Drowning in Fire

TWENTY-THREE

Griffin hobbled out of bed, testing the ability of his body and finding nothing broken, though the stiffness made it difficult to walk. The shorts he’d been wearing on his days running through the Hawaiian backcountry had been washed and placed on a chair, though they were so stained and ragged they hardly looked any better. It didn’t matter. He pulled them on and left the room, having to duck beneath the low ceiling beams in the hallway.

He’d been lying in the chief’s bedroom, apparently, because it was the only bedroom in the tiny house. Griffin wondered where the Chimeran had slept the past two nights. Maybe he hadn’t slept at all, which gave Griffin a grim satisfaction.

The bedroom was on the second floor, the lone window facing the back garden. Griffin caught his reflection in a foggy mirror hanging near the narrow, twisting staircase: bruised and beaten and sunbaked. A thousand other injuries marred his body, but it was the sight of the narrow stripe of burn on his temple that made his stomach flip. He abandoned the mirror.

Every step down the stairs made him wince, but as he exited onto the main floor, he wiped any evidence of pain from his face. Seeing no one, he started for the back door.

“Griffin.” Bane’s voice behind him. “This way. Out front.”

Griffin turned to see the general standing in the dim little foyer with his hand on the knob of the arched front door. A sinking feeling settled into Griffin’s gut as he walked toward Bane. Meeting out back meant in secret. Going out front meant something else entirely.

“What’s going on?”

Bane shook his head, his dark eyes swimming with doubt. “I don’t know, but it’s something. And I’m worried. I shouldn’t say that to you, but so much has changed . . .” He started to turn the knob, then stopped and looked back at Griffin. “What is Keko to you?”

She is my Queen, too, Griffin wanted to say, but somehow didn’t feel it appropriate, like it would diminish the title in her brother’s eyes.

“So much,” he replied. “It’s hard to put into words.”

At that, the skin around Bane’s eyes and mouth tightened as his gaze dropped to the tile. “Then I understand.”

Before Griffin could ask about Ikaika, Bane threw open the front door. When the chief had said “talk,” he had not meant a quiet chat alone.

Griffin slowly exited the front door of the chief’s house onto a wide stone terrace lit with brilliant sunlight . . . and came face to face with the entire Chimeran population, easily three times the number that had watched the challenge two days ago. Dusky-skinned, black haired people filled the meadow, their expectant faces turned up to the terrace. Many had the carriage of a warrior; most did not. This was every Big Island Chimeran, from every status level, and they all stared curiously at Griffin.

Another fight? Griffin wondered. Another challenge?

The heavy muscle aches lingered. So did the stiffness and fatigue—and the soul-deep crush of loss and guilt over having to watch Keko disappear. But he would fight again if he had to, if it came down to that. For her.

Lengthening his stride, shoving aside his weakness, he crossed the terrace to come even with the chief standing at the balustrade. At the foot of the steps below, the Chimerans spread out far into the distance, a sea of shifting bodies and hushed, speculative voices. The buzz of their massed signatures tingled in Griffin’s mind and he realized, with a heartsick feeling, that the chief’s had been restored.

The Chimeran leader, however, had not removed his shirt.

Griffin assessed the crowd, noting others whose chests and shoulders were covered. Far more than the twenty-two Keko had healed, so maybe the chief and the others she’d cured wouldn’t stand out as much as they’d feared. In the front row stood Ikaika, his T-shirt bright white against his skin. He met Griffin’s eyes in solemnity, giving away nothing.

Makaha was nowhere to be seen. Of course. The warrior was likely still stationed at the back, because even though he’d challenged and defeated the man who’d maimed him, he was still considered disabled.

Chief faced his people and raised a thick arm. The entire valley went instantly silent. And then it erupted in a shout worthy of a volcano.

A single word, spoken as one great voice—as dazzling as fire, as intimidating as war, and as reverent as all the Earth’s religions combined. Griffin didn’t have to speak old Chimeran to know it was a name. The chief’s name. Ali’i in a language that predated their people’s great migration across the sea.

Never, not once, had a former Ofarian Chairman been greeted in such a manner, with his people saturating the atmosphere with admiration and love. It was the stuff of stories, of fairy tales, of faraway lands, the way people might have bowed to a king. The major difference was, the title of king and Ofarian Chairman had been bestowed because of birth and blood. The title of Chimeran ali’i also came by blood, but that of the drawn, battled kind. No matter what poor, unfair decisions Chief had made with regard to Keko, he had undoubtedly earned this position time and time again, and his people worshipped him for it.

Such devotion was beyond humbling.

Chief slammed a fist against his chest in a show of mutual adoration toward his people. The fist remained pressed against the light blue of his button-down shirt. A sheen coated his black eyes. The sun reflected off the moisture, making them spark.

