by A. L. Knorr
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, putting up a hand when it seemed Basil was about to end the connection. “I won’t sleep until I know everything that you know. I get that we’re able to link Nero to these events. Every time he goes somewhere foreign, a group of magi lose their fires permanently. But what is he doing? How can these groups be so vulnerable?”
Tomio slid back into his chair, looking as tired as I felt but just as determined to wrap his mind around the threat. “Exactly. He went to Brazil in November, a bunch of fires went out in December. He comes back home, does more weird scribbles and then went to India in March. Another group of mages lose their fire, including our friend April.”
“And Eira’s dad, and Jade’s ex-babysitter, Maggie.”
Basil was listening patiently with the expression of a man who had been expecting to have to have this conversation.
“Then, while he’s supposedly in China, two groups of mages lose their fire within days of one another. He’s on his way to Australia next, we’re bracing ourselves for another wave, but there has to be something we can do about it. We need to know whatever it is the Agency knows.”
Basil took a deep breath and wrinkled his brow. “I don’t disagree, but I’m afraid you think we have more information than we have. We’ve been monitoring Nero, yes, but we could only do so while he was above ground. He’s aware that he’s been surveilled, so he kept his interactions private. But what I can share with you is our understanding of the legends, because the old stories seem to have more relevance now than they ever did before.”
“I thought you said they were bunk?” I sat back and crossed my arms, feeling a shiver of anticipation pass through my body. Would Basil admit that he’d been trying to make replicas of the orbs in his own private studio?
“Many versions are. That’s the problem. Hundreds of cultures have versions of the same story. The great deluge, for example, has happened in every culture in the world, but the who, how, and why of the flood varies in every story.”
“So how are we supposed to know what really happened?” Tomio murmured.
“Exactly. We have fragments of stories that involve our species in some way, taken from all the corners of the globe. We’re only now getting a clearer look at our own origin story because Nero’s movements are giving us clues about where to look. His foreign trips have not gone unnoticed. We know he boarded a plane to Australia.”
“Could someone there arrest him?”
“Yes, but there’s a new problem. They have the authority, but not the power.”
Tomio’s forehead creased. “I don’t get it. Aren’t authority and power the same thing?”
Basil shook his head. “Not remotely. If you drive a Lamborghini with three hundred horses under the hood and a cop in an intersection raises his hand, you have to stop. The Lamborghini has the power, but the cop has the authority. In this case, our mages have the authority to arrest Nero and bring him before our tribunal, but they’ve lost the powers they’ve had since birth thanks to the very man they wish greatly to detain.”
He let that sink in before continuing.
“Nero’s movements have actually helped your team to look in the right places? Is that what you’re saying?” I prompted, skipping over the problem of powerless magi for the moment. It was too big and horrible to think about. I couldn’t even allow my mind to fully form the idea that I might wake up at any moment without my own fire.
“Yes. We have archives and a database full of fractions of ancient stories. Nero’s destinations directed us to pay more attention to the ancient cultures in those places and the legends we had that were connected to the lands and peoples there.”
“So what have you learned?”
Basil pushed his spectacles up his nose, looking eager to impart what he knew but hesitant about how to do it. “Have either of you heard of a mysterious event called Tunguska?”
The name triggered a memory: when Ryan and I cleaned Basil’s office as penance, the same day we discovered his secret studio. I’d almost forgotten about the black and white photographs of trees blown sideways in what looked like the aftermath of an enormous explosion.
I nodded. “You have pictures in your office from that event.”
“Very good. Exactly. I was drawn to look at the event when it seemed to share similarities with our legends. The Tunguska event itself is not important, but it provides evidence that the earth can suffer an immense impact event without sustaining an impact crater. The Tunguska event is the largest ever recorded in history, but our legends suggest that in prehistoric times there was another event like it. The story goes that some immense and bright god crashed somewhere in Mesopotamia, in the cradle of civilization. The sky filled with fire and was rent in two. A streak of light disappeared over the horizon, followed by a terrific explosion as the god crashed and died.”
“A meteorite?” Tomio asked.
“Naturally that’s the first thing scientists attribute it to. The stories say the god was never found and there was no impact site, though the event flattened trees for hundreds of miles and destroyed the hearing of tribesmen hunting very far away. Possibly three generations later, settlers moved into this area to build homes and farm the region. The area had not been claimed as it had been considered dangerous for a long time, but as the new generations came up and young people wanted to build their own cities, this area was fought over. There were as many as twelve different tribes, each with their own languages, genetic heritage, culture and history who came from abroad to claim this space. Those with fewer numbers could not make a reasonable stand for land, but seven of these tribes were powerful, with great numbers of warriors who were prepared to fight for it. Alliances were being formed and things were shaping up for a slaughter when a young woman who was foraging came across a huge white fire burning in the middle of this land. It is written that this fire did not consume anything, nor did it grow or shrink, it did not even smoke, which was why it had not been discovered until this point.
