by Jade Kerrion
“Can I come out now?” Duggae demanded, his voice muffled and his tone snippy.
Ashe glanced over her shoulder to confirm that they were out of easy visual distance of the Veritas, then Jinn cooed, “Come on out, pumpkin.”
Duggae popped out of the backpack even before Varun had fully unzipped it. He smoothed down his shirt and vest, before raising his head to glare at Ashe. His scowl etched deep lines onto his face. He looked like an irritated miniature Santa Claus.
Varun coughed into his fist and turned his head away.
It had sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Duggae demanded.
“Nothing.” Varun cleared his throat, but a faint smile remained on his face. “What can we expect on that island?”
“Volcanic rock. Lots of it.”
“Are there any…elementals there?”
“The minor ones have already taken root.”
Varun’s eyes widened. “Minor elementals? There’s a hierarchy?”
Duggae rolled his eyes. “Of course there’s a hierarchy. Put two living beings in a space, and there will be a hierarchy. Minor elementals are the guardians of specific things, like a sacred spring, or a sacred grove. They can’t move the wind and waves like Ashe can, but there are lots of them. It’s not smart to tick them off.”
“How will we find them?”
“Don’t worry.” Duggae waved his hands in a flipping motion. “They’ll find us.”
“Anak Krakatoa isn’t exactly hospitable—”
“Is the human finally having second thoughts?” Duggae mocked.
Ashe chuckled, and Jinn cawed, flapping his wings.
“Don’t worry,” Duggae said again. “They’ll find us. You can’t land three major elementals on nascent earth and not create a stir.”
“You haven’t told me anything yet about fire elementals.”
Ashe glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze met Duggae’s. “Not much to know,” Jinn squawked. “They keep to themselves. I haven’t seen one since…” Ashe frowned.
“Since when?” Varun asked.
“At least a hundred years, give or take a decade or two.”
Duggae frowned. “Me neither.”
Varun’s hands tightened on the rim of the speedboat, his knuckles turning white. “Since Krakatoa?”
Chapter 24
Since Atlantis…
Since Krakatoa…
Since Shulim…
The tightness in Ashe’s chest knotted in her shoulders as she worked through Varun’s off-handed observation. Every time the Dirga Tiamatu was unleashed, it started a new chapter in the annals of history, churning environmental, political, and social unrest into epic disasters.
If there was one good thing coming out from the destruction of Shulim, it was the certainty that the Dirga Tiamatu could never be fired again. There was no place on the Earth, in any world, for a planet-destroying weapon the likes of the Dirga Tiamatu.
She cut the engine, and the speedboat bobbed in the deep water ten feet off Anak Krakatoa. A helpful wind swept in to carry her, Varun, and Duggae to the island.
“Don’t you need to anchor that boat?” Varun asked.
Ashe glanced over her shoulder and waved at the ocean. A tiny wave bobbed up in a perfectly timed nod. She smiled. “It’s not going anywhere.” Ashe returned her attention to her surroundings. The climate on the volcanic island was warmer than warranted by its proximity to the equator. Beneath Ashe’s feet, the Earth rumbled, its molten core still churning.
“How unstable is it?” Varun asked Duggae as they followed behind her.
“Extremely.” Duggae grunted. “Try not to step too hard. No telling what it could do.”
“It’s the Earth. Don’t you have any control over it?”
“Not when it’s in this much pain. It does its own thing at that time.”
“Then what do you do, then?”
“Damage control. Same thing Ashe does when a hurricane or tsunami hits. Protect what she can and salvage the remnants later.”
“So, you don’t completely control it.”
Duggae rolled his eyes. “What fantasy world have you been living in? We don’t command the Earth. We protect it. Sometimes, if we ask nicely, she’ll play along, especially if we’re acting in her interest. The Earth is like a woman, Varun. You flatter and cajole her. You never command.” He frowned, kneeling suddenly. “Here…”
Ashe returned to peer over Duggae’s shoulder. He had lowered his hand to the earth to scoop up a large spider. Duggae stared at the spider, tilting his head, as if listening.
