Turesobei jabbed again with the spear, trying to make a good show of it. He missed again, badly. All the reitsu in the circle laughed and taunted him. The reitsu champion circled him, grinning.
“You shouldn’t play with your food,” Turesobei told him.
Snarling, the reitsu darted toward him — and then past him without attacking. Before Turesobei could spin around, claws scratched hard across the back of his neck and jabbed into his side, near his kidneys. The pain was so intense he cried out.
He stumbled, turned, and swept the spear out in an arc. The reitsu caught it by the shaft, and snapped it in half. With his fist, the wraith hammered Turesobei’s broken arm. Again he cried out, bending over in agony. Claws jabbed into and out of both thighs — and then both his arms. Pain wracked him, while cold burrowed deep into his soul.
An elbow struck his chin and downed him.
Turesobei’s eyes rolled. He took deep, rapid breaths and tried to focus on staying awake. He couldn’t fall unconscious — he had to be awake when the reitsu tried to drain him. The wraith knelt on Turesobei’s chest, pinning him down. Laughing, he latched both hands around Turesobei’s neck. Warmth fled from Turesobei; his internal kenja depleted rapidly. The wraith threw his head back, rolled his eyes, took in a deep breath, and licked his lips. Chill bumps spread across Turesobei’s skin. He felt as if he were lying naked on the ice. Aches like those from a fever set into his bones. His mind became muddled. He hadn’t expected the process to happen so fast.
But if the reitsu wanted warmth, Turesobei had more than enough kenja to give him. Focusing, Turesobei altered the channel the wraith instinctively used to draw energy and rerouted it to the Mark of the Storm Dragon. He wouldn’t have to risk opening it; he could just let the wraith draw from it instead.
The channel shifted. Raw power flowed into the wraith. The reitsu screamed as he burst into flames. Turesobei kicked free and rolled away. A burst of fire shot outward, and the wraith disintegrated into a pile of ashes.
Unfortunately, the wraith’s draw on the sigil resulted in a leak of storm kenja into Turesobei. Even though he hadn’t opened the channel, Turesobei fell into the dream of the Storm Dragon.
Chapter Eleven
Turesobei fought against the dragon. “I did not call on you,” he said. “I did not call on this power. I do not accept it.”
He woke to himself suddenly, covered in ashes. Motekeru stood guard over him. The amber hounds, Rig and Ohma, flanked him. Based on their positioning, he had, apparently, strayed only mentally into the dragon dream, without physically shifting.
War Chief Sudorga was arguing with Lady Umora, who was snarling — eyes blazing — and screaming. The wraiths and the goronku had separated and were facing off, each side prepared to fight. Iniru had drawn Enashoma and Zaiporo away from the conflict.
Fighting through the tremendous pain from his injuries, Turesobei grabbed onto Motekeru and pulled himself up. Lady Umora spotted him, and then stormed over, pointing. Motekeru put himself between them.
“You cheated!” she shouted.
“I received no outside help, and we fought to the death,” Turesobei gasped. He clutched a hand to the wound in his side to stop the blood that was flowing out. “Those were the rules. It was fair fight, and a deal is a deal.”
“You burned him away like the machine did to those it murdered! You knew that would happen. You knew you would beat him!”
“I thought it might happen, yes. But I was far from certain. He could’ve killed me and won easily at any point. I was no match for him physically. If he had killed me instead of feeding, the storm energies would never have touched him. Some restraint from him, and you could’ve feasted on all of us. But that was his choice.”
War Chief Sudorga pleaded with Lady Umora. “He followed the rules. You made a deal.”
“You risk war between our peoples,” she seethed.
“We had an agreement,” Sudorga replied. “And we didn’t interfere.”
“He’s your ally, Sudorga, and he deceived us!”
“Enough!” Turesobei shouted, eyes narrowing. “I have had enough! This ends now. I’m exhausted, cold, wounded, bleeding, half-dead, and trapped in an alien land, perhaps forever. War Chief Sudorga, would you please withdraw from the commons. Take my companions with you.”
