Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

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Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 74

by Hayden, David Alastair


  “We have a shortage of able workers,” said Boronaru.

  “Then I will do what I can to pay you for what I need,” said Turesobei dully, knowing the Chonda Clan would be finished by the time he even reached the library.

  The Council stood, and War Chief Sudorga said, “You and your companions are welcome to stay here as long as you like, provided your adhere to our laws, simple as they are. We name you honorary members of Clan Aikora. And if you take the pledge, you can become members in full and be one with us.”

  Turesobei bowed. “Thank you, councilors.”

  After they exited, Narbenu patted Turesobei on the back of the head. “You okay, lad?”

  “Yeah, I mean … yeah.”

  “Their offer was fair.”

  “I know,” Turesobei replied. “But life is not. I know this because it keeps proving it to me.”

  * * *

  Turesobei gathered his companions in Motekeru’s room and told them what the Council had said.

  “I can’t see any other way,” he told them. “I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

  Enashoma wiped a few tears away and nodded. Zaiporo hugged her. Tears welled in his own eyes, but he bravely held them in check.

  Iniru’s face was perfectly expressionless. “At least we saved the world.”

  “Not that anyone will know,” Turesobei said. “My people probably think I’m a coward, or worse, a traitor.”

  “Hasuferu went to your grandfather,” Lu Bei said. “Kahenan will know. He will tell the others, if he must. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks you are — you saved all Okoro.”

  “Is this part of my grand destiny that you returned for, Lu Bei?”

  “Master, I arrived too early. For what reason that happened, I do not know. I may never know. The things that happen now are not things I expected.”

  “We’ll have to learn to live here,” Turesobei said. “I mean, we knew we were probably stuck here. And we can save up for the trip. But I promise, we will get to the library eventually, and if there’s a way, I will get us all home.”

  “You mustn’t lose hope,” Lu Bei said. “I believe you will all return to Okoro … in time.”

  “I can do heavy labor to help earn our way,” said Motekeru. “A lot of it. And I can stand guard for them. I do not tire. I will do whatever I can for you, master.”

  “Master?” said Turesobei. “Are you sure you wish to call me that still? You weren’t too happy about being called back. And I forced you to obey me and got you trapped in everlasting winter. I mean … you don’t have to call me ‘master’ anymore. It’s not necessary.”

  “I didn’t like Chonda Lu much, and I’m not happy about being back or being trapped here. But I respect you, master. I like you better than him.” Motekeru turned to Lu Bei. “I think we all do.”

  Lu Bei nodded. “I don’t often agree with Motekeru, but I do on this.”

  After a few minutes of everyone sitting in depressed silence, Zaiporo said, “So we all need jobs? I’ve been a guard before. I can do that again. I can help with butchering too, maybe.”

  “I can sew,” Enashoma said. “That seems important to their trade, though I’ll have to learn how they do it.”

  “I can hunt, guard, and scout,” Iniru said.

  “When I’m well enough, I can cast spells and draw some sigils for them,” said Turesobei. “There are things I can do that will more than earn our keep. We’ll work hard. Hard enough that it won’t take two years. Maybe a year. Maybe just six months. We’ll do our best.”

  “What about Kurine?” said Iniru bitterly. “Won’t she be a problem if we’re stuck here? You can only put her off for so long.”

  “Oh, it would certainly be a problem,” Turesobei muttered. “Her father is on the Council. He’s enormous, intimidating, threatening, and he seems to like me and wants me to stay. Breaking her heart would be incredibly dangerous. I’m sure of that.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shaman Eira entered the room and sat across from Turesobei.

  He lifted his still-broken arm. “I thought you might want to witness healing magic.”

  She bobbed her head. “Yes, please. While my eyes can still behold such a sight.”

  “I’m casting the spell of winter healing. With all the ice, wind, and water energy in this world, the effect will be powerful. Normally, I’d use the spell of summer healing instead.”

  “Because your world is warmer?”

