The Scribings Omnibus

Scribings, Vol 1

First published June 17, 2011

Acknowledgements

Cover art by Jamie Alan Belanger, using an image by Lee Patterson

Cover text uses Vera Humana 95 font

Introduction:

The Indie Revolution

When I started writing back in the 80s, publishing a collection of short stories meant finding a very lenient publisher or trying to publish it yourself. The former required finding both an agent and a publisher who completely believed in the salability of the collection. The latter usually entailed photocopies or those terrible purple ink mimeograph machines. My options were limited. But then I found Project Gutenberg, an online repository for electronic books that are no longer protected by copyright law. I've always been a big proponent of the digital revolution, so I recognized that even with just plain text files that the world had changed. This was just the beginning.

I'm shocked that it has taken so long for books to become widely digitized. Ebooks and their readers date back to the late 1960s. Authors have been using computers to write books for decades. Why did it take so long for them to start distributing those digital files? Other media types became more widely digitized earlier.

Photography used to require working in darkrooms with chemicals. Digital camera prototypes date back to the 1970s. Today, anyone can buy a digital camera for a low price, take pictures, and put them on the Internet. Most cell phones even have built-in cameras.

The next media type to go widely digital was music. I still remember the first time I heard an MP3 file, back in 1995. It wasn't long before people created websites for the growing indie music scene, no longer constrained by CDs and cassette tapes. Today, music has almost completely escaped the confines of its physical mediums.

Movies used to be the domain of large studios. In the late 1990s, researchers created better compression formats and movies started appearing online as well. Now movies are all over the 'Net; you can stream whatever you are in the mood for from providers like Amazon, Hulu, and Netflix. Independent filmmakers like Emily Hagins need little more than a camera, a computer, and a vision to get started creating their own movies.

Every time a new media type starts being distributed electronically, thousands of independent artists join the Indie Revolution. Indie photographers show off their work at sites like Smug Mug and Flickr. Indie musicians distribute their work to growing fan bases on MySpace and BandVillage. Indie films and serial shows can be uploaded to sites like YouTube and Blip.tv in minutes. Sites for indie books are just starting to appear—Authonomy, BookieJar, and Smashwords to name a few.

Some people are talking loudly about the Ebook Revolution. But it's not just about ebooks. It's an Indie Revolution: a constant stream of new artists publishing themselves on the Internet and bypassing the old world's gatekeepers—people who have spent decades deciding what media you can and cannot have access to. Art without constraints, without censorship. Writers are just the latest group of artists to join the Revolution.

We live in a brave new world, and it's going to get even more interesting as time goes on.

Greater Portland Scribists

Portland Maine is a great little city. I say 'little', but by Maine standards it's huge. The Greater Portland area is home to approximately 230,000 people, roughly one-quarter of Maine's population. Even with such a (relatively) small population, it's inevitable that people will meet others with similar interests and goals. And that's exactly what happened with us one day in July when we first sat around a table and talked about creating an ebook.

We coined the term 'scribists' in one of those earlier meetings. Our intention was to pay homage to the scribes of olden days, monks who spent hours bent over manuscript pages, writing for as long as they had light to do so. When we first met, our goal was to spend more time writing and workshopping. Several of our first meetings were focused on flash fiction and a few of the stories from those sessions found their way into this collection.

More information about us can be found online at our website, http://scribists.blogspot.com

Lee Patterson is the group's leader; the one who initially organized us and set up our online presence. He writes stories with dark fantasy and horror themes (and cats), which brings an interesting perspective to our group as these are genres the rest of us don't spend much time in. I for one am learning quite a bit about building tense scenes thanks to this exposure.

Cynthia Ravinski has more formal writing training than the rest of us combined. Even though we are interested in the same genres, we approach the craft differently. That's why I like working with her so much. She points out the strangest things in my writing—things I never would have seen on my own, things that make so much sense in retrospect.

Jamie Alan Belanger, that's me. I'm the resident spelling and grammar cop. I'm drawn to both science fiction and fantasy, and enjoy designing my worlds. I firmly believe in indie publishing, long rambling emails, and chaotic approaches to writing (must be the computer programming background).

Richard Veysey is the newest addition to our group. When he showed up to his first meeting wearing an Epica hat, we knew he'd fit right in. Similar tastes in music were just the beginning. The stories he's presented to the group are full of characters who are so interesting that even when I dislike them, I still can't stop turning pages.

This Collection

Our first anthology is a selection of stories from our workshop sessions this past year. The collection starts with one piece of flash fiction from each of us. The rest of the collection contains longer pieces of fiction, representing a range of styles from fantasy to science fiction and beyond.

And Then...

If you enjoy these stories, tell someone. Tell everyone. Tweet the word long and loud. With your help, we can show the world that the Indie Revolution has finally reached books.

- Jamie

Jeb's Lament

by Jamie Alan Belanger

Okay, I admit, it's been a while since I've been in a fist fight. I've been in fights, sure, but most people around here use weapons. This was plain, bare-fisted mayhem. Been a few years since someone picked a fight with me. So you can imagine my surprise at being knocked to my knees with the first hit, a quick jab thrown mid-conversation. I don't see myself as a glass jaw fighter but this guy's sucker punch sure as hell made me feel like one. I used to be able to hold my own in a fight. I'm not used to losing arguments. But there I was, kneeling on the wooden planks of the dock, watching the blood from my busted lip pool beneath me.

C'mon! said a voice from above me. I'm not through with you yet.

Ah condescension, that I'm used to. Nobody considers I might be a better fighter than I appear to be. Like this guy, Jeb, at least twice my size and obviously trying to prove he's a tough guy. He stepped forward, moving a little too close. I inhaled, letting saltwater air fill my lungs, invigorating me. I tensed, and in one smooth motion I rose to my feet and drove my fist into his chin. I heard something crack, who knows what—his jaw, my fist, his teeth. Probably all three, considering the throbbing pain in my clenched fist.

One of his drunken friends laughed. You asked fer that Jeb. Hoo-rah whatta hit!

