Demon Beast (Path of the Thunderbird Book 3)

by eden Hudson

  Raijin understood that there was no true separation between himself and the guai-ray, that one did not take over or step aside for the other. He had gained some of Zhuan’s abilities from consuming her core stone, but he hadn’t absorbed her spirit or created an entirely new demon creature within himself. He was only doing what had to be done to get out of this place and back to Koida. Still, he couldn’t help but think of the killer as something separate from himself.

  His bloodstained Ro, however, clearly saw no difference.

  He thought back to the death dream. They seemed to be memories of his immortal past, but in his waking moments, he felt less like the Thunderer and more like Ha-Koi. Perhaps he had always been waiting to give in to the demon beast, and Misuru imprisoning him had only been an excuse to finally do so.

  An akane signature appeared at the far reaches of the guai-ray’s senses. Just ahead, Raijin could feel the approaching mouth of the narrow passage.

  Unconsciously, he hunched his shoulders and raised his hands, fingers curled like claws ready to rip flesh. Tension coiled in the pit of his stomach, bright and cold, and the blood in his veins seemed to thicken with every thrum of his heart.

  Silently, the tunnel akane crept down the tunnel toward him on two legs. The signature was as large as that of a muscular man, but the guai-ray sensed a flabbiness, a lobe of hanging fat swaying with every step. Raijin had felt this fleshy apron on the other akane, protecting their vital organs.

  A flash of a previous battle came back to him: throwing aside the swinging jowl of one of the pack hunters and ripping open its exposed throat with his teeth.

  Rather than distance itself from the memory in disgust, the guai-ray savored it as proof of his superior intelligence and fearlessness. As far as it was concerned, his rightful place was as the ruler of these sneaking, craven beasts.

  The akane froze in place when it rounded the corner and spotted Raijin. Perhaps it was afraid he had seen it.

  With what? The thought drew a bark of laughter from Raijin, the sound making the akane flinch.

  A dry, airy rasp like hundreds of voices trying to whisper over one another echoed down the tunnel. The sound made the hair down the back of Raijin’s neck stand on end.

  The akane in front of him let out a string of hissing whispers. The ghost of a memory stirred in his mind. He had heard that before.

  It was calling to its pack.

  “They can’t get here in time to save you,” Raijin said.

  He streaked toward the creature. It leapt at him, claws swinging. Raijin crashed into the akane, heedless of its blows. The creature staggered backward, slamming into the wall of the tunnel. Dirt rained down on them.

  The whispering grew louder, flooding the tunnel and battering Raijin’s skull like an endless thunderclap. Approaching akane, large and small, lit up the guai-ray senses as they sprinted into range.

  With his head, Raijin battered the flat face of the akane that had attacked him. Its claws scrabbled over him, scratching, grabbing, trying to throw him off, but Raijin dug his fingers into the flabby lobe hanging over the creature’s throat and chest. A heart throbbed in there beneath that fat, and a life force swirled frantically in the void space around it.

  The guai-ray was going to tear the creature open and take both.

  The first wave of akane slammed into them. More dirt rained down from above, and several of Raijin’s ribs cracked as he and the first akane were crushed against the tunnel wall. He continued to dig at the first akane’s fleshy flap, trying to pull it aside. The creature seemed to have been knocked unconscious in the impact, so its heart should have been easier to get to, but the churning crush of the horde and the searing sting of their needlelike teeth digging into Raijin’s shoulders and back made moving almost impossible.

  The second wave of akane buried Raijin. There was no air to breathe in the press of flesh, no room to fight.

  The guai-ray roared in fury and frustration. Electricity crackled, shooting out of his heartcenter with a boom of thunder and exploding from him in every direction.

  The battered tunnel wall collapsed, crushing Raijin and the swarm of akane beneath endless tons of dirt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MORTAL LANDS

  Much later, when the barely clouded sky had turned to flame and violets, Koida finally found a moment’s time between tasks to rest. She dropped into a heap on the deck and leaned against the gunwale. For several long minutes, she did nothing but stare at the brilliant sunset over the seemingly infinite stretch of sea. All of the finest silks, vibrant paintings, and sparkling jewels in the Sun Palace looked drab and boring compared to the oranges, magentas, purples, and indigos of the evening at sea.

