“I would be careful with her if I were you,” I told him as he hovered in the air above us. “She may get hungry.”
Saruul and I both lay with our arms spread wide, our faces turned toward each other. We were on a beautiful beach, the sand sparkling white, not a single soul in sight.
And for a moment it felt like we were on vacation.
The sun was starting to set, and as Roger spoke to us, I couldn’t help but place my hand around Saruul’s, squeezing it.
“We made it,” I whispered to her.
The beautiful lioness nodded, her white hair still matted to her forehead. She looked a bit tired yet she seemed happy, a crooked grin on her face.
“Anyway,” Roger was saying, “that’s why birds don’t get haircuts. Not because we don’t have hair, because clearly I do,” he said, the feathers on the top of his head standing to attention. “It’s just considered stupid looking. And then there’s the guy that I mentioned, this dictator bird who was known for getting these really squared off haircuts. No one wants to be like him.”
“Dictator bird?” I asked, looking up at Roger.
The tropical bird hopped around our heads, energetic as ever. “Yes, that was the story I was telling you about. Weren’t you listening?”
“I must have missed that part,” I told him, grinning at Saruul.
As much as I didn’t want to stand, I started to push myself up. My robes were drenched, and to dry them, I had taken them off and laid them out, hoping that the sun would be able to do its thing, even if it was setting.
As I stretched my arms over my head, I saw a few palm trees with long shadows, other tropical foliage in the distance, all of it a bit far from the beach. There were also bird tracks in the sand, which Roger had commented on earlier, claiming they probably belonged to the same seagull that had given him such a hard time.
I wasn’t so sure.
“So, are we just going to rest here for the night?” Roger asked. He picked up a broken seashell with his beak and tossed it to the side. “Because we’ll need to clean up the place if so.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Saruul said as she sat up. She looked out to the water and shivered. “I’m so glad we made it to shore. We will have more energy tomorrow; Roger and I can do a little checking around and hopefully figure out where we are exactly.”
“I could definitely go for some water,” I told her. “You didn’t see any coconuts in those trees, did you, Roger?”
“Can’t help you there, Nick, and even if I had seen some, I don’t know if I’d be able to get them down,” Roger said, flapping his wings. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into a friendly bird out there who will point us in the right direction. Hell, I would take a beach fox at this point, if they exist. With a lioness at our side, there’s no need to worry about anybody attacking us. You know, I heard rumors that the birds here were a bit ruder than the birds back home, and I was hoping that those were just rumors. Nope. The birds here suck ass.”
“What about food?” I asked, feeling my stomach rumble.
“Are you suggesting we eat a bird? Because I’m not opposed to it, but I don’t like it,” he said. “Then again, give me another few hours and I may be all for it. You could drink their blood; there’s one way to get fluid. Although that’s pretty twisted too.”
“I was just suggesting food in general.”
“Food, in general, is always a good thing,” Roger said with a shrug. “Actually, Tashi would really come in handy now. I miss that fire spirit. We had a hell of a time following your double over the Great Plateau. Tashi seems all stoic and serious and whatever, but if you let him talk, really hash it out, he has some pretty funny stories about his treasure hunting days. That guy was crazy back when he was alive.”
“I almost forgot about my double,” I said as I took a seat next to Saruul, both of us now watching the water, the sun’s rouge-colored reflection moving over the sluicing waves. “I still have to figure out what that was all about.”
“I’ll admit, the first time you mentioned you had a double, when we were in the plateau, I thought your insanity came from dehydration,” Roger said. “But seeing it myself, especially after it had conferred with you…”
“Nick’s not insane,” Saruul said almost as an afterthought.
“I know he’s not insane, you don’t have to defend him. He’s my friend too, and I’m allowed to talk shit. I’m just saying, if someone tells you, ‘hey, I saw a ghost version of myself,’ you would probably think that they sniffed the wrong lion’s crotch, or however the idiom goes in Dornod.”
“I don’t recall that idiom…” Saruul said, raising an eyebrow at Roger.