Jeb stumbled back and shook his head. Motherf... he slurred, then fiddled with his jaw. Frak.

I edged closer, forcing him to stumble back another step. And there it was, the sun shining in his eyes from above the cliffs behind me. He squinted and I took advantage of the opening. I spun around, building momentum, and drove my foot into his chest with an authoritative thud. Sound of wood shuddering from the impact of his backside ceased his friends' laughter.

Silence.

Even the ocean seemed to pause for a moment, crystalline waves poised like serpents ready to strike at the sand.

Jeb clutched his chest like he was trying to reorganize his lungs. His friends stared, mouths agape. Every beat of my heart pounded in my chest, sending needles of pain to my lip.

Then the sharp tinny sound of a bell rang out from the ship coming in. I needed the dock cleared.

So, I said. "You gonna move that boat now?"

Jeb grumbled something incoherent, so what was I supposed to do?

I kicked his head, knocking him out, and turned to his friends. Move that boat, then get this jerk out of here.

They glanced at each other, then nodded in unison. Yes ma'am.

The Last Mate

by Cynthia Ravinski

Hidden in the clumps of sea grass on the edge of the cliff, Sadj viewed the three-masted Prevail, the ship that sailed itself. Her decks still empty. The taste of victory came to his tongue. Finally, it would be his. Only that ship could take him to the straights of Dairegga. No crew would sail those waters.

Below, the rowboat waited, roped to the dock on the sandy beach—right where the crew had left it three days ago.

A dark, terribly familiar man ran out of the woods, crossed the beach and began pulling at the mooring ropes.

That man couldn't make it back to the decks of the Prevail. Sadj rose and dove forward. Somersaulting down to the sand, he scrambled for footing.

Captain, wait, he shouted across the beach, waving.

The dark man looked up and pulled his knife.

He must have seen the rest of the crew. Sadj sprinted toward the dock, the sand dragged at this boots.

The knife freed the rowboat in one slice. The Captain of the Prevail stepped aboard. He splashed the oars into the water. The boat slowly drifted away.

Two steps pounded into the dock, then Sadj leapt. The rasping of metal rang over the sloshing of water.

Sadj landed, rocking the boat but had no trouble keeping his balance. He focused on his opponent. The Captain had drawn a short cutlass. He hesitated, then lunged.

Sadj sprang over the bench, landing on the bow.

Keeping his balance, the Captian said, As your captain, I demand an explanation for your actions.

You know why. You've always stood in my way. No longer! Sadj drew his main-gauche and, staying low, sliced for the Captain's thigh.

He parried, but a thin red line colored his breeches.

Their golden eyes met, the Captain's questioning. Sadj clenched his fingers around his hilt and rammed the guard into the Captain's face. He fell against the side, crimson ran over his nose and mouth. Sadj followed his opponent and knelt on his chest.

Dazed, the Captain fumbled at Sadj's solid weight and groped for the sword he held in-hand.

The main-gauche slipped easily through the Captain's ribs and into his heart.

He convulsed.

Sadj freed his blade and rolled the corpse into the sea. Under the red-streaked morning sky, he shuddered at the stains trailing in the water. Is this what victory feels like?

He sat between the oar locks and rowed toward the Prevail. Tonight, Sadj would board his ship. Tomorrow, he'd retrieve the men he'd signed at Frosbien, men who couldn't sail but had other skills, and he'd be Captain Sadjamar.

The Prevail's magic didn't end at sailing itself, she also chose her own crew—unless her crew died and another boarded her before she could pick new men. He'd learned these things three days ago from his brother, the last captain.

What Time Is Our Torture Session?

by Lee Patterson

I know what evil lurks in the minds of... no no. That just sounds like the start of a corny old radio show. How then shall I start this, Once upon a time? Somehow I don't think so. That would, after all, suggest an ending like, They lived happily ever after. Don't make me sick.

I want to tell you a story about real evil. Evil so tangible that you could reach out and touch it, like a mist that envelops you and seeps into your mind.

Let me then tell a story about a close friend. The queen of her realm. Her subjects pander to her every whim. But imagine if you will, those subjects decide to rise up and wield a mighty mechanical weapon, built for the sole purpose of rending chunks from your person.

First they feed her tasty treats, oh yes, very tasty indeed. Her senses dull and she finds herself in a wonderful euphoric state where her mind drifts atop fluffy clouds and she flitters around with little bunnies.

Then a buzzing sound, distant at first.

The bunnies. No longer carelessly frolicking, are all looking at her. The once innocent pink-rimmed eyes turned cloudy and red. Fangs bared.

The first bite she doesn't feel, a clean slice though her fur. Then the chewing begins. Again and again teeth bite into her and rip clump after clump of fur out.

An eternity. Then the buzzing stops, her bonds released, and one of her subjects say, Okay, kitty. You can go now. All your mats out! She gets scratched behind her ear and offered another kitty treat.

The Hyena's Laugh

by Richard Veysey

On the table in front of him slept 'Manny', the last of the creatures known to science as Crocuta crocuta, the spotted hyena. Taking an eye dropper from a tray on the table, Dr. Hyde collected a sample from a green vial labeled 'African plague', spread it across a slide, and placed it under a microscope. Next, he placed a few drops of Manny's blood on the slide. He had looked at the reaction many times over the past month, seeing the same result repeatedly, yet he had to see it one more time.

Looking through the microscope lens, he could see an army of parasites fighting a desperate and futile battle against Manny's white blood cells and antibodies. In a matter of seconds, the battle was over, Manny's blood the clear victor.

He did not believe that Manny had been able to understand what was happening to its family and herd in Africa as they all succumbed to the deadly parasite. Neither would it have known or understood that it alone would survive not only this assault, but any illness imaginable. Due to odd chance, dumb luck, or divine providence, Manny had been born with a perfect immune system.

Hyde turned slowly, hearing a soft noise from behind him. Manny was stirring earlier than expected, its body now acclimated to the effect of sedation. Hyde turned and took a step for the door, but the hyena leaped unsteadily off the table and blocked his escape.

