her parents.

  “Fine, but it’s a he,” I said forcefully.

  Trista clapped excitedly at the name.

  “Boojum it is then,” Trista said, willing to trade choosing the gender for naming the creature. Boojum devoured the first health bar in no time at all, spilling crumbs all over his fur in the process. As he gnawed happily on the last bite of the crunchy snack, the lights overhead began to flicker.

  At first, there was a slight popping sound, followed by a short burst of light before the lights finally went out entirely. The barn fell under a blanket of stale darkness and the fans wound to a dead stop. All was silent for a moment. Then the sheep started bleating and yanking on their tethers as if threatened by an unseen presence.

  “Uh oh,” Boojum moaned, folding his ears back to his head and clinging closer to Trista.

  “Don’t ya’ll worry none, folks,” a heavy southern voice from across the room hollered out. “We just blew a fuse er somethin’. But we’ll have her back on quicker than you can spit and holler “Howdy.”

  Even in the dark, I could tell Rob was worried. Despite the reassurance of the voice, somehow he sensed there was more to the darkness than just a blown fuse. He fumbled for his Veritas Sword, his hands shaking with nervous energy as he pulled it out and held it in front of himself.

  “Boys and their toys,” Trista shook her head with a laugh. “Put it away. What do you think you’re going to do with that silly thing anyway?”

  A murmuring hum festered throughout the room, growing in volume and drowning out the troubled sheep. At first I thought it was just the sound of the fans turning back on, but when Rob pointed upward the true source of the sound was revealed.

  We were not alone.

  The metal rafters were loaded with a dozen or more of the strangest winged creatures I’d ever seen. They seemed to have no feet to speak of, just a long articulated tail they used to hang from the ceiling. The tip of the tail was armed with a barbed talon that even from this distance I perceived was as sharp as a razor. As we looked up, their long, vulture-like necks strained to watch us.

  “Don’t make any sudden moves,” Rob said slowly, hoping Trista would listen for once. As usual, she didn’t.

  “Why? What are you so worked up about anyway?” she asked. “You aren’t afraid of the dark are you?”

  Rob shook his head and pointed up in the dark, pressing a finger to his lips.

  “What? I don’t see anything,” Trista replied, not even bothering to whisper.

  Just then, one of the hanging creatures swooped down toward us, gliding on its leathery wings. Rob swung his invisible blade into the air, and it burned to life in a flash of orange light.

  Boojum squealed at the sight of the bright sword-light and dove back into my backpack, pulling the top closed behind him. In the same instant, the flying creature was severed in two by Rob’s sword. Half of the creature landed in the arms of Trista, who shrieked and immediately dropped the writhing part she held.

  “Gross!” she yelled, trying desperately to shake the black ooze of blood from her hands. The severed half squirmed violently on the floor, flinging drops of blood every which way. A moment later it stopped moving and dissolved into wisps of black smoke. Trista just stared, looking wide-eyed at the spot on the ground where it had just disappeared. With the light of Rob’s Veritas blade, she could now see what she hadn’t seen before.

  “What is that thing? Wh-wh-where did it come from?” Trista squealed. Nobody answered; there wasn’t time to discuss it right now.

  “We need to get out of here now!” I shouted.

  “Yeah, about that” Rob answered with a groan, “I’m going to need a minute.” After the first attack, he had somehow managed to lodge the Veritas Sword halfway down into the side of the Doo Doo dumpster and was trying desperately to yank it out.

  Seizing their opportunity, the remainder of the flying serpents began to dive, first one then two at a time.

  “Get down!” I shouted, pulling Trista with me as quickly as I could. She didn’t complain as we collapsed to the floor, behind the hay bales. This time she knew the threat was real, but we were a moment too late. On t
heir way down, a Treptor’s single razor-sharp tail talon caught the back of my shoulder, ripping though my shirt and into my skin. I howled in pain.

  Rob, who was still trying desperately to get his Veritas Sword unstuck, gave a final tug and fell back to the floor, landing beside us. Lying on his back, Rob waved the sword back and forth in the air above us, keeping the creatures at bay with its light. Only one of the creatures ventured too close. It was quickly whacked aside by the sword, its wings damaged in the scuffle.

