by A. L. Knorr
"Where did she go?" Georjie asked.
All I could do was shake my head.
26
Petra
The sky to the south was a dark cloud punctuated by flashes of lightning. Knowing that it was some kind of nasty supernatural creature helped my eyes process what I was seeing. The storm looked like a blurry roiling shadow, a woolly prehistoric creature having a tantrum.
I had tried several vehicles at the field station without success. The newer vehicles were down from my EMP. Finally, I found an old Blazer they had used for snow removal. When I turned the key left in the ignition, its engine roared to life.
Even with my foot holding the gas pedal to the floorboard, I could not get faster than ninety kilometers per hour, and I was still hours away from Saltford. The road was a winding two-lane highway that seemed to meander over hill and dale like it had time to kill.
I let out another groan of frustration and clenched the steering wheel. There was a reason TNC had always used a helicopter.
I crested a hill, the Blazer chugging lazily. A helicopter whirred by, heading south along the coastline. Half expecting the TNC chopper, even though I'd destroyed their helicopters along with the rest of the station, I rolled down my window for a better look. The chopper was red—an emergency responder.
A van loomed in front of me, taillights red as it sat crooked in the road. I gasped and jammed my foot on the brake. The bucket on the front of the Blazer scraped against the asphalt as the truck came to a jolting halt.
At least the brakes were still in good order.
My heart thudded erratically at the sudden stop, then even more as desperation clawed its way up my throat. I got out of the Blazer to the sound of a few blasts of car horns ahead.
Beyond the van, a line of vehicles sat bumper to bumper along the highway all the way to Saltford.
"No." I stared at the jam in disbelief, panic rising. I got out of the Blazer and slammed the door.
"Been here for twenty minutes a'redy," said a voice from the nearby van. A man with a ball-cap perched high on his head hung out of the window, his arm dangling over the door.
"What's happened?" I asked him. "Do you know why we're not moving?"
"Nawp." He lifted the ball-cap and fluffed up the brown curls on his brow. He pointed a thick finger toward one of the people on their cell phone. "That feller there says a friend of his says a quake hit town this morning, two times, one right after t'other." He hammered a fist against his palm twice, hard and fast. "Earth's opened up in spots and everything, one across this here road so people can't cross. Nothin' to do but wait, or go back way round by Bellevue."
"Thanks." I started jogging.
"Got some extra beer in a cooler if you care to pass the time…"
His voice receded as I left the van behind me. If I couldn't drive to Saltford, I'd find the front of this jam and see if I couldn't hitch a ride or commandeer a vehicle. I set a pace along the shoulder, dodging angry travelers and those who were chill enough to lay back with their feet cocked up through an open window with the music going.
I passed by one lady, deep in the ditch, who was on her knees, hands folded in prayer. I understood how she felt. I could use a little help from a higher power right about now. It struck me, as my breathing grew labored, that I was supposed to be an Air Elemental. That was how they'd categorized me. So why did I feel so heavy and slow? At this pace, I'd reach Saltford by Halloween. For all of my incredible abilities, I would arrive too late to help.
My thoughts went to the Elemental girls. I hoped they were where they needed to be. Frustration sank its hooks deep in my heart. This could not be. I had to get there. Now. I ran faster, but felt all the feebler for it.
A memory rushed to the forefront—a dream. I saw my own hand in front of my face, turning to sand and crumbling, breaking apart and flying on the wind. A rush of adrenalin accompanied the memory and a stretching feeling followed. I felt the wind passing through my body, the molecules of my frame spreading apart.
I felt light.
There was a sound like the rushing of white-water over rocks: suddenly I was free. I tried to laugh, but I no longer had a throat.
My body blew apart and became a million tiny particles of sand. I swirled into the air, picking up height and velocity. My clothing drifted to the ground, caught a gust of wind, and landed on someone's windshield. The car door opened and someone got out. They picked up my pants and looked at them, then looked up, confused. Their expression turned to awe at the sight of the sandstorm overhead. In seconds, they fell out of my view.
