Fan the Flame

by September Thomas

  I tried to smile but failed. He took pity on me and snatched one of the books in my small pile.

  “Where did you get this anyway?” he asked, scratching his chin. He claimed his face felt itchy without the rough beard he’d shaved off the other day. He now seemed a little strange without it. “This doesn’t look like anything from the library. It’s too old for that.”

  “I may or may not have discovered a secret library.”

  “And you’re only now disclosing this information?”

  “I live to keep you in suspense.” I plucked a small pouch of pistachios I’d snitched from lunch out of my pocket and tossed them at him. “I also know how to earn your forgiveness.”

  He cracked a shell and popped the green meat between his lips. “I accept your apology, despite its lack of originality.” I couldn’t keep the disgust from my face when he chewed two more. I hated pistachios. “Now, stars tell, where did you discover this secret library?”

  “The third level of the basement.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Speaking of lack of original thought.”

  “I actually found something interesting a few minutes ago.” I snagged the book he’d grabbed and opened it to a page I’d dog-eared, then ran my finger down the scribbled text. “Maat gave me an idea out in the desert with this whole binding thing. I know that Phenex is out of the way for now, but what if there were a way to do something similar to Geoffrey?”

  “You mean you don’t want to kill him?” Joseph asked with surprise.

  “I—” I stopped scanning the page, my chest tight. I wanted retribution, I wanted justice, but the more I learned about this world and its inhabitants, the less I was convinced that death was the answer. “No. I really don’t. He’s done horrible things. Terrible things. And I think he needs to pay for what he’s done. But death isn’t the answer to that.”

  In my mind, Kaleal rustled restlessly. I winced at the sensation of claws dragging down the inside of my skull. She wasn’t pleased with my reasoning

  “I’m proud of you,” Joseph said, squeezing my shoulder. “You are not the girl I met back on that dry lakebed anymore. In a good way, of course.”

  My cheeks warmed. I didn’t know how to respond.

  “What were you going to show me?” he asked.

  “Oh! That.” I pointed at a paragraph near the bottom of the page. “You mentioned similar things back at the cabins, about how people were bound by blood promises in ancient times. You know, swearing oaths that were impossible to break? Well, this says the fey used to strip other fey of their magic if they abused it. It was always seen as a last resort but…”

  “But if we strip Geoffrey of his magic, he’s only a human. He’s no longer the Hand,” Joseph exclaimed, pulling me in for a quick embrace. “You’re a genius, Zara. Seriously. How do we do it? How do we bind him?”

  “The answer is probably in the library still.” I closed the book. “I only got lucky when I found this earlier.”

  “What are we waiting for then?” He jumped up in a move so fast I flinched. Factor in how high up we were, and I’d think him crazy if I hadn’t known he was incapable of falling.

  I tucked the books into my satchel and grabbed his extended hand. “How do we get down?”

  “How do you want to get down?”

  I glanced up through my lashes. “I have a choice?”

  “Flying? Sliding? You say it and I can probably do it.”

  An idea rose and my whole body buzzed with the possibility. I leaned over the edge, again, considering. “How about diving?”

  He shoved his glasses up his nose and moved his head side to side in consideration. “Sure.” He grabbed my shoulders and positioned me in front of him so he could see where I was in relation to everything. We were really, really high up.

  “Ok. The window is about seventy-five feet straight down. Yes, there, you got it. At this angle, you should drop right through—don’t look at me like that, of course I can tell the window is open. Remember, I’ll be guiding you, and if something goes horribly wrong I’ll be ready to catch you.”

  “I think I got it.” Glorious energy zinged in my veins. I’d never done anything like this before. The idea of putting my entire life in someone else’s hands was absolutely crazy, but also so completely right. I shuffled forward, my toes poking over the edge, arms raised over my head in a vee.

  This was like swimming.

