Master of Elements

by Sonya Bateman

  “And you won’t?”

  “Not as the wolf.” He sighed and brushed off a patch of snow that was still clinging to his sleeve. “I will have to carry you.”

  “Are you nuts?” I nearly shouted. “You want me to ride wolf-back through that? No way. Forget it,” I said. I’d barely managed to stay on him the last time he was forced to take me for a ride, and that was in normal weather. We’d had a giant fire chasing us down a mountain at the time, but still. “Can’t we just fly over this or something?”

  Ian gave me a flat look. “As you are so fond of reminding me, we both suck at flying,” he said. “This is the only way.”

  I groaned. “Fine. Just don’t bite me if I yank you too hard,” I said. “Oh, and I was going to ask you something else. It might sound crazy, but … uh, does that lightning in there look green to you?”

  “It does,” he said.

  “Er. And that doesn’t seem strange?”

  Ian faced the storm with an odd expression, and said, “Strange for here, yes. But lightning is green in the djinn realm.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t the djinn realm. It’s Alaska,” I said. “So what does that mean?”

  “I do not know yet.” He took a step back and started to glow, which meant he was shifting already. “I intend to move quickly through this, Donatti. Do not fall off.”

  I huffed a breath. “Easy for you to say,” I mumbled as the light infused him, and the Ian-shape shifted and contorted into a wolf-shape. The glow faded away, leaving a massive, shaggy brown wolf with streaks of black and white, the same color scheme as his hair. Ian’s eyes stared at me from the wolf’s face.

  Feeling like the world’s dumbest cowboy, I climbed onto his back and stretched out flat, shifting my bag around to balance it before I locked my arms around his neck. “Just hurry up, will you?” I sighed. “I don’t like this any more than you.”

  Ian snorted once, and then bounded into the storm.

  The cold was intense and immediate, pelting me from all sides. A single breath burned my lungs and tried to lock my throat, so I buried my face in Ian’s fur. Even then, I had to take quick, shallow breaths to keep from choking.

  I could feel Ian’s ragged panting as he ran along, loping in long strides through the thick blanket of snow. After a few minutes, I managed to raise my head and had to squint against fierce, shrieking winds that drove constant snow into my face. My eyes started to water, and I swore the tears were insta-freezing on my cheeks.

  It wasn’t long before I had to put my head back down. The blustering howl of the wind increased with every bound we made, and the snowfall thickened until it felt like we were swimming through it in mid-air. There was still no thunder to accompany the bizarre green lightning, and the silent flashes revealed occasional eerie, frozen shapes that might have been trees, or parts of the mountains — or people who’d blundered into this arctic hell and never left.

  Ian took another jarring bound, and suddenly let out a yelp that transcended the screaming wind. I felt him scrambling beneath me, his muscles bunching and jerking, and then the strange sensation of rising.

  Suddenly, an unearthly howl blasted into existence from all sides. Blades of wind tore at me, ripping my laced hands apart. I made a desperate lunge and grabbed a handful of Ian’s fur, but my frozen fingers refused to grip anything and I went hurtling off.

  “Ian!” I shouted, trying to brace myself for impact. Already I couldn’t see him. I heard a brief growl from somewhere in the maelstrom, followed by a pained cry, and then nothing.

  And I still hadn’t hit the ground.

  I was airborne, caught up in the wind.

  My body twisted and tumbled blindly through the white. A strong gust hurtled me like a missile, but I had no idea what direction I was heading. For all I knew, I was about to crash into the mountain like a dart. Then a swirling eddy caught me and spun me like a giant blender, spitting me out in a new direction.

  If my throat wasn’t clenched tighter than a banker’s asshole, I would’ve puked.

  “Goddamn it!” I shouted uselessly, trying to batter my way against the wind and get some sense of where I was. But I couldn’t control anything. The storm tossed me around like a rag doll, jerking and pulling and spinning until most of my senses shut down and there was nothing but cold and white.

