Drowning in Fire

NINETEEN

No tree to possess this time. The Son of Earth unfurled from the ground in a tumble of lava rock, his black craggy body splitting away, reversing gravity as he grew taller and wider. The chunks of his arms shot out from his sides, his head coming together in a clatter of stones, fitting together in a horrifying puzzle. A small earthquake shook his lower half, and the massive chunk of rock severed down the middle, forming legs. The whole thing took less than two seconds.

He took a pounding step toward Keko and Griffin. Then another. And then the fight began.

Griffin had been warned. He knew this was coming. He’d even agreed to this, to letting the Children have Keko if she got within reach of the Source, but even as he’d taken both their bodies over the cliff on the Big Island and plunged them into the ocean, he’d clung to the belief that he’d somehow find a way around Aya’s ultimatum.

He still believed he would, if only now because he had no other choice. It gave him something to fight for. Something worthy.

As Griffin rocked to his feet, Keko fanned out wide, wisely splitting the Son’s attention. If she could maneuver to the stoneman’s back, Griffin could attack from the front. Except that Keko never got that far, because the earth gave a giant lurch under the Son’s rocky feet, levering him into the air and arrowing his massive body right at her. At the same time, the earth below Griffin belched, throwing him airborne in the completely opposite direction.

A point of lava rock got him in the shoulder as he came down. No time for blood. No time for pain. He scrambled to his feet and found Keko across the minefield of upset earth.

She’d fallen, too, the roiling ground continually moving underneath her, and she couldn’t find her feet. Her defensive position was terrible. Griffin could see her trying to stand, to get up and fight back, but her balance was being constantly tossed about. That said a lot, considering what Griffin knew her capable of. Fear for her grabbed hold of him with tight, shaking hands.

The Son went at her, obliterating the space between them, hitting her squarely on. The sound was ugly, terrifying. Rock on skin and muscle. She went down, blood spattering from where the rough edges of his body had snagged and stabbed at her.

As in the canyon with the prayer, the Son was intent on destroying Keko alone, Griffin nearly invisible. Griffin had to use that, so with a roar, he sprinted toward them.

A scream cleaved the daylight. Keko. The Son was winning and Griffin’s heart nearly exploded with worry.

He hopped from tilted rock to tilted rock, coming around the mound formed from the Son’s entrance. Griffin had no knife this time, but it didn’t matter. The blade would only shatter against this body. And rock was not skin; he could not burn the Son with ice as he’d done to Makaha, and the Son’s movement would break apart any freeze.

At last he reached Keko, and he realized he’d been a fool to ever doubt her ability or consider her lost. She was on her back, the Son above her. Her knees flexed between their bodies, her feet planted on his chest, strong thighs holding him at bay. She was pummeling his face with her elbows and fists, little rivers of silvery crimson trickling down his cheeks from the blows. The Son’s exterior was more skin than rock now—a smooth, taut charcoal gray lined with veins of red, like lava rock that had been reignited and flowed again.

Keko screamed at her attacker, but not in defeat. No, his Keko was far from finished. She gritted her teeth, bent her knees just a tad more, and kicked the Son off with a mighty yell. All power, all strength, more than Griffin had ever witnessed in her. The Son’s body flew to one side and he hit the ground with a yelp. He’d landed on his left leg—the leg bearing a giant, festering gash down the length of one thigh, the leg Griffin had injured once before. He gripped his thigh and snarled up at Keko, his agonized eyes a strange, haunting silvery gold.

As Griffin finally reached them, the Son released his leg and lumbered to his feet.

Keko rose, too, eschewing Griffin’s helping hand. If she felt pain, it didn’t show. With a nod he moved out wide, keeping their dual position strong. Her chest expanded, creating her fire. She lit both arms, holding them out toward the Son in a frighteningly beautiful warning.

The warning was not heeded.

The Son growled and lunged. Keko arrowed her fire at his feet, igniting the ground around his body in a tight circle, encasing him. Brilliant, his Keko.

The Son laughed at first, the sound half human, half gravel. Then he tried to power through the wall of fire surrounding him. The smell of burned skin and sulphur, and the shriek of unexpected pain filled the air. He looked down at his hands in shock and then in fury as though he hadn’t known about the damage fire could do. His chin rose, his lip curled in a cocky sneer.

He went for Keko again. This time through the earth.

The Son’s feet and shins shifted from skin to rock, his body shrinking as he tried to go under, to let the earth swallow him. It didn’t work.

