A deep voice bellowed off the water from the ledge above. “LolaShar!”
“I am almost done!” a girl’s voice replied.
“You should not be doing that!”
“You do not mind when I sell them, Papa,” she yelled back at him, grinning, even though he couldn’t see her. She plucked one final pearl from a mollusc and dove from her secluded cave-ledge into the water.
Ni-To watched as his raven-haired daughter swam from the grotto and into his view. With jaw clenched and arms crossed, his silent reprimand was obvious, yet ineffective, on his defiant daughter.
“You are almost twelve suns long,” he scolded while she climbed up to his perch.
“I know, Papa. Ember Law,” Lola replied with professed remorse. “Fire is light. The sea is darkness.” Her wide-eyed, innocent gaze seemed ineffective on her father.
They trudged back through the woods toward the village.
“Shake yourself dry,” Ni-To commanded. “Why I let your mother teach you to swim, I do not know,” he muttered.
After trekking just long enough for Lola’s clothes to dry, the forest opened upon a collection of yurts where the smell of smoke and fire hung in the air. Gentle waves lapped at a sandy beach visible to the west of town, but no docks or boats were there.
At the centre of the settlement, three tall, stone spires spewed smoke and ash from slim, but ferocious blazes. Their broad bases had openings where elders fed logs dipped in various oils that changed depending on the type of wood and the weather.
The Flame-keepers worked these fires sleeveless; the disfigured skin of their arms was white from shoulder to hand, contrasting their sun kissed, olive skin. The disfigurations weren’t random scars, but intricate designs painted in heat and pain.
The town bustled with activity around the spires. Some talked and cooked while others sat on large stones. At one end of the village, a collection of painted horses was tied and tended to by smiling children.
“Ni-ToShar!” said a threatening voice from behind.
Lola watched her father’s eyes close in frustration. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Papa,” she whispered.
The voice belonged to RinShar, one of the Flame-keepers. He stood with his hand outstretched; a small, rose-coloured pearl was pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
MiMoShar, his grandson, huddled behind him, gaze trained on the ground.
Lola stared daggers at MiMo. The boy was two suns older than Lola but always cowered behind the robes of his grandfather, the Flame-keeper.
“Weasel,” Lola mouthed at MiMo before turning back to her father. She let go of his hand and walked to the spires.
Sharp eyes first went to RinShar—the Flame-keeper who held the pearl—and then to MiMo.
Lola plopped stoically on a stone and adjusted her smock, exposing her back. A series of scars in various stages of healing covered her skin from nape to small.
“Bring me the drake tail,” RinShar called with a smirk to a junior keeper.
A young woman with an arm half-covered in pale, intentional scars darted away and returned with the implement.
Rin wrapped his fingers around the handle and let the eight leather lashes fall. He was tall, but the tails of the tool still brushed the ground. The lashes whistled sharply as he swung the implement in the open air before his eyes turned to Lola’s exposed back.
The onlookers winced as Rin brought the drake-tail down.
Lola’s jaw clenched when the first strike landed. A bead of sweat formed along her forehead with the second, but no sound came from her lips.
After the third and final strike snapped across her back, LolaShar quietly let out a held breath, and Ni-To opened his eyes. In the silence left behind from leather cleaving into flesh, Lola blinked away her tears.
“The sea is darkness, LolaShar,” Rin said.
“And the fire is light. Thank you, RinShar,” she said with adolescent sharpness. “But I think that is wrong. The sea could provide—”
“That is Elder RinShar,” he interrupted.
“Elder RinShar,” she conceded with rancour.
He frowned and then addressed those who had gathered to witness her punishment, including the leader of the Flame-keepers, BoShar. “At the dawn of time, the Sun lit our spires. We are the house of Three Fires and Ember Law is our creed. To enter the sea is to break Ember Law. The sea is cold and fire is warmth. The sea is darkness and fire is light. We must not offend her. We must remember our sister, VaiShar.”
Most of the townspeople shook their heads, but Lola pulled a bit of strength from the mention of the myth. Her mother, VaiShar, was a renegade in the house of Three Fires and did not fear the sea. Though it was the sea that took her. Boshar frowned slightly at the determination in Lola’s eyes.
