Sparks and Shadows (Book One of the Nyte-Fyre Prophecy)

Chapter Five: Rogue

"Let me see that."

Kiyani turned to see the old man staring at him, his hand outstretched as if expecting a handout. "What?"

"Your hand," the man clarified.

Glancing at the source of the throbbing pain, Kiyani could see that the blood had already seeped through the flimsy rag he had wrapped around it. Unrolling the stained gauze, he dabbed at the gash again and rewrapped it, tighter this time. "I'm fine, Kristoff."

The man he had called Kristoff crossed his arms over his chest and gave Kiyani a stern glance. "Bleeding all over my merchandise is not fine."

One glance over the table he stood next to proved the merchant's words correct. "Shit," Kiyani muttered "Sorry." Grabbing a clean rag, he wiped the polished wood free of the drips of red.

Satisfied that he hadn't done too much damage, save but to himself, Kiyani grabbed his sweatshirt off the hook on the wall and made towards the front of the shop where people still stood clustered. Despite the sparkling wares inside, their attention was on the sky where the sickly green clouds still stood at attention.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kristoff asked gruffly before Kiyani could make it halfway across the wooden floor.

"I want to see what's going on."

Kristoff shook his head, the silver strands in his hair shining in the firelight that lit the shop at such a late hour. "There's nothing out there right now but chaos. You'd get trampled in the crowd."

"Give me some credit," Kiyani huffed. "I'm not stupid."

Looking through the heads that blocked his view, Kiyani could see the mass exodus of people as they rushed to make it to the gate of the festival. As much as he wanted to know what had happened, wanted to find out some details connected with the explosion that had nearly caused him the unfortunate loss of a finger with a jewelry awl, the thought of trying to make his way through the packed crowd didn't appeal to him.

If anything it made his stomach tighten. For one that didn't care for people, he had often found it strange that he had taken up work in one of the booths in the Fireswell festival. Wandering the crowd was one thing. Working was another. Situated behind the counter of the silver shop owned by Kristoff, he rarely thought of the number of people that crowded the dirt lanes that lay just beyond the open doorway of the shop.

"I know you want to go explore," Kristoff said, breaking Kiyani's train of thought. "I'm just as curious, but let the crowd go down a bit."

Kiyani only nodded.

"Good. Then come help me clean up the shop."

It was an hour later, after the crowds had thinned down considerably, and all that was left were the merchants and the performers, that Kristoff finally let him leave.

Exciting K & K Jewelers, Kiyani turned one last time and threw a wave to the old man who sat behind the elaborately carved counter and continued to polish his wares. He still couldn't say what Kristoff had seen in him when he had shown up asking for a job that had caused the man to accept, but they had fallen into a comfortable companionship over the years that Kiyani wouldn't trade for anything. The intricate jewelry-work kept his mind focused and his hands busy. Despite being leery of the trade at first, Kiyani had found that his hours at the back of the shop had become his serene getaway.

At least it usually was.

Kiyani's mind was abuzz with muddled thoughts and questions as he moved through the darkened festival grounds. Where during the day the forested area was filled with hypnotic music and eclectic buildings and characters, it became a haunted place of desolation and deep shadows at night. Yet, fear was the last thing on his mind. He had never been afraid of the dark, and the nighttime hours had always been his favorite, the moon his guiding light.