by Sara King
“That’s why it was haunting this realm,” Imelda snorted. “It was with a woman.” How could she have not seen that before? She shook her head and rubbed her temple. She’d been studying war for too long. She’d forgotten that there was a softer side to life, even in the twisted hearts of demons.
Unfortunately, with its lover dead and her bones left—stupidly, now that she thought about it—for it to take home with it, the djinni had no more reason to appear in the First Realm. She would have to return to Zenaida and report the mission a failure, as the djinni had certainly taken the wolf’s body back to the firelands with him. If Zenaida argued with her, Imelda would simply tell the woman where she could shove her attitude, which was squarely up her—
Suddenly, on her earpiece, Giuseppe said, “Inquisitrice, the second air-team has a heat signature up ahead.”
Imelda frowned and turned, motioning for Jacquot to follow her. “What kind of heat signature?” she asked, activating the radio at her throat.
“Looks like a plume of smoke, issuing from a hill.”
Jogging back towards the chopper, she said, “Don’t engage until we know what we’re dealing with. We need to make sure it’s not a camper or a last-minute boater.”
“The smoke is issuing from inside the hill, Inquisidora.”
Imelda glanced at Jacquot, who frowned. “Public land or private?” There were, after all, plenty of hermits who moved to the Alaskan Bush to build themselves little underground cabins and disappear from the world.
“State land,” Giuseppe, after a pause. “Ortega says there’s no private cabins for miles. Well off the river or its tributaries. Whatever it is, it wanted to be left alone.”
Imelda’s heart began to pound. “Sounds like another one. Stay out of earshot. I want the entire team in position before we strike. Have any idea what it is we’re dealing with? Mudrunners? Fey?” she asked, breaking from the trees and jumping into the cabin of the helicopter. Once Jacquot and his team were back aboard and the four guard had returned to their seats, Jacquot tapped the copilot’s shoulder in a signal to go.
“We’re not sure. The hill is steeped in magic, but scans say most of it is natural. Taken from a ley-line.”
Imelda grimaced. “Fey.” She glanced at Jacquot. “Iron.”
Jacquot nodded and had his crew reload accordingly. Then they were lifting out of the creek clearing, skimming the trees as they raced north and east.
Chapter 8: Small Kindnesses
“Tell la Inquisidora Nieve we are in position.”
The whisper startled Kaashifah awake.
On the far corner of the cavern, the djinni stirred. “Done sleeping already, mon Dhi’b? After the abrupt way you went to sleep, I assumed you were more tired than—”
“Shhh!” Kaashifah hissed, twisting to crane her neck up at the smoke rising through the hole she’d cut. Beyond the white flakes drifting down through the opening, she saw nothing but darkness. Could she hear the soft chopping of blades, cutting the air?
‘Aqrab made a derisive laugh. “The time when you could shush me has passed, little wolf. Would you like me to sing you back to sleep?”
“‘Aqrab, shush!” Kaashifah hissed, listening.
“Team two is also in position,” she heard a Frenchman say, like a static whisper in her mind.
The Spanish-tinged female voice that Kaashifah recognized from the attack on the Sleeping Lady Lodge said, “Team two, hold your position. Team one, light up the chimney. Smoke them out.”
“They’re here!” she cried, scrambling away from the wall. She saw movement in the smoke above and instinctively threw up a shield to match the curvature of the earth-bubble. Something rattled against her shield, trapped in the smoke-hole. A moment later, there was a blinding flash, mostly hidden by the earth above. She heard the sound of men yelling above her, but for her own part, Kaashifah dropped to her hands and knees, unable to see more than blurry shapes.
“Mon Dhi’b!” the djinni bellowed, likewise affected.
“I’m here!” Kaashifah felt something hammer against the shield at the entry she had carved into the dirt, and the reverberating rattle of gunfire pummeled the wall of energy as bullets slammed into her mental barrier.
“Can’t get through the front door. They’ve got some sort of shield up.”
“Use the faespar.”
Kaashifah’s eyes widened. “They have faespar! ‘Aqrab, go!” She saw movement in the corner of her eye and the djinni vanished.
