by DM Fike
Guntram puffed his chest out. “I took a vow to protect Nasci as much as any other. I certainly hope you do not believe I would compromise that promise.”
Tabitha surprised me by backing down. “No, of course not.” But then she threw a thumb over her shoulder at me. “Please tell me she’s not here to take on the khalkotauroi.”
Guntram shook his head. “We’re here for evacuation only.”
This appeased Tabitha. “Good. Keep her out of the way. I don’t trust her not to make things worse.”
I didn’t appreciate the implication that I screwed everything up. “Like the time I banished the mishipeshu for you?” I asked sweetly. When Tabitha flashed me a scowl that could wither flowers, I added, “You’re welcome.”
Guntram palmed his face with one hand, shaking his head, as Tabitha released her full fury. “Jortur would be alive today if you hadn’t pulled your little stunt!”
Oh no. I wasn’t taking the blame for that one. A vaettur had killed Tabitha’s precious deer kidama-turned-dryant, not me. “The mishipeshu could have tracked any of our scents back to the homestead. Don’t lay that on me!”
Tabitha nearly knocked me over as she stabbed a finger on my chest. “Then let me lay this on you instead. Stay. out. of. our. way.”
And with that, she motioned a smug Darby to follow her. They ran toward the halo of red sky that marked the fire’s edge.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeesh. Do you really think they can handle this all by themselves?”
“There’s one other shepherd coming to help.” Guntram waved me in the opposite direction of where the Sassy Squad had vanished. “Come, we have work to do.”
I hated that Tabitha and Darby got to charge into the woods like heroes to stop the khalkotauroi (whatever vaettur that was) while Guntram and I got stuck on evacuation duty. Still, my augur wasn’t wrong. Several endangered species called these trees home, and without us, they might not make it out of the forest alive. Biting my tongue, I trailed after Guntram.
Just because we were there to help the animals evacuate doesn’t mean they cowered under the onslaught of the oncoming blaze. Animals have good instincts to avoid forest fires, and we found most of them migrating on their own. All manner of birds had already taken to the air to form a bizarre avian highway—from brightly colored swallows to ugly turkey vultures and everything in between. Marine animals like beavers and hoofed creatures such as elk took to streams in species clusters, meandering upstream away from the cause of the commotion. Strings of rodents and other small furry mammals skittered between our feet. The exodus would have been cute except you had to keep your mouth closed for the clouds of flying insects buzzing past. Otherwise, you risked ingesting extra protein on accident.
But not everyone knew when to flee. Like humans, some individual animals have more of a fright than a flight response. We had to coax a pregnant raccoon from a den to get her moving. We drew defensive sigils around a few rare plants, such as Nelson’s checker-mallow (I swear I’m not making that name up) that blooms into gorgeous pinky purple flowers in the summer. Guntram did some quick negotiations with a kingsnake stalking a frog, convincing the hungry reptile to forgo a meal in the interest of harmony.
Everything went smoothly until a monstrous owl with a seven-foot wingspan swooped out of nowhere toward us. With wide silver discs for eyes and metallic streaks of mauve at her wing tips, she refused to land, choosing instead to screech above us, an obvious cry for help.
“Sova,” Guntram greeted the northern spotted owl dryant. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Sova gave out a trembling cry, then fled inward, back toward the fire.
“Let’s go.” Guntram spun on his heels, his tattered cloak swirling behind him like a battle-hardened warrior of old.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. That was one big drawback to wearing a hoodie all the time. No superhero chic. I didn’t look nearly as cool running after him.
While owls can fly unhindered over terrain, landbound shepherds have no such advantage. We navigated around thorny bushes, fallen logs, and one steep slope to keep up with Sova. Guntram surpassed much of these with a long string of spiraling Ss, sending bursts of air under his feet to launch him up and over obstacles. Not being nearly so skilled with air sigils, I took the more direct approach of “scramble over stuff and suffer lots of cuts and bruises.”
That’s why I lagged far behind when I heard Guntram give a great war shout. A gale force wind slammed me in the chest, an offensive attack. I had no idea what Guntram fought until I heard a familiar voice cry out against the wind.
