The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  Nuraya was a child of two very different people. She’d embraced her father’s heritage, deriving pride and delight, even as she had rebuked her mother’s.

  More people were crying out her name.

  Nuraya crouched, the stone still clutched in her hands, her eyes drawn to the red puddle, blood of a magus and an inquisitor.

  Another gust blew in, a chair smashing against the battered wall.

  She knew, then. In truth, she had always known. Had even tried to discover it with Mara. She’d failed, though. Then.

  Her heart thudding, Nuraya extended a hand toward the blood.

  A battle raged within her, a part of her shouting at her to flee. The other urged her to embrace what she had been all her life. Did the means matter so long as they took one where they needed to be?

  The stone throbbed, slipped from her grip, fell into the blood.

  She could feel it now, the other half of her heritage calling out to her. A craving. A compulsion. One she’d felt all her life. It felt wrong. Yet unbelievably intoxicating.

  A warning rose in her mind. Something about how the shortest paths weren’t really that. And other such warnings to that effect.

  “Nuraya, step back!” Mara boomed behind her. “Do not dabble with blood.”

  Blood? Nuraya blinked. The stone was an artifact. Of course, it made sense. An artifact she’d been carrying… had called out for the blood of an inquisitor and a magus.

  It thrummed, calling for her to touch it, to embrace all it had to offer her.

  “Fight the temptation! Do not give in!”

  Nuraya shook her head.

  She had nothing. No crown or armies or allies. That couldn’t go on. Something had to change.

  She bent and picked up the bloody stone.

  Power, a pounding, thrilling, cold rush of it, smashed into her.

  Chapter 28

  Shoki

  “Calm yourself,” Jiza cooed, rocking him gently, his body pressing into hers.

  Shoki sniffled, dimly aware of her heat through the thin azure peshwaz she wore today. Mail rattled as men shifted around him. A part of him knew he shouldn't appear weak. No one expected the heir of the famed Maliks to be a sniveling coward.

  Faces floated in front of his vision once more.

  “No!” he cried, flinching at the sight of the old man writhing on the ground. “I… I didn't mean to do that!”

  But you did! replied a voice in his mind.

  “No!” he shouted. “That was an accident. An… unforeseen consequence.”

  You know jadu is an abomination, with or without the taint. That you’d thirst for it, that you couldn’t keep yourself away from it, speaks volumes on how careless you’ve become.

  Shoki had no answer to that charge. He had known his well was tainted. Something he’d witnessed himself. Yet, he had embraced it, welcoming it with both arms outstretched. And now had to pay the price for it.

  “I’ve sent soldiers ahead,” boomed a hard voice, snapping him out of the judgment of his mind. Salar Ihagra’s. “Camsh has sent a man as well. He’ll take care of any reparations that might need to be made there.”

  “I… I k-killed innocents,” Shoki whimpered, burying his face in Jiza’s shoulder.

  “So have I,” said Salar Ihagra.

  Not like this. Shoki sniffled once more. “But—”

  “Quit bawling your eye like a toothless babe,” the salar snapped. “Wipe your face clean and face your actions like a man!”

  Shoki grunted, tried summoning an argument and failed.

  “The scouts are reporting more ghoul sightings.”

  That got Shoki’s attention. Nodding, he leaned away from Jiza, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Where?”

  “Dacan.”

  Shoki blinked. “But… isn’t that a hundred miles south from Sehlour?”

  The salar’s slender fingers curled. “It seems every day they’re moving further out.” His eyes grew hard. “We can’t keep sitting here. If you’ve got your well back, it’s time to put it to use.”

  “I can’t. Not after what I did at that village.”

  “The double-edged sword cuts both ways,” the salar replied calmly. “So long as it does a good, clean job of it, that’s all that matters.”

  “Salar, you’re not listening to me,” Shoki snarled. “Jadu is cursed. My well… all magi’s wells are tainted. Nothing comes from a poisoned well but death. More death!”

  Salar Ihagra crossed his arms, not budging an inch. Shoki could see the soldiers behind him trying their best to appear nonchalant, acting as if they couldn't hear them, even as they kept inching closer. Before long, whatever they said here, the entire camp would know.