  “In part, but mostly because it requires less internal kenja to initiate. And the winter healing spell tends to be painful.”

  “So why know it at all?”

  “You might want it for healing a burn victim or someone suffering with a high fever.”

  Turesobei removed the splint, and chanted the spell. His restored internal kenja pulsed into and through his kavaru. A white cloud formed over his broken arm. The energy penetrated like a cluster of thin needles stabbing all the way into the bone. He groaned and bit his lip until blood trickled down his chin. The arm went numb from the cold, an aching numb, but still far better than what he had experienced before the healing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Warmth returned slowly, and the pain faded away. He wriggled his fingers, flexed his elbow, and held the arm out.

  Eira felt along it and gasped. “The bone was broken in three places but now it has healed back perfectly.” She laughed. “That should’ve taken another six weeks to heal!”

  “It doesn’t always fix things back right like that. I was lucky. And if you hadn’t set the bone first, it would be crooked now.”

  “It’s amazing,” she exclaimed. “Simply amazing. I wish I could learn magic.”

  “I wish you could, too,” Turesobei said. “Most wizards would never say that, though.”

  “I think your magic could of much value to us here.”

  “Just remember, all I can do is accelerate natural healing. If injuries are too severe, especially internal injuries, there is nothing I can do. And if disease has set in, all I can do is delay the inevitable or reduce the symptoms. I cannot cure it.”

  * * *

  Over the next several days, he healed four of Eira’s patients who had lingering injuries that were causing them problems, plus one child with a disease. Eira hoped the healing would allow the child to recover enough that her immune system could fight off the disease. She was a sweet child who laughed through the healing, grimacing only once during the spell. Turesobei hoped it would work to save her.

  A number of business arrangements swamped Tsuroko and his wife, which meant Turesobei was able to escape dinner with Kurine’s parents … at least until the birthday party. Enashoma was helping Kurine with all the preparations. Birthdays were a huge deal amongst the goronku.

  Turesobei studied the mark of relentless fire in Chonda Lu’s grimoire, combining some aspects of it with the mark of warming that was in his standard spell book. The goronku gave him a jar of sonoke blood for him to draw the marks with, since he lacked Zhura ink, which would’ve been the ideal substance to use. After three days of practice, he successfully drew a mark of warming that drew trace threads of fire kenja from the environment and focused them into the mark, radiating heat outward. Now he only needed to incorporate the mark of renewal to make it semi-permanent.

  “Very good work, master,” Lu Bei said. “Your skills are advancing rapidly.”

  Turesobei nodded. “They should. I’m battle-tested now. And Chonda Lu’s grimoire is helping. I can’t do much of what’s in it, but I’m learning refinements I can apply to my standard spells. When I had those flashes of Chonda Lu’s past, I picked up a little more understanding of his grimoire. Not enough to cast from it. I don’t have the inherent power channels that would allow that. Just a better understanding.”

  While Turesobei worked on spells, Iniru and Zaiporo trained with Herd Chief Boronaru, learning to feed, ride, and care for the sonoke. Enashoma studied sewing with Kurine and her mother, when she didn’t help with party-planning. M
otekeru carried giant blocks of stone and stacked them, helping the goronku build a new outer building for storing supplies. Motekeru, once given the tasks they needed him to complete, worked tirelessly through the night. Turesobei introduced Rig and Ohma to the goronku community and told the wolfhounds to mingle and play. They were an incredible hit with not just the children, but the teens and adults, as well. The hounds rushed throughout the village, playing for hours at a time and delighting the residents. The goronku, who had nothing like dogs, were fascinated by them. The Ancient Cold and Deep did not produce pets.

  Turesobei went into the staircase that led from the goronku common room up to the outside world. Halfway up, he sat down, and cut a slit on one of his fingertips.

  “You know I don’t approve of this, master. Using blood magic for something so common … it’s an unnecessary risk.”

  “There is little risk, Lu Bei. There are no entities to entangle with my essence. I’m not summoning anything, or attacking someone. It’s a passive spell used to benefit others.”

