Prodigal Steelwielder (Seals of the Duelists Book 3)

by Jasmine Giacomo

  “Bayan?” Datu stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a plate of mishmash stew over rice.

  Bayan shifted his thigh off the table at the sight of his father. “Father. I don’t mean to intrude—”

  His father’s face broke into a wide grin. He hurried to the table to set down his plate. Relief flooded Bayan—his father was genuinely pleased to see him. Bayan expected the man to rush him for a fatherly bear hug, but to his consternation, the strong farmer he had known all his life dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Great duelist, I am honored by your presence. All of Pangusay is abuzz with your astonishing act of bravery in bringing the Temple of Ten Thousand Harmonies safely to our mountains. One of the singers even sought me out afterward to inform me that you have been restored to citizenship and may once more claim your family name. We’re very honored by your presence. Anything you require, it is yours.”

  Bayan’s dismay turned bitter, and an acidic chill drilled through his chest. “Father, stand up. I’m not here to demand things of you. I just stopped by… I mean, I saw Mindo… I wanted to see you again.”

  Hesitantly, Datu got to his feet and met Bayan’s eyes. “You are well, then?”

  Bayan shifted his feet. “Nothing’s killed me yet. Though the Corona is very interested in trying. ”

  Datu’s heavy brows lowered, crowding his hooded eyes. “The Corona? When the singer came, his robe was smeared with blood and soot. Is there war?”

  “It seems so. The duelists will do what they can. You should be safe here.”

  “Well. Well then.” Datu looked around his front room as if its familiar items were new and fascinating. “You should take care of yourself and your friends. The empire needs its strongest defenders. Before you go, is there anything I can provide for you?”

  Before I go. I still have no idea how I’m going to go. I could blow myself over to the Temple and see if there any singers there who aren’t too busy planning a war to give me a ride. A new thought nibbled at his mind. No, the sky being put me here for a reason. Until I find out what it is, I’m not ready to go yet. To his father, he said, “I wouldn’t say no to a plate of that mishmash stew.”

  Bayan and his father sat at the large family table and ate together. Bayan listened as his father quietly rambled about various farm events and impediments, shared gossip from downtown Pangusay, and bragged about Bayan’s sisters’ progress at boarding school in the prestigious university city of Malamanay. “After all, one of their brothers is a duelist, and the other is the voice for the only sint in Balanganam. Our family has a different kind of standing than I could ever have envisioned for us, and I’m not about to let my children live a lesser life than they could.”

  “Some parts of my life seem lesser than if I had remained a farmer.” That brought a smile to his father’s face. When they finished eating, Datu asked once again if there was anything he required. Trying not to cringe at his father’s obsequious tone, Bayan shook his head. “I’ll not keep you from your duties.

  That explanation was apparently more than sufficient for his father, for he gave another deep bow and left the room.

  Ay, Bhattara. Bayan dropped his face into his hands. A warm body nudged his leg, and he looked down to see the old farm hound, Timbool, leaning against him with his tongue lolling out. Bayan grinned at the sight of the animal. Giving the sleek-furred beast some scratching behind his ears, Bayan said, “Ay, Timbool, if you had any idea the great stone avatar you inspired me to create years ago, you’d probably turn tail and run. You helped me save the emperor’s life. Did you know that, old boy? Yes, you did. Yes, you did, you good dog, you.” The old farm hound released a happy wheeze and swiped at Bayan’s hand with his long, warm tongue. As the beast lay atop one of Bayan’s feet, Bayan let his thoughts take over.

  I used to trust that my family would benefit from my rank. I used to be content with my lot because of my friends. Bayan felt his teeth clenching. His hands balled into fists on the old wood. Jaap separated me from my reasons for loyalty, and now he expects me to step back into my old role.

  The tabletop sprouted with tiny plant seedlings that formed straight, long rows like a garden plot. Timbool, at Bayan’s feet, whined. Bayan peeled the seedlings away from the table with a wave of his hand, restoring its smoothness, and wove their trailing stems together in a delicate wreath that hovered before him. He let it spin on a puff of wind, like the windmills the Waarden built to pump water into their irrigated fields. I’ve outgrown the role the emperor first offered me. I’m someone else now, someone he made me into when he exiled me. I have to be true to who I’ve become.

