The Eighth City: A Torch in the Darkness Read online

so sweet and soft, like the home he longed for, so different from the confusion wracking his brain. The exhaustion was overwhelming; he could feel the dream coming. He saw the familiar silver coin on the ground beside him and knew better than to try and grasp its ethereal presence. A deep groan built within him and he cried, “I can’t, I can’t! Look what I’ve done!”

  He tried to point at the images and scenes as they flashed through his mind, driving home the misery he’d caused.

  But her gentle yet insistent voice commanded his attention, and he finally heard what she had been repeating: “Sebastian, Sebastian, it’s ok, Sebastian.”

  Yes. He had been called Sebastian. He remembered, with a strange sense of clarity, that a long time ago he had been called Sebastian.

  And then the dream took him. The gray landscape of rolling hills and columns disappeared, day turned to night in an instant. A deafening scream erupted from the darkness around him as he hurtled down a bottomless tunnel. Red flames burst towards him, reaching out from the blackness to consume him. But he laughed and embraced the vengeful sound and the fire’s burning kiss. He knew the wraith that haunted his dreams would be furious with him. He felt his skin blister from the heat and he smiled, welcoming the pain, naming it as his penance.

  He would awake then, sweating, his cheeks wet with tears, disoriented and confused. The feelings of despair and shame would linger with him for hours in the darkness of his room. For a long time afterwards he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes and sifting through the strange emotions that knotted his stomach.

  He still had not told his parents. He didn’t want them to think he wasn’t grown up. He would be going to work with his father in the Bellows as soon as he had passed his examinations. If they knew he was having nightmares and crying in his sleep, they’d never let him go with the other boys his age to work in the city’s furnaces. So instead he silently pondered, awake in the dark of his room, who the face belonged to and why the desperation of the dream clung to him long after the dream had ended.

  Firelight glinted off of his glassy eyes. He barely noticed the illustration of Tinder, with his white-striped hair flying about him as he battled goblins. Instead, he was trying to recall the soft features of the face that had appeared before him. He had just conjured up the barest image of a face surrounded by auburn hair when his mother’s voice broke through his reverie.

  “Come Sebastian, it’s time for bed.”

  Her words shook him from his reverie and brought him back to the thin rug before the fireplace in his living room. The steel walls glowed with the orange light of the fire, a smattering of furniture and a few shelves that supported a miniature library. He flipped the page of his picture novel to a new illustration and a block of text he hadn’t read yet.

  “Aw Mom. I’m twelve now. Can’t I stay up later?”

  “No honey, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. Or did you forget about your examination already?”

  “But I’m practicing my reading.” The boy with his short brown hair and dark brown eyes gestured with the book, and it flapped haphazardly in his hands. “I’m almost at the best part.”

  Mother shook her head, “Those silly picture novels don’t count. That’s what you should be reading.” She pointed to the shelves on the wall, filled with old books with dusty pages and complex sentences. The only purpose those books had ever served Sebastian was as emplacements for his tin soldiers, which were currently scattered about the room in battle positions. “How do you know it’s the best part if you’ve never read it before anyway?”

  Sebastian went back to reading and pretended he hadn’t heard her question.

  She turned to address the tall man who lay splayed out in his gear chair, a rocking chair supported by a complex system of gears that was said to create the smoothest possible rocking experience. A piece of technology that complex was difficult to find now that the factories of Eight had shut down. Mother said it was a waste of money. Father said it was the best purchase he’d ever made.

  At the moment, he was resting his eyes with a single-minded determination. His long legs reached out towards the crackling fire, revealing a frayed and scorched hem and small holes where hot ash had burnt the fabric away. His wrinkled white shirt possessed the same golden-black singe marks in abundance. It seemed that the only piece of clothing that had not come into contact with soot and embers was his vest, which gripped his thin waist tightly. Firelight glinted off of a small piece of metal resting in the pocket where a pocket watch would have been were he a richer man.

  “You never should have bought him that thing so close to exam time.”

