One small flame sizzled out in the water while the other landed on the deck. It stomped its orange feet against the wetted planks, dancing and hopping in steaming desperation. Just as it planted itself against a board, Bostar smothered it with a wetted cloak and Mapen doused it with a bucket.

  When Bostar raised the cloak, only a blackened mark on the wood remained.

  The flames on the shore shrieked with despair.

  “We should all jump!” they considered.

  “Attack! Attack!” more shouted, leaping high but staying on the shore.

  “Stay where you are!” Hanno demanded.

  “But we can’t stay where we are!” the fires insisted.

  One burned low and blue then flared white. Its feet shrank with the heat and it danced across the shore in search of more fuel.

  “Here!” Liva said.

  She threw a torch from the crate of supplies. It landed on the shore and the little fire hopped atop it, spinning with delight upon the fresh fuel. It burned bright as ever, and shouted, “Thank you!”

  “Help us! Help us!” the other fires pleaded.

  “Throw them torches,” Liva told Hanno.

  “And what happens when they burn through them?” Hanno asked.

  “Fires, you must remain at the ends of these torches!”

  “Help us!” they repeated.

  “We will help you. Won’t we, Hanno?”

  “What can we do, Liva?” Hanno asked. “We give them fuel and they’ll ask for more.”

  “So we take them somewhere.”

  “You’re not putting living fire on my ship,” Artemisia said.

  “It’s Hanno’s ship. Fires, we will take you to a new home, but you have to promise not to leave the torches we provide,” Liva offered.

  The flames crackled, as if considering this proposal.

  “Why do you want to help them?” Hanno asked.

  “They should burn away. We can offer you a goatskin, fires. Burn it in honor of Baal Hammon, then return to him,” Aba suggested.

  “We know not this name,” the fires replied. “We don’t wish to burn and go away, we wish to live!”

  “I want to help them because they’re alive. They speak and they come from somewhere. They have a story to tell just as much as you or the Aethiopians,” Liva answered.

  “The Aethiopians attacked us,” Hanno noted.

  “But they chose to. These creatures can’t help it. We offered the Aethiopians a chance to not attack us and some did, the others we killed.”

  “So you want us to extend the same offer?”

  Liva nodded. “Imagine what songs living fire can sing.”

  “Fire sings only the song of death,” Aba declared.

  “And when they burn your sacrifices?”

  “Holy death.”

  “But what power is that? What sort of king could command fire?” Hanno considered.

  “Don’t count yourself over-proud, Hanno.”

  “Is it pride to offer sympathy and receive benefit?”

  “Hurry! We hunger and we fear!” the fires declared, while others shouted, “Attack them!”

  “You will expire if you attack us!” Hanno shouted back. “You will burn bright then drown. We offer a choice: stay within the confines of our control and we will provide you a home.”

  “We cannot be slaves!” the flames replied.

  “I’m offering life.”

  “You offer slavery! We’d rather burn bright then die!”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Then we’ll find you a home,” Liva insisted.

  “Where?” Hanno asked.

  “Somewhere. We’ll search for one. We’re going on a journey, right? Stay with us, flames, and we’ll locate a place where you can burn to your hearts’ content.”

  “You are not putting fire on my ship,” Artemisia insisted.

  “Bostar, hand me a torch,” Hanno said.

  Bostar did so and the king jumped into the water. It rose barely above his head, and he swam to the edge of the shore, holding the dry torch high.

  “Hanno, stop!” Aba commanded.

  “Stay back!” Hanno shouted when the flames drew near.

  They leapt across the shore, landing and burning and threatening to swarm the king.

  “If you come near me, I’ll plunge beneath the water and consume you without harming my flesh,” Hanno warned.

  The flames stopped at the blackened shore.

  “But if you join me,” Hanno said, and presented the unlit torch, “I promise that I will find you a home.”

  The flames gathered together in a single bonfire. They crackled in unison, “Where will we go?”

  “Wherever you like, so long as it is on our path.”

  “And we will not be slaves?”

  “I’ve found allies prove more profitable than slaves.”

  Hanno glanced at Liva and smiled.

  She nodded, and said, “Bostar, help me ready the brazier.”

  The flames burned low.

  “We agree,” they said.

  “Then you must promise not to harm my ship or any of my crew. Only burn what is offered,” Hanno demanded.

  “Until we find a home,” the flames added.

  “Until we find you a home.”

  Hanno stepped to the shore and lowered the torch. The flames touched the fueled tip and burned bright as a beacon.

  “I am not putting living fire on my ship!” Artemisia shouted.

  “Look upon what your king commands!” Hanno declared, and held the torch high.

  He locked eyes with a frowning Liva, though, and steadied his grip.