Keko’s fire flared in the ragged piles of upturned rock on which the Son stood. Chunky, sharp lava rock cradled her element, spitting out flames under and around his feet—his own personal section of Hell. It rendered his escape and transformation impossible.

The sight of her beaten and bloody body, coated in waves of flame, made her fearsome. Made her invincible. She moved closer to the Son and asked in an eerily calm voice, “Who are you?”

The Son glared at her through the flames.

“Who are you?”

At great length he finally answered, “I am guardian of the Source. And you have violated our boundaries.”

She took another step closer, increasing the blazing circle around him. He cringed, throwing up a useless arm.

“Your name,” she demanded.

Though the lower half of him remained as rock, keeping him locked into the fire cage, the charcoal skin on his torso and arms ran with lava-red veins. His short hair glistened strangely silver. Half human in shape, but not anywhere near human in appearance.

“I am Nem.” The pink of the inside of his mouth stood out in sharp contrast to his skin. “But my name doesn’t matter. If you destroy me, another Child will come to take my place.”

“Did Aya send you?” Keko’s voice hiccuped over the Daughter’s name.

Interestingly, Nem’s face also darkened.

The fire circle crackled and hissed. His skin broke out in droplets of sweat that shone like quartz, and then plinked to the lava rock in solid form. “She didn’t have to,” Nem said. “This is the purpose of my line, to protect the Source.”

Keko sighed in what Griffin understood to be relief. What didn’t he know about Keko and Aya?

Griffin pushed forward and barked at Nem, “You went against Aya when you came after us on the Big Island. Why?”

Nem shifted his glare to Griffin, one hand grazing his leg with the gash. “I went after her. I didn’t know she wasn’t alone.”

Keko had been his sole prey, his only mark.

Griffin’s mind rolled back to the scene outside the Senatus bonfire, to Aya’s words of warning: If Kekona touches the Source, fire feeding fire, she could destroy continents.

Fire feeding fire. Of course.

Griffin whirled on Keko and thrust a finger at the flaming cage. “Will that hold?”

“As long as I keep control over it. Or kill him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Don’t kill him.” Over Keko’s shoulder he caught sight of the massive, cracked rock jutting out of the center of the small island, and he nodded toward it.

“He tried to kill me,” Keko said, frustrated arms flinging out to her sides. “Twice. Don’t I owe him the same favor?” Then she noticed how Griffin was staring at the broken rock. “What? What’re you thinking?”

He said nothing. He didn’t have to. She understood.

Her beautiful dark skin paled. “No. Griffin, no.”

Griffin looked long into her determined, blood-streaked face, then started to walk away. Toward the entrance of the Source.

“Wait. Stop.” It was the Chimeran general talking now. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The split stone called to him, made his signature awareness light up in a way he’d never before experienced. “I’m going in.”

Her grip on his arm was so powerful he felt the twinge of pain all the way to the bone. She spun him back around so hard he had to struggle for balance.

“This is my fight, Griffin. My purpose.” No anger this time, as he’d expected, just a sadness. A disappointment. Devastation.

“You can’t go in there, Keko. Look at the crack, how narrow it is. Even if you could drill for the next fifty years and get yourself inside there, what Aya said about triggering something massive and horrible will happen.”

“It’s no different if it’s you or me. Why do you think you can?”

Griffin glanced at Nem. “Because of something Aya told the Senatus. Because I am water and you are fire. Think about it.”

A tight shake of her head. A terrible crease across her brow. “I don’t understand.”

He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her, had to chance it. One hand came to her cheek, thumb grazing lightly beneath her eye. She startled, killing the fire on her arms but still managing to maintain the circle around an increasingly agitated Nem. Through the sweat and blood, beneath the fire magic, Griffin could feel her true beauty—that gorgeous soul that had given her this quest.

“You’re stronger here on this island,” he said. “Aren’t you? My senses are going crazy and it’s more than just signatures I feel. I can see it’s affecting you, too, in how easily you overpowered Nem. I can feel it in your body, see it in your magic. The Source is feeding you.”

Her gaze turned inward, as though she just realized the truth of it. “Yes. I do feel stronger. And a little . . .”

“What?”

She flexed her fingers. “Unstable.”

“Right. Because you’re made of fire. Same as the Source. Don’t you see? You are too close as it is now, but if you actually find a way down there, if you actually touch it, it’ll be like driving a gas truck into a burning building. Do you understand now?”

Keko’s expression slackened, then she pulled away from him and stomped back to Nem. “Is it because I am fire,” she demanded, “that you’re not allowed to let me in.”

