Drowning in Fire

by Hanna Martine

  Even at this distance, Griffin saw Keko in every movement. He could see her standing in Bane’s place, her body strong and commanding, her voice imperious, her fire awe-inspiring. He saw everything Chimeran that she loved and fought for, all that she’d lost when she’d taken such a risk all those years ago and had given herself to him.

  Kapu. That was him to her. Forbidden. Taboo.

  With a rousing shout, the warriors’ dance of intimidation ended. Bane roared something to them, the words lost to Griffin at this distance, and the warriors’ lines broke apart. They started to spar with one another, using arms and legs and fire. They possessed such tremendous fighting skill, using techniques he’d never seen and movements he appreciated.

  The chief’s house loomed over it all.

  When Cat Heddig had come here months earlier to beg for peace on Griffin’s behalf, she’d described the balcony on the second floor where the chief had watched his people train. That balcony was empty now. Chief—likely clothed and ashamed—hid in the confines of his walls.

  His absence revealed to Griffin exactly what he must do to try to get Keko back.

  He scrambled back down the steep slope into the thick foliage surrounding the meadow. If he could, he’d march right through those Chimeran lines, but he had to think of Keko, what she would want. What was best for her survival and rescue. Revealing his presence was not part of that.

  He jogged over the uneven terrain his feet and legs were starting to become accustomed to, ducking under giant leaves and passing through clouds of fragrant blooms, until he came again to the back garden of the chief’s house. He stomped right across it—culture and diplomacy be damned—and threw open the glass door.

  The chief still watched his warriors, but now from behind the small kitchen window. He whirled when Griffin came barreling through the door. For a brief moment, fear flashed across Chief’s face, but then the Chimeran seemed to remember he wielded his greatest weapon again, and his chest expanded ever so slightly. Griffin wasn’t scared.

  He wore a shirt, the tips of Keko’s handprint peeking out from behind the top two open buttons.

  “You are a coward,” Griffin said.

  The worst name one could call a Chimeran. A tiny yellow spark lit the chief’s eyes, but he said nothing, because he knew he’d been called out.

  Griffin advanced, the kitchen far too small for two men of such size. The chief retreated, his heel catching the cabinet below the sink. His gaze darted into the shadows of the house at Griffin’s back.

  “Where’s Keko?” asked the chief.

  Griffin sneered. “Do you care? Now that she’s given you everything you wanted?” Another step forward. “Your fire. Your power. Your leadership.”

  The chief reached up and wrapped a protective hand around the Queen’s black rock that dangled around his neck. “I . . . I am grateful to her.”

  “No, you’re not. You think she owed you this. After how she got involved with me. After the almost war. This all worked out so very well for you, didn’t it?”

  Chief’s fingers tightened around the rock as if Griffin might snatch the stupid thing away.

  “I came back here to tell you two things.”

  “I don’t have to listen,” Chief said.

  Griffin laughed. “True. You could leave, but I would follow, and then you’d have to explain to your people why an Ofarian is in the valley. Or you could call out to one of them right now to have me removed, but I get the feeling that neither Bane nor Ikaika would comply. And to any other warrior you’d have to explain my presence.”

  Chief knew he was trapped. His hand released the rock.

  “Point number one.” Griffin circled around closer to the counter near the ancient refrigerator. “I gave my word to Keko that I would never speak of this disease, and I intend to uphold it. So even though you think your secret is safe, that you can sit up here on your false throne with the majority of your people gazing up at you in ignorance, I know your shame. An Ofarian. And that shame does not lie with a sickness you had no control over, but the fact that you hid it from your own people while banishing others, and let a brave woman take your fall.”

  “You don’t understand our culture.”

  “No, I understand it very well. And I learned about it from someone who loves it far more than you.”

  Chief’s hard glare shifted to barely veiled guilt, but it was still just a shade of the vulnerability he’d worn when Keko had placed her hand on him.

