Tiger's Destiny

by Colleen Houck

  What kind of a person am I? How can I go from kissing one man, my fiancé, no less, to daydreaming about being swept away by his brother? Something is seriously wrong with me.

  I quoted my personalized serenity prayer, rededicated myself to the path I’d chosen, and met Kishan at the table. He smoothly set up the game board, not noticing a thing.

  The next morning, I woke bright and early, left the snoring black tiger on the floor, and headed up to Mr. Kadam’s fabulous kitchen to make the best-ever Christmas breakfast for all three of us. The window panels slid back with the push of a button. With the amazing view for inspiration, I set the table for breakfast, humming until a noise startled me.

  Ren stood framed in the doorway. My eyes darted up to his blue ones as he handed me a bouquet of lilacs.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said as he handed me the flowers.

  I took them and said quietly, “You’ve already given me more than enough.”

  “When a man gives a woman a lilac. . . .”

  “He’s asking her a question,” I finished.

  “You remember.”

  I turned away. “Did you think I would forget?”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “I love you, Kelsey. What I feel for you is more than gratitude, more than attraction, more than affection. I never wrote a poem with exclamation points until I met you. You’re the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, and the courage in my heart. I’m an empty shell without you.”

  He cupped my face with his palms. “You illuminate my soul with the warm glow of your love and devotion. Even now, I can feel it and it sustains me. You can deny what you feel with your words, but your heart is still mine, iadala.”

  I wrapped my fingers around his hands and with a tremendous effort stepped back.

  Taking my rejection in stride, he teased, “Maybe I should’ve brought more mistletoe instead.”

  I turned my back to him and bustled about efficiently as if my every nerve wasn’t focused on the mesmerizing man watching me.

  “Why didn’t you then?” I asked nonchalantly.

  He shrugged and rested his body against the bulkhead. “I didn’t want to give Kishan any more motivation.”

  “Oh.” I picked up the Fruit and began asking for dishes. The Fruit became warm and shimmered like a disco ball as it made platter after platter. Steam rose from each, and the smells of the familiar foods wafted through the air.

  Coolly, I smiled and said, “Merry Christmas, Ren. Thank you for the poem and music box.” I made no mention of the rest of his note and didn’t respond to the heartfelt words given to me along with the bunch of lilacs. Instead I pretended as if I weren’t guiltily holding onto them, clutching them fervently to my fast-beating heart. Breezily, I said, “I totally forgot to get you a present, so I’m making you my grandma’s famous Christmas brunch instead. Are you hungry?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, and stared back with an intensity that threatened to swallow me whole. “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  I cleared my throat awkwardly and fluttered my hands toward the breakfast nook. “Well, take a seat then, and you can get started. Kishan’s still sleeping.”

  Ren grunted but sat down. I handed him a linen napkin and silverware and, when he reached out to take them, his hand cupped mine for just a fraction longer than was necessary. I spun around quickly and began dishing large helpings from each platter onto his plate: biscuits slathered in sausage gravy, cheesy eggs, fried potatoes with onions and peppers, thick-sliced bacon, buttery baked cinnamon apples, and Grandma’s homemade hot chocolate with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, chocolate sprinkles, a peppermint stick, and a cherry.

  I served myself and took the seat across from him. He tasted a little of each dish and then picked up the cocoa.

  “Is this breakfast a tradition in your family?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Every year Grandma would sleep over on Christmas Eve. The next morning she would be up before everyone else making biscuits from scratch. I’d usually wake up just after she did and stir the gravy for her while she sliced potatoes and onions. Her cocoa was a special treat that evolved over time. I added the chocolate sprinkles, Dad added the peppermint, and Mom added the cherry. We usually waited until after breakfast was all cleaned up before we opened presents.”

  “When was the last time you ate this breakfast?”

  “Just before my parents died. I took over making the eggs and potatoes, and Mom took over the biscuits. We used to talk about Grandma while we worked. My foster family wouldn’t have liked this breakfast. Too many carbs. Even when they have cocoa at Christmas, it’s diet and without whipped cream.”

