by Liz Penn
1
The Ishtar Flux
Special acknowledgements to the Writer’s Digest Forum and the many users there with encouragement and criticism in equal measure.
A special thanks to my critique partner and beta reader, Lydia Sharp.
Gaia crept past the carnage, eyes pinned to the distant horizon. Derki raiders had gutted and slain most of the neighboring village, devouring sheep and human carcasses alike. Black domes lay at the edge of the plain, illuminated by the setting sun and wreathed in thick smoke: the tents of the enemy.
“I’m bored,” Ákos drawled.
Gaia flinched at the Ishtar’s voice, and then hissed for silence. He stretched, spine and shoulders rolling sinuously beneath honey-colored skin. “Whatever are you worried about? We’ve been hiding here for hours.”
Gaia clenched her fingers around the yew bow until her knuckles whitened. “Would you be quiet?” she whispered. “The Derki will hear you.”
An Ishtar was distracting enough without arguing with one; their powerful warding disrupted even the simplest elemental.
“This is foolish,” he murmured.
“Ákos, hush.”
His eyes narrowed, but he quieted again.
The Derki advance had encroached on large portions of her homeland Chuain like locusts on a grain field. They had burned, pillaged, and slaughtered village after village. Now, every able-bodied villager in the Plain had risen to the challenge, set to defend themselves against the dark plague. Including the maidens, such as herself, sent out to scout ahead for danger. Even with the noisy Ishtar at her heels.
Her scalp prickled. A chill touched her spine as if the icy breath of winter swept down from the mountains. She whirled, hands clutching at the dagger in her boot. Ákos eyed her with an arched brow, hand in the air. The buzz of expended elementals surrounded him.
“Stop that!”
“What?” Ákos cocked his head in apparent confusion. “I want to hear them.”
“They’ll sense you.”
“A common Derki cannot sense or control the elementals,” he recited, voice bored. “It is not born in their blood, as the Ishtar, nor able to be trained, as the Chuia.”
“I don’t care what your teachers taught you. Some of them are sensitive to it.” Gaia twisted away from him. “Besides, you know nothing about them. I’ve never seen an Ishtar mage in Chuain.
“We prefer the capital city, where we are given the respect we deserve.”
Gaia snorted. “Respect? For what? Letting the Derki roam unhindered while you study us like a curious plant? I think not.”
He scowled and jerked his eyes away. Crossing his arms over his chest, he refused to look at her, lips set in a thin line. Gaia sighed and continued the slow creep toward the Derki camp.
Though all the Ishtar were born with elemental magic inherent in their bones and blood, an Ishtar in Flux was quite another thing to deal with. And one as petulant and helpless as Ákos only made the matter worse.
In the Flux, the Ishtar were irritable and short-tempered, their bodies preparing for a final shape-shifting change that would last until their death.
Gaia winced. She dearly hoped she was far away when he shifted for the final time. She had been told that when he did, the elementals would scream worse than a woman in childbirth.
She returned her attention to the dark tents, biting her lip. Smoke scalded the sky above them and the wind carried the smell of burning flesh even at this distance.
The temptation to turn around and head back the way she had come churned in her belly. The Derki took no prisoners. Or at least, if they were taken, they did not live long. Either from torture for information or a quick trip to a cooking pot. But they needed to know information, numbers and layout, before they could hope to launch a suitable attack.
Her eyes slid to the scowling Ishtar. He was not making things any easier. Why he had to choose the Chuia to observe during his Flux, and then choose her in particular as his main study had to be some cruel punishment of fate.
“Come on, Ákos.”
“I’m. Coming.”
“Quit acting like a child.”
“I am a child.”
She groaned softly, dragging a hand through her cropped hair. “Only because your people measure two years to our one. By our timing, you are twice my age. Could you at least try to act like a warrior?”
“I am not a warrior. I have no interest in this battle, or any other battle, or in the fate of your people. It is the Flux for me, a time of reflection and observation. And you are proving my teachers’ claims.”
Gaia chose not to respond. They crept forward by increments. She stayed low to the ground, belly almost brushing against the waving grass, as if she were a slinking coyote intent on a helpless lamb. Ákos crouched halfway, but he refused to crawl on the ground. Twas not an argument worth fighting with him at the moment.
The wind blew in her face. Clouds tossed and churned in the darkening sky, their undersides speckled gray with the coming rain.
The Ishtar’s words ate at her mind, churning in her stomach. What had he meant by that?
It isn’t important. He had a reason for saying that. So what? I don’t care.
She bit her lip and stopped short. Gaia ducked behind a craggy rock. She stretched her hand, palm down, toward another rock, this one flattened like an anvil. She seized a small thread of the fire element churned up by the sun, taking in the warmth and energy. It coincided with the burning curiosity in her heart. She studied Ákos’ face. “What claims?”
His eyes narrowed. “My teachers wanted me to spend the Flux in the mountains, among the Nyello, but I did not listen.”