  I’d loved diving with my team, even though I wasn’t especially talented at it. For the first time, grief didn’t swamp me when I remembered the laughter of my friends when one of us would execute a particularly awful dive. Instead, joy fluttered its butterfly wings. With it, I recalled the feeling of weightlessness that came with springing from the board, the sensation of that one, clean moment where the water parted for my hands and then sucked me under. The power that pulsated through me when I touched the smooth bottom and propelled myself to the surface once more.

  I’d loved swimming so much.

  I needed this.

  I jumped.

  My stomach bottomed out, but I held position as I sliced through the air, moving faster and faster as I fell. This was nothing like diving, yet absolutely like it all at the same time. Just as I was getting used to the twisting wonderfulness in my gut, it stopped, and I was tumbling, rolling on the floor of the window we’d sneaked out of earlier. Adrenaline pumped hard and fast through my veins, and I realized I was laughing. Real laughter right from my core, the kind that had me curling up as my limbs shook.

  Joseph coasted gently through the window and shook his head at me where I rolled around on the plush blue and green rug. “You’re an adrenaline junkie, I hope you know. When this is all said and done, I’ll make it my mission to find you a specialist to help you handle your urges.”

  “You do that,” I yelled gleefully at his retreating back. “We have to survive whatever ‘this’ is first.”

  The thought sobered me and I sucked in a great gulp of air, moving to sit on the cheap, metal frame that supported a thin, twin-size mattress in the corner. That had been fun. I needed a little more fun in my life.

  “You can come out now,” I said to the empty air when I could no longer sense Joseph’s presence. I pretended to examine my short, chipped nails while measuring the push and pull of my water magic, sensing my unwanted shadow crouching on the other side of the wall. “At first I was flattered that I’d captured your attention, but I’m starting to get stalker vibes.”

  Nothing.

  I sighed. “I know who you are. I know you know that, too.”

  I’d been watching the open doorway, but he must have moved when I blinked because there he was, the boy with the twisted owl-boar mask. He had exchanged the robes for loose, white trousers and a white, silk shirt that hugged his body beneath his vest. A thin cloak the exact shade of moonlight draped from his shoulders. Khaki boots and a bandolier outfitted with finger-length knives provided the only relief in the monotonous attire.

  “It’s Oron, isn’t it?”

  His hand went to the short sword at his waist, but he made no move to draw it. The dark hollows of his snarling mask stared me down.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” I asked when it became clear he wasn’t about to answer. I got up and moved to the windowsill to put some extra space between us. He took two steps forward and halted. He held himself eerily still, like a lion with a gazelle in its crosshairs.

  “I knew who you were when I saw you outside the pyramid,” I said. “It’s a weird quirk of being the First. I recognize the signatures of the different Gods. I think it’s part of knowing who needs their magic woken up.” I waved a hand, scattering dust motes in the hazy air. “Anyway, now that I’ve got you pinned down, you’re greener than a field of daisies in the spring.”

  Oron sat gingerly on the edge of the chest, every muscle in his body was locked in anticipation. The tips of his fingers touched in his lap, and I’d sparred with the pixies too often to not recognize he was ready to
reach for any number of weapons, should I give him reason to.

  I cleared my throat and pulled my legs up on the wide ledge, crisscross style. “Would you mind removing the mask?” I circled my face vaguely. “It’s a little unnerving speaking to… whatever you’re supposed to be.”

  His head dipped. The tips of his fingers tapped. Then his middle finger and thumb met in a circle and he reached up behind his head. I blinked. It resembled one of the first signs Rose had taught me. The pixies pressed their thumbs and forefingers together all the time in quiet displays of agreement or the affirmative.

  Metal clicked as he pulled apart the buckles at the base of his skull holding the mask tight around his head. Oron hesitated, gripping the muzzle of the snarling beast, and lowered it to his lap. The stretchy, black material that I’d first thought was his shirt was actually a secondary cloth mask, one that covered his whole head and neck, rendering him faceless.

  I tugged on the edges of my sleeves. This somehow felt even weirder, more intimate, almost as if he’d stripped to his underwear instead of remove a simple headpiece.

  “How about the other mask?” I asked uncertainly.

  This index and middle finger drew straight and slashed right to left.

  No.

  Another pixie sign.

