Breath of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  Swallowing hard, I rub my thumbs over the handles of my knives, warming the metal. Mother thinks she’s above everyone. She confuses might with right. Strike that—all she cares about is might. And like the strongest, most vicious animal around, she plays with her prey, wanting to see it cower and sweat.

  “I doubt they’ll attack unless we make a move. At least not yet. She’s just toying with us for now and gathering information, which some creature or other has probably been doing for days,” I add bitterly, clenching my knives until my hands hurt. “We didn’t hide my blood. What we did that morning Daphne stabbed me—none of it was enough.” I almost died trying to dilute the evidence of my heritage in the bathhouse pool. I poured lemon juice all over a gaping wound, and Andromeda still found me. Talk about a failure of epic proportions. She knows I’m alive. She knows where I am. She knows where I came from, and there’s a very good chance she knows who I’m with. Everything I didn’t want.

  Carver unsheathes his sword and lays it across his lap. “We were on an open road for days. Nothing followed us from home. We would have known.”

  “Something followed, probably from the air. This is the second wave, and I’ll bet they came from the opposite direction.” From the Ice Plains above Fisa, where Mother latched on to them like a leech and then sent them to do her bidding.

  “You’re a threat to her. To her throne. Why is she so Gods damned bent on getting you back?” Griffin asks in a low growl.

  I shrug, the casual movement belying the sharp twisting in my gut. “I don’t know. It’s an obsession I can’t even begin to understand. All I know is that if she gets her hands on me, she’ll drag me back to Fisa for fifty years of fun and torture. She’s evil and insane.”

  “I won’t let her touch you,” Griffin says.

  He sounds so sure. I look at him, and my heart starts to ache, the pain physical and overwhelming. This is exactly what I didn’t want, what terrified me and drove me to push Griffin away for as long as I could—Mother going through him to get to me.

  “Is this like with the She-Dragon?” Flynn asks softly. “Some kind of long-distance compulsion?”

  I nod, answering in equally quiet tones, despite the harsh drumming of my pulse. “Alpha Fisa gets a relayed impression of what the creatures see—five riders, the woods, our general location. Words are more direct. She can hear through them just like with Sybaris, and speak through them if they’re capable of speech. To try to control three creatures at once is risky, especially ones this powerful and malevolent. My read on their magic is that they’re incredibly sentient, yet at the same time…empty.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand exactly. It’s like there’s something missing.”

  Griffin pulls a long, straight dagger from his boot and holds it in the same hand as his reins. His other hand carries his sword. “Can you break her hold?”

  “I couldn’t with Sybaris. And I can’t handle three. If I somehow break her hold and then can’t control them myself, they’ll attack on their own anyway.”

  I glance back. I’ll always refuse to use compulsion on humans, but I really need to gain some control over creatures if Mother is going to keep throwing them at us.

  The wolf-like things are closer now, weaving between the trees with no thought to keeping hidden anymore. The yellow glow of their eyes intensifies with each loping step.

  I shiver. I don’t know what they are. “We can’t let them keep following us and hearing half of what we say. We should make a stand.”

  Griffin nods in agreement just as we emerge into a large clearing, seeing our first direct sunlight in hours. A field ripples before us, mostly flat. No cover—for us or them.

  “Don’t forget that nothing is ever what it seems this close to the Ice Plains,” I remind everyone. Then I turn to Griffin, a bad feeling kicking around inside of me. “I love you.”

  Griffin scowls. He looks like I just punched him in the gut. “Fight. You fight. You can tell me you love me when it’s over.”

  I nod. “When it’s over.” A heartbeat later, I slip my feet from my stirrups, swing my right leg over Panotii’s neck, and then slide to the ground. I land facing the creatures, leaving my horse to continue on.

  The monsters stop. And they really are monstrous. A menacing frill of gray-black fur rises along each of their spines from the base of their oversized necks to the tips of their curving, whiplike tails. I don’t like the look of this. Knowing Mother is behind it makes it even worse.

  “Cat!” Griffin wheels Brown Horse around. Panotii swings back toward me like he’s tethered to them.