My vision expanded. Everything passed below me at a frightening pace. The crooked line of vehicles looked like toys… up to a bridge and across a river that had become unstable, one corner drooping dangerously into the chasm beneath it. As quickly as I registered this, it passed by and was gone. The terrain became a blur.
The black clouds over Saltford loomed. The storm sometimes appeared to have limbs—thick muscular ones lifting and smashing—and other times it was simply a mass of darkness. Booms of thunder rolled across the land and lightning flashed from the belly of the Archon.
Alarms grew loud, as did the creaking and groaning of buildings and the angry crashing of the Atlantic. Smoke billowed up and was swallowed in the body of the thing.
I curved inland and banked, gathering speed. Dead ahead was my target, an Archon raining destruction on my city with the Atlantic as its backdrop.
My name drifted out of my memory. All mortal trappings faded from consciousness.
I was the screaming of high wind. I was the tempest. My battlefield was the skies above the city, and the stakes were the city itself.
I bore down on the shadow of death with all the fury of the Euroklydon.
27
Akiko
I plummeted from the Æther, crying out with disappointment. My stork's wings shrank and became those of a falcon. The white faded and a view of Saltford bled into my vision like watercolors seeping into fabric. The city was suffocated by smoke and the fury of the Archon. Electricity crackled from its body as the amorphous shape seemed to inhale and grow larger.
It fed on chaos, fear, and death…
Love never fails? How was I supposed to fight this thing with love? The very idea seemed ridiculous.
I phased and landed on the beach in a run on human legs, slowing down to a halt to gather my breath. I turned as the sound of a screaming wind reached my ears. My jaw dropped.
A second storm, made of sand, blocked out the sky to the northwest and curved as though riding high on the track at a velodrome. Its particles were separate from one another, yet clearly formed one confederate being.
A face with a great yawning jaw formed in the sand and then disappeared as quickly as it had come. Fingers formed to reach and then dissolve. There was something familiar about that face.
"Petra?" I whispered, blinking up at the strangeness unfolding before me. I looked at her. I looked at the Archon, then back at the sandstorm again. She was a titanic force on a collision course with the Archon.
She was far away but moving fast, bearing down on the Archon with the fury of a tempest.
The Archon seemed to twist to look, and paused.
When the sandstorm barreled into the Archon, the sound was unlike anything I had ever heard before. There was the scream of a gale, high-pitched and with an edge that made me cringe. I clapped my hands over my ears as the wind whipped my hair about my head in a frenzy. The scream transformed into a thunderous roar, then multiple roars in different pitches overlapping one another. One of the roars sounded like a bellow of pain.
The sandstorm's energy gathered into a tight projectile just before puncturing the Archon’s bulk as a lance, shooting through the Archon and out the other side before breaking into two, curving around and barreling through again like twin turbines.
The Archon staggered and the destruction of Saltford ceased as Petra drove it back toward the Atlantic. What commenced was a titanic
wrestling match between the Archon and the tempest, and the sounds of supernatural thunder filled the skies over the city and the waters of its harbors.
I clenched my fists as I watched Petra push the Archon out over the ocean. It seemed that some of the sands passed through the Archon without any effect at all, while others raked and blasted it, tearing through its black smoky hide and making it stumble and fight to right itself. My eyes leaked moisture from the resulting winds.
I took to the sky in the form of a falcon once again, and through the briefest window in mid-phase, I caught a clearer view of a huge horned beast, bulging with unnatural strength, topped with long, wicked horns. Its body writhed and its clawed fists swung at the storm that dared to face it. I caught a glimpse of the damage the Euroklydon was inflicting on its form; cracks opened up on the Archon’s black hide, a lurid red simmering beneath.
And then my view was gone and the beast once more became blurry and without definition.
