Stolen: Magi Rising Book 1

by Wagner, Raye

  Svîk snorted again. “I think you’re right about the intelligence here. There is a definite lack of common sense.”

  He ate in silence while I struggled with my food and emotions. Esi must’ve known what was coming, which explained her not wanting to come to dinner. I couldn’t even mash the plantain because it was so undercooked. Instead, I scraped the beans to the side and mixed them with the maize. As soon as I moved my spoon toward the cheese, Svîk reached forward and grabbed my wrist.

  “Don’t mix the cheese with that, not without trying it first.”

  I got a single bean and kernel of corn, both saturated with gravy, and tested the liquid first. Looking closer, I could see the flecks of black speckling the gravy weren’t pepper but the scorched scrapings from the bottom of the pan. I drained the liquid and put the corn and bean in my mouth. The maize was overcooked and the bean crunchy and raw. I spit them both out and then took a large bite of cheese to get rid of the taste.

  “We should see what we can do to get your friend in charge of cooking again.”

  Nodding, I mashed the cheese to the roof of my mouth and ran it over my tongue. After swallowing again, I said, “It’s terrible.”

  Svîk told me of the different foods in Yândarî while I ate my cheese. By the time I was done, twenty minutes later, Rumi and Lis sauntered up with their trays—their hair and clothes disheveled. I stood and nodded to Svîk. “Thanks for sharing your cheese.”

  He rose as well, nearly knocking Rumi over. “Sorry,” he said, grabbing her tilting tray, barely saving the food from falling into the dirt. When he glanced up, his apology disappeared, and his expression tightened. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to knock you over. Did you want our seats?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Taja and I were just leaving. You’re welcome to have them.”

  Rumi and Lis froze, the former stammering incoherently. Weird because they were all flirty with him just thirty minutes ago.

  Svîk ignored them and rounded the table, taking my mostly full tray. “Come on, Taja. You said you’d show me Lovers’ Leap.” He winked and jerked his head, indicating that I follow. “And I think you’re right: if you decide to move forward, I’ve got your back, and I always will.”

  By the time he finished, I regarded him with a scowl. “What are you . . .”

  With his back to the other two, his eyes widened, and the intent look communicated more than his words. The expression shifted to a soft smile, and he said, “If I had to choose one magî, it would be you.”

  That was a little thick. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my lips into a fake smile that put his acting to shame. “I’m so glad you agreed to be friends. Friends certainly make the day less dull.” I glanced at Rumi and Lis and, determined to be gracious, said, “Enjoy your dinner.”

  I caught up to Svîk and bumped into him, driving my elbow into his side. “You’re a bit of a tool.”

  Laughing, he dropped the dishes off as I walked by his side.

  “I admit, I’m a tool. And a frog—or was it toad? But I do agree with you. And you have keen eyes. I really do think we should be friends.”

  “Fine, just don’t tell anyone else we’re going to Lovers’ Leap. Is that really a place?” I shook my head. “That’s creepy and weird.”

  “So no creepy and weird?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Even if it means that Rumi and Lis will not only leave you alone but me, too?”

  I wanted to tell him no, but I could understand not wanting to be bothered by the other female magî.

  “You made it clear we’re just friends,” he added. “Which was a great touch—even better than what I was trying to do—so thanks.”

  “Sure,” I said, turning toward home. The sunlight was rapidly disappearing, and I needed to get back before the overcast darkness made it near impossible. “I’ll catch you in the morning.”

  “You sure you don’t want to show me Lovers’ Leap?” He stood with his hands behind his back, a teasing smile on his lips. The mottled light filtered through the canopy in shades of violet and cerulean. “I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” I said, waving him away.

  Svîk chuckled, a low, rumbling sound of mirth. “The posts always have one—some place where doomed lovers jumped to their deaths to avoid being torn apart.”

  “How morbid,” I said, shaking my head in protest to both his invitation and the very concept of such a place. There’s nothing romantic about dying with one’s lover. “I guarantee I’ll never go there.”

