The Flame Keeper

Chapter 5

I mulled over the possibility by the fireplace the next morning on the single lounge chair that occupied the room. It was Sunday finally, and though almost everyone else had left for the Harvest market—Mark, Hank, and Aurora had promised they would stop by it when they left this morning—after a grueling week, I needed some rest.

Sinking back in the chair, I let myself drift off to the crackling of the fire. Everything seemed to fall in place if the stranger was telling the truth: Dave omitting my infancy, my magical aptitude—though it was more of a curse than a blessing. But everything had made sense before, perhaps with a few gaps in the explanations, but it could be easily dismissed as a simple coincidence.

I sighed, sat up in the chair, and stared into the swirling flames that slowly crept down the wood. I pushed myself off the chair, grabbed a few branches from the stack next to the fireplace, and tossed them in. The flames eagerly devoured the skinny branches as they flickered more wildly and uncontrollably, casting shadows on the walls that dwarfed themselves.

"Wallace!" Dave poked his head into the room. "You mind running to Vernon's for me? We're running a bit low on lamb."

I groaned, slumping back against the chair. "Right now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Dave nodded solemnly and tossed me a few silvers. I stood up, albeit a bit reluctantly, leaving the comfort of my chair, and dragged myself out the front door. The cold, biting air slapped me in the face as I strode briskly down the cobbled streets, and I shoved my hands into my pockets, shielding them from the harsh outside.

The weather was still quite pleasant, though—the sun was out, and not a single cloud filled the sky—and I could understand why my fellow staff mates were willing to endure a little cold for some long-awaited fresh air.

Passing several shops and buildings of various sizes, I walked for a few minutes before meeting anyone. The Traveler's Inn was to my left when I crossed the street towards the market—maybe that was why it was running out of rooms so quickly—and immediately, not to my surprise, I was bombarded by merchants and peddlers from every direction.

"Apples! Ripe and juicy, get them now!" one called out. Another stuck a strangely shaped stone in my face, claiming it was an artifact of the ancient world. Swatting away their outstretched hands, I pushed through the never-ending sea of bodies, craning my neck to see if I had missed the butcher's shop.

"Hey, Wallace!" A hand clapped me on the shoulder and I whipped around, finding Benjamin looking at me with a toothy grin. "Have you checked out the sweets yet? Y'know, there's one mango flavored that I'm sure you'll like."

"I wish I could." I sighed disappointedly. "I need to run to Vernon's before I can actually enjoy today."

"Errands on Sunday?" He stared at me in disbelief, his eyebrows forming a hairy bridge above his eyes. "That's tough."

"You don't know half of it." I scanned the marketplace once again and finally spotted the familiar intersecting street signs. Vernon's was just around the corner.

"I guess I'll see you later then," I said as I wriggled through the crowd like a blob of slime. I thought I saw Benjamin wave goodbye to me, but it could have just been another hand out of a hundred.

I pinched my nose tightly as I stepped into the shop, the bloody, slightly metallic aroma from the meat burning my nostrils. A gray-haired man and a boy stood by the nearly empty produce area picking out meat, and one of the staff was organizing canned food with a flick of his wrist, the containers gracefully rising from the basket in his hand and landing gently on the shelf. 

The cans organized themselves in successful order, the pristine ones sitting on the lower shelves for easy access. The dented ones, a deep hole in their wounded souls, sulked on the tallest shelves as if discouraging customers to purchase the hideous counterpart.