Demons of the Flame Sea

by Jean Johnson

  “Thank you, Ban-taje. I have no idea how you can remember everything that you do about all the places you’ve been,” Tuki added, lingering one last moment.

  Ban shrugged, lifting the pan and frame to resume sorting. “I try to replace the memories I do not want to keep with the ones I do.”

  “Good luck with that. And good luck with sifting all that sand just to save a few lives,” the youth added wryly, backing up a few steps.

  “Thank you.” He didn’t watch the youth turn and walk off, though he heard the soft crunch of Tuki’s feet moving through the sand. They both had tasks to do. Pursing his lips, Ban focused his energies, slowly poured, and blew.

  Chapter Eight

  Since there was literally nothing to the northwest but sand dunes and a rare few oases for hundreds of selijm—walking distances were judged by the hour, on this world—the sky barge departed close to evening, rather than early in the morning. The entire party consisted of Éfan and Ban to represent the original pantean, plus Kefer and Jinji for negotiation, Krue for protection, and Muan for backup. Toruk came, along with Talgan for a backup warrior, and a respected huntress named Hallo, who was fully human, to represent that contingent.

  For a youthful presence and to help with animadjical needs, Tuki had managed to get himself included as Zuki’s apprentice. Taro Anzak, of course, had been invited to ride along on the trip to his people’s location. The invitation was politely phrased by Éfan, but clear that the Efrijt would not be left behind. No one teased him about it—even Tuki seemed to be on his best behavior as he boarded and tucked himself out of the way, wide-eyed as he took in the metal panels and white and gold striped canopy—but then the taro wore a scowl on his face when he boarded, and dropped into a seat on the starboard side, his rolled-up carpet-thing settled next to him so that no one could try to sit with him on that particular bench seat.

  Ban, the last of the lot to step on board, had seen plenty of different modes of transportation. The sky barge was not so different from some of them, though the seemingly delicate scrollwork of the sunsteel binding the silvery panels together was distinctly Fae. With a flat bottom and angled, waist-high sides made out of sunlight-absorbent crystal to power the whole device, carved pillars supporting a canopied roof, and furniture padded with comfortable cushions, it literally looked like a river barge, for all it sat on the hard stone of the plaza in front of the theater.

  There was no point in hiding the craft, after all. The local humans knew that the Fae could fly through the sky on their gilded slip-discs. According to Anzak during one of his nerve-wracking interrogations by the tricky, sneaky Jinji, his fellow Efrijt had already demonstrated their flying carpets to the people of the Red Rocks Tribe. So when they boarded with their bags and chests of belongings, stowing everything under the seats bolted to the deck, most of the settlement of Ijesh had gathered not only to gawk at the conveyance, but wave and cheer them farewell. Ban closed the gate and secured it, and moved to the stern to take a seat in the shade of the awning.

  After counting heads, Éfan took the pilot’s seat at the rear, raised up above the others so that he could steer with just a look and a touch on the handle of the long rudder. The controls for levitation and movement were similar to the rudder, levers in long slots set to either side of the pilot’s seat. One turned on the magics, one lifted the barge up—it stayed perfectly level—and once it had passed the top of the canyon walls, a third, free-moving lever sent them sailing in a smooth arc aimed toward the northwest.

  At first, Éfan took things slow, and they enjoyed the cooling breeze in the fading heat of day, traveling only about as fast as a human could run. That was as much for the humans’ sake as for the need to continue to rise and navigate their way past the rock formations that rose up out of the wadijt of the region. With the equator to the north and the season closing on winter, that meant the sun needed to set to the west-northwest; going slowly allowed Éfan time to see obstacles before they got close enough to hit them, even with the lowering sun in his eyes.

  It was a gorgeous way to ride. Even Ban enjoyed the view, and he had seen scores of desert landscapes. Once they were high enough, however, Éfan manipulated a different lever. A shimmering, mostly transparent, oval-shaped bubble encased the skybarge, cutting off most of the wind. Some fresh air continued to penetrate the sphere, but its presence allowed the mage to push forward the speed lever until the rocky landscape gave way to the “soft” desert beyond all that hard stone.