“They’ve been at this for almost a hundred years…”
“At what?” Varun asked. His eyes widened. “Is that an elemental? It’s not just a spider?”
Duggae did not answer Varun’s question. “They’ve been trying to heal the island. Anak Krakatoa emerged from the sea about ninety years ago.” Duggae swept his other hand across the barren landscape. “Ninety years and still nothing. Another volcanic island would have started sprouting life, but not this one. He says they’ve been toiling at it for nearly a century, but all their efforts fail. Water evaporates before it can nourish the ground. The strength of the wind fades before the seeds are deposited. The earth just burns and burns until everything good is gone.” Duggae’s voice took on an almost musical quality, hypnotic as he recited the story. His brow furrowed, and he stared at the spider. His voice snapped into its usual harshness. “How is it the greater elementals were never told?”
The spider rubbed its pincers together.
Duggae murmured, his tone subtly different as if he were speaking the spider’s words. “What is one small islet compared to the world’s troubles? They say we have failed, but do not speak about our insurmountable odds. The fire does not stop burning.”
Ashe glanced up, her gaze sweeping across the island. Jinn cawed. “The fire elementals. They’re here. They’re all here.”
Varun looked around wildly. “Where? What do they look like?”
Duggae scowled. “Not up here, Varun. They’re down there. They’re keeping the fire alive, burning away all life that tries to take hold on the island.” He shook his head. “That’s way out of line. Summon the Daughters of Air, the Oceanids, and the Nereids. I’ll call the gnomes. We can’t do this alone. Not you and I, Ashe. And certainly not if the imps are all there.”
Ashe shook her head. “All we have is a guess that the fire elementals are up to no good. We need proof.”
“Proof?” Varun’s jaw dropped. “Wait, who abducted the real Ashe? Bring her back.”
She spared Varun a quick glare before turning her attention back to the earth elemental. “We can’t escalate this, Duggae. You know that. The Earth cannot afford another elemental war.”
The gnome winced and tugged at his beard. “Yeah, well, you’re right. That one war did suck.”
“Wait…” Varun planted himself between Ashe and Duggae. “What war? When?”
Duggae swatted at Varun with his free hand. “It was long before our time, but it’s permanently seared into our collective memories as a profoundly catastrophic idea, never again to be repeated by anyone. Ever.” He frowned at the spider. The insect seemed to be twitching, almost dancing, on Duggae’s palm. “He says he can show us the place where the fire always burns.” Duggae’s gaze flicked between Varun and Ashe. “How subtle are you feeling?” he asked Ashe.
“What do you mean?”
“Downplaying our numbers wouldn’t hurt, making it appear as if it’s just Varun and me, and a parrot. We need whatever advantage we can get, and you’re our biggest play.”
“It won’t work. If the fire imps are there, they’ll sense me whether or not I have a physical form.”
“But what if there are more than just elementals?”
She frowned. “What are you expecting?”
“If it was a prison, wouldn’t there have been guards?”
“Wouldn’t they have been killed in the
Krakatoa explosion?”
Duggae’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’d assign mortal guards to watch over the goddess of the underworld? Really? You live in as much of a fantasy world as Varun.”
“Regardless, the guards would have been destroyed.”
“Or turned against their original purpose.”
Ashe scowled. The wind whipped her hair away from her face. “Damn it. Fine. I’ll go incognito.” Her astral energy, which—if she were thinking about it—felt like a knot in the direct center of her chest, loosened. Her extremities tingled as they vanished, as if trying to cling on to that final moments of being real.
She had objected strenuously to taking on physical form, but after spending days and weeks in it, it felt disconcerting not to be in it. There was no advantage in it. In fact, a body was more problematic than not having one. It made her less maneuverable.
But as her body dissolved back into air, she felt its loss.
She did not understand it.
Varun’s gaze swept over the place where she had been standing, searching for her.
Their eyes no longer met.
