A HENRY STORY 1: Memories Of The Fallen Prince

XVI. Ignifer

The darkness was impenetrable around Henry, but he was used to it. He even thought he could be at peace as he lay on his back in an unused side tunnel close to Teslas' workshop. If it were not for his nagging boredom, of course.

He hated waiting so much. But he had no choice, so he did his best to focus only on the sharp sound that bounced off every corner and crevice of the stone around him whenever he snapped his fingers.

Click.

There was the ceiling. His perception of it was blurry, but it was recognizable.

Click. Click.

The more times he produced the sound, the clearer it became. He even made out a small indent, maybe an inch in diameter, directly above his head, and next to it, an arm-long crack.

Click.

The wall on his left was strikingly close, so the image was much more detailed. He did not need to repeat the sound.

Click.

The one on his right was much further away; the tunnel was maybe five feet wide, and Henry focused on the wall with all his might.

Then again—his head swiveled back into a forward position—there was nothing particularly interesting about the wall. Henry blew out a frustrated breath. What had Teslas said? An hour? Well. He scoffed. At least he had echolocation to practice.

He stared out into the impenetrable darkness miserably. More than twelve weeks had passed since Henry and Thanatos had decided to stay at the colony, and he made a face, remembering how much of that time he had spent in some dark tunnel looking at walls with sounds because he had nothing else to occupy himself with. Because he had to wait.

As it turned out, scientific work was usually much more tedious than exciting—if you did it methodically, at least. Teslas did not mind the tediousness, but for Henry, only the ever-elusive sensation of achieving results kept him going. If anything, the last months had taught him that his true calling wasn't in science, even if he occasionally found a lot of enjoyment in it.

Another silent moment later, Henry finally rose from where he had laid on the stone floor and straightened out his shirt. He began making his way back toward the workshop slowly, snapping his fingers periodically, so as not to become disoriented. Even if it was not done, maybe he could occupy himself with something more exciting there.

The time at the colony had flown by; his days had been filled with hard work, but also so many new things and skills that Henry struggled to keep track of all of them. Like . . . the echolocation. It was tremendously useful; Henry knew this very well, now that he could actually apply it. That didn't mean he had to admit it to Thanatos, though.

He didn't know if the flier had felt left out or had simply wanted to take part in the fun that was "teaching Henry new things". All he knew was that one morning, a week or so after Teslas had taken him in as his apprentice, Thanatos had woken him with the claim that, on that day, he would be the one to teach Henry something useful.

The first time he had heard that he was supposed to learn echolocation, Henry had broken into vigorous laughter. Thanatos had patiently waited for his fit to end and swiftly silenced Henry's attempts at mockery by reminding him that he was as good as dead if he ever ended up alone in the dark. And that was far more likely than Henry liked to believe. He couldn't say he was fine with losing his challenge to survive because of something foolish like that!

Of course, he had still been reluctant to give it an honest try. When was it ever heard that humans used echolocation?

But apparently, believing in it was the key. Echolocation is a skill of the mind; it cannot be achieved through brainless repetition alone. Thanatos had hammered this truth into his brain from day one, and eventually, Henry had realized that if he did learn it, this would be a remarkable achievement. Maybe even a first.