Lola readjusted her shirt and walked straight past the gathered crowd. She forced her back to remain straight, both out of pride and out of knowledge that removing a blood-wet shirt was as painful as the lashings; it was best to keep the blood sticking in as few places as possible.
“That child has a spirit like none other, Ni-To,” Rin said, watching her depart.
“I know, Elder Rin. I do not know what to do,” Ni-To said.
“She will bring terrible things upon us.”
Ni-To bit his tongue. Lola, who had stopped and looked back, could see the veins at her father’s temple throbbing.
Rin gave the drake tail a final twirl before returning it to the attendant keeper. “If she transgresses after the kiss, we will have no choice but to banish her,” he said matter-of-factly.
Ni-To frowned and cast a worried eye toward BoShar.
“By Ember Law, a child on their twelfth Long Sun shall receive the kiss of the coals,” BoShar, head of the three Flame-keepers, bellowed to the entire town who had convened around the spires. “Step forward and present your shale, LolaShar.”
A wry smile crept across her face as she presented a rock she’d pulled from the seafloor.
Bo took her sea-shale and struck it with a mallet, forming a sharp edge before placing it into the red coals at the pit’s edge. “LolaShar, born of Ni-ToShar and Li-TiShar, returned to Ash.”
Father and daughter locked mournful eyes.
“Today, you will receive the kiss of the coals,” Bo proclaimed. “Do you accept the fire?”
“Yes,” came her unconvincing reply.
Bo signalled for quiet until the only sounds were the soft crackling of flames and the breeze whistling through yurts. Lola shuffled in her spot until Bo pulled on thick leather gloves and retrieved Lola’s stone from the coals. He held it for the town to see, and Lola presented her sleeveless arm to the head Flame-keeper.
Bo pressed the shale flat against her skin and scraped downward, smearing it black with charcoal. Then he turned the stone edge-wise and carved three flame symbols into her upper arm.
A clenched jaw sufficed for the drake-tail, but she let a groan slip during the kiss.
When he had finished, Bo picked up a handful of sand and poured it over her arm. Charcoal and blood were swept away, leaving only the red and blistering wounds.
“The sea is cold, and the fire is warmth,” he called ceremoniously.
The townsfolk answered in unison. “The sea is darkness, and the fire is light.”
At the rite’s conclusion, Bo leaned into Lola. “Lola. You must not enter the sea again. RinShar is a keeper and has passed the Trial of the Flame. I cannot help you if—”
“I understand, Elder BoShar. I promise.”
They nodded in mutual respect before she rose, careful not to coddle her arm.
Lola laid in her bed, tracing the nearly healed scars on her arm. Morning had come, and her father had left for the day. Ni-To was an Oilist who spent his mornings turning local ingredients into the fuels that fed the fires. A soft rain pattered on their hide tent and lulled Lola back into slumber.
The sudden sound of deafening thunder inside the tent ripped Lola from her second sleep. The straps that held the leather door of the tent were barely hanging on, and the roof billowed up and slammed down with frightening percussion.
Lola stumbled out and looked up to the swirling darkness surrounding the town. It was a massive ring of cloud that thundered and spat lightning to the ground below. Animals, trees, yurts, even bodies, of all sizes were whisked up into a storm bigger than any she’d seen.
She frantically searched for Ni-To amid the chaos. “PAPA!”
“LOLASHAR!” He looked at her, parental despair wide in his eyes. “THE CELLARS!” he yelled, pointing to the cellars, beside which were the Flame-keepers tents. The under crofts were usually meant to house stores, even though winters were mild.
Still, Ni-To wasn’t the only one considering refuge in the underground pantry. A man struggled to enter the cellars, but Rin barred his passage before kicking him in the gut. Doubled over, a stray yurt pole burst through his head, in one ear and out the other. With wide eyes still locked on Rin, his body slumped into death. The mangled remains of the yurt crashed in heap not far away.
Rin looked around before covering his own head and retreating underground. The horizontal hatch slammed behind him.
Ni-To dove and tackled Lola just as a yurt boomed past, backed by a large gust of wind. It tangled into a woman’s skirt further down the main road, and together they were hurled up into the sky. The fabric tore free, and the woman fell a dozen spire-lengths back to the ground. She didn’t move again.
“COME. THIS WAY!” Lola shouted directly into her father’s face. She grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet to led him through the forest to the rocky ledges of her pearling grounds. Lola leaned in and yelled over the roaring storm. “WE HAVE TO JUMP.”