  “My second point,” Griffin went on, “is that Keko could have easily become Queen. You know this. She knows this. But she wanted to protect innocents from the same kind of scorn you threw down upon her. It amazes me that you lump in people who were stricken with such a terrible thing along with someone who broke kapu and tried to start a war. Keko knew what she did was wrong and tried to help her people to make up for it, and you treated them exactly the same. You’re lucky, you’re so goddamn lucky, that she is as forgiving and noble as she is.”

  Griffin hated the chief’s unwavering silence almost as much as he hated replaying the image of Keko disappearing into the earth.

  “You were there,” Griffin said, “when Aya made the threats against Keko, about hunting her. About punishing her. You should know that Aya’s made good on those threats.”

  The Chimeran’s body sagged. “What?”

  “Aya came here and took Keko. Into the earth. So your dirty little secret is safe forever and you won’t ever have to worry about Keko becoming Queen. Though you may want to pray that the disease doesn’t come back. Hope you’re happy. And fuck you.”

  Chief’s hands came to his hips and his head bowed low. “What do you want me to do?”

  But it wasn’t a pure, honest question. Chief didn’t really want to know what he could do. He just wanted to ask for the sake of asking, so he could look like he had no other choice but to stand behind what he’d already done.

  “I don’t care what you do. I just want Keko back. So that’s what I’m going to do.” Griffin started for the back door, because he said what he’d had to say and standing there staring at the chief wouldn’t get anything done. He had to get back to San Francisco, clear his head, think. There was an answer somewhere—

  A rumble started outside, low and consistent enough that Griffin assumed it to be approaching thunder, growing louder and more intense with every passing second. Except that the day was cloudless and the sun shone brightly on the valley.

  With a sense of foreboding and a thick tug on his signature awareness, he went back into the kitchen because the sound seemed to be coming from the front of the house. The chief had heard it, too, and was leaning on the counter looking out the smudged window over the sink. Griffin joined him.

  Not thunder, but movement out on the meadow. A mass of Chimeran bodies shifting and marching in a mob way that was not militaristic or orderly. The warriors surged across the grass toward the chief’s house, strong arms raised, mouths open, little bursts of fire and the resultant plumes of smoke lifting to the sky. They were following someone. A big Chimeran male strode at point, determination and confidence in his step. And it was not Bane.

  This man’s right arm ended at the elbow.

  Makaha led the Chimeran crowd, whose fervor Griffin couldn’t distinguish as mocking or encouraging. Makaha stalked toward the house, chin down, legs strong, shoulder-length hair flapping behind him. He stopped just beyond the front terrace and stared hard into the kitchen window. The Chimerans fanned out on both sides. Though half of Makaha’s arm was gone, he was no less massive, no less formidable. His eyes were nearly consumed with threatening flame, so much so Griffin only saw gold and orange, no black or white. When Makaha opened his mouth, it was not fire that screamed out from his throat.

  “Griffin Aames!” bellowed Makaha. “Leader of the Ofarians! I know you are inside.”

  At mention o
f the Ofarians, a great murmur erupted from the Chimeran crowd. Anger mixed with confusion over discovering one of their opposing race to be in the valley.

  Beside Griffin, the chief gasped.

  “What’s going on?” Griffin asked, mystified as to how Makaha could have possibly known he was here.

  It was Makaha, not the chief, who responded, lifting his severed arm and screaming at the house. “Griffin Aames! I, Makaha, of Chimeran descent and born of fire, challenge you!”

  Griffin’s hesitation was not made of fear. The moment between the issue of the challenge and the movement of his feet toward the front door was packed with everything Keko had told him or intimated about the Chimeran way of life—and so much that she had not. Everything had to be earned, she’d said, through physical challenge. Respect, one’s position in society, redemption . . . everything.

  Makaha—like Keko—had been banished to the Common House. The Chimeran warrior’s only way out would be to challenge the man who’d disfigured him and caused the shame in the first place. But what were the chances of that man ever actually entering this hidden valley? Practically none. Until now.

