ILuvHats

Chapter 1

On the tracks, perched atop the dark shape of the iron behemoth, sat a little girl. She lay curled against the ancient locomotive’s rusty chimney, dressed in a black, knee-length skirt and matching stockings, the type these provincials wore to church or perhaps a funeral. Despite the midday sun, the trees here were old and dense with foliage, so little light passed through the canopy. Amidst the black of the shade and the black of her dress, her pale face was shockingly striking. It was oddly picturesque. But also frightening. Tanatski knew she shouldn’t be here alone without supervision, both for her sake and his own.

Leio tugged on his shoulder. The older man looked concerned, as well he should be. “I know you’re worried she’s lost, but I wouldn’t approach her. Spirits, what do you think one of the foremen would do if they saw us with her? What do you think the locals would do?”

Tanatski glanced at the sky past the tree line, where faint plumes of smoke marked the nearby settlement.

“We’re miles away yet. Not likely to be seen by passersby.”

“Still not worth the risk,” Leio said. “Besides, you really think they left a kid her age all by herself? I’ve got two krupels says whoever’s looking after her just lost sight for a moment.”

Tanatski shrugged Leio’s hand off and started striding forward. “I’ll take that bet.”

Behind him, he heard Leio mutter that the wager was rhetorical, but after a pause he followed him. The grizzled man was cautious, not cold-hearted. Tanatski knew Leio had grandchildren back east in Gröeksburg. It’s not that he wasn’t concerned for this strange, lost child. But if Leio became too involved, there could be consequences for him that could affect his family as well. Tanatski had no such attachments holding him back. 

The girl was plucking leaves from a low hanging branch when she spotted the two men and jumped, rushing to her feet and balancing precariously atop the cylindrical hull. Tanatski put his hands up to pacify her. “Whoa, hey there. It’s alright. We don’t mean you any harm.”

He expected her to scamper away, but she simply stood there staring at him, clutching the chimney to keep from falling. Perhaps she couldn’t climb down the engine quickly, or thought it was safer up high.

Leio took off his cap. “Don’t reckon you see many strangers out here, huh?” He pointed to the steam engine. “We’re track-layers. Helped bring that train to this neck of the woods.”

Tanatski stopped half a dozen yards away, leaving plenty of space. “My name’s Tan, and this is Leio. What’s your name?”

She paused for a long second. “My name’s Hya.”

“Hya? As in Hyacinth?” Tanatski asked. She nodded, and he had to smile. Say what you would about Samarans, but Tanatski had always loved their naming conventions ever since Wisteria had mentioned how she’d gotten her own name. 

“Well, Hya,” Tanatski continued, “I don’t think you should be here all by yourself. Where’s your mom or dad?”

Again, she paused before responding. “Pa’s working. I don’t have a ma.” The girl, Hya, glanced intently at Leio before turning back to face Tanatski. “Why are your eyes squinty?”

Tanatski supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Remote Kanzic settlements like this one rarely saw any immigrants passing through, particularly Oriental ones. Ordinarily, the only chance for her to see someone like them was the occasional Immune surveyor, and they only needed to update this area’s map of hellholes once a decade. 

“We’re not squinting. Our eyes are shaped differently,” Tanatski explained. “We come from down south, at least originally. Leio’s family moved here a long time ago, so even though he doesn’t look like you, he’s just as Kanzic as you are. I grew up in the South though.”

Hya’s eyes widened, and she grew visibly excited. “Isn’t that where the godless live? Not the wild ones I mean.”

Tanatski carefully nodded. “Yes, there are Burnt there. Depends where you are of course. Some places, they’re almost as rare as they are here. But where I grew up, you couldn’t walk a block without bumping into one.”

“Have you seen one?” she asked.

“Course I have. They’re not as impressive or scary as you might have heard. They look the same as you or me.”

The girl pressed, “But have you ever seen one, you know…” She gestured wildly with her hands, looking eagerly at him.

Tanatski paused. “Aren’t you a curious one. I’d have expected you to be frightened at the notion of flame-touched, not grilling me for stories about them.”

“Pastor Braume says they’re demon-possessed, but Pa says that’s bull. He says if they’re possessed by demons telling them to destroy everything, how come the South hasn’t gone up in flames yet? Besides, you didn’t answer my question. That means you have to have seen one in action!”