  Ren reached across the table and took my hand. “It’s important to keep our family traditions alive. It helps us remember who we are and where we came from.”

  “What about your grandmother?”

  “She died when I was young, but I had a great-aunt who spent a lot of time with us. She was like a grandmother in many ways.”

  “Kells, I hope you saved me some breakfast!” Kishan bound into the room, planted a loud kiss on the top of my head, and picked up a plate.

  Ren let go of my hand, moved, and lifted his eyes to mine. “Her name was Saachi.”

  I sucked in a quick breath. “Oh.”

  Kishan looked from me to Ren then cleared his throat noisily. “Kells, I’m going to die if I don’t get something to eat. Please make it in vast quantities if you don’t mind.”

  I stood up abruptly, stumbled to the counter, and began mindlessly filling Kishan’s plate.

  After the somewhat awkward meal, it was time to start our last quest. I slid Fanindra onto my arm and hopped into the tiny motorboat. Kishan steered us smoothly across the water and then leapt onto the crumbly black surface of the lava path. Ren dragged the boat onshore, and I set foot on Barren Island.

  14

  phoenix

  With Kishan holding my hand, we began carefully picking our way across the scarred alien terrain, Durga’s weapons at the ready. We had brought all of the goddess’s gifts, and it felt good to have the bow and arrows slung across my back again, especially since unbidden dark thoughts teased the edges of my mind. I imagined bristling beasts and feral creatures with jagged teeth lurking in the shadows of the mangled mangrove trees stripped of green and stretching leprous limbs that snagged at our clothing; their rooty claws made our progress difficult.

  Our feet sank into the ash as if it were carbon snow, and the air felt heavy, hot, and menacing. Nervously, I mumbled as we moved through the frightening landscape. “Did . . . did I ever tell you about Mt. Vesuvius?”

  Kishan shook his head but kept his eyes forward.

  “It was a stratovolcano just like this one. It wiped out two cities. Most of the people were killed instantly, but some slowly suffocated under layers of ash. They’ve found intact skeletons. One was a pregnant woman who was lying on her bed; the skeleton of the fetus was still inside her. She was surrounded by others who were most likely her family members watching over her.”

  Kishan grunted and kept moving. Ren wrapped his hand around my other arm, squeezed slightly, and said, “We’re going to be fine, Kells.”

  “I just feel like the ash is choking me. It’s hard to breathe.”

  “If it helps, have the Scarf make you a mask. Try not to think about it. Focus your eyes on Kishan’s over-developed biceps instead of the ash stirred up by your feet and take deep breaths.”

  I snorted nervously. Kishan abruptly stopped. He frowned at Ren, then said to me, “We’ll go slower if you’re feeling tired.”

  “I’m not tired. I’m just . . . what is that?” I exclaimed and pointed at the rustling leaves.

  Kishan spun around and with a deft movement threw the chakram into the stunted trees. The chakram sank into a gnarled trunk. We heard a terrified bleating as several animals clumsily leapt from the area, their hooves sinking into the sound-deadening ash. They moved away from the trees, leapin
g up the perilous sides of the caldera and disappearing over the top.

  “Goats? How did goats get here?” I asked.

  Ren answered, “I read that livestock animals were often left on the smaller islands in case a ship ran aground and the sailors needed something to eat. We may also see bats and small rodents.”

  “Bats, goats, and rats, oh my.” If that was all we were going to encounter, I’d consider myself lucky.

  We continued to climb the side of the volcano. I often slipped in the soft, pebbly, and ashy dirt and had to use my hands to scramble ahead when the incline became a bit steeper. The ash was warm, hot even at times. Grabbing onto tree roots didn’t help much as the roots either gave way or they broke apart into chunks. Kishan bulldozed ahead and often stretched out a hand to help me. Ren took up the rear and caught me twice when I slipped on the soft ground.

