by A. W. Exley
“Beatrice will return the bird and her aunt to their room, or she will suffer the consequences alongside you.” Hamilton spat the words with a sneer pulling his lip up. He raised his hands higher and the breeze blowing through the entranceway became stronger. While it didn’t touch the gargoyles, the hair on the women was pulled over their faces.
Elijah glanced to Trixie, who shook her head as she twisted her hair at her nape into a knot to keep it from blowing in her way. His heart swelled with pride and love. She would stand beside him, regardless.
Francis struck out with his hands, and the air obeyed his command. A gale battered at them that contained blasts of air that felt as hard as rocks. Jasper turned into a wall and used his bulk to shelter the two sick women.
Delens had slipped into the shadows created by the archways and disappeared. A pang shot through Elijah. The Meidh must have used the opportunity to slip away, not that he could blame him after the long years of his imprisonment.
Elijah turned to face the man who’d ordered his father’s death. He spread his wings and let the wind rush over the membrane as he clenched his claws. “Trixie and I will bring a new era to our clans. One of peace and forgiveness.”
Hamilton tilted his head back and laughed to the painted clouds above him. “There will never be forgiveness between us. Only death.”
27
Francis made a pulling gesture, hand over hand, as though he pulled in a fishing line. Except he drew the air towards him and from their lungs. Trixie gasped beside Elijah.
She reached out and touched Elijah’s stone palm. With gritted teeth, she nodded, as though having made some internal decision. Then, she let him go and rubbed her palms together. Fire sparked between her hands, and the flames were drawn to Francis as he sucked the air it needed to live.
Trixie melded the fire into a ball. Bigger and hotter it grew, until a spinning fiery sphere the size of a dinner plate floated between her outstretched palms. Then Trixie threw the ball beyond her uncle, where it hit the floor behind him.
“Missed,” he sneered at her.
Trixie smiled, then mimicked his earlier action and spread her arms wide. The fire obeyed its mistress and raced along the floor, creating a flaming wall that encircled him from behind.
The living wall cut off the staff who sought to back up their lord. Elijah cracked his knuckles, ready for his chance to tear the sylph apart when Trixie rested a hand on his arm. She flicked her eyes, and he followed her line of sight. A lone shadow remained visible behind Francis, sheltering behind a pillar.
Jasper set down the old woman and left her clinging to Millie. Then he stepped forward to stand next to his nephew. “You ordered my brother murdered, and your men would have killed my sister if I hadn’t stopped them.”
Francis sneered and kept drawing forth the air, the wave feeding the flames at his back, which danced higher and higher. “You all deserve to die for what you did to our clan. We were ruined and our ashes scattered because of you Setons.”
Jasper shook his head. “What happened to your clan was done by your own hand. You chose your own downfall when you moved against the queen. But since you cannot forgive, then you must forget.”
As the Soarer had fixated on Jasper, Delens had approached him from behind, skirting close to the fire. Now he pressed his hands to either side of the sylph’s head.
“Someone needs to hold him!” he yelled.
Elijah dashed forward and wrapped stone arms around the sylph’s middle. He weighted him down as he shot upwards, trying to fly beyond Delens’s touch. Elijah connected with his element, touching the stone and earth far beneath the building. He grew roots through tiles and timbers to anchor himself in the ground. He became an obstacle Hamilton couldn’t dislodge.
“This will take a bit longer.” Delens screwed up his face as the sylph thrashed around.
The Soarer screamed, his hands raking down Elijah’s stone arms. His fingers scrabbled to find eyes to gouge, but Elijah pressed his face into his arm.
Staff called out and tried to reach their master around the flames, but Trixie kept the fire wall in place wherever they ran. Jasper scooped up the elderly sylph and kept Millie close so the women weren’t snatched away in the uproar.
“How much longer?” Trixie yelled as she kept throwing fire to keep the servants at bay. Smoke filled the entranceway and swirled upwards, obscuring the painted sky.
