Nate’s increasingly loud complaints that this was all insane finally drew my attention. “Crazy or not, you’re here, and you’re helping,” I said. Badgering an old man wasn’t my idea of a fun Sunday afternoon, but he was being just as stubborn as Ian. “Look, all we need is —”
“I don’t care what you need. You kidnapped me!” He slouched back and glowered. “This wasn’t the deal. I did my part,” he said. “And if you think I’m going to believe that you’re some mythical race of beings, think again. You’re barely shamans.”
Ian stood without a word, and started to glow.
“Oh shit. Um, Ian, maybe you shouldn’t eat him,” I said. I knew he probably wouldn’t, but with his temper, there was always at least a slim chance of someone getting savaged in the wake of transformation.
Nate scoffed. “Eat me? Come on, now,” he said. “Your little glow trick is impressive, but you can’t … really do much more than …” He trailed off as Ian’s shape changed and the light started to fade.
At the sight of the wolf, Nate leapt out of the chair, slid past the fireplace and wedged himself under the writing desk with speed that would’ve been impressive for a man half his age. “Don’t eat me!” he shouted in a muffled voice. “I’m sorry. Don’t eat me.”
Toklai laughed in pure delight. “I like him,” he said. “Are all humans this funny?”
“Have some respect for your elders,” Malak said sharply.
“But he’s not an elder. He’s a human.”
“He’s older than you.”
Toklai grunted. “Bet he’s not,” he said. “I’m two hundred and sixty-two.”
Nate poked his head out slowly from beneath the desk. “You’re what?” he whispered, staring at Toklai for a minute before he looked across the room and flinched back, banging his head on the desk. “That man is still a wolf,” he said shakily.
Ian growled, and Nate let out a high-pitched yelp.
“Okay, I believe you!” he shouted. “You’re a djinn. I got it. Will you please stop being a wolf, before I have to change my underwear? I didn’t bring a fresh pair.”
Toklai started laughing again as Ian transformed. “You can come out now, human,” he said. “The prince is back.”
“Great. You’re a prince, too?” Nate crawled away from the desk and stood with a thoroughly shaken expression. At least he didn’t faint this time. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in,” he said in unsteady tones, and looked at Toklai. “You keep calling me human. Does that mean you can turn into a wolf, too?”
“Of course I can. Do you want to see?” Toklai started to glow.
“No! No, I’ll take your word for it.” He waved a hand and managed a weak laugh. “Please, no more wolves right now.” He slumped back down into his chair and stared moodily into the fire, wiping the sweat from his face and grumbling.
Toklai sighed as the glow faded. “Fine. But my wolf is cooler than his,” he muttered.
“I’m sure it is,” Nate said with a strange almost-smile. “Maybe you’ll show me later, when I’m a little more used to the idea. Humans can’t turn into anything, you know. We’re stuck the way we are.”
“Too bad for you,” Toklai said, brightening a little. “But yes, I can show you later. You’ll like it.”
I was glad Nate seemed to understand that even though Toklai was a few centuries older than himself, he was still a child. He nodded with a weary smile, only to have all of his good humor evaporate when he saw the businesslike stance of the rest of us.
“Okay. Glad we’ve gotten all that out of the way,” I said. “So, Nate, what can you tell us about the Wihtiko?”
“That’s what you call the Wendigo, right?” He groaned and rubbed at his temples, looking like someone had walloped him between the eyes with a hammer. “Magic mirrors, people who turn into wolves, and now you’re telling me the monster is real, too,” he muttered. “You do know that I’ve only heard stories. Myths and legends.” He sighed and pulled himself straighter. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Even if it sounds crazy,” I said. “Because the crazy stuff might be true.”
“Sure, why not?” he sighed. “I just got yanked into a different realm through a mirror, and you are a bunch of talking wolves, so why shouldn’t there be a giant, flesh-eating owl here too?”
“That’s what you heard?” I said, glancing at Ian. “Giant flesh-eating owl?”