  “How do you know pixie?” I asked, leaning against the frame. “Do you talk?”

  He flicked a few more signs: I prefer it this way.

  I was intrigued. “What’s with the masks?”

  They represent spirits that protect the temples, he signed, the movements tight and precise. Each member of Davos serves as a representative of their spirit until the day they either step down or are dismissed.

  “Does anyone ever step down?” I definitely wasn’t getting that kind of vibe from this place. Judging by his hesitation, it was more of a ‘till death do us part’ type of gig. “That’s fine, you don’t have to answer. But does that mean you always have to wear the… skull thing?”

  Out in public, yes.

  “But with me it’s ok?”

  We’re technically equals, he said as if that answered everything. He held himself eerily still as if extra movement would cost him something he didn’t have to spend.

  “No ‘technically’ about it, Oron. We are equal.” I pressed back to the window frame, tracing the water band around my wrist as I stared up at the ceiling. A long crack stretched diagonally from one corner to the other. “Do you want to hear a story? About how this all started? For me anyway?”

  He offered an affirmative.

  “Great.” I thought back on those days, remembering the good and the bad and all the ugly. It was strange, but I felt ready to face it, to talk about it. Something about Oron and the mystery he exuded spoke to me. “You might not guess it by looking at me, but I used to be this crazy awesome swimmer with a whole bunch of dreams I wanted to achieve. Then I fell off a boat in the middle of a storm created by a devious Kraken and everything thought I knew about the world changed…”

  “No kidding? You guys train by hunting ramalia?” I asked with genuine amazement. That sounded terrifying and totally awesome. The heels of my feet tapped the wall as I dangled them from the windowsill.

  Oron’s index fingers circled one another rapidly. Laughter.

  I braced my chin on my fist. “Your Great Beast is pretty scary, you know. Scary in an awe-inspiring way—like the Kraken and the Thunderbird.” I shook my head in wonder.

  “I wish you could meet them. But the Kraken doesn’t do very well in deserts and the Thunderbird is protecting Joseph’s family.” I ran my fingers through my hair. I wondered when Ryder would insist on weaving his pattern into the locks once again. “Joseph managed to call them here, I guess. Apparently, the Order tried attacking again not long after we left, but the T-bird headed them off. Fortunately, they’re doing fine now.”

  I hopped off the windowsill and dusted off my pants. “Alright, Oron. What will it be?” I reached out, palm upward and flat. “I’m not asking you to join us, but do you want to taste the full extent of your power? I won’t force you—” even though I desperately wanted to because the magic was zinging this way and that inside of me, making me mildly nauseous, “—it’s totally your call.”

  He appeared frozen on the trunk, trapped in indecision.

  Then slowly, oh so slowly, he stood, his hand pressed against his middle. Taking my cues from him, like squaring off with a wary predator, I held still, allowing him to come to me. Inside, though, his Earth magic spun faster and faster, frothing riotously, demanding release I couldn’t give it. If it kept up much longer, I might hurl. To distract myself, I remembered what Joseph had told me after he’d connected with his magic.

  “I’m told it hurts a bit, but it’s a good kind of hurt. Like if you’ve ever wrapped a rubber band around your finger to watch the tip turn purple. That feeling when you remove the band. Or when you suck in that first gasp of air after trying to see how long you can hold your breath with your friends.” I flicked a half-smile. “Then again, you could also be like me and not even realize you have it until you do something with it. Either way, it’s pretty awesome.”

  His eyes bored into me from behind the veil of black. His whip-like body was tense, uncertain. Smoothly, his hand flung out and wrapped around mine, his grip sure.

  My palm tingled and then it was gone. The chaos swirling in my stomach subsided, and I swallowed back a frown. The boy gave absolutely no reaction, either, but his hand remained locked around mine, hard as stone. It was the exact opposite of what had happened with Joseph when the power had flooded me with electricity and heat and energy. It had overwhelmed the God of Air, who had been bedridden a full day while recovering.

