No children on the fire line… Well, there were other things of use to do.
“Gary. We’re going to need light soon. I have some things that will work, but I don’t know how to deploy them. Here, see the controls?” A few seconds of tapping earned a nod from the large kid, which Tor hopped meant he got it.
The boy stood for a minute, eyes closed, then, without saying anything, he took all the light plates, using both hands for them, headed back towards the wall of the city and bobbed over it, flying. Fifteen minutes later groups of men, women and children boiled out, each one holding one of the lights. Ah! Tor never would have thought of that. They could just stand back and light things up, but also move to where it was needed. Brilliant.
It was probably a royal thing, thinking of getting help from other people like that. Tor wouldn’t have at all. He probably would have just stuck the lights to the wall of the County capital, which had a name it turned out. Rossalynd.
Almost no one slept that night, the fire slipping past them again and again, no matter what they did. That wasn’t such a big deal, each time someone would simply use and air choke, or bury the new patch of smoldering grass with dirt, until somehow, the fire jumped the twenty foot wall and got inside the city.
The scene outside the city was surreal, eerie even, smoke blowing across them in silent waves, the fire making a constant roar that sounded a bit like the ocean, but not, all at the same time. People wanted to run in to save the city, but the old man wouldn’t let them. Losing the external fire line lost the city too. Karen, floating in the air above everything turned her pumps spry towards where the first blaze had begun, but it just couldn’t reach. Not even a tenth of the way.
“Got anything in your box of tricks for this boy?” The old man said grimly, his eyes tired. He sounded defeated, like they’d lost already.
Did he? What did he have left? Temperature control plates wouldn’t matter at all, and the fire wasn’t going to be poisoning anyone right now, so that was out. There were some cups that would cool or warm beverages and while a cool drink sounded nice right then, it wouldn’t put a fire out. The only thing he had left were the set of twenty building air dryers he’d put together for Ellen Ward. Making the buildings, or the fire, drier wouldn’t help.
But…
“I think I might. Um, here…”
The dryers weren’t meant to carry a lot of water at once, but they could carry some for a while, sending water to where ever the second plate was for collection. If that was over, near, or on a fire itself… He didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a shot. Tor told the old man what to say and got him to scream out instructions. Old as he was, his voice carried a lot farther than Tor’s did at the moment. Tor took two of the plates and flew them in, over the city and held them as Karen and one of her friends, Petra he thought, used their pumps to hit the drying portions of the plates directly.
It worked, the loose streams of water that collected in the air hit him hard, like a torrential rain, in two streams each about three foot across. They slapped at him, the water focusing on each hand sized copper plate, making them slippery, and trying to rip them from his still weak grasp. His right hand shook, aching from the strain, the plates trying to push apart, slick water building up between them, but he held on. Just barely, an act of will more than real physical strength, and got the first fire out by just hovering over it for a while. The second one was worse, white hot already if small, so he dropped the plates directly inside of it.
He was soaked of course, but none of the people watching seemed inclined to make fun of him yet. That would probably come later when the school children described him as a midget troll that tried to despoil their young Countier by wetting himself on him or something.
Flying had to be a euphemism for something naughty didn’t it? Everything else was to those freak royals. Tor wanted to growl, memories of Trice coming back again, and what she’d said about him. There wasn’t time for that though, so he forced himself to just pay attention to what was at hand. Trying to save a city.
When the fire went out he got the plates back out of the puddle that had formed which was probably hot still, but thankfully his shield and temperature equalizer took care of that. Then Tor put out the third fire, which was barely even burning. After that one he looked but couldn’t find anything else that seemed to be alight, so, hoping he didn’t run into anything, plates still trying to slip out of his hands, and trailing water the whole time, Tor flew back to the command area and signaled Karen and Petra to stop, and go back to fighting the fire outside the wall. The drenched clothing wasn’t such a big deal, except that his pants were all wet, and of course insisted on drying last, so that he was walking around the next morning looking like he’d peed his pants.
Embarrassing.
The first three times Scotty, the giant man that was Gary’s dad, mentioned it, Tor ignored him. It did look like he’d wet himself after all, and everyone was tired, so the guy was probably trying to get a laugh to boost morale. People did laugh. A lot. Each time it dug into the already fragile parts of himself, pushing at him… making him more and more angry. On the fourth time Tor gave Scotty a level look and asked the man, fairly politely, to knock it off.
“Or what little boy? You’ll kick my ass? Ooh, I’m so scared!” He mugged a little for the exhausted people around them. Right. Tor shook his head slowly and felt his stomach grow cold inside.
A lot of the other people, most of them from the area, had chuckled when the giant said it. Tor could see that. They were his people, plus it had been silly of him to say anything like that in the first place and the guy was probably trying to save face. Really, he probably didn’t even have to, as big as he was. Tor threatening him wouldn’t be taken seriously, by anyone. You didn’t have to prove you were tougher than a kitten, did you? Of course not.
The only problem was that Tor didn’t care at the moment. Not really. He closed his eyes and tried hard to be concerned about anything, but nothing came to him at all. There was just a hole inside that emptied into the bottom of everything.
And a burning anger, which at that second was pointed directly at the giant in front of him.
Jerk.
He held up one finger to the man and triggered his flying gear with a quick tap after a few seconds. Tor raised high into the air and looked around, trying to seem calm about it all, until he found a large field, probably ten square miles in all and nearly that far from Rossalynd, that was burning along merrily. Pulling the blast device he’d built into the poison detector looking bit of metal out of his shirt he aimed, triggering it for about a second.
The world erupted with a blast that probably made the city jump. Literally.
The field of grass stalks was flattened and churned, with a large crater in the center of it when the dust cleared, a giant cloud in the shape of a toadstool over it, growing slowly. Most of the fire was out in the field, and the surrounding area for miles, so at least there was that. Tor landed by the man gently, if not in a smooth looking fashion, and smiled at him. What that looked like Tor didn’t know, young and surly probably, but that would have to do for now, Tor didn’t have anything better to offer.
“Scared yet?” Tor said his voice soft and menacing.
The man froze, not moving, or blinking. Tor really didn’t want a fight, but the guy didn’t seem to want to leave him a lot of choice either. Plus he was too huge to play with. If they fought, Tor would have to kill him. Instantly and without hesitation. Knowing that he switched weapons to one of the smaller explosives and got ready for the giant to move. Time passed slowly, Tor glaring with an insane smile on his lips, trembling slightly and Scott Ross just holding very still.