Everflame (11 page)

“We are,” replied Eveneye.

Once they were in the room, Evercloud noticed a chest at the room’s center.

“There’s something I want to give you.” Eveneye walked over to the chest and unlocked it. He took something out of it and made to hand it to Evercloud. “I had our finest metal-smiths make it for you. It should make defending yourself much easier.” Evercloud’s eyes widened as his father handed him the weapon. “Now, you too, have a claw.”

The weapon Eveneye had given to his son looked like
the claw was made of pure gold, yet it was hard as steel and light as a feather. It was a long piece of metal that extended from his elbow to his hand, and coming out of the end at the hand, were three eight-inch blades that extended like a claw.

“Go ahead and put it on.”

Evercloud saw that there were leather straps to secure it to his arm. He strapped it on and gazed at it in wonder.

“I had the metal extended down to your elbow so that you could use that part as a shield, but it ties to your arm so that your hand is still free. Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible,” said Evercloud, still in amazement. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I know that men usually fight with swords, but–”

“I’m not a usual man, Father. I don’t know what usual men do. I know what bears do, and that is as it should be.”

Eveneye smiled at his son.

“I just wanted to give you something to show you what you mean to me, Evercloud. You’ll never know how important you are to me. I owe you so much.”

“It is I who owe you,
Father. You saved my life and you made a kingdom of bears accept me. You owe me nothing.”

“No, Evercloud, you don’t understand. You are my only son. The only son I will ever have. The only one that I
can
ever have.” Evercloud looked at his father, uncomprehending. “I and your mother are unable to have offspring, Evercloud. We tried for many years, unsuccessfully, and then you came into our lives and we didn’t need to worry anymore. You filled the void in our hearts that would have never gone away, had you not come along. You were a miracle for your mother and I. You saved us from sadness.” Evercloud still looked at his father as though he did not completely understand. “I tell you this now, Evercloud, so that you can see my motives for saving you were selfish. It was not for the greater good. It was what I wanted. It was a decision for me. I see you worry yourself everyday with what others want of you and how others will perceive you. Wanting to do good for this kingdom is noble, but it is not all there is to life. Don’t forget about you. Don’t ever lose yourself, my son.” Eveneye embraced his son. “I love you, Evercloud.”

“Thank you,
Father. I love you too.”

• • •

When Evercloud woke up the next morning, it was as if he had woken up as a different person. He felt surer of himself, less awkward. He wondered when he would leave. Evercloud crawled out of bed and made his way toward the kitchen where he found his mother and father eating breakfast. There was a plate, already made for him and he sat down, said good morning, and began eating.

“How did you sleep?” asked Goldenheart.

“Well,” said Evercloud with a stuffed mouth.

“You’re not nervous about leaving?”

“No,” Evercloud swallowed, “why would I be?”

Goldenheart didn’t respond. Eveneye spoke for her.

“Your mother cares for you, Evercloud. She worries.”

“I’ll be all right. Uncle Whiteclaw will be there and Riverpaw too. Nothing bad will happen.”

A call came from the entrance to the Eveneye and Goldenheart’s cave, and in walked Whiteclaw, Riverpaw and Autumnbreeze. Autumnbreeze had a pack with her, full of all of her things.

“Is Aunt Autumn staying here?” asked Evercloud.

“Yes,” answered Eveneye. “She’ll be staying here until the three of you return.”

“Almost ready to go, Evercloud?” asked Whiteclaw.

“Yeah. Let me just grab my claw.” Evercloud ran back to his bed. He had left his claw lying next to his mattress. He grabbed it, fastened it to his belt, and returned to the others. “All right. I’m ready now.”

“What is that?” asked Riverpaw, gawking at the weapon that hung from Evercloud’s belt.

“That’s my claw.”

Riverpaw looked at his own claw, then back at Evercloud’s and shrugged. Evercloud turned to his mother and gave her a hug.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’ll be fine and I’ll be back soon.”

“Just be careful, Evercloud, and rememb
er that I love you,” said Goldenheart, giving her son a kiss.

“I love you too.” Then
, Evercloud turned to his father and gave him a hug. “Don’t you worry, okay? I’m gonna make you two proud.”

“I know you will, son.”

Autumnbreeze gave her goodbyes to her husband and son and then all six of them walked out of the cave to the main road, heading down the mountain.

“Where are we headed first, dad?” asked Riverpaw.

“Well, there are rumors of Tenturo to the west. So we’re going to start west. Evercloud, you’d better ride on Riverpaw’s back, otherwise I don’t think that you could keep up.”

Evercloud jumped onto his cousin’s back.

“You ready for this?” asked Riverpaw.

Evercloud smiled.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this.”