“Stop! I’m here to help!”
Vincent? I surged forward with a rush of adrenaline, eager to figure out what the hell was going on.
I leaped into a small grove and nearly had heart failure. Guntram had slid into a sigil stance, a steady stream of hurricane-level gusts streaming from one hand, pinning Vincent against the nearest tree. Vincent, mouth covered in a breathing mask to protect him from the smoke, wore his game warden uniform. He had wrapped both arms around the large trunk for dear life, barely able to maintain a semi-circle grip. He attempted to shout over the wind, but the flow distorted his voice, and he ended up sounding as if talking through a whirling electric fan. Up above, Sova hooted, barely hanging onto a branch in Guntram’s fury to blow Vincent straight off the map.
“Guntram!” I screamed. “Knock it off!”
Guntram tossed me a nearly lethal glare. “He’s following us!”
How thick was this old man’s skull? “No, he isn’t! He works for Fish and Wildlife.”
But Guntram wouldn’t listen. “Sova brought us here. He must be endangering the animals.”
“He would never do that!” I cried.
My plea had the opposite reaction I hoped for. Guntram drew another sigil and added a second gale onto the first, blasting Vincent with twice the impact. Vincent screamed above the whistling air as pine needles slapped him from all sides. His feet began to lift off the ground from the wind’s force.
Clearly, rational discussion was not getting through to Guntram. Maybe he was worried that Vincent would one day show up at the homestead again. Perhaps he blamed Vincent for a lot of the stubborn decisions I made on an almost daily basis. The reasons didn’t matter. I refused to let my augur whiplash Vincent across the forest, possibly killing him, while I stood idly by.
I planted my own feet shoulder-length apart, gathering every ounce of earth in my pithways. Then, scribbling a square with a slash, I channeled it toward my augur, upending the very ground underneath Guntram’s feet.
Guntram had no choice but to relinquish his air attack as the ground flung him to the side. As he fell to the ground, I took the opportunity to race directly in between him and Vincent, who collapsed gasping next to his tree anchor. While a dazed Guntram got his bearings, I rounded on Vincent.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
Through a coughing fit, he managed to point up the tree. “Her,” he managed.
Vincent seemed to indicate Sova, who had taken back to the air now that the wind had died. She spun in frantic circles.
“You can see Sova?” I asked incredulously. Only shepherds should be able to perceive dryants.
“If you mean the nesting owl protecting her young,” Vincent sputtered, “then yes.”
That didn’t sound like Sova at all. Squinting, I surveyed the tree again and sure enough, more than two-thirds of the way up I could make out a hole in the trunk. A speckled brown head with fathomless black eyes peered down at me, then quickly retreated back into shadow.
Vincent staggered to his feet. “She’s got three owlets up there. I haven’t seen her partner. He was probably off hunting for the family when the fire broke out.”
Sova swooped down toward us, screeching. I pushed a startled Vincent off to the side so her sharp talons wouldn’t scratch him. She barely missed injuring me, only to soar back upwards, hovering around the mother owl’s nest.
“Tha
t’s what Sova’s freaking out about,” I breathed.
Vincent stared wildly about. “Are there more monsters I can’t see again?”
An ominous voice arose behind us. “There are more things that exist than you can dare to imagine.”
Guntram had regained his bearings, back on his feet with arms spread out, fingers itching to cast the next sigil. “Step aside, Ina! Or I swear to Nasci, I’ll bring you down too.”
Before I could reply, a sharp crackle whipped through the forest. Up the hills some distance away, a tree swayed precariously and then crashed to the ground. Its fall sent up a fresh batch of ash raining down on us. I had to redraw the air sigil that allowed me to breathe clean air in the aftermath.
The fire was swiftly heading our way.
“We don’t have time for your self-righteousness,” I yelled at Guntram. “We need to save the owls.”
“Owls?” Guntram blinked. “There’s only Sova.”
“Guess again.” I pointed up toward the tree cavity. Now the mother owl stood outside her nest, her head turned at an extreme angle to gaze at the oncoming fire.
Understanding lit Guntram’s face. “She has a nest.”
