She crossed her arms. “I get your point. I was careless. I’m sorry. Was that all you wanted, to scold me?”
“No. Awasa … did she seem … I don’t know …”
“Overly nice? Her mother was making her.”
“I thought maybe.”
“You were hoping she had softened up? Ha.”
“She has! A little. She’s trying.”
“Only because Iniru threatened her.” Enashoma sighed and rested back against a tree. “I wish I could be like Iniru. She gets to go all over the place. She can do anything she wants.”
“No she can’t. She has responsibilities to her clan, too. And the Sacred Codex can send her anywhere at anytime.”
“At least she gets to go somewhere. And no one’s telling her who she’s got to marry. I wish—” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you hear something odd?”
“Yes, and I feel a faint pulse of magic.”
With tiny wings fluttering arrhythmically, the tattered origami falcon spiraled down toward them.
The falcon landed in Enashoma’s hands. “The note from Iniru! It made it back! Ugh! There’s blood. Sobei, there’s blood smeared all over it.”
His heart stopped. His stomach spasmed. He snatched the note away.
Iniru. No.
With a word, he summoned a tiny fire globe. He touched the opening sigil and read the note.
Iniru had written her reply in small characters along sprawling lines. Bloodstains made parts of the message unreadable.
In the Lair of the Deadly Twelve … Can’t reach the … Child. Can’t get out … Fought one off and ran … going to find me soon … By the time you read this … likely I’ll be dead … Just want to tell you … Well, you know.
She had dated her reply. Seven days ago.
Tears pooled in Shoma’s eyes. “I don’t understand what any of this means. Lair of the Deadly Twelve? What child?”
“Seven days ago … It took the letter five days to find her, flying night and day. She’s far away. She’s probably … I mean …”
“She can’t be,” Enashoma said. “Not Iniru. She’d find a way to escape.”
“Shoma, I don’t think—“
“We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to go help her.”
Chapter 11
His heart went from still to racing. He collapsed onto the cold ground and read the note again. He folded it up, hating himself for what he was about to say. All this time he’d worried about her, and now he knew and …
“We can’t help her.”
“What?! We have to save her!”
“I can’t leave here.”
“But she’s our friend. I thought you loved her!”
“I do love her. And she will always be our friend. But I have responsibilities here. Grandfather needs me. The clan needs me. What if the Gawo attack early? We’re outnumbered and I’m our best hope.”
“The clan can get by long enough without you.”
“No, they can’t. I have to be responsible and do the right thing. Besides … If she didn’t get out … seven days …”
“Maybe the king could send out a search party. The clan owes her.”
“She’s a qengai. She could be against us on her next mission. Maybe even this mission. And the note … they’ll think she’s dead already. We can’t spare anyone because of the Gawo. That’s what the king will say.”
“How can you be like this? You were all worried about her, and now you won’t help her when you know she’s in trouble.”
He should never have sent the note. Now he had nothing to fall on but what his Grandfather kept telling him. “She’s a qengai. She’s going to be in danger all the time.”
“But this time we know. We can do something.”
“How? We don’t even know where this lair is. I’ve never heard of the Deadly Twelve, have you? Grandfather wouldn’t let me go after her, even if we weren’t nearly at war. The king would be madder than mad if I even asked.”
“You’re close to Iniru. What if you used the spell of locating that which is hidden? Maybe you can boost it up high enough to find her.”
“And then what?”
She started crying and punched him on the chest. “Sobei, you have to go. It’s Niru. You — You just have to.”
Turesobei threw his head into his hands. “I want to. I want to more than anything in all the world. But I can’t.”
Poof! Lu Bei emerged from his pack. He hugged Enashoma then patted Turesobei on the shoulder.
“Master, you told me once — I mean, Chonda Lu! Chonda Lu told me once the value of a man is measured by what he chooses to fight for, and when, and how.”
“What’s your point?”