“Sobei,” Iniru said, “I don’t think —”
“I said go.”
“I’m staying with you,” she said.
“You’re a liability right now. Go, Iniru. Protect Shoma and Zai — please.”
Her nostrils flared with irritation, but she nodded and backed away. War Chief Sudorga started to say something, but Turesobei shook his head. The goronku withdrew. The gathered reitsu closed on Turesobei, Motekeru, and the wolfhounds.
“You cannot defeat us,” Lady Umora said.
Turesobei patted Motekeru on the back. “Are you ready?”
“We will kill them all, master,” he replied in his deep mechanical tones. “We should’ve done it this way from the start. These … reitsu … they’re no better than beasts. No honor at all.”
“You are the ones without honor,” Umora said.
“We followed your rules,” Turesobei said, looking not at her but the other reitsu. “Your actions now bring dishonor upon you.”
Lady Umora brandished the white-steel knife. “I do not fear the machine, and I do not fear you.”
“They have a white-steel blade,” Turesobei said to Motekeru. “They think they can kill you with it.”
“That little knife? Barely worth mentioning.”
“It would take quite a lot of stabs, I should think.”
“Many stabs,” Motekeru replied. “It would be better for slicing cheese than harming me.”
Lady Umora hesitated. The other reitsu stopped moving forward. It was time for Turesobei to throw in one more element to make them doubt.
“Lu Bei!”
From the pack on the mount, the fetch popped out and zoomed overhead, circling downward until he hovered beside Turesobei. Attempting a growl that was more of a high-pitched whine, the fetch cast sparks between his palms as menacingly as he could. The reitsu wouldn’t know how little power those sparks carried.
“Master, I am ready to wipe the ice with the blood of these creatures.” Lu Bei bowed toward Lady Umora. “You will die first, Lady Umora. Those without honor always die first.”
Lady Umora backed away, snarling, as did the other reitsu. A grizzled wraith with stringy hair stepped in front of her.
“The elders have voted, Lady Umora. You are hereby removed from power. You have brought dishonor to us, and you’re risking many lives. A deal is a deal.” He turned to Turesobei. “Leave here, boy. Never return to our lands. If you do, your life is forfeit, no matter the cost to us.”
Turesobei bowed. “Thank you for honoring the bargain.”
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to kill them, master?” Motekeru asked.
“A deal is a deal.”
“As you wish, master.”
The reitsu parted and allowed them to pass. Turesobei, Motekeru, and the hounds joined the goronku who were gathered around their mounts.
Lu Bei zoomed around Motekeru. “You haven’t forgotten how to play the game.”
“I would have killed them,” Motekeru replied.
“That’s what makes you such a good player,” Lu Bei responded.
“I have never understood you, fetch. And I still don’t like you.”
Lu Bei shrugged, and when Motekeru wasn’t looking, the fetch stuck his tongue out at him.
“One day, fetch, I’m going to rip that tongue out,” said Motekeru, though how he knew Lu Bei had made a face at him, Turesobei had no idea.
Lu Bei’s eyes went wide. He flew into Turesobei’s pack, and transformed back into a book. Turesobei wasn’t certain, but he thought Motekeru’s body might have shuddered as he suppressed something like a laugh.
“That was gutsy what you did,” Narbenu said,
nodding to Turesobei.
Iniru kissed Turesobei on the cheek. “He’s good at gutsy.” She looked him over. “You’re a mess. You’re wounded again. Why are you always wounded?”
“Because …” He sighed. “Because I’m always in over my head. And frankly, whatever my special destiny is that Lu Bei’s always going on about … well, it sucks. Also, I’m very brave.”
“Stupid, more like,” Iniru said.
“I am never sure whose side you’re on.”
She grinned. “Mine.” She looked at the sonoke for the first time. “Oh wow. You ride these?”