  Jiza and Salar Ihagra were watching him. So were the dozens around them. “What do I do?” Shoki said, spreading his arms, his eye falling on his lengthening shadow. “I may have my jadu back, but it’s useless unless I can cleanse it. The magi want me to settle their affairs. The inquisitors continue to hunt the magi. While both Reratish and Zakhanan armies entrench themselves in the realm, Chahar Rahane continues to urge me to lead the fight to liberate Algaria.” He shivered, refusing to meet Jiza’s eyes. “And all the while, these… ghouls are infesting the lands.” He ran his hands through his hair. “What can one man do?”

  “Move the mountain if he has the will.” Salar Ihagra replied. A moment later, he added, “And ensure that he doesn’t paralyze himself from moving by staying still for too long.”

  The barest flicker of amusement washed over Shoki. “Never took you to be a philosopher, Salar.”

  Salar Ihagra shrugged. “Camsh has been in my ear quite a bit these past days.”

  Grimacing, Shoki turned his head east. He couldn’t see the tree blocking the highway from this distance, of course, but it didn’t mean that it didn't exist. Nor had distance done anything to mask his mistakes. He had accidentally killed an old man who’d lived a long, productive life, only to be brought up short by a child with a knife that continued to slip from his grip.

  Shoki swept a hand over his camp. “How can I trust them? They are all plotting and planning, Salar Ihagra. Their agendas and goals, that’s all they care for.”

  “Mayhaps you need to do the same, then,” the salar said. He crossed his arms, his face growing uncharacteristically soft. “I am not one to offer grand counsel, my boy. Otherwise, I could have risen high in the Iron Sultan’s court.” He shook his head. “You have advantages. Allies amongst non-humans. Magi who wish to fight alongside you. A dedicated and growing number of followers. A capable son of the grand vizier himself. Your own well of jadu.” He took off his helmet, patting his damp, short hair. “Shoki, make use of all you have, while you can.”

  Shoki squeezed his eye shut. There was wisdom in his salar’s words. In the silence of his mind, he recalled how the essences had looked beside the tree. Shoki had been a gnat in there, looking up in awe at the immensity that was Jahal, a mere farmer. Jahal was old, a nobody, yet the strength of his character and resolve could’ve dwarfed a mountain’s. A man who could very well have been, in another life, an equal to the Iron Sultan himself.

  Shoki had taken that man’s life. Whether it was intentional or accidental, the least he could do was to give it meaning.

  He tried snapping out of these meandering thoughts and back to Salar Ihagra and Jiza and his camp. Something else stalled his escape. He lingered, willingly this time, recalling the feeling of being on the cusp of some major discovery. He’d seen essences far too faint to be noticed before, observed the hundred different tiny forces squirming and thrashing about behind the facade of a singular form.

  He saw death again. Not as the absence of all essence, but this pocket of void, of nothingness, hiding in plain sight by allowing the other essences to mask its presence. It lingered, always present, always threatening, until the moment it pushed out the rest and became the dominant essence.

  He had seen death. And he’d seen life. And he’d felt the inclination
to swap them, to exchange the blood of the slain man with—

  And he’d heard a voice speaking in his head!

  His eye snapped open.

  “What’s the matter, Shoki?” Jiza asked.

  He blinked, swallowed, his mouth parched, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I think… I know what Afrasiab wants.”

  “What?” Salar Ihagra demanded.

  Shoki shook his head, dazed by the leap his mind had made. “He is an Ajeeb magus. He sees the world not as it is, but how it could be. Naila must have helped him return to the world of the living by using the Hejar stone.” He snapped his fingers, nodding to himself. For a moment, he felt as if he was the young pupil again, piecing together parts of a puzzle solving a crime in Algaria. “If the Hejar stone brims with potential, life, then it could’ve been swapped with the void of death upon Afrasiab. But, no swap of energies is perfect. Not that I’ve seen anyway. Maybe, a return to the land of the living isn’t the same as living. Parts of his essence are in this world, yes, but… not dominant yet. Instead, they’re caged, restrained. That’s why he had to use the Reratish prince as a proxy.” He nodded again, feeling wonder fill his voice. “That makes sense. It does.”