  “Do you feel any—” I started to ask when through the open window blared the bleats of horns. Three short bursts followed by a longer bellow. Oron’s grip closed impossibly harder around mine, turning me around with him as he went to the window, peering out.

  The same pattern sounded and I looked over his shoulder at the view across the city. Along the top of the western wall clustered soldiers, rushing to and fro. Below them, civilians raced away, ducking into shelters at the base of the pyramid. I gasped when flames erupted from one large, black basin on top of the wall. It was quickly followed by another and another until fire ringed the city.

  With uncanny speed, Oron pulled the bone-mask over his head and smoothly buckled it in place as he climbed on the windowsill. At the last second, he seemed to remember my presence and glanced back. He pointed first at the western wall, then his hands worked together in the slashing motions for “approaching enemy.”

  My gut knotted, the magic swirling faster again.

  The Order. It had to be.

  I scanned the darkening horizon, not seeing anything, yet believing something must be there.

  I’d given Geoffrey more than enough time to plan another attack.

  “Take me with you,” I begged, snagging his cloak as he prepared to leap. His shoulders jerked, and the tusks swung my way. “Whatever it is, I’m better served on the front lines than back here.”

  A million unspoken moments seemed to pass between us.

  The horns blasted a third time and he latched on to my forearm. I eagerly hopped up next to him and he…

  Jumped.

  My stomach dropped as we fell. I scrambled in midair, completely out my element, when a column of sandstone carved from the pyramid itself shot upward and caught us. My ankles screamed when I crashed into it, but I didn’t have time to ruminate over the pain before Oron dragged me upright and hurtled down the path rising up before us. Faster and faster our feet churned, the ground falling away at my heels.

  “How are you doing this?” I yelled into the wind. “You haven’t had any training.”

  He didn’t look back, his grip unchanging as he focused on the wall.

  I hit it with a gasp, wrenching away from Oron to cling to the iron bars with all I was worth. As I recovered, wiping away swe
at streaming down my face, the God of Earth sketched a short bow and marched the length of the wall toward a helmeted officer with a cloak of gold.

  A strong blast of wind nearly bowled me over, but I clutched the bars firmly.

  “I see you and Oron are bonding,” Joseph murmured, nimbly dropping beside me. I narrowed my eyes, wondering how it was he kept his long hair so impeccable, even when flying. “You know, I didn’t think I’d actually feel it when you gave him his magic or whatever it is you did.”

  “You did?” I asked, scanning the desert but only finding waves and waves of dunes. The soldier beside me was pale as he fumbled with a contraption that looked like a cannon. He kept spilling dark powder all over the ground. “That’s strange. I didn’t feel much at all.”

  “Like a hook in my intestines,” Joseph said, rubbing the spot.

  I’d only felt… relief. Relief to not have that magic inside me any longer.

  “I’m a little surprised I haven’t seen Finn—oh, there he is.” A broad grin lit Joseph’s face. I swung around to find a shaggy, black horse shoving its way down the line opposite the direction Oron had gone, snapping at any soul unfortunate to stumble into his path.

  I released the iron bars, firm on my feet once more. “What’s the deal with you two, anyway?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you speak.”

  “Sure, and I’m comatose.” I stretched to the tips of my toes, struggling to see over the larger, bulkier bodies. “Listen, I’m going to find Oron and see what’s going on.”

  Nimbly, I wove and ducked through the crowd of soldiers fortifying the wall. The sun was quickly fading and the chill of evening had set in. I coaxed the flames in the basins higher as I raced along. Hopefully, the extra light would help. The tension was thick as mud as everyone readied for a threat I still had yet to actually sense.

  “…asked to identify for a fourth time, sir,” I heard the guy in the gold cloak say as I dodged a woman rolling a barrel of oil. “No answer. But the scouts confirm there are three of them coming in fast.”

  Oron nodded once, his hand flying too quick for me to comprehend, but it apparently was enough for the officer, who grabbed hold of a woman with a gold-toned Earth symbol patch on her shoulder and snapped something in her ear. The God turned to the wall and I edged up beside him, peering through the cutout between the spiked pillars.