Despite me trying to cover him, Vincent nudged around me to point toward a pet carrier with towels inside that had been blasted into some bushes during Guntram’s wind attack. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do here?”
Guntram’s hands fell slightly. “You wish to transport the owlets?”
“Of course.” Vincent jerked his chin upwards in exasperation. “They’re a protected species. And the mother won’t leave without her young.”
I took a step toward Guntram. “We should to get them down and into the carrier.”
Guntram hesitated. He peered uncertainly at Vincent. “And then what?”
Vincent pointed away from the fire. “I’m getting out of here with the owls. My vehicle’s on a forest service road not far away.” Then he stared up at the ominous sky. “But you of all people must know how fast fire spreads. We must go now.”
Guntram is a lot of things: stubborn, traditional, grumpy. But he isn’t a fool. The baby birds couldn’t fly yet. The two of us could have carried an owl family around, but it would cost us time to get them to safety, and we had other areas to evacuate. Before I could plead Vincent’s case, Guntram drew an air sigil under his feet and launched upward like a rocket.
“Whoa.” Vincent backtracked in surprise.
From the ground, we couldn’t see exactly what Guntram was doing, but in only a few seconds, he nestled three downy fluffballs inside the crook of an arm. They peeped as the mother owl perched confidently on his shoulder like a wizard’s familiar. Sova stopped screeching as Guntram used his free hand to cast a steady blast of air under his body. He glided lazily back down to the forest floor.
Vincent stared at Guntram as if he’d witnessed my augur spin his head around like one of the owls he carried. “Whoa,” he repeated
I poked Vincent in the ribs with my elbow to jar him from his stupor. “Yeah, we get it. Guntram’s a show-off.”
“But how do the owls trust you enough to let you do that?”
Guntram bristled. “All animals trust shepherds. It is you they do not trust.”
“But they should.” I waved at Sova, who had flown down to our level. “Vincent’s okay, I promise. He’ll get the family out of here safe and sound in his little box.” I pointed to the carrier.
Sova hovered nervously, not sure how to proceed. This caused the mother owl to cry out in objection. I knew if the dryant didn’t agree to go with Vincent, we’d be forced to carry them ourselves.
But Guntram surprised us by turning to Sova and saying, “On my word, this man will aid you. Allow him to place the owlets in his crate.”
This placated Sova, and thus the mother. They allowed Guntram to gently lay the owlets inside the towel folds. The mother then insisted on staying with her children, which Vincent allowed, locking the cage behind her.
Standing up, Vincent and Guntram faced each other. Guntram slapped a hand on his shoulder. Hard. “Promise me you will release them soon.”
Vincent nodded. “I’ll get them out of the fire’s range. It’ll be a short ride.”
Guntram still appeared skeptical but said to Sova. “I’ve given you my word, but you must follow them to soothe the mother.”
Sova screeched in affirmation.
With the air quality rapidly declining, Vincent didn’t linger. He only spared me a quick, “Be careful.”
I gave him a tight nod in return.
Then he fled down the hillside, Sova an invisible ghost tailing him to ensure he didn’t break his promise.
CHAPTER 6
THE INFERNO SURROUNDING us worsened. After Vincent disappeared from view, the heat from the encroaching fire rose several degrees. I absorbed fire pith to take the edge off it, releasing it just enough to keep me cooler but not enough to overwhelm my other internal pith stores.
Guntram must have done the same thing because a flicker of flame sizzled in his irises as he said, “We’ve got work to do.”
We cut a path perpendicular to Vincent’s escape route, back toward where we’d been before Sova found us. Out of nowhere, the fire lurched in a new direction. Fires can travel crazy fast, sometimes faster than a person can run, and more horrifying than that, they can “jump.” One moment, we were well ahead of the flames, traveling at a decent clip down slope, and the next, a tree in front of us caught fire like a matchstick. Some chunk of lit debris—probably a twig or branch—had caught a breeze and floated above our heads, landing on its crown. The tree sparked, causing a secondary blaze that set the dry grass around it ablaze. Streaks of flame formed a line in front of us, blocking our path.
