Ignition

by Emma Shelford

  The man gives a very large sigh.

  “The activity is only increasing. Since five o’clock this morning, there’ve been constant emissions and tremors every hour. We’ve been checking the spectrometers, and the gas composition is fluctuating like crazy.” He sighs again. “And what’s worse, we’ve started to get readings from the other two, Mt. Vickers and Mt. Kullen. Nothing visible yet, but it looks like they’re also getting ready to rumble.”

  “Any word on why this is happening? Why they’re coming out of dormancy?”

  The man shakes his head before I finish speaking.

  “That’s the thing. These mountains should be dormant. There’s no indication of plate movement, hot spots, nothing.” The man gives a bitter laugh. “Right now my money’s on Hephaestus. Looks like he’s waking up.”

  Hephaestus is the ancient Greek god of blacksmiths, fire, and volcanoes. This man is closer to the truth than he knows. The lauvan are about as scientific as a Greek god.

  “Shit,” I breathe out in reply.

  “Shit,” he agrees.

  We stare at Mt. Linnigan in silence for a minute. The scientists and rangers run around and shout instructions behind us.

  The ground rumbles under my feet ever so slightly. The noises behind us change in pitch, and the scurrying picks up pace. A large cloud of steam bursts forth from the peak of Mt. Linnigan.

  “Thar she blows,” the man says. He stands up straight. “I’d better go look at the seismometer. Not that it will say anything informative, but still. The motions need to be carried out.”

  I nod when he leaves, and reach out my fingers surreptitiously. I close my eyes and try to feel out the lauvan in the region. The air is practically thick with them here. I touch a sickly lauvan and fight the revulsion that threatens to bring up the contents of my stomach. The last thing I want is to vomit a half-digested songbird in front of everyone.

  I plug myself into the lauvan and explore the region briefly. When I pull myself out, I’m shaking. The man is right. The infection is spreading to the other two mountains due to their liberal covering of lauvan-cables. Everything feels so unstable.

  I wipe sweat off my brow and make my way around the tent into the trees before I allow my disguise to revert back to my normal clothes. It’s time to get closer and see if I can fix this. Somehow.

  CHAPTER XII

  The mountain is so close now that I elect to walk to the nearest cable. Anyone who sees me will likely take me for a scientist, since they’re not allowing anyone else into the park. I grin briefly. I studied chemistry back when it was called alchemy—does that count?

  Although the nearest cable runs straight through the bustling parking lot, I don’t relish explaining my actions to the rangers. From this vantage point, the next nearest cable looks to be a few hundred paces to the east. I follow signs for the Michelson Lookout, surmising that a viewpoint will make it easy to spot my target.

  A short climb through dense forest and multitudinous roots brings me to a rocky outcrop with a wide-open view that overlooks the narrow valley at the foot of Mt. Linnigan. I’m even closer to the mountain than at the parking lot, and the rising steam appears even more foreboding from this vantage. The sick lauvan are clearer here and cluster together on the mountain in large numbers, which explains how I am able to see them from a distance. A lauvan-cable snakes up the promontory, only paces from where I stand.

  The mountain takes up most of my attention, which is why I’m caught off-guard when I hear my name.

  “Merry?”

  Anna sits on a wooden bench bolted to the stone under our feet, a backpack at her side and the cable glittering behind her. She looks as surprised as I am. She has a lot less makeup on this morning and her long curly hair is pulled back in a loose braid. A blouse of green and white stripes flutters in the faint breeze. The end result is fresh and clean, as if she’s the younger sister of the woman in the bar. It’s a good look on her.

  “Anna?” I clear my throat. Do I have a feather stuck in there? “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she says. When I don’t respond right away, she gives a self-conscious laugh. “Never mind. Keep your secrets, mystery man. You might as well sit down and have some coffee, since we skipped the usual awkward breakfast dance this morning.” She holds out a thermos.

  I grin. We understand each other perfectly.

  “Did you make it this morning? I didn’t hear a thing,” I say, sitting down and taking a sip out of the thermos neck. “Mmm, good.”

