The Fire Keeper

by J. C. Cervantes

  He ran his long fingers over the guitar frets and said, “Dark days. Dark war. Only the shadows can hide us.” He picked up a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it. “That’s good,” he mumbled.

  I waved a ribbon of incense smoke out of my face.

  “Ah, I see from your expression that you came here on a whim with no real knowledge of how this all works. You don’t know your father gave humans fire. He took a piece of it and created the first fire keeper to protect the magic of the Maya, because he believed in balance above all else. He worried about what would happen if the gods held all the power. You know one hundred percent of nothing.”

  “Hang on! My dad wanted to protect sobrenatural magic? Why?”

  “To create a more even playing field. To make sure the gods never destroyed the world again.” He shook his head. “Up until a few days ago, I could see past, present, and a blink of the future in a single ember’s flicker. I could see every possibility of every decision you might make.” He laughed harshly and strummed a low E chord to make his point.

  A lump throbbed in my throat. Was I really too late? Had I come all this way for nothing? “Tell me about the dark war. Is that why the demons in Xib’alb’a are training?”

  Antonio began to strum the guitar, slow, then fast—so fast his fingers smoked and small flames appeared on each of the strings. I have to admit, it was seriously awesome. With sweat dripping down the side of his face, he stopped playing and swayed like he might collapse. Then, breathlessly, he said, “I see seventy-six and a half possibilities leading to a potential war. All dependent on certain decisions made during Wayeb. Or maybe the war is going to start during that time. I can’t be sure.”

  “Wayeb? You mean the five days of doom?”

  “Ah, so the boy knows some things. That period is also known as ‘the days without names,’ or as I like to call it, ‘the days without souls.’ It’s exactly four months from today.”

  He was talking about one of the three Maya calendars: the Haab’, a 365-day calendar that is divided into eighteen months of twenty days each. It includes one month with five extra days at the end, which is the Wayeb.

  “Hold up. If the sobrenaturals’ magic is weakening, and you control the flame that gives them power…” I swallowed hard. “Are you the one who’s…?”

  “Stealing their power?” A slow and glittery grin spread across his face.

  Antonio let out a deep laugh. “Get your head on straight, man. I’m the protector, not the thief. The magic flame began to sputter a few days ago. I sense it’s because your father is getting weaker by the minute.”

  I felt like I wanted to blow something up. “Are you saying the fire dies if he dies?”

  “And without Hurakan to feed the flame…” Antonio said.

  “The sobrenaturals aren’t so super.”

  Slowly, the pieces began to click together. Stolen godborns. Weakening magic. My dad’s sudden execution. War. Was Zotz, the bat god, masterminding everything? Whoever was behind this was behind all of it. Which meant that the godborns and soon-to-be-broken sobrenaturals were going to be pawns in this war. And the Maya gods didn’t even see it coming.

  My hands pulsated with sudden heat. “I’m the son of fire. Maybe…” It was a long shot, but I had to try. “Maybe I can feed the flame.” If I could make it strong enough so Antonio could change the outcome of my dad’s execution, he could tell me exactly where to find the godborns. Maybe I could save the magic.

  Antonio raised a doubtful eyebrow.

  “Let me try, at least.”

  His dark eyes glistened in the dim light. “But, my man, you can’t even control your own fire. How, then, do you expect to be able to give power to the greatest fire magic in history?”

  A thick, lava-like heat raced up my storm runner leg. I was sick of half truths, half strengths, half a life. “How do you know I can’t?” Maybe this was the reason I was here.

  Antonio shrugged. “I don’t. But someone else might.”

  With the wave of his hand, he drew a trail of incense smoke to him, then tapped his fingers across the air as the smoke took the faint shape of…a human heart? I stood frozen as the heart began to beat slowly, echoing across the room with a thud thud thud. A small flame grew from its center, and, without thinking, I drew it to me and spun it in a small ball on my open palm. The orb rotated like a planet on its axis, growing bigger and bigger. So big it burst into a wall of blue flames, blocking Antonio from my view. Before I knew it, I was swallowed in a huge, soundless inferno.

