“We're in the storm's eye,” Iniru whispered. “On the other side of the lake.”
“I remember that much.”
“The shaidera threw her javelin and struck you in the chest, right side, almost at your shoulder. You passed out.” She reached the javelin out to him. “I saved it, thought you might need it. In case it had a curse on it.”
Turesobei took the four-foot spear in his hand, a slender, jagged piece of petrified wood. It was tainted with the shaidera’s power. On it she had placed an enchantment of poison, from which his grandfather's armor charms had protected him. He knew it had worked because he was still alive.
“You hold onto it for now, Iniru. It's magic, and it might come in handy sometime.”
She nodded and set it down beside her. “I dragged your heavy, unconscious body from the shore into this cave. The cultists seem to keep their extra supplies here.”
“It doesn't hurt as much as I'd expect.”
“Your armor spared you a worse wound.”
His reinforced leather armor was piled up beside him. A thick bandage was wrapped around his chest. “This is near where the arrow struck me before, on the bridge in Wakaro. An unlucky spot for me, I guess. How long has it been?”
“You were out for four hours. It's about midnight now.”
“Have you scouted their camp yet?”
“No.”
“Do you think we'll be safe for the night?”
“I think so. You could probably rest all day tomorrow. It's dark here in the back, and they have a lot of supplies put away. No guards outside it, either. It's the perfect place to hide.”
“Then I'm going back to sleep. You check everything out. I'll rest and then keep watch while you sleep in the morning.”
Iniru bent down and kissed him on the lips. Then she ruffled a hand through his hair and said, “Rest well. I'll wake you after dawn.”
* * *
Dawn's light filtered in through the mouth of the cave. Turesobei, however, lay within the shadows of the wall of stacked crates. The sound of Iniru climbing over the boxes woke him, though in truth there was little sound to be heard. He must have been close to waking already.
“How did you get me over those?” he whispered to her.
“Not easily, and when I tossed you over, you hit with a rather loud thud.”
“That didn't wake me?”
“Not at all.”
He drew her into an embrace. “You were cutting things a little close with the sun rising, don't you think?”
“I know what I'm doing.”
“I'm not questioning your methods, just trying to understand them.”
“I saw the heart tonight.”
Turesobei sat up so quickly that his head spun and his vision darkened for a few moments. The pain in his chest helped to keep him awake, though. “Could we get to it?”
“I think so. I might have myself, but I was afraid to take it, after what your grandfather said.”
“I'm not sure that it wouldn't be safer for you to take it instead of me, but I guess we will have to trust Grandfather.”
“We can get past the guards at night. These cultists are different from the others. More devoted, I think, but with far less military training.”
“What about Sotenda? Onudaka says he's a formidable swordsman.”
“Sotenda doesn't sleep near Haisero. Probably because Haisero tosses with nightmares, moaning and wailing.”
“Where does he keep the heart?”
“Cradled in his arms. I saw it…through a thin paper window.” She looked away and drew in a deep breath. “It was pulsing and glowing with crimson light.” She took his hand. “Sobei, I was afraid of it. I don't think I could have taken it from him. And I don't want you to have to touch it either.”
“It will be all right,” he said meekly.
“You don't sound certain.”
“I'm not, but I am trying to be positive. I have to trust Grandfather Kahenan. He knows about things like this better than I do.”
“But the heart predates your people coming here by millennia. He can't really know what it might do.”
Turesobei shrugged. “Even if it kills me, it's best for us to get it out of Haisero's hands. Besides, even though it affects him, it hasn't killed him yet.”
Iniru pulled two packets from her uniform and handed one to Turesobei. He unwrapped the coarse cloth and found dried fruit and meat within it.
“Rations I stole from one of the crates.”
They ate and then Iniru laid down. “Keep watch and wake me at sundown. Then I want you take a nap before we go after the heart.”
“You have a plan?”
“Of course.”
