Aeryk brought the Lamborghini to a screeching halt at the end of the marina’s long, flower-lined driveway. Smoke from its wounded tires clung to the hot pavement, the blue tendrils eerily reminiscent of Akuan, the pungent smell of Fiyorok. Akuan. Fiyorok. Both guardians free after so long. Knowing it would happen wasn’t the same as living it. Not even close. His spirit felt heavy, chained. Reuniting with Seirin did little to dispel the sense of dread that shackled him.
He sat in the car, painfully aware of time’s passage. The centuries had rushed past him, the waiting both eternal and fleeting. To his right, a pair of tall wooden doors blocked access to the docks. How easy it would be to let them stop him. To give in and turn away. Going through meant accepting what would come – the responsibility and the consequences. Could he live with that?
The voice of a reporter roused him. It came from his radio – young, terrified, female. She spoke about the helicopter, of the men and women inside, people she knew. They lost their lives to an unstoppable force, and she openly wondered how many more would follow.
Everyone’s, Aeryk thought. Once Vissyus returned. He stared back at the white doors. A burst of air pushed them open. He vaulted from his car and sped between their blown hinges. Better to hurry. Less chance to change his mind.
Several yards in the distance, the marina’s stucco boathouse dominated a quiet beach of manmade dunes, soft sand, and crystal clear water. Wide, contoured, and white, it looked like a large cumulus cloud had landed and anchored itself to the ground.
David Peterson, his young chief of the dock, waited just outside, a clipboard dangling loosely from his hand. He was perhaps a head shorter than Aeryk, with stylish, sunbleached hair and bright gray eyes.
He nodded as Aeryk approached. “Mr Aeronson.”
“Good morning, David. Interesting day.”
“To say the least.” Apart from a slight tightening in David’s voice and tension about his shoulders, the dock chief remained professional. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” Aeryk admitted. “I can’t say that I am.”
“At least let me call the Coast Guard. They can escort you out.”
Aeryk raised a quizzical eyebrow. “A preemptive rescue? We both know the Coast Guard has better things to do.”
David’s cheeks colored, and he pretended to survey his clipboard.
“I know what I’m doing, David. It might not look like it, but I do.” He placed a hand on David’s shoulder. The company’s official light-blue polo shirt rippled under his touch like a wind-blown flag. “You have a new wife. Shut down the marina and go home. You’ll be safe there.”
“What about you? You know what that thing did.”
Aeryk stopped and stared into David’s face. “I’ll be fine. Now, do as I say. Send everyone home and get out as fast as you can.” He gave David’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and loped to the docks.
The Zephyr idled at the end of a lone jetty, the soft purr of its engine blending with the slosh of waves and the slap of fiberglass against bumpers. A fifty one-foot beast of a machine, the Zephyr outraced and outdistanced every other powerboat in South Florida. Its sleek hull and perfect aerodynamics hinted at speeds greater than the two hundred twenty miles per hour its engineers promised – speeds he never needed. Until today.
“Mr Aeronson?” David called from shore. “One more thing. I had a new sonar array installed on the boat. Silt builds up in the central bay, and trust me, you don’t want to hit any shallows when going full out. With all that ice out there…” He left the sentence unfinished, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he just said.
Aeryk nodded and climbed aboard. A tug on the ropes fore and aft set the boat free, and before long, he glided through the channel.
Out in the bay, icebergs bobbed in a direct line from deep water to shallow, some small, others as large as tankers. A few failed to reach the surface, and Aeryk thanked David for the boat’s state-of-the-art electronics and the reminder to use them. Hitting an iceberg – even a small one – at high speed would tear the ship to pieces. He wished for a shield. Longed for it. Knowing he couldn’t summon one only made it worse.
Frustrated, he slammed the throttle forward, careful to keep a close eye on the sonar. White dots lit the screen, though most remained several miles away. The largest and most stationary were probably ice, which made the rest boats. A lone object, huge, long, and fast, moved below.
Akuan.
