The Flame Keeper

Chapter 12

Each time I blinked, another person fell, thrown to the side by a deadly blast. The once lively street had been stained red, and normal conversation had turned into agonizing screams that pierced through the window and into my ears.

And then I saw him. Ken, standing at the end of the bloodbath, holding onto his dark red hat as if it were the one that needed to be ground in place, to not be thrown against the ground by a blast of air. A few dozen out of the hundreds of people that originally stood limped over the fallen bodies, their spirits crushed and no thought of rebellion in their minds. Only to live another day to fight.

Ken stood steadfast, though, a beacon of light radiating hope and energy upon those who still stood. A few looked up, their eyes brightening, but the light in them faded as some of them were struck down. Others staggered to the side and crumpled against the bodies that seemed to stack up like mountains, fear etched into their faces.

"Who do you think you are?" The leader asked, his voice surprisingly soft and smooth like a fine mattress. Someone had finally managed to crack open the window, a blast of cold air and dust smacking me in the face.

Ken didn't answer, nor did he hesitate in raising his hands and firing an onslaught of small, but ferocious fireballs that pelted the capital agents. Two were struck down immediately, taken aback by the sudden retaliation, but the leader, a man with a long scar cutting his face into two, deflected the blow effortlessly as if it was only a trivial sparring match between a master and his student.

With a swift motion, the leader swung his hands, conjuring a whirlwind of air that picked up dust and flakes of blood, and sent the ball of air hurtling towards Ken, who I could only watch being thrown back against the ground with a terrifying thud.

The breath I let out when I saw Ken pushing himself up was audible, but he was immediately surrounded by the capital agents.

"Clean up the dead and throw the rest into Hortrum prison." The leader's voice resonated through the block, making its way up to my window. "And keep an eye on this one."

My breath hitched, and I leaned against the window, almost trying to shout to let Ken go. I stopped myself, knowing it would only draw attention and possibly ruin my chances of ever getting him back.

Clear my mind, I thought repeatedly, trying to block out everything else. I need to get to George.

With speed to rival a stampede of sheep running towards a grassy meadow, I swung open the door and bounded across the street towards the inn.

"George!" I shouted, struggling to catch my breath as I burst into the inn. "George!"

But he was nowhere to be seen, and only Matilda sat by the front desk organizing papers. Her eyes met mine from underneath the locks of her black hair and spoke of suspicion as they narrowed to slits. "George is busy. What do you want?"

"I need to get Ken back," I said in between breaths, my heart pumping and each moment that passed felt like an eternity of fear and agitation that crawled up my skin. "H-he was caught in the riot outside."

"My brother?" Matilda snorted, her laugh surprisingly coated with a warm inflection. "Not surprising, though, that he got himself into a riot."

"Why're you looking at me like I'll help some capital scum?" She spat the last word out forcefully, her eyes fixating a fatal glare on me. 

"What's wrong with the capital?" I asked, immediately recoiling as soon as the words left my mouth. "I meant—"

"What's wrong with the capital?" She sprung up, shoving the stool beside disdainfully, and stamped over to where I stood shakily, each step an accentuated thud against the floor. Before I could react, she lurched forward and grabbed the clasp of my cape, slamming me against the desk. My head jerked backward, my back having arched in an attempt to mitigate the desk's blow, and Matilda's hot breath against my cheeks made a shade of red crawl up them.

"My mother..." She loosened her grip, her face still inches from mine. "She died because of them. In the wildfires."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry." I stammered, but Matilda just shook her head.

"You won't understand, you see." Her voice had gone dangerously low and a strand of hair brushed against my cheek, sending a tingling sensation that racked my mind. "You will never understand what it's like to lose one of your kin at such a young age. Do you hear me?"

With a shove, she let go of her grip and I crumpled against the desk, my eyes popping open. Though she attempted to put on a brave face, I could see the slight trembling of her legs and feel the staggered breathing that stabbed the air.

"I do understand." A voice said almost inaudibly, then I realized it had come from me. "My father was the flame keeper."

I didn't have to look up to see that her ears had perked up, and her eyes narrowed behind her long strands of hair, as if they were always hiding, always watching. "The one who set cities ablaze? Then you deserve to lose him."

"No, no," I said, ignoring the spiteful tone of her voice. "The one who left. But to be fair, I had never known him since only recently when it came to me that I had been found, not born."

"Oh," It was her turn to be quiet as her expression softened and she sat down beside me. "I didn't know."

I could only nod as I realized that she had been right. I couldn't relate to her. I had not been stricken with grief when my father had left, and I had not known of him and wouldn't have if Ken hadn't appeared at the restaurant. Still, I remained silent, savoring the moment when Matilda didn't have an interest in killing me.

"So what are you doing here, searching for your father?" She asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, though the only lead we have is to find the previous flame keeper," I said. "Ken said that he might still have a connection with the flame, but the problem is, we don't have a clue where to start."

Matilda didn't respond for a while, lips pursed and tapping her chin thoughtfully to choose her next words carefully. "Say you find the flame keeper, the previous one, of course, would I have the liberty to do what I wish with him after you get whatever you want?"

I cocked my head, my brows furrowing. "Uh, I suppose so? You don't mean to kill him or anything like that, right?"

"No..." she shook her head instantly, taken aback by my statement. "Do I look like a psychopath?"

Well, you did just try to kill me... I flushed, chiding myself for asking such a rude question. "The thing is, again, we won't be able to find him. We might get lucky out of the hundreds of asylums we search, but it's something I'm sure we won't want to do or count on."

The ends of her mouth curled up to form a slight smile and her eyes twinkled, a glimmering star in the center of her pupil. "But luckily for you, I've done some research on my mother's killer and I have a lead. How much, we can only see, but it's something."

"So can you just tell us?" I asked hopefully.

All I got was a mischievous smirk as she stood up, extending her hand to pull me as well. "Well, it won't be any good if Ken's still in prison."

"We're going to break him out?" I asked, my eyes widening at the realization.

Matilda slugged me playfully on the arm, but it still stung as I rubbed it through the cape. "Of course, silly. How else do you expect Ken to get out? We leave tonight, you get some rest, and I'll be figuring out how exactly this is going to work."

"Wait, how are we supposed to break into Hortrum prison?" I felt slightly worried that we might be stepping into a secure prison with no plan in mind later, but with Matilda on my side, the butterflies in my stomach settled down and it seemed everything would be all right, just getting to that point would be the issue.

"We'll see," she laughed her stupidly contagious laugh and skipped back to the desk, flipping her hair in such a way that just made me shake my head and smile.