His cheeks flushed. “No, I—”
“Oh, come on.”
“Yeah, okay. I was thinking about Niru. I know we weren’t together all that long … and we weren’t … I mean …”
“You miss her.”
Turesobei fiddled with the buttons on his outer robe. “It’s stupid. There’s no way we can ever be together.”
“Is that why you’re working yourself to death? To get her off your mind?”
“No.”
Lu Bei clutched his paws over his chest. “Master is lovesick.”
“Hush!” Turesobei shook his head in disgust. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Not just Niru. Father’s death.” He tapped his finger against the storm sigil on his cheek. “This.”
“It’s only been six months. It’s going to take time. I’m still sorting out dad’s death, too, and I wasn’t even there.”
“I don’t have any time. I’ve got to be ready. Something big lies ahead for me. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it rolling in. Like an angry hurricane.”
“Is it going to help for you to work yourself to death? You’ve barely slept since you recovered. You can’t keep this pace up. I saw you at arms practice last week. It was pathetic.”
He elbowed her. “Hey! I’m doing all right.”
“Compared to who?”
“I’m better than you.”
“With a sword … maybe. But I’m a girl. They barely train me.”
Enashoma was a beast with the staff. On their father’s orders she had received double the defensive training most girls got. She also had a lot more freedom to roam around. He was glad of that. She had the same free spirit their father had and being cooped up like a proper Chonda princess drove her crazy. She was already widely considered something of a scandal. A tomboy. A rogue child. Their mother had tried restraint and handmaidens and guardians. Nothing ever worked.
“Look, you want to work hard, that’s fine. But it won’t hurt to take an extra hour off each day. Rest. Do something fun. Live your life. You don’t even have any friends. Just me.”
Lu Bei swung back and forth by his tail. “And me! And me!”
Shoma smiled. “Well, and Lu Bei. Of course.”
“I don’t have time for fun. I have to be worthy of this clan, of Father and Grandfather. I’ve got to be ready to assume my role at a moment’s notice. Tensions are escalating with the Gawo. Our other wizards are … second-rate. Grandfather … if something happened to him …”
She grabbed his arm. “Is he okay? He’s not sick, right? He told me since you revived him his heart’s been stronger than it has been in the last twenty years.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. He wasn’t about to tell her something he couldn’t bring himself to consider. “His heart is fine but … Have you noticed anything odd about him lately?”
She chewed on her lip and shook her head. “Have you?”
“No,” he lied, patting her hand. “I’m only worried because … Well, he’s not young. So I’ve got to be ready, just in case.”
Chapter 2
The silk-paneled door to the workroom at the top of the High Wizard’s Tower slid open. Footsteps whispered across the reed mats. Recognizing his grandfather’s kenja signature, Turesobei kept reading.
Kahenan placed a dusty, cloth-wrapped book on the table and began to hum. Turesobei pushed aside the tome he was studying.
“What’s this?”
Kahenan stroked his braided beard. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “What does it look like?”
Turesobei peeled the brittle cloth away, revealing a grimoire bound in fading leather with frayed stitching. He touched the Chonda Goshawk symbol decorating the cover. A faint pulse of magic ran through it. Probably the echo of an old warding spell.
“I haven’t seen this book before. It’s musty. When was the last time you used it?”
“Never.”
“You own a spell book you’ve never used?!”
Turesobei leafed through the grimoire’s worn pages which detailed hundreds of spells and rituals. His eyes widened. Among streamlined versions of spells he knew he found on a quick scan: the ritual of summoning a sea dragon, the spell of heaven’s wrath, the spell of the brace of the righteous man, and the ritual of becoming your innermost fear.
“I’ve never seen most of these spells! And the rituals … so much entity summoning. Where did this come from?”
“This is the only original spell book we have that belonged to Chonda Lu. It is yours now.”
Pages fluttering, the diary flew out of Turesobei’s pack and spun into a tiny cloud of energy that solidified into the form of Lu Bei. Nap time was over.