  At the top, the view was amazing. It looked like we were standing on the broken lip of a large bowl. The caldera wall on either side was a thousand feet from the ocean surface. A slight breeze blew past, tickling my nose with the scent of the ocean mixed with the smell of wood smoke. Remnants of trees covered the rocky slopes, and I could even see bits of green peeking through here and there, but when my gaze slipped to the center of the caldera, I couldn’t help but shiver.

  I estimated the basin of the volcano to be about two miles in diameter. While Ren and Kishan discussed the best place to descend, I took in the desolation. The terrain looked like the surface of an evil moon circling a hellish planet. Pockmarked, ripped, and raw, the blackened interior was a festering boil on what was otherwise a beautiful tropic ocean. I sipped some water, hoping to clear the dry dust from my throat.

  “We’re going to make rope with the Divine Scarf and rappel down,” Ren explained the plan.

  “Are you sure the entrance to the City of Light is down there?”

  Kishan replied, “It’s not a big island, Kells. If it’s not down there, then we’ll search the island until we find it.”

  All three of us put on gloves, and then Kishan secured various ropes around my body and the trunk of a thick tree. We were going to walk down the rock face, using a pulley system of ropes to keep us from going too fast.

  “Don’t bounce. Don’t push off. Just walk down slowly. Ren will be below you on the same rope, and I’ll be right next to you. We won’t let you fall. Ready?” Kishan asked calmly.

  I was about as ready to rappel down a cliff as I was to stick my hand in lava.

  Ren gripped his rope, let his body fall back, and disappeared. I cautiously peeked over the edge and found him a few feet below us, his feet braced on the rock wall. He looked up at me and said gently, “Come on, Kells. I’m right here.”

  Shaking and nervous, I moved into position and took hold of my ropes. At first I was alright and Kishan kept pace with me as I crept down the hill like a grandma on roller skates. Then when the rock face dipped in, leaving my feet dangling in the air, I panicked and lurched frantically, crying out. Twisting the rope, I spun in a circle, but Kishan caught me and straightened out my rope while I wrapped a leg around his desperately.

  He smiled and said, “You’re alright, bilauta. Loosen your grip and slide down to where Ren is.”

  I twisted my leg, letting him go, and he swung slightly away. I looked up and felt sick. I looked down and felt sicker. Swallowing, I let the rope slide through my fingers and went down quickly, only stopping when I finally felt solid rock against my feet again. Though we still descended in slow motion, we made it to the bottom without further incident. My hands shook, and my legs felt like Jell-O as I numbly let Ren remove the ropes from my body.

  We left the ropes dangling and headed for the center of the caldera. The ash had been replaced with shiny black lobes that stretched toward us like knobby fingers. Ren tested the cooled crust by walking out a few paces. Declaring it safe, he followed a crooked tentacle, and Kishan and I joined him.

  The hike across the barren surface was sluggish and complicated due to the boulders of massive rock that often barred our path. Giant cannonball stones had collided with the ropes of dried lava and shattered it, creating bizarre shapes with jagged, barbed surfaces in the crust. In other places, the lava had covered rocks as large as ten feet in diameter, like gritty fondant over a cake.

  Occasionally, we stepped onto some of the charred bubbles, which burst into powdery granules. Sulfurous vapors rose from thin cracks. When Kishan’s boot broke through the black crust in one spot, scalding steam blasted out of the hole and burned the skin on his arm.

  Seeing my concerned expression, Kishan flashed me a reassuring smile. He tapped the kamandal hidden beneath his shirt.

  “We’ll heal, Kells, and if something happens to you, we’ll use the mermaid’s elixir.”

  I nodded and plodded ahead, wondering if the elixir was powerful enough to heal me after lava melted off my face. I used the Pearl Necklace to fill canteens of water, and we drank as much as we could. We continued on, and it wasn’t long before we came to a large hole that glowed with a faint light.

  Ren crouched down to peer in. “It’s a lava tube. Probably an active one.”

  “So lava will come spurting out of there?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what should we do? Go on or go in?”

