Chapter Twenty-Six: Fire-sight
The Superchargers were a humorus group, Flameslinger discovered on his visit to the Academy. They were a bit wild, but each of them was very smart in their own different way. They were impressed by the Skylanders that came by to train them, and were always eager to meet them.
"Alright, is everyone here for training, yet?" Flameslinger asked.
"Not quite," Fiesta noted. "Stormblade's still trying to get everyone else here."
"Are we kidding? What's taking you kids so long?"
"I'm not sure. We were all looking at something in the garage when Buzz told us you were here."
Right, the garage. The mystical garage, where all the wonders of vehicle-obsessed Skylander recruits could be found.
Most everyone else was here, Flameslinger learned. They were all at the Academy's training ground, waiting for three more people to arrive. (Stormblade had gone back to fetch the others.) Flameslinger's fire boots allowed him to see them all, in the full scope that the flames in his boots could muster. The colors of the world, the colors of the students, it was as if he wasn't blindfolded. That was his secret- and it would be a rare day if he told anyone else that.
"What exactly are you going to teach us?" the Warsupial known as Smash Hit asked. "We don't exactly have similar fighting styles, you know. Unless you're going to teach us how to fire your bow. I mean, I'm better at smashing stuff, but I can always-"
"No one is touching my bow," Flameslinger warned him. "It's my baby. Anyone who borrows it has to be gentle with it."
Nightfall stood up, looking at his bow in a similar fashion to Smash Hit. "Show me how you do it," she persisted. "I'm always gentle with other people's possessions."
"That's right, she is," Splat agreed. "I let her use my paint brushes, and she didn't ruin the bristles like everyone else always does."
Flameslinger shrugged, giving in. "Fine- besides, you're all probably bored out of your minds anyway," he decided, grabbing Nightfall's hand to bring her over. "So Nightfall, which hand is your dominant hand?"
"Does it matter?" she asked.
"I need to see what I'm working with."
"Left hand."
He pulled his bow out, placing Nightfall's right hand on the wood and making sure her left hand was by the string. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and handed it to her. "You want to grip the arrow by the black feather- the one opposing the two red ones," Flameslinger began. "Put it behind the string- yes, just like that. Now draw all the way to your cheek. The string's tight, so you might have a bit of difficulty-"
Nightfall pulled back on it with ease. "I'm strong and patient that way," she explained.
"Okay. Now release."
Nightfall did, just as the three missing Superchargers came back. The crystal man in the mddle ducked as the arrow sailed right above his head, while the lark and flame spirit jumped out of the way.
"Dangit, guys, we were just a little late!" Astroblast yelled.
Flameslinger found himself distracted. He saw the flame spirit looking directly at him, recognizing him. He smiled for a moment, before his face became stuck with a kind of anguish. Flameslinger recognized him as well- it had been so long since they last saw each other. Why wasn't the flame spirit happy to see him?
"Hey Spitfire, are you okay?" Stormblade asked him, concerned.
"I'm fine," the flame spirit replied. "I just remembered that I forgot something. I'll be right back."
The flame spirit retreated, back the way he came, entering the Academy's doors. Flameslinger chased after him, making sure that his old friend was okay.
Pling! Down went one Chompy.
Pling! Down went another Chompy.
Pling! Oh, that one was a Bomb Fiend.
Flameslinger had run off into the woods. Bow in hand and quiver on his back, he fired arrows at unsuspecting monsters. Though blindfolded, he was able to see their heat signatures through his special fire-sight- and he never missed.
Despite the occasional monster roaming about, these woods were safe. That was what Flameslinger had always known. Out here, nobody dared to look for him.
Well, it wasn't as if anyone cared.
Heck, he moved out here permanently when his mother stopped looking at him like a person.
Not that it mattered. Flameslinger had been sneaking off to practice archery in the woods for a while now. The elf liked being out here. There was the isolated quiet that outweighed the chirping birds. There was the scent of fallen leaves in the autumn day. There was a whiff of petrichor from the previous night's rainstorm. Everything was peaceful.
Beneath his blindfold, Flameslinger's eyes suddenly burned. That was from his fire-sight- which he saw as a curse. It caused an orange, hypnotizing glow to come from his eyes and entrance people, and allowed him to extend his vision to other fires. Right now, he could see a flame spirit trapped in the nearby river, struggling to stay topside. The poor guy probably got caught in a mudslide. It didn't look like anyone else would come by to help him.
