Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3

by Hayden, David Alastair

  “I’m — I’m not Kaiaru.”

  “How odd that you should not know what you are,” the Keeper of Destiny said. “Inatiasharra was given the greatest of honors. He died so that his lord might live, just as others of our people gave of themselves to make Inatiasharra immortal, in those days when our strength failed and war had nearly ruined us. We could save only some of our people, but we saved those few most brilliantly. It is our way. I do not expect you to understand. You reminded Inatiasharra what it was like to live, and thus, he was ready to die. It is as simple as that. And it was necessary. My own life-force is far too precious to spend on events like this that have not been foreseen.”

  The Keeper of Destiny once more gazed up toward Avida, and after a few minutes during which Turesobei didn’t dare move or speak, the Keeper said, “I will allow you to take Fangthorn from the Lower Stacks, if that is your wish. Do you know what you will be facing?”

  “The Earth Dragon Hannya,” Turesobei replied. “Ooloolarra explained it all to me.”

  “I would not blame you for choosing another blessing, Chonda Turesobei. I could give you access to another item. Or allow you and your friends to go free, or to live here at the Library for as long as you wished.”

  Turesobei thought of years of warmth and peace with those he loved, with a million books to study. It was a nice thought. He savored it a moment then shook his head. “I must return to my world. Or die trying.”

  “So be it.” The Keeper of Destiny put his empty hands together and drew them apart. He held an amulet in one hand, and in the other a cord bound to it. “Show this to my children, and they will know that you have my blessing to go into the Lower Stacks to retrieve Fangthorn. Follow the instructions of the Keeper of Scrolls. You will not like the requirements, but they are necessary. And let me, in advance, apologize. Magic always has a price.”

  “I understand. Once I have the sword and have convinced Hannya to aid me, how do I get to the Nexus?”

  “It lies due north of here, at the edge of the world. Hannya can pinpoint the precise location for you.”

  The Keeper pointed outside his dome. “Your enemies have arrived.”

  Turesobei stepped up the glass and saw the yomon led by Awasa approaching, illuminated somehow by an Avida that wasn’t really there.

  “They will not harm us, of course,” said the Keeper of Destiny.

  “How will I get away from the yomon when I leave here?”

  “I leave that up to you,” the Keeper said. “We will not fight them for you.”

  “Why not help me? Why not rid the world of them?”

  “Because it is not in our destiny to do so.”

  “What happens to my companions, if I should fail in retrieving the sword?”

  “I will allow them to leave the Forbidden Library unharmed, or remain if they wish.”

  Turesobei breathed a sigh of relief. At least the others could live on, even if he failed. Perhaps Awasa would leave them be once he was dead.

  “My fetch, Lu Bei —”

  “You had to bargain him to Ooloolarra? And you are wondering if I can help you? I cannot.” The Keeper gazed at Lu Bei. “You need the fetch to fulfill your own destiny. I think you should take him with you. Whatever way you find to do so will not offend me.”

  “There is one other thing. My betrothed, Kurine, she is dying from poison …”

  “I cannot heal her. The poison is too advanced for any magic I possess. There are items in the Lower Stacks that could heal her, but you can take only one item. The rules are the rules. What I can do for her, if you wish, is give you a spell that will place her in perfect stasis. It would halt the spread of the venom’s effects. If you can then get her to another world, perhaps there you can find a cure.”

  “Thank you,” Turesobei said, relieved he wouldn’t have to decide between a cure for Kurine or the sword that could get them all home.

  The Keeper of Destiny kissed the amulet and spoke the words of a spell. Violet flames burst around the amulet, then faded away. “Place this on her chest after you show it to my children. It will need a few drops of your blood to activate. No other command is needed. To wake her, merely ask her to do so, again using a drop of your blood.”

  He held out the amulet. “You should go now. I wish you good fortune, Chonda Turesobei.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Turesobei rapped on the door, and the Keeper of Scrolls opened it. Turesobei stepped through, and the Keeper quickly closed the door behind him.

  Turesobei held up the amulet. “The Keeper of the Forested Isles died well. He was brave and true.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” said the Keeper of Scrolls.