Hyde took a step back, grabbing a scalpel from the table as Manny leaped at him, teeth bared. He brought the knife across the hyena's throat as it buried its teeth into his left hand. Cursing, he staggered back as the last hyena fell lifeless to the floor. He backed into the lab table and put his hand against it to steady himself.

He looked at where he'd placed his hand. When the hyena had risen and attacked, it had knocked the vials over, spilling their contents across the table. Now the parasite was coursing through his veins. It was only a matter of time before he would know if his experiment had been a success or not.

He sat in a chair by the door. Tests had shown that animals exposed to the parasite began showing symptoms in as little as half an hour. He noted that it was shortly after 1 AM. He closed his eyes briefly and felt himself falling asleep. When he awoke again, he saw that it was 4 AM. His experiment had been a success. His immune system was now just like Manny's had been.

Looking at his left hand, he saw that it was stained red but no longer bleeding. He looked down at Manny, the last of a now extinct species. Then he began to laugh, the sound echoing unpleasantly in the confined space. It started as a chuckle, but soon could only be described as a cackle, the kind one might expect to hear from the mad or a hyena.

Once upon a time, Africa was filled with the laughter of the hyena. Now, he thought he understood why they laughed. They laughed in the face of God, imagining themselves immortal against all He could throw against them. Now, it was his turn.

The Making

by Cynthia Ravinski

As guardian of Aerith's heart fires, Aldorhaten should be able to hear its voice, but today, even far under his mountain, it told him nothing. So he traveled closer to its nearly forgotten wild source.

He'd forgotten his domain's feel. He sweltered. Raw stone walls squeezed around him. The brimstone stench burned his throat. His clothing smoked. A time when he didn't bother wearing garments surfaced in his mind.

A pile of rubble near a cavern entrance dashed his memories. The seal he'd placed years ago was gone. He could see inside the wide cavern, the heart of his domain. It explained the silence of the fires. Yet how had it happened?

Halfway through, the floor disappeared. The red, roiling substance of unborn rock frothed in the raw heat. His garments charred and flaked off as he entered.

Within the cavern, the fires cried out to his ears. It had suffered in its prison, had been forced to combine in unplanned ways, breaking the natural base-forms. The time for its release and new formation had come and gone. He had no idea how it would react when it met the other elements of the Orb. And now it was free.

He had been unwise, forgetful. He nodded to himself. Aerith needed him. Caressing the tortured heat he tore away the shackles he'd placed so long ago. The heat's relief flowed around him. The foundations of Aerith shifted.

Then silence.

The fires clamored, forcing the shell to expand. The shell couldn't accommodate the release.

The others. He turned. A fierce white glow flooded his path. The flame of the deep focused its might on him. The eldest of the Elyrazin, who guarded the elements, faced his charge. He did not fear burning. But the fires sucked at his power. Aldorhaten sprawled, a husk, in his former domain. A large silver sphere rolled away. His own element had judged him unfit to wield its power and had taken it away from him.

* * *

The forest no longer smelled of green things and damp humus. It smelled hot. Heat was the only way Asa-Halea could describe it, like a forge. A fine dust filled the air. She picked her way toward the Sanctuary of Unity through an ashy haze, her world smothered in pale gray. Even though water issued forth to cleanse her eyes, the dust burned—a new sensation. She hid nose and mouth in her sleeves. Everyone else will be there. And he'll explain this, he'll know, he has to.

Aldorhaten's mountain had been spewing noxious fumes and ash for the last few hours. The ground had risen and fallen like the waves in her beloved ocean. And now, this. Something was very wrong.

Asa crept into a bubble of clear air and inhaled deeply, thankful Surima had arrived already. She floated in a shimmering gossamer robe, golden hair drifting around her—bright despite the dull atmosphere. Her gaze locked on a dark scar at the center of the bubble.

But where were the others, Aldorhaten? Worry swelled in Asa's heart. She'd last seen him yesterday. He'd said he'd found something strange in the heart fires. Then he'd left. This morning Lancervis had come looking for his brother. Something about the fires in Lancervis's forge. She'd thought nothing of sending him into the mountain.

She looked up. A haze blurred the lines between his mountain and the tree tops and the sky. But even through this, she could see the thick gray cylinder rising from his mountain. Perfectly round and then spreading at the top. The cloud invaded their sky, smothering the brilliant blue she knew was behind the gray.

Asa reached for Surima's cool hand and clutched her fingers. Hello, cousin. Upon contact Asa sensed another presence. Where Surima was, her twin brother Haldoren was also. He was here in spirit, knowing all who were present, hearing what they said and speaking through the aether, which was his to command.

In the haze beyond the bubble, dark shapes heaped on the ground. She didn't have to guess what they were. The structures they'd built to bring all the elements of their domains together: flame lamps floating on a fountain shaped by air, the stone columns that rotated with the sun and seasons. All destroyed by what Aldorhaten's mountain was doing.

Asa regarded the scar. It's just a hole in the ground. It can do nothing to me. She leaned over it. A sphere rested in the soil. She couldn't be certain, but it seemed to have an odd shimmering glint she recognized.

A rustling came from the edge of the bubble. Oh please let it be Aldorhaten.

The shadowy form strode erratically through the ash. As if through a curtain, Lancervis came into the clear air. He'd neither hid his face nor choked on the dust. It didn't bother him. It was his to command. Ash smeared in the sweat covering his bald head and dark streaks of it ran down his bare chest, his beard singed. Asa peered into the dust behind him, it shifted and swirled but no more shadows emerged.

He glanced at them, then fixed his eyes on the hole. Approaching it, he dropped to his knees. Leaning on his hands, he peered in.

What do you see? Haldoren's voice vibrated through the clearing.

Lancervis leaned back on his heels and spat. He ran his hand over his head. Well, it's a rock.

"We can see that much. What does it mean? Where did it come from? What should we do about it?"

