Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  “A hundred and ten, and a few months,” Agathon interjected. “We’re to be married exactly on her two-hundred and fiftieth birthday.”

  “Wow,” Wash muttered. “How long do elves live if you can wait that long for marriage and kids?”

  Caitlin bristled. The idea of procreating with Agathon soured her.

  “You know,” Agathon said, “most elves who are betrothed don’t always wait until the arranged date. Most elves actually do their best to love each other, or at the very least be friends.” The undercurrent of hostility in Agathon’s voice was obvious, along with a hint of bitterness.

  “Most elves have a life after marriage, Agathon,” Caitlin snapped. “What is it you will be doing? Captain of the royal guard? Flying around the world, traveling to embassies and holidays guarding my idiot sister and her husband? You will be allowed to leave the island, won’t you?” A tide of fury rose up in her that had been building over so many years that she suddenly could no longer hold it back. “What will I be doing, Agathon, while you are off enjoying the world? Please, tell me. For the rest of my long, long life, will I ever be allowed to leave the island again?”

  He looked away from her in the rear view mirror, unable to maintain eye contact. He could never out stare her.

  “It’s an honored position,” he mumbled.

  She threw herself back against the leather seat, crossing her arms and looking out the window. Wash remained silent. A flush of guilt ran through her for subjecting him to this spat. It was an old argument. One she’d had since she first found out what her role in Atlantis would be.

  “My parents, Daphne, even you, Agathon—my best friend as a child—you all decided you were the arbiters of what was best for me, and that you were entitled to tell me not just what I could and could not do, but what I could and could not think, and want,” she said, quietly. “You’re ten years older than me, and you hardly waited until I was sixteen before you wanted to start acting like we were married already. Do you remember how hard you pressured me to sleep with you to seal our betrothal? I was sixteen, you bastard.”

  Agathon’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel, still unable to look at her.

  “After that—after realizing that my life after our marriage, forever, would be a prison, with you and everyone else as my jailer… of course I chose to honor the letter of the law. Of course I didn’t want to begin my sentence any sooner than I must.

  “The only person who supported my choice was Aunt Hera. She told me to get out, and to not come back until the day I had to. Do you know why?”

  Of course, he didn’t know why. Why would he care about anyone else’s suffering? It didn’t affect him.

  “Let me enlighten you, then,” she said when he didn’t respond. He didn’t dare. “Because her betrothed pressured her into marriage years before she had to take over as Bloodseer, and she never even had a chance to have a life. To see or do anything else but what the Law demanded that she do. She didn’t want the same for me. She wanted me to see the world, to experience life before keeping the bloodlines became all I could do or know.”

  All her anger, frustration, bitterness, and—yes—fear… it all rolled out of her like a tidal wave on those words, leaving her suddenly drained from the release of so much pent up emotion.

  She had never said any of this to anyone. Not Agathon. Certainly not Daphne. None of her friends here on the surface had any context to understand what she was facing.

  She rested her head back against the headrest behind her, shutting her eyes tightly.

  A warm, strong hand closed around hers, and for a moment she just wanted to cry.

  All her life, she’d just wanted someone who was there, when she needed them. Someone, anyone.

  And here he was. The one person she could not have.

  Silence filled the cabin with only the sound of the tires against the dirt road for company.

  “I’m sorry,” Agathon spoke finally. “I didn’t—I never thought… I didn’t know, Caitlin. Not really. I guess I never really thought about what it meant for you.”

  No, you didn’t, she thought. The apology was years late in coming, and it did nothing to stave off what she would eventually have to do… but it was something.

  “We all have our roles to play,” she said. “Right now, mine is finding my foolish sister… followed by the next hundred years of listening to my parent's rage at me every time she comes home with a broken nail.” She kicked the door. And then again, harder, just because.

  “Are you really sure you want to rescue her?” Wash said, sounding as though he was only half joking.

  And then she realized what she’d said—in front of Agathon. He was part of the royal guard. He’d have an obligation to speak to her parents…

  “Wash filled me in while you were out,” Agathon said, catching her eye. “I’m not sure I agree with not informing your parents, but—as you said—you know this world better than I. If you think keeping quiet is the way to go, who am I to argue?”

  That made her pause. “Thank you,” she said, nodding in a vaguely conciliatory gesture.

  Then, she looked up at Wash. “I don’t have a choice in this area, like so many others in my life. Daphne is the crown princess. She’s Mother’s favorite. She’s the one who has accepted her role gracefully, rather than me, who upset tradition by leaving the island and seeking an education, a job, friends, a life…”

  “You know,” Agathon said, clearing his throat. “Not everyone on the island agrees with your parents. The council thinks your activities have done a lot of good in bringing the elven culture out of the shadows, not to mention easing international tensions...”

  Caitlin looked up at him in surprise. She could count on one hand, with three fingers chopped off, the number of times Agathon had said anything kind to or about her since she was sixteen.

  “That’s something, I guess.” She rolled her head to the side to look up at Wash.

  “What?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “You don’t have anything to say? I’ve just told you all the reasons why this—” She gestured between them “—can’t work. I’m not married, but… I’m certainly not a free woman. I never will be.”

