Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

by Hayden, David Alastair

  “Yes, unless you tell me not to. I can’t see anything, of course. And as a book, I cannot talk back.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. I might need privacy or I might not want everything recorded.”

  Turesobei brought up what had happened that night.

  “I think,” squeaked Lu Bei, a little too loudly.

  “Shh! You’ll wake my mother.”

  “Sorry. Anyway, I think it is wrong of them not to include master. You will be the next High Wizard. You should know the important things they’re talking about!”

  “I agree, but Father said no.”

  “And you’re going to let that stop you?”

  Turesobei stared at Lu Bei whose little face was set with a defiant scowl. “That would be wrong of me. There are rules against spying on others in the clan, even family.”

  “Those rules, master, should never apply to you.”

  Turesobei frowned at him. “You’re a bad influence, Lu Bei.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Do me a favor. Fly into the hallway and make sure my sister and mother are asleep. But stay out of sight. You can do that right?”

  “As long as I don’t stray more than about thirty paces from you, then yes, I can.”

  “Then do so.”

  With a feeling that he was going to regret his actions in a few hours, Turesobei donned his charcoal-gray rain cloak and grabbed his rainproof traveling boots. Then, with the all-clear signal from Lu Bei, he raced out into the rain-laced night with the tiny fetch fluttering alongside.

  Chapter Eight

  Staying just off the meandering stone paths, Turesobei padded through Inner Ekaran, the walled-off abode of the Chonda Clan nobility. Dense clouds covered the moons, and the rainfall had increased to a steady downpour.

  Turesobei paused when he came within arrow-shot of the High Wizard’s Tower, “Lu Bei, I think—”

  “Shh!” Lu Bei muttered. “Someone’s coming.”

  Turesobei dove behind a thicket of leafy shrubs. He tried to peer through the leaves and spindly trunks, but he couldn’t see anything. Lu Bei, however, could crawl beneath the bush.

  “I can see them,” he whispered to Turesobei once he was hidden behind a rock on the other side.

  “Who is it?” Turesobei replied in a voice so quiet it was almost silent.

  Lu Bei had no trouble hearing it. He fluttered back and whispered in Turesobei’s ear. “Just natives. Armed and on patrol.”

  By natives, he meant the zaboko, who were human like Turesobei. But compared to Turesobei’s people, the zaboko were shorter and stockier, and their skin was a light grey, like rocks and rain clouds, rather than a pale cream. They were a strong people, far outnumbering the baojendari, but since they were not of Kaiaru descent, they were unable to wield kavaru stones, and thus unable to use magic. That was how Turesobei’s race had conquered them.

  As a noble, Turesobei could command any of the common zaboko guards, within reason, but it would be awkward. And it would likely get him caught once they reported to their superiors.

  The guards drew parallel to his position, stopped, and looked around. After a few moments, one mumbled something to the other and they continued on.

  Once they were out of sight, Turesobei let out a sigh.

  “Are we allies with the natives now?” Lu Bei asked.

  “I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?”

  Lu Bei shook his head. “Master…put me away…right after the invasion fleet set sail from Tengba Ren.”

  “Well, within a few generations, we conquered and enslaved most of the zaboko. By we, I mean us baojendari as a whole. After we lost contact with Tengba Ren, the Chonda granted them limited, though not complete, freedom. In some places—”

  “We lost contact with Tengba Ren?!”

  “Keep it down. Yes, we’ve had no word from the mother country in over four centuries. We think—” Turesobei shook his head. “Look, I’ll explain it all to you later. Now is not the time. We’re almost there, so you’d better change back. If you’re active, Grandfather will sense your presence.”

  Lu Bei landed in Turesobei’s hands and transformed into the diary, which Turesobei then tucked into his satchel.

  Turesobei circled the crescent lake beside the High Wizard’s Tower, leapt over a wall using the spell of prodigious leaping, and landed in his grandfather's gardens. Turesobei could have cast the spell of darksight to aid him, but having played in these gardens daily all his life, he didn’t need it. By memory, he dodged boulders, slipped between hedgerows, circumvented bamboo brakes, and leapt across narrow, artificial streams.