  Instinctively, I stepped into it, searching. Dad?

  I knew he was close. I could sense it. The flames engulfed me, and for the first time in days, I felt safe, like here nothing could touch me.

  Zane. You didn’t run.

  You didn’t tell me they’re going to kill you.

  Silence.

  I took a steady breath. How do I strengthen the flame?

  I hoped, if you ran away, it would change things, take you out of the equation.

  We were wasting time. Right now I really need you to tell me how to feed the flame. Please.

  The flames grew taller. It will take great sacrifice, and even then, Zane, the outcome may not be what you expect.

  Okay, but what do I do?

  The inferno began to die, and the last word Hurakan spoke was blood.

  The fire disappeared. I fell against the wall, coughing up trails of smoke.

  Antonio was strumming a guitar casually like he was used to people being swallowed by flames in his studio. “What did the old man tell you?”

  “I think he said I can strengthen the flame with blood.”

  “That ain’t right. Unless you’ve got some of Hurakan’s blood.”

  “He’s my dad! I…I can give some of mine. Same thing, right?”

  “Pura sangre,” Antonio said slowly in his thick accent. His expression was blank. Or maybe resigned. “Only the pure blood of the creator god of fire can strengthen the flame.”

  And there it was, the reason Hurakan was being put to death: so he could never protect the magic of the Maya again. The enemy had thought of all the loopholes. A terrible sinking feeling gripped me, and I leaned against Fuego for support.

  Then slowly…so slowly I was afraid the idea would disappear if I thought about it too long, the answer came to me. “My cane…spear—the Sparkstriker infused it with…Hurakan’s blood.”

  Antonio jumped up from the stool (dropping another guitar). “Then split it open!”

  Fuego began to glow a bright turquoise color like the October New Mexico sky. I felt the sudden need to protect my cane. “No! I mean, if we split it open, all its magic…my spear, everything will be gone.”

  “But if you don’t break it, all the magic of the Maya will be gone and with it so many possibilities. This could be the answer to making the flame stronger. To helping you on this quest.”

  Panic gripped me so hard I thought I might pass out. “But the Sparkstriker said Fuego’s indestructible.”

  Antonio inched closer. “I know the magic…. This weapon is indestructible to everyone except its master.”

  I collapsed to my knees, staring at Fuego in my hands. I know it was just a tool, but there was something so real about it, like it was alive. And it had saved me. How could I just sacrifice it like that? Fuego had never failed me. But what choice did I have?

  “There has to be another way.”

  “There are always other choices, my man. Other choices, different outcomes. But time is running out. The flame is weakening. And once the magic is gone, nothing will bring it back. Do you get what I’m telling you?”

  “Can’t you find enough power to change Hurakan’s execution, and then he can give his blood and…”

  “The flame is too weak. But maybe this will strengthen it enough.”

  How could I kill Fuego on a maybe? My stomach twisted so tight I could barely breathe. Tears stung my eyes. “Sorry, Fuego.” I set the cane on the floor and drew a flame
from the candlelight, expanding it across my hands. Then, before I could reconsider what I was about to do, I knelt down, pressed the flame against Fuego, and watched it burn.

  The whole scene was like watching a film in reverse. A single stream of dark blood rose up from Fuego, snaking toward a small flame that pulsed in Antonio’s hand. The blaze sparked, popped, and turned deep blue before it expanded so much it consumed him.

  A second later, the fire disappeared. I was glad to see Antonio still intact and untouched by the flames. But when I looked down at Fuego, I saw nothing but a pool of silver and its jade handle. Antonio kneeled next to me. “The Prophecy of Days is a-comin’, and your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

  I was too stunned to speak. Too stunned to feel anything. It was like I’d lost a piece of myself and I was never going to get it back. Like something had gone dark and cold inside of me.

  I got to my feet shakily, wiping ash across my jeans, pulling myself together. And yeah, trying not to cry. I stuffed the jade handle in my pocket. “Well? Was it enough to change the future?”