Nate let out a groan. “I take it that’s what the damned thing actually is.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Of course it is.” Nate closed his eyes, opened them. “All right. The monster goes by many names,” he said. “Wendigo, Windigo, Wihtiko — yes, I have heard that one — even Weeteego and Outikou. And it has a few more descriptive names. Skinwalker. Soul-eater. Scion of madness, father of cannibals.” He paused and shuddered. “Death god.”
The soul-eater thing sparked something in my mind, but whatever it was, I couldn’t quite grasp it. “This is good,” I said. “What else have you heard?”
He gave me a look that plainly said there was nothing good about a death god. “It’s said that the Wihtiko is always hungry, that it will never stop feeding,” he said. “And the older it gets, the more souls it consumes, the stronger it becomes, until it can control the weather and even the rising and setting of the sun.”
“Did you say that it consumes souls to grow in power?” Ian interrupted.
Nate blinked at him. “Is that what I said? Well, I suppose I did.” He shrugged. “I’m trying to repeat the stories the way I heard them from my grandfather, and he heard from his grandfather, and … you get the idea.”
I’d actually started to have a little hope myself. There might be something here, after all. “Go on,” I said. “What else?”
“Well …” Nate tipped his head back and frowned at the ceiling. “The legends say that you must not look into its eyes, because it holds the power to drive men to madness. I suppose that means djinn, too.” He chuckled weakly at his own joke. “If you stare at the beast too long, you will become a vessel for the Wendigo’s hunger and a mindless shell, doomed to roam the land, forever starving and unable to slake your hunger as you kill every living thing that crosses your path, and then find yourself unable to eat.” He swallowed once. “Crazy, right? I mean, that doesn’t really happen …”
“The aid’ha,” Malak whispered.
Nate’s features swam with defeat. “So that’s real, too,” he said dully. “Great. I’m going to die here. You know, all I wanted was to die of old age in my bed, peacefully in my sleep.”
“You’re not going to die,” I said, trying not to sound impatient. “Any chance you’ve heard stories about how to kill the Wihtiko?”
“Kill the death god. Oh, yes. Plenty of stories about that,” Nate said with a bitter sigh. “There is one thing, but it doesn’t make any sense.”
“What is it?”
He frowned and glanced up. “Something about the Wendigo despising all life because it had none of its own, and infecting it with the life of the earth until its emptiness was filled to overflowing.”
Okay, that actually didn’t make sense — feeding this monster was the last thing we wanted to do. But it might be a translation problem. After all, the stories had been passed down orally through multiple generations like a centuries-long game of Telephone, and things were bound to get screwed up along the line.
Then I realized we were standing in the middle of the original source.
“Whatever it means, it has to be here somewhere,” I said suddenly, gesturing at all the books and scrolls on the shelves. “The stories came from Khanaq, and this is his house. He would’ve written it all down somewhere, right? If he was a scholar …”
“Yes, of course,” Ian said with a measure of relief. “He must have recorded everything he learned about the Wihtiko.”
I grinned. “Well, there you go,” I said to Nate. “You won’t have to actually fight the monster. You can just re
ad through all this stuff and tell us how to kill it.”
He gave me a pinched look. “If it’s written with the old symbols, like the message, I can’t really read it that well,” he said. “I barely muddled through that note.”
“Toklai can read the old language,” Malak announced. “He’ll help you.”
“That’s not fair! You can read it, too.” Toklai scowled at his brother. “I don’t want to read a bunch of dusty old books. I want to help fight the Wihtiko.”
I cleared my throat loudly. “Maybe you should listen to your brother, Toklai,” I said, and then held a hand up when he started to protest. “Hear me out. Going through all this material is a big responsibility. I’m sure if you prove that you can handle it, Malak will let you fight with us.” I smiled at him. “After all, he can’t leave you out if you’re the one who finds out how to kill the monster, right?”
A hesitant smile rose to his face. “Really? Would you let me do that, Malak?”