She squirmed at the change of subject, but knew better than to interrupt. The last time such had happened, Ákos had refused to speak to her for several turns of the hourglass.
He gave her a stern glare, but she kept her mouth closed. “Snow-dragon, in your heathen tongue,” Ákos continued. “Though they are certainly not beasts of any sort. But instead, I chose to watch the Chuia, fool child that I was, for I might as well have watched savage dogs fight over a scrap of meat on a bone.”
“Heathen…Tethys’ children, how can you possibly…”
His eyes flashed at her interruption and he slouched back, face twisting in displeasure. She would certainly not get him to talk again in the near future.
She threw her hands up. “Fine.” Squirming out of her crouch, she slunk toward the domed tents again. That blasted Ishtar could follow as he pleased, maybe jot down his thoughts when her blood and the blood of her siblings speckled the grass. That way, at least someone would remember what they had done.
< >
By the time the sun’s rim clipped the horizon, Gaia lay hidden in the long grass ringing the Derki camp. The smell rising from the cookfires clogged in her throat, the cloying scent utterly unpleasant. At least Ákos had chosen to remain in his sullen silence, thus making her skulking closer easier than before.
The Derki warriors circled the perimeter of the camp, short spears balanced on their broad shoulders. Each soldier wore leather armor decorated with the fangs and claws of different animals from the plains, and even a few from the distant mountains. Gaia couldn’t help but search for dragon-size claws or teeth. Maybe the Nyello were not as wonderful as Ákos claimed.
Within long, greasy hair bound in a loose tail that brushed the top of their hips, each Derki had entangled bits of beads, carved bone, metal rings, and teeth to illustrate each kill. Some of the oldest and most battle-scarred of the men bore more trophies than hair, stringing a few on the thinning gray strands that clung to their scalp, and winding the rest in torcs about the neck and wrist.
Gaia slid her counting stick from the pouch at her belt. As each
sentry, soldier, or any other battle-worthy Derki passed, she slid one of the beads over the stick’s notch with her thumb. It didn’t take long for that stick to be full. She had just replaced the first one in its pouch, and was slowly pulling the second counting stick free, when Ákos spoke in a quiet undertone.
“Look at that.”
She pause and then twisted to scowl at him. “Hush!”
“I spoke softly,” he said. His mouth curled into a sour frown. “I know how to sneak up on a camp.”
Gaia resisted the urge to smack his face. “Then show it,” she whispered. “Be quiet.”
“I am being quiet. All I want is to—“
Gaia clamped her hand over his mouth. He jerked, eyes flashing with anger. When she didn’t immediately release him, Ákos started to growl, wiggling against her grip.
Panic overwhelmed her. The Derki were sure to hear them if he didn’t stop. Gaia reacted in rhythm with a puff of warm breeze that swept the plains, praying that the waving grass would disguise her motion.
She rolled lithely on top of him and then pulled her knee up. His eyes widened.
Gaia leaned into his face. “I have three brothers,” she whispered. “You are going to say nothing, not even a sigh. Or I will make you wish you had been born a maid.”
Ákos swallowed hard. Gaia smiled. “Do you understand me?”
He nodded. Gaia loosened her hold on his mouth. She glanced at the camp. Her heart pounded faster. The number of sentries had dwindled.
What’s going on? Did they hear us? Her thoughts raced. Surely they’re not trying to flank or surround two measly scouts.
She scowled at Ákos. One scout and one bloody stupid Ishtar. As if reading her thoughts, Ákos flicked her an annoyed glance.
Gaia ignored him. “Keep watch,” she muttered, and stretched facedown against the ground.
If she were to understand anything, she would need to use the elementals. Her abilities were small, especially compared to Ákos, but more subtle. All Chuia tranced for anything more than a glancing touch of the elementals, save mages, and even they needed a place of calm quiet. She just hoped he could manage to keep quiet and still while she was helpless.
Clearing her mind, Gaia focused on the land around her, opening herself to the elementals’ touch. A low breeze swept the grass. The blades danced, delicate tips tapping against her bare arms. The rich scent of sun-warmed earth filled her nose.
The distant whistle of birds, the soft chatter of a squirrel, the creak of a tree bending in the wind, and all the other myriad sounds of the plains faded. She could hear nothing but the slow rhythm of her own heart.
Her sight waned; her sense of smell followed soon after. Satisfied with the depth of her trance, Gaia sent tendrils of water element wandering through the ground. There was no imbalance in the taste and touch of the dirt, nor any pain or struggle from the plants nearby.
There was no need for fire here. The sun’s heat was the only source she could find. Gaia pulled her mind free of the earth’s welcoming embrace and climbed for the sky, using the sun’s touch on a broad tree leaf to aid her.
No smoke or clamor of alarm marred the azure air element. She continued exploring uneasily. If the Derki were neither alarmed, nor warming themselves in their dark tents, then where were they? What could have drawn them away?
