Alaskan Fury

by Sara King

  ‘Aqrab froze at the absolute casual sincerity of the Thunderbird’s threat. “That is not funny.”

  “You are in a Realm that does not belong to you,” the Thunderbird reminded him calmly. Then, without missing a beat, “So why are you stuck with one ill-tempered, unlovable qybah until the end of time?” Thunderbird’s face remained placid. “I did not fail to notice you said ‘one,’ djinni, not, ‘many’ or ‘a dozen.’”

  ‘Aqrab glanced at his magus’s leg nervously. This was not something he wanted her to ever find out. “I was…stupid.”

  Thunderbird’s eyes widened a bit at that. “You wished her?”

  “Conversation over,” ‘Aqrab growled.

  “What size would you like your stormcloud to be?” Thunderbird asked. “After all, you are rather large for this Realm. I wouldn’t want it to miss.”

  “It is not your business,” ‘Aqrab snapped.

  “I am bored.” As if that explained why ‘Aqrab should dance to entertain him. Then ‘Aqrab realized, in Thunderbird’s world, it probably did. And, considering how unpleasant the rest of ‘Aqrab’s existence in the First Realm was likely to be if he didn’t cooperate, he was going to have to allow the fool his illusions.

  “I wished for someone who would never betray me,” ‘Aqrab growled. “I got a woman who would rather skewer a man on her sword than love him.”

  “…so she will never betray you,” Thunderbird offered, “because she will never love you.”

  ‘Aqrab’s mouth fell open a bit at that, and the hot rush of fire in his veins started pounding at the insides of his skull. He had never looked at it in quite that way before. He thought again of his wish, trying to decide if it could have been twisted that far. May I never bed another woman who is not the mirror to my soul, and, once I find her, may she be a slave to my heart, may she seek nothing of me I cannot give, and may she revile the touch of other men. That’s what the whole ‘slave to his heart’ thing had been about. She had to love him.

  …didn’t she?

  Cold sweat, however, was springing up along ‘Aqrab’s spine. He could think of at least a dozen ways to twist those words, and none of them were pleasant.

  Thunderbird must have seen his dismay, because he made a knowing, kingly smile. “So, for once, a djinni suffers his own medicine.”

  ‘Aqrab stiffened. First-Landers never understood the Law. They saw a djinni unmaking an unreasonable wish and thought it was a habit of djinn to rob people of their wishes because, in the First Lands, monkey-pawing was all they saw of djinn wish-grantings. First Landers were greedy, selfish, power-hungry morons. In fact, the very first wish ‘Aqrab had heard from a First Lander’s mouth, he had thought it had been a joke. I wish for a magnificent harem of a thousand of the world’s most beautiful women.

  Once he realized he was serious, ‘Aqrab had given the man a thousand corpses, clad in jewels and silk, all of whom had been considered the most beautiful woman of her time and locale. Love and sexual favors was a gray area of the Law, but only a moron would make such a request in seriousness. It was forbidden.

  In the Fourth Lands, it was hugely rude to ask for something that could not be accomplished by ten men in a day, without magic, unless someone was dying. To ask for anything more than what a First Lander would consider a ‘favor’ was something that had to be brought before a Fourthlander lord for approval, prior to making the wish. To ‘cheat’ and ask for something large without consulting first often resulted in a flogging and removal of whatever had been wrongfully wished for. To ask for something as ludicrous as shattering mountainsides with one’s step and summoning tornadoes with their breath, however, they simply would have been executed. Unlike here, the Fourth Lands suffered no fools.

  Yet there were no such controls in this wretched land, and the Fourthlander lords would be overstepping their bounds to try and dictate how the Firstlanders ran their realm. Before he could say something unkind, he turned and started heading north.

  As Thunderbird began to follow him, ‘Aqrab stopped and turned to him with a frown. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you,” Thunderbird said indifferently. “I am bored. I will escort you through my territory until you cease to amuse me.”

  ‘Aqrab could think of several ways to cease amusing the Thunderbird, but unfortunately, most of them ended in char and ozone. He kept walking, making no comment as the Thunderbird regally kept pace, little static discharges crackling every time his foot set down in the snow. Seeing that, ‘Aqrab had another thought.

  Helicopters and lightning did not make good bedfellows.

