Seasons of Magic Volume 1

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Seasons of Magic Volume 1 Page 4

by Selina J. Eckert


  Hand shaking, she reached toward the body, stopping a hair’s breadth from the rough fabric.

  A bird called outside the window, and she jumped, pulling her hand back and clutching it to her chest as her heart beat frantically, then laughing at herself. Surely the dead couldn’t hurt her.

  She forced herself to breathe more evenly, then knelt down beside the body, reading the inscriptions along the base of the body’s slab. They detailed the minutiae of the person’s former life, including a rich life as a shaman.

  Quri’s eyebrows shot up. Why would Chuki lock her in the tomb of a shaman? Did she know?

  She finally found the name: Inge.

  “Well, Inge,” Quri said into the stillness of death. “I guess it’s just you and me.”

  Quri continued surveying the tomb. All the food was moldering dust, as was the cloth, but the stone and earthenware items were as fine as the day they’d been crafted. If she had any intact cloth at all, she could clean them, but for now that wasn’t an option. Sure, she could use her own garments, but a small part of her feared adding the dust of ages to the dust already on her dress. Some said that if you allowed death to touch you, the dead would claim you. Suddenly, she was glad for the bird’s call that kept her from touching the body a moment before. She wasn’t ready to risk her life.

  She dropped herself down under the window as rain began to fall outside, increasing the humidity in the tomb. Her eyes burned from the emotions of the day, and fear still hung heavy on her, as heavy as the rain-soaked air.

  What could she possibly use to help her? There was no telling when Chuki would come back, and she had never trained Quri on the most complex spells...such as summoning or transmuting.

  There would be no food without Chuki.

  There was no way to protect herself. She had little in the way of defensive or offensive magic, still limited to simply superficial spells like color change. And Chuki was the most powerful shaman the Inti had ever seen. There was little that could stand against her.

  But perhaps there was something here that could help. Or, more accurately, someone. If Inge’s life was engraved on the slab, what else might be hidden around this room?

  As the rain fell, she began scouring the tomb for magic spells she could use.

  ***

  Quri had fallen into a doze against the wall, lulled into an almost-sleep by the screaming of the birds in the jungle down below. The sun was low in the sky, painting beams of golden light around her prison. It bounced off the gold inlays in the walls and furniture and pottery, but she was blind to the beauty. Chuki had left her in the tomb early yesterday with no food or water to sustain her, and now her stomach growled with the ferocity of a cloud cat.

  The beat of wings on the air broke the silence of the tomb and the cacophony of the birds outside. Quri shook herself out of her stupor and hurried to the middle of the room, turning to face the window just as Chuki swooped through. She wasn’t going to face her mistress sitting down. The great bird landed on the corner of the burial slab on the far wall, and Quri turned to follow the flight, unwilling to leave her back exposed. A large basket that had been hanging from the bird’s fearsome talons dropped to the floor.

  The bird morphed, and then Chuki sat on the corner of the slab, one leg crossed over the other, examining the dirt under her nails. “Hello, Quri. Have you had time to think over your indiscretions?”

  Was this a test? If she said yes, would Chuki take her home?

  If she questioned Chuki’s decisions, Chuki would probably fly right back out that window. More punishment for defying her mistress. She shuddered at the idea, her stomach clenching in hunger. She wouldn’t risk it, not now.

  “Yes,” she finally said.

  Chuki dropped her hand and met Quri’s eyes. “I am happy to hear it. But your...indiscretion...is still seeking you in the village. You will have to stay here until you are safe. But I don’t expect you to sit here idle and afraid.”

  Quri stepped closer. Perhaps all would be well? “What will I do? Will you teach me healing spells? Or perhaps mending?”

  “No,” Chuki said. “You will study the spells I give you. The spells you will need first when we return to the village. You aren’t ready to fix or heal.”

  Quri frowned. How would she ever be a shaman as respected as Chuki if her mistress continued to treat her as one with no control, with no magic foundation? She’d been studying for years now, since she was old enough to walk. It wasn’t fair.

