The Elementals: An Elemental Origins Novel

by A. L. Knorr

  A profusion of purple flowers the size of tractor tires burst open along several of the vines, along with large green leaves which thrust outward from thick stems and unfurled like verdant green umbrellas. The whole network of plant reinforcement stretched and swayed as the school took the impact of the storm-beast.

  There was an angry rumble from both the sky and the earth.

  "Are those…" I squinted at the giant flowers festooning the school like oversized party decorations. "Are those morning glories? How is she…" I sniffed. Yes, the air had become fragrant with a floral scent.

  Georjie turned toward us, her eyes once more limpid and sweet. A moue of disgust curled her lip.

  "Go, let's go!" She wiped at her arms, trying to get rid of the slimy feeling.

  "Georjie, kids have you on film," I cried as we took off running toward the nearest blue sky.

  She didn't reply because a car came careering out of the parking lot of the convenience store across the street and jumped the curb as it barreled toward us. It sideswiped a picnic table in an effort to avoid us. Targa hit me full in the side as we dove out of the way.

  I landed hard and all the air whooshed from my lungs. As I was gasping for air I got another good look at the storm-creature. Sucking oxygen and blinking at the view behind us, I thought I saw, just for a moment, the shape of shoulders, thick swinging arms, and a turning head topped with horns. It was like a shadow-giant moving down the street, its bulk swaying.

  Then the image was gone, and if I didn't know better I would think I'd imagined it. Now it just seemed like a freak storm, sweeping across Saltford, moving fast and growing like a mushroom cloud.

  I wheezed as I rolled to my knees and grabbed Georjie's arm to help her up.

  "Go, go, go!" Targa was already on her feet and taking off.

  She nearly yanked my arm from its socket as she hauled us up and away. Her pure strength shocked me, but I was too dazed by what was happening to process it properly. I felt as though Armageddon must have struck. Was the whole world under attack, or just Saltford?

  As the storm passed near us, wind whipped our hair and lightning flashed angrily overhead.

  "Ugh!" A profoundly disgusted sound came from Georjie.

  My skin felt coated in something thick, cold, and slimy. I ran a hand along my arm and looked at it, but there was nothing to be seen. I shuddered and fought down a gag.

  Targa, Georgie, and I ran for the nearest blue sky, more than half a block to the southeast. We raced toward the clean-looking air over the beach and the Atlantic, our skin still crawling.

  Saltford had become a city bending and groaning under the weight of an apocalyptic event. My mind raced as I watched my hometown fall to pieces. What could we do? People scattered and ran through the streets, which became treacherous as they heaved. Cars swerved wildly across the blacktop as their drives tried to avoid people and other cars, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. Alarms and sirens signaled a city in chaos and panic. And somewhere behind us came the frightening sounds of splintering wood and twisting metal.

  People were getting injured, probably dying. Terror had taken the city.

  My blood thundered hot and fast next to my eardrums. Something exploded with a series of popping sounds, like fireworks. I squinted through the gloom to see that it actually was a collection of fireworks in someone's garage, spewing colored sparks from the open door. The garage had a dangerous lean to it, as did the house behind it.

  We reached the edges of the storm-beast and passed into sunlight. The feeling of muck crawling across my skin and being squeezed out of my hair and clothing was so bizarre that I hardly noticed the ground moving. It felt as though the invisible slime that covered us while we were in the shadows had to stay in the shadows, and as we moved toward fresh air it crawled across our bodies away from the sunshine.

  I felt a shudder through the soles of my feet. The sound of heaving and ripping pavement could be heard behind us. But when the smell of actual smoke reached my nose, my head snapped up.

  I slowed down and did a three-sixty, scanning for fire. The skin across the left side of my body tingled, and the fire inside roared to life.

  "Saxony, look." Targa's voice pulled my attention to where she was pointing at the sky.