Aeryk set his jaw and pressed on. A part of him desperately wanted to turn back and help the boaters. Leaving them was a death sentence, but attacking Akuan only postponed the inevitable. If he didn’t rescue Seirin, the whole world would suffer. Better to hold his course, better for him, better for everyone. Almost.
Forcing the thought aside, he put his back to the bay. The Atlantic called him – seven miles distant. Six. Less. The way ahead looked clear both on the screen and off. Several curious anomalies bloomed in the lower corner, but they remained concentrated around Akuan. He glanced aft. Instruments couldn’t show everything. Sure enough, a series of flashes erupted below the surface. Muffled booms sounded after them, muted by distance and water. The sonar’s bleat became rapid, almost frantic.
A mile away, Akuan changed course. The dragon came about and drove for the nearest grouping of ships, diving so deep that its silhouette disappeared. Bubbles trailed behind it, the course straight, clear, and unchanging. Hunters became prey, and Aeryk had to force his hand steady on the wheel. He couldn’t turn. He had to go on.
Aboard the foremost trawler, a big, barrel-chested man pointed at Akuan’s wake and yelled something to the boat’s pilot before picking up a large box and tossing it over the side. Seconds later, explosions sent seawater into the air.
Blast fishing. Those idiots! What were they thinking? No boat was safe now, not even his. Akuan would sink anything that moved. Already, the seas beneath the trawler had transformed. The gentle swells shuddered, and a slow, counterclockwise spin tugged at the ship’s keel. Nearly imperceptible at first, it grew in speed and intensity.
The triumphant shouts coming from the decks turned to alarm. One fisherman in particular – thickset and sunburned – frantically twirled in his boat’s flying bridge. He stared into the spiraling water with terrified eyes and drew a pistol from his waistband. Pointing it down, he fired off several rounds before Akuan’s gaping jaws broke through the surface.
Nearly fifty feet long, they towered over the ship’s cabin, one to port, one to starboard. Sea spray glittered on sapphire scales that snapped shut with lightning speed, pulverizing fiberglass and wood, shearing metal.
Akuan’s tail surfaced sixty yards to port. One sweep splintered a handful of boats. Another pass capsized more. The remainder tried to run, only to find their hulls snared in a rapidly freezing bay. Ice covered a wide swathe of ocean, while below, Akuan’s shadow could still be seen, this time heading for deep water.
Aeryk swore again and spun the wheel. The ice shouldn’t spread far in such warm seas, but he plowed on regardless, catapulting over waves, soaring past deep troughs, guzzling fuel.
A rogue swell caught the Zephyr’s bow and shot it into the air. Aeryk’s reflexes fired, and a shield flashed around him, bright and shining and unmistakable. He stared at it in disbelief. No! He didn’t, he couldn’t. A fraction of a second, that’s all it took for his concentration to falter. He pounded his fist into the dash. Stupid, irresponsible, potentially catastrophic.
Across the bay, Akuan submerged and headed toward him at high speed.
The Zephyr was fast, but for all its horsepower, Akuan was faster. Aeryk considered abandoning the boat, but quickly discarded the idea. Shielded, he could outrun the guardian, but Akuan would sense his movements and track him. He couldn’t allow that. Seirin was everything to him. He wouldn’t let Akuan find her.
Desperate, out of options, he opened his thoughts. Ventyre! Are you there?
His guardian’s response, though insufferable, came immediately. My lord? Is that you? It’s been so long. Are you still using the name the Sioux gave you, or have you chosen another one?
Aeryk swerved away from a reef. Shallow water might slow Akuan, but it would freeze faster and hold ice longer. His only hope lay in the deep channels. I need a localized squall in Biscayne Bay. Up by the big key. Do it now!
Ventyre’s mocking tone grew serious. You haven’t asked for direct intervention in over eight hundred years. What’s happened? Aeryk felt his guardian’s Searching sweep the area. A sharp intake of breath followed moments later. Akuan! I don’t believe it. You should have called me sooner.