  With the constant soothing rocking of the ship, it would be all too easy to drift off to sleep, but Rila had ordered her to report back to Cook when supper was finished. “Something about getting an early start on tomorrow’s turnips,” the hairless woman had said.

  Was this endless drudgery normal for a commoner? Had her father’s servants been worked so ruthlessly? Koida had taken them all for granted, thinking of them little more than she did the furniture or statuary around the Sun Palace. If this was a glimpse of their lives, then she wished dearly that she had been kinder to them.

  Around the deck, other sailors were taking advantage of the idle time to whittle, play Stones and Tiles, and tell stories. One man even pulled out a set of pipes and began to play. The music and chatter gave the ship a surprisingly comfortable atmosphere. Koida relaxed and closed her eyes.

  “Are you sick as well?” Cold Sun asked, his deep voice like a roll of distant thunder in his thick chest.

  Koida cracked her eyelids to find the enormous Uktena taking a seat on the deck beside her. He tossed the clay-slicked red ropes of his hair over his shoulder, then leaned back against the gunwale.

  “I don’t feel sick,” she said, straightening up. “Is this related to Hush? Captain Singh mentioned earlier that she was unwell. Is there an illness traveling through the ship?”

  Cold Sun’s brows creased with the faintest of frowns. “Some do not react well to the rolling motion of a ship at sea. I had a mild case of this illness, but a paste the Wise Physician Hush brought aboard with her cleared mine fairly quickly. It seems she did not expect to fall ill on this journey, however. Lysander Foreign-Born says that Hush cannot take the paste herself, as she has a sensitivity to the dawn mist pods it is derived from.”

  “Where is Hush now? Is there anything we can do for her?” Koida hated to think of the kind, compassionate master curled up in the dark bowels of the ship, suffering alone like a dying mountain lion. “Captain Singh mentioned dividing up her work. If we did it for her, then she would be able to recuperate, wouldn’t she?”

  “That is taken care of,” Cold Sun rumbled. “Lysander helped her down to the sailor’s quarters this afternoon and assured the wise physician that he would complete her duties. She did not seem overjoyed at the prospect, but she also recognized that she could not complete them in her current state.”

  Koida had trouble imagining Lysander being considerate enough to volunteer to do someone else’s work for them, but she was endlessly grateful that he had. She doubted she could have shouldered much of the burden while she was struggling just to keep up with the endless list of chores Cook and Rila found for her.

  Three loud pops from the rear of the ship made Koida jump. She whipped her head around, searching for the source of the noise, but none of the other sailors seemed troubled by it.

  “It is the beginning of third watch,” Cold Sun explained, pointing to the base of the half-deck, where a sailor was busy lighting a candle as thick as his wrist and placing it into an empty holder beside the door. “Sailors measure time at sea through candles embedded with a series of charges. When the candle burns down, the fire sets off the charges, indicating the next watch.”

  “Do the Uktena routinely collect knowledge of the timekeeping methods used at sea?” Koida asked, smili
ng sidelong at her friend.

  The hulking warrior’s lip twitched upward. “Certain of us have always been fascinated by the ingenuity of the outside world.”

  “Did experiencing this outside world for yourself factor in any way in your decision to accompany us to the Great Library?”

  Cold Sun looked out at the last sliver of fiery magenta clinging to the edge of the sky and glistening along the peaks of the shadowy waves. His lips twitched, the Uktena version of a smile.

  Then he nodded out at the darkening horizon. “I believe my brother’s ray is enjoying the fishing.”

  Koida followed his gaze to the creature flitting in and out of the waves. Silvery Ro made it stand out in the lengthening shadows.

  “Nael,” she said. “That’s his name, isn’t it?”

  Cold Sun gave a small nod of confirmation.

