Gods of the Flame Sea

by Jean Johnson

  “We have the pertinent variants right here, Daro Dakin,” Kuro Chadesh stated, touching the box of papers. He hesitated, then confessed, “. . . These medical records are not completely up to date, as the child eluded his latest medical exam, which was due this last month.”

  “Why was it not attended to?” Zakal asked sharply.

  The kuro bowed, no doubt seeking to deflect some of her distaste for the failure. “Honored Sejo, I was busy with tending to the last stages of Kuro Nazik’s pregnancy, and put it off in the hopes of finding time after the complications were tended. When that free time did not materialize, I knew that the Fae would perform their own examination and share their own findings, as per contract. I have already confirmed that Sejo Jintaya’s examinations are as thorough as can be wished for the child’s well-being . . . even if she doesn’t always know what to look for. Based on past records of Fae-Efrijt half-breedings, I assembled files on the physiology prototypes that the contractual child most closely resembles, including up to a fifteen percent degree of variation.”

  “It is time that we Fae see these comparative files,” Muan asserted. “You have the knowledge of possible effects and side effects afflicting the child. We have the power to enact any cures.”

  “The contract allows for such exchanges,” Sefo Harkut allowed, when the orange-haired medic glanced at him. Sejo Zakal nodded as well.

  Kuro Chadesh started pulling out stacks of paper clipped together and organized by some system of tags attached to the clips. “I am willing to travel to the child, of course, but this is only the most likely sampling of materials that could be searched. There are several subvariations based on the signs of illness or addiction being displayed, so if you could begin describing his current symptoms, that will help narrow the possible harm suffered, and the subsequent suggested cure . . .”

  Bored, Ban stood and snagged the water pitcher from the side table. He poured the contents into four more cups, one each for the sejo, sefo, kuro, and daro. Zakal selected one of the two cups he offered, drinking without hesitation. Ban offered a choice of cups to Harkut next, then to the medic, before finally placing the last unselected cup in front of Muan’s co-parent. Fetching the pitcher to top up Muan’s, Kefer’s, and his drinks, he resettled into his seat, and resigned himself to remaining bored for a long while to come.

  The courtesy of offering the Efrijt something to drink was not something he would have done even just ten years ago. These Efrijt, while annoyingly precise about contractual obligations, weren’t the demons in disguise the first ones he had met had turned out to be. Still, he longed to have this matter over and done with so he could return to Jintaya and the humans living in the magic-carved canyons and cave-homes of Ijesh.

  If he waited for the right moment, perhaps he could insert a suggestion to just bring Kuro Chadesh back to the lands of the Flame Sea, along with suitably large reams of information and medical suggestions. Otherwise, he just might wander off and go see if any of the local humans he liked were free and available for chatting.

  Which means I have come a very long way from distrusting and mistrusting everyone around me, just sixty years before, he acknowledged. A pity such peace never lasts . . . and a joy such treachery never stays.

  Thank you, Jintaya, for reminding me that the good times always come back. Even if it’s harder to find the joy in moments of annoyance, like this.

  Chapter Five

  One selijm north of Ijesh

  Flame Sea Territory

  Udrin knew the sky barge would come. Seeing it uncloaking itself even as it landed in the bush-strewn valley did not surprise the twitching youth. Five Fae rode inside the gilded craft. Éfan was the only one who worried Udrin. Krue was a strong fighter, yes, but he would hesitate to harm a “mere boy” like himself. Adan was the first over the side, sprinting for the stretcher-carried form of his mate. Zedren would be no concern, either; he was merely there to pilot the craft. Jintaya hurried out as well, circling around the Fae clustering around Fali, whose stretcher was quickly settled on the ground. She busied herself setting up portable diagnostic crystals.

  As much as he wanted to drain Jintaya, who brimmed with so much anima energy Udrin was honestly surprised her bones did not rattle, he knew there were just too many Fae to attack and drain any of them successfully right now. So instead of seizing from them what was rightfully meant to be his—his full inheritance, as it were—he merely made a show of wringing his hands and calling out in a worried tone.

