Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

by Hayden, David Alastair

  “I don’t need to leave Ekaran to be content. I just want to be home.”

  “We might could arrange something at Ibintai.”

  “I will stay with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Oh yes I do. You were right. If I go back now, alone, I’ll be ruined.”

  “If you had stayed you could have easily had the arrangement annulled and chosen another.”

  “Well, I should have thought of that,” she said nastily. She stretched out into the spot she had spent an hour clearing and cleaning. “I’m going to sleep now.”

  * * *

  Dawn. The lake was dark and still; the air cold; the forest silent. Turesobei crouched among a stand of shrubs, waiting. A young buck and three does eased toward the lake.

  “So sorry for this, my friend,” he murmured. “It’s not sporting.”

  He intoned the spell of beasts becalmed.

  The deer whipped their heads around as Turesobei stepped out. The buck looked into his eyes and froze. The does bounded away. Maintaining eye contact made the spell easier. He liked to keep spells easy whenever possible, and this was going to get difficult in a second.

  Knife drawn, Zaiporo crept out from hiding and closed in on the deer. The buck’s muscles tensed as it tried to break free. Turesobei countered and forced the buck to relax. Onudaka said if the animal was tense when it died, the meat tasted bad and was tough.

  Zaiporo slit the deer’s throat; it slumped and died. They dragged the buck back and hung it up from a tree limb.

  Zaiporo began to cut. “Never hunted with magic before.”

  “I didn’t expect to need to. I thought I had enough supplies. Didn’t bring a bow because I’m not much of an archer.”

  “I’m terrible with a bow, too. My training focused on close combat.”

  The girls returned from gathering wild turnips Turesobei had spotted on their way in. He’d seen some berries and mushrooms that looked good, but he wasn’t sure if they were safe. Wild turnips, he knew. Iniru loved them. She had made him and Onudaka suffer through them when they had stopped over in Port Changaku on the way back from Wakaro. All the stuff she could have bought in the restaurant using his money, and that was what she had wanted to go with her squid.

  Enashoma saw the deer, set down the canteens, and threw a hand over her mouth. “Oh! That’s terrible.”

  Awasa turned away. “I think I’m going to be sick. How could you do that?”

  “Well I don’t like doing it,” Turesobei said, “but we have to eat and I didn’t bring enough rations for everybody. You eat meat all the time, anyway.”

  “But I never see it like this.”

  “Welcome to the wild world outside civilization. Both of you are going to watch and learn. You never know when it could be important. Something might happen to me or Zaiporo and you could be stranded in the wilderness without food.”

  “How did you kill it?” Enashoma asked. “We don’t have a bow or a spear. And when did you become an expert on carving up dead animals? You never go hunting.”

  “Killed it using magic. And I did have to do this once as part of basic training when I was thirteen. And I saw Iniru and Onudaka do it.”

  “So you don’t really know what you’re doing!” said Awasa.

  “No worry,” said Zaiporo. “I may not be a hunter, but I’ve done this many times. My mother butchers game for hunters to make extra money. I’ve been helping her since I was young.”

  Awasa frowned. “You never mentioned that before.”

  “When have you ever asked me anything about my life? You probably didn’t even know I had a mother.”

  “I knew you must have.”

  “For the sake of the gods,” Zaiporo cursed.

  They skinned the deer. Enashoma frequently turned her head. Awasa endured bravely until they began pulling out the guts. She ran away and threw up. They waited, but she wouldn’t come back.

  “If it comes to it, I will starve!” she yelled.

  They finished the deer. Enashoma watched as best as she could and asked questions despite her nausea. Turesobei washed up and clapped her on the shoulder.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “I don’t know why. I didn’t handle it well.”

  “You did as well as most of the boys in basic training, better than a few, in fact.”

  Turesobei cast the spell of preservation on all the meat except a piece they cooked over their fire for breakfast. They wouldn’t take time to stop for lunch. Enashoma tried, but couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Awasa refused. They shared the last of the bread and some cheese.