Iniru closed her eyes and was asleep within moments. Turesobei rose and stretched carefully. He practiced deep breathing exercises and tried to meditate, hoping he could recover enough kenja to handle the cultists. But he grew unsettled, instead of peaceful and contemplative. Thoughts about the heart kept penetrating his mind.
He moved as far away from Iniru as possible, given their surroundings, and pulled the diary from his backpack. He swished his hand across the cover and whispered, “Lu Bei!”
Amber sparks glinted within his kavaru and along the runes on the book’s cover. The fetch appeared and immediately flew into Turesobei’s arms.
“Master! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. You know that.”
“I heard her say it.”
“Lu Bei, you can trust her. You need to trust her. She’s now my….”
“What, master?”
“She…she means a lot to me. Try to get along with her, okay?”
“Yes, master.”
“Say, the other night. You weren’t listening when Iniru and I—”
Lu Bei threw out his hands and shook his head. “No, master. No, no. When you are with a lady friend, I do not eavesdrop unless requested. Just like you told me to—”
“You mean Chonda Lu told you to do that?”
“Of course, master.”
“Lu Bei, what do you think about the Storm Dragon’s Heart? Do you think it’s having an effect on me? Did Chonda Lu ever go through anything like this?”
“Never anything quite the same as this.”
The fetch touched Turesobei’s head and then his kavaru. He stared into his eyes for sometime after that and frowned.
“It is affecting you, master. It is hard for me to tell how much. I’m closely linked to you, but I am not a wizard.”
A small, clawed hand touched the crimson goshawk sigil on Turesobei’s cheek.
“And you are influenced by this as well. I cannot tell which is affecting you more. Their purpose seems the same. I know you cannot avoid it, master, but I fear what it might do to you.”
* * *
Turesobei and Iniru crept out of the cave where the cultists stored their excess supplies. Above them, stars glittered in a clear, moonless sky seen through the eye of the still-raging storm. Sotenda's followers had seized four A-frame cabins and a manse that were the vacation homes of baojendari nobles from the Gawo Clan. The buildings sat along a sheer bluff with their back porches facing the flooded lake. Twelve cultists stood guard along the building fronts, but only two at the manse kept watch along the backside. To the north, in the direction of the cave, the bluff sloped down to a boggy shoreline.
Keeping out of sight, Turesobei and Iniru moved away from the camp down to the lakeshore. As they waded in, Turesobei feared the shaidera would come after them, but she didn't. After a few minutes of wading and then swimming alongside the cliff, they reached the path of natural handholds Iniru had found before and began to climb.
Turesobei had more trouble climbing than Iniru, who used her claws and wasn’t wounded. Several times, his wet hands and feet slipped, but only one at a time, and thankfully the rocks protruded enough that he managed to keep his grip. Pain coursed through his chest and into his shoulder, but the closer he came to the heart, the more enl
ivened and determined he became.
Once atop the bluff, Iniru led Turesobei through the shadows toward the back of the manse. Before, she had simply peeked into Haisero's room through a tiny window near the ceiling. This time, they would have to deal with two guards and infiltrate the house.
“Wait here,” Iniru whispered into Turesobei's ear when they were within a stone's throw of the guards.
She darted ahead, and somehow he lost sight of her until she was right upon the enemy. Within three heartbeats, she had silently knocked out both cultists.
After pulling the bodies out of sight, they passed through the unlocked back door and tiptoed into a dark room filled with weapons and supplies. A sliding door on the room's opposite side led to a lantern-lit hallway. Seeing and hearing no one moving about, they inched forward with their weapons drawn.
Halfway down the sparse hallway, Iniru stopped and touched an elegant, paper-paneled door painted with a rustic mountain landscape. Turesobei nodded and then tensed as she slid the partition back. Turesobei had known before looking that the heart lay within this room. He had felt the heat of its presence, as if he were walking toward an invisible bonfire.
Against the far wall, Haisero lay curled up on a plush sleeping mat, snoring heavily, with sweat beading on his forehead. The maniac clutched the jade orb to his chest as if it were his own heart. The heart's pulsing veins cast the room in a sinister, crimson glow.