“Ooooh. Master’s old spell book! I thought it was lost.”
Lu Bei pounced on the grimoire and thumbed through the pages, muttering.
“Grandfather, why haven’t you used these before?”
“Because I cannot.”
“You can’t?!”
“The spells are interesting, but I am unable to cast them.”
“You think I can?”
“Take a good look.”
Turesobei pulled the book out of Lu Bei’s hands.
“Hey! Watch it, mister!” Lu Bei puffed his lips out into a frown and held up a finger. “You gave me a paper cut!”
“You’re a book. You’re made of paper.”
“It can happen.”
Kahenan faked a scowl. “Let me examine the cut, Lu Bei. Perhaps we can find a spell to—”
Lu Bei tucked his hand behind his back. “No, no. All better!”
Turesobei studied a few spells.
“It’s like they’re abbreviated No kenja types, activations, or pathways are outlined in the spells. How’s the energy supposed to flow?”
A wizard channeled his own life force, his internal kenja, through his kavaru, to gather and manipulate the kenja of the world around him. There were dozens of energy types, each requiring different pathways. Kenja had to be channeled just right. If desperate, a wizard could power a simple spell with only his internal kenja, gathering none from the outside world. But depleting one’s internal kenja caused organ damage, sometimes even death.
Turesobei ran his finger along the instructions for one spell.
“The spells kind of make sense. If you could improvise methods for gathering external energy, they might be possible.”
“Really? I should think activating the internal pathways would be more of a problem.”
“Is that why you can’t do them?” Internal pathway activation was one of Turesobei’s talents. “I think I might could manage one or two of the simpler ones.”
Lu Bei smiled. “That’s because you—”
Turesobei fainted. He woke up a few minutes later and poked Lu Bei in the chest.
“Stop doing that!”
Lu Bei bowed his head. “Sorry, master.”
“I’d have to gather a lot more power than normal before trying one. And they would all take too long to be practical in a fight, even if I prepared the spell in advance.”
Kahenan pointed at the sigil on Turesobei’s cheek. “I believe you possess the ability to cast any that can use storm energies. You have an always available channel to storm energy.”
Turesobei didn’t like using the Storm Dragon power. He refused to open the connection, fearing he would again fall into a coma and dream he was a dragon. He almost hadn’t woken up after the incident with the heart.
“At the least, familiarize yourself with them. Maybe one day you will find them useful.”
“Thank you for this gift, Grandfather.”
“You are welcome, Sobei, though it was always meant for you. I just thought the time had come at last. Now, take the rest of the day off.”
Turesobei shook his head and grabbed Chonda Lu’s grimoire.
“I’ll get some fresh air while I go over this.”
“Remember, we are going to meet with King Nokisa tomorrow.”
Turesobei winced. Nokisa had died
over twenty years ago. “You mean King Ugara in three days?”
Kahenan chuckled. “Of course. Of course. I was lost in thought.”
Turesobei frowned. Something wasn’t right. He wouldn’t dare ask, though.
Kahenan knelt at his desk and shuffled items around. “Have you seen my strip cutter? I can’t find it.”
“You carried it to your room last night.”
“I took it with me? Why?”
Kahenan always left the cutter in the same place.
“Haven’t a clue.”
“Goodness. I am distracted.”
“Are you — Are you okay?”
“An old mind becomes a little forgetful. And I have been ever so busy with spell work and worrying over the Gawo. I am fine, Sobei. Do not worry about me.”
Too late for that. Way too late.
Chapter 3
Because of the spat with his mother before he set off to Wakaro, Turesobei now lived comfortably in the secondary workroom in the High Wizard’s Tower. He could avoid Wenari … most of the time … and work whenever he wanted. At first his grandfather’s servants, all old and finicky like him, had grumbled, but they stopped minding once they realized Turesobei didn’t require much.
Turesobei scribed practice spell runes onto a sheet of parchment charmed with the mark of erasure. After each effort, he swiped his hand over the page and the writing disappeared.
