The Surah Stormsong Trilogy

by H. D. Gordon

  She nodded, because she did not trust herself to speak. At this, her tiger’s deep voice spoke up in her head.

  Sometimes it’s beneficial to show a little vulnerability among those whose loyalty you seek, my love. If they think you incapable of suffering, they surely believe you cannot relate to their lives.

  “My entire existence is made of suffering, Sam.”

  I know, my love… but so is that of everyone else. It is the one thing all Two-Legs seem to have in common.

  “How’d you get so smart?”

  I’m a cat. I was born that way.

  A single tear escaped Surah’s eye, and Gertrude took her gloved hands once more and squeezed them tight. The pain Surah felt was reflected in the gaze of the other woman, whom Surah had never met, and whom likely had never met her father, either.

  Gertrude Baker hesitated only a moment before pulling Surah into a tight hug, the motherly, warm smell of the older woman somehow comforting, though Surah had not felt the likes of it in centuries.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, my dear,” Gertrude told her, and the sound of tears was clear in her voice.

  Surah let the woman hold her for a moment before pulling back and giving a genuine smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to set things to rights, but until then, close up your shop and lie low, and tell your neighbors to do the same, please.”

  Gertrude Baker nodded, and Surah turned to go, opening the bakery door manually in an effort to conserve Magic. Samson slipped out first, but before Surah could do the same, Gertrude called out to her.

  “Queen Surah?”

  Surah turned back to face her, eyebrows raised.

  “I believe you,” said Gertrude. “You’re going to make a wonderful queen, and the Sorcerer people are lucky to have you.”

  With a small, not entirely forced smile, Surah nodded, thanking the kind woman before slipping back out onto the chaotic street with her tiger.

  Samson stood with his tail tucked low, his ears swiveling and amber eyes sweeping. And that is how you win back a kingdom, he told her.

  “It’s not really the winning it over I’m worried about, Sam. It’s the keeping it.”

  Sam fell into stride beside his mistress as she strolled down the street, her hands freezing wrongdoers in their tracks with Magic and fixing broken things one by one. The Great Tiger was more than enough incentive for the people to take notice of their Queen, and to fall to their knees as she passed by, some of them looking ashamed, others shocked, and others still, angry.

  One step at a time, dear one. One step at a time, Sam said.

  CHAPTER 6

  SURAH

  It took several draining hours, shared tears, and a whole lot of Magic, but by the time the sun began to sink behind the buildings in the Sorcerer City, order had been restored. Surah had hugged and cried and reassured more people than she could ever remember doing in one day in all her long life.

  The loss of King Syrian really did have an affect on the people. As word of his death spread, sadness seemed to grow thicker in the air, and by nightfall, a sort of eerie silence had fallen over the place. The mourning was evident on the faces of everyone she met, the sympathy and commemoration enough to choke Surah up to a point that was nearly overwhelming. It was both heart wrenching and incredible to see how much her father had meant to so many. Stranger after stranger told her stories of encounters with him, of how he had impacted their lives or helped them in some way, and Surah could only hope that at the end of her life, people would say things half as wonderful.

  She was biting back yawns, exhaustion weighing heavy on her, listening to yet another tale involving her father. The banker who was telling her was on the portly side, with sideburns that were as wide and hairy as the rest of him.

  “I wouldn’t be what I am today if not for King Syrian’s mercy,” the banker said, plucking a stray thread from his fine cloak and fixing the spectacles in place atop his nose. He launched into a story that Surah had heard a similar version of all day. The banker had found himself is some sort of trouble, and while her father had no other agenda, no obligation to help, help he did. In a matter of hours, her respect for him as a King grew beyond a measure she had anticipated. And her love for him as a father kept hold on her heart.

  She was just about to thank the banker for his kind words and condolences when a commotion near the road that led into the city grabbed her attention. A woman was screaming for help in a tone of voice that Surah recognized instantly. It was the kind of cry one makes when they’ve just lost someone they love.

  Her fractured heart sank down in her chest, skipping beats as it did so. She quickly thanked the banker, jumping atop Samson’s back as the Great Tiger crouched so that she could do so. Teleporting to the commotion would have been quicker, but Surah had used enough Magic today to knock out the strongest of users, and her tiger knew this.

  She rode atop his back, gripping the black and blue fur around his neck for balance and hopping down with a nearly feline-like grace when they reached the crying woman. The small crowd of people gathered parted to let her pass, and Surah had to lock her knees so that they didn’t give out beneath her when she got a look at what all the fuss was about.

  A young woman was sitting on the ground in the middle of the dirt road that led into the Sorcerer City. Her mousy brown hair was disheveled and stuck to her dirty forehead with sweat. Her eyes, the same brown as her hair, were red and filled with tears that seemed to be ceaseless, and exhaustion and grief colored her features the way the dark colors the night.

  And on the young woman’s lap, lying atop her tan gingham dress was the body of a lifeless child—a little boy who could be no older than six. The boy’s eyes were closed, his chest still, his face void of the light that only life can carry.

