She tapped her foot, and he put down his hoof.
“Not what you were looking for? As far as physical location goes, you are blaze spot in the center of Ignis Deep—the burning abyss, the abode of Pyrinths.” He ran a finger along the shimmering blade of his dagger and watched her from the corner of his eyes. “Also known as Fire Keep. Does that mean anything to you?”
She thought for a minute before shaking her head. “Should it?”
For an instant, something that looked like anger crossed his face, and she wondered what she said wrong. Then he shook his head and smiled, flames wreathing his scaled features like clouds. “No. Of course not. What else would you like to know?”
“Who are you?”
He bowed again. “My name is Chaos. I am a Pyrinth, a fire elemental.”
For a split second, she could have sworn that she’d heard the words fire elemental before.
“You’ve heard of me?” he asked, eyes glowing.
But the flicker of memory was gone. She shook her head. “I’m tired I guess. Who am I? And how did I get here?”
Chaos nodded his dragon-like head up and down slowly, as if that was the question he’d been waiting for her to ask all along. “That’s what they all want to know when they arrive.”
“They?”
The creature pointed a red-hot finger toward the woman sitting on the floor. “Look at her. Poor thing. She has no idea who she is or why’s she’s here. So she sits there day after day, rocking and whimpering. It seems intolerably unfair to leave her wallowing in her agony, don’t you think?”
The girl nodded, watching the woman rock back and forth. “Isn’t there something you can do for her?”
The creature’s face crumpled into a surprisingly human expression of unhappiness, and he put a hand to his brow. “Alas, I cannot. No matter how much it pains me to see the poor woman that way, I can do nothing for her. Locked in her own ignorance, she’ll sit there suffering for all of eternity—or until she fades away to dust.” He took his hand from his face and stroked his chin. “Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” The girl looked from the woman to the creature. “If there’s some way you can help her, do it.”
Chaos sighed. “There’s nothing I can do. Human memories are off-limits to my kind. But, if you want to help . . .” He pointed to the woman’s left, and for the first time, the girl noticed a glowing blue ball like the one the man had been fixated on earlier.
“What is it?” she asked, studying the globe, which was a little larger than her first.
“All of her memories,” the Pyrinth said, “are right there. All she has to do is take hold of it, and everything she’s forgotten will be returned to her.”
The girl walked toward the ball and knelt beside it. She’d thought it was blue, but could see now that the globe itself was clear. Blue mist swirled inside the glassy surface like clouds. Could it be true that the woman’s memories were locked in those clouds?
“Pick it up.” Chaos said. “It won’t hurt you.”
She reached for the ball and paused. “Why don’t you give it to her?”
“I can’t. Fire elementals can’t touch human memories.”
“Why doesn’t she take it herself?”
Irritation flashed in the creature’s eyes. “Why does anyone refuse to do the things that are good for them? Why don’t people take care of themselves when they are sick? Why do they not talk to those they miss? Why do they refuse their greatest chances at success and instead cling to the very things they know will pull them down?” He shoved his dagger inside his chest-piece. “Do you want to help her or not?”
She was almost sure that there was something more he wasn’t telling her. She tried to figure out what he might he hiding, but the woman gave out another anguished moan. Clearly the woman was in pain. If this ball could help her . . . Gently, the girl reached down and cupped the globe in her hands. It was warm and yielded slightly beneath her fingers.
At first she was afraid of the woman’s memories entering her own head. The last thing she wanted to do was invade another person’s privacy. But apparently, the globe worked only on the person it belonged to.
“Go on,” Chaos urged, his eyes bright. “Give it to her.”
Cradling the ball in one hand, she brushed back the woman’s hair. At her touch, the woman pulled away—eyes dark with surprise, or possibly fear. “Sssssss!” she hissed, baring her teeth.
The girl rocked back, unsure what to do. “Here,” she said, holding out the ball. “This is yours.”
The only answer was the woman’s steady groaning.
