Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (11 page)

Gil’s eyed flashed and she actually let out a squeak. “That’s it. I knew running in the woods would come in handy someday.”

“Wait. What are you going to use to amplify it? If you just channel the water here all you’re gonna get is some trickle like we usually get when we’re hiking and refilling our bottles. That’s not gonna cut it for a fire that size.”

The bird spread its wings, scattering flames all over the place. We ducked for cover, zigzagging from the fireballs.

“There.” Gil pointed above. The wind dome covered us like a bell jar, and at the very center I saw a small black spot. Waves of air rippled from it, whistling down to the ground at our level, where they would shred us to bits if they hit us.

“At the very center,” she said. “That’s like the eye of the storm. The wind acts like waves and it all passes through there. But at the very eye it’s calm, like a cyclone. We could aim the water there and let the wind carry it. The water will spread out like a sprinkler system but at that speed, it’ll shoot out in jets.”

I gave my sister an impressed look. She really thought of everything – a fast attack, covering a wide area, thus leaving no room for the bird to escape. And at that speed, the water droplets would shoot through it like knives.

“And the catalyst? You need a water catalyst,” I said.

Magic doesn’t happen just by waving a piece of wood around and saying a few magic words. It needs the right ingredients and the right circumstances to work, otherwise you either get a big bang or just a flop of muddy water on your hands. The crystal Gil had would have been great for earth evocations, but this was a completely different element. For water evocations, most wizards used vials of liquid, usually a blend of blood, clean water and some unpronounceable herbs to strengthen their connection between caster and spell. We had none of that, just a stupid crystal.

Yet, Gil still smiled. She gripped the shard tightly with one hand and pressed its sharp tip against her other palm. Blood oozed around the crystal and fell in thick droplets on the ground.

Before I could say anything, she said, “The human body is sixty percent water. It pays to study, Erik.” Leave it to my sister to act smugly about school in the face of imminent, fiery danger.

“I’m all set, but I need time,” she said. Her face was contorted into a frown, which I came to know as her ‘thinking face’ – Gil was completely in the zone. “Do you think you can buy me some without killing yourself?”

I nodded, nervous again. This is how our plans usually worked. The brains of the team, my sister, would sit back and analyze the enemy, then conjure up something to exploit its weaknesses. In the meantime, I, the brawn, would be doing the actual fighting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle the spells — it was more a case of personality. My style is usually diving headfirst into the fray and going all Conan the Barbarian on them. Gil is more methodical and clean, wasting no effort or magic. Besides, she had a lot more concentration than I did. She could handle observing her enemy and concentrating on the spell she was casting. And this one was extra complicated. I mean, doing a thaumaturgy spell on a river that was quite a distance away from here, channeling water though hundreds of tree roots and rock formations and finally through scorched ground, adding a water evocation through a small crystal and her own blood, only to force it onto a demon’s wind spell in the hopes it catches a high-speed piggyback ride and shoots through a giant bird of fire? Yeah, better leave that to the brains of the team.

I muttered under my breath, gathering all my discomfort and excitement into one spell. It was one I constantly used, adding a layer of magic around my body and giving me a degree of protection. I also used it to reinforce any weapons I had. With it, I could cut through rock or shoot through tree branches whenever I played sniper. But since I had no weapons today, all I could do was give all the power to my body and hope it would be enough.

I grabbed a handful of ash and soil and hurled it at the bird. It did absolutely nothing except cause its flames to shudder slightly and send out angry sparks. Like the idiot I was, I ran to the other side of the dome, away from my sister, and waved my arm high.

“Hey!” I screamed. The phoenix cocked one eye at me.

“Hey. Look over here you ugly piece of shit!” I yelled, egging it toward me.

It worked.

The phoenix took one earth-shuddering step toward the small, annoying creature, with the small, annoying voice.

“Hey, I ate a turkey sandwich for lunch. Was that your mother?”

The bird cocked its head again. I wasn’t sure if it understood ‘yo momma’ jokes, but it didn’t seem too happy. It slammed its talons and let out a shrill cry.

