Origin (Lux #4)(117)

They took the dry shrubs at terrifying speed, faster than any normal fire should. Men’s voices rumbled on the air, so close that the hairs on my arms stood on end.

“They’re coming,” I whispered.

Jeb’s brow lowered. “We gotta make a run for it.”

The thought froze my very bones, but he was right. We couldn’t stay in the cave. Either the fire or those men would reach this place in a matter of seconds. With a shaky nod to Jeb, I knelt down by Ella.

“We’re gonna leave the hiding place now, okay, honey?”

Ella ran into Jeb’s arms, breaking down into tears. “I want Mama,” she sobbed.

He picked her up, stroking her hair. “Don’t cry, baby girl. We’ll be okay. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Jeb’s right,” I said. “We’ll be fine. But listen, we have to be real quiet. We all have to run as quiet as a little pack of deer.”

She kept her face buried in Jeb’s shoulder, so I kissed her head.

“Right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We tore out into the flickering darkness. The heat of the blaze immediately pressed against us as smoke filled our lungs, and we all started coughing. My eyes blurred from the fumes, but I kept running. I could hear Ella’s sobs behind me, muffled as she pressed her head into Jeb’s neck. I ran and ran, but part of me knew I had no idea where we were going. We could be headed right toward the mob.

Ahead, a huge rock formation blocked our path, and to the other side, a wall of fire. Coughing into my arm, I spun around, searching for a way out. There was only one. A tiny ravine to the left might provide just enough space for a person to squeeze through. With the billowing smoke, I couldn’t see too far down that path, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice.

“Down there,” I called to Jeb over the roar of flames and crackle of burning trees.

He examined the ravine, hesitating for a moment, but then nodded. Together, we climbed down into the little canyon of red-rock.

And I immediately saw what a terrible mistake it was.

Fire. Huge yellow tongues of it crawled toward us from the other end. A twisted, dead bristlecone pine blazed right in our path; the blast of heat made me stagger back. But when I turned to climb out of the ravine, I could see that the other flames had closed in, sealing off the entrance. We were surrounded. Trapped like animals.

Jeb and I stared at each other, ashen.

And then I remembered the relic. A flicker of hope lit within me, and I pulled the silver chain off.

“The water,” I called to Jeb.

I knew we only had whatever drops were left in the canteen Jeb had grabbed on the way out of the house—but it still might do the trick.

With trembling hands, I twisted open the lid and held the kraken piece over the water. As much as I loved reading about relics, I’d only used one once before—my grandfather’s kraken relic. He had taught me how close contact with the body was required to activate the magic, and that the more you concentrated, the more powerful the reaction was, but it was a skill most people had to practice to get good at.

I exhaled slowly. My fingers felt stiff and clammy with sweat. My head was pounding. I’d read that water magic supposedly had a calming effect on the user. Maybe I was just too worked up to feel it? I closed my eyes and forced a deep breath. Come on. Expand. Please.

I opened one eye to check. The water hadn’t budged.

“Nothing’s happening,” Ella said, her voice high with panic.

“I told you it wasn’t strong enough,” Jeb said.

“Hush,” I snapped. “I’m trying.”

I swallowed a dry gulp and took a breath to calm down. “Please,” I whispered fiercely.

But the water in the canteen stayed at the exact level as before. I scraped a hand through my hair with a growl. “Why isn’t this working?”

A horrible thought started to pound through me. What if it’s not working because it isn’t real? Forgeries were a serious problem in these parts, where the average family could hardly afford a single relic chip. Desperate miners and farmers were often swindled by a slick peddler with an irresistible price.

I stared at the beautiful relic in my hand. Beautiful, and useless as a piece of glass. I felt as though I’d been stabbed in the heart.

“Maggie…” Jeb’s brown eyes were deep and sorrowful, even as they mirrored the approaching wall of flames.

Reading the emotion on his face, Ella hooked her little arms around his neck, and I knew she understood. I threw my arms around both of them and held on tight, stricken by my inability to save them. Stricken that I would never see another sunset on the desert. Never have my first kiss. Never be able to hug Mama and Papa good-bye.

A voice penetrated the crackling roar of fire. The sound of it shattered me.

They’d found us.

When I looked up above the ravine, I saw a dark face illuminated in the flames. It was a young man with black hair and black eyes. He was Apache. A warrior about my age—maybe a few years older.

A swell of terror rose up in me. But then, looking harder into those midnight-black eyes, a realization cracked through the fear, and memories flooded in.

I knew this boy.

Ages ago, when I was an awkward and gangly girl of nine, I’d gone to a year of schooling at the St. Ignacio Mission outside Burning Mesa. The friars taught any who came to read and write. But I didn’t quite fit in there. Mama said it was because I asked too many silly questions. There was one boy who took kindly to me, though. Another misfit. An Apache boy with the darkest eyes I’d ever seen. He’d come to St. Ignacio to learn English. We both stuck out like weeds together.