Francis Hamilton continued to scream curses, his nails tearing at Elijah’s arms, head, and torso.
“A bit longer,” Delens shouted back. His eyes rolled up into his head as he kept his hands pressed to Hamilton’s skull. Sweat rolled down the unburned side of his face, and it turned as red as though his flesh were newly pressed to flame.
Elijah tightened his grip and pulled the man down towards the ground.
After five long minutes had passed, Delens dropped his hands. “It’s done.”
Hamilton’s struggles stopped as abruptly as a sudden gale that disappeared with a snap. When Elijah let go, the Soarer collapsed to the floor as though all his bones had been removed. He puddled on the tiles and moaned. With his eyes closed, his chest rose and fell with erratic breaths.
“What did you do?” Elijah asked, staring down at his fallen enemy. He had a strong urge to kick him while he was down for good measure.
Trixie dropped the fire, and it vanished with a hiss to reveal several footmen and stable lads. They didn’t move, as though none wanted to step over the charred black line left on the tiles.
Delens wiped his grubby hands down his equally filthy trouser legs. “I did exactly what Jasper suggested. I made him forget. I have turned this mind back three hundred years to before he was exiled. I gave him a new memory: that he had broken with his family over their treacherous plot and wanted nothing to do with either it or them. I have told him he settled in Kessel to run a mill and nothing more. He doesn’t know your family, and he will shun contact with any Soarers or Warders.”
Was it enough? Elijah wondered. Because of this man, many people had died. Yet he would get to live out his life. That didn’t seem fair. A voice whispered from the deepest regions of his mind, urging him to smash the killer into a thousand tiny pieces just like he had done to Julian Seton.
Trixie reached out and touched his arm. She had collected the phoenix again and held the sad-looking bird to her chest. “Don’t, Eli. It takes more strength to forgive than to seek revenge. Don’t let him draw you into the cycle of pain and suffering.”
A deep shuddering sigh left his chest. How did she know what he was thinking? He flashed her a smile, exposing his stony canines, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re right.”
She grinned up at him. “I usually am. You should probably get used to that.”
The group left Francis Hamilton whimpering on the ground and twitching like a puppy in the grips of a nightmare. His staff could attend him; that’s what they were paid to do. They walked slowly down the corridor and into the cool night air, where they gathered under the moon.
“We have too many people to carry, Uncle,” Elijah said.
“Millie, do you think you could direct Delens to Rose’s cottage?” Trixie asked the young woman.
“Yes. But I want to go home to Grandfather.” She nodded, her shoulders less stooped now that she stood outside, free of the house.
“We have something else to do first. When we are done, we will fetch your grandfather and meet you at the cottage,” Trixie said.
The younger Elementals looked to Jasper, who nodded in agreement.
Kruos had done his part by staying out of the way. At least he would be reunited with his granddaughter for however many years he had left to him.
“I’ll fetch my horse. The two of them can ride to Rose’s cottage, and we can meet them there later.” Trixie ran towards the stables and returned a few minutes later leading her mare.
They helped Delens up onto the horse and then Millie. The young girl slumped against the back of the
burned man as they started down the hill.
“I do hope I’m interrupting something,” a familiar voice said from the shadows.
“Archie,” Trixie said as the shadow detached itself and moved into the moonlight. “Did you abandon the others fighting the mill fire?”
“Your uncle suggested there might be a family situation that needed my attention. I knew the peasant was up to something, but I never thought he was a filthy gnome.” Steam rose from Archie’s clothes as though they dried before a fire.
“Uncle Jasper, could you take Trixie’s aunt and the bird? This is a personal matter that I need to settle.” Elijah kept one eye on the salamander.
“What happened to not being drawn into their cycle of pain and suffering?” Jasper asked.
“He laid his hands on my mate. I’m calling that an exception.” Elijah placed the phoenix in Sylvie’s arms.
“Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the highest peak once you’re done.” Jasper’s laughter rang through the night as he spread his wings and leapt into the sky.