  “He is a silly beast with even less discipline than your half-demon.” In spite of the disapproving nature of the statement, Cold Sun’s voice betrayed his fondness. “I cannot decide whether the beast was a bad influence upon my brother or Raijin was a bad influence upon the beast. When they were together, neither seemed to be able to act with the proper maturity.”

  Koida felt a pain in her throat at the edge of melancholy that crept into the Uktena’s words.

  “They went riding with Pernicious and me once.” She smiled, remembering Raijin skipping stones and splashing water with his ray, his playful teasing so unlike the stony mask he wore in the palace. “It was as you said. They were like colts at pasture after a long winter in the stables.”

  Cold Sun’s belly jumped. Koida looked up to find the warrior’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She studied the hint of amusement on his otherwise stoic face. Like her, he wanted to believe that Raijin was still alive.

  “Cold Sun, do you recall when we spoke in your encampment about—”

  “Girl!” Cook bellowed up the ship-tail stairs. “Ha-Koi! Where are you, you lazy child? This food isn’t going to carry itself!”

  Koida gritted her teeth, lavaglass spurs and blade beginning to form in response to her mood.

  “Hold to your Stone Soul,” Cold Sun said, his eyes twinkling. “We will find time to speak later.”

  She spent a few moments rebuilding her Stone Soul, conjuring up the sensation of receding lavaglass, and sending it back into the depths of her arm.

  “Girl!”

  Breathing deeply and clinging to her unbreakable truth, Koida stood and bowed to Cold Sun.

  “Later,” she agreed. “And we can train as well.”

  As it turned out, however, Koida had no time to train on her first night at sea. She took the late meal to all of the sailors she could find—save Hush, who waved her away frantically at the sight of the boiled turnip chunks—then spent the next hour scouring the enormous cooking pot clean and collecting the used bowls from around the ship under the threat of a lashing for each one that did not return.

  When the last wooden bowl had been located, washed, and stacked, Cook slapped the hook-bladed knife into Koida’s hand once more.

  “Sit yourself down and chop. If you can’t fill the pot in time to cook down tomorrow’s midday meal, then you deserve a lashing,” the huge woman sneered before limping out of the galley.

  Koida glared silently at Cook’s retreating back. Finally alone, she gave up on trying to hold back the lavaglass, letting it shift her arm into the moon broadsword.

  “You would be more useful as a dagger,” Koida said under her breath.

  It remained the wickedly curved and spurred blade, gleaming in the low light from the hearth.

  She was about to reconstruct her Stone Soul, but at the last moment she decided against it. The turnips would be chopped whether she used the hooked blade or her moon broadsword, and she had Cook’s entire table at her disposal. If she sliced them using her broadsword, it would give her right hand a reprieve from clutching the wooden handle of the hooked blade.

  Late into the night she worked, stopping occasionally to feed the fire in the hanging stove so she could see. She lost track of the time, retreating into a tedium-induced trance until the candle on deck popped to sound the beginning of fourth watch. The pot was nearly full, the turnip chunks tumbling against the sides as she sifted her hand through them.

  Her stomach growled.

  In all the running about, serving the sailors their meals, she had forgotten to feed herself. Turnips, however, had lost what little appeal they had once held for her. If she was ever allowed to lie down and sleep on this ship, she feared she would be chopping even more of the horrendous vegetables in her nightmares.

  Hurriedly, Koida cut up the last dozen required to fill the pot, then rebuilt her Stone Soul and returned her blade to an arm. The tin clunked and popped under her boots as she crossed to the blood orange crate in the corner. Checking to make certain no one was watching her, she slipped a pair of the bright fruits into her pocket, then slipped out of the galley and trudged down to the livestock deck.

  Pernicious hung in the sling, huge brimstone hooves barely touching the star-iron floor of his cage.

  “Are you still awake?” Koida asked, pitching her voice low in case anyone was within earshot.

  He muttered and turned his head away from her to stare at the wall.

  “I guess you don’t want this, then.” She produced the blood orange.

  The half-demon warhorse glanced her way, then stretched his huge head toward the bars.

  She stuck her hand through the openings and let him gobble it out of her hand. When he tasted the lack of candying, he bit her.

  “Thankless nag,” she growled, jerking her hand back.

