Treasure of the Fire Kingdom (The Elemental Phases Book 4) (7 page)

Kingu’s
eyes finally got her attention to his face.  Hot, and hard, and as beautiful as
red flames they’d burned straight through her.  He wasn’t a Phase.  Truthfully,
she had no clue what he was, but his harsh features had transfixed her.

He
wasn’t handsome.  But then, warriors didn’t have to be, did they?   The granite
set of his jaw was somehow mesmerizing in its brutal lines, his black hair
hitting his wide shoulders.  The cruel, feral angles of his face reminded her
of a dragon or a minotaur.  Something dangerous and wild.  Someone the smaller
beings scarified their helpless virgins to rather than risk his wrath.

Speaking
as a helpless virgin, Hope would absolutely enter Kingu’s labyrinth and take
her chances on being devoured.  He was spectacular.

Even
in a stunningly elegant business suit, he’d looked… out of time.  As if he was
some prehistoric creature dropped in a modern world.  He was like the more
primal, fierce version of the people around him.  If he’d wanted to, he could
have fought anybody and won.  Hope knew it and it had every honorary Fire Phase
gene in her body standing up and taking notice.

Kingu
claimed to be a god.  Maybe he was.  Hope felt the ancient power he held.  The
focused endurance of it.  She could buy the explanation that he was some kind
of primeval deity.  Semantics didn’t really matter, though, because whatever
else Kingu was, he was
definitely
a monster.

That
was very encouraging.

Hope
still didn’t believe she had a Match, but she had absolute faith in Oberon. 
He’d said to be on the lookout for a monster and she’d found one.  It was a
promising coincidence, by any standards.  Granted, Kingu didn’t seem overcome
with tender feelings for her, but he
had
been soaking in acid the last
time they met.  He might be a little more pleasant when they were both on solid
ground.

She
needed to see him, again, so she could understand what was happening.  The
sooner the better.  Fire Phases, even when they were pretending to be Color
Phases, were not great at patience.

“Galen
doesn’t mean a romantic kind of Match.”  Zakkery informed her before Hope could
say anything else.  “He’s talking about a death match.”

She
stared at him blankly.  “A what match?”

“They
feed prisoners to gladiators around here.”  Zakkery lifted a shoulder in a
“what can you do?” shrug.  “Cuts way down on recidivism.”

“Gladiators?”  
Hope’s mind raced.  No.  Those kind of blood sports had been outlawed in nearly
every kingdom centuries before.  “You expect me to fight in a
gladiator
match?
”

“Oh,
I don’t think anybody’s expecting much of a fight, honey.”  Zakkery assured
her.

“You
will die in the ring.”  Galen added as if she still might not be clear.  “The
battle begins in half an hour.  Whatever secrets you keep mean nothing, just
you and your Council allies mean nothing.  Job will never beat me.  This time
I
will win!”  Turning on heel, he marched out of the prison.

“Oh
dear.”  Hope looked up at Zakkery who was focused on his Union Jack patterned
sneakers, apparently lost in thought.  “I have to get out of here.  For your
own good, you need to
let
me out.  You have no idea what my family will
do to you if I’m thrown to the lions.”

“Yeah,
I’m more worried about Galen’s men, than your fearsome Color House buddies.” 
Zakkery muttered distractedly.  “Listen, nothing can stop the fight, but
there’s still hope here.”

“I
am
Hope.”  She snapped.  “And I don’t really see any.”

All
the Fire Phases were marched out into practice fields, day after day, to drill
on battle maneuvers.  But, in all her years of mock battle, Hope had never won
a fight.  Not even against the sawdust dummies.  This was going to be a
disaster.

She
flopped down on the cell’s single cot and sighed.

Maybe
she could at least last one or two rounds.  That wouldn’t embarrass her family
too
badly.  If she died right away, they’d be so disappointed.

“What
are you talking about?”  Zakkery asked blankly.  “You
are
hope?  What
does that mean?”

