by DM Fike
If I failed here, Rafe would attack Mt. Hood with his army of golems. My throat constricted as I imagined shepherds battling them on the mountain. I couldn’t bear Guntram losing to Rafe, not after I had given him all that power. I loved Guntram, as a mentor and a friend.
I couldn’t let him die because of me.
My fingers ached as they drew the square within a square within a square to open up the earth. I focused less on stroke order and more on my augur, who needed me whether he admitted it or not. And yet, despite my resolve to free myself, I’d run out of oxygen. As I completed the last angle of the last square, I had no idea if I’d drawn it correctly. I just finished and then the sand shifted around me while I passed out.
CHAPTER 19
I FLOATED IN complete sensory deprivation. There was no up or down, no inside or out. I merely existed as a mindless, actionless entity, all meat and little brainwaves.
Then the atmosphere shifted. A lightness struck through the dark, creating a misty haze. Rhythmic waves lapped over me.
“Ina.”
A familiar voice reached me. My body had become submerged, not in sand but in water. I wasn’t suffocating, I was swarming with pith—air, earth, water, and fire. Something smooth caressed my cheek.
“Ina.”
Vincent’s form became clearer. His dark eyes pierced mine, fingers brushing the hair out of my face. A string of moisture followed wherever he touched.
This couldn’t be real. I must have died.
Vincent bent down over me, his lips close to mine. As far as end-of-life visions went, this one was pretty good. I ran my hand through his ebony hair. It felt softer than I imagined, spiking between my fingers.
I pulled him down toward me at the same time as he pulled me upward out of the water.
His lips slid over mine. He tasted faintly of mint, fresh and clean. Shocks of electricity fired off in my pithways that had nothing to do with magic. I clung tighter to him as his fingertips dug into my neck and back.
If this is how people die, it’s not a bad way to go.
And that’s when it started to rain.
Common clichés dictate that kissing in the rain is the height of romance. Whoever dreamed up that garbage obviously never tried it. Jarring, cold drops of water splashed on my upturned face, a sharp contrast to the pleasant warm water around the rest of me. Jolted back to reality, I pushed Vincent away. He let go of me, and I sunk back into the water.
“Whoa,” Vincent said, his face reddening.
Heat pith rose in my own core. This level of embarrassment felt too real for any dream. Now fully alert, I took better stock of my surroundings.
I was no longer in the dunes but sitting in a hot tub on someone’s uncovered back porch. The curtains were drawn on the small patio doors, obscuring the interior of the house. Outside opened up to a sprawling lawn and flower garden with thick woods beyond. As a backdrop, squat mountains loomed beneath a dark layer of rain clouds.
Vincent grabbed a giant folded umbrella and set it up on a stand so the increasing rain wouldn’t drench us. “Sorry about that,” Vincent said as he adjusted the metal bars, me sitting in the tub and he on the lip, legs dangling over the dry side.
“Where are we?”
“My cousin’s house off Canary Road. He’s on vacation for a few weeks. I’m housesitting for him.”
Vincent hadn’t taken me far. “How’d you find me?”
Vincent delved into his pocket and retrieved my cell phone, covered in sand. “My app notified me that you were nearby. I immediately rushed over and found you unconscious in South Jetty. You were breathing steady, though, and I knew you hated hospitals, so I thought I’d see if the hot tub would act like the natural springs that heal you.”
I almost laughed and told him that was ridiculous, that the hot spring worked because it was located next to a magma source, but then I took stock of my pith stores. I had a fresh batch of water and air flowing through me, likely given my exposure to the elements. I held a decent amount of earth pith, kinda scratchy due to sand. As I continued to lounge in the tub, those three elements slowly combined to replenish my fire pith.
“It’s not quite the same thing, but it’s helping,” I admitted.
Vincent let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad, Ina. I didn’t know what to think when I found you. It looked like you detonated an entire dune.”
I guess I really had pulled off the open earth sigil. “That’s because I did.”