  “What are these things?” a terrified Trista asked again.

  “They’re Treptors,” Rob explained. “More of a nuisance than anything, but larger flocks can be deadly.”

  “A nuisance? They’re flat out freaky—that’s what they are.” Trista was obviously upset at what she was seeing.

  “What are they doing here?” I asked.

  “That’s what I was wondering too,” Rob said, still swinging his sword overhead. “The Shadow don’t usually show themselves outside of the Veil.”

  “Do you two mind speaking English for a change? Not all of us know what your little code words mean,” Trista asked, feeling a little put out. “What’s the Veil?”

  “Sorry, Trista,” I explained, “the Veil is what people from Solandria call the world we live in. And the Shadow are…well, basically evil creatures like those things.” I gripped my sore shoulder and glanced at Rob. The majority of the flock had given up its attack and perched themselves from the rafters once more, waiting for a better time. Only a handful continued to hover overhead, circling the room.

  Rob lowered his Veritas Sword for a moment, setting the hilt against my wound. It healed quickly and the stinging subsided just in time for Rob to return his attention to the aggressive Treptors, who were still anxiously hovering above us.

  “Make them go away…please!” Trista said anxiously.

  “They only attack in confined spaces. If we can make it outside they’ll probably leave us alone.” Rob stated. “It won’t be easy, but we’ll have to make a dash for it. Get ready!”

  Before another word was spoken, Rob jumped to his feet and sliced through another pair of the ugly creatures that were bearing quickly down upon us.

  “Go! I’ve got you covered!” Rob shouted as the Treptors regrouped for another attack. “Run for the door…now!” he added with emphasis. As he spoke, he gestured with his glowing sword toward the exit, but the blade slipped from his grip and slid out the door. It was a heart-stopping sight. We were now unarmed and completely vulnerable beneath the Treptors’ vicious gazes.

  “Oops, that wasn’t supposed to happen! My bad,” Rob said, dumbfounded by his mistake.

  “You think?” Trista remarked, looking whiter than a sheet.

  One thing was becoming clear, if there was an award for mastering the art of clumsiness, Rob would easily have won it.

  Recognizing their chance, the remaining Treptors reunited and poured down upon us like a mad rush of water. It was all we could do to keep our balance beneath the barrage of leathery wings.

  “Whatever you do, don’t stop!” I shouted, leading the charge to our escape. The others followed behind, headlong into the swarming horde of Treptors. Never before had twenty feet seemed so far.All the way the Treptors swooped and slashed at us, inflicting a few cuts across our backs. With arms flailing wildly overhead we pushed our way through the flurry of flying terrors and dove out the front door to safety.

  “Hey, watch yourselves,” a grumpy old man in an electric scooter frowned disapprovingly at us as we tumbled dramatically out of the barn, cutting in front of him and causing him to stop.

  A nervous glance over my shoulder proved that Rob had been right. The Treptors were nowhere to be seen now, though their stinging cuts across our shoulders and backs still felt every bit real.

  “They’re gone…just like that?” Trista asked, her voicetrembling.

  “Yes, but we have to keep moving,” Rob answered. “We’re not safe yet.”

  “But you said they wouldn’t follow us,” said Trista, pointing at the seemingly empty barn behind.

  “Treptors aren’t the only Shadow we have to worry about,” Rob said, still tense. “If there are Treptors here, I can only imagine what else might be lurking nearby.”

  Trista gulped, “You mean there are others?”

  Rob and I both nodded.

  Beep. Beep.

  “Do you mind? Clear a path will ya, or I’ll plow you over,” the man on the scooter grumbled stubbornly, apparently unwilling to exert any energy on using his steering wheel to go around. We stepped aside and apologized, but it had little effect on his sour mood. “Darn kids think they own the place,” he muttered and scooted away.

  “Wait, where’s Boojum? We can’t leave him behind,” Trista reminded us. The little guy had been hiding in my backpack ever since the first flash of Rob’s sword.

  “Forget Boojum; where’s my sword?” asked Rob as he searched the ground frantically.“It should have been right here!”

