Chapter Fourteen: Rain
"C'mon, Spitfire! Don't you want to go out and train today?" Stormblade asked.
"Things changed," Spitfire explained. "We planned on training outside today. Well now it's raining outside. So I'm no longer going out."
"Why do you always blow off plans the moment the weather turns bad?"
She knew the reason why. Spitfire shouldn't have had to spell it out for her. He hated the rain. It splattered on the ground, covering everything within a hundred mile radius. Flames were doused by water, and who knows how long Spitfire would be able to stay out there when it rained. Suppose his eternal flame died out? Did the Skylanders really expect him to go outside and train with the possibility of death on his mind? He thought he deserved much better than that. Who wants to have "Drowned in six inches of rain" written on their tombstone?
It was decided- Stormblade would train outside in the rain, while Spitfire would stay inside the Academy where it was warm and dry. He went to the library, which sounded like a better place to spend the day. As the case was, there were several Skylanders already hanging out there, as well as a few refugees who hadn't yet found a new home.
He found Splat and Fiesta sitting at a small coffee table, playing a few rounds of Skystones. Splat had bested Fiesta yet again, gloating right in front of the skeletal man. Fiesta simply looked at Spitfire, shrugging. He recognized that body language- Fiesta had been letting her win. As good at Skystones as he was, he was no stranger to letting other players win.
"Hope I didn't miss anything too exciting," Spitfire commented once he saw them.
"Don't worry about it," Fiesta replied. "We can let you play if you wanted to."
"Tired of losing, are we?" Splat asked, eyebrow raised.
Spitfire laid himself out on the couch behind them. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think I'm in the mood."
"Aw. What's the matter?" Spat persisted.
"I blew off Stormblade for training today, and now I feel really bad about it."
"That's right, you guys were going to do that today," Fiesta realized. "Why did you change your mind?"
"Take a guess."
They both nodded. Everyone knew that he didn't like the rain. Most people just left him be on the subject- there was no convincing him otherwise. There were some, however, that wanted to know more about his distaste for rain. Spitfire let them be, despite how little he thought of the questions. Why did there have to be more to it?
"Do you have to cancel your plans every time it rains?" Splat asked.
She was one of the people who asked questions.
"Yes," Spitfire sighed. "Look at me. Do you really think I should go out there right now?"
"Alright, fine. But you two couldn't have decided to train inside? The Academy has an indoor training facility, after all."
"She wouldn't go for it. Stormblade didn't want to train whilst being cooked up at the Academy any longer, especially since the Sky Eater's been destroyed. Fresh air, and all that."
"Give him a break, Splat," Fiesta insisted. "Everyone has something in this world that they dislike. I know you don't like the rain, either."
Splat stood up abruptly. "Sure, but I'm not about to cancel my plans because of a little rain," she argued. "There are worse things in life to dislike than rain."
"Like drowning," Spitfire agreed sadly.
Splat looked at him, eyes widened. "Is that your biggest fear?" she asked.
Nod.
"Well I think you'll be fine out there. It's not like the Academy has any large pools for you to fall in."
"You replied to that kind of quickly. I thought there would've been a little bit of silence."
"You can't get over a problem without bringing it out into the open. Why beat around the bush?"
A low rumbling sound was heard outside. The weather must've been getting worse out there. No way were they going to let Stormblade stay out there any longer. The three of them left the library, heading to the entrance of the Academy. Splat and Fiesta were the first ones out, immediately beginning their search. Spitfire would join them- in a moment. The wind looked really strong, blowing the droplets askew from their previous destination.
Nothing to it, Spitfire told himself. Just...don't think about it. Jump right in there.
Spitfire rushed out of the building. The rain hit him hard, dripping down his body. He was immediately wet, his eternal flame burning fiercely in order to compensate. This wasn't some measly rain. They were in the middle of a storm. And Spitfire knew that wasn't just his nerves talking.
"Stormblade!" he called out. "We need to head inside! The rain is-"
A bolt of lightning struck the roof of the Academy, making Spitfire jump. He remembered that there was a lightning rod up there. That was good. No need to worry about anyone else getting hurt. But where was Stormblade?