  The seedling wreath frosted over with spikes of ice then blackened as the ice morphed into flame, devouring the young green plants. Bayan hardened the circle of ash into a ring of stone, then shot it through with a delicate tracery of steel and electrified it with a bolt of Shock. I hate to say it, but it looks like Ignaas wasn’t completely wrong. We may not be better than the villagers across the empire, but we are very different. Sometime soon, I need to have a conversation with Emperor Jaap about acknowledging that difference.

  But in the meantime, Bayan had friends to support and an enemy to defeat. He recalled as much detail as he could of Ordomiro’s sacrifice, his portal that had thrown Bayan and Sabella deep into the Waarden Empire. His magic had dwelt in ink, and fluid shapes formed the six sacred motions. When he hadn’t had enough ink, Ordomiro and opened his veins and bent the world with his blood. Is that his strength or his limitation? I don’t use ink. What can I use to bend the world? The singers do it all the time with sound. It doesn’t kill them.

  A breathless sort of deep concentration overtook Bayan’s mind, silencing all thought. He felt as if the flat rock beneath his feet were the very top of a massive mountain buried under the soil. The tiniest part of a new concept pressed against his mind.

  Singers use song. Ordomiro used liquid. “Your babies call you master.” The meaning of the sky creature’s words slammed into the back of Bayan’s eyeballs, and he lurched forward, pressing his palms flat against the tabletop. At his feet, Timbool jerked into a sitting position and stared up at him. Bayan looked down at the dog. “Master Duelist. One who can will the world to bend. No hand gestures, old boy. No focused magic. No spells to limit the scope of my will.”

  Snatches of memory flared in Bayan’s mind. On the day his magic had revealed its secret before his father and Philo, Bayan had killed a swamp viper in a paddy. He had never been sure how he’d sensed the creature behind him when it was under the water’s surface. A savant form of Lifeseeker. On the day Ignaas witten Oost had been potioneered, an angry young student had flung a stone at him from above, and Bayan had simply willed it into flower petals. No gestures necessary. During his days with Ordomiro and his nights with Sabella, he had begun more and more to simply will small things to happen. Power unlimited by spells.

  Suddenly, Bayan felt tiny, insignificant, a small speck on the vast surface of the world with everything stretching away from him, demanding his attention, his focus. He recoiled, gasping. It’s too much. I can’t think of it all at once. I’m still too attached to my body. Its perspective makes me small. That’s what the creature meant: someday, my body will be too small to contain me because my thoughts will outgrow it. Without my body, what will I be?

  Several tiny strands tied together all at once. Clues from the ancient book, from his celestial kidnapper, from his time on campus, from the history he had learned from Instructor de Rood, they all fit. Am I the last one to figure this out or the first? He became aware of every speck of his physical body as the thought washed over him, permeating his skin. His flesh.

  A Master Duelist without his flesh… Shall I, too, bend the world from my cave?

  An eternity of possibility stretched out in Bayan’s mind, but its infinity terrified him, so he shied back. He snapped into the moment and stood up abruptly. His chair tumbled to the floor with a clatter that startled the dog. Timbool trotted a few steps away then t
urned and sat, watching him.

  Bayan stepped away from the table and wafted the chair back into an upright position with a flick of Wind. He turned to face the open portion of the room. In the endless distance beyond the wall of his father’s house, the Corona’s steelwielder army was amassing. The sky being—the first sint?—had said that Bayan’s foot still hung in the air, that he was still taking his very first step on a long journey. Time to put my foot down. “They wanted to play with portals, Timbool. So we’ll play with portals.”

  Bayan fingered his necklace with the fat, heavy black bead in the center. I’ve always been angry. Always. I’ve harnessed it, controlled it, made it work for me. It is the strongest single piece of who I am. And right now, I’m really very angry. He took a deep breath and tensed his torso, squinting forward at the air.

  Bend.

  He was surprised, but he shouldn’t have been, when a small black spot appeared in midair. It spread, peeling open a pitch-black tunnel before him. The edges streamed away, black flames in the wind. Bayan willed the hole larger, forced its distant end farther. He felt it stretching across the world.