  Surah, uncaring of all the people around her, crouched before the woman, her own violet eyes filling with tears over the loss of a life so young, so innocent to the horrors of their world.

  When the young woman looked up and met her eyes, Surah couldn’t help but cringe under the fiery hate that emanated from them. She found she could not breathe, either, could only wait until the young woman spoke.

  She half expected a lashing, but after several seconds of silence, the woman’s shoulders slumped in a way that suggested being crushed under the weight of the universe, and her voice came out low and choked. It was a voice Surah could relate to more than she wished she could, the voice of someone who has been consumed with loss.

  “They killed my baby,” the young woman told her. “They killed my little Kai.” She stroked at the dead child’s hair, wrenching Surah’s heart with every beat. “They burned the whole town… the houses, the fields… all of it… gone.” She screamed her next words, jolting the crowd collectively that had formed around them. “They killed my baby!” she screamed, the high-pitched, broken sound of her words scraping across Surah’s soul.

  She took the woman by the shoulders, wary of being slapped or blamed for this, which Surah was sure she would ponder later, but the woman only looked at her as if she were lost, as if she’d stumbled into someone else’s nightmare, and only wanted to return home.

  “Who killed him?” Surah asked, her voice low and soft, as gentle as she could manage. She supposed she knew the answer, but a part of her needed to hear it. Once she heard it, she felt as though whatever she did next, no matter how brutal it may be to her enemies, it was justified.

  “Those fucking fairies!” shouted the young woman. Her voice fell to a whisper again, her brown eyes turning back to the lost child in her arms. “They killed my little Kai.”

  It took effort on Surah’s part to ignore the murmur that ran through the gathered crowd, which seemed to be thickening by the moment. She concentrated on the woman before her, pulling her into an embrace that she half expected to be rejected, the child between them. But the young woman fell into her arms like a child herself, sobbing into the expensive fabric of Surah’s cloak.

 
Samson stood silently close by, huge head and tail held low, keeping a careful eye over the unfolding situation.

  Something seemed to settle deep in Surah’s chest, like a heavy stone shifting place in her soul, and she knew that after today, there could be no avoiding it. War was coming, and it was going to do what wars did—tear apart families and break hearts.

  She stroked the young woman’s hair, whispering gentle words. Eventually, she got the young mother to release her dead child, and had the graveyard men came and take the body away, preparing it on the royal dime, Surah assured them.

  The tears in her violet eyes now could not have been stopped even with all the composure training in the world, and when Surah spoke, it was the voice of a queen that came out of her.

  “Your Kai will be set to sea with my father, my lady, if you will allow it,” Surah said.

  The young woman could only nod, and Surah lifted her chin with her fingers so that she could look in her eyes as she said her next words. “And I’m going to kill the Fae Queen and everyone who follows her. I’m going to make them pay for Kai’s death. You have my word.”

  The grieving young mother gripped Surah’s hands hard enough to hurt. “That won’t bring him back,” she said, before allowing herself to be led off by some of the other Sorceresses who’d gathered. Surah had used her Magic to send a message to the all of the innkeepers whose hotels she had just repaired, telling them to let anyone who needed a place to stay to do so on the royal tab. Somehow, she felt it was the least she could do, though she knew somewhere inside her that none of this was her fault.

  She watched the woman go, her words playing and replaying on a loop in her head. That won’t bring him back.

  No, it would not bring the little boy back, and it would not bring her father back for that matter, either. But it would make Surah feel a lot better to spill some Fae blood, and that was just what she intended to do.

  CHAPTER 7

  CHARLIE

  Charlie was exhausted, but he could not sleep. The golden light of the sun that had been filtering through the colorful trees of the forest had gradually faded away, and night was setting in. Between the canopies of the trees, he could see thousands of stars overhead, their luminescence unveiled in the darkening sky, like the eyes of the universe opening after a deep slumber.

  And other eyes were watching him as well. The Fae children had returned to stare and whisper and toss the occasional rock at him before scurrying off with giggling that was so adorable it made it hard to be irritated.

  It was not the Fae children whom he was mad at. The hours alone in the cage on the floor of the Fae Forest had given him time to ruminate, and he’d come to the conclusion that he was mostly angry with himself.

  Why hadn’t he told Surah about his involvement in the death of her mother and sister all those years ago? Why hadn’t he laid his cards out on the table when he’d had the chance? If he had done so, he may not be in the situation he was in now, and she may not hate him the way he was certain she did.

  The truth was, he hadn’t told her because he’d been afraid of losing her. He wished he had a better reason, but that was really all there was to it. He’d had her and he’d wanted to keep her, and in acting selfishly, he’d lost her altogether.

  Forever.

  With this thought, his head fell forward, his chin touching his chest. Running a hand through his hair, he just breathed, even though it ached to do so, because there was nothing else to be done.

  Charlie’s head jerked up, his eyes locking on the emerald green, slanted eyes of a Fae child who had curiously ventured close to the cage that held him. Despite the pain that was twisting like a corkscrew somewhere deep in his chest, he couldn’t help the smile that pulled up his lips as he looked at the young creature. He’d never seen a child that was full Fae before, as they tended to keep the young within the Territory of the Fae Forest, and he had to admit, they were cute little things, if ornery as all hell.