  A small flurry of motion directed my eyes over to where the old man on the scooter was honking at another hapless victim. There on the ground, just behind the scooter, was Boojum, with Rob’s sword hilt tucked tightly under his arm.

  Looking back towards me, Boojum simply waved and said, “Light bad,” before catching a ride in the scooter’s backseat basket as the old man zipped off through the parting crowd.

  “Hey! Your little weasel’s stealing my sword!” Rob fumed. “After him!”

  Chapter 9

  The Flying Gondola

  We raced in pursuit, but the man on the scooter was quicker than one might expect. Being handicapped, he had the advantage of the crowd’s pity. People seemed more willing to move out of his way than they were for us. Eventually the flow of fairgoers thinned enough so we could close the gap between us.

  “Give me back my sword!” Rob shouted after Boojum.

  “Nuh uh,” Boojum said defiantly, gripping the sword tightly to his chest. “Light bad.”

  With that he hopped out of the basket and scurried up a ramp that led to the Sky Cars. It was the only ride on this side of the fairgrounds, and not really much of a ride at that. Its main purpose was to carry gondolas of spectators from one side of the fair to the other. There was no line—everyone else was saving his or her tickets for the thrill rides on the other side of the fair.

  We wasted no time rushing up after him, but at the top of the ramp a broad man, as wide as he was tall, blocked our path.

  “Tickets, please—four each for a round trip,” he said, reaching out for the fare. We tried to explain but the man was not sympathetic to our plight.

  “Look, if you wants on the ride, you have ta pay fer it. It’s as simple as that.”

  Trista dug into her pocket and begrudgingly produced the twelve tickets required. He counted them and let us pass at last. By the time we reached the top of the ramp, Boojum had already snuck aboard an empty car, which was starting to slide up the cable and across the fairgrounds.

  Another man, scrawny and gaunt, motioned for us to step forward to load up in the next car. Trista and I hopped into gondola seven, but Rob suddenly froze in place.

  “What are you waiting for, Rob?” I asked.

  He squirmed, unwilling to move past the yellow safety line that was painted on the ground.

  “I was just thinking…maybe I ought to meet you guys on the other side,” he suggested, his voice sounding a bit strange.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Trista said in her usual blunt way.“It’ll take you three times as long to get there. Boojum will be long gone by then.”

  “It’s just that I’m afraid of heights, okay? They make my stomach sick,” Rob confessed.

  “So, ya goin’ on or ain’t ya, kid?” the slim man asked rather impatiently.

  Rob didn’t budge, still frozen with fear.


  “Come on, Rob, we have to get that sword!” I encouraged him. “It’s only five minutes across; it will be over before you know it.”

  The man who held our gondola door open added, “This here is the safest ride in the park, son. Why, I’ve never lost a rider yet.”

  “Fine, I’ll go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Rob said, stepping into the gondola against his better judgment. He sat down across from the two of us and scooted to the middle.

  The door slammed shut and with the release of a lever the gondola swung forward, connected to the cable that stretched a hundred feet in the air. Rob shut his eyes tightly and gripped the metal railing that surrounded the compartment. With each sway of the cable car his fist tightened and he moaned weakly.

  “Relax,” Trista offered. “We’re safe up here; nothing is going to happen.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Rob whined.

  As we reached the highest point of the ride, there was a sudden jolt as the cable car stopped in place, swaying wildly back and forth from its previous momentum.

  “Tell me we didn’t just stop,” Rob said, still unwilling to open his eyes.

  “It’s no big deal,” said Trista. “I’m sure this happens all the time when they get backed up with passengers.”

  The fact that we hadn’t seen any other passengers getting on with us crossed my mind, but I wasn’t about to say it out loud. Glancing out over the fairgrounds, I spotted a series of phantom figures appearing on the sky cable tower ahead of us. They were not human. As they began to climb up the tower, I knew in an instant what they were—skinny bug-like creatures with six arms, a pair of long legs and bulging frog-like faces.

  “Dispirits,” I said, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

  For the first time since he had set foot on the ride, Rob’s eyes popped opened. He craned his neck slowly around to look where I was pointing. The shadowy creatures had reached the peak of the tower already and, using their six arms, had begun traversing along the cable toward our car.