Pilgrim of the Storm

by Russ Linton

  Chuman bobbed his head again. "He spoke the same words of you. The same inflection on the word Cloud Born." Sidge heard a fair mimicry of abject spite as Chuman repeated the title. "Is this how it is said?"

  "Oh, no! This way," Sidge repeated the title as neutrally as he could. "Master."

  "Master," said Chuman.

  "Good. Good."

  Chuman swept his arm toward the Attarah's seat. Sidge pinned his antennae flat to his head and Izhar beckoned him to approach. Master Gohala refused to make eye contact and the imperious stare of the Living Attarah gave nothing but. Farsal stood close by and managed a furtive smile.

  Head bowed, Sidge approached and started to drop prostrate before the gathering of elders. Izhar's hand caught him, and his former master performed the same bow before him, placing his forehead to the polished stone. Gohala sneered.

  "So, you presented to me at the start of this night as an acolyte, yet you leave for the pilgrimage a master?" asked the Attarah.

  "Yes, Mighty Attarah."

  Gohala held a white-knuckled grip and glared at the ceiling. The Attarah raised a hand to his chin and scratched at the stubble. Golden rings flashed, jewels glinted.

  "What am I to make of this? Master Gohala insists the arrangement is farcical and is intended to mock our traditions. Yet, Acolyte Izhar has formally renounced his own position in your favor. And here we are, many leagues from the Temple where the true judge of such matters, the Stormblade, resides."

  No answer came.

  "Is this, in fact, a mockery?" The Attarah pierced Sidge with a stare and he struggled to keep his mandibles pointed in the correct direction.

  "I'd never involve myself in such a disgrace," said Chakor, without losing his impish grin.

  "Silence, cousin," said Gohala. "I believe the Attarah was asking this new Cloud Born for an answer."

  Sidge started at Gohala's curt demand and waited for a reaction from the honorary Jadugar. Chakor was unperturbed. Izhar stayed close to the ground. The Attarah drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair.

  "This is no mockery, Mighty Attarah. Please, I am a devout follower of Vasheru, oh glorious be his draconic form which swirls in the endless maelstrom."

  "And your former master." The jeweled hand indicated Izhar. "He claims you've been granted Wisdom?"

  Sidge noticed Gohala's jaw clench tighter. He wondered if Izhar had spoken of Gohala's false claims. Or at least, his inability to discourage such false claims.

  "I shared a vision, Attarah. I shared a vision with Master Izhar, outside of Stronghold. And in the gardens, right before I first appeared before you."

  "Two, then?" asked the Attarah.

  "It is true, Attarah," said Chakor. "I have heard word from those in the streets who reported a carriage wreathed in lightning, racing through the streets after the call of Gambora's Horn."

  So news had finally reached the palace.

  The Attarah's brow quirked. "Is this possible?" He turned to Master Gohala for confirmation.

  "Absolutely not. One doesn't share visions. Such a thing is unheard of."

  Sidge saw the top of Izhar's scalp redden, but he remained silent. Playing the role of obedient acolyte was going to be taxing for his mentor. Though, as a master himself, couldn't he simply ask his acolyte to rise and ask for an opinion? But how would such a request make him look? Sidge searched his facets for Kaaliya.

  "This thing can't even channel the Fire, the first step in any acolyte's ascension. How could it be granted a vision?" demanded Gohala.

  Sidge's insides collapsed under the accusation. He knew it would come to this.

  "Is this true?" An eagerness filled the Attarah's voice, which drew the surrounding nobles closer, all of whom had been content to view the exchange from a polite distance. Sidge tried to answer but the words stuck in his throat.

  "It never has and never will be able to, Mighty Attarah, most esteemed leader of men." Gohala announced triumphantly.

  "A sufficient test, Master Gohala." The Attarah turned his piercing eyes on Sidge "Prove you can channel the Fire, and I shall accept your claims. Then the Stormblade can sort this out upon your return to the Temple." Fingers laced together, the Attarah watched him expectantly.

  The Attarah didn't know about the Stormblade's own prophecy. Or maybe he did. Yes, of course he did. He was Gohala's raksha. Gohala, the first Cloud Born here, had probably already proposed this test. Anything to humiliate the bugman of the Temple and secure his own claim. Why had Izhar ever given him the corestone?