  The golden sand dunes that surrounded the canyons and crags of Ijesh and its surrounding wadijt soon rose and fell beneath their passage like the slow swell and retreat of massive beige ocean waves. Toruk muttered that just looking at the rise and fall made his stomach uneasy; he turned and sat down in the center of the barge, then lay over on his side and curled up, hiding the view from his sight. Thankfully, the padded couches were big enough that if one scrunched up—well, if anyone shorter than Anzak or Ban scrunched up—they could be used for sleeping. The Efrijt eyed the queasy human warrior, snorted, and bared the tips of his short little tusks for a moment in disdain, then settled more firmly back in his seat against the side of the barge.

  Tuki, Jinji, and Muan all watched the landscape until the sun finally set, then Tuki showed both females all the constellation stories he could recall about the shapes the stars made in the night sky. With the moon set to be new, all they had for natural light was starlight, and the artificial light of the suncrystals dotting the decorations of the barge, outlining the gunnels of the rim, the posts and ribs supporting the canopy, and little gems that allowed Éfan to continue to monitor and guide the craft. Krue sat with Talgan, Hallo, and Zuki, speaking quietly as he strove to grasp more of what humans could do in this realm in terms of combat, both physical and magical.

  One by one, the others eventually broke off from their conversations and their stargazing, and stretched out here and there on the padded seats of the barge. Without any real wind to buffet them, thanks to the oval bubble wrapped around the craft, the night was cool but not chilly. Zuki, always well prepared, pulled out a soft wool blanket to cover herself. Jinji did the same with a silken Fae coverlet, sharing it with a yawning Muan.

  When he was certain the Efrijt among them slept, Ban quietly opened one of the chests that had been brought on board, assembled a broad, flat disc out of lacework faeshiin pieces, affixed the hexagonal frame of the scrying device in the center of it, and added a bit of rope to the edge of the disc. A glance at the big, orange-eyed male showed him slumped on his bench, chest rising and falling, head tilted at an angle that would surely give the Efrijt a painful crick in his neck by morning. Ban had no intention of waking him, however, even if it would have been kind.

  Standing up, the tall, tattooed human climbed up onto the gunnel of the barge at the stern, and attached the free end of the rope to the rearmost gem-studded arch. Once that was relatively secure, yet easily released with a slipknot, he lifted the broad contraption from the rearmost bench up onto the canopy, letting it rest up there.When the sun hit it in the morning, that flat ring would absorb the local sunlight and eventually start to levitate, made with the same enchantments as the sides of the barge and the half-egg slip-discs the Fae preferred for personal transport.

  From what little he knew of how the devices worked, it relied upon that solar energy to power its activities, with some property of the construction allowing it to convert sunlight into enough magic to float. It was a popular sort of magic to take from world to world, since most universes that a Fae could comfortably visit relied upon similar types of sunlight to sustain life. Once the barge slowed and the wind-shielding bubble vanished, the disc would be free to fly up and hover, exactly like a kite. Until then, Ban simply made sure the tethering rope would not allow it to rise far, readjusting the slipknot.

  Once it did fly, and they reached their destination, it would be a simple enough matter to remove that tether, allowing the
device to float on its own and go wherever Jintaya wished to guide it. The other hexagonal frame had already been fitted into a matching holder set onto a gyroscopic frame, with further enchantments to connect the two via their precise angles via some sort of sympathetic entangling magics. Guide one by its angles, and the other would move as well.

  Of course, the one she moved would be moved in a quiet, windless cavern; out here, the wind would adjust the position, height, and everything else of the one he took with him to the northwest. And with the sun not only levitating it, but disguising it to look the same general color as the sky when seen from below, it would not be easily spotted.