  “There you are! I don’t know what happened. We were just talking, and then the anima attacked Fali! She collapsed, and has been unconscious all this time,” he added helpfully.

  One of the humans made noises, something about her moaning a couple times recently. Udrin twitched, annoyed that the animals were interrupting his performance.

  Éfan held his hands out over the unconscious female, murmuring. His fingers glowed visibly despite the sunlight filling half the field. After a few moments, Fali began glowing, too . . . but so did Udrin.

  “So, he is carrying part of her energies?” Krue asked pointedly.

  Udrin blinked at the discomfort that shivered through him. How could they know . . . ? Looking worried, he quickly asked, “What happened? Did some of her energies get into me somehow?”

  “The energies were pulled from her forcefully,” Éfan stated, alarming Udrin even more.

  “The source?” Krue asked, giving Udrin a hard, cold look.

  “Traces of Efrijt . . . and Fae . . . and . . . something else.”

  “I told you, the anima attacked her!” Udrin insisted, his voice cracking a little. He hoped it made him sound sincerely distressed. “There was something wrong with it in that area! I can take you back there, show you where it happened . . . ?”

  If he could just get two of them alone, even if one of them was Éfan, he could . . .

  “The energies are consistent with your own signature, Udrin. You drained magic from Fali.”

  Adan’s head lifted, at that. In those yellow Fae eyes of his lay a glare hotter than the sun in high summer. Quietly, he asked a question. “I’m not allowed to kill him, am I?”

  “No, Adan.” Jintaya denied the full-blooded male. “But he will be punished . . . and he will be cured of the mercury poisoning his mind, encouraging him to commit such a forbidden crime.”

  The mercury—? How dare she try to take that from me!

  Krue reached for Udrin. Angry at being betrayed, he whirled, grabbed the older male’s wrist, and pulled. The Fae Gh’vin did not have nearly as much anima within him as the huntress had, but neither did he go down so easily. His legs jerked and he collapsed to one knee—but he brought up something cold and hard that clacked around Udrin’s wrist, driving him to his knees. Pain slammed up when he landed, thanks to the rock digging into his kneecap, and a discordant buzzing jostled him to his bones, threatening to rattle his teeth.

  The combination broke his concentration. A second cuff snapped around his other wrist . . . cutting him off from the world, magically. Not from the anima trapped in his body, but Udrin knew about this kind of energy-block. He could only affect himself now, not any of the others. He could not tap into their magics, he could not cast his magics outside his body, and it was an arrogant dung-piece of Fae sorcery his mother’s kin liked to use on magic-wielding criminals, because it presumed that the only person he could now hurt was himself.

  Except he wasn’t going to hurt himself. He was simply going to take the Guardian’s energies and continue reworking his body. Not bothering to resist, he let Adan drag him to his feet and haul him into the barge. Somehow, the Fae managed not to slam him against anything, though he did shove Udrin a little roughly onto one of the benches in a corner. Udrin shifted straighter on his seat, and hummed to himself. Twitched, too, to occupy his flesh while his mind went to work.

  In such tight magical confines, it was difficu
lt to have enough room to move all those energies around. Just trying made his insides feel bruised. Nursing his indignation, Udrin worked patiently on changing himself further. He will pay for shoving me . . . and he will pay for confining me . . . and she will pay for taking away my mercury . . .

  Ha! The mighty Fae Gh’vin has to be helped onto the barge like a little boy! He smiled at that, smiled and hummed and twitched, while he worked on using Krue’s stolen energy—no, rightfully liberated!—to convert his body from weak Dai-Fae to fully embraced godhood. So weak, while I just grow stronger . . . Ha!

  A couple of the animals sat down next to him. All of them were being herded on board, and they included the two who had been sent running, no doubt picked up like stray goats on the journey north. They looked reluctant to be near him, eyeing Udrin warily, and they kept their hunting weapons away from him. Ugly mishmashes of brown skin, blond hair, beige and brown leathers, coarsely spun clothes, eyes that ranged from brown to hazel to gold . . . Of course, if I complain about being seated next to animals, they’ll lecture me about not calling the humans that, even though they’re clearly inferior.