Leio chuckled. “I doubt that. People like us don’t witness Burnt actively using their powers. Eh, Tanatski?”

Tanatski stayed silent, and his companion turned to face him, eyes widening. As the moment stretched, the cricking of cicadas swelled to fill the now quiet clearing. Tanatski cursed his indecision. He should have lied instead of dodging the girl’s question, or at least made an excuse after she saw through it. By instead playing the rabbit, he’d incriminated himself further, making it even more difficult to fabricate an explanation that would satisfy both the girl and Leio. Spirit Within, this situation would have been easily avoided if he didn’t hate lying to children so much. 

“Yes, I’ve seen a Burnt demonstrate her abilities before,” Tanatski slowly began. “I don’t like to talk about it. You’re right, Leio, public display of magic is strongly discouraged in Xangwou. Hakan’s a different story, but I was in Xangwou at the time, so if word ever reached the right people, my friend could be in trouble. Seeing how distant we are, I’m sure nobody will find out if I tell you, though. 

“When I asked her to show me Burning, she took me down a side alley and away from the main thoroughfare, tearing a sliver off her handkerchief as we went. After we were out of sight, she pinched the sliver between two fingers, and… nothing visible happened, but it felt like if you looked hard enough, the piece of cloth would begin to glow. There was an energy in the air. I don’t know how else to describe it. Then she set the fabric on the pavement and told me to step back. After a few seconds in the sunlight, it erupted into smoke, dark as night and warped by tendrils of flame. After the fumes dissipated, the cloth was gone. All that remained were rings of black ash.”

Tanatski stopped reminiscing to focus on his audience of two. Hyacinth’s eyes were larger than plates, and a smile was starting to creep onto her lips. At some point during his story, she’d gone back to sitting atop the engine instead of standing. Leio was inscrutable. 

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise!” Hya said, sweet as honey. Tanatski was certain she’d describe his story in detail to the first person who’d listen.

“How big was the explosion?” she asked.

Tanatski laid his hand flat at waist height. “About this high. The cloud of smoke stained the front of my pants and shirt. She should have warned me to step farther back.” He shook his head. “It was a tiny shred of fabric, too. My friend told me organic materials contain a lot of energy. And by organic, I mean stuff that comes from animals and plants, Hya.”

Leio cut off another question from the girl. “We’ve gotten sidetracked. Instead of spouting stories about magic and Burnt, we should be getting you back home,” he said, eyeing Tanatski with a frown. “Hya, you said your father is working right now. Did you come out here with anybody else?”

“Yeah, my sister is over there.” Hya pointed behind the two men, away from the crumbling train tracks. “We were supposed to be checking some snares Pa had set up, but then Allysum came and started talking with my sister. About boys.” She stuck out her tongue in disgust. “I got bored so I left. They didn’t want me there anyways.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Leio said. “And your sister’s probably very worried about you. Let’s head back to them, okay?”

“Okay,” Hya signed. She scampered down the overgrown boiler engine in a moment, using creepers that had grown up the side as handholds. She began shuffling in the direction she had indicated, head hung in resignation.

“Along the way, do you want to hear more about steam engines?” Leio asked.

Hya immediately perked up. “Yes please!” She hurried to Leio’s side as he began describing the massive trainyards back in Gröeksburg. Tanatski trailed behind them as they hiked through brambles and undergrowth, which was fine by him. He needed time to consider how badly he’d stormed up. 

He wasn’t concerned about the girl. She might get scolded for sharing his story, but at her age he doubted anyone would take her seriously. No, Tanatski’s problem was Leio. Maybe the man grew up knowing the homeland only through newspapers, but he seemed knowledgeable. Larger immigrant communities kept cultures and traditions alive within the ravenous beast that was Kanza, and Tanatski gathered that Leio lived in one such neighborhood when he wasn’t away on labor contracts. He knew how odd it was Tanatski had met a Burnt, and unless he’d also gone senile, he’d also realize Tanatski should have had no qualms mentioning his encounter, despite its oddity. For all he had blustered about protecting his friend, any low-ranking Hakani would boast about the tale given the opportunity. Witnessing a Burning was one thing, particularly in Hakan, but a personal demonstration was unheard of if you weren’t rich or well connected. And Tanatski could have protected his friend from scrutiny simply by withholding her name. 