“Then we’re off,” said Whiteclaw
, and he and his son went barreling down the mountain.

Eveneye, Goldenheart and Autumnbreeze watched them go, all the way down the mountain, until they disappeared into the forest.

“Oh Even, he’ll come back to us, won’t he?”

“Of course he will, Goldie. Of course he will.”

FIRE

Chapter 8:
Regret

The world is cracking apart. It can’t exist this way much longer. I feel guilty. I feel like this is my fault. I never should have let this happen. I should have fought. I could have found a way, I know that I could have. But now… It’s too late.

This world has run its course, o
r at least it doesn’t have much longer. Humans are a failure. My failure. I have failed them… Am I wrong? I wish that I were. I wish we had seen this coming. How could we have been so blind to forget about it? Forget that it might care? That it might wish to be involved? That it was more powerful than the rest of us combined? We were so naive, so self-assured and so wrong. We were so wrong to ignore it… and so wrong to discard him.

If I could start it all over, I would have kept him. How could we have thrown him away like so much trash? He was ours, our creation, we owed him so much more and now…

Everything will die.

I will die.

For myself, it will be just, as it is my fault. But as for the rest? This is not justice. This is as wrong as I was. Alas, what hope is there?

Men are dead.

They just don’t know it yet.

Chapter 9:
Need

Edgar hated when his mother had him run errands. He would purposefully try to make himself scarce when he could see that supplies were low. It wasn’t that Edgar Shein was a lazy child. It was simply that Edgar Shein was an unpopular child, and the bullies would always find him when he went into the village alone. Especially Pritchard Barton. Pritchard Barton had already bloodied Edgar's nose on three occasions, as well as stolen money from him and even embarrassed him by taking his clothing, forcing him to run home nude. Edgar's mother, Rachael, felt horrible about how her son was tormented, but with Edgar's father gone so often on long trips, she had little choice but to send Edgar on errands.

Edgar’s black locks hung past his eyes as he walked into the village of Hammlin. Gazing down at his feet as he walked, the small, pale boy looked miserable.  He knew he had to help his mother. He didn’t blame her at all. It was his father he blamed. Edgar's father, Joe, worked for the Holy. He was a missionary and he had been gone for more of Edgar’s life than he had
been present for. The boy resented him for it. He felt Joe should be at home, taking care of him and his mother, not off in other lands. Edgar didn’t even feel right calling him father.

As Edgar started passing houses in the village, he changed his posture. He couldn’
t afford to hang his head now. He had to be on the lookout at all times. As his eyes surveyed his surroundings, he wished that his father were there. But as Pritchard Barton’s yellow teeth came sneering around the corner of the blacksmith’s shop, Edgar’s sentiment changed and he cursed his father’s name.

“You know, I would have thought
, by now, you’d just stop showing your ugly face around here, Shein.”

Edgar reacted the same way that he always did when he saw Pritchard Barton. He kept his head straight, walked as fast as he could and prayed to the Holy that this would be the time that Barton let him go. Unfortunately, as they always did, E
dgar’s prayers went unanswered.

“I’m talkin’ to you, you little insect,” shouted Barton as he picked up a stone along the side of the road and hurled it at Edga
r, hitting him on the shoulder.

Pain shot through Edgar’s shoulder and arm but he didn’t stop walking.
Please make him stop. Please make him stop
, thought Edgar. However, Pritchard Barton wasn’t alone today. His crony, Joe Stockton, was with him and Pritchard loved to show off.

“I think the little girl’s gone deaf,” laughed Stockton.

“He ain’t deaf…yet,” sneered Barton as he picked up another stone.

“Put that stone down, you little bastard!” Murray the Blacksmith came rumbling out of his shop and grabbed Pritchard Barton by his ear. “If I catch either of you little hooligans terrorizing people again, you’ll get the back of my hand. Got it?”

Murray released Prichard’s ear and the boy almost tripped over himself in retreat. Scuffling in the street and kicking up dust, the two bullies ran away as fast as they could. Edgar couldn’t help but grin due to the shocked and embarrassed look on Pritchard’s pimpled face, the bully’s fat cheeks turning scarlet. The smith walked over to where Edgar stood and put his big hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You all right, boy?”

“I’m fine, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Edgar looked up into the big man’s bearded face. Murray was an intimidating man and although he had just helped Edgar, the boy wasn’t exactly comfortable in his presence.

“You running errands for your mum again?”

“Yes,
Sir.”

“Well,” and Murray extended his hand down the road, “let’s get em done then, shall we?”
Edgar couldn’t believe his luck. The blacksmith had stopped Pritchard Barton and now he was escorting him through the village, just like his own personal guard. “What do you need to get today, Edgar?”