  Of course, the rope would have to be released from the disc as well, but Ban had made the upper knot a slipknot as well. Or rather, more of a chain stitch.A good couple of yanks should release it, tomorrow. Returning to the deck of the barge, he eyed the still-sleeping Efrijt, then Éfan, who sat vigil in the pilot’s seat, making sure they stayed on course for the northwest edge of the vast inner desert.

  “Do you want me to guide the barge while you rest?” Ban finally asked the other male, moving to lean against the back of one of the bench seats, facing aft while addressing the other male.

  “This last year, I became much like Jintaya,” Éfan confessed quietly. “Saturated in anima. Even without casting any moderate-sized magics, with shielding myself carefully, I no longer need to sleep or eat. Unless I wish it . . . but I will teach you to sail the barge, just in case you need to know. It’s fairly intuitive, once you know which lever does what.”

  “I noticed. I will learn,” Ban stated. He fixed the Fae with a firm look, though his voice remained soft. “And then you will rest anyway. And you will eat something, since you are still healthier if you eat and drink real sustenance. We brought enough food for that purpose for everyone, including you, so you will take care of yourself.”

  The soft golden light of the barge crystals didn’t allow a lot of details to show, but Éfan’s mouth did curve up a bit in humor. “Yes, Father.”

  Off to one side, Tuki jerked his head up a little, blinking sleepily. After a few moments of peering owlishly through the delicate gloom, he nodded off again. Ban noticed the young human’s movement out of the corner of his eye. The youth might be in his later teens, but he was still young enough that he needed a full night’s sleep to be healthy. Éfan didn’t need to sleep, if the anima could now sustain him without effort, but it didn’t hurt him to sleep.

  As for himself, well, Ban was over three thousand years old, twice the age of most elderly Fae, yet he still needed a good night’s rest. If he didn’t kill himself to reset his energy levels, of course. But staying up a single night would not harm him. At their current speed, even with stops to use the desert for the inevitable effects of food and drink, they should reach the Red Rocks region by midmorning. There was plenty of time for him to learn, to give Éfan some time to rest, and to have a nap of his own.

  ***

  Sejo Zakal Kurukan watched the gilded and silvered conveyance descending slowly into the plaza they had painstakingly cleared four years ago as a civilized gathering place for these primitives. Envy washed through her; not for the first time, the sejo wished that her own people could tap into the local energies the way these damnable Fae could. Taro Anzak had managed to get a warning to her that they were coming before the expedition took off, an idea of how they were traveling, and an estimate on how long it would take, so half of her people had wasted half the morning looking for their arrival. The rest, thankfully, kept firmly to their appointed tasks.

  That sky barge looked far too advanced and sophisticated for this world. Perhaps a point she and Sefo Harkut could use against them in the coming negotiations. A long time ago—many generations ago—the Efrijt and the Fae had clashed on alien worlds, their two philosophies too different to coexist peacefully. When the two had visited each other, they had come first with accusations and contempt for the other, and then with mages and armies, trying to oust the other. Contracts were more civilized, less wasteful, but she knew her medjant’s claim to this world operated under the handicap of the Fae pantean having been here for considerably longer.

  This was a big world, one with plenty of resources. There was a chance they could divide it up somehow. Even just a contract permitting them to make off with as much mercury as they could mine would still render her medjant something of a success. Not a big one, though; there were other minerals and resources her people found valuable. The entire point of visiting other worlds was to expand the breadth of available resources. Not conquest—though that sometimes came hand in hand with such things—but to ensure the safety and prosperity of one’s people, and of course a profit for oneself. Still, she knew the reputation of the Fae; they would not cede much to the Efrijt unless Zakal could find a strong enough point of leverage.

  The sky barge, one of those possible points of leverage, landed. The Red Rocks Tribe members in the area swarmed closer now that the barge sat on the ground, exclaiming over it without actually touching it, asking a barrage of questions that echoed all the way to the shadowed mouth of the audience hall, where Zakal stood watching. She could see what happened through the press of bodies only because that entrance sat atop a set of shallow steps that raised it a full head higher than the surrounding terrain.

