The Flame Keeper

Chapter 11

I awoke with an unpleasant start, my head smashing into the wooden floorboards and the repeated shaking of my shoulders jolting me. "Wallace! We need to leave."

The last time I had heard that things had gone horribly wrong, so I immediately sat up—a little too fast and my head planted firmly into the wall. "Ow..."

My eyes fluttered, adjusting to the light, and I was greeted with the sight of a bustling warehouse, white in color and a labyrinth of boxes and crates stacked on the inside. In the distance stood a complex of greater and lesser buildings that fought for a sliver of space next to the crowded streets, pedestrians strolling, people hurrying to their jobs, and the occasional street performer that gathered a small crowd.

By the rail yard, workers sprinted here and there, unloading shipments from the train, angry managers strained their throats yelling at them, and the faint smell of coffee drifted from the many cups littered across the railyard. It was similar to the one in Arborad, though many times larger, and stretched to the horizon with trains of various sizes and colors.

Rubbing the bump on my head, I crawled out of the cargo car and limped after Ken. My feet sank gently into the dirt as I leaped over a rail, careful not to repeat a similar incident, and I nearly knocked over a cup of coffee by my feet if not for the angry shout of a worker.

"Hey, watch your step!" It was a young man in his early twenties, judging by his shaven appearance and higher-pitched voice, and he wore a standard orange vest over a wrinkled shirt. His faded cargo pants had coffee stains here and there, and I smirked.

"What're you laughing at?" His eyes flashed and I threw my hands up in mock surrender.

"Nothing, nothing." I said, "City's that way, right?"

The man eyed me suspiciously before giving me a curt nod. With a swift motion, he lifted the cup off the rail it had been balanced on and downed it with one gulp, letting out a prolonged belch. "Man, nothing hits the spot like a good cup of coffee."

"Yeah—" I replied, but before I could converse anymore, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a train.

"You mustn't speak with anyone unless I tell you, alright?" Ken's expression loosened and he attempted a smile, though his features spoke of worry. He lowered his voice and glanced around in case someone had been eavesdropping. "We are wanted fugitives, if you've forgotten, and the more people we talk to, the faster the capital finds us."

I bobbed my head in agreement, partly because of Ken's trembling voice, begging me to understand, and partly because we both had first-hand experience with the capital. If we allowed it, they would not be merciful the next time around.

"Here," Ken slung his bag off his shoulder, pulling out the cape I stuffed in there last night—it was annoying to sleep all wrapped up like a bat. "Put this on."

I slipped on the cape, concealing my body and face under a blanket of darkness. Ken lowered his hat and stared down at the ground, avoiding any eye contact as we entered the city. The dirt smoothly transitioned into a cracked cobblestone pavement and I struggled to keep up with Ken as a horde of people meshed with us, shoving me in all directions so that it was nearly impossible to move.

"Where are we?" I asked, having to nearly shout over all the city noise.

"Hortrum," Ken said as he weaved through the crowd. "My hometown. We'll talk after we reach a less congested area."

I nodded, though he didn't acknowledge it under the cover of my hood, so I quickened my pace, my legs engaging in some fancy footwork as I danced across the street, trying to keep the dark red hat in sight.