  ‘Aqrab eyed the Thunderbird, who was obviously going to follow him despite his wishes. Yet ‘Aqrab also knew he couldn’t ask for help against their pursuers, because, in the mind of a creature like Thunderbird, everyone who wasn’t of native skin was a trespasser, anyway, and it would only suit his ends if the outsiders ended up killing each other. Yet if he could somehow get his pride involved…

  “We’re being hunted,” ‘Aqrab said in a somber tone, drawing to a halt and throwing his arm out in front of Thunderbird, shaking his head. “To stay with us is to put yourself in grave danger.”

  “Hunted?” Thunderbird snorted as if the idea was humorous. “By what?”

  “Something you don’t want to meet on the field of battle,” ‘Aqrab said, as seriously as he could, seeing that the vain prick was falling right into his hands. “That’s why we need to cross your land. We’re going to enlist the aid of dragons.”

  Thunderbird straightened as if someone had rammed a golden stake down his spine. “The dragons are but self-important lizards.”

  ‘Aqrab had to hide a giggle behind a cough. With total commiseration, he said, “Oh, believe me, I know. Utterly arrogant and conceited. And vain.”

  “Utterly conceited,” Thunderbird agreed vehemently. “The inflated, self-absorbed narcissists. They act as if they own those mountains.” He flicked his braid disgustedly over his shoulder and glared at the horizon to the north, beyond which, laid the Brooks Range, the last bastion of dragonkind. “You’re wasting your time with them. They’re nothing but virgin-kidnapping, mirror-gazing, gold-hoarding thieves who think they’re princes.”

  “But at least they can fight,” ‘Aqrab said with a sigh. “As a simple djinni, who would much rather spend his time singing to the dunes and feeding himself dates, I find myself greatly outmatched. And my magus, well…” He gestured to her unconscious form. “She spends more time recovering from fighting than actually fighting.”

  Thunderbird snorted and made a dismissive gesture. “Your pursuers will not bother you on my land.”

  ‘Aqrab made a show of considering that. “Still, my magus has…needs…that will require a dragon’s help.”

  The Thunderbird gave his unconscious ward a curious look. “What kind of needs?”

  ‘Aqrab shrugged. “She seeks the serpents to ask for help in ousting the nest of the Inquisitors that have been kidnapping Second, Third, and Fourthlanders alike to the south of us.” He was pretty sure they would capture this First Lander in a heartbeat, too, given the opportunity, but, after his display with his magus, ‘Aqrab honestly doubted they would ever get the opportunity. From what he had just seen, a Thunderbird could probably hold his own against a dragon. Easily.

  “I was wondering what the commotion was,” Thunderbird said, glancing casually behind them, towards the mountain slope where his magus had left the wreckage of a helicopter and a quarter acre of bloodied snow. Then he turned back and gave ‘Aqrab a harsh look. “What makes this wolf think that the dragons will help her?”

  ‘Aqrab gave him an unhappy grin. “The wolf has a djinni at her disposal…and one final wish.”

  The Thunderbird gave his ward an indifferent look. “I can kill her for you, if you wish.”

  If it ever came down to being without a woman the rest of his life or being a slave to dragons, that would be a difficult choice. Dragons could twist words almost as well as a djinni, an
d, given the proper time to plan out each wish, would probably be able to lay out a labyrinth of legalities that could trip up even ‘Aqrab. But ‘Aqrab didn’t intend to let her hand him over to dragons. If he had to get down on his knees and beg, offer her boons, he would do it. He shuddered at the very thought.

  “No,” he muttered, “I would rather not limit myself to the company of men the rest of my life.” Not to mention having to cart around a sack of bones. That was just…embarrassing.

  “You are afraid to go without women…yet you still haven’t gotten her to spread her legs for you.”

  ‘Aqrab flushed. That was not a fact he was proud of, but if it helped the Thunderbird retain his illusion of superiority, so be it. There was no need to inform him he was, in fact, dealing with a Fury. While she was debilitated by the wolf in her blood, the fewer who knew that particular fact, the better. “I would rather we did not discuss my woeful lack of debauchery,” he said honestly. “It makes me…irritable.”

  Thunderbird snorted. “I will get her to spread her legs for me. Once spread, they will do so again, and with less effort.”