Lu Bei lounged on a pillow flicking his tail about, bored and unwilling to return to book form. Also known as trouble.
“Are you done, master?”
“Two more hours. I’m starting the challenging stuff.”
“Argh! Master, you’re worse than you used to be back in the Old World.”
Turesobei knew the fetch meant Tengba Ren, the baojendari ancestral homeland. It lay somewhere across the ocean and no one had been there in centuries.
“I’m not Chonda Lu.”
“You haven’t worked this hard since you made me.”
“I’m not Chonda Lu.”
Lu Bei picked up a bamboo box that held supplies and tapped out the beat to an old folksong.
“Hush!” Turesobei told him.
Lu Bei sighed. “Yes, master.”
After a few minutes Lu Bei started humming the tune, but he stopped when Turesobei gave him a dirty look.
“Master, at least do something interesting, like when we explored Okoro. That was never boring!”
“I’m not Chonda Lu!”
“Madam Shoma is right. You’ve become a big old fuddy. No fun. Too much work.”
“I have commitments. Maybe you should go back to being—”
“I’ll hush. I promise I’ll — Ooh.”
Two animated paper cranes fluttered in through the open window. One on blue paper, the other on natural. The blue one landed on Turesobei’s desk. The white one spiraled through the room. Lu Bei launched into the air. He swiped but the paper crane darted away from him. Cackling, he zoomed around chasing it.
“Don’t break anything this time!”
“Yes, master!”
At Turesobei’s touch, the blue crane unfolded to reveal a message. Having inherited the knack and a magic brush from their grandmother, Enashoma could fold sheets of paper into creatures and animate them by scribing special sigils onto the pages. Her little beasts could walk, crawl, or fly for an hour. The brush wouldn’t work for Turesobei, even though he was a wizard. He had tried, with frustration, many times.
Sweet Dearest Brother Sobei,
I’ve got a great idea! If I address a paper falcon to Iniru and you use your storm powers to put a really good wind spell on it, maybe the falcon would reach her! You’d be able to write her messages anytime. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Respond yes.
Sincerely,
Your Sweet, Loving, and Ever-Devoted Shoma.
He winced his eyes closed. Oh how he wished. But he couldn’t. It would lead to nothing and keep the pain fresh. He’d never be able to move on.
He wrote no on the crane and was about to touch the return sigil when another crane landed. This one said:
Don’t say no.
Turesobei laughed.
He wrote no on that one, too, and sent them back to her.
The other crane’s magic faded. Lu Bei caught it, which he could have done sooner if he had wanted. He obviously flew after them at half-speed, though he claimed adamantly that he did not. He ripped the paper to shreds with glee.
“You’re going to clean up right?”
“Of course, master.” From his hand Lu Bei shot a spark of electricity at one shred. This new talent came from the storm sigil on his chest that matched the one Turesobei’s cheek. The extra energy had also made him six inches taller, which was half much taller as he had been.
“No burning them!”
Lu Bei stuck his forked tongue out.
“You scorched the mats last time. Do you want to explain that to Lord Kahenan again?”
Lu Bei kicked one of the paper shreds. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“What did Lady Shoma want?”
“She wants me to boost a paper falcon with storm energy so it can fly all the way to Iniru.”
“You could probably manage that.”
Turesobei distractedly practiced a new set of runes.
“Doesn’t mean I should.”
Chapter 4
A basket filled with bamboo pieces sat on Turesobei’s desk. He drew one out and recited a prayer to the Shogakami goddess of the forests.
“Lady Ishiketa, I beseech thee. Bless this wood on which I place my trust.”
With a razor he quartered the segment into strips each the width of three fingers and the length of a hand. He filed away the rough edges and polished the pieces.
“Mistress Zhura, I beseech thee. Share but a drop of thy endless power. I honor your name.”
