Flame Caller

by Jon Messenger

The engine sputtered as it was turned off, the swirling blades chopping the ocean water before coming to a rest. The large motorboat coasted through the salty water, rocking gently with the rolling waves.

  On the surface of the boat, a group of dark-armored men moved sluggishly as they strained to carry a heavy canvas bag between them. The burlap fabric strained from the weight and the men tried to time their steps so as not to rattle the contents more than necessary. They moaned as they reached the small set of stairs that led up to the observation platform at the bow of the ship.

  Near the tip of the bow, another Fire Warrior stood a metal beam upright. Bright arcs of flame leapt from his fingers as he welded the steel tube into place. The burlap bag fell to the deck of the boat and the laborers fell to the ground, exhausted.

  One of the Fire Warriors looked up as a blast of sea spray fell across his face. Though he didn’t dare question General Abraxas, he doubted their leader’s wisdom. Not far from the front of the ship, a massive waterspout dominated the horizon. Even from their distance, he could feel the tug of the water, drawing their ship closer to its devastating wall.

  “Come on,” the older Fire Warrior demanded as he finished welding the support beam into place. “Pick it up and bring it over here.”

  The laborers huffed in irritation before climbing back to their feet. They lifted their heavy burden and shuffled over to the beam. With a loud grunt, they lifted the burlap bag until it hovered over the metal pole. The older warrior shifted the bottom of the bag until a hole was exposed. The massive steel contraption within the burlap bag shone in the setting sunlight. The older man lined up the top of the support pole with a similar hole on the contraption and signaled for the laborers to lower their burden. The metal monstrosity settled into place with an audible click.

  “It’s ready,” the older Fire Warrior explained. “Go let the General know we’re ready to proceed when he is.”

  The youngest of the warriors, a man barely twenty-six, frowned at his task. Like all the men on the boat, they were deathly afraid of General Abraxas. The man was practically invulnerable, having survived being set aflame, with dangerous burns covering most of his body. Rumors spread through his men that he couldn’t die, that he had been blessed with immortality. The younger man didn’t believe that was true, but it didn’t stop him from being afraid. General Abraxas might not be immortal, but he also had no compunction about killing a fellow Fire Warrior if he was somehow displeased. More and more, it seemed the smallest things displeased the General.

  The young Fire Warrior walked down the steps, bracing himself on the railing so as not to fall on the sea-soaked stairwell. Despite his best efforts, his feet still slid from underneath him and he was forced to cling to the railing to keep from falling. The sudden movement made his stomach churn dangerously. He wasn’t used to being on the water—none of them were. They were born in a cavern surrounded by heat and lit by lava flows far beneath them. There was serious doubt if he’d ever find his sea legs, but he hoped to be done with their mission long before that became an issue.

  Pushing himself upright, he walked hurriedly but deliberately across the deck to the closed door at the stern of the boat. It led down to a small galley, which the General had turned into his personal quarters.

  The Fire Warrior rapped on the door and stepped back to let the door swing outward. Within seconds, the door opened and the cloaked General looked out with an expression of electric anticipation.

  “What is it?” he hissed from beneath his long hood.

  The hood cast his face in deep shadows, making his features invisible to the young Fire Warrior. The man didn’t mind, however. Despite their favored element, the look of Abraxas’ melted skin made him ill.

  “We’re in position, sir,” the man replied. “We’re ready to proceed.”

  “Then it’s set up already? Everything’s in place?”

  The young man nodded quickly, eager to be done with the cat and mouse dialogue with his leader.

  “Excellent,” Abraxas hissed.

  The General stormed past the young man, pushing him aside with barely a passing glance. Abraxas walked with a faint limp and a loud exhalation due to the ceaseless pain. He didn’t complain about his discomfort and no one was brave enough to ask.

  General Abraxas climbed the stairs quickly and took his place beside the blanketed contraption. The other Fire Warriors fell aside, leaving their leader alone beside the metal monstrosity. He reached over affectionately and placed his hand on top of the bag, feeling the metal’s coolness seeping through the fabric. He closed his fingers over the top of the satchel and ripped it away, exposing the long, metal tube beneath.

