Source Fire: A Young Adult Fantasy (Arcturus Academy Book 5) Page 8

  Apart from a few white buildings with red steel roofs, the camp at Mahoney Lake consisted of the old airstrip, a hangar, and a lakeside lodge. Where the logs that formed it had come from was beyond me, there wasn’t a tree in sight, only a few scrubby bushes, bent and gnarled but waving green leaves. A narrow, rutted road arrowed its way through the camp and disappeared around the edge of the massive lake.

  I was utterly enchanted by our new environment… until the mosquitoes found us. They were enough to drive even the most hardened of us indoors. The only other sign of life was a middle-aged man with a kerchief hugging his head. He emerged from the hangar as our party disembarked using the set of narrow, in-built steps. He introduced himself as Arnold Crupps and told us the lodge was open. There were sandwiches in the fridge, and we were welcome to claim any room we liked. We were the only party currently occupying Mahoney Lake, which was a fishing lodge in its heyday, but had been closed for repairs and upgrades.

  “Dump your stuff in a room and meet us in the hangar in twenty minutes,” Ms. Shepherd said to the magi gathered on the tarmac. “Get some food into you and wear your fireproofs.”

  Carrying our duffle bags, Tomio and I followed the rest into the main lodge. We passed a couple of fire pits and a shed with an old riding lawn mower parked beside it. Aluminum boats lay upside down along the nearby beach, their silver bellies reflecting sunlight. A wind chime tinkled from beside the lodge’s door, and wooden masks carved into animal heads had been nailed over the doorways and windows.

  Passing through a huge kitchen with an industrial dishwasher and three side-by-side gas stoves, we entered a large open space with huge windows overlooking the lake. To the left was a living room with furniture that looked vintage sixties. A fireplace and shelves crammed with cracked and faded books kept company with stuffed fish trophies and the head of an enormous caribou. To the right were long tables with benches for communal eating. Red and white checked plastic table covers were pinned down with aluminum clips. Beer bottles containing artificial crocuses gathered dust in the center of each table.

  “Clearly decorated by a man,” said Shereen, pausing briefly to view the dining area before disappearing through another doorway.

  Down this hall were several bedrooms containing single beds with bare mattresses. I chose a room between Tomio and Ryan. Dropping my duffle on the floor, I checked the wardrobe and found clean bedding in plastic wrap , as well as two flattened pillows. I’d worry about making the bed later.

  Rooting through my bag, I pulled out a black fireproof shirt with long sleeves. I tossed it on the bed and went back for a fireproof sports bra and slim fitting pants. My fireproof boots were new from the academy’s shop, a gift from Basil. They were heavy, with thick and chunky soles and zippers running from the instep to mid-calf. I’d never worn such sturdy footwear, even during the games, but Basil had said the terrain was rough. What he hadn’t needed to say was that these boots could withstand twenty-five-hundred degrees worth of heat before the soles softened and the neoprene began to smolder. They were called Fire Stalkers and had been designed by a genius mage from Norway. They were worth a small fortune. Basil had given Tomio, Ryan and me a pair without even flinching, which said as much about what we were up against as it did about his generosity.

  On top of this all-black getup, I pulled a thin fireproof motorcycle-style jacket, and added a black fireproof toque over my low braid. A glance in the mirror confirmed it, I looked like a bank robber.

  I met Tomio and Ryan in the kitchen, also dressed like a couple of thugs, stuffing their faces with tuna and egg salad sandwiches. The kitchen smelled like farts and fish, but we hadn’t eaten since before landing in Yellowknife, and I was starving—and grateful it wasn’t just Wonder bread and peanut butter.

  Gregory, Frederick and Shereen emerged as we were washing down the last of our sandwiches with over-sweetened iced tea. They looked a lot more badass than we did in their fireproof kit. They looked like experienced agents, and we… well, we still looked like senior high school kids. I half expected one of them to tease us, but no one said anything as they started in on the remaining sandwiches.

  Ryan, Tomio and I left by the back door and headed across the yard for the hangar. Immediately we were plagued by clouds of mosquitoes.

  “Damn,” Ryan muttered, slapping at his neck, “mozzies are attracted to black.”