  “Caitlin,” he began. Her heart seized as she waited for him to tell her how selfish she’d been, and how he was glad he had found out now, and not later, and how eager he was to be done with her entirely.

  “I told you before, I’m no one special,” he said. “What kind of selfish, worthless person would I be if I demanded you leave your people and your traditions for me? Knowing that I’d die and leave you alone with the consequences for the better part of your life.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, I’ll be long dead when he finally throws you over his shoulder and drags you back home—”

  “No doubt I’ll have to,” Agathon muttered.

  Wash squeezed her hand. “If all we can ever be is good friends, I’m okay with that. Hell, I’d take pen pals.” He smiled down at her.

  Despite everything she’d told him, and everything she’d put him through… his kindness touched her more deeply than she thought she could ever articulate.

  She sat up straighter in her seat and took his hand between both of hers. “Friends, without a doubt, Wash.”

  He smiled at her, and the warmth in his eyes, and her relief at having everything in the open… and yet without him running away… it overwhelmed the ache in her heart.

  “If you guys are about to kiss, I might have to vomit,” Agathon broke in.

  Caitlin’s head snapped around, and she kicked the back of his seat viciously. “Agathon.”

  “I meant it when I said friends,” Wash said to him. “Besides… how are you able to be so flippant about all this? I mean… you’re basically engaged to her.”

  Agathon shrugged as he drove. “Our marriage was arranged before we were even conceived by our parents. It doesn’t mean we’re in love. It’s just how things are done.” He glanced at Caitlin in the rear
view. “Anyway, the most interesting thing about all of this isn’t that Caitlin has a human on the hook… it’s why she has Osiris coming after her. Why does he want you, Caitlin? Does it have anything to do with Daphne?”

  “He wasn’t after me, he’s after Wash here. As for Daphne, whatever mess she’s gotten herself into, it has only to do with her.”

  “Why him?” Agathon asked, puzzled, at the same time Wash asked, “Why me?”

  She chuckled at their sudden responses.

  “Because, Wash, you’re wrong,” Caitlin said. “You are special, in a way I’ve never seen before. And, as you know… magic is kind of my thing.”

  He frowned. “You mean… the thing where I disrupted your spell?”

  “Yes, that… but more than that.”

  A flickering in his eyes caught her attention. Little flashes of something. She leaned in closer to look, and she saw them. She leaned in closer to look and she saw them. Little sparks of electricity flashing from one point to the next in his eyes. Barely enough for her to see. Perhaps she could only see it because she could see spirits.

  “There is a spirit within you, Wash. I don’t know how he got there, or what he is, but his power is immense.”

  Wash leaned back resting his head against the door. “I knew it was something like that. When we were stranded in the ocean I—”

  “You were stranded in the ocean?” Agathon broke in. “Like… the ocean-ocean?”

  “It’s been a busy couple of days,” Caitlin said, waving him to silence.

  “He… it—whatever is inside me, called to me,” Wash continued. “He told me he could save us both, I just needed to let him in. I thought I was hallucinating, so I did. The next thing I know, I’m waking up on the beach with you in my arms. I thought—well I thought I’d just powered through it.”

  He looked down at their entwined hands as if he were embarrassed to say anything.

  “That doesn’t explain why Osiris is after him,” Agathon pointed out. “Your hotel had a spirit. You’re always going on and on about how there are spirits everywhere.”

  Wash quirked an eyebrow. “You can’t talk to the spirits, Agathon?”

  Agathon shook his head. “Every elf has magic, but not all of us work through spirits. I can create constructs—swords, shields that sort of thing. Caitlin’s special, though.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Wash agreed.

  Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. “Not special, just one of many in a long line of elven women who can do the same thing. To answer your question, yes there are spirits in everything, but not all spirits are equal.”

  She pointed out the window toward the forest. “What kind of spirit do you think holds domain over the forest? A large one? Powerful and tall like the trees?”

  Wash nodded. “That would make sense.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “Remember how I told you magic is like water? It flows downhill. Spirits are similar. They attain power through movement. A spirit of an object or place that doesn’t move isn’t very powerful. The tree spirit would be practically impossible to summon unless I was in the middle of the forest, and even then she could do very little.”

  “Is that why the spirit of lightning was so strong at the club when you,” he waved his hand in the air to mime blowing things up.

  “Yes, electricity moves fast, but it is small. Powerful, but fleeting. When I saw the spirit within you, he was like a god. And I have no idea what spirit he could be, but he has a name, I’m sure of it. A spirit like that would be like a bottomless pit. All the mana in any ecosystem would flow to him. With Osiris making Puerto Rico his home, he would feel the magic shifting and either he thinks it is a threat, or he doesn’t want to share power.”

  “I so don’t know what to think right now,” Wash ran his hand over his face and rubbed his temples. “I can’t remember anything before waking up with you on the beach the first time,” he added for Agathon’s benefit. “The last thing I do remember is boarding a plane in Virginia for a job, but I can’t remember what job, or who hired me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Caitlin told Wash. “The spirit within you isn’t evil and I don’t think he wants to kill you. I think he actually wants to keep you alive. But humans aren’t meant to contain this kind of power. We need to find a way to remove him from you, and keep you alive.”