The Chimerans responded. A simultaneous pounding of their chests—men and women and children, warrior and common folk alike.

Griffin shivered under the force of it. And then he shivered because he still did not know why he’d been called out here.

“You are wondering,” Chief said, his booming voice carrying across the field that had again fallen obediently and rapturously silent, “why Griffin Aames, the Ofarian leader, is in our valley.”

Griffin stood as still as the stone balustrade beneath his fingertips, keeping his eyes on the chief, and carefully managing the pound of his heart and the pace of his breathing.

Chief, however, looked only at his people. “He did not come here to face and be challenged by the Chimeran he disfigured, as some of you have speculated.”

Pockets of Chimerans shifted on their feet, looking over their shoulders, trying to pick out Makaha in the crowd. Griffin felt his blood begin to boil, the deep heat starting around his neck and ears. Not embarrassment, but a slow, simmering anger aimed at the chief.

“He did not come here to ask for peace or to beg for an alliance,” Chief said. “He came here because of Kekona Kalani.”

More movement, a few murmurs.

“A few months ago we were ready to go to war against the Ofarians,” Chief intoned. “Our general had been taken hostage by one of the water wielders, in what was then believed to be a hostile grab for power.”

Now Griffin moved. A slight tightening of his fists. A little bend of the knees, firming his stance. Readying himself for whatever was to come.

“Our attack was called off when it was proven to us that Kekona was taken by a rogue Ofarian. That part you do know. What you don’t know”—Chief finally slid a glance over to Griffin—“is that Kekona defied the rules of the elementals and the kapu laws of her clan when she chose to be with Griffin Aames.”

That garnered a response, a widespread wave of surprise that raked like nails over Griffin’s skin. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed several warriors edging toward the terrace, ready to take him down if he made a move toward their leader. Griffin couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t.

“Kekona was dishonored because she was dishonorable. Her war mongering was falsely based, stemming specifically from her relationship with that Ofarian.”

Discontented, defensive rustling rippled through the crowd.

“Chief,” Griffin growled, because he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

But the chief deepened his voice and upped the volume. “Three years ago, Griffin disobeyed the most sacred Senatus rule and used his magic to attack one of our own during a gathering, disgracing the great warrior Makaha. He has spent nearly every moment since trying to convince me and the rest of the elementals that we are flawed and he is eternally right.”

The rustling intensified. Whispers changed to questions, accusatory sentences, and dark looks.

Chief lifted both hands, calling for silence. “But he is not here because of what Kekona did wrong. He is not here because of what he did wrong.” When he drew a breath it was not Chimeran, but still one that shook and rattled in his chest. “He is here because of what I did wrong.”

Griffin gasped, but the sound of it was lost in the wave of confusion wrinkling the blanket of rapt devotion the chief had cast over the valley.

Chief shouted something in Chimeran, and his people went quiet and still, though it was no longer instant, the unrest lingering. They watched him intently. Griffin noticed Bane inching closer to the steps leading down to the meadow.

The chief’s fingers gripped the balustrade. He leaned heavily into his arms, his head bent—the first time Griffin had ever witnessed him not looking directly at his people. The whole valley seemed to be holding its breath, including Griffin and Ikaika, whose face had gone ashen with shock and worry. Would the chief actually—

“I lost my fire.”

He would. Oh great stars, he did. That resonant, authoritative voice, speaking the truth. At last.

“My fire died without reason or warning. I have been hiding it from all of you for a very long time.”

Griffin’s fists released at the same moment the Chimerans erupted again. This time the burst of sound was decidedly less joyous than the earlier greeting, one made of fear and panic instead. Some Chimerans tried to push closer to the house, but Bane hopped down the steps and positioned himself at their base, the glare of the general warning everyone off. The outraged voices did not quiet.

The chief finally lifted his head. Finally took in the extent of the disruption he’d caused. The buzz gradually faded as the people stared at him. And then, before everyone, he drew a true Chimeran breath and set a line of red-gold flame scorching above his people’s heads.

Some shrank back, as though they weren’t made of fire themselves. Some cried out in shock, others in a reaction that seemed to come less from the fear of death than the fear of oppression. But everyone watched the chief in utter puzzlement.

“As you can see, the fire has been returned to me. That is why I have gathered all of you here this morning. And that is why Griffin Aames has come to Hawaii. Because Kekona discovered my secret and risked her life to find a cure. Griffin thought she would die in her quest and came here to stop her out of worry, but he ended up helping her instead.” Chief lifted his voice even higher. “Kekona Kalani has found the Fire Source. She has used it to heal me, and I willingly bear her mark as proof.”

Chief wrapped his fingers around the collar of his shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flying, light blue fabric fluttering in the island breeze, he stood bare-chested before every Chimeran on the Big Island.

Keko’s handprint stood out black and stark for all to see.

