8. Firebird Flutters

Before he started his explanation, Alix and Feria exchanged glances. They whispered their love for each other. Alix asked again if they shouldn’t freeze this situation, this love, this excitement and adventure, this … this … being alive. Feria responded in the same way: “but what if, tomorrow, we’d feel even more alive?”

Alix sighed and addressed the beings below.

“You all know that everything is made out of tiny little things, right?”

“No?” said one.

“That doesn’t even make sense?” said another.

“Well, okay, just trust me on this. You can’t see those tiny things, only the whole thing. But my experiments prove it must be so.”

“And to kill the fire, we must kill the little things?” asked the deer.

“In a way,” said Alix, annoyed at being interrupted. “Those little things can move. They can vibrate. While keeping their connections, while staying the thing they are. And the faster they vibrate, the more energy they hold, the hotter the object.”

A lot of head-scratching. Alix had to move to a different lectern, as everyone walked away to flee the fires.

“Please get to the point, love.”

“Consider the firebirds,” said Alix after a pause. All eyes switched to the elegant birds lounging besides the fires. “Because more heat means more energy, hotter things move faster, processes happen faster. That’s why animals have evolved to keep themselves warm. That’s why firebirds are attracted to heat, not fires per se.”

“Hmpf. I still think it’s obvious they caused all these fires,” said a Gosti, arms crossed.

“Now, keep looking at the firebirds,” said Alix. “To our eyes, their wings don’t seem to move. How is that even possible? How can they fly?”

He let them all ponder the answer for a bit, which was an interesting decision when surrounded by fire.

It gave them time, though, to study the firebirds for a bit longer and notice something odd: the fires they surrounded were shrinking. Slowly. Too slowly to save them. But they definitely softened the fire’s edge, and once content, they would abruptly launch themselves into the sky and be gone.

“The reason,” said Alix, when nobody else gave the answer, “is that the wings of the firebird move too fast. We only register the wing once in a while, when it’s in roughly the same place, so it looks like an unmoving bird to us. Just like their wings, heat is created by particles inside things moving really fast. I have never tried, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you burned your paw when you tried to touch a firebird’s wing.”

The group of animals moved as one again. They neared Tresmo, who took in the fires with large frightened eyes.

“So … we grab the little things?” asked the deer. “Make the ants inside the fire stop moving?”

“Particles are not ants, or living be—okay, fine, yes,” conceded Alix. “You take away their energy, you take away the heat.”

“But how?” said multiple panicked voices. Animals coughed. Prebuha’s eyes watered. The smoke turned her sight into nothing but gray spirits. The fire had suddenly doubled its rate of spreading, after some sparks made the unlikely jump to a fresh section of trees.

“You just do, if you concentrate. I can. The firebirds can,” said Alix to surprised faces. “Can’t you see them? The Enyrgias? Creatures crawling over the fires, showing how much heat energy they contain?”

They all shook their head.

“Come on! You must! You’re connected to the web of life. We’re all connected to energy! Are you all dumb? Open your eyes! Study the universe lazy—”

“Please, love, that’s not helping,” said Feria soothingly.

“Energy must be conserved, as you all—no, of course you don’t know,” said Alix, frustration boiling almost as hot as his body at the moment. “To get the heat out of the fires, it has to go somewhere else. We have to convert it, make it jump onto something that’s more … safe.”

Prebuha yelped and dodged a burning tree just before it fell to the earth. Another wound, this time on her shoulder. Her vision swam from the smoke, the fog, the oppressive everlasting darkness in Tremo’s shadow.

Should she ask to freeze her health before things get even worse? The signs seemed clear. Things would only get worse from here on out. With half a confident step, half a doubtful step, she made for Permiox.

“I suppose that our bodies are not the thing fire should jump to?” she asked rhetorically. “What else?”

“Other trees will just set on fire too,” added Dilova.