“It makes you wonder how many people who are thought to be crazy aren’t actually crazy, and how many people who seem sane are actually batshit insane. That, my friends, is a philosophical conundrum that I am sure unites the world of birds, lions, humans, and maybe a few seagulls too.”
“Such a little philosopher,” Saruul said.
“I do dabble,” Roger told her. “And while I’m small, I don’t consider myself little. There’s a difference.”
“I just hope Lhandon is out there and that he’s okay,” I told them.
I knew that I shouldn’t dwell on it, but he really had become a good friend, and if anything happened to him, especially after what we had survived in the dungeon…
“He will be fine,” Roger said, waving my concern away with his wing. “Don’t worry.”
The sand shifted beneath us.
I rolled to the side, the sand swirling together as it formed into a woman with the lower torso of a snake.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
I dove out of the way just in time, her form blending in again with the sand on the beach, making it impossible to track her.
A hand made of sand came up and tried to catch me.
I rolled to the right, nearing the scabbard of my Flaming Thunderbolt.
I pulled the blade, the flame igniting and whisking through another sandy hand just as it lifted toward me, its fingers outstretched.
Doing this made glass appear almost immediately, the rest of the sand merely falling to the ground and reforming.
“Nick!” Roger shouted.
A tendril of sand came up from behind me and wrapped around my waist.
It lifted me up and slammed me onto the beach, more sand turning into glass as I tried to scramble away.
“We have to run!” Saruul said.
The sand came for her as well and she punched into it, her fist going right through the sandy tendril. A blast of gravel sprayed into my face, the ground beneath me shifting and forming a hole.
I started to claw my way out of it, but as I did more sand rushed in, now up to my waist.
Saruul ran forward, morphing into a lion as she did so. She leaped into the air and smashed into a sandy form, one that was just about to collapse on top of me like a wave.
“Your monkey!” Roger said suddenly, the bird flapping in the air above us, a flash of turquoise and yellow.
Bah-Mo.
Hoping that what we were fighting was indeed a spirit, and that he would be able to help, I ignored the next wave of sand as it cracked against the side of my face while I traced the symbol, starting with a straight line, followed by a downward-facing curl with a leg attached to it. I then quickly “dotted the i” by adding another line and a circle above it, almost as if the second line were cradling it.
Bah-Mo began to take shape, the semi-translucent monkey wearing samurai armor with layered shoulder pads, a vest made of a ribbed material and a skirt adorned with sharpened spikes.
He drew a pair of scimitars, clinked them together, and charged at a wave of sand lifting off the beach.
Bah-Mo cut right into the sand, a screeching sound meeting my ears.
“Kill it, monkey!” Roger shouted from the sky. “Kill it dead!”
I felt the sand around my body constrict.
I reached my hand u
p, my other hand on my Flaming Thunderbolt. Saruul bolted toward me and grabbed my arm, pulling me out with her teeth.
She morphed back into a human just in time to avoid another towering ripple of sand.
Bah-Mo advanced on the female sand spirit. She attempted to swat him off his feet; he flipped into the air and landed on one of her tendrils, running up it.
She tried to throw him off, Bah-Mo responding by performing an aerial. He shifted gears, using his forward momentum to dive at the woman and drive both his blades into her torso, completely spearing her and bursting out her other side.
The sand spirit fell backward, but rather than filter back into the beach, she merely laid there, Bah-Mo standing on top of her, his blades at the ready as he awaited my command.
“Please…” the woman said, turning her head toward me. “Please, spare me.”
Bah-Mo looked over to me.
“Please…”
“Why did you attack us?” I asked her.
“This is a sacred beach; I’ve sworn to protect it. It is why I have returned to the Middle Plane,” the sand spirit said, her chest moving up and down as she sucked in deep breaths. “Please…”
“I think you should heal her,” Saruul said to me softly.
“Are you sure?”
“Have her swear that she won’t attack us again. Threaten to conjure Bah-Mo again if you need to.”