He's hedging. Nothing in the ground can avoid his perception. He sees something else, something worse. "You were in the mountain. Did you find him? Do you know...Where is he?" the words flew from her mouth then stopped, her eyes glued to the hole. Asa's knees felt weak.

I know what happened to my brother, he whispered to her.

Asa couldn't breathe.

Would you two tell us what's going on? Surima said, letting go of Asa's hand and floating to where she could look down at them.

Lancervis swept his gaze around the clearing, then focused on the pit again. This morning my forge-fire receded. So I went to find my brother, his deep voice cracked, I thought he'd know what occupied them. He rubbed his face with his hands, smearing the ash. He looked at his grimy hands, mouth open slightly. I found his remains. He looked up. "Just his bones, near a fissure. Not even it could burn them."

Asa looked away. He didn't say it would be dangerous.

I could read the torment in the rock there—it had been hotter than my forge.

Destroyed by his own element... Surima wrapped her arms around herself and bobbed in the air.

Have any of you noticed anything wrong in your domains? I haven't. Haldoren said. So what did he get into?

Lancervis leapt to his feet, away from the hole. "No Elyrazin would do this! This is unnatural."

I think we all need to calm down. Surima held her hands out, drifting toward him. Take a deep breath of this clean air.

A clear breeze ruffled Asa's hair. "Do you think it was a Maralahizen? Only they or we can Make something new on Aerith."

The Leaf Walkers, who created the world and everything on it, filtered the Maralahizin out of the excess energy left from creating the Elyrazin. While the Elyrazin were linked to the five physical elements, the ten Maralahizen were representations of concepts. Because they were formed of weakened dregs, their energies could not manifest physically.

It wasn't them, Lancervis continued after a moment. There is something off in my domain. Aerith's shell is brittle. It's trying to pull and twist but it's not releasing the pressure. It can't withstand this for long. In a few days, it will be just as noxious here as it was underneath.

It sounded to Asa like he wasn't telling them everything.

How could this happen? Haldoren said. Why didn't you see this coming?

* * *

That was his cue. They wanted to know why. Also, it looked like they could use a distraction from each other.

Jalor-Matha, fourth Maralahizen, rose from his crouch in the gloom and sauntered toward the Elyrazin.

"What's this? The mighty Elyrazin stymied by their own elements? This is a bad sign for certain. Lancervis is right. It wasn't us Maralahizen, but perhaps I could offer you some advice?"

Hello, Jalor, Surima said, drifting toward him. But he ignored her.

A tremor in the air raised the hairs on his neck. The space beside Surima darkened and condensed. The bubble clouded. She dropped, gasping.

Haldoren materialized next to his twin.

Surima regained her height and Haldoren put his arm around her waist, holding her back.

Surima, what was that? Asa said.

Don't you think you've been saying that a lot? Jalor said. I can help you stop this. It was getting worse every moment. Surima might be next, judging from her lapse in power when Haldoren materialized.

Haldoren's eyes drilled into him. "Begone. This is no place for the weak. We will see normalcy returned."

I've seen what your efforts have done. He glanced at the mountain. I know what happened to Aldorhaten. What that is, he gestured to the scar. He could clearly read Aldorhaten's aura in the anathe-ingot. I know the risk posed to all of you if you continue using and forcing your wills on the elements. You don't know what the fires will do next, do you? Or which element will rebel next. I know what you need to do.

You don't know anything. Lancervis took a step toward him.

Jalor stilled his tongue and his thoughts. He needed to speak gently to find an ally. Haldoren wouldn't take him seriously, and Lancervis bore fresh grief, something the Elyrazin didn't understand. Maybe Asa would listen; she'd always tolerated him somewhat well. Asa, you must see the sense in what I say.

We don't know enough about what's going on, she said. And if you wish to mock us, wait until this is over. No one is laughing.

Voice even and plain, Jalor spoke, I don't mean to mock you, Asa. All your keen insight into the elements has blinded you to what is really happening.

Is this another one of your tricks? she said.

Shocked, he stepped back. They wouldn't believe him. But maybe he could plant a seed in their minds. You are all a poison to Aerith. He had ignored their accusation of his kind, but it hadn't given him any credit. He turned to face Haldoren. So I will be the antidote.

Haldoren's face purpled. Go hide in a cave, runt. You'd only make this worse and destroy all of us with your games.

Jalor's spine straightened, and a single eyebrow arched. If that's what you wish. He sauntered into the ash clouds. When he found the stump he'd crouched against earlier, he settled in. Now still, he could Hide. Reaching into his Ideas, he wrapped himself in the Concept that separated him from the elements. Just as he'd done yesterday when he'd seen what happened to Aldorhaten. Protected as he was, the Elyrazin couldn't see him, nor could the elements affect him.

He needed to wait until they were gone to retrieve the anathe-ingot.

After a few minutes of silence, their voices resumed.

Lancervis said, He's right. We've caused this.

How could he know? Haldoren said.

I can't trust him. Asa's words stung. "But his words are right. Perhaps our best action is no action."

Jalor knew she would understand.

No. We must do something, Lancervis said. You all know what that is. We must do the same. Make our own anathe-ingots.

Yes, Asa said first, then everyone else agreed too.

They'd finally come around.

* * *

Alone in the ruined Sanctuary, it was eerily silent. Asa longed to hear the birds, the herds, the little furry creatures that scurried among the trees; the sounds that told her everything was all right. They have run off inland to die. I can follow them. Coldness, then wrongness wound through her soul.

I am the guardian of the water element. I have to make sure this doesn't happen again.

It had been so long since she'd thought about her purpose. She forced her feet onto the now-cracked stone trail Lancervis had paved, and through the lifeless, soaked and charred rubble. Would anything they'd created resist these changes? She paused. Would they survive?

The Leaf Walkers hadn't prepared them for rebellion, or even hinted it was possible. The others had to know in their souls that they needed to do something, despite their behavior. Haldoren's vehemence toward Jalor was startling. She'd never seen Jalor so sincere and Lancervis could hardly think for his grief. She ached for Aldorhaten as well, but she couldn't fail her element.