  “Put fire under your skin,” Tomio said, waving a hand in front of his face and blowing the insects away from his lips. “They can’t handle much more than forty-five degrees.”

  As we clomped over the rough dirt with our heavy boots, I drew heat from my core and sent it oozing under my skin like a layer of fat. I watched in mild amazement as the mozzies searching me for blood took off. They didn’t go far, still whining around and hoping for a meal, but they didn’t land anymore. “Clever lad. How did you come up with that genius idea?”

  “I can’t stop fiddling with my fire now that I’m Burned,” Tomio said with a smile as we approached the hangar.

  Voices issued from within.

  We rounded the steel-clad wall to pass through the hangar’s enormous doorway. The smell of grease, oil and dirty metal was strong in the air. Two small bush-planes sat side-by-side with their noses angled for the exit. Across from them were three mystery vehicles covered with tarps. They weren’t tall or big enough to be SUVs or trucks. Other than the one road going through this place (which I’d overheard led to a dump) the only way in and out of this camp was by plane.

  Arnold, Basil, Mehmet and Ms. Shepherd stood around a large square worktable. Basil wore fireproof gear and had replaced his glasses with custom-made heat-resistant contact lenses. From the way the rest of them were dressed, they were not planning on coming along. And why would they? They’d only be a liability out there. I had been curious about Arnold, as he hadn’t shaken anyone’s hand when he introduced himself, but guessed from his grease-stained hands, and dirty plaid jacket and jeans that he wasn’t a mage either, he looked like a mechanic.

  Fred, Greg and Shereen entered the hangar and we gathered around the worktable. Spread out on the table’s surface were a couple of maps and a few devices I hadn’t yet identified.

  “Right.” Ms. Shepherd bent over to smooth the wrinkles out of the map sitting on top. She pointed to various blobs. “Here is Mahoney Lake. Here is the camp. Your target is the epicenter, or Nero, whichever comes first. The epicenter is here.” She swept her finger in a straight line toward the mountain range in the west, stopping where an ’x’ had been scrawled on the map in black marker. “We’ve taken some aerial photos by drone. The terrain is rough. You’ll probably have to stop here”—she pointed at a ridge just east of the epicenter—“and hike in the rest of the way.”

  About a million questions burst into life to flap wildly around in my brain like panicked bats, but no one else had asked any questions, so I held my tongue and waited, trusting that they’d worked out the details as best they could.

  While Ms. Shepherd talked about splitting us into three teams, Arnold crossed to the covered lumps and pulled the tarps away. What lay beneath were amphibious vehicles. Two of them were identical except in color: one red, the other black. They were little more than boat-shaped bowls balanced on eight tires, two-seaters with enough room in the open box for a couple of people and some gear. The third vehicle was like a small tank, complete with a steel track and a bumper running around its perimeter, marking its waterline should it be required to float. This one also had two bucket seats and the same kind of open box in the back. None of the vehicles had roofs or windows.

  “Greg and Fred will drive the Argo Auroras,” Arnold explained as we moved closer to inspect our modes of transport. “And Shereen will operate the Tinger Track. You kids…” he paused and held out a hand. “Sorry, no offense, but you look so bloody young.”

  “None taken,” I said.

  Ms. Shepherd actually clapped her hands twice. “Nice of you to consider their feelings, but a cert
ain mage won’t be so considerate. Can we move this along, please?”

  Arnold complied. “Like I was saying, you kids will each ride with a driver. Basil, it’s probably best to ride with Shereen on the Tinger Track. It will handle the terrain slightly better than the Auroras.”

  Arnold went over the basic capabilities of the vehicles. The Auroras were fast but the Tinger Track topped out at only twenty-two miles per hour. The Auroras were to circle the ridge from the north then park behind it, and the parties would continue to the epicenter on foot. The Tinger Track would arrive after the Auroras, so the plan was for Shereen, Basil and me to make the approach through a narrow strip of valley that Ms. Shepherd described as full of “baby heads”—small, round rocks that would make the going difficult. We would be connected by wireless radio earpieces but if fire started flying, we were to take them off, as the technology didn’t respond well to excessive heat.

