Master of Elements

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Master of Elements Page 9

by Sonya Bateman


  Ian scowled. “Yes, I believe you are right,” he said. “These Alqani …” He trailed off, and his features contorted briefly. “I am sorry, Donatti. I never should have trusted them. I should have gone to look for you myself, the moment I realized you were not in the village.”

  “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up,” I said firmly. “Meriwa seemed pretty damned convincing, at least until she lost her shit at the end there. And besides, I’m fine. They can’t kill us, remember? They don’t have the tether.”

  Ian sent me an unnerving sidelong glance. “The tether may not matter,” he said.

  “What?” I spluttered, unconsciously slowing my pace. I could see glimpses of the rundown Annukhai village through the trees ahead of us, but suddenly it was a lot more important to hear Ian out before we walked into their problems. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Are you saying they can kill us?”

  “It may be possible. I am not entirely certain, but —” He broke off with a harsh sigh. “You saw the green lightning within the storm,” he said. “Did you also notice the white grass? And the purple ocean beyond the Alqani village?”

  “Yeah, I did. But I thought … hell, I don’t know what I thought.” The unease I’d felt at the sight of that impossible expanse of water returned sharply. “So this means what?”

  Ian stared into the distance for a moment. “The storm spell that surrounds this area is one of displacement, of separation,” he said haltingly. “At least, according to the Alqani. This place exists in the human realm, in Alaska. But it also exists in the djinn realm. That is to say, if one were to somehow penetrate the storm from the northern lands of the djinn realm, they would arrive here as well.” His lips pressed together. “And while tethers provide virtual immortality in your world, they have no such effect in mine.”

  “Great.” A chill shivered down my spine. “Well, at least they’ve got the monster thing under control. But I’m not sure what to do now,” I said. “Do we stay here, try to do something about this clan war they’ve got going on, and maybe die? Should we try to leave and get help, and come back for the kids? I mean … Jesus, look at that,” I finished as I realized what was ahead.

  At the edge of the forest, it had started snowing. The sky that’d been crystal blue a few minutes ago had darkened to gunmetal gray, and fat, silent flakes filled the air. It wasn’t a shrieking, deadly vortex like the border storm — but it was sudden and eerie as hell.

  I opened my mouth to say something about how creepy-quiet it was, when a blast like an air raid siren filled the air. The unearthly whooping sound drew out for long seconds before it warbled down to almost inaudible, and then climbed back to nearly deafening. And the pattern kept repeating.

  Ian and I exchanged shocked looks. “Any idea what the hell that is?” I said loudly over the blood-chilling siren.

  “No. But it cannot be a good sound,” he shouted back.

  “Yeah, no shit. I think we’d better find out what it means.”

  We took off running into the snow, rapidly clearing the last of the trees into a world of silent white broken only by the rise and fall of the siren. I could see maybe ten feet in any direction. “There’s a river around here somewhere, between the woods and the village,” I called toward Ian’s shape flashing through the snow. “It’s got a bridge, but I have no idea where it is.”

  Ian grunted an acknowledgment. “Warn me if you see it.”

  After a minute I realized the silence was deafening, because the siren had stopped. Somehow, that was more ominous than the screeching alarm. “At least we can hear ourselves think now,” I said in normal tones, glancing to the side. But Ian had pulled ahead of me, almost too far to make him out.

  Then I heard a series of abrupt splashes and a wordless shout.

  I stopped short and tried to peer through the whiteout. “Oh, shit. You okay, Ian?”

  After a long pause, he said flatly, “I have found the river.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

  “This is not funny.” A watery sloshing sound echoed ahead of me, and then Ian materialized out of the snow — drenched and dripping, rivulets of water running down his face. He glowered at me, and then cracked a smile. “All right. Maybe it is slightly funny.”

  I thought it was goddamned hilarious, but I decided not to rag on him too much about it. “How about we find the bridge?” I said, smirking. “It’s probably close.”