“What do you value more? The Chonda Clan or your own well being.”
“Well being? I’ll be safer if I stay here.”
“Your body will be fine, master, but what about your soul? Can you live with not having done something about Iniru?”
“I have responsibilities. The clan needs me.”
“Master, there are always bigger things going on in the world than your clan. And we’ve been at war with the Gawo for ages. What if her Sacred Codex sent her on a mission to save all Okoro? Or to help the Chonda and we don’t realize it?”
“But we don’t know, do we? That’s all just speculation.”
“Then you must decide who you want to be. What matters more to you, duty or love?”
“And why can’t you do both?” Shoma said. “A rescue mission shouldn’t take more than a couple of months if the falcon only took twelve days to find her. Are the Gawo likely to attack in winter?”
“They’ll almost certainly wait until early Spring. Five months. Possibly six according to Prince Chien.”
“Kahenan may be getting old,” Lu Bei added, “but he’s got fire enough left in him to handle things here until you get back.”
Turesobei clutched his kavaru. “What would Chonda Lu have done?”
“He would have gone after the girl. He always went after the girl.” He flew down and took one of Turesobei’s hands in both of his. “That is, I believe, what you wish to do as well. You want to live your own life. I think you should. And the girl … If you don’t try, it will cost you part of your soul.”
Iniru. She made him feel more alive than anything else. And if he had been worried to distraction before …
He loved her. He had to do something.
“If I go … It will change everything.”
Enashoma hugged him tight. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the stupid thing to do. I’ll basically be running away, and when I get back, if they let me come back, they’ll never forgive me for this.”
“They’ll get over it, master.” Lu Bei shrugged, unconcerned. “They need you.”
Probably true. But he was getting worked up unnecessarily. One thing at a time. “I’ve got to see if I can locate her first. If I can’t find out where the Lair of the Deadly Twelve is, then there’s no point.”
“The Monolith of Sooku can amplify a tracking spell’s reach,” said Lu Bei.
“I thought the monoliths were all destroyed.” Historical texts said Kaiaru wizards communicated over great distances using the monoliths.
“The Monolith at Sooku was only abandoned. It’s about a hundred leagues away. If you need the boost, I can lead you there.”
“You think I can use the monolith?” Turesobei asked.
“With Chonda Lu’s kavaru? Definitely.”
“Have you ever heard of the Deadly Twelve before?”
Lu Bei scratched his chin and peered off into the distance. “I think they’re assassins or wizards. Something like that. But when I heard of them … That was a long time ago. Can’t be the same ones. I don’t know anything about this group. Sorry.”
“Shoma, I need you to steal any food you can. Stuff that will keep but doesn’t weigh too much. Pack it up in secret.”
“What are you go
ing to do?”
“Even though every minute counts, I’ll never make it there, wherever it is, if I’m not prepared. I’ll cast the locating spell now. Hopefully I won’t need the monolith. Tomorrow I will gather things and scribe some extra spells. I’ll leave early the next morning. And I’ll have to check the library and ask Grandfather about the Deadly Twelve. Maybe he knows where this lair is.”
“Let me deal with the library and Grandfather. He’ll be more suspicious if you ask. I’ll just tell him I read about them in a story.”
“Okay. I’ll go to talk to Onudaka. He’s traveled all over. He may know something about it.”
Chapter 12
The blood-stained paper crane lay within a power circle drawn on the rooftop. Turesobei sat lotus and chanted the spell of locating that which is hidden. The spell wasn’t intended for finding people, but he had used it to locate his father in the Storm Cult’s base. Finding someone you loved was easier. Having something of theirs was even better. And in this case, he had the best possible something: Iniru’s blood. Even dry, blood held great power.
But the spell usually had a range of only a league. In practice Turesobei had pinpointed powerful objects up to three leagues away. By tapping storm energy, he could probably extend the spell out several more leagues, probably. The dried blood should add another few leagues to the spell’s range. Would it be enough to reach Iniru, who could be anywhere on the northeastern quarter of Okoro? Not likely. Her home, Yasei-maka, was four hundred leagues away from Ekaran, deep in the northern forests of Dogo Daiyen.