  Still, at least I’m far more important than their hunting trip . . . They cannot keep these cuffs on me forever . . . and even if they do, they’re designed for blocking specific types of magic. All I have to do . . . is change myself . . . sufficiently . . . to be utterly unlike anything these golden fools have seen before . . .

  Humming in pleasure at that thought, Udrin danced in his seat and herded his wandering thoughts back into concentrating on turning himself into a god.

  ***

  Ijesh

  Doldj escaped the sky barge as soon as it landed in the main valley, jumping over the side rather than taking the ramp. He didn’t look back, just ran across the textured paving stones, picking the shortest path to Grandmother’s home. Not his grandmother, of course, but Grandmother Siffu. Young and strong, used to running from the valley floor to the heights and back, running food and drink to the watchers at their posts, he only felt a little winded when he finally reached the ravine where the Am’n Siffu, the Family of Siffu, lived.

  She no longer resided in any of the upper dwellings; he didn’t have to climb any stairs to reach any of the balconies staggered like steps on the slanted valley walls, just knock on the double doors guarding the matriarch’s home. And knock again, until Talgan himself answered the door.

  Frowning, the second-ranked priest eyed the youth, confused. “Doldj? Didn’t you go hunting today?”

  “I bring grave news,” Doldj panted under his breath. “I need to speak to you and Grandmother, and anyone else who will listen.”

  Talgan’s hazel eyes swept out, surveying the curious looks of the few members of his kin within view, weaving baskets, weeding, even a father and his children working on spinning flax fibers into threads for the loom Talgan knew the man’s mate was repairing inside their home. Quietly, he asked, “What sort of grave news?”

  “The demon-child has awakened to his inner evil. Just as Grandmother Siffae saw in her dreams,” Doldj muttered back, still struggling to breathe.

  Blinking, Talgan opened the wooden door wider, hustling the youth inside. Closing it didn’t diminish the light inside the stone-carved home; dozens of olive oil lamps gave off plenty of light and heat. Leading the youth over to the elderly woman reclining on a fur-padded chair, her frail, aged legs propped up on a cushioned stool and draped with a soft woolen blanket, Talgan touched her withered hand.

  “Grandmother, you have a visitor. Doldj has come to speak with you about the gods,” Talgan stated, using the honorific as her holy title.

  “Mm?” Blinking her half-clouded eyes, Siffu squinted at the youth. “Agoro? . . . Is that you?”

  “No, Grandmother,” Doldj corrected respectfully, kneeling at the elderly woman’s side and bowing his head. Someone had placed wool-stuffed cushions to either side of her chair for just such a need. “Your great-grandson is in the fields. I am Doldj, blessed of the lines of Rua-taje and Kaife-taje from three generations ago.”

  “Huh? Ohhh . . . yes, Doldj. I remember when you were born,” Grandmother Siffu stated. She lifted a bony hand to his head, touching the dark blond curls trying to escape from the thong confining them to a ponytail at the back of his head, keeping them out of his eyes during the hunting trip. “You . . . you saw something, today. Something that disturbs you . . . ?”

  Doldj nodded, feeling her fingers riding on his hair with the movement. “I did, Grandmother. The demon-child, Udrin . . . I’m sorry, Grandmother, but . . . he has awakened to the evil within him this day.”

  Siffu stilled, her hand resting heavily on his scalp for a moment. “Tell me,” she commanded, her quavering voice firming with authority. “What did you see?”

  “The demon-child attacked the Goddess of Wind and Wilds,” Doldj told them. “We did not understand at first what happened; we heard her snap something at Udrin, though he sat far enough away, none of us could hear her exact words. Then the anima leaped up out of the ground all around Fali-taje for a moment . . . and she collapsed, unconscious. The demon-boy claimed the anima attacked her,” he added pointedly, giving both Grandmother and her son a pointed look. “But he danced and he hummed to himself in happiness as the others carried her back south on a stretcher.”

  “You saw this?” Siffu asked him, tilting her head back and to the side so that she could see him better, in the spot where the cataracts did not cloud her vision as much.