Vincent scooted closer to me on the lip of the tub, our fingers millimeters apart. “Ina, you’re shortening my life here with all these close calls. Why did I find you half-dead at Glenada Ponds, the same place mentioned in Rafe’s notes?”
The mere mention of his name put me on full alert. I flung myself up into a standing position, only to find that I’d been stripped down to my bra and underwear. Thoroughly embarrassed, I submerged into the water.
“Where are my clothes?” I cried.
Vincent backed off of as fast as if I’d caught the plague. “Sorry. I couldn’t just drop you into the hot tub with your hoodie and shorts full of sand. Even after washing you off, you still had quite a bit on you.”
I noticed a water hose on the porch not far away, the damp circle of old water incriminating its recent use. “You hosed me off?”
“I told you, it’s my cousin’s tub. He’ll kill me if I clogged it.”
I pressed the buttons on the console to charge up the bubbles, then slid down to hide my relative nakedness. “I guess you want me to thank you for leaving my underwear on.”
“I want you to tell me what happened, Ina.” Then he dropped the stern tone, his eyebrows crinkling in appeal. “Please.”
My mind flashed through everything that had happened with Rafe near Glenada Ponds. As I played hot tub with Vincent, Rafe was closing in on Mt. Hood and all the shepherds who guarded the lava dome. I glanced around desperately for a clock but couldn’t find one anywhere on the back porch.
“What time is it?”
Vincent answered way too slowly. “A bit after eight in the morning.”
Rafe had a two-hour head start. If he used kembar stones to travel and had a clear trail to Mt. Hood, I was probably too late. I flung one leg over the side of the tub, no longer caring about modesty. “I have to go now!”
“Oh no.” Vincent clasped my arm in a vice-like grip. He aided my bare feet to the concrete but would not let go. “You’re not ditching me again.”
I didn’t want to argue with him, so I relied on a staple backup. I tried to blow him away with a wind gust. This time, though, a shooting pain similar to absorbing golem pith went through me. I would have fallen over if Vincent hadn’t been holding onto me.
“Hey, hey.” Vincent eased me down. “Take it easy. You can’t help anybody in this state. You can barely walk.”
“The other shepherds are in danger.”
“Then tell me about it as you heal.” He escorted me back toward the water.
“But—”
Vincent snapped. “For once, listen to me, Ina. I promise I’ll let you leave, but give yourself a break before you rush off to kill yourself.”
Much as I hated it, he was right. I sank back down into the bubbles. The trek up to Mt. Hood required a certain level of stamina. I couldn’t hike up the steep inclines right now.
But out loud, I only said, “Fine.”
Vincent pulled up a plastic lawn chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Start from the beginning.”
Recycling my pith stores, I told Vincent everything: how I’d met Rafe by accident in the woods, how he’d duped me of his sincerity by letting me in on his “secrets” when the other shepherds wouldn’t, even his romantic advances. Vincent wrung his hands at the latter, I’m sure imagining Rafe’s neck. It embarrassed me how far I’d been deceived, but I didn’t let pride stop me from detailing everything. It actually lifted a weight off my shoulders, one I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.
After I
finished admitting my own culpability, Vincent said, “Now everything makes sense.”
I glared at him. “Thanks, Vince. It’s nice to know how little you think of me.”
“Not your involvement.” He dismissed that with a wave of his hands. “The guy’s a con artist. We encounter them all the time in law enforcement. They can trick even very smart people. No, I’m talking about the situation on Mt. Hood.” He rubbed his brow. “Rafe’s backpack was full of stuff about the area: recent articles about that Wonderland resort, topography maps, even stolen library books.” Then Vincent scratched his head. “It was a little too old-fashioned, really. Why wouldn’t he use the Internet?”
“He probably doesn’t know how. If my math’s right on his age, he would have started his shepherd training right around when the Internet took off. He’d be much more comfortable with a card catalog than Wikipedia.”
Twenty minutes or so had passed, and I felt a thousand times better. I stood in the tub without faltering. “I’ve rested enough. I have to get going now.”
Vincent stiffened. “Ina,” he warned.