  He agreed. And it didn’t take long to find it, since it was about five feet from where Ian had fallen in.

  I almost died trying to keep from busting a gut.

  Once we reached the other side of the river, it didn’t take long before flashes of the village started showing ahead. “That’s it,” I said, as if Ian might think those cobbled-together structures belonged to some other village full of children. “We have to look for Malak. Whatever that siren thing was, he’ll know —”

  The words died in my throat as a massive shadow passed over us. It looked like some kind of grossly distorted bird.

  With a twenty-foot wingspan.

  “What the fuck was that?” I rasped, stopping in my tracks.

  Ian froze next to me. “It cannot be …”

  “Can’t be what?” I said urgently, tilting my head up as I tried to squint through the falling snow. “Ian, it can’t be what?”

  The shadow approached from the other side, and this time I saw the shape of something huge and white-ish in the sky, largely obscured by the snow. I caught only glimpses and flashes. Ragged feathers. Tufts of stained fur. A four-toed, scaly, marbled gray foot with talons as long as my forearm.

  Whatever it was, it moved in complete silence.

  “Donatti, look out!”

  Ian’s shout tore my attention from the thing in the sky, just in time to see a dark shape barreling out of the snow, straight toward me. But the scream locked in my throat never emerged, not even when the shape landed in front of me and let out a low bark.

  It was a wolf, mostly silver-white with a few black spots and splashes, and intense gold eyes. Somehow I knew who it was. He lunged at me, caught my wrist in his teeth, and gave a gentle but urgent tug. Then he whined softly and trotted past me, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “It’s Malak,” I told Ian. “Come on, he wants us to follow him.”

  Ian didn’t argue.

  When the wolf saw us coming after him, he picked up speed, and I had to sprint to keep up. Ian’s legs were longer, so he probably wasn’t struggling as much. Soon we reached the center of the village and the stone platform with the columns at the corners.

  Malak bounded onto the platform, already changing shape. Once he’d fully transformed to his two-legged form, he walked briskly to the center, crouched and pressed a palm to the snow-dusted surface. A blue glow traced his hand, and a section of stone slid back to reveal a deep, dim space lit by orange-yellow flickers that were probably torches. A handful of frightened faces peered up from the pit.

  “Go,” Malak whispered, gesturing frantically. “Hurry.”

  I could see a ladder extending straight down from one side of the opening, but I decided to save time and ladder space by jumping into the hole and sort of floating to the bottom. Seconds later, Ian did the same.

  Malak scrambled down the ladder after us, pausing just long enough to magic the stone panel closed. “Thank the gods I found you in time,” he panted when he got all the way down. “I apologize for startling you, but it is safer to be in animal form when it comes.”

  Every drop of my blood ran cold. “When what comes?” I said, dreading the answer.

  Malak met my eyes with a solemn gaze. “The Wihtiko.”

  Chapter 14

  I could tell Ian was thinking the same thing as me — that the Alqani hadn’t contained the Wihtiko at all. They’d only kept it away from themselves. And here I was thinking I couldn’t be any more disgusted with them, sitting safe behind their barrier while their children lived like this, hunted by a monster.

&
nbsp; But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. The Annukhai were scared enough as it was.

  Assuming this was the entire village, there weren’t many of them. Fifty at the most. They were huddled in small groups around the pit, a roughly square, dug-earth space that was probably twenty by twenty feet and eight feet deep, with two torches mounted on each wall and a central stone ring that looked like it was used for fires.

  About half of them were staring at Ian and me, with either awe or fear. And at least one — Toklai, standing alone against a wall with his arms folded — stared with anger.

  For the moment, the three of us had our own group hanging around the ladder. “Well, I guess I don’t really have to introduce you guys, but I will anyway,” I said. “Ian, this is Malak. Malak, this is Gahiji-an.”

  Ian looked surprised that I’d given his proper name. Maybe even pleased, though it was impossible to tell with him.

