Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

by Hayden, David Alastair

  “I’ve got to face my fear, huh?”

  “You knew that already, master. You know all this. You’re just scared.”

  “I’ve got good reason to be.”

  “There’s no shame in fear, master. Only in letting fear beat you. You need to tackle the storm energies. You’re going to have to sooner or later. Besides, what if Iniru is in big trouble and needs help? You might need all that power.”

  Lu Bei was irritatingly correct. Turesobei was exhausted. Afraid. Worried. The storm energy boiled inside of him, and he kept ignoring it. He couldn’t keep going like this.

  “You’re right. It’s time for me to take action.”

  Turesobei went to Kahenan. “I’m taking today off from wizardry to work on my weapons forms with Master Kilono. I owe him. And tomorrow … maybe we can do the summoning again?”

  Kahenan smiled. “Good idea.”

  “Then I’m going to try the storm spells you suggested. I’m tired of being afraid of this power in me.”

  “That is wise.”

  * * *

  Arms Master Kilono delightedly made Turesobei suffer … for hours. But that was what he wanted. Physical exhaustion. Not mental. As the sun set, he went home, feet dragging. But he didn’t stop. He cleaned his workroom. A task only a wizard could do himself. Every time he thought of the letter, he blocked it out. All he had to do was get himself ready in case she needed him.

  At midnight he cast a sleep spell on himself. He woke at sunset and later that evening they did the summoning again. This time, the procedure went perfectly. The demon said nothing about Iniru, and he didn’t ask.

  * * *

  By tradition, Tenth Day was a day of rest among the Chonda, so the smaller Inner Ekaran training grounds were empty. The sun loomed high overhead, peeking through gray clouds that threatened more of the rain that had pounded the town’s slate roofs all through the night. Turesobei trudged across the muddy ground, with his backpack slung over his shoulder, a pouch of spell strips on his belt, and Chonda Lu’s grimoire in hand.

  He placed his pack on a bench in the middle of the field. Lu Bei transformed but stayed inside the pack so no one would see him.

  “Master, are you going to try one of Master’s spells?”

  “Not yet.”

  Turesobei pulled out a bamboo strip with the inscription for the spell of heaven’s wrath. He rubbed his thumb across the strip’s edge, nervously. It was a difficult spell that no wizard could cast without an inscription. Even then, few used heaven’s wrath, since it drained so much internal kenja. Typically, it was a once and done for the day kind of spell.

  “I can do this. The storm kenja won’t change me. I’ve gotta conquer my fear. For myself. For Iniru.”

  “That’s the spirit, master!”

  Across the field stood a row of man-shaped archery targets made of canvas and straw. With the spell strip tucked between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, Turesobei chanted. His brow furrowed. A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead as he opened the channel to the storm sigil. It was like having a tiny room within his soul, and he was unlocking the door. Turesobei opened the door only a few inches. He attuned the spell and spoke the activation command.

  Storm kenja surged out from the mark on his cheek. Some pooled there naturally, but the mark also pulled in storm energy from the atmosphere. A crackling thunderbolt shot out from the spell strip, cut across the field, and incinerated not only the target dummy he had aimed at, but the two to either side as well.

  The blast plowed him backward. The resulting thunderclap rattled every window in Ekaran. Turesobei lay unconscious in the mud and dreamed he was unfurling wings of cloud and soaring high above. He came to when a spark shot out of his backpack and singed his nose.

  Bits of burning straw and canvas fluttered through the air. Where the dummies had stood was now a shallow crater. He had expected a strong effort from the surge of energy, but nothing like this.

  From inside the pack, Lu Bei pumped his fists.

  “Woo woo! Holy Sun Father! Master, that’s your best casting of heaven’s wrath ever!”

  Turesobei replied, panting, his eyes wide. “You’re confusing me with Chonda Lu again. I’ve only cast that spell twice before.”

  “You may need to dial it back a bit next time, master. Unless you really want to blow away something.”