Malak struggled to respond for a moment, torn between wanting to protect his brother and needing to let him grow up. Finally, he said, “All right. If you help Nohtaikhel with his research — and I mean actually help, not mope around while he does all the work — then you can fight the Wihtiko.”
Toklai ran to his brother and threw his arms around him. “Thank you,” he said. “I promise, I won’t let you down.”
“You’re welcome,” Malak said hoarsely, and tears sprang to his eyes as he hugged the younger boy. He wiped them away one-handed before he stepped back and forced a smile. “Well, go on, then,” he said. “You’d best get started.”
“Yes! Come on, Nohtaikhel,” Toklai said as he rushed over to the shelves. “We have a lot of reading to do.”
“Call me Nate,” he said with a laugh, and then looked at Malak. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will.” The shadow of a threat lurked in the young djinn’s eyes for a moment, but he banished it with a nod and a wan smile. “I have a lot to do myself, to prepare the village for working with the Alqani,” he said. “Gahiji-an, will you and Donatti join me?”
“Of course,” Ian said.
The three of us left the cabin, leaving Toklai and Nate to their dusty old treasure hunt. I stood for a minute looking over the worn-down village and the defenseless kids wandering around in it — and I thought of something Ian and I could do that would keep us out of Malak’s way so he could actually lead, but still contribute something useful.
“Hey, Ian. Remember how you said I needed more training?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You actually want to train?”
“Yeah, I do,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.”
When I told him, Ian agreed that it was a good one.
Chapter 26
Several productive but exhausting hours later, the Annukhai village had proper huts that wouldn’t fall down in a stiff breeze, and a brand-new defensive perimeter wall to keep zombies out. I’d learned how to control my abilities better, and Ian had learned several new and interesting ways to yell at me. Watching the stage play the children had put on had really inspired me to try and do something controlled and useful. It wasn’t as fantastic as their miniature stage, but it was a lot more practical.
Now we sat on the edge of the stone platform with big wooden cups of water, surveying all we had wrought — or all I’d wrought while Ian told me I was doing it wrong.
“Well done, thief,” Ian said at length, sipping his water.
I managed not to look shocked at the compliment. “Thanks,” I said, raising my cup in a little salute before I took a drink. “You know, I kind of wish this was beer. After a hard day’s work and all.”
Ian snorted. “Why not simply transform your water into beer? I know you have practiced that, at least.”
“Nah.” I shrugged. “It just doesn’t feel right here, for some reason. Maybe because djinn don’t drink beer.”
“No, we do not.” With a slanted smile, Ian passed a hand over my cup a few times, and I felt it fizz gently. Then he did the same to his. “This is what we drink,” he said.
I stared at the golden-brown, bubbly liquid that’d replaced my water. “And this would be …?”
“It is e’sal kahuul,” he said. “Honey mead.”
“Interesting.” I took a sip and decided it was more than interesting. This stuff was great. Dark and sweet, with just the right amount of bitter and bite. “Okay, so is there some reason you never told me about this before?” I said. “Because I might give up beer for this.”
Ian laughed. “I would have told you long ago, if I had known you would give up beer.”
“Well, I—”
“Gahiji-an! Champion!” An excited voice sounded off to the side, and we both turned to see Toklai running toward us, dragging a bemused Malak with him. “We found it!” he said, panting a little as he came to a stop. “Nate and I found a way to kill the Wihtiko.”
“You did? Fantastic,” I said with real enthusiasm. “How?”
“Nate will have to explain,” Toklai said, frowning slightly. “I read the words, but I don’t understand some of them. Nate does, though. He got excited and started writing some things in very strange symbols.” He gestured into the distance, toward the cabin. “He’s still in there. Come on, you have to hear!”
I laughed and hauled myself to my feet. “All right. We’re coming,” I said.
“Donatti.” Ian spoke in a low, concerned voice. “It should not be this dark, this soon.”