He dipped his brush in a pot of ink mixed with minuscule particles of kenja-conducting dark iron, an ore gathered from meteors than had fallen from the dark moon, Zhura, ages ago. On the concave side of the strip he drew the mark of binding which would allow the strip to hold kenja. The runes of the spell would be inked on the convex side.
He repeated the process, carefully working through each of the bamboo pieces. Four hours later, when the basket was finally empty, sixty strips lay before him, ready to be inscribed with spells. Satisfied with a productive day off, Turesobei stretched and looked out the window at the heavy rain pelting the city. He thought of rushing out into the heavy rains with Iniru, pursuing the Storm Cult, snuggling together in an army tent. A sharp, almost physical pain lanced through his heart. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned back to his desk. Keep working. That was the only way to get her off his mind.
He cast the spell of prodigious leaping and channeled the energy through his brush. The magic passed from him into the bamboo strip. Spells activated using a prepared strip needed only half as much internal kenja and time to cast.
Satisfied with the effort, he began another spell.
Time passed in a blur of casting. His heart and mind eased into a calm bliss he only felt when scribing spells. Kahenan entered the workroom and watched over his shoulder until he finished the spell of the might of three men.
“What are all these for?” Kahenan asked. “That is a lot more than your basics.”
“I’m going to keep sixty ready. I want to be prepared for … anything … everything. You’ve always told me preparation is the most important aspect of being a wizard.”
Kahenan whistled. “Quite ambitious. It is going to take dedicated effort to maintain these.”
“I’ve got the time and the energy.”
“I am too old to keep up that many, but I also have not absorbed any storm dragon’s lately.”
He didn’t tell Kahenan that he refused to use the storm energies.
“So what all do you have here?” Kahenan scanned over them. “All good choices. Though I do recommend adding t
he spell of getting some rest and the spell of enjoying your youth.”
Turesobei half-chuckled. “I don’t know those, Grandfather.”
“Try to learn them.” Kahenan paused in the doorway as he left. “Sobei, I am proud of you and how hard you are working. But I do worry about you. When I was your age I played in the fields and chased girls, frequently.”
“Grandfather, forgive me, but you’re a workaholic. I find it hard to believe that you weren’t always this way.”
Kahenan winked. “Get some rest.”
Turesobei scripted another spell and decided to call it a night. It would take him four more days to complete all sixty strips. His stomach rumbled. Had he forgotten dinner again?
A paper crane pecked at the window. He let it in and opened the message.
Let’s write Iniru.
Turesobei clutched the note and thought of the minty smell of Iniru’s breath, the depth in her amber eyes. Her soft lips and fur. He placed the note against his forehead and sighed.
Hand shaking, he wrote his response.
No.
~~~
Turesobei spent an entire afternoon prepping the open rooftop of the High Wizard’s Tower for a dangerous summoning requested by Prince Chien. On the stone floor, Turesobei drew sigils, channeling spirals, a summoning pentagram, and two protective circles. He dusted the edge of the rooftop with fine-ground demon-bane. The herbal mixture wouldn’t stop anything more than a minor entity, but it would slow them down.
Kahenan examined Turesobei’s work.
“Everything looks in order. Your first solo entity summoning. Are you ready for the challenge?”
His pulse quickened. “I am.”
“I’ll be backing you. So if anything goes wrong, do not worry.”
Lu Bei lit the torches and did a flyover to check the demon-bane and other arrangements. He’d seen more than enough summonings to recognize any errors. Patting Turesobei on the shoulder he said, “Well done, master. Good luck!”
Lu Bei stuffed himself into Turesobei’s satchel and transformed. Kahenan knelt within a protective circle. He placed his legendary white-steel longsword, Yomifano, in front of him, still in its bamboo scabbard decorated with Zhura-ink runes. Only white-steel, made from ore fallen from the bright moon Avida, could truly harm demons and spirit creatures. Normal weapons might temporarily disrupt or injure them, but they couldn’t cause permanent injury.
Lair of the Deadly Twelve (Storm Phase Book 2) Page 2