  “Your lord is well, and he gave me permission to go to the Lower Stacks.”

  The Keeper of Scrolls examined the amulet. “Then so shall it be.”

  “Can I get some rest first?”

  “No, it must be done now. Go to the catalogue beside the door to the Lower Stacks and select the item you wish to retrieve.”

  “I would like to see my companions before I go.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Tell them to bring Kurine, as well.”

  The Keeper of Scrolls nodded to the nearby Keeper of the Hearth, who hurried off. Turesobei went to the catalogue beside the closet-like structure, and opened the cover. Each page held listing after listing of wondrous objects, named and illustrated. The book was thousands of pages long, but he knew where the item he wanted would be listed. Taking sections between his hands, he flipped until he reached the last page, which showed a dark sword amidst a shadow with flaming eyes. He remembered the nightmares and considered what lay ahead: Hannya, the Earth Dragon, Queen of Flame and Shadow.

  “I have found the item I want. What now?”

  At that moment, his companions shuffled in, rubbing their tired eyes. Motekeru carried Kurine in his arms. One by one, Keepers then stepped out onto the edges of the library’s levels and gazed down.

  “Sobei,” Shoma said with worry. “Does it have to be now?”

  “Apparently so.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t worry. If I die below, you will all be allowed to remain here or leave safely.”

  Zaiporo clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Zai. Look after Shoma if … well, you know.”

  Iniru kissed him full on the lips, warm, eager, and trembling. He tried to savor the moment, to soak it all in to the deepest part of his being. She leaned her head on his shoulder for a few moments, then pushed him away, her face tense as she tried to smile. “Try not to turn into a dragon, okay? Only if you have to.”

  “Only if I have to.”

  “After we get home,” Shoma said, “I forbid you to do anything dangerous again. Ever. I’m sick of watching you almost kill yourself for the rest of us.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll try.”

  Motekeru sat Kurine down carefully, stepped back, and shook his head. “She should not have been moved.”

  “I had you bring her here for a reason,” Turesobei said.

  Kemsu leaned his head down to Kurine’s chest. “She’s barely breathing.”

  Narbenu felt her forehead. “The fever’s gone too far.”

  Turesobei clenched his jaw. “I promised her she’d be well again. I will see it done. I just need to —”

  The Keeper of Scrolls approached and interrupted him. “There is a price to pay before you can enter the Lower Stacks.”

  Turesobei whispered to Iniru, “Bet you a string of pearls that it’s blood.”

  “You must first pay with blood,” the Keeper of Scrolls announced.

  “I win,” he said.

  “I never took the bet,” she whispered back, trying to sound upbeat. “I’m not dumb, you know.”

  The Keeper of Scrolls drew a knife and cut Turesobei’s palm. Relief flooded through Turesobei as the Keeper turned Turesobei’s hand over, allowing the blood to drip. Compared to all that Turesobei had suffered over the last m
onth, that was nothing more than a cat scratch.

  This was actually convenient, in a way. He needed blood to put Kurine in stasis. He knelt beside Kurine, kissed her on the forehead, and placed the amulet on her chest. He squeezed his hand into a fist and let a few drops of blood drip onto the amulet. A golden light shone around her and was absorbed into her skin. She took in one sharp breath, convulsed, and then stopped breathing. Her face looked peaceful, angelic. He opened his kenja-sight. The magic was active. She was preserved.

  “You’ve killed her!” Kemsu snapped.

  “I’ve preserved her. She will remain like this and neither age nor die nor truly live. I will wake her when I have the cure.”

  “And now you must pay with pain,” the Keeper of Scrolls announced impatiently. “You must enter the stacks wounded, humble, and alone.”

  His stomach wrenching, Turesobei stared at him. “You’re joking … right?”

  The Keeper shook his head. “I am sorry, but that is the way the magic of the stacks works. It can be no other way.”

  Turning to his friends, Turesobei said, “Whatever happens, stay calm. Don’t interfere. I’ll be okay.”