The Zephyr zipped between a container ship and a tanker. We all knew the Weakening was coming, Ventyre; we just didn’t know when.
Takeshi did, the guardian countered. Why else is Yui in Tokyo? She wouldn’t have been there if Takeshi hadn’t ordered her to scout the city.
Ventyre… Aeryk warned.
No, my lord. You’ve beaten yourself up about the Weakening ever since you first learned about it. I’ve held my tongue for long enough. The Weakening wasn’t your fault. Takeshi is outside too. He could have stopped you from attacking the Boundary, but he chose not to. Did you ever ask him why?
Aeryk hadn’t. Not in over a billion years. The guilt had been too much for him, so instead of confronting Takeshi, he simply avoided the topic whenever he and the Spirit Lord met to plan. What’s done is done. He sighed and thought about the Weakening, and the more he thought, the more he knew Ventyre was wrong. He’d attacked the Boundary as hard and for as long as he could, hoping to find some way to free Seirin before the prison fully formed. He failed, of course, succeeding only in puncturing random spots across the Boundary’s layered surfaces. Undamaged, the barrier might have held indefinitely. But now? Now Vissyus could break free if the damaged sections aligned into what Aeryk called the perfect Weakening. The odds against one were astronomical, which was why none had ever happened before.
Opening the engine, he sent the boat flying across the water. Gates, he thought. Keystones. The Boundary. Why did Takeshi make everything so difficult? Akuan quickly halved the distance between them and came up to surface depth. Its horns speared through the waves like splayed fingers. Rainbows danced within the cast-off brine, a violently foaming wake boiling behind it. Without a distraction, it would overtake him in minutes.
It’s really not that complicated when you think about it, Ventyre piped. You just have to think of the Boundary as a huge building. The Boundary itself represents the building’s walls. The Gates are the doors to individual rooms – or worlds in this case – and the Keystones are both room numbers and unlocking mechanisms rolled into one. Getting the doors open is the only tricky part.
As much as I love debating this with you, guardian, I’m running out of time. For now only Aeryk, Yui, and Takeshi knew how to open the Gates, and that advantage wouldn’t last if Vissyus got a good look at them. Even insane, the Fire Spirit was far too strong and far too brilliant to let a simple door stop him, no matter how well reinforced or confusing. Takeshi might as well have shut the entrance with lace.
You’re running out of time? Ventyre squawked. I’m the one who has to hold Akuan off. It’s been nice knowing you, my lord.
The storms, Ventyre! Don’t make me ask again.
As you wish. The guardian sniffed its offense but did as Aeryk asked. A warm gale blew in from southern waters, and Aeryk braced himself for the collision of low-level tropical air and the cooler atmosphere aloft. The skies darkened, thunder boomed in the distance, and the loud sizzle of rain on water raced inland.
Undeterred, Akuan swam on – course unchanged, speed unchanged.
They needed something more dramatic. He thought of the shark hunters and Akuan’s reaction. Bring the lightning, Aeryk called. As much as you can. Hit Akuan until it hurts. And make sure you key the strikes to the squall. It has to think you’re in there. Nothing else will pull it away from me.
I’ve never been suicidal, Ventyre said dryly. Akuan will suspect a trap.
Even if it does, it won’t ignore a direct attack.
Ventyre grunted its assent. And what will you do? You can’t hide the Keystone forever, not if you want to activate it.
Cyclones, Aeryk said. I’ll raise one around the Keystone then litter the ocean with a hundred more. We’ve prepared for this, Ventyre. I’ll be fine.
Provided Seirin doesn’t kill you once you’re inside. I’m sure she’s furious with you.
Aeryk ignored the remark. He opened the throttle just as a series of lightning strikes rained down from above. Blindingly bright, they hammered the seas above Akuan. Electricity spiderwebbed over its horned crown like a glowing net.