  As Griffin exited out onto the front terrace, in plain view of the meadow crowded with muscular, fire-wielding Chimerans, he understood. He got why Keko had seized her opportunity to go after the Source when she did. When a Chimeran’s chance came along, they grabbed it with fists or fire, and did not let go until they’d given it their all.

  Makaha had lived in shame for three years and this was his sole chance for redemption.

  Griffin slowly descended the stone steps to the worn grass. He was beaten down physically and emotionally. Keko was trapped somewhere in a prison beneath his feet, in desperate need of help. And now he had to fight this man? Who had two inches and at least thirty pounds on him?

  “How did you know I was here?”

  Makaha separated from the pack, speaking low enough for only Griffin to hear. At least there was that. “I saw movement up on the slope. That’s Keko’s spot. I hoped it was her since I’ve been worried, so I went to look. I saw you coming down.”

  This man had once been Keko’s friend, as Griffin recalled. If only he could tell Makaha about Keko—why she’d left the valley in the first place, all that she’d done and sacrificed, and the danger she was in now—there was the slight chance the warrior might stand down. But Griffin couldn’t, and Makaha had his Chimeran pride.

  Makaha pointed the stump of his arm at Griffin and raised his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any pain in this.” He made a fist with his one hand. “Or this.”

  “Soldier to warrior,” Griffin said, “I thought you were attacking me. I am truly sorry.”

  The Chimerans murmured.

  Makaha grinned, but not in pleasure. “Apologies mean nothing in this valley.”

  Griffin longed to shout, I can’t fight you now. She needs help. We are wasting time.

  The faces of the other Chimerans were not mocking, but intensely curious. Perhaps even a bit excited. He did not know if that was because Makaha had challenged an Ofarian who’d inexplicably infiltrated their valley, or if their warrior natures just wanted to see a fight.

  “You don’t have to take it.”

  Griffin looked up to find Bane had come silently to his side. Makaha said nothing. Because he couldn’t in front of the general, his superior.

  “Makaha is lower than you,” Bane said, his eyes on the warrior. “The challenge is yours to accept or deny.”

  “What will happen if I don’t?”

  “Nothing.”

  Nothing. Exactly. Makaha would remain where he was. Where he’d been stuck for the past three years.

  Griffin knew, without a doubt, that if Keko were here, she would approve of this challenge. She’d likely stand with the crowd and cheer on her friend instead of her lover—because Griffin had nothing to lose and Makaha had everything to gain.

  Griffin nodded at Bane to come over to the side. “The Children have taken Keko,” he murmured to the general, and he watched Bane struggle to hide his anger and sadness. “It was her choice, but we don’t have to accept it. There’s no time for this.”

  Bane crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching around the questions he couldn’t ask and the heartfelt reaction he couldn’t give. “I can’t interfere with the old ways. The challenge has been made to you. It’s your decision.”

  Griffin started to walk back to Makaha, ready to accept. Ready to throw the fight and get it done within record time. Bane, however, snatched Griffin’s arm, fingers biting in. He bent his head, leaned in close to Griffin. His voice was rough as a thundercloud. “If you accept, you accept it all. You will insult him if you do not fight to the best of your ability.” A heavy pause. “You will insult her, too.”

  Makaha stood, proud and fierce. As Griffin approached him, the crowd of Chimerans shifted, widening out to make space. Preparing.

  “When does it end?” Griffin asked.

  Makaha shrugged. “When it ends.”

  Griffin drew a breath, shoring up his strength, grateful he hadn’t used magic in well over a day and that he’d drifted off for a time on the back terrace of the chief’s house waiting for Keko to heal her people.

  She hadn’t slept at all, he thought numbly. She must be exhausted . . .

  He shook thoughts of her from his head, because if he was to give Makaha his all, he had to focus. “No magic,” Griffin said.

