by Sara King
The Athabascan man’s electric-blue eyes narrowed at him slightly. “Who said anything about ‘we,’ Southlander? I told you to go.”
‘Aqrab froze, frowning. He exchanged a confused glance with his magus. Cautiously, he said, “You would let her pass?” If that were the case, he would be happy to follow along in the half-realm. Or, if the idiot was going to be difficult, the firelands.
The man eyed his mistress like a mass of steak that only barely passed his strict standards. “I would keep her, at least for awhile. You will leave. I would wash her of your stink before I enjoy her.”
‘Aqrab watched the Fury’s eyes widen in shock before he automatically slipped to the half-realm, knowing all-too-well what that look would bring with it. Oh please don’t, mon Dhi’b, he prayed. Restrain yourself… This is not someone we need as our enemy.
His prayers went unanswered. “You dare?!” his magus screamed. Even as the Northlander was languidly turning back to her with a look of utter superiority, the Fury summoned the wolf and demonstrated her newfound capacity for violence by punching Thunderbird in the side of his sacred face, knocking him completely off of his feet in a startled grunt.
An instant later, the world rained down lightning in such a shrieking, crackling, vibrating frenzy that ‘Aqrab fell to his knees even in the half-realm. Trees on all sides split apart and caught fire, with smoldering splinters flying in all directions. A few feet away, in the darkness of the First-Lands, he watched Kaashifah throw up a shield of multi-colored iridescence, and bow under the first of the blasts, strain on her face.
Then Thunderbird leapt up in a scream of indignance and made the storm that had dropped ‘Aqrab to his knees look like child’s play. Like a pillar from the gods, the first massive bolt hit Kaashifah’s shield and made the magus shudder, bowing under its weight. Unable to find her Fury, she could not retaliate in kind, but could only take what was given and try to survive it. Another bolt followed, and another, until his magus fell to her knees, screaming under the strain, and yet the man continued his assault, slamming bolts into her again and again until her iridescent shield flickered and sputtered out.
Then Thunderbird began hitting her body, forking lightning into the Fury’s corpse with all the imperious disdain of a czar executing a criminal.
“That’s enough!” ‘Aqrab snapped, twisting to the First Lands before Thunderbird had a chance to kill her. Passion and fear powering him, he released a blast of heat from the Fourth Lands before twisting back again, setting the Thunderbird’s robe and hair afire. The man shrieked and twisted, looking wildly to where ‘Aqrab had stood, his electric blue eyes filled with deadly intent.
Stalking around him in the half-realm, ‘Aqrab slipped back and fired him again, knowing beyond a doubt that the Thunderbird, as one of the handful of over-tier beings—demigods, really—in the First Lands, could easily kill him, if he ever managed to land one of his bolts. After all, while ‘Aqrab was in line to become a Fourth Lander lord himself and could have held his own against the Thunderbird in his own land, he could never match the First-Lander on his own turf.
“Show yourself, coward!” the Thunderbird screamed.
“A coward I may be,” ‘Aqrab growled, flaming him again. “Stupid I am not.”
“I will hunt you down and exterminate you, Southlander!” Thunderbird shrieked, as his braid burned in half and fell from to his waist in licks of ash and flame. His robes, once shimmery and glorious, now hung in charred patches from his shoulders. He was not, however, burning of the flesh.
Damn.
“Just back away from the woman and leave us be,” ‘Aqrab growled. “I don’t want to fight.”
“You are going to die!” the man snarled, stamping his foot with all the impetuousness of a spoiled teenage tyrant.
‘Aqrab slipped behind him again and blasted him with another taste of the inferno before quickly twisting back out of range. “I said leave us,” he snapped.
The Thunderbird cursed him, then, and the lightning once more started a chaotic, sizzling dance around them.
On the ground, Kaashifah’s body started to hop and jerk with every jolt, and, seeing that, ‘Aqrab froze. Could Thunderbird kill a Fury? Both were top-tier Firstlander beings, the clashings of which were written about by mortals for eons to come. A full Fury probably would have just brushed the lightning off, he knew, but what of one dampened by the blood of a wolf? The lightning was burning holes, but spilling no blood. A Fury could continue to live indefinitely, as long as she still carried her Fury within her. But what if it was burning her blood? Would that still count?
