The Flame Keeper

Chapter 8

The worker's faces flickered in the night against the flaming torch and though two of them stood steadfast, one of the workers didn't seem like he wished to be there at all, evident by the beads of sweat that dripped down his brow and his quivering lip.

"Who are you and state your business here!" The first worker's sharp voice pierced through the empty night and I shivered, partly because of the cold but mostly in fear. Ken had shown that he was capable against one man, but reinforcements could arrive at any moment and strength in numbers was something to be reckoned with.

Ken seemed to not hear the worker's command and stared ahead, his feet forming a steady stance. His hands radiated a faint glow and at that moment, I knew that a wrong decision could mean life or death.

"Was I not clear enough?" The worker was visibly struggling to shout but persisted despite the slight raspiness in his voice—perhaps his tiring days as a warehouse manager had left him with a sore throat. "Who are you and state your business here!"

Ken remained unwavering besides his clothes that flapped in the gentle breeze, and it seemed the thread on which everything hung was on the verge of tearing apart.

The worker's eye twitched frantically and he took a dangerous step forward, his feet planting a firm stance on the ground as well. Ken's arms tightened and he straightened his figure, shifting his stance until he was parallel to the man ten or so paces away. One wrong move and the thread would tear apart, though it was clear that neither of them intended to preserve it.

I must have blinked or looked away for such a brief time that when I looked back, I was instantly blinded by a searing light surrounding a powerful flame that radiated heat and energy, illuminating the night sky. At that moment, I almost laughed at myself for thinking that a group of three workers could take on Ken. Surely they would be instantly vaporized by the blast.

But when the light subsided to a more moderate degree, I found myself staring in awe, not at the continuous stream of flame that shot straight at the enemy, but at the magical shield the enemy had miraculously constructed and blocked the otherwise fatal attack.

Ken struggled to speak coherently, his words getting jumbled up with sounds of pure shock and amazement. "W-what? But how?"

The first worker just smiled a mysterious smile, showing all his perfectly polished white teeth. "I would advise you to yield as you are under violation of Article 2, Section 1—"

"—Harboring a fugitive's relative. I know what the regulations say."

The worker threw his head back and let out a booming laugh. "Yet here you are."

His expression tightened, his eyes snapped to where I still sat, and they seemed to freeze me in place. "Give up the boy now."

"What?!" Ken spun around with such speed I had never known to be possible, and his features told of shock and frustration.

"Why are you here?" He cried, as if almost on his knees begging me. "You—"

He stopped mid-sentence, not because he was struggling to explain, but because a fist of concentrated air had struck square in his stomach, sending him flying into the train. He crumpled on the ground like an old house being struck down, lifeless.

"No!" I heard someone scream painfully as if a wolf had sunk its teeth into a bleating sheep, and I realized it was me. I limped over to where Ken's stiff body lay and anxiously grabbed his wrist, checking for a heartbeat.

Ohmygodohmygod. I felt the faint thump on his wrist and almost jumped out of my trousers when his hand grabbed onto mine.

"Go..." His voice scraped against his throat like an old rake dragging across the pavement, and his eyes darted around wildly before landing on mine. "I'll hold them off long enough for you to run."