A moment later, her shield was shattered as something pierced it, then soared across the cavern and blew apart the wall opposite it. Kaashifah endured the mental agony as her shield dissolved, but her training as a Fury took hold. While at rest and calm, Kaashifah had to concentrate a few moments to reach her center, but in battle, especially while experiencing pain, she could find her center in the space of a heartbeat.
“Merciful God! Something just lit up the infrared, right beside you, team one! It’s outside to the north-northwest. Looks humanoid. Circling around your backs.”
“I’m not seeing anything!”
“It’s there, Jacquot! Two meters to your left!”
Another voice, with a thick Scottish brogue, “Entry’s open, bampots! Get inside! Catch the little buggers ‘fore they twitter off to another hole.”
Even as the Inquisitors were pouring into the breach that the faespar had created, Kaashifah wrapped herself in a barrier of air and invisibility and wrenched open a portal to the void-lines. As the Inquisitors stumbled to a halt in the center of her cavern, staring at the complete blackness behind the rip in their Realm, she pulled herself into the Void and slammed the portal shut behind her.
Billions of lines of energy ran outward from where she stood, lighting up the blackness in neon strings, each vibrating to a different tune. Kaashifah plucked one at random that was headed in the general direction they were looking for and yanked.
Cold washed over her as the void-walk carried her at unearthly speeds through the frosty blackness. It took longer than it should have, and she felt the frost building around her, threatening to lock up her arms and legs. What should have been a near-instantaneous jaunt stretched out into long minutes, her mental strength not what it had once been.
Lost too much blood, she thought, struggling to maintain control over the path she’d chosen. If she let it slip from her fingers now, she could end up wandering the billions of paths, disoriented and adrift, until she finally succumbed to the Void’s cold.
Just have to hold on, she thought, forcing herself to maintain her course, to ignore the countless other paths, calling to her, trying to tempt her from her destination like the sweet call of the Sirens.
Sometime later, she spilled into a frozen swamp, shivering, the sun already beginning to come up, indicating that her walk had taken hours, earth-time.
A few moments later, ‘Aqrab appeared, glaring at her. “That was entirely unnecessary, mon Dhi’b. I had things under control.”
“They could see you,” Kaashifah panted. She was still seeing spots in her vision, where the flare had gone off, and her head was swimming from her walk with the Void. It was all she could do not to throw up.
‘Aqrab frowned at her. “They can see me in the half-realm? You’re sure? What besides a dragon can see a djinni in the half-realm?”
“They must,” Kaashifah managed, still dizzy from the billions of different paths that had tried to take her attention from their destination. Sprawled on her hands and knees, she panted at the ground for long minutes, fighting vertigo.
Beside her, ‘Aqrab was looking nervous. “Are you saying they have a dragon working with them, mon Dhi’b?”
“It’s not a dragon,” she said, closing her eyes against nausea. “It’s infrared. They are catching you on infrared.”
“What is in for red?” ‘Aqrab demanded.
“I don’t know,” Kaashifah groaned. While she herself had paid little attention to the rise of technology over the last century, �
�Aqrab had stalwartly refused to acknowledge it existed, imperiously proclaiming that magic was the only true constant, and that machines would simply come and go, as they had in the past. That fact was leaving the both of them at a severe disadvantage, for to all appearances, it looked as if the Inquisition had embraced both.
“So where did you drop us?” Aqrab asked, glancing up at the edges of the swamp they were now in. The snow here was deeper, and the air colder. He wrinkled his face as he watched the snow melt around his feet. “Goddess, but I hate this stuff.”
Unsteadily, Kaashifah stood up and looked around. “Can’t be far.” Without tapping a ley line and taking the time to prepare, the best jump she could hope for was a few miles. And, on such impulse, and as weak as she had been, it had probably actually taken them longer to void-walk, in this case, than it would have taken to travel by land.
Beside her, ‘Aqrab was looking miserable, arms wrapped around himself as snow fell in tiny spackles to melt against his ebony skin. “Then we should probably find another place to hide. This in-for-red is dangerous.”
