With the current pushing them forward, they reached the outlet before the sun fully set.

“We can keep going,” the flames offered when the trireme beached. “We can light your way.”

“No,” the helmsman warned.

“Perhaps tomorrow. We need to let the timbers dry,” Hanno said.

“We can help with that too,” the fires offered.

“No, thank you.”

Hanno and Bostar removed the brazier from its hook and brought it to the shore, where the flames delighted in cooking the crew’s meals. They danced and popped and leapt into the many fires, warming all.

Only once did a flame attempt to leave the stones encircling it. The fire quickly found stomping feet and wetted sand, and returned after begging forgiveness.

“What tales do you have to share, fire?” Liva asked the brazier after the moon had risen and the camp had settled.

Bostar and Hanno sat beside Liva. The king draped his arm around her waist, and none questioned the closeness the two shared. They edged nearer the fires’ warmth, spawning whispers and grins from the crew.

Hanno stared into the fire, and cared not for how his crew thought, but he saw their smiles and heard their delighted laughter when he rested his hand in Liva’s. The Libyphoenicians had seen their king take a Libyan bride. They thought this new pairing simply another example of Hanno planting his seed in the native soil.

Only Artemisia grumbled, but this was not due to the lovers.

“Yes,” Hanno agreed, and felt further warmth from Liva resting against his arm. “Surely fire has great stories to share.”

“Our greatest tale is riding on a ship in a metal basket,” the fire answered.

Liva laughed and said, “Not that tale. Where did you come from? What was it like there?”

The fire burned low and blue.

“Is it not a happy tale?” Liva asked.

“We do not know,” the fire replied. “We were born in a spark of earth and wind. Our father rose high and dark, and spewed us onto the land. But he was greedy, and ashamed of our small size. He saw us eating the food around us and tried to smother us with his own black mass.”

“How big was he?” Hanno asked.

“Our father rises high enough to blot out the stars, and burns bright enough to dim the moon. He casts blackened smoke from horizon to horizon, and heaves stones larger than the wonderful ship of Hanno so far into the sky they cannot be seen.”

“He tried to kill you?” Liva asked.

The fire burned lower, bluer. “Yes. But then our mother came. She blew and blew and blew until we took to the air. We felt lost, and couldn’t stay with her, though we tried, and landed in the field where you found us. Even now we feel our mother.”

The fire rose with a sudden warm breeze. It tickled the flames as they danced atop their fuel.

“Who is your mother, fire?” Hanno asked.

The breeze returned, warm and dry.

“Harmattan,” the fire whispered. “That’s the name she told us to give.”

Clouds amassed over the sea, hiding the moon.

Liva squeezed Hanno’s hand.

“We have met your mother,” Hanno admitted. “She helped us once.”

“Wonderful! So she can help us too,” the fire said.

The air grew dry, and the winds increased.

“Perhaps it might rain,” Liva suggested. “We should find you a cover.”

“Please don’t burn it,” Hanno added.

The king and the Lixitae retired to their tent while awnings were erected over the flames, letting them burn low and safe.

The next day, though the clouds lingered, no rains came.

They set out upon the waves with the fire once more dangling over the trireme’s bow. The flames cheered and crackled with the steady rise and fall of the unfamiliar sea. With terror they felt the spray’s singing touch and reveled in the rejuvenating, salt-laden wind.

But the sun remained hidden behind the gray sky, and the wind grew.

Artemisia gestured for Hanno to join her at the stern. Liva followed.

“We’re out far enough now,” she said, and tilted her head to the brazier. “We could drop them.”

“What?” Liva asked.

“Keep your voice down.”

“You’d have me break my word?” Hanno whispered.

“I’d have you protect this ship and its crew.”

“We’re not killing the fires,” Liva stated.

The wind licked the flames high enough they waved their red tongues at the marines behind them.

“Just cut the ropes. You can say it was an accident if you like. High waves are coming,” Artemisia suggested.

“We’re not dropping them,” Hanno insisted.

“Then where are we taking them? What place can living fire find a home? You picked them up, now their deaths or crimes are on your head.”

“I understand that.”

“Hanno knew what he was doing when he offered to help these creatures,” Liva said.

“Did he?” Artemisia wondered aloud. “Because it looked to me like you batted your eyes at the helpless things and loverboy melted to what you wanted to do.”

“Watch your tongue, Helmsman,” Hanno warned.

“What? You gonna throw me into the sea? Might upset things in the tent tonight.”

“No one’s getting thrown into the sea,” Liva insisted.

“Then what are we going to do with them? Did you even think things through, Hanno? Or did you just see this as another notch in your sword hilt.”

Hanno raised a finger in warning, but the helmsman merely crossed her arms.

“We have called these creatures allies. They have earned our trust so far,” Hanno said. “We will find them a home, and we will feed them fuel and they will light our passage until we find a place for them to stay.”

“And where might that be?” Artemisia asked.

The clouds swirled overhead and the sky grew dark.

“Take heart, Helmsman,” Hanno said. “They’re already proving their worth.”

The fires lit the way, illuminating the churning sea. They cast a red glow upon the nearby shore, and Artemisia called for a turn to ease the ship closer to the shallows, careful to stay clear of cresting waves.

A great wind filled the sail, and the rowers struggled against the speed.

Lightning cracked overhead.

“We should make for land. Storm is getting rough,” Artemisia warned.

