Way Walkers: Tangled Paths (The Tazu Saga)

by Leigh, J.

  “Yeah, but I’ve seen Talents do things to other people,” Ass’shiri said. “Maybe someone could use his Ability to give you wings.”

  Hope bloomed in Jathen. “Is that possible?”

  “Yes, actually, though it would not be permanent. In fact”—Mikkal bobbed his head—“depending on the Talent, unless you got someone rather high level, the most you’d manage would be a few minutes.”

  “Why so short?” Jathen asked. “You flew around for a while on those things, right?”

  “Yes, but that’s because I was using my Ability to alter myself. It’s always more difficult to alter something outside yourself and even harder to alter something organic and living.” He looked thoughtful. “Though it is possible.”

  Ass’shiri patted Jathen’s back. “Put it on your list of things to do one day.”

  “Yeah,” Jathen replied, playing with his master-charm cuff. A round of cicadas’ buzzing reminded Jathen of the time when Charmed Wind had blown up around him, and how Hatori’s gift had kept him so miraculously safe. “So how do wards work?” he asked, tapping the stone on his watch. “Is it energy blocking energy, like a sword bashing into a shield, or does the ward simply nullify the magic?”

  As they rounded a bend in the river, they came to an area with lines of moss flanked by ferns and brush.

  Mikkal glanced at Jathen’s watch. “You are asking about negation, when energy that’s already been absorbed and redirected or manifested is in turn nullified and returned to its original form: energy. Wards work as you said, like a sword bashing a shield, energy verses energy.” He pointed at the cuff. “The stone is an anchor keeping the spell in motion, similar to a battery or simple generator. Negation is another matter entirely, something so rare it’s more myth than anything. There are some stones that do it naturally, but again, those are few and far between.”

  “I’ve certainly never—”

  Ass’shiri let out a squeal and suddenly sank out of sight. He popped up a moment later, dripping wet with a clump of moss on his head.

  Jathen couldn’t contain his laughter. “I thought Clan senses were heightened, Ass!”

  “Ugh, I couldn’t smell the water under the moss with all this rain,” he replied. “Help me out.”

  Jathen’s feet skidded a little on the rim of the hole. He nearly joined Ass’shiri in the water, but Mikkal caught him. “This isn’t natural,” Jathen said, pushing some ferns away with his foot. “These are hand-dug canals.”

  “It seems we’ve stumbled upon an Iki settlement,” Mikkal said, sounding pleased.

  Ass’shiri groaned. He tried to gain the bank on his own but slipped back into the canal. “So I’m waist-deep in some sort of Iki goo?”

  Before Jathen could move again to help Ass’shiri, a multitude of dark shapes scuttled down out of the trees, making a torrent of disjointed twittering noises. The part-plant Nijū-Iki wore loincloths, and their dark-brown mottled skin appeared to be amphibian. Jathen spotted the movement of the double set of lungs, a wavy rippling that bubbled rhythmically under the chest. They had noses and lips, but the features were muted, as if the sculptor carving their faces had pressed the bulbous parts partially back into the clay. Their hair was fine, closer to dandelion fluff than fur or petals. The nearest one blinked curiously at the trio with internal secondary lids.

  “Despite the inconvenience to your person, this is a good thing, I think.” Mikkal laughed, waving at the closest of the hovering natives. “I’m certain they can point us toward the road, and perhaps they might take pity on us and allow us to stop here for a few hours. I’m quite fit, but you boys need some rest.”

  While Jathen extended a hand to Ass’shiri, Mikkal tried addressing the creature in Tar’cil. The noises that emanated from the Iki’s throat in response were inhuman, a quavering garble.

  Ass’shiri managed to clamber onto the bank. “I don’t suppose you speak Nijū-Iki,” he said, eyeing its long-bladed weapons with concern.

  “No one does,” Mikkal said with bemused irony. “Outside of the Iki themselves, the language is unpronounceable.”

  The Iki spoke again, an authoritative jumble of sounds accompanied by a hand motion indicating the ground. He then flitted off across the canopy surprisingly fast, though not quite as fleet as a Tazu.