Leaving the forest. Her feet skimmed over the sand. White ash covered her tan feet. She waded through grasses that were no longer green, but coated in white, and past the roses whose red hid under more white. She hardly knew where she was.

The water before her was a dull blue without the sun. The smell of hot and dry had followed her out here, eradicating the tang of salt she loved.

What had Aldorhaten done? Had it been as simple as going to the heart fires? Or had he provoked them somehow?

She slid her feet forward. Cool water lapped at her toes. Refreshing. No danger here. But Aldorhaten had been deep under the mountain, when Lancervis had found him. So further. She took a deep breath and hazarded deeper.

By the time she was knee-deep in the mellow sea she calmed. The surface didn't show a ripple. Jalor is wrong. The elements are fine. Aldorhaten made some kind of mistake.

Her mind delved into the deeps. Then darted into the dark places she infrequently visited. Bizarre strains of water festered in the darkness.

It keeps secrets. Asa lunged out of the water, dry.

She knew what to do to expose its secrets, but she feared she already knew what they were. She looked up to the hazy sky.

She dipped her toes back into the mirror-like water. And released every geas on Aerith's aqueous bodies, her tools, which the water used to hide its secrets from her. The sea lurched and rushed, swelling around her hips. No longer under her spell, it acted with its own will.

She reached her senses out to see what it would do of its own volition. Inland pools seeped down to the bedrock of the shell. Mountain lakes emptied; washing away slopes, trees and rocks. Ground water pooled up, flooding over meadows. She quelled her impulse to pull all the water safely back into place where it wouldn't destroy anything. It didn't trust me because I made it do so many things it didn't want to do.

The currents and level of the sea shifted, rising in some places and falling in others, as if it were being pulled in one direction by another force. The Tide. A surge splashed water into her face and dragged her under. With the full weight of its body, the sea heaved so high she couldn't feel its top. Its towering crest traveled toward land. Rushing over the ground, the water leapt over the cliffs and crashed upon the mountainsides. She let it toss her around, raptly observing the nuances of its flow. Then it settled back into the bay, lower now, choppy waves slapping over piles of kelp.

She'd never seen water move how it wanted. It needs to move freely and vigorously. For the first time in her life being surrounded by water made her uneasy.

This was proof she shouldn't have bound the water at all.

Flashes arced across the darkening sky. The light plunk of water falling into water made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Rain.

It had not rained since the decline of the Leaf Walkers.

Asa had loved rain, exalted when water fell from the great, white sky. But that was ages ago. She'd thought rain was a characteristic of the young planet, or had something to do with the Leaf Walkers.

My meddling prevented something so natural and beautiful. I will not use my powers until you ask it of me. Jalor was right.

We will all do it, drain ourselves. But then, why are we here?

She clambered from the water. Soaked, she crawled up the beach. When she reached higher ground, she dug into it with her hands. Her sodden hair clung to her face and back. A gust of wind plastered her robes to her skin, making her shiver. Surima must be doing the same thing. Asa burrowed until she found water. When a pool formed in her makeshift bowl she settled with her legs on either side.

What will life be like without my power?

Asa held her hand over the waiting water. The surface trembled and shook. What if giving up my power makes it worse? She pulled back. Her moist palms slipped across each other.

The ground vibrated then shook under her, sloshing the water before her. Not as bad as the last one. The mountain loosed a tower of white steam. Dark spots flew from the top, rocks from the inside of the mountain. It was getting worse.

In creating this vessel, I vow to act with wisdom and only invoke the power of the anathe-ingot in times of need.

Asa-Halea lowered her hand to the water, letting only one finger tip join with the flawless surface. Her energy trickled into the water till she was empty.

She dragged her hand away, gasping. She didn't like the hollowness in her gut.

The water began to tint silver and turn opaque. Within a moment, it formed a perfect silvery sphere.

She picked up the warm anathe-ingot. Iridescent and flowing yet solid and brimming with power. She tied it into her robes.

The waves rippled merrily across the bay, taunting her. It would take longer than normal to get to Lancervis's island forge. She needed to fill her new emptiness, he'd understand.

Toes to the water, Asa hesitated. She'd never had difficulty with it before. Now she couldn't just walk over it, or even have it part for her. Well, I better get used to this. She plunged in.

Pushing through the salty water, with waves dragging against her and slapping her in the face, Asa swam. With each stroke of her arm and kick of her legs, she begged the water to not pull her under. Neck deep, with fathoms below her, this was no longer her place.

She'd been ostracized. All of them had, even before they drained themselves. The workings of Aerith were set free to do as they pleased. Was it wrong to abandon their elements? Asa wished she could have been a better guardian so this wouldn't have happened.

She dragged herself through the rest of the water and crawled onto the beach. Soaked, she staggered to Lancervis's dark house. Her swim had left her drained of almost all her physical energy, but she didn't want to be out there any longer than necessary. She looked back the way she'd come.

A glowing ruddiness rose out of the mountain. She glanced at the noxious clouds and thought of her anathe-ingot. Aerith would convalesce soon, she comforted herself.

Wringing out her dripping hair, and squeezing water from her robes, she went to find her friend.

Inside, the familiar smell of the hot forge comforted her. The smell belonged here. His sparse furniture was in disarray from all the shaking. In his atrium, the fountain she had long ago created burbled in a puddle, just like in the Sanctuary. The flooded floor a shrine to her past mistakes. Guilt closed in.

A sharp cry from below. She hurried down the curving stairs meeting full on the tang of hot metal. The droplets of water on her face dried, crusting salt on her skin.

The white forge-fire roared below, its light pulsing on the walls of the stair. She flew around the corner.

Lancervis laid on the ground, eyes closed, hammer on the floor, he never let his tools touch the floor, a silver sphere beside his hand. His chest rose slightly then fell.

Heart racing, she peered around. The hearth dominated the center of the round room. The tools hanging from the rack beside the chimney threw shadows against the far wall. Seeing nothing, feeling nothing, she doubted her senses. Am I nothing without my powers?