  “You were dead to the world.” She leans back and gazes at the mountain. “I tried to be quiet but I think a bomb could have gone off and you wouldn’t’ve noticed. Sorry it’s not very good—it’s just instant.”

  “It’s warm and wet. That’s all I want.”

  She laughs.

  “Spoken like a true man.”

  We grin at each other before Anna’s eyes are drawn once again to Mt. Linnigan. I consider her profile. She hardly notices. She’s completely enraptured by the sight of the steaming mountain, whose plumes rise to blend into the low cloud blanketing the sky.

  She offers no explanation for why she’s here, and I don’t want to pry because I don’t want her prying back.

  “I met your friend at that new shop in town.” I pass back the thermos.

  Her face darkens. She takes the thermos, but continues to keep her eyes on the mountain.

  “Jackie doesn’t get me. She’s so small-minded.” She tosses her head defiantly. “What did she say about me? She’s such a gossip. A frightened little mouse gossiper.”

  Well, that was a calm and unbiased analysis. There’s no love lost between the two of them.

  “Reading between the lines,” if I’m being very generous, “I think she’s worried about you. Something about a dark aura. I don’t know what she meant. Maybe it means something to you.”

  Anna breathes out in a huff.

  “No. You know what that means? All it means is that she’s too much of a spineless chicken to grab opportunities right in front of her. And a hypocrite too. She has a chance to be part of something larger than herself, and she throws it away. Bah.” She tosses her hand as if getting rid of something.

  “Well, opportunities can look great to some and like work to others.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? I just think it’s a bit rich to be accepting gifts, and then turn around and not give anything in return.” Anna absentmindedly touches her chest.

  While I agree it is a very fine chest and should probably be touched more, I can’t help but wonder at the gesture. My suspicions are awakened when I see a flicker at her shirt’s neckline. Anna’s lauvan are a rich purple, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of bright orange.

  “Isn't it beautiful?”

  I frown at the abrupt change of topic. Anna’s eyes haven’t left the steaming mountain for ages.

  “I suppose. If you’re into death and destruction.” Although she has a point. The gently steaming peak of Mt. Linnigan has a certain majestic gravitas. I have a sense, though, that there’s more to learn about our previous topic. I bring the conversation back to Sylvana.

  “What kind of gift did Jackie get?” I ask. I’m not being very subtle, but with Anna only half-paying attention it doesn’t seem to matter.

  Anna only shrugs. I pry a little more.

  “Is it that necklace she wears?”

  Anna starts and looks at me fully. I have her attention now. I hope that was wise. Her eyes consider me with interest but she says nothing.

  “I just noticed that she touched it a lot when she read my aura, and—I got a weird feeling about it,” I finish lamely, although truthfully.

  Anna smiles then, a calculating rise on one side of her mouth that doesn’t suit her fresh-faced demeanor.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t talk the talk and not walk the walk.” She looks me up and down. She seems as interested as she did last night, but only says, “Can
you give me your hand and close your eyes? I want to try something.”

  Bemused and really not sure either what Anna is talking about or planning to do, I hold out my hand, palm up. She takes it and lays it on her denim-covered lap.

  “Close your eyes,” she says, and I oblige.

  Nothing happens for a moment, and then the strangest sensation runs along one finger. It’s as if Anna is stroking my index finger with the lightest of feather touches, and yet the feeling runs so deeply that I can feel it pass all the way through my finger out to the skin on the other side. A sensation akin to pins and needles creeps up my arm.

  The lightness of her touch is so sensual and the depth is so intimate that I am immediately aroused. My mouth opens in an involuntary moan.

