Flame's Embrace

by Pillar, Amanda

  “Shh,” Bay hisses. “None of that title crap. Do ya want to put her in more danger?”

  “It’s fine,” I say, motioning to the crown woven into my hair. “It’s not like it’s easy to hide,” I tell her before turning my attention back to Shad. “Just take me as close to the land as ya can. I would never ask you to put yourself or your shark in danger.” I reach a hand out, trailing it along the side of his shark. The shark turns, snuggling his snout into my palm.

  Shad raises a brow. “Looks like Jaws has taken a shine to ya,” he says reaching a hand down to me. “Which means he’ll protect ya with his life.” He turns an earnest look to Bay. “She’ll be safe with us. Ya have my word.”

  She nods, and I slip my hand into his and allow him to pull me to his lap. His strong arms wrap around me, securing me in place.

  “Maybe when all of this is over, I can finally take you for a ride, Bay,” he says with a wink.

  Bay’s cheeks flush crimson, but she ignores his advances and swims closer. She slips a shell phone into a small seaweed satchel and hands it to me.

  “I’m not sure that will even work where you’re going,” she admits, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. “But I know you’re strong enough to do this. I tried to pack anything I could think of that would come in handy. Just...hurry home, okay? I may need you to rescue me once your father finds out what we’ve done.”

  I shoot her a smile, doing my best not to let my fear show. “Catch ya on the flip side, fishes!” And with that, we take off, leaving Bay–and all of Pacifica in our wake.

  Chapter 2

  Maren

  With each nautical mile that passes, the temperature of the water rises subtly. The land is still a dot on the horizon when Shad first notices Jaws’ building reluctance and brings us to the surface.

  The speck of land in the distance seems to shimmer. I quirk my head as I take in the flickering light that seems to emanate from the shore. Is it always this bright above the sea at night?

  Shad lets out a frustrated growl.

  “Come on, boy,” Shad says, driving us back under the water. “We can do better than this.”

  He grits his teeth, digging his fins into Jaws’ sides, as he urges him forward. A few minutes pass with the shark swimming reluctantly. I focus on the water, noting the more sudden temperature increase. I use my magic to search nearby for any sign of marine life, chewing on my lip as I notice the lack of activity. The eerie stillness of the waters isn’t normal, and my skin prickles with unease.

  Suddenly, Jaws dives lower, causing me to slip. Shad’s arm snakes around my waist, stopping me from falling as he pulls on the reins.

  “Whoa, boy,” he says, pulling us steady. His eyes are apologetic when he meets my questioning gaze. “I’m sorry, princess. I think this is as far as we go. The water is too warm. If we go any closer, he’ll have to dive to the bottom of the ocean to withstand the temperature increase.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’ve both done more than I had right to ask you. I can swim the rest of the way, but I have one more favor to ask if ya don’t mind.”

  “Name it.”

  “This is going to be more dangerous than I originally thought. The sea life is already being affected, and we’re not even that close to the shore. I need you to go back to Pacifica and watch over Bay and Loire. I don’t want them to suffer for my decisions. Ya know, just in case–”

  I let my words trail off, and Shad’s eyes widen as he catches my meaning.

  “No. No way. Maybe I should just take ya home, princess. You’re too valuable to the kingdom. I never should have agreed to help ya do this.”

  I smile at him, “I am no more important than you.”

  Shad snorts, and points to the crown of jewels that are woven into my hair. I roll my eyes and slip from his lap.

  “You know, if ya help a royal mermaid, you get a wish,” I tell him with a grin. “I could use someone like you on my Guard. Someone to help me keep Bay in line.”

  Shad lets out a hearty laugh. “Don’t let her hear ya say that. That’s one shelia who can’t be tamed.”

  I bite my lip to hold back my grin. He has Bay pegged, but I see a small glimmer of excitement in his eyes that lets me know he won’t refuse.

  “So you’ll do it?” I ask, reaching out to pet Jaws one last time.

