Thunder and Lightning

Chapter 1

It was dark when Phaistos woke up. It was always dark, though, so he wasn’t terribly surprised. He stretched his good leg as far as it would go under the covers and used his hands to move his bad leg enough to untangle it and ease the pressure on his back. He let out a little sigh of relief and laid there for a minute, enjoying the quiet. Mount Aetna was a busy place, and while he loved the energy of the city, he also loved this moment before the rest of the world woke up.

It was also hideously cold out and he was not looking forward to the shot of frigid air he was about to experience. He rolled the covers off a little and immediately tucked them back over himself. Yep, he thought in disgust. Still Winter. Always Winter. I wish she would just Wake Up already. He steeled himself and threw the covers off in a burst of determination. I have Work to do today, he hummed to himself as he painfully hauled himself up to stand from his floor-mattress. Good work today. He felt that little tickle in the back of his brain that he only got when he was ready to Create something. And it felt good. I wonder what it will be today? I haven’t felt this way since Thunder…

But he cut that thought off. He hadn’t seen Thunder since he made him that nice pair of gloves. But that had been years ago. He didn’t want to be depressed on such a gorgeous day, and thinking about Thunder always made him moody and savage. No. Today, I believe I am going to make something really beautiful. He limped over to the washbasin that one of the little Water elementals had grown for him and touched the leafy green flower overhanging the tree stump it lived in. Obligingly, a happy trickle came out for him. Bitterly cold of course. He made a noise and snatched his hands back. Almost immediately, one of his Fire creatures popped into view and spun around the water, warming it for him.

“Thank you, Victor,” he said, smiling at the tiny Salamander. None of the Elementals actually spoke to him, but he’d given them all names. They didn’t seem to mind. Victor hovered in midair a moment longer, gnawing on his crimson-blue tail to make sure that the water was warm enough before running up Phaistos’s arms in his normal good morning ritual. Victor was one of Phaistos’ favorites, and he knows it, little brat he thought, smiling at the tiny thing currently lighting his hair on fire. Phaistos didn’t mind. The red curls were always in various stages of being burned off and regrowing anyway, no matter how short he kept it. Maybe that’s why Victor keeps trying to burn it off? Helping me with a haircut? He shooed the little thing away, brushed his teeth and pulled on his forge gear from the hook over his workshop door.

Soft cotton undershirt and pants, tough leather apron, calf boots with metal guards, and thick forearm gloves, just in case he wanted to handle any of the really powerful lava energy today, but he laid those on the prep table for later. For now, he folded up the thin mattress and tucked it into the stone closet at the far end of the room, threw open the door, and opened every window in the workshop with the pull of a single cord near the main entrance. Instantly, pale dawn light from a dozen clerestory windows flooded the lower level and highlighted the upper levels filled with cabinets, supplies, workbooks, and all the thousands of treasures he’d built over his long life. All carefully organized and separated into half a dozen spiraling floors all linked with a clever metal winch lift with crossed thunderbolts on its brass sides.

“Good morning,” he said, with great satisfaction to the workroom. “What shall we build today?”

His great forge took up the entire north end of the circular room. It’s banks and bellows curved around like the stone had been poured into shape and was so deep, he couldn’t see to the back of it. The other reason he couldn’t see to the back of it was because it was Magickal, of course, but it was still very large. Phaistos stuck his head into it. His whole chest and back fit, and he leaned his good leg onto one knee so he could call into the deepest reaches. He was not a small man, but the inky darkness didn’t seem to get any smaller. “Hello?” He called. “Is anyone home?” He pulled a small bit of ore from his pocket. It shown blue-purple and iridescent, catching the strengthening light from the rest of the room. “I’d like more of this substance, please.” He placed it in the center of the forge. Instantly, Victor appeared, hovering over the metal, sniffing it or whatever Salamanders do with new things. It looked like he sniffed it. Victor sat next to it and looked at Phaistos with what he could only think was confusion. “I know it’s new. That’s why I need help finding more of it. Isn’t it pretty?” He picked it up again and rolled it in his hands. He closed his eyes to breathe it in. He could taste snow, ice. The feeling of great mountains and harshness with intense beauty. “I’d like to make something for Winter. Maybe something to bring her good dreams.” He cocked his head as if listening to the ore, though he couldn’t tell if it actually said anything. It just felt like the right thing to do. “Maybe…hmm.” He felt the pull of shamanic magic. Something with stars, maybe. But it was too far away. There were ingredients or components missing. “Well, I’ll just have to find them,” he said to himself. “Victor, more of the ore please. I think we’re making a Dreamcatcher for the Winter Queen.”