  Another ripple of murmurs from the Chimerans. In the distance, he could see more folk flowing from their homes up on the slopes, coming down to the meadow to watch.

  Makaha glanced meaningfully down at his half arm. “No magic.”

  Griffin nodded. “So what—”

  The fist that smashed into his face took away words and replaced them with blinding agony. Griffin stumbled backward, knocked off balance. The Chimerans scurried out of his way, enlarging the circle. Letting him trip and fall to the ground.

  No cheers for Makaha. Just silence, the intermittent nod of a head as the Chimerans seemed to be assessing what was going on, evaluating.

  The only sounds were of Makaha’s breathing and the final fade of Griffin’s pained moan. Then Makaha’s bare feet on the earth as he rushed forward again.

  So that’s how this fight was going to be.

  Griffin pushed to his feet, righting his vision and shoving aside the humiliation over having fallen to a sucker punch. He faced Makaha’s charge, forgetting about any weakness still lingering, forgetting about the stars that blinked at his periphery, forgetting about anything but giving this challenge his all.

  Griffin ducked another left throw and didn’t hesitate to slam a one-two into Makaha’s midsection, knowing that the other guy couldn’t do the same. But Bane had told him not to pull up, and if Keko were here she’d tell him the same thing.

  Makaha couldn’t punch with his right, but he could, however, pummel Griffin with his half arm, the strikes coming down in between kicks and jabs.

  The fight seemed to go on forever, but then, that’s usually how they felt even when they lasted only a few minutes. Makaha was brutal and relentless, so that’s exactly how Griffin retaliated. Each punch thrown stole as much energy as the advantage it gained. Each blow received sapped more of his strength, until nothing but sheer will kept him upright.

  Griffin was fading, all his tumultuous days in Hawaii throwing him into a tornado until he no longer knew which way was up. He could feel the swelling of his face and body, the blood oozing, the muscles aching, the strength seeping out.

  The last thing Griffin felt was Makaha’s great left fist driving an uppercut into his chin. And the last thing he saw was the brilliant blue Hawaiian sky before it zoomed down and suddenly, instantly, transformed into night.

  • • •

  Aya did not know how to process all that she’d
just witnessed and the barrage of strange, new human emotions that came with it. The Ofarian man, the one in which she saw such great promise, had just attacked that Chimeran warrior, freezing off half his arm.

  The whole thing was wretched. Ugly. No one seemed to want to listen to anyone else. There was shouting and physical fighting. She did not understand any of it. She just knew she wanted to scream.

  Then the Ofarian had been driven away, dragging many of her hopes behind him in the mud.

  Aya plunged deeper into the Utah woods, wrapping her cloak of twigs tighter around her body. The night was black and moonless, as she always insisted upon for a gathering, and she still had a short distance to walk before she was well enough away from the Senatus to return Within. All she had to do was cross that frozen stream and she’d find her secluded spot.

  Someone was sitting on a boulder next to the iced-over water.

  Aya almost ran into her, her clothing and skin and hair were so dark. The woman spun, coming to her feet remarkably fast in a defensive pose, then settled when she saw it was only Aya.

  “You are Kekona?” Aya asked. “The Chimeran general?”

  Kekona eyed her, then nodded.

  “Why are you out here?”

  “Why am I out here?” Kekona wrapped her bare arms around her waist. The Chimerans were so fascinating, being able to withstand such bitter cold without protective layers. “Why am I out here—good question. Because I don’t want to go back yet.”

  Aya looked down the hill toward the bonfire, which was a speck of dying orange through the trees. “I am sorry about what happened to your warrior. I saw that you went after Griffin. Did you hurt him?”

  Kekona made an odd sound that was difficult to decipher. Aya thought it might have been a laugh, but it also could have been a sob. Emotions had such blurred lines. So much to learn.

  “I did,” Kekona said. “And he hurt me, too.”