by DM Fike
This time when I completed the underwater breathing sigil, the water didn’t gum up my airways. It felt natural, as if I should have been breathing water all along. I coughed (very strange underwater) and opened my eyes to the world under the lake.
I’d done it. I connected with the shimmering world around me, the gushing water as common as any breeze.
I couldn’t enjoy my victory. Something splashed in the water next to me. I barely dodged the panther’s fish tail slapping toward me. The vaettur still wanted me dead. I dove down, scanning for Baot.
I found him near the deepest part of the lake. He sat in a yoga pose, cross-legged with his hands on each knee, but floating above the sediment. The strange aquamarine glow around him only accentuated the unreal scene. He slowly pushed himself up as I approached. I’d caught him before he executed his final water banishment sigil with all that stored pith.
Baot flinched in surprise as I swam toward him. “Ina?”
I couldn’t talk underwater, so I grabbed his hand to pull him up instead. A baffled Baot widened his bright eyes, pupils shimmering with so much excess water pith that his irises rippled. I have no idea how he had absorbed that much pith, but I hoped it would smack that aquafeline back into Letum for good. As we reached the surface, I prepared to explain my plan as quickly as possible.
The mishipeshu had other plans.
A paw raked down in the water before we could speak. Baot and I both managed to avoid getting shredded, but only by letting go of each other. The better swimmer, Baot eluded the attack and created more distance, but I floundered away only a few feet. This gave the quick panther the opportunity to thwack me with a second paw.
The backhand blow sent me in an arc above the lake’s surface, completely out of the water. If I’d had any air in my lungs, the blow would have knocked the wind out of me. As it was, relying on the underwater sigil to breathe and suddenly finding myself surrounded by storm winds dulled my reflexes. My body hit the water again, leaving me dazed and vulnerable to attack.
For a split second, I thought I would die. It’s a reasonable assumption for someone floating on their back watching a monstrous panther bear down on them, all fangs and claws and murder. If it hadn’t been for lightning crashing like a rock concert above me, I might have been torn to bits.
Instead, I raised one hand between me and the vaettur. I absorbed the tiniest bit of lightning pith from the storm. As more sizzling pith rushed in its wake, I drew the simple sigil I’d created for lightning—frantic zigzags back and forth—and shot it straight into the panther’s face.
The bolt of lightning slapped the mishipeshu backward into the water. I continued to gather lightning, hoping to gather enough for a banishment. To my surprise, though, as long as I continued to absorb lightning pith from the storm, I could create a steady stream of seizure-inducing pulses toward the now flailing panther. It howled as I continued the onslaught. It couldn’t get out from under my electric stream.
While becoming a human lightning rod sent stabs of pain up and down my arm, I wasn’t about to let up, not if it kept the mishipeshu at bay. I furiously treaded water with my free hand to keep my other hand pointed toward him, wondering how long I could keep it up.
After what seemed like forever, but probably less than a minute passed, Baot surfaced not far away from the incredible stand-off. The flashes of light reflected even more brightly inside his own glowing eyes.
“Whoa,” he breathed.
“Banish him!” I yelled. “Every last bit of your pith!”
Baot hesitated. “But your lightning…”
I threw him my harshest glare. “JUST DO IT!”
Baot responded to the wrath of a drenched lightning-fueled shepherd screaming like a banshee. He rose out of the water very god-like, using pith to push upward until he could stand on the rolling surface of the lake. He then slid into a graceful sigil stance with both feet apart. With a battle cry that sounded like a tidal wave crashing down upon a beach, he drew a banishment sigil.
Out of nowhere, I started to fall. Through the pain of frying the panther, it took me a second to realize it wasn’t really me sinking, but the lake’s water level decreasing, as if someone had pulled the plug in a sink. And yet, there was no water attack in sight.
Confused, I yelled, “Baot! You need to…”
I trailed off because that’s when I comprehended his technique. A giant circular wall of water rose around us. The lake wasn’t draining. Baot had cast an attack that created a 30-foot diameter waterfall. We continued to sink as Baot extended the water wall even higher, creating a strange strobing effect with my lightning still zapping the hissing cat.
Then the water fell. Not collapsed inward, but from the top, like an infinite Niagara Falls screaming down toward us. We all sunk down to the exposed lake bottom, the panther sliding in the sludge to regain its footing. The mishipeshu was so pissed off, it didn’t even notice the hundreds of thousands of gallons plunging toward its head, yellow eyes fixated on me in hate.
This was my chance. I let up on my lightning stream to absorb lightning pith for one last attack.
I drew my own five-pointed star. “Go to hell!” I yelled.
The cascade of water hit the panther at the same time as a tree trunk sized bolt of lightning streaked down from the storm clouds. The strange funnel Baot had created with the lake water turned so white, even closing my eyelids, all I could see was that luminescence. The panther might have made a sound as it exploded into nothingness, but I couldn’t hear anything but the roar of thunder crashing in my ear drums.