  The whaling harpoon gun had been a fortuitous find; a recommendation from a fisherman who hadn’t lived long enough to regret the amount of information he shared with Abraxas. As the General stepped away from the harpoon gun and stared at the waterspout in the distance, his men went to work loading the pressurized air canisters and tubing beneath the steel gun.

  “It won’t be long now,” Abraxas mused. He turned his head toward the setting sun. “Sleep comfortably in your beds, old men. Death will be coming for you soon enough.”

  Behind him, he heard the clicking of the metal harpoon being loaded into the breach of the weapon. He turned as the Fire Warriors linked the corded rope into place, snapping it into a metal ring at the base of the support pole.

  “Full speed ahead,” General Abraxas yelled toward the stern of the ship.

  The Fire Warrior at the controls pushed the lever forward and the blades churned the water behind the boat. With a lurch, the ship rolled forward toward the angry, water-borne phenomenon before them.

  Abraxas could taste the anticipation in the air. It had a metallic taste, like blood pooling on his tongue. He took in a deep breath as the boat bounded over a cresting wave.

  “Warriors,” he called out. “On line.”

  The foremost Fire Warriors took their positions on either side of the General. As one, they raised their hands and extended their fingers toward the waterspout. The air above their hands smoldered as flames crackled to life.

  The wall of the waterspout grew closer. The roar was deafening the closer they sailed. It felt like a heavy weight settling into the General’s brain. She ground his pointed teeth against his bottom lip, drawing blood and forcing away the thoughts of the pressure on his ears.

  The water itself splashed up over the railing of the boat, soaking the Fire Warriors. As quickly as the water settled over them, it dissipated in waves of steam from the heat radiating from their bodies.

  Caught in a sudden eddy, the boat lurched, nearly tossing the Fire Warriors from their feet. General Abraxas shot the driver a deadly glare and the man at the wheel shrunk from his unspoken reprimand. Abraxas turned his attention back to the waterspout, which had grown dangerously close.

  As close as they were, the lead warrior could feel the wind itself tugging at his billowing cloak. His hood was pulled from his head, exposing his wax-like features to the dying rays of the setting sun. Abraxas snarled through the good half of his mouth, the skin on the other half having melted and run over both lips.

  When he was satisfied that they were close enough, white-hot fire leapt from Abraxas’ hands. The other Fire Warriors followed suit and soon the entire air between the boat and the waterspout was consumed with flames. The fire struck the wall of the waterspout. The two elements crashed into one another like Titans of Greek mythology, hissing and sizzling as they fought for supremacy.

  Slowly, the spout of water faltered and crumbled under the heat. The sheets of ocean water evaporated, blanketing the area in boiling steam.

  Unfettered, the boat passed into the heated cloud. General Abraxas’ skin crawled and itched from the heat. He knew he was more sensitive to the temperature now that most of his body was covered with puckered scars but he could see the others from the corners of his eyes, suffering similarly.

  The air was thick and humid, like t
rying to breathe through a bowl of soup. General Abraxas grimaced but kept his flames aloft, keeping the wall of the spout at bay until his ship could pass through the surprisingly calm eye of the storm.

  Once the boat was sufficiently past, the Fire Warriors dropped their flames and the waterspout reformed behind them. Even had the sun not already sunk into the horizon, the interior of the waterspout would have been cast in darkness. Within the heart of the raging ocean storm, the surface of the water was cast in dark shadows from the massive landmass hovering over their heads.

  He craned his neck upward to look at the hanging stalactites. The sharpened teeth on the underside of the island felt strangely comforting to the Fire Warrior leader and he smiled wickedly at its menacing visage.

  The other warriors set to work pulling free rock climbing gear and attaching Swiss seats. Abraxas moved beside the harpoon and looked upward again. Even once they got the serrated metal tip of the harpoon to hold in the rocky underbelly, it would still be quite a climb up to the island’s surface. Not all his men would make it but he wasn’t overly concerned about their safety. He really only cared about his own life, and the retribution he would take on the Wind Warriors once he caught them sleeping on their island home.