Roger landed on my shoulder. “I’ve seen a lot of things in this crazy world, but one thing I haven’t seen is a sand spirit getting its ass kicked by a ghost-monkey,” he clucked. “What a life!”
“And you think I should spare her?”
He considered this for a moment. “Sure, we could use a guide around here.”
“It’s fine,” I told Bah-Mo. The monkey took a step away from the woman, his form starting to disappear as he lowered his weapons.
I quickly traced Healing Hand, Lha-Mo, starting with the square on top then making the downward curl with two legs, as well as a curved line beneath the square.
“Are you injured?” I asked Saruul.
Even though she shook her head, I placed my hand on her shoulder anyway, healing any damage she may have sustained during our long swim to the shore. As I approached the sand spirit I also healed myself where Saruul had bitten me, my skin stitching right up.
“I’m going to help you,” I told the sand spirit. “But first, you have to promise not to attack us again.”
“I promise,” she said, desperation in her grainy eyes.
“You also have to promise to answer some questions we have,” I said.
“I promise.”
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“Nyima.”
“I’m Nick,” I said, touching my chest. “The bird is Roger, and that’s Saruul.” I looked at her body and noticed that there was sand running out of her stomach, as if it were an open wound. “I don’t know if this is going to work but…”
I slowly placed my hands on her form. The woman let out a sigh as the grains of sand began to pull back into her body, swirling into place.
“Thank you,” Nyima said once I finished. I stepped away; she began to shift into an upright position, her lower half still that of a serpent. “You have questions?”
“Where are we?” I asked her. “Actually, a better question would be: where is the nearest city?”
“This beach is located between Anand and the Port of Sor. We are closer to Anand, and for an outsider such as yourself, Anand may be safer.”
“How so?” I asked, staring at the woman curiously now. There was something beautiful about her; she almost reminded me of a Greek statue if one were animated and granulated. A wind picked up, some of the grains of sand filtering off her face as it passed.
“Since the new emperor took power, most of the places near Ganbold, which is the capital of the Island Kingdom of Jonang, have been under heightened security as he solidifies his power.”
“And you heard all of that out here?” Roger asked.
“The seagulls told me,” the sand spirit explained. “They can be pretty chatty.”
“So they talk to you?” Roger asked. “Because isn’t that convenient. They wouldn’t say shit to me.”
“They may find your colors a bit jarring,” Nyima explained. “The more colorful birds are inland, in the jungles between Ganbold and the Port of Sor.”
“Good to know the seagulls are racist,” he grumbled. “Good to know.”
“Would you be able to lead us to Anand?” Saruul asked. “That is, if you think it is a better place for us to go. We’re trying to locate a friend.”
“A friend?”
I nodded. “We came from Sarpang. Our ship was attacked by pirates, and then a sea dragon, and we managed to make it to this beach.”
Nyima shook her head. “Wretched things, sea dragons are.”
“Ugly too,” Roger added. “And I know you guys were too busy trying to get away from it, but it reeked of fish guts. Anybody else notice that?”
Nyima smiled at the bird. “You are funny, you know that?”
“I do now,” he said, puffing out his chest some after landing on my shoulder.
“And to answer your question, yes, I can guide you to Anand, but that is as far as I will be able to go. Spirits aren’t allowed near the cities.”
“How can they stop you?” Roger asked. “If I were a spirit, I would go wherever the hell I pleased.”
“I’m sure you would, but to answer your question, they stop us through runes and relics that were built into the four main cities of the island eons ago. Perhaps we could approach some of the smaller villages, but not the cities.”
“You mentioned an emperor,” Saruul said. “What is happening right now in the kingdom? What should we know?”
“Jonang has a new emperor,” Nyima said, biting her lip. “He appears to be incredibly cruel and cunning, and he came to power at the Moon Tournament.”
“The Moon Tournament?” I asked.
“It’s a tournament that represents the changing of the season. The Emperor of the island traditionally allows challengers to his throne, and this year, the challenger won.”