  “I still can’t believe you’re here.” Malak’s wide eyes were riveted to Ian like he was the djinn version of Elvis Presley. “It’s an honor to meet you, rayan. My grandfather knew Omari-el the Savior personally, and told many tales of his courage and wisdom.”

  “Omari-el the what?” Ian gave a startled blink, and then shook himself and recovered. “I am pleased to meet you as well, Malak,” he said. “Forgive me, but my father never told me of his involvement with your clan. It must have happened before my time.”

  It was Malak’s turn to blink. “You don’t know?” he said. “Omari-el and his champion saved our people from extinction during the war with the Anapi clan, many centuries ago, and helped us to find our new homeland here.”

  “His champion?” Ian said, visibly shaken. “You mean Jai?”

  “Yes, that is his name.” Malak frowned nervously. “Have I offended you, rayan?”

  Ian pulled himself together. “No, you have not. I simply did not realize …” He trailed off and stared into the distance for a moment. When he focused again, it was with grim determination. “Donatti has informed me of the Alqani’s practices,” he said, spitting the last word like a curse. “Their leaders claimed to have contained the Wihtiko, but —”

  “Malak?” a hesitant female voice said as a group of three young djinn approached us. One of them was Galina, trailing a teenage-looking male in her wake who bore an unmistakable resemblance to her. But the one in front, the female who’d spoken, was Alqani. Like Malak, she appeared in her early twenties. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said as she reached his side and stared at Ian for a moment, and then me. “Some of the younger ones are nervous, afraid he’s come from the north village, and others are saying he’s come to save us. I don’t know what to tell them.”

  Malak smiled and slid an arm around her waist. “This is Pahna,” he said, and nodded toward the other two. “Donatti, you’ve met Galina.”

  “Welcome back.” The girl flashed a shy smile. “My brother, Yurai,” she said, gesturing to her shadow. “He … well, he’s sorry, too. About earlier.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow in my direction, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d just figured out that I’d been attacked and almost killed by a bunch of kids.

  Great. I was never going to live this one down.

  “And this is Gahiji-an,” Malak said, raising his voice so everyone in the pit could hear. “He’s not here to hurt us. Khanaq sent him and his champion to help.”

  A ragged cheer went up, filled with so much hope that it hurt to hear. I looked at Ian and saw the same thing I felt reflected in his eyes.

  No matter what it took, we were helping these kids.

  I was about to ask him what he wanted to do when something thudded against me from behind. I looked around to find Nylah with her front paws wrapped around my thigh, shivering and blinking up at me.

  A smile rose to my face. “Hey there, little one,” I said, reaching down to stroke her head. “Told you I’d be back. I found my friend, see?”

  Ian stared at the small bear with wonder. “You know this … child?” he said.

  “Her name’s Nylah.” She waved a paw at me, and without thinking I bent and scooped her into my arms, grunting a little. She was heavier than she looked. “Apparently, she doesn’t like shifting out of bear mode,” I said. “And she’s shy.”

  Nylah proved my point by ducking her head under my arm with a tiny, frightened bleat. But after a minute, she withdrew slowly and looked at Ian with bright, blinking eyes, then stretched her neck out toward him.

  Ian extended a hand. She sniffed it, sneezed once, and started wriggling in my arms, making a cascade of happy sounds as she strained forward.

  I laughed. “I think she wants you now,” I said.

  “She does?” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Hold your arms out.”

  Ian complied with a dubious expression. When I handed the little bear to him, she flopped against his chest and planted her front paws on his shoulders. Then she started licking his face.

  A startled gasp went up from most of the others, and a handful of younger children shrieked with delight and dissolved into laughter.

  “Amazing,” Pahna said softly. “Usually she tries to maul strangers.”

  “I …” Ian’s eyes glistened as he gazed at Nylah, who’d moved from licking his face to nuzzling his neck. “How old is she?”

  Malak’s features went tight. “Only ten,” he said.

