Master of Elements

by Sonya Bateman

  That was odd. I though all the djinn knew that word — even though I didn’t, until Ian explained it to me. “A descendant?” I tried. “Part djinn, part human.”

  “Human!” Malak’s eyes widened. “I’ve never seen a human before. How did you get here? What djinn are you part of? Do all … scions have pup’s eyes? How do you —”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I said, laughing in spite of the distant alarm bells some of those questions raised. “Can you hold off with the twenty questions until I heal myself? I’m kind of in a lot of pain right now.”

  His brow furrowed. “I didn’t ask twenty questions. It was only three. And a half,” he said. “Do humans count differently than djinn?”

  I forced myself not to laugh again. Because he was so earnest, and because it hurt. “It’s just a human saying,” I said. “Give me a minute, please?”

  “Oh. Of course.” Malak flushed slightly and turned his back.

  I wasn’t sure why he thought I needed privacy to heal. But I’d try to figure that out, along with all the other questions I had — a lot more than twenty of them — when I didn’t have multiple broken bones. This time when I closed my eyes, I visualized the healing points easily and sent magic through them, anticipating sweet relief.

  The magic came stronger than I expected, and I was fully healed in less than a minute. Hell, I actually felt better than I had in years. If I’d known I could do this, I would’ve healed myself every day, whether I was injured or not.

  “Okay, I’m done,” I said. Malak pivoted back, and I held up a hand before he could start spouting questions again. “Look, I’ll try to explain everything,” I said. “But can you just tell me if you guys are the Annukhai? I have no idea whether I’m in the right place.”

  His expression faltered. “We are what’s left of the Annukhai,” he said. “Does that mean you came here looking for us?”

  “Yeah, I did. But I didn’t come alone.” Now that no one was gutting me with spears or cancelling my magic, the worry about what happened to Ian surged back strong. “Did you find any other strangers around here?” I said. “Specifically one tall guy, long brown coat, extremely cranky?”

  “You were alone when our patrols found you. I know that much is true, at least,” Malak said with a tinge of bitterness, probably toward his brother. “Who is your friend? And, well … who are you?”

  I almost laughed. In all the confusion of my arrival, no one bothered asking for my name. “Gavyn Donatti. You can just call me Donatti,” I said. “And my friend’s name is Ian. Gahiji-an,” I corrected. If they’d heard of him, they wouldn’t know his human-realm name.

  Judging by Malak’s awed look, he knew the name. “You mean the Dehbei prince, the son of Omari-el the Savior?” he said. “Gahiji-an is here?”

  “Er.” Holy shit. Ian was definitely going to have something to say about that Omari-el the Savior thing. If I managed to find him. “Honestly, I don’t know. I hope he is,” I said. “But we got separated in the storm on the way through, and I have no idea what happened to him.”

  Malak looked solemn. “If he’s here, we’ll find him,” he said. “Come with me.” Without waiting to see if I’d follow, he turned and walked outside.

  I went after him, shaking my head. I still had a thousand questions, like where were all the grownup djinn, and why didn’t he know what a scion was, and what was the deal with the pup’s eyes and me being so ‘old,’ and what, exactly, were they patrolling for — but all that would have to wait.

  Because if Ian wasn’t here somewhere, I might have serious problems.

  Chapter 10

  If I thought I’d find any answers to my questions outside the tent, I would be wrong. Because things just got stranger.

  The Annukhai village reminded me of Silvak, in that it was a small, unorganized place with a hodgepodge of collected stuff that could loosely be called dwellings. The tent I’d been in was one of maybe four or five well-built, if worn down, similar structures, this one situated on a slight rise overlooking the village. There was also a solid-looking log cabin far off to the left, at the edge of the place. The only other structure that seemed permanent was a large, square stone slab with pillars at each corner, in the center of the sprawl. But the rest of the huts, too small to be termed houses, looked like a bunch of kids had built tree forts and left out the tree part.