  Mehmet looked up from his laptop to add a vital piece of information: “I’ve got a drone with a heat-camera ready to go. I would have circled the area once already but Ms. Shepherd said it was too noisy, didn’t want to alert Nero to our presence.”

  “The moment he hears anything outside of mosquitoes and ducks, he’ll know we’re on to him, so keep our presence under wraps until the last possible moment,” she said. “I’d send you in by helicopter, which would be faster, but the region is too windy for that, and there’s nowhere safe to land. Mehmet will pilot the drone out just ahead of you.”

  “Do we know for sure that Nero is alone?” Greg asked, tapping a finger on his whiskered chin.

  Ms. Shepherd’s lips pressed into a line. “We have no evidence that he has help, but we can’t guarantee that he doesn’t have a partner or partners with him. So be careful out there. As far as we know, Nero is the only mage to have achieved the extraordinary level of power that he’s gained from whatever it is he’s doing, but if there are other mages with him, it’s best to assume they might have leveled up as well.”

  “No,” Ryan said, speaking confidently. “There won’t be any other mages with his abilities. He would never share. If he has help, the best they could be is Burned, but based on what I know of him, he’ll be operating alone.”

  “Why?” Fred pierced Ryan with a calculating, inquisitive look.

  “For just the same reason. Nero is closing in on his finish line. No sane mage would agree to work with him, because in the end they’d be helping Nero stomp out their own fires. He’s either operating alone, which is most likely, or he’s got paid goons, humans, which makes them easy enough to take care of.”

  “Thanks for that, Ryan,” Basil nodded. “Anything else you can think of?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Let’s get this party on the road.”

  7

  Blast Site

  I stepped into the back of the Tinger as Shereen got into the driver’s seat and Basil got in the passenger’s bucket. The engine rumbled and the whole vehicle began to vibrate. She tucked her wireless earpiece into her ear canal, though I wondered if she’d be able to hear much over the Tinger’s growl. Basil grabbed his door handle as we lurched forward with a rocking motion.

  Behind us, the Auroras roared to life. Half a moment later, Tomio and Greg zoomed past us, out the open hangar doorway, followed by Ryan and Fred. The Auroras made the Tinger seem like a caterpillar next to roadrunners.

  Heading straight west for the mountain range in the distance meant passing directly through one corner of the lake. Standing in the back of the Tinger and gripping the roll bar, I watched as Greg piloted the black Aurora straight into the lake. With a spray of mud and a splash that sent ripples across the surface in all directions, the vehicle’s nose dipped, bobbed, then righted itself. The eight black wheels spun, the deeply grooved tread working like paddles. The red Aurora followed suit and the amphibious vehicles buzzed across the lake toward the swampy western shore. Mehmet’s drone buzzed overhead like an oversized hornet, until it flew too high to see or hear.

  The Tinger took to the water like a champ, although I had to hang on to keep from being pitched straight into Basil’s lap. By the time the Tinger righted itself in the water and burbled in the right direction, the Auroras were climbing out the other side. By the time we hit the shoreline, they’d disappeared over a crest and were completely gone from sight. The only clue given that they were still motoring their way to the mountains was the occasional burst of birds winging their way skyward, en route to somewhere less offensive.

  The Auroras left four lines of flattened marsh grasses and mud pressed into the tundra, so Shereen didn’t even need to check our GPS until we hit the foothills. This was where we would head south and the Auroras would continue north, circling the ridge.

  Climbing to the Tinger’s top speed, we left the clouds of mosquitoes and the cluster of buildings that made up the camp behind.

  The morning sun was bright yellow, reflecting in silver puddles as it journeyed above a horizon it never touched all summer. I’d read about the midnight sun of the Arctic and was interested to see what it would be like to have the sun still hanging in the sky at two a.m.

  Shereen pointed to something on a low hill to the north. A herd of caribou, visible as small dark dots against the silver-green Arctic grasses. Basil pointed out a large gray hare as it darted from behind a shrub and zigzagged his way wildly left and right before diving out of view. Finally, some wildlife! But after that there was nothing. I wondered if they steered clear of the effluent on instinct. The immensity of the Arctic wilderness swallowed us up, and even the hum and squish of the Tinger seemed greatly diminished in the vacancy of the tundra.

