Centum Malediction

Chapter 2-7

Tuesday, September 21st. 2010

Lom and Michael sat down at the end of the logging road, their backs leaning against the fire truck they had stolen. Both of them looked over at the pile of wood they had gathered. Some pieces shot upwards making the pile even taller than Michael. The boys couldn't help but be proud of their work. It had taken only about ten minutes to create, and while there was no structure to it, Michael and Lom were happy with it regardless.

"So, why do they call you Lom?" Michael asked, attempting to make conversation to pass the time.

"That's not usually something I tell people I've just met," Lom replied. "Then again, I don't usually enter life and death situations with people I've just met either."

"I've just never had a nickname like that, that's all," Michael said.

"When my parents were dating their friends combined their names together, Laurie and Tomas became Lom," Lom explained. "I was named after my dad. When I was born, my mother would call me her little Lom or Lommy."

"That seems a bit childish." Michael cut Lom off, surprised.

"My mother passed away when I was younger. I kept the name to honor her," Lom finished explaining. With Lom's words came guilt that stabbed Michael's heart.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't realized." Michael lowered his voice into a quiet whisper. Lom just nodded to Michael, reassuring him.

"How long do you want to wait?" Lom asked, breaking the silence that had returned to them while simultaneously changing the subject from his dead mother.

"If this doesn't work, we are seriously screwed," Michael said, not really answering the question directly, but indicating he was willing to wait several hours if necessary.

"I'm surprised nobody has followed us yet," Lom said. He kept looking back down the road they had used, expecting to see firemen searching for them, but none came.

"They are probably busy fighting the fires," Michael replied. "I'm not going to lie. I feel guilty for stealing this truck."

"Me too," Lom agreed. He nearly jumped at a sudden sound. One of the pieces of wood that was sticking up out of the pile fell over on the ground with a loud thump. Michael and Lom both stood up with a jolt.

"Is this it?" Lom asked, he grabbed the hose attached to the fire truck, at the ready just in case. Michael shrugged, slowly approaching the wood.

"Wait until we see it," Michael whispered to Lom. Visceria had been capable of speech; he couldn't risk the spell overhearing their plan and escaping. A small plume of smoke rose from the pile of wood and a crackling sound was heard from within, but there was no visible fire spreading through the outer pile. Michael crept closer to the pile of debris until he was within arm's reach. Where there had been dark shadows within the wood pile there was now a pale orange light. The bottom of the pile was on fire, but the spell had not yet revealed itself.

Michael looked to Lom, holding his hand up to signal when to use the hose. Lom gave him a nod and Michael reached forward, pushing the biggest piece of wood to the ground. A flash of light shot outwards as Lom blasted the hose, instantly dousing any fire in the wood. Michael followed the blur that emerged from the fire with his eyes. It had jumped directly to the branch of a tree.

The blur wasn't just a fireball. The fire formed into the shape of a wolf, complete with dark blood red eyes that glimmered through the trickling flames. The wolf had a thick solid hide, but instead of fur there was fire. It had dark charred fangs and claws, and growled menacingly down at Michael.