  My dick in your mother’s spine, you self-important fool. ‘Aqrab had to swallow down the curse that tried to rumble from his throat. Coughing, he managed, “If you could convince her to spread her legs for you, I would be thoroughly impressed. Until then…” he glanced up at the sun. “We should pick up the pace. They have flying machines.”

  Thunderbird waved a dismissive hand. “Let them come.” As if he were speaking of gnats with swords made of the shavings of toothpicks.

  And, ‘Aqrab realized, to this First-Lander, that’s probably exactly what they were. ‘Aqrab would have felt the same way, had they been walking the sands of the Fourth Lands rather than the filthy snow-ridden forests of the First Lands. Between sand-singing, wishcraft, and the full fury of the sun, there was very little capable of challenging a djinni’s power.

  Goddess, he missed his home.

  Kaashifah awoke to the pleasant sound of the djinni singing.

  Well, pleasant except for the words of his song, which were even then going into great detail the outrageous ‘virtues’ of a woman’s form. “Gods,” she moaned, rolling over and slapping her hands over her ears. “Must you do that?” She refrained from using the word ‘caterwaul,’ as she had long ago come to discover that the Fourthlander Law considered it an insult.

  “Good evening, mon Dhi’b,” ‘Aqrab said. Then he launched back into his music.

  “Dammit, ‘Aqrab!” she cried. “I don’t want to hear about ‘busty bosoms’ and ‘curvaceous hips!’”

  “Stop interrupting him, wolf,” an imperious voice said. “The djinni is singing me a tale.”

  Kaashifah froze and blearily opened her eyes.

  Thunderbird was seated on a nearby boulder, his rippling silver-gray robes settled regally around him, seemingly entranced by the djinni’s cacophony. Seeing that, Kaashifah’s jaw fell open. She stared, in silence, as ‘Aqrab continued to wail at the starry sky, and Thunderbird watched him with the rapt attention of an enthralled child.

  He must have poisoned my meal, Kaashifah thought, unable to believe her eyes.

  After another twenty minutes, the djinni ended his tale with a woeful lingering of a final, horrid note, and Thunderbird slapped his boulder with glee and immediately cried, “Another!”

  “No, not another,” Kaashifah snapped. “He doesn’t have the time to sing.”

  The great North American figure of myth and lore turned his head to give her a flat electric stare. “A mouse does not tell an eagle what he will be having for dinner.”

  A mouse, am I? she thought, her anger spiking. But she held her tongue, the results of her last encounter with the despicable beast still leaving negatives of lightning-forks burned in her field of vision. She would have to remember to pay him a visit on her way back through, once she had finished her business with the dragons.

  “Turns out, mon Dhi’b,” ‘Aqrab said, beaming, “Thunderbird enjoys a good bardic tale, unlike some other ungrateful wretches around here.”

  The Thunderbird gave her a look of pity. “One can hardly expect the moon-cursed to appreciate the pleasures of culture.” He waved a commanding hand. “Continue, djinni. Ignore the Third-Lander.”

  …as if she were a very dense child. Or a slave.

  ‘Aqrab must have seen the rising fury on her face, because he said, “Actually, my throat is beginning to pain me, great one. It’s been so long since I’ve put it to that much use… I should probably ease back into it slowly, rather than burn myself out all at once.”

  Thunderbird actually whined, “But I was enjoying myself.”

  “I’ll sing for you again,” ‘Aqrab assured him, giving Kaashifah a pointed look, “now that I have an appreciative audience, I’ll probably make it a nightly affair.”

  “Oh gods,” Kaashifah groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Just kill me now.”

  “That could be arranged, Third Lander,” Thunderbird said.

  Kaashifah gave him a sharp look and opened her mouth, but ‘Aqrab quickly interrupted her with, “So, mon Dhi’b, are you hungry?”

  She choked off what she was about to say and gave ‘Aqrab a searing look. “Not on your life, djinni.”

  The Thunderbird cocked his head at her. “You, a wolf, turn down an offering of the djinni?”

  “It’s not an offering,” she growled, glaring at ‘Aqrab, who was smirking. “And I’d rather crawl through the filth of pigs than touch him again.”