  “All right. I’ll walk you home.”

  Svîk came all the way to the head of the trail. We talked for a few more minutes, but the emotional strain of the day was almost as draining as the work. By the time I said goodbye, the moonlight had darted through the trees.

  “Good night,” I said with a wave. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yep,” he replied. “Say hi to Esi, too. I hope she feels better tomorrow.”

  I wound through the trail, and when I got to Esi’s, I was a little surprised when she didn’t say anything. Shrugging out of my tunic, I found my way across the room and climbed onto my pallet. After a deep breath, I sunk into my bed and whispered a quiet goodnight to my friend.

  * * *

  Esi was gone when I woke up the next morning—maybe trying to talk the council into putting her back on. She wasn’t at the communal area when I got there for breakfast, and I wondered if she was okay. Svîk joined me at the table, sitting across from me, and we ate the sweet grain cereal we’d been served, our hunger whetting our appetites after the terrible dinner the night before. I kept glancing toward the kitchen, looking for Esi, but even after Rull finished the announcements and work assignments, I didn’t see her. As the groups broke off, I scanned the ones nearest our table, looking for her. Svîk and Esi were a part of the same work unit I was in, so I figured she was bound to show up.

  “Where’s Esi?” Svîk asked as we left the common area.

  I regarded him: his rumpled sulu, as though he’d slept in it while still wet. He was otherwise clean, but his forehead creased in a deep furrow, more wrinkled than his clothing.

  “Or does she normally join you later?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  We followed the rest of our group toward the perimeter road, but my mind was occupied with Esi. Had I heard her at all? Not once, but that was nothing new. I was a heavy sleeper.

  “I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” I said. “After work.”

  “Does she normally take off?” Svîk asked with a frown.

  “No.” The unease I’d felt earlier returned, and I immediately started a mental list of people who didn’t like her, turning my gaze to Svîk. I studied him suspiciously, but Esi’s words regarding my distrust slapped me as I stared at him. What little of my past I did remember was filled with all the reasons not to trust—which wasn’t completely fair to Svîk. I’d been with him after Esi went home, so it wasn’t like he even had the opportunity to isolate her—let alone hurt her. But that didn’t mean something didn’t happen to her. “If she doesn’t show up today, will you help me look for her?”

  “Of course,” he replied immediately. “But you don’t really think anything happened to her, do you?”

  I shrugged because I wasn’t sure how to answer. I’d only been in Pûleêr for a couple weeks, so I was hardly immersed in their culture—especially since I’d pretty much been instrumental in blowing it up. But there had been no violent repercussions. “Do you think anyone would do something to her? I wasn’t there that day when you stood up for me . . .”

  Was that only two days ago?

  “There were a couple magî who were pretty upset but just shouting and the like. No threats.” He pulled up short and scowled. “Wait . . . I don’t know their names, but those female magî in the kitchen, would they be mad enough to do something? Or any of the young males, like the lemur-turds in our group yesterday?”

  Dread sunk deep i
nto the bottom of my stomach. “Dostane?” I asked, choking on her name. “I don’t—I can’t imagine she would. But I don’t know about anyone else.”

  There were so few people I knew; how could I know who to trust without Esi?

  Svîk shook his head. “Actually, we shouldn’t start assuming things. Esi could be here any minute. Let’s not go borrowing trouble, right?”

  I swallowed back the panic clawing its way up through my chest and nodded. “Right. She’ll show up.”

  But my words were flat and full of doubt.

  20

  I spent the day in a daze, my frenzied pace interrupted only when Svîk reminded me to have something to drink. I choked down mouthfuls of coconut water before returning to my work. We had to hit the line of bromeliads before we could be done for the day, and this area was one of the thickest I’d ever seen. Every time I heard the squelch of feet approaching, I looked, hoping to see Esi on the path. But the day wore on without her presence.

  The afternoon sunlight began to fade when the last bit of fauna was pushed back to the line of bright-yellow plants. Several of the magî cheered, and a couple even thanked me for helping with their sections, but there was no victory in it.