Heart pounding, she tried to think. It was hard to concentrate here. The air felt thick, and her mind seemed slow. The flaming creature hovered behind her.
Unsure what to do, but knowing she had to help, she leaned forward. “Please,” she whispered. She started to place the ball into the woman’s hands, but the fire elemental shook his head. “She must take it from you herself.”
The girl took the woman’s thin wrist, tugging it away from her knees until her hand flopped open. “Take it,” the girl said, holding out the ball.
For the first time, the woman looked up. Her confused eyes moved from the girl to the swirling, blue globe.
The girl held the ball out to her. “Yes, that’s it. Take the ball.”
As if in a trance, the woman reached out a pale, shaking hand and touched the ball. A shock shot up the girl’s arm. The woman’s eyes snapped wide open. Her mouth gaped. Gripping the ball in her hand, she jumped to her feet.
“Why?” she howled. Her face contorted with pain. She held out both hands as though warding off an attacker. “No!” she screeched. “Don’t touch me!”
The girl fell backward. What was happening? What was wrong? She looked up at Chaos, shocked to see his face blazing with demonic humor. He was enjoying the woman’s pain and fear. The girl jumped up and lunged forward, meaning to pull the ball from the woman’s grip.
But the wrinkled figure waved her hands, the globe still clutched between her fingers, and backed away from a terror only she could see. “My magic!” she wailed. “What have you done with it?” Her eyes locked on some unseen danger, and she threw out her arms. “Don’t! Please, stop!”
Panicked, the girl reached for the ball, but her fingers caught on the neckline of the woman’s gown instead. At the same time, the woman threw back her head and screeched in pain.
The girl fell backward, sucking in a shocked breath. She tried to tear her eyes from the sight of what was before her, but couldn’t. Her gaze felt locked on the woman’s neck.
Stretching across the front of the pale, white skin was a deep, bloodless gash.
12: No Way Out
A second fire elemental charged into the room so quickly that he was only a blur of flame and a blast of heat until he stood in front of her. “What are you doing?” the creature roared, and the girl found herself pushing her body into a crack in the wall like the screaming woman.
Chaos had looked frightening, but the fiery monster in front of her was truly terrifying. He towered above her, with shoulders as broad as she was tall, and arms that looked strong enough to smash boulders. In one hand, he carried a flaming mace burning so brightly that the spiked ball at the end was like a tiny sun. The beast had the thick neck and head of a bull, with horns that curved wickedly out and up on either side. But his mouth was filled with flaming, dagger-sharp fangs. She thought he might be a minotaur.
His burning, red eyes glared at her as he jabbed the mace in the woman’s direction. “Did you do that?”
The girl opened her mouth, but no words came out.
His lips pulled back in disgust, the minotaur turned to the woman and swung the mace at her hands, which were still clutching the glowing ball.
“No!” the girl shouted. She threw her arms in front of her face, expecting the woman to be crushed by the blazing weapon. Instead, the monster pulled up at the last second, and the mace only tapped the woman’s
fingers, sending the ball rolling out of her reach. The flames didn’t blister her skin. As soon as the ball left her hands, the woman stopped screaming and collapsed back into her crevice.
The minotaur turned to the girl. His massive chest heaved, and his brows bunched over his eyes. “What were you thinking? Why would you do a thing like that?”
The girl gulped. “I didn’t . . . I had no idea . . .”
In the back of the cavern, rocks clattered down the sloping floor. The elemental spun around and spotted Chaos trying to slip from the room unnoticed.
“You,” he snarled.
Chaos broke for the doorway, but the minotaur was too quick. In three leaping steps, he crossed the floor, lifted his mace, and brought it down with a sickening crunch on the fire elemental’s back. Flames exploded across the room as if a meteor had struck.
The blow should have crushed the horse-creature’s body, but he leaped to his feet as if the weapon had barely touched him. With a shout of his own, he spun around and kicked both rear hooves into the minotaur’s chest. As the bull-headed creature stumbled backward, Chaos leaped forward, pulled out his dagger, and stabbed the minotaur’s muscular neck.
