Breath of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  He murdered his father only to rule just like him—with a greedy heart and iron fists. People like Galen don’t deserve to live, let alone rule. Griffin is right. Griffin is always right.

  I’ll have to tell him one of these days.

  A scrape of keys and the tumble of a heavy lock drive home that we’re being treated like prisoners instead of celebrated guests. The gate swings open, and I lick my parched lips.

  Softly, and only to me, Griffin says, “Trust in the Gods, Cat. This is it, the beginning of the end.”

  Nodding, I try to swallow, but there’s only dust in my mouth as the guards surround us.

  They lead us through a series of gardens before we enter the castle itself and then make our way to a lavish throne room. I should focus on Alpha and Delta Tarva, but Ianthe is all I can see. She’s seated on a small, cushioned chair on the far side of Lystra, Galen’s youngest sister. Ianthe’s eyes are wide, her anxious gaze glued to my heavily painted face. Her fingers curl around the arms of her chair, making her look ready to spring up at any moment and fly off the dais.

  What is she thinking? Why is she here? Has she betrayed me?

  Everyone already knows to spare Ianthe unless she attacks. We’ll spare anyone who doesn’t attack.

  My fingers itch for knives I don’t have. Despite the change in circumstance, not one of us suggested aborting our plan. We worked too hard to get here. But without weapons, we don’t really even have a plan, and as my eyes finally land on Galen Tarva, I have to wonder what in the name of Olympus we think we’re doing here. The idea of strolling into Castle Tarva and taking over the realm was dangerous to begin with. Now, it seems positively fatal—something no sane person should even consider.

  There must be a sane person around here somewhere.

  I glance at my teammates. No furtive looks. No subtly shaking heads. Nothing. Not a sane person among us, I guess.

  I return my focus to Alpha Tarva. He’s tall and thick, but not with muscle. His lips appear to be shaped in a permanent sneer. Cold, hard eyes betray nothing of his thoughts, but he must be on edge. Why else would we be here so soon? And why else would he have ordered his guards to march us straight through his deadly work from a decade and a half ago and then to cage us in that courtyard for hours?

  “Congratulations, Elpis.” Galen’s obvious scorn turns the name into an insult. “Your unexpected victory will no doubt inspire verse and song.”

  Well, I certainly hope so.

  Instinct takes over—the instinct to antagonize and defy anyone on a throne. “That’s preferable to laments and dirges, which is the usual result of flattening a peaceful neighborhood. How many killed? Over four thousand? I’m sure those kids didn’t want to grow up anyway.”

  Galen gapes blankly at me for a moment before his stunned expression ices back over, freezing into cold condescension. “You dare much.”

  I shrug. “You’d be surprised at what I dare.” Which includes blatant bluffing because, right now, I have very little to back up my bravado.

  Alpha Tarva’s eyes narrow into slits. “Bow before me, or I’ll have all your heads on spikes.”

  “Now that’s just not nice,” I say.

  Everyone on the dais gasps. It’s so in sync that it’s almost harmonious. Galen shoots his family a black look, but the glare he turns back on me is positively murderous.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” Griffin says coolly.

  Alpha Tarva’s reddish eyebrows slam together. His hair veers toward orange, but it’s lackluster and graying in places. It’s nothing like the blazing fireball all around his sister Bellanca’s head. With hair like that, I’d bet my knife collection her magic is of the flaming sort.

  The marble statues lining the walls start to rattle. Galen’s temper shakes the ground, and unease unfurls in my middle. No one has heard of him using his Elemental Magic in years. That’s why everyone assumes…

  The stones under our feet rumble and quake, and I widen my stance to keep my balance as a crack streaks up the wall behind Galen’s throne.

  My unease turns into ice-cold dread. Son of a Cyclops! I should know better than to assume!

  “A change?” Disbelief colors Galen’s furious tone even darker.

  My heart starts to race. I can’t believe we’re going through with this. We’re weak, weaponless. This is madness. But it’s such an opportunity.