  How is she doing this? I ignore her instructions and open my eyes. Anna’s eyes are on my face, and she smirks in a satisfied way. My eyes travel down to our hands. She strokes my index finger gently. Except she doesn’t—her finger doesn’t contact my skin in any way. What she is touching is my lauvan. And not just lauvan to lauvan, as usually happens between two people—indeed, as happened between us last night—but her physical finger is actually touching my lauvan. When she feels out a loose end and runs her finger and thumb up its length, my body shudders with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

  This is unreal. Is Anna like me? I might hope that I have found a kindred spirit at last, except that her movements are clumsy as if she can’t see what she does, only feel. My eyes move slowly to her face, but on the way I stop at her neck.

  Spilling out from under her shirt is a huge amount of orange lauvan, the same color as the flicker I saw a minute ago, exactly like the ones on Sylvana. I feel a wave of crushing disappointment that Anna is not like me, and then indignant confusion. Really? Three amulets of power in one week? What are the odds?

  Very low odds. Obviously these “gifts” are being handed out for a reason.

  Anna must notice the changing expression on my face.

  “What’s wrong?” She continues to stroke my finger. “Don’t you like it?” She looks down at my jeans and smirks. “Never mind. You’ve already answered that.”

  This is too strange, too much. I snatch my hand away and stand up, adjusting myself. I’m not sure I’m ready to be the recipient of lauvan manipulation just yet. I’m too used to being the manipulator.

  “I have to go.”

  She considers me thoughtfully.

  “There’s something about you, Merry. Something different. You intrigue me.”

  Before I can answer—not that I have an answer ready—a tremor shakes the ground beneath our feet. I stagger. Anna raises her arms as if in triumph, and the foreign lauvan around her neck glow brightly.

  “Behold the power of the gods of fire!” she says. Mt. Linnigan gives a great belch of steam. Anna laughs exultantly. “Isn’t it glorious?” She holds a hand out to me as if inviting me to revel with her.

  I don’t understand what’s going on, not at all. I look into Anna’s shining eyes and shake my head in bewilderment.

  “I—I have to go. I’m sorry.” I turn and walk quickly down the path, away from Anna and her mysteries and distractions.

  I need to get back to work.

  ***

  Examining the nearest cable would be difficult with Anna breathing down my neck, so I direct my steps back to the parking lot. I keep to the trees to skirt the busy base camp and circle around to another trailhead, this one marked “Eagle Creek Trail.” The trees along the path are dense, but within minutes I know the next nearest cable is near. It’s no Spidey sense—it’s that the lauvan are getting thicker. Sick yellow threads gleam among the shining silvery-brown ones on their slithering path over dead pine needles that cover the ground.

  I bend to pick up a sick lauvan, but before my fingers reach it my pocket vibrates. Relieved by the interruption—touching the yellow lauvan is no picnic—but feeling guilty for feeling relieved, I pull my phone from my pocket.

  It’s Jen. I suck in my breath. I haven’t had a chance to come up with a cover story. Oh well, I’ll have to wing it.

  “Hi, Jen,” I answer with as much composure as I can muster. My experience with Anna at the viewpoint has me still flustered.

  “Merry! Where are you?” There’s a roar of background noise behind her words. “I’m on the bus, heading to my new job.”

  “Hey, that’s great,” I say. I forgot she texted me.

  “Where are you?” she repeats. “I tried to come by your office, but you must be slacking off.” She makes a little tsking sound that’s almost drowned out by the roar of the bus.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I say. “I took a little trip. Change of scenery to get the marking juices flowing. I just started driving and ended up in a little hole-in-the-wall town.”

  “You’re so strange,” Jen says, but laughs. “What’s the hole called?”

  “Wallerton. I think it’s been on the news recently.” Only everywhere. I doubt she’s missed it. I expect Jen to be worried about my being in the town threatened by a volcano, or perhaps she hasn’t heard of it. I don’t expect the response she actually gives.

  “Get outta here! That’s where I’m headed!”

  I’m shocked into speechlessness. What are the ramifications of Jen being in town? There’s a lot going on here that she knows nothing about, that I can’t tell her about. I have no good explanations to offer her for why I’m here and what I’m doing.

  But despite this, my spirits lift. It’ll be good to see Jen. This volcano business is starting to overwhelm me. It’s hard to feel down with Jen around.

