Guardian of the Earth House (2 page)

Nice to know that the apocalypse hasn’t wiped out everyone’s sense of humor.

The words whispered in his head, almost amusing him with their irreverence.  It wasn’t like Job to be irreverent.  It must be the shock, but he felt momentarily… soothed.  His careening emotions came back under control and he let out a long, calming breath.

For a heartbeat of time, he felt less alone.

Inside the bar, there was a crashing sound of shattered glass and voices raised in an argument.  Job’s first instinct was to go and try to mediate whatever the problem was, but he knew that the fighting wasn’t really
about
anything.  Phases --brokenhearted and angry, dying of a disease they couldn’t stop, and witnessing society crash down around them-- were just exploding at each other over nothing.  There was no point in trying to reason with them.

Job continued towards the Earth Palace, instead. His home was designed in the clean architectural style of the human Renaissance. In fact, some said that the Earth Palace had somehow inspired the Renaissance, something Job’s grandfather had taken as an insult to the dignity of his home.  No one liked to be compared to humans.  But, whatever its history, the castle was striking. The symmetry of the windows and red roof tops, the arched windows and graceful lines, usually pleased Job, even if the building itself was a lonely place to live.

Now, all he saw were the spray-painted words on the pale, stone wall.  Dripping, block-printed letters, each a foot tall, spelled out: “Your Fault!”

“You think they mean you, or Ty, or Parald?”

The voice came from his right and Job turned to see Teja sitting on the low wall beside the path.  “Maybe they mean all of the above.”  He suggested.  He was relieved that she was still healthy, even if she was trespassing.

Ordinarily, Phases couldn’t enter the territory of other Houses without permission.  There were barriers in place to prevent attacks, which was why Parald had resorted to striking at the Water House with a microbe sent on a gust of wind.  But, Teja had been one of the most powerful Elementals even before the Fall thinned their ranks.  She could break a lot of rules.

Every Elemental House was distinguished by a differently colored streak at their members’ temples.  Job had been born with a shot of vivid lawn green in his white blond hair, marking him as a member of the Earth Kingdom.  It was the way Phases identified themselves and their powers.

The periwinkle streak in Teja’s hair should have marked her as a member of the Cold House.  Except, Teja was also half Fire Phase and she’d somehow inherited those powers,
too
.  Teja was an anomaly.  She belonged to both Houses.

Teja herself self-identified with the lunatic Fire Phases.  Regardless of the periwinkle marker at her temple and the coolness of her personality, which was completely at odds with the Fire House’s temperamental attitudes, she usually acted as their spokesperson.  Just the fact that she’d come to see him, at all, told Job that the Fire House was in trouble.

Meeting her shadowed hazel eyes, he saw that Teja had reached her breaking point. Phases were universally lovely.  Or
almost
universally, anyway.  Job himself had always had a rougher appearance than most Elementals.  Bigger and squarer than other Phases, he wasn’t handsome.  He never had been.  And Job knew he looked worse than ever, since he hadn’t shaved, taken a shower, or changed his clothes in days.

But, Teja was usually one of the most beautiful Phases.  A stunning woman, with perfect, classical features and an indescribable spark of life, she drew admiring eyes wherever she went. Right now, though, Teja looked horrible.  Elementals were usually athletic and slim, but Teja had been blessed with an abundance of curves.  Now, the soft angles of her face were sunken and her body was thinner than usual, as if she hadn’t taken the time for food since the beginning of the Fall.  There were smudges under her eyes.  Dried blood and soot covered her jeans.  Her hair was a wild mass of black curls, suggesting she’d scraped her hands through it again and again.  She wasn’t sick from the Fall, but she was sick at heart.

Teja’s spark had gone out.

Her current haggard appearance made Job feel even guiltier about allowing this tragedy to occur.  Teja was completely drained.  She must’ve been using all her powers trying to keep people alive in the Fire Kingdom.  General grouchiness and sarcasm aside, Teja had always been too softhearted for her own good.  She gave everything she had and now she was empty.

“Are you alright, Teja?” He asked, rather inanely.