  Ass’shiri readied his crossbow. “So did he just tell us to wait here or to go away before they crush our heads onto the rocks?”

  “I believe the former,” Mikkal commented. “The emotions coming off of him seem to be mostly based in curiosity.”

  “And the ones still here?” Ass’shiri tilted his head at the remaining Iki.

  “About the same.” Mikkal grinned. “Though some of them were quite amused by your little tumble.”

  Ass’shiri snorted, and Jathen chuckled, the knot in his throat relaxing. The first Iki eventually returned, another of his kind in tow.

  The new Iki had dark green skin with light brown spots, more defined facial features, and the curves of a female. She wore green robes instead of a loincloth, and her strawberry-pink hair hung past her petite waist. She seemed to be around Jathen’s age. She studied them intently. “Walkers?” she asked in lightly accented Tar’cil.

  “Technically, just I am,” Ass’shiri replied. “But this one”—he indicated Mikkal—“is a pretty high Talent. And this one”—he pointed at Jathen—“is well, Jathen, which is enough.” He grinned.

  She stared at them a few moments. “You killed the flower leeches.”

  Mikkal bowed. “I meant no disrespect to the forest or its balance, lady. It was to save two lives, and I was careful not to allow the magic to spread.”

  “Flower leeches are not part of the natural balance but a scourge left behind by the Mad Mage. You show us no disrespect in purging them.” Her soft green eyes lingered on Jathen. “What is a ‘Jathen’? I do not know this designation.”

  Chuckling, Jathen shook his head. “It’s not a Way path or title or anything. It’s just my name.”

  She nodded. “Your destination?”

  “Pilgrims’ Road.”

  Her brow rose. “You are very far.”

  “We are aware,” Mikkal said. “And we ask if the Nijū-Iki might provide us with a place to rest.”

  “And some supplies,” Ass’shiri added.

  She shifted her weight, brow furrowed. “You are con-ma’ca-rong.” She said the Iki word slowly, so it was somewhat comprehensible. She shook her head. “Iki cannot Feed Clan.”

  Ass’shiri looked affronted, but Mikkal nodded and said, “We understand.” He put a hand on Ass’shiri’s shoulder. “Iki blood holds no sustenance for us. The forest can provide what we need in that regard.”

  “Then allow us to offer you a place to rest. I am nguoi’ giabo—shaman—for my people while my mother is away. You may call me Neek. Come.”

  “Neek?” Jathen repeated, stepping carefully over the moss-covered channel as the Iki did.

  She smiled. “It is the closest sound to my real name you might pronounce.”

  “Ah. Well. Thank you very much, Neek. You have no idea how grateful we are.”

  “The Protector Rhean must like you, Jathen, to deliver you from the leeches and into our care all in one day.”

  “Oh, no, I doubt that. He just likes the Clansmen I tag along with.”

  Neek giggled along with Mikkal, and Ass’shiri poked him in the ribs. They eventually came to a wall of light-and-dark-green-striped vines. The green foliage hung from near the top of the canopy all the way down to the ground.

  “Through here.” Neek lifted a few choice strands and flitted under them. Mikkal ducked through next.

  Grabbing the plants, Ass’shiri held them up and gestured at Jathen. “After you, Moot.”

  “Thanks.” Jathen rolled his eyes as he steppe
d forward. He extended his hand out to push aside a bit of wayward greenery, and all the vines abruptly snapped back, almost as if repulsed. Jathen stumbled and nearly toppled his friend.

  “Whoa!” Ass’shiri exclaimed as they both backed away. “What was that?”

  Mikkal stepped back through, holding the vines. “Iungo plants,” he said, inspecting the offending foliage. “A bit bigger a variety than I’ve seen, however.” He turned to Neek, who stood behind him. “They carry solar energy down from above the canopy, yes?”

  She nodded. “Among other things.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Ass’shiri,” Jathen said, embarrassed. “Iungo always do that to me.” Neek gazed at him with her head cocked, making him feel self-conscious, so he added, “They don’t like negative emotions, and to be honest, I’m pretty sore and miserable right now.” Jathen stepped through the vines, keeping his hands at his sides.