  At last he reached the pavilion and hid within a stand of shrubs along the north wall. The Dairen Pavilion was an octagonal, wooden structure with a thatch roof and sliding outer walls bearing thick paper panels. Grandfather Kahenan liked to sit there with the doors pulled back and gaze out at the moons or the cherry orchard nearby. When the blossoms fell, he held a viewing party for all the top nobles. Anytime he needed to have a meeting of any sort, he went to the Dairen Pavilion. Kahenan liked to keep his tower off limits.

  While he waited, Turesobei began to feel as if he were being watched. He glanced around, but didn't see anyone, not that he could see far. Tucking his kavaru under his robe, he cast the darksight spell and looked around again. Still nothing. His heartbeat quickened.

  He uttered a chant and cast the spell of auditory enhancement, which he would likely need anyway in order to hear Noboro and Kahenan through the paper-paneled walls. These two spells were slight enough in power that his grandfather wasn’t likely to sense them, unless he was on the lookout for magic.

  Turesobei examined his surroundings carefully, but still detected nothing unusual. Something was wrong, though. He was tempted to call on Lu Bei, but he was convinced the strength of that magic would gain Kahenan’s attention even if he wasn’t trying to sense anything.

  The rain continued to fall, and he grew cold and tired. He couldn’t have managed all this if Kahenan hadn’t let him sleep. He didn't want to risk getting spotted by moving around to warm himself, and the spell of warming was far too noticeable. He would just have to tough it out.

  At last, his father approached the pavilion warily, with his hand on his sword. He wondered if his father sensed him watching. He was a canny and cautious man. Turesobei's sense of wrongness increased. With his spells still active—it took little energy to maintain these in particular—he scanned the garden again.

  For a second he thought he saw something move within the upper branches of a nearby oak. But after a few minutes of watching, he decided it had only been a squirrel or a limb shaking off the rain. Still, the sense of danger remained, until Grandfather Kahenan arrived. And even then it only faded somewhat.

  “What is it?” Kahenan said when he reached the pavilion door where Noboro stood watching the garden through the water that streamed from the roof.

  “Someone is lurking within the garden.”

  “I did not see or hear anyone as I approached,” Kahenan said confidently. “You are simply paranoid. Come, let us have tea where it is warm and dry. Light the lanterns.”

  The two men moved into the pavilion, shutting the door behind them. Turesobei edged closer to the wall but still stayed near enough to the shrubs that he would be partially hidden, even on a clear night. His father lit the lanterns within, and Turesobei watched their dark silhouettes through the paper panels.

  “You would be paranoid, too, if you had been carrying that key for a month.”

  Kahenan hung an iron teapot over the hearth which was set into the floor in the pavilion's center. “Boro, I honestly never believed that you would find it. The zaboko take extreme care with their artifacts, especially those that are potentially dangerous.”

  “Well, they were careless enough with this one. People sometimes forget dangers that shouldn’t be forgotten.” Noboro knelt at the small table beside the hearth. “I wasn’t the only person looking for it, either.”
/>   “That is not good news. But why so much interest in it now?”

  “A book published in West Tagana three years ago, written by a man named Obu Sotenda. It stirred up a lot of new interest in the Storm Dragon legends. And then the key emerged for the first time in centuries. It had been lost in the vault of a West Taganan shrine, and the shrine closed.”

  Closing shrines wasn’t uncommon. The zaboko were steadily moving away from their ancestral religions and following those of their baojendari conquerors instead.

  “When the shrine’s artifacts were being relocated, word got out from some of the laborers about the contents of the vault. I recognized it from a description that was circulating through the wine-houses. But, of course, I wasn’t the only one.”

  Grandfather Kahenan knelt at the table and set down two cups. “So, are you off to open the vault now?”

  “I am.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “I must.”

  “Well, if you must, take Sobei with you.”