“None of us are alright.”  She pushed herself to her feet.  “Oberon’s dead.”

Job closed his eyes.

Oberon had been the King of the Fire House.  Teja’s grandfather.  An irrational, passionate crackpot, who argued with Job about every issue that had ever been brought before the Council.  When Oberon even bothered to show-up to Council meetings, anyway.  His stubborn “might makes right” mindset was so annoying that Job had nearly thrown law books at him on more than one occasion and Job wasn’t a Phase given to violent outbursts.

Oberon could’ve driven Gaia herself to homicidal madness.

Job would miss that crazy son-of-a-bitch until the day he died.

Job cleared his throat and folded his arms behind his back, military “at rest” style.  “I’m sorry.”  He wasn’t sure there were any other words to convey the depth of his sadness.  “Oberon will be missed.”

The phrasing was too formal, too stiff, but Job didn’t know what else to say.  Nothing in his life had prepared him for moments of real emotion.  He wanted to cry, again, but he couldn’t let any sort of weakness show in front of Teja.  For better or worse, Job was the oldest now and he had to at least give the appearance of strength.

Teja nodded.  “Yeah.”  She blinked rapidly and let out a long breath.  Job realized that he’d never seen Teja so close to weeping.  He wished that he was the kind of person who knew how to give comfort.  He cared for Teja like a younger sister, but all he could do was watch as she struggled against tears.  “My grandfather…”  She gave a cough.  “He -uh- wanted you to have this.”  She held out a small box.  “He liked you very much, Job.  He liked your blue-sky arguments and the way you’d threaten to have him beheaded all the time.”

Job pressed his lips together and accepted the package from her.  No one had given him a gift in longer than he could remember and the fact that it came from that weird, reckless Fire King just made him ache inside.

Why had Oberon died?  It just didn’t make any sense.

Job opened the box and pulled out…another box.  About the size of a Rubik’s Cube, it was covered in odd markings and there was no apparent way to open it.  The highly reflective surface looked like mirror, only it wasn’t.  Job had no idea what it was or why Oberon had sent it to him.  “Thank you.”  He said, anyway, placing the box back in the bigger box.  “I’ll treasure it.”

And he would.

All his life, Job had been standing alone on one side of the room, while the rest of the Phases laughed together on the other.  Oberon, at least, had
noticed
him.  He’d remembered Job and had apparently
liked
him, despite the mutual death threats.

It meant everything to Job.

Teja gave another listless nod.  Her hazel gaze swept over the scores of unburied dead, with a gruesome sort of resignation.  There were decomposing men, women, and children everywhere, their bodies stacked together like messy piles of leaves.  “Things will never be the same for us.”  She glanced back at Job.  “We’ve passed the marker, now, and it’s closer to the end than it is to the beginning.”

“Yes.”  He agreed softly.

“Why haven’t you buried them?”  She gestured towards the corpses.  Job’s powers gave him control over the Earth.  He could just open up holes beneath the dead Phases and instantly have them interred with just a small surge of his massive energy.  Yet, Job left the bodies where they laid.

“If I bury them…”  He trailed off and tried to find a way to explain something that barely made sense to him.  His reasoning wasn’t sound.  Job knew that in some part of his foggy mind.  But, still… “If I just bury them, it would be like they were never here, at all.  Like they hadn’t lived and died.  Like they’d never even existed.  It seems wrong, somehow.”

“Well, you’d better get rid of them before the rats come.”  Teja shoved her hands into the pockets of her stained jeans.  “We’ve been burning ours.”  She whispered and her face reflected all the unsaid horror in that statement.

Job had seen Fire House pyres lighting the sky even from the Earth Kingdom.  Gigantic bonfires cremated the dead.  The smell of the roasting bodies would undoubtedly be etched into the minds of every surviving Fire Phase, forever.