  A Fire Warrior carefully turned the knobs on the pressurized air canisters and watched the PSI needle climb. He nodded to the General when he was happy with the results.

  Abraxas tilted the harpoon gun skyward and squeezed the trigger. Even over the din of the swirling waterspout, he heard the explosion as the harpoon launched toward the island’s hardened underbelly. The metal harpoon grew small as it rocketed upward. The rope unwound beside them, uncoiling as the harpoon reached its mark.

  He couldn’t hear a satisfying strike as the harpoon sunk into the stone but a firm tug on the rope told him it was firmly attached.

  With a quick look to his fellow Fire Warriors, General Abraxas took hold of the rope and began his climb.

  “Why are you wearing a bathrobe?” Sean asked as he and Xander leaned against the wall of the sorority’s common room.

  Xander uncrossed his arms and looked at the loose-fitting shirt that he had been given by the Wind Warriors. “It’s not a bathrobe. It’s a tunic.”

  “It opens in the front and is held closed by a cloth belt. That’s a bathrobe, dude.”

  The two looked across the common room and stared at the two women, who sat as far apart from one another on the couch as possible. The sorority house was abandoned, the girls having all gone home when the chaos began in White Halls. They had the house to themselves, though it was clear that Jessica and Sammy resented having to stay in the same room together.

  “Man,” Xander said with a shake of his head. “Those two really do hate each other, don’t they?”

  “Uh huh. Speaking of which, is this going to be one of those awkward love triangles you always hear about in soap operas?” Sean asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Xander shrugged and laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t watch soap operas. And I don’t have any feelings for Jessica anymore, so there’s not going to be any love triangle.”

  Sean arched an eyebrow as he looked at his friend. “Who’s talking about you?” he asked with a coy smile. “I meant Jessica, Sammy, and me. Just take a look at me. I’m like a giant teddy bear. Fact: chicks dig teddy bears.”

  Xander laughed again. He had forgotten how good it felt to laugh without an underlying, morose sense of impending doom. The Fire Caste seemed pretty far from Xander’s mind as he reunited with his best friend.

  The two girls looked over at the laughing pair but quickly returned to their inner brooding.

  Sean looked from Sammy to Jessica and back again. “You know, you really do have a ‘type’.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tall, blonde, blue eyes, athletic, nice big…”

  Sean paused as he noticed Xander’s frown.

  “Personalities,” Sean concluded.

  “Nice save, buddy.”

  Xander tried to laugh again but was fairly dumbstruck by how right Sean was. He didn’t notice it before but Jessica and Sammy really did look similar. No one was going to mistake them for sisters any time soon. Sammy had a sternness that was a strong counterpoint to Jessica’s general aloofness, but they did look like they could be distantly related.

  “It’s really nice to hang out with you again, Sean,” Xander said, changing the subject. “It’s really nice to be hanging out with someone who just likes hanging out with me because of who I am, not what I am.”

  “Funny is what I do,” Sean explained. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “No?”

  Sean shrugged. “Fat people have to be funny. It’s a law. You have to choose to either be fat and happy or skinny and rude. No one likes being around the person who’s angry about being fat.”

  “I’m glad you are,” Xander replied with a broad smile. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

  “Aw, shucks.”

  Xander squeezed Sean’s shoulder before giving him a playful shove and walking over to where the girls sat miles apart on the seven-foot couch.

  Sammy looked up at him as he approached. Her eyes pleaded, as they had last time she and Jessica were left alone, for him to save her from the uncomfortable situation.

  Begrudgingly, Jessica looked up at him as well. Her gaze lacked the affection he saw in Sammy’s eyes. She didn’t seem happy at all to see him.

  “I got to say, Jessica,” Xander said as he sat down in one of the armchairs facing the couch. “I’m really surprised to see you and Sean hanging out together.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Jessica said with a sigh. “But misery acquaints a man with strange bed…”

  “—fellows,” Sean finished with a smarmy grin. “You almost called us ‘bedfellows’.”