  “This meat should last us a while,” Turesobei said.

  Zaiporo grinned. “A long while if the two of them won’t eat any.”

  “They’ll eat some in a day or two,” he replied. “You’ll see. Let’s get the rest packed up. I’ve got some spare canvas.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  For the next two days, Awasa complained constantly about how sore she was.

  “Can’t we rest?” she would ask. “Please? Just for an hour. We’re riding from dawn to dusk and later.”

  “Iniru needs me,” Turesobei replied each time.

  “The denekon surely need rest.”

  “The mounts are doing fine.”

  Denekon were hardy creatures. They could sustain a walk for twelve hours each day for a week before tiring. Only if they moved them into a jog or sprint would they tire out quickly.

  By the end of the second day, Enashoma complained too, though she still got mad every time Awasa did. Even Zaiporo grumbled a few times.

  “How come you’re not complaining?” Awasa griped at Turesobei.

  He shrugged and lied, “Guess I’m tougher than you lot.”

  All three of his companions shot him dirty looks. He turned his head and grinned. While they had slept last night, he’d cast the spell of muscles’ ease on his legs. It was a ridiculously complex spell he’d learned last month, though it didn’t require much kenja. Magic was like that. Just because something seemed simple to achieve didn’t mean the spell would be easy or cheap to cast.

  Lu Bei popped out of the pack, hovered beside Enashoma, and whispered in her ear.

  “You’re using magic!” she yelled at him.

  “Lu Bei, you have no loyalty,” Turesobei said.

  “Sorry, master. Not fair to Lady Shoma.”

  He zipped up into the air and clamped both hands over his mouth to hide his laughter.

  “I’ll get you for this!” Turesobei shouted.

  “You’ve got a spell that can make my muscles stop hurting?!” Shoma said.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Quit holding out!”

  “I demand you use it on me,” said Awasa, “right now. My inner thighs are killing me!”

  Turesobei gulped. His face burned all over, as hot as the sigil when active. “No! I can’t.” Think of something else.

  “At least do it for me,” Enashoma said. “I’m your sister. And my butt is so sore.”

  “No! That’s worse!”

  “What? Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “He’s a jerk is what,” Awasa said. “He can’t be bothered to help us.”

  Zaiporo roared out a deep laugh. “Oh, I get it. You have to touch the muscles don’t you?”

  Turesobei nodded. A high-pitched giggle erupted over their heads. Zaiporo kept laughing. A horrified look swept across Shoma’s face, then she began to laugh too. Awasa turned scarlet and wouldn’t look at him for hours.

  * * *

  While the others set up camp, Turesobei chose a quiet spot and pulled out his spell strips. He laid them out and scanned them with his kenja-sight, checking for leaks. As long as no energy was escaping, he wouldn’t need to renew them for three more weeks.

  Footsteps. “Ugh,” said Awasa. “That’s super creepy when you do … what are you doing with your eyes anyway?”

  So much for peace.

 
“It’s called kenja-sight. I use it to see energy pathways, auras, that sort of thing. I’m looking for leaks in my spell strips. The ink and bamboo can’t hold the magic forever.”

  “Can you read my aura? What color is it?”

  “Your aura is white and crimson, like bone and blood.”

  “Yuck. What does that mean?”

  “You have an affinity for air and fire energies, same as me. Other subtle colors are mixed in, weaving in out of your spirit points. Crimson means you’re passionate, and white … I forget. Some wizards in Batsa specialize in such things.”

  She crouched beside him. “So what are these different spells?”

  “This is the spell of heaven’s wrath, the one I used against the Gawo spies. These three hold the spell of prodigious jumping, which lets me jump the height of three men. The spell of summer healing. The spell of the fog cloud.” He named off a few others.

  “So is it difficult to make the spell strips?”

  “It’s easier for me than most. It’s just time consuming and takes a lot of concentration.”

  “Like knitting? That I understand.”