Spitfire searched around the racetrack. Maybe she decided to take the Sky Slicer out for a spin? To see what Skylands now looked like since the Skylanders' previous battle against evil. It didn't occur to him that Stormblade might want to go back to her old life after the crisis had been averted. He hadn't thought of anything else since joining the Skylanders.
He let out a sigh of relief. Stormblade was still on the track, standing right next to her beloved air vehicle. She was searching through the cockpit, frantically looking for something. Spitfire ran toward her, pulling her away. He was surprised when Stormblade shoved him, fighting back.
"I left something important in the cockpit earlier," Stormblade said. "I don't know where it is, but-"
"I think your safety concerns me more," Spitfire argued. "We need to head back inside."
"I know! But I left a book in there- a large book with a brown hard cover. It's the most important thing I own. If I don't save anything else in here, I need to save that."
Spitfire looked back at the Academy. How fast could he move? Could he make it there with an item intact, should he choose to carry it?
"Just head back inside," Spitfire begged her. "I promise, it'll be okay. Call Splat and Fiesta over when you make it to the front steps- they're looking for you, too."
Stormblade nodded, running away from the Sky Slicer and heading back to the Academy. Spitfire rummaged through the cockpit, searching for the kind of book that she had described. There was certainly a lot of junk in here- no wonder Stormblade had lost it. Eventually he happened upon it- the brown hard cover book. He hugged it to his chest, promising not to let go.
Another bolt of lightning struck the roof. Spitfire closed the cockpit. The Academy entrance in sight, he fired up the flames in his wings and shot forward. The rain whipped at his face, stinging his eyes. Crossing the yard, he quickly made it back to the Academy entrance. The others had already gotten back in, much to his relief. Fiesta had grabbed the girls some towels, neglecting his own soaked clothes. They looked terrible, but at least they were okay.
"You made it back in!" Stormblade cheered. "Did you go after my book? You didn't have-"
"I told you everything would be okay," Spitfire insisted, about to hand it to her. He stopped just as he did so.
His eternal flame had burned too strong. The pages were intact, at least, but the cover was broiled black. Spitfire had been worried about water damage. He'd never dreamed that this would happen.
Stormblade took the book from him. She thumbed through the pages, inspecting the damage. One of the corners of the cover chipped off in her hands.
"The pages are okay, but the cover...," Stormblade gasped in horror. "I don't know what to do about it."
"At least the pages are okay," Fiesta said meekly.
Splat smacked him on the back of the head.
Stormblade glared at Spitfire. "I know you didn't mean to do it," she said, "but I can't forgive you for what you've done here."
Spitfire didn't disagree with her. He didn't even ask the details- would she never forgive him for ruining the book, or flippantly leaving her outside to train on her own? It didn't matter. Spitfire was mad at himself as well. He knew that not even he could forgive himself. He hadn't been a friend these people could count on, that was for certain. It was a wonder why they'd relied on him for so long.
The night dragged on. The four of them were gawked at by half of the students and faculty at the school. They must've been crazy for thinking to head outside in that storm. What had they been thinking?
Spitfire had been asked questions by dozens of other Skylanders- didn't he hate the rain? He ignored them all, heading straight up to his dorm. He locked the door behind him, and simply flopped on his bed sobbing. What a horrible thing he'd done. Spitfire should've ignored the rain earlier and just gone out training with Stormblade, making sure she got her book before the storm got too bad. Either that, or he could've just tried harder to convince her to train indoors.
Now she hated him.
Not that he blamed her.
He hated himself even more.
Well, whether or not Stormblade had been planning on moving on from the Skylanders and back into her old life, then Spitfire should do the same. Start back up tomorrow, he figured. The Skylands Racing Circuit ought to be opening up once more. He had to make sure he got into the qualifiers. Racing was still important to him, and it was the only place where he could be a jerk and nobody would care since he'd be famous.
What a selfish thought.
But what else could he do?
He turned on his side and fell asleep, these thoughts in his head.