“What happens to the other Emperor?” Roger asked. “The one who lost.”
“He was executed on the spot,” Nyima said solemnly.
“Does this new emperor have a name?” I asked, already starting to feel a tingling sensation in my limbs as she nodded.
“Yes, he does. They call him Emperor Hugo. At least that’s what the seagulls said.”
Chapter Three: The Cooling Fan of Broken Whispers
Nyima lifted her hand into the air, the sand near the shoreline swirling. She created a hole, and as she continued to move sand, the hole filled with clams. With another shift of her hand, a small gorge began to form in the sand, water trickling up from the ground.
The sun was almost completely set now, stars starting to appear in the sky and twinkling against the tops of the waves, the drone of the ocean ever-present. It was the same temperature it had been hours earlier, warm with a nice breeze. Had the Island Kingdom existed in my world, it would have either been a vacation destination, or a place to retire.
“I figured you would be hungry,” she said as more clams appeared. “Thirsty too. The water is fresh and comes from a small aquifer beneath the jungle. It may be a bit sandy, though.”
“It’s something,” I told her as I scooped water into my mouth. “And with the clams, it’s too bad that we can’t make a chowder out of them.”
“A what?” Roger asked, looking up from a clam he was pecking at.
“Chowder is a soup made out of clams; well, it doesn’t have to be clams, but that’s what they usually use where I’m from.”
“Massachusetts,” Saruul said. “I still have trouble understanding how people who live there pronounce this word so casually.”
“You should see some of the names of the places in Rhode Island,” I told her.
“An island
of roads?” Roger shook his head with disdain. “The more I hear about your world, the more I disagree with it. We already have enough roads in Lhasa causing congestion.”
“Causing congestion?” I thought of the freeways I’d seen in America, and some of the traffic jams I’d experienced compared to the dirt trails I’d crossed in Lhasa. “You’d be better off staying here,” I finally told Roger, “especially if you don’t like congestion. My world seemingly thrives on it.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind if I’m ever given the option.”
“So you really are like Hugo,” Nyima said as she finished up.
There was now a hole in the ground filled with clams. With a wave of her fingers, the sand spirit sifted through the sand and retrieved a large rock, which we would be able to use to crack open the clams.
“Yes,” I said, still not sure how to process the information that Hugo had become the emperor of this island. He had always been a bit aggressive, but I never got the I’m-going-to-take-over-an-island vibe from him. It was good to know that he was alive, though.
“And I’m assuming there are other outsiders who have come to this world,” Nyima said. “According to legend, they usually come in groups of five.”
“That’s right,” I told her as Saruul crouched in front of the hole full of clams. She picked the first one out, and eyed it suspiciously.
A serene look spread across Nyima’s face. “It will be interesting to see what becomes of the new Immortals.”
“First they are calling him a Golden One, now a new Immortal?” Roger shook his head. “It’s all going to go to your head, isn’t it?”
“I think it would have by now,” I told him.
“He seems humble enough to me,” Nyima said. “Nothing like Emperor Hugo.”
“I’ve known Hugo since I was a kid,” I told her, coming to his defense. “He can be a little wild, but he was always a good man. A good soldier, just with a bit of a mean streak. But a playful mean, if that makes sense.”
The sand spirit considered this for a moment. “Coming to a new world can do strange things to you, I suppose. I was once the daughter of a wealthy landowner in Anand. While I never did anything to hurt anyone, I also never helped anyone, and I was in a position in which I could have helped a lot of people. Toward the end of my life, I became covetous, doing whatever I could do to get my hands on relics and other items that would allow me to live longer, to become beautiful again. I ended up killing for one of those items, well, not me specifically, but someone I hired. Upon my own death, I was sent to the Underworld, and after a couple hundred years of being there, I was allowed to return here to redeem myself. I am well aware that going to a new world can change you. It has changed me, going there and then coming back here as this… thing.”
Path of Possession Page 2