“Jen? Are you still there?”
“What the hell just happened? Is the volcano erupting?” Jen sounds terrified.
“No, no, everything’s fine,” I reassure her as best as I can, although my voice sounds strained and tight even to my ears.
“Everything is not fine. I’m coming to get you. Meet me at the main parking lot. Get yourself straight there, do you hear me?”
“No, Jen, don’t—”
“Shut up, Merry. Be there.” The phone goes dead.
“Jen!” I yell into the phone, but she’s gone. I howl and chuck the phone from me in frustration. It flies away in a shallow arc and I panic—what if she tries to call again? I grab the phone’s trailing lauvan and it boomerangs back to me. I snatch it out of midair to dial Jen’s number. Maybe I can persuade her not to come, that I have Anna here and we’re leaving now, any lie that will prevent her coming to the mountain and risking her life unnecessarily.
“This is Jen. Leave a message at the beep!” Jen’s voicemail comes on after four rings. I know exactly what’s going on—she’s already driving and won’t pick up the phone. Jen’s a stickler for safety rules and won’t touch a phone while she drives. She can’t stand it when she’s in my car and I drive above the speed limit—so basically she hates it when I drive.
I don’t have time to babysit Jen. I can’t keep her safe as well as deal with the presence and Mt. Linnigan, teetering on the edge.
But she came for me. An eruption imminent and she’s driving to ground zero just for me, even after I held out on her a few hours ago. I swallow hard, suddenly overwhelmed by gratitude for Jen in my life.
I need to keep her in my life, and the only way to do that at the moment is to keep her alive. I need to ground the lauvan again, at least to give me a few minutes to figure out the presence. I worry the phone in my hands and think frantically. My fingers turn the tiny machine end over end. What can I use to ground the lauvan? I need something of power, something with lauvan, something that has a connection to fire and earth…
I start to pace, back and forth alongside the cable.
“Think, Merlin. Think.” Nothing comes. I try Jen’s number again but only reach voicemail. Fire and earth, power, lauvan…
My head snaps up. Of course. I don’t need something—I need someone. I have lauvan. I’m alive, so I have intrinsic power, far more than an inert object. And I am human, and according to the ancient teachings of the druids—teachings I am starting to think more highly of now—all humans are an amalgam of the four elements of air, water, fire, and earth. I can ground the lauvan with my own body. Maybe then I can fight back against the spirit presence that has the nerve to throw me bodily around the forest.
CHAPTER XXII
I shove my phone back in my pocket and race to the end of the cable, where the lauvan disperse and where my ring around Mt. Linnigan lies. Even more lauvan have unraveled from the ring. It appears as a badly frayed rope lying on the ground. The yellow lauvan writhe as if trying to escape their orderly bonds.
I grit my teeth and start to gather the ragged ends of the ring beside the dug hole where the fire opal used to lie. It’s difficult, as the ends twitch wildly and erratically. I snatch at them, leaping to grasp the ones that dance out of reach.
“Come—here,” I grunt at a particularly energetic lauvan eluding me. I swear if it were alive and had a mouth, it would be laughing at me. I prepare for the jump that will capture it for sure, but the ground trembles again and I lose my footing. I tumble onto my side and don’t break my fall to avoid dropping the handful of lauvan I’ve already collected. Pain shoots through my arm.
“Argh!” I scream, but there’s nothing to vent my frustrations on. The only visible enemy here is the mountain, and I’m already doing everything I can to finish that beast. My jaw sets grimly and I stand again. I ignore with difficulty the shooting pains in my arm. I don’t have time or hands enough to fix my own lauvan. I’ll just have to add it to the nausea on my list of bodily grievances against this mountain.
I continue to collect lauvan, paying closer attention to the tremors to avoid another fall. They come with frightening repetition, and the clouds above the three mountains continue to grow. The clouds are composed not only of steam now—smoke is starting to billow out of the tops.