I hopped over the lip of the tub, a spring back in my step. Still sore in places, I honestly had no idea how adept I’d be at flinging sigils, but I had to go.
“Don’t try to stop me. You’d do the same for your fellow officers.”
Vincent surprised me by letting out a reluctant sigh. “You’re right.” He pointed toward a reusable grocery bag on an outdoor table. “Your stuff’s over there.”
I drew a drying sigil as I walked over to the clothes, elated when my body became dry without a second attempt. As I emptied the contents of the bag, I found my hoodie, sandy shorts, and boots. Vincent turned around as I got dressed.
Once finished, he gave me a once over. “You forgot something in the bag.”
I glanced back inside. There, at the bottom curled up like a little snake under a fold where I almost didn’t see it, lay the necklace Rafe had hurled into the dunes.
“My charms!” I cried in delight.
“I found it tossed into some reeds while I looked for you.”
I clasped the comforting metal back over my neck. The defensive charm alone made me much less vulnerable. I could refill the rest on the trip to Mt. Hood.
Then, before I could second guess myself, I threw my arms tight around Vincent. My face pressed into his neck, which smelled slightly of soap and sweat. He returned the embrace with his own squeeze.
As I snuggled into his shoulder, I realized how many boundaries we had crossed. We’d kissed. He’d undressed me. We were hugging. My mouth went dry as my heart pounded. The line between terror and excitement at that moment became so razor-thin as to be almost nonexistent.
Vincent’s breath warmed my ear. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”
We pulled away from each other. “I don’t either.” I forced the tremble out of my voice. “But we both know I have to.”
“Is there any way at all you can take me too? Maybe use your nature wizard powers?”
I shook my head. “The wisp channels require someone with active pithways to cross. And the drive from here to there takes at least four hours.”
The lines on Vincent’s face hardened. “I’m going to call in an anonymous tip to the rangers over at Mt. Hood. Maybe if I alert them there’s some illegal activity brewing on the mountain, they can help out.”
“It probably won’t help.”
“Well, you can’t stop me. It’s the only thing I can do.”
“There is actually one more thing. Got any batteries?”
“Some D batteries in the car for my Maglite. Won’t they be too heavy for you?”
“I’ll make it work. I’m going to need every advantage I got.”
Vincent led me to his car and gave me the 3 batteries that charged his flashlight. He also insisted I take back the cell phone.
“Don’t shut it off,” he begged. “It’s my only way of tracking you. Promise me you’ll call when it’s over.”
I nodded. I owed Vincent that.
Then I dashed off into the woods, never once looking back, though I could feel Vincent’s helpless gaze at my back, watching me go.
CHAPTER 20
THE FORESTS SLOWLY shifted as I jetted my way inland from the coast to Mt. Hood. Normally, I could appreciate the subtle shift in coniferous and deciduous tree mixes as I entered the Cascade forests. I passed a black bear ambling with her twin cubs next to a stream. She snorted a greeting at me, but I didn’t have time to stop and chat.
My mind raced as fast as my feet as I sailed from wisp channel to wisp channel. Rafe wanted to kill everyone on the mountain. Worse, I’d aided him in that goal.
I had to stop him.
As I approached my destination, I realized a fatal flaw in my daring rescue. Mt. Hood is the tallest mountain in Oregon at over 11,000 feet. You can see it from over one hundred miles away. It covers a ton of ground.
And I had no idea where across its majestic landscape the lava dome might be.
But Rafe meant to leverage the magma to destroy the Wonderland resort. I wisped north of the established ski slopes, beyond where the recreational skiers would return in the fall. I found a brand-new dirt road that led to a few acres of clearcut land with construction equipment. Signs posted around the upturned patch’s perimeter warned trespassers to stay out. This had to be the location for Wonderland.
But where was the lava dome?
