Shattering Earth: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Magic of Nasci Book 4)

by DM Fike

  I somersaulted backwards in the wind, my hands grasping for something to hold onto, but I couldn’t quite grip the ground. I drew a quick square with a triangle in the middle and then, releasing earth pith, raked my fingers into the grass to stick directly to the dirt underneath. It worked but not quite the way I anticipated. Instead of completely grounding me, I skidded a few yards, earning rug-like burns on my stomach before finally stopping.

  The air golem hovered off the ground, approaching me as I cursed in pain. I didn’t have any fancy plans to elude it. Instead, as the wind whistled in cresendoing shrieks, I welcomed my advancing enemy by pulling my hoodie sleeve up to expose Rafe’s charm bracelet. Then I spread my free hand out to pull the vaettur’s pith into me.

  I’d absorbed a golem into Rafe’s charms before, but nothing prepares you for the awful sensation. A million pinpricks of agony shot through my veins. I gritted my teeth as I forced the pith toward the air charm, the one place that could contain its energy.

  The air golem fought back as hard as it could. It created new hurricane gales to slap against me. My earth sigil held my remaining fingers to the dirt, despite the rest of me rising and surfing upward. It would have been pleasant, like swimming in the sky, if it didn’t feel like a motorcycle was running over me, then shifting in reverse to do it again.

  The more power I absorbed, though, the smaller it shrank. The winds slowly ebbed as if I were sucking the golem up through a straw. By the time it stood only six feet tall, I slumped back on the ground. Soon it hovered mere inches above the grass like a hummingbird, barely a draft drifting across my face.

  Then I absorbed the very last bit of its air pith, and the golem vanished in an anticlimactic puff.

  CHAPTER 5

  STABS OF PAIN continued to overwhelm my nervous system after absorbing the air golem, but I held onto consciousness as they slowly dulled to a manageable level. The breeze blowing in from the coast helped, replenishing my pithways with Nasci’s natural energy. I still had one palm affixed firmly into the earth, drawing pith. Slowly but surely, I could hobble to my feet.

  Walking with a sprained ankle took a bit more effort. I shuffled across the green like a zombie, slow and groaning. It took forever before I reached the trees that marked the edge of the golf course. Then I had to take a wide detour around the residential street since two pajamaed residents ran around picking up the contents of their toppled garbage bins. All in all, it probably took close to a half hour to return to Rafe’s motel room.

  Once inside, I found Rafe huddled inside the room’s lone bed, an empty mug on the nightstand indicating he’d braved the room’s sketchy coffee pot. He pushed himself up into a sitting position as I approached, eyes bloodshot and skin pale.

  “Did you absorb the golem?”

  I nodded, wincing as I eased my sore legs to sit beside him. I unlatched the humming air charm off the bracelet and handed it over to him. He palmed it eagerly.

  “Great work,” he said softly.

  I gave him the once over. He looked like he’d been squashed by a whale corpse, something I knew from experience wasn’t a pretty sight. “What happened to you?”

  “I heard the wind kick up. I thought it could be a natural storm, but given how quickly it blustered, I had my suspicions. I decided to check it out to make sure.”

  I stiffened. “You went after the air golem alone?”

  “I didn’t mean to.” He threw me a sheepish grin. “When I spotted it, I guess things got out of hand.”

  “That’s crazy. You can’t absorb them like I can. You should have waited for me.”

  “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

  He looked so contrite that I decided to cut him some slack. “I suppose you couldn’t have known for sure it was an air golem. You didn’t face the boobrie.”

  Rafe’s chin jerked up at this. “Oh?”

  “We banished an air vaettur this afternoon. It came through one of those weirdo breaches, acting out of character like the khalkotauroi.”

  “I told you,” Rafe said triumphantly. “As long as humans desecrate Nasci, more havoc will follow. Mark my words, water and earth golems will attack Florence soon.”

  “How do you know it will be those specific types? Why not another fire or air golem?”