  “You just recovered.”

  “I’m not drawing much.”

  Lu Bei placed his hands on his hips and stamped a foot. “Well, I don’t like it one bit. If I could resign from my post, I would.”

  “That’s a load of denekon poop, and you know it.”

  “Do not mock me, master. I take blood magic seriously.”

  Turesobei tapped the Mark of the Storm Dragon on his cheek. “So do I.”

  “Then you should know better!”

  “It’s not personal. There’s no vendetta. There’s … I’m not going to discuss it any further. We have to do things to earn our keep faster. That’s what I’m trying to do, and I don’t have Zhura ink. I’m going to be facing worse dangers than this soon enough.”

  Lu Bei stuck out his tongue, went into the pack, and turned back into a book.

  Turesobei completed the first mark of warming. A little bit of himself trickled into the spell as it activated. Some said blood magic was energy that never came back to the wizard, but Grandfather Kahenan didn’t believe that was true, and neither did Turesobei. The energy came back, just slowly, sometimes over the course of a few years. And the energy he used on this was minor. He didn’t need blood to activate or power the spell, just to bind it onto the wall. With the mark drawn, he now had to power and activate it through chanting and meditation. The process took him from dusk until dawn and left him so exhausted, he fell asleep on the stairs.

  A tap on his shoulder woke him. He lurched forward, his entire body aching, several limbs asleep. He tried to stretch them out. One cheek was numb.

  Narbenu stood over him. He glanced at the scarlet symbol with its twisting, interlocking lines incorporating odd glyphs and covering a space two hand-widths across. He held his palm near it and shook his head. “I can’t feel any difference. Are you sure it worked?”

  Turesobei rotated his shoulders. “Just needed a nap.” He touched the mark and whispered the final activation command. Only a slight draw was required from inner kenja at this point. “Give it a few minutes.”

  Narbenu handed Turesobei a bowl of steaming sonoke milk. As Turesobei drank, Narbenu sat next to him. The goronku man reached his fingers out near the mark again.

  “I can feel some warmth now.”

  “You can touch it,” Turesobei said. “I made it as permanent as I could … as permanent as paint. But it will wear down if touched too much.”

  Narbenu touched it and immediately drew his hand back. “Hot.”

  Turesobei nodded. “If you leave something touching it long enough, that something will catch fire. I made it as strong as I could, since the door at the top will let in cold air every time it opens. I’m going to make another one on the other side of the staircase. Fortunately, you are near enough to some fire energy currents for them to work. Probably from the hot springs at your lake and the thermal vents. I’ve never made runes this strong before.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “A century, I’d guess, though the strength will fade over time.”

  “Anything we can do to keep them strong?”

  “Nothing that your conscience would approve of, and nothing my conscience would let me tell you. Hopefully, this will make for less cold air getting into the common room. I’ll do your chambers next.”

  Narbenu shook his head. “I’m a scout. I’m used to the cold. I don’t want to get too used to the warmth. Do Shaman Eira’s chambers. She’s getting old. And the recovery room for her patients. Herd Chief Boronaru would appreciate warming runes in the pen for the calves and newborns. And I think you know it’s most important that you impress him, above all others, with your contributions to the community.”

  Turesobei spent a week adding marks of warmth to all those places. As he did them, he got better at it, eventually managing two each day. By keeping busy and exhausting himself, he successfully avoided Kurine, having only to endure a few minutes of small talk each day. Once, he escaped her during her lunch break by darting outside, though he was woefully under clothed. So he hurried to the lake where it was a little warmer. Thankfully, no one was out tending the gardens. Lu Bei picked through the scraggly herbs and wildflowers trying to make a suitable tea blend.

  “The pickings are slim, master,” the fetch said as he tasted the herbs.

  “You sure those aren’t poisonous?”

  “Why would they have poisonous herbs in their gardens, master?”

  “They might be medicinal. Too much could harm us.”

  “One of my talents, master, is I can tell if an herb is poisonous or not.”