  “Shut up, Sean,” Jessica replied. She turned back to Xander. “So, you’re a superhero now?”

  Xander flushed at her scrutiny. He realized they hadn’t left on the best of terms but he hadn’t expected her to be so aggressive.

  “I don’t know about superhero,” he replied sheepishly. “I just have powers.”

  “Don’t be modest,” Sammy interjected. “You’re one of the most powerful Wind Warriors alive.”

  Xander smiled at his girlfriend. He knew what she was doing; she was making him look good in front of his ex-girlfriend, giving him some confidence in a conversation he was clearly losing.

  “Wind Warrior?” Sean asked. “Is that the official title?”

  Xander shrugged. “It’s what we’re called, apparently.”

  “We? So there’s more like you?”

  “Seven,” he started before he frowns. “Six. There are six others.”

  Everyone fell silent, recognizing the pain barely concealed behind his words. Xander looked down at his hands, his mind drifting back to everyone he’d already lost. With a quick shake of his head, he shook away the morose thoughts.

  “So, Jessica,” he began, “you seem to be taking this way better than I would have expected.”

  She crossed her arms across her chest and chewed on her bottom lip in frustration. “Well, it’s been a whole week of strange events. My ex-boyfriend can fly. Some guys can make fire out of the air and burned down an entire apartment building. And, stranger than all the others, I’ve been hanging out with Sean.”

  “And you love it,” Sean replied with a smirk.

  “You’re an idiot,” she said, not for the first time.

  “I’m a little more impressed that Sammy is still hanging out with you,” Sean said. “I would have figured she would have left you as soon as things got… weird.”

  “Weird like, ‘I want to have a relationship with you but I can be awkward,’ or weird like, ‘I can make tornados’?”

  Sean smiled. “A little from column a, a little from column b.”

  Xander looked over at Sammy and smiled at the nervous blush on her cheeks. He kne
w why she was nervous. Despite all the time he’d spent defending her to the other Wind Warriors, the two other people in the room had no idea that she was a Fire Warrior. If Sean’s stories of their experiences while he was away were any indication, they weren’t going to handle the news well.

  Jessica looked back and forth between the two. “Someone want to fill us in?”

  Xander cleared his throat. “Sammy’s pretty okay with my powers. She’s…”

  “She’s what?” Jessica asked darkly.

  “I’m a Fire Warrior,” Sammy explained.

  Sean arched his eyebrows but stayed in his armchair. Jessica’s response was a bit more severe. She leapt from the couch, putting as much space as possible between her and Sammy. Jessica reached out quickly for the fire extinguisher beside the couch but Xander was quicker. He kicked it aside and it skidded across the hardwood floor.

  “Stop that,” he said harshly to his ex.

  Jessica fumed, her nostrils flaring with anger. “You brought one of those monsters into my house? What were you thinking?”

  Sean raised his hand and waited for her to recognize him. “No offense, but it was just a couple days ago that you brought a Fire Warrior into my apartment.”

  “Shut up, Sean. Anyway, how did that work out for us?”

  Sean shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “She’s not a normal Fire Warrior,” Xander interceded before the atmosphere got any tenser. “She’s on our side. She left her kind to save my life. No can everyone please sit down so we can talk about this like adults?” Xander shook his head. “God, who would have ever thought I’d be the one trying to get everyone to act like an adult? Next thing you know, Sean’s going to be telling me that comic books are stupid.”

  “You shut your dirty lying mouth right now,” Sean replied quickly.

  Xander looked up at the rigid Jessica. He motioned toward her spot on the couch. “Please.”

  With a frown, she slid past the armrest and sat down, keeping her body angled as far away from Sammy as possible. If looks could kill, Jessica would be trying to commit genocide.

  Xander looked at Sammy, who shrugged weakly. He glanced over at Sean, who simply gave him a look that said he understood how awkward the whole situation was.