By the time I have an armful of lauvan, I’m sweating from exertion and shaking from nausea. Now I need to ground myself and let the lauvan send their energy through me into the Earth, where it can disperse harmlessly and reduce pressure on the center. I keep the sick lauvan under my left arm and bend down. My own lauvan swirl around my ankles, and I gently tease a few strands away from my body. It’s not difficult—over the centuries my lauvan have become looser and cling to my body with less tenacity than is usual. The frayed ends are easy enough to spread out on the ground. They slowly extend to feel their way like blind worms hunting for soft dirt. They will eventually turn back and find their way to my body, so I quickly turn my attention to the sick lauvan in my arms. I comb the raw ends into my chest and wiggle with my fingers to promote untangling and connection with my own lauvan. The nausea grows worse when the yellow lauvan wind around my own. But as they attach more firmly to me, my lauvan on the ground spread out purposefully and sink their ends into the soil. The yellow lauvan freeze momentarily, then relax. The nearby lauvan in the ring begin to weave themselves into a tidy rope once more.
I sigh in relief. It worked. I can act as a grounding. Another tremor shakes the ground, forcing me to bend my knees to absorb the movement. I frown. Grounding these lauvan isn’t enough anymore? Yesterday this is all I did, and the volcano became a silent mountain once again. Now, smoke still rises from all three summits, albeit slightly less than before. I look down to check my connections but everything looks good. The sickness must be greater today. The spirits must have been angry at my meddling and ramped up their attack on the center.
I smack my forehead. What am I thinking? How am I supposed to feel out the presence and actually end this if I’m stuck in this spot as a grounding? How can I get to the cable?
My phone rings. Damn, it must be Jen. I’m definitely not going to the parking lot now, not that I planned to before. I answer.
“Jen?”
“Merry, where are you?” Her voice is angry and panicking. She sounds close to tears. “I’m at the parking lot.”
“Jen, I can’t move right now. I’m not hurt, I just—” I sigh in exasperation, unable to come up with the right words. A thought hits me. Jen might be the key to my dilemma, if I can get her here. “Can you come? I need help.”
“Oh, Merry. That’s why I’m here.”
“Take the Eagle Creek Trail, five minutes max. You’ll see me in a clearing on your right.” I swallow. Why is she doing this for me? “Thank you, Jen.”
There’s a slight pause.
“I’ll be right there.” Jen’s voice is quiet and husky. The phone beeps and goes silent.
Now I just have to wait. Wait, and watch the mountains puff smoke disconcertingly. I push air through pursed lips and tap my fingers together, fidgeting. A minute passes. I look down to my chest. Through the mess of yellow lauvan attached to my abdomen, I can just see the brown and gold threads that mark the connection between Jen and me. They run in a straight line to my right and into the trees. I stroke it gently and give it a gentle tug. It quivers between my fingers—Jen’s fright and tension clearly vibrate through her lauvan. The pull I gave should help her navigate to me. She won’t know why, but she’ll be drawn in my direction from the influence of the lauvan.
A crashing sound precedes Jen’s arrival a minute later. She bursts out of the forest twenty paces away and runs straight for me, almost bowling me over in a crushing hug. I wobble precariously, but manage to keep my footing and my grounded lauvan secure. I return her hug with equal ferocity and surprise myself by how glad I am to see her.
She pushes away quickly and holds me at arms’ length. Her face is a war between confusion, an
ger, relief, and terror.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” She grabs my forearm and turns to drag me away. “Come on. We’ve got to get to the car.”
I hold my ground and cover her hand with mine.
“Jen, stop.”
She turns to me, impatient. Her lauvan are electric and their deep golden strands dance frenetically around her body.
“I need you to do something for me. It’s very important, but I don’t have time to explain right now.”
“What is it?” Jen dances on the spot in her agitation. Thinking quickly, I begin to manipulate the lauvan on her hand where our skin touches. I try to make my movements small so as to not attract her attention. She’s too wound up to even listen to me, let alone do what I need her to do. I can calm her down using her own lauvan. It’s not manipulation of her emotions, not really. It’s as if I’m removing unnecessary stress and fear from her body so she can think clearly and act just as she would normally. I hope it’s enough.