  “Why did he want the Istani princess then?” the salar asked.

  Shoki rubbed his hands, feeling sicker by the moment. Jiza had grown pale. “He… he wishes not to be the living tree rooted to the ground, alive, but motionless. Maybe, the princess offers him a way out?”

  Salar Ihagra scratched his head. “If that’s right,” he raised a hand as if apologizing, “why has he remained quiet this long? What would stay his hand from… doing what he needs with her?”

  Shoki had no answer to that. Again, the voice he’d been hearing rose in his mind. Was that Afrasiab? Or a mere figment of his imagination? Sometimes, pieces of a puzzle could interlock in different ways. Was he piecing the wrong segment, seeing a part that led nowhere? That was always the risk when solving a crime, jumping to the wrong conclusion based on evidence that could support multiple theories.

  If Shoki was wrong in figuring out Afrasiab’s objectives, what harm would that cause?

  Camsh emerged from one of the tents. Shoki raised his hand, beckoning him forward. The gaunt man approached them, barking orders at soldiers as he did so.

  “This Jinan is going to be the end of me,” Camsh complained, coming to a stop in front of them. His white tunic hung loosely on his thin frame. “Did you know he’s sent word to mercenary salars asking them to join us without asking me first?”

  “Are there mercenaries willing to join me?” Shoki asked.

  Camsh crossed his arms, exchanging a glance with Salar Ihagra and Jiza. “Did you hear the bit about him doing all this without asking me first?” He shook his head. “That’s what’s wrong with the youth of today. No respect for due process and channels and—”

  “Aren’t you only a few years Jinan’s senior?” Jiza asked.

  “That’s not the point, Sahiba djinn!”

  “Camsh,” Shoki said, scratching his chin, his voice grim. “Send word to everyone. The Reratish. Zakhanan. Inquisitors. Magi. Anyone who’d listen.” He exhaled. “The hour has come to get going.”

  Chapter 29

  Nuraya

  “What have you done, girl?” Mara said, his wide figure sliding into her vision.

  Nuraya inclined her chin, her heart dancing with the flow of pure power. She cocked her head to the side, allowing it to envelop her like a mother might her child. “I…” She shook her head, then grinned as her soul soared. “I feel wonderful.”

  The other two djinn fell in step beside Mara.

  “Oh Rolomon!” Kafayos said, his gaze flitting between her and the dead men to her side.

  Yahni stepped gingerly toward her but Mara grabbed her by her arm, his eyes boring into her. Yahni trembled, the color drained from her face.

  Nuraya knew what had happened. Every fiber of her did. Jadu. One thing she had sought so much had finally found her, and she it.

  She was a magus.

  Still on her haunches, Nuraya closed her eyes like she’d seen Maharis do so many times. Gasps came from the door, the three djinn standing silently for the moment. The locals of the town were shocked, but the djinn felt… displeased.

  Displeased?

  Her eyes squeezed shut, she ignored the urge to chuckle at them. Who was Mara to question her anyway? Hadn’t she always suspected her affinity for jadu? She’d even asked the cursed djinn to help her with it, and he’d declined. Well, she had gotten there all by herself now.

  “Nuraya!” Mara snapped. “Come forward.”

  She didn't, still clinging onto the power that throbbed within her soul, setting her body singing and dancing with delight. She tried using it, relying on instinct to guide her hand. It eluded her control even though she could feel its presence. Almost like she was standing under the sun, aware of the heat on her skin, but unable to shape it for some other purpose.

  Frustration stabbed at her. “What’s wrong with me? I…” She opened her eyes, then glared at Mara. “Why can’t I use my power?”

  Mara blinked, then shook his head, the earrings making a soft clinking noise—sounds that shouldn’t have been audible over the din outside the windows. “You mixed blood of inquisitors and magi through an Akbar artifact and then consumed the result,” he said, his voice a mix between awe and terror. “You carried out a ritual of blood magic, girl. Did he, Afrasiab, put you to it?”