  His eyes cracked open and he squinted down his chin at his wife and son. “Well it was his birthday. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Wow, you’re actually awake, Dad. Normally you’ve fallen asleep by now.”

  “Asleep? Never! I am the forever vigilant Tinder, Hero of Flame!”

  “Oh no, please don’t, Dad!”

  “I got my powers in a dream about a magical phoenix and since have been using my prodigious skills to battle the goblins. It is my destiny to someday confront The Sower, my arch nemesis and scourge of the world!”

  Father had gotten up from his chair and stood before the fire, gesticulating wildly with every phrase. Sebastian turned back to his book to avoid watching him act like a fool. Mother had her face in her hands, hiding an embarrassed smile.

  “Howard, sometimes I think you like those stories more than he does.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a good story,” he said defensively, his previously animated arms now hanging limply by his sides. Now that he had stopped moving he looked more gaunt than ever.

  “It is if you’re my age,” complained Sebastian.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s weird that I still read these books. Everyone else stopped reading them years ago, and if I mention it they just make fun of me. They’ll laugh at me if they find out I read kids’ books, especially in the Bellows.”

  Sebastian nudged the book away, as if it was a contaminant that he was trying to avoid, but his eyes still followed it longingly.

  “Sure you can! You’re going to be one of the best workers down in the Bellows, I’m sure of it. And I should know; I’ve worked there all my life. I’ve always loved stories like that, and look at me.”

  “Ya, Head Coal Shoveler or whatever you are.”

  Howard looked at his son, his eyebrows drawn down in a genuine look of hurt, but Sebastian was still staring at the pages of his book.

  “‘Bastian, start cleaning up your things. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

  Sebastian got slowly to his feet and grumbled under his breath. He was grateful for something to do other than think about his examination tomorrow or the Bellows in the near future. Wouldn’t it be nice, he caught himself thinking, if he could just be like Tinder and incinerate anything that bothered him. So many problems would go away.

  “Howard, I need to talk to you about something.”

  Howard paused in the middle of falling back into his gear chair. After seeing the look on his wife’s face, he righted himself and moved quickly to her side, speaking in soft tones.

  “What is it Sara?” Sebastian heard his Father say, but he didn’t bother listening too closely. He was thinking about the dream again, wondering if it was some kind of sign. Perhaps someday he would be the man walking away, and the skinny man on the ground was a defeated enemy, repenting for his sins. He grew excited at the idea.

  “It just doesn’t feel right. The last street lamp went out when I was on my way home today. Just puffed out without any warning.”

  “I know, I know, you told me earlier. We put a request in; all we can do now is wait.”

  “It’s not about the damn work request. I’m still so scared. You know they won’t stop trying to find us, especially now that everything is going back to the way it was. They don’t want any loose ends. They don’t want him to come back
and stop them again.”

  “They said they’d keep us safe. No one is going to know we were involved. You know the Protectorate’s word is good. They’ll do everything they can to keep us out of this.”

  “I don’t doubt them. I just don’t know that it will be enough. You remember what it was like last time...”

  “We’ll be okay. We did what we had to at the time, and we’re doing what we have to now for our son. We will be ok. Nothing is going to happen.”

  Sara’s mouth opened as if to say something, but she stopped herself and smiled instead.

  “That’s why I love you. So delusional and so sure of yourself. It makes me feel better all the same.”

  She reached a hand up to touch his cheek and he smiled down at her.

  “And would you get rid of this?” she said, scratching at the stubble dotting his chin. “You know I hate it.”

  “I keep it just for you,” he replied, grinning.

  But then her face got serious.

  “Speaking of things you should get rid of, please take care of that,” she said, poking him in the vest where the silver medallion lay in his pocket.

  “I will,” he said, glancing pensively at it, “It’s just hard to let it go. It seems... wrong to just throw it away.”

  She considered him for a moment.

  “I don’t think it will hurt to keep it for a little while longer. What’s the worst that could happen? But do it soon, and make sure no one can find it.”

  He looked relieved and