Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

by Hayden, David Alastair

  “As for me killing….” She shrugged. “It's what I do. What I've trained for all my life. I simply enter another state of mind and do it.”

  “That sounds dangerous…sinister.”

  “It would be if I killed out of self-interest or for the wrong reason. But against those cultists, what choice did I have? If I didn't kill them, they would kill me. And if we don't succeed, they will kill others. It's not a perfect world, Sobei. Sometimes we do what we must, that's all.”

  She looked tough, but he thought some of it was just an act. But he didn't know her or any other k'chasans well enough to read their expressions well, so he couldn't be sure. She was a new qengai, just barely an adult, and these cultists and the ones at the citadel were probably the first men she'd ever killed. What must she really be feeling and thinking?

  He pondered this while they tended their injuries, released the cultists' denekon into the wild, and mounted their own. He ultimately decided that he just didn't know her well enough to even guess what was in her mind.

  “So what did you do with the ones you interrogated?”

  Onudaka cringed and Iniru replied coldly, “I broke their wrists and sent them out into the forest without food or clothing. It was better than they deserved.”

  * * *

  They took shelter in a cave in the hills, a place where they could hide for a night or two and recover. Turesobei worried that Haisero would return to the citadel and find his father's body in the cellar, but there was nothing he could do about it. And even if they did find it, why would Haisero mess with the body?

  They rested all that day and the next before returning to the citadel. Along the way they spent the night at the Moshingan monastery, and again the mountain spirits left them food, brushwood, and cinnamon. A large pot of cinnamon-flavored tea restored some of their spirit. Turesobei had grown up with the finest spices available, but he was certain that he'd never tasted cinnamon this good before.

  When they finally reached the ruined citadel, Iniru sneaked in and checked the place out. No one was there anymore, but she concluded that two days ago, Sotenda, Haisero, and their woodsmen had ridden in and stayed for a night. Noboro’s body was unharmed in the cellar, just as they'd left it. As Turesobei looked at his father, the blood on his cheek burned, along with the shame he felt. He had failed to achieve anything he'd vowed to his father.

  He went to Iniru who was washing her uniform in a nearby stream. “Can you clean the blood sigil off my face for me?”

  “You can't do it yourself?”

  “I can't bring myself to.”

  “Ugh. You know, you really could use a bath. You smell foul.”

  “Thanks. I want to clean this off first, though. I know it doesn't make sense, really, but if I bathed, I might wash it off by accident. Removing it has to be intentional.”

  Iniru dipped a cloth in the water and rubbed at his face. After a few minutes of scrubbing, she frowned.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She retrieved a tiny bar of soap from her pack and washed his face again. She looked worried. “Umm…. Turesobei, it — It's not coming off. I mean, I got the blood off, but there's a crimson stain beneath. The lines are sharp and crisp. It looks like a tattoo.”

  Turesobei peered at his reflection in the water and saw a perfect Chonda Goshawk sigil on the side of his face. “I've been marked by blood magic. Because of my vow.”

  “Will it come off?”

  “Not until my vow is complete.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't worry about it. I won't.”

  She looked at him with doubt, but then shrugged. “Why don't we bathe?”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  She pulled off the cotton shirt she wore under her uniform.

  Turesobei stared dumbstruck for a second, then his face turned so red that the tattoo almost disappeared. He spun around. “Iniru! What are you doing?”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. He was quite uncomfortable with her touching him right then. “I thought we were going to bathe.”

  “Well, obviously not at the same time and in the same place.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, because it’s….”

  “Not proper?”

  “For one thing.”

  “There are other reasons?”

  “Well, I mean…you're a girl.”

  “Really?”

  “And I'm a boy.”

  “I had noticed.”

  “And…and….”

  Iniru laughed and playfully slapped him on the backside. “You baojendari are such prudes. And no fun at all. What's a little nakedness among friends? We are friends, aren't we?”

  “Yes, I guess so, but we're not—”

  “You'd better go on, Turesobei. Before you say something you’ll regret.”

  Turesobei nodded and started climbing the hill. He heard her slip out of her shorts behind him and step into the water. He couldn't help himself. For a moment, he turned and looked. She had soft fur, nicely muscled legs, round hips, and….

  He had to get out of there. So he turned and ran.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  That night, while eating bowls of rice and freshly roasted game Iniru had caught, they discussed what to do next. They had already agreed that until they had rested sufficiently, rushing after Sotenda and Haisero was futile.

  “Where do you think they're headed?” Onudaka asked.

  “Back to the Gawo, I'd guess,” said Turesobei. “Unless you think Sotenda will head back to Tagana instead.”

  “No,” Onudaka said. “Even West Tagana is too restrictive on the freedoms of nazaboko. Unless he's willing to live in the mountains and foster his cult there. But he won't. He has developed a taste for finer things. And unless I misread them, I think maybe my brother has finally found someone on his level. Someone who fulfills a need he has. I think maybe he respects and perhaps worships Haisero.”

  “Even though he's at least ten years older?”

  “Probably fifteen.”

  “They may be lovers,” Iniru said.

  Onudaka and Turesobei both cringed slightly.