  All around the atrium, the festivities died. Kaaliya's face appeared as she strained to see through the crowd, her brow knitted in concern. Chakor watched and chewed his lip in thought. The music tapered into a dull pulse and died.

  Sidge reached into his robe and withdrew the corestone. He felt the pull of the mystic power of Vasheru, a pull he had yet to shape. There was no reason why it should be any different this time, but under the weight of the small eyes he could not admit his weakness.

  Without being asked, Izhar struggled to his feet and placed a hand on Sidge's shoulder.

  "Focus, Sidge. You can do this."

  Gohala rolled his eyes. "Get on with it."

  Sidge drew his hood, slowly, so Kaaliya disappeared behind the cloud-gray fabric last. He held the corestone low, only his hands and the mosaic floor were visible. He muttered a prayer to Vasheru and began the first mantra of Fire. Gohala gave a loud sigh of disdain, no doubt unimpressed by the simple calling.

  Sidge repeated the mantra, droning with perfect inflection and posture. The corestone grew heavy in his palm. His fingers began to tremble.

  Nothing happened.

  He tilted his head upward and raised a finger to beg for patience. Silence. To delay the inevitable. Head bowed again, he restarted the mantra.

  Even with his vision tunneled around the corestone, Sidge could feel the pressure of the space. In the hush of the atrium, clothing rustled. Whispered conversations carried though his hood. Footsteps approached, quietly, near the table. The strange rattle in Chuman carried on. He could place it now. The tiny silver Moonstrider Kaaliya had let him hold in his palm, that was where he'd felt the whirring before.

  What could that mean?

  No, he had to focus. Leave out the distractions. Ignore the scattered mess of visions and ebony hair and strange giants surrounding him. And the song. The song of Stronghold which became a trumpet call in the deathly silence. Desperation and sadness filling the notes.

  It was all too much.

  No one here expected him to succeed. Even Izhar must have his doubts after so much wasted practice. So much failure. Staring Gohala in the face and admitting defeat was the easiest thing to do. He raised his head.

  Released to the air, his antennae detected a hint of smoke, so faint, he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. It was as if the fire had shifted in the kitchens a room away, or the breeze outside stirred and brought in the wood smoke from the hearths of the city. Yet the acrid tang that wafted into his hood and fell on his sensitive antennae was no mere wood fire.

  Of those he was ready to declare defeat to, not a single one showed any sign they'd noticed the same smell. Gohala reveled, ready to declare the test finished. The Attarah watched with barely restrained satisfaction.

  A flash burst from the corestone, bright and blinding.

  Sidge released the stone in shock. Gohala's face underwent an instant transformation. Even the officious Attarah raised his eyebrows. Izhar grabbed Sidge's upper arms and shook fiercely.

  Sidge turned down his hood to take in the awestruck faces of the room. Chuman's bland expression showed a hint of surprise. A fire burned in Kaaliya's eyes and she cried, "Vasheru be praised!" Farsal took up the cry next, right below his reeling master. As they called out, more voices in the room repeated the glorification in stunned tones.

  The odd smell lingered and the normal press of Vasheru's Kiss that accompanied Izhar's channelings had been absent, but he'd made a spark. C
lose by, Chakor began to applaud, and the room erupted in chaos. Sidge drank in the praise, reveled in the horror on Gohala's face, and the adulation of Izhar, Farsal, and Kaaliya.

  He had channeled. At least, so it appeared. He was a Cloud Born at last. And for this night, the longest of nights, he would not question Vasheru's gift. Not tonight. Tonight, he would sleep.

  SNEAK PEEK - FORGE OF THE JADUGAR

  Kaaliya stared into the shifting radiance of the lamp. She thought she could see a difference between the depth of shadows, or the brilliance of the core, but she wasn't sure. She looked down Stronghold's main boulevard once again. Lamps on tall posts flanked the roadside. Their blueish cast remained calm and soothing, but watching the crawling, dappled shadows only convinced her of the difference in light between the one above her and the rest.

  "That one, Firetongue," she said, pointing to the lamp and using her companion's human name. She'd requested the Ek'kiru's true name, and while it had been a lovely combination of clicks and motions, she knew she couldn't do it justice.

  "Very astute," replied the Ek'kiru and her antennae arched in surprise. "How is it you know?"