“Yeah, well, flock off, feather face,” I yelled back as I flipped it off.

I have to admit, flipping the bird to an actual bird is a pretty rare occasion. And I enjoyed egging it. I seemed to be very good at getting the monster pissed off at me.

The problem was avoiding what inevitably came next.

The phoenix reared up and speared its beak where I stood. On pure instinct, I dodged sideways. Angry sparks showered me, sending pain signals all over my body. Thankfully, my protective spell deflected the worst, but it still smarted like hell. I found myself staring at my reflection in a large, red eye that was now level with mine. And that’s when I did one of the stupidest things in my entire life.

As I said before, my methods involve more punching and less thinking. When in doubt, hit it - repeatedly and hard.

I call it the Fonzie technique.

So, when I saw that big, bright red eye in front of me, I focused power on my fist, reared backwards and swung with all my might - right into that eye.

There are two main reasons why you should never, ever, punch a phoenix in the eye.

Number one — it’s made out of fire.

When my hand touched its eye, fire, hotter and more intense than any I’ve ever felt, showered my entire body. Not even my Dad’s demonstrative purple fire had done this much damage, although I suspect that his intention was demonstration rather than punishment. My protective spell kept the permanent damage at bay, but my skin still blistered and cracked. My jacket caught fire and I shrugged out of it. I registered red and raw burns all over my body. With a scream of pain, I jumped backwards, away from the fire-bird.

The second reason is that when the bird recovers from the shock, it will be in pain and very, very angry. The phoenix went from a blaze of yellow and orange to a fiery red. I took that as a sign of anger.

I was right.

It flapped its wings, trying to gain some altitude. Blasts of hot air fanned across my face, and instinctively I shielded my face against the heat. I saw the bird rise, one foot at a time, its fire spreading and growing bigger and bigger. From underneath the long tripartite tail, I saw Gil’s face twisted in concentration. The ground beneath her had already cracked and was a little darker than the other regions. Water was slowly rising up. A small spout touched the blood-covered crystal and Gil began shivering. Sweat soaked through her clothes and her white-blonde hair was now a plastered mess of damp yellow. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and with a grim expression, she began channeling the water.

But she needed more time.

Wizards may seem invincible when slinging around some cool-looking magic, but the truth is, magic is rarely suited for fast and dangerous situations like this one. Spells take a long time to build up, and during a fight, the last thing anyone wants to be doing is standing there, muttering and waving crystals about. It’s a weak spot, one that was commonly exploited in the old days of warmongering, witch trials and ritualistic sacrifices.

But it’s a whole different story when you got someone to watch your back and distract the big bad monster long enough for you to blast it.

Both the bird and my sister were at that critical point. If something went wrong at this stage, the backlash of magic would be severely damaging. The flames of the phoenix got even redder and wider. It was like the bird was evolving right in front of me. I had to act quickly to disturb this transformation, or whatever it was, before it hit my sister.

I bolted instantly, running around the phoenix in a semicircle. Tongues of fire came at me, but I was so focused that I dodged and weaved without even meaning to. All those weeks of living in a forest had shaped my reflexes into something beyond human. The magic coating around me, despite being heavily damaged, was helping too. I was perhaps a few feet to my sister’s right, I had run back to protect her in case the bird decided to switch targets. I crouched down, and in a sweeping motion scooped up a palm-sized rock. I poured magic into it directly from my body and felt a slight tingle that meant the spell was working.

Magic, the strong kind, the real kind, could not be done in the battlefield. What I was doing could barely be called magic. It was more of a McGuyver solution. High-class, high-damage spells like Gil’s take way too much time and energy, and I suck at them big-time. I tend to go with the simpler stuff – no crystals, no ingredients. Just channel energy directly from within me into whatever I needed.

I threw the magically charged rock at the bird’s head. As I said before, magic needs a catalyst, something to ignite it, like the blood on the crystal. I didn’t need a catalyst, not when the target was covered in it.