Worry gnawing at his stomach, Tanatski took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. The cool, damp air of the forest was a pleasant break from the oppressive heat of the camp set up for the work crew. And after bathing in the creek, he felt properly clean for the first time in ages. Spring had ended, and the warm vibrance of summer scents and sights enveloped him. The drone of insects and the chatter of his companions blended into a comforting white noise, and Tanatski let the scene wash over him. He was walking, breathing, living, and this moment did not need to be marred by memories or fear for what the future held. Tanatski had to appreciate these moments. He had little else.

Leio laughed at something Hya said, and Tanatski smiled. If Leio connected the dots and approached their fellow tracklayers or one of their managers, Tanatski would have to disappear. That was alright. He’d done so before, and he could do it again. Besides, Tanatski liked Leio. He reminded him of his grandfather; a perennial laborer whose callouses and scars said, “this is a man who found life tough and unforgiving.” But his crow’s feet and smile lines spoke of a lifetime of joy as well, found in a woman whose smile made his heart ache and a daughter whose cry of “Papa” after months away made him weep. Though they were not particularly close, Tanatski liked Leio, and he thought the feeling was mutual. This situation could be resolved by talking with him if he found the right excuse for his earlier behavior.

Tanatski heard shouts in the distance, likely Hya’s sister and her friend. His suspicion was immediately confirmed when Hya cupped her mouth, shouting, “Chrys, over here!” 

A minute later, two girls came rushing over a ridge, disheveled and panting heavily. They slowed when they were about a dozen yards away, eyeing Tanatski and Leio cautiously. Unlike Hya, they were dressed for hiking, with boots sticking out beneath neat, utilitarian dresses. The one on the right was blonde, hair done up in a French braid and with a soft, rosy face, the kind that must drive boys her age mad. From her furrowed brows and clasped hands, Tanatski could tell she was scared of him and Leio. The girl on the left was bolder if still wary, striding forward with a squirrel hanging limp at her side. Tanatski took it this one was Chrys. She looked much like Hya, if a few years older and with light brown instead of dark hair.

“This is Leio and Tan! I met them at the old train by Teller’s creek. They work as tracklayers. Did you know that to the east they have train yards with hundreds of engines passing through every day? And some of the new trains use an oil called diesel instead of steam! Leio said in 20 years they’ll be powerful enough to pull hundreds of boxcars instead of a few dozen!”

Chrys eyed the two men. “You work for Abell & Ëwer Railways?”

Leio responded, “We do. We were heading back to our camp after cleaning ourselves at the creek when we met your sister. Reckoned we should make certain she arrived home safely. 

Chrys nodded curtly. “Thank you. But I can take it from here.” She turned to Hyacinth. “Hya! Making trouble for these two men. And I told you to change out of your school uniform. Look at you now! Grass stains all over your petticoat. Pa’s going to kill me."

Hya rolled her head towards Tanatski and grinned mischievously. “See what I have to deal with?”

Chrys sighed and grabbed Hya by the wrist. “C’mon then, let’s try to get you cleaned up. And thank you again,” she said to Tanatski and Leio.

“Bye Leio! Bye Tan!” Hya called back as she was dragged away. “And don’t worry, I’ll never tell your secret, Tan!”

“What secret?” Chrys asked.

“I said I’d never tell!”

Tanatski and Leio waved goodbye. The blonde girl, Allysum, hurried to catch up with the sisters, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the men. Soon, the three of them crested the hill and were out of sight.

Leio stretched his leg and began rubbing his knee. “Damn arthritis is acting up. Give me a moment and I’ll be good to set out.”

Tanatski exhaled deeply. “Listen Leio. The story about the Burnt is true, but-“

“Son, you’ve got nothing to answer for,” Leio interrupted. “Sometimes, a man’s past is best buried deep. I understand.”

Tanatski wiped his forehead with relief and bowed gratefully to his elderly coworker. “You know, I owe you two krupels. You were right about the girl not being alone.”