  Turesobei's heart lurched with excitement but was crushed by the tone of his father's reply. “What? You’ve got to be joking!”

  “No, I am not. The boy needs a break.”

  “Then give him one.”

  Kahenan placed tea leaves in both cups. “He needs to spend time with his father, too.”

  Noboro sighed. “But we're so different.”

  “Not as much as you think.”

  “The boy is so like his mother, and she grates on my nerves.”

  “I am not,” Turesobei muttered to himself.

  “He is young and headstrong,” Kahenan said, “but teenagers are like that.”

  “He has more in common with you. Why don't you take him on a trip?”

  “Because some of us have responsibilities to the clan, unless you've forgotten that I am the High Wizard and we are nearly at war with the Gawo Clan.”

  The Gawo were the nearest neighbors to the Chonda, and they had been warring with them off and on since before the baojendari left Tengba Ren to come to Okoro.

  While Noboro stalked around shaking his head in frustration, Turesobei muttered a chant to himself, “Please take me with you. Please take me with you.”

  The water boiled and Kahenan slowly poured it into the cups. They sat in silence until Kahenan stirred his tea. “Son, do not let your relationship with him end up like ours. Sobei deserves better than that.

  “I know he is different and not at all like a regular son, and that makes him strange to you. But he cannot help it. He is special and unique to the clan. Most parents would feel twice as blessed to have him.”

  Turesobei nearly bit off his tongue trying to keep quiet. Strange and not like a regular son? What the heck did that mean?!

  “I know, I know. I do love him, you know.”

  Kahenan sipped his tea, released the long sigh he always made after the first sip, and then said, “I did wrong with you, Noboro. Do not repeat my mistakes. It is bad enough that you are never home. Did you not see how excited he was to see you and how crushed when you told him you were not staying?”

  Noboro stared down into his cup. Turesobei could imagine his father's lips quavering with warring emotions and ideas. “It's going to be dangerous. Very dangerous. Probably deadly.”

  “He has to face danger eventually. He can handle himself. I am certain of that.”

  Noboro released a deep breath. “Will King Chonda allow it?”

  “He will when I explain it to him. He trusts me.”

  “Well, his mother certainly won't like it.”

  “His mother does not like anything the two of us do. She will get over it. She needs to get used to Turesobei growing up. No son should be treated the way she treats him, and he is no ordinary boy.”

  “Fine then. I'll give it a try if you think that it's wise, but he'd best carry his own weight and not get me into more trouble.”

  Turesobei almost yelled out, “I won't!” But he managed not to.

  “He is fifteen, not seven,” Grandfather Kahenan said. “I have trained him for nine years now. He can take care of himself. He is a better student than I ever was, not as reckless either. Obviously, he is a far greater talent. And you are going to need someone who knows magic anyway.”

  Turesobei was astounded. He couldn't imagine his grandfather not being a better student than himself. Or obviously less talented! Kahenan rarely praised his abilities.

  “If you say so,” Noboro said. “I certainly didn't have your trust when I was fifteen.”

  “For good reason.”

  They stared at each other until Noboro laughed. “Hah! That's true enough!” After Grandfather Kahenan's laughter quieted, Noboro said, “It really is going to be dangerous. I'm being followed. But it's more than just another treasure hunter.”

  “Or a jealous husband?”

  “Gods! I hope I haven't attracted another one of those.”

  Turesobei didn't know what to think about that. His head was already full of mysteries and revelations gathered over the last few minutes.

  Kahenan tsked and shook his head. “Well, Sobei can take care of himself, like I said. Just take a couple of extra guards with you. He needs to face a little danger sometime or he will never be ready.”

  “You should know,” Noboro said, “that I stole the key from a Keshuno spy who had stolen it from the new shrine. So I may have Keshuno agents after me as well as cultists. Perhaps a few treasure hunters, too. I came home for your advice and a dozen trustworthy soldiers.”