Ni-To stared at his brave daughter, but decades of Ember Law held him in place.
She cursed, then grabbed his arm and pulled him over the ledge. Their hands broke apart when they hit the water. Lola surfaced alone. She looked around in the rumbling black sea for her father while struggling for air between waves.
She repeatedly screamed with no answer. “PAPA! PAPA!”
A large swell lifted Lola, and she spotted Ni-To between her and the cave. They locked eyes, and he motioned for her to follow him. They swam into the shelter and climbed a ledge out of the water and the storm. The two sat speechless, trying to catch their breath.
“I am glad Mama taught you to swim, too,” Lola eventually said. “I wasn’t sure when we jumped.”
They held one another close, and Ni-To angled his body between his daughter and the storm. Rock and debris whipped across the cave’s opening, making a window to the chaos and havoc outside.
Lola prayed—to no god in particular—that the water didn’t rise and drown them both.
The sun broke the tempest sometime later, and the wind abated to a gentle breeze. Lola pulled away from her father’s chest and found their window of the world had turned quite pleasant.
Both had suffered dozens of cuts and scrapes from the storm, but they were alive.
Lola lowered herself from the ledge, but Ni-To remained hesitantly in place. “You have already been in the sea today, Papa,” she said.
He jumped timidly into the water, barely clearing the rocks before starting to swim for shore. They climbed out of the sea and began the trek to the village. In the forest, ancient trees had been snapped like twigs and strewn about.
“We must tell the keepers,” Ni-To said repentantly.
“The sea saved us today.”
Ni-To wasn’t convinced but didn’t argue further.
If the storm seemed mighty in the forest, it was indiscriminately cruel in the village. Cries of agony, both from loss of kin and loss of limb, rang through the town. Lola cursed the sentimentality of keeping the sharp kiss-shales—many were embedded in the bodies and destroyed tents.
If they had just gotten rid of them, maybe more people would be alive . . .
Up ahead, in front of the pit, Bo sat slumped with his head in his hands. Ni-To and Lola ran to his side but gasped when they saw the spires.
One of the flames had been extinguished.
“We are doomed,” Bo lamented. “Three flames have burned since the First-Keepers. Lit by the dawn of time.”
A hush fell across every person as they laid eyes on the absent flame. Murmurs and whispers turned to shouts.
“SHE DID IT!” one woman said, pointing to Lola.
“SHE SNUFFED THE FLAME!” another called.
“Enough! Please. LolaShar has obeyed the flame. She has not transgressed since the kiss.” Rin, seemingly unscathed, boomed for everyone to hear before lowering his voice. “Is that not right, Lola?”
Lola froze.
Rin continued. “You are both alive. That is most important. Where did you take cover?”
“IN THE WATER!” a voice boomed from behind.
Ni-To took a deep breath, clearly preparing to beg for forgiveness.
Before he could, another voice exclaimed from the crowd, “THERE’S A PERSON ON THE BEACH!”
Ni-To exhaled, and Lola turned toward the shore. A body was face down and half in the water; its legs disappeared under each wave.
Lola broke from her father’s side and bolted to the beach. She grabbed the person’s arms and pulled him back from the sea—careful not to enter with everyone’s eyes on her—then rolled him onto his back and put her ear to his mouth.
He wasn’t breathing.
Lola locked her mouth on his and exhaled deeply, stopping only to listen for breath. On her fourth series of attempted resuscitation, the person spewed a torrent of seawater into her face. She pushed him over on his side and let him empty the rest of his lungs on the sand.
The ragged townspeople looked on as Lola fell back on the sand, her chest heaving in near harmony with the waves.
Bo was the first to speak. “Take him to the fire.”
Someone threw a bed roll near the spires and they dumped the large, pale body onto it. Considerably taller than any of the townspeople, the man’s bare feet stuck out well beyond the end of the mat. The man had a head of blonde hair and a matching scraggly beard streaked with white. He wore only a pair of linen breeches, and his bare, muscular torso was adorned with strange tattoos and scars.
Lola stood in sober thought before the three spires—two made up of flames and the final from the half-naked and unconscious man from the sea.
“He was asleep for three days, BoShar. And has no idea who he is. What are we to do with him?” Rin asked.