  My stomach was in knots, and I turned to Svîk. “Let’s go talk to Rull.”

  For the first time since my arrival in Pûleêr, I wondered if what I’d done was best. Because if Esi had paid for me trying to set things right—to be fair—I’d never forgive myself. Or anyone who took it out on her.

  Instead of going to either the Cem or Cemik to bathe, Svîk and I returned to the common area. Several women and a couple men were in the kitchen, and the smell of burned rice permeated the air. I made a mental note to avoid the rice tonight as we walked through.

  The tables were mostly empty. Only a few male magî loitered toward the back, nearest to the kitchen. They stepped out of our way, and no one said anything as we passed. I was grateful for Svîk’s presence behind me, doubtful it would’ve been so easy without him.

  Rull and the entire council were in the dining area—all except for Esi. They sat around a table at the front of the space where Rull normally did his announcements, all with either tight or sober expressions, and Dostane’s eyes were red-rimmed with emotion. Their hushed tones made it impossible for me to hear their words, but as I marched closer, the fear made my heart race, and the whooshing of blood blocked their voices.

  “Esi didn’t show up,” I blurted. A couple magî turned to look at me, but I kept my gaze fixed on Rull. “Have you seen her?”

  Rull’s placid composure faltered, and his features twisted and pinched. “No.”

  He glanced at each of the other magî, and I followed his gaze. But one after another, their furrows, frowns, and wide eyes revealed only surprise or confusion.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Dostane asked.

  “Yesterday. She went home after cleaning up, and I came for dinner. By the time I got back, it was dark. I thought she was already asleep,” I explained. “She was gone this morning, but I assumed you had a council meeting—” I pointed at them. “—like now.”

  “We didn’t have a council meeting,” Dostane said, shaking her head. “Not this morning. We’re having one now.” She darted a glance at Rull before she continued, “Because we lost five more magî today. And that was before the news of Esi.”

  “The bûyî?” Svîk asked.

  Dostane flinched before nodding. “We think so. Three of them were taken on the northern tip of the road this afternoon: Valn, Ney, and Lis. Their group saw them get sucked down.”

  “Rumi and Malk haven’t been seen since last night,” another magî of the council said, his gaze darting from me to Svîk. “And now Esi, makes six.”

  The fact that Rumi, Lis, and Esi were all gone around the same time didn’t sit well, like a ball of unease slithering in my gut, but I had no one to accuse.

  “Do you think Rumi and Malk were taken by the bûyî?” Svîk asked. He glanced at me and added, “Was Esi friends with Malk?”

  “I don’t even know who she is,” I said with a shrug. “So I don’t think so.”

  “He,” Rull said, shaking his head. He raised his eyebrows, and his attention shifted from me to Svîk then back to me. “Malk is a he.”

  Yikes. Of course. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t know. But . . . I don’t see her going off with Rumi after what happened the other day.”

  Rull took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. “That’s just it, Taja. You don’t know. You’ve been friends with Esi for a few months? Not even a full season . . . So you don’t really know anyone’s history here.” He opened his eyes and glared at me. “And we don’t really know you, either.” His attention shifted to Svîk. “Either of you.”

  “Stop it,” Dostane snapped, slamming her hand on the table. “Fighting like that won’t do anyone any favors. What would you like the council to do, Taja?”

  I forced my gaze away from Rull who made me feel like everything was my fault, and though Dostane’s smile was sad and tired, relief poured through with her obvious compassion. The vice-like tension waned, the tightness around my chest dissipated minutely, and I said, “Can we organize a search party?”

  Two magî snorted, but Dostane nodded. “You can try. I’m not sure you’ll find any willing to go into the jungle, especially because if Esi or the other magî are still in Pûleêr, they’ll show up.”

  The truthfulness of her words settled over me and, with it, hopelessness. I could look, but would I find nothing?

  “Come on,” Svîk said, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll help you.”

