The FireTamer and His Brother

Year 11, St Kevin’s College

A small crowd had clustered by the street corner.

Fascination, excitement and awe charged the air like static before a strike of lightning.

Young children shoved their way to the front of the throng while passersby stood on tiptoe at the back.

At the very front of the crowd stood a youngish boy, eyes bright, grin wide, wrapped in a tight, twitching coil of flame.

Concern was never present on the boy’s features as the fire curved its way around him, a shifting, writhing serpent that twisted its path under his outstretched arms, over his dark curls, in the empty air by his side.

No, the FireTamer seemed excited.

As he shared his art with the strangers around him, the boy was alight with an almost childlike joy.

The doubleended staff that the flames were bound to spun on a flat, upturned palm.

Those that might be able to drag their eyes away from the blazing wheel hanging in the air over him might spy the scars on his hand and arm, scars that read years of practice and years of mistakes.

Leaning against the wall and blending with the shadows that fell across it, stood a youngish man, face sullen and disinterested with the bright display before him.

One side of his shirtcollar stuck up like a dog’s lopsided ears, and his top button was missing entirely.

It seemed as though someone had stuck their fingers in the remains of a fireplace and rubbed the soot underneath his eyes, and then the faint remainder of it over the bottom of his creased buttonup.

There was a faint, collective gasp as the boy in front of him switched the staff for twin firewands with an impressive flourish, but the man’s demeanour did not change.

His morose expression shifted to a scowl as his eyes narrowed and focused on some handful of people in the crowd.

The man pushed off the wall behind him and stalked towards the boy, unconcerned about the fire wrapped around him.

It was not hard to see that the two darkhaired boys were related as the man approached.

However, differences were obvious in everything they did.

The elder was sullen, suspicious and closed off, keeping his distance from crowds and people in general.

His brother seemed the opposite, open and bright, to the point that he could be mistaken for the sun.

One was all soft edges and bright smiles while the other was sharp to the point that it invaded the way he spoke.

Rough voices began to break through the crowd.

Calls of annoyance, of pathways cut off and calm disrupted with light and noise.

One man in particular called out illegalities that the boy committed as he approached.

Even as the chaos began, the FireTamer did not seem worried.

Perhaps he even grinned wider, far more used to disarray than order and calm.

As the two men approached the boy, closing in on him, the FireTamer’s expression shifted slightly.

A sly look that a stranger mightn’t expect, entered his eyes, and the boy gave one last grin.

No, not a grin. A smirk.

The twin firewands in his hand spun in a perfect unison and were brought up before his face.

A torrent of flame burst forward, leaping eagerly out towards the crowd.

The gathered people scurried back, and the back of the boy’s shirt was grabbed by his elder brother.

The pair quickly swept down, gathering the bag of equipment and case of tossed money into their arms.

Just as the crowd began to settle down and part for the angry man to pass through, the brothers ducked into the alleyway behind them and soon disappeared from sight.