  “I guess so. But if you make an error casting you have to start over. You can’t back up. And you have to make the bamboo strips, so it’s like making your own yarn, too.” He pointed to the copper bracelets she wore. “You made those, didn’t you?”

  “How did you know? Because I knit? Do they look bad?”

  “No. Just a guess. I noticed your kenja coiling strongly around them.” The spell strips all looked fine. He dropped his kenja sight. “Did you need something?”

  “I — I want to understand what you do. As best as I can. I should have tried before. But if one day we’re going to be … I mean if …” She stood. “You can tell me more later. Maybe. Sorry I bothered you.”

  She walked away. Turesobei shook his head. That girl was a lot of work.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ibintai, the second-largest city in Tikaso Province, sprawled across the valley below them. He guessed it was about a third the size of Ekaran. The province’s glory days had faded when its mines started running out of ore a century ago. Though friendly with the Chonda, they remained neutral, thinking they couldn’t afford to stand up to the Gawo Coalition. As if they wouldn’t be next if the Chonda fell. Maybe they thought the High King in Batsa would intervene for them. But if he would do nothing to stop the Gawo from attacking the Chonda, Turesobei didn’t see what hope Tikaso had.

  “I’m going in. Zaiporo, you stay here and guard the girls.”

  “Let us come with you,” Enashoma said.

  “Too conspicuous. Hopefully I won’t cause a stir by myself.”

  “Don’t forget I need shoes,” Awasa said. “Good ones. Something pretty.”

  “Pretty? Do you think hiking shoes will be pretty? Especially in a frontier town? You’ll be lucky if I can find something close to the right size for you.”

  Turesobei cast a minor glamour to hide the storm sigil and tucked his kavaru under his shirt. He rode into town, leading the second denekon along with him for carrying supplies. Being a lone teenager not seen here before, he got some inquisitive looks, but no one stopped him. He had intended to investigate whether he could dump Awasa here, but once he was in the city, the plan seemed too risky. He would have to leave her with nobles, possibly a magistrate, and they would ask questions and might identify him. He figured it was safer to keep putting up with her … for now.

  Turesobei entered Ibintai’s only armory, adjacent to the blacksmith. He purchased two staffs shod with iron on each end and two good daggers. The man took Turesobei’s money and asked no questions.

  “Got a bowyer?”

  “House next door has the best prices.”

  He knocked on the door and a humpbacked old lady asked him what he needed. “Oh, come on in, my dear.” She led him through her main room, past her kitchen, and into her bedroom. Bows were hung all over the wall. Quivers full of arrows lay piled on the floor.

  He glanced about in confusion. “You don’t have a shop or workroom?”

  “I’m retired. Clearing out my stock. Business is slow. Any bow you like, three jade.”

  A great price, especially for the longbows. But he didn’t need one of those. He bought two short bows and four quivers filled with arrows. The girls were going to get archery lessons.

  A supply store was open on the other side of town. It was the only one they had, but it was twice the size of those in Ekaran. He went in and glanced at the stock behind the counter. It seemed like he could get most everything he needed here.

  One shopkeeper stood behind the counter. The other was to the side of the customer area, fitting a young zaboko man into new boots. A tracker, judging from his worn green-and-gray, patched cloak and leather britches. He was built like a stump with thick, corded arms like tree roots. His spear, the head of which was sheathed, leaned against the wall. The haft bore dozens of nicks. Bite marks? What did this guy hunt?

  The second shopkeeper, a baojendari man with a bruise on his forehead and a rasp in his voice, asked Turesobei if he needed anything.

  “A two-man tent, a month of basic trail rations, hiking boots for two girls ….” He pulled out an outline he’d made of their feet on a sheet of paper to size them. “A canvas bag, thirty feet of rope, two rain cloaks, two blankets, two canteens, a small shirt, and a small pair of riding britches.”

  He eyed the saddles and wished he could afford two more denekon. But he hadn’t brought that much jade.

