A Voice That Thunders (Voice that Thunders #1)

by Cully Mack

  ‘Sojin, get us something to eat, something that ain’t still walking or ain’t been dead for over a week.’

  When he reached Meciel, he found him with two unarmed lads and a Nephilim’s sword wrapped in swaddling in his lap. He realised the instant he got closer wherever Meciel had found them, these lads had survived an attack.

  The smaller lad’s hazel eyes reminded him of Sojin’s. He even had a little rusty, coloured cap. Bina blinked at Meciel and set out scouting under the trees.

  ‘We’ll not be staying,’ Meciel said.

  That didn’t surprise him. He knew Meciel wouldn’t set foot in any of Lithinos’ boarding houses.

  ‘Where ya want to go?’ he asked.

  ‘Hermonial.’

  Ammo didn’t let the shock grace his face. He glanced at the lads. ‘What about them?’

  Meciel gave nothing away. ‘Gabe is coming with us. Tam has other plans.’

  He was just going to ask which one was Gabe when the smaller of the two stood up and said, ‘I’m sorry, Gabe, I haven’t changed my mind.’ He shifted from foot to foot. ‘I hope you find Mirah and she’s all right. I promise, I’ll find Nuri and keep her safe.’ Tam hovered unsure what to do next.

  Gabe rose and gave him a bear hug. ‘Don’t do anything foolish. I’ll return as soon as I can.’

  Tam thanked Meciel and turned to walk away.

  Ammo grabbed his arm and stopped him. ‘Where ya going?’

  Tam shrugged.

  ‘Terra has been tracking Nuri,’ Meciel said, shifting onto his knees and then rising. ‘They’re heading west.’

  Ammo had no clue who Nuri was but he could see this shattered lad didn’t stand a chance alone and undefended.

  He unsheathed a dagger at his side. ‘Take this,’ he offered, ‘just in case ya might need it.’

  He watched Tam heading back across the docks before he spun and focused his attention on Gabe. He appeared to be around the same age as Sojin though much taller.

  Gabe stared at him, his green eyes radiating a stubborn will which Ammo knew mirrored his own. Gabe glanced beyond him to Wind Weaver, clearly he itched to leave. Fool, Ammo thought to himself.

  ‘Sojin,’ he yelled. ‘We ain’t staying.’

  Sojin emerged and whatever he held in his hands, he dropped to the ground. It didn’t surprise him to find Bina waiting on the deck when they returned.

  He turned to Sojin, ‘Take Gabe below and show him his cabin.’

  He waited until darkness shrouded his ship and his crew had settled for the night. ‘Well?’ he asked Meciel who had perched on a barrel.

  ‘The lads were from Barakel. Shemyaza must have found me somehow. He knew I would be guarding the prophecy, and he sent his hordes to destroy him. There is nothing left.’

  ‘So, it’s over? Building up ya forces for the Cloud Rider?’

  He already started calculating a new plan. A new strategy and a new income.

  ‘It’s not over yet.’

  ‘Well, if he’s gone, who ya gonna get to lead em?’

  ‘Gabe.’

  ‘Ya can’t be serious.’

  It wasn’t often he had no quick comeback. He understood the men he’d recruited. Not even believing it himself, he sold them Meciel’s prophecy of the Cloud Rider’s saviour. They’d revolt if he walked Gabe into their camp and even he probably wouldn’t come out alive.

  ‘I been building ya forces for years and ya expect me to hand em over to a kid?’

  Meciel stroked his beard, plotting his next move. ‘We need to stop in Nanshe.’

  ‘Why the hell do ya want to go there?’

  ‘Shemyaza took Gabe’s sister. He won’t focus on the Cloud Rider’s chosen path until he’s found her.’

  Ammo bristled. ‘So what, ya gonna walk into Hermonial? Do ya realise how insane that sounds?’

  Meciel raised his eyes from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘I promised to help him.’

  ‘I never took ya for a fool.’ He knew his words sounded condescending but Meciel didn’t flinch. ‘What did he do in Barakel? Tell me he at least has some skills?’

  ‘Apprentice carpenter.’

  Ammo rolled his eyes.

  ‘I need you to train him,’ Meciel said, lowering his feet onto the deck.