“Fire feeds fire,” Nem said, the truth in his gold-silver eyes. “Fire destroys.”

She made a sound of frustration. “But the Queen found the Source. She touched it.”

“No,” Griffin said. “She never made it.”

Keko gasped.

“No one’s ever gone down there,” Nem said, and Griffin noticed with a shudder that the Son did not ever blink. “My ancestor killed her when her boat landed right over there.”

“No—” Keko looked unsteady as she glanced at the small beach thirty yards away.

“Think about it,” Griffin said. “If she’d touched the Source, the world would’ve known. There would be stories or legends, or geological proof of such a huge disaster. Because she was fire.” Taking her arms, Griffin turned her to face him. “And I’m water,” he whispered.

Her sorrowful gaze dropped. Then her shoulders followed.

He cradled her face, lifting it back up to him. Pressing closer, her heat enveloped him.

“I know you want to do this yourself. Believe me, I know this very well.” She stared at him with glittering, dark eyes. “But you can’t, and I won’t let you try. You will die down there. You’ll trigger something huge, something deadly. You won’t come back with any kind of cure. And your Chimerans will still lose their magic.”

She shuddered within his grasp. “What will you do? How will you do it?”

He licked his lips. “I have an idea.”

She took his forearms in that enhanced grip. “But . . . you’ve ruined your chance with the Senatus.”

“Said it once before and I’ll say it again: Fuck the Senatus. I came here for you, remember?” He touched his forehead to hers. “This will help you. And your people. Mine will be there when I get back, no worse off than how I left them. The good thing about the future is that it can always change.”

He would think about the Ofarians later. For now, he belonged to Keko.

Her lips parted, a sweet little cloud of her magic smoke leaking out. He breathed it in gladly.

He released her, gently pushing away. Her arms hung in midair. He looked at the rock and its narrow crack, his intent clear.

“No!” screamed Nem, thrashing from inside the circle of fire. It sizzled and bit at his flailing limbs. “No! You don’t know what will happen!”

Keko lowered her arms. “He’s right. You don’t know what’s down there, what will happen. You’re not Chimeran. How will you hold the magic?”

Griffin smiled sadly. “Why, Kekona. Are you worried about me?”

“I was willing to bargain my life.” She slapped an angry hand to her chest. “I don’t want to gamble with yours.”

If he touched her again, he’d never want to let go, so he took a step backward instead. “This time,” he said, “I’m going on faith. And I have to say that it feels pretty damn good.”

A sound somewhat like a choke came out of her mouth. She turned her face to hide her emotion, but he wasn’t fooled.

She murmured, “After all I’ve done to you, after all I’ve said, after how the Chimerans have acted against the Ofarians, I can’t believe you’d do this for my people.”

Griffin took one final look at her with his human eyes. Ofarian words rolled across his tongue and spilled out from between his lips, bringing up his magic, transforming his body to liquid.

He watched her eyes widen as she finally realized his plan. The humbled, overwhelmed woman disappeared. The confident, steadfast woman stood before him now, and he couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

She came closer to his watery shape, blowing orange flame across one palm and holding it out to him. “Let me do it.”

Griffin nodded his liquid head.

She touched him, her burning hand pressed to his wobbling, translucent chest. The heat from her fire, her magic, turned him to steam. It was a far different feeling, to have it done to him rather than doing it himself. It was an incredible feeling, one he wanted to experience again and again.

He gently entwined himself around her whole body. Curling his molecules next to her ear, he thought I would do anything for you. She sagged as though she’d actually heard him. Maybe she had.

Reluctant to leave, but resolved to help her, he peeled the steam away from her skin and floated toward the crack. Flattening himself into a long, thin stream, he slipped into the narrow fissure and instantly surrounded himself with dark. With earth and rock. With unadulterated magic. The world around him was shadowed and craggy, the lava rock slicing off at harsh angles, turning directions without sense, making his path crooked and dangerous. Even though he wanted to zoom ahead at full speed, he had to go slowly or else risk being drawn too thin or being broken apart. There were limits to his power; time was one of them, and the careful pace set him on edge, made him worry about how much energy he’d have left for the return trip.

From somewhere deep, deep down in the blackness, the Source sensed his presence. Maybe it knew he was water. It blasted against him. Intense heat and stormy magic sent out constant shocks. They pulsed against him like giant waves and he was the tiny minnow trying to swim against the riptide. He had to pull his steam body along as much as thrust it forward, and, like when he’d been tracking Keko across the Big Island, it drained his magic exponentially.