Someone shoved against her back, pressing her teeth into the soft dirt. The bitterness of grass coated her tongue. Her mind jerked back to her body. She twisted free and rolled onto her back. The weight returned, pinning her to the ground. The musky smell of sweat and leather swept into her awareness.
A man.
< >
Gaia snapped her eyes open. Sound buzzed in her ears. Her vision cascaded with color, so startling compared to the near-absence of anything within her elemental trance. She blinked, shaking her head, groaning at the mild pain splintering in her skull. As her eyes adjusted, Gaia focused upon her attacker’s outline, long hair flaring around his head like a mane.
A Derki.
She grabbed the man’s shoulders and jerked her knee upward and hard, twisting out of his grip at the grunt of pain and loosening of his fingers.
“It’s me!” Ákos said in a strained voice. “Gods,” he groaned. “Did you have to do that?” He hunched over, face screwed up in pain. “Gods,” he growled once more.
He had shifted while she tranced? Was the Ishtar witless? She had seen but one other Ishtar shift, at a distance, and that had been an event of agony and unmistakable cries. The Derki certainly would have heard him. They would swoop down at any moment.
“Get off me!” Gaia snapped, panic racing like liquid fire in her veins.
“Shh.” He covered her mouth. Though his grip was strong, it was not firm enough to leave bruises. “I think they spotted us.”
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Well certainly. Fool Ishtar.”
Ákos muttered under his breath, and then stiffened, eyes watching something out of her line of sight.
“What are they doing now?” Gaia said.
He pulled his head back. Though his face had morphed into the rough and craggy features of a Derki—replete with dirty, trophy-heavy hair and clan tattoos upon his forehead—his brilliant emerald eyes could never belong to any of those foul creatures.
Ákos tilted his head and glanced back. She saw her own uneasiness reflected in his sour grimace. “Watching us,” he hissed. “Ack—now they’re coming this way.”
“Wha—“
The Ishtar’s kiss stole the words from her throat. Her heart pounded with the sudden surge of anger. Gaia sank her fingernails into his shoulders. We don’t have time for this, this foolishness!
Ákos didn’t budge. With his free hand, he pinned her arms without pulling his mouth from hers.
Gaia bit his lip. Ákos emitted a muffled yelp and jerked his head back. He swiped the back of his hand at his bleeding mouth and scowled at her. She smiled.
“Saucy mare, eh?” A guttural voice said. “Lemme try.”
Gaia stilled. Ákos closed his eyes.
She turned her head slowly. Two Derki sentries stood within a spear’s throw. One grinned and gave her a leering wink. She resisted the urge to gag.
Gaia stumbled to her feet. The Derki smirked at her and walked toward them. Panic fluttered like a captive moth against her rib cage. She grabbed the Ishtar’s arm. When his eyes opened and his attention shifted to her face, Gaia mouthed, “Run.”
Ákos shook his head, frowning. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and the other around her waist. They started to back away slowly. She wiggled in his grasp, but he held her fast.
The sentries scowled at him. “Can’t ya share?” the first one said, raking fingers through ragged, white-tipped hair.
The other shrugged and shoved his partner roughly. “Ah, there’s plenty more in the camp.”
Gaia gawked. More? There were prisoners still alive? How? Why? More importantly, for how long?
Ákos tensed as the sentries squinted at him again, scowling. And then relaxed when they turned away. She felt his sigh brush the back of her head. Neither of them moved.
When the sentries had returned to the camp boundaries and ducked beneath the tent flaps, Ákos continued to back away, and only after they were out of sight of anyone from the camp did he release his hold on her. Gaia brushed at her sleeve and scowled at him. “Don’t you ever—“
His eyes grew unfocused and he muttered something in his native tonuge. Or at least, she guessed the softly accented gibberish was the Ishtar words. She had no time to question, since he turned on his heels and darted for a clump of trees.
“No—wait!”
But the Ishtar had already vanished into the dappled shadow of an oak tree grove. Gaia jogged after him, cursing all the while. “You bloody coward! What about those prisoners? We can’t just leave them there.”
She shoved the branches aside. The air was markedly cooler beneath the shade of broad leaves. Ákos sat on the ground,
leaning back against a thick trunk. He shuddered as if soaked to the skin in the midst of winter’s chill. His eyes widened at the sight of her. “Go away.”
Gaia frowned and planted her hands on her hips. “You’re not that frightened, are you?”
The elementals howled. She pressed her hands to her ears reflexively. It didn’t help. The sound was more sensed than heard. Compared to the shriek of elementals, the Ishtar’s moan was a soft whisper. Gaia could only stand there and gawk as he shifted in front of her.
His skin lightened. Bone popped with a sickening snap. Skin stretched and changed, refitting itself to the new angles of his face. The craggy lines of a Derki gave way to the aquiline features of the Ishtar.