“I do not know. He is a Stranger, but the storm put him here. There must be a reason.”
“A flame has gone out, Bo, and will not relight. Three flames have burned since the first dawn. This man from the sea is a bad omen.”
“He is here now and in our care. Only the kissed can be cast out.”
Rin grumbled under his breath but knew that Bo—and Ember Law—were right. He huffed and joined a group of people huddled in conversation, occasionally looking in the Stranger’s direction.
The house of Three Flames had kept its word. They fed the Stranger and provided bedding and materials as best they could. It would be a long time before they salvaged and hunted the hides to rebuild their walls and roofs; they’d have to make do with what had survived the storm.
Like his impromptu hosts, the Stranger fashioned a palm leaf open-air shelter not far from the spires.
Lola had taken up the habit of talking to the Stranger by candlelight after long days of repairs around town. She’d bring helpings of boar jerky and fruit from the forest and ask, “What do you remember?”
“Just falling. And salt water.”
“And you do not know your name?”
The Stranger shook his head in response to her question.
“What do your tattoos mean?” Lola held the candle closer to the Stranger’s arm to examine them more closely.
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
She raised a confused eyebrow at the unfamiliar term.
“It means I don’t know,” he added with a smile through his thick blonde beard.
“Everything about you is strange.”
“Well, if the shoe fits!”
His reply was met with another eyebrow.
She stood and started to walk away from the shelter, then turned and hurled a stone back in his direction. The Stranger raised his hand and caught it while his other arm reached across his body at his waist.
She smiled proudly. “I think you had a sword, Stranger.”
“What if I hadn’t reacted?”
“Then you would have a broken nose, and we would still not know anything.” Lola smiled mischievously as she re-joined the Stranger. “Let us see what else you can do.”
Someone approached the pair from behind. “Get up,” a man said.
“Go away, FloShar,” Lola said to the man.
“No. My corn is wilted. We have grown corn since the first Keepers. It has never wilted.” He pushed the Stranger hard in the chest. “You put the flame out. It is your fault, you—”
His yell was cut short by the strong hand of the Stranger clamping hard on his neck. A cold, distant look came over the Stranger’s eyes as he lifted the villager, high enough that his feet dangled just above the ground.
“Stop it!” Lola demanded and put her hand on the Stranger’s arm.
The Stranger obeyed and released his grip. The villager crumpled to the ground, gasping as he struggled to get away. The dark look in the Stranger’s eyes gave way to the warmth Lola had come to like.
For the next two seasons, Lola led the Stranger through dozens of experiments, trying to coax any details from his subconscious. The ire he drew from the townspeople further fed Lola’s rebellion and determination.
Just because he was a Stranger did not mean he deserved to be treated with scorn and suspicion like her.
Her first experiment for him was sparring. Though not a worthy adversary, Lola was disarmed by the Stranger so quickly that even he had to agree with her sword thesis. After the short-lived bout, he removed the wooden stick from her neck and they both laughed.
“Your scars say you had better opponents than me,” Lola observed as the Stranger rubbed a hand over his shirt in absent thought. “We have something in common,” she said as she turned her back to him.
Their moment of shared injury was cut short when a group of villagers approached them, led by Rin. “Stranger, I do not like your presence here.”
“I’m well aware of that, Rin,” the Stranger said.
“The third flame is still out!” a brave villager in the back yelled.
“He did not do anything!” Lola responded.
The loud villager approached Lola and drove a stiff finger into her collarbone. “You did this, too. You’ve brought nothing but bad luck ever since your mother—”
Ni-To punched him. The villager’s face whipped to the side, but he didn’t fall. Lola hadn’t even noticed her father there before.
The villager spat a mouthful of blood to the side and readied to fight. Ni-To, twice the man’s age, raised his hands in response.
The villagers backed off when the Stranger stepped to Ni-To’s side. “I didn’t extinguish the flame. I’m grateful to this house.” He held out his blistered-and-scarring arm for the villagers to see. “I’ve taken it as my own, in case any of you had forgotten.”
The Stranger had strived to integrate himself in their customs and rituals. He had even started learning about Ember Law, but his tall stature and pale complexion stood out in every way possible.
A small crowd had formed to watch.