The words surprised him, which was his favorite part. He loved when it happened this way – an adventure where he didn’t know what was going to happen. It was the closest he’d get to travel and this was a rare treat. He hadn’t worked with ice magic for a long time. Or with one of the Air and Darkness elements ever. Something completely new. “A Dreamcatcher for the Winter Queen. Delightful.” Victor was still looking at him, helplessly. Phaistos sighed. “You need help, then? Fine, yes.” His leg was starting to cramp. It was an awkward position, but Metal Elementals were squirrelly, nervous things, with changeable tempers. They preferred a comfortable environment, hence, he tried to Call only in the Forge. He took a deep breath and let out a long, low whistle against his teeth and delicately pricked one of his fingers so a single drop of blood dopped onto the earth floor. The Iron in it was strong and he ran his power through that Iron all the way to the Plane of Metal through the Forge gate.

Immediately, the Forge sprang into life. Heat rolled against his skin and he closed his eyes against the bellow of hot air and brilliant yellow light that erupted from its edges. In the corners of the flames-when he was able to open his eyes without them frying- he could see a tiny molten creature hidden in the back. He hadn’t met this one yet. There were only about a dozen elementals that would work with him, so it was easy to keep track. A new Elemental? And so shy. I wonder if she’ll talk to me? He felt a little excitement. A mage’s power was partially defined by how many Elementals would work with him and how intelligent or communicative they were. Phaistos had always been disappointed that he seemed to have only the smallest and dullest of Magickal assistants. But the fact that he had any at all was equally surprising. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

“Hello pretty one,” he said, reaching out a hand. “Welcome. What’s your name, then?”

The creature flowed out from the corner flames and solidified into a fairy-like form. Delicate silver features, maybe the height of his thumb. It didn’t say anything. He tried to stifle his disappointment. He laid his hand down on the forge’s surface, taking a sharp inhale as his leg let out a screaming reminder that he had been in this position too long and he needed to sit down soon. At his sharp inhale, the metal figure retreated slightly, but Phaistos continued to smile and reached out his hand again. “No need to be frightened, Pretty. Can you help me?” He waved to the ore and tugged a little at Victor in his mind. Show yourself please, he thought at the Salamander. Metal elementals always feel better when one of the Fire is around! Victor obligingly popped into view and looped around Phaistos’ hand, settling his head on Phaistos’ first knuckle. Pretty came closer to pat Victor and shake Phaistos’ finger slightly. He was surprised. Was that an actual greeting? Oh my. Pretty must be much more intelligent than most. Victor gave him a baleful stare from his own outreached hand. Yes, yes, I know you can hear me. But if you never talk back, I’ll never know. The Fire turned up its snout and refused to look at him. But the Metal. The Metal seemed to find that funny. Pretty’s facial expression didn’t change, but it definitely seemed to relax. The Metal picked up the ore, nodded once to Phaistos and once to Victor and then liquified back into the flames. The Forge abruptly went dark.

Phaistos groaned in pain and transferred Victor to his shoulder so he could drag himself out of the Forge and into a more comfortable position. Ow. He thought, rubbing his leg and waiting for his back to stop cramping. Ow, ow, ow. Victor hovered over his leg, trying to warm it without lighting it on fire, but quickly gave up and burned Phaistos hair instead. I must look ridiculous by now, but I suppose he means well. Another whiff of burning hair. Or maybe not. Occupational hazard, I suppose. He thought back to Pretty. And a new friend for this. How interesting. He stretched out as far as he could to grab one of his workbooks and a pencil to record the event. He only got new friends when he was about to do something unusual. They always seemed to know and coordinate who best should help him. This was shaping up to be a very interesting project.

“Phaistos?”