  “What? I know it happens in your society.”

  Onudaka nodded. “You're right, of course. We just don't talk about it openly.”

  “That's because you don't practice it openly either. The more fault yours.”

  “Well, they may only be lovers in spirit rather than in body,” Onudaka said. “That would be my guess.”

  “In either case,” said Turesobei, “I'm going to take my father home and then get help in pursuing them. My family could be in great danger from that heart. The two of you are more than welcome to come with me if you wish.”

  “If you don't mind, I will,” said Iniru. “I must see this to the end.”

  “Me too,” said Onudaka. “I feel responsible for the damage Sotenda causes. Besides, I'd like to see this progressive land ruled by the Chonda. I need somewhere to retire to.”

  * * *

  On the trek out of the rainforest, Turesobei felt as if his entire being had been dulled. When they reached the bridge, they found bones bleaching in the sun, picked clean by animals and insects, washed by the frequent rains. They said prayers and moved on.

  Turesobei rode across the bridge without looking down. His fear had drained away completely. He said little to the others and remained deep within his thoughts, mostly memories of his father. Sometimes he thought about the Storm Dragon's Heart and his vow. As little as possible he thought about the crimson sigil tattooed onto his cheek.

  Noboro's body lay strapped to a stretcher that they had fixed onto a denekon's saddle. Knowing he carried his father home didn't improve his mood. He would often stare at the preserved body and imagine his father in life, how he had talked and smiled along the trip. He had come so close to having a relationship with the mysterious man he'd always admired from afar.

  Turesobei's heart was heavy, and the only things that lightened it
were Onudaka's stories, Lu Bei’s fluttering antics, and Iniru. Not anything she did or said but just her presence—all grace, beauty, and power. No one had ever fired his senses the way she did. Of course, they still bickered. Occasionally she picked at him. A few times she was actually playful and friendly, but that would usually end with her being annoyed by something he did or said or by some baojendari mannerism or cultural belief that she found ridiculous or insulting.

  And she was always bickering with Lu Bei. So much that he started summoning Lu Bei only when Iniru was sleeping or too busy to talk. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t trust one another and get along.

  After an arduous journey, they at last reached Nijona. The Little Goddess hadn't returned to port yet, so they rented a room in the same sleazy hotel as before. Turesobei strengthened the preservation spell on his father's body and went out the next day and purchased a wooden coffin.

  He spent most of his time sleeping and preparing a few emergency spell-strips while Lu Bei watched and occasionally clucked his tongue when he thought Turesobei wasn’t doing one just so. It was annoying. Mostly because Lu Bei was usually correct.

  “I could hardly tell you how to do a spell,” he squeaked apologetically when Turesobei suggested he should script one instead. “I’m not a grimoire, much less a wizard. But I’ve seen so many spells written and performed.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ve just developed a knack for knowing when the marks and gestures aren’t perfect.”

  While Onudaka kept watch for their ship, Iniru investigated the town, looking for signs of Sotenda and Haisero. Eventually, she got the information they needed.

  “The cultists sailed east on a small ship three days ago. If your ship's as good as you say, and it arrives soon, then we might catch up to them.”

  But that didn't work out because a storm delayed the Little Goddess, and four more days passed before she arrived.

  Iniru sent word to her family that she was continuing onward. She didn't seem worried about them missing her. In fact, she didn't seem to miss them herself, but Turesobei thought that maybe she was hiding it.

  Captain Tedeko was surprised to see Turesobei alone, and he clearly didn't trust Iniru and Onudaka. So Turesobei told Tedeko the entire tale of what had happened. Afterward, the captain apologized and said a prayer for Noboro.

  “I'm sorry, my lord. I know how you feel. My father was a sailor, lost at sea and never returned.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  “Not really. He traveled all the time just like your father.”

  Turesobei sighed. “It doesn't seem fair. I was just getting to know him.”

  “Aye, my lord. It seems that's always the way of it. It hurt me when my father died, mostly for the loss of what I could never have. But my mother and grandmother, they knew him, and it hurt them far more.”

  Turesobei thought of how crushed Grandfather Kahenan would be, though he didn't think Kahenan would be surprised. He must have prepared himself for something like this years ago. Enashoma would certainly be sad, though not greatly. She knew Noboro far less than even Turesobei did. How would his mother react, though? What would she do? His parents had never been close, but they'd had children together. There must have been some bond between them, however tenuous.

  Captain Tedeko provisioned the ship, and they set sail. Turesobei felt glad to be out on the sea with Wakaro behind him. He never wanted to see that land again.

  After another full day of rest, he was strong enough to become bored and restless. Since there was little else to do, he began to practice martial arts forms on the deck. Iniru joined him. Though critical of his every movement, her opinions proved insightful. And he could tell she was making an effort to keep her tone gentle.

  “After the Crane Stance,” she said, demonstrating the technique, “when you go into the Downward Snake, you want to lower your arm a little more with a loose wrist. Carry the arc further, then rise up slowly, smoothly, before striking downward fast. But not too fast. Maintain focus and control.”

  “That's not quite how my arms instructor does it. He keeps it all at the same speed.”