“We need to re-form the Council.”  It was the only thing Job could do to lead them through this nightmare. “If Oberon is gone you’ll have to sit for the Fire House.”  Each House was supposed to send a delegate to the Council.  Sometimes, that Phase was a ruler of the House and sometimes they were another representative.  Technically, Teja’s cousin Djinn was king now, but that sociopath wasn’t capable of being part of any ruling body.  Job didn’t even have to ask if Djinn was still alive, because he already knew the guy was just too pigheaded to die.

Teja winced as if the idea of taking her grandfather’s Seat was like a blow to her stomach.  “What’s the point of re-forming the Council?”  She demanded.  “God, you’re such a Boy Scout.  What possible good can the Council do at this point, huh?  You wanna pass some tough economic sanctions against Parald or something?”

“I want to stop the end of the world.”  Job’s tone stayed utterly calm.

“It’s too late.”  Teja ran a hand through her hair.  “We’re extinct.  We just haven’t all actually died, yet.  There aren’t enough of us left to sustain a viable population.  You know that as well as I do.  We can’t find Matches.  We can’t have children.  It’s
over
.”  She gave a fatalistic snort.  “I think maybe the lucky ones went first.  We get to watch it all happen in slow-mo.”

Job couldn’t accept that.  He
wouldn’t
.  If the Elementals died off, the universe would disappear into the black hole of oblivion.  Nothing would be left.

Failure.

If the world ended because of the Fall, it would happen on Job’s watch.  It would be
his
failure.  Granted, no one would be around to see it, but that wouldn’t make it any less his responsibility.  Job had to act.  But, he needed the remaining Phases to get behind him before anything constructive could happen.  And Teja was one of the strongest.  She was vital to their survival.  “You’re planning to just give up, then?  Is that what Oberon would want?”

Teja swore under her breath.  “Are you really gonna start some sort of psychology bullshit on me, right now?”  Her dull gaze swung back to his, her hazel eyes flat with hopelessness.  “It’s not a matter of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps while somebody calls ‘do-over.’  I just watched my grandfather’s body
burn
, Job.  I spent the past three days trying to keep him alive and I couldn’t.  I
have nothing
left
.”  Her voice broke and she exhaled another long, jerky breath.  “There’s nothing left for any of us, now.”

“You still have your family left.”  Job reminded her.  “Djinn, and Pele, and their kids, and Hope… They all count on you.  Phases like you and I don’t have the luxury of stopping.  Too many others are depending on us.  There can be no self-indulgence.”

That was exactly what his grandfather would have said.  Job had loved Wiset but the old man hadn’t really been interested in fishing trips or grandfatherly hugs.  He raised Job to be a King.  To rule with an iron will and ruthless dispassion.

Job needed Teja.  The Elementals needed Teja.  The
real
Teja, not this empty shell.  She wasn’t going to quit and if he had to be a hard ass to ensure her cooperation, so be it.  “You need to help me hold the center, Teja.  I don’t care if you think it’s useless or not, you owe it to your grandfather to at least try to keep the Fire House going.”

Teja looked back out over the fields of the dead.  “I just don’t think it matters, anymore.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then you can help me.”  Job pressed.  “If it’s all futile, then what difference does it make to you if we re-form the Council?  Do you have any
other
plans, for Gaia sake?”

Teja shrugged.  “I was thinking about killing myself.”  She remarked seriously.  “But, I wanted you to have that box first.  Oberon asked me to give it to you.”

Job’s eyebrows went up in a perfect imitation of Wiset at his most kingly and cold.  “If you want to surrender and kill yourself, that’s your decision.  But, don’t do it in my kingdom.  I have enough bodies to deal with.”

Teja wasn’t going to take her own life.  Job wouldn’t allow it, but his flat declaration seemed to get through to her for a beat.

Teja’s mouth ever so slightly curved. “You should man one of those suicide hotlines, Job.  Talk people off ledges with your patented ‘stop-whining-you-weak-asshole’ sensitivity.  It’s very effective.”  For a moment, it seemed like she was listening to the distant music from the bar and the rustling of the breeze over the corpses.  Fabric and hair made small sounds as they moved in the wind, caressing the dead.  “Where did the Fall come from?”  She asked, abruptly.