  “I’ve never seen an iungo do that,” Ass’shiri said, following them.

  When they reached the village, Jathen was amazed at the intricate architecture of the buildings. Made of some kind of hardened mud-brick layered with moss and bark, the structures were amorphous, flowing along the landscape with the roots and trees to make the Iki village merge with the jungle.

  “Wow.” Jathen eyed what he thought was a water-carrying and possible indoor plumbing system. “I hadn’t expected...”

  “Structure?” Neek finished for him. “Few people are aware that the Iki build as such. We are close to nature, a part of it really, but this does not mean we are unable or unaware of how to bend it to our needs. We are just wise enough not to bend it so far that it breaks.”

  “Well, it’s beautiful,” Jathen said, looking at the bubble-like structures winding up into the largest trees.

  Neek seemed to enjoy the compliment. “Come.”

  Curving through a thin crowd of curious Iki women and children, Neek led them to the very tree house Jathen had been admiring. Hopping up onto the trunk with the litheness of a gecko, she climbed up about five or six heads before turning to ask if they were able to follow.

  “There’re handholds.” Jathen didn’t hesitate, despite the soreness of his exhausted body. Gripping the ridges, he scuttled up after her. “I don’t know about them, but I’m fine.”

  Ass’shiri whistled from below as he picked his way up much more slowly. “I don’t know why you complain so much. You’re a proper Tazu at this, Jath.”

  “Little good it does me in court,” Jathen quipped in Clan, which made Ass’shiri laugh.

  When they were about halfway up, Mikkal called to them from where he still stood at the bottom. “Which room are you headed to, lady?”

  Neek pointed at the largest and highest of the round forms, almost at the canopy. The shape of it reminded Jathen of a hanging beehive, though obviously far more structurally stable.

  Mikkal nodded. “I’ll meet you.” He disappeared.

  Squeaks of surprise rose from the populace below and then, a second later, from above. Craning his neck, Jathen caught sight of the older Clansman standing outside their destination, practically lounging in the doorway as if he were a host awaiting his guests. A pang of envy sliced through Jathen at the freedom, confidence, and sleek acceptance of power and Ability. The Gray was the very embodiment of another denied existence because Jathen’s own blood had betrayed him. I might climb, but I’ll never have wings. Sobered, Jathen felt every ache in his muscles. Stepping onto the balcony, he found the protrusion was made of a spongy, fungus-like substance, and it bounced slightly under his feet.

  “You look a bit rough, Jath,” Ass’shiri commented as he climbed the last bit. “How you holding up?”

  “I’m okay.” Stifling a long yawn, Jathen shifted the pack on his back. “Though I’m half tempted to act like a Clansman and take an afternoon nap.”

  Neek said, “I was going to get you something small to eat, but if you’d prefer, you may sleep first. Most of the village is out during the day, so the evening meal will not be for a few more hours.”

  Mikkal nodded. “I had the benefit yesterday of Feeding and sleeping my full rest. It is obvious you two had neither. I have no qualms with lingering here so you might receive similar benefits.” He added to Neek, “As long as you don’t mind pointing me in the direction of a few choice flora samples, lady.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good, it’s settled then.” He smiled at Jathen. “Get some rest.”

  The room Neek showed them to was round with smooth, seamless walls. A pair of bunk beds was carved directly into the curve, cozy and convenient. A large oval window had been carved out of one side and covered in thin, nearly transparent resin, allowing for a spectacular view while providing freedom from the ever-nibbling bugs. On an opposite wall stood a low row of drawers and a side table, on which were laid several articles of clothing. The shirts and pants were a muddy-green color and made of a rough-hewn material.

  “This suits?” Neek asked, sounding genuinely concerned it might not.

  “It’s the most heavenly room I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Jathen sighed, laying his pack on the floor. “Thank you.”

  The little Iki beamed. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, actually. I’m rather concerned for our friends. You see, we aren’t entirely sure how we got so far separated from them. And, well, I wondered if there might be any way for you to help us find them.”

  Neek was quiet for a few moments. “There was a strange surge in the web of the forest yesterday. I can ask the trees, but I cannot guarantee a straight answer.”