The wind whipped past his face, forcing the flames of his wings to flicker behind him. The flames of the Hot Streak were burning just as fiercely, fighting against that terrible breeze. Rocks flew past as he drove, pulled into the gravity of a giant rift. Those things had been opening up all over Skylands in recent weeks, destroying different islands and anyone who got sucked inside. This wasn't a safe place to stay.
Spitfire drove on, leaping onto different rocks in order to get away. He found that he was faster than the rift, making several feet away from it. He trusted the Hot Streak's capabilities, and felt no danger to himself here. In fact, riding away from the rifts was kind of fun! After being cooped up in bed for three weeks, this was the perfect way to start driving again!
But that didn't mean that he was entirely worry-free. There was another driver out here- well, a pilot, to be more specific. A silvery-grey airship sliced through the clouds, also putting distance between it and the rift. Spitfire was scared for the pilot, though he could tell they were doing just fine. He had no way of knowing the capabilities of this vehicle. Suppose it really was unfit to outrun a rift such as this?
Eventually the rift closed, having taken its fill. Both vehicles stopped at a small island with a few refugees huddled on it. Spitfire didn't need to guess what happened to their home- but had everyone made it out okay?
He climbed out of the Hot Streak just as the pilot climbed out of their airship. The pilot turned out to be a girl. A purple-feathered lark, she wore something that looked like a jumpsuit. Her grey eyes showed no fear or hopelessness, perhaps showing that she had been looking for excitement as well.
"Hi," Spitfire greeted her.
The lark turned to look at him. "Hi-hi me?" she stammered.
"You must be crazy, trying to outrun that rift."
"Well, I guess to some, it might be-"
"Looks like we're just a couple of loons."
The lark smiled after hearing that.
"My name's Spitfire."
"I'm Stormblade."
"That's an impressive vehicle you have there."
Stormblade leaned against her aircraft. "Oh, this old thing?" she sighed. "This is the Sky Slicer- though not intentionally fit for combat, I built it in order to explore Skylands. Actually, that's why I was flying near that rift- to gather some data. As you can imagine, dangerous rifts that destroy floating islands can do some pretty bad damage to my research."
Spitfire was astonished. "You built this?" he gasped.
"I guess I did. Hey, is that your car over there? The red one with the flaming tires?"
They looked at the Hot Streak. The flames still flickered on the wheels, breathing a kind of life with them. He'd always noticed that the car seemed more alive than any other vehicle on the racing circuit.
"Yeah, she's mine," Spitfire told Stormblade. "Though the Hot Streak's origins aren't as special as your vehicle's. I found her in the Volcanic Vault, near the place where I was born. Completely abandoned...feeling kind of lonely."
"Lonely?" Stormblade asked.
"The Hot Streak was built down there, that's for certain. Our elemental flames came from the same birthplace, so I can sense life in her. Sounds kind of weird when I say it to someone else."
"Well Skylands is a weird place."
A knock on the door roused Spitfire from sleep. He was going to get up in order to answer it...only to find that he couldn't. There was no energy to spare for that action. Spitfire glanced down at his body. The flames burned dimly, appearing as dark red embers. A white glint was seen at the center of his chest.
That was his eternal flame.
It had burned out sometime in the night.
Spitfire was sick.
He couldn't move. He couldn't create a single flame. He didn't even have the strength to call for help. The most he could do was look and listen.
"Hello, Spitfire?" Splat's voice called out from behind the door. "Are you going to answer us?"
"Please tell me that he's in there," Stormblade's voice begged her. "I really need to speak with him."
"C'mon Storm, he's got to be in there. The door wouldn't be locked if he wasn't."
"Maybe he climbed out the window earlier this morning," Fiesta's voice suggested.
Giggling from Splat ensued. Spitfire was baffled by their words. Earlier this morning? What did that mean? The room was still plenty dark. He'd just assumed that he'd woken up in the night.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Stormblade asked.
"Just leave him be," Splat insisted. "If he doesn't want to come out and talk with us, then that's that. We can talk to him later."
"That idea scares me," Fiesta argued. "Maybe there's something bigger about this that we're not seeing. What if he's sick? Too sick to open the door? Or he did climb out of his window? I can't stand not being able to help him, in that case."
