Hunter Brown and the Consuming Fire

by Chris Miller

  “Excellent! Then we have an understanding. I believe you will be making a very wise choice, Captain,” the woman said in closing.

  We all stood in stunned silence. Could Saris seriously be considering this treaty?

  There was a rustling in the room as each of them rose to gather his things. Startled by the screeching noise of one of the chairs scraping across the floor, a wide-eyed Boojum dropped down into my arms for safety. The guard escorts took their cue to turn and receive the exiting leaders.

  A decidedly short man in an obnoxious yellow tunic strutted out first. The silver sash embroidered with the Torporian kingdom’s crowned Z insignia made it obvious that he was the ambassador, though it was hard to imagine the deep voice we’d heard coming from a man so small. The extra-large turban balanced on top of his head was his best attempt at achieving any stature, but honestly, it really only gave him a bigger head. With his chest puffed up and chin lifted high, he intentionally ignored us as he spun around to wait for his companion. Obviously, he had not let his size keep him from trying to look down on the rest of the world.

  A rapid clacking of tiny, but forceful steps followed closely behind, marking the emergence of the second dignitary, the Emissary, as they had addressed her. Unlike the self-important ambassador, the commanding presence of this woman was clearly backed by real power. Her profile revealed a determined expression smothered under a heavy covering of makeup, its deep hues complimenting the translucent blues and greens of the long, almost wing-like sleeves of her flowing black gown. In her far hand, she carried something covered by a cloth. With a simple wave of her free hand, she signaled the guards who immediately fell in line behind her and marched away from us down the hall.

  Anxious to take up the matter of this newly revealed treaty with the captain himself, Philan hurriedly motioned for us to follow him into the council chambers. I followed behind the others, but as soon as we reached the doors, something caused Boojum to scramble wildly up my arm, pinching me in his frantic climb.

  “Ow! Let go, Boojum. What’s your problem?”

  As my eyes followed to where he was so excitedly pointing, I immediately saw what he was so worked up about. A pair of round, yellowish-green eyes blinked back at us from the face of a snow-white snark riding away on the Emissary’s shoulder. Its powdery white tail whipped playfully back and forth upon seeing Boojum, whisking the protective cloth right off of the object in the Emissary’s hand and down onto Ambassador Narcole’s head. The blinded man struggled to fight off the cloth and couldn’t see when the Emissary abruptly stopped in front of him. Crashing into her, he fell helplessly to the ground. She only glared down at him and yanked the cloth off, quickly re-covering the exposed object. As she resumed her march down the hall, I saw what she had been hiding: a glass ball—a harmless item in and of itself—but what I saw inside it made my skin crawl. Staring lifelessly out at me from within the orb was a bodiless, gray-bearded head.

  “You comin’ or not?” I heard Stoney call to me from inside. Shaking off the unsettling image of the face, I ignored Boojum’s pleas to follow the other snark and turned back to the important meeting at hand. If we were right, Saris would be the next one marked.

  Ten columns formed a ring around the outer edges of the circular, domed room. Each column held out a golden torch toward the center, casting a soft light over an aged, but beautiful, tiled floor, patterned to form a large crimson X. Captivating paintings decorated the ceiling above us, no doubt brimming with artistic significance to the Xin’s history, but Philan was not in tour guide mode right now. He marched us quickly across the room to where Captain Saris was waiting in his ornate, high-backed chair. A slow, red glow pulsed out from the Author’s mark on his armor’s chestplate.

  I barely knew Saris from my last visit, but I immediately recognized the older, roundish man’s face as soon as we drew nearer… not because of my previous experience, but for the chilling reason that I had just seen it being carried off in the Emissary’s glass ball!

  Was I just imagining things?

  “He’s dead,” Trista gasped as the captain’s head suddenly slumped forward into his bushy gray beard. His half-closed eyes stared lifelessly at the floor, just like I’d seen in the ball. My head was spinning so fast with possibilities, I couldn’t find any words.