  “No, Grandmother, not the dancing part,” Doldj confessed. “The others told me in whispers when we were headed south again—I had been sent to run south with Straga, blessed of Parren by two generations, to warn the gods of Fali-taje’s collapse. But the gods of course already knew. They came north, and picked us up on their way to meet the others.”

  “When we arrived on the sky-boat, the Master of Animadjic, Éfan-taje, he cast his magics and determined that the demon-child stole the anima out of the Huntress. When the Guardian God tried to capture him, Udrin used his demon-anima to drain the Guardian, but Krue-taje managed to clasp powerful shackles upon his wrists, ending the fight. He only fought with the anima; he did not use his fists or any other weapon. But I fear him, Grandmother. I fear he is only caged temporarily, not tamed or cowed,” Doldj warned, shaking his head. “His powers are contained, but it is like you said from your dream a few years ago, Grandmother. The demon has awakened within the child, overriding the god-ness within him. It is only a matter of time before he casts his godhood out.”

  “Are you certain this is that moment?” Talgan asked, worried. “Did he stir up a stormwind? Did he dissolve anyone’s breath, or make the dead rise up and dance?”

  Doldj shook his head. “There was no wind, but . . . but he did steal the breath from Fali-taje, and Krue-taje, in the sense of making them weak. And he was not repentant, Grandmother,” the young hunter insisted somberly. “He smiled for most of the trip back. I will go back and watch for him, but . . . I do not wish to get close. I do not think he will stay quiet forever—he is different, somehow,” the youth stressed. “And there is one other thing. It’s something I cannot explain, but . . .”

  “Go on,” Talgan urged gently.

  “His appearance seemed to change, between boarding the flying boat in the north, and when I left it to come here.” Doldj shrugged. “I cannot explain it better than that. He . . . he seemed to shift in how he looked, in the face, the ears . . . And . . .”

  Grandmother Siffu looked off into the distance, or maybe just at her cataract blurs. Her voice was a murmur, more firm than quavering, almost a croon as she echoed her son. “Go on . . .”

  “. . . And he glowed. A little. I think. It was only when the clouds were heaviest that I thought I saw it, though,” Doldj cautioned.

  A knock at the door silenced all of them. Sighing, Talgan rose and headed that way. Doldj remained kneeling next
to Grandmother Siffu, accepting the absent way she patted his head. Her touch reassured him. Since only her eyes had weakened, not her hearing, Doldj asked quietly, “Grandmother? What do we do? I mean . . . if the gods go to war with one another . . . what do we do?”

  “We give our strength to those who have been good to us, and help to restrain those who try to harm,” Siffu murmured. She hesitated, then added, “I am disturbed by the thought of anima being taken from anima-beings. Such things were rumored to happen in the southlands of my youth . . . It is a great darkness, to rip the strength from a god . . .”

  The door shut again, and Talgan came back. “My daughter delivered the joint salve she promised you, Mother,” he announced. “We don’t have to worry about it running out tomorrow. Doldj . . . you should go and listen wherever you can. See if you can find out what else is happening.”

  “I will bring you back what news I learn,” he promised. Clasping Siffu’s hand, he gently cradled her aged fingers and kissed them. “I will keep your words close in my heart, Grandmother. I will support those who try to do good, and restrain those who try to do harm.”

  “You’re a good boy, Doldj,” she murmured, patting his fingers before letting him go.

  Talgan gestured for Doldj to see himself out, bringing the glazed pot of salve to his mother’s side. Just as he reached the door, Doldj heard the elderly woman say, “I had a strange dream last night, of that young man waiting for me somewhere. That was Doldj, yes?”

  “Yes, Mother, that was young Doldj.”

  “It was just . . . strange. Not bad, but odd. He was waiting to welcome me into my home, but it was a wondrous home in a place I had never seen before . . . and there was a woman there, she said her name was . . . Nandja? Something like that . . .”

  Doldj shivered and closed the door behind him. Grandmother Siffu’s dreams were getting stranger as she aged. Stranger, and yet somehow more accurate, at least once they were examined after those events came to pass. He could not imagine what disaster would force her to move from Ijesh, however. Not at her age. Not so long as the gods lived here.