Through clenched teeth she said, “Fine. We agree to this. He may go free as well … if you win. However, we do have a weapon that will kill him.”
“Whatever it is, you’d rather not use it.”
She tilted her head and smiled. “And you’d rather not become the Storm Dragon.”
“I wish the goronku to bear witness that the fight is fair.”
“That is acceptable,” she replied.
Turesobei presented the plan to War Chief Sudorga.
“Are you certain you want to do it this way?” Sudorga asked.
“I feel confident in my success.”
“Lad,” said Narbenu, “the reitsu are fast and deadly. Whatever your machine man did, I don’t think you can duplicate that. No single one of us could take on a reitsu and survive, much less face their champion.”
“Their champion,” Turesobei whispered, “he will feed to kill me, won’t he? He won’t just stab me and leave me for dead? I’m no good to eat if I’m dead, right?”
“Correct, and they would never turn down feeding. You would keep him warm for many years.”
“Then I think I have a decent chance at winning.”
War Chief Sudorga went to Lady Umora. “If you don’t treat the boy fairly, it will mean war between our peoples.”
“I accept that,” she replied, confidently. She turned to Turesobei. “Are you ready to face our champion and die, boy?”
Chapter 9
“I’m ready,” Turesobei said, “but I won’t fight until my friends are brought out and I can see that they are well.”
Lady Umora dispatched several of her people, but they returned without Turesobei’s companions.
“The machine man won’t come out,” a reitsu reported.
“I will have to go to them,” Turesobei said.
On Lady Umora’s orders, a group of reitsu escorted Turesobei, Narbenu, and Kemsu through the village. The goronku went along to ensure the reitsu didn’t betray their word. The houses they passed were in terrible condition — cracked walls, loose roof tiles, crumbling window sills. Apparently the condition of their village was not a reitsu priority. They passed seven charred corpses. The reitsu had made no effort to move them. Turesobei stepped carefully around them and approached a tiny house on the edge of the village. The decaying wood door was splintered in many places. Another few minutes and the reitsu would’ve broken through by shattering the door into pieces.
“Shoma?” Turesobei called out. “Iniru? Zaiporo? I’ve come to rescue you.”
“Sobei!” Shoma called out weakly.
“Shoma! Are you all right? Is everyone else with you?”
“We’re all here. And alive. I think we —”
“It might be a trap,” Iniru muttered.
“It’s not a trap,” Turesobei said. “How could they know how to duplicate my voice?”
Muffled discussions followed. They were taking too long. Turesobei invoked energy from his kavaru. “Motekeru, I command you to open the door.”
The door crumbled as Motekeru opened it. Metal joints creaking, a battered Motekeru stepped forward. His bamboo cable tail thrashed back and forth with agitation, the spiked ball on the end scraping across the flagstones. The reitsu and goronku backed away.
The mechanical … man … had a body of petrified oak. Bronze plates reinforced his forearms, shins, thighs, and chest. His horrible head made entirely of bronze had a mouth so jagged and misshapen Turesobei wondered if it had been cut by a three year old. Within the mouth were two rows of razor-sharp, ivory teeth — few matched in length and some were missing. Amber energy blazed from eyes that curled upward on the ends.
Battling the yomon and Deadly Twelve had left Motekeru in rough shape. The bronze plates were dented, the oak body scorched and nicked and scarred, the nose on his head crushed flat. His movements were slowing. The fire in his eyes sputtered at times.
Motekeru retracted his claws and knelt. “Apologies for not believing it was you, master.”
“You don’t have to kneel or apologize. I would have done the same.” Turesobei patted him on the shoulder in what he hoped would be taken as a friendly manner. Though Motekeru obeyed him, Turesobei still feared him. Motekeru hadn’t wanted to return to the world.
The two amber wolfhounds, Rig and Ohma, charged Turesobei. Chonda Lu had apparently preserved his favorite pets so they could live on forever. Turesobei scratched behind the hounds’ ears as they rubbed against his legs. They backed away, and Shoma plunged into him. He wrapped his good arm around her and held her tight. “It’s going to be okay.”