“Sonoke,” Kemsu said stepping forward. He bowed and smiled warmly at her. “They’re called sonoke. We have three extras. Some of you will have to double up. The machine man looks heavy. Probably should take one by himself. I’m Kemsu, by the way.”
“Iniru,” she replied absently, staring at the sonoke.
“Shoma, you and Iniru ride together,” Turesobei said. “Zai, you can double up with me. Motekeru, take the hounds with you. No more questions until we’re moving. I want to get out of here before they change their minds.”
“What about your wounds?” Shoma asked. “You’re bleeding. You need to bind them.”
“My injuries will have to wait, at least until we’re out of sight.”
A half-hour later, they stopped, and Narbenu wrapped a strip of cloth around Turesobei’s midsection, to keep the wound in his side from bleeding any further. The others injuries would have to wait.
“You didn’t earn any friends today,” War Chief Sudorga said.
“You think they’ll hold it against your people?” Turesobei asked.
“I don’t think so. If they do, we can handle ourselves. But know this: if you leave our lands, they may come after you. How did you do that, anyway?”
“What, kill the reitsu champion?” Turesobei asked. “I altered the channel his warmth-feeding used, so it would tap my storm sigil instead of my soul.”
“You took a big risk,” Zaiporo said.
“I knew it could work. They tried to drain Motekeru of his warmth, but he is powered by magical fire, so it incinerated them. That’s how the corpses ended up charred, right?”
“Indeed,” Motekeru replied. “I barely touched them. It was their strikes against me that did them in.”
“It was too much warmth for them to contain,” Turesobei said. “I just had to make sure the champion didn’t kill me or knock me out, so I could redirect the energy at the right time.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you,” Zaiporo said.
“How did all of you survive them last night?” Turesobei said.
“When we wandered into the village,” Zaiporo said, “only a few of them met us at first. They attacked us, but the hounds intercepted them, and then Motekeru reached them. They fought him and the hounds, and ignored the rest of us. Don’t think they thought we were much of a threat. I guess they were right. Anyway, Iniru found the little house. It was empty, and the door was unlocked. Motekeru killed the seven nearest wraiths and joined us inside. Don’t know why it took them all day to mount a decent attack.”
“I think it must take them a while to wake up from their hibernation,” Turesobei said. “Their best fighter didn’t even wake until after we got to you.”
“Their champion slumbered because he was already full,” Narbenu said. “The reitsu are slow to rouse, especially if they don’t anticipate a threat. Usually, no more than a quarter of the village will be out of hibernation at once.”
It was late in the day, so they only rode for a few more hours. Only the active spell strip tucked into his belt kept Turesobei going. His injuries were far worse than he let the others know. As they rode, he let the mount follow along and dozed, with his scarf pulled over his face. He was left shivering without the parka, but his companions had it far worse, with only blankets to wrap around themselves. He was afraid they’d get frostbite before they made it back to Aikora.
Turesobei offered to summon the moon mirrors again, but War Chief Sudorga took one look at him and declined. The goronku cut blocks of ice to make snow houses, while Turesobei and his companions watched, except Motekeru. The goronku told him to rest, but Motekeru replied, “I am tireless. I will help.”
Wearing his scarf and hat, Lu Bei flew around observing the goronku’s snow house work and asking them endless questions about it, which they didn’t seem to mind. Turesobei was glad, because they might need to know how to do it on their own soon, and he was too tired to pay enough attention.
“My companions and I, we’ll all sleep in a snow house together,” Turesobei said while snuggled between Iniru and Enashoma.
“No,” Narbenu replied. “That is not proper. The girls must have their own snow house.”
Turesobei sighed, but didn’t argue it. Technically, it wouldn’t have been allowable where he was from, either — not that he cared.
“Will we be safe?” Shoma asked, shivering despite Turesobei’s coat and the blanket she had wrapped around her.
“The hounds and I will stay with them,” Motekeru said.