Soon the two of them were locked in what appeared to be a fight to the death. Rocks splintered and fire shot across the room in blinding gouts as the two beasts howled and clawed at each other. Pressing tighter into her crevice, the woman put her hands to her face and shook.
“Stop it!” The girl jumped to her feet and charged toward the two battling creatures, unmindful of their swinging limbs and weapons. “Leave each other alone.”
Neither of the elementals seemed to hear her, so she grabbed the biggest rock she could lift, hefted it over her head, and flung it at them. “Stop!”
The rock bounced off the minotaur without appearing to cause any damage, but it got the fire elementals’ attention. With the mace halfway raised, the minotaur turned to stare at her. Teeth opened in a fiery snarl, Chaos stopped fighting as well.
She stomped her bare foot against the floor and pointed to the weeping woman. “Can’t you that see you’re frightening her to death?”
“She’s already dead,” Chaos hissed.
“Shut your mouth,” the minotaur growled. He raised his mace, and Chaos drew back his dagger, but before they could resume fighting, the girl stepped between them.
She’d seen how the flames of the minotaur’s mace hadn’t hurt the woman. Still, she clenched her teeth as she approached the fiery creatures, expecting to get burned. Instead, the flames came right up to her skin—enveloped her in a shimmering, orange curtain—then curled away. She could feel the heat, but it didn’t harm her.
“Go away.” The minotaur shoved her gently, but she threw all of her weight against him.
“I’m not leaving until you two agree to stop fighting.” Despite her best efforts, her feet slid across the floor, though she could tell that the elemental wasn’t using a fraction of his strength.
“I’ve got better things to do.” The minotaur grunted and got to his feet. He eyed Chaos warily. “You’re no match for me anyway.”
“Eat smoke, Magma,” Chaos said. He bared his teeth and flicked his fiery tongue, but the minotaur seemed to have lost his taste for fighting. He rested his weapon on one shoulder and started for the doorway.
“Wait,” the girl called. “Magma? Is that your name?”
“Pyrinths and humans do not speak to one another,” the minotaur said without stopping. “I’ve already said more than I should have.”
She hurried after him into a dimly lit passage. “Someone has to tell me who I am and why I’m here.”
“That’s what I was trying to do when we were so tactlessly interrupted,” Chaos said, trotting up behind her.
Magma stopped. He lowered his head, but did not look back. “That’s why you gave the woman her retinentia. Her memories.”
At first, the girl had no idea what he was talking about. Then she understood. “The blue ball? Is that what it’s called? I didn’t know she would react like that.”
“You terrified her,” the minotaur growled.
Chaos placed a fiery hand on her elbow. “Ignore him. You helped a poor woman suffering from amnesia to remember who she is. You gave her back her memories. Is that such a bad thing?”
Magma turned, hands clenched on the handle of his mace. “Memories she’d been trying to forget for hundreds of years.”
Why would someone want to forget who they were? The girl looked from the glowering minotaur to Chaos, who covered the smile on his serpentine face with one hand, as though waiting for the punchline of an especially good joke.
Magma growled and slammed his mace to the ground, cracking the stone at his feet. “Three days after she was married, her husband stole her magic, dragged her into the woods, and slit her throat. As he watched her die, he explained that he’d never loved her and had married her only for her money and power. He later blamed her death on thieves and remarried before the end of the year. Can you see why she might want to forget such a traumatizing experience?”
She stared up at Chaos, pushing his hand from her arm. “You knew?”
Magma sneered. “That’s how he breaks up his pathetic existence. By making humans suffer.”
The girl felt sick to her stomach.
Chaos ran a thumb along the blade of his dagger. “You asked who you are. How you got here.” He pointed his dagger at the ground behind her, where the blue ball she’d handed the woman lay pulsing on the ground. No, it wasn’t the woman’s. She could see that one back in the room they’d left. Was this . . . ?