Gently, Turesobei pushed Enashoma away. Her long hair was a tangled mess, matted with grime and blood, and she’d lost weight. Shoma’s wide hips were slim now, her cheeks hollow. A cut on her chin festered. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. She shivered uncontrollably. Turesobei removed his parka, awkwardly with his broken arm. Then he helped her into it.
“I’ll get you out of this, Little Blossom. I promise.”
Eyes tearing with relief, Zaiporo clapped Turesobei on the shoulder. Bruises covered Zaiporo’s face and neck. A cut on his forehead had sealed, but blood stained his ash-gray zaboko skin and his clothes. The handsome, fifteen-year-old, former house-guard was broad-shouldered and stout, especially compared to taller, thinner baojendari like Turesobei and Enashoma.
Turesobei spun around, looking for Iniru. She stood at the doorway, peeking around the corner, probably sizing up the enemy and analyzing escape routes. How she could keep going, he had no idea. She had been near death when he had healed her in the Lair, and all he had done was accelerate her recovery. She needed weeks of rest. Now she had dozens of new bruises, scrapes, and cuts. A bloodstain darkened the back of her charcoal uniform. The wound on her back that his spell had sealed had reopened. Another bloodstain spread from her left hamstring. One of her eyelids drooped.
She turned and sized him up with a small spark in her eyes. Her lips twitched. “You look ridiculous in all those clothes.”
“Thanks. You look terrible.”
Limping toward him, she smiled. “Jerk.”
He embraced her. They kissed. Her lips were cold and dry, her breath ragged.
“It’s time,” one of the reitsu outside hissed.
Iniru’s lips were tinged blue, and like Shoma, she was shivering.
“You’re going to freeze. Your fur doesn’t help?”
“Not in cold like this.” She patted his chest. “Looks like you’ll be fine though. You adjusted fast. Already made a home here, have you?”
“I got lucky and made some friends.” He nodded toward the goronku. “First time I’ve caught a break in a while.”
“How are you getting us out of here? These … whatever they are … they aren’t friendly.”
“I’m going to have to fight their champion to the death.”
Iniru tapped his splinted arm and he winced. “You’re going to fight one of them with a broken arm?”
“How did you know it was broken? Never mind. Yes, with a broken arm. If I win, we all go free. If I lose … I die. But one of you can still go free … my choice.”
Iniru took his face in her hands. He stared into her deep amber eyes with their slitted pupils. “You must choose Shoma.”
“I know that, Niru.”
“I know you know that,” Iniru replied. “But I don’t want you to feel bad because you didn’t pick me.”
“I love you,” he blurted out. His cheeks reddened.
She patted his cheeks. “I know that.”
“I know you know that,” he stuttered in a poor attempt to be clever.
As they shuffled out, Enashoma tugged on Turesobei’s sleeve. “I’m a bad choice. Iniru can survive in this place. I can’t. I’m not cut out for it.”
“The goronku, the people who brought me here, who gave me the clothes, they’re good people. They would take care of you.”
Nodding toward Narbenu and Kemsu who walked ahead of them, Zaiporo whispered, “If the
y’re good people, why aren’t they fighting to free us?”
“War would break out between the reitsu and goronku, all through the region, and the last time these two peoples fought they nearly destroyed one another.”
“I could fight these reitsu, master,” said Motekeru. “And you and the others could make a run for it.”
“I made a deal, Motekeru. I will fight their champion.”
“They cannot defeat me, master.”
“They were bringing out a weapon they believe will harm you. Trust me, it will be best this way. Besides, I won’t lose.”
“Have you seen how fast they are?” Iniru said with worry. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m certain,” he replied.
Motekeru rumbled, glaring at Lady Umora. “I do not think the reitsu will honor their bargain with you.”
Joining them, War Chief Sudorga said, “The goronku will see to it that the bargain is kept.”
Reitsu and goronku, eyeing one another nervously, gathered in the village commons, forming a circle. Along with the reitsu guarding them, Turesobei and his companions followed Sudorga and Umora into the middle of the circle.
