Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  He moves behind her, then turns to look at her without taking his full attention away from… Shaitan! It is Shaitan. Barely has the realisation sunk in when Mimir’s voice echoes in her mind again, and this time he speaks at her, raising his tone above his normal pitch.

  “Go!”

  As she opens her mouth to protest, she finds that she can’t speak. Instead, her body acts on its own. Her mind wars with her body, and she turns to look at him, and so with her feet leading, she takes a step back, then another, then another, echoing the route which Shaitan had taken earlier, until she reaches the edge of the peak and then as her mind screams to Mimir, begging him to let her help him, her body takes another step, plunging her over the edge.

  Not ten feet in front of Mimir, Shaitan is a little stunned. He cannot quite believe that the old guardian would have sent the girl over the edge of the hill. Mimir turns his head back from the girl and holds out both his hands, carefully flicking one wrist then the other, so as to get the overhung sleeves of his robe out of the way of his fingers, which he flexes as he continues to walk toward Shaitan.

  The satisfied look on Mimir’s face is the proverbial last straw. In pushing the girl over the edge, he had pushed Shaitan off the deep end, forcing all reason out of his mind.

  The last vestige of his half-human self recedes as his other half takes over. He gathers his every reserve of physical energy, drawing from his inner well of determination, dipping into his experience from the many fights over the years. He waits, frozen, yet his body readies, his muscles as coiled as one of his Nagas. Mimir walks toward him, closing the distance between them.

  One step, then another, and another… With agonizing serenity, he watches, waits, counts the seconds until Mimir is in range. Closer, still closer. There.

  When the god-like old being is not five feet away, Shaitan springs into the air, his long body uncoiling, shuddering from its release of pent-up tension. He arches like a taut bow, his sword thrust out, and this time, makes contact, pushing into Mimir’s throat, all the way to the hilt.

  Mimir pauses. Unlike mortals, he does not bleed. For a second, nothing happens, then with a soft sigh, white light carrying a stream of sparkling motes flows out from the wound, gently swelling until every part of his body is covered. A million stars pour sunshine over him.

  Then, Mimir’s body lightens, as if his accumulated lifetimes are unfurling, one-by-one, easing to become one with the outside. Shaitan is close enough to feel a flash of fear, which slips into an enveloping warmth, and finally a soothing silence. The light brightens to a vivid violet and pours through his body in a stream of sparkles. The stream splits, rearing up into two elliptical flames, still joined at the base. Each wing extends into the sky, as if saluting the being that Mimir was, then they fracture into infinite sparkling flickers, which fade away.

  Have I touched the other side? Shaitan stands spellbound.

  Yudi walks away from Mimir’s chambers, intent on heading to the Hall of Great Mirrors to call Garuda and his Bird People to attention. Halfway down the stairs, he changes his mind and bounds past the floor with Mimir’s chambers, and to the floor where the guest rooms are. He walks past Yana’s room and then his to knock on Tiina’s door.

  Without waiting for an answer, he pushes against it and it swings open. He walks past the untouched bed to the table and chair set before the wide window overlooking the city. The sword she had placed earlier is gone. There is nothing in the room to show that someone occupied it earlier. He frowns, wondering where she could be and feels a sense of foreboding. A chill runs down his spine.

  A premonition, but of what? Dread fills his mind and he looks out the window toward the twin hill with the Temple of Arkana, just in time to see a ball of white light materialise next to the Temple. He crinkles his eyes, trying to see it better. As he watches, it fades away. He shrugs, turning back to the room, trying to decide if he should go find Garuda or look for Tiina.

  A second glow of light, this one bigger and brighter than the previous one, catches his eye. Even at that distance, it is dazzling enough him for him to blink. The light fills the horizon with a slash of violet at its centre, and in turn soars into two rivulets of white the likes he has never seen before. The two streams glow then leap into the horizon and vanish. He stands transfixed by the extraordinary scene and for how long he does not know. As his eyes refocus and his mind returns from the journey, he notices that the scene has returned to what it had been earlier. To reassure himself, he looks around him and finds that the room around him has stayed unchanged. Tiina!