“I said I was being rhetorical with that bet,” Leio snorted. “But since you insist, I wouldn’t mind a couple of bottles tonight before we continue east.”

“Consider it done.”

After Leio was satisfied with his knees, the two began hiking back towards the camp set up for the railway laborers. It was a short matter to return to the disused and overgrown railway that the archaic steam engine had rested upon. From there, they turned west. By the time they had emerged from the tree line, the sun was nearing the horizon. In the distance, they could see a collection of buildings marking the town center. New Glocheim was home to little more than a thousand residents, but in this region that was sizable. It might have grown much larger if it had not been sandwiched between larger settlements only a hundred or so miles to the east and west, along the intercontinental track. As it was, trains almost never stopped at New Glocheim. The only reason their transport train had made a pitstop here was because a manager had severely mismanaged their supply of coal, so they needed to refuel. And apparently it had been a nightmare scraping together enough coal in this Podunk town.

The campsite had been set up farther down the railroad next to the line of box cars, after the disused tracks coming from the woods merged with the intercontinental railway. Despite the distance, the camp appeared to be in a flurry of activity. Tanatski looked to Leio, who shrugged.

As they drew closer, it became clear the camp was being torn down. Most of the tents had already been dismantled. Among the remaining ones and day-old firepits, scores of men swarmed, gathering tools and supplies to load onto the boxcars. Tanatski spotted one of his closer coworkers. He shouted out, “Iito, what’s going on? I thought we were departing tomorrow morning.”

Iito hurried over, lugging a sack of tent stakes over his shoulder. “Tanatski! Thank the Spirits. I thought you might not make it in time. You too Leio. I doubt Fraudrich or the other managers would have waited for you.”

“What’s going on?” Tanatski repeated.

“There’s been an incident. Nazou tried to order a beer at the tavern and was refused. One of the patrons spat on him, so he shouldered the man as he was leaving. Things escalated from there. Bunch of the men ganged up on him, and he would have been beaten to death if someone hadn’t called the sheriff.”

Iito shook his head. “He’s in critical condition as it is. The real issue is that during the brawl, he stabbed one of his assailants in the stomach with his pocketknife. The man probably won’t make it, and now the entire town is out for blood.”

Tanatski cursed in Hakani. “Nazou, that idiot. All the locals needed was an excuse. He should know Samarans like them are nearly as radical as the Cedish. They hate the Burnt, and anyone southern by association.”

Leio shrugged, face dark. “This was his first assignment this far west, near the Ravages. He was ignorant. If he survives, he’ll have learned his lesson.”

“A mob’s gathered on the outskirts of the town,” Iito continued. “Fraudrich led a couple of foremen with clubs to head them off and delay until we’re ready to leave.”

“How many foremen?” Tanatski asked.

Iito thought for a second. “Six, maybe?”

“That’s not nearly enough. I’ll go help them.”

“Don’t be suicidal,” Leio said. “The locals will tear you apart.”

“Not if they can’t see my face properly. Can I borrow your cap?” Tanatski proffered his hand to Leio.

Muttering under his breath, the man carefully doffed his hat and handed it to Tanatski, who proceeded to draw it down over his face, obscuring his Oriental eyes.

“Thank you,” Tanatski said. “I’ll see you both again shortly.” 

He started jogging in the direction of New Glocheim, grabbing a nearby crowbar from the ground as he left camp. Before long, he caught sight of the mob Iito had mentioned. Several dozen men interspersed with a couple of women had amassed before a small group of foremen, who were trying to shout down the screaming, hysterical crowd. At the head of the defensive formation stood Fraudrich, shouldering a rifle aimed at the mob’s foremost ranks. Next to him, a dark-haired man marked by a sheriff’s badge held a similar weapon, though he pointed his at the ground. The only reason the mass of locals hadn’t overwhelmed the foremen was the threat of being shot. Many of them carried makeshift weapons, but none of them carried any guns, which Tanatski considered a miracle. He quietly thanked the Spirits for the blessing.

Tanatski pulled up near one of the foremen, who scanned him uncertainly. He didn’t protest though. This close, the roar was deafening, and spittle from the crowd nearly reached his boots. Over the din, he could barely hear the sheriff trying to reason with them.