“How did you break your arm?” Shoma asked.
“When I crashed,” he murmured. “Took all I could do to stop being the dragon. When I did, I was in mid-flight.”
“Why haven’t you healed it?”
“I don’t have the strength yet. My spirit’s too depleted. All I’ve got is storm energy, and I don’t dare tap it.”
“And you think you can win?” Iniru said.
“Only other thing to do is to let the reitsu and Motekeru fight it out and hope he beats them all while we run away. And I don’t think we’d make it far. We’re not in good shape and this land is inhospitable. And while I don’t like the reitsu, I don’t want to kill them all.”
Shoma shrugged and Zaiporo said, “You didn’t have them attack you when you sought shelter. You didn’t have them pin you and try to … I don’t know what it was they tried on me. But it was like —”
“All the warmth inside you began to drain away?” Turesobei asked.
“How’d you know?” Iniru asked.
“Because that’s what they do,” he replied. “That’s how they feed.”
Enashoma shivered. “That’s … that’s sick. I hate this place.”
The reitsu in the circle remained eerily silent as Lady Umora explained the bargain. “Choose the one who goes free when you lose, Chonda Turesobei.”
He placed his good arm around Enashoma. “My sister, Enashoma, goes free no matter the outcome.”
“So be it,” Lady Umora proclaimed. She pointed to Enashoma. “This one goes free no matter what. We will do no harm to her, now or ever.”
The goronku brought blankets out for Turesobei’s companions. Iniru and Zaiporo eagerly wrapped themselves up. Enashoma had Turesobei’s coat, but she still took a blanket and wrapped it around her legs.
“They won’t need those for long,” Lady Umora told War Chief Sudorga.
“They should be comfortable while they can,” he said. “You wouldn’t want them to lose too much warmth, would you?”
She licked her lips. “You make a good point. Chonda Turesobei, say goodbye to your friends.”
He kissed Enashoma and told her all would be well. She nodded, trying to be brave and confident. He faced Motekeru.
“You will surrender if I am defeated. That’s an order.”
Motekeru had only the one facial expression Chonda Lu had given him. But Turesobei knew, perhaps through their bond, that Motekeru understood him perfectly well. If Turesobei fell, Motekeru should fight and do his best to save the others.
Iniru kissed him. “Good luck.” She said nothing else. What more could be said?
Chapter 10
War Chief Sudorga and Lady Umora faced each other in the center of the circle and bowed.
Lady Umora folded her hands together and kissed them. “I swear by the ghosts of my ancestors that I will honor this bargain.”
War Chief Sudorga gazed into the sky and held his arms out. “I swear by the Crimson Sun that we will see to it that you honor this bargain.”
Lady Umora looked to Turesobei. “Who do you swear to, boy? Who will be dishonored if you should not fight fairly?”
“I swear to no gods. I swear by my own honor.”
War Chief Sudorga frowned. “You must honor some god in your land?”
“My people respect and honor many lesser deities and the greater deities of the earth, the sun, and the moons. But we do not swear by them.”
“That’s not good enough,” Umora said. “You must swear by more than your own honor.”
He gritted his teeth and flared his eyes. His friends were freezing and their lives hung in the balance. This was ridiculous. “Fine. I swear by myself, the Storm Dragon, who was a god for centuries in my land.”
Lady Umora furrowed her brow. “I do not think —”
“I don’t care what you think! If I wanted to, I’d become a god right now and smite you all into nothing but ashes. Let’s get on with it.”
War Chief Sudorga shrugged, though fear flickered in his eyes. Lady Umora stared at Turesobei several moments then sneered and said, “So be it. We fight hand-to-hand, but you may select a weapon if you wish. It won’t matter.”
Narbenu brought him a spear. Turesobei did a few practice jabs to test the weight and balance. He wouldn’t have much chance with it. He’d only done basic training using a spear, and those were a foot shorter than this one.