The elf sped to the river in a heartbeat, running past the familiar orange and red of the leaves. He made it to the river, finding the site of the mudslide. The flame spirit's heat signature came to him- a cooling flame tail, near purple rock body, holding onto a fallen branch with a weakening grip. The spirit was surprisingly younger than Flameslinger's vision depicted. He lacked metal wings familiar with his kind, meaning he was too young to be on his own. Flameslinger slipped toward him, catching the child just as his hands slipped, hoisting him up. He trudged out of the mud, setting the child on the firm grass area. Flameslinger took his blindfold off for a minute in order to do a proper checkup on him.
For a minute, the elf feared that he'd come too late to help. The child's blue eyes were half open, showing great fatigue. The white glint of his eternal flame could be seen in his chest. His breathing was raspy- he'd been calling for help before Flameslinger arrived. Why hadn't the elf's fire-sight seen him earlier?
But slowly, thankfully, the color of the child's flames turned from red to orange, then orange to blue. The glint disappeared, and Flameslinger knew that the child would live.
"You have an impressive grip," Flameslinger noted.
The child coughed. "...Th-thank you," he stammered.
"You don't need to do that, honestly. Hey, where's your family? I can help you get back to them."
The child lifted himself up before falling into Flameslinger's lap. Still too weak to cry, he let out pitiful whimpers. "I don't know," he pouted. "Someone chased us out of our home. I got separated from them. I'm not sure where we were supposed to go."
Flameslinger put his blindfold back on before the child could look him in the eye. "Do you know who it was that chased you out?" he asked.
"These big brutes...Dad didn't name them, but they were big and green, and I think they had large frog mouths."
"Gnorcs. They're a dying race from the Summer Forest. They probably hoped to save themselves by kicking your family out of the area so they could expand and grow out."
The child let out another whimper. That last comment hadn't helped.
"But don't worry. I'll help you find them. I can even attack those Gnorcs and get your home back."
The child got up and grabbed onto Flameslinger's shoulder to look at him- only looking at the red blindfold instead. "Oh don't do that," he begged him. "Some of us got really hurt trying to fight them."
"But who's going to stand against those jerks for you?"
"I don't care about that. I just want my family back."
Flameslinger got up, carrying the child as he did so. "What's your name?"
"Sp-Spitfire."
"Well Spitfire, I'll tell you what we're going to do. I'll take you back to my campsite, we'll get some food and rest, and then we'll go and look for your family, okay?"
"Okay."
Flameslinger carried the child, Spitfire, back to his campsite. He could hear him snoring before they got there- the poor child had been exhausted by that whole ordeal. Arriving at his campsite, Flameslinger set Spitfire in a sleeping bag in order to let him rest. He stepped away for a moment, taking his blindfold off. Was his fire-sight finally going away, and that was why he hadn't seen the young flame spirit earlier? Or had his blindfold simply blocked his view? Flameslinger tried to focus his gaze out, trying to find another flame to extend his vision.
His eyes suddenly burned once more, and he found another campsite with an active fire at it. Flame spirits were there as well, each of them a bit weary but otherwise alive. They seemed to be arguing about something, though his fire-sight didn't allow him to hear it. Perhaps they were Spitfire's family? It would be great if they were.
That group was heading for the desert island a few miles away from this one. If they didn't hurry, they might miss them. Flameslinger looked back at Spitfire, still sleeping deeply. It would be cruel to herd this kid along after he'd been through so much not too long ago. They'd have to wait and hope the traveling flame spirits didn't go anywhere.
"Why don't you ever take your blindfold off?" Spitfire asked.
"Because I'm blind," Flameslinger lied.
"You seem too good at firing arrows to be blind."
"Elves have heightened senses. Mine allow me to fire arrows. Besides, elves are a race of marksmen- it's practically in my blood."