She eyed the forge as she passed by. Her bare feet rasped across the hotter than usual stone floor. She knelt by his head and brushed his face with her fingers. He groaned and opened his eyes.

Lancervis. What happened to you?

Asa, he murmured. He tried to sit, but his body failed. He needed more rest.

He needed water too, but she no longer had a way to give it to him.

The metal...it...it's gone, he sobbed. I held a scrap. Like we said we were all going to do. But it pulled all my...I tried to stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face. It wouldn't take guidance.

Asa picked up the warm silver sphere, it weighed much more than her own. You're lucky it didn't consume you, she cast her eyes down, like Aldorhaten.

Well he screwed up. Something I won't do. Lancervis snatched his anathe-ingot, twisting her fingers, and leapt to his feet. He reeled back to catch his balance against his anvil, not yet steady.

What are you doing? Asa said, cradling her hand. This wasn't good.

* * *

Jalor stopped himself from running into the room. Lancervis was out of control but it was not yet time to show himself. So he bristled in the shadows by the stair.

We may have agreed to siphon our powers into anathe-ingots. For the better of Aerith, I know. But I am not letting it go this way. Lancervis dropped the sphere onto the coals.

Jalor couldn't breathe. The essence of the anathe-ingot would do one of two things.

Are you mad? Asa jumped to her feet, but stayed clear of Lancervis. After what it's already done? Do you want to wind up like your brother?

Lancervis shook his head. I know my domain. If I part with it, it will be on my terms.

But not so much anymore, Elyrazin. Jalor watched the forge, waiting for a sign. The power could try to devour them all, or go back to Lancervis. Would he give it up again? Jalor had to wait.

The anathe-ingot began to spark in the coals, its surface rippling. In a flash, liquid metal flowed over the coals. A blue glow rose from the forge. Lancervis held his arms out and closed his eyes, preparing to receive his powers. Jalor couldn't look away.

The glow diffused through the room. Asa backed toward the stairs. Her aura was concentrated by her hip. She carried her own anathe-ingot. He couldn't let her leave. But it still wasn't time to show himself.

The blue light diffused through the room, thinning, fading, seeping into the ceiling.

Lancervis opened his eyes, scanned the forge, then peered around the room. Where did it go?

Asa stopped in her tracks, staring at her cousin. After what you were? Asa glanced away from Lancervis. The guardian of stone has misplaced his power? The power of stone is lost to us forever, she threw up her hands.

Jalor ignored the two Elyrazin. Molten silver slipped between the darkening coals.

No. Why didn't it...Aldorhaten's had.... He forced his thoughts into order. Earlier, when he'd returned Aldorhaten's essence to the deep fires, it hadn't released a glow like Lancervis's anathe-ingot just had. Aldorhaten's anathe-ingot had vaporized instantly. From it sprang a form of flame. Pale highlights flowed over it, picking out a sharp nose and lantern jaw. Aldorhaten. He'd screamed, torturing Jalor's ears. He quieted after a moment. Then he'd looked straight at Jalor. Drops of liquid fire slid from his face, rejoining the yellow and orange oscillating stream under the mountain. He'd said, "It's over. I didn't know. It's over. Thank you, Maralahizen. Please tell the others." Then his essence dispersed.

Lancervis still stumbled around the forge, searching behind shadows for his lost power. I see now. Did the Leaf Walkers know? Jalor shook his head. It wouldn't be easy. Lancervis was much bigger than him.

* * *

Asa couldn't stay with Lancervis acting like this. Her cause was lost now, her trip here a waste of time. She dreaded the swim back to the mainland, but she needed to tell the twins they'd lost the power of stone. This would be the end and, powerless, none of them could do anything. She hurried to the stairs, eager to leave Lancervis behind.

Jalor strode from the shadows at the base of the stair, blocking her exit.

Jalor, she stopped. The imploring look from earlier was gone. Asa had never seen Jalor so expressionless. He always had some angle to push. He walked by. She couldn't leave now. His words from the Sanctuary haunted her. He shouldn't be here.

Oh, good I have arrived just in time. He nodded at Lancervis, You've had a bit of trouble. I know just what you need.

Lancervis turned livid. "I do not need your help, Maralahizen. Get out of my forge."

Jalor's face shifted from bored to intent. He wasn't playing a game now.

I am here to save our home, because you can't. But I need your help, what do you say? We can all work together. His cocky grin spread over his face.

Jalor, you can't help. Asa said coming around to face him. You can't influence Aerith. We've all done what we can. You need to go somewhere safe. Just this once, please! Listen.

You're wrong. I learn because I think about what I see. Jalor tapped his head. You need my help now.

Jalor, Lancervis cut in, go crawl into a hole and stay away.

"You, Elyrazin, don't understand. His eyes flickered around the room, lingering on the hammer, before meeting Lancervis's eyes. He ignored Asa. Let me try to get through to you. You aren't even taking care of your tools. He bent and picked up the hammer. How can you take care of Aerith?"

Lancervis didn't like it when others touched his tools.

Smirking now, Jalor swaggered further into the forge. Asa could see he would not listen to her today.

You stay put, Lancervis said, pointing his finger into Jalor's face. Your presence desecrates the purity of my forge. If we were lucky, it would purge Aerith of your existence.

I think I can put your forge to better use. He reached up and pulled on the paddle wheel until it dipped into the stream, which still ran strong through the forge. The bellows blew into the vent under the coals.

Waves of heat swam over Asa. The coals rippled as the air fueled their strength.

I may not be linked to the elements, but I can work with the elements for you. He snatched the heavy leather apron off its peg.

Lancervis balled his hands into fists.

Jalor, stop, Asa tried again. You don't know what the flames will do either.

Let's not change the subject. I know both of you have done your parts. He gestured at Lancervis, And it hasn't gone well.

Asa's stomach flipped. How could he know?

But that's not enough. He sighed. "You Elyrazin were always rearranging the physical substances of Aerith. You will never do that again." With a quick flourish of the apron, Jalor swung the hammer into Lancervis's head. He staggered against the edge of the forge. Red ran down his face, and he crumpled.