  The blood orange dropped to the star-iron floor of his stall, but Pernicious picked it up between his iron teeth and finished it off. There was a bucket of feed standing within his reach, so he couldn’t want for food. Perhaps he longed for the comfort of the stable he had left behind.

  Koida certainly understood that. She peeled her own fruit and ate, letting the sharp scent and sweet taste conjure up memories of home. Before long, she had slipped off to sleep.

  IN THE DREAM, SHE WAS cultivating her Ro. Not in the way Raijin had taught her, but in a way that nevertheless felt familiar. Rather than pouring her Ro through rings of itself, she cycled it through her body, ignoring the known Ro pathways in favor of a pattern. Watching from outside herself, she saw the amethyst trails form a glowing nine-petaled flower over her torso, with roots reaching down to her fingers and toes, and stamen stretching up to her head.

  The Dragon Lotus.

  She knew the name of the pattern in the same way that she knew the practice, in that logic of dreams that makes everything hidden or strange seem obvious and ordinary.

  Then she was cycling Raijin’s jade Ro through her body in another pattern. Or perhaps she was Raijin, cycling his Ro in the Thunderer’s Cross, looping from head to foot, then from shoulder to shoulder like the wings of a river ray or great rainbird.

  Koida felt stinging drops of sleet battering her skin, heard the distant clap of thunder, and knew with eerie clarity that she was no longer dreaming. Concave walls of midnight blue dirt and indigo shadows surrounded her. Pale blue-gray light filtered through a hole in the ceiling, and rainwater gushed down like a waterfall. The water lurched and stuttered, as if it were hesitant to fall on the huddled form at the bottom of the pit but couldn’t stop its descent.

  Though the face was turned away from her, Koida knew its owner immediately by the long, sinewy lines of his body. She’d been around him such a short time, and yet it felt as if her heartcenter had known him forever.

  “Raijin?”

  “Koida?” Her betrothed pushed himself up, his unruly mop of hair—rendered in this land in a blue so dark it was nearly black—shedding droplets of water.

  He wore nothing but the loose pants of a warrior artist, barefoot and bare-shouldered. His back was to her, affording Koida plenty of opportunity to see that the lavaglass canes em
bedded in the back of his left arm were gone, as were the stringy, tentacle-like scars that had once covered his right shoulder and the nape of his neck.

  “I am here,” she said, walking into the spray of falling water.

  She reached out to touch Raijin’s bare shoulder, then stopped, her face burning. It might be acceptable for a wife to touch her husband so intimately, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so with her betrothed.

  “Raijin,” she said, hoping the icy water would hide the redness in her cheeks. “Turn around.”

  Water flew from Raijin as he spun to his feet, crouching in a hunched, animalistic stance that she had never seen before. His hands were open, his fingers curled like claws, and his teeth were bared in a snarl.

  His beautiful jade eyes were gone, their place taken by a pair of deep, bleeding holes.

  Koida gasped, instinctively stumbling away. Something snapped inside her body like a thread breaking. Jade and amethyst light flashed across her vision, consuming the smoky blue-gray world and leaving only blackness behind.

  Pernicious’s scream pierced her eardrums.

  Groggily, Koida opened gritty eyes to find herself curled up and shivering on the floor just outside the half-demon’s stall. Her hair, skin, and clothing were all drenched in icy water, though the ceiling, stall, and floor were dry.

  The angry destrier stamped one enormous hoof, throwing sparks against the star-iron bars crisscrossing the floor of his cage and filling the air with the scent of fiery brimstone.

  Koida’s head throbbed, and tiny stars burst at the corners of her vision as she sat up. Water dripped onto the wood floor from her hair and clothing. Whenever she blinked, burning images of purple and green danced across the backs of her eyelids. A lotus and a cross? She had known them in the dream, not only their names but how to execute their patterns, but that all felt so distant compared to the scant few moments she had spent with Raijin.

  She swallowed around a dry throat and looked up, catching Pernicious’s fiery red gaze. She saw as little humanity there as she had seen in the furious visage of her betrothed.