Free Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) by Alan Skinner Page A

It will still be very, very hot that close, so be quick. The piece will fall away, into the ditch. Touch, as soon as it falls, grab it with the tongs. It’ll be heavy – so, Cres, drop the crowbar when the piece falls and get the other tongs and help Touch. Put it straight into the wagon and close the lid. Now, is everyone ready?’
    Touch and Cres nodded. Cres hefted the crowbar and waited.
    Hazlitt stood close to the burning stone. He pointed the end of the spout just above it, near the edge. With his other hand, he tipped the bottom of the flask. Water trickled from the spout down on to the great, flaming stone.
    The instant the water touched the cinerite, the cave filled with steam. The burning rock hissed and crackled. Where the water hit it, the flames dipped and wavered. A small fissure appeared on the surface of the stone.
    ‘Now, Cres!’ Hazlitt commanded.
    Cres swung the crowbar back and then forwards, willing all her strength into the blow. The point hit the stone where it had cracked. Cres lost her balance and staggered forward, plunging towards the flames. She felt a hand on her collar as she was wrenched away from the fire.
    The stone screeched and split. A chunk the size of an apprentice’s head broke free and slid into the flaming ditch circling the stone.
    ≈
     
    Far to the south, among the coffee trees of Muddlemarsh, a piercing alarm sounded in Crimson’s head. Pain shot through her, like a pitchfork driven into her heart. She clutched the branch in front of her, keeping herself on her feet. It lasted no more than a heartbeat, then it was gone. It was so brief that, later, Crimson wondered if she had imagined it.
    ≈
     
    The fragment of fire stone was heavier than Touch had expected. The jaws of the tongs, opened as wide as they would go, clamped round the broken piece. He tried to lift it. He could feel the heat on his face; it seared the burned patches on his left hand. The chunk started to slide back into the ditchs when Cres clamped her tongs on it. They pulled it free and, straining, turned and hoisted it above the open wagon. Releasing the tongs, they watched the flaming chunk of cinerite drop safely into the metal container with a dull clunk.
    ‘Well done!’ said Hazlitt. He closed and fastened the lid of the wagon. ‘Hot work, eh?’
    Cres breathed heavily, more from the excitement and tension than the effort. She managed a nod, then looked at her gloves. Both were singed and stained.
    ‘Don’t worry about the gloves, Cres,’ said Hazlitt, tugging them from Cres’s hands. ‘I have another pair at home.’
    Touch blew on his burns. Before he knew it, Edith was next to him, putting the soothing cream on his wounds.
    The apprentices looked at the wagon in wonder as the realisation of what had just happened dawned on them.
    ‘We’ve got it, Cres,’ said Touch. A huge smile spread across his face. ‘We’ve done it! We won’t be going back empty-handed after all!’
    Cres grinned back and turned to Hazlitt. ‘That wasn’t ordinary water, was it?’ she asked.
    ‘Ordinary water?’ he said, as if rolling the idea around in his head. ‘That’s an interesting philosophical question, Cres. What is ordinary? What is extraordinary? It’s very ordinary to plant an acorn to grow an oak tree. But it’s extraordinary that a tiny acorn can become a giant oak. Don’t you think?’
    ‘Well, I guess I’ve never really thought about it,’ Cres admitted.
    Hazlitt’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Now that is extraordinary. The young generally seem to have thought about everything.’
    Edith interrupted. ‘Now, you had best get back to Forge. The wagon won’t hold that for ever. Look,’ said Edith. She pointed to the head of the pick on the fiery rock. It had already begun to melt, seeping into the rock itself.
    The apprentices thanked Edith and Hazlitt, several times, in fact.
    ‘Why don’t you come with us?’ asked Cres.
    ‘I think we shall go back to The Place,’ said Edith.