  “Allied fire,” Hanno corrected, “we will benefit each other, I think.”

  “They can stay in this brazier,” Liva offered.

  “No!” Artemisia said. “One spark and they’ll burn the whole trireme. I’ll not have that while we’re at sea.”

  “We promise,” the flames insisted.

  “What promise can fire make that it will not burn?”

  The flames crackled on the torch.

  “Bostar, ready a hook at the end of our broken foremast,” Hanno said.

  “What will you do?” the fires asked.

  “We will house you in our brazier. You will have all the fuel you need. But we need to learn to trust each other. So you will be suspended over the water, and if you attempt to leave the brazier you will be dropped. If you stay, though, you will remain safe.”

  “No! No, you will drop us!”

  “I give you my word as king. Be our signal fire; light our way, and you will earn our trust.” Hanno lowered the torch back to the shore. “Or you can return to land.”

  The fire sparked in the torch, then crackled, “We could light your ship?”

  “That’s what this torch is for. You could be our light.”

  More sparks danced into the sky.

  “We are intrigued by this. Then yes,” the fire agreed. It burned low and dark, saving as much of the torch as possible.

  By then Bostar had readied the broken mast, and extended it over the ship’s bow.

  “Artemisia, turn,” Hanno commanded.

  The helmsman crossed her arms and stayed silent.

  “You’ll need words to convince my crew you’ll stay in the brazier,” Hanno instructed.

  “She is cold,” the fire replied.

  “I know that.”

  “Let us warm you, Helmsman. See our light, and know us as you once did.”

  The fire danced upon the torch, and Hanno waited.

  “Fine, but I’ll throw you both overboard if so much as a spark hits my deck,” Artemisia warned.

  The fire crackled with delight.

  The helmsman turned the bow toward Hanno while Bostar lowered the hooked brazier. Hanno set the torch upon the logs in the brass frame, and the living fires leapt inside. They danced and whistled in delight as Bostar secured the mast.

  A score of marines waited near the bow, each carrying a filled pail or wetted cloth. They watched the fire sparkle its way to comfort upon its dangling seat while Hanno returned to the stern. One of the marines held an axe, its sharpened head a flinch away from cutting the ropes that secured the broken mast to the bow.

  “I raise my hand, we cut those flames loose,” Artemisia said as Hanno stood beside his map-covered desk with Bostar and Liva.

  “I think they understand that,” Hanno agreed.

  The helmsman nodded.

  “The water gets thinner ahead,” she said.

  “Let’s see how far we can go,” Hanno commanded.

  Artemisia grumbled, then announced, “Oars!”

  Jabnit played the slow rhythm and they made their way up the channel.

  Mapen danced across the deck, humming a tune while his little brother had to be forcibly removed several times from poking the living fire.

  “Look see, look see, the light upon our bow. It lives, it lives, no lifeless prize does grace our prow. Another quest our king has made, the living fire a home to be laid. So shine, so shine, you dancing flames, and speed ahead our plow,” Mapen sang.

  The brazier shook as the trireme struck a sandy embankment. The ship slowed to a halt before the helmsman ordered, “Back!”

  A quick reverse thrust saved them from being beached, but the brazier swayed violently, the sparks leaping high.

  “Wee! Do it again!” they cheered.

  Hanno laughed.

  “It’s a good thing they don’t realize they’re in danger of falling into the water,” Artemisia grumbled.

  “I think they’re beginning to trust us,” Hanno said.

  “A stray dog can become loyal to the first person who shows it kindness,” Liva agreed.

  “It can also bite your hand,” the helmsman warned. “In any case, the water’s too shallow. Can’t go any further.”

  Hanno inspected the level at the bow.

  “Can we help?” asked the flames when Hanno climbed over the railing.

  “I don’t suppose you could cut a path through the dirt,” Hanno suggested.

  “We burned everything around us, and opened a hole that killed many of us. We would prefer to leave this place, not burn it further.”

  “You made the stream?”

  “Not on purpose. We were many then. We melted the rocks. We can’t melt much anymore.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “Oh, we don’t want to. You’re right — if we burn the ship we’ll sink and that’s no good. And you give us such wind and food. More please.”

  One of the marines dropped a cut log into the brazier. The flames danced upon the fresh lumber, charring it like the rest of their glowing base.

  Hanno tested the water and found it fresh.

  “You must have found a spring,” Hanno announced. “Marines, lower your buckets! Fetch the amphorae. We can take in water here. Thank you, fire, for supplying this inlet.”

  “We just burned. But you’re welcome,” the fire replied.

  The marines filled the stores while the rowers turned the ship. Once they were ready to return downstream, and every crewman drank their fill from the clear, cool inlet, they set off toward the sea.