“I do believe that, Stranger.” Rin nodded to the not-yet-healed fire symbols on the Stranger’s arm. “You have proven yourself to our house, but I fear you may have to leave all the same. Our crops are failing. Our hunts are not returning enough meat or hide. We have resorted to striking our own.” Rin shot a glance at Ni-To.
“You can leave if you choose to, Stranger, but we cannot force him out,” Bo said to the mob, gaze moving between Rin and FloShar. “He is one of us. Has he not taught your children how to set game traps?”
The pair remained silent, along with the rest of the gathered mob.
Bo continued, “Did he not help the injured?” he shot at another villager, who hung his head in shame.
“He offends the sun and the flame. We should never have allowed him to live with us. HE IS FROM THE SEA!” Rin shouted back at Bo. “THE LASHES ON HIS BACK ARE PROOF OF HIS INSOLENCE.”
Before the Stranger had taken the kiss from the coals, she had run a swimming experiment. He was as good at swimming as he was at swordsmanship—maybe even better. Rin had enjoyed administering the drake tail until the Stranger hadn’t flinched before laughing and asking Lola if a mosquito had bitten him.
“ENOUGH!” Bo yelled with a timbre no one in town had heard before.
Boshar motioned for calm and glared at Rin. Rin let the matter be, and the angry villagers grumbled as they dispersed. The Stranger’s eyes flitted like he was trying to remember something.
“I cannot keep this up, Stranger,” Bo said to him and Lola before shaking his head. He frowned at the unlit flame and left their company.
The calls for the Stranger’s expulsion continued to mount, but Lola was determined to figure the man out before it came to that. The town had caught and tamed a few wild horses to replenish their harras. The Stranger turned out to be an experienced rider, but they had yet to uncover his conscious memories.
One day, Lola sat with the Stranger, doing word associations.
“Brother” she started with, only for him to stare at her blankly. She began to rattle them off, one after another.
“Banner” he replied.
“Water” Lol asked next.
“Fall”
“Sword”
“Bag”
“Boots”
“Bag”
“Ring”
Something like understanding flashed in his gaze. “Bag,” he repeated.
Her eyes widened in epiphany. “Do you remember having a bag?”
He paused, then shrugged and shook his head at the suggestion.
That night, she waited until her father was asleep, then stole through town toward the beach. With the tide low, the moon reflected off the calm, shallow water. She squinted into the dark sea, looking for something—anything.
There!
It was a sparkle, faint but unnatural. It wasn’t far in front of her; barely in knee-high water. She rubbed at the kiss on her upper arm but then rolled up her smock and walked into the sea.
She found the source of the sparkle, but it was lodged under a rock. She bent at the waist, careful not to get her garments wet, then plunged an arm in the water to retrieve the object. Her hand met a soft and lumpy thing, but no matter how much she tugged it, it wouldn’t budge. She reached in again, with both arms this time, even trying to lean back and pull with her full but unsubstantial strength on the object.
Nothing.
The water had risen to her just above her knee.
She had to be quick. What if someone saw her? She put a hand under the bag but recoiled when something stung her.
“Ahhh,” she whisper-yelled at herself as a clean-cut across her palm leaked blood and mixed with salt water.
She probed her hand carefully—it hurt, but she could still use it.
The sparkling thing was pinned to the sea floor under a small boulder. Standing, she put her hands on her hips and looked around. The struggle had gone on long enough for her to know it was something. Something necessary. Maybe even something important.
Her eyes narrowed in determination. The moonlit water was now at her mid-thigh, but she dropped to her knees and drove her shoulder against the obstruction. It was the first time she’d been in the water since taking her vows. With her feet anchored in the sand and her head craned to the side, she drove her full might against the boulder. Slowly, the rock obstruction rolled off her target.
It was a bag of sorts, with a brilliant short sword strapped to the outside, sharp as if freshly honed. She considered opening it, and even took the latch into her hands, but thought better of it. It wasn’t hers.
She ran and darted into a thicket of trees to dry, shaking like a dog to accelerate the process. Though she hadn’t looked in the bag, she had tipped it every way to drain whatever water might be caught inside. Hours later, when she and the bag were dry, she headed toward town. Moonlight had given way to sunrise, and the village was just starting to come to life.