“Jen, do you trust me?”
She stops fidgeting immediately, mostly in surprise at my question, although my hand gestures are calming her already. She looks bewildered and her lauvan slow to a gentle swirl.
“Yes, of course.”
“Truly? Profoundly and truly? Do you know in your heart that I care deeply about you, and would never do anything to harm you?”
“Merry, what is this about?” Jen whispers. She would look frightened if I hadn’t calmed her lauvan already. As it is, she just looks tired and confused.
“Please, just tell me.”
She stares at me for another few moments, searching my eyes as if she will find answers there.
“Yes, Merry. I trust you. I know you would never do anything to hurt me.”
I take a huge breath and release it in a gush.
“Then please stand in this spot and wait for me to return. There’s something I really need to do, and I need your help. I can’t explain right now.” I tighten my lips, immensely frustrated with my inability to tell Jen what’s going on and why it’s so important that she stay here. “I promise you the mountain will not erupt before I return.”
“How do you know that?”
“Please trust me. There’s so much you don’t know—please, Jen.” My voice is shaky and strained. Jen bites her lips, undecided. Then she nods slowly.
“Okay, Merry. I’ll stay here. I trust you.” She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. “But please hurry.”
I grab the lauvan from my abdomen and rip them out of my center, trying not to wince when they tear away from my own. I wrap my arms around Jen wordlessly, taking the opportunity to brush the sick lauvan into the ones on her back. She doesn’t return the hug, but leans into me nonetheless.
“Thanks, Jen.” I pull back. “For the record, I have one other friend, aside from you, who lives in Costa Rica. I don’t talk about my family because they’re dead. I was born in Wales, and I don’t have a middle name.”
She looks confused, then gives me a weak smile.
“Hurry up, Merry.”
I bend down to ostensibly tie my shoes, but in reality I pull Jen’s lauvan out from her feet. They snake into the ground immediately due to her connection with the lauvan ring. I gather as many healthy lauvan as I can reach and pull them up and over Jen, then manipulate a few of the lauvan in a tricky little rendering. I keep my motions small and unobtrusive. Jen watches me but says nothing. The healthy lauvan barrier will help if an eruption actually occurs—the lauvan will trigger into a hard shell from the excessive trembling of the Earth and the disrupted lauvan attached to the troubled center. It will protect her, hopefully enough. I just need to get back in time, that’s all. Or, better yet, stop this volcano from erupting in the first place.
“Okay, stay here, right here on this spot, no matter what happens. I will be back as soon as I can. Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”
“Go.” Jen says, her voice harsh with repressed emotion. “And then come back.”
I turn without another word and run into the woods.
***
I run beside the lauvan-cable through the trees until I’m out of sight of Jen. I don’t want her to see me waving my hands in midair like a wild man. I grit my teeth, roll my shoulders once, then thrust my hands into the cable. I close my eyes and let my consciousness travel into the cable.
Immediately I feel the presence. This time, I’m ready for it. Before it can send a pulse of energy my way, I speed down the cable toward it with my mind and along the lauvan ring almost faster than I can think. When I reach the presence, contact is swift and explosive. I get no sense of what the presence is—I only know that it’s an obstacle in my way.
The presence was clearly not expecting the attack, and after my hit it disappears from sensing. The lauvan ring is empty. I pull back into my body which trembles with effort and the exhilaration of combat. Not that it was much of a combat, but still, I won. And more importantly, I now know where I can find the presence in the physical world. It’s not far, and lies at the cross-section of the lauvan ring and a cable, two cables to the east. How convenient. I turn on my heel and run down the path back toward the parking lot. Somewhere past there, the presence waits.