He kept going, kept driving on, without any indication of how far he had to burrow into the heart of the earth. He couldn’t think about it because turning back wasn’t an option. Every second brought increased heat, more treacherous maneuvering, and the dizzying counterstrength of pure, untouched fire magic.

All of a sudden, the narrow, twisting passage exploded into openness. A vast cavern yawned in the shape of a near perfect circle, a separate contained universe hidden deep in the bowels of the planet . . . complete with its own brilliant, pulsating, dangerous sun.

Only this was no sun. This was the Fire Source—a giant, blistering orb of white, with tongues and whips of blue and sparkling silver snapping out like poisonous snakes trapped behind wire. They left tiny floating flecks of flame in their wake, which flared on their own for a second or two, then died. The Source was a living thing, an amorphous beast contained in an elastic shape, constantly pushing against its constraints. It reeked of danger and power.

Griffin hovered at the circumference of the cavern, awed and petrified over what glowed before him. It was astounding that something like this existed in a human world, on the human plane. It had been born with this planet, not brought here like his own people. It would die when the Earth did. Or vice versa.

That was all the time he allowed himself to think. He had something else to do.

When he’d taken Keko beneath the ocean’s surface and encapsulated her in magic water, he’d sensed her trying to release her fire. The water wouldn’t let her. His element hadn’t killed hers, it just . . . contained it.

He had to trust in that same principle here.

The Source pulsed in a great, uneven heartbeat. It seemed to grow more and more agitated by the second, Griffin’s presence feeding and affecting it. It knew something had infiltrated its lair and it was merely biding its time before unleashing its weapons, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was a dragon—a chimera—stalking and teasing its prey.

Death churned inside that thing. Hope, too. And they were all tied together by faith.

Those blue and white flames continued to loop out from the surface of the Source like the solar flares in the Earth’s sun. They stretched and bowed then snapped back, leaving remnant flecks floating in the air, glowing in their wake. Griffin watched them greedily.

Then he saw his opportunity. Perhaps his only one. He prayed—to the stars, to Keko’s Queen, to whomever might be listening—that it would be enough.

A bolt of crackling blue flame shot out—straight for where he’d flattened his particles against the wall. It wanted to dissolve him. To destroy him. The whip of fire snapped before it reached him, leaving behind a web of tiny blue-white motes—pure specks of magic no longer attached to the Source itself. Residual fire just lingering in space.

His for the taking.

Before another flare could stretch for him, he ballooned his steam out from the wall. Sent it looping around a flickering blue remnant no larger than a pebble. He grabbed it, encased it as he had Keko’s body. Stole it.

Here in this cavern of extreme heat and elemental fire, Griffin fought for control of his own magic. Digging deeper into his power than he’d ever dug before, he forced the steam immediately surrounding the live spark into liquid, wrapping it in a dense bubble cage.

The fire sputtered but held. Weakened but did not die.

There was no time to worry or think or do anything else other than run. He gathered up the floating, translucent particles of himself, cradled and cushioned the speck of the Source inside his magic, and fled back through the crack.

The Source did not like that at all.

The cavern and passage walls vibrated, throwing Griffin’s already tenuous form against the rocks, threatening to break him apart and loose the treasure he carried. A great cloud of heat and smoke screamed at his back, the soundless voice of a mother who’d had one of her many children ripped from her bosom.

He would not be deterred. He would not let it go. This thing he stole belonged to Keko—this infinitesimal bit of fire—and she would use it for the noblest of purposes.

Tightening the hold on the fire speck, he pushed harder. Raced up through the quaking, narrow passages. The planet felt ripped off its axis, gravity and direction meaning absolutely nothing. Still, he flew. Zoomed. Faster and faster.

Hot fire consumed his trail. Not just heat or threats anymore, but actual liquid lava, scorching rock, and attacking flame. They all chased him down. He may not be made of fire, but he had still caused an eruption.

He zigged and zagged, concentrating hard on keeping his magic whole, on keeping the fleck safe and alive. Tremors hunted him, wielding the Source’s weapons, but he could feel the air getting fresher up ahead. It fed him energy. He pushed on. And then . . . light.

It refracted off the rock lining the sides of the fissure. It pierced his vapor and the bubble and struck the fire fragment, making it come alive, turning it into a starburst. He clutched it, feeling the magic trying to get out but unable to release through his water.

It seemed to call to the Source, too—a child to its mother—and the Source answered with a burst of heat and flame that actually pushed Griffin the final few yards up and out of the entrance, sending him soaring between the halves of the great split rock, shooting high above the island.

