Through Fire

Through Fire - Chapter 02

The sun rose across the shield wall, casting a deep shadow across the city, and the ashen heap that remained of the President's funeral pyre glowed here and there with embers yet smouldering. Before it sat a dozen men and women on aluminium folding chairs, drinking coffee from flasks and shivering in the cool morning air. Flint took a spot on the edge nearest the shield wall, welcoming the cover of shadow though it chilled him. He snagged a mug of steaming coffee from a camp table, and relished the hot, bitter liquid.

As time went by, more people drew near the pyre, and the sun moved higher, raising a mist from the dewy grass and clover, until it cleared the rim of the shield wall, and warm golden light illuminated a huge crowd. The riggers had already come; these were the people, every able citizen of Bay City, for none would, by their own will, miss the beginning of the presidential race. The light brought warmth, and a festive cheer to the crowd, but as it cleared the mist, it brought Flint a new trouble.

"What's he doing here?"

A hush fell on the crowd as Flint looked up from his second mug of coffee and saw a beefy man with a square head and watery black eyes scowling his way, curses streaming from his mouth. The man reached inside his patched denim jacket, and pulled out a length of heavy iron chain.

"Hold there, Blenner," said a second man in a calm, commanding voice. His muscles bulged, filling out his white shirt and jeans, and he laid one brawny arm on Blenner's shoulder.

"Ain't right, Jerethy," said Blenner, hands white where he gripped the chain. "He murdered Burl. You all saw it. He was to swing for my brother."

"His debt's been paid," Blen," said Jerethy, gazing into his face with troubled eyes of iridescent blue.

Blenner's swollen purple eyes flared. "Not to me."

Flint sat and watched the two over the rim of his coffee. He supposed it looked like cowardice or bravado, but he'd barely touched the stew his jailers had left him in the cell, and now he found he hadn't the strength to stand up and match words, let alone weapons, with Blenner Clavar.

Jerethy put a soothing tone into his voice, and kept his hand on Blenner's shoulder. "You're still hurting over Burl, and you've got right and reason. It's gotta hurt a sight more with Flint sitting right there, and you can't do a thing about it. There will be a time for justice, but it's not this time."

"Aw, shove your pretty talk, Jerethy. I've got my justice right here," said Blenner, and he hefted the chain, and tried to shove Jerethy's arm aside, but Jerethy didn't budge.

"You won't take the smooth way, then you'll take the rough." Jerethy leaned in close to Blenner's face, blue eyes to purple. "We're doing tradition, now, Blenner, and tradition says this is a time of peace and grace before we take to the way. Once we're on the way, tradition says there're no rules. We can butt and bash all we like. So I'll tell you this... You raise fist or foot or chain or blade against any man, woman or fluffy pet puppy inside the shield wall, I will ram you with the Dragon, and your pathetic rig will burst."

Blenner's face turned white, and he stumbled away from Jerethy, hands shaking. He cast a wild look around the loose circle of riggers, and at the silent crowd beyond. Then he shoved the chain into his jacket and shambled away.

One of the riggers called after him. "Hey Blen, where're you going? Race hasn't started yet."

Blenner replied without turning. "I know the rules. Send me my charges, and blow your horns when we're to go."

Once Blenner had vanished in the direction of the shield wall, Flint found the strength to get to his feet, and he headed over to Jerethy. "Thanks," he said. "You didn't have to do that."