  “It’s alright…really,” Philan calmly explained to the group. “He’s only dozed off again. He does that sometimes,” he added in a somewhat embarrassed tone.

  As if on cue, the captain began snoring in confirmation of Philan’s diagnosis.

  Rob eyed the old, gray-bearded man in amazement. “But didn’t he just finish the other meeting a minute ago?”

  Philan just shrugged and approached Saris, touching him gently on the arm. “Excuse me, sir.”

  The old man jolted awake and, much to Boojum’s delight, knocked a bowl of shelled nuts from the small table set next to him. My snack-happy snark leaped at the opportunity to clean up the scattered treats, stuffing his cheeks full of them before realizing he would have to open them first.

  “Wha…who…oh, it’s just you, Philan,” the captain said, blinking in shock at the sudden awakening. “I was just… thinking. Yes... ahem. Well, what is it you wanted, Lieutenant?”

  Undoubtedly, what Philan wanted most was to engage his captain on matters of the newly proposed treaty, but he graciously deferred to our requested meeting first. “Captain, there are some friends here who wanted to see you. They bring an urgent message.”

  “Oh?” Saris turned his head toward us and raised his bushy silver brows in curiosity, awaiting our explanation.

  As the adult among us, Stoney took it upon himself to step forward and introduce our group, offering his best Codebearer salute by pounding his fist to his chest. “Stone… er, I mean Chester Sterling, sir. At your service. It’s an honor fer us to be with you t’day.” He started to introduce Trista next, but Saris had already become distracted, blinking his beady black eyes at me instead as he tried to focus on my face.

  “You look familiar, boy,” he said, interrupting Stoney to point a shaky finger at me. “I know you, don’t I?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, feeling a little uneasy talking to the head from the ball. “I’m Hunter Brown. Maybe you remember me from the Feast of Unitus three years ago. The Council met with me after…”

  “Ah, yes!” he exclaimed, his face brightening at the memory. “The last of our feasts, I remember…it was splendid, wasn’t it? We have not enjoyed such a peaceful gathering as that since Sanctuary fell to the Shadow. Terrible times. Terrible.... Actually, nothing has quite been the same since then. More fighting, greater losses, divisions within the Resistance….” His words trailed off into a great sadness.

  His pained expression reminded me that the rest of the Resistance had yet to learn the truth of Aviad’s disappearance. I was unsure if this would be the best time to mention the Flame, but I knew I at least needed to offer this man and his Torporian Codebearers the hope we had.

  “Captain Saris,” I began, “perhaps you also remember how I met with Aviad about the Bloodston…”

  “What’s that?” he perked up. “Aviad, you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You say you just met with him? He’s back?” Saris became so caught up in the prospect of the missing leader’s return that he didn’t give me the chance to correct him. Excitedly standing to his feet, he began talking nonstop. “Nobody has seen or heard from him in quite some time, and now you say he’s returned! Fantastic! Lieutenant Philan, my boy, we must double—no, triple—our repair efforts on the monastery to make it ready in case he chooses to visit here next. Splendid! What a day! Ha, ha!” The captain was bursting with so much newfound energy, he didn’t know what to do with himself. “But oh! I am getting ahead of myself. First… first let us hear the message this fine young man has brought to us from Aviad.”

  The old capta
in finally settled down enough to take his seat once more, beaming at me expectantly with a wide grin that seemed to erase years from his wrinkled face. I felt horrible in saying it now, but the truth needed to be told.

  “Aviad is dead, sir.”

  “What?!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to confuse you,” I apologized. “The truth is that after Aviad gave me the mission to recover the Bloodstone halves, he came and united them himself…. The curse was completed in him.”

  This news did not seem to encourage Saris as it had Petrov and the Thordins. Instead he slumped deeper into his chair; his face drifted further into despair than ever before. “Then we are worse off than I thought,” he moaned.

