Flame Caller (18 page)

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
trying 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.