  When patches of the world turned green, I decided I must’ve been struck by lightning and was probably dead. But the sickening swoop from my stomach suggested otherwise. There was ground below me. Far, far below.

  And I was falling toward it fast.

  Shuddering, I closed my eyes and focused everything I had on flying. I had a very strong need to not hit the ground at a hundred miles an hour. The magic responded, burning through me as my descent began to slow. But it was still too far, too fast.

  I landed with a jarring thud in a drift of snow, with my bag beneath me, and felt more than one of my bones break on impact. My shoulder dislocated, and my head snapped back and thumped my skull on something hard that was probably a buried rock. I gasped out every ounce of air in my lungs as the world swam with shades of blossoming gray and white. When I didn’t completely pass out, I lay there shivering with the cold and pain, waiting for my vision to clear.

  And I heard something. Footsteps crunching over snow, circling me.

  Please be Ian, I thought, wincing as I pushed up on my elbows and blinked rapidly. I was in a vast, snow-covered field, a few yards from the edge of a forest to my left. On the right, far down the field, was some kind of stone hut or outbuilding standing alone in the snow. But mostly I was looking for the source of the footsteps. And when one of them came around in front of me, I really wished I’d kept playing dead.

  I was surrounded by monsters.

  Chapter 9

  Okay, maybe they weren’t monsters. There were four of them, vaguely people-shaped, dressed in layers of cloth and fur, but their heads were huge and horrifying. It took my panicked brain a moment to realize they were wooden masks with massive, glittering eyes, carved into gaunt and shrieking faces.

  They were also carrying really big spears.

  When they didn’t immediately attack me, I struggled to sit up the rest of the way and stared at the closest one. “Any chance you guys are the Annukhai?” I said.

  A flurry of half-whispered voices in that off-kilter djinn dialect rose up.

  “What is it? What did it say?”

  “Look how old he is.”

  “But his eyes are blue.”

  “There’s something on his back. Is he deformed?”

  “He’s one of them.” That voice was loud and came from the guy in front of me. He drew his spear back. “We should kill him.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I ground out, switching to djinn. “I’m not one of anybody. I’m looking for the Annukhai, and … I lost my friend.” Damn it, where the hell was Ian? I couldn’t sense him anywhere nearby, but I was having trouble focusing through the pain. I needed to heal soon.

  Several gasps went around the circle. “He talks strange,” one of them said. “And he’s old.”

  The one standing over me cocked his head. “He’s a spy. We’ll take him prisoner.”

  Before I could say can we talk about this, he rammed his spear down.

  It went through me just under the ribcage, knocking me back to rip through my bag and pin me to the ground. Agony exploded through me, and I let out a harsh scream as I struggled to pull free.

  Either brute strength or reflexive magic loosened the spear tip from the ground, and I rolled to my side in the snow and staggered to my feet. “Why the hell did you do that?” I gasped as I took hold of the spear, preparing to pull it out. If it wasn’t for the bond with Ian, I’d be dead right now. “Look, I’m not a spy. I’m here to help you!”

  A whole lot of silence responded. I whirled around and realized they were gone.

  Or rather, they’d gone invisible. I could sense where they stood through the ground, still in a loose circle arou
nd me. That I’d known I could do. But I didn’t expect to be able to feel each of their footsteps, so strongly that I could almost create a mental map of their movements through the magic they gave off.

  I’d worry about that later, because right now there was a giant-ass spear through me.

  Gritting my teeth against the anticipated pain, I tightened my grip on the handle and pulled hard. The spear dragged back through me, doing even more damage on the way, and I hurled it aside with a startled cry. “Can someone please talk to me?” I ground out as I focused on the healing process, trying to stem the blood that poured down me on both sides and turned the snow red. The magic flowed sluggishly at first, closing the holes before it went to work on the internal damage. “If you’re the Annukhai, we got a message from —”

  I cut myself off as I sensed one of them sneaking up behind me. Just as I whirled to confront whoever it was, the distinct sensation of a palm pressed against my forehead.

