Ashes of Raging Water

by Michael J Allen

  The grendlings and their prey disappeared the moment they touched the seemingly two-dimensional cartoon tunnel, transported into the Unseelie realm—or perhaps in the case of wild grendlings, Faery’s Wyld Wastes.

  My fingers wrung the grips of my Karambit hilts. I squeezed harder on my essence, forcing more of myself through the veined handles until it formed into curved blades. Considering the fight ahead, I ratcheted up the pressure from uncomfortable to the edge of painful in order to extend guard blades across my knuckles from the finger rings.

  I took a breath, centered myself and threw open the door. “In the name of the Undying Light, I order you to cease this unsanctioned action, return the stolen animals unharmed to their kennels and surrender.”

  Not being the brightest of faerie, several grendlings just blinked at me—one biting the head off a Chihuahua. A nervous giggle escaped the grendling nearest me.

  The one-eyed chieftain’s dark chuckle filled the room. “You’re outnumbered, little bird.”

  His confidence infected the others, spreading the malicious laughter through the room.

  “A couple of grendling tribes aren’t enough to worry a shield.”

  The other chieftain, Muscles, cracked his knuckles and added his own laugh. “Our two tribes might not, but how about the six raiding the other rooms?”

  Hell’s gates!

  Muscles eyed his opposite. “We’ll deal with this one. Sound the retreat before the rest of her Shield arrives.”

  Grendlings around the room pressed their ears against their heads.

  One-Eye drew a bone and silver horn and blew a note to make any lighthouse proud.

  Another grendling pushed open a back door and blew a similar horn. Half the room’s grendlings drew trollbone knives and clubs. The other half increased their pace, dragging the animals into the dark, gaping crack in the tree’s trunk.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” I whirled to the wall behind me. I leapt onto it, spearing blades into drywall and climbing several quick arm lengths. I threw myself backward off the wall atop the row of chain-link kennels. My landing ended up slightly off balance, but I recovered and raced across kennel tops toward the central play area.

  Grendlings shimmied up in a swarm, but I cut through three in short order in my rush toward the tree. I like high ground—it’s a bird of prey thing—but I needed to destroy the Arch.

  I somersaulted off the kennels nearest the tree, whirling to face the two chieftains. Muscles and One-Eye met me with nasty swords honed from troll leg bones. I flipped over One-Eye, drove a blade into his skull, spun to deflect Muscle’s blow and kicked him in the face. The little faerie flipped end over end once, then slid across urine wet floors.

  I didn’t want to, but I turned my back to him to deal with the Arch. Two slashes of my water-essence blades sliced a gleaming X into the portal’s surface—disrupting the magic and cutting the faeries off from escape. The effect was all but immediate. As grendlings howled outrage, the tree shuddered then shrank away, smearing odd orange chalk marks on the concrete as the shrinking gateway connecting Creation and Faery took its death stench away with a pop.

  Muscles bellowed his best Minotaur imitation and charged. I slipped around his blow, following up with a counter that missed him by a few bristly hairs.

  More grendlings poured out of the adjoining kennels—too many more.

  Blighted hells!

  Muscles charged again. I slid under and behind Muscle’s blow then took off his head with a scissor cut. Taking up a defensive stance, I started a slow fluid dance that oozed confidence and menace far beyond what was truly warranted for a single shield against such daunting numbers.

  The horde swarmed me.

  They raced up between the runs.

  They leapt at me from atop the kennels.

  They circled the cages to attack from behind.

  In the center of the seemingly endless sea of violent, violet monsters, I just tried to stay focused on the forms I’d learned. One after another, I flowed through dodges and punches, weaving and slicing as each opportunity presented itself.

  My Karambit blades flashed like schools of silverfish through the tide of attacking Wyldfae. But each slice of my razor-edged essence through tainted grendling blood nibbled at my strength. I fought to purify my essence as I also fought for my life, but so much taint overwhelmed my ability to counter.

  Troll weapons sliced and stabbed through holes in my guard.