Enraged, Akuan lifted its head from the water and fired a blast of ice into the clouds. Rain turned to snow, but the lightning continued, strong and relentless. Most originated in the squalls to its left. Akuan turned and sprang at them like a loosed arrow.
Coming your way, Aeryk told his guardian. How long can you hold it?
Hard to say. With all the storm activity up here, it might assume we’re defending the Gate. If that’s the case, you’ll have more time. Once you start forming cyclones out to sea, though – that’s when it will realize we’ve tricked it.
Which is why we’ll need to form as many spouts as we can. Aeryk checked his instruments. I’m just leaving the bay now. Given my current speed, I should be near the Gate in about twenty-five minutes. Keep it busy until then.
I’ll do my best, but I won’t make any promises.
Aeryk grunted his understanding. He returned his attention to the ocean, occasionally checking the Zephyr’s GPS to make sure he was on course. The world beyond Key Biscayne was deceptively calm, and, except for a few white clouds, the eastern sky remained a clear and sparkling blue.
A large arrow-like shape cut through it, following him. It was roughly the same size as a passenger plane, though longer in the nose and tail. Electrical charges flickered across its big avian body, and Aeryk could have sworn he saw the glint of lavender eyes regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and worry.
I don’t remember asking you to shadow me. Despite the words, he welcomed his guardian’s presence.
I am not shadowing you. Aeryk thought he heard the disgusted ruffling of feathers. I’m preparing the atmosphere.
Of course.
Hundreds of waterspouts, the guardian squawked. Difficult to form and maintain over so small a territory. You wouldn’t want them to fail before you’re inside the Gate, would you? Ventyre emphasized each word as though speaking to a child.
Aeryk winced at the thought. No, guardian. You’re right. I wouldn’t.
I didn’t think so. The wispy clouds thickened, and Ventyre slipped into them. I can’t believe you survived this long without me. Its voice faded in Aeryk’s head, and when it came back, a mischievous piping filled it. You’d better hold on. Things are about to get a little rough down there.
It began with a sharp spike in surface temperature. Sultry air swirled upward, and strong, convecting atmospheres pulled water into the sky. The first cyclone solidified several hundred yards to the Zephyr’s port side.
Aeryk sent the boat into a wide, sweeping turn to avoid it only to have another form in his path. He felt the current shift, noted how the engine protested. Waterspouts were everywhere, immense vortices that tugged at the boat from different directions. The Keystone was in the one off his starboard bow – calling him, leading him.
He came about and adjusted his heading to compensate for the increasingly rough seas. The hull shuddered as it turned. Waves battered the bow, pushing him back like a giant hand. He glared at the twisting water, felt time slipping away. Behind him, a row of undulating sapphire humps sliced through the ocean. Akuan’s mane fanned out below the surface like beds of sea-green kelp in a riptide.
Aeryk’s fingers tightened around the Zephyr’s throttle. He jammed it forward as far as it would go, and while the boat did its best against the rolling ocean, the hull wasn’t built for this kind of punishment. It lurched over a ten foot-high wave, the propeller spinning in the empty air. The stern groaned ominously, and Aeryk knew the fight was over.
Releasing the wheel, he stepped back, aware of the Zephyr’s disintegrating aft section. The mid deck went next, then the seats. Unconcerned, he watched them fly into the sea and disappear. Waves lashed at him, the ocean reached for him, but his momentum carried him through the air. His air. His domain. It was where he belonged, where his power remained unequalled. Let Akuan try to follow him. It was strong, but he was stronger.
Instantly, he opened his thoughts. A globe of dazzling blue burst to life around him. How could he have been so long without it? Its return calmed him, helped him remember who he was, and what he could do. In that moment, Eric Aeronson ceased to exist. In his place, Aeryk Tai-Banshar, Kami of Air, Commander of the Winds, and King of the Heavens, soared toward the massive cyclone.
A soft glow pulsed deep within it. He smiled. Seirin was there, there beyond the Boundary. Waiting for him. His heart felt close to bursting. After an eternity apart, they would be together again.