"Fi, sometimes you have to respect someone's privacy. If Spitfire doesn't want to talk to us right now, that's his wish."
"I don't care. Wait here. I'm getting Buzz. I know he has the master key to all our dorms."
Spitfire sighed somberly. Fiesta was so kind to all of them. He hated the thought of putting the skeletal man through such a hassle, especially since he'd never done anything to return that kindness. How come Spitfire had never thought to repay his friends for anything they've done for him?
He went through a coughing fit. His eternal flame burned orange for a second, before dissipating back to white. The only thing he could do right now is wait for Fiesta to come through on his plan. Spitfire closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep, only to find that sleep was hard to come by. His head suddenly hurt, and whenever that happened for him, he became nauseous. What a horrible spot he had been placed in.
A clicking sound was heard, meaning that the door was being unlocked. It was pushed open, and Spitfire could see his friends slowly walking in. They were led by the Mabu known as Buzz, who was the headmaster of the Academy.
"While I'm glad that you're concerned for your friend, Fiesta," Buzz said as they walked forward, "I'm pretty sure Spitfire is fine. Remember all of that chaos from last night? He probably wants to hide in case any more people- holy guacamole!"
They all looked upon Spitfire, their faces aghast with horror. Of course none of them had ever seen him like this. It was rare for Spitfire to even show a single symptom of illness. Buzz remained calm throughout, looking over Spitfire's body, while the three Superchargers stood idly by without a clue on how to help.
"You're telling me he really is sick?" Splat gasped. "My gosh, Fiesta!"
"Hey, it never hurts to check," Fiesta insisted. "Especially right now."
"Buzz, what's wrong with him?" Stormblade asked.
Buzz looked back at her, explaining, "Well I'd say Fiesta's naivety is-"
"Not Fiesta! Spitfire!"
"I know, I know,"- Buzz cleared his throat before continuing- "The good news is, Spitfire is not going to die. The bad news is that he's going to be out of commission for a while."
"What is it?"
"See that glint in his chest? That's his eternal flame. It's the life force of all Fire Elementals, allowing them to control their flames. That's why they don't burn you when giving out a handshake. Oh, sometimes the eternal flame will burn out to a little ember if pushed through an intense state, making them susceptible to illness. I'd say Spitfire may have pneumonia or something of the like. Hey Spitfire, how do you feel?"
Spitfire could only blink.
"Yeah, has to be pneumonia. He wouldn't look as bad if it were anything else."
"What can we do?" Splat asked.
Buzz slowly walked back toward the door. "Luckily, he's in a calm environment, so that will allow his eternal flame to light back up naturally," he concluded. "Once that happens, his sickness will go away. But it could be a while- food and rest is the most he needs right now. Check on him from time to time, and let me know if his condition worsens."
"Would it help if we lit him on fire?" Fiesta asked.
Buzz chuckled. "Only in the most dire of situations," he replied.
"Still don't do it," Splat argued.
Buzz shut the door behind him on his way out, leaving the Superchargers alone. Spitfire could hardly believe it. Pneumonia was more common for Gillmen to contract. Not that...this was the first time he'd ever contracted it himself.
Fiesta leapt onto the bed next to Spitfire. "One blink means yes, two means no," he began.
"What are you doing?" Splat asked.
"Figuring out how to help him communicate. Ahem, Spitfire, do you understand what we're saying?"
Spitfire blinked once.
"Bien, amigo! Okay, do you need us to leave you alone?"
He didn't want to be alone right now. Spitfire thought he might actually die if he was left here by himself. It was such a terrible burden he would be putting on them, but that was his wish. The best he could do was pay them back for this later, and pay them back for every other time they helped him. It needed to be understood that he really did care for them. He didn't know how he would go about doing that yet, but he was determined to do so.
And so, Spitfire blinked twice.
"Okay, that's also good," Fiesta decided.
"Let me try," Splat decided, motioning Fiesta off before taking his place. "Hey Spitfire, do you want anything to eat right now?"
The thought made him feel like vomiting. The nausea was still a problem. Spitfire blinked twice.
"Maybe later?"
Spitfire blinked once.