  Turesobei followed the Keeper of Scrolls as he went to the codex and dripped Turesobei’s blood from the knife onto the Fangthorn entry. The Keeper placed his palm onto the page, chanted, then turned back to Turesobei, watching him, expectantly.

  “Okay,” Turesobei said, “what do I do n —”

  A burst of flame erupted on Turesobei’s chest, just above his sternum. He screamed and fell to his knees as the flame seared his skin and burned into the bone. The flame went out, but the pain continued, beyond his chest and into every fiber of his body. He fell onto the floor, gasping for breath.

  “You may open the door and go inside now,” the Keeper of Scrolls said.

  Turesobei realized he was crying. Shoma was crying, too. “I’m okay,” he said, but the words tumbled out on instinct. He didn’t want to worry them, but he was anything but okay.

  Heavy footsteps thudded toward him. Motekeru knelt beside him. “Let me help you up, master.”

  Turesobei grabbed onto Motekeru’s arm and stood. He regulated his breathing, trying to reduce the pain.

  Lu Bei threw jabs and hooks as if shadow-boxing. “Go get her, master! Show that dragon who’s boss!”

  The others voiced encouragement, too. But he couldn’t respond. He didn’t have the energy. But he felt their love. That was all that mattered, all that he needed to keep going. To face his death.

  Turesobei limped on his own to the door to the Lower Stacks, his chest afire, his mind and body throbbing with pain. He pushed the door open.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Turesobei stepped down onto a staircase barely illuminated by a single, no doubt magical, lantern hanging near the door. The door boomed shut behind him with the finality of the closing of a burial tomb. Head spinning, he slumped down onto a step. On his chest was a perfect circle of charred flesh with a glowing rune in the center. This was the worst library ever.

  Turesobei shivered uncontrollably, from shock and from the icy cold within the staircase. He gathered his composure. Sitting on the steps hurting and freezing … he was only going to get weaker. No choice but to move on. He lifted the lantern off its hook and held it up to light his way.

  Turesobei trudged, and stumbled, down perhaps a hundred steps … until the staircase ended with a simple door engraved with a black circle punctuated by a crimson eye — shadow and flame — the Mark of the Earth Dragon.

  How did one reach the other artifacts? Some sort of magic, obviously. Perhaps a tunneling spell to pocket dimensions. Ooloolarra had said she built her library on top of the original shrine. This was the only artifact that had to be physically present. While such magic was incredibly powerful, it probably wasn’t beyond what the Keepers were capable of, or a powerful Kaiaru given enough time and knowledge.

  He touched the handle and drew in a breath. Weaponless, no spell strips, his chest scorched, down even into his soul — and he had to face one of the most powerful dragons ever to haunt Okoro. A dragon that believed him to be her nemesis reborn. Sure, Hannya was bound to a sword. But Ooloolarra had said that he’d need to convince Hannya to help him. She had to be willing. Based on his nightmare encounters, Hannya clearly thought she could defeat him when they met. And unfortunately, he was no Kaiaru, even when he was at full strength and prepared for battle.

  He pushed the door open and lifted the lantern.

  The chamber, only slightly larger than Turesobei’s workshop at home, was walled in black granite and littered with the debris of collapsed ornamental cedar beams and rotting mats and tapestries. A polished block of white marble, etched with hundreds of runes, sat on the far side of the chamber. Embedded halfway into the block was an old-fashioned, two-handed longsword with a blade as dark as wrought iron. Runes carved into the blade writhed as if aflame. The pommel held a ruby so dark a crimson that it was nearly black. The dank room smelled faintly of salt, and beyond the weeping, rough-hewn walls, the sea below the ice whispered.

  Hannya herself was nowhere to be seen.

  He stepped inside and set the lantern down. The runes on the blade continued to flicker on their own. He bowed, wincing in pain as the skin and muscles of his chest stretched.

  “My Lady, I, Chonda Turesobei, come before you with a humble heart and ask —”

  A great shadow billowed out from the sword and expanded to fill the entire room, save for a small space around Turesobei. Flaming eyes illuminated a slender snout capped with twin horns. Her breath struck him like fire and ice.