When the rock met fire, the magic reacted and there was an explosion. All I heard was a bird shriek and the roar of fire. The timing couldn’t have been better. The rock threw shrapnel all over us, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was disrupting the phoenix from accumulating power and then roasting us alive.

Then we heard the shriek again – that all-too-familiar shriek.

A pair of fiery wings spread and the bird screamed louder, until there was only a buzzing in my ears. I’m not sure what happened next. All I know is that I ran in front of my sister just in time to see a big flash and feel my skin being burned off. There was fire everywhere, coming at us from all directions. Defiantly, I found myself in front of my sister, bracing myself for the blast. I couldn’t quell the whole blast, but I could reduce the fire in our direction. When the fire hit me, I focused all of my magic. It wasn’t easy, and pain coursed through me as my bones seemingly cracked from the heat. But I couldn’t let go, not when my sister needed me most. Running on pure willpower, I channeled all that heat into pure energy and surrounded myself with it. I used the fire to fuel my protective spell and it seemed to be working. But every spell has an energy limit, and when I reached mine I realized just how stupid my mistake was. I was absorbing the heat myself, with no protection and no magic, and then channeling it into a spell. Sure, it was only pure energy, but that didn’t stop residual heat from harming me. Soon, I reached the limit of how much I could absorb and redirect. In other words, I got tired.

And as soon as my concentration wavered, the fire latched onto me and went nowhere. My skin blotched and burned and the smell of burning meat filled the air. I heard someone scream and realized it was me. I hit something hard and rolled, but the fire wouldn’t let go of me. It was as if I were soaked in gasoline and my body just kept feeding the flames.

From my position on the ground, between blackouts and writhing, I saw my sister’s lips move and tears streaming down her eyes. When I rolled some more, most of which was involuntary, I saw what was left of the phoenix — a large pile of ash. From within, just like it had done when it emerged from the bag, an ember grew larger and larger until a flame kindled at the very center. Like timber, the ashes caught on fire and soon, the bird was back in its nascent glory. The phoenix’s fire shuddered, as if it were groggy from dying and being reborn again. It perched quietly, pecking at its own flames.

I heard a scream again, and tried to force myself to look at its source. From where I was, all I saw was fire and what little remained of my body. From some distance, I heard Gil cry “It’s ready”, and for the life of me I couldn’t care less. I was on fire. My body had been burned beyond repair by now and I was dying, I knew it.

Why else would there be dark tendrils creeping inside my body? Why else would the darkness cover me up, welcoming me into the abyss? What else could be left after being burned alive?

I closed my eyes and just let it all go.

It was dark and peaceful.

You have no idea just how heavy you really are until you’re just floating on something or hovering in mid-air like a cloud. You have no idea how tiring your senses are and just how liberating it is to not see, hear or feel anything. In this void, I had no thoughts and no feelings, no restrictions or compulsions. There was just the void. And I was just there, existing.

I felt truly at peace here, and knew with certainty that anything I would experience after this would pale in comparison. I mean, how do you trump complete and utter emptiness? I didn’t feel dead. I felt, as if with sheer effort, it would be possible to go back to that world of pain and reality. After being burned alive, I thought that I’d much rather stay here, taking it easy, just existing in a timeless void.

But the dreams and reality usually find a way to smash into each other and intertwine. In my case, it was with a big, red light.

It was intense — far more intense than anything the phoenix could produce. Far more powerful than either Dad or Mephisto. It was power, pure, virgin power, and it shone all around me, as if someone had dropped me right in the middle of a supernova. There still was no pain or any physical reaction – on the contrary, it was as if… well, as if I were being hugged by my mother. Not that I ever knew what that was like, having lost her the second I was born. Hell, my sister had to be carved out of her because Mom couldn’t squeeze her out.

It felt as if Dad had decided to grow a heart and actually took us out for a day of fun. As if long-lost relatives patted me on the back, ruffling my hair and just laughing joyfully. Like Christmas Day on a sitcom and everyone was enjoying the heartfelt happy ending. It was like the one thing I wanted most as a kid.