  And there were a lot of kids here. Most of them seemed like teens or tweens, and quite a few appeared under ten. I didn’t see anyone who looked even close to thirty.

  The ground was hard-packed dirt with sporadic clumps and patches of grass that ranged in shade from pale green to white. A ribbon of crystal blue water, either a large stream or a small river, flowed across the landscape past the village, with a simple wooden bridge built across it toward the center. Beyond that was a thick evergreen forest that wrapped around to the right. To the left, far behind the log cabin, the ground appeared to drop off. Behind the tent, a rocky incline led to a mountain that loomed over the place.

  And the storm we’d come through raged around it all, running through the forest to the right, over the mountain, and past the drop-off.

  Unless there was a highway back to Alaska on the other side of those woods, this village was completely cut off.

  “What happened here?” I said aloud, almost without realizing it.

  Malak smiled sadly. “It’s a very long story,” he said. “Probably even longer than the story of why you’re here.”

  “Yeah, about that.” As I scanned the area, I reached out through the bond I had with Ian. Usually I could catch a glimpse of whatever he was seeing, even if his emotions weren’t particularly strong at the time. But there was nothing. “We got a message from someone named Khanaq. He asked us to come here and help, so here we are. Or at least, here I am.”

  Malak caught a breath. “You talked to Khanaq?” he said. “Where is he? Did he come with you, too? He was supposed to return to us …”

  “I didn’t talk to him.” I felt bad not having any news about this guy, since Malak seemed to know him personally. “The message came through his human scion, and there were a lot of generations between him and Khanaq. I … I’m sorry, but I got the impression he isn’t alive anymore.”

  “He’s dead?” Malak frowned and shook his head, like he didn’t believe it. “What did the message say?”

  I shrugged. “Ian wasn’t able to read all of it, but it was something about helping you with a big spell,” I said as I looked out over the village again. A curious crowd had started to gather a safe distance away between two of the huts, many of them whispering and pointing. “He does have the actual message with him. Wherever he is,” I added, and then remembered the bracelet and held my arm up. “And I have this.”

  Malak’s eyes widened at the sight, and then his expression fell. “So he is dead, then,” he muttered. “Khanaq wouldn’t have parted with that bracelet if he was still alive. It’s the key.”

  “The key to what?”

  He sighed. “You’d better come with me,” he said. “I think I know where to find Gahiji-an.”

  “Uh. Where?” I said.

  “You’ll see.”

  Malak started down the incline toward the group of gawkers, and I followed him. A bunch of the younger kids giggled and ran off as we approached, but some of the teenage-looking ones stayed to stare at me. I didn’t see Toklai or Galina among them.

  A flash of white at the corner of my eye drew my attention. I looked toward it just in time to see something furry and four-legged vanish behind a crooked tent-like structure. “So, you guys are arctic wolves, right?” I said, figuring that explained the brief glimpse of fur and paws. “Ian said that your clan and his are some kind of cousins.”

  Malak nodded. “Yes, we are wolves,” he said. “Most of us, anyway. Things are a little complicated here, with the clan conflict and the barrier and those bastards on the other side of the field.”

  That explanation only gave me a lot more questions. B
ut I didn’t get the chance to ask any of them, because just then the white furry thing came barreling around the other side of the tent, straight toward me. And it wasn’t a wolf.

  It was a polar bear.

  Every primal instinct I possessed told me to scream, or run, or attack it. Yet I stood there frozen in place, gaping at the animal’s approach — not a thousand-pound death machine, but a three-foot ball of fur with bright, blinking eyes who wasn’t so much running as … capering. Possibly cavorting or gallivanting.

  The little bear crashed into my legs with surprising force, almost knocking me over, and fell on its rump. It sneezed, shook its head, and then looked up at me and raised a paw.

  “Nylah?” Malak said in an astonished tone.

  He was talking to the polar bear.

  “Um.” I still couldn’t move as the little bear batted my leg, sniffed at my hand, and sneezed again. It might be small, but it still had very sharp teeth. “Is this your … pet?”