  The shadow was growing larger and seemed to be twisting. The way the storm was moving gave me the vague impression of a golfer drawing back a club to swing. As the shape unwound, the sound of splitting earth and pavement was so loud that we clamped our hands over our ears. Thunder swelled to a nearly unbearable volume and the strangest lightning I had ever seen forked down from somewhere in the belly of the storm-beast.

  Where it struck, fire leapt up, zooming down a block of post-war homes like they were kindling.

  Rage ripped through me at the sight of Saltford homes burning. My fists clenched as I watched the storm-beast preparing another strike. Now this thing was using my element to attack my hometown?

  Not on my watch.

  I ran. Targa's and Georjie's voices were faint behind me. I pelted through a narrow alley between houses, vaulted a chain-link fence, crossed a park, and skirted a copse of trees before reaching the street that was on fire.

  Baking air turned the world into a mirage. Fire belched from windows, fueled with supernatural energy. The heat was incredible, the speed with which the fire had spread was astonishing. Flames leaped from rooftop to rooftop. There were people in the streets frantically making phone calls–likely going unanswered. There were people in the burning houses, but it would take forever to search every home.

  I had to put the fires out.

  Running down a walkway between homes to the back alley, I lifted my hands and began to walk, suffocating the flames as I went. I wanted to run as I worked, but extinguishing these flames took time and energy. Everything about this fire felt unnatural, like they were being fed by a strange, invisible fuel. As though they were connected to the entity which had given birth to them, they resisted and fought to stay alive.

  I walked, hands lifted, eyes glowing, smothering the strange supernatural flames until I reached the last building, almost at the ocean. The street was full of half-burnt and blackened homes. They spewed toxic smoke into the belly of the storm above, which now loomed over the entire city. My blood felt like lava in my veins. In the time that had elapsed since Georjie had held up the school, the storm-beast had quadrupled in size. Why was it growing?

  My mouth went dry as the sounds of a city in panic, under siege, filled the air. How was this thing to be destroyed?

  Two running figures appeared; faint forms in the dim light. Georjie and Targa. I became aware of the cold feeling of slime coating my skin. I moved toward them and a strip of sunlight along the rocky cove.

  "The world has gone crazy," Georjie said with a cracked voice. "That thing is just getting bigger, like it’s feeding off the frenzy or something."

  A flash of light on the horizon to the east pulled my attention to the Atlantic. My brain seemed to seize up. Was it just me, or was the ocean climbing into the sky?

  "What's that?" I pointed.

  The girls followed my line of sight. Georjie's face expressed confusion but understanding passed over Targa's immediately.

  "Tidal waves follow earthquakes," she said, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  "Only earthquakes that happen underwater, though. Right?" I peered at my aquatic friend, dread looming in my belly. "Not when they happen on land."

  "Who is to say that thing didn't shake the earth out there, too? It seems bent on destroying us." Targa gazed at the rapidly growing line of blue. "Either way, that thing is a tsunami and it's headed straight for Saltford."

  24

  Akiko

  Yuudai?

  The silence was resolute, steadfast, and unyielding. My voice was more like a thought, one that seemed to glide and echo softly, like silk slipping across skin.

  Yuudai, help me.

  I had no sense of passing time. It could have been sec
onds or years before I received the answer.

  Akiko? His voice was like a candle in the dark, glimmering and warm, a distant but distinct presence. What is it, little Hanta?

  I am facing something new. It’s nothing like the Oni I took down in Japan.

  Tell me. Yuudai's voice deepened and his words came slowly.

  Haltingly, and yet with a strange urgency which contrasted with the very nature of the Æther itself, I told him what I had seen. I described the way the thing appeared clearly only when I was mid-phase. I told him how I’d tried to get a grip on it with my talons and became swallowed by a cold and suffocating darkness that felt as though it would leach into my very soul.

  I could sense Yuudai listening, thinking. When I had finished he had only one word for me.

  Wait.

  The Æther was nothing but peace again.

  Silver streaks began to cross my vision. Suddenly and silently, Yuudai was there, tall and strong and beautiful. I was there, too, my human form bathed in white light. I looked down at my hands, my clothes, the ones I had been wearing last. Yuudai was dressed in a simple white button-up shirt and black jeans. His long black hair lay stark against his shirt as he looked down at me with a sad smile.