“Together,” Trixie said as she touched his arm.
He nodded, only dimly aware of her dropping her human form to reveal the salamander within. Elijah rolled his neck. He was looking forward to this. He was no wallflower waiting to be asked to dance, and he leapt at Archie and punched him square in the jaw. His fist made a satisfying crunch, although the salamander proved harder than he looked.
Archie staggered back a step and shook himself. His clothing dissolved into ash as the salamander was revealed. Scales in mottled red and black covered him. His short and broad form had a reptilian appearance with a bald head, invisible ears, a snub nose, and even a short stumpy tail. “Is that the best you have, gnome?”
Elijah laughed. “Oh, I have a whole lot more that I’ve been storing up.”
Energy flowed through his limbs as he thought of every moment over the last few weeks where he had longed to thump Archie Lawson. From the first moment he set eyes on him and his ungentlemanly behaviour in staying mounted when Trixie’s mare went lame, to the discovery of him mauling Trixie in her office.
While Elijah refused to perpetuate the cycle of revenge between their families, this was different. This man was a selfish brute who’d tried to harm his mate, and he needed to be taught a lesson. Elijah took his years of waiting to avenge his father and poured that frustration into every punch and swing.
Archie roared and fought with flaming arms, trying to burn the gargoyle before him.
“Keep him busy, I have a plan,” Trixie called out. She held her position with her hands clasped before her as though in prayer.
Elijah briefly considered the difference between the two salamanders. Whereas Archie looked like a brutish lizard, Trixie appeared more like a wingless dragon. She had the sleek, almost feline grace of an Oriental dragon. Scales in reds and oranges, so similar to the phoenix she painted, graced her body. Her hair was made of flames that flowed down her back and shifted and changed on an invisible breeze.
He would have stared at her for hours, except Lawson caught him off guard and smacked him in the face with what felt like a chunk of solid ember. Elijah ducked under another fiery blow and jabbed a return punch to Archie’s stomach. The salamander caught his wrist, and flames flared bright orange around Elijah’s arm. He grunted. While he didn’t burn, the sensation was unpleasant and reminded him of the time he fell into a patch of nettle.
“I will turn you to ash,” Archie spat out between gritted teeth.
Fire raced higher up Elijah to his shoulders, and the heat battered his face. He wondered if he would end up scorched, like the windowless room that held the phoenix.
“You’re going to have to try a lot harder to burn rock, lizard-face.” Since Archie was clinging to him, Elijah used his wings to fan the fire away from him. Then instead of pulling away from Archie, he stepped forward and slammed his forehead into the lizard’s head.
Trixie stepped into his view. Her form was enveloped in what at first he took to be water. Cool tones of blue and white shimmered around her body. She stepped between the two fighting Elementals and wrapped her arms around Archie’s middle.
“Can you put us into the ground?” Her blue flames washed over Archie’s orange fire, and his retreated as effectively as though she’d doused him with water.
“Oh, that’s clever. Fighting fire with fire,” Elijah muttered.
Archie put his hands on her shoulders and tried to push her off. His orange and red flames fought their own battle against her blue and white fire. It was an uneven conflict, though. Trixie didn’t have the bulk of the male salamander, who fought dirty and changed his tactic to wrap one hand around her throat. If he couldn’t put out her fire, he would try to extinguish her life.
Rage flowed through Elijah, and he offered a quick prayer to Gaia that he didn’t flatten his mate. Then he used his wings to envelop the three of them while he grabbed Archie’s hand and wrenched it down to stop him from throttling Trixie.
Elijah reached out to his element and asked it to receive them. He didn’t need a huge hole, just one big enough for a gargoyle and two salamanders. Well, maybe it did need to be a large hole.
The ground answered and rumbled and shook beneath them. Archie tried to fling them all backwards, but Elijah kept a grip and back winged to hold them steady. Earth turned to liquid under their feet, and inch by inch, they sank. First, their feet disappeared, and then the earth swallowed them up to their knees.