  Wait. I don’t have to go alone. And I don’t want to.

  The far end of the tunnel, which appeared before him as a gap in the blackness a hand’s breadth wide and a dozen strides away, veered aside, seeking a new anchor, then spread open like a twisting vortex and dissipated into nothingness, leaving a black ring reminiscent of the bright white singer portals. On the far side of it lay a small, private garden at the Kheerzaal, where he spotted his two favorite people in the world. Calder and Kiwani clutched each other’s hands and murmured quietly together.

  Bayan felt one eyebrow climb his forehead. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Kiwani and Calder broke apart with twin gasps. Kiwani’s face froze with what looked like a combination of ecstasy and pain, but Calder let out a whoop and dashed toward Bayan with open arms.

  Not wanting Calder to disrupt his brand new portal, Bayan hopped through into Calder’s arms and embraced his friend. Calder crafted a wind disc under their feet and spun it wildly. “I knew he wasna dead!” Kiwani’s tolerant look informed Calder that such had been patently obvious to her as well.

  Bayan stopped the disc before his full stomach rebelled. “Why did you think I was dead?”

  Calder's wide eyes protested his innocence. “We dinna. But most everyone else did. See, your body started leaking all this magic all over the floor. Lifeseeker said you werena home anymore. But I knew you were out there somewhere. Look how smart I am. Aren’t you glad you have such a clever friend?”

  Bayan grinned. “Yes, yes I am.”

  “How did you make that portal? What was that spell?” Kiwani breathed. She hadn’t moved toward Bayan yet.

  Rather than pride, Bayan felt a chill of terror at the vastness of the first step on his journey. What would the second step do to his already vastly altered perceptions? The millionth? “I learned it from a friend in the Corona.”

  Calder punched him on the shoulder. “And you’re just telling us this now? We could’ve used that during the battle! You great stupid prat, always hoarding your secrets. Next time, share, sints curse you.”

  Bayan twitched at Calder’s mention of sints.

  “Oh, and speaking of sharing…” Calder cleared his throat. “I understand you had a friend with you. Sabella?” Bayan nodded. Calder took a deep breath but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve some shite news, I’m afraid. She got caught up in a battle with Iulan, Odjin, some Potioneers Savant, and a load of steelwielders disguised as Tuathi.”

  Bayan’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s dead?”

  Calder nodded.

  Bayan let out a hefty sigh.

  Kiwani studied him. “Who is Sabella, and why do you seem relieved she’s dead?”

  Bayan’s shoved Calder several strides away with a puff of wind. “Calder, go get lost. I have something I need to say to Kiwani.”

  Kiwani met his eyes, and her face ached with a deep hunger. From off to the side, Calder called back, “Aye, well, ’tis about time, you two. Here, let me give you a parting gift. One of Tala’s favorites.”

  The dark, chilly garden suddenly blossomed into full spring, and the air warmed to a tropical comfort level. A round bed laden with silken pillows took form above a smooth pond filled with fat goldfish. “Don’t take all night, now,” Calder admonished. “We do have a war to fight.”

  When Calder was gone, Bayan stepped forward and took Kiwani’s hands in his own. “Your necklace is all black. That makes me sad.” He ran a gentle thumb across the stones that lay against her neck, and bright little crystals grew from their dark planes, glimmering and winking in the warm light. “Your soul was always more beautiful than mine. Don’t hide it.”

  Kiwani stepped closer. He felt the warmth of her face radiating against his cheek. “I wasn’t hiding. I was changing. I couldn’t help it. You were gone, and with you, a part of me. A bigger part than I ever expected to lose.”

  Bayan folded Kiwani in a desperate embrace. “The last thing I wanted was for you to suffer.”

  “You didn’t make me suffer, Bayan. The empire did that. What Jaap did to you was wrong. I couldn’t reconcile that with my loyalty, my childhood memories. I turned dark. I’m not sure I know how to change back. I’m not sure I want to.”

  Bayan slid his hands along her jaw, into her hair. “Will you let me try to convince you? I can’t stand to see you hurting so.”