  Rafe shrugged. “These things tend to happen in cycles.”

  With no information from the shepherds to confirm this, I had to take Rafe at his word. Still, I remained vulnerable with only two charms left on Rafe’s bracelet. “I sure hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Don’t worry.” Rafe slipped the air charm underneath the covers and into his pants pocket. “And I’ll keep this safe like the fire charm.”

  Rafe’s bracelet, although essential for me to stop the golems, did pose an issue for me. Whenever I filled a charm with vaettur pith, the other shepherds could sense its odd energy nearby. I couldn’t take any charm filled with the stuff back to the homestead without risking exposing Rafe.

  Yet, I couldn’t help shake my helplessness. It was good and all to take care of the golems, but I wished Guntram would tell me more about the bigger issue the other shepherds were tackling.

  Rafe must have noticed my shift in mood because he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “Just thinking about Mt. Hood.” The words slipped out of my mouth. Ah, well. It wasn’t as if Rafe had a clue about it.

  Or so I thought. He straightened. “Come again?”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I’d tried not to spill too many shepherd secrets to Rafe, so we’d never discussed Mt. Hood. “You know what’s going on there?”

  Rafe regarded me with a searching expression. “Don’t you?”

  I shook my head bitterly. “I’m not high enough rank for any real details. All I know is that the shepherds are protecting something big and important, and the Oracle constantly summons extra shepherds to guard it.”

  “The Oracle is right to fear for Mt. Hood. It sits upon a vast reservoir of magma, threatening to break to the surface any day now as a lava dome.”

  “So?” I asked. Lava domes happen occasionally across the Talol Wilds. They form as slow-moving magma bubbles usually on top of active hot spots like Mt. Hood. Given that lava is Nasci’s lifeblood, shepherds monitor these events to ensure the flow returns back to the goddess herself. We hide their existence with magic so people don’t get curious and mess around with it. It’s an important job, but not generally dangerous. Guntram and I guarded a lava dome on Mt. Rainier my first year as an eyas, and no one else had been assigned to help us.

  Rafe folded his hands on top of his stomach. “The, what do you call them, ‘weirdo breaches’ are happening too close by. The Oracle must be worried they’re leading up to a larger, concentrated vaettur attack against the dome.”

  “But why? The recent vaetturs and golems seem focused on population centers, hurting people. Mt. Hood might have some mountain climbers this time of year, but it’s largely wilderness. Not a whole lot of human activity going on up there.”

  Rafe’s face darkened. “If there is one thing you should realize by now about people, it’s that they won’t leave our natural world alone for long.” He pointed toward his backpack, propped up against a leg of the room’s scratched up table. “Take the newspaper out and turn to page A4.”

  I did as told, spreading out a Portland newspaper on the comforter near Rafe’s legs. Swiping through the billowing pages, I found the only article on page A4, a summary of a protest happening near Government Camp, Oregon at the base of Mt. Hood. The town serviced ski lifts on the mountain’s south side, but the article focused on new permits on previously protected lands to expand development of the mountain itself. Some corporation called Wonderland planned to launch the West’s largest winter resort, sparking political backlash with local environmentalists.

  I skimmed the article, stunned to learn how much untouched forest would be destroyed in the process to make way for new restaurants, luxury lodges, and even attractions
like a huge indoor playground. “Man, they’re not sparing any expense.”

  “‘An outdoor-based adventure resort,’” Rafe quoted with scorn from the article. “More like a sleazy theme park. They not only want a ski resort but also a year-round destination for the whole family. These monsters began bulldozing of one of the region’s most majestic mountains just to satisfy humanity’s thirst for cheap thrills.”

  I read the last paragraph of the article, stating work had barely begun when the protesters had disrupted operations on Mt. Hood. “At least people that care about the mountain stopped them before they got far.”

  “It won’t last. Money always wins with humans.”