  Trust in the Gods, Cat. Griffin’s words come back to me with startling force. The Gods have always, always, been there for me. When the swimming really gets rough, Poseidon throws me a hand. Or gills. Or his trident!

  I send a quick but fervent prayer to Olympus and then give Galen my sharpest, most chilling smile. “We’ve decided you should bow before us. And just so we’re all clear, it’s either that, or die.”

  Everyone on the dais stares at me, clearly shocked to their bones. If I had a knife, I’d use the moment of surprise to prove we’re serious. I’m sure Galen doesn’t need his kneecap. Or that extra roll around his middle.

  Acantha is the first to react. Swiveling her head with the quick, sliding grace of a snake, she turns to look first at her brother and then back at me. The Drakon charmer hisses when she speaks. “The Cyclops slayer. Courageous, but stupid.”

  I put the weight of a thousand terrible moments fought and lived through into my heavy stare. “The last person to call me stupid didn’t live long.”

  Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem cowed. A small snake appears from somewhere behind her head and slithers down her arm. Its sinewy body hits the marble floor with a slap and then grows as it advances. The serpent keeps getting bigger. It looks mean. And fast.

  I swallow. There’s no way that’s not venomous.

  Next to me, there’s a pop, a flash of light, and then a growl. Something shaggy and huge materializes at my side.

  My eyes widen. “Cerberus!” Hades must have sent him to us!

  The Hound of the Underworld leaps forward and snaps up the snake. His three fang-filled mouths tear it apart. Within seconds, there’s nothing left.

  I grin like I’m not shocked out of my mind. “And here you thought you took all our weapons.” I take a chance and, for the first time ever, reach up and lay my hand on Cerberus’s back. His coarse fur twitches under my fingers, and I can’t believe my hand doesn’t melt—or fall off—or spontaneously combust.

  “My boy’s hungry,” I tell Acantha. “Got any more?”

  Acantha goes from blank-faced surprise to full-on rage. Her hair morphs into a headful of snakes, which is truly disturbing. They detach, leaving her bald, which is pretty disturbing as well, and then every last serpent slithers straight for me, growing exponentially as they converge.

  Cerberus’s lethal claws scrabble on the marble floor as he bays. The terrible sound of primal, excited violence scrapes down my spine and makes me want to cringe in mortal fear. Poisonous canine saliva hisses against rock and scales, and then the hound pounces, devouring the snakes as they come.

  Galen’s face turns ruddy with fury. His chin jerks up, and he flicks his hand. The armed guards that took us from the arena march down the long throne room.

  Everyone here knows we killed a Cyclops and won the Agon Games. I wonder what they think they can do. Then again, we have no blades, no offensive magic, and some of us are severely injured. Everyone here knows that, too.

  Ianthe leaps off the dais, fearlessly skirting snakes and Cerberus to get behind us. She places herself in front of the oncoming guards, and I turn to her, my heart hitting a wild, panicked beat.

  “What are you—” My protest dies on my lips when the air suddenly turns so dry it hurts my eyes. Ianthe sweeps her hands in front of her, and a violent surge of water pours from her palms. The torrent washes the guards from the room in a tumbling, head-over-legs mess. The brutal spray keeps them back while Flynn and Kato race down the sides of the ro
om. The moment our men are behind the high, double doors, Ianthe cuts off the magic so they can shoulder the heavy panels closed.

  Kato slumps against the wall, clearly spent after the sprint, while Flynn drops the heavy crosspiece into the iron cradles, locking the guards out. Locking us in.

  I gape at Ianthe. My little sister is a Water Mage! “That’s unheard of in the Fisan line.”

  She cocks a dark eyebrow at me, smirking a little, and my Gods, it’s like looking in a mirror. “Well, we all know Mother slept around.”

  “No.” Galen exhales the word in disbelief. There goes my hidden identity.

  Ianthe whirls on him. “You will not touch my sister, you filthy bastard!”

  The explosive fury in her low, trembling voice carves a hole deep in my chest. I know in that instant that Galen has treated her horribly, possibly abused her in ways I can’t bring myself to even think about. I also know I have another true ally, and my racing heart jerks painfully inside me. I don’t deserve her loyalty. If only I’d defended her half as well.