Asa screamed then rushed forward, fumbling to free her anathe-ingot. She needed her power now.

Jalor moved quickly. He caught Lancervis before he fell then lifted him to the hearth.

Lancervis's eyes opened. He stared at the flames. No panic, no struggle in his body.

Brother. I see–

Asa stopped trying to free her anathe-ingot, dumbstruck.

Jalor shoved Lancervis into the forge.

Her eyes locked on Lancervis. She lunged to the forge. No!

Lancervis screamed as he went into the fire then screamed and screamed until his body was gone but the scream continued. Something moved on the bed of coals, rippled under the white-hot coals.

Had that been Aldorhaten? Asa's skin prickled and she went cold.

Jalor spun round and ripped the anathe-ingot from her hands, tearing her robes.

That was her anathe-ingot, her power. She needed to protect it for Aerith, with her life.

No. She leapt at him, hitting him in the chest.

They toppled. His hand flung wide and cracked into the ground, opening, freeing the anathe-ingot. It rolled across the floor. Asa crawled after it, toward the stream. She lunged for her power. It slipped through her fingers and splashed away. She watched the anathe-ingot slip beneath the paddle wheel. In her heart she knew it would disappear into the bay where, without her powers, she would never be able to find it. She failed. Cool tears ran over her cheeks, even those abandoning her.

Well enough, Jalor said as if from afar. He seized her. She didn't care. She had no reason to exist. He raised her to her feet and turned her. His face was sincere again. I always liked you the best, Asa, he whispered. Please don't fight me; I am setting you free.

The rock walls moved behind him as he spun her. She couldn't take her eyes off his face, his eyes. They were shining with sadness. He pushed her back, until she bumped against the forge. Heat spread across her back. More heat than she could bear. It didn't matter.

Her instincts resisted the touch of the flame, but Jalor kept pushing. She smelled the fabric of her robes charring. The skin on her back tightened and prickled. She hoped it would be quick.

He pushed her into the white fire that had only accepted metal before today. The blistering skin of her arms and back pulsed with pain. I'm sorry. Jalor swept her back, and into the hungry flames.

* * *

Done. He backed away from the forge. The fires lowered and then extinguished, the coals flickering white then orange.

He ran up the stairs, through an empty house and to the shore. He splashed into the sea and didn't stop until the water cradled him. The cold water soothed the burns on his hands and arms. He was a Maralahizen. He'd just destroyed two Elyrazin, and this was all that had happened to him.

Fire and rock were complete. And he'd seen Asa's anathe-ingot slip away through the stream. Water would see it dissolved and appropriately redirected. He still had to physically separate the twins from their respective elements.

He glided through the water. Its cool buoyancy carried him closer and closer to the mainland, urging him to complete his task. He'd never been able to swim the bay this quickly.

As he closed in to the mainland, he couldn't stop himself from eying Aldorhaten's mountain. It rumbled, spewing a stream of black ash, further darkening the sky. Streamers of white wove around the black. He wished he knew what it meant.

Jalor emerged from the water into a cruel heat. A sharp breeze blew over him and he gagged on its stench. The ground shifted, dropping him on his knees. Rocks clacked in the distance. He forced himself to his feet.

Glowing cinders swarmed him as he ran. Black ash poured down on him. Without the water's edge to guide him, he'd surely have lost his way. He did his best to hide his mouth from the mountain's exhalations, but it made it hard to breathe. A cinder bit the back of his throat. He choked and stumbled into the twins' mountain.

At least the air was clear. The way was familiar; he'd been up Surima's tower a few times. Rounding the corner, he slowed. An orange glow rose from a crack along the floor. Shadows flickered. The floor was still stable so he ran on.

A shadow pulled away from the wall. Jalor, is that you? Haldoren said.

Jalor pulled up and stumbled to avoid running into Haldoren. Yes, I'm here, he gasped. It's horrible out there. Nowhere is safe. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

I don't know why this is still happening, it should reduce soon though. Surima and I have created our anathe-ingots. He held up a tiny silver sphere, glowing with his essence. I can't speak for the others though. You can stay here with us until it's over if you like.

Damn him. Why'd he have to have a change of heart? Instead of shaking, the ground vibrated. The slight crack alongside the floor widened, as if opening its mouth. Time was passing and Jalor couldn't waste any more.

Thank you for your hospitality. I can't stay. Jalor sprang at Haldoren, sweeping his feet from under him and shoved him.

Shock spread across Haldoren's face. He tried to balance, but toppled into the glowing maw of the Orb. He deserved a better end.

Jalor swallowed his terror and forged onward. He still had some time before the mountain devoured him. He didn't deserve anything better than that. But he had one more thing to do.

He ducked into the alcove. Its stair would take him directly to Surima's inner chambers. He carefully slid his feet along in the darkness toward the rectangle of hazy light across the room.

Jalor leaned against the door to her solarium. She stood just inside the balcony. Feet on the ground. Her gossamer robe fluttered on the gusts that came from outside. Even in the dim light he could see ash stained it. Does she know all her cousins are disembodied? If these were his last moments, he wanted to take one of them to observe her grounded; for once touched by the grime he walked through every day. It didn't quite satisfy him to see her like this, but it awed him more than watching her float pristine through the air.

I could approach silently and toss her out the window. He cleared his throat, not yet ready to destroy the last Elyrazin.

She turned slowly, clumsy on her feet. Jalor, you came. She walked to the center of the room. Do you think it will get better soon? See, she held out her hand. Sitting delicately on her palm, a silver sphere glowing with her essence. You were right, we all made these. She gazed into his eyes.

I expect it will, yes. He wanted to look away from her innocent face, but she moved closer, taking his hand and squeezing it. I'm glad you came. I don't want to be alone while Aerith is like this. She pressed into him.

Jalor found himself rubbing her back.

She looked up at him. Please help me forget this. Her hands pressed into his stomach.