  “What?” Nuraya snapped. She turned back to the stone she’d stolen from Afrasiab’s castle. It had slipped from her hand when the torrent had begun. Though it sat in the pool of blood again, it had lost its ruby red color, instead turning into a translucent, pristine tear drop.

  “I knew she wasn’t up to any good,” Kafayos said, shaking his large head.

  “What do we do, Azar?” Yahni asked, her panicked eyes turning toward the older djinn.

  Mara crossed his arms, his manner growing thoughtful. “The Divide grows weaker every day. Artifacts continue to be misused. Time is running out.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “What did Dullah mean about the enemy letting others fight battles for him?”

  “What power do I have?” Nuraya demanded, ignoring the warning shouts blaring within her. “If I’ve… become a magus, how do I use my powers?”

  “There’s a chance that the blood magic ritual could have failed,” Kafayos said to Mara. “Didn’t she fail the other time she’d trying learning jadu as well?”

  Nuraya grunted in annoyance but the djinn weren't looking at her anymore.

  A young man stepped into the tavern. He wore a taller soldier’s dented armor, his face covered with acne and a weeping wound near the eye. “My salar wishes to know if there is any assistance we can offer the sultan’s daughter,” he said, his voice timid, respectful. Nuraya rose. “Anything we can offer… we shall do our best to accommodate you.”

  “Thank you—” Nuraya began.

  “You and your salar,” Mara interrupted, waving an arm to shoo the man away, “get lost.”

  The young soldier glared but something in the djinn’s face caught his tongue. He swallowed, then backed out of the room, leaving just the four of them along with the dead. Nuraya exhaled. For a moment, she thought she had felt the man’s emotions, his worries, his personal perspective on life and death.

  “Blood magi are the true abominations,” Yahni said, her voice low, her face bunched up with concern. “Azar, we can’t leave her like that.”

  “Leave me like what?” Nuraya demanded, taking a step back. She looked around. A dozen steps to her right, a sword glittered. If she were to lunge for it, Kafayos might be able to cut her off. But maybe if she first feinted left, she’d outrun him.

  “The girl’s a liability. I said so from the beginning.” Kafayos muttered, raising his fingernails, and appraising them critically.

  Heat rose in Nuraya’s chest. “Don’t call me a girl!”

  The djinn ignored he
r. Kafayos effected a nonchalance she somehow knew was fake, the facade an unconscious act even he wasn't aware of. Yahni stared at Mara, his thick lower lip hanging loose. Fear. They were afraid. All three of them. Afraid of her! Even Mara, known as Azar, the clan leader to his people.

  Fear drew predictable responses when men were put in impossible situations. They lashed back. Attacked what they feared and didn't understand. Would these djinn be moved by that as well? Could she risk that, knowing how Kafayos felt about her?

  Nuraya clenched her fists. She hadn’t escaped Afrasiab’s castle only to let the djinn take a hold over her now. She wouldn't allow that. Couldn't. Growing desperate, she closed her eyes. There had to be a way to beckon this surging current, to force it to bend to her will. She had seen the other magi do that, hadn’t she?

  Listen to me! she commanded the well within her. Obey me!

  Nothing happened even as she continued to feel its presence.

  “Mara… we can’t leave her like this,” Yahni repeated. “If the other blood magi find her, they will use her.”

  “Use me?” Nuraya demanded once more.

  Kafayos raised his chin, then forced a chuckle. “She doesn't even know.”

  “Know what?” Nuraya screeched. “Tell me what’s going on!” She pointed at Mara. “I told you I was a magus all that time ago, didn't I? Now, I’ve finally found my well. All by myself. How do I use it?” She shook her head, ignoring the spots of black that were gathering at the edge of her vision. “I can help you. Help us all. Help Istan.” She took a beseeching step toward Mara. “Help me tame my power so I can be of use.”

  “You should have told me you had stolen the Akbar artifact,” Mara said, his voice distant, cold, pitiful. He was still afraid of her, she knew that much, but beyond that she could also see his resolve hard enough to rival a mountain. Mara wasn’t someone who would be cowed. Once he decided on a course of action, he didn’t stray.

  That made her path through him difficult. Nuraya placed her hands on her hips. “Step out of my way. If you can’t help me, I have no more need of you.”