  Shad nods. “I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you, Shad,” I say, smiling up at him. “What would you like for your wish?”

  Shad shakes his head. “If ya want to grant my wish, you’re going to have to make it back home safely, princess.”

  I grin at his cleverness. “Very well.”

  “May the tides carry you safely home.”

  “And you as well.”

  I can feel Shad’s eyes on me long after I’ve turned and began my swim to the shore. Something about knowing he’s watching emboldens me, and I move forward with a renewed determination. If people like Shad and Bay can believe in me, I sure as shell can believe in myself.

  The further I swim, the more uncomfortable I begin to feel. Not only is the water too warm, but my gills struggle to take a full breath. There is no way I am this out of shape, I think as I make my way to the surface to track my progress.

  As my head breaks the surface of the water, I gasp. The land is much closer now...and completely ablaze.

  I recoil on instinct. I’ve seen fire only once before, but it was enough for me to never want to see it again. I know the danger that hides behind the beauty of the dancing flames.

  My skin begins to feel tight. I dive back below the water, desperate for some relief from the loss of moisture. The bag slips from my shoulders, and my eyes dart around the murky waters, but it’s no use. The bag, and my lifeline to help, are somewhere in the bottom of the ocean. Nearby the species that thrive in warmer waters can still be seen, but their movements are sluggish, and I know they’re feeling the same oxygen strain that I am.

  My brows furrow in desperation. What has happened to the humans? The shores are usually brimming with them during the summer months. Perhaps they’re all sleeping? But, no. That doesn’t sound right either.

  I float back to the surface, taking in a lungful of air before slipping back into the water. Only the top of my head and eyes remain above the surface as I try to spot a human. The shoreline is deserted. I don’t even spot signs of the rubbish they always leave lying around. How long have they been gone? Are there any left?

  Indecision wars within me. Should I turn around and tell Father what I’ve seen? Will he care? What if the humans need our help? Then again, the sea has needed their help for far too long, and they don’t seem to care. But even as I think the words, I shake my head. My cousin Loch has told me tales of great machines the humans have built to clean their messes from our waters. They’re flawed, but they’re trying.

  How long will the creatures that call these shores home be able to survive? The thought crosses my mind just as the sound of a dolphin’s cry reaches me. And just like that, my mind is made up. I need to see if there’s anything Pacifica can do to help the humans. Regardless of what my father thinks, our worlds are as bound as the tides and the moon.

  Chapter 3

  Maren

  “You’re krilling me!” I huff, as I struggle to free the wiggling dolphin from a tangled net. “Calm down, girl. I’ll set ya free.” My words finally break through her panic. I run a hand along her side to further soothe her, and with one last tug, the net falls from her fin. She’s a curious little thing, and I laugh as she dances in a circle around me before nuzzling her snout into my hair. This time her curiosity got her in trouble, taking her too close to the seemingly abandoned fishing docks. I thank the ocean that I stumbled upon her when I did, and say a small prayer that my own curiosity won’t get me into trouble as well.

  She clicks her thanks, blowing bubble rings at me before darting off, back into the open water in search of her pod. I watch until she’s gone, befo
re making my way to the surface. I hug the hull of the ship, careful not to allow more than the top of my head to peek above the surface.

  I gasp as I’m finally able to take in the enormity of the flames. All along the shore, the trees are burning. My heart aches in my chest at the thought of all the humans and animals who live here. The fires rage in both directions for as far as my eyes can see. What about the animals who live in the waterways? My mind reels as I think of the damage to our fresh water brethren. The need to see how far the destruction rages hits me hard.

  I swim for what feels like hours as I make my way down a small channel. The water loses more of its brine with each passing minute. Though the banks are wide enough for me to fit easily, the water is shallower than I’m used to, and filled with sharp rocks and debris. With each flick of my tail, I become more battered, and my gills struggle to filter oxygen from the tepid water.