  “Well, then he's wasting striking power. Trust me. I've studied all my life with an emphasis on strength and speed. Your instructor follows the formalized method. Nice for nobles getting exercise I suppose, but not the best if you want to fight and win.”

  Turesobei's first impulse was to defend his arms instructor, but as the words went through his mind, he realized how ridiculous that would be. She was a qengai. Since she would often have to fight alone, her life depended on these techniques even more than a baojendari warrior's. He also thought about how she'd told him he mustn't worry about hurting his enemy or he'd get himself killed. He suspected that he'd be facing more dangers soon.

  Turesobei swallowed his pride and looked her in the eyes. Deep, round, and amber with those exotic slitted pupils. He lost himself in her gaze. She was so alluring that his chest constricted.

  “Well, don't just gawk at me,” she snapped.

  He shook himself from the daze and stammered, “I–I…well…teach me.”

  “What?”

  “Teach me how to fight! I want to know how you do it. I want to be like you. You barely break a sweat taking out zaboko cultists twice your age. And you're so graceful and beautiful, even when you're fighting, or when you're just walking. I saw some k'chasans out in the street when we returned, and none of them moved the way you do. You're sinuous and….”

  He shrugged, having said all the words he could think of to describe her. For once, Iniru looked taken aback. He thought that if a k'chasan could be seen blushing, that she was.

  She took up one of his hands in both of hers. Her lips parted and she whispered, “Thank you.” He thought her eyes were actually watering a bit. “That's the kindest thing…I'm honored.”

  He didn't know what had made it so kind, but he smiled and said, “You're welcome.”

  Their smiles met. He imagined that streams of kenja connected their souls. Then suddenly, her expression hardened and she dropped his hand. “All right, then. Let's see all the fighting forms you know. I want to examine your sword techniques, too. Then I'll correct you. Once we get that out of the way, I'll show you some exercises you're not likely to learn anywhere else.”

  “Are they qengai secrets?”

  “Nearly, since most everyone else has forgotten them.”

  “Are there secret qengai exercises and techniques?”

  “Of course, stupid. You know, to be a wizard, you can ask some obvious questions.”

  “A bad habit. I ask things before I can think about them. Iniru, can you teach me any secret techniques?”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Oh, sorry. Obviously you can’t. How else would they remain secrets?”

  She said demurely, “Well, I could teach them to you if you met one of two conditions.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, if you became a qengai.”

  “That's not likely.”

  “No, it's not. You'd have to train for many years and I don't think you have the temperament for it.”

  “What's the other way?”

  “To become k'chasan, in a qengai family, of course. All k'chasans within a qengai maka are entrusted with secrets if they take and keep certain basic vows.”

  He knew that a maka was sort of like a family or clan—or was it a village?—but he wasn’t sure exactly how it worked. He just knew it was different.

  Turesobei laughed. “Well, I could certainly never become k'chasan, since I've already been born baojendari.”

  She scowled. “You baojendari are obsessed with birth and lineage. Being k'chasan isn't about having fur and tufted ears. K'chasan is our culture, our heritage, and our family connections more so than what we were born looking like.”

  “I don't understand how that makes a difference.”

  “If you became a seiwei—”

  “A what?”

  “A k'chasan ma
te or companion.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “You don’t know how it works, do you?”

  “Not really.”

  “A k'chasan’s siwo or sawa becomes k'chasan, regardless of race. A siwo is a mate. A sawa is like a close friend, a pledged lifelong companion to you and any other seiwei you have.”

  “Oh, well I guess I'll never learn any secrets, since there's no chance I'll ever be either one of those.”

  Iniru's eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her nostrils flared. Turesobei stepped back in response. She stammered, “You…you stupid boy! Go to blazes!”

  She stomped away.

  What had he said? “Iniru! I'm sorry.” She turned and glowered at him. “I'm sorry for whatever it was I did.”

  Her eyes widened and then she huffed and stormed away.

  “What about my lessons?” he called out.

  “Tomorrow!” she yelled.

  * * *

  Iniru skipped dinner, and Onudaka asked Turesobei what was wrong. Except for a little stretching and basic staff practice, Onudaka had done nothing but rest and work on shaping the amulet he always carried with him. Turesobei explained what had happened to him, and the old man shook his head.

  “You need me to explain that to you? I thought you were a wizard.”

  “Why does everyone always say that?” he replied in frustration. “Just because I'm smart and know how to cast spells doesn't mean I understand everything. And I'm especially dumb when it comes to girls.”

  “I can see that. And I'm of a mind not to tell you. Best that you think on what she said and figure it out for yourself. Me telling you won't help you learn how to manage it.”

  “Do you think I should apologize?”

  Onudaka scratched through his newly trimmed grey beard. “I haven't a clue. I've never had many long relationships, and things like that vary from person to person. You're on your own, I'm afraid.”

  He decided not to apologize, not today anyway. Once angry, Iniru was also irrational. He stayed up gazing at Avida the Bright Moon as he rose over the sea. Repeatedly, Turesobei thought about his conversation with Iniru, until he finally gave up.