  “Web of the forest?” Jathen blinked. “Trees?”

  She smirked. “Talents of education would refer to it as the unified energy field that connects all things in the physical plane on a molecular and, therefore, energy level. When I said ‘speak to the trees,’ I meant the Native Near-Siders who live in and feed off of the life force of the trees.”

  “Oh.”

  “I shall make what inquiries I can.” Neek smiled again, a pure expression that reached all the way to her spectacular green eyes. “Get some rest. Tonight, you shall eat and bathe. Tomorrow, we shall see what the forest and Desmoulein choose to provide.” She lingered in the doorway a moment before leaving, and Jathen couldn’t help but think she was assessing him, which left him feeling self-conscious.

  “Quite a day,” he murmured to Ass’shiri once Neek had disappeared through the woven curtain of hanging vines.

  “And then some.” Ass’shiri picked up one of the Iki shirts and sniffed it. “Jath, what do you think of Mikkal?”

  A dozen memories scattered across Jathen’s mind, only to result in the odd precognition incident being on the top when they settled. “Why do you ask?” He undressed and laid his clothes out on the dresser, hoping the fresh air would help the musky odor.

  “Eh, there’s a touch of arrogance to him, I think.” Ass’shiri didn’t sound particularly vexed as he took off his soggy and scorched clothes. “Then again, it could just be the Mannachi blood in him. Or my upbringing in general. We Rheanics are trained to suspect everyone to some extent.” He pulled one of the Iki shirts over his head. “And you?”

  “I thought that at first, too. But now I think he seems rather kind, and if anything, surprisingly humble, considering how powerful he is.” Jathen ignored the tug of envy in his chest. “I mean, I don’t know too much about levels of Ability, but he seems to be pretty up there.”

  “Yeah, he’s got an aura on him, doesn’t he?” Ass’shiri shot him a sideways glance. “Can you even sense it, all buzzing around him?”

  “Little bit. But not a lot.”

  “Well, that speaks to it then, if you can feel it without being any type of energy Empathic. Ah, well, I guess you are right.” He grinned. “So are we gonna have to fight for the top
bunk, or are you just going to concede to me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Jathen raised an eyebrow. “If anyone unsavory put a toe into this room, you’d probably discharge twenty bolts into them before I was even awake. I’d be a moron not to give you the top bunk.”

  “Spoken like a true diplomat.” Ass’shiri laughed as he hopped up onto the bed. “We’ll have you on that gold throne yet.” He winked.

  “Thanks.” Jathen climbed into his own bunk. The memory of Mikkal’s Clan-voiced plea in his vision prodded at him again, sapping his enjoyment of the comfort of an actual bed. “Ass’shiri, may I tell you something in confidence?”

  “If it’s about you being madly in love with Hatori, I already know.” He didn’t quite deadpan the jest, and his voice cracked at the end. “We all know.”

  “Ass!” Jathen kicked the underside of the bed above him. “I’m being serious. It’s about Mikkal.”

  “Oh?” Ass’shiri hung his head over the side of the bunk, his dark hair a dangling tangle. “How so?”

  Jathen told him about the vision when he’d first met Mikkal. He explained how he understood a language he didn’t know at the time and described Hatori’s odd reaction to the Gray.

  Ass’shiri looked thoughtful. “So you knew Clan in the vision, but then the fact that you saw you would know it was what prompted you to ask me to teach you. And so now, you do know Clan, at least a bit. But he’s also saved us, which means we might be closer to that point of the vision. But maybe not, because you’re not really proficient in Clan. But then again, you might recognize that one phrase when the time comes simply because you had the vision in the first place.” Ass’shiri’s eyes widened on his still upside down and slowly reddening face. “Wow, Jathen. That is weird.”

  “Thanks, Ass. You make me feel less like an outcast every day.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. But I’ve never heard of anyone having a vision in which they’re using a language they don’t know yet… and understanding it. I’ve heard of prophets seeing things happen to them with people speaking in other languages while the ‘them’ from the future time and place seem to know it, but it’s like they are outside themselves and the present-them is still unaware.” He shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s really unusual, and I understand if you’re a touch rattled by it.”