  Thunderbird gave her a disdainful look down his nose at her. “Just because he has no other alternatives, wolf, does not mean you should take airs above your station.” On the opposite edge of the fire, she thought she saw the djinni go stiff, but she had only a moment to think about that before Thunderbird continued, “But I like him, so I’ll deign to do him the favor of bedding you. Come back to my cabin with me tonight and I will show you how to properly spread your legs to your betters.”

  The words were so outrageous and ridiculous that Kaashifah burst out laughing. “You,” she cried, jabbing a finger at him. “Bed me?” She yanked a thumb back at her chest. “In your cabin? Surely you joke, you puffed-up peacock.”

  Thunderbird’s perfect mouth fell open and he stared at her with complete shock, which, at her laughter, was rapidly shifting into anger when ‘Aqrab quickly interjected, “I told you she was an ill-tempered beastie. You’d been given fair warning, my liege.”

  Kaashifah continued to snicker, loving the way the bird was looking like he’d swallowed an entire rotten lemon, sideways.

  Very stiffly, head rising at a regal angle, Thunderbird stood, carefully dusting his robes around him. “I have matters to attend to. I will see you upon the morn.” Then, without warning, the man’s robes melted away and he began to shift into the form of a bird, forcing Kaashifah to stumble backwards as he grew in size, ebony feathers sprouting from his body, expanding until he stood taller than an elephant, his body in the shape of an eagle, but carrying an eerie black, abyssal sheen to his feathers that crackled with electricity.

  Then, with a thunderous snap of his wings that dually sizzled her body with waves of electricity and threw her to the ground with the vibration of the echo, the Thunderbird took flight, a crackling blue silhouette against the black night sky, each of his slow, lazy wingbeats the massive boom of thunder.

  “You know,” ‘Aqrab growled, as he picked himself out of the snow, “you could have exercised a bit more diplomacy, mon Dhi’b. That creature probably could have roasted us both alive, for the insult you just bore him.”

  Kaashifah snorted and waved the idea aside. “If he couldn’t kill me before, he wasn’t going to be able to kill me now.”

  ‘Aqrab brushed a clump of melting snow from his chest, glaring at her. “He was killing you. I gave him three wishes, in return for safe passage.”

  Kaashifah froze. “You didn’t.”

  ‘Aqrab shrugged. “It was the only way
I could save your fool life.”

  Licking her lips, Kaashifah’s eyes once more found the ebony bird soaring into the distance, its feathers rippling with electricity. “Oh.” Reluctantly, she looked back at the djinni, who was returning to his boulder, from which he’d been knocked by the Thunderbird’s departure. Warily, she asked, “What did he wish for?”

  “Cosmetics,” ‘Aqrab replied.

  “So that is why his impudent face wasn’t even swollen,” she growled. “I was sure I’d broken something in there…”

  “Mon Dhi’b,” the djinni said, “if you are to make bargains with dragons, we are going to need to work on your faculties of communication, lest you get us both killed.”

  “I’m a Fury,” she snorted. “I don’t need to communicate.”

  ‘Aqrab watched her for some time, the silence of the mountainside descending around them before he said, “Do you need to eat?”

  Kaashifah tensed all over again. She was hungry. After the djinni had caught her fondling him like a whore, she had slipped the Void, and then had gone a week without eating, starving rather than facing the smug knowing on his face. Fighting Thunderbird had tapped every reserve she had. Even now, the Third Lander was prowling at the edge of his cage, thrashing at the back of her mind, sensing her weakening hold on it. “Neek hallak, ‘Aqrab,” she growled, flushing as she turned away.

  “Tonight, in order to receive your accustomed bounty, I would have you touch me to my satisfaction.”

  Kaashifah choked in horror. “That is not going to happen.”

  The infuriating djinni just shrugged his massive shoulders. “I suppose I could bring myself to dine alone.”

  “You manuke khara!” she cried.

  The djinni grinned at her just before his face became wrought with seriousness and he stiffened with the booming call of, “You have reset your seven days.” Then, once the violet wisps of Fourth Lander magic had died down, he resumed grinning at her. “How does lamb sound tonight, mon Dhi’b?”

  She glanced out over the windswept hillside below the crevice where the djinni had camped. “I will find my own food tonight, djinni,” she growled.