“Remember, lad, the touch of a wraith will only take a smidgen of warmth from you,” Narbenu said. “They must lock a hand on you and focus to really draw it out. Their claws are sharp and have a mild toxin that causes pain. It doesn’t do anything more than that, so don’t be alarmed.” He patted him on both shoulders. “If you should fall, my people will see that your sister is taken care of for all her days and we will never forget you.”
He was pretty sure Narbenu actually meant when you fall since no one thought he stood a chance.
A tall reitsu with corded muscles stepped into the circle. He moved gracefully but languidly, as if wandering through a dream. He took one look at Turesobei and said, frowning, “Sister, you have woken me to face this … alien boy? Surely you could’ve dealt with him on your own?”
She pointed toward the charred corpses and nodded toward Motekeru. “The boy claims to be a god, brother. He is fighting to free his friends. But we did not wake you up for this. We woke you to fight the machine man. This is better. If you beat the boy, the machine surrenders to us.”
The reitsu took a pale-bladed knife from a sheathe on his hip and handed it to Umora. White-steel, so they had the ability to injure Motekeru after all. Not that taking on Motekeru with a knife would’ve been pleasant.
The reitsu champion bowed before Turesobei who returned the bow then asked: “Do we have any rules?”
“No one may interfere to aid either combatant,” said Lady Umora, “and you fight to the death. There are no other rules.”
Enashoma rushed forward and gave Turesobei a hug. He kissed her and shoved her toward Iniru who had followed her. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Watch yourself,” Iniru whispered. “They’re wicked fast. Faster than me.”
Turesobei smiled. “It’ll be okay.” He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, then said to the wraith: “I’m ready when you are.”
Almost instantly razor-sharp claws struck Turesobei’s chest and tore through clothing and armor to scratch him. Despite only hitting the surface, pain sparked deep into his flesh. Turesobei stumbled backward and jabbed clumsily with the spear. The wraith darted away and moved in so fast Turesobei barely saw him. Another swipe struck him across the face, cutting into his cheek. This time a chill went deep into his bones along with the pain. He felt a trickle of fire kenja leave him.
Turesobei jabbed again with the spear, trying to make a good show
of it. He missed again, badly. The reitsu in the circle laughed and taunted him. The reitsu champion circled him, grinning.
“You shouldn’t play with your food,” Turesobei told him.
Snarling, the reitsu darted toward him and then past him without attacking. Before Turesobei could spin around, claws scratched hard across the back of his neck and jabbed into his side, near his kidneys. The pain was so intense he cried out.
He stumbled, turned, and swept the spear out in an arc. The reitsu caught it by the shaft and snapped it in half. With his fist, the wrath hammered Turesobei’s broken arm. Again he cried out, bending over in agony. Claws jabbed into and out of both thighs and then both his arms. Pain wracked him while cold burrowed deep into his soul. An elbow struck his chin and downed him.
Turesobei’s eyes rolled. He took deep, rapid breaths and tried to focus on staying awake. He couldn’t fall unconscious. He had to be awake when the reitsu tried to drain him. The wraith knelt on Turesobei’s chest, pinning him down. Laughing, he latched both hands around Turesobei’s neck. Warmth fled from Turesobei, his internal kenja depleting rapidly. The wraith threw his head back, rolled his eyes, took in a deep breath, and licked his lips. Chill bumps spread across Turesobei’s skin. He felt as if he were lying naked on the ice. Aches like those from a fever set into his bones. His mind became muddled. He hadn’t expected the process to happen so fast.
But if the reitsu wanted warmth, Turesobei had more than enough kenja to give him. Focusing, Turesobei altered the channel the wraith instinctively used to draw energy and rerouted it to the Mark of the Storm Dragon. He wouldn’t have to risk opening it. He could just let the wraith draw from it instead.
The channel shifted. Raw power flowed into the wraith. The reitsu screamed as he burst into flame. Turesobei kicked free and rolled away. A burst of fire shot outward and the wraith fell into a pile of ashes.
The wraith’s draw on the sigil resulted in a leak of storm kenja into Turesobei. Even though he hadn’t opened the channel, Turesobei fell into the dream of the Storm Dragon.
The Forbidden Library Page 6