Archie yelled and tried to haul his body free of the earth, but there was no solid ground to support him. He struggled against quicksand, and the more he thrashed, the faster they dropped.
Trixie kept up the cooling flames to douse his fire, and Elijah worked with the soil to pull them deeper and deeper into the earth.
“I promise you won’t get hurt,” Elijah shouted in Trixie’s ear as an idea hit him.
Once they were all waist deep in the dirt, he pushed with both his body and mind. He threw their huddle onto Archie, so he was on the bottom as he commanded the earth to open wide. With a plop, the three of them disappeared beneath the surface, and soil rushed over every part of them.
For a moment he enjoyed the caress of soil and pebbles against his granite hide, soothing the scorch marks Archie had made. Then his focus became ensuring the safety of his mate. With her caught between them, she was in an air bubble, but that also benefited Archie.
He needed one last push, and he thrust with body and mind. As he pushed Archie away, he wrapped an arm around Trixie and hauled her backwards. The earth churned in two directions. One part of the ground wound around Archie’s form and sucked him deeper. Another part obeyed a different command. It gathered under Elijah and tossed him to the surface.
Elijah burst free with Trixie in his arms. He shot up and then spread his wings to glide back down to the ground.
“What was that?” Elijah asked as he set Trixie on her feet.
“We call it cold fury. You need to be very determined and focused to generate it, but it can douse another salamander’s fire.” She brushed dirt from her scales as the earth closed beneath them. A small puff of grit wafted off the dirt to disappear when it hit the cool night air.
“Is he dead?” She stared at the patch of ground.
Elijah closed his eyes and let his mind settle into the earth. A faint whump whump came from the salamander as he lay, extinguished, in his prison. “No, but it will take him a while to dig himself out.”
“Let’s finish this before anyone else interrupts.” A red flash dropped over Trixie’s body, and her salamander form vanished to be replaced by her human one. With a smile, she stepped into his arms.
Elijah flew over the forest and up the side of the mountain range. At length, they reached the highest point. The sky had cleared and the stars shone bright above them. They found Jasper and Sylvie sitting on the grass, watching the village far below and the twinkling stars above.
“Did you settle your personal matter?”
Jasper asked.
“Yes. Archie Lawson is learning to keep his hands to himself.” Elijah turned to Trixie. “What now?”
She glanced to her aunt. “Could you build a pyre, please?”
He swallowed at the request. It didn’t seem right to plan the woman’s funeral while she was still alive—no matter how tenuous her hold on life.
The two men set to work. They found fallen logs and branches and dragged them up the hill to make a pile. Then Elijah and Jasper laid their hands on the ground and touched the earth, asking it to craft the funeral pyre. Sticks rose up from the ground and enclosed the base material they had gathered. Tall, thin twigs laced themselves together before reaching out and flattening to create a platform. Last, they gathered armloads of fallen leaves and pine needles to soften the platform.
“Are you sure about this, Aunt Sylvie?” Trixie whispered.
Sylvie took her hand. “Yes, my dear. My time has come, and my friend wishes to depart with me. We are both weary of this world.”
The men waited while the women watched the sky. Jasper partially shifted form and half a jacket appeared on one side of him. He dug into the pocket and pulled something out between his claws.
He rested a hand on Trixie’s shoulder. “Dawn wanted you to have this.”
When she looked up, he placed the item in her hand.
She stared at it for a long moment and then gasped. “Where did you get this?”
Jasper patted her shoulder with a granite hand. “This is what Zadoc died to steal and why your uncle tortured Delens. Dawn thought that as Zadoc’s niece and fellow salamander, you would know what to do with it.”
Trixie cupped the egg in her palm and held the object out to her aunt. Moonlight caressed its obsidian side, and it reflected the stars above, as though she held a piece of the night sky. “Look, Aunt Sylvie. A phoenix egg.”