  There was a bright blue flash in my head, and then nothing.

  At some point after the blackout, I came around with a gasp and a jerk that sent bolts of pain through my shoulders — especially the dislocated one — but didn’t actually move me anywhere. Apparently I was tied to something. I had no idea where I was or who else was around, and my head still pounded from whatever the nameless djinn had done to me, but my vision was slowly clearing. I blinked a few times and looked around.

  I was in some kind of tent, seemingly alone. There was a thick center pole at my back, my arms were tied at the wrist behind it with what felt like rope, and there was a single loop around my neck — not tight enough to choke, but it kept me from leaning forward. More ropes circled my waist, binding me upright.

  A deep, stinging ache radiated from my chest, like someone had slashed me repeatedly with a knife. I still had some internal damage from the spear that I hadn’t been able to heal fast enough, but this was a different kind of pain. Even though I couldn’t twist my head enough to see it with the rope at my neck, I could feel the fresh blood soaking into my shirt.

  Luckily I didn’t need to see it to heal it. I closed my eyes to find the nearest healing point, which should’ve been at the base of my throat.

  There was nothing but black. I couldn’t even sense any magic, much less draw on it.

  “What the hell?” I said aloud to the empty tent. Fresh panic seeped in and I lunged against the ropes, but only succeeded in making my injuries hurt more while I almost strangled myself. I had to calm down and think.

  Healing was djinn magic. For some reason I seemed to be burned out on that, even though I’d barely used any, but I should still be able to use earth magic. My feet were firmly in contact with the ground. I tried to draw something in and focus it on the ropes.

  Again, nothing happened. This time I realized that when I attempted to use magic, there was a faint purple glow from my chest and the pain intensified.

  Whatever they’d carved on me was blocking my abilities.

  “Nice trick,” I muttered. “But I don’t need magic for everything, assholes.”

  I drew a deep breath, let it out slowly and took stock of my surroundings. There was a stone fire pit just ahead of me, and a small table with wooden stools beyond that. To my left was a closed flap that served as exit and entrance, and to the right was a pile of twigs and straw covered with hides, probably a bed. Someone had tossed my duffel bag on the pile. I really hoped they hadn’t gone through it and taken any of my shit.

  There was no way to get to my bag. Lucky for me, I had a knife in my boot, and they hadn’t tied my legs. It took a lot of straining and stretching and fun, painful contortions to bring my foot up and back far enough to reach the knife, but I just managed it. Ironically, the dislocated shoulder and the ropes around my waist gave me the leverage I needed.

  Sawing through the ropes was slow going with my hands tied at the wrists. Once I loosened them enough to pull apart, I cut the rope at my throat and sliced through the rest easily — and with the support gone, I promptly staggered and fell to my knees.

  Goddamn it. Without magic, I had the constitution of a bruised and banged-up human who’d recently broken several bones and been speared through the gut. This seriously sucked.

  I hauled myself up, replaced the knife in my boot and headed for my bag. A quick glance confirmed that everything was still in there, but it was damned heavy, and lifting it hurt. I slipped a few cartridges in my pockets, grabbed the pair of Glocks I’d packed and stuffed one into my waistband. I planned to hold onto the other one and shoot the first asshole who even looked like he wanted to cast a spell.

  But the minute I turned to start across the tent, the flap opened and two of the mask-wearing djinn walked inside.

  Out of reflex, I tried to go invisible and only made my chest glow and burn. “Damn it, that hurts!” I snarled as I raised the gun at them. “What the hell did you do to me? And don’t try anything else, or I’ll blast you into next week.”

  One of the masks took a step forward. “Is that some kind of club?” The voice was female. “Very strange. I don’t think it will help you much.”

  “How did he get loose? I sealed him myself,” the other one, a male, said.

  He reached up and took the mask off, and the female did the same. When I got a look at their faces, I did a startled double-take and instantly lowered the gun.