  Ammo blew his fringe from his perspiring forehead. ‘This is gonna cost ya.’

  ‘More than you realise.’ Meciel sighed.

  He could have suggested for Bina to train Gabe. It would have been worth it, to work out how she moved so fast but then he thought, why forfeit the silver.

  The following morning, he stuck a sword in Gabe’s hand. The kid looked like he expected the blade to come alive and torture him. What had he done to deserve this Ammo grumbled to himself, knowing full well he’d done plenty.

  He spent the morning showing Gabe the basics. This kid appeared determined, he had to give him that. If he could temper his frustration, he might actually learn something.

  ‘Who is Nuri?’ Ammo asked, bringing his sword in for another parry.

  Gabe lunged forward and thrust his hands into Ammo’s chest, sending him reeling backwards.

  Thunder clapped overhead and Ammo caught Meciel’s smile.

  ❊　20　❊

  To reach the plateau they’d ascended in small groups up through not one but three shafts. On the level above Mirah’s chamber she caught sight of men in dark robes hunched over desks, pressing reeds into clay tablets in a voluminous airy room.

  ‘What are they doing?’ she asked Arella.

  ‘They are the Sanu and this is the Edubba, house of the scribes. They record Shemyaza’s good works.’

  From the way Arella spoke with a subtle hint of sarcasm, Mirah assumed recordings of Shemyaza’s works, good or bad, would bend in his favour.

  The next level was of an exquisite design. A mosaic of aqua green tiles paved the tunnel floors and intricate murals covered smooth white plaster walls. As she passed them she caught glimpses of winged horses and lions and other strange creatures, all of them delightful and nothing like the ferocity of the chimeric beasts she often heard roaring from below her chamber.

  As the final shaft rose into the sunlight, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She blinked and blinked again at the sight she saw.

  ‘Amazing isn’t it,’ Galia said, strolling towards her.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Mirah said, stepping away from the platform whilst taking in the view.

  A wall of crystal rock, rising three or four times her height surrounded the wide plateau. In its glacial fortifications she could see her anxious reflection. Carved into the rock to her left, were five thrones with engraved wings spreading high above them.

  Ahead, Bishnor and six other giants waited by a sunken pool. The pool had steps leading down into the purest blue water she had ever seen. But the most shocking was the lofty, shimmering doorway rising high into the sky. How had she had never seen it from the ground?

  ‘It’s the Isten Baba - the first gate,’ Galia answered, to her unspoken question.

  She understood now why Nate avoided answering when she’d asked when the gods would arrive. How could anyone find the words to explain a portal joining the gods’ world to their own?

  ‘Quick, let’s get the best seats before Esha and the other Taphas arrive,’ Galia said, leading her to smaller seating cut into the crystal rock on the opposite side of the plateau from the thrones.

  Neviah emerged from the shaft her face deadpan with no hint of astonishment as she strode across the plateau.

  ‘I swear if someone doesn’t cut that tongue out of shitty Shayla, I will explode,’ she said, flopping down beside her.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said my freckles bring out the sluttiness in my eyes.’ Noticing the Isten Baba, Neviah gasped. ‘What is that?’

  Dropping her voice into feigned boredom as though nothing unusual stood before them, Mirah said, ‘It’s only a gateway to the heavens.’

  ‘It mak
es you feel insignificant, doesn’t it?’

  Mirah caught a flash of Esha’s dark henna hair and dropped her gaze to the ground. She sensed Esha’s eyes smouldering over her as she walked to the centre of the plateau. It was the first time Mirah had been in her presence since knowing her history with Nate.

  Esha called everyone to attention and Mirah focused on the snaky long braid coiled over her shoulder.

  ‘As leader of the Taphas, I shall provide a display to show the Puhrum what you aspire to become. Our newest recruits will follow after. I’ll call you in pairs and you will each compete, one against another. There will be two parallel lines chalked across the plateau. It’s your task to prevent your opponent from crossing the line closest to you. Remember, you’re here to impress the Puhrum. Do not let me down.’

  Next to arrive were several men carrying long, curled, brown kudu horns. They positioned themselves on either side of the Isten Baba.