  With the Auroras tracks as our constant guide, the Tinger rolled over the marshy, uneven ground, the mountains loomed ever closer.

  A sudden movement from Shereen yanked my eyes from the horizon as she touched her earpiece. I had planned to put mine in when we got closer to the ridge, since there was no need to communicate just now, but it appeared someone was talking to her.

  She sent a look at Basil and raised her voice over the Tinger. “Did you get that?”

  The Tinger rolled its way up a steep slope, but as we crested the hill, Shereen slammed on the brakes. If I had still been standing I would have flipped over the roll bar. Seated behind the headmaster as I was, I slammed up against the back of Basil’s seat, my right shoulder jamming painfully as the left side of my neck over stretched.

  Basil and Shereen were out of the Tinger and running across the saturated tundra, their feet churning up mud, before I had even figured out why she’d halted. Mehmet’s drone hummed somewhere overhead. Rubbing my neck, I stood and took in the scene before me, my heart stomping around in my chest like a startled bull.

  The black Aurora lay upside down, its tires spinning. It looked like a dying beetle. The red Aurora had slid to a halt several feet away leaving skid marks lashed through the ground. The wet scars were evidence that there’d been a collision and the vehicle had gone for a wild ride before it had come to rest. The red Aurora’s right front light was smashed and the corner of its body panel cracked and dented.

  Leaping from the Tinger’s box, I landed in three-inch-deep water and almost fell as my boots slid through mud. Righting myself and trying to keep control of my panic, I ran toward the black Aurora, calling Tomio’s name.

  A head appeared just behind the vehicle. He was mud-covered and looked shaken, but alive. Tomio lifted a hand, dripping brown slag. “Saxony, here!”

  Relief rushed through me at the sight of him, making my knees feel weak.

  Basil and Shereen had reached the red Aurora and had already lifted the vehicle to its side. It teetered there for a moment before falling onto its tires with a squeak and a bounce. The sound of it splashing down was accompanied by a masculine cry of distress, though I couldn’t yet see Ryan or Fred, I didn’t think it had sounded like Ryan. I hadn’t yet laid eyes on Greg, either.

  “What happened?” Rounding the black Aurora, I discovered Greg on
his knees in the water, head down. Blood dripped from a cut in his forehead onto the front of his jacket and into his hands. His posture scared me. He was not unconscious, but seemed unaware that he was bleeding. His hands lay palms up and open in his lap in a gesture of surrender, his head drooped like someone in prayer. He was utterly still in what looked like a pose of resignation, or even devastation. Tomio had a hand on Greg’s shoulder, his face in a contraction of pain. Combing him again for injuries, I could see nothing obvious. No broken bones, no blood. Other than being dirty and upset, Tomio looked whole and unharmed.

  “It happened so fast,” Tomio half said, half choked.

  Another cry from the red Aurora pulled my gaze there.

  Shereen knelt in the swamp, blocking our view of Fred. Ryan was holding a towel to his own forehead and wincing, but I was glad to see him on his feet. He was so covered in mud it would have been impossible to tell them apart save for Fred’s bulk. Shereen moved and I could see Fred crouched on his knees and bent at the waist in a version child’s pose, his face so close to the water that the tip of his nose was in it. It was from this hardened agent that the hair-raising cries of distress had come.

  “We’re too late.” Greg’s voice cracked.

  For a second, I was utterly confused, but as Tomio and I made eye contact and his features communicated a horrified understanding, I understood too.

  “Snuffed…” I whispered, unable to vocalize more than that.

  Tomio nodded. I studied him, my mind reeling, wondering if he’d lost his fire, too. He seemed more concerned about Greg and Fred than himself.

  “We were going along just fine,” said Tomio, “then all of a sudden, there was a scream. It was horrible. I was still trying to figured out who’d screamed when the Auroras lurched toward one another, like they were attracted by magnets. We hit. They swerved and must have hit a bump or something, because they bounced like they’d hit a trampoline, and then rolled. It was nuts to watch.” Tomio’s eyes widened further. “Do you know how hard it is to roll these things?”