He focused on her red-brown fur, her amber eyes, the musty mint smell of her breath, her hand in his. Sarcasm, aimed at him. Smiling, he completed the spell and let his mind expand out toward her.
Nothing.
He opened the channel to the storm sigil one quarter of the way and fought back the sensation of flying in the clouds as a dragon by focusing on Iniru.
Still nothing.
Imagining his heart opening, he touched the note. His fingers struck the blood. The faintest heartbeat pulsed beneath his finger. She was alive!
He opened the channel three-quarters of the way, and the power ripped him straight into the dream, zooming through the clouds. He was the Storm Dragon, soaring across Batsakun.
Even if it was merely a dream, he focused on Iniru. Fly toward her. Let the blood lead you.
Turesobei swept along the Orichomo Mountains and crossed over to the Zangaiden side. Power coursed through him — rain, wind, lightning, thunder. He became the raw energy of the sky, the Storm Dragon. The experience was intoxicating. A thundercloud loomed on the horizon. He steered into it and reveled, dancing along the flickering webs of lightning arcs.
Something sharp struck him.
He snapped up, awake in the real world again. The morning sun peeked over the horizon. The storm sigil on his cheek burned. A streak of blood rolled down his arm. Lu Bei, standing over him, retracted his claws.
“What was — Oh. Thanks.”
“Sorry, master. I tried calling you, shaking you, everything. Had to scratch you. My storm mark started blazing, too, and I have no idea what would happen if the power opened fully in me.”
Turesobei picked up the note and stood, knees wobbling. “I understand. I only opened the channel maybe three-quarters of the way.”
“Did you find her?”
“In the dream I flew toward her, but I couldn’t hold the dragon back after unleashing the power. She’s alive. In the Orichomo’s, on the western side, I think. That’s all I could tell.”
“That’s more than we did know.”
“It’s practically useless.” He touched the storm sigil and drew his hand back. It was like touching a hot iron. “I can never fully open the storm powers. I don’t stand a chance if I do. This power, it’s not part of me. It’s something inside me, like a parasite. I can never tap into more than a little of it at a time.”
He went to his room. Thankfully Kahenan wasn’t awake and wouldn’t know he’d spent all night on the rooftop. He sank down onto his sleeping mat.
“Let me sleep four hours. I’ve got to get some rest.”
“You got it, boss.”
“I should never have sent the letter. I should have been strong. Then I wouldn’t know. Everything would be simple.”
As he drifted into sleep, Lu Bei whispered, “Maybe it’s destiny, master. Maybe you have to go save her.”
Chapter 13
Turesobei shuffled into the dining room of the bottom level of the High Wizard’s Tower and knelt, groggy, across from his grandfather. He muttered a greeting. Or had he just thought that he’d done so? If not, saying hello twice would seem weird.
Steamed fish, steamed rice, steamed carrots. Kahenan liked everything steamed. Turesobei got tired of it, but he didn’t much care about food enough to complain. Not these days. He picked at his food. His thoughts kept drifting to Iniru and becoming the Storm Dragon.
“Did your spell-work go well last night?”
He snapped his head up. “What?”
“You are distracted today, Sobei.”
“I’m — I’m wearing thin is all.”
“Told you that would happen, did I not?”
“Grandfather, did you ever want to … I don’t know, change your life? Do something else?”
“Everyone does at some point. Most of us make the right choice and stick with our family and fulfill our duty to the clan. Others, like your father, choose based on their own desires. I assume that is what you mean since you clearly boil with restless Chonda blood.”
“You think it’s wrong, to follow your own path?”
“Not wrong. You should be true to yourself. But only after putting your clan first. One must find the balance. Unless you are a Gawo, in which case you serve the clan slavishly.”