  “Lot of stuff you’re getting there, kid,” said the shopkeeper. “You sure you got the money?”

  He patted his pouch of jade. “Just enough, if your prices are fair.”

  “They’re fair or I’ll burn in Torment.” Yeah, right. “Where’s your father?”

  “With my family. We were on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Pimisu. We lost our supplies to bandits. My father was injured and he sent me in to get some things. Lucky they didn’t find the money. This is just about the last of it. We had meant it to be a donation to the shrine.”

  “Your father okay? Do you need a surgeon? I know one.”

  “Just hobbled and a bit dazed. He’ll recover.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Batsa.”

  The tracker watched him with deep golden eyes. He’d never before seen a zaboko with eyes almost like those of a k’chasan. His face held a mass of scars, like a panther had torn into him. Turesobei nodded at him confidently. As confidently as he could manage, anyway. The tracker nodded back and turned to the shopkeeper helping him.

  “I need one size bigger,” he growled.

  “That’s the biggest we carry. You need the shoemaker. We only carry some of his surplus.”

  “Don’t have the time. These’ll have to do. Can I get a shirt and a cloak?”

  The shopkeeper piled Turesobei’s items on the counter. He picked up the blankets and canvas bag.

  The tracker stepped over and took up the rope. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  “Um … thanks.”

  They took the supplies out to Turesobei’s denekon. Scars crisscrossed the man’s muscled arms. No wonder they had reminded him of tree roots from a distance.

  “They didn’t steal the mounts?” the tracker asked.

  “These two panicked and got away. We found them later.”

  “Do you need a guide? I’m an expert tracker. Two jade for a week.”

  “You’d have to arrange that with my father. He told me to only spend the money on supplies.”

  They finished loading the denekon and Turesobei paid the shopkeeper what was hardly a fair price. He didn’t bother negotiating. A happy shopkeeper was less likely to wag his tongue.

  “Thanks for the help …”

  The tracker bowed. “Hakamoro, my lord.”

  “Noboro,” Turesobei replied, using his father’s name since it was the first name he could think of.

  Turesobei rode away. A league outsid
e the town, he sighed with relief. No one had recognized him. There were no Chonda scouts here looking for them. Not that he had expected any, given he had a good lead and the clan wouldn’t know which direction he’d headed in.

  The sound of a denekon lumbering through the woods brought him around. He drew his sword. The tracker, Hakamoro, rode into view. Turesobei sheathed the sword — he didn’t want to show the white-steel blade. He drew a spell strip.

  The tracker pulled the denekon into a walk.

  “I’m bored. No one’s hiring me out right now, and I need to get home to Plum Village. If your father won’t pay me, it’s okay. I’ll go with you for free. It will be pleasant to have some company along the way.”

  “It’s really—”

  His scarred lips peeled apart into a grin. Half of his teeth were broken, a few missing. “I insist.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Zaiporo and the girls waited on a hill to the west. Turesobei turned onto a woodland trail heading south.

  “Noble?” Hakamoro asked.

  “What? Oh. Minor aristocracy. Nothing special.” Needed to change the subject fast. The tracker looked like he was only maybe twenty years old. “You seem young to be a tracker out by yourself. I thought you were much older until you got close.”

  “The scars make me look old,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. They’re part of who I am.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “Mauled by a beast.” Hakamoro grinned. “Nothing special.”

  Well, that was that. Nothing more to learn and he didn’t trust him. Here was as good a place as any. They were well out of sight of Ibintai. He pulled up on the reins.

  Hakamoro stopped beside him. “What is it?”

  “I’m very sorry to do this to you.”

  Turesobei flicked the spell strip out between his fingers and uttered the command in a vertigo-inducing quick-cast. The spell of forceful stunning knocked Hakamoro out of the saddle. It worked best to catch them by surprise. Turesobei dismounted and checked on him. Unconscious. Not permanently harmed, maybe a bruise or two. He’d be out for a few hours and wake up with a nasty headache.