Startled, I glanced around and realized that the light was fading, fast. I looked up, and saw dark clouds where blue skies had been a minute ago.
A few flakes of snow landed on my upturned face, and my stomach dipped.
That was when the alarm sounded.
“Oh, no,” Malak said roughly. “It’s too soon! This can’t be happening …” He shook himself and visibly forced the panic away. “The creature must not have found anything to eat yesterday,” he said. “Go swiftly, Toklai. You know what to do.”
The younger boy nodded and spun, and then froze in place. “Nate!” he cried. “He doesn’t know what the alarm means. I have to get him —”
“Go. I’ll make sure he gets to the shelter,” Malak said urgently. “You must check the huts. You’re the fastest.”
Toklai hesitated for another instant. Then he nodded once and glowed, transforming to a sleek silver-white wolf with three black paws and a black blaze along his nose. He raced off, tearing divots from the ground as he ran.
Many of the children were already streaming toward the platform, with a few of the younger ones crying as they ran. Malak watched them, white-faced. “I’ll get Nate —”
“No. Donatti and I will bring him,” Ian said. “You have your procedures in place, and you must follow them. Do not risk confusing the children.”
“All right. Thank you,” he said. “If you’re sure …”
“Yes. Go.”
Malak nodded and sprinted away through the thickening snow.
“If we’re going to the cabin, we’d better hurry,” I said. “We’ll get lost in this stuff soon.”
“Agreed.”
I let Ian take the lead, and raced to keep up with him. At least the cabin wasn’t too far.
We reached the place in less than five minutes at full sprint, dodging small groups of children as they rushed in the other direction to the safety of their shelter. Ian practically kicked the door as I slid to a halt at the front of the cabin, and a startled shout came from inside. “What … what’s happening?” I heard Nate say. “What is that god-awful sound?”
“You must come with us,” Ian said. “Now.”
From the hurried rustling sounds with no further questions, I guessed Nate wasn’t about to argue. Knowing that these legends were real, and he was walking among them, had put a sense of urgency in him after all.
I sensed the approach of two djinn as I waited just outside the door for Nate to join us, but I couldn�
�t make out anything through the thick, rapidly falling snow. “Ian, there’s someone out there,” I called through the door. “Two of them, coming this way.”
Ian frowned and came out, peering into the silent blizzard. “Perhaps some of the children followed us here?”
“No idea. Either they’re invisible, or …”
Just then, Nate stumbled out into the snow, slamming the cabin door shut behind him. “There seems to be a lot of weather out here,” Nate said. “What’s going on?”
“We will explain once we’re safe,” Ian said.
“So … we’re not safe now?” Panic seeped into Nate’s voice. “Please tell me it’s not the monster.”
Before I could lie to him, two shapes loomed out of the snow ahead of us. One was considerably larger than the other, but they were both way too big to be any of the kids.
“Oh, please tell me that’s not a real polar bear,” Nate whimpered. “That is just not right. I have to be dreaming.”
I tensed and moved toward the unfamiliar animals, wolf and bear. “Who are you?”
They both started glowing, and became Balain and Ujura.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I shouted, running toward them with Ian urging a reluctant Nate along behind me. “You assholes picked the worst possible time to spy on your kids, you know that?”
Ujura winced. “I wished to see the village for myself, to find out if you were telling the truth about their … living conditions. Balain agreed to accompany me,” he said, and added in a strangled whisper, “You were right. I am so sorry.”
“You’re about to be a lot sorrier,” I said, stabbing a finger at the sky. “Do you know what that means?”
At that moment, as if I’d planned it, the massive winged shadow of the Wihtiko glided over us.
“By the gods, it is true,” Balain coughed out. “I cannot —”
“Look, you can practice your groveling later. Right now we need to get the hell out of here,” I snarled. “Ian, you’d better take the lead. I’ve got Nate.”
Without a word, Ian glowed into the wolf and bounded ahead of the shell-shocked elders.
Master of Elements Page 17