Then, ‘Aqrab realized, could he really take the chance to find out? “Wait!” he screamed above the sizzling clamor. “A festering on your dick, wait!”
The Thunderbird, whose cheek and eye was even then beginning to blacken and swell from the force of the magus’s swing, halted the storm around them, panting in open-mouthed, wild-eyed rage. “Show yourself,” he growled, “or the wolf dies.”
And ‘Aqrab knew then that he’d lost. Seeing the rage and pain in the Thunderbird’s eyes, he knew that, the moment he appeared, the man was going to kill them both. Seeing no other alternative, he accessed the Fourth Lands, wrapped his words in Law, and hastily blurted, “By Fourthlander Law, I will grant you three wishes in exchange for my life, the life of my mistress, and the safe passage of both of us through your lands. Do you accept?”
Something flashed in the Thunderbird’s eyes. “Three…wishes?”
“Three,” ‘Aqrab assured him. “In exchange for the conditions given. Do you accept?”
Slowly, his regality belied by his burned and bruised appearance, Thunderbird straightened. “I accept.”
Never before had the rush of Fourthlander power, wrapping the contract in Law, given ‘Aqrab such a sinking feeling of dread. “Our contract is sealed,” Law boomed through him.
“Show yourself, djinni.”
Wincing, ‘Aqrab stepped from the half-realm, until he was looking down upon his new master.
Thunderbird straightened and sniffed. “My first wish—”
Quickly, just knowing that the Thunderbird was about to ask for something horrible, like, ‘expel all of the gasht'ana scum from my continent,’ ‘Aqrab said, “Before you make your wishes, you should take the time to consider—”
“—is for my braid to grow back to its natural form.”
‘Aqrab’s mouth fell open. He is a vain bastard, he thought, until this moment believing that the wereverine’s ill-tempered disparagements had been mostly spawned of envy.
…and then the Law was rushing through him again in a wave of ecstasy. “How would you fulfill this wish?” the Law demanded like a gong in his mind, as it filled him with so much power he felt the universe move and shift around him with his every breath.
Return his hair to him, as long as it was this morning, ‘Aqrab thought. He didn’t even attempt to monkey-paw, so reasonable was the wish. With that, the magic swept through him, granting the Thunderbird’s wish, leaving ‘Aqrab utterly breathless, his heart hammering uncontrollably against the pleasure of flirting with Law.
Thunderbird reached up and twined his fingers through his hair. “My second wish is for my robes to be replaced.”
No sooner had the violet shimmer around ‘Aqrab died down than the Thunderbird’s second wish hit him like a titan’s sledge, slamming through him with all the power and ecstasy that only a full wish could give. Again, ‘Aqrab found the wish reasonable, and again, he did not try to monkeypaw. He returned the Thunderbird’s entire wardrobe to him, as perfect as it had been that morning. When the violet faded from his vision, he slumped sideways, shuddering under the after-effects of the Law-made high.
“Wait for me to catch my breath,” ‘Aqrab begged, seeing the Thunderbird open his mouth again. “I can’t…”
Unheeding, the Thunderbird touched his bruised and swelling cheek and said, “My third wish is that my face be returned to me.”
‘Aqr
ab could have twisted that wish upon itself a hundred times over, but, when the power of Fourthlander Law hit him like a sledge, demanding to know his verdict, he merely gave the creature what he knew he wanted and surrendered to the bliss that followed.
All three wishes had taken less than a minute, in total, to complete. Never before had he had a master make his wishes so quickly, and ‘Aqrab just lowered his cheek to the ashes of the forest floor in a daze, his body a shuddering mass of rapture.
He was still lying on his side when Thunderbird’s suede-clad toe nudged him in the ribs. “You asked for safe passage.” The First-Lander still had the air of royalty about him, but now he sounded a bit more…cautious.
But ‘Aqrab could only bring himself to groan. He was utterly exhausted, spent to the core, and if the Thunderbird had walked behind him, yanked down his sirwal, and decided to dick him in the ass, he really wouldn’t have been able to do much about it.
The Thunderbird squatted in his field of vision, then, giving him a curious look. “I’ve never seen a djinni before. You are…prettier…than I imagined.”