  "You're here!" Relief flooded me and I reached up to hug him. My arms passed through him.

  "Yes, and no," he said. "Hanta can use the Æther as a meeting place when the occasion calls for it, but we are not here in the flesh." He reached out to touch my cheek but I felt nothing.

  I didn't have time to learn the mysteries of the Æther. "Will you help me take down this demon, Yuudai? Between the two of us…"

  But he was shaking his head. "It's not a demon, Akiko."

  "It's not?"

  "Well." He made an expression of allowance. "It’s not just a demon. It's an Archon. An evil spirit of the ancient world, high up in the demonic hierarchy. It's above Hanta like you and me."

  "What do you mean, above us." I was outraged by this statement. How could an evil force like that be above us? We were creatures of the Æther, forces for good. Didn't that put this thing, this Archon, below us?

  "I don't mean above in the sense that it's higher up, just that it’s a stronger force than you and me, or any Hanta."

  My lips parted but I was speechless. This was not the answer I was expecting from Yuudai. Frustration burbled over.

  Yuudai could see it on my face. "Listen–"

  "I don't have time to listen to you talk about how we can't defeat it. There has to be a way. People are dying, my city is being destroyed. I can't just do nothing!"

  Yuudai began to fade as I pulled away from him.

  "Wait!" He reached out a long arm and his face was earnest. "You do have time. The Æther is a sanctuary from time. All things work out the way they are meant to, whether you visit the Æther mid-event or not. When you go back, you'll go back to the when you are needed in."

  I made an unhappy grunt, still smarting over the idea that this Archon could not be defeated.

  "Listen to me, so you understand." Yuudai's form cleared again and the white retreated. "In the beginning, it was not like it is now. Myths and legends of all nations and cultures are based on something real, no matter how fantastical they seem. There was a mixing of gods with humans in those days, and their offspring were giants. The giants of old were evil, cannibalistic creatures, preying on humans before the great flood wiped them out. Even now, evidence of these giants is everywhere on Earth; it is there for people to see, if they only look upon it with an open mind."

  "You mean, people see it but don't know what it is?"

  He dipped his chin in partial agreement. "People see what their belief-system allows them to see. You see this creature and recognize it for what it is, but someone else might see it and their mind will tell them it’s a storm." Yuudai's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Neither perception is wrong. But I digress."

  "Half gods," I said, reminding him where we were.

  Yuudai nodded. "Because these giants were demi-gods, they were partially immortal. Though their fleshly bodies perished, their spirits remained trapped in the space between realms, never able to fully materialize in one or the other. There is no rest for them. They feed on chaos, death, and fear, just like any demon, but they need a great deal more of it to survive. They are cunning and manipulative.”

  “That’s what this thing is? An old dead giant?” I shook my head with disgust. “He should have stayed asleep. Why is he awake now?”

  Yuudai took a guess. “He’s probably hungry.”

  “Hung…” I halted mid-speech, remembering how the spinning columns connecting people to the Æther had blurred in the Archon’s direction. I shuddered. “Ugh.”

  “In the days of old, they were present where they had the most nourishment—during battles, gladiatorial events, plagues, the raiding and the pillaging of villages. As men have developed technologies, become more peaceful and educated and found ways to feed everyone, the events the Archons rely on for sustenance have become fewer and further between, so they've learned to work with humans to orchestrate these events.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself but the chill which had settled into my bones would not ease. “So, now?”

  “Now.” Yuudai looked sad. “They offer things like long life, talent, power, money, and fame to those who are willing to make deals with them. Those people are put into places of power and then begin forwarding a demonic agenda. When their plans are thwarted, as they sometimes are, the demons become desperate and hungry. The use what energy they have to manifest as much as they are able to. They become single-minded and primal, like their giant ancestors. All they want is a buffet of chaos and fear and death to become strong again. If this Archon is attacking Saltford, it is likely because there was a plan that went awry and Saltford was the nearest place it could feed."