“Listen! The man will be tried for his crimes. I will personally guarantee it. But he’s as badly injured as Osier. Do you really want our town to be known for setting on a man who can’t even fight back, like a pack of rabid dogs?”

If the sheriff’s protestations had any effect on the mob, Tanatski couldn’t see it. The horde of Samarans pressed against him, one man briefly stepping out, brandishing a long hunting knife and with murder in his eyes. Tanatski raised his crowbar menacingly, and the man shied away, absorbed back into the masses. Rocks flew from the crowd, and one caught Tanatski in the arm, making him wince. Make no mistake, this was a dangerous situation. But Tanatski had seen his fair share of fights. And this was nothing compared to an actual battlefield. 

Tanatski heard the sheriff curse loudly and glanced towards him. The man was extricating himself from the defensive line, rushing off to the side. Tanatski felt cold sweat bead along his back. With half of the formation’s firepower removed, the swarm of rioters redoubled their efforts, threatening to tear the squad of foremen in two. Fraudrich released a warning shot, temporarily driving the mob back. During the brief respite, Tanatski’s eyes followed the sheriff, and his heart dropped. 

Twenty yards back, approaching from the nearby town, Hya and her sister, Chrys, stood facing the sheriff. Tanatski couldn’t hear the sheriff’s words, but Hya ran up to him, hugging him about the waist. Chrys held back, staring at the frenzy in terror. 

Spirits, the sheriff must be their father. No wonder he’d left the foremen in such a panic. His children were in danger. As Tanatski watched, several pebbles flew in their direction, one of them nearly clipping Hya. The sheriff turned to bellow back at the crowd, and Tanatski was forced to turn his attention back before him as the mob resurged. A fist came at his face, but he twisted to take the impact on his shoulder. Gripping his crowbar in both hands, he thrust the rage-induced man back, but more bodies swarmed towards him. The moment he began swinging his weapon wildly and seriously injured one of them, they’d lose what little self-control they had and fall on him like wolves. As it was, the turmoil was reaching a breaking point, and-

BOOM. 

An explosion rocked the clearing. 

Tanatski was clear of the blast zone, but flames licked at the edges of the mob, and the panic reached a crescendo as men and women desperately clawed at each other to escape the fire, which had begun to spread among the prairie grass. The crowd began to disperse, some fleeing, some struggling to stomp out the flames. Others stood in stunned silence, including Fraudrich and the foremen. Tanatski’s instincts kicked in, and he started making his way to the source of the explosion, which was shrouded in a massive column of smoke. In the wake of the shockwave, everyone had vacated the area immediately surrounding the blast, so Tanatski encountered little resistance from the crowd. He reached the edge of the smoke where he stopped, masking his nose and mouth with one hand while he waved the fumes away with his other. He dreaded what he’d see once the cloud dispersed. But a morbid sense of honor drove him to pay testimony to this tragedy. A tragedy that was all too familiar to him, in form if not detail. The smoke cleared, and Tanatski bore witness.

At the center of the smoldering clearing, surrounded by a ring of destruction, a lone girl kneeled, two forms laying in the ashy soil before her. The larger of the two was scorched black and bubbling, with a chunk blown out of its midsection. Tanatski could smell roasted human flesh carrying on the breeze. The smaller of the two forms was more obviously human, but red, blistering welts lined half the body, and it wasn’t moving. Light chestnut hair veiled the girl lying between the corpses, and Tanatski could just barely make out her face. 

It was Chrys.

Her chest wracked with sobs, hands shaking before her, she stared vacantly at the bodies of her sister and her father. Her dress was charred and shredded to smithereens, but she appeared unharmed apart from a couple spatters of blood. Tanatski couldn’t tell if the blood was hers. 

As he strode closer, he could hear her muttering something under her breath over and over. She was a in a state of shock and would be unresponsive for some time. Tanatski was also in shock, but not nearly so bad, and he had trained to function under extreme emotional distress. So it was with striking clarity that he pieced everything together.

The girl was Burnt.