Turesobei sighed. Chonda Lu had always run off, abandoning the clan he founded, often for years, even decades, at a time.
“I know you get restless, Sobei. I understand. You have a lot of your father in you. And you are almost sixteen years old, and full of storm energy. Prince Chien and the other nobles are putting pressure on you to be our savior against the Gawo. And all this work … You have been overdoing it. You should take a big break.”
“I think I will. Do you mind if I take the day off? I want to get away from magic. Maybe go chat with Onudaka. Haven’t seen him lately.”
“By all means, go. With my blessing. Take two days. And tell Onudaka to drop by sometime. And Sobei … Your family, the clan … what they mean … Ah, never mind. You will learn one day.”
Chapter 14
Onudaka chopped wood outside his barn. King Ugara had offered him a townhouse in Outer Ekaran’s zaboko ward. Onudaka instead chose a rundown farmhouse. He claimed the countryside made him feel more comfortable than the bustle of the city.
In Ekaran Province, the Chonda allowed zaboko to move about freely. Inside the city of Ekaran, the wards only determined housing, but in most other cities in Batsakun, zaboko needed passes to get into different wards, especially in Batsa, the capital. Those zaboko who farmed the countryside as serfs had it better, of course. In the southern nations of East and West Tagana, zaboko were practically slaves. Turesobei didn’t think any of it was fair, but he couldn’t change it.
Onudaka would have moved further out from Ekaran, but he’d found a job serving as a medic instructor and reservist. He helped train Chonda field medics for the upcoming war. Their senior trainer, a baojendari noble, was getting old and welcomed the assistance.
“Sobei! I haven’t seen you in nearly a month. Where’ve you been?”
“Overworking myself.”
Onudaka chopped a final piece and set down his axe. “That’s what Shoma told me. And I heard about your lightning bolt, too.”
Turesobei helped Onudaka stack firewood against the side of the house. “Everyone’s excited about me as a killing machine. I can hardly stand it.”
“Don’t blame you one bit.”
<
br /> “How’re are things going?”
“I can’t complain. This is the best I’ve ever lived. I don’t have to worry about my brother. I have all I could ask for with this house and my salary. Wish I’d made it here years ago. I’ve got you to thank for … everything.”
“So work is okay?”
Onudaka scratched through his graying beard. “Eager students. Fairly bright. Everyone here is better educated than in West Tagana. And my students listen for the most part. Lord Udarin is a pleasant fellow. Not much biased against my kind, though he doesn’t see us as equals like you. He’s formal. But he knows his stuff. Which is good with war coming.”
As they stacked firewood, they chatted about everyday matters and reminisced about their time trudging through the dense rainforest in Wakaro as they pursued the Storm Dragon’s Heart.
“Daka, I told Enashoma I’d ask you. Have you ever heard of the Deadly Twelve? She saw a reference in a story, but it didn’t explain who they were.”
“Not a clue.”
“Oh, I’d hoped maybe you’d heard of them since you’ve traveled all over.”
“Must be something from long ago.”
Turesobei sighed. So much for that.
Onudaka raised an eyebrow. “You’re not up to anything, are you?”
“How could I be? This is the first whole day I’ve taken off in months. Got restless. Too much of my dad in me, as Grandfather likes to say.”
“I bet he does.”
“He says to drop by sometime.”
“I couldn’t,” Onudaka replied. “He’s too busy to spend time entertaining me.”
“I really don’t think so. He doesn’t have many people he can chat with who don’t want to talk wizardry or battle tactics. You know how it is. And …”
He hesitated. He didn’t like thinking about it.
“Something wrong?”
“If you could drop in on him and … I’m worried. He’s been distracted lately, forgetful. Never has been before. He says it’s stress because of the Gawo. But I’m not sure. So …”
Lair of the Deadly Twelve (Storm Phase Book 2) Page 6
