The Flame Keeper

Chapter 29

It was like a dark storm cloud had rolled in, draping a blanket of black over the streets as the metal rain beat down harder. Day turned to night as the sun sunk behind the airship, belching out little nuts and bolts, along with the occasional scrap, that frolicked on the street before being snagged away with the swoop of a hand.

"What is he doing?" Ken sputtered as he stared at a lanky boy around my age—maybe a little older—scampering amid the storm. He wore a ruffled woolen shirt stained with tears and patches, and loose brown trousers that trembled under the rumble of the airship. His faded leather boots had been sewn together with a simple yet firm handiwork and were almost inaudible as they met the ground—or perhaps it had been drowned out by the rain.

"Either he's an experienced scavenger or he's very, very stupid," Albert said. "But I suppose you should vote for the former."

The boy nimbly leaped from one foot to the other, expertly shifting his weight so that the metal plate he held above his head remained shielding the bombardment of its brothers.

With a swift motion, he scooped the plate and ran it along the ground as he sprinted. It was a bulldozer that eagerly devoured the rain. Sparks danced along the plate as the rain pelted harder and the boy whipped it up again to shield his head, ducking underneath an overhang across from us to empty it into the large leather bag slung over his shoulder.

"Scavenger?" I asked, afraid to speak before as if it would interrupt his heedless run for good.

Albert nodded and waved a finger around before it settled on a large hunk of a lustrous metal—bronze or copper it seemed. The glimmer had also caught the boy's eyes, trailing it like a predator does towards an unsuspecting prey.

"The metal from airships is worth more coins than you can count on your hands if you gather enough. That one can be traded for a few gold if your dealer's feeling generous, and a handful of bolts can get you there as well."

"Dangerous business for dangerously high profits," Matilda mused, her eyes focused on the boy as he made another break for it.

The plate snaked along the ground, a scraping sound that made my ears scream, and once it threatened to spill out like a bowl filled to the brim with water he darted to the nearest overhang. Which happened to be where we stood.

"Watch it, boy," He sneered, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he crashed into me and pushed himself back up. The metal trickled over the edge like a gushing waterfall as it landed in the bag, a chorus of bells ringing out before a firm tug on the drawstrings silenced it.

Boy? He was no older than me by perhaps a few years, yet he had the audacity to tell me to move aside when it clearly was the other way around. Then again, the knife on his belt didn't seem like the type not to draw blood at the slightest arousement, and the boy's twitching hands hovering over it made sure I kept silent.

Matilda set her jaw, her hands tight balls of fury as her eyes pulsed dangerously in cue with her rapid heartbeat. She grabbed onto my arm as if to shield me from whatever danger possessed the fear coursing through her body, but—luckily—it was only unfounded.

The boy cast a withering glare at us before he whipped around, his hair swishing to the side momentarily to reveal a pair of swirling brown eyes that held an intense sadness concealed behind locks of long dark hair that slunk back.

"Glad to see that you're still well, Albert," He turned his gaze to Albert's surprised face, realization sinking in after the boy leaned forward and brushed aside his untrimmed hair. "And if you still value your measly life, you'd better run. You don't want to get caught near wandering around an airship storm."