Suddenly, the surprise dicking seemed a hell of a lot more likely. ‘Aqrab groaned and tried not to think about whether or not he would enjoy it, in his over-stimulated state.
Then the Thunderbird’s face twisted and he peered over his shoulder. “What is a djinni doing with a wolf?” He said ‘wolf’ as if it were a form of excrement. “Surely you have rules against that.”
“Long,” ‘Aqrab managed, “story.” Prying his head from the ozone-tinged ashes of the forest floor for a moment before deciding it was too much effort and dropping his face back to the ground, he said, “Still not…entirely…sure myself.”
The Thunderbird seemed to consider that, his eyes the electric blue of static. Too intently, he said, “Then the wolf is not your mate?”
That pulled ‘Aqrab out of his delirium slightly. He cocked his head up at the Thunderbird, then lifted it to peer at the Fury. She was still breathing, but covered in burns. ‘Aqrab dropped his face back to the ash in despair. “I think she’d rather screw a walrus,” he admitted to the scorched ground. “Three thousand years with a djinni and she’s still a virgin.” He was losing his touch.
“A virgin?” That seemed to get the bird’s attention. He looked at the Fury with a raised brow, thoughtful deliberation written upon his face.
“Don’t even waste your time,” ‘Aqrab laughed. “She finds all men repulsive.” …Or did she? The other night had him…curious. That he was able to say it meant it was true, at least in part. But the way she’d touched him still roused his passion, whenever he thought about it.
“All men.” The Thunderbird delivered the words in a wash of scorn. Too late, ‘Aqrab realized that the inflated bastard would probably take that as a challenge.
Prying himself from the ground, ‘Aqrab muttered, “She is the most ill-tempered beast I’ve ever come across. You’d be wasting your time.” Grimacing, he began dusting clumps of ash from his shoulder and cheek.
But the Thunderbird was giving his magus a thoughtful look. “She smells of wolf, yet she fought with the tricks of the magi.”
“Another long story,” ‘Aqrab complained. He was about to pry himself up from the ground, but was surprised when the Thunderbird offered him a hand. Trying not to eye it with the same trepidation someone would give the wrong end of Zeus’s jagged scepter, ‘Aqrab gritted his jaw and forced himself to take it.
Thunderbird helped heft him to his feet, then his perfect Athabascan face twisted down at the ashes that ‘Aqrab had deposited on his hand.
“Sorry,” ‘Aqrab said, wincing at the smear of soot that now stained Thunderbird’s palm. He grabbed the billowing fabric of his sirwal and said, “Here. You can wipe it on my—”
Movement overhead interrupted him. ‘Aqrab looked up. Converging above them in such awesome speed that it looked as if Time itself sped up, the clouds congealed from all directions into a light-eating, rumbling mass. As ‘Aqrab was still staring up at that in awe, it began to pour down rain.
Too late, he realized he had incinerated the magus’s token in his dance with the Thunderbird, and the water hit him in full force.
As ‘Aqrab stood there, disgusting rivulets of water running down his skin, draining his power from him in violet rivulets, Thunderbird twisted his hand this way and that in the downpour, rinsing the ash from his sacred fingers. Seeing that, ‘Aqrab realized he probably a little too strongly wanted to repeat the Fury’s performance. He twisted to the half-realm and growled, “I’ll wait until you’re finished.”
Thunderbird laughed, but did not banish the foul weather, once he was clean. Instead, he stood in the sopping wet, his robes and hair miraculously untouched, giving ‘Aqrab a superior look from the First Realm. “There’s nothing wrong with a good storm, Southlander.”
“I don’t see you getting wet,” ‘Aqrab growled. His skin felt like it was covered in the cold piss of rats, dragging the power of the Fourth Lands from his body and leaving it in filthy, steaming puddles at his feet.
The Thunderbird gave him a pompous smile. “It is not the duty of the eagle to drench himself like an oolichan.”
It was all ‘Aqrab could do not to blurt out profanities at the sheer self-important arrogance of the creature. A good part of him wanted to wish him to the Fourth Lands and give him a taste of a good blaze. And then, while the Thunderbird writhed and complained of the heat, casually mention that there was nothing wrong with the warmth of a fire.
“If it’s all the same with you, I’ll wait here until the rain has passed, then I will take my magus and depart your territory.”