That realization set up an inexplicable ache in her stomach as he gathered up her clothes, which had fallen to the ground, and placed them in his backpack, smoothing over the material with an oddly wistful expression on his face, as if he too had lost something.
Then he picked up the dagger, the Isriq Genii, which she had concealed among her clothes.
Something passed over his face—hesitation, even a tinge of fear.
Duggae peered over Varun’s shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
“The Soul Stealer,” Varun confirmed. “It’s bound to Zamir.”
Duggae shrugged. “It’s been bound several times now, and each time, it has delivered. It’s probably just a matter of time before someone finds himself on the wrong end of that dagger. That poor asshole’s soul is going to Zamir.”
“And then after that?”
“Then the dagger is a free agent, un-cursed, until it is bound again.” Duggae shook his head. “It won’t be a free agent for long. Too many soulless beings out there, thinking that a soul is just what’s needed to save them from eternal damnation.”
“Does it?”
“Doesn’t matter whether it does. The point is, they believe it.”
Varun’s shoulders stiffened, but he slipped the dagger, together with Ashe’s clothes, into his backpack.
Thanks.
He jolted. “Ashe.”
Duggae nudged him. “Calling out her name would make it sort of obvious that it’s not just the two of us.”
Jinn, who had been perched on Duggae’s shoulder, dug his talons into his flesh.
Duggae winced. “I meant the three of us. Sorry, Jinn.” He glanced down at the spider in his hand. “This way.”
Ashe danced on the breath of the wind, weaving in and out of the party, sometimes flittering ahead, at other times lingering behind.
Duggae huffed. “You’re as flighty as they come. Can’t you just pick a place to be?”
Is your hair getting in your eyes? Is that what’s making you grumpy? And when was the last time you managed to get the wind to stay still?
The corners of his mouth twitching, Varun coughed into his fist. He was apparently coughing a great deal in Duggae’s and her company. The helpful breeze thumped hard against his back. “Thanks,” he murmured. “How much farther?” he asked the gnome.
“Just ahead.” Duggae stopped walking and lowered his hand to the ground. The spider scurried off, almost invisible against the dark volcanic rock. “She says it’s around the corner, at the base of the mountain.”
Ashe darted on ahead, skimming over the rocks. She could feel the heat emanating beneath her, and wondered how Varun was coping. She glanced back. He was stepping quickly to minimize his contact with the ground. Steam wafted from under his boots whenever they hit the ground. Ashe grimaced. She should have thought about it earlier.
She slid a cushion of air beneath his shoes, scarcely half an inch thick, but so tightly packed as to be as tangible as solid ground. He wobbled as the air cushion sank ever so slightly with his next step.
Just walk normally. I’ve got you.
Varun sucked in a deep breath. “You know, returning to the real world isn’t going to be nearly as much fun without elementals as friends.”
“Yeah?” Duggae countered. “But you’re also much less likely to get killed, so I suppose it balances out.”
“What happens when elementals die?”
Duggae stopped walking. “Do we have to talk about this now?”
“Just curious.”
“It would depend, I suppose, on whether the elemental has earned his soul. If he does, then he goes on to do what souls do.”
“Which is what?” Varun asked.
“How should I know?” Duggae snapped. “You humans are the ones with souls. You tell me.”
Varun shrugged. “And what happens to elementals who die without souls?”
“They vanish.” Duggae drew a deep breath. “As if they never existed.”
Varun’s gaze turned toward the breeze darting around him. “Ashe? Is that right?”
Yes, he is.
“And it’s that way with the Beltiamatu, too?”
Their bodies dissolve into sea foam. There is nothing to bury, no grave to weep over. They are simply gone.
A muscle twitched in Varun’s cheek.
If only she knew what he were thinking.
She snarled. The wind turned sharp, biting. What did it matter what Varun thought? Souls were not important; they were not worth it. Hadn’t she already established that fact? Why was it so difficult—so impossible—purging from her heart what she had already put aside from her thoughts?