  He was not wrong. I’d only been a shepherd a handful of years, but I’d witnessed plenty of wrangling over supposed ‘protected’ land. The impact of deforestation forced larger numbers of animals and plants to fight for scarcer and scarcer resources. Some species would not make it. It made my heart hurt.

  I tossed the newspaper over the edge of the bed. “You think a vaettur will attack the lava dome?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but given how many vaetturs have appeared around destroyed habitats, the resort seems like a prime target. And the lava dome is nearby.”

  I imagined one of these creepy vaetturs tapping into pure magma and shivered. I’d seen a vaettur absorb vitae once, a kind of Nasci energy used to create new dryants, and that stuff’s less powerful than magma. “I hope you’re wrong about that.”

  Rafe’s tone grew quieter. “I can almost sympathize with the vaetturs on this one. I would not shed a tear if they destroyed the entire resort.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. Then I spotted the digital clock at Rafe’s bedside. Four in the morning. “Yikes. I need to get going. I have to get a dip in the hot spring before Guntram wakes up.”

  Rafe flinched. “Who?”

  I’d never mentioned any shepherd names before, but I supposed given our little chat about Mt. Hood, I’d already broken a few rules with Rafe. Why stop there? “Guntram is the name of my augur.”

  “Ah.” Rafe took a deep breath. I didn’t understand why until he steadied himself to stand. “Should I walk you to the bathroom?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I limped across the room. “You get some rest after that scare, okay?”

  “Okay.” Rafe lifted his eyes to pierce mine. “Remember, Ina. It’s not over yet. We’ve got two more golems to go.”

  Oh, goodie, I thought. But I’d already taken down two. The optimist in me viewed my monster cup as already half full.

  CHAPTER 6

  THIS TIME, I dreamed of wind.

  I found myself floating midair, held up by gusts completely out of my control. I tried to hold onto something, anything, to help me down, but it was hopeless. I drifted in a vacuum, nothing but a gray background and air tossing me about like a stuffed toy.

  Then the wind shifted. Some of it twisted to my face, into my throat, down my lungs. I gagged as it swirled inside my body, somehow blocking oxygen from getting into my bloodstream. I convulsed as I tried to combat it with air pith but failed. I would suffocate, surrounded by the very element that could save me.

  “Ina!”

  Guntram’s voice cut straight through the nightmare. I awoke with a start. Splashing about, it took me a moment to realize where I was. A steaming pool of water hid my nakedness from the neck downward, where I’d leaned back against the rock wall to doze. As the haunting mental images from the dream faded, soothing pith massaged every corner of my pithways, a welcome change from the jabs of the vaettur pith. The sky held streaks of blue, orange, and pink as plump sparrows sang in the nearby branches.

  I’d taken a nap in the homestead hot spring.

  Guntram’s bushy beard appeared over the ridge to peer down at me. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

  I shielded myself even though Guntram couldn’t really see my breasts underneath the water. Prudish habits die hard, even after years of roughing it. “‘All morning?’ Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration, given it’s dawn?"

  “You never get up willingly before dawn,” Guntram pointed out.

  He was not wrong. I scrambled to come up with a logical explanation. “It’s that time of the month. A soak takes the edge off.”

  Guntram didn’t bat an eye at the mention of menstrual cycles. “Very well. Rinse out any blood in the pool, then meet topside for training.”

  That’s one of the things I admire about Guntram. He doesn’t overreact to bodily functions: not vomiting, diarrhea, or any fluid really. He simply deals with life’s many anatomical joyrides and moves on.

  Yet, the downside to dismissal of such things is that he rarely took a break either. It was a good thing I didn’t have any cramps because he insisted on a full training regime. No mention of the day’s previous banishment came up as we spent the first hour in review, covering water and fire sigils that I’d already mastered. To be honest, I struggled more than I should have. Guntram grumbled as I fumbled with the advanced sigils, drawing them repeatedly before I could execute them properly.