  Galvanized into action, he runs down to the Hall of Great Mirrors. After crossing the silent room, he opens the massive double doors at the very end and moves onto the terrace where he had last met Garuda. As if waiting for him, Garuda swoops down from the sky to land feet-first on the square of open space. Despite his growing worry about what he witnessed earlier, Yudi is still amazed by the sight of his beak and crown of feathers collapsing to form the smooth lines of a human face as his massive wings flap once and settle back. The frown on his face echoes the anxiety in Yudi’s heart.

  “You shouldn’t have let Mimir go alone, Yudi.”

  “Go? Where? I just saw him a few minutes ago.”

  “And that’s all the time he needs to transport. He travels faster than the speed of light, or have you forgotten?”

  “What we just saw…the white and violet…uh! Flame?” It’s the best Yudi can do in terms of describing the light.

  “Not an ordinary happening Yudi. It was—”

  “Mimir…” It sinks in. Yudi shakes his head, refusing to accept it. “But he…isn’t he immortal?”

  “Even immortals have their Achilles heel.”

  “His neck…” Yudi recalls a conversation with Mimir from their early days at Arkana when he had told them about his weak spot. “But where is Tiina?”

  Garuda falls still, every muscle in his body freezes as he listens. In a single pronounced movement, he jerks his neck, as if hearing something from a distance. His nostrils flare then wrinkle, and his gaze narrows as a low growl, more human than bird, rumbles from his stomach.

  “They are coming.” He flicks his head.

  Yudi looks past the short width of the Arkana River to the next hill, where he saw the earlier light shine. The stretch of the hillside closest to them turns brown as if a mudslide has been unleashed. It advances toward them at a rapid pace, covering everything in sight, leaving the land behind flattened. It strangely reminds him of the scene on Java as he and Tiina had pulled away from the planet. Now as then, it is as if a giant dark veil casts its shadow over the landscape.

  One of the towers at the base of the next hill falls as if something has tunneled right through it. The giant blot moves forward at breathtaking speed, cutting a path through the buildings, which fall, taking with them a few of the flying air vehicles in their path; other space-pods manage to scream out of the way. In a few seconds, the brown sludge has reached the opposite banks of the river and then fallen into the waters.

  With a burst of colour, the dozens of Bird People who were resting on the grounds of the Academy take off one at a time in rapid succession. Soon there is a chain of them flying wingtip-to-wingtip, forming a protective boundary around the perimeter of the Academy. They glide almost stationery in the act of riding the air currents. As the wind ripples, each rides the swell in turn in the parody of a rhythmic dance.

  Garuda turns to Yudi. “I must go join my brothers and sisters.” He rubs his hands, and his forked tongue flicks out to lick his lips, a sight which sits strangely with the rest of his well-groomed body. “For now we feast like there is no tomorrow.”

  Yudi pulls out his sword. “I am ready.”

  34

  From the time that Garuda’s ancestor, who was also known as Garuda, had cheated the Nagas of their share of the nectar of immortality, the Bird People and the Nagas have been sworn enemies, hating the sight, and more profoundly, the smell, of each other. The B
ird People had more in common with their human cousins, while the Nagas preferred to be associated with their reptilian kin, looking down on any similarity to humans as a sign of weakness.

  If Shaitan is surprised to see the Bird People, he doesn’t show it. He uses the distraction of the warring factions to his advantage as he leads his army of a hundred Nagas onto the river bank, which borders the hill of the Academy of Half Lives.

  There is a lull for a brief moment as he looks up to see the colourful string of Bird People engaged in a poetic wingtip-to-wingtip dance up in the air. Behind him, Shesha, the leader of the Nagas, holds up his hand, calling the fan of half human, half serpents behind him to attention.