Flameslinger's plans went more slowly than he'd hoped. The visions of the flame spirits he'd seen had stopped coming, though his fire-sight still allowed him to view the world in the same way. He and Spitfire had traveled together for the past few days, westward, in the direction of the desert island. Spitfire turned out to be a curious little spirit, poking his nose around every corner. Danger seemed to be the farthest thing from his mind. It was no wonder, however. If any monsters came after them, Flameslinger was the one who defended him. If it rained, Flameslinger shielded him from the worst of torrents. Flameslinger really was a gracious guardian.
The two of them had set up camp for the night amidst a small shrine left here by the elves in case any travelers stumbled upon them. Small little spirit homes were dotted around, believed to invite good karma to the specific area. Flameslinger was familiar with the magic, always amazed to find that it somehow worked. And while he didn't really want to be at this shrine, thinking that elves from his village would look for him here, this was as good a place as any to camp.
Who was he kidding? Nobody was looking for him.
"Hey, thanks again for looking after me," Spitfire suddenly said. "It really means a lot."
"You don't need to say that so much," Flameslinger persisted. That really was a habit of the young flame spirit. Spitfire felt the need to constantly thank the elf for his work and ask if there was anything he could do to return the favor. It really was bothersome.
That was to say, it bothered Flameslinger enough to worry. Right now, Spitfire seemed to have deflated somewhat, sulking while he sat. He was thinking about something that seemed to cause him some stress. As chipper as he had become, the child was still scared out here.
"Worried about your folks?" Flameslinger asked him. "I'm sure they're fine."
"I'm not exactly worried about them," Spitfire sighed. "I mean, my dad is huge! Big chest, big shoulders. He can knock you out in a single blow- he actually watched our backs as our clan got out of there. And Mom is fast enough to run circles around people- I've seen her do it enough times. I'm sure they both got out safely."
"You said some of your clan got hurt trying to fight them."
"Those Gnorc guys are bigger."
"But you're not worried about the safety of your parents."
"I'm sure they got out with everyone else."
"So what are you worried about?"
"Uh...it...doesn't really matter...actually."
"But-"
"It's fine, really."
He wasn't ready to say. Might as well give him a little time, then. "Ask about me, then," Flameslinger said, changing the subject. "What are you wondering about me?"
"Oh, I don't really need to know...," Spitfire hesitated. "I mean..."
"Oh come on, don't be shy. I'm ready to answer any question you have."
"Well...I've sort of taken you from home...haven't I?"
He sounded like he felt guilty. "Of course not," Flameslinger promised him.
"But I'm sure you have more important elf duties to perform, right? I mean, what about your friends and family? I'm sure they're worried about you being out here."
The most personal question anyone could ever ask. But if Flameslinger had a dime for every time he thought someone might be worried about him, he could build his own house in the middle of the woods and hide from everyone. "What about them?" Flameslinger shrugged. "I don't have a home to go back to. My parents hate me. And I don't have any friends."
"That can't be true," Spitfire meekly insisted. "Everyone has friends."
"Not me. No one wants anything to do with me. You're actually the closest thing to companionship I've ever had."
"...You sure?"
Nod.
Most of what Flameslinger had said was true. He didn't have friends- all of his peers were too hypnotized by the fire in his eyes to even say a coherent sentence. His mother could somewhat function around him, though mostly to parade him off as a spectacle to other people- "Oh look at my precious boy! Isn't he so special and magical?" His father...well who cared where that low-life was? But he wasn't sure if anyone hated him per se. And Spitfire was much closer to companionship than Flameslinger had said- the child was now his only friend.
Spitfire suddenly slammed his fists on the ground, letting out a yell. "What if they hate me!?" he cried morosely.
"What, your family?" Flameslinger asked, confused by this outburst.
"I don't know where it came from! But I couldn't stop thinking about it! I couldn't stop thinking that my parents would be mad at me for getting lost out here! I couldn't stop thinking about returning to them and having them say 'oh what a rotten kid you are, disobeying orders to follow the leader'! I couldn't stop thinking of them hating me and casting me out because I got lost! I swear, I tried following the rest of the kids out, but so much was happening around me and-"
Flameslinger shushed him, quickly taking him into a hug. "They'll understand that you didn't get lost on purpose," he reassured him. "They'll understand that you got confused in all that chaos. They'll understand that you got scared and weren't sure what to do. And frankly, if you were mine, I'd be too thankful to have you back than to be mad at you for something so silly."