  Malak shot me an offended look. “Of course not. It’s Nylah,” he said. “She hasn’t taken her normal form since we found her, and she’s very shy. I’m shocked that she seems to like you, honestly. She’s never this friendly.”

  My head whirled as I sorted out what he meant. “You’re saying she’s a djinn?” I gasped. “There’s a polar bear clan?”

  “Yes. The Alqani,” he said tightly. “Their village is on the other side of the woods, along the shore. That’s where I think Gahiji-an is, but we don’t go there.”

  I frowned. “Why not?” I asked — not that I couldn’t imagine plenty of reasons to stay away from a village full of polar bears.

  “Because we’re not allowed,” Malak spat. “Only the elders can stay there, and they don’t care about us. They throw their own children out when they’re born. Like Nylah, here.” He crouched beside the little bear and stroked her head affectionately. “She’s the most recent one we managed to save.” He looked up at me with banked fury in his eyes. “We don’t always find them in time.”

  My gut clenched in horrified sympathy. No wonder they didn’t trust me because I looked ‘old.’ The Alqani sounded like prime-grade assholes, abandoning their own kids. And Malak had said ‘when they’re born,’ so it sure as hell sounded like they just chucked babies out into the woods to fend for themselves. I’d had my own experiences with unfeeling caregivers in the orphanage where I grew up, but this made all those sharp-tongued, ruler-wielding nuns look like Mother Teresa.

  I hated the Alqani already.

  Nylah made a small, whimpering sound and head-butted my leg. I jumped a little and looked down to see her waving a paw in the air again. “Er, does she want something?”

  “Yes. She wants attention,” Malak laughed.

  “Okay,” I said doubtfully. “I’ll try.”

  I had to push aside centuries of evolutionary instinct as I knelt in front of the small-but-still-lethal bear, reminding myself that she was actually a djinn — and only a child, at that — with a person shape somewhere in there. “Hey, Nylah,” I said as I stretched a hand out toward her. “I’m Gavyn. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She sniffed at me, sneezed again. Then she pushed her head under my palm and started nuzzling me, making happy little bear sounds.

  My heart promptly melted. Apex predator or not, she was adorable.

  I stroked her soft fur, obliging her when she rolled over for a belly rub. For a few minutes she wrestled and swiped at my hand like a cat, and then she scrambled to her feet and reared up, planting her paws on my chest to lick my face.

  “I like you, too,” I said, laughing as I tried to gently pry away from her. “But I have to find my friend right now. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back.”

  I stood, and the little bear looked up at me almost like she understood. She let out one more adorable sneeze, and then scrambled around and ran off.

  “Amazing,” Malak said with a smile. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re not our enemy. Otherwise, Nylah wouldn’t like you.”

  “I’m definitely not,” I said. “But if Ian’s with the enemy right now, I have to get to him.”

  The idea of Ian surrounded by adult polar bears was not pleasant. Because if they decided they didn’t like him … well, one lone wolf didn’t stand much of a chance.

  Chapter 11

  For the most part, the woods we walked through seemed normal enough, if slightly chilly. The only thing off-kilter was the unnerving, almost complete silence through most of it. No birds or animals, no wind rustling the trees. Occasionally there was a brief, dry shuffling sound or an ominous crack in the distance. And that was all.

  Malak and I had been walking for about half an hour when the trees started to thin toward open spaces ahead. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, too. “We’re almost there,” Malak said. “You’ll be able to see the gates when we clear the woods, and that’s as far as I go.”

  “All right.” I was actually a little nervous about going into the mysterious polar bear village alone, but after what he’d told me, I could understand the Annukhai wanting to stay away. “You said something about a barrier?”

  “Yes. It’s a massive spell around their village that prevents anyone younger than three hundred from passing through,” he said with a grimace. “Pahna and I, and a few of the others, are old enough, but we won’t abandon the children.”