  “Stay back!” I throw out my arms as if that could somehow keep four seasoned warriors from charging into the fray.

  “Dismount,” Griffin barks. “They’re too low to fight on horseback.”

  “Which part of ‘stay back’ did you not understand?” I snap.

  Like a big, predatory panther, Griffin drops down next to me. He sends his mount to the far side of the clearing with a shove on Brown Horse’s rump, and Panotii follows like a sheep. “The part where you fight alone,” Griffin snaps back.

  I glare at him, but really, what did I expect? “I’m going to incinerate them.”

  Stone-faced, he says, “Be my guest.”

  I focus on the wolf-things again, and that sense of foreboding deepens, scraping through me like a sawing in my bones. Their legs and paws are massive, but their bodies are still too big for them, huge and barrel-like, with almost no shape, just mass. They could flatten me in seconds and then rip out my throat.

  Good thing I have Dragon’s Breath.

  The lead creature bares its fangs in a warped smile, revealing splotched gums and razor-sharp teeth. I’d recognize that expression anywhere.

  My mouth twists into a smile that’s probably just as awful. “It was nice seeing you, Mother. But, really, you didn’t need to send gifts.”

  The monster growls. Mother never did like my sarcasm.

  Once the creatures are far enough from the trees—I don’t want to burn the forest, and us, along with them—I draw in a deep breath. Magic leaps from the well of power inside me, ready and eager. It sizzles through my veins and then pours from my mouth in a crackling inferno. The torrent of flames blisters the grass between the creatures and me, slamming into them with enough force to lift them off their feet. Ha!

  But instead of melting into piles of sludge and bone, they snarl and gouge their claws into the scorched ground, crouching low as the lethal firestorm boils over them.

  I slam my mouth shut on the Dragon’s Breath. They burn, and yet they don’t.

  The monster in the back spins and races for the woods. My heart lurching, I throw my two knives in quick succession, afraid of what will happen if it reaches the trees.

  My blades land where the creature’s neck meets its shoulder. It skids to a stop at the tree line and howls. The sound isn’t one of pain, and it makes my hair stand on end. Dread shivers through me. Gleaming yellow eyes lock on mine, and in that instant, I know Mother lost control.

  The flaming monster pivots and smashes into the nearest tree. The dark bark sparks and glows, catching fire. Red and orange lick higher, crawling up the ancient tree trunk and then exploding through the dense canopy above. The sudden roar is deafening. Cracking wood. Pulsing air. The rush of fire through healthy green leaves. The hottest, most dangerous magical flames known to man snap through the forest like twisting acrobats. Within seconds, the entire far side of the clearing goes up in a pounding blaze.

  I gasp, and Dragon’s Breath explodes from my mouth like someone reached down my throat and ripped it all out. Pain sears my insides. I clamp down and wrap my arms around my middle, but it’s too late. My Dragon’s Breath is gone, and the destruction in front of me turns into total devastation.

  I stumble back and bump into Griffin. My mouth tastes of ash. My throat burns, and an acrid exhalatio
n is all that’s left of the greatest weapon I’ve ever possessed.

  Griffin steadies me. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” I swallow, my throat so raw it hurts. “It feels like my guts were pulled out. I lost the magic.”

  Mother’s creatures don’t move. They seem to be waiting. Watching. Did she get control back? Everything burns around them, red-hot and glowing. Flames jump from tree to tree, moving up our sides as Dragon’s Breath attacks the woods around the clearing. High above, branches pop. The trees whoosh and whirl. Everything is red, yellow, and orange, and my eyes are so huge they burn along with the forest.

  “I have to stop it!” I try to latch back on to the magic as my lungs fill with heat and smoke. Nothing happens. It ignores me.

  “Leave it!” Griffin shouts. “Let’s go!”

  I shake my head and concentrate, blocking Griffin out. Finally, after what feels like a dozen ground-down teeth and three buckets of sweat, a smoldering bough groans, and its flames dip toward me. I pull harder, willing my fire back from wood and leaves and burning space. I can steal magic. I can take it from a person. If I’m close enough, I can grab it out of thin air.