  Ianthe puts herself between Jocasta and me, looking downright savage, and I feel her staking her claim to her rightful place at my side. Our eyes meet in a flare of bright green, and for a moment, everything else stops.

  “Ianthe!” Lystra yells.

  My sister doesn’t look away from me. “The three youngest Tarvan royals are like us.”

  Us. The word knots in my stomach. What does she think I am? What if I’m not?

  “Enough!” Galen snaps. Magic gathers around him. Significant power. I feel it pulling on the air. On me.

  He rips Ianthe from my side with a powerful, pinpointed gust of wind. She cries out, and I lunge for her, grabbing air. Tossed like a leaf in a winter gale, she twists and spins until she hits the marble wall on our right with a horrible thud. She falls to the floor, silent.

  No.

  I blink. No!

  Lightning spirals down my right arm and coils around my fingertips. Heartbreak and rage erupt on a scream as I point my hand at Galen and let the bolt roll off me with a thundering crack.

  He dives out of the path of my fury and then slams his hand down on the ground where he lands. A fissure splits the floor and races toward my feet, widening fast. There’s no time to move, and I drop into the gaping hole, hitting uneven ground and jarring my injured ribs.

  “Cat!” Griffin shouts.

  I look up. The crack runs the length of the room and is twice my height. Griffin’s clothing flaps under the force of Galen’s wind, but the Elemental Magic has no effect on his body. Galen must be trying to drive Griffin into the hole with me, but not even a hair stirs on Griffin’s head. He’s utterly immune.

  Griffin gets down low and reaches for me. I’m too far away, and he curses.

  Galen starts chanting, and the jagged walls begin to close. Fear kicks me into action, and I start grappling for a hold. Dirt and rock dust crumble under my hands, sliding down the sides of the hole. I turn in a frantic circle. There’s nothing to grab on to. Not a root or a stone!

  Griffin vaults over the side of the crack and lands next to me.

  “What are you doing?” I cry.

  Without a word, he squats, grabs my ankles, and then heaves me out of the hole.

  I land on the edge with a grunt and then throw my legs over the top. Cerberus is still eating snakes, his three-headed, canine body too massive to be moved by the gale. Acantha is behind Galen, along with Galen’s two sons. The three youngest Tarvan sisters are huddled around Ianthe against the wall.

  I glance over my shoulder. Flynn, Carver, Kato, and Jocasta have all been blown across the room, and Galen’s wind is pinning them to the double doors. It starts blowing me away, too, and I spin on my belly to grab the edge of the crack.

  “Griffin!”

  He looks up from searching for a way out. The walls are still closing in. Griffin spreads his arms and pushes. His muscles bulge. His arms shudder, and then his elbows bend.

  Panic whips through me. I have to take out Galen. I have to stop his chant.

  I push up onto my knees, automatically reaching for my knives as the wind slides me across the floor. Weaponless!

  I need another lightning bolt. I pull with my heart, reach out with my hands. Fail!

  “Griffin!” Keeping low, I claw my way back toward the fissure. The hole is only a few feet across now, and relentlessly narrowing.

  Cerberus raises his heads. A limp serpent dangles from one mouth. The hound swats a tangle of snakes aside with a giant paw and then bounds over to the pit and drops in a head. The head reappears an instant later with Griffin’s entire upper body stuffed between its jaws.

  I gasp, terrified.

  Galen’s wind cuts off abruptly, and the sudden silence is resounding.

  Cerberus rears back just as the deep crack bangs shut with a cloud of stone dust and billowing grit. The room stops shaking. Cerberus opens his mouth and tosses Griffin at me. Griffin slides on his hip across the wet, debris-littered floor, twisting to a stop next to me. Gasping for air, he shakes damp, plastered-down hair out of his face. The leather and clothing from his shoulders to his waist are half eaten away by poisonous dog slobber, but Griffin himself appears to be fine. He’s even immune to that!

  Cerberus starts pouncing on snakes again, and we scramble to our feet, Griffin inevitably putting himself in front of me.

