Trapped

the spastic full-body twitch. It was more of an uncomfortable shudder that I felt through my tattoos, like when you step barefoot into the garage in winter and your nipples pucker up. But, as with those nervous muscle spasms, I got irritated about it and wondered what the hell was going on. And while I wasn’t about to go to sleep, I was about to enjoy the culmination of twelve years of training an apprentice—and, save for the first few months of it and a harrowing episode halfway through, I’d conducted it all in peace. Granuaile was finally ready to become a full Druid, and we’d been searching for a place to bind her to the earth when I felt the tremor. I shot a question to the elemental, Kaibab, in the cocktail of feelings and images they use instead of language: //Confusion / Query: What was that?//
    //Confusion / Uncertainty / Fear// came the reply. That chilled me. I’d never heard confusion from an elemental before. The fear, on the other hand, was perfectly normal: Despite their awesome power, elementals are afraid of almost everything, from placer mines to land developers to bark beetles. They can be real scaredy-cats sometimes. But they’re never uncertain about what’s going on with Gaia. Stopping in my tracks and causing Granuaile and Oberon to turn and look at me quizzically, I asked Kaibab what there was to fear.
    //Plane across ocean / Early death / Burning / Burning / Burning//
    Well, that confused me too. Kaibab wasn’t talking about an airplane. He (or she, if Granuaile had been the one talking to the elemental) meant an entire plane of existence, a plane that was tied to earth somewhere on the other side of the globe. //Query: Which plane?//
    //Name unknown / God from plane seeks you / Urgent / Query: Tell him location?//
    //Query: Which god?//
    The answer to that would tell me what plane was burning. There was a pause, during which time I stalled with Granuaile and Oberon. » Something’s up with Kaibab. Hold on. « They knew better than to interrupt, and they took this news as an invitation to be on their guard, which was wise. Anything worrisome to the avatar of the environment you currently occupy should rouse you to a caffeinated state of paranoia.
    //God’s name: Perun// Kaibab finally said.
    Almost unconsciously, I sent //Shock// in reply, because it was truly my reaction. The Slavic plane of existence was burning, perhaps even dead? How? Why? I hoped Perun would have the answers. If he sought me in hopes that I had them, we’d both be disappointed. //Yes / Tell Perun location//
    I’d also like to know how Perun even knew to ask for me—did someone tell him I’d faked my death twelve years ago? There was another pause, during which I filled in Granuaile and Oberon. Thanks to Immortali-Tea, they hadn’t aged any more than I had.
    › Hey, isn’t Perun that hairy guy you told me about, who can turn into an eagle? ‹ Oberon asked.
    Yep, that’s the one .
    › I’ve always wondered why he doesn’t shill for shaving cream or razors with twenty-five ultrathin vibrating blades. He’d sure move a buttload of product. ‹
    I don’t know why, but perhaps you’ll get a chance to ask him .
    //He comes// Kaibab said. //Fast//
    » Okay, incoming, « I said out loud.
    » Incoming what, Atticus? « Granuaile asked.
    » Incoming thunder god. We should move near a tree and get ready to shift away to Tír na nÓg if necessary. And get the fulgurites out. « Fulgurites would protect us from lightning strikes; Perun had given them to us when Granuaile was just starting her training, but we hadn’t worn them for years, since all the thunder gods thought I was dead.
    » You think Perun is going to take a shot at us? « Granuaile asked. She shrugged off her red backpack and unzipped the pouch containing the fulgurites.
    » Well, no, but … maybe. I don’t know what’s going on, really. When in doubt, know your way out, I always say. «
    » I thought you always said, ‘When in doubt, blame the dark elves.’ «
    » Well, yeah, that too. «
    › I don’t think those are very practical solutions to doubt, ‹ Oberon said. › They don’t leave you feeling satisfied. » When in doubt, eat your neighbor’s lunch « is better, because then you would at least be full. ‹
    We stood in a meadow of bunch grass and clover. The sky washed us in cerulean blue, and the sun kissed Granuaile’s red hair with gold—mine too, I suppose. We had stopped dyeing our hair black because no one was