Everyone gasped at once.
Malak blanched and took a step toward his brother. “Take that back, you idiot,” he hissed. “You’re no match for him!”
Jaw clenched, Toklai shook his head slowly. “The challenge is cast. Does the champion accept?”
I didn’t know what this was about, but I understood that the words he’d used meant ‘death combat.’ And there was no way in hell I’d fight this kid to the death. I was about to refuse when Ian stood rapidly and spoke in English. “Donatti, do not say anything. If you accept, you will have to fight him. And if you refuse, Malak will be forced to banish you from the village.”
“Stop interfering!” Toklai cried out, pointing his spear at Ian. “I challenged him, not you. This isn’t your concern.”
“It is very much my concern, as Donatti is my champion,” Ian said. “He may not be familiar with your customs, but I am. And I tell you this, child.” The look on his face was deadly serious, and still somehow apologetic — this was the last thing he wanted to do. “If you do not withdraw your challenge, and you somehow survive my champion, I will challenge you personally. And I will not hesitate to end things.”
“Cowards,” Toklai whispered, backing up a step. “You’re both cowards!” He swept the entire gathering with glittering eyes. “I hope you all see what manner of men you’re trying to paint as saviors. They won’t help us. You’ll see!”
“Toklai …” Malak reached toward him.
He batted his brother’s hand away. “I withdraw the challenge,” he snarled, just before he threw the spear aside and ran off. After a short pause, Qimmig shook his head and followed him.
“Don’t worry. I’m not mad,” I said before Malak could start spouting apologies and pleas for forgiveness. “Believe it or not, I know how he feels.”
Malak’s brow furrowed. “You do?”
“Yeah. I lost my parents too,” I said. “Only I never even got the chance to meet them.”
“I see.” Malak gave a sad smile. “Sometimes Toklai forgets that he’s not the only one who misses them.”
He sat down again, and I went back to changing water into kool-aid. At least I was able to make some of them happy, but I felt awful that Toklai was too miserable to enjoy even this simple pleasure. Maybe I could think of some way to reach him before all this was over.
In the meantime, I had a bunch of kids to dazzle with my astonishing skills.
Chapter 17
As the feast was winding down, Malak and Pahna excused themselves and said they’d be back in a few minutes. Everyone else was still busy eating, so the spotlight was temporarily off us when Ian pushed his plate away and turned to me with a questioning look. “That was a wonderful thing you did for them,” he said. “But if you do not mind my asking, how did you do it? You should not have had enough power to transform so much, so effortlessly.”
“Yeah, I know. Good question.” I slid my own plate back and shrugged. “Things are just easier here, for some reason, and I’ve always got more juice than I expect. I’m not doing anything differently. The power just seems to fight me a lot less. Honestly, it’s gotten a little out of control a few times.”
“Really.” Ian stared ahead, frowning faintly. “I suspect it may be this place,” he said. “In fact, I am nearly certain of it. This area exists in two realms … and you belong to both.” He laughed under his breath. “Remind me not to challenge you to almaht q’tal while we are here. You may be stronger than me at the moment.”
“So you were planning to fight me to the death before now? Thanks a lot,” I smirked. “And speaking of being here, I just remembered something. Do you still have that scroll thing Nate gave you?”
“I do. Why?”
“I was thinking you should let Malak see it,” I said. “At least he should be able to read all of it.”
Ian raised an eyebrow and nodded, reaching into his coat to grab the rolled piece of hide. “That may be helpful. Perhaps this Khanaq had something to say about the conflict between these clans that I have missed.”
“Yeah, or something about the monster. You know, the one that’s not actually sealed away.” I shuddered inwardly at the memory of that massive, indistinct shape that could somehow fly in complete silence. “I mean, how are we supposed to stop that thing? It’s not a djinn … wait, is it?” If it was a djinn, it had damned well better not have any scions around on my planet. I wanted to be able to have a good night’s sleep now and then once we got home.