Those words didn't stop Spitfire from sobbing. Admittedly, Flameslinger didn't want those words to stop him. The child cried for everything he'd lost the day the Gnorcs attacked- the things he was too weak to cry about when Flameslinger found him. He was letting go of every worry and fear he'd kept in, now figuring out how to release it. Flameslinger felt Spitfire relax in the embrace. This was the healthy thing to do.
"Everything's going to be fine," Flameslinger whispered to him. "You'll see. We'll find your parents, and they'll take you in with all the joy and happiness a reunion can hold. It'll almost be like you never got lost from them."
"...You really think so?" Spitfire pouted as the sobbing quelled.
"Of course."
The night dragged on. Spitfire had quietly dozed off at Flameslinger's side at some point, small little snores filling the silence. Flameslinger found himself unable to sleep. The thought of his fire-sight was troubling him again. Was it really going away? Was he really going to be normal for once?
Wondering that, Flameslinger kept his blindfold off for a few hours, trying to see if that would improve anything. It still took a while for him to focus on a specific flame, unable to find one right away like he used to. His eyes burned again, finding another flame spirit in the woods. She seemed to have separated slighty from the group, looking for something. But the image quickly disappeared before he could fully understand what she was doing.
Despite that, he could still view the world behind closed eyes. The trees still had heat. So did the rocks and grass, in one aspect or another to help him get around. He could still see Spitfire's form, gently movng as he breathed. Flameslinger found himself thankful for his curse- who would've saved the young flame spirit if he hadn't seen him, let alone help him find his family?
It didn't take away from all the trouble it had caused, though. Everyone was still entranced by his eyes. The spell only went away when he put the blindfold on. Only then did anyone talk to him like a real person, but they still didn't want to interact with him closely- it was too awkward, he guessed, when they remembered how they acted when the spell was broken. His mother still acted selfishly around him even with the blindfold on, however. He tried it with her before he left. She just kept asking him, "Oh let me see your eyes, let me see your eyes." Flameslinger actually yelled at her, telling her to talk to him like he was a person. But his curse couldn't possibly allow that.
He winced when he remembered the sting on his cheek from where she slapped him- the first time she ever did that, but it nontheless drove him from their house.
His fire-sight had plauged everyone around him.
He couldn't possibly go back.
No one was allowed to see his eyes ever again.
Flameslinger brought his head to his knees, setting them in and silently weeping. He didn't want his fire-sight to go away. He didn't want it to go away and leave him with nothing. He had nothing to go back to. Nobody who wanted him around. That gift had offered the elf one friend in Spitfire- and he was going to lose him, too, once they found his family. Flameslinger was going to be completely alone.
Flameslinger carried Spitfire on his back the next morning, running through the woods. That flame spirit he saw last night couldn't be that far away. Maybe they could meet up with her and she could bring Spitfire back to their clan. There was no way Flameslinger was going to coax along today- if they were going to catch her in time, they had to hussle.
They swept past trees, leaping over fallen branches on their way. They passed a giant boulder- Flameslinger slowed down, recognizing it as one that the female flame spirit in his vision passed. The trees around them were becoming more sparse. A couple miles from where they were, you could see the outline of the desert island.
"Is that where we're going?" Spitfire asked, pointing to that outline.
"It would be the perfect place," Flameslinger shrugged. "Very dry, very big, and most importantly, Gnorc-free."
"My family's around here, right?"
"They've got to be."
Flameslinger's heart was pounding in his chest. His stomach filled with the feeling of dread. Any minute now, he knew they'd find the young flame spirit's family. Any minute now, he and Spitfire would have to say goodbye. He wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to be completely alone again.
Flameslinger set Spitfire on the ground, and they kept going. The elf traced the path that he saw the female flame spirit go, moving by the rock, slowly walking past one large tree, finding a clearing that looked it it had just been emptied of its visitors. He could see that the ground was much hotter than it was supposed to be, heat lingering from the flame spirits that had camped here.
"There are scorch marks on these trees," Spitfire hollered to him. "My family has been here- but everyone's gone."
Flameslinger grabbed Spitfire's hand. "Let's just wait a moment," he insisted. "They might come back looking for you."
He knew they'd come back. He remembered the vision he saw last night. That female spirit that was separated from the group- she had been looking for Spitfire.