* * *
Stable hands took the sonoke from them as soon as they reached Aikora. Bedraggled, exhausted, and bitterly cold, Turesobei and his companions limped down the stairs into the village, following War Chief Sudorga. When they reached the common area at the bottom of the stairs, the goronku people massed around them to hear the news. Turesobei guessed the spotters in the watchtower had announced their impending arrival.
“Everyone has returned safe and well!” War Chief Sudorga proclaimed. “And our friend the dragon wizard Turesobei defeated a reitsu champion in single combat!” The crowd oohed in amazement. “And he won the freedom of his companions, who now join us!”
Raucous cheers followed, but they ceased as Motekeru clanged down the steps into the common room.
“Worry not, my people, over this metal man!” Sudorga put an arm around Motekeru. “He may be frightening to behold, but he is honorable and mighty. He defeated seven reitsu in combat.” Gasps spread around the room, then the people applauded again. “Now, our new guests need food, clothing, and treatment for their injuries. Make way!”
A goronku girl shoved forward, barreled into Turesobei, picked him up, swung him around, and put him back down.
“Kurine,” he gasped in a mixture of surprise and pain. “Careful — I’m badly hurt.”
“You poor, brave dear,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “My champion. I was so worried you’d never return. I hardly slept a wink the last two nights. But you’re back safe, and I couldn’t be happier.”
Turesobei smiled, not having a clue how to respond.
Kurine’s eyes creased, and she chewed on her lip, as if in deep in thought. He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. Kurine released a deep breath, blinked, and then said, quietly but formally, “Chonda Turesobei, will you accept my kiss?”
The common room fell into complete silence. Eyes pleading, cheeks blushing, Kurine leaned toward him. He should tell her no. Iniru was standing only a few paces away. Surely it wasn’t proper for him to kiss her, given how strict the goronku were about boys and girls being alone in a room together. But none of them were responding as if it were a problem. If anything, they were waiting expectantly for his reply. Would it be rude if he kissed her? Would it be rude if he refused? Everyone was watching. Her friends and family, most of her people. Would she feel rejected if declined? Would they mock her? He imagined how hurt he would feel if he were rejected publicly. He could explain to Kurine afterward that it was only a friendly kiss, that it didn’t mean anything more. And Iniru would understand. Maybe. Once she let him explain. And she’d forgive him … eventually.
“Yeah, okay.”
Kurine hopped, squealed, and planted a big wet kiss on his lips. While there was certainly nothing wrong with the kiss … her lips were soft, warm, and inviting … he returned it as simply as he could. When she broke away, tears streamed from her
eyes. She hugged him tight.
“Thank you,” she muttered, “you’ve made me so happy.”
People in the crowd oohed. A few men whooped out congratulations, while women rubbed tears from their eyes. Turesobei squirmed free and took a step away, while Kurine smiled innocently and waved to a lady in the crowd. Was that her mother?
This … this was not the reaction he’d expected. Not even close. His friends stood — silent, unmoving, completely stunned — except Iniru. Shaking her head, she clenched her fists tight while her eyes blazed with fury.
She whispered to him, calmly, too calmly, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Turesobei started to respond, but his mouth seized up. A tremor quaked through his muscles. Vertigo hit him. Aches far greater than any physical pain struck deep into his soul. He collapsed into convulsions, his body twitching, his limbs jerking and flailing.
Chapter Twelve
Turesobei tried to stop flailing, but his body wouldn’t respond. His face twitched, his insides twisted, his soul burned. He chomped his teeth down hard, over and over. He knew why he was having a seizure; not that knowing why did him any good. His internal kenja was depleted, his soul starved. His body reacted the way anybody would react in such a situation: by going haywire.
There was one way he could stop it. He could tap the Mark of the Storm Dragon and replenish his internal stores. But if he did, his internal kenja would be completely replaced with storm energy. He would become the Storm Dragon forever, possibly without any memory of his original self. He’d just have to hope he survived.
Thinking about the sigil resulted in a sudden tug at its energy. His survival instinct was reaching out for the only power source it could find. Turesobei gave all of his willpower over to blocking access to the sigil’s power.
Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 69