  The Keshuno were a dark-striped offshoot of the zaboko race. They were a proud and deadly people that everyone feared, even other zaboko. They possessed strange powers given them by their dragon goddess, Makazi Keshuno. Never subjugated, they lived in the harsh, mountainous rainforests of southern Okoro, a land to which few others had ever ventured. That the Keshuno were involved made Turesobei doubt, though only for a moment, whether he wanted to go.

  “Ah.” Grandfather Kahenan drained his cup and set it onto the table. For a few minutes he stroked his braided beard. “If you think that it is too risky for Turesobei to go, then perhaps another time. But I do think he can handle it. Even if there are Keshuno involved.”

  “No, you're right, I do need to spend some time with the boy. And I do need a wizard, someone I can trust, too. I was going to ask you who I should hire.”

  “Hire no wizard with this, Boro. I do not know a single wizard, even another from our own clan, that you could trust with such an object of power. And the clan certainly cannot spare the extras we have. Not right now.”

  Kahenan gathered the teacups, rinsed them, and put them away. “When you have the heart, what then?”

  “I'll bring it back here and add it to our collection.”

  “The wisest course would be to simply keep the key here and guard it.”

  Noboro laughed gently. “You know I have to get into the vault and see the heart. I've worked on this for too long. Besides, it is better for us to guard it now that everyone is interested. Eventually someone who can open the vault without the key may find it. Keshuno magic may open it where yours failed.”

  Grandfather Kahenan grunted irritably and stood. He moved to the other side of the room and Noboro followed him. Kahenan opened a chest on the floor and lifted something from it, perhaps a scroll. He handed it to Noboro and spoke, but Turesobei couldn't hear what his grandfather whispered. All he could hear now was the pouring rain. He crept around the edge of the building as quietly as he could, trying to get closer to them.

  Turesobei turned the corner, and in between the pavilion and two large bushes he saw a shadow darker than the night. Thinking it might be a man, he decided to steal closer to get a better look.

  Two steps later, his foot made a sloshing sound in the mud and the shadow turned toward him.

  Chapter Nine

  For a brief second Turesobei saw baojendari eyes and skin within a dark hood. The figure wore a black bodysuit like those worn by qen
gai assassins, an organization of ruthless paid killers who operated throughout Okoro.

  A hand flashed toward him, and Turesobei’s training kicked in. He immediately dove to the ground and a knife whistled through the air above him.

  Turesobei rolled to his feet and drew the dagger he always kept in a sheathe on his belt. But before he could launch toward his attacker, something tiny and sharp struck him right over his collarbone and near to his neck.

  The figure then turned and ran. Turesobei knew he had only a moment to decide what he must do. It might be the last moment of his life. A wave of vertigo and nausea swept through him. His limbs weakened. He shouted a warning as he slumped to the ground: “Spy!” he yelled. “Sound the alarms!”

  With clumsy fingers, as if his hand had fallen asleep, he found the inch-long dart that had struck him. He hoped he had made his father and grandfather proud.

  Turesobei jerked the dart free and released the enhanced-senses and darksight spells. As everything went dark around him, he calmly, if stutteringly, chanted the spell of summer healing over the wound. A stuttered spell was rarely successful, but he did the best he could.

  His last sensations were of the comforting presence of his kavaru and the voices of a thousand forgotten friends.

  Chapter Ten

  Once again a hand shook him awake gently. Turesobei felt a cold, wet cloth being dabbed on his forehead. His head ached, and he felt cold and hot all at once, as if he had a fever. Probably he did. He lay within a pile of blankets on the pavilion floor. Grandfather Kahenan leaned over him and smiled.

  “How do you feel?”

  Turesobei stirred and pain shot through his chest, neck, and right shoulder. “Ow!”

  “Sorry. I am afraid that was my doing. The anti-toxin spell is not pleasant. Of course, you should have died before I reached you. Did you cast a healing?”

  “I managed a small one.”

  “Well, it must have slowed the poison enough, eh? As it was, I barely reached you in time. A bigger dose of poison would have killed you regardless. You gave us quite a scare. I trust you’ll be more careful in the future. And that you’ll refrain from spying on people as well.”