Page 78 of Inferno

Yorin stared up into the flames, and for a moment, he would have sworn that he saw two glowing eyes staring back at him. Huge eyes, high up in the trees, watching him like a deity contemplating whether to grant the wishes of a mere mortal.

Or a bird about to devour a grub.

“You can stop this, Nerik,” he shouted again. “I believe in you!”

The air around him was heating up now, moving from warm to uncomfortably hot. Much more of this and Yorin was at risk of getting burned, river or no river. And if the fire came right over the top of him, the air itself might be too hot to breathe, even if he submerged himself entirely in the river.

In front of him, the fire receded, though it still held the potential for plenty of destruction. But now that it was smaller, maybe Nerik could use the opportunity to get it fully under control? Huge plumes of smoke were still billowing upwards, and the east and west flanks were still burning, though less fiercely. Maybe…

A blast of wind slammed into the fire from behind, forcing searing hot air over Yorin. He hunkered down, covering his face with his arms and trying not to breathe until the worst of the gust had passed… but when he opened his eyes again, the entire world seemed to have gone black, blanketed in a thick, choking layer of smoke. Yorin couldn’t even see the river anymore, though he knew the nearest bank was just a metre or two in front of him.

A pile of leaves on the near side of the bank caught fire as an ember landed right in the middle of it, so Yorin pulled off his shirt from around his face, slapping the pile until it went out again.

“Nerik! You put this fucking fire out right now! You hear me? Or I am not letting you see me naked again for the rest of the month!” Standing shirtless in the middle of a forest, screaming at a fire, Yorin must have looked like an utter madman to anyone watching – if there had been anyone around to watch. “Nerik? You can do this, but you’ve…”

Yorin’s word were cut off as he chocked on the smoky air. He coughed harshly, then hastily wrapped the still-damp shirt around his face again. “I know you can hear me,” he yelled at the fire. “You want to end up with roasted boyfriend, or what?”

The roar of the fire was getting closer, and the volume of it was drowning out any other sound. Which was why it took Yorin a long moment to recognise the heavy thuds coming up behind him. He turned around, cursing as he saw a horse and rider looming through the smoke. The gods damn it, who the hell was reckless enough to come out intothis?

Yorin! Come away.It was Rimdolen. But who the hell would be…

“Yorin!” By the gods, it was Stanley! Riding on Rimdolen’s back! “Get out of here! It’s too late! He can’t control it!”

All indications were that Stanley was right. The fire was swirling just on the far side of the river now, and all it would take was a strong gust in the right direction for it to jump the banks.

But if they gave up now, the fire would reach the city. And then Renfold would have a ruined town to explain, and a very convenient scapegoat in Nerik to take the blame. Nerik’s life would be forfeit, and Yorin would be alone.

A lone tear trickled down his face, as he stared up into the fiery maelstrom. “You’ve got this, babe,” he muttered into the smoke-filled air. “You can do it.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Nerik grappled with the edges of the fire, trying desperately to shorten the fire front, to slow the front edge of it. But while the fire responded eagerly to his commands, the wind was a law unto itself. Moving back and forth as quickly as he was able, he’d no sooner doused one part of the fire when another part surged to life again. He was losing this battle, and with it, his hopes of proving to the humans that Chalandrians were capable of more than just death and destruction. Gods above, the river was coming up fast, the wind driving the fire forward. The river was a good ten metres wide, the banks mostly clear of vegetation, and that gap was his best and last hope of stopping the fire. But the western flank was flaring again, and if Nerik left his current position to tend to it, he’d lose what little control he had of the main front. But how the fuck was he supposed to be everywhere at once?

Down on the far bank of the river, he saw the lone figure standing firm. “You’ve got this, babe. You can do it.” Nerik heard the words muttered into the smoke, and for a moment, he battled with indecision, with self-doubt. No, he didn’t have this. He couldn’t do it.

But if he didn’t…

A wave of clarity rushed over him, and in that moment, Nerik realised he had been wrong. The plight of the people of Minia was not motive enough to control the flames. The survival of the Chalandrians was a noble goal, but an insufficient one. He didn’t care quite enough about the nameless, faceless hoards to break this inferno.

But he would crush hell itself before he let this fire take Yorin from him.

In a move that would have destroyed a younger infernal, Nerik let his consciousness spread out, being absorbed into the whole of the fire, the entire screaming wall of flame. It was exhilarating, mesmerising, and all-consuming. Now, instead of controlling the fire, hewasthe fire.

The insidious call of freedom, of power crept through him. He wanted fuel. He wanted heat. He wanted to consume the whole world in flames.

But to do it, he would have to go through the tiny human staring up at him.

Yorin. He looked into those deep brown eyes, and that one look alone was enough to drag him back to earth and give him a good shaking. A life without Yorin in it was not a life worth living.

Enough. In a supreme effort of will, Nerik took hold of the edges of the fire and put them out. In one huge, rippling line, the fire retreated, leaving a swath of ash and charred tree trunks in its wake. A part of Nerik was screaming at him to embrace the flames, to revel in the heat… but a stronger part simply stared into Yorin’s eyes and let himself be guided home.

Nerik felt oddly cold for a moment, and he looked around himself, realising that he was once again back in his corporeal form. He was ablaze, his own internal fire burning brightly, but the fire was contained to just his own body. He felt ill at ease, off balance in a way he’d never experienced before.

It took another effort of will for Nerik to return himself to his black, smoke-and-ash body. The coldness hit him harder this time, and he crumpled to the ground, landing on his hands and knees. He felt raw and hollow…

“Breathe through it, lad.” Stanley’s voice was close beside him, firm and soothing. “It’ll only hurt for a minute, then it’ll pass.”

Nerik forced himself to breathe out, then breathe in again. His internal fire flared as he did so, and he felt a powerful urge to reignite the forest, to hurl himself back into the flames. Being so cold and confined was agonising!