Chaos flared on the meadow. Surges of Chimerans rushed for the terrace. Bane stood with massive legs spread, arms up and out to ward off the mob. Ikaika came to his side, standing shoulder to shoulder, prepared to help. The people were terribly confused, unsure whether they had the right to break through the general and one of his top warriors, or whether the chief’s revelation over his ultimate weakness made the military order of things null and void.

Griffin could feel the sense of betrayal poison the air that had so recently been plump with pride, and such a sudden shift made him scared for too many lives on that field.

Chief released the grip on his shirt and let the wind flap it away to a leaf-strewn corner. With one hand he yanked off the Queen’s lava rock necklace and held it in a tight fist, the black stone dangling over the heads of the angry crowd. “I abdicate!” he screamed.

Bane’s head wrenched around to look at the chief. Griffin jumped down the steps two at a time to take the other side of the general, holding back the crowd who demanded answers by shouting Keko’s name.

“I abdicate!” Chief thundered. “Be calm!”

Even in the melee, the chief’s words carried. They took several minutes to sink in as they were relayed back through the crowd. A few more minutes passed before the Chimerans actually did calm, the waves of people gradually settling down like the sea after a storm. The storm clouds lingered, however, as all eyes again shifted to the terrace where the chief looked down upon them.

All Griffin could see was Keko’s handprint, and he knew he wasn’t alone.

“You’re saying that Kekona Kalani has touched the Source?” a woman somewhere off to the left cried out.

Chief dropped his arm, the lava rock hitting his leg, though he didn’t let it go. “Yes. She has.”

A new murmur traveled through the Chimeran crowd, this one filled with wonder and positivity. So similar to the reaction Keko had received from Bane and Ikaika and every other one of the Chimerans she’d cured—the reaction she’d shut down and refused to acknowledge for the sake of keeping their secret.

“Where is she?” another voice called out. And then another. And another. Because of course no one would have realized before that she—a disgraced untouchable—was not among them.

“She is . . .” Chief gathered himself. “She has left the valley.”

Someone else, someone daring, cried out, “How can we believe you, if she’s not here?”

Griffin’s throat dried up. He wondered what the chief would tell them, if he’d tell the truth about agreeing to give up Keko to the Children.

Chief abandoned looking at his people and instead turned his head to find Griffin. The Chimeran opened his mouth, his chest expanding. Griffin thought he might be reaching for his fire—and by the depth of the breath, perhaps all his fire—but instead only sound came out.

A single name—an intense plea in the deepest bass register—reverberated across the valley: “Aya!”

The Chimerans glanced at each other in confusion, having no context or knowledge of that name.

But Griffin gasped, the pump of his blood stopping completely, then slamming back into motion so fast he went light-headed. Hope and trepidation and disappointment and love filled his being.

Way out in the grass, past the very last line of fire elementals, came a rumble—a distinct rumble he knew came from within the earth. That sound and this feeling inside him had always preceded an attack. Or devastating heartache.

Griffin peeled away from Bane and bounced back up the steps, skidding to a halt next to the chief again. He whirled around to face the sea of Chimerans and stared far into the distance, over their heads, to where a flat patch of field churned as though being dug up from underneath.

One by one, the whole Chimeran clan responded to the strange noise and vibration, turning around to watch. They fanned out, warriors jogging toward the scene, fire flowing to their fingertips in preparation for the unknown.

“Please,” the chief called, but no one seemed to hear him except Griffin.

To the soundtrack of Chimeran exclamations, Aya’s compact human body morphed from the rising mound of rock, dirt, and grass. She made no threatening gestures and did not speak, and when the Chimerans realized that she was one small woman against thousands of fire-wielding warriors, they started to settle. Their sounds of fear switched to those of surprise and awe, for it was clear no one had ever seen an earth elemental.

And then Keko appeared behind Aya.

The black haired beauty slowly unfolded herself from a crouch, standing a foot taller than the Daughter of Earth. A rising chorus of recognition saturated the air. Keko set her body in a position of power—legs apart, shoulders back, arms ending in loose fists. This far away, Griffin could not make out her features. Could not tell what expression she wore, how well she’d been cared for, what she’d experienced Within.

He could, though, see the peaceful white glow of the Source emanating from her chest. And so could every other Chimeran.

Keko stepped out from behind Aya, and the Daughter let her go. Keko no longer wore the shredded jeans and ripped black T-shirt from the moment of her disappearance, but, oddly, a long, sleeveless, charcoal colored dress with an iridescent shimmer. She lifted her gaze above the openmouthed mass of Chimerans and shot a stare straight to the terrace. To where the chief and Griffin stood side by side. With long, purposeful strides, she came forward, gliding right into the crowd of her people without pause. They parted hurriedly, creating a seam for her to pass through. Some reached for her, their hands dropping or pulling back just before their fingers could skim her skin. Others pressed hands to their mouths and watched her go by with glistening obsidian eyes.