  A few moments later, two members of the Azu emerged with a man wearing a black turban and a long black sash hanging over grey robes. Miniscule wrinkles like dried out plant roots spread over his hands and face. Aged he might be but Mirah spotted nothing frail about him. He advanced towards the pool giving a slight bow towards Bishnor.

  She first saw the shine on his boots and the pommel of his sword when Nate entered the plateau. He escorted Shemyaza’s wife Dumah to her seat.

  ‘Just because he brushes up well doesn’t mean you can trust him,’ Neviah said, low enough for only Mirah to hear.

  She had to agree, he looked splendid. He made his way over to Esha and stood with his back towards her. She didn’t mind, he’d already warned her that for her own safety he’d pay her no attention. What she didn’t appreciate was Esha leaning in closer as though she couldn’t hear whatever he said.

  Mirah jumped in her seat when the deep warbling sounds of the kudu horns blasted over the plateau announcing Shemyaza’s arrival. She’d expected him to adorn himself in fine clothing, jewels and a crown, not the plain purple garment wrapped around him, held in place by a belt and sheathed sword.

  In the daylight, she noticed his well oiled dark hair and braided beard. She saw no signs of his wings as the kudu horns silenced.

  He took determined steps straight to the Isten Baba and with outstretched arms, his voice rumbled like torrential rain when he announced, ‘Ati me peta babka.’

  The clover-blue shimmer over the gateway flared brighter and then dissolved to reveal ominous black steps leading up into the sky.

  In turn each of the gods descended the stairway. The kudu horns blasting as they crossed over the threshold onto the plateau. They greeted Shemyaza, glancing their immortal eyes over everyone in attendance before seating themselves on their thrones. Galia spoke in hushed whispers as each one arrived wearing the same purple robes as Shemyaza.

  ‘That’s Usemi,’ Galia said.

  Whether it was the subtle shifting of sunlight or caused by his slick motion, Mirah couldn’t tell but his skin shimmered, switching between light tan and a pale green. He reminded her of a lizard basking in the sun with bold, golden eyes set over wide spreading, slim lips. He was smaller than Shemyaza and looked like he’d popped out of a crevice compared to Shargaz who came next.

  Shargaz’s hulking, chubby stature appeared to compress by the time he sat on his throne. He stroked reddened, spiderlike fingers through an even redder beard. Galia informed her that Shargaz was the Supreme Smiter, responsible for metallurgy and a keen advocate for war.

  Buzur, was so pale skinned, Mirah wondered if he’d never been in the sunlight. His eyes were the same colour and size as the imposing ruby gemstone he offered to Shemyaza. She supposed the ruby was compensation for the ceremonial delay. He stopped and spoke to Shemyaza. Whatever he said caused Shemyaza’s fiery eyes to harden.

  The god’s descent through the portal was a long drawn-out affair and Mirah shifted on her seat. She glanced sideways towards Nate to see if he observed her reactions but he faced forward, tense and alert. She slipped her hand into Neviah’s and squeezed it. The kudu horns announced the final god crossing over the threshold.

  The last to descend was Ditallu and to Mirah’s surprise, she was female. Her hair, cropped short and as white as chilled ice, gleamed in the sunlight.

  ‘She is the Belit-Seri,’ Galia said, ‘Lady of the Wilderness. Beautiful isn’t she?’

  Mirah couldn’t deny her beauty. She wore her purple robes longer than the others. The back flowing over the plateau behind her as she took graceful steps to her throne.

  Shemyaza closed the portal before seating himself on the central throne. Usemi and Shargaz to his left and Buzur and Ditallu on his right. No one stirred, absorbed in the triumph of the five gods that beheld them.

  The black turbaned man came and bowed low before Shemyaza.

  ‘He is the Sangu Mah,’ Galia said. ‘He will preside over the ceremony. I have to go now and prepare for the tournament.’

  Shemyaza signalled with a jut of his chin for the ceremony to begin.

  The Sangu Mah slipped out a clay tablet from beneath his robe as his sandals padded over to the pool. He stepped down into the water and little waves and ripples lapped against his grey robe. He submerged up to his armpits. His black sash floating like two far-reaching tentacles on the blue water.

  Bishnor came out from behind the six other giants dressed in an orange loincloth. A long scar lashed over his right thigh and scattered over his entire body were a motley of smaller scars.

  ‘What is he doing?’ Mirah gasped.