  Antonio’s expression was grim, and all the color drained from his face. “My man.” He pressed his hand against his chest. “The fire expanded some.”

  “Some?”

  “It’s still weak.”

  “I…I stole the life from my…” It sounded so much worse out loud. Antonio wouldn’t understand. No one would. I felt like a murderer. “I sacrificed Fuego for nothing!” I’d come here for nothing!

  “Not for nothing. You came with a single purpose, one goal. But goals change, whether we like it or not. The hand of destiny is strong, and you came here to give enough life to the flame to buy us some time. To save centuries of magic from being destroyed. That ain’t nothin’.”

  “The Red Queen lied. She told me that if I came here I…I would change the future for the better.”

  “How do you know you haven’t? That’s why it’s called the future. We can’t see what’s around the bend.” Antonio picked up another guitar and strummed some chords. “Let’s say I could’ve granted you one wish and one only. Even if I had the power to change Hurakan’s execution, would you have used your one request to save his life? Or the godborns? Your own life? Would you have chosen to end wars and stop bloodshed? Which future would you choose to change? Just remember…one wrong choice, no matter how pure your intentions, can lead to disaster. It’s called cause and effect, my man, and it can be brutal.”

  My voice rose a couple of notches. “You did this for you!” I cried. Smoke trailed from my mouth and nose. “Because if the flame dies, you probably do, too.”

  “Death is only another form of being. My job isn’t to get all hung up on what happens to me or how this all ends. Get it?” Antonio’s fingers plucked the air. “Now, you must play the notes to hear the song. But I can tell you this. Beware. There is a traitor among you.”

  “Who?” It had to be Ah-Puch! Then another horrible thought occurred to me. My heart sank to the lowest level of Xib’alb’a. Ren wasn’t the traitor, was she? Was this what she’d been trying to tell me back in San Miguel? Did it have something to do with her special magic?

  “I will try to keep the flame going for as long as I can. I cannot tell you more without affecting decisions and consequences,” Antonio said. “But I can give you this.”

  He opened his palm and blew into it. A tiny vortex of smoke swirled to life like a mini hurricane. Slowly, it spun toward me in dizzying circles. I ducked to avoid a collision, but it was too late. The smoke swirled up my nose. My brain fired off a burst of white light behind my eyes, and, in an instant, I knew not only the exact location of where the godborns were being kept, but also the details of how to get in and out. They were a couple hundred miles from my old backyard in New Mexico. Then the picture changed, and I saw Hurakan kneeling on the top of a rounded pyramid under a starless sky. Two shadowy figures stood over him.

  One held a gleaming ax.

  I floated away from Land’s End on Chiquita’s back with two distinct sounds ringing in my ears: Antonio’s stupid words, and some very loud guitar banging. It might sound like fun to cruise on a massive stone dinosaur across the Sea of Cortés…. It wasn’t. Not when your brain feels like it’s got a slow leak and, with every mile, the memories of Antonio, his place, Fuego…all seemed to drift farther and farther away. It was like walking backward through a hazy dream. All I could remember when I finally collapsed on the beach was that something had been broken and something had been repaired. Two words drifted into my subconscious: creator and destroyer.

  * * *

  This next part isn’t from my own memory. I pretty much had to take Ren’s and Ah-Puch’s word for it. They said they found me at dawn, passed out on the beach. I (supposedly) woke up mumbling stuff about wars, blood, paper, dragons, and the Beast.

  The first thing I remember was waking up on the sofa back in our hotel room. I sat up, rubbing my head, trying to recall what had happened and how I’d gotten there. I was relieved when I heard Ren’s voice.

  “He’s awake.”

  She leaned over me. Rosie was sniffing and grunting trails of thick smoke while licking my face.

  “What…what happened?” My mouth was as dry as a cotton ball and tasted like I’d eaten out of a dirty ashtray.

  Ah-Puch sighed. “It’s about time you decided to wake up. We’ve been under siege, and you sleep?”

  “Siege?”

  “More bats,” Ren said. “Rosie incinerated most of them down on the beach. And A.P. wouldn’t even let me give them a funeral.”