  “Fintastic,” I mutter, as my tail bangs against another rock. The sharp edge slices a deep gouge into my left fin, ripping a whimper from my throat. I watch in horror as the water begins to shimmer with the aquamarine hue of my blood, sending my pulse racing. I have to get out of the water before the smell of it causes a frenzy.

  With one powerful flick of my tail, I launch myself to the surface. I haven’t seen a human since I started my journey, but the issue of my blood loss takes precedence over the risk of exposing myself. A mermaid’s blood is a powerful drug to the fish and reptiles who share the waters with us. Just a taste is enough to make them crazed with bloodlust, but it’s also a toxin, strong enough to kill them in large doses. I have to get out of the water–to save myself and any animals who may be hiding nearby.

  I break the surface, shooting water in all directions, and the earth sizzles. I use my magic, pulling the minerals from the water until I’m clothed in a sparkling white gown.

  “Son of a swordfish,” I cry, as my bare feet touch the scorched earth.

  I react on instinct, pulling the water from its bed and dousing the banks. The land makes angry hisses as the water sizzles against the heated earth. I pull more water from the river, creating a tiny pool beneath me and breath a sigh of relief as the sand beneath my feet cools considerably.

  “Holy carp,” I shout, as I catch my first glimpse of my new body. “I have legs!”

  I grasp at the hem of my dress, already stained blue from my blood tinging the water, and pull the fabric aside so I can see them. Jiggling jellyfish! I really did it! My tail is actually gone. In its place are two very human legs. I lean forward, but the bottom half of my body remains firmly planted on the ground.

  “Move,” I say, frowning down at the apparently useless appendages. My left foot stings, and my body makes the decision to ease the pain by raising it without my permission, sending me toppling over.

  “Ahh,” I cry, as I tumble into a heap. My body feels a million times heavier outside the water, and I grunt as my hip takes the brunt of my fall. “These things are a menace,” I grumble. I have no idea what the big fuss is. If this is what having legs is like, I think I much prefer my tail.

  I flinch as a loud crack sounds from nearby. My eyes freeze in horror as I watch a large tree tumble over farther upstream, blocking the river’s waters. Determination straightens my spine, and I clamber to my feet once more. I wobble like a walrus as I make my way down the bank. I’m not graceful by any means–a first to be sure, but eventually, I make it to my destination. Are humans this slow? How do they manage to get anything done?

  I frown as I turn my attention back to the tree, taking in its size. I glance around, checking one last time to make sure I’m well and truly alone, then I call to the water. It flows around the tree, easily doing my bidding. I jerk my hand, sending the tree flying back to the shore. The water rushes with a renewed urgency toward the sea and I breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short lived as a horrifying cry sounds from the bush near my right. I spin, eyes wide as an animal swings from the cropping of trees. Patches of its gray fur are singed black, while others seep with a red liquid.

  My magic reacts on instinct, wrapping itself around the poor creature. I pull the animal toward me, tears streaming down my face as I take in how injured it truly is. I expect the furry bugger to fight me, but the cooling effects of the water seem to soothe it. My tears mix with the water as I cradle it to my chest.

  I watch in wonder as my tears amplify the magic in the water, erasing the angry wounds.

  “Holy carp!” I gasp as my magic soothes each injury it touches. I wave my hand, carefully pulling the magic up and over the animal’s head to soothe the burns to its ears. “Careful now, Bruce,” I soothe, when he starts to fight against the water. When my magic has repaired all the damage, I let the water fall.

  “Crikey!” I cringe as I glance down at the little fellow. “You’re a rather scary bloke when you’re wet. Did ya know that?”

  Another cry comes from the trees, and the furry fella in my arms calls back.

  “Is that your family?” I ask.

  He looks up at me expectantly, and I bite my lip in indecision. I came here to check on the marine life and see what was causing the problems back home. It’s clear that something horrid has happened to the humans. Their world is on fire, and that puts all of us in danger. I didn’t come here to save them or the animals that live on the land, but now that I’m here, I can’t turn my tail on them.