  I nodded. “Who’s Pahna?” I said.

  “She’s …” A slight flush crept into his face, and I knew who she was — or at least what she meant to him — before he said it. “My girlfriend,” he finally said, though the word he used didn’t quite translate to that. “She would be my wife, but we don’t have anyone to perform the bonding ceremony. Her father could do it, but he’d never approve.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s Alqani.” His features darkened. “You’ll probably meet her father soon. He’s one of their council leaders.”

  Great. Whoever this guy was, he sounded about as fun as Kemosiri.

  We cleared the tree line and stepped into the massive, completely snow-covered field I’d landed in earlier. It was thirty degrees or so here in the open, and the raging storm ran down both sides of the field, continuing the lines from the borders of the Annukhai village. The stone hut I’d seen wasn’t far from the woods. But all the way across the snowy expanse was a long, black wall with a tall, arched entryway in the center.

  The air above the wall was filmy and iridescent, like a giant soap bubble stretching up to the sky. The same shimmering, opaque colors filled the entryway.

  “You see where you’re going,” Malak said, directing a glare across the frozen field.

  “Yeah. I’ll find Ian and bring him back to your village.” I touched the wolf bracelet. “This is the key to the gate?” I said. “How does it work?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve never used it,” he said. “I think you just activate it with magic, and as long as you’re wearing it, you should be able to walk right through.”

  “Okay, I’ll figure it out,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me here. I’ll see you soon.”

  “I hope so,” Malak said ominously. “Just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  He turned and headed back through the forest, and I started across the field, the snow crunching beneath my feet. As I walked, I fiddled with the bracelet and tried to figure out how to activate it. Maybe I could feed magic into it, kind of like the way healing worked for me. I wrapped a hand around the stone wolf charm and pretended it was broken, and I was fixing it.

  Almost immediately, white light exploded from my fist in an expanding pulse that rippled across the landscape and faded.

  “What the …” I muttered, uncurling my fingers slowly to find the wolf totem glowing white.

  Well, it looked activated to me.

  As I got closer to the archway in the wall, I made out two smudgy figures standing just behind the soap bubble thing, one at either side of the entrance. A
t first I thought they were statues. But the figures shifted slightly as I approached, and I realized they were sentries. With weapons.

  Jesus, how much security did these assholes think they needed to keep a bunch of kids out of their village?

  The two of them moved to block the entrance when I got close, and I stopped a few feet away from the barrier. At this distance, I could mostly see through it. They were both male, with snow-white hair to their shoulders and dark eyes that were nearly black, dressed in tunics and long pants. They looked forty-something. One had a bow and arrows strapped to his back and a short sword in one hand, and the other, bigger one held a huge harpoon.

  “You came from the woods, didn’t you?” the one with the sword said. “Go back where you came from, pup.”

  “Not happening. I’m looking for someone, and I’m pretty sure he’s in there,” I said. “His name’s Gahiji-an. Have you seen him around?”

  The djinn I assumed were Alqani glanced at each other, and Sword Guy sneered. “So, you think the prince has come to save you,” he said. “Have you forgotten that Khanaq was our messenger, not yours? Gahiji-an has no interest in you and your pathetic little pack.”

  This guy was starting to piss me off. He also apparently thought I was Annukhai, but I decided not to bother correcting him. “Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you go get Gahiji-an, and ask him if he has any interest in me? I guarantee you he does.”

  “Go home, little dog,” the muscle-bound, harpoon-wielding djinn said. “Your kind is not welcome here.”

  I shook my head. “You know, Malak said you wouldn’t cooperate. I guess I’m on my own,” I said, and walked confidently forward.

  The bracelet charm glowed brighter as I passed easily through the barrier.

  “How … he has the totem!” Sword Guy sputtered. “Where did you steal that from, you miserable thief?”

  “Hey. I’m a great thief,” I said. “Well, ex-thief. So now that I’m in … where’s Ian?”

  They both glared silently at me.