The rain stopped then, as suddenly as if someone had cut it with a knife. Above, the clouds dispersed the way they had come, leaving deep blue sky. Within seconds, the sun had returned, and was glittering against the crystalline drops of water covering the war-zone. “I will take this magus off your hands for you,” Thunderbird said. “She carries some amulet of yours, I would imagine? Tell me where it is and I will destroy it.”
“She is the amulet,” ‘Aqrab muttered, reluctantly twisting back to the First Realm and glancing down at his magus. Aside from the holes burned in her clothing and the puckered scorches upon her skin, she looked relatively unharmed. “She taunted me into a duel-of-souls, dressed like a common peasant girl with a small beaten-up sword. I accepted her challenge, like a fool.”
Thunderbird’s mouth fell open and ‘Aqrab watched what little respect he had gained in the man’s eyes vanish instantly. “You lost a duel to a wolf?”
“She wasn’t a wolf at the time,” ‘Aqrab growled. “And I didn’t lose. Neither of us has lost yet.”
“You lost to a magus.” As if that was somehow even more shameful.
‘Aqrab peered at the rain god. “I didn’t lose. I surrendered my service. Three wishes. Then, when she was going to kill me anyway, I used a deathbed wish to stay her hand. Nobody has lost until the sword of one takes the head of the other.”
The Thunderbird shook his head. “No wonder she will not bed you.” He pointed at the magus with his chin. “I will bed her. You will watch.”
‘Aqrab felt his hand fisting before he remembered the cottonwood-sized bolts of lightning that had blotted out his vision only moments before. Scrambling to think of something that wouldn’t prick the man’s ego into thinking it was a contest, ‘Aqrab said, “Take it from me, First-Lander. She will provide you as much warmth in bed as a cobra. There are much better alternatives, anywhere.”
But the Thunderbird was not as blind as he seemed. Watching ‘Aqrab too carefully, he said, “You want her for yourself.”
“I have little alternative, tied to her as I am,” ‘Aqrab growled. “Don’t be greedy. You can go abduct women from any village at a whim. I am stuck with one ill-tempered, unlovable qybah until the end of time.”
Thunderbird’s eyes sharpened, and he said, “A djinni is rumored to be unable to lie.”
Too late, ‘Aqr
ab realized he had betrayed his curse…and that the Thunderbird, despite his idiotic wishes, was not as stupid as he appeared. Unnerved, trying to appear completely at ease, he shrugged. “We can twist words when we see the need.”
“You said you are stuck with her ‘until the end of time.’” The Thunderbird was watching him like a raptor analyzing the functions of a mouse. “Did she wish herself immortal, then? That is why my bolts did not kill her?”
“She is immortal,” ‘Aqrab agreed, feeling the nagging warning of Law as he minced his words.
Thunderbird grunted. “And then she wished your service in perpetuity?”
“She originally came to kill me,” ‘Aqrab said. “Of course she did not wish my service.”
When the Thunderbird frowned and opened his mouth to ask another question, though, ‘Aqrab raised a hand. “Enough. We made a bargain, First Lander. Safe passage across your territory. I will take her and go.” Not wasting the time to try and brush the soggy ash off the rest of his body, he bent to heft the wolf from the ground.
Thunderbird’s eyes darkened perceptibly at his gesture. “You are a guest in my land. I will ask whatever questions I deem appropriate.” The way the creature said ‘my land,’ ‘Aqrab got the very strong impression that he wasn’t talking about the fifty square miles he’d staked out at the headwaters of the Yentna River. More likely, judging by the condescending look ‘Aqrab was getting, Thunderbird was speaking of the whole of North America.
First Landers were so…pompous. As if their lonely little Realm was the center of the universe. They also had the manners of fleabitten wildebeests. Gritting his teeth in a smile, ‘Aqrab settled the waif-thin magus over his shoulder and tightened an arm against the back of her knees, to hold her in place. “You may ask, but don’t expect an answer if I find it to be none of your business.”
The Thunderbird raised a brow, his electric eyes brightening, and ‘Aqrab was once again reminded of the cottonwood-sized pillars of lightning. “I will ask, and you will answer, or I will assign you a perpetual stormcloud to follow you wherever you go, to cleanse the ill-humors from your body.”