  The restless slithering settles into a quiver as each Naga draws up to its full seven-foot height, standing up on the base of their elongated bodies, their scales undulating and hoods poised with forked tongues flicking out in anticipation. The vivid rainbow of purple, red, gold, and yellow of the feathers of the Bird Men above is reflected back in the duller yellow, golden brown, dark brown, and black of the Nagas below.

  Between is Shaitan. He turns and nods to Shesha, who raises himself to his full eight-foot height, unusual for a Naga, towering over the ruler of the solar system. His broad hood spreads out over Shaitan, screening him from view of the Bird Men above. Then with a mighty hiss, which reverberates through his followers like a ripple, Shesha flies into the air, his body as straight as an arrow at Garuda, who in turn swoops down, screeching to meet him. The two clash in midair with Shesha coiled around Garuda, and a hail of feathers showers down on the Nagas below. They crash to the ground. Their movements are echoed by similar twin couplings of Naga and kindred Bird Men.

  Shaitan lets the fight rage around him, and then taking advantage of the distraction, runs up the small hill toward the Academy. Quickly, he reaches the gardens bordering the building and crosses them, past the empty space-pod docking berths, and by force of habit of his days at the Academy, runs into the main wing where the classes are normally held. Realising his mistake, he turns around and instead hurries across the gardens to the wings with the guest rooms. He runs up, his sixth sense directing him to the Hall of the Great Mirrors.

  He bursts into the room, slowing as he walks across the floor, coming to a halt near the centre of the grand room just under the massive chandeliers reflecting the sunrays coming through the open double doors at the end.

  The boy on the terrace turns around and their eyes meet. Shaitan realises his arrival must have alerted the young man. The boy is taller than him, and once more, he feels his age in front of the vigour of youth.

  Quick reflexes, he notes as he holds his long sword in front of him. His attention is caught by the bracelet the boy wears on his right wrist. Even at that distance the turquoise sapphire on it flashes.

  The boy walks into the room, stopping just inside.

  A safe distance, prudent.

  His eyes and face are familiar. The distinctive square jaw and the stubborn tilt to his face remind him of Yana. Fascinated, he moves a few more steps forward.

  As if curious himself, the boy takes a step closer. Shaitan is close enough to see the colour of his eyes. Not blue, nor violet, they are indigo! Shaitan realises with a shock, confirming what he sensed earlier. Should I really be shocked coming face-to-face with my son after all these years, after almost two decades of searching for him, seeking him out, hoping to put an end to him before the opposite took place?

  Probably not. It was the logic of the circle of life, destiny if one wanted to call it that. He had been trying to change the line of his fate forever and is still trying.

  Shaitan holds out his right hand and gestures to Yudi, pointing to the Isthmus then to the plain gold band with the blue sapphire around his forehead. “You see this? I had it specially made so that it could pair with the Isthmus. Hand it over before you make me do something I regret.”

  The boy’s brows arch in surprise. “So that makes the Isthmus, what, a matching accessory?”

  “That’s good enough, isn’t it?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Impudent aren’t you?”

  “I am told that I take after my father.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Athira, the royal sword master of Ka Surya.”

  “Ka Surya. The name sounds familiar.” He shakes his head. “No, don’t quite recall how I know that name.” Satisfaction runs through Shaitan at seeing the boy lose his cool as temper licks his face.

  “When I hold the tip of my sword to your face, you will remember. I promise.”

  Shaitan laughs; he throws his head back and chortles a full-blown belly laugh until tears of mirth run down his cheeks. “Ha! That felt good. Remind me to thank you later for this brief amusing interlude when I have you on your back at my feet.”

  He pulls out his blade from his scabbard, relishing the thought of taking on this foolish, but brave, boy. At least he tries. I have to give him that.

  As they face each other, a voice calls out from the entrance to the grand hall. “Shaitan.”

  He does not take his eyes off the boy, not bothering to turn around. The boy’s eyes dart to the door, and a frustrated look, almost comical in its childishness, comes to his face.

  “What is this, a family gathering?”

  “Yudi!” Yana’s voice is frantic.

  “Keep out of this.” The boy hesitates before adding in a small voice, “Mother.”