Kaashifah watched the water run down the djinni’s chest and back, steaming in purple droplets as it dribbled to the ground. “You could just retreat to the Fourth Realm,” she noted. “I can take care of myself.”
The djinni turned to glare down at her imperiously. “I will not leave my mistress to be murdered by Inquisitors.” His superior pose, however, was shattered by the shiver that wracked him and the unhappy way he ducked his chin to his chest, his arms not so much crossed as hugging himself. “Damn this unnatural place,” he muttered. “Where water not only falls from the sky, but it can come as ice, too.” Shaking his head, he started forward, his aura melting a swath in the snow as he moved, heading for the forest, and, doubtlessly, its cover of trees. As soon as he had entered the boundary of the treeline, the djinni immediately ducked under a snow-laden spruce and began flicking the water droplets from his body with a look of distaste.
Once he was somewhat dry, he looked up at her in disgust. “I cannot believe you fools bathe in this stuff. It’s got the consistency of piss, and it seeps the very warmth from your—”
Above him, heated to the melting-point by his Fourth-Lander emanations, a snow-laden branch slipped free of its burden, dousing the djinni in a small mountain of snow.
“Waa faqri, wald il qaraqir, neekni! Neekni sahrawi!” ‘Aqrab cursed, flailing, which only made more branches drop their loads upon him as his temperature increased.
Seeing that, Kaashifah took pity on him. A shield was a minor thing, but it worked best if tied to something material. As the djinni hopped and brushed the snow from his shoulders, shouting his displeasure, she broke a thumb-sized branch of spruce into a two-inch piece, then wove a barrier upon it. This she handed to the djinni, folding it forcefully into his palm when he failed to notice her and continued to curse and shake his other fist up at the tree, cursing its lineage.
“Calm down,” Kaashifah said, stepping backwards before the increased temperature of the djinni’s aura burned her. “The tree is not to blame.”
“I’d light the damn thing afire if it wouldn’t bring the Inquisition down upon us,” he snarled, glaring up at the tree. The spruce, for its part, continued to reign regally above him, its near-black needles utterly impassive in the light of early dawn. “I hate snow. I wish it a thousand deaths by a thousand dicks, all of it.” He was panting as he scowled up at the sky, the snow around his feet melted into a bare patch of soggy moss and grasses. “If I never saw this white khara again, it would be too soon.”
“That should help,” Kaashifah said, gesturing at the tiny piece of wood she’d given him.
‘Aqrab gave her a glare, his face still wrought with irritation. “What should help?”
“The twig,” Kaashifah said.
For the first time, ‘Aqrab scowled down at the stick in his hand. “What am I supposed to do with this, Fury? Light a fire? I don’t need a stick to start a fire, mon Dhi’b. All I need is a pompous leper of a tree.” He snorted and flicked her offering into the snow and scowled up at the spruce again, obviously contemplating lighting it on fire despite the eighty-foot pillar of flame it would produce once the resinous sap caught fire.
Sighing, Kaashifah went and retrieved the stick, then once more pressed it into his palm, forcibly folding his fingers around it. The djinni, she knew, despite his command of Fourthlander magics, was not a magus. He could not feel the barrier she’d woven into it. “Just carry it,” she said. “It will help.”
‘Aqrab glared at her, obviously in a foul mood. “Help what?”
Kaashifah backed up to a snow-laden birch tree and then, harnessing the strength of the Third-Lander in her blood, she slammed her fist into the papery white trunk behind her.
“Miserable manuke khara!” the djinni screamed, as snow pounded down all around him—
—yet didn’t touch him.
Kaashifah leaned against the tree and crossed her arms over her chest, surveying him with amusement. “That better?”
The djinni, still steaming in purple rivulets from the snow of the spruce tree, yet untouched by the snow of the birch, was staring at her in open-mouthed shock. He glanced down at the little stick in his hand, then at her, then at the stick. Looking utterly flabbergasted, ‘Aqrab’s mouth hung open as he blurted, “You wove a shield for me? You?”
Like the act was completely incomprehensible to him. Because she was a qybah.