“The story she told spread through the other tribes, who sent scouts to verify the truth of what she saw. They claimed it must have been either left behind by the great god who died in the explosion that shocked their grand-parents’ generation, or it was the god itself.”
Basil paused to take a sip of water. Tomio and I didn’t make a sound and barely moved as we waited for him to continue.
“The elders of the most powerful seven tribes journeyed to see this phenomenon for themselves and while they stared at the fire, transfixed by its magic and beauty, it is said that they abandoned all thoughts of battle and of killing one another. Instead, they divided the lands into sections and distributed it among the tribes, keeping the fire at the central point. It became important to all of them and each tribe envisioned its own explanations about what the fire was, where it came from, how it came to be self-sufficient and benign.”
I leaned forward and put my chin on my palm. “This is why you’ve been confused about our origins.”
“Yes. You can find evidence of these stories all over the place, from Singapore to Chile. Further, the effects of time and the passing of these stories down through generations means no one really knows the truth of it anymore.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind Basil that I knew an elemental who if taken to ground zero for these events could see the truth as easily as she could pick up a handful of soil from the earth there, but I didn’t want to interrupt him. He’d surely had such a thought for himself. I wondered if he would bring up Georjayna’s abilities now or later. If he didn’t, I would.
“The legends suggest that these tribes lived in relative harmony with each other for hundreds of years before something happened to divide them. Famine. Change of the climate, or perhaps an ice age made life very difficult for them. When someone suggested that the white god was angry with them for being selfish, the idea quickly gained momentum. It was suggested that they should have been giving a portion of the earth’s bounty to the fire ev
ery year because the prosperity they’d had was given by the white god and he or she was sick of being left out. They took what little food they had stored, divided a portion for the white god and threw it into the fire, but nothing changed. When someone suggested that food wouldn’t be enough to make up for all the years they had not given anything to the god, they quickly jumped to the conclusion that they should have been doing something that foreigners did in strange lands that were rumored not to have been touched by the famine—sacrifice an individual from their tribe.”
I shuddered. What was with all the human sacrifice in our history? It was difficult for a modern brain to comprehend that it had ever been an acceptable practice.
“The tribes agreed, but they had not been given to such bloody activity before and decided that the sacrifice had to be a volunteer, they would not murder someone to test their theory. At first, no one stepped forward.”
“I’ll bet,” Tomio muttered, laying an arm across the back of my chair and rubbing a fist into one eye.
“But finally, when one brave young woman, a mother of three, stepped forward and volunteered to be sacrificed for a chance to save her children from further hunger, the other tribes were ashamed that it was not one of their own number who stepped forward so selflessly. This prompted a rush of volunteers and each tribe wanted to have what was now considered an honor to give for the good of everyone else. The elders decided that instead of taking a sacrifice from one tribe only, they would take one from each tribe. An equitable and fair contribution. Surely seven sacrifices would be enough for this god to bless them again with their previous good fortune. These sacrificial lambs would be forever lauded, the stories of their bravery would be put to songs and fables and passed through the ages. So, the elders selected one volunteer from each tribe and set a day for the sacrifice to take place.
“On the day of the sacrifice, the volunteers stood at a distance around the fire. Beyond them were members of their families and tribesmen and women dressed in their best ceremonial clothing and headdresses to represent their region. Moving together, the volunteers walked forward into the flames and were swallowed up.”
Tomio recoiled. “They just strolled forward like they were walking their dog? What person is capable of walking into such intense heat and pain?”
“Obviously this is not your average, garden-variety bonfire,” I murmured, nudging Tomio to let Basil go on.
“The stories report that there was no pain, and that the silhouettes of the volunteers could actually be seen moving about inside the flames. There is a cave painting depicting this very event in Turkey. The tribespeople waited for the fire to respond, they watched the figures of their people inside the flames. They did not appear to burn, but instead appeared to be congregating inside the fire, perhaps even able to talk. The story goes that the volunteers remained this way inside the fire, without ever sitting or lying down, in some kind of communion with one another. After three days, they emerged from the fire.”
“But different from how they went in, obviously.” The hair on my neck lifted at the scene that rose in my mind’s eye.
“That’s right. The seven emerged from the flame with the powers we three currently possess—for the time being. They became the progenitors of our kind.”
“Wow.” I could see goosebumps on Tomio’s forearms and knew he was feeling the same awe. “What then?”
“That was the beginning of a whole new era. The mages returned to their respective tribes as gods. It’s not written or told how much time later the crisis ended, but it was clear the age had ended and new one had begun, one where naturals and supernaturals lived together.”
“There must have been jealousy among the people,” I said, taking a sip from my water glass. The fatigue and my curiosity were waging war and curiosity could not hold exhaustion at bay for much longer. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours. “Did anyone else try to step into the fire to gain the same powers?”