  The strain is tremendous. My ears start to ring, and the heat is like a constant punch in the face. Dragon’s Breath continues to devour the treetops, and the fire I caught doesn’t complete its arc to me. The magic isn’t obeying me. At. All.

  On my left, Flynn suddenly slams into Carver, shoving him hard seconds before a flaming branch hits the ground where Carver just stood. The fallen bough erupts in a shower of sparks, catching Flynn’s pants on fire.

  I drop to my knees and smother the fire with my bare hands. There’s the initial, searing pain of the burn, and then my body reclaims the Dragon’s Breath and heals. Small dose. Direct contact. Easy, if painful.

  Flynn’s pants are in tatters. His skin is an angry red, and there are blisters around his knees.

  Grim-faced, he hauls me to my feet. “That’s the third time you’ve kept me from burning.”

  I dart a look around the clearing, fear choking me like the fire. “Don’t speak too soon.”

  Grunting in answer, Flynn tosses me at Griffin, who grabs my wrist and yanks.

  “Run! Now!” Griffin barks over the raging inferno.

  Mother’s creatures still haven’t fled, like they don’t fear the fire. I stumble after Griffin as he hauls me toward the horses. Panotii’s eyes roll so wildly I see more white than brown. He tosses his head, yanking at the grip Kato has on his reins.

  I glance over my shoulder. My face hurts. My lungs feel scorched. “We can’t outrun this. It’s Dragon’s Breath. It won’t stop until there’s nothing left to burn.” I pull on my wrist. “I have to stop it. I can!”

  Griffin abruptly swings around, and we nearly collide. A flickering bronze, his eyes reflect the firelight. A muscle jerks in his jaw, but he releases his hold on me.

  Turning, I fling both hands into the air with a shout I can barely hear over the bellow of the fire, my fingers outstretched and reaching for the magic. I pull so hard that flames rush down and engulf my arms. The shot of agony shakes loose my hold on most of what I’ve gathered, and the time to reclaim the magic, heal from the burn, and then adjust to the surge of power costs me the initial battle.

  My stomach drops. Calling the fire back to me won’t work. There’s too much, and it’s too powerful. But I think I know what to do now—even if I don’t like it.

  “Keep back!” I shout as I catch more flames with a ferocious mental yank and then slam them into the barren dirt where there’s nothing left to burn. The fire writhes, a living thing, searching the charred grass for something to consume. Finding nothing, it burns itself out.

  Grimly satisfied with my method, even if it means losing the magic, I do it again, and again, until I’m shaking with fatigue. Choking black smoke rolls over me. I drag more fire from the trees, piercing the growing darkness with glowing streaks and riddling the clearing with craters. The scene is apocalyptic. There’s not enough air.

  I don’t take my eyes off the firestorm. If I can just concentrate hard enough, be strong enough, the magic will obey me. It has to.

  A powerful arm bands around my middle, and Griffin drags me backward. I dig in my heels, and my boots leave twin scars as they scrape through the ash. Flames snap boldly, and I lose another tree to the fire.

  “We’re almost boxed in,” Griffin shouts, his voice hoarse from smoke. “It’s over!”

  “We’ll never outrun it!” I cry. “You’re wasting time!”

  “There is no time.” Beads of sweat roll down his temples and trace the line of his jaw, leaving streaks in the soot. Magic and nature’s grim war paint.

  As if hearing us and reacting, a twisting rope of flame leaps through the air and ignites the trees behind the horses. Like a door slamming shut, an impenetrable wall rises with a roar, blocking our only exit.

  I stare in shock. Fear is a terrible emotion. It strips away hope and leaves a gaping hole.

  Griffin curses and loosens his hold. “You’re stronger than this.” He turns me toward him with sudden ferocity, the terrifying beauty of the fire reflected in his somber gaze. “You’re better. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

  I swallow, my throat painfully dry. If it were just me, I wonder how hard I’d fight, what extremes I’d go to to survive. But it isn’t just me, and extremes don’t even come close to what I’d do to protect the people I love.