  "I'm not sure," Kaaliya shrugged. "How can you tell the difference?"

  The Ek'kiru quirked her mandibles. "I don't tell anything. They tell me. They dance out of cadence with the others. It's quite infuriating."

  Kaaliya watched more closely, and the same intuition came to her, but she couldn't quite see it.

  "I'll take your word for it."

  Firetongue adjusted the leather satchel slung across her body and grabbed hold of the wooden lamppost. The carved base and elaborate etchings provided solid hand and footholds, and Kaaliya mapped out the path she might take. But the Ek'kiru transitioned to the vertical surface as though she'd simply turned a corner and walked to the top.

  "I thought I was a spider," Kaaliya muttered.

  Firetongue shivered as she reached into her pouch. "Nasty little creatures."

  Kaaliya laughed. Firetongue was a new addition to Lord Chakor's personal retinue, and she'd liked her immediately. This one asked pointed questions, never wasting time with pleasantries or attempting to mimic human etiquette. If she could, she'd try to keep the novice servant this way. Keep her from acclimating.

  On this evening, the Ek'kiru servant had a very specific task which Kaaliya had asked to accompany her on—ensuring that the lights of Stronghold's main thoroughfare did not need repair.

  Apparently, this one did.

  Kaaliya had been to Stronghold countless times. It wasn't her first trip at Chakor's request. Yet most of her experiences here had been outside the sprawling palace grounds, and while Chakor wasn't shy by any means, he maintained as much of an air of mystery as he could about his position as the sole Jadugar.

  Artifacts of a lost time like the lamps which lit the streets, the hidden mechanisms that controlled the gates, and even the waters that surrounded and flowed beneath the streets were under his purview. In their time of need, when the Children of Kurath returned, those waters would rise up and destroy the invaders, or so legend said. Rise up to keep them safe from a foe who hadn't stirred in a countless age.

  The Jadugar kept these secrets of the city, and Chakor reveled in them. In truth, the office owed as much to his showmanship as anything. He'd begun to let her in on some of the minor tricks. More closely guarded were the rumors regarding the source of his wealth, his power to turn lumps of earth into gold and gems. She could care less about money aside from the freedom it bought, but those secrets he held close lest he lose the awe of commoners and nobles alike.

  Secrets, she could respect. She had her own, and for those who requested her services, she often guaranteed discretion. Men tended to make themselves vulnerable around her, and she enjoyed the feeling of control. However, something had happened at the Deep Night festival which piqued her interest in the wealthy Jadugar's hidden knowledge and overrode her normal sense of propriety.

  When Sidge had channeled Vasheru's Fire at the festival, something happened. He'd given fervent mantras, they'd all witnessed a flash of power—no reason to doubt he'd succeeded. Yet she knew both Chakor and Sidge well enough to read them amid the excitement. The way Sidge splayed his antennae and parted his mandibles, she knew he was shocked. Then, the same inner intuition told her to look to Chakor. She'd seen cats with feathers between their teeth appear less smug.

  At the top of the pole, Firetongue produced a metal cylinder from her satchel. Her middle hand moved quickly, cradling the object close while her upper hands reached for the suspended light. Her feet, hidden under the crimson tabard she wore, clung effortlessly to the pole.

  Kaaliya moved to the side and craned her neck, trying to see. Firetongue noticed, canted her mandibles and shrugged. She held the cylinder lower for Kaaliya to examine while her upper hands worked near the light.

  No longer than a dagger and no thicker than her wrist, the dark metal tube was capped with bronze. Both ends were ringed with symbols and runes which Kaaliya had seen on artifacts dating to the true Attarah's time, though no one had ever offered her a suitable explanation of their purpose. She held her questions as Firetongue worked.

  The Ek'kiru's antennae went rigid, and she tilted her head forward. Hands worked in cautious motions as she simultaneously opened one end of the cylinder, removed a similar cap from the hanging lantern, and slid the ends together. In the brief moment it took for the two to connect, a bright orange fire seeped out like a forge stoked in a shuttered room. She quickly re-capped the lantern, and the light returned to a calming blue hue. In her haste, the cap to the cylinder fell to the wooden boardwalk.

  Kaaliya picked it up. The metal was hot on her skin, and she nearly dropped it in surprise. She quickly found the heat to be right on the edge of comfort. She ran her fingers along the deep grooves. The symbols were angular and crude compared to the elaborate metalwork and carvings of skilled artisans.