“Yes, yes, finally you’re waking up,” said Alix. “We need something that doesn’t burn. Something to take over the heat, and then just … vanish … or evaporate … or …”

He turned to his son. Prebuha just started talking to him, but Alix interrupted and pulled him away.

“Permiox, did you freeze that tree over there? Or that one?”

“No? I’m really careful with my powers, father,” said Permiox, offended.

Still, amidst the flames, several trees just refused to ignite. A lone survivor in the gray haze. Alix’ experiments had shown him that underground water often disappeared when trees were around. He had concluded that trees probably sucked in a lot of water, as they needed it to grow.

Feria had told him how afraid Ardex was of water. And how he and Gulvi could basically never touch or be in each other’s presence.

Maybe …

“Everyone!” he bellowed. “Take the sharpest of my tools and try to break open those trees that still stand.”

They followed his command. The few stone tools he’d made in the cave were given away to the strongest beings. Everyone else, mostly children or those already wounded by the fire, was shepherded along to take shelter against Tresmo. This included Fiante, whose lucidity degraded fast as the fear of burning to death set in. Tresmo itself shivered until he’d lost half his leaves, as if trying to run away from the heat anyway, but obviously failing to do so.

“What are you expecting?” yelled Prebuha in frustration, as she still chased Permiox. “Tiny little firefighting gods living inside the branches?”

One by one, animals risked their lives. Slithering through narrow paths without fire, just to reach one tree that wouldn’t ignite. They frantically banged the bark with a sharp rock. They screamed as the fire caught up to them, and not all made it back to the main tribe alive.

The fire was a monster. A single entity that swallowed everything it touched, and still it wasn’t satisfied. Overwhelming odds. A disaster impossible to fight. A foul, mean trick played by the unbeatable Chiefgod.

Prebuha wanted to give up. She wanted to give up so badly she stopped chasing Permiox, despite feeling stronger and more alive than ever.

Dilova was too sick and disoriented to fly. More and more beings ignored Alix’ plan and took their family in whatever direction they thought they could escape.

The fire had consumed the entire Forest of the Fallen. Only the clearing around Tresmo remained, but it already had a yellow-orange wall circling it. Only a single animal species managed to break several trees to get water to flow out: the majestic elephants. They stayed behind, despite Feria’s calls, while all remaining survivors gathered around Tresmo.

Some climbed Tresmo. With a daring jump, a lucky vine, they might yet swing out of danger.

Prebuha told her tribe to do so, but only the sloths and the Gosti were proper climbers. Seeing she’d need to leave half her tribe behind, she abandoned the idea and stayed grounded too.

Most beings just took each other’s paw, nuzzled against those they love the most, and waited for fire to claim them.

Alix held his son close, and Feria even closer, and chastised himself for being dumb too. For not figuring out how to fight fire in time. Not being clever enough to save everyone. A failure, truly. He had seen fires get smothered by rainfall, but his mind was sluggish. Oh so sluggish, it was horrible. He felt dumb. He was too slow to make the connection.

“I can save us,” said his son Permiox. “I can freeze the fires.”

“That’s too ambitious, even for you,” said Feria.

“And then what? We’d be caught inside a hellish cage forever too,” said Alix. “No, son. No more use of your powers. Stay close. Stay even closer. We will … we will …”

He hadn’t eaten for too long. Alix’ massive brain required massive amounts of energy to be able to function. It shut down, followed by his body, as he fell against Feria—unconscious.

The firebirds saved themselves, of course. Only a single firebird body lay in the ashes, crumpled and broken, but perfectly in its center, as if it was put there on purpose by a Chiefcloud.

Could it …

Could they come to their aid …

Gaps appeared in the fire. Unnatural gaps. Smashed away by something; puddles formed nearby. Were the clouds going to rain for them? Were they that eager to save their favorite sloth that promised them a city?

Prebuha had no time to ponder it.

Through the gaps leapt all remaining survivors of the Jagu Tribe, murder written in their eyes.