  “But sir,” Philan spoke up, not quite understanding his logic, “if it’s true that the Bloodstone has been destoyed, then…”

  “Then we should not still be in the mess we are in today,” the captain said tersely. “Think about it…. Supposing Aviad did attempt to destroy the Bloodstone, then according to the prophecy, the curse of death should be lifted. We should be free of the Shadow.”

  He made a valid point; one we could not readily argue.

  “Well, as it stands now,” Saris continued, “three years later he’s still gone and, Bloodstone or not, the Shadow have only grown stronger every day. With Aviad dead, I fear our cause is hopeless. I had such faith in the man too. He was so young, so strong, so full of life. I thought for sure he was the one to lead us into victory...”

  Young? Had I heard Saris right? The Aviad I knew was not young by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, I remembered last seeing him as a frail old man, and somewhat absentminded at that. I had often wondered what everyone saw in him until he proved his power to me in the end. Clearly Saris must be getting delusional with age.

  “Well then, that settles it,” Captain Saris concluded, slapping his hands down onto his knees with finality. “Without a word from the Author, we must move forward with the Emissary’s proposal for peace with the Shadow. I see no other way to survive. Tomorrow I plan to sign the treaty with Zagzabarz. We have waited long enough.”

  Philan looked devastated at his captain’s sudden decision, but that didn’t stop him from speaking up. “Sir, with all due respect, we cannot sign this treaty,” he said boldly. “It’s dangerous ground; I heard you say so yourself. The Code of Life clearly states we are to resist the Shadow, not shake hands with them! Give this more time…the Author will make another way if we only hold on a little longer.”

  “No, Philan, my mind is made up. We have no other options. Maybe with time something will come, but time is not our friend unless we sign the treaty, I’m afraid. We’ll be evicted from this place in short order if we don’t concede. And where would we go then?” He sighed, “I only wish there were something else that could be done.”

  “Hunter,” Trista whispered, elbowing me, “tell him about the Flame.”

  Rob shot a worried glance at us, shaking his head nervously.

  “What?” Trista replied, “I think we’ve heard enough to know that Saris isn’t some kind of enemy spy. He just needs encouragement. Tell him, already!”

  “Tell me what?” Saris asked disinterestedly.

  I didn’t know exactly where to begin until I remembered the approach Petrov had taken with me back on Galacia. “Well,” I began slowly, “I think maybe I should show you something first.”

  Following my lead, Rob hesitantly carried his copy of the Author’s Writ over to the small table next to Saris and unlocked it.

  “Tell us of the Consuming Fire,” I appealed.

  Boojum, thinking more treats were being served at the table, had just climbed up when the book began moving on its own in response to my request. Spooked, he darted into Trista’s arms as the pages flipped open to the passage I had first read with Petrov. The words etched themselves into existence even as the last page fell into place.

  “Saris, would you honor us by reading this passage aloud?” I asked.

  “I don’t see as well anymore,” Saris said squinting at the page, “but I will be happy to try.” After finding the right distance from which to read, Saris cleared his throat and began:

  The Consuming Fire

  Before the sun rises, darkness must reign;

  For seventy times, light’s presence will wane;

  But no shadow or power can hold back the light

  when a new dawn of fire bursts forth from the night.

  An eternal flame of consuming power

  Will come to the faithful in their most desperate hour.

  It starts with a spark—on the first will descend

  To empower the chosen to stand til the end.

  So I, the Author, have written.

  A wounded pillar the Fire will take;

  A sleeping strength the Fire will wake;

  A heart of stone from Fire gains sight;

  A precious seed through Fire finds life;

  A faithful captive the Fire unchains;

  An ember of hope the Fire will claim;

  The seventh of seven only Fire can name.

  When the seven are marked the Fire will fall,

  Not only for seven but on all who are called.

  So I, the Author, have written.

  When he finished he looked up and blinked.

  “So now, what exactly was it you wanted to tell me about this passage?”

  “Well, it may sound strange but, did you happen to feel anything when you read it?”