  “Naruwakiru,” said the deep, feminine voice he’d heard in his nightmares. Here, her voice had regal textures and undertones he’d not heard through the Shadowland.

  This was not what he had expected. This was far, far worse. Why hadn’t Ooloolarra told him the Earth Dragon could leave the sword?!

  “I’m not Naruwakiru,” he said quickly. “I’m Chonda Turesobei, a male baojendari wizard who absorbed her power.”

  “You are the Storm Dragon. You are Kaiaru. You are Naruwakiru.”

  “I have her power, yes. And a kavaru, but —”

  “I know why you have come here, but I would never help you return to him. Do you think I’m a fool? No, no, not a fool am I. Do you know what I will do for you? I will teach you a lesson.”

  He wasn’t getting anywhere. Perhaps he should play along. “What am I supposed to learn?”

  “Suffering,” she replied. “You shall know my suffering. You shall know it, and it will ruin you.”

  “I’m sorry for anything Naruwakiru did to you, but I’m not her. I am Chonda Turesobei.”

  Hannya opened wide her gaping jaws, and fell upon him. Not knowing the binding runes on the blade, there was nothing he could do to stop her. She swallowed him whole, and he fell into a pure cold of desolation … of nothingness. His sense of self eroded … until he was all but unmade. Only a sliver of his consciousness remained.

  * * *

  He was not Chonda Turesobei anymore. He was a slender Kaiaru woman with fangs and claws, steel-black hair, shadow-blue skin, and a ruby kavaru at the navel.

  He was Hannya.

  Before him … before her … stood a naked man with skin the color of fog and sea-dark hair. His eyes sparkled with madness, shifting from color to color, one moment gold and another moment crimson and another moment black. Nine kavaru, each a different color, were embedded on his forehead, chest, navel, both hands, both feet, and both thighs. The man lifted a wooden bowl. Blood sloshed within it. He offered it to her.

  “My Queen of the Earth, drink with me,” he said in a voice that rattled within Hannya’s brain.

  “No,” she replied, with a tremor of fear. “I will not.”

  The Blood King’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you not love me?”

  She loved him so intensely she thought her heart would burst. “I do love you, and I would die for you. B
ut this … this I cannot do. I think you should give up now.”

  “I cannot stop, Hannya. I cannot stop until I get what I desire.”

  The Blood King had courted madness and lost his way, and she had followed, not because she still believed in his quest, but because she loved him. But she would not drink this blood for anything.

  “If you will not drink,” he said, “then you are no longer of any use to me.”

  “My love, surely —”

  “I will choose a new queen. Your old rival Naruwakiru will share her power with me and drink the blood. She has told me so. Unlike you, she has fully embraced the kenja within her. She has become a dragon. And we are lovers already.”

  “Lovers?” Hannya whispered. Her knees thudded into the earth as betrayal stabbed deep into her soul.

  “Lovers as you and I once were,” he said. “Leave me now. You are nothing to me. She is more beautiful and more willing than ever you have been.”

  Hannya stumbled away. She trudged a hundred leagues, every step a step of torment and sorrow, and crawled into a cave. Down and down she crawled, into the deepest cave in the Central Mountains of Okoro. And there, in the womb of the deep earth, at last she fully embraced the powers she had mastered, blackest shadow and volcanic flame. She gave herself over completely. Her human form dissipated, and her body shifted into a dense cloud veined with thin trails of lava. And suspended in her midst was her ruby kavaru.

  * * *

  Hannya stood now in front of a gate with a shimmering portal. Alongside her stood nine other Kaiaru with wild forms and appearances, looking as if they’d spent far too long alone in the wilderness. Their newfound power emanated from them in waves. They were the only Kaiaru left from the dozens who had fought the Blood King.

  Hannya burned with a rage so hot she thought she’d burst into flames, and yet deep within, she was cold and empty. She loved him still, not the Blood King he had become in the end, but the passionate, inquisitive Kaiaru he had been when first they had met. But she could never forgive him for what he had done to her and Okoro.