"We'll get you something in a little while, then." She turned her head around and shouted, "Hey Stormblade!"
Stormblade jumped when called. She hadn't been paying attention to their recent antics, simply staring at Spitfire as if he were a ghost.
"Is there anything you want to ask Spitfire?" Splat asked.
"No...nothing that can be answered so easily," Stormblade sighed.
She seemed upset about something. Spitfire remembered how frantic she sounded when they came up to his dorm the first time. There was something that Stormblade desperately wanted to tell him. It made him sick- well, even more sick. He had no way to help her.
Fiesta took the large hat off his back, setting it over Spitfire's eyes. "Your head must be hurting. Does this feel better?" he asked. Then, quickly realizing the problem in the way he'd asked that question, Fiesta took the hat off. "Sorry. Does it feel better to have the hat over your eyes?"
It did. He wasn't sure if the hat was keeping the surrounding light from penetrating his eyes, or if the pressure balanced it out, (because that hat didn't weigh that much,) it felt better to have. Spitfire blinked once, and the hat was set back.
"You should get some sleep," Splat finally said. "We'll wake you once we get food up here. And don't worry. There will at least be one of us here for you in case you need anything. Stormblade can take first watch."
"A-are you sure?" Stormblade gasped.
"I think he'd like that."
"...Okay, then..."
Spitfire had wished to not be sick. If only to leave, to find some other purpose to his life. He had never been the kind of person his friends could depend on. Maybe that didn't matter after all. What if they truly did decide to separate after this? Head back to their old lives. Spitfire thought that Fiesta might stay with the Skylanders, seeing that the skeletal man had never been happier anywhere else, but there was no reason for the rest of them to stick together. Though Spitfire didn't want to leave them, if they were ready to go, then he would have to accept that.
But there was nothing to do about that now. With no other requests to give them, Spitfire decided to try and sleep.
There was only one other time that Spitfire had gotten this sick. Once, when he was younger, he had driven through the Swamplands during the rainy season. He'd thought that he could beat the storm before it came upon him, but he was fiercely proven wrong. The storm seemed to have pounced upon him, raining down a fury of cold water on him. Spitfire had feared for his life, thinking that his eternal flame would be put out forever. He managed to find a cave and hide in it until the storm passed, only to find the next day that his eternal flame had gone out. He was stuck in the cave for days until it reignited itself- nobody noticed he was there.
What a stupid kid, thinking he could outrun the elements like that. Had Spitfire grown up at all since then?
He woke to the sound of dripping on the window. Great, it was raining again. Had Stormblade decided to try and train again? Oh jeez, he was in no position to stop her this time. Spitfire slowly opened his eyes, discovering that the flames on his body were now glowing orange. He saw Stormblade sitting on the bed next to him, looking out the window and watching the water drip down.
"...Hey," he gasped, finding the strength to speak.
Stormblade turned toward him, surprised. "Hey," she repeated. "How are you feeling?"
"Crummy, but at least I don't feel like I'm dying."
"I guess that's good. And I guess it was a good idea for me to stay with you- the color started returning to your body while I was here."
"Where are the others?"
"Probably downstairs still. If I know Splat and Fiesta, they've probably been arguing about what to feed you."
Spitfire let out a hoarse chuckle. "So I haven't been asleep long?" he asked.
"An hour at most," Stormblade clarified.
"Why's it so dark in here?"
"The sky's been rather gloomy since last night's storm. Now it's started up again."
"Are you doing okay?"
Stormblade looked away from him. "I don't know," she mumbled.
"When you guys first came to my dorm, I heard you say that you needed to talk to me."
"I do...but if you're not feeling well..."
"I want to hear what you have to say."
She let out a sigh. "I can't help feeling that it's my fault you got sick," she began.
Some people might've blamed her right off the bat- but Spitfire would never dream of that. "It's not your fault," he insisted.