CHAPTER 22
THE ORACLE ATTENDED Jortur’s funeral.
All of us involved with the vitae mission had dressed in dark green robes that Sipho provided for somber occasions. We gathered in a quiet little grove under a mountain where Tabitha said Jortur loved, mere miles from the homestead. The deer’s body lay quiet before us, displayed with his head tucked in toward his chest so he might have been sleeping. Darby shared a few heartfelt memories of the black-tailed deer, her voice breaking every fifth word. She had us all in tears as she relinquished the floor.
Then Tabitha stepped in. She kneeled next to the deer like a samurai warrior, running her hands along his fine fur. Chanting, her fingers kneaded into his thick mane, then all over his flanks. It took me a while to realize she wasn’t massaging the corpse, but drawing intricate earth sigils, ones so crazy complex that a single one must have contained more than one hundred strokes. Specks of green popped wherever she went and in a matter of minutes, an interlocking series of plants sprouted from those spots as Jortur began to slowly dissolve into the earth.
The sight took my breath away. Although we celebrated a death, new life literally sprung from Jortur’s remains.
I’m lucky to have witnessed it at all. Tabitha, of course, vehemently protested against my attendance, claiming me responsible for Jortur’s death. To be honest, I would have voluntarily stayed behind at the homestead, but all the other shepherds (besides Darby) insisted I go. Baot, especially, asserted that banishing the mishipeshu more than honored Jortur’s memory. Sipho also agreed. She argued that any one of the shepherds’ scents could have attracted the mishipeshu to the homestead, and thus I could not be blamed for the outcome.
So, despite feeling like I’d been run over by a monster truck both physically and emotionally, I watched Jortur’s essence return to Nasci, yards behind the semi-circle of shepherds that viewed the funeral.
It’s back there in the wings that a voice whispered in my ear, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, having not felt anyone approach. I found the Oracle standing somberly next to me, dressed in a ceremonial robe with such long sleeves that her hands remained hidden inside.
Despite the arguments that I’d helped saved the day, Tabitha still wanted me bound. Guntram said he would vouch for me, but he admitted he couldn’t predict what the Oracle would decide. I had, for better or worse, flouted orders that led
to some serious consequences.
Because of that, I did not trust my voice to reply to the Oracle. I merely nodded.
She watched Tabitha draw several more sigils before stepping back. I thought she might fade away like she arrived, a ghost, but she motioned me to join her.
I glanced back. Jortur’s body was half gone, a red cedar sapling sprouting from where his heart had been. Not far away, arms folded, stood Guntram. He alone noticed the Oracle. He looked at me long and hard, then tilted his head to indicate I should follow.
It occurred to me this might be the last time I’d see him, but I swallowed my fear and obeyed his orders for a change.
The Oracle may have had more wrinkles than a button-up shirt, but she zipped through the trees fast enough that I had to jog to keep up with her. She led me uphill, making her speed even more impressive. I broke out in a sweat as we reached the top of the mountain, despite considering myself in excellent shape.
The Oracle wasn’t even winded. She took a seat on a large boulder, slipping one leg over the other casually, then cocked her head at me like a blue jay.
“You must know why I need to speak to you.”
I couldn’t tell if she sounded cheerful or sarcastic, so I kept my expression neutral. Folding my hands in front of me, I said, “Because of Jortur.”
I swore she could read my feeble brain as she replied, “Because you disrespected your augur by ignoring his commands. Twice.”
The words came rushing out of me despite my resolve to remain calm. “No one would listen to me, and I knew lightning was the key to banishing the mishipeshu. I didn’t think—”
“You are correct. You didn’t think. That’s the point, Ina. In fact, it seems to be a recurring character flaw of yours. You rush into everything without regard to the consequences.”
I should have acted demure, but I couldn’t just let that comment slide. “And if I hadn’t, that demon panther might still be running around. We might not just be at Jortur’s funeral. It could be a four-in-one with three dead shepherds to boot.”
Her lips tightened as I spoke, and I thought for sure I’d signed a one-way ticket back to my parents’ house. I braced myself for it.
But instead, she nodded in agreement. “That is also true.”
“It is?” I asked before I could help myself.
Her face relaxed. “Would you rather I take Tabitha’s viewpoint of this situation?”
“Hell, no! I mean—” I cleared my throat. “No thanks.”
The Oracle stood regally, a queen who’s quashed too many rebellions. “Don’t get me wrong, Ina. Tabitha makes many valid arguments. You are too headstrong for your own good. Combined with your unique talent to absorb lightning pith, it makes you quite dangerous.”
I really couldn’t argue that point. “Where does that leave me?”
She walked directly in front of me, and it was only then I realized her robes were flowing in a breeze I did not feel. I hadn’t noticed her draw any sigils, and the breeze hadn’t been there when she’d perched on the boulder.