  But then Chuki flipped the basket’s lid open, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread permeated the musty air of the tomb. Quri couldn’t help but close her eyes, raising her chin and sniffing appreciatively, her thoughts distracted from Chuki’s refusal. Her stomach growled again, louder than before.

  Chuki chuckled. “I see I’ve arrived at the perfect time.”

  The perfect time would have been yesterday, but Quri didn’t mention that.

  Chuki pushed the basket toward her apprentice, and Quri ladled stew into two clay bowls and set a loaf of bread out on a platter. She settled on the floor opposite where Chuki perched on the stone slab and passed her mistress a bowl before extracting a clay jug and two cups from the basket. She filled them to the brim with steaming and fragrant black coffee. Quri couldn’t help smiling at that; coffee was one of her favorite drinks. Was this meant to be a truce?

  As Quri took a bite of the savory stew, Chuki said, “We will continue your lessons while you are hidden away here. I have many things to show you still, and one day you will need them to tend to the people of the village.”

  Quri nodded, her mouth too full to respond.

  Chuki placed her bowl on the floor and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “The next lesson is one that will be useful for some of the men of the village as well as some of the young women preparing for their husbands. Today, I teach you the spell to grow hair.”

  Quri blinked at her, pausing mid-chew. People came to Chuki for the simplest, most inane issues sometimes, but hair growth? Really? Was there no end to the useless things Chuki would give her to delay teaching her the real magic?

  “Hair growth?” She couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, along with several drops of broth from the stew.

  “People are vain, Quri.”

  She nodded. It was true. She had seen Chuki herself applying the powders and ointments intended to ward off the appearance of age. Not that it helped the old hag.

  Chuki pulled a simple wooden comb from the basket. “Now. This may look like a simple comb. Because it is!” She cackled at her own joke, and Quri forced herself to smile in response. After wiping a tear from her eye, Chuki continued. “It is a simple incantation, and you have learned enough magic to make it work. Repeat after me: the crown of women, the pride of men, cause this hair to grow again.” Chuki pulled the comb through the ends of her straggly gray hair. The dull silver hair of the shaman began to glow with the golden light of the sunset, and as the comb released the strands, the hair lengthened, stretching toward the comb and smoothing like finely-woven cloth.

  Quri’s eyes were wide as she watched. Then, Chuki handed her the comb. She examined it, turning it over in her hands. To her eye, and supporting Chuki’s claim of mediocrity, it appeared to be a normal comb. Her eyes flicked up to Chuki, then returned to the comb.

  She held it over her own head, repeating back Chuki’s incantation. “The crown of women, the pride of men, cause this hair to grow again.” She drew the comb through her own hair, watching in amazement as her long strands glittered gold and grew longer with each stroke of the comb. Where her hair had reached her waist before, now it reached halfway to her knees.

  “Very good,” Chuki said. She drew a knife from her basket, a tiny blade no longer than her small finger. “You may practice this spell while I am away, and if your hair grows too long, cut it.”

  Quri accepted the knife, placing it next to the comb on the floor. She ran her fingers through her new hair. “H
ow long will it grow if I don’t cut it?”

  “It will grow every time you cast the spell. If you want it to shorten, it must be cut. Test my words, if you like.”

  Quri nodded and tossed her locks over her shoulder, retrieving her bowl from the floor and continuing her dinner.

  Chuki stood to her feet. “Now, for this place. Listen closely, for this will be your responsibility from this point onward.”

  She muttered another incantation, and Quri leaned forward and strained to hear. A wind seemed to whirl through the room, sending her into a coughing fit with its choking cloud.

  But then it was gone, leaving the tomb clean and spotless. Quri smiled to herself and breathed a sigh of relief. She may be locked in with Inge, but at least she would be breathing clean air again.