My Hanta vision then told me another story. A small form in the heaving ocean just beyond the harbor drew my attention. It was Targa. Her connection to the Æther spun strong and white. Two more Ætheric connections drew my eye to where Saxony and Georjayna were on the beach, watching the Euroklydon and the Archon battle over the water.
The Archon seemed to sway and then push back toward Saltford, its dark shape leaning into the storm as though trying to shove a boulder up a hill. The Archon gave a jerking heave and a small shipping vessel seemed to come from nowhere; flying toward the beach, tumbling and turning toward Saxony.
I screamed out a warning cry. Saxony’s hands flew up, illuminated with flames, as Georjayna barreled toward her and knocked her aside. The boat exploded on the beach with a blast of broken boards and parts; the girls huddled with their hands over the heads.
The Archon advanced again on Saltford, with the Euroklydon whirling and screaming her fury around it. The surprise of her attack had won her the first round, but it seemed she could merely slow the beast down, perhaps injure it, not stop it. The Archon was pushing back toward land, step by agonizing step.
I wheeled over Saltford, observing the havoc the beast had wreaked upon my city. Cracks in the earth had opened up like great gashes. Fires raged in patches, feeding off the winds. Smoke swirled and plumed, filling the sky with toxic fumes.
The Archon advanced slowly; the Euroklydon was losing. It crossed the beach, then it crossed Atlantic Avenue. Another crack split open under the city, and more houses slumped and tilted.
Emotion clogged my throat.
Saxony and Georjayna, red and blond hair whipping in the wind, came together, talking and gesturing. Targa came running up the beach, wet and half-naked with her shirt slapping around her thighs. She threw her arms around them and they held one another. Their heads bent together, and gesturing, they seemed to be shouting words over the noise of the storm.
Then, as one, they broke apart and scattered along the beach. Targa ran into the water, bracing herself waist-deep in the churning Atlantic.
Georjie ran across Atlantic Avenue and planted her bare feet in the soil.
Saxony ran furthest, up the beach to where huge boulders had been collected and made a kind of break. She climbed up on the rocks and skipped over them, stopping on a large flat one several meters into the water. As she turned to face the Archon, her eyes were lit like lanterns. Her fists ignited with blue-white flame. Streaks of fire reached into the air. Her arms had become twin flame-throwers.
Thunder crashed as the Archon turned toward the source of the flame.
At the Archon's back, a cliff suddenly jutted up from the Earth. The burnt wrecks of houses splintered and fell back out of view as the earth made a gaping mouth fixing to swallow the Archon whole. From the wall of soil, thick roots like tentacles reached for the Archon, wrapping around and through its bulk. The terrain arched over the beast’s head and crashed down over it, swallowing it. A dust cloud obscured everything, filling the air with particles of dirt.
Two massive fists rose from the Atlantic and crashed over everything. The water swallowed the dust and churned over the shores and part of Atlantic Avenue where the Archon had been.
As the water swirled away and the smoke and fire from Saxony's flames dwindled, I phased into spirit.
My heart dropped.
The Archon surged upward through the soil and water and rose back into the sky, unaffected. Thunder rolled like wicked laughter and those horrible nuclear eyes found the tiny frames of its attackers. The sands of the Euroklydon swirled overhead, banking for another attack.
It was no use. It would not be put down. Those wicked horns lowered as the beast dropped to all fours, targeting Saxony as she stood on the rock, eyes still blazing, fists still flaming. She lifted her hands and slowly beckoned it. My heart swelled with pride.
Targa disappeared under the water and reappeared at the base of the rock where Saxony stood. Georjie ran across the beach and stood with her feet in the sand in front of Saxony and Targa. The three of them faced the Archon, tense, waiting. The ocean surged as Targa's blue eyes blazed righteous anger. Georjie's eyes were white and blazing, while Saxony's glowed red.
My heart filled with love for them. They would fight to the death, this was apparent. This was also something I could not allow.