  Poison and dark magic burned away my strength even further.

  Grendlings died, but at the cost of my blood. The tide of oncoming grendlings never abated. They poured into the room, dead or panicked animals in their filthy-nailed clutches.

  I forced more essence into my blades, pushed until that pain rivaled my injuries. All the effort only added a few inches to the knives’ maximum lengths.

  Despite my grace. Despite the slippery defensive nature of my fighting style, there were just too many grendlings.

  Their weapons struck at me from enough angles to take advantage of vulnerable openings. Acid magic and troll poison burned through dozens of slices, invading my veins like liquid fire.

  I knew stopping the incursion was about something bigger than just the animals, but the soft brown eyes and tucked tails and whimpering puppies needed someone to save them. I’d chosen to handle the incursion myself instead of calling backup.

  I could’ve retreated. I could’ve fought my way clear, escaping to my bike to call for help. If I did so, the faeries would open another Arch. More animals would suffer and die to fuel whatever Machiavellian plot the Sidhe had hatched to plague humanity.

  I can’t let that happen, I just can’t.

  I decapitated another faerie and kicked the severed head into the grendling behind. “I won’t! I will not let you use these innocent animals, not again, not today, not ever.”

  Dark laughter and darker insults proclaimed their derision.

  Heavy impact atop a chain-link kennel drew my eye. A larger—well, he wasn’t exactly a grendling, but I’d never seen anything like him. Splotchy mold grew over bulging muscles several shades too light. He gripped a trollbone sword so large it had to have been carved out of flesh of a greater troll.

  Demi-grendling? Greater grendling?

  “Too young, too alone.” His tongue slid along pointed teeth. “Too delectable to resist.”

  Sudden terror squeezed my heart tighter than any grip I’d ever used on my essence until the hammering organ lodged in my throat.

  My blades kept striking, but my eyes slid along the horde to imprisoned dogs. Some faced off against the little faeries with hackles raised and teeth bared. Others cowered in their own urine with ears pressed to their heads.

  I squeezed my insides harder to mimic the condition of my heart. I compressed it with all of my will in preparation for one last desperate choice.

  Anxiety squeezed back even harder. I couldn’t breathe, frozen on the brink of making the same choice that once murdered countless mortals.

  Ignis’s training held up transmogrification as a valuable tool in our arsenal, but changing into my true form in public had led to burnings and torture. That mistake had cost me my first family. It had landed me ostracized, on probation, and justifiably terrified my next mistake meant True Death.

  I considered attempting a shield, but not only was it not a skill I’d honed, a makeshift barrier would waste my potential arsenal.

  My gut writhed, wrestling with faerie taint and the ramifications of choosing to change.

  I’m not afraid of dying, not this time. This is about stopping this incursion, saving these innocents. Changing is the correct tactical choice.

  My eyes shot to the web cameras mounted around the room.

  Please, God, let no wafers witness my change this time.

  I dropped into a crouch and forced my essence to condense into a tiny, throbbing star.

  Grendlings mobbed me.

  They abandoned their weapons. Grendlings sank teeth i
nto my flesh, laughed and licked their bloody chops like they were at a Labor Day barbeque.

  I drew in my hair, forsaking my mask to push as much essence into my center as I could. My core became a black hole, drawing all water in from around me.

  Urine puddles slithered across the concrete.

  Water bowls around the room spilled horizontal water falls.

  The greater grendling’s much smaller ears twitched forward.

  Hose spigots burst.

  Supply pipes exploded.

  Hissing sprays filled the air, converging on me like time-lapse fog.

  He bellowed urgently, dancing side to side looking for an opening. “Kill her, now before she—”

  I exploded out from within the mob.

  Graceful, sweeping wings threw grendlings back in all directions. I shot upward on wide, outstretched wings of shimmering liquid a dozen feet wide—a great bird of prey. Wing beats sent a torrent of storm-scented wind whirling through the building. Despite my flapping wing, my lithe, natural form floated rather than flew.