Grinning through town, Lola approached Bo, Rin, and the newest Flame-keeper, MunShar, who were doing their Affairs of First Light and tending to the two flames. Mun’s predecessor had been one of the many casualties of the storm; the man’s heart had stopped when he saw the extinguished flame.
She gestured at the Stranger who was working with the horses nearby. He came closer, just in time for her to drop her spoils for everyone to see. The bag hit the ground at their feet, and the sword clanked as it settled.
“That . . . that’s mine,” the Stranger said with his brows furrowed. “I’ve no idea why . . . but it’s mine.”
Rin was the first to speak. “Let us examine the contents first, shall we?”
“The Stranger is a swordsman,” she said, pointing to the blade. “Let him tell us what is inside before we look.”
Murmurs fluttered through the townspeople, but no one raised an argument in response to Lola’s plan.
“I . . . I can’t remember,” he said. “It’s mine, but nothing else is coming to mind.”
“Word associations worked last time,” she said. “Bird. Clothing. Necklace. Ring. Fire. Light. Water. Boots.”
“Yes . . . Boots!” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “ . . . made from a creature’s hide! Ring . . . Ring . . .” He closed his eyes again, although they snapped open in excitement seconds later. “Titanium! Dull in shine, but stronger than anything you’ve seen. And the necklace . . .” he said, scratching his head. “It can change my voice!”
Bo knelt, opened the bag, and emptied its contents before the town and its heir apparent. With one final shake, two small crabs hit the ground.
Lola swallowed hard but didn’t say anything, even as she felt a few gazes settle between her shoulder blades.
“She has entered the sea! She must be exiled!” someone from the gathering crowd called.
Lola flushed. That was that, then. “Yes. I did,” she answered. “The Stranger was missing something. I am trying to help.”
“By entering the sea after being kissed?” Rin asked incredulously. “You must be exiled, LolaShar. It is Ember Law.”
Calls for exile and even her death came from the crowd. The crabs scuttled away, but the ring and boots were just as the Stranger described. The Flame-keepers glanced at Ni-To, who looked to LolaShar, who was biting her lip.
The Stranger narrowed his eyes and grabbed the necklace. He pulled it on and faced the angry mob that the crowd was becoming.
“ENOUGH!” he screamed at everyone.
Their hair blew back, some villagers leaning into the shout to maintain their footing. The crowd stumbled back under the force of the scream, unnaturally amplified by the necklace.
The Stranger brought his voice to heel and looked at the crowd. A few had trickles of blood coming from their noses and ears.
“These are my things,” he said. The Stranger proceeded to put the necklace, boots, and ring on, not waiting for permission from the elders.
No member of the town intervened. Even the Flame-keepers watched in subservience. Rin had cowered like a wolf who’d just lost the pack.
As he went, each piece fit with impressive precision. The boots went on like gloves, and the leather gloves went on just like the boots.
At last, he picked up the sword and slid it into the sheath hanging from his belt. The hilt hit the guard, and a low rumble came from the unlit spire pit. The townspeople were silent. They glared at the empty, but crescendoing spire and then back at the newly minted warrior before them. Some villagers backed up in response to the hollow roar coming from the pit.
Lola stepped closer and moved around, trying to locate the origin of the sound. But then it stopped.
Without warning, a flame burst into life in the bulbous bottom of the unlit spire and exploded upward through the shaft. The fire peaked with a large mushroom-like plume well above the spire before setting back to its familiar, columnar shape.
Like the third flame, the villagers erupted into cheers and cries of joy.
“The sun smiles on us once again!”
“Fire is Light. Fire is Warmth!”
Complete jubilation came from the fawning crowd who had surrounded Lola and the Stranger. Some burst into tears, while others sent cries of joy and relief into the morning sky.
The Stranger had washed up broken and nearly as naked as a firstday baby, but now that he’d dressed in his things, he’d lit the flame. He grabbed a torch, stuck it in the third spire and held it up victoriously to a raucous celebration from the village. Ni-To ran to Lola and scooped her up in his arms.
“How?” Bo asked the Stranger.
The Stranger lowered his torch and began to pace back and forth. Muttering. Thinking. Trying to remember. “The hell if I know.” He mumbled, not loud enough for anyone to hear.
Yet gasps came from the crowd as his whisper boomed from the spires.
“He is of the flame!” Lola decried. She pushed him from behind and told him to run to the far side of town. He ran without question, smoke from his torch marking his trail until he stopped. Those with good eyes could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear anything.