"And how is that?" Stormblade yelled, though it was directed more to herself than him. "I'm the one who decided to train outside that night, despite the conditions. I couldn't have known that the storm was going to get worse, but I didn't decide to come back in when the wind picked up. And I went back out this morning to check on the Sky Slicer- it's fine, and everything inside the cockpit was safe, so I could've just left my book in there. But I panicked and decided to try and save it. And who should come looking for me but you? You, who decided to be a gentleman and retrieve it for me despite hating the rain so much. You were pushing it out there, trying to keep your flames going, and you pushed too hard, resulting in this! How is it not my fault!?"
"It could've been a complete stranger stuck out there instead of you, and I still would've made sure they got back in safe."
"That's not the point. The point is that I was the one you went out to search for. I was there! I was the cause. Therefore, it's my fault!"
"What are you trying to ask from me? Do you want me to blame you for what happened? I'm not blaming you! Usually when people hear that they're not being blamed, they get happy. Why aren't you getting happy?"
Stormblade started crying, and Spitfire's heart ached for her. If anyone was to blame, it was him. He should've tried harder to keep her safe, to keep all of them safe. It was his own inability and selfishness that had caused this. It was his fault he got sick. So now it was Spitfire's job to take responsibility for once in his life.
He straightened up in bed, though he found that this was still an effort. Spitfire gently tugged Stormblade on the arm, making sure she got the message that she could hug him. Stormblade did, and kept crying as she did so. Spitfire felt so sorry for her. He'd never wanted to hurt her like this.
"I'm not blaming you," he repeated. "So I don't want you to blame yourself. Got it? It's not your fault."
"I wanted to apologize for what I said last night," Stormblade whimpered. "That was the purpose I had for coming up here earlier, before we found out that you were sick. You were being a gentleman, trying to keep my book safe. The pages are all fine, and they could easily be transported to another cover. I'm not sure why I said I'd never forgive you for broiling the cover of the book. You were being kind, and I acted completely rude and selfish toward that mistake. That's certainly no way to thank you for everything you've done for us."
"Everything I've done? I've done nothing to repay you guys for anything you've done for me."
Stormblade released him, looking him in the eye. "That's just not true," she insisted. "It was you who started that quest, Spitfire. You were the one who united us. You protected us from incoming attackers when we didn't see any coming. When we argued, you were the one who settled things. When we saw no hope, you encouraged us to keep fighting. You kept us together. And how have I repaid that now? Only with sour words to bitter the air."
He'd never known they felt that way. Spitfire had hardly thought about the things he had done on their quest. Those were normal things for him- protecting people, uniting people, settling quarrels. Spitfire had never thought of that. He'd only ever thought of the things his friends had given him- and they had pretty much given him the same things. Their friendship had made the fight that much easier to go through, but before now, he'd known no other way to pay them back than to try and give them something.
"You guys are so important to me," Spitfire sighed. "Promise me you won't go anywhere."
Stormblade sniffed. "We'd follow you to the ends of the Skylands," she promised.
"Well that's good- it's the place you've always wanted to go."
Stormblade giggled at the remark, and Spitfire was glad that he could ease her heart.
"I'm really sorry about what I said last night," Stormblade concluded. "Forgive me?"
"Don't worry about it," Spitfire insisted.
The door opened. Splat and Fiesta walked in, carrying a large tray covered in soup bowls. Some of the bowls stacked on top of each other, somewhat in the fashion of a plastic cup pyramid.
"Hey guys, I don't think I'll be able to finish all of that," Spitfire remarked.
"We know- we just couldn't settle on one soup you might like, so we brought one of each up here," Fiesta stated absent-mindedly. Quickly realizing who had spoke, he then gasped, "Hey amigo, it sounds like you're feeling better!"
"Heh heh, a little better, thanks."
They took their places on the bed, Splat gently handing everyone a bowl of soup. "So maybe you might be able to go on another mission in a shorter amount of time than we thought," she smiled. "Why don't we try for some place dry, like the Golden Desert? Anything to get away from the dampness we're currently experiencing."
Spitfire shrugged. "Sounds a little too easy," he insisted. "Maybe we can try for some place like the Swamplands instead."
Fiesta looked on, flabbergasted. "But you're terrified of the water," he reminded him.
"I know. But I also know you guys won't let me down. In that way, it's not so scary."
I like to think that Spitfire's matured a bit after Superchargers. Just my thought.