“No, it is not a djinn,” he said. “It truly is a monster, a pestilence on all living things that is whispered of in nearly every clan’s dark legends. I am not certain how to stop it, but there must be a way.”
“Well, what do you actually know about it?”
Ian snorted a derisive laugh. “Nothing. Save that it is not supposed to be real.”
Just then I noticed Malak and Pahna headed back toward the platform with a small group of others behind them — Galina and Yurai, and two of the older girls whose names I couldn’t quite recall. Malak stepped up and resumed his seat across from us, while the rest continued to the door of the underground shelter in the center. Pahna used magic to open the sliding panel, and they all climbed down.
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for what you did,” Malak said when he was settled. “With the feast, I mean. That was incredible.”
I waved him off, still hoping I hadn’t insulted him. “It’s no big deal. Just a silly human custom,” I said with a sidelong glance at Ian. I’d have to get him back for that ‘show-off’ crap later. “I’m glad everyone seemed to enjoy it.”
“They did. And I hope that you enjoy the show,” he said with a smile, gesturing to the group down in the shelter. Pahna and the two older girls knelt on the floor with their palms pressed into the soil, using magic to heap up a big pile of dirt and shape it into something. Malak turned to smile warmly over his shoulder at his girlfriend before swinging back to face us again. “We usually hold our storytelling once a year, but we’re happy to do it again tonight. It’s the easiest way to tell you about the clan conflict and the Wihtiko.”
“That sounds great,” I said. “Oh, and remember that message from Khanaq I told you about? Ian still has it,” I said. “I thought maybe you’d want to take a look.”
Ian held the scroll across the table toward him. “I am afraid my northern dialect is a bit rusty,” he said with a chuckle. “There are some sections I cannot decipher.”
“Thank you. I only wish I knew …” Malak trailed off with a sigh, took the scroll and unrolled it carefully. He stared at it for a moment. “There are instructions for spells to be used at a given time. A finding spell for the totem bracelet, and a spell of reflective memory to convey the message.”
Ian grunted, a bemused smirk on his face. “That explains much,” he murmured, while not explaining a damned thing for me. My frustration must have come across our link, because he turned and pointed at the carved trinket as Malak pored over the scroll some more. “Earth magic is well suited to storing information and memories. Khanaq must have imprinted his knowledge of my father and our clan into the bracelet, to subtly influence whoever holds it to seek the Dehbei out.” Ian sighed to himself, letting his shoulders droop with the weight of his own memories of his lost clan.
I cleared my throat and examined the totem bracelet more closely, as much to avoid the mournful look on Ian’s face as anything else. “So people who put this on start feeling compelled to find us? That’s helpful if we ever get lost and our friends need to track us down.” And potentially dangerous, if an enemy ever got hold of this thing and knew it could do that. “It’s like Tory’s Jedi mind trick, but sneakier. I didn’t realize that earth magic could do subtlety.” I glanced back to Malak and grinned, holding the bracelet up. “If there’s a recipe for making these things written down, you gotta teach it to me. I’m sure our ladies would love to be able to find us when these little trips of ours go sideways.”
Ian coughed delicate
ly and gave the young leader a stern look. “Perhaps that would be unwise. I doubt we would ever leave the house without an escort again if they were in possession of such artifacts.” We all chuckled at that, and Ian leaned across the table, trying to get a better look at the scroll. “Have you had any more luck with the message so far?”
Malak shrugged, still working through the symbols on the hide. “Other than the instructions … this seems to suggest that the border spell is weakening,” Malak said, his eyes moving faster as he scanned the writing. “When Khanaq left, he couldn’t get back in. He says that’s why he created … scions. To tie our clan to this new world, and to enhance his power.” He lifted his head, eyes moving back and forth between Ian and me. “Is this why your champion exists? To enhance your power?”
“Something like that. I’m a complicated story,” I said, feeling a stab of pain from within Ian. My ‘existence’ had to do with the obliteration of the Dehbei and Kemosiri’s death curse, so it wasn’t exactly pleasant after-dinner conversation material. “What else does it say?”