Bright sky above. How can she be thinking this? She's right here, I could end her ten different ways right now. Jalor realized Aerith hadn't shaken since he'd been in the tunnel with Haldoren. Maybe he had more time than he thought. He placed his other hand on her back, pulling her closer.

Jalor, don't take your time, she whispered. Haldoren will be along soon. If he finds you here he'll destroy you.

Her words sent ice through him. Haldoren would never bother them again. Well, we'd better not dissatisfy your brother. He let go of her and pointed to the balcony. I want to see what's going on out there. He went out into the ashy air, ignoring her spluttering.

The air was gray. Thick clouds of ash and flickering cinder obfuscated the other mountains. He could no longer see Lancervis's island, and rivers of glowing orange flowed down the sides of Aldorhaten's mountain. What does this mean?

Surima took hold of his arm and huddled into him. Let's not watch our world destroy itself.

He pulled her to his front and embraced her. We should see the consequences of our actions. She settled into him. Together they watched the ash fall. May I see your anathe-ingot again?

If you like. She shifted in his grasp then held up her sphere.

He swiped it from her palm.

Hey. She twisted in his grasp.

As she struggled on her feet, he pushed her over the edge of her balcony.

He listened to her scream until the wet smack confirmed her life had dispersed from her body. He grasped her anathe-ingot. With a sharp jerk of his arm he released it into the air.

The silver speck wavered and sparked in the haze. Silver spread through the air. A head, the curve of a hip. As it thinned, a wind keened past him.

* * *

Searing heat crept toward Asa. Did the mountain finally fail? This is all that's left? Has fire won?

The sandy bottom burst up in a cloud of heat that enveloped her completely. A burst of orange below her. The orange continued to pop out of the white steam. Building upon itself, it crumbled away in stringy drips. She perceived the orange crevice that permitted the invasion.

A tiny splash of memory came. Immolation. Jalor's face floated through her mind.

But water had saved her. She'd been dropped into an icy river and drifted out to sea. Has it forgiven me? But I'd made an anathe-ingot. Jalor tried to take it from me. Anger flooded her mind. She never thought he'd be capable of what he'd done.

Despite the heat she crept up to the crevice. The heat increased, smothering over her. She reached out with her senses, except now her senses were all she was. Upon contact she felt herself burst. Disorientation. Nothing.

She couldn't move. But she had to move or never move again.

She reached for her connection with water and near-drowned in it. She pulled it to her. It carried her into the sky. She could see her home.

It was so dark, it may have been midnight. Glowing red rivers and black ash covered everything she could see.

Water fell onto the land, slapping her against the searing heat. The molten rock cooled slightly beneath her, and she flowed back into the sea while a cloud of white steam rose. She kept rolling, too weak to resist, into the darkest deeps of the ocean. Something big thudded into her, then cradled her, gently rocking her until she settled.

The smell, the feel comforted her. She belonged here.

* * *

Jalor had done it. He'd destroyed them all. All the elemental energy had been released.

The sky was dark as night in the middle of the day. The air prickled against his neck and arms—cinders burning him. Ash, now black, filtered through the entrance and the ground rumbled continuously. He resisted the urge to run. There was nowhere to go.

All of the previous shakes had only lasted a couple moments. Is all the freed energy too much for Aerith to handle?

The ground buckled. Thick orange fire gushed into the sky, the molten substance of his home. It spilled over the mountain. Orange sparks shot into the sky, falling and being lost in the burbling stream ripping through the forest. In one place, the stream thickened and rippled, folding over itself. In another, it flowed like molten metal then froze, but there was always more.

I tried to save it.

The world went even blacker around the glowing core. His eyes watered from the fumes then burned dry with the heat. That was just the beginning.

The many weak points of Aerith's shell ruptured under the great pressure that had built up within the Orb during the epoch of the Elyrazin. Geysers of red unborn rock shot into the air in every direction. A jet shot out beside Jalor, then joined the others to flood the land. He clung to the trembling mountain.

When he thought it would never end, a breeze cooled him.

Then the rumbling stopped. He opened his eyes to an alien world.

There was just enough balcony left for him to crouch on. He could see for miles. To the west, where a green and flowered meadow had once sprawled, a dark forest of peaks thrust into the horizon. To the east, where Asa's mountain had been, the ground had split, giving way to a churning river gushing into the bay.

Despite his effort; his transgressions and betrayals, Aerith still destroyed his beautiful world. He glanced around, appalled. The world is ruined and the Elyrazin are no longer here to fix it.

* * *

The tides rose and fell a hundred times, gentle ripples to Asa. Her strength had returned and she found she could move. She went back to Lancervis's forge, but only found a fissure deeper than any other part of the sea floor. Around it swam fish that half resembled the Leaf Walkers. On the surface they flipped their tails and splashed each other with their hands, but they avoided her.

She found a river, and saw that the mountains were flat. Up the river, two beings carried loads of sticks, they resembled Elyrazin. But they had no power to touch the makeup of Aerith. Their essence reminded her of Haldoren.

My cousins? Had those beings done something to them?

Asa cast her senses to find the others. Aldorhaten's image came to her mind, a flame. A breeze tickled over her, raising whitecaps, Surima whisked through her thoughts. The mountain rumbled with Lancervis's voice. The two beings looked up, dropped their loads and ran.

Asa, look. They're of the spirit, she heard. As the sea folk are of yours. Can you see? She felt certain that Aldorhaten had said that. It's happened to all of us.

We failed. It didn't work, Asa said. And now we are in some kind of limbo for our incompetence.

No. This is what Aerith wanted and Jalor-Matha knew it. That was Lancervis. It would have been worse if we'd done nothing.

We were just encased energy. Aerith is meant to support life, so it did. Our mother still needs us though. Surima was there too. That meant–

It's their world now, Asa, Haldoren said.

All of the Elyrazin were like her, still on Aerith. And they had new charges. Hundreds of beings with their own minds, who couldn't be controlled, covered Aerith.

* * *

Jalor-Matha crouched in the cave, rocking on his heels. He waited for darkness to fall so he could leave. Leaving in