The call shook him out of his book. He’d gotten Victor to pull his notes from the last Ice Magic creation they’d done and see if he could find anything on stars. Victor was not a great research assistant, mostly because he kept lighting the books on fire. Phaistos had wrapped them all in tough leather, but, well, accidents happen. In one of the few research tomes NOT on fire, there had been some mention about Ice. But the call from his doorway made him blink and refocus. “Magda?” He stood up too quickly and immediately had to sit down again as his ruined leg refused to work. “Magda!” He hauled himself back up to stand and limped over to her with a wide smile and ready hug. “You’re here! I haven’t seen you since Silence needed that Elfsinian armor! How are you?”

The slender woman returned his hug enthusiastically. Her long, straight black hair got caught in his apron as he tried to pull back and they both laughed as she had to disentangle herself from him. For a split second, he was on the bridge of a ship, staring at an infinity of stars in velvet black darkness. He blinked, and the vision was gone. He held her at arms length to see her properly. “Magda, you look wonderful! Something must have happened. I haven’t seen this much of, of, of, whatever in you since Silence had her…unpleasantness.”

Magda nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. All of us, we feel much better. Spring is back.”

Phaistos stopped and stared at her in amazement. “Spring?”

Magda nodded.

“Silence’s Spring?”

“Yes, she’s back. But her memory…not so good. Much like mine, we think.”

Phaistos limped over to one of the great soft chairs near the doorway and waved Magda to the other one. He kept a small visitor area for customers. Everything smelled of smoke and metal, which he liked, but he could never tell if other people cared. Magda didn’t seem to mind, throwing herself into one and then promptly balancing on the edge of the seat so she could continue her excitement.

“Yes, yes. Spring is home. Master and Mistress have a plan. You see how the world is out of balance? You feel how some things are too strong, others too weak? Master says it is because the Veil between worlds and the power of the Leviathan is corrupted. She has a plan for a great battle, a great spell to keep them bound and remove the corruption. And Spring will help her!”

Phaistos let out a long breath. “A corrupted Leviathan, huh? That’s big power. When the great Elementals fall….” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Magda understood. Her face also went serious and quiet.

“Yes.”

“Then is there something us small mages can do to help?” Phaistos asked, shaking off the sick thread of fear that had crawled up from his gut. “We obviously can’t help the big battle, but maybe there is something smaller we can do?”

Magda nodded so hard he thought her head would come off. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said in one breath. “And not small at all. You are requested to come to the Crossroads immediately. We were just going to get Master a new set of weapons, but this year, she’d like you to come in person for all three of the Brothers. Will you come?”

Phaistos glanced back at his forge and the new project he could feel spinning in his head, a hint of regret at having to leave it alone. “Of course. I mean, I’d do anything for Silence and” Thunder “The rest of the great Magi.” Magda didn’t seem to notice the last-minute word change. “So, of course. If Silence wants new kit for everyone, I’ll be happy to go.” He glanced at his ruined leg and out the open door towards the bustle of Mount Aetna. “Just, you know I don’t get out much. How am I supposed to get there?” He glanced to his first floor with his supplies and gear. “And I’ll need to bring quite a bit of stuff. I know Silence has a nice Forge at Crossroads, but I’ll need so much. Wouldn’t it just be easier to bring people here?”

Magda shrugged. “The Masters arrive in a few days at Crossroads. Elfsinian in three. There are a few of the lesser magi left, the demi-gods and goddesses that might appreciate your things and would never be able to get here.” Magda then looked out one of the windows onto the great mountain. “I’m not sure if you realize this, Phaistos-smith, but your mountain is very scary.”

Phaistos’s mouth quirked up and he hobbled to one of the large windows to see what she saw.