  Their leader dismounted the kennel behind the cages as he called his lessers to the front lines. “Swarm her! Quickly!”

  Grendlings leapt from atop kennels at the whirling phoenix that was the true me. My talons caught some, shredded others. High jumpers felt the wrath of my beak.

  Feathers—some purposefully shed and others carved from me by trollbone—tumbled away like fall leaves, glistened in a hundred shades of bluish-white. Shed feathers controlled and connected by instinct and will swirled around me in a spiral of razor edges.

  I’d killed so many among their horde, shed so much blood, the little faeries were driven into a mindless blood rage abandoning all thoughts of retreat. They threw themselves at me above and below. They stabbed up at me. They hurled knives and clubs.

  I kept the largest of my feathery blades going in a whirlwind orbit. Dark grendling blood coated their edges. I dissolved the smaller castoff feathers into thin razor-wire ribbons of glistening, hardened water—a translucent thresher crafted by a vindictive but masterful glass blower.

  The frenzied grendling mob threw at me anyway. My watery Cuisinart shredded them into foul, sun-rotted, purple coleslaw.

  Wholesale slaughter proved insufficient to stem the entirety of the faerie tide. For every few I killed, they landed a strike that cost me essence. The tainted blood coating me leached away strength.

  Another large grendling charged in from the other kennels, his lanky frame bedecked in feathers. The new chieftain assessed the carnage and screamed at his minions. “Retreat!”

  Anima had to have already sensed my transmogrification. She’d summon others to save me, but they would be too late this time. I was going to protect these innocents and stop this incursion even if thwarting the Sidhe schemes cost me everything.

  My vengeful shriek echoed off the walls. All ears—faerie, canine and feline—pressed tight against skulls. Every animal, even the bravest Chihuahua, cowered in fear. Grendlings froze, my cry somehow flipping some primal terror switch that bought me a moment’s respite.

  I forced more and more of my essence into the assault. I robbed my wings to fill out a solar system of spinning feathers. Watery tinsel trailed off the jagged planets like orbital rings.

  I let out another screech, hoping additional hesitation might add just one more feather to Justice’s scale and doom my prey.

  They bolted instead.

  I spun in the air in a rapid pirouette, unleashing my assault. Layer after layer of razor water sliced outward in every direction.

  A few of the shelter’s animals leapt at the grendlings, terror overcome by instinctual response to fleeing prey.

  I held onto control of the aqua kinetic assault for all I was worth, screeching once more with the effort to either avoid dogs or soften sections of my weapon to keep from hurting them. Rapidly exhausting my ability to stay aloft, I drove dwindling wings down for a quick climb then dove at the greater grendling.

  Talons shredded his flesh as his sword filled my body with searing agony.

  My beak snapped at his throat. Dying heartbeats thundered in my ears. The putrid flavor of rot filled my mouth an instant before the sound and sensation of his snapping spine reached me.

  I’d done it. I’d stopped the incursion all by myself. Rather than spit his foulness from my beak with my last breath, I smiled.

  Then I died.

  2: Internal Trouble

  Vitae

  An agonized shriek drew my eyes up from my morning read. I draped a silk ribbon between the vellum pages of my mentor’s copy of the Iliad and set the twenty-five-hundred-year-old book in my lap. I turned toward five pedestals arrayed atop an unlit river stone hearth. A phoenix cast in blue-white crystal tucked its head down between folded wings.

  My eyes fixed upon the statuette, tightening in time with my jaw. My youngest shield had died again. “Light save me, Aquaylae, what have you done this time?”

  My concern didn’t center over her fate so much as the circumstances of her death. I didn’t need her habitual carelessness rekindling the fires of another witch hunt.

  There’d only been one shriek, but I checked the other four statuettes as I rose from the comfort of my fine leather chair. Each figurine held its head high and its wings outstretched, the intricate detail of their crystal feathers illuminated from within by a mote of each phoenix’s magical essence. My eyes lingered longer on the milky, yellow topaz of my other young shield, but Caelum’s likeness showed no signs of distress.