  They were just kids. They looked no more than seventeen or eighteen — at least in human years, though I knew the djinn aged differently and their childhoods lasted a few centuries. Both had silver-white hair with occasional black streaks, and ice-blue eyes like mine.

  “What’s going on?” I said slowly, wincing as I took a step back. “Who are you? Is this the Annukhai village, or not?”

  Instead of answering me, the boy turned toward the tent flap. “Are you going to come see him, or not?” he called, presumably to someone outside. “I’m telling you, he’s one of them. He has to be.”

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Who’s them?”

  “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.” The girl was trying to sound tough, but she wasn’t quite pulling it off. Her brow dimpled down, and she leaned toward the boy and murmured, “Are you sure you sealed him, Toklai?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” he hissed, and then shouted through the tent flap again. “Malak, hurry up!”

  “I’m coming,” a deeper voice replied from outside.

  I heard a round of giggling and a bunch of running feet, and then another person I assumed was a djinn stepped in. This one looked older, but not by much — mid-twenties in human years, maybe. He had the same streaked silver-white hair as the others, but his eyes were wolf gold like Ian’s.

  Malak, if that was his name, took one look at me and cuffed the back of the younger boy’s head. “He’s not one of them, you idiot,” he said sternly. “Look at his eyes.”

  I blinked in surprise. Aside from Tory, who was both young for a djinn and thoroughly Americanized, I’d never heard a djinn use words like ‘idiot.’ At least, that was as close a translation as my mind could come up with for whatever that word was.

  Toklai glared at him. “I don’t care what color his eyes are. He’s obviously old, even older than you,” he said in sulky tones. “Besides, he attacked us first.”

  The girl drew a quick, tiny breath, and then glanced around guiltily to see if anyone had noticed. But she didn’t refute the lie. I decided to hold off proclaiming my innocence until I heard what Malak had to say, because he seemed the most sensible one here so far.

  He didn’t let me down.

  “Considering how injured he is, I doubt that,” Malak said, sounding more disappointed than angry. “Really, Toklai, you’ve got to stop thinking with your claws. Go remove the seal, so he can transform and heal himself.”

  The boy’s glare deepened. “I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Toklai’s face crumpled in rage. Without another word, he pushed past Malak and stalked out of the ten
t.

  “He didn’t really attack us,” the girl said softly when he was gone. “Toklai was just—”

  “I know. It’s okay, Galina. Will you remove the seal?”

  She gave a hesitant nod and started toward me, like she was afraid and trying not to show it. I stuffed the gun in the back of my waistband and tried to look friendly. I still had no idea what was going on, but I had a feeling that no one here was a threat to me. Not even Toklai, though he probably wished he was.

  “I’m sorry,” Galina whispered when she reached me. “Let me help you. Can you lift your shirt, please?”

  “Sure, no problem.” I pulled the bottom of my shirt up, wincing as it cleared my chest. I tried to get a look, but all I could see were a bunch of deep, bloody furrows carved into my flesh in an intricate symbol that kind of looked like one of those Celtic knots, in four pie-wedge sections with a big space in the center. “What is that, anyway?”

  “It’s the seal of eq’aba.” Galina held out a splayed hand and murmured something under her breath, and the slashes in my skin started to draw together and fade.

  As the last one healed itself, I felt the magic surge into me again and sagged with relief. “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.” She lowered her arm and stared at me. “How did you get out of the ropes? The seal was intact.”

  I shrugged and pointed to my boot. “Spare knife.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, backing up quickly like she thought I might use it on her. “I, um, have to go.”

  With that, she whirled and walked stiffly across the tent, exiting fast.

  Malak gave me a hesitant smile. “I apologize for my brother’s behavior. Toklai can be … a little unruly, sometimes,” he said. “Do you want some privacy, so you can transform?”

  “Uh, no. I’m good,” I said, wondering how much I should tell him. I decided on the truth. “Actually, I can’t transform.”

  He looked slightly alarmed. “You’re not djinn?”

  “No. I mean, yes, sort of. I’m a scion.”

  “A what?”