“Of course. For a while, the people listened to and respected the mages with a religious fervor. The mages warned the people to stay away from the fire, that no others would be permitted to go in and come out alive again. But as the years passed and the mages were seen to still have the same errors in judgment, the same vices that any natural had, some tribespeople began to murmur against them. In dark corners it was whispered that the mages were lying to the people in order to keep their spectacular gifts to themselves. At first it was only a rebellious few who questioned the authenticity of the mages’ claims, including the one where the mages told the people that they had to live with a constant pain in their chests and stomachs thanks to the fire now residing inside them.”
“Well they weren’t lying about that,” Tomio muttered, now pinching his hair between his fingers and yanking it upward. It seemed like his fidgetiness was an attempt to keep himself alert.
“No. But how could the tribespeople verify it? Eventually those who doubted the mages’ claims became a majority, and the fear of disobeying the mages had dwindled enough for someone to test it. Two tribespeople tried to enter the fire.”
“And they... burned?”
Basil, nodded. “It is said they entered but could not leave, the fire held them captive and they were burned to death. After that the people believed everything the mages said and reinstated them to the positions of gods. The mages took partners and had children. Three of the tribes were polygamists and so some had multiple partners. Young mages were born. As the centuries passed, the mage population exploded and we spread to all the corners of the Earth, mixing with all ethnicities and cultures. The stories were passed down, immortalized, bastardized, changed, and misremembered. But thanks to this new evidence Janet has brought forward, we now understand more about how the original progenitors of the mages came about.”
Tomio and I shared a slightly dazed look.
I looked to Basil again. “And what about the orbs?”
“Ah.” He scratched the back of his head as if trying to release the answer from some rear corner of his skull. “The orbs appear to have their own separate legend, and the origins of them is less clear. There are tales that suggest they were all made by one artist, and there are tales that suggest that each progenitor made their own. Why? We don’t know, but many contemporary mages believe that if you are in possession of one of these orbs, they provide some connection or conduit to the power of the forefathers, and mothers, of our kind.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked.
“You know I don’t,” Basil looked over his glasses at me.
“Then why did you paint pictures of them when you were young?”
“That’s like asking why kids draw pictures of Superman,” Basil replied. “Some kids go through an obsession phase with dinosaurs, others with rocket-ships, still others with cowboys. My obsession was these orbs. I felt destined to find one.”
“And when that never happened, you grew out of your fixation?”
Basil tilted his head back to study me through the screen. “Not at all. I am currently in possession—technically the Agency is—of two of these orbs, and I can tell you that there is nothing whatsoever magical or power-endowing about them.”
Fifteen
The Set-Up
By the time we said goodbye to Basil, agreeing to let him know the moment we woke up, it was after eleven in the morning. The headmaster had suggested we not sleep too long because it would make it much more difficult to keep our body-clocks in order.
Peeking in on Janet as I brushed my teeth, she was a small lump under the bedsheet and snoring softly. Returning to the bathroom to spit, I glanced over the bannister to see Tomio standing in the living room. He was eyeing the too-short couch dubiously.
The skin under my eyelids felt coated with sand and almost too heavy to lift. If I were Tomio, I wouldn’t be savoring the prospect of napping on a noisy, fake-leather sofa with my feet hanging off the end either.
The room I occupied had a king-sized bed. Not much else could fit in
the room, but the bed was ridiculous. Letting Tomio crash on the couch when I had acres of fluffy mattress to myself was just wrong. I slipped down the stairs.
“Do you snore?” I asked.
He looked up. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“You can share my bed,” I said, rubbing at one eye in the hopes that the lid would stop twitching. It didn’t work.
Tomio’s face split with a sleepy but delighted smile as he moved for the stairs.
He slid around the bed and squeezed between the mattress and the wall before sitting down and peeling off his socks and t-shirt.
I dug my pajama shorts and tank out of my luggage and went to the bathroom to change. When I came back, Tomio was already facing the wall, his breathing even and deep. I smiled as I lay on top of the sheet and closed my eyes. You know you’re exhausted when you can share a bed with someone you’re as drawn to as paperclips are to a magnet, and actually fall asleep.
I felt Tomio move before I opened my eyes. The light had changed in the room, even with the curtains drawn. The sound of the kitchen tap running signaled that Janet was also awake.
Tomio lay facing me, his dark lashes long and straight against his skin. With most of my fatigue gone, I became aware of how close we were and how much I wanted to lean forward and kiss him, to see if it was as nice as the first one we’d shared. I was just about to get out of bed when he opened his eyes and found me staring at him. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Sleep well?”
I nodded. “You?”
“Like I was getting paid.” He yawned and blinked, peering over his shoulder at the window. “What time is it?”
I checked my cell. “Five-forty. I’ll send a text to Basil.”
He nodded and rubbed at his eyes, sitting up.