  Nine

  SUMAQ SIGHED. HE had been looking for Quri for a week now, with his father’s blessing, but no one had seen the girl since Chuki flew off with her. He wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore, what to wonder.

  What if Chuki had trapped her somewhere? What if Quri was still stuck as a mouse?

  What if she was dead?

  He shook his head, banishing the thought. He had to hold on to the hope that he would find her, alive, and soon.

  He passed by the temple district again, searching the faces of the people rushing by as the rain fell from a slate sky. Kochik stood at his side, face grim to match Sumaq’s, but he didn’t comment on the people Sumaq watched. Unlike in his city, the district was made up of only a single temple and shrine. He couldn’t decide if it was quaint or depressing. He had always found big cities to be vibrant and full of life, something a small village couldn’t quite accomplish.

  To his right, the cliffs towered above the village and jungle like a protective wall, and just a little farther down the road, after the last building, the tombs of the Inti ancestors stood guard. They were cut into the stormy gray stone of the cliffs, and the only thing distinguishing them from the stone of the mountain was the bright coating of paint the color of sunshine and a T-shaped window near the top of each room, the cutout outlined in blood red. They were the colors of life: sun and blood. And giving life in death meant eternal protection for the Inti.

  Sumaq and Kochik continued along the road toward the outskirts of the village, in the direction Chuki had taken Quri. He paused, looking up at the tombs ahead of him as the rain fell and slicked his hair to his head.

  Did he dare intrude on the tombs? After all, this wasn’t a burial ground for his people. They were far too high off the ground to visit, but he had always wondered about this difference in burial rites between his people and the Inti. His people, consumed by fire and energy, sent the dead to the afterlife on funeral pyres. Their spirits would protect his people, much like the Inti dead, but their bodies would be consumed to return to earth and ash.

  But why shouldn’t he continue in that direction? Why not look for evidence at the edge of the jungle? It wasn’t as if he would disrespect the Inti’s dead by walking along the road.

  He followed the road out of the village. The sounds of the town, the people, of life, faded as he walked, drowned out by the rain. Even the jungle fell silent as he passed with his guard, the birds and bugs hushed in fear or reverence. Only the footsteps of the two men broke the silence of the road.

  A light, soft song carried by the breeze met his ear, and he stopped. The music was sad and haunting, forlornly depressed. It matched his own mood.

  Singing? Way out here? Who would be wandering in the middle of nowhere?

  “Do you hear that?” he said over his shoulder, eyes not leaving the wilderness surrounding them.

  Kochik didn’t answer at first. But as the singing continued, he nodded at the prince. Someone really was singing way out here.

  Wait...not just someone. Could it be?

  He knew that voice. The singing had been for his ears when he was recovering here with the Inti. As light and airy as a bird’s.

  Quri. He’d found her.

  Relief swept through him, carrying his heart as high as the cliffs. He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face, bright in the dim, watery light of the day’s rainstorm. Quri was alive. And she was human.

  But where was she?

  He tilted his head back and forth, trying to find the source of the song. It danced with the wind and teased his senses, drifting high and low with every movement he made. His eyes scanned the edges of the jungle, the borders of the cliff base, but to no avail. No movement, and no suggestion he had found Quri’s hiding place.

  The song was a song of death, of struggle, of finality. Could she...could she be in one of the tombs? He raised his chin, holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the rain. But the tombs seemed as still as ever.

  “Hello?” he called.

  The song stopped abruptly. For a moment, there was no sound, no movement. Then, her bright face, so familiar and so lovely, appeared at one of the windows high above. All he could see through the narrow slit was her eyes, the top of her head, but she was just as beautiful as he remembered.

  He smiled more brilliantly than the sun. “Quri!”

  The girl’s sky blue eyes grew wide. “Sumaq?” She darted nervous looks from side to side, and he could see the panic in her movements. “Is she here?”

  He almost couldn’t hear her hissed question, but his stomach dropped, heart aching at the fear in her voice. He shook his head. “You’re safe.”