  The child before him now was female, which one could tell by the feathery outline of wings that was beginning to form on her little back. Male Fae had more insect-like wings that melted into their skin to look like black dragonfly wing tattoos down their backs and shoulders. Charlie had met plenty of Fae men in his lifetime, and knew them to be charming devils that had a knack for bedding the women of other races.

  He’d also met Fae women before, and they were lovely in their otherness as well. Their wings could also fold into the skin of their backs, taking the form of colorful, feathery tattoos. Both genders had slightly slanted eyes, beautiful features, and strange coloring as far as skin and hair went. And the ladies were also natural charmers, though Charlie had never really understood their particular appeal.

  But the children of the Fae people were somewhat a mystery to the other supernatural races. Charlie had lived for centuries—like most Sorcerers who do not meet with an unfortunate incident—and he’d met Vampires, Wolves, Leprechauns, Succubae, Witches, Warlocks, Pixies, Trolls, Seers and even a Necromancer once, plus a dozen other races that he could scarcely remember. He’d visited the Outlands a handful of times over the course of the years, which was a small Territory that was neutral to all races where only those who meant no harm could enter.

  Even the Outlands, with its taboo mixture of races, did not have Fae children. Charlie winked at the girl, who crouched before him in a way that suggested natural flexibility. This made her giggle, and her little hands came up and covered her pouty mouth, her long-lashed emerald eyes sparkling at the interaction. Her hair was a sapphire that looked almost too soft to touch, and it fell down to her little waist. Her clothes were made of the same material that made up the trees, and her nails looked as sharp as talons. Other than that, she looked nearly human, with skin that was a sun-kissed color that looked warm even under the night sky.

  Hesitating, his heart twisting at the prospect of this little creature and the others like her getting caught up in the war that their queen seemed hell-bent on starting, Charlie sighed and reached a hand carefully through the vines of his cage.

  “I’m Charlie,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  The child’s slanted green eyes narrowed a touch, and she moved forward slowly and gracefully, still crouching like a cat on a branch. After a moment of indecision, she grabbed Charlie’s hand, turned it over, saw that there was nothing there, slapped it unhappily, and skittered away into the trees. The sound of the other Fae children snickering made a sad smile come to Charlie’s face once again.

  Across the way, staring through the trees, Charlie waved to the Fae girl, and she waved back, her confidence clearly greater at a distance. The behavior of these creatures was so obviously childlike, so innocent, that suddenly Charlie was divided down the middle of the game board.

  On the one hand, he was a Sorcerer, and the woman he loved was the leader of the Sorcerer people, and he did not want to see the Territory of his people and the throne of his beloved stolen by the Fae. On the other hand, the Fae Queen was just one of an entire race of people, people with feelings, homes, and loved ones.

  A fact he forgot that he had known once upon a time surfaced in his mind at this, one that he had not had to remember since The Great War all those centuries ago.

  With war, nobody can truly win, and the losses always outweigh the gains.

  CHAPTER 8

  SURAH

  More people began streaming back into the city, having returned to their homes in the various towns and cities dotting the Sorcerer Territory to find that their houses had been burned, and those they’d left behind had been killed. Others still had been injured and killed during the attack at the Town Square, where Surah’s uncle had accused her of treason in front of a good portion of the kingdom’s citizens.

  Surah’s damage control had worked to a certain extent. Theo had done a good job restoring the places in the city he’d visited, and was as visibly exhausted as Surah was. Both of them had used an incredible amount of Magic for one day, and it h
ad taken its toll.

  They sat now on the balcony outside of what used to be her father’s office, the glittering stars hanging over their heads in the clear night sky. Samson was perched on the stone ledge of the balcony, overlooking the Sorcerer City below, with its neon lights and fine architecture. He had not spoken a word since their return to the castle, and the look in his amber eyes was far-off. Surah was anxious to get this discussion with Theo over with, so that she could see what was so upsetting her tiger.

  Theo swirled a drink in his hand, his eyes also distant. “The Fae burned every border town in the Territory before leaving,” he said. “People are still streaming into the City now with no where else to go, and terrified that we can’t protect them.”

  “That’s why we have to send the Hunters to the towns and cities, as well as patrolling the roads. We need them to be anywhere there are our people. Their presence alone will offer comfort,” she said.

  Theo was silent a moment. He turned in his chair, facing Surah until she looked up and met his gray eyes. “That’s just not wise, my queen,” he told her. “We need the Hunters here. Protecting the castle. Protecting you.”

  Surah waved a hand at this. “I don’t need their protection. The people do. Besides, I’m not going to be here, anyway. There are matters to attend to.”

  For a moment, Theo could only blink at her. “Forgive me, Surah,” he said, “but you’re the Sorceress Queen now, the last of the Stormsong line. You have to rule. You can’t just go charging into the battle like you used to.”

  “The best rulers are the ones who stand beside their men on the battlefield,” she said. “I would not send them to die over something I’m not willing to die for myself. That’s a human’s way of doing things.”