“Your retinentia,” Chaos said. “Your memories. Touch it, and all of your questions will be answered.”
With her eyes locked on the blue clouds swirling inside the globe, she stepped toward it. Her memories. She reached out, and a powerful hand blocked her way.
“Have you learned nothing?” Magma shouted, pulling her back. “Do you want to experience your worst nightmare again?”
She tried to pull away, but the fire elemental’s grip was too strong. “What makes you think my memories are bad? Why would . . .” Her voice faltered as Magma and Chaos shared a meaningful look.
The minotaur sighed. “You didn’t tell her.”
Chaos held up his hands. “Pyrinths and humans do not speak to each other,” he said, mimicking Magma’s gravelly voice.
Magma bared his teeth, and Chaos danced nimbly away.
“What?” the girl demanded. “Who am I? Why am I here?”
“You’re here because you’re dead,” Chaos said.
She stared at the fire elemental, thinking that surely this was another of his perverse jokes. But neither he nor Magma were laughing.
The minotaur lifted his mace as if it were no heavier than a piece of parchment and turned it in his hands. “Your magic was taken from you,” he said in a voice that sounded old and tired. “You were killed by someone you love.”
Something cold and sharp drilled into the girl’s chest. She stared at the blue ball with growing horror. “No. You’re lying. Both of you. How could you know that?”
“It’s the only way to get here,” Magma said. “It’s bad enough that we’re stuck here, but the only visitors we get are sent because they have no magic and their lives were taken by someone they love. It’s like some kind of great cosmic joke.” He kicked a stone toward the glowing ball. “Be glad your memories were taken from you.”
She put her hands to her mouth. Dead. She was dead. It couldn’t be true, yet she sensed that it was. Not only was she dead, but she’d been murdered by someone she loved. If that was true of all the people here, no wonder they acted like they did.
“Do I have . . . a name?” she whispered.
“Call yourself whatever you like,” Chaos said. “Queen, Warrior princess, Master of all. Pick any name you like.” He chuckled. “Not that anyone will use it.”
He was cruel but right. What did a name matter? Still, she need to call herself
something. “Turnip,” she said at once. “I’ll call myself Turnip.”
“Turnip.” Chaos grinned. “That’s unique.”
She had no idea why she’d picked that name; it was the first thing that had come into her head. “Now that I know why I’m here, what am I supposed to do?”
“Do?” The minotaur looked genuinely confused. “There’s nothing to do. Stay with your own kind.” He glared at Chaos. “And the Pyrinths will stay away from you.”
She couldn’t do nothing. “There’s a man back there,” she said, pointing the way she had come. “I think he must have had a garden before he was k—before he died. He asked for flowers. Do you know where I can find some?”
Chaos burst into startled laughter. “Turnip wants flowers. Smoke and embers. Magma, go help her pick some flowers.”
The minotaur grimaced. “Look around you,” he said. “Do you see any flower gardens? What you see is all there is—fire and rock.”
The cold, sharp pain that had been growing inside her turned to panic. She was stuck in a world of rock and fire with these . . . monsters? No wonder the people here were the way they were.
“I can’t stay here.” She grabbed Chaos by the wrist. “Help me get out.”
“There is no way out,” the elemental said.
“No.” She turned to Magma. “You’re fire elementals, you have magic. Set me free. I’ll pay any price.”
Magma turned away. “You don’t understand. Fire Keep is a prison, for us as much as for you. If there were a way out, we would have used it long ago.”
“But your magic. There must be a way.”
“We have no magic,” the minotaur growled. “It was taken from us the same way yours was taken from you. There is no magic in Fire Keep.”
Her heart raced, and her vision blurred as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You’re lying! There must be a way out.”
A slithering sound came from farther down the tunnel, and the darkness disappeared as a lizard-like creature crawled into view. The long fiery tail dragging behind him made the shh-shh-shh noise as his nails clicked on the stone. In one hand, he clutched a thick, flaming book.
Fire Keep Page 9