Shepherds can absorb fire pith, so this wasn’t a death sentence, but it wasn’t a walk in the park, either. Walking through open flame is tricky but doable for short stretches. Guntram could handle an extended immersion, but I couldn’t. I’d never stood in a fire for more than five minutes, and that forced me to relinquish all other elements in my pithways to create a continuous cycle of absorbing and releasing fire pith. It exhausts the body quickly, and if I couldn’t keep it up, I would end up crispy like anyone else.
“This way!” Guntram cried, attempting to reroute us around the new blaze. We broke out into a run, hoping to circumnavigate the new fire before the old one caught up.
We might have even made it, too, if the khalkotauroi hadn’t shown up.
A roar sounded behind us, louder than even the tidal-like crashes of the fire. A thick wall of purple haze accompanied it, making it hard to see even my own hands stretched out in front of me. As it overwhelmed my air pocket, I sputtered, gathering what little air pith I had left as oxygen to breathe. I could hear the sounds of scuffling and trees falling around me but was completely blind in the smoke.
“Guntram!” I called, trying to orient myself.
Over the din, a raven squawked. I shifted in that direction, stumbling until I came back out into relatively clear air.
That’s when I came face-to-face with the bull vaettur.
It stood in front of the forest inferno, ground to sky bathed in a sharp, flickering orange light. Skeletons of trees twisted unnaturally behind it, horrified victims of the fire’s demise. The copper-colored bull, almost twice as tall as me, roared again, its eyes a hot blue-white. Smoke trailed from its nostrils and mouth, the source of the forest fires. The raven’s caws I thought I heard were actually the sound of branches snapping off trunks around the bull like bits of confetti.
I yelped and jumped backward, expecting the bull to charge.
Seconds passed. Nothing. The bull pawed the ground. Although his gaze had me pinned, he seemed to look straight through me.
I’d fought a lot of vaetturs as part of my training, and not a single one of them swayed in in a trance-like state. I raised my hands to attack the bull with water, but that seemed cruel somehow, like stabbing a sleeping crocodile.<
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Darby, however, had no such qualms. She flew sideways in front of me like an avenging angel, her hair for once tangled in the wind as she launched a whirlwind around the bull, creating a mini-vacuum where it stood.
This caught the bull’s attention. It staggered toward Darby, now situated directly in front of me. Its mouth opened for a cry that broke the whirlwind. Fire burst from its mouth, aimed squarely at us.
I raised both palms to absorb the fire but had already reached my pith absorption limit. Fortunately, Darby had no problem intercepting the entire bus-length stream of fire. She redirected it back at the bull’s hooves like an unwieldy whip.
I stood in stunned amazement, watching her fingers fly through an array of fire sigils. I didn’t have the chops to pull off that ballsy of a move. A distinct white-hot aura radiated all around her as she fought, indicating she could stand inside the flames for quite a while. Now I knew why she’d been allowed to track the vaettur, and I’d been stuck on evacuation duty.
A hard smack between the shoulder blades jolted me back to my senses. I whipped around to find Tabitha, also covered in a glowing aura. Globs of steaming water followed her around, distorting her face as I peered at her between their floating surfaces.
“Haggard!” Tabitha screamed at me. “Get out of here!”
Tabitha shoved me. As I stumbled, I opened my mouth to yell at her, but then another cloaked figure emerged out of the flames, a calm phantom. Wearing olive green from hooded cloak to flowing pants, the smoldering red bracelet on her slender wrist popped out as the one bright bit of color. I couldn’t see her face until she was nearly upon me, and even then, her deep complexion made it difficult to discern anything save those intelligent eyes. They observed every detail, calculating her moves as if part of a massive game of chess.
Azar. I’d only met her a handful of times, but it had been enough for me to respect her. She had a mind like a sponge, never forgetting anything she saw, heard, or read. She learned most sigils, even complex ones, on her second or third try. But perhaps her most astounding ability was her fire sigil execution. As the combination of water, earth, and air combined, fire pith had the earned reputation of being the most difficult basic element to master. I’d watched Azar practice with a bonfire on the homestead. She could pull off moves even Guntram couldn’t do, like creating a bird out of flame that she could control as her own personal drone. She hadn’t become an augur yet, but despite her relative youth, it was only a matter of time.