  Even as he said the words, he wondered if they were really true. He looked over his shoulder, down the road to the village, into the edges of the jungle.

  All was still.

  “Can I come up?” he said, returning his attention to her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how. It’s too far!”

  Sumaq stared up at her, expression grim. He didn’t want to leave her here, didn’t trust what Chuki might do to her, but there was no way to reach her, at least not today.

  Kochik nudged his shoulder and gestured toward the village. A figure approached, too far to hear him. But that wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t make out who was approaching, but he couldn’t risk Chuki finding out that he had located Quri. There was no telling what would happen.

  He looked back up at the tomb and nodded. “I’ll try to think of something. Be strong, my love. I’ll be back for you!”

  Sumaq and the guard walked casually away from the tomb and toward the jungle. His heart was beating at three times the rate of his steps, his entire body tensed. Why would Chuki put her in a tomb? Didn’t the old woman care at all about Quri’s health? About her very soul?

  He would get her out of there. He would not let his Quri become part of the city of the dead. They would have to plan their next moves carefully and hope Chuki didn’t catch on.

  Ten

  QURI STEPPED BACK from the window. She glanced back at her still companion, her hands on her cheeks as she tried to contain her joy. “Inge, he came! He found me!”

  The warm bubble of happiness and relief in her belly popped. “But how will he get to me? I still can’t leave.”

  She had been trying to come up with a plan to leave the tomb, to get Chuki to take her home, anything, but she wasn’t ready for him to find her. She had nothing to tell him, no suggestions. Not yet.

  But she would.

  She craned her neck out the window as much as she could. The ground stared up at her fifty feet away. Above, the cliffs jutted out so far that rappelling down to her was also out of the question. He may be able to climb down, but he would have no control once he left the solid rock of the overhang. He could swing there for days without end.

  Except it wouldn’t be for days. As soon as Chuki returned, she would—

  Quri shoved the thought away. She couldn’t think about what Chuki would do, or she would lose her nerve for whatever it was she would have to do, both to escape and to protect Sumaq.

  She slumped back against the stone slab. Inge stared up at the ceiling like always, u
nmoving, silent. Wind whistled past the window, brushing a strand of hair across Quri’s cheek. Absently, she tucked it back and began nervously braiding her hair. Since she had learned the hair growth spell from Chuki, her hair had gained three feet of length.

  Her fingers froze mid-twist.

  Her hair.

  She quickly stood and tried to look back over her shoulder, to see how long it had grown. It dragged on the floor, the ends tangled and dusty. So it was at least as long as she was tall. Could she make it five times longer? Ten? Would it work? Chuki had said the spell lasted until the hair was cut, just like normal hair growth but faster, longer. Could it be stronger? Was there a way to use it to get to the ground?

  And Chuki had given her permission to keep trying. Maybe she couldn’t fit out the window like bird-Chuki, but maybe she could bring Sumaq up to her level, at least to talk to her. Maybe with his help they could even devise a plan to get out of the tomb!

  She grabbed up the wooden comb and started brushing.

  ***

  Still brushing her hair an hour later, Quri tilted her head to better read one of the many spells carved on the tomb walls. If Chuki wasn’t going to teach her, she would just have to find a new instructor. And who better than this ancient shaman whose wisdom lay all around her, carved into the stone of her prison?

  She set aside the comb and stood up. Time to practice.

  The first spell was a shielding spell...or at least, that was what the inscription read. The steps were engraved next to a picture of a shaman with a rounded shield positioned between her and an army.

  Such power.

  “Okay,” Quri said, glancing at Inge. “Shielding magic.”

  She stood and stepped into the middle of the room, taking a deep breath.

  Step one: locate the seed of magic within the body.

  She closed her eyes, focusing her attention on different parts of her body in search of the center of her ability. It was something all people had, but without training, few could actually locate it...much less use it. But Chuki had taught her that long ago. If she hadn’t, Quri would never have been able to cast her first spell.

 

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