  Galen blasts his wind again, and I huddle behind Griffin’s back. I look behind and see the violent swell of air stop Flynn’s advance and send the big warrior crashing back against the throne room doors again with the others.

  To the right of the dais, Bellanca and Lystra stay crouched over Ianthe’s unmoving form. From the way they’re carefully touching her, I think she might be alive, and I send out a fervent prayer to the Gods that I haven’t lost her just when I found her again.

  A sudden, deep boom resonates throughout the room. The double doors shudder, and our friends struggle to move over to the side. The guards have brought a battering ram.

  Galen cuts off his wind again, stopping the monumental force barreling down the throne room and driving into the heavy doors. The battering ram’s next hit cracks the crosspiece holding the doors closed. The hit after that sends the panels crashing open. Eight soaking-wet guards rush into the room. A dozen others are sprawled in the hallway beyond, still knocked out by Ianthe’s wave.

  Flynn throws Jocasta at Carver, Kato plants himself in front of the two of them, and then Flynn charges with a roar.

  “Go.” I push Griffin toward the others. “I have Cerberus.”

  He looks at me, clearly torn, but then takes off running. Cerberus is no joke.

  I turn back to face Galen and Acantha. My eyes widen. What in the Gods’ names is Appoline doing in the middle of things? Her expression oddly vacant, she wanders in front of the royal dais, looking lost.

  I dart a glance over my shoulder again, keeping Cerberus as a buffer between the Tarvan royals and me. Flynn has fallen back to protect our weaker elements while Griffin rams into the guards single-handedly. He takes a hit, and blood washes down his arm. Anxiety tears through my chest, but Griffin got in close enough to grab the guard and take away his sword. He throws the blade to Flynn, leaving himself weaponless again. My stomach does a nauseating somersault as Griffin powers forward once more, using the guard as a body shield.

  I turn back around. I know Griffin. He’ll do whatever it takes to get a sword, and then he’ll be unstoppable.

  Galen looks on, his expression tense and furious. Fuming as well, Acantha keeps sending out snakes, which, along with her conniving intelligence, is apparently all she’s got. Cerberus snaps them up as fast as they come, sometimes shaking them like giant rope toys before throwing their mangled carcasses back at Acantha’s feet.

  A marble statue on my left shudders and then cracks in half. The bust hurtles t
oward me on a driving wind, and I dive out of the way. Galen throws the bottom half at me before I’m even on my feet again and then breaks another statue in two with his stone-shattering power.

  I leap left, then right, dodging, but my feet slip on the damp floor and catch in rubble. Panting and clutching my aching ribs, I try to take shelter behind Cerberus again, but he’s chasing snakes and moving too much to really cover me. Since I don’t feel even a hint of my lightning inside me, I grit my teeth and reach out for Galen’s magic instead. If I can crack stone and drive wind, maybe I can toss some of this wreckage back at him.

  Within seconds, I know it’s a useless effort. I’m too weak to access my own magic, let alone steal his.

  I underestimated Galen, and he was smart all these years to not call attention to himself apart from his initial outburst. He’s probably the most powerful Elemental Mage of our time. Air. Rock. Ground. Astounding control over it all. No wonder Acantha was sneaking her way toward the Sintan throne. She knew better than to take on her older brother. All this time, we were following her moves when we should have been watching him.

  With just the power of a thought, Galen’s marble throne comes spiraling toward me on a surge of wind. I dive, but there’s no getting fully out of the way. The heavy chair clips my legs, sending me spinning across the floor. Loose stones scrape my arms and jaw as I skid, sprawled out, thrown even farther from Cerberus. The impact jolts me all over, but something searing and harsher burns through my legs. Gasping, I try to stand and collapse back down, my feet sliding out from under me.

  “Cat!”

  I turn, my breath hissing between my teeth. Frantic gray eyes meet mine. I don’t move—I can’t—and Griffin turns into a raging animal, a sword in each hand, his entire body a weapon. He’s coming, but he’s outnumbered. And nowhere near me.