  “I feel … okay. Wasn’t even half as tiring as it should have been. But I did flash on being a storm dragon during casting. And afterward, I fell completely into the dream. If you hadn’t woken me …”

  The patter of denekon claws rasped on the cobbles. A troop of twelve riders led by Prince Chien raced toward the practice field. Lu Bei returned to diary form. The riders pulled to a stop, their lizard mounts panting out their purple tongues.

  Turesobei bowed. “Prince Chien, forgive me for causing such a disturbance. If I had thought the spell would go that way, I would have warned you.”

  The prince stroked his luxurious mustache and glanced between Turesobei and the crater at the other end of the field.

  “You did that?”

  “A new spell attempt, and this mark … I’ve got a lot more storm power than I thought. All under control, though. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m glad you’re on our side. That thunderclap was tremendous.” With a grin like he’d just gotten a birthday present, Prince Chien turned to one of his companions and said, “I think we’ve found the weapon we need against the Gawo. They may outnumber us four to one, but we’ve got Turesobei!”

  “Wait — Four to one? Not three to one?”

  “They forged an alliance with the Iruti. Our enemies are gathering against us once again. Won’t be like when my great-grandfather fought them all off. We lost too many men then. Our numbers shrink. The Gawo increase.”

  “So you do think war is coming?”

  “In six months. Possibly nine. They hate our prestige and covet our wealth. They won’t rest until they destroy us. But there’s hope still. Keep up the good work. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like what you did, except in legends. We’re going to be depending on you!” He held up his arm to show off the bracelet with the demon bound inside. “Thank you for this.”

  “You are welcome, my lord.”

  “We’ll be on our way then. We need to let all the guards know everything’s okay out here. Carry on.”

  Turesobei kicked his toes through the mud as he headed back toward the bench. “Thanks,” he muttered under his breath. “No pressure. Just up to me to save the entire clan.”

  Grandfather Kahenan hustled to the far end of the field as Prince Chien rode away. Turesobei sat on the bench and caught his breath. His mind raced with worries. What if he wasn’t enough? The clan would be doomed. The Gawo and their alliance would kill everyone and burn Ekaran to the ground. They had warred with the Chonda for four centuries. Possibly longer. Fighting them off got harder each time.

  Kahenan examined the blast crater and then sat next to Turesobei.

  “If you were finally going to try the storm spells, you should have brought me along.”

  “I — I needed to do this on my own. I was afraid if I unleashed the storm dragon energies they’d overtake me and I’d become the Storm Dragon myself, maybe explode … I don’t know.”

  “Perhaps if you wanted to become the dragon you could. But I can’t imagine you’d accidentally be overwhelmed by these forces.”

  It happened in his nightmares all the time.

  Kahenan pointed to Chonda Lu’s grimoire.

  “Are you going to try the Kaiaru version of heaven’s wrath?”

  Turesobei nodded. “I don’t think it will work. But I hope it does, since the future of the clan depends on me bailing us all out.”

  “I see Prince Chien did his best to pick up your spirits.”

  “He hinted we’re doomed unless I do something spectacular, and even that might not be enough.”

  “Well, he is probably right.”

  �
�Great.”

  “Get going.”

  He examined the spell yet again in Chonda Lu’s grimoire, even though he had already memorized the runic patterns and knew the words and gestures, what few there were, by heart. No energy channels. An abbreviated casting. Pretty much impossible. But what the heck.

  “I was thinking with a storm spell, maybe it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t have a channel for the storm kenja in the casting, since it’s linked to my internal kenja now.”

  “My thinking as well.”

  Turesobei set the book aside. Lu Bei returned and peeked out of the pack. Turesobei aimed at the next dummy over. He didn’t want to be here when Kilono got to the field tomorrow and found his targets blown to pieces.

  Turesobei pulled out the spell strip for this version and cast the spell. The activation didn’t feel right. The storm energy spiked. He saw a flash of clouds and the ground far below. A spark flew off the strip and fizzled a few feet away. A massive amount of energy had resulted in almost nothing. With more confidence, he tried a second time. A large spark zipped halfway to the dummy then dissipated. Starting to weaken, he sat down to catch his breath.