  Kishan leaned over the opening, “It’s too hot. She won’t survive.”

  “What about you two?” I interjected. “I assume you don’t want your fur burned off either.”

  “Then we move on,” Ren said as he stood and shifted his pack.

  Following in his footsteps, we started to walk away but then I stopped and turned.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Kishan asked from behind me.

  “It’s a . . . a song.”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Ren answered.

  “Me neither,” Kishan added.

  I closed my eyes and listened. “There it is again. You can’t pick it up with your tiger hearing?”

  They shook their heads.

  “I hate to say this but I feel like . . . this is the place.”

  “But it’s too hot, Kells.”

  “Then we need to cool it off. Cooling myself off in the process wouldn’t be a bad idea either.” While brushing away the sweat that tickled the back of my neck, my fingers touched the Black Pearl Necklace.

  “I have an idea,” I said to Kishan. “Follow me.”

  We climbed onto the lip above the tunnel. I touched the pearl lotus flower on the Necklace at my throat and murmured a few words. A rumble shook the island, and I heard the rushing of water. Ren wrapped an arm around me when I stumbled as the ground moved.

  “I hope I can control it,” I mumbled nervously with arms raised.

  I focused on the wall of the caldera. The trees shook wildly, and then a spray of ocean water rushed over the wall and plunged into the basin. Visualizing the flow of water, I willed it to come closer, and it quickly rolled over the black surface of the volcano.

  Steam shot up in several places and hissed with the sound of a thousand snakes. I raised my hands, cupping them, and slowly brought them together. I tamed the water, shaped it, until it became exactly what I wanted it to be, guiding the flow toward the lava tube.

  Cold sea water rushed forward and surged down the open mouth of the tube. I could feel the water moving through the island traveling through tunnels miles long and I willed more and more water to come until I’d displaced something the size of a small lake from the surrounding ocean. Spreading my fingertips, I sent the cold sea water underground to flow over lava that hissed and steamed and blackened as the two disparate elements met. I stood silently with closed eyes and felt the stream’s progress until every last bit of it had evaporated.

  When I opened my eyes, Ren and Kishan were watching me quizzically.

  “How did you know to do that?” Kishan asked.

  “I don’t know. I think it was the song. Are you sure you didn’t
hear it?”

  When they both shook their heads, I wondered if I was now hearing things in addition to having strange powers and control over magical objects. Whatever had been my inspiration seemed to work. The tunnel was warm but it had cooled significantly.

  We stepped into the damp opening. As we descended, the tunnel twisted and became very dark, and only the glow of Fanindra’s eyes lit our way. The air felt muggy and humid. Metallic veins of fibers clung to the sides of the tunnel, and I coughed as little wisps floated in the air.

  We came to a fork in the tunnel, and I turned left, only hesitating when Kishan whispered, “How do you know where to go?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I just do.”

  My answer echoed sinisterly through the dark passages. I swiped the back of my neck and pulled my sticky T-shirt away from my lower back. To keep my mind off the heat and the danger, I hummed Christmas carols and thought about snow. To my surprise, Ren and Kishan joined me on “Jingle Bells,” but the song was quiet, hesitant, and when the echo came back, we sounded more like the ghosts of holidays long since forgotten.

  The lava tube was rounded and smooth as if a giant earthworm had tunneled it out for us. It was easily twelve feet in diameter, and two of us could walk comfortably side by side. We journeyed downward about a mile or so. Surely we are well below sea level by now. I heard a rushing sound ahead and wondered if some of my ocean water was still running through the tubes.

  We came upon a broken section that glowed with an orange light. We stepped closer, and a rush of heat instantly dried the sweat all over my body.

  Ren held me back, but the three of us craned forward to see into the opening. A hundred feet below, a river of lava flowed. Its rocky edges were dark and sluggish, but the middle was bright orange and moved quickly. A cooled dark skin cracked and floated on the surface in different places, making the lava look like a reddish-orange pudding left uncovered in the refrigerator.