Malak looked a bit doubtful, but he went on. “Khanaq’s scions were weaker than he expected,” he said. “When he wrote this message, only one remained, the one called Nohtaikhel. He was stronger than the rest, but not enough. And so he asked his descendants to send for you, Gahiji-an, and your … child of the dirt?”
Great, the actual translation was even worse than Nate’s. “I think I prefer mud puppy,” I growled out, glaring at Ian’s amusement. If Lark and Tory ever caught wind of these nicknames, I’d never hear the end of it.
“In any case, he clearly meant you.” Malak stared at the scroll again, and suddenly went pale. “And to ensure that you’d be able to pass through the border spell, Khanaq infused the totem with his own life force,” he rasped. “He gave his life to bring you here, to restore the border.”
Shit. Well, at least that explained why the bracelet had powered up Guts so much. It contained the life force of an ancient djinn. Khanaq really was betting everything on the two of us setting this whole mess right.
Ian went rigid. “Then that is what we will do,” he said. “I swear to you on the life of your kinsman that his sacrifice will not be in vain.”
“You will?” Malak looked up with a strange expression. “But repairing the border spell will —”
“Gather round!” a surprisingly deep voice boomed, and a pale blue glow illuminated Pahna’s group just outside the platform. They’d built a dirt stage about three feet high along the back wall of the refuge, with steps leading up both sides to the top. Galina and Yurai stood at either side of the stage, and it was Yurai who’d spoken, his young voice filling the small room from edge to edge with solemn urgency. “Hear the tale of our clan, of the brave Annukhai warriors who sacrificed themselves to save us all.”
There was a minor stampede as everyone on the platform rushed forward and surrounded us along the opening to the shelter, settling on the straw rolls, the floor, and a few on the tables. I felt something brush my back, and then Nylah poked her furry head between me and Ian, bleating once with her paws on the seat.
“I guess she wants to sit with us,” I said, laughing as I slid over to let her up.
Ian reached out to steady the little bear as she wriggled her way onto the makeshift bench. “Easy, qali’zahr,” he said in soothing tones. “There is plenty of room for you here.”
“Little blossom, huh?” I grinned at him. “Looks like somebody’s stolen your heart. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Akila.”
He harrumphed, but a smile softened his features. “I do not think she would mind.”
I didn’t think she would either. Female djinn fertility was a lot different than human females. They had clan-specific reproductive cycles and were only fertile for a few days every certain number of years. The Bahari reproductive cycle was apparently one of the longest — three days, every three hundred years.
Ian’s wife longed for a child, but it’d still be another century before she could have one.
“You’re right,” I finally said. “Who could resist this little face?” I reached out and rubbed the bear cub’s head, and she nuzzled my hand happily for a minute. Then she climbed into Ian’s lap, curled around him with a huge yawn, and started blinking toward sleep.
Apparently, she liked him a lot.
It took a few minutes for everyone to settle. When it was quiet, Yurai took a deep breath and addressed the crowd with the commanding voice of a veteran storyteller. “Long ago, the Annukhai and the Alqani lived in harmony,” he said. “Warriors and scholars, teaching one another, honing both magic and fighting skills to pass along to their children.”
Holy shit, that was news to me. It didn’t seem like these two clans had ever gotten along. I wanted to ask Malak about it, but it’d definitely be rude to interrupt the show.
Yurai paused, and I thought Galina would pick up where he left off. Instead they both crouched at opposite edges of the stage and pressed their hands into the packed soil, sending ripples through the surface that met in the center and rose up several feet. The dirt wall parted and washed back in both directions.
Shapes began to emerge from the falling earth. Trees, houses, mountains, even part of an undulating ocean. They’d created both villages and the land between in miniature, with just magic and their memories.