From the volume of smoke, the explosion was biological in origin, and the condition of the sheriff’s corpse indicated his clothes were the source of the eruption. Tanatski guessed that Chrys had unconsciously and unintentionally Primed the fabric as she reached for her father. Most likely, she’d had no idea what she was doing, nor what she was. The powers began to appear during adolescence, and extreme stress could drive a developing Burnt to manifest their abilities uncontrollably. It was why many Burnt did not survive to adulthood if they weren’t trained properly. 

But Chrys had survived an explosion the size of a mortar shell at point-blank range, which was highly atypical. Few Burnt possessed resistance to their own abilities, and if they did, it usually took the form of a very limited tolerance to high temperatures. Full flame-immunity combined with impunity to forces that should rend the human body apart were unheard of. And yet, here stood living evidence of one such Burnt.

Tanatski noticed a crowd beginning to gather in the vicinity, Samarans and foremen alike, shocked into silence. But even as Tanatski stood there, he heard a low murmuring unfurl through the masses. One woman stepped forward and began screeching. 

“That child survived hell’s destruction! It is proof! Proof she is one of them! She is godless! Demonic! A scourge upon the earth!”

The crowd’s murmuring rose into a low rumble, pierced by even more screams of religious fervor. Tanatski closed his eyes. The mob would kill this girl. They would string her up and lynch her. She wouldn’t resist. The foremen and the laborers wouldn’t resist. They would kill her, and while this was a tragedy, it was no sin. The girl could not have meant for this to happen. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault.

Tanatski could feel an old, familiar rage rising in his gut. Lips snarling, he clenched his fists, itching to wreak a devastation upon these people they could not even imagine. He itched to show them what hell was truly like, to release heaven’s divine wrath upon him. This feeling was an old and comfortable one, and he relished it. But it also terrified him. 

Tanatski let his fury pour through him and out of him, forcing his body to hang limp. If he was going to save this girl, he would do so not out of rage-induced delirium, but because the girl had no one else. She was broken, and alone. And nobody deserved to be alone.

As fanatical men and women started to prowl towards the broken girl, Tanatski reached into a pouch concealed beneath his shirt, designed for rapid access. He withdrew a dozen smooth, slate grey marbles, and extended his power into the ceramic spheres, Priming them. As he assessed the surrounding crowd, he noticed Fraudrich stood near him, still carrying a rifle. Good. He would need the weapon. 

Knowing what was coming, Tanatski closed his eyes and averted his gaze so that not even his eyelids would be pierced. Recalling their positions, he hurled a flurry of marbles before the crowd. And the ground erupted in a deafening thunder that dwarfed the earlier explosion.

Immediately, Tanatski opened his eyes. The dying flash of white still left afterimages, but he could see well enough for his purposes. He pinpointed Fraudrich and threw another marble directly at his feet while again averting his eyes. After this final detonation, he sprinted to the reeling manager and tore the rifle from his grasp. Despite the ringing in his ears, Tanatski’s sense of balance and vision remained unaffected by the sound. It had been that way for as long as he could remember.

Slinging the gun over his shoulder by its strap, Tanatski rushed towards Chrys as all around him people staggered about, clutching their eyes or ears. She appeared unaffected by the flash grenades but continued to stare sightlessly at the ground. Tanatski effortlessly slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and she remained limp in his arm. He began pumping his legs, hurtling himself and Chrys towards the distant tree line. After about 50 yards, he turned about and flung one last volley of grenades towards the gathered mass. It was too distant to affect them much, but it would serve as a warning not to pursue. 

Doubtless, Tanatski had left many permanently blind or deaf. The grenades emitted very little heat, and the blast radius was miniscule, so they wouldn’t kill. However, at close quarters they often resulted in permanent sensory loss. He couldn’t find it in him to care. After all, that mob had been about to kill an innocent child.

As he grew closer to the forest, he focused, trying to recall the map of this region he had briefly viewed a couple days before. Eventually, there would be pursuers, but there was a nearby hellhole to the northeast, and if he located it before he was caught he'd be safe. They would never follow him near it. It all depended on how accurate his memory of the map was, and if he could correctly navigate the woods.

Distantly, Tanatski realized he had once again thrown his life away. This day would have consequences, and only the future would reveal how far they reached. But as he carried a child away from her would-be murderers, Tanatski found only resolve in his heart. He would save this girl, no matter the cost.