The Fire Eater: An Inkheart Fanfiction

🔥 The Beginning 🔥

Pain began the first few heartbeats of the boy's new life. It filled his head, burning down his throat and stinging his closed eyes. He swallowed the metallic taste lining the insides of his mouth and shivered. The heavy scent of sweat filled his nose, and he felt strong arms carrying him.

"Hey," a voice hissed, close to his ear, "I think he's moving."

"Quit fooling around," A second voice, "I want to get to bed."

"No, I'm serious." There was a pause and the arms shifted. A hand moved back the course cloth and touched his face, gliding across a thin scar on the boy's eye. "Corpse bones," The man cursed, "he's not dead."

The swaying stopped. The boy pushed his thick eyelids open, meeting a face cast in shadows. Stars stretched above his head. More cursing and the second man moved closer. "What do we do? Do we tell him?"

The face above him shook back and forth. "No."

"We can't keep him!"

The man looked down at the boy's face and knelt, sliding his arms out from under him. The boy's head hit the stony ground beneath him.

The man stood and took a step back. "We leave him. We tell no one; pretend like nothing happened. Someone will find him in the morning."

"Yeah," The second voice scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that."

The man glanced around and turned away as the second shouldered a shovel. "Let's get out of here."

Footsteps echoed through the street as they walked away. The boy tried to call out, but his voice caught in his throat. His head seared. The cold rushed in on him, night winds covering his clammy body with sharp fingers. He waited, motionless. They did not return.

With a moan, the boy staggered to his feet. His head pounded with each step he took, but he pressed on, an unnamed fear driving him forward. The streets shone with an eerie light. White-washed buildings surrounded him, their windows boarded shut as if to keep out the night's horrors.

A shape moved in the corner of his eye and he spun around, his heart jumping in his throat. Three long shadows moved towards him. He backed away, his palms clammy. The shadows advanced and came into the light. A thin, ragged man with a sunken face and dark eyes. His fingers curled over a gleaming knife. The boy ran, but the thug followed. The wind beat cold at his face. He turned down a winding alley. The walls tightened, squeezing him in. He stopped. White stone blocked his path. His breath came in sharp and yet not enough to satisfy his lungs. He turned to go back, but it was too late. The thug blocked the path, thin shoulders filling the narrow way. A knife flashed in his hand. The boy shuffled his feet, moving back; moving away. His shoulder hit the unforgiving stone behind him. He was trapped.

The thug's voice rang in the boy's ears like bells from the dark. "You've nowhere to hide." The voice was as jagged as the dagger he held. "Nowhere to run." The thug's boots tread on the ground with steady drumming. "It's not safe for children at night."

The boy slid his back along the wall and pressed himself against the corner, trying to be small, trying to hide from his bloodthirsty eyes.

"Bad men are about." He whispered, the sound slithering through the thin air. "Rascals, ruffians," He smiled, revealing rotten teeth, "murderers."

The boy opened his mouth and fear seized his tongue. He was going to die. His eyes searched frantically for an escape and landed on the flickering light of embers in a discarded pipe. An instinct took over, like the muscle memory of a past learned skill. He reached out his hand and spoke to the flames. The heat of the embers moved to him, igniting in his fingers. He grabbed the thug's sleeve with a shaking hand and lit his clothes ablaze. The thug screamed, stumbling away from the boy and he flailed his burning arm.

The boy fell back against the wall, exhausted and afraid.

Soundlessly down from the rooftops they came, silent through the air like the pounce of a cat. Black shadows with faceless eyes surrounded the thug and the boy. Heavy breaths filled the tight space between them. The man's gleaming eyes widened with terror. The shadows lurched forward. A silver blade pierced the man's chest and he crumpled to the ground.

The shadows cleaned their swords and stillness ensued as they caught their breath. Moonlight traced their black cloaks. The boy remained frozen where he stood, his body quaking and his eyes stinging. The shadow nearest him reached up and removed the dark cloth covering, revealing a human face. His eyes watched the boy. "That was quite the trick," he said. "You should teach it to me sometime."

The boy stepped forward, away from the wall's support. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"I'm called Capricorn," He said.

The boy mouthed the name on his dry lips.

The man stretched out his hand. "Join us."

The boy's feet moved on their own accord and his hand slipped into the man's welcoming fingers. The boy's bare toes stepped lightly as he walked around the dark shape lying in the alley; the smell of death bringing goose bumps to his skin. The man led him through the night and he followed in silence. Dark men surrounded him, shielding him from the gloom. The man spoke as they walked, drawing the boy's eyes from the lifeless form behind him in the shadows.

"My men will protect you. Become one of us and you become our brother." He paused to glance at the buildings around them before they snuck into another alley. "But once you join us, you cannot turn back."

The boy nodded.

Capricorn smiled, scrutinizing him with piercing eyes. "You have the ways of a proper thief. What is your name?"

For whatever reason, the boy didn't want to give the man his real name. "Dustfinger," he said.

"Well then, Dustfinger." Capricorn grinned. "Welcome to the fire-raisers."