But when they turned toward the beach, the fires shrieked at the whitecaps spawning amidst the sand.

“Too much spray!” they crackled. “Back to sea, back to sea!”

“Turn us,” Hanno ordered.

He and Artemisia leaned on the rudders to turn the bow back toward open water. But already the wind rocked the vessel from side to side.

“Bostar, get those sails furled,” Hanno ordered.

“We need to get off the water,” Artemisia urged.

“Find a clear path.”

They struggled against the waves, both to keep the bow dry and to fight towards the shore. No amount of steering, however, kept the brazier from being splashed by the hull-slapping waves, and the crests grew higher and higher.

Liva ran to the bow to console the terrified flames. Only the high wind kept them alive above the water, though this was the source of their troubles as well.

“We can’t stay out here much longer or we’ll capsize,” Artemisia advised.

Bostar drew in the sail while the rowers fought the ocean’s rise and fall.

“Cease your winds, great Tanit, save us and level Poseidon!” Aba prayed.

“Pray thanks there’s no rain,” Hanno muttered.

With the brazier’s bright light, they saw through the black sea to a promontory further along the coast. It banked into a shallow harbor that softened the waves.

“Head there,” Hanno ordered. “Thank you, flames!”

With the red light to guide them, they sped toward the narrow bay. But with each thrust of the oars the current grew stronger, the waves pulling them from the shore and the wind battering the wetted hull.

“Jabnit, play louder! Row!” Hanno ordered.

“We can beach anywhere we want if we just turn!” Artemisia shouted.

Hanno bit his lip, and saw Liva struggling to stay on her feet while comforting the wind-blasted flames. Had he not been so silent, he might have missed the word whistling through the mast.

“Harmattan,” the wind said. “Harmattan.” Over and over again, the dry breath of the wind spoke its name.

“That’s their mother,” Hanno realized. “Helmsman, keep us steady as you can.”

“What?” Artemisia yelled.

“Keep us steady — no beaching!”

Hanno ran across the deck, dodging overflowing waves and leaping with the rolling timbers. He reached the bow in time to hear the fires cheering the high winds.

“It’s Harmattan!” the king shouted.

“What?” Liva asked. She held onto the bow amidst the overturned water buckets.

“It’s their mother! Flames. Flames!”

“Hello Hanno! What a thrill! Are you enjoying our light?” the fires replied.

“Yes, very much. Do you feel the winds?”

“Yes. They fill us greatly.”

“Do you see the lack of rain in the storm? The dark but dry clouds? This must be Harmattan. Your mother.”

“Harmattan? Mother! Mother!”

“Yes. She’s here. She’s helping you, but she’s hurting us.”

A high wave slammed the starboard side, spinning the trireme further out to sea.

“Tell her, flames! Tell her to stop,” Hanno ordered.

“Or ask her to take you,” Liva suggested.

“Take them where?”

“You’re creatures of earth and sky, right?”

“We are. We are wind and wood,” the flames agreed.

“So can you live in the sky?”

“Of course. Of course! Flames! We have brought you home! Your mother is here! Take to the skies and know no hunger,” Hanno urged.

“But how? We are tied to the earth. We tried to fly before but we just dashed across the ground,” the fire replied.

Lightning cracked across the sky.

“You see? Your mother shows you how it’s done. Fire lives in the air as well as the earth,” Hanno explained.

“Harmattan! Mother! We are so low. How do we reach her?” the fires asked.

One of the flames leapt into the air, only to get blown back into the brazier.

The bow dipped closer to the water, threatening to plunge the fires into the sea.

“I think she might remember us,” Liva worried through the gale.

Hanno grabbed hold of the broken mast and lifted it over the bow.

“Liva, quick, cut those binds!” he said.

Liva took her knife to the ropes and freed the mast so Hanno could raise the brazier above the wave-soaked deck.

“Do you need more height?” Liva asked the flames.

“We don’t know,” the fires said.

One fell from the brazier and landed on the wet timbers. It sizzled a moment, but leapt back alongside its fellows. It left not even a blackened mark upon the deck.

Lightning cracked overhead once more.

“Flames,” Hanno said. “Do you see the lightning? That is your brothers. Can you join them?”

“How?” the fires pleaded.

“Do like them. Leap across the sky,” Liva urged.

“We don’t know how!”

“Do you see the mast? Leap for it, then leap into the sky. Perhaps your mother will take you once you have some height,” Hanno instructed.

The bow plunged beneath the water, nearly sweeping Hanno from his feet.

When the wave receded, Hanno shouted, “Leap for Harmattan, flames, leap for your mother!”

The fires jumped to the mast. They burned bright as a row of stars, flaring along the top of the upturned crescent icon of Tanit, then burst into a haze of smoke.

“Turn to the coast!” Hanno commanded Artemisia once the brazier had sizzled dark. “Beach us now!”

But the coast had disappeared. Only black waters surrounded them.

The purple and orange flare returned, and Hanno heard a cheer from the mast. The flames burned the tip of the crescent-capped wood without consuming it, and cast their glow upon the sea.

“There’s the coast — row!” Hanno commanded.

The flames blinked out, only to return a moment later to illuminate the path to the beach.

“Thank you!” the purple fire sang. “Thank you Hanno and Liva and Artemisia!”

When the trireme struck the beach, the fire winked out. Amidst the singing of the retreating flames came a voice on the wind.

Harmattan shouted, “Thank you!” and retreated across the storm-blown sea.