  I moistened lips and pressed them back together.

  She went alone. Why won’t she learn?

  I set my book reverently on my side table, turned off the antique lamp so as not to bleach the cover and strode from my study.

  The march up mahogany stairs to the penthouse’s second story doubled back halfway up toward twin metal doors covered by paneled oak. My patent leather shoes made no sound on the wooden stairs on or off the runners despite the heat in my chest.

  “Anima.”

  The one word to our sanctum automata was enough. It knew to open up the biometric scanner Vilicangelus had mandated. Using technology less than a century old to secure the second most vital room in our sanctum seemed foolhardy. New, unproven tech ripe for modern day piracy didn’t deserve so vital a role, but then again the contents of the room were no more deserving.

  My hand upon a biometric scanner started the entry process. Considering any death would change my hand and require recalibration just proved its faulty nature. The next lock opened by recognizing my voice, another variable element that the technology didn’t take into account. I spoke my access code in Ancient Babylonian, my best effort to ensure the doors unlocked for me rather than a faerie counterfeit.

  Foot-thick doors parted to either side.

  I strode into the control room, lights and monitors flickering to life around me. “Anima?”

  An airy, angelic voice greeted me. “Good morning, Vitae. How may I serve you today?”

  “I need a location on Aquaylae.” I massaged the bridge of my nose, trying to relieve the tension headache often brought on when dealing with our Aqua. “Better contact our Praefectus, too. Inform him our Shield has experienced a death.”

  The map of Atlanta shifted on the main screen and zoomed. Aquaylae’s icon appeared at the Howell Mill Humane Society. Anima narrated the shifting view. “One of Quayla’s seeds indicated another impending Veil breach at an animal shelter.”

  A blood vessel throbbed in my forehead at the sound of Aquaylae’s shortened name. Before I could correct Anima, it revealed even more irritating news.

  “A Seelie contact confirmed portents of probable action.”

  “What is Aquaylae doing fraternizing with a Seelie, and why didn’t she see fit to call in?”

  “She notified me but considered the incursion to be low threat.”

  Of course she did. Youth constantly overestimates their abilities.

  “You didn’t think
I needed to be notified that our least experienced shield intended to face a breach alone?”

  “Quayla didn’t want me to disturb you. She felt the incident was well within her capabilities,” Anima said. “I was about to notify you that I’d sensed her transmogrification.”

  “Aquaylae isn’t qualified to make such judgements. You need to inform me even when she requests otherwise.”

  “Acknowledged, Shieldheart.”

  I nodded my satisfaction. I didn’t wholly trust the new automata, but at least it took orders. “Were there any witnesses?”

  “Dogs and a few felines.”

  I frowned. “Probably not an issue. Please display the others’ location.”

  The map pulled back. Three other icons blinked around the metropolitan area. Roadways highlighted with traffic levels and accident locations. A small red circle identified hot, fresh Krispy Kreme donuts available at the marked location.

  I tensed, glaring at the foreign marker. Modern companies frequently found ways to insinuate their market hawking into technology, but this instance seemed more likely a case of internal piracy.

  Caelum. These two are becoming problematic. I’ll address that tonight and reprogram that nonsense out of the sentry net later.

  “Iggy is second closest, but he’s on duty at the fire stati—” Anima’s voice cut off.

  The undignified nickname for our Pyri sent another throb into my head. “Ignis. Traffic will prevent Ignis from arriving in time. We—”

  “Vitae, the Isaac advises technological eyes watching Quayla. He is still ascertaining if any mortals witnessed what the eyes observed.”

  A reprimand stopped on the threshold of my lips. Aquaylae had been witnessed by mortal electronics. “Convey this development to Vilicangelus. Anima, we must address this displeasing display of informality.”

  Even for a programmed computer automata, her tone grew defensive. “I serve the shields protecting the Atlanta territory. If a shield asks me to refer to them in a certain way, I am expected to comply.”