I did a complete 360, glancing around for any clue. Past where vegetation had been uprooted, lone trees still clung to the soil, but snow and altitude prevented most plants from taking root. I marched upward, clumps of gray stone with occasional orange pebbles crunching under my feet, their texture sliding me backward with each step. I caught sight of two mountain climbers in bright jackets higher above me, and I realized that given the season, the shepherds would be spotted on such bare terrain. I could normally see past faint illusions, but with Rafe on the way, they must have hidden the dome using stronger magic.
How was I going to find them?
A violent shift of the ground beneath my boots answered my question. The earthquake gained intensity for several seconds, which doesn’t seem like a lot but lasts an eternity when you can’t steady yourself. I slid down the crumbly rocks as gravity kicked in, and only a swift stick to earth sigil prevented me from cascading into a dirty, old snow bank. Between the flailing, I had the presence of mind to thrust one palm into the dirt so I could determine the general direction of the quake’s origin. Not underground, like I expected, but above me, over a blunt cliff face to the east.
Then, the rumbling stopped.
Heart pounding in my chest, I expended more earth pith to climb up the cliff face. At the top, a rocky plain stretched before me, not a soul in sight: shepherd, Rafe, or otherwise. Another rocky rim hemmed the area in a rough ‘V’ shaped valley. I walked forward and inadvertently stepped past an invisible boundary.
As if someone had thrown on a switch, the same wide landscape filled with an active battle straight out of cinema. Sounds of screams rushed into my ears, the smell of smoke and mud strong in my nostrils. Fluid chaos rushed all around me. I caught a glimpse of an angry water golem as it rose dripping out of the ground, its breath frosty as it swiped a dodging figure beneath it. A shepherd in baggy pants and tunic jumped between its beating stumps, blasting the golem with water. I recognized the shepherd’s hooked nose and stringy, long bangs: Baot.
A sizzle of fire then streaked over pebbles and landed at the water golem’s feet, causing it to steam. The water golem hissed as it turned toward a shepherd with an olive-green hood, a smoldering red bracelet on her wrist. Azar, the fire shepherd. Her eyes glinted with flame as she pulled back for a second strike. A bonfire burst behind her, interrupting the move. She evaded this secondary danger to face an inflating fire golem that hurled fireball after fireball in rapid succession. She slid on the rocks in a limbo-like move to avoid them, refocusing her attention on the blazing golem.<
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Both Baot and Azar paired off against these two foes, mostly keeping their own elemental golems contained but occasionally taking pot shots at the other. Baot sent out streams of water toward the fire golem here, while Azar created a fiery bird to slam into the water golem there. I recognized their strategy. If Baot could douse the fire golem, and Azar steam the water one, they could easily cancel the two out. But the golems kept them occupied enough that they made little headway. Thus, the four had become caught in a waltz with no winners as they spun over the mountainside.
I ran a few steps toward them, thinking to push the odds in the shepherds’ favor when a sharp scream echoed through the open sky. Farther north, a cloaked figure tumbled down an outcropping of stone. The slumped body landed at an unnatural angle on a glacier, bouncing once or twice before settling face down, unmoving. I changed directions to aid this victim.
Once at the shepherd’s side, I braced his neck and gently flipped him over. As the red hair fell away, the sunburnt face of Zibel appeared, blotches of freckles stark against his pale skin. Not much older than me, he was an earth-based shepherd who, though he possessed an annoying personality, had his heart in the right place. Tense with dread, I pressed two fingers against his throat, thankful to feel a pulse.
“Zibel!” I patted his face. “Zibel, can you hear me?”
His already closed eyes shut even tighter, a small sigh escaping his lips.
I glanced down at his charm necklace, noting that his defensive charm had all but shattered. That was both good and bad. Good because it probably broke while saving his neck but bad because he was now defenseless. He needed a hot spring but wouldn’t be getting a soak anytime soon.
More shouts issued up ahead, but I couldn’t see them above the ledge from where Zibel had fallen.
I unlatched my own charm necklace and swapped with his. He couldn’t fight anymore, so he needed my defensive charm more than me. After securing it around his neck, I drew a few additional defense sigils directly onto his clothing and forehead. It might not amount to much, but it was better than nothing.