“RAISE THE TORCH!” Lola yelled back.
He brought the fire up from his side. “Can you hear me?”
The townspeople gasped as whispers thundered from the spires.
Bo looked at Rin and Mun, who offered only confused faces and no answers. The leader nodded to the man before he ran back to re-join the townspeople.
“How did you do that?” Bo asked.
“That flame . . . I think it’s like me and my things. We’re connected.”
A cough came from one of the keepers.
“There is still another matter to discuss,” Rin started, seemingly regaining his composure. “LolaShar, you have entered the sea after being coal-kissed. You must be exiled from our home.”
“You cannot do that. She lit the third flame!” Ni-To responded.
Bo interjected with a tortured look on his face. “I am sorry, Ni-To. It is Ember Law. She must go. Before the next missing moon, she will have to leave.”
The crowd, elated just moments ago, had gone quiet. MiMo tugged at his grandfather’s robe; he was the only other villager to come to her defence, as timid as it was.
“What are we, if not observant of Ember Law?” Bo asked in philosophical defeat.
“Then I will leave, too,” Ni-To replied, anger in his voice.
“This girl saved your flame,” the Stranger roared. “She’s saved your house, and you would cast her out. The realms will know her name.” He had amplified his voice again, but only for effect this time. “I will accompany you both,” he added, looking at Ni-To. “I owe you my life, LolaShar, saviour of the Three Fires,” he said in conclusion.
“Before the next missing moon, then,” Bo said in solemn summary. “You all must leave.”
While they awaited the missing moon, the Stranger and Lola continued their work of discovery.
Still, his voice captured most of Lola’s attention. “You made your voice painfully loud and then whispered in the flames,” she mused aloud to the Stranger. She grabbed a half dozen torches, lit them in the three flames and set them at varying distances. “Go.”
In no time at all, he was at the first. The sight he made was somehow both complete and out-of-place, much like his presence in their home. In this moment, he was a grown man, decked in plate and sword, and giggling like a child with fascination and wonder.
“Can you hear me?” he whispered.
She nodded.
He ran to another. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes. Can you hear me?” she whispered back in the direction of the spire.
“I can!” he yelled.
Lola covered her ears. “Easy!” she yelled into the spire and watched as the distant figure covered his ears. “Stay there,” she whispered and then ran to one of the torches she set. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes . . . by the gods. Torch to torch. Lola, you are something.”
The moon waned quickly. The townspeople were kind for the most part, and they provided provisions and tools for their trip. Rin kept his distance and his tongue during this period of impending exile. Lola spent her remaining days in the water, knowing full well that the banished were no longer bound by Ember Law. She found nearly as much joy in strolling sopping wet past Rin as she did collecting pearls.
The morning the group was to leave, MiMo sheepishly handed Lola a bolt of green cloth, the same shade as the Three Fires Banner. She unfurled it and saw it ended in a single point but had only two of their town’s three flame symbols.
“You will add your own symbol, Lola. I am sorry for telling on you,” MiMo said.
“Do not worry, MiMo. Here.” She handed him a satchel of her pink pearls. She then turned to face the others who had gathered to see them off. “Elder BoShar. We will speak into the flames as we go and report our progress. We will spread the fire across the Realms,” Lola said, “I do not know how far we will be able to speak, but we will find out.”
Ni-To looked upon his daughter, wondering where the years had gone.
“Fire is Warmth. Fire is Light,” Bo replied
Lola smiled warmly. “Do not worry for me, Elder BoShar,” she said.
“Of all the things I worry about, you, LolaShar, are not one of them. Go. Spread the flame.”
The night of the missing moon came, and Lola, Ni-To, and the Stranger were packed and ready to embark. Several others stepped forward to join them on their trek, and ten in all headed for the jungle forest away from town.
They had walked for some time before Lola finally broke the silence. “You are not a Stranger anymore,” she started. “What shall we call you?”
“Any ideas?” he asked.
“I have not the foggiest,” she replied with a wry smile.
“Well, you’re the smart one. Give me a name,” he coaxed.
She thought for a moment. “Well, had I not saved you from the sea, you would have become fish food. Yes?”
“That’s true.” He chuckled.
“Then we shall call you Worm.”