When all else fails, love does not.
I wheeled fast and tight, heading out over the Atlantic with Saltford at my back. Picking up speed, I wheeled again, shooting straight toward the Archon which was still advancing on my friends.
Its horns rose against the sky as it reared back on hind legs, lifting massive, blurry claws.
Aiming for the region of the heart, where the Euroklydon had opened a smoldering red gash in its smoky hide, I passed over my friends’ heads. Pinning my wings tight to my body, I arrowed for a target I knew was there but couldn't see.
A fraction of a second before impact, I phased.
28
Saxony
A starburst of lightning flashed in the sky. Shards of light exploded from the central point of the storm-beast. I blinked and shielded my eyes, wincing at the pain in them as the light sliced through my vision and seemed to pierce my brain with a lance.
While I blinked at the sky, the scene over Saltford suddenly and drastically changed.
The storm-beast had vanished. The sky was a beautiful crystalline blue, save for the smoke from fires and the dust from disturbed earth hanging in low clouds over Atlantic Avenue.
The sounds of alarms filled the air, and a few small figures could be seen moving in the streets.
The tempest which had made war with the storm-beast looked momentarily lost. Losing power, the sands swirled and shifted in the skies, as though searching for its target. It was beautiful to behold, like a flock of starlings flying together against the clear canvas of blue.
"What…what just happened?" Targa reached up to help me down off the rock.
We waded out of the Atlantic and met Georjie on the beach.
"Did you see the falcon?" Georjie asked, throwing her arms around Targa and me and squeezing us hard.
"What falcon?" Targa asked, her voice sharp. She pulled back and looked from Georjie to me. Only now did her face truly telegraph fear. Not once during the whole horrific attack had Targa looked as frightened as she did now.
"I thought I'd imagined it," I rasped, rubbing a hand across my nose.
"What falcon?" Targa's voice cracked.
I looked at Targa and put a hand over the wet hair at the nape of her neck. "It was there for only a moment, and then…the flash of light."
"No," Targa whispered. A fat tear rolled down one cheek, followed by another and another and then her eyes were streaming endlessly. "No. She didn't."
"She'll be all right." Georjie put her hands on either side of Targa's face, wiping away the tears that just kept coming. "She's a Hanta. She fights demons, that's what she does. She'll show up, you'll see. She said she takes them deep underground, that's gotta take
a bit of time. Don't you think?" Georjie wrapped her arms around Targa and looked at me over Targa's black hair, pleading for agreement.
I nodded. "She'll be back. Just give her a minute."
I wrapped my arms around Georjie and Targa and took a breath. I felt Targa shiver so I let my fire heat my body up, warming her until steam rose from her shirt and her hair. She relaxed against my warmth.
I found that my throat had closed up and I thought there was a good possibility it would never open again. I searched the skies and ground for Akiko, hoping for another glimpse of the brave little falcon. My heartbeat slowed to heavy, aching thuds.
The water had begun to settle. The shores of the Atlantic were full of garbage—broken fishing boats, fishing gear, ropes and nets, and random bits of trash which swept in and out of the ocean. The water was a murky brown and capped with dirty foam.
"Guys…" Georjie pulled away from our hug and drew our attention from the water to the sky. She took a step back. "Whoa."
The swirling sand funneled together and was coming straight for us. I could have sworn for a moment I saw a face in the shifting particles—a familiar face.
"It's…" I began.
The sand arrowed for the beach and came together. As though filling a hollow glass sculpture, legs formed of the sand, which grew into a pelvis and a torso.
As her arms congealed and her head topped the sand-figurine now walking across the wrecked beach toward us, I somehow found her name. "It’s Petra."
She became flesh in full color, naked and bone dry save for her bare feet as a wave swept over them. Her dark hair was wild and flew around in a breeze and then settled over her brown shoulders. She was a vision straight out of poetry as she closed the distance between us, her expression calm.
