Freeing Suzaku

By Morgan J. Manns

Alaric and I had fled west, narrowly escaping the assassins from our world. After a month with no further attempts on our lives, I began to breathe easier and embraced Earth’s comforts—even settling into a routine. My brother, on the other hand, stayed vigilant. He didn’t believe that the assassins had given up.

Unfortunately, he was right. I should have known better than to assume we were safe. As the heirs to the Golden Throne, danger was forever our shadow, driven by those bent on ending our family line.

***

Alaric tossed the newspaper onto the table, narrowly missing the copper teapot. “Another one, Isolde,” he muttered, sinking into a cushion across from me.

The toll of being away from our world weighed heavily on my brother. I could see it in his red-rimmed eyes. He wasn’t sleeping, always searching for the next threat.

Placing my teacup down, I picked up the newspaper. The picture drew my attention—a mountainside engulfed in flames; another village destroyed. Daily forest fires plagued the region. I shifted uneasily, knowing what my brother must be thinking.

The tea house was empty. Fortunately, the elderly Japanese lady who owned the place was occupied elsewhere, and we could speak freely.

“Alaric, this isn’t the work of the assassins.” I poured him a cup of tea. “Forest fires during the human warm season are often caused by lightning strikes or careless campers.”

He grunted, obviously not convinced.

Songbirds trilled in the distance and an idea sparked. “Perhaps when the fires dissipate, we could try camping as the humans do. It would be fun!”

Relaxing in nature might take his mind off the assassins. Plus, camping—an intriguing human pastime—fascinated me. I’d always wished to try it.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Come on.” I leaned forward. “Just us, a canvas tent, backpacks, and—”

“You’re growing too fond of humans and their idle pastimes,” he said, crossing his arms. “The Golden Heirs don’t camp.”

His accusation stung. “We’re more alike than not,” I argued, heat rising to my face. They felt like kin, even if our worlds held vast differences.

He grunted again, turning his teacup.

I sighed, declaring a truce. “Fine. We can investigate the fires. If one of the assassins’ creatures is causing them, we’ll destroy it like the others.”

“You cannot kill Suzaku,” came a voice from behind.

Startled, I turned to see the Japanese woman standing there, another pot of tea in hand.

“Suzaku must be saved,” she declared, pointing to a woven tapestry on the wall depicting a majestic bird with flaming red wings. “Someone has corrupted her.”

I gaped, not knowing how to respond.

According to the books I’d read about Earth’s creatures, Suzaku was often mistaken for a phoenix though she was entirely different. As the guardian of the South, the legends agree that she was the embodiment of fire—a protector of earth. If it were this crimson bird setting these fires, we couldn’t kill her.

Setting the teapot down, the woman turned away, leaving us once more.

Alaric straightened. “I’ll gather the supplies.”

Apparently, when there was work to do, camping wasn’t beneath us after all.

***

I awoke to smoke billowing around me. I reached across the tent. “Alaric!” I coughed, shaking him from his slumber. “Fire! There’s—”

He jolted upright, intertwining his fingers. A transparent shield materialized around us, and the air became breathable again.

Remaining within the protective dome, I opened the tent flap and peered outside. Unnaturally fast flames licked across the ground, consuming everything in their path. In moments, we were surrounded. The shield flickered, barely holding up to the inferno.

“There’s magic at work here.” I inched my consciousness outward. “The fire is being forced forward by another mind.”

Alaric stayed silent, likely focusing his shield.

“If it’s Suzaku,” I shouted, “she’s out of control!”

The fire raged across the mountainside. Purposeful. Angry. It swept through the forest like it had a vendetta.

Suddenly, a massive shadow soared overhead, its triumphant screech echoing through the night.

Suzaku.

The flames around our tent surged, but Alaric’s shield held.

“Do something,” he growled through clenched teeth.

His urgency propelled me into action.

Closing my eyes, I let my consciousness ride the flames back to its source. I had to see if the assassins were behind this.

The bird’s earthly aura gleamed like the sun. I sped toward it, instinct driving me.

Amid the glow, something dark and twisted snaked in and out of the bird’s consciousness like a worm. I crept closer.

Like lightning, the black creature jumped from the bird, diving toward me. I threw my mental shield up, cringing as it latched to my avatar. It had hundreds of eyes along its body, yellow and terrifying.

Instinctively, my mental wall closed on the creature like a book, obliterating it into flakes of dust.

Suzaku emerged over the treetops, feathers aflame as she regarded us below. A golden flutter from the magnificent bird’s aura brushed against my own. It felt like an acknowledgment of thanks.

Alaric’s voice echoed somewhere distant. Opening my eyes, my consciousness slid back into my body. Fatigue rocked me, but the smell of smoke brought me to the present.

“It’s leaving,” my brother said, his chest heaving from effort. “Heading south.”

I exhaled and looked around. The forest was charred black, except for a small circle around our tent. The bird was gone, along with its flames.

“A mind-worm was controlling Suzaku,” I said, panting. “I destroyed it.”

The mind-worm was undoubtedly the assassins’ doing, an attempt to make Suzaku unleash destruction, draw us in, and kill us. The thought was unsettling. Infecting innocent creatures of Earth was a new kind of low.

“We were fortunate,” Alaric said. “This time.”

I nodded grimly.

The silence stretched.

“At least we can continue our camping trip.” I gestured to our camping supplies, still in pristine condition, and grinned.

Alaric groaned and rolled his eyes. “Perhaps my shield was too effective.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Morgan J. Manns is a speculative fiction writer who firmly believes that the world needs more stories filled with magic and wonder. Captivated by the realm of intricate world-building since composing her first fantasy tale at the age of ten, she now ventures beneath the endless Canadian prairie sky with her supportive husband and two hobbit children, all while eagerly contemplating her next literary creation. While her current occupation is that of an elementary school teacher, her dream job will always be dragon rider, soaring through the skies of her imaginings.

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