She
ran a hand through her hair and spared him an annoyed look.  “For goodness
sake, it means
I’m Hope
, obviously.  My name is Hope, of the Fi…
Color
House.”

Zakkery
froze.  “Your name is
Hope?
”  He repeated.  She could see his mind
racing.  “Were you were named that because you
brought
hope to someone?”

“I
don’t know.  It’s just my name.”  She’d never been called anything else.

“Hope”
wasn’t a Fire House name, but when Frankie found her, there had been a silver
medallion bearing the word tucked into her baby blanket.  Shaped like a star,
it had a diamond at each of the points and her name in the center.  Oberon had
attached the charm to her bracelet years before and she instinctively looked
down at it.  Sure enough “Hope” was spelled out in the formal form of
Elemental, the engraving an elaborate series of lines and swirls.

Zakkery
grinned at her in diabolical delight.  “Ya know what?  This is my lucky day.”

“That
makes one of us.”

“Well,
your fortunes are about to change.”  He leaned forward intently.  “Okay look,
odds are layin’ a hundred to one against you and they haven’t even seen your
shoes, yet.”

Hope
glanced at her sequined sneakers and frowned defensively.  “You people are
betting on my execution?”

“Don’t
take it personally.  We bet on all the fights.  We don’t get alotta TV here. 
My point is, you’re not gonna win without some help.”

Hope’s
eyes narrowed.  She’d been thinking that, too, but hearing him say it just
annoyed her.  “I’m not entirely helpless, you know.  I’ve had some training
with a sword.”

Frankie,
of the Heat House was the best swordsman in the realm and he oversaw every step
of the Fire Phase’s rigorous weapons instruction.  He taught all the greatest
warriors, but he always took special care to ensure that the Fire and Heat
Houses would be difficult to kill.  They were his family.  Frankie and Oberon
made sure Hope got an exemplary military education.

She
just didn’t know quite what to do with it.

“Yeah,
you look like a real killer.  The point is, I think maybe Kingu might help
you.”  Zakkery concentrated on dropping his cigarette to the ground and
crushing it out with his sneaker.  “I mean, I
know
he’s not someone a
girl…”

“Really?” 
Hope’s mood soared.  “Do you think he’ll be at this fight thingie?”

Wow,
even more reason she’d have to do well.  Super powerful gods would probably not
have a lot of respect for weakness.  He’d never agree to talk to her if she
died.

Zakkery
gave her a mystified squint.  “Uh… You get that Kingu’s the… ya know,” he held
a palm up waaaay over his head, “big guy with the… um…” he hesitated, “face
issues, right?”

“The
monster.”  Hope nodded.  “Yes, I know.  Do you think he’ll be there?”

“Maybe.” 
Zakkery allowed warily, like he suddenly suspected she was crazy and he was
stalling for a psych evaluation to come back.

Hope
ignored his attitude.  “Does Kingu have a Match?”

“Not
yet.  According to him, he’s a god.  They don’t have anything as lowly as
Match.”  The tone was dry as the Heat Kingdom’s desert.

“Really?” 
This just got better and better.  “Do you think if I beat the Spartacus
wannabes this afternoon, you could get Kingu to meet with me?  I’d like to
speak to him.”

“I
think that would be a
great
idea.”  Zakkery agreed earnestly.  “Just
stay alive as long as you can and I’ll do the rest.”  He studied her for a beat
and then snorted.  “Unbelievable.”  He gave his head a slight shake.  “You
really don’t scare easy, do ya?”

“No.” 
Actually
yes
, but Hope tried very hard not to show it.  That was another
fundamental lesson of being a Fire Phase.

Rule
number twenty-two:  When you’re frightened, just hit harder.

“Good. 
Remember that and you’ll be fine.”  Smoke colored eyes burned into hers.  “You
aren’t going to die today.”  He sounded positive about that.  “Just… try not to
look too pretty.”