  “You never mentioned that before.”

  Lu Bei puffed himself up indignantly. “Well, master, you never asked.”

  Sun Priestess Oroki strolled out and joined them. Having never met her before, Lu Bei bowed and praised her.

  “My lady, you are a vision of pure beauty, such that the sun must be ever so glad that you speak with him so often.”

  Oroki laughed with delight. “I’m not looking for a tiny, winged husband. You don’t have to praise me so much.”

  “I speak only of truths,” Lu Bei said, bending over to examine an herb. “I never lie.”

  Turesobei looked at her and shook his head no.

  “My lady, I shall make you tea tonight. You shall be most impressed. I am a master of tea.”

  “That is true,” Turesobei told her. “Though I think he uses some sort of subtle magic to enhance the flavors.”

  “My methods are proprietary,” Lu Bei replied.

  Oroki sat down beside Turesobei. “I sense you are uncomfortable with the marriage to Kurine.”

  “How did you know?” Turesobei asked.

  “I saw you dart out when she appeared. I figured if you’d planned on going outside, you’d have worn your parka. You must be freezing.”

  “It’s warmer here beside the lake, and I’ve added something to help me in this world.” He stretched to show her his belt, which had a warming mark etched on it now, one much weaker than the ones on the walls. Its effect was similar to wearing an extra silk nightshirt — not much, but something. Of course, once they were away from the thermal energy below the village, the mark probably wouldn’t help him anymore.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You can be honest with me. I know Kurine caught you unaware.”

  “I really had no idea. She knows that now. But …”

  “You can’t break it without difficulty.”

  “If I leave this world or die …”

  “Kurine is quite the catch, you know: very pretty, highly skilled, the only child of a wealthy and respected family. Many boys are jealous of you, though they are all several years too young to marry her. The plague took many of the children that were Kurine’s age. Not that it would have been a problem for her to wait if she wished, or take an older man, but the older ones … well, they don’t have mates yet for a reason, many of them, unless they’ve lost their wives. And then there’s Kemsu. Th
ey were best friends for many years but had a falling out. And he’s a slave and can’t marry.”

  “Kurine is a wonderful girl,” Turesobei said, honestly, “but my betrothed just died. And Iniru and I were … I don’t know. And I’m not an adult among my people.”

  “Kurine told me you would not be an adult among your people until eighteen. A curious custom. You are an adult here, though. And if you stay …”

  Lu Bei gagged on an herb, spat it out, and pranced around cursing. “Spicy spicy too spicy — bad bad!”

  They laughed at Lu Bei, who scowled at them while scooping up ice and chewing on it.

  “If you stay with us, you will be an adult,” she continued. “And I hope you do stay. You and your friends have so incredibly much to offer our community. Skills and knowledge we’ve never encountered before. And this is a good place to live … in this world, anyway.”

  “I won’t argue that.”

  “You could all make families here and prosper. I sense your sister and Zaiporo are a couple.”

  “Maybe. Kind of. I don’t think she’s made up her mind. She’s young still.”

  “And Iniru would have no trouble finding a husband if she should desire one.”

  Turesobei bit back a retort. He would be with Iniru. Somehow. “You should ask her how marriage works among her people. They can have multiple spouses and then declared friends who are almost like spouses but aren’t and … honestly, I’m not sure I understand it all. But if you’d like to learn about a culture more alien to yours than mine …”

  The priestess’s eyes were wide. “That … that really works?”

  “She says it works for them, and they’ve done it for ages, but I can’t even make things work with a single girlfriend, so I don’t see how it could.”

  The priestess chuckled. “I was looking for you for a reason. The Council has discussed your situation. Since Motekeru does the work of eight men carrying blocks, night and day, and since your warming marks and healing are so useful, your debt will be paid to us in eight months. We will understand if you choose to set out then for the Forbidden Library. And if you fail and manage to return, you are welcome to live here all your days, and no one will think less of you for having tried to go home. Quite the opposite. You would be admired for your bravery and determination.”

 

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