The Oracle placed both hands on my shoulders. “It depends on you, eyas. And if I were you, I’d start paying more mind to my augur’s instructions. If this situation has taught you anything, it should be that he possesses more knowledge than you can hope to assimilate in the next decade. That should give your feet pause the next time they want to race off on their own accord.”
Listen to your elders. Right. But out loud, I said, “Yes, Oracle.”
She surprised me by chuckling. “Except for this one thing. Call me Yoi, even if Guntram tells you not to.”
Intimidated by her closeness, I merely nodded.
She turned to leave. I considered letting her go without comment, but I had to know. “Why are you letting me off so easy?”
She called over her shoulder, “Who says I am letting you off easy?”
Then she disappeared under the shadows of giant trees that were, perhaps, younger than her.
EPILOGUE
THE ORACLE WAS not wrong. Guntram assigned me to a month of the worst menial tasks. Cleaning the lodge from top to bottom, rebinding half the books in the library, picking up cougar scat, just about any awful chore he could think of, and all without magic. Not only was I restricted from absorbing the smallest speck of pith for a month, Guntram confined me to the homestead. While Tabitha took the other shepherds to imbue new dryants—Abby the Humboldt marten, a giant red octopus from where the kappa had attacked, and a Columbian white-tailed deer named Piyax—I had to stay behind and act like some indentured servant. Guntram left for a week to locate and seal the mishipeshu’s breach, but he kept his nasty ravens on me ’round the clock so I wouldn’t step a foot outside the homestead.
Of course, Tabitha found my punishment all too lenient. Before leaving, she took advantage of my situation by creating extra work for me. She needlessly burned firewood so I’d have to chop more and made Darby practice earth sigils near fences to destroy them just so I’d have to rebuild them.
I hated the punishment, but deep down, I knew I deserved it. Without saying in so many words, Guntram was reminding me what it would be like to be bound. He’d been away from civilization so long, he probably imagined human life full of farm chores rather than mindless retail jobs, but point taken. Time to toe the line.
Well, for the most part. I managed to keep my phone hidden from the others. I told Guntram I’d lost it in the fight with the mishipeshu, which he didn’t believe for one second, but since he couldn’t find it, he couldn’t do anything about it. I kept it buried near one of those mended fences to prevent even Sipho from discovering it. It became a source of comfort to me during that month of manual labor. Every other day or so, I managed to sneak away long enough to dig it up. And Vincent always left me a new text message.
“You still a prisoner on your weird invisible plantation?” he might ask.
And if I was super lucky, when I replied with some witty retort, he’d see it immediately, and we’d chat for a few minutes before I felt I pressed my luck too far and powered the phone down.
I knew texting Vincent would get me in the biggest trouble of my life. I’d somehow gotten a pass on his little homestead visit since he’d helped me figure out how to banish the mishipeshu, but that was done now. Guntram warned me that under no circumstances was I to associate with him, and honestly, I had no real reason to anyway.
But I couldn’t help myself. Vincent took the sting out of Tabitha’s hatred toward me. He made tending Sipho’s gardens go by more quickly. He was the last thing I thought of when I went to bed, and the first thing I thought of when I got up in the morning.
I hated to admit it, but I had developed a crush on him. Me, a shepherd. Not that anything could possibly come of it.
Besides, we were just texting. What could possibly go wrong?
WANT MORE INA?
If you enjoyed this Magic of Nasci book, read the next in the series:
RUNNING INTO FIRE
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DM Fike worked in the video game industry for over a decade, starting out as a project manager and eventually becoming a story writer for characters, plots, and missions. Born in Idaho’s Magic Valley (you can’t make this stuff up), DM Fike lived in Japan teaching English before calling Oregon home. She loves family, fantasy, and food (mostly in that order) and is on the constant look out for new co-op board games to play.
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Magic of Nasci
&nbs
p; Ina is a rookie nature wizard, learning the ropes of elemental magic—fire, air, earth, and water. She can also wield lightning, setting her apart from the other shepherds of Nasci. This action-packed urban fantasy series takes you on Ina’s adventure to prove herself, deep within the heart of the Pacific Northwest forests, where true power still thrives.
Check out all the books in the series:
Book 1: Chasing Lightning
Book 2: Breathing Water
Book 3: Running into Fire
Acknowledgement
Writing a book is one thing, getting it out to the world is another. I'd like to thank those who read early versions of this story, including Jennifer Marshall and Sandra Schiller. You helped shape Ina into the awesome shepherd she has become.
Many talented people gave this book the professional care it deserved. I found my editor Lori Diederich through the 20Booksto50K Facebook group, an invaluable resource for new writers. Sara Smestad modeled for Danan Rolfe so we had plenty of great photos to choose for the cover.
A few final shout-outs. One to my first fan, Samantha Marshall, who believed before anyone else. The last goes to Jacob Fike, who lends both his time and skills to making each of my books better. I couldn’t do this without him.