The island was dominated by a huge volcano reaching thousands of feet into the air. Along the rim, a slim halo of lava pooled while fireworks of pyroclastic explosions fell like confetti onto the top regions. Thick banks of smoke and gas oozed down the sides to lap against the middle portion of the mountain, like a ring of clouds – only blue, green, and black, with hints of heat-lightning sparking through the mists. Here, on the base of the mountain, rugged black obsidian shards stuck up like brutal flowers in the red-brown tephra as a pock-marked lava plain butted up against rainforests filled with light and music along the rough turquoise blue coastline. Phaistos’s city stretched in a great ring along the rainforest, with thin tendrils out to the coast as ports. His Forge was at one of those tendrils, right at the border where the forest met the boulder plain and the chemical rain scoured the rocks and volcanic glass. He thought it was rather picturesque, but he could see how others may not be so comfortable where the earth moved day and night and there was a city full of Fire and Water all the time. It resulted in some personality conflicts occasionally. Ok, more than occasionally. Continuously. Right on cue, a deep rumble from somewhere in the earth flexed the stone around them and the mountain shivered, making a cascade of tephra roll towards the forest and strike against the great boulder guardians shielding the City in a shower of pebbles. “And this is why we have Earth magi,” he said in appreciation. Magda gave him a “I-told-you-so” look and he chuckled. “Yes, I will go to Crossroads.” He waved to his leg. “But I am not a good traveler. Is there any way I can do this and not” be in so much pain that I would rather take death than live in my own body for five more minutes “hurt?”

Magda nodded enthusiastically and pointed to the Forge. “Master says that she’s discussed it with Earth and she can link your and her Forges through the stone. There is a Gate she can make, if you would like, that will send you there and back easily enough.”

“Very thoughtful of Silence.” Phaistos said quietly, trying not to be afraid of leaving his Forge. He traveled so rarely and it usually hurt so much….

“Thunder is already there,” said Magda. “I’m sure he would appreciate your help just as much as my Master.”

“Ha,” Phaistos said, trying to make it sound funny and trying not to be upset that literally everyone on the planet seemed to know how he felt about the Sky-King. “Thunder won’t take anything of mine. I doubt he’ll even look at me. Ugly thing that I am.” The last part slipped out unintentionally. Magda opened her mouth as if to respond, he waved it off. “Good grief, that wasn’t necessary was it? So sorry, Magda, no need to talk about it. I just can’t keep my feelings to myself, it seems. Never was good at lying. Or decent manners I suppose! Yes, I would be very happy to help Silence and Spring, however the Masters need. Least we can do, no?”

She looked at the Forge and back at him. “You want to go now?” he asked, in surprise. “So quickly? I mean…” Victor materialized in his hair, slid down his arm and leapt into the air to pull the door closed by the little mechanical pull-cord Phaistos had rigged and slipped the locks into place. “Huh,” said Phaistos, nonplussed. “I guess that’s all I need to do, then.” He limped over to his goody-box, the one he kept all his creations that didn’t have homes yet (and were small enough to fit in a box) and painfully carried it to the Forge, sliding it deep into the back. “Miss Magda, there’s a steel ingot over by you, would you mind bringing that to me?”

Magda had to use both hands to drag the ingot off the work desk and hugged the 70 lb block of steel close to her chest to get it to him.

“Thank you, Miss.” He held it with one hand while he called Victor to his other one. The little Salamander purred happily as the smith poured Power into him, turning him from crimson to blue and tucking him underneath the ingot in his other fist. A deep breath, Phaistos closed his eyes and let his Power flow from Victor into the ingot, shaping it to a humanoid form in his mind, giving it hands and feet. Legs. He released the breath and Victor, holding onto the ingot as it melted and reshaped itself into his new helper. Its new little feet reached to the ground, its arms reached out, and Victor’s clever eyes opened in its metal face. “Good job, Victor,” said Phaistos. “I need you to fetch a few things for me.” The figure took off toward the metal winch box. “Hey! Slow down,” Phaistos called after him. “And don’t light anything on fire!”

Magda handed him a piece of paper with a smile. “Master has a list for you.”

Phaistos took his eyes off the Fire elemental, hoping that he could keep it together for long enough to get everything and took the paper. His eyebrows raised in surprise and gratitude. “Silence is very thoughtful. And quite well researched. That’s why she’s a Master, huh?” Magda bobbed her head up and down just as Victor dropped something with a loud clang that made the whole level vibrate.

“I told you to be careful! Hang up, let me get up there. Send the winch back down, you muppet!” Another clang was all that answered him as he shambled clumsily to the winch. Definitely on purpose. Definitely.