  “I’ve only got one more strip.”

  Kahenan leaned forward. “Maybe if you took longer to—”

  “There’s only one thing that will make that spell work,” said Lu Bei, interrupting. “You must embrace the spirit of Chonda Lu. From the kavaru. It’s not enough to use his book and his kavaru. You must be Chonda Lu.”

  “For the thousandth time, I am not Chonda Lu. I will never be Chonda Lu.”

  “But you can imagine yourself being Chonda Lu. Try to be Chonda Lu as you speak the spell and call the storm energy.”

  Grandfather Kahenan coughed but said nothing. Turesobei closed his eyes and concentrated on the kavaru. He called on the storm energies while imagining being Chonda Lu and chanting and picturing runes in his mind. Wizardry was never easy, and this was worse than normal.

  Halfway through the spell, his knees buckled. The faces and voices of people he’d never met skittered through his mind. His eyes fluttered. Clouds streamed by him. Fields and cities, forests and mountains passed beneath him. The kavaru was a fire burning against his chest.

  He woke in a patch of scorched grass. Across the field the target and several others had been incinerated and another, even larger, crater scarred the ground.

  Grandfather Kahenan lay nearby, covered in mud, his emerald robe and braided beard singed. A burned-out spell strip turned to dust is in his hand. He groaned and sat up.

  Unharmed, Lu Bei flew back down, Turesobei’s pack in hand. He put the pack down and stamped out the places that were smoldering. The bench was shattered into a half-dozen fragments.

  “What in Torment happened? I blacked out and …”

  “You did it!” Lu Bei cried out.

  Grandfather Kahenan laughed. “You cast a Kaiaru spell, Sobei! In all my years, I never thought I would see such a thing.”

  “Well I didn’t see it. How did I finish the spell?”

  “You kept speaking as you went down,” Lu Bei said. “You finished before you hit. It was messy. You had no control because you were hardly conscious. You finished on instinct alone.”

  “It's not going to be much use, huh? Too dangerous. It’s like when you say things to me that I can’t hear and I pass out. No control. But I guess if things are bad enough with the Gawo …”

  “Sometimes desperate measures are necessary.” Kahenan stood, shakily. “If anything, the business with the Storm Cult taught you that. We do what we must sometimes, Sobei. That is our job as High Wizards.”

  “Were you casting a shield spell while I did heaven’s wrath?”

  Kahenan winked. “Lesson number one.”

  “A wizard must always be prepared,” Turesobei recited.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, Enashoma waited for him outside the High Wizard’s Tower. She wore an expensive, three-layered, blue dress decorated with white lilies. Turesobei frowned. Not because she was chatting with the pair of zaboko guards stationed outside, which she always did, even though she wasn’t supposed to. Like Grandfather Kahenan, Turesobei didn’t care about most baojendari social taboos. He was frowning because he had clearly missed something. Hopefully not something important.

  “Why are you here and so dressed up? I was just coming over for my weekly tea with Mom.”

  “Change of plans. We’re having tea with Awasa and her mother at their house. Mother will meet us there.”

  Turesobei groaned and ran his hands over his outer robe. His tea-with-mother attire wasn’t formal. “I’m not dressed for it.”

  “You look well enough. Unless you’re just nervous and want to make a good impression on Awasa.”

  “She is my intended. And —”

  “You’ve been exchanging notes. I know.” She winked at him. “You may be pining over Iniru but you haven’t abandoned all your options.”

  “Have you been reading them?!”

  Enashoma laughed. “Should I have?”

  “No. They’re lame. We don’t know what to say to each other. We have nothing in common. Me and you, we grew up together. We share common experiences. You know what life is like in the tower … Grandfather … magic. You’ve got your origami animation brush. You get magic. Awasa knows nothing about what my life is like.”

  “Maybe you should try telling her?”

  “I tried but she’s not interested. Anyway, she doesn’t understand. Like it’s not real to her.”