They waited around for a few minutes. Eventually they caught a sign of movement- a blue light to Spitfire, a lick of red heat for Flameslinger. The female flame spirit from Flameslinger's vision had come back, peeking around, making sure she hadn't left anything behind. The rest of the party couldn't be too far off.
"That's my mom!" Spitfire gasped. "Flameslinger, that's my mom!"
The child went to run up to her, but Flameslinger kept his grip. It was stiff and clammy. He knew he had to let go, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't allow himself to be alone.
"Flameslinger?" Spitfire asked.
No. He had to let go.
Flameslinger took off his blindfold, handing it to the young flame spirit. He could see the autumn trees around them- even the scorch marks on the bark. He looked Spitfire in the eyes, watching his confused expression. He had to let go now.
"Keep it," Flameslinger told him. "...In case you need something to remember me by."
And then he released his grip on Spitfire.
Flameslinger watched the child run off, calling to his mother. The female flame spirit saw her child, and quickly ran over and swooped him from the ground. She hugged him firmly, smiling and crying at the same time, relieved to have found her missing child. Flameslinger watched them for a while, glad to have helped Spitfire find his family. But there was also the crushing weight of crippling gloom and sadness that came with it.
The mother suddenly looked at him. "Hey you," she called to him.
"Y-yeah?" Flameslinger stammered.
"You brought my son back to me. Thank you so much. If you may, could I...see your bow for a second?"
Flameslinger did, meekly taking it out. A flame quickly set itself on the bowstring, but quickly vanished.
"That bow is now enchanted, allowing you to shoot flaming arrows. You know...for when your own gifts need some backup. Spitfire is the most important thing in the world to me, and I can't just leave you without thanking you somehow."
"It-it was nothing, really," Flameslinger insisted. "I just had to get him back to you."
Spitfire ran back to Flameslinger, quickly hugging him. "Mom said we had to go soon, before everyone tries hurrying off again," he said. "I'm really going to miss you."
Flameslinger hugged him back. "Me too."
They parted ways, each to their own, back to their homes. Yes, Flameslinger decided to go home. Through the entire goodbye, Spitfire hadn't said anything about his eyes. The glow was definitely still there. The hypnotizing effects were still there. Yet, Spitfire said nothing about them. There was still a posibility for Flameslinger to find friends out in this great big world. He couldn't give up just yet. So he decided to go home.
It took him a few days to get back. In a while, he made his way back to his home. He stood at the back porch of his house, prepared to knock on the door. Flameslinger was nervous. Who would he find in his mother when she came to answer? What would life be like when he came back in?
Well, there was no point in prolonging it. Flameslinger knocked on the door.
It took a little while for his mother to come to the back when he knocked- she must've been in the living room. But she came and opened the back door, looking her son in the eye. There was a kind of shock in her stance, and she stared timidly at him.
"...Has it gone away?" Flameslinger asked. "The glow in my eyes?"
"It's still as bright as ever," his mother insisted.
"So nothing's changed. But it feels weaker, somehow."
"You don't like it, do you?"
"I don't know. But I don't like what it turns people into."
His mother wrapped him in a hug- she'd never really done that before. "You are your own person," she said. "I have to let you be that."
Flameslinger followed the flame spirit up to the upper levels of the Academy, to where the dorms were. The flame spirit went into one of the dorms, where his things had to be. The elf followed him inside, watching him rummage his sheets for something. Eventually he found what he was looking for- an old blindfold, slightly tattered from age.
"And here I thought you were trying to avoid me," Flameslinger mused.
The flame spirit looked up, noticing him standing there. "I didn't want to speak to you unless you knew I still had this," Spitfire explained. "Maybe it would've seemed rude if I didn't."
"I wouldn't have minded a bit. It's been a long time. I wasn't sure our paths would cross again, either."
"But how could I just forget about what you did for me? There are some things you just have to hold on to, no matter what. So I was never going to lose this blindfold for a second."
The two of them hugged each other. "Ah, look how big you've grown," Flameslinger chuckled. "You finally earned your wings! I'm proud that you found your way here. The Skylanders will be good to you, just like they were for me."
"Of course they'll be good to me," Spitfire replied. "Heck, it's even better to see you here. I'm glad to see you."
"I'm glad to see you, too."