With his kenja-sight opened, Turesobei saw the vibrant currents of energy that pierced the room and wrapped like threads of yarn around the orb. It glowed so brightly that he raised his hands and shaded his eyes. He also spotted the ward spell that Iniru had instinctively sensed earlier with her qengai training. If anyone came within ten feet of Haisero, the spell would wake Haisero and immobilize the intruder.
Iniru drew out the small blowgun she had already loaded with a poisoned dart. She inhaled deeply and then puffed. With only a light scraping sound, the dart rocketed forth and stabbed into Haisero's neck. Haisero stirred and swatted at the tiny dart, but he didn't wake up.
Now it was Turesobei's turn. He drew out a spell-strip and chanted as quietly as he could, his phrases merely a whisper as he strained to break the ward spell. For all his arrogance and lack of precision in casting, Haisero had a talent for binding raw power into his spells. Turesobei broke out into a sweat as he forced kenja away from the orb and into his counter-spell. He thought of his grandfather urging him to greater concentration and effort, and with Kahenan's clear voice echoing in his mind, he at last disabled Haisero's spell.
“Got it,” he whispered to Iniru, gasping for breath.
They crept forward. Turesobei wondered if he should kill Haisero as honor demanded. He knew someone must, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Iniru might have other ideas, though. The dart's poison wasn't lethal. He had convinced her that killing Haisero while he was still in contact with the heart was dangerous. The sudden shock of Haisero's death might cause the heart to do any number of things. Of course, she would probably kill him as soon as the heart was safely away. Turesobei could almost read the lethal thoughts that coiled in her mind. And he wouldn't try to stop her.
Turesobei reached down for the orb, but sensing its powerful malice, he hesitated. Visible tendrils of storm kenja spread like static electricity to his fingertips. He inhaled once and steeled his courage. Then he swiftly took the Storm Dragon's Heart in both hands and wrenched it out of Haisero arms.
Power burned through him.
His blood turned to falling rain. His heartbeat became thunder. His thoughts lightning. His body was…immense and weightless, expanding rapidly…full of anger.
Turesobei was cloud and storm, power and willfulness, wrath and terror. He was the legacy of Naruwakiru, her child in spirit, and she hovered in the back of his mind, whispering thoughts to him.
No one could resist him. Anything he desired could be his.
“Sobei?” Iniru whispered. “Are you all right?”
Turesobei heard her but couldn't see her. He saw the cabins below, from far above in the storm clouds where his consciousness now resided. He saw the mountains behind them and the lake below. He thought of the shaidera, and instantly an enormous lightning bolt struck down from the sky and blasted the lake. Thunder followed a moment later, booming so loud that it shook the cabin.
With a rueful smile, he looked up past the lake to the stricken lands of the Gawo. He could rid his clan of their enemies.
Then he looked beyond Gawo Province to the lands of the Chonda, the home of his forefathers and of all the people he loved. The people who suffered most from this storm, whose homes and crops were ruined, who might starve come winter.
It couldn't go on. The storm had to stop. Turesobei refused to let Naruwakiru's ghost dominate him. With a burst of determination, Turesobei sent his consciousness back into his body and commanded the heart to end the storm. Immediately the storm weakened. It did not die, however. The orb resisted his will and raged against him, sending lightning pulses through his bones, generating excruciating pain.
“You will obey me,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
Pain lanced through him with stronger pulses, but he resisted. The heart wouldn't kill him. It had no other bearer now but him. And he knew the heart wanted him more than any other. For whatever reason, the orb desired a baojendari, specifically a Chonda.
It wanted him. Maybe he had always been its true target.
Turesobei struggled on. The energies relented and drained from the sky back into the heart. The pain ceased. He took a deep breath and nodded to Iniru, trying to smile but failing.
The storm was over.