The parking lot isn’t far. I burst out of the trees, panting, and stop short. My car is carefully parked in a nearby spot, as if Jen expected the lot to fill up later that day. But it’s not alone. Two more cars join it in its silent vigil of the steaming volcanoes. One I recognize as Anna’s red Acura, parked neatly in a delineated space. The last car is an avocado green VW van with rust spots along the rim of the door, parked haphazardly across three spots. A woman with short brown hair and heavy bangles on her wrists slams the door and looks around with a frown.
“Sylvana?” I shout.
Sylvana’s head whips around to locate the source of my voice. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
“Merry? What are you doing here?”
I lope toward her, stopping ten paces away. Sylvana has her phone clenched in her right hand as if she plans to make a call.
“Trying to stop this blasted volcano,” I pant. “I think I almost have it figured out. But I thought I had it in the bag yesterday, and now look at it.” I run my hands through my hair distractedly, glancing up at the mountains. They’re smoking even more than when I left Jen minutes ago. The center is getting worse, and even Jen’s grounding didn’t work for long. I need to ground again if I have a hope of finding and finishing off the presence in time. I turn back to Sylvana. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you have left town with the evacuation?”
Sylvana sticks her thumb in her mouth and nibbles at the nail unconsciously.
“I was worried about Anna.” She looks up at me with her big eyes full of concern. “She was right behind me in her car during the evacuation, but she veered off toward the park at the turn-off. She was in such a strange mood yesterday. I know you said she’s into something bad, and I was supposed to be watching her…” A pause, and she adds, “And I think she took the necklace. Last night sometime. Maybe she snuck in—my living room window doesn’t lock properly, and she knows it.”
“What?” I stare at Sylvana in dismay. That must be how the volcano started up again—Anna gave access to the physical world to the spirits sometime in the night.
“I would have told you, but I didn’t know where to find you. And then I saw Anna drive off to the park—I was worried about her.” She looks to me as if for validation.
I sigh. This is no place for Sylvana. Her crystals and incense won’t do much good here, and now I have someone else to take care of and worry about as this center falls apart, probably literally. I need to find the presence, now.
A tremor shakes the asphalt under our feet. Sylvana throws out her hands and wobbles in place. Her breathing quickens and her lauvan twitch and tense.
The center won’t last long at this rate. I start to calculate how long it would take me to fly to Jen, maybe transform her an
d Sylvana into mice or something small I can carry as a falcon. Assuming I can avoid eating them in my falcon-form, that is.
“Wait,” I say. I need more time, and I think I know how to get it. “Sylvana, can you help me?”
“Of course,” she breathes. “What can I do?”
“Come on,” I say. I grab her arm and run toward the lauvan ring, dragging her behind me. Her bangles clang together with the motion. A path toward a lookout passes through sparse bushes that ring the parking lot, and exits into a meadow at the foot of Mt. Linnigan. The lauvan ring is directly ahead, just before a tiny creek that meanders to the right and out of sight.
We reach the lauvan ring and I stop abruptly. I use Sylvana’s motion to swing her around to face me.
“Okay, I need you to stay here and not move.” I gather some of the wispy ends of the frayed lauvan ring, enough to attach to Sylvana for grounding. She watches me, open-mouthed. A small tremor makes me drop a lauvan.
“Dammit.” I mutter. I yell into the direction of the mountain, “Just hold on, you great lump of rock!”
“Are you touching the energies?” When I look at Sylvana she gazes at me with longing, oblivious to the volcano belching smoke behind me.
“Yes. To make a long story short, I’m collecting the—energies of the mountain, then I’ll attach them to you. You’ll act as a conduit to release excess energy back into the Earth. That should relieve some of the pressure, at least give me enough time to track down the person—or other entity—responsible for this mess.” I pluck the last lauvan in the vicinity out of the air, and lay it under my arm with the rest. “Does that make sense?”
“Oh, yes,” she says. A happy smile blossoms on her face.
“You’re okay with this plan? You’re okay with standing at the base of a volcano while I go off to stop this?” I’m puzzled by her complaisance, but willing to take it at face value. I don’t have time to second-guess her.
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