The sky was a dazzling, blinding sheet of blue above, and the island below was a quivering black mass of lava rock, crumbling and cracking like an egg from the force of the Source’s expulsion. The ocean immediately surrounding the island rippled, billowing blooms of white rising up from underneath.

He saw Keko, a dark figure being thrown about on the small, quaking mound of land in the middle of the water, trying to keep her balance as the rock shifted. Nem was still there, screaming death threats, but only for a moment longer. The island gave a great heave and Keko tumbled to the side, thrown to the ground. She must have lost control of her magic because the circle of fire around and below Nem suddenly died. And then, barely a second later, he was gone. Sunk back into the shaking, breaking earth.

Griffin made sure the fire speck was still safe and zoomed down to Keko. Ash belched from the bowels of the earth, the distinct odor of sulfur and the tang of hidden fire consuming everything. Steam and black smoke poured out of the fissure now, and he shot through it. Even in the growing murk he could find her. He would always be able to find her.

As he drew closer, Keko pulled herself to her feet, but the ground fought back, continually trying to throw her down. He’d seen many emotions cross her face in their time together, but panic had never, ever been one of them. Her wide eyes darted around, looking for escape, for answers. For an enemy to fight. But this time the attacker, the Source, was made of her own element and her weapons would never be strong enough to win.

Griffin swirled around her in a misty ribbon, gently pressing against her, letting himself go more liquid. When she realized it was him, he felt her body shiver, her slight exhalation of relief. He rolled the bubble containing the fire spark up through his being, aligning it with her sight. Her eyes turned glassy when she saw what he carried.

Now to figure out how to give her the pure bit of magic. If he released the bubble, the fleck would likely sputter and die as it had within the cavern. If he assumed human form, the result would probably be the same.

Another lurch of the earth. Keko’s mouth dropped open . . . and he saw his answer.

Without thinking, without allowing himself doubt, he opened a space in the mist, released the bubble, and shoved the blue-white spark free. It arced out and away, shooting straight for Keko’s mouth. Her jaw jutted out and she caught the tiny flame between her lips. It disappeared into the dark behind her teeth, then her mouth closed around it.

She swallowed, then gulped and gasped, both hands flying to her throat, fingers scratching at her skin. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body convulsed.

The island lost all stability. The rock that had been the gateway to the Source exploded, hot shards flying, the first bubbles of red and gold lava erupting out of the split in the earth. A molten river rushed toward them.

Keko’s eyes had gone wholly white, one hand still at her throat, the other pressed to her chest. Her body was tilting sideways and she did not put out her arms to stop her fall. If she collapsed here the encroaching lava would consume her.

Though weary, his strength and magic nearly gone, Griffin wrapped his mist tightly around Keko, cushioning her fall. Catching a gust of hot, sulphuric wind, he swept them both up and away from the ground as a surging roll of lava consumed the spot in which they’d just stood.

He spun around her as he carried her away, smashing his molecules together to form another, larger bubble around her limp form. He took them away from the broken island and the angry magic that was burying it in fire, and plunged them back into the churning ocean.

The water had gone cloudy with agitation. Within the waves the volcanic eruption felt entirely different—muffled and distant, but no less deadly. He shot through the water, Keko’s inert body bouncing around weightless and powerless inside his protection. He pushed on, back toward the Big Island, sensing the eruption fade and dim the farther away they got, until they were well away from its threat altogether.

At last the ocean floor started to slant upward, forming the base of the giant, ancient volcanoes of the Big Island. Griffin speared through the water, rising up, fighting and then using the mighty push and pull of the waves as they neared the shore. The surface was in sight, a sparkling invitation. He’d reached the dregs of his power, but even that wasn’t a good enough excuse to give up.

He gave one last push and propelled himself up and out of the water, spitting them over the waves and onto land. He lost all water magic in midair, his human body coming to him straight from vapor, making every muscle and bone and last bit of his spirit scream in pain. He still clung to Keko, though, managing to roll himself under her, so when they hit the shelf of serrated black lava rock strewn with chunks of loose white coral, it was he who took the brunt.

The jagged points of the rock dug into his skin but he barely felt them, for the drain of his energy stole all sensation as it pulled away his consciousness. He would feel it later. He would feel it all.

Vaguely, he was aware of Keko sliding off his body in a tangle of brown, limp limbs. With his last bit of effort, he blindly reached out and found the pulse on her neck, which was thready but present. His last thought before passing out was that she was warm.

Wonderfully, frighteningly warm.