  “Don’t forget your sister,” Wash added.

  “Right, and find my sister.”

  “I can’t help you with your spirit problem,” Agathon said over his shoulder, “but as for your sister, I think I can help. We’re here.”

  Caitlin looked outside. The long winding road had ended at what amounted to a shack on a cliff overlooking the ocean. She had her bearings now. They were on the south side of the island, and from the looks of it, farther west.

  “I don’t get it, where’s here?” she asked.

  “I’m calling in a debt,” Agathon said with a grin, “Want to meet a dragon, Wash?”

  Caitlin’s heart stopped.

  “You don’t mean Al’ahmar, do you?”

  Agathon didn’t answer, just smiled as he hopped out of the vehicle.

  “Who’s Al’ahmar?” Wash asked stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

  “A nightmare.” Caitlin shook her head. Poseidon help them, because the one thing her people never, ever did, was deal with a dragon.

  Ten

  Wash couldn’t tell if he was freaking out inside at the prospect of meeting a dragon, or the fact that Caitlin held his hand as they walked toward the small shack with Agathon in the lead.

  “This is a mistake, Agathon. If I’d known what you were planning, I would have said no,” Caitlin said.

  The cocky elf threw her a smile over his shoulder. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you?”

  “Because you’re stupid?”

  The feud between Agathon and Caitlin felt old to Wash. They were like an old married couple who did nothing but fight about the right way to make a sandwich.

  It burned something in him—the place where bitterness, regret, and envy all collided into a confusing, jumbled mass. He struggled to contain it, to push it away. After all the secrets and the sadness and the struggle between them—it felt like a lifetime, not the single day it had really been—there was finally some peace between them.

  He clung to that and pushed past.

  “Seriously?” Caitlin was saying. “I didn’t even know he was here. How long has been out of Saudi Arabia?”

  “Since Ibn Suad put a bounty on his head,” Agathon responded.

  When Wash had been in the navy, there were always dangers to look out for. Sharks the size of battleships, mermaids, giant turtles, all things that had returned over the years since magic had re-emerged in the world. But dragons?

  Dragons were the embodiment of every myth and legend he’d read as a kid. He’d never seen one. He’d never known anyone who had seen one, much less done what Agathon had in mind.

  The shack, it turned out, was nothing more than a cover for a staircase that descended back in the direction they had come, carving down below the rock and earth into the island itself.

  Bright lights ran down the ceiling in small strings, illuminating the shaft all the way down.

  “How do you know he won’t eat us before you can talk to him?” Cait asked, not stepping down on the stairs when Agathon did.

  “This is Al'ahmar, the mighty,” Agathon said, loudly, and in the direction of the bottom of the stairs. “He smelled us a mile away, and knows exactly who we are.”

  Agathon resumed marching down the staircase. When Caitlin didn’t move, Wash squeezed her hand.

  “He seems confident,” he said, trying to reassure her.

  “Agathon always seems confident,” she said darkly. With a sigh, she took her first step into the shaft, and Wash was forced to let go of her hand. The stairs were only wide enough to allow them in single file.

  “He once defeated an entire army of Persian warriors with a sing
le swipe of his tale,” Agathon continued.

  “Why is he talking so loud?” whispered Wash.

  “He wants Al’ahmar, to hear our praise. It’s unwise to attempt to sneak up on a dragon. Not unlike the way you would make noise in the forest to avoid startling a predator.”

  He nodded. That, he understood. As a boy, he’d hiked in the Washington-Jefferson national forest. Black bears and wolves had little interest in attacking or eating humans. However, coming between a mama bear and her cubs, or splitting a wolf pack by accident still ended in angry predators, even if they wouldn’t have otherwise bothered a person. He could only imagine that instinct in something the size of a dragon.

  The stairs went down and down, and Agathon bragged about Al’ahmar the mighty with each step. Wash glanced behind them as the top of the stairs shrank until he could no longer see the entrance. Sweat broke out on across his body as they descended. Puerto Rico wasn’t a very tall island, and their elevation had been pretty low to begin with. By this point, they were probably below sea-level.

  “You okay?” Caitlin asked him after he lingered back a few steps.

  “We’re awful far down, and this staircase is a kill box,” Wash said. “If anyone followed us here…”

  Caitlin reached up and squeezed his hand. Assurance flooded through Wash, bringing a smile to his lips and a warmth that spread from his neck to his toes.

  “If worse comes to worse, we can always let Agathon lead the charge,” she said with a coy smile.

  Almost as if he could tell they were looking at him he turned he said, “We’re almost there, keep moving.”

  Caitlin squeezed his hand one more time and resumed her descent. He reached for her as she pulled her hand away letting her fingers brush across his palm. The warmth of her contact vanished. He stifled the sigh building up in him and started down the stairs again.

  A few minutes later, the stairs came to an abrupt halt turning into a short hallway only a dozen feet long. A strong looking door, made of the same rock that the walls were, barred the entrance. Elaborate carvings covered the door. He’d seen a few documentaries in his life, and the carvings reminded him of the stone tablets from ancient Mesopotamia.