  I take Griffin’s hand. Energy and vitality pulse where our palms meet, and I squeeze. Strength leaps from the point of contact and thunders through my veins. I know in my gut that I have enough of the power of the Gods in me to bend nearly anything to my will, even this rogue, reactive magic that’s burning out of control.

  My concentration doesn’t falter again, and sheer mental determination pours from me in an almost tangible wave. Little by little, I force the Dragon’s Breath out of the trees and into the ground. The long struggle leaves my brain throbbing and my body weak. The world around me blurs into a rust color. Something warm and wet leaks from my eyes. More drips from my nose.

  I bow my head and grit my teeth, tasting blood on my lips. Kato materializes on my other side and takes my free hand. I hold on to both men hard enough to feel their bones grind. My knees nearly buckle under the agonizing pressure, but bit by bit, the magic implodes at my feet. The heat lessens. The roar diminishes, and my brain stops feeling like it’s being hammered with a burning rock.

  At last, the final flames burn themselves to death in a smoking crater, leaving leafless, lifeless trees standing like charred sentinels all around the clearing and as far as I can see. I collapse to my knees, swaying. Liquid, dense and soupy, swims in my eyes. The fire is out, but everything is still red and yellow.

  “Is it over?” I croak.

  “You did it.” Griffin drops down next to me. “I knew you could.”

  I snort. Sort of. “You tried to drag me away.”

  “It seemed like the best choice at the time.” He takes my face in his hands and then sweeps his thumbs under my eyes. His fingers come away with my blood on them, but it’s not just red. It’s red veined with shimmering rivulets of gold.

  “What is this?” Griffin asks.

  I stare, too exhausted to feel much emotion. “Ichor.” It’s never been visible before. Sometimes, I wondered if it was really there.

  “Blood like the Gods,” Griffin says quietly, awe in his smoke-roughened voice.

  “Diluted.” Unfortunately.

  My body feels like honey straight from the beehive—thick and slow. The more I try to move, the heavier it gets. I close my eyes, and a great void rushes up to meet me.

  Griffin catches me against his front as I tip over, utterly beyond caring that my cheek is pressed against hard leather, or that I’m smearing it with the blood of Olympus.
>
  “Tired…” Dimness wraps me up like dusk enfolding the day. The small amount of Dragon’s Breath I reclaimed doesn’t sit well inside me. I don’t want it anymore when I think about what almost happened. Griffin and I would have suffocated. Carver, Flynn, and Kato would have burned. My brave Panotii would have died.

  A violent series of coughs makes it impossible to drift off to sleep like I want to—and to breathe. “This was my fault,” I finally wheeze.

  Griffin lifts my hand to his lips. “No. You saved us.”

  An ache spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with smoke and ash. “I don’t know what happened.” Griffin blurs before me. I blink, but my eyes slide out of focus again.

  “Get up. Now.” Carver’s terse command is like a thunderbolt to my veins, flooding them with adrenaline. I turn. Oh, no.

  “Hades, Hera, and Hestia,” Flynn murmurs, drawing his ax again as well as his sword.

  Kato mutters a more violent oath as he and Flynn take up positions next to Carver, forming a wall in front of Griffin and me.

  “Up!” Griffin says sharply, hauling me to my feet.

  Low vibrations skim my ears, deep with menace. I grab Griffin’s arm for balance because my legs aren’t ready for this. No part of me is ready for this.

  Mother’s beasts are alive. Growling. Moving. A few canine shakes send their fire-blackened pelts flying. Tattoos cover the mottled skin underneath, running up and down their drum-shaped bodies in vertical lines. The ink extends down their legs to paint their enormous, razor-clawed paws.

  The sight of the primitive, powerful symbols jolts into me with the force of a physical blow. I reel back, and only Griffin’s hand on my upper arm keeps me from falling over. I’m no expert in the archaic language of wards. I don’t know all the symbols, or even how to put most of them together, but I recognize the ones for lock and fire well enough. Thanos taught me how to bar my door against my brother, although I never did it right. Wards always mutated things when I tried to use them, made my magic—“Son of a Cyclops!”

  Griffin looks at me.