  “Ah! So the fond reunion has already taken place, then.” Again Shaitan has the satisfaction of seeing his comment hit home.

  Yudi’s cheeks turn bright red.

  A mixture of embarrassment and fury, he concludes. Perfect. Another step toward angering him enough to make a mistake. “What are you waiting for? Are you going to ask your mother to come to your rescue now?”

  Yudi growls in frustration.

  Shaitan continues to berate him, enjoying himself enormously. “Go on, call out to her. ‘Mother!’” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. “Run along, little boy. Go play with your toys; you can’t hold your own in the real world.”

  As he intended, the final words are all the provocation needed to push Yudi over the edge. He lunges at Shaitan, who sidesteps neatly so that Yudi almost loses his footing, righting himself at the last minute.

  “Told you.” Shaitan laughs. “Save me the effort. You may as well kill yourself.”

  This time Yudi does not rise to the bait. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes for a second, focusing within; simply concentrating on finding his centre. He struggles to rein in the fury threatening to bury him, and infinitesimal second by second, manages to pull himself above it. The first soothing tendril creeps over him and opens his eyes. He can feel his feet, the ache in his calf muscles, his clenched thighs, the tightness around his heart, the blood pounding in his arms, and the smooth surface of the sword handle clenched in his hands.

  As if tiring of the game, Shaitan charges this time. Yudi waits for him, preparing to step aside at the last minute, but before he can, a body flings in front of him to take the blow.

  “Yana! Mother!” The words are barely out of his mouth when she falls against him, cut from throat to chest, blood already bubbling out.

  After switching his sword to his left hand, he lowers her to the ground with his right, and finds that his hands are trembling. Tears prick the back of his eyes and he looks up through them at Shaitan. Gripping his sword with both hands, he puts the force of his full body behind the thrust, catching his father square in the chest with a good portion of the edge. He twists the blade so that the blood rushes out, bathing his face and his clothes.

  Yudi stumbles back without his sword. Shaitan freezes in mid-motion, his own sword still clutched above his head, and his hands shake and as his hold loosens, the sword falls toward Yudi, who catches it.

  Shaitan crashes to the floor with a thud that reverberates through the building. For a few minutes more, his body shivers, blood bubbling out through his mouth
and eyes. After raising Shaitan’s sword with both his hands, Yudi plants himself on the balls of his feet and brings it down, severing his father’s head with one blow.

  Numb but calm, Yudi looks at the sword in his hand and at the ruby gleaming in the middle of the hilt. He leans forward and wipes the blade on Shaitan’s clothes. Then, sliding it in his belt, he walks over to where Yana is lying on the ground.

  After bending down next to her, he places a gentle hand on her forehead. Her skin is still warm. As he slides an arm under her neck, lifting her shoulders up gently, her eyelids flutter open. Understanding floods her eyes and spills over onto her cheeks. Yudi smiles back with a slight upturn of his lips, and carries her inside.

  35

  Yudi is dressed in a black neoprene suit similar to what she is wearing and his thick black hair falls over his forehead. In a familiar gesture, he brushes the locks away only to have them settle right back where they were before. She smiles at how attractive he looks.

  Nothing to show that in the last few days he has killed only the most evil half life in the universe and wears the Isthmus still.

  She turns to the window of Mimir’s chambers. Yana looks down at her and smiles. She looks stronger and happier than the wan woman bleeding to death. The woman had been fighting for her life until one of the only medical experts in the city who survived the Nagas had been tracked down to help her. It had still been touch and go for a few days. But it probably helped bring mother and son together.

  Garuda approaches the two of them. He wears his battle scars lightly. After Shesha had wrapped his coils around him, they had both plunged head first onto the river banks, Garuda’s right wing taking a nasty cut on the sharp stones from the fall. They had bounced off, still clasped in each others embrace, into the Arkana River, sinking down to its shallow bed. Being in water had given Shesha an early advantage. As they had struggled on the river bed, Shesha’s coils had tightened around him, and he had tried to bite Garuda.