“Mum asked for salt, sugar, and bread,” answered the boy.

“Where’s your dad gone off to this time, eh?”

“Don’t know,
Sir… He never says.”

Murray grumbled to himself. I
t was obvious to Edgar that the blacksmith felt the same way that he did about his father’s absence. Edgar had begun to feel much better, but with the topic of his father back in his mind, he was falling back into a depression.

“How’s your mum doing up at the farm?” asked Murray.

“She’s all right, Sir. Busy, but doing fine.”

“Now that’s enough of that
sir
stuff. I appreciate the manners and it goes to show your mum’s doing a good job with you, but you can call me Murray. Sound good?”

“Yes, s- I mean, Murray.”

Murray smiled down at the boy as they entered the bakery and Edgar smiled back. Once Edgar had purchased what he needed, and he and Murray had returned to where the blacksmith’s shop was located, Murray stopped and looked down at Edgar.

“I got something i
nside the shop I wanna show you before you go back to your mum.”

Edgar nodded his head and the two of them left the cobblestone road and walked into the shop. Sunlight came through the windows of the blacksmith’s shop, revealing a good amount of dust in the air. The shop was rather dingy and it seemed obvious to Edgar that Murray didn’t clean things very often.

“I live just through that door, there at the back of the shop. It’s small, but it’s just me, so I figured there’s no sense in having a whole house. What I wanted to show you is back there. Follow me.”

Edgar followed Murray through the door into his living quarters. Murray wasn’t being modest when he said it was small. There was a bed, a table and a c
hair, what looked like a closet with a curtain hanging in front of it, and a door that Edgar assumed led outside to an outhouse. There was leftover food still on the table and the bed had not been made. Edgar was not used to such untidiness, and as children sometimes do, he let his curiosity get the best of him.

“Why don’t you have a wife, Murray?”

Murray looked down at the boy sullenly and pursed his lips. Edgar suddenly realized that he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Well,” Murray said with a sigh, “I was married for a time. Her name was Andrea. She was the most beautiful woman in the village.” Murray then turned away from Edgar. “But she took ill and passed on a couple of years ago.” Edgar was ashamed of himself and began to say he was sorry
, but Murray cut him off. “Enough about the past. Let me show you what’s in the closet.”

Suddenly, Edgar realized that he was in a strange man’s house and became uneasy. Murray had been nice to him and
had helped him, but he didn’t know him that well and wondered if it wasn’t a mistake to follow him into his shop. Murray reached the closet and turned to Edgar with a smile, and when he saw the cautious look on Edgar’s face, he chuckled.

“Come on, boy. I ain’t gonna hurt ye.” Murray began to draw t
he curtain to the side and said, “Now be quiet. I think they’re sleeping.”

As Murray moved the curtain aside, Edgar’s eyes lit up. Lying at the floor of the closet was a female wolfhound with five pups, all huddled together.

“The big one’s name is Tiffa.” As Murray spoke, one of the puppies lifted his head from his mother’s leg and walked over to Edgar, wagging his tail.

“Can I pick him up?” asked Edgar.

“Course you can. Go ahead.”

Edgar bent down and picked up the puppy. It was like a big ball of brown fuzz. Edgar held the dog in his arms and it licked
his face.

“What’s his name?” asked Edgar.

“Well, he doesn’t have one yet,” said Murray. “Thought you might want to give him one, since he’s yours now.”

E
dgar looked up at Murray, slack-jawed, the puppy still licking his face.

“Really?”

“Yep. He’s yours. I can’t take care of all these dogs. Plus, he likes you.”

Edgar’s face lit up and he slumped down to the floor, letting the little
, brown puppy bounce all around him.

“There’s something else I want you to have, Edgar.” Murray reached under the mattress of his bed and pulled out a small dagger with a black handle and a red stone on the hilt. “Now, that Pritchard Barton is a sight bigger than you, his head’s not right and he don’t fight fair. Anytime your mum sends you on errands, you can come see me first and we’ll go together, but I might not always be here. So
, I think that you should keep this with you.”

Murray handed the dagger to Edgar and the red stone shined bright as Edgar held it in his hands.

“I don–”

“Hear me out, Edgar. I’m not saying you should attack Pritchard Barton, but if he puts you in a dangerous situation, that dagger might be your only way out… Not everybody knows right from wrong, Edgar. Far worse, sometimes people think that t
hey do, when they really don’t. It’s okay to protect yourself.”

“Thank you… I-I don’t know what to say.” Edgar stared down at the puppy in his lap and then at the dagger in his hands. “Mother and
Father are real strict with the Holy. I don’t think they’ll let me keep the dagger… They probably won’t let me keep the dog either.”