Ashe whipped around the corner and jerked to a stop. Smoke wafted from the top of the volcano, but at its base, like a rip in the Earth, the mountain pulsed red and orange, like a beating heart.
“That’s it,” Duggae murmured. “The place where the fire never goes out.”
“It’s the base of a volcano,” Varun pointed out. “Of course the fire never goes out.”
Duggae glared at him. “We know the difference between natural heat emanating from the Earth’s core, and something unnatural that is exacerbating the imbalance within nature. That is not natural.”
“How can you tell?”
“I thought you’re the scientist,” Duggae retorted.
“Marine biologist, not geologist.”
Duggae’s eyes narrowed. “So, why did we bring him along again?” he asked of no one in particular.
The wind hiccupped as Ashe shrugged. He was paying for the boat. She swirled the air around Varun into a layer of insulation. It’ll keep you from burning up, at least not right away.
“Thanks,” he murmured, relief in his voice as he exhaled. Varun rolled his shoulders, adjusting the weight of the backpack on his shoulders. “So, are we ready to charge into hell?”
“Not quite hell,” Duggae corrected. “But it’s close enough so I won’t bother to quibble over technicalities.”
This way. Ashe pushed the air ahead of her and curved it into a tunnel, pushing out the volcanic gases and vapors and replacing the vacuum with fresh air. Molten rock and super-heated lava flowed over the arc of the underpass, creating a kaleidoscope of red, orange, yellow, and black all around them. Duggae and Jinn stepped into the passage, followed by Varun who stared all around him, his eyes wide. The trepidation on his face melted away, invisible behind his awe.
Just look. Don’t touch, Ashe warned.
“I know,” he murmured.
She was not certain he did, or that his curiosity would not exceed his common sense.
“How far does it go?” Duggae asked.
She darted ahead, twisting her way through the heat, utterly unaffected by it. The fall of lava thinned then petered out entirely to reveal a narrow tunnel, winding downward. Ashe scowled, and the wind twitch
ed like a nervous bird. Why did everything go down? Why couldn’t anything ever go up?
Quiet footsteps behind her warned of Duggae and Varun’s approach. Duggae frowned at the narrow passage, then pressed his hand to the rock around them. “This is old rock.”
“As opposed to new rock?” Varun asked.
Duggae shook his head. “This is from Krakatoa. We’re entering the remnants of the original island. The original prison.”
The mouth of the tunnel expanded. Do you sense anything? Ashe asked.
“Not yet,” Duggae said. “Should we be?”
She paused at the edge of the passage and looked up at the cavernous expanse before her. Her gaze swept over the area before settling on the six golems that stood, shoulder to shoulder, in a circle, facing each other. They were at least twenty feet tall. A careless stomp would crush a fully grown human. What do you think they’re staring down at?
Duggae squinted. “Looks like a hole in the ground. The prison, I bet, but it looks like it’s still sealed.”
But Zamir said he had freed her, Ashe snarled. The edge of the wind chilled into an icy snap. Did he lie to us?
“Only one way to find out.” Duggae stepped out of the tunnel.
Immediately, the golems turned. The closest one swung its sword, its razor-sharp tip scraping against the ground, sending up a skittering of sparks.
“Whoa, hold!” Duggae held up his hand.
The golem kept charging.
“Get back!” Varun shouted, yanking Duggae back into the passage. Jinn tumbled off the gnome’s shoulders with a screech. The massive sword swung like a pendulum across the entrance of the tunnel, the whoosh of air sharp and precise. “Why isn’t it obeying you? You said golems obeyed the earth elementals.”
“They do!” Duggae’s eyes were wide and stricken. “They should!” He darted toward the entrance, his arm extended, but the swipe of another blade sent him tumbling back. He picked himself up off the ground, his face bruised and dusty, scratches visible on his brow and cheek. “I can feel them, but my power passes right through them. They don’t respond to me at all.”
“Maybe they’re just programmed to keep everything away from the hole in the ground.”