  Ninkurra leaned over Neviah and said, ‘It’s called immersion. We have something similar but not as grand an occasion as this.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the ceremony,’ Mirah said, watching Bishnor unhook the loincloth from over his hips and letting it drop to the floor. He stood stark naked. A demarcation line separated his tan skin from the white flesh of his buttocks.

  ‘Oh that,’ Ninkurra said, brushing away his nakedness like she’d seen it before. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you, the ceremony is symbolic of death and rebirth? He can’t take anything in the pool with him.’

  They forgot to mention that, she thought, staring over at Nate. With his back to the gods, she caught his sly glance and even though he didn’t show it, she knew later she’d wipe the hidden grin off his face.

  Bishnor entered pool, the water reaching his hips. Two of the giants followed in after him. He stopped before the Sangu Mah who raised the clay tablet closer to his eyes and spoke in a foreign tongue.

  Watching the Sangu Mah became a sombre affair and dragged on for ages. Mirah had no clue what he was saying, but she picked up the rhythm and beats of the language, enough to know when the Sangu Mah was drawing to a close.

  The two giants held their hands across Bishnor’s shoulders and he fell back into the water. He didn’t struggle as they held him under. Mirah wondered if the death part wasn’t as symbolic as Ninkurra had suggested until he burst up out of the water.

  He emerged from the pool, his right arm from his shoulder to his wrist now covered with small oily black pictographs and geometric symbols. On exiting, another giant gave Bishnor a robe, and he thudded across the plateau and kneeled before Shemyaza.

  Shemyaza rose and glided the sword at his side from its sheath.

  ‘This sword is fashioned from anbar found only beyond this world.’ He sliced the double-edged sword over Bishnor’s chest. ‘With blood you shall honour it as you honour me as Chieftain.’ Shemyaza offered the sword to Bishnor. ‘Its name is Zabar.’

  Bishnor rose and when he turned droplets of blood trickled through the hairs on his chest. Raising the sword above his head caused the giants to roar in approval.

  After the servants had delivered refreshments to the gods, Esha came and bowed to Shemyaza.

  ‘This is Esha, my most faithful and powerful Wielder,’ Shemyaza said to the Puhrum. He gestured for her to begin.

  Buzur and Shargaz leaned forward as Esha stepped back wieldin
g fire into her hands. She thrust her palms upward, sending a ring of fire into the sky and then wielded the ring to the ground encircling the fire around her. She stroked the flames into a spinning column, feeding it more fire until the column grew higher.

  She gracefully pivoted and wielded the column of fire around the plateau, her arms moving in perfect symmetry as she split the column in two as it expanded. The columns paused, one at each end of the plateau and she stretched the perpetual fire up and over to form an arc of flames over her head. Holding the arc in position, she wielded fireballs in each palm and released them with great speed, one aimed at Shemyaza, the other at Usemi. Neither of them flinched as the fireballs sped through the air, halting in front of their satisfied faces.

  ‘How wonderful,’ Usemi said, ‘such precision.’

  Esha wielded the fireballs back towards her and split the fireballs in half again and again until she wielded more than a dozen in the air.

  The fireballs zoomed in an aerial display with such force and speed it became difficult for Mirah to track them as they spun and shot through the air.

  ‘It’s impressive,’ Shargaz agreed, ‘but in battle how much damage can your Wielders achieve?’

  ‘You may have few in numbers,’ Shemyaza replied, gesturing to the Taphas seated opposite him, ‘but as you can see, I’m building an army.’

  Esha wielded the fireballs up into the flaming arc above her head. She drew the fire columns closer and raised them into the air, spreading out the flames over the plateau.

  The sky turned into a blanket of molten lava, the heat of which becoming insufferable. She dropped her hands and thousands of globules of molten lava cascaded towards them.

  Everyone except the gods ducked in response. Esha smirked and when Mirah was sure she was going to burn alive, the lava evaporated.

  Buzur, rubbed his pale skinned hands together. ‘I’ve never seen a Fire Wielder strong enough to sustain the power of turning flames into lava.’

  His red eyes lingered on the small opal and sapphire amulet dangling from her neck as though trying to decipher its power.

  ‘You are dismissed Esha,’ Shemyaza said.