The glow intensified along the stage surface, and the ghostly blue light started to make the finer details of this living sculpture pop into focus. Suddenly I could make out animated earthen figures moving around in the dirt scenery. People, wolves, polar bears. The children laughed and clapped as several dirt marionettes met in the field between the villages and danced in a circle, as a pack of tiny wolves raced through the trees and brought down a dirt elk, sending a flock of carved stone birds out to circle the crowd before they came back to their roosts on stage.
I was too astonished to breathe.
“For many years, both peoples flourished with the land,” Yurai continued as the mini-djinn went about their lives on the stage. “But then came the terrible day. The day of the Wihtiko.”
A collective gasp went up at the name of the monster. Yurai pulled a hand free and held it toward the back of the stage, and a geyser of dirt erupted from the surface. From it rose a dirt shape that dwarfed the moving figures, even the polar bears.
It looked like an owl crossed with a moth and stitched together with nightmares.
Silently, Yurai made the dirt-Wihtiko fly across the stage and attack the landscape, trailing a ‘snowstorm’ of grit and sand in its wake. Every time it dove down, exploding one of the djinn into soil and dust, a few of the younger ones in the crowd shrieked and cowered away.
“The Wihtiko was a mighty enemy, drawn by the prosperity of the land and the harmony of the people,” Yurai said, his surprisingly deep voice starting to strain with effort. “It was an empty creature, full of unending hunger and mindless hate. But with the strength of the Annukhai and the wisdom of the Alqani, the people began to devise a plan to defeat it. And so they created the great Seal of Eq’aba.”
A rippling pool formed in the field between the villages, the rings rising up and settling to form a symbol — a much larger version of the one Toklai had carved on my chest.
The flying dirt Wihtiko veered toward the symbol. As the monster reached the area, pencil rays of light burst from the seal and snagged the owl-thing, drawing it to the ground. Galina let out a shriek like an owl crossed with a circular saw from the far side of the stage, and the miniature sandstorm dissipated.
There was a rousing cheer from the crowd. Even I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Just a tiny model of that monster’s true form made me nervous, remembering the larger-than-life-sized silhouette that floated over my head earlier.
“A great celebration was held, and for a time there was peace again.” Dirt figures surged across the field, jumping and twirling around the seal, and then drifted back to their villages. “But soon the An
nukhai, attuned to the earth beneath their feet, heard stirrings from the Great Seal, and realized that the creature was not vanquished, merely sleeping. Many talks were held with the Alqani, who refused to listen to the warnings.”
While Yurai spoke, two oversized dirt people walked from opposite sides of the field and met in the middle, where they gestured frantically at each other. Finally, the one on the Alqani side held up an arm and walked away. No matter which clan the assembled children hailed from, they all wore the same look of sadness and frustration on their faces as the animated figures parted ways.
“The Annukhai knew that the creature would not sleep forever. All of the warriors gathered together, planning to assault the slumbering beast and end its terror forever”
A small army of figures with masks and spears surged from the woods into the field, headed for the seal with weapons at the ready.
“But they arrived too late — the Great Seal had broken, and the Wihtiko once again released to feed and destroy.”
With an ominous rumble of shifting stone, the monster burst from the ground to a chorus of gasps and cries from the youngest children. Tiny spears of stone flew and bounced off the monstrous figure, and though none of the warriors surrendered, one by one they were all leapt upon by the Wihtiko, who exploded the djinn figures without remorse.
Yurai’s voice nearly broke with pain and anger as he resumed the tale in the silence that filled the room. “This time the Alqani cowered in their homes, refusing to help their former brothers and risk their own destruction. And when the warriors of the Annukhai had been vanquished, the Alqani blamed our clan for releasing the creature. A final, desperate decision was made to seal the borders of the Annukhai and Alqani lands, to contain the Wihtiko and prevent its destruction from raining down upon the whole of the djinn realm.”
A dust storm erupted in a ring around the dirt landscape, where the Wihtiko effigy still flew. The dirt monster crashed into the storm, recoiled with a screeching sound effect from Galina, and then retreated up the mountain overlooking the Annukhai village.
Master of Elements Page 11