The most
alluring clouds that mount the sky

Owe to a
troubled element their forms, their hues to sunset

William
Wordsworth- sonnet

“She’s
too pretty.”  It was an accusation.  “We both know that.  This entire exercise
is a waste of time.”

Kingu
had no idea why he’d agreed to this insanity.  Zakkery had showed up at the
fortress, insisting that Kingu watch the irrelevant, bungling assassin’s
execution.  And for some reason Kingu didn’t understand, he’d agreed to come
along.  It was unacceptable.  Especially, since the moron seemed convinced that
this condemned girl was the woman Kingu had been searching for.  Kingu could
tell from Zakkery’s incessant babbling about the woman’s charms.

He
was automatically predisposed to reject this girl, just because Zakkery was
pushing for her so hard.  Not to mention the fact she was some unidentified
species of lower being, dressed like lunatic who’d robbed a thrift shop, and
had undoubtedly come to the Cloudland to kill him.

And
she knew he was a monster.

Kingu
scowled down at the arena floor.  He hated these boring fights.  Watching
creatures squander their finite lives somehow depressed him.  This arena had
once been an outdoor theater, but it was now retrofitted to look like something
out of ancient Rome.  The tacky gold columns gave Kingu a headache.

He
was in a bad mood.  Worse than usual, even.  He had been since the Banished
Phases took the woman away.  That wasn’t the
reason
for his aggravation,
of course.  Kingu would never accept that.  No, he just disliked interaction
with imbeciles.

Gods,
he couldn’t wait until he could get out of this ant farm.

Below
him, the woman awaited her fate.  Standing in the center of the arena, she
turned in a slow circle.  A wide plastic cuff encircled her ankle, to keep her
from jumping.  Very few Phases were strong enough to jump with that much
plastic on them, so it chained her to the Cloudland.

The
weight of her massive steel blade dragged along in the dirt.  Phases chanted
from the stadium around her, screaming and stomping their feet in
anticipation.  Even with forty feet separating them, Kingu could read the glazed
panic on her soft face.  The utter incomprehension that this type of
viciousness existed in the universe.

Kingu
crossed his arms over his chest.

Shit.

“She’s
kinda
pretty, yeah.  But, not
too
pretty.”  Zakkery stipulated
swiftly.  “And I found out what she is, like you asked.  She’s a nice, normal
Phase.”

Kingu
scowled.  He’d secretly been hoping for another species.  Elementals were so…
ordinary.

“She’s
a Color Phase.”  Zakkery continued.  “She has a birth defect and doesn’t have
any powers, though.”

Kingu’s
frown deepened.  “Why did she attack me, if she has no powers?”  Was she
suicidal or just stupid?

“I
don’t think she
meant
to attack you.  She says it was an accident.”

Kingu
grunted, not convinced.

“The
woman is a really good catch for your girlfriend hunt.”  Zakkery pressed. 
“Think about that list you gave me.  She isn’t brainless, her voice isn’t
shrill…”

Kingu
cut him off.  “She isn’t plain, though, is she?  Or quiet.”  Massive
understatements on both counts.

“No,
but she’s got the body you were looking for.”  Zakkery smirked.  “Not too thin,
in all the right places.”

Bastard.

Kingu
seriously considered ripping out both of Zakkery’s eyes, simply to stop the
Phase from looking at her.  The fact that Zakkery would no doubt see it as a
psychological victory kept him still.  “She’s not uncomplicated, as I asked,
either.”

“No,
but she’s sure not boring.  Trust me.  I talked to her for a while.  She’s got
something… rare.”

He’d
spoken to her for
a while?

Kingu
didn’t like that.  Didn’t like the reluctant admiration in Zakkery’s tone when
he spoke of the woman.  He firmed his jaw and he cut to the bottom line. 
“She’s blonde.”

The
moonbeam color was very different from Kay’s brassy curls, though.  That was
something
,
he supposed.  It bounced around the woman’s head in a messy, frizzy ponytail
that his mother
never
would have worn, even while engaging in a blood
sport.

