He crossed the deck to where the L'ung were gathered. The hover had descended to a thousand meters and was cruising over the Joerly farmstead.
'There,' said the High Gregory, pointing to the woods they had tramped through that morning, a mix of hard and softwoods: birch and oak, hemlock and pine. In the midst of it, three tendrils of gray smoke were climbing into the sky.
'Those are spot fires,' said Penny. 'Caused by falling embers.'
Spur didn't believe it. He'd been worried about spotting all along and had swung from side to side in the hover looking for them. But he'd decided that not enough time had passed for embers from the burn to start raining down on them. The convection column towered at least five kilometers above the valley. He stared at the plumes of smoke rising from the woods of his childhood with sickening dread. From right to left they were progressively smaller. Three fires in a series, which meant they had probably been set. What was his duty here? He was pretty sure that his scooter was still in the barn at Diligence Cottage. He could use it to get away from the burn in plenty of time. Cape could monitor the progress of the burn for Commander Adoula. Besides, if someone was down there setting fires…
Someone.
'Memsen,' he said. 'I've changed my mind.'
The hover glided to a stop above the unused field nearest to Diligence Cottage. Spur stepped back as guard rails flowed out of the deck around the ramp, which slowly extended like a metal tongue toward the sweet clover below. Cape, who was standing next to Spur, was smiling. What did his father think was so funny?
'We can stay here and wait for you,' said Memsen. 'If you have a problem, we'll come.'
'Not through those trees you won't,' said Spur, 'No, you take Cape back up so he can report to the commander.' The hover shuddered in the windstorm caused by the burn. 'Besides, it's going to get rough here before too much longer. You need to protect yourselves.'
'This is exciting.' Her Grace, Jacqueline Kristof clapped her hands. 'Are you excited, Spur?'
Memsen turned the girl around and gave her a hard shove toward the rest of the L'ung.
'DiDa?' Spur wanted to hug his father but settled for handing him the tell. 'When the commander calls, just explain that I think we might have a torch and I'm on the ground looking. Then just keep track of the burn for her.'
'Yes.' His father was grinning broadly now. 'I'm ready.'
'Good. Memsen, thanks for your help.'
'Go safely.' She clicked her rings.
Spur held out his hand to the High Gregory but the boy dodged past it and embraced him instead. Spur was taken aback when he felt the High Gregory's kiss on his cheek. 'I can see much more luck for you, friend Spur,' he murmured. 'Don't waste it.'
The hot wind was an immediate shock after the cool interior of the hover. It blew gusty and confused, whipping Spur's hair and picking at his short sleeves. Spur paused at the bottom of the ramp to consider his next move and gather his courage. The pillar of smoke had smothered the afternoon sun, sinking the land into nightmarish and untimely gray twilight.
'Nice weather we're having,' said Cape.
'DiDa, what?' He spun around, horrified. 'Get back up there.'
Cape snapped him a mock salute. 'Since when do you give the orders on this farm, son?'
'But you have to, you can't…' He felt like a foolish little boy, caught by his father pretending to be a grownup. 'Someone has to talk to the ground. The commander needs to know what's happening with the burn.'
'I gave the tell to your know-so-much friend, Penny. She'll talk Adoula's ear off.'
The ramp started to retract.
'What I have to do is too dangerous, DiDa.' Spur's face was hot. 'You're not coming, understand?'
'Wasn't planning to.' Cape chuckled. 'Never entered my mind.'
Spur watched in helpless fury as the hatch closed. 'Then just load whatever you want into the truck and take off. You've got maybe twenty minutes before things get hot here.'
The hover rose straight up and away from the field but then paused, a dark speck in an angry sky.
'See what you've done?' Spur groaned.
'Don't worry. They'll run before too long.' Cape clapped him on the back. 'I don't know about you, but I have things to do.'
'DiDa, are you…?' Spur was uncertain whether he should leave Cape while he was in this manic mood. 'Be careful.'
Capability Roger Leung was not a man known for his sense of humor, but he laughed now. 'Prosper, if we were being careful, we'd be up there in the sky with your strange little friends.' He pointed into the woods. 'Time to take some chances, son.'
He turned and trotted off toward the big house without looking back.
Spur knew these woods. He and Vic and Comfort had spent hours in the cool shade pretending to be pirates or skantlings or aliens or fairies. They played queen and castle in the pukpuk ruins and pretended to be members of Morobe's original crew, exploring a strange new world for the first time. They cut paths to secret hideouts and built lean-tos from hemlock boughs and, when Vic and Spur were eleven, they even erected a ramshackle tree house with walls and a roof, although Cape made them take it down because he said it was too dangerous. Spur had been kissed for the first time in that tree house: In a contest of sibling gross out, Vic had dared his big sister to kiss his best friend. Comfort got the best of it, however, because her back dare was that Vic had to kiss Spur. As he pulled back from the kiss, Vic had punched Spur in the arm so hard it left a bruise.
The woods were dark and unnaturally quiet as he padded down the path that led past Bear Rock and the Throne of the Spruce King. Spur heard no birdsong or drone of bugs. It was as if the trees themselves were listening for the crackle of fire. When he first smelled smoke, he stopped to turn slowly and sniff, trying to estimate where it had come from. Ahead and to the north was his best guess. That meant it was time to cut off the path and bushwhack south across the Great Gosdog Swamp, which had never been very great and always dried up in the summer. His plan was to strike out in the direction of the smallest of the three fires he had seen from the hover. He knew he was getting close when it started to snow fire.
Most of what floated down was ash, but in the mix were sparks and burning embers that stung the bare skin of his arms and face. He brushed a hand through his hair and ran. Not in a panic -just to keep embers from sticking to him. To his right he could see the glow of at least one of the fires. And yes, now he could hear the distant crack and whoosh he knew all too well. The burn was working along the forest floor, he was sure of that. Crown fire sounded like a runaway train. If he were anywhere near one, he'd be deafened and then he'd be dead. Spur finally escaped the ash fall after several minutes of dodging past trees at speed. He hunched over to knead the stitch in his side, then pressed on.
The wind had picked up and now was blowing west, not east. He thought it must be an indraft. The burn that was crashing down on them had to suck air in huge gulps from every direction in order to support itself. Maybe the wind shift would work in their favor. A west wind would push these outlying spot fires back toward the burn itself. If the line of backfire was wide enough, it might actually check the advance of the burn when the two met. Of course, it would have to scorch across the best parts of the Millisap and Joerly farmsteads first.
In the gathering darkness, Spur decided to start trotting again. It was taking too long to skirt around the last fire to Mercy's Creek. And unless he saw something soon, he was turning back. He had to leave himself enough time to get away. And he wanted to make sure his father hadn't done anything crazy.
Intent on not tripping over a stone or root, Spur never saw the windblown curtain of smoke until it closed around him. He spun around, disoriented. He had been panting from running, so his nose and mouth and lungs filled immediately. It was like trying to breathe cotton. His eyes went teary and the world was reduced to a watery dissolve. Had he been out with Gold Squad, he would have been wearing goggles, a helmet and a breather. But here he was practically naked, and the smoke was pervasive and smothering. He was coughing so hard he could taste the tang of blood and then his throat closed and he knew he was about to choke to death. In a panic, he hurled himself flat against the forest floor, desperately searching for the shallow layer of breathable air that they said sometimes clung to the ground. A stump poked at his side but as he laid his cheek against the mat of twigs and papery leaves, he found cooler air, rank but breathable. He tried to fill his aching lungs, coughed up mucus and blood, then tried again.