  “She’s sheltered. Mom can only shelter me so much. Not that I’ve ever really done anything. I wish …” She sighed. “The world’s not real to Awasa because all she knows is Ekaran. She’s never even been as far as Dakanuru or Batsa. At least I’ve been to Batsa … once.”

  They walked along the gravel path that led through Inner Ekaran, passing the most prestigious estates of the Chonda aristocracy. Turesobei glanced over at Enashoma. She was smiling absentmindedly but also fidgeting with her hands.

  “What’s up with you? You’re smiling like an idiot and all jittery like a hummingbird.”

  “Nothing. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Why are you coming? You hate Awasa.”

  “I don’t hate her.”

  “You can’t stand her.”

  “I’m coming because she will be my sister-in-law one day and because Mother thinks I need to attend more social functions. Practice, you know?”

  Turesobei dropped it. But she was acting far too happy to be doing something their mother wanted her to do. He hoped she wasn’t going to try to sabotage the event.

  “Grandfather tells me Mother set up a meeting with potential suitors for you.”

  Enashoma’s smile disappeared. She furrowed her brow and clenched her jaws. “I’ve become a hot commodity because of your recent fame. Thanks for that. It’s like I’m a denekon up for auction. I tried to convince her to wait until I’m of age, and then let suitors visit. That I don’t need an arrangement.”

  “You get a better deal on the dowry if you lock one in now. And Mother thinks I may become a scandal any day. You know how she is. She’d love to be living in one of these estates.”

  “I will not be sold to the highest bidder. I don’t know how, but I’m going to get out of this. Look at Awasa and her mother, at our mother. I don’t want to end up like them.”

  “You’ve got too much of our dad in you.”

  “I guess so, but I’m not kidding. I will get out of here and live my life as I choose. Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter Eight

  High walls separated the Kobarai Estate from its neighbors. Like the rest of the aristocratic estates within the Jade Ward of Inner Ekaran, they had room for a courtyard, a garden, a stable, and a cottage for any servants that didn’t live in the zaboko wards in Outer Ekaran. The wealthiest family in the Chonda Clan, the Kobarai had the biggest and best of everything. They lacked only the prestige of the ruling Chonda family.

&n
bsp; Turesobei had grown up in an estate half this size in the Copper Ward. Though Kahenan’s son, Noboro had lacked the talent to become the next high wizard and couldn’t inherit the tower. The High Wizard’s Tower was part of the Goshawk’s Ward, which included the Palace. An expansive garden and a lake lay between the High Wizard’s Tower and the Palatial Estate.

  Zaiporo, a young zaboko guard, opened the gate. He was short but broad shouldered. According to Turesobei’s mother’s servants Shurada and Imi, he was strikingly handsome. Turesobei had listened to them discuss Zaiporo’s assets at length. Despite being fifteen, Zaiporo guarded the Kobarai’s eldest child, Lady Awasa. He was the same age as Turesobei, but every man in his family had held this post, for generations, and he was the last one left. Far more formal and somber than Turesobei’s family, the Kobarai refused to break with tradition.

  Marumi, Awasa’s zaboko handmaiden, stood beside Zaiporo. Turesobei saw them every time he saw Awasa because she couldn’t leave her family estate without them going with her. Even at home, both were always nearby.

  Marumi bowed. “My apologies, my lord and my lady, but the other servants are engaged in preparing tea or serving his lordship with his guests. We are stretched thin with two events on the same day.”

  If only Turesobei could attend that event instead. Lord Kobarai served as head of the Council of Commerce. They would be discussing important matters. On the other hand, he didn’t actually like being around overbearing Lord Kobarai.

  Zaiporo also bowed. “Greetings, Lord Turesobei. Lady Enashoma, you look lovely today. Violet is my favorite color.”

  “Last time we were here, I wore a different dress, and you said blue was your favorite.” She giggled. “I’m not sure you know.”

  Zaiporo muttered softly, “You make every color beautiful, dear lady.”

  Was Enashoma blushing? How strange.