  A.P.? She had a nickname for the god of death?

  “Burned the beasts so bad, there was no blood left for me,” Ah-Puch complained. He looked around anxiously. “We need to go now, and quickly. Where to?”

  The words came without me even thinking about them. “New Mexico.”

  Ah-Puch muttered, “Such cruelty.”

  “Are you sure?” Ren asked me. “How do you know?”

  I stretched my memory in four different directions, searching for the answer. The last thing I remembered was a boat and a dramatic, over-the-top god…. What was his name?

  Ah-Puch frowned and looked around nervously. He’d aged again. I mean, not as bad as the little bald viejo coughing up blood. More like a leather-skinned middle-aged dude with a really bad receding hairline who’d smoked and drunk all his days away.

  “What happened with the Fire Keeper?” Ren asked.

  “Can we have this conversation somewhere else?” Ah-Puch was worried. “After we’re through a gateway, perhaps? Far, far away? I sense danger.”

  “More bats?” I asked.

  “More danger.”

  I checked my hands. They were pale with greenish veins bulging out of thin skin. It was only the second day of the death magic, and I was looking more and more like a zombie.

  “Fire Keeper…” I whispered. It felt like my brain was drowning at the bottom of the sea. Something about dinosaurs and shadows. Or was it guitars? I reached into my pocket and pulled out the jade handle that used to be attached to Fuego.

  The memories of last night came flooding back all at once, suffocating me under the weight of the awful truth. Rosie came over and nuzzled me with her nose like she knew what I’d had to let go of. What I’d destroyed.

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What happened last night?” Ren asked.

  I walked into the living area, trying to cool off. “You want to know what happened with the Fire Keeper?” I asked with unexpected fury. Hondo once told me anger is the easiest emotion of all. It’s sudden and powerful. My eyes flashed from Ah-Puch to Ren. “He said there’s a traitor in our midst. So how about you tell me about this magic of yours and why you really showed up the night before the mud person came, and why shadows surround you, and—”

  “You think…?” Ren shook her head in disbelief. “You think I’m a traitor?” Her lower lip trembled and tears pooled in her eyes.

  “I don’t kn
ow what to think.”

  “I think we should go,” Ah-Puch said.

  With fists on her hips, Ren glared at me and said, “I never lied. I already told you I have magic from my Mexican side of the family. I never lied,” she repeated.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me everything. You said something about your family’s blood….” My words hung in the air.

  Ren shot Ah-Puch a side-glance. “Tell him,” he said to her. “Quickly.”

  I braced myself.

  Standing straighter, Ren said, “I’m part Mexica.”

  All eyes were on me. And for a blink it felt like time stood still. “You mean, you’re related to those pitiful ghosts?”

  Okay, those weren’t the words I’d planned to say. I can hear your sighs and groans and you’re-an-idiot accusations already. What, you’ve never stuck your big fat foot into your even bigger mouth?

  “I didn’t mean it like that….” I was backpedaling. Hard. “I meant…”

  “Apparently, they’re not all ghosts,” said Ah-Puch.

  “Mi familia, we’re the last bruja bloodline of our kind,” Ren said. “Some Maya gods didn’t want any Mexica magic to survive. If they found out that we had…”

  She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I knew firsthand how much gods craved power.

  “So some Maya goddess…” I tried to choose my words more carefully. “Your mom…she, like, fell for a Mexica?”

  Ren frowned. “She fell for my dad.”

  “That’s what I meant.” I struggled with what to say next, because I’d already said too many stupid things. “I’m sorry for what your family’s been through. I…I know what it feels like to be hunted…hated for something you didn’t even do.”

  “We definitely didn’t have anything to do with this mess,” Ren said. “My dad refused to teach me any magic, and now he’s gone. So I’m not the traitor, okay?”

  I put up my hands. “I get it, I get it. I’m sorry.”

  “Enough with the repulsive pleasantries,” Ah-Puch said with a groan. “They’re making me sicker than I already am. We really have to go.”