  "I understand all of that. But how do I kill it?"

  "You can't, Akiko." Yuudai's eyes were full of sorrow. "Only an Archangel can kill an Archon."

  "Well, how to I summon an Archangel then?" I cried out wretchedly.

  "They either come, or they don't."

  "That's it?" I felt sick.

  "I'm sorry, little Hanta." Yuudai's face and body began to fade, swallowed by the white. "There is only one thing that is for certain, Akiko, and that is that love is the most powerful force in the universe." His voice became that distant candle, dimming now. "When all else fails, love does not."

  25

  Saxony

  Targa sprinted for the beach, her skin changing from dirty gray to bright white as sunlight bathed her. Already the distant wave had quadrupled in size and was growing fast.

  "Targa!" Georjie called, her voice sounding as burnt out as mine.

  This time it was me telling Georjie to wait, the way Targa had held me back from the school while Georjie did her work. "She can…she might…"

  "Might what?" Georjie cried. She danced in place as though not sure whether to follow Targa or run away. "That thing is millions of gallons of water moving at high speed!"

  "She can either stop it, or we're dead anyway," I replied, shielding my eyes from the sun as Targa's figure got smaller.

  "I can't watch." Georjie covered her eyes but then peeked through her fingers. "What is she doing?"

  "She's chasing the ocean," I murmured. As Targa ran down the beach, the water ran away from her. At first I thought it was Targa sending the water back and exposing the rocky floor of the Atlantic, then I realized the water was being sucked out to sea as though by a vacuum.

  The hump of blue on the horizon had become a wall. The sound of rolling thunder, a stampede of giant horses with heavy hooves reached us. The din rose and rose.

  Boats tied offshore dropped. Their hulls hit rock and they tipped over as the water was sucked from underneath them. Targa ran past them.

  The coming wave would destroy half of Saltford and it was nearly here. Only seconds remained before it crashed over us.

  Geo
rjie and I reached for one another and I felt her hand close over mine and hold fast. I squeezed her back and thought of my family. My eyes misted up and blurred my vision but I brushed the moisture away. If I was going to die today, I wanted to go clear-eyed.

  Targa was a small figure against the wall of blue when she stopped running. The thundering wave dwarfed her like one long skyscraper. Her back arched and her hands went up. Her hair was wild black ribbons in the wind. Her tiny fragile frame would be swallowed up in the next second.

  Georjie's hand nearly broke mine and a sob tore from her throat.

  There was a thunderous crashing sound like water striking solid rock. The wave came to an abrupt halt at the feet of the mermaid standing before it. The wave rocketed straight up into the sky as though it had come against a glass wall.

  Georjie and I watched, mouths and eyes stretched wide, heads tilting back, necks craning, watching the wave stretch up and up and up and grow thin. Sunlight penetrated and the wall of water rapidly changed color as it spread against Targa's will. It morphed through dark gray blue through a million shades of blues and greens until it became clear and sparkled with the light coming through it. The effect was mesmerizing and beautiful.

  The water reached its zenith and curled backward. As though arching over a barrel, it began to rain down into the ocean as a waterfall. Droplets caught the sun and became flashing diamonds before striking the water and dimpling the ocean's surface. The first spatters became a torrent of falling water behind the wall of the ascending wave. Vertigo swept through me and I put a hand on Georjie's shoulder to keep from swaying on my feet.

  "Wow," Georjie whispered beside me.

  All I could do was nod.

  The tsunami was losing power; the cycle of climbing and falling water began to shrink. The water levels in Saltford's harbor began to climb.

  Targa kicked off her shoes and dove headfirst into the wall, disappearing into the gray-blue. Whatever magic she'd used to stop the wave was released, and water flowed across the ocean floor, bubbling and churning, whipping up dirty froth. It picked up the boats which had been beached. Garbage and wreckage was tossed about, but the Atlantic calmed rapidly.