Kaashifah felt her face heating in the cool morning air. Glaring at him, she said, “Now that I think about it, you’re of the assumption I’ve never given you anything without a catch, so we should probably bargain for it.” She uncrossed her arms and reached for the djinni’s hand.
‘Aqrab hastily lifted his fist well out of her reach. “You can’t take back a gift, mon Dhi’b.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, the djinni’s massive fist hovering about five feet above her head. “Maybe so, but I can unravel its weave at a hundred cubits.”
‘Aqrab smiled at her through her teeth. “I will make considerations for your ‘gift.’ Perhaps tonight I will not profane your body, in exchange for my supplies.”
Kaashifah scowled up at him. “Perhaps I’d find that acceptable.”
Warily, the djinni lowered his arm, though he looked ready to snatch it away again if she reached for it. “Then we have an accord.” He said it guardedly, like he half-expected her to take it from him anyway.
“Sounds as if we do,” she said. Kaashifah turned back to analyze the trail in front of them. With the snow blocking her view of the sun, she had no easy way of knowing which way was north. Her eyes fell to the Northlander trees, examining where the moss had grown. Moss, a growth that preferred less light, generally lived on the north side of trees, where they received less direct sunlight. Gesturing toward the direction of the moss, she said, “The dragons are that way.”
The djinni was still watching her narrowly.
Kaashifah took a moment to wrap herself in a similar shield, then, on second thought, added a barrier of invisibility and bullet-proofing to both of their bubbles, exclusive of themselves. It was time, she decided, to start taking these Inquisitors seriously. And, as a Fury, she had many millennia of stored-up seriousness at her disposal. They would not catch her unprepared again.
“Thank you for the shield, mon Dhi’b.” She knew he wasn’t talking about the invisibility. Blind to a First-Lander weave, the djinni probably hadn’t even noticed.
Kaashifah grunted and made a dismissive gesture. “It was a small thing. It takes me no more than a few seconds to weave a shield.”
“Yes,” ‘Aqrab said softly, “but it was a kindness nonetheless.”
Kaashifah felt her face flush and she refused to look at him. Clearing her throat embarrassedly, she said, “The sun is coming up. We should get moving.” She started out through the snow-covered brush before he could dwell on her supposed ‘kindness’ and start gushing typical lackwitted, mushy dji
nni sentimentality.
Chapter 9: A Fury at War
After a thorough search of the area had—once again—revealed absolutely no trace of the path in which her foes had taken to flee, Imelda had told Herr Drescher to take her down in a nearby clearing and she walked in.
The first thing she noticed, of course, was the perfectly hemispherical hill. She approached slowly, keeping her mind open, adding up facts in her head.
Fact: She had seen what had looked like the djinni on infrared for a few brief seconds, right before it disappeared.
Fact: The djinni, if that was what it was, had been hiding under a hill shaped after a fey mound.
Fact: Something had protected the inside of the hill, a barrier of some sort, impenetrable by bullets or bodies.
With a sinking feeling, Imelda got to her knees and switched on her flashlight to shine it into the hollow inside the hill.
She needn’t have bothered. A globe of eye-searing white light in the ceiling lit the inside of the cavern as if by daylight. Ducking her head, Imelda crawled through the ragged hole the faespar had made in the wall of the cavern. Behind her, Jacquot and Giuseppe took up stations on either side of the entrance.
The first thing Imelda noticed was the scent of cooked meat. When she squatted, she found a bloody sack beside the coals of the creatures’ fire, the blood only then turning brown. Trying not to consider whether the creature’s meal had been human or otherwise—after many years at her job, and listening to Padre Vegas stories of his decades in the Order, Imelda had seen a good many things that would make Satan himself weep—Imelda picked up the sack.
The fey, as annoying as they were, rarely caused the same atrocities as the Third and Fourthlanders because, for the most part, Second Landers were vegetarian.
Craning her neck, Imelda glanced up at the globe of light once again. The light and the mound were identical to dozens of fey dwellings she had seen in the past. Yet the fey despised meat. “Has anyone tested this light?” she called through the hole in the wall.