Through
the clouds, the afternoon light shone briefly, reflecting off the plastic polka
dot headband she wore.  The unwelcomed sensation of lust returned as Kingu
watched the golden strands dance around her sweetheart face.  In this world of
blood and sand, she was so… decorative.  Small and curvy.

But
then, why wouldn’t she be?

Kingu
gave his head a shake.  She’d never had to fight for survival or food.  Never
been chained to a wall and tortured.  She wouldn’t know how to defend herself,
because someone else had obviously done all the work to keep her alive.  She
was useless.  Bred for a life so completely outside his experience that Kingu
couldn’t even imagine how she’s survived this long in the world.

For
millennia, his existence had been a relentlessly, utilitarian loop of
servitude.  Meanwhile, this woman probably spent her days picnicking in fields
of flowers and painting her toenails cotton candy pink.  She belonged someplace
full of poetry and carousels.  Some place free of gods and monsters.  Someplace
that Kingu would never be welcome.

She
wouldn’t do.

Not
at all.

She
wasn’t beautiful in the obvious, overblown way of the women Zakkery had brought
to him, but she was somehow even worse in her colorful, petite foreignness. 
Clean and fresh and… sparkly.

And
so damn pretty he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“She
isn’t the one.”  He infused his tone with absolute certainty, even as his powers
whispered something very different.

Zakkery
swore.  “Just give her a chance.”

“Ladeeeees
and Gen-tel-men!  We have an exciting event scheduled for all of you to
daaaaay!
” 
Over the loud speaker, the announcer’s voice radiated enthusiasm and a hell a
lot of reverb.  “For the first time ever, a human has attempted to infiltrate
our home and attack our worthy collective.  Now, for your viewing pleasure, she
will pay the ultimate price for her pitiful simian t-
reach
-ery!”

Loud,
enthusiastic booing ensued at the word “human,” nearly drowning out the rest of
the words.  They weren’t a popular species.  Of course, maybe they
would
be if more of them looked like her.  With her crazy rainbow clothes and
cherubic features, the woman was… appealing.

Too
appealing.

His
eyes kept traveling back to the pale mass of curls, sort of intrigued by its
utter lack of style.  Zakkery’s sales pitch must have been getting to him,
because it occurred to Kingu that a woman who wore her hair like that, who
chose clothes of such obscenely clashing colors and patterns, couldn’t be all
that interested in her appearance.  Maybe, eventually, she wouldn’t be all that
interested in
his
, either.

It
was a stupid, hopeless thought.

Kingu
was staring fixedly at her rosebud mouth during the announcer’s rant, so he saw
it fall open as if she was shocked by something.  The woman’s head whipped
around, finding Zakkery by the edge of the box’s railing.

Kingu
couldn’t hear her over the noise, but it was easy enough to read her lips and
her outraged expression.  “Would you tell them I’m not human, please?  And you
said you had some kind of idea, so anytime you wanna ask him to do something…”

She
stopped short when Zakkery gave his head an almost imperceptible shake.  Not a
denial, but a sharp “shut-up” sort of gesture like he was afraid of what she
might say.

What
was
that
about?  Ask who to do what?  Kingu’s eyes narrowed, staying in
the shadows so the woman couldn’t see him.  Why the hell was Zakkery so
interested in Snow White?  Was she part of his rotating harem?

A
slow burn started in his gut at the idea of the Smoke Phase touching this
woman.

“This
vile and deceitful bitch has been working with Job and the Council, trying to
infiltrate our home.”  The echoing voice spewed out propaganda like this every
day, but the venom being hurled at the woman seemed especially harsh.  She’d
definitely pissed Galen off.  “Her only desire was to bring us down, with her
base humanity and cunning.  But her low seductions were pitifully easy for
Enforcer Galen to see through and he has rightfully decreed that she will pay
the ultimate price for her heinous crimes against our people.”