  Mind made up, I turn. “Okay, little fella. I’ll help.”

  I situate him on one hip to free up my hands. Then with one last, deep breath, I call on my magic. I pull the water from the riverbed, forming a ball, and raise it high into the air. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I release it. Letting the water rain down on the scorched land around me.

  I pull from the river again and again, until my magic and the water are too drained for me to continue. I watch as the last ball of my magic explodes across the sky, raining down on the grateful earth. I sink to my knees as a bone deep exhaustion drags me down like the tides. And then, my world goes dark.

  Chapter 4

  Flint

  I give a thumbs up, signaling to the pilot that I’m ready to go, before throwing myself from the side of the plane. For a split second, the exhilaration of the fall steals my breath, then my training kicks in.

  My eyes scan the bush below me, searching for the safest place for me to land. I take note of Hudson, my jump partner, and chuckle when I see he’s heading straight for the heart of the flames. He’s a crazy fucker, but he’s got an intuition when it comes to fire that’s unparalleled. The bastard will probably make it back to our rendezvous point before I do and still manage to find enough action to tell a Texan-sized story.

  My eyes dart back to the fast approaching landscape, searching out the best spot to land. I can make out a small river in the distance. The land near it is scorched, but there seems to be a small patch the flames have not yet reached. I quickly decide on my course and maneuver myself into position.

  My boots sizzle the moment I make impact, and the brush breaks and crunches under my weight. I make quick work of repacking my parachute and scan my surroundings. I’ve been helping with the fires for two weeks, but the absolute destruction never fails to stun me. I quiet my breathing and stretch my hearing, hoping to pick up the sound of the river. When I finally hear the rushing waters, my pulse spikes with excitement. My fingers twitch with the need to curl around a board, but I tamp the feeling down. There will be time for me to reunite with my first love, the ocean, after this blaze is under control. I shake my head, clearing away the images my mind has conjured up of the perfect curl and begin my hike in the direction of the sound. Even though my feet urge me to run faster, I move slowly, taking my time to clear any combustible material along the way.

  Today’s jump puts me directly in the path of an encroaching fire, and my mission is to create a firebreak by clearing the brush and digging a trench in hopes of saving the small campground and handful of homes nearby before mak
ing my way back to the main road for extraction.

  I scan the landscape, making sure to stay alert. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my short time as a smoke jumper, it’s that you can never be too careful. You never know when a shift in the wind will send the flames in a new direction, trapping you. I’ve already lost a couple of buddies to the flames in the sliver of time since we left training, and I have no intention of joining their ranks. Still, these fires are unlike any I’ve ever seen. After two days of flying from our base in Fairbanks, we were thrown head first into the fight. And even though we’ve been battling the flames in sixteen hour stretches, I leave each new shift feeling as though we’ve barely made a dent. Every day is starting to feel like an endless lesson in futility. No matter how hard we fight, the flames seem to fight even harder.

  A koala’s cry sounds from my right, drawing my attention immediately. No matter how many times I hear the sound, which has been far less with each passing day, the mewling always sends a punch to my gut.

  I drop the debris I’m hauling and run toward the animal’s cries. Another koala joins in, sending my pulse racing. Is a family of them trapped by the raging inferno? Determination lengthens my strides. Already, scientists fear they’re on the edge of extinction, so I’ll be damned if I let another one perish.

  I break through the treeline, my feet skittering across the loose rocks, and come to a stop on the edge of the river. There, across the banks, is a small colony of koalas.

  I frown, unsure why so many of them are gathered in one place, not to mention, what has them so upset. They appear to be huddled around something, but they’re blocking too much of it for me to get a good look. Is one of them injured? Though my degree is in marine biology, the determination to help the injured animals steels my spine. Mind made up, I pull a rope from my bag, tie it to a tree, and begin the swim across the river.