  “That’s crazy,” I say. “What are the odds?”

  “Yeah. I’m heading up to interpret for a businessman from Hong Kong, he’s got money in a mining operation nearby. He wants to talk to the officials in person to find out how the volcano might affect him if it blows.” She laughs. “Seems like a lot of effort for a few questions, but what do I know? Maybe it’s a diamond mine, or maybe he’s secretly a lava enthusiast. Whatever, it’s my first job!”

  “Sounds great.” A thought strikes me. “Aren’t you worried about the eruption?”

  “It’ll only be a few days. And I can deal with a bit of ash in my hair.” The phone crackles. She says, “Hey, I have to go. There’s a tunnel up ahead and I’ll probably get cut off. But dinner tonight?”

  “Sure. I’ll call you,” I say, and sign off.

  Dammit. Not only do I have to figure out how to stop this volcano from erupting and harming thousands of people, my own friend included, but I have to do so while keeping my true purpose here a secret from Jen. And the mystery of Anna looms even larger.

  One and a half thousand years, and life is as complicated as ever.

  ***

  Jen’s call paused me in the middle of the trail. I shove the phone back in my pocket and continue down the path. Ten paces later, a turn brings a glimmering wall into view. It’s the lauvan-cable, where it bisects the trail on its travels through the forest to Mt. Linnigan. Its shimmering coils throw light on the path and surrounding trees, as if from sunlight dancing over water.

  This cable is a good starting point for my attempts to fix this center. Any cable would do, really—they’re all full of sick lauvan and all need healing equally.

  The sick lauvan are getting thicker. To my left, where the cable stretches away from the center, sick and healthy threads lie smoothly together. To my right, the cable drapes across the path to the edge of the trees where it disperses into individual lauvan and creeps over the surface of the mountain. There, the healthy silvery-brown lauvan are wrapped around and entangled with sickly yellow lauvan. They should freely twist and spiral in a line toward the dispersal point. It’s a mess to look at, like braided hair rubbed and tatted and covered in burrs.

  I walk toward it slowly. The best approach that I can think of right now is to simply untangle the lauvan and hope that the center will heal itself. Because I don’t know the cause, it’s difficult to know
the cure. I’m simply applying the principles of human healing to the Earth. A wound may be a mangled gash or a clean slice, but to me it’s always the same—a tangled mess of lauvan, too knotted together to move freely. Parts of this cable appear just like a human wound. I really hope they act the same.

  I take a few breaths to prepare myself, and reach out with both hands to the nearest knot. It’s a complex twisting of silver and yellow a little larger than my head, each lauvan as narrow as a piece of fettuccini. Through my fingers, I feel less of the usual pleasurable sensations of the cable, and more of the nausea I now associate with the sick lauvan. My stomach roils and I think unhappily of my breakfast of songbird and instant coffee.

  I grit my teeth and push my mind past the nausea. This will take a while, so I’d better get used to it. I grip two adjacent lauvan between my fingers, one healthy and one sick, and wiggle them slowly to tease them apart. At first they slide easily, then there is resistance and my progress halts. I work my fingers along until I find the source of the tension and set to work.

  A few hours later finds me sweating and shaking, but with this section of cable clean and free of knots. The sick lauvan are still present, but bundled together separately from the healthy ones. I’m half-tempted to break them off entirely, to purge them from this cable, but I resist. The consequences of severing the connection between an Earth center and its parts could be catastrophic. I’ve seen unnaturally snapped lauvan on a person before. It can mean gangrenous digits, kidney failure, blindness—I’ve seen it all. Mt. Linnigan is already unstable, and I don’t want to tip it over the edge.

  The end of the cable, where the individual lauvan disperse toward the mountain, is much clearer and calmer now. Gone are the knots and tightness. Now the lauvan flow freely.

  I sit down on a nearby mossy stump and hang my head. That was a huge effort. My arms shake as they hold my spinning head steady. My lauvan twitch spasmodically at the edge of my vision. I groan.