  “Feel something?”

  “Yes…like a burning or anything?”

  “A burning? No, I can’t say I felt any burning…why?”

  His answer was disappointing to say the least. It seemed we had come all this way for nothing.

  “I don’t get it,” I said in frustration. “The Flame clearly told me to come to Torpor. And Petrov seemed sure that the passage was referring to the Captains…and…”

  “Slow down there, boy, what Flame? What are you talking about?” Saris asked.

  “You know, the Flame…the one that marked Petrov!” I said, as if they already knew. The room went silent. Apparently, Petrov had never shared the news with anyone else.

  “Petrov was marked?” Saris asked somewhat dreamily, his eyes glazing over in thought. “By a flame?”

  “Yes, on his left collarbone, just above his heart. I saw it myself!”

  “But we received word just yesterday that he passed away unexpectedly.”

  “It’s true,” I acknowledged, saddened by the reminder. Before I knew what I was saying I found myself adding, “But he passed on the task of carrying the Flame to me. Actually, the Flame told me to carry it to Torpor. It didn’t exactly say why, but Petrov and I figured it would be to find another of the seven to mark.”

  I cringed, realizing too late that I had said too much. Hadn’t Petrov warned me to keep the Flame’s location a secret from everyone unless it chose to reveal itself to them? Rob had even reminded me less than an hour ago. I looked over at him for help, but he had his head buried in his hands. There was no way to take anything back now.

  “You mean the Flame is here…with you…now?” Saris asked, leaning forward and fixing his gaze on me once more.

  I squirmed, not wanting to say anything more, but he knew the answer without my ever saying a word; my face had said it all.

  “There! You see, Captain?” Philan said with a contagious joy that quickly spread to the down-trodden captain. “You can’t deny it’s the Author’s hand at work.”

  “Yes,” Saris said, beaming. “Yes! This is great news indeed…. Perhaps there is hope for us yet!”

  “Not ta damper things here,” Stoney interjected in a serious tone, “but if we can’t find the other six ta mark, there isn’t much ta get excited ’bout…. You see, we were expectin’ you’d be the
second of the seven, what with being the ‘sleeping strength’ part.”

  “Indeed,” Saris chuckled, “I’ve been called worse, I’m sure. But the seven you’re after couldn’t be captains.”

  “Why not?” Trista asked.

  “Well, to begin with, there are only five captains left now, four if you don’t count Petrov who you say was already marked. Sam is gone and Faldyn was removed, gone missing now, as I understand it. We’ve never really replaced either of them.”

  I pondered this for awhile, kicking myself for not having thought that part through before.

  “Then who should we look for?” Rob finally asked, having given up on being the sole survivor in the blown secrecy pact.

  “Who indeed? It is a question that many will ponder,” Saris replied; “however, we may not need to find the other six to be saved by it, considering the Flame’s hidden power!”

  “Hidden power?” Stoney said with curiosity.

  “You mean, you don’t know about the other prophecy?” Saris asked, somewhat surprised. “Petrov didn’t tell you about it, did he?”

  I shook my head, confused by what he was implying.

  “I suppose he believed it was better that way,” he finally said. “Still, I don’t know why he didn’t keep the Flame for himself; he surely would be alive today if he had.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Elsewhere in the Writ is another prophecy. It tells that the Flame holds the key to eternity. Anyone who carries the Flame can never die; the power of eternal life is his. Naturally, this is a power that even the Shadow desire, and not for good reasons, mind you. You said you carried the Flame with you, is that right?”

  I nodded nervously, now keenly aware of its inestimable value. Would I really live forever as long as I held the Flame?

  “Where is it now? May I see it?” he asked eagerly.

  I started to reach for the medallion around my neck, but suddenly, the weight of it seemed to grow heavier. I felt like a child on his birthday, not wanting to share the toy he had just been given. Petrov obviously wanted me to have it, and the Flame had chosen me as well. How could I ever let someone else have it now that I knew the power it possessed?