Blonde
eyebrows soared.  “That’s not true.  Me being here was a total accident!  I
swear, I just have bad luck!”

Everyone
ignored that.

The
announcer was reaching his crescendo.  “She’s about to learn that no one
threatens the safety of our new homeland!  No one challenges our authority! 
Now, she’ll regret the day her chimp of a mother birthed her into the world. 
Now, she will face Richter, Jom, Ghames, Vessar, and…
Lycus!
”

The
crowd roared its approval at the final name.

Kingu
couldn’t imagine why.  He’d met Lycus.  The man was an asshole.

Zakkery
let out an aggravated breath and looked back at Kingu, continuing his pro crazy
woman spiel.  “I know the hair’s wrong, but look at her clothes.  You
know
someone who dresses like that is gonna be interesting to talk to.  And she’s
not breakable.  She’s in a fucking death match, right now.”

“She
hasn’t won it, though.”

“Well,
she hasn’t lost it, either.

“Yet.”

It
was only a matter of time before she fell.  The woman wouldn’t survive.  The
plastic manacles prevented most Elementals from using their powers offensively
in these fights, so it wasn’t even her lack of energy that would doom her.  It
was so much simpler than that.  She was just too small to stand up to these
men.  Too fragile.  Even puny beings like the Phases would be able to strike
her down.

And
yet, Kingu’s crimson eyes stayed fixed on the woman.

Richter
and Jom, of the Energy House entered the ring, condescending smirks on their
faces.  The brothers were both huge men with crew cuts and loincloths.  Richter
carried a mace.  Jom had a five foot long sword.  They towered over the woman,
their unnaturally muscled bodies dwarfing hers as they waved up at the cheering
crowd.

The
girl looked paler than ever.

Against
his will, Kingu stepped closer to the railing. He watched the two men stalk
towards her and willed her to move.  To take a defensive position.  To stop
Richter and Jom from surrounding her.

To
at least
raise the fucking sword.

Apparently
the woman was immune to psychic prodding and common sense because she stood
there frozen while they toyed with her.

The
gladiators were clearly enjoying this, relishing her obvious fear and playing
to the crowd.  Jom sliced his sword at her, deliberately missing her skin, but
cutting into the sleeve of her tie-dyed sweater.  She jerked to the side,
narrowly missing a swing of Richter’s mace designed to crush every bone on her
arm.

Both
men chortled in amusement as she scampered backwards, instead of attacking. 
Maybe retreat
was
her best option at this point, given her utter lack of
skill.  Maybe she could just run from them until they got tired and took a
fucking nap or something.

Except,
somehow during her hasty withdraw, the girl tripped over the untied shoelace of
her sequined tennis shoe and stumbled to the ground.   She hit the dirt on her
side, the sword sailing from her hand, blonde hair coming free of its ponytail
and trailing in the sand.

Kingu’s
jaw tightened, some emotion filling him.  He couldn’t exactly identify it,
except it was trying to get him to move to her aid.  He had no idea why.  What
was one less Phase in the world?

“You
see?”  He said flatly.  “I told you she would die.”

Zakkery
cringed, his forehead coming forward to bang against the railing.

It
seemed, in less than twenty seconds, the battle was over.  The crowd screamed
with laughter.  Richter and Jom moved to loom over her prone body.

The
woman raised her head and shook back the golden curls, either oblivious to her
certain death or else insane.  She wasn’t screaming for mercy or praying to
Gaia in her final moments…

Instead,
she was swearing.

Kingu
still couldn’t hear her, but –crazily-- he saw her mouthing some of the most
creative, X-rated cursing ever uttered.  Usually, only warriors and chefs had
that kind of talent.  His eyebrows soared in stupefaction.

Jom
and Richter hesitated like the stream of oaths surprised them, too.  The crowd
grew quieter.  Not even the gladiators used language that florid and they swore
the air blue.  Who
was
this girl?