  Kiwani’s pupils were wide and black. “”Don’t feel guilty. I don’t want you to.”

  “What do you want me to feel, then? I have a whole necklace of options.”

  Kiwani’s eyes slid downward to rest on his lips. “Do you have one of those for passion? Like Tarin?”

  Bayan’s dark pink stone throbbed hard and hot against his skin, echoing his lower throb. “Let me show you. I owe you two years. And I want to make up for every minute of it.”

  Kiwani formed a wind disc beneath their feet, and it bore them across Calder's fish pond. Bayan drew her closer and kissed her, gently hexing Flame and anima through her body. She gasped and pulled away. “How did you do that? Are you hexing me?”

  The wind disc stopped over the water. Bayan smiled at her alarmed expression, then trailed a line of kisses across her forehead and down her cheek, smoothing away her tension. “Only if you want me to. But I think you’ll like it. I know I did.”

  “You did?” A dark stone on Kiwani’s necklace pulsed with sudden heat. Bayan winced; his jealousy bead didn’t burn nearly that hot.

  Ay, Bhattara. “Sabella was someone I thought I knew until I realized she was an Anima Savant. She changed my memories and put herself where she didn’t belong.”

  “She took you.”

  “At least once. I think. I don’t know why, and now I’ll never find out. But it’s over.”

  Kiwani wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I hexed you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of my hex avatars. It’s you. My version of you.”

  Warmth threaded its way up into Bayan’s torso. “I found some of the true memories she tried to erase. Kiwani, I never stopped thinking of you. You were the aching hole in my heart.”

  Her body crashed into his, and her lips sealed against his. Together, they toppled off the wind disc and landed amongst the silken pillows. “Show me. Show me everything. I need you to be the man I lost and the man I found.”

  She rolled atop him and straddled his body, panting against his mouth. Hot tears leaked from her eyes and fell upon his cheeks, and he crushed her to him with a tight embrace. Half the beads on his necklace seemed to be burning his skin.

  “Closer, more…” Kiwani whimpered against his mouth. With a flick of his mind, Bayan separated and spread the separate elements of their clothing out into the world. Kiwani’s hot skin pressed against his.

  How is it that such intimate magic is only a small thing? It feels bigger than any battle, than any war. He gently
moved Kiwani beneath him and pressed himself into her slickness with a groan of pleasure. She gasped then threw her head back, spilling her long, glorious black hair across the pillows. She laughed, and the astonishment in her voice told Bayan she hadn’t laughed in a very long time, and he threw himself into pleasuring her with every ounce of his focus.

  Days seemed to pass. The air grew lighter, and then darker. He brought snow to tantalize her skin then whisked it away with a bright desert wind. He heightened her sensations with anima magic, so that a single touch of his lips or fingers spun her once more into throes of pleasure. They clung together in the sky, under the water, in a dark earthen cavern. Fire consumed them, and a vortex of windborne leaves whistled around them.

  Not willing to merely play the passive receiver, Kiwani began to mimic Bayan’s magics. To his surprise, she had several tricks of her own. More than once, he lay at her mercy, drenched in pleasure. She coated him with delicate traceries of ice and fire, and she rode him drenched in seerwine sap, dazzled by its tingling effects on their most sensitive skin. She even shifted her appearance to a pale, curly-haired Waarden and back.

  Finally, with twin sighs of satisfaction, they let their magic cease, and Bayan lay with Kiwani amongst the silken pillows, now restored to their pristine condition. Bayan cuddled Kiwani close, enjoying the sensation of one body sharing warmth with another, and listened to her breathing. “Why anyone would ever give that up, I hope I never know.”

  She stirred, but her eyes remained closed. “Magic?”

  “No, mortality. This flesh that we’ve just shared.”

  “Sint Kah couldn’t give it up, so he moved into a flock of crows and created hexbirds.”

  Kiwani’s sleepy comment, so casually given, hit Bayan like a Blue Bolt spell. There’s a choice! Of course there’s a choice. Maybe someday, I can ask Sint Kah about his. “I suppose the downside is that keeping a mortal body around means it can die in battle. What do you think of our odds today?”

  Kiwani snuggled closer. “I think we’re invincible.”