The Chronicles of Amon book 2 The Sea of Marmara, Page 3

  Chapter 3.

  Their trek up into the northern highlands had taken many moon cycles. The moon was now only a thin crescent, occasionally peaking through the passing clouds in the dim morning light.

  Amon sat down on one of the large stones the clan had gathered. The stones were arranged in a wide circle around a pile of now-wet kindling he had placed there the night before. As he bent to tighten the fur-covered hides around his shins, he heard a faint stirring coming from one of the other shelters.

  “The others awake,” he said to himself as he pulled the ‘fire stones’ from the special pouch inside his parka. Almost reverently, he placed them on the ground next to the fire pit. Once again his memories began to surface. . . .”The fire stones.”

  He tore a fist-full of dry tinder from the bundle he had brought with him and squeezed it into a small, tight ball. He placed it carefully under the kindling, where it expanded slightly and settled into place. Taking a fire stone in each hand, he brought them close to the tinder and struck them together. A spark jumped from them toward the tinder, but went out immediately. Amon bent closer, using his body as a shield against the breeze. After several more attempts, a thin wisp of smoke began to curl up from within the tinder. Then, with the faintest of pops, the tinder ignited.

  The kindling above the small flame began to sizzle and pop. The tinder burned quickly and soon was shrinking in size. Carefully, Amon placed more tinder close to the flame. It caught quickly, this time producing a flame hot enough to ignite the kindling. Amon continued feeding the flame, gradually adding larger and larger sticks until the fire was self-sustaining.

  He wanted to talk to Evander again. Evander had told him about the snow and had warned him to collect kindling and tinder before the first snowfall. Amon had no idea what any of this meant, but he trusted Evander and did as he was told. Evander had given him two small stones. One was thin and shiny and fit comfortably in his hand. The other was round and rough, with many sharp edges. Evander had called one of the stones “Iron” and the other “Flint.” He had instructed Amon on how to hold the stones and strike them together close to the tinder.

  Amon had been frightened when first smoke, and then flame arose from the wad of tinder. He had never seen fire before except when lightening had struck and ignited a huge fire which destroyed everything in its path. He remembered how his father had hurriedly gathered him up into his arms and had run as fast as he could to escape the searing heat and acrid smoke.

  He had been terrified the first time Evander showed him how to make fire. Evander had explained to him how he could control the small flame, or extinguish it if necessary. Evander had then told him about another stone called “Pyrite” which he could use if he lost the “Iron” stone. Amon had seen them both before in their natural environment, but had no idea that, when struck together, they would produce fire. When he showed them to the others of the clan, they had marvelled and been afraid. He offered to let the others try to make fire, but they had all shied away, fearful to even touch the stones. Among themselves, they began to call him “the fire maker.”

  Amon had so many questions, and no one else he could talk to about them. Evander had always been kind, quiet, understanding, like his father. Though he had never exchanged so much as a single word with his father, Amon had developed such a close bond with him that spoken words seemed almost superfluous. He and Evander were beginning to develop a very similar relationship.

  The two of them had been in contact many times in the past. At their first meeting, Evander had emphasized that no one in the clan should be told about their meetings. When asked why, he had said that the others wouldn’t understand. Amon had not understood why himself, but had agreed to keep the meetings a secret. Evander had said that as time went by, he would better understand why this was necessary.

  The breeze was cold against his cheek. A flicker of hair brushed his eyelash causing more cold tears to form in the corners of his eyes. They quickly found their way down his cheeks and through his bushy moustache, sending shivers as they went. They were salty to the taste. His stomach growled, reminding him that he was hungry.

  As he bent close to tend the fire, he remembered how he had gotten this new set of fire stones. A wisp of wind found its way through his thick fur collar. It slithered around the base of his neck and then down between his shoulder blades. He shuddered as the haunting memory returned.