  I did eventually find my magical groove and performed every sigil on command. Finally satisfied with my established repertoire, Guntram moved onto my weaker areas. He had me practice some air sigils, but I fared even worse with the basics. He frowned as I summoned a pathetic breeze that barely tousled my hair.

  “Why is your execution so sloppy today?” he asked.

  I couldn’t tell him that, even after a long soak in the hot spring, I still had a raging headache from the golem fight. “Can’t get the rhythm,” I lied. “Can we move on to earth instead?”

  Guntram grumbled but relented. He led me to a corner of the homestead behind the barn and marched me up to a mound of fresh dirt several feet tall.

  “What’s up with the oversized ant hill?” I asked.

  Guntram slid himself into a sigil stance—legs apart, center of gravity lower to the ground. “Mastery of earth requires subtle movements in the most restricted circumstances. Many shepherds view the ability to extract oneself from burial to be a sign of proficiency.”

  My dumbfounded brain translated that into simple English. “You want me to claw my way out from inside that dirt pile?”

  “Draw your way out with an open earth sigil,” Guntram corrected. “But essentially, yes.”

  “Ha, ha, ha… no.” I took a step back. The complicated open earth sigil meant drawing a square within a square within yet another square that required precise strokes, something very difficult to do with your hands pinned under mud. “I’ll suffocate before I figure it out.”

  Guntram’s fingers flew in square-shape patterns. The mound split open as if someone had sliced it apart with a knife.

  “I only intend to cover you up to your neck. You will have all the oxygen flowing to your brain necessary to free yourself.”

  Not having much choice in the matter, I walked into the parted center of the pile. Then, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t get gunk in them, Guntram slammed the two sides shut on me like a big grimy book.

  I’m not claustrophobic by any means, but when you’re covered in pounds of dirt, it’s not hard to imagine why tight spaces freak people out. No matter how much I jerked around, I could not move an inch in any direction. The dirt held me firmly in place. My fingers could barely twitch, the cool pressure of soil keeping them fixed at my sides.

  “I can’t move my fingers,” I complained. “How am I supposed to draw sigils like this?”

  “You must work with the earth to find a way.”

  Thank you, vague wise sage. The advice was always the same, no matter what the element. Become one with the pith. Calm yourself. Merge with the environment. I had absolutely no clue how I was supposed to manipulate a prison of dirt by empathizing with it.

  Guntram kept encouraging me for a half hour to magic my way out. As the minutes ticked by, I became more and more agitated. An itch developed on my thigh I couldn’t scratch. I pushed against the earth so much, I
knew I’d be sore in muscles I didn’t know I had. When my complaints morphed into curses, Guntram finally relaxed the dirt around my hands so that I had room to draw. Even then, it took several rounds of sigils to push that much crud off me.

  My hoodie and shorts escaped caked in mud. “I just washed these,” I groaned, flinging my limbs around and watching brown flakes sprinkle everywhere like dandruff.

  “As always, Ina, your priorities confound me. Throw them in the lodge pool, and they’ll be clean soon enough. You should worry more about mastering the remaining elements for your Shepherd Trial.”

  “I’d be a lot more prepared if you told me more specifics about it, Jichan.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he barked, “and you know that I cannot possibly give you more details about your trial. Every shepherd goes through their own test, proving to Nasci herself…”

  “…that he or she has the fortitude to protect her world,’” I parroted for him. “That’s fine and all, but you could at least tell me about your trial. Or trials in general.”

  “It’s not considered good form to provide an eyas with an advantage on what to expect.”

  “Why not? It’s not like it’s cheating. It’s more like a sample test for school. You can study what the teacher wrote last year so you can prep for this year’s run.”

  “There are some moral qualities that only reveal themselves with the element of surprise. To evaluate how you act not because you studied how to do it, but because your heart chooses the righteous path.”

  I don’t know why I bothered. We’d been round and round on this issue so many times, Guntram would budge as much as a steel wall.

  “Fine. I’ll try to clean my moral compass. But for now, can we break for lunch?”