Many others touched their own chests, just as Bane had done when he’d first witnessed the visual proof of Keko’s ethereal power.

The crowd opened before Keko and closed behind Aya as the Daughter followed. As the two women advanced toward the house, the name Kekona created a series of waves across the meadow.

When Keko neared the front, one Chimeran actually did dare to touch her, a palm upon her shoulder, a simple, non-threatening contact. But the Source responded, a sizzle of blue-white zapping the man’s hand. He cried out, his face contorted in pain. When he wrenched his hand away, his palm smoked in a way that Chimeran skin should not.

Keko turned to him in concern. Though Griffin could not hear what she said to the injured man, he could see the compassion in her eyes and the clench of her fingers as she wanted to reach out and comfort him, but could not. At last she continued on through the crowd, the people giving her a wider berth.

“Don’t touch her.” “You can’t touch her,” floated the whispers all around.

Griffin could not believe she was here, Aboveground. He could not believe that the woman he looked at was flesh and magic and real. He’d watched the earth snatch her body and could not believe that anyone not a Son or Daughter would be able to survive below the surface. Yet here she was, a glittering image coming toward him. Did she see the way his chest lurched with every beat of his heart? Could she tell how his fingers were very nearly crumbling the stone balustrade in his attempt to remain still and not rush for her?

She could not, he realized, because she was not looking at him. Her black stare was focused solely on the chief.

The people pressed forward, quieting, as Keko neared the steps. When she reached the bottom step, a tight half-circle formed behind her. With astonishment, Griffin saw that her dress was made of thousands of tiny black lava rocks, all strung together in some invisible manner. All magically reflective. It swung about her legs and grazed the tops of her bare feet. The neck dipped low, openly displaying the magic behind her breastbone.

Ikaika and Bane stepped aside to let her pass. At last she turned her attention to Griffin and his breath caught. Time stopped.

In broad daylight, amidst her entire clan—even under the heavy weight of kapu—he saw what she felt for him. The whole of it, the depth of it, the sheer power of it.

And in that moment he stripped away all of his own restrictions, all his own doubt, and finally let her see his emotion in its entirety, as raw as the magic she carried inside her, far more potent than three little words. She responded with the tiniest of nods—such a testament to her strength and confidence—and turned again to the chief.

“Come here,” she told him.

To Griffin’s amazement—and to the verbal shock of everyone else in the meadow—the chief obeyed. He skirted around Griffin and descended the stairs. When he came off the last step to stand before Keko on the grass—on even ground with her, at her order—the murmurs of speculation and disorder grew.

Aya came forward, her garment of Hawaiian flowers and greenery flowing in the breeze.

The chief lifted his voice to address the crowd again, though he did not remove his eyes from his niece. “Of her own volition, her own strength, Kekona Kalani hunted and found the Source. She took the magic, the Queen’s treasure, and returned to our valley in secret to heal me. She refused to be acknowledged as Queen because she did not want to compromise me, and when the Children of Earth rose up to demand punishment for her causing a volcanic eruption where the Source was located, Keko accepted the sentence. Even though I am the one who should serve it.”

Keko’s lips parted, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Aya, Daughter of Earth,” Chief intoned, “because of my deception and selfishness, because of all that Kekona has done for me and all Chimerans, for her bravery and courage, I demand that I take Kekona’s place.”

A roar went up among the crowd, although Griffin couldn’t tell whether it was in protest or agreement because he was already bounding down the steps. At first his target had been Keko. For a moment it seemed like she might faint, but then at the last second he realized that his Keko was about as far from a fainting woman as one could possibly be, and he shifted his target to Bane and Ikaika. Both men looked ready to spark an uprising, to charge at the chief and throw him into the ground themselves.

Griffin pushed a palm into the general’s chest, holding him back. “This is Keko’s. Let her have this.”

Bane blinked down at Griffin and finally settled back, Ikaika following suit.

“Uncle,” Keko said, her voice as clear as a bell. The sound of it heralded silence across the field.

With a firm nod and the tiniest of smiles—a mixture of pride and resignation and sadness—Chief reached out, took Keko’s hand, and coiled the Queen’s necklace into her palm.

“Thank you,” he said. “One final time.”

Griffin looked to Aya who, inexplicably, was looking back at him. Her green eyes were positively shining with unmistakable satisfaction.

Aya ducked behind the chief. The vines and leaves of her dress snapped out to snake around the chief’s body, covering him foot by foot, masking his dusky skin in waxy green. The last part of him to be covered was Keko’s handprint, the black symbol there for every Chimeran to see.

With a spin of white hair and a great yawning of the earth beneath her feet, Aya dragged the former Chimeran ali’i Within.