  "What are these?" she asked.

  Firetongue stood beside her with one hand extended. Kaaliya surrendered the cap.

  "Lord Chakor has only shown me how to make the repairs. He doesn't explain much, only that these are called emberseeds."

  Kaaliya brought a finger to her lip. Typical Chakor.

  Even without his enigmatic role, his wealth alone would sustain his seat at the Attarah's table. She added the bit of information to her questions about the festival and wondered how she could ply more details from him.

  "You conspire," said Firetongue, her tone friendly.

  Kaaliya raised an eyebrow and smiled. "That obvious?"

  "I may not be human, but I understand when a woman plans to lay a new trail for a man."

  "Any recommendations?" asked Kaaliya as they started up the boulevard.

  "From what I have seen, you don't need any help with Lord Chakor," Firetongue replied. "But is your conspiracy why you came with me on this menial task?"

  Kaaliya watched the orange Ek'kiru for any sign of displeasure at the idea she'd accompanied her just to gather information. She found herself focusing on her own reflection in the single glossy eye facing her.

  "Partly, I'll admit. I also wanted some peace."

  Firetongue nodded her ruddy head. "You do not care for the festivities."

  "The festivities are fine. The company, usually not. I find it hard to maintain my ladylike disguise."

  "Is this why you never stay in Stronghold long?"

  Kaaliya smirked again. She'd come and gone and often found herself spending more time with Chakor's staff than his guests, playing hive stones with the Ek'kiru in the stables or even heckling Chakor's guard on early mornings while they trained and their master slept off whatever bottle of spirits he'd consumed.

  "I leave when I'm bored. Chakor is interesting, but all men bore me eventually."

  "Even Ek'kiru men?"

  Kaaliya smiled, impressed. The question would have been ridiculous if not for the mocking way in which Firetongue spoke it. It was tricky enough
for them to replicate human speech. Adding such precise inflection was uncommon, except for perhaps one other unique Ek'kiru she'd met recently.

  "Well, look who's been keeping their antennae toward the gossip."

  Firetongue clicked with laughter. "I listen. Most humans assume I'm unable to comprehend their speech. Even so, I know my own anatomy well enough to understand complete nonsense when it is spoken."

  Kaaliya's eyes widened. "It's gone that far, has it? One dance and now I'm whoring to Ek'kiru?"

  "Well, some spoke such. Though I approve of your taste. A bahadur is quite a catch."

  "Sidge? Attractive?"

  "Oh yes," said Firetongue, her lenses gleaming under the line of street lights. "His coloration is rare. It indicates his family line is unmuddied from our first hive, in Sli'mir's realm."

  "Don't your people object to the ways of those marsh dwellers?"

  "Those barbarians wallow in their essences like lesser beasts. They never learn to control their instinct." Firetongue shuddered. "Bahadur only look the part. A dangerous exterior with a cultured mind." Firetongue's antennae waved in alternating patterns, and she tilted her head back in a gesture Kaaliya had no trouble reading. "Surely you have such men among humans?"

  "I suppose." Kaaliya chewed thoughtfully on her lip, lost in memories of her own. They'd walked past several more emberseed lamps before everything Firetongue had said registered. She burst out laughing. "Sidge? Dangerous? Cute, I'll give you. But dangerous?"

  A satisfied growl issued from the Ek'kiru's throat. "Let me say aside from the anatomical issues, the other reason I know this mating never happened was you still have your head."

  Rarely was Kaaliya surprised by anything she heard. In her travels, she'd seen much. She'd communed with the trolls more times than she could count. Sailed with a Ksijaav through seas of ice. Even been to Abwoon, the Ek'kiru city state, and briefly explored the ordered streets of a city with no gates where outsiders weren't allowed.

  As a general rule, the Ek'kiru didn't discuss their culture and rites. Beyond their gateless city, a temporary settlement for visitors had sprung up to assist with trade and Ek'kiru more predisposed to human contact dwelt there. These inhabitants immersed themselves deeply into human culture, agreeing to menial roles with a docile acceptance which bordered on strange. Yet they regarded their own ways as too plain and banal to merit discussion with outsiders. Firetongue's announcement was the first she'd heard of their mating rituals.