  “She is hardly more than an infant! The Alqani abandoned her?”

  “Yes.” Malak moved closer and spoke in low tones. “When we found her in the field, she was barely alive, still covered in birthing fluid. They’re all like that, the ones they throw out. They leave them in the birthing hut. But if the newborns are alone too long, they shift and make their way outside, into the snow.” He swallowed with an audible click. “Sometimes we can’t reach them in time.”

  If I thought Ian was furious before, it was nothing compared to now. The only time I’d seen him even close to this was when he thought Akila was dead. “It seems the Wihtiko is not the only monster your village faces,” he said, somehow keeping his tone even. “I will see that the Alqani answer for this.”

  Malak looked relieved, and more than a little scared. “Thank you, rayan,” he said. “My clan will be in your debt.”

  “Call me Ian, please.” A shudder moved through him as he set Nylah gently on the ground, and she scampered off happily. “I am no prince.”

  At that, Pahna flashed a small frown. “Aren’t you the son of Omari-el the —”

  “Let’s talk about the Wihtiko,” I said quickly, sparking a grateful look from Ian. Discussing anything to do with the Dehbei was painful for him, at best. “What are you dealing with here, exactly? I mean, you’ve got a permanent hiding spot and you know how to avoid it, so this must not be the first time that thing came around.”

  “No. Not the first time at all,” Malak said. “The creature lives high on the mountain, and it comes when it wants to. Sometimes it’s gone for a year. Sometimes months. But when it comes, the snow comes with it.” He glanced up at the stone platform above the pit. “That’s how we know. When it starts snowing, we sound the alarm and bring everyone down here.”

  Well, that sounded properly horrifying. “And does it really … eat you guys?”

  “Sometimes,” Pahna put in. “It used to hunt the mau-het or the ahsadu, when it couldn’t catch one of us, and then it would leave for a while. But now …”

  “Now there are fewer animals, and shorter intervals between the Wihtiko’s feedings,” Malak said gravely. “And it’s always preferred the taste of djinn.”

  Okay, that was a lot worse than I thought. I recognized mau-het from the times Ian and Tory talked about how they used to hunt them together. They were something like the djinn version of deer or caribou. I’d never heard of ahsadu, but the closest translation I could pick up was ‘cougar.’ So when the giant flying monster couldn’t eat djinn, it hunted mountain lions. And it was eating more often.

  “How
long since the last time it came?” I asked.

  Galina piped up then. “Three weeks,” she said.

  “What?” Malak sent a half-horrified look in her direction. “Are you sure it’s only been that long?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I remember because it was Yurai’s birthday, and we were down here most of the day.” She patted her still-silent brother sympathetically on the arm. “Not that we really celebrate that much, anyway.”

  Malak’s face crumpled slightly. “Why didn’t you remind me about his birthday? I would’ve done something for him.”

  “You know why, Malak.”

  He looked about to say something more, but then he sighed and turned away. “I’m sorry. Our clan has a lot of unusual problems,” he said. “It’s been hard with so many young ones and not enough guidance to go around.”

  I could definitely see where they’d have issues. This place was like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys — with some Lost Girls, too — in a constant siege with a village full of polar bear pirates, and Captain Hook occasionally flying down from the sky to eat them.

  Ian stirred from his own silent observations and looked at Malak and Pahna. “What happened to your elders?” he said. “Surely the small number of your clan who live among the Alqani do not represent all of them. There are too many children here for that to be possible.”

  “Ah, that’s a long story. One we’ll tell you tonight, at the feast in your honor.” Malak’s almost goofy grin was made of pure hero worship. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had anything to celebrate.”

  Ian opened his mouth, and I could tell he was about to refuse having a feast held for him. He was probably having flashbacks of raw fish and ridiculous headdresses. I put a hand on his arm before he could speak and shook my head when he looked at me. Even if he didn’t feel like being celebrated, he’d disappoint them if he tried to turn it down.

 

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