  He tugged me away from the council, and I followed him blindly as my eyes filled with tears. But Dostane was right. No one had seen or heard anything, and even though Svîk was braver than most, our short treks into the growth of the undercanopy were fruitless.

  Three days passed with no clues, no hints, or indications. Nothing.

  “Taja,” Esi whispered.

  I awoke with a yelp and sat upright in my bed. I was still in Esi’s home, in my own bed, and the room still smelled of goat, sour milk, and a mixture of Esi’s and my sweat. The room was pitch with night, so I reached for her.

  “Esi?” I said, groping at the empty air. “Where are you?”

  “Gone,” she said.

  Confusion and the refusal to accept what I knew slammed into me, stealing my breath. “Gone?” I gasped. “You mean . . . dead?”

  “No one really dies. You know that.”

  My heart pounded, seizing and thrashing against Esi’s declaration of her own death. I gasped, choking on the single word question. H-how?

  If I spoke aloud, she ignored my question as she continued. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters now is you.”

  Doesn’t matter? I sat in the darkness, blinking into the abyss as the rest of her words registered. She couldn’t mean . . . “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Esi said, her disembodied voice sounding as if she were sitting next to me on the cot.

  I ran my hand over the rumpled bedclothes, finding nothing more than empty cloth, the residual warmth mine. Despite swallowing, the lump of shock at the back of my throat remained. I opened my mouth to ask her more—something—but the words flitted in and out too fast for me to string together.

  “So no matter what,” Esi said, her tone grave and serious, “don’t trust him. You hear me?” she continued, but her voice grew softer, farther away.

  I nodded, speechless. Leaning forward, I strained to hear more, anything else she might tell me. But the sounds of the jungle declared morning’s arrival, and dawn light filtered into the darkness through the cracks in the wood. Her voice was gone—I knew it—and then suddenly . . .

  “Don’t trust—”

  “Taja?” Svîk called from outside, his deep voice drowning out Esi’s whisper.

  Nausea rolled through me as my heart fluttered, panicked. “Wh-who?” I stamm
ered, turning right and then left. “Who? Esi?”

  Svîk rapped on the metal door and added, “Are you awake yet? The bell rang almost an hour ago—”

  “Esi?” I whispered. “Are you here?”

  “Taja?” Svîk called again. “Are you . . . Are you talking to someone in there?”

  “What? No,” I said, raising my voice. “Just give me a second.”

  I waited, focused on the silence until Svîk knocked again. Aching despair wrapped its arms around me, and my shoulders fell.

  “I’m coming,” I snapped and then shook my head. I wanted so much for Esi’s visit to be real, but doubt nagged at me. Was I going insane, or was this truly my magîk? I scanned the space, the familiar shapes still obscured by darkness. But no Esi-shapes. No movement either. Esi wasn’t here in our room. I grabbed a tunic on my way to the door and pulled the garment over my head.

  Tugging the metal barrier open, I the gray predawn light filtered in, illuminating the space and confirming the delusion of my wishful thinking. Dreams weren’t reality, no matter what I wanted. There was no one here, not even Esi’s ghost or spirit or soul. I was dreaming or hallucinating or something. But Esi wasn’t here.

  “You all right?” Svîk asked. “It sounded like you were talking to someone.”

  I shook my head. “No, just myself, I guess. I thought . . . I thought I heard Esi, but that’s impossible, right?”

  His gaze jumped from over my shoulder to me, and he frowned. “You heard Esi? Talking to you?” He scanned the room, and his furrow deepened. “Is she hiding?” He faced me and added, “Is she here?”

  He looked down at me, his gaze intense, and my heart flipped as I realized just how close he was to me—like kissing close. My mouth dried, and I had a brief yearning to close the distance and let him comfort me.

  Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I stepped away and said, “No. I . . . I must’ve been dreaming.” I thought of Ruin, of the time I thought he was a man, and rolled my eyes at myself. “Never mind,” I said, stepping into the clearing. “Sorry I overslept. Will you get the door?”