  That height advantage allowed her to watch the tall male with the tattoo-painted skin working some sort of gate on the side of the craft. He opened it up and let the others disembark first, starting with the taro of her medjant. Anzak’s cousins moved up to greet him, Daro Dakin and Kuro Nazik Urudo. An overseer in rank, it was acceptable for Kuro Nazik to greet the Fae at their arrival. Zakal watched them interacting a few minutes more, then retreated into the brazier-lit audience hall.

  The dais at the far end held three throne-like seats on it. Sefo Harkut was not in view, but her other triumvirate member, Seso Parut, sat to the right of the center chair. He munched on a local delicacy, a sort of autumnal salad made from freshly sprouted greens and the blossoms of cacti that grew shortly after the first of the rains began, drizzled in a little oil and fermented berry juice. It had not rained today, but nine days ago, a couple storms had saturated the region, allowing the plants to bloom. She liked the dish quite a lot, herself; a pity it was too seasonal, too scarce in these dry mountain valleys, to be easily exported and exploited for mass profit.

  “The Fae have arrived,” she warned both him and the handful of Efrijt lounging on benches at the sides of the hall. The others quickly rose to attention, smoothing their clothes, their hair, making sure they looked suitably imposing and clean.

  “Daro Gotag!” Parut called out. One of the Efrijt broke away from the others, hurrying toward him. “Take this to the cooling room. I will finish it later,” the seso instructed, wiping his mouth clean with a cloth.

  “Of course,” the third-ranked male murmured, gathering up plate and silverware in one hand. The medjant chef then paused long enough to pluck a fallen bit of cactus petal from the seso’s red and goldthreaded tunic, and murmured a cleansing spell to make sure the dressing on the salad had not left any oil stains. It took a few seconds for the Efrijt’s magic to work; by the time the third-rank finished and retreated out of sight, Zakal had plumped the cushions of her own seat at the center of the dais and settled into place.

  “Where is the sefo?” she asked under her breath, reflexively checking her own clothes, black trimmed with gold thread embroidered in swirling patterns not too dissimilar from his red and gold. She dusted away a bit of fluff from some sort of plant that dispersed its seeds aerially, and glanced his way.

  Caught drinking deeply from the goblet set on the table between their chairs, Parut cleared his mouth before replying. “. . . An urgent message came through the Veilway.”

  “We have the Fae descending upon us,” Zakal muttered, impatient with their triumvirate partner ignoring the very real need to present a
united front against these visiting outworlders. “How urgent could a message possibly be?”

  “When it apparently comes from the Supreme Being.” Under her sharp look, Parut merely shrugged. “That is simply what the daro said when he came to summon Harkut to the inner chamber. We will find out what that message is when he has the time to tell us.”

  Zakal frowned, but waited in her chair for the Fae to arrive. If a message came from the Supreme Being . . . Unnerved, she reminded herself that Medjant Kumon was not in trouble. They had not breached any of their contracts; in fact, their contracts with these locals were quite generous. The Fae could not possibly have garnered enough information on them to even hint at a breach of contract, let alone one serious enough to involve the leader of their nation.

  So it had to be for some other reason. Most likely, the message involved some major ruling that all sefo needed to mark down, which would be why Harkut in particular had been summoned to receive the message, and not herself. Staring at the bright rectangle of the audience hall entrance, she waited for their visitors to approach. It took several more minutes, but when the group finally approached, the Efrijt lining either side braced themselves, gathered what little magic they could work . . . and flared the oil-soaked wood of the braziers lining either side of the hall.

  Golden flames billowed up, illuminating the painstakingly polished walls, the neatly clad figures of herself and her fellow Efrijt, the gilded seats upon which two of her triumvirate rested. The absence of Harkut unbalanced the presentation, but the humans in the party looked around in awe, and even the Fae in the lead raised one golden brow, apparently impressed.