But the heart had not finished. It had only gathered its strength to use against him alone. While he was relaxed, with his defenses down, Naruwakiru's jade heart struck again, through his body and deep into his mind. Turesobei collapsed to his knees. He could see nothing but dark, menacing clouds laced with thunder and lightning. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't release the orb. Somehow it was fused into his hands.
“Turesobei, you must fight it,” Iniru said, crouching next to him. “We have to get out of here. I can hear cultists coming.”
But he couldn't move or respond. Hesitantly, she reached down and touched his shoulder. Only the slightest contact was made, but the heart lashed out against Iniru with a jolt of lightning. She staggered back against the wall with a web of static buzzing across her body. She cried out and then fell unconscious.
Her fur was singed, and smoke rose from her bodysuit. Turesobei's fear for her only weakened him further. He fell into a haze, just barely conscious.
The heart couldn't conquer him. He wouldn't give in.
Their standstill continued until Sotenda burst into the room with a half-dozen cultists at his side. The nazaboko high priest furiously stomped over and heel-kicked Turesobei on the side of the head. Turesobei’s jaw cracked, a tooth broke off, and blood spilled onto the mats.
Chapter Fifty-One
An electric shock, burning his jaw, jolted Turesobei awake. “Ow!”
He tried to touch his face, but his arm couldn't move. He opened his matter-filled eyes, blinked them clear, and found himself within a sparse dojo located inside the manse. His feet and hands were bound together behind him, and the binding had been tied to a crude hook nailed into the wall. He was leaning forward, staring at the shining wood floor below him. Or rather at the moment, staring into Haisero's gleaming, sinister eyes.
Haisero lifted a finger and touched Turesobei's cheek, on the side without the blood-magic sigil. Another shock followed, and a spot of skin melted. A numb ache sunk down into Turesobei's cheekbone.
“Now that you're awake,” Haisero said calmly, “I wish for you to tell me about your tattoo. When I try to burn you on that cheek, the energy disperses. Nothing at all like this.”
Haisero shocked him again. Turesobei flinched and tried to wriggle free, but all he could do was sway from side to s
ide. Haisero laughed, as did Sotenda and the four cultists who stood just beyond him.
“If you don't tell, I will keep burning you.” He frowned and touched the right side of his face, which had been ruined by Turesobei's dark-fire. “Oh, I forgot. I'm going to burn all of your face anyway. Well then, perhaps we'll make another deal. I'll give you water and food, and I won't burn your girlfriend's face.”
“Niru!” Turesobei looked beside him and saw that she dangled from a hook just as he did. She looked terrible. Her face was swollen, with bruises visible beneath singed fur. She was unmasked but otherwise still dressed in her uniform. Her eyes met his. They were glazed and unfocused. She somehow managed a smile.
“A lovely reunion,” Sotenda said. “But we will have to beat her some more if you don't answer our questions.”
“I would like that,” added Haisero. “I haven't even shocked her yet.”
Turesobei snarled and wrenched forward.
“I am afraid,” said Sotenda, “that you won't be able to tear free. Your bindings are anchored into a support beam.”
“And do try to use magic,” Haisero said. “I'd love to see the result.”
Turesobei painfully activated his kenja-sight and saw the binding spells Haisero had placed on him. The kenja from any casting Turesobei made would transform into a layer of dark-fire that would engulf both him and Iniru.
“You see what I mean,” Haisero said, noticing that Turesobei’s eyes had glazed over white with the activation of his kenja-sight. He glanced to Iniru. “Tenda, give me your knife, please.”
“Wait!” Turesobei said. “Give her some water and I'll talk.”
“Talk first,” Haisero said.
“The tattoo is blood magic. My father traced it onto my cheek when I made a vow to avenge his death and reclaim Yomifano.”
“Yomifano?”
“My grandfather's sword.”
“Oh.” Haisero drew the blade from the scabbard at his waist. “You mean my sword, don't you?” He angled it back and forth and then sheathed it proudly. “Yomifano. I think I like that name. Yomifano.” He let the name roll off his tongue several more times, savoring it.
Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 27
