Lair of the Deadly Twelve (Storm Phase Book 2)

by David Alastair Hayden

  In Ancient Zaboko she sang. Her notes held the purity of crystal, ringing across the mountainside. She clapped her hands at strange intervals. With each clap, a series of runes on the stone arch lit up a piercing white or blue. Air and water kenja, so strong Turesobei could sense it without opening his kenja-sight, converged on the girl and the gate. He tapped into those energies, gathering a fraction to activate his channel to the storm sigil. Lightning crackled across the arch. Once, twice … A field of static formed within.

  Time to fulfill his destiny. Time to become what he truly was … one part Turesobei, heir of Chonda Lu, and one part the Storm Dragon. It would be safe. Everything would be fine, as long as he held onto his identity and manifested and controlled the Storm Dragon’s power.

  The Winter Child made a shrill cry like a tea kettle left too long over a fire. The static formed into a shimmering portal within the arch, as if rippling moonlit water hung in the air. She fell silent and bowed her head. Her shoulders slumped.

  A stream of icy air and a dusting of snow blew out from the Winter Gate and onto the mountain shelf.

  Turesobei tapped into the sigil and let go.

  It was simple, easy. How much willpower had he been using to hold this back all the time. He had assumed the natural position was for the channel to be closed. It wasn’t. The channel wanted to be open. He had been holding it shut, day and night.

  The storm energies flared to life. An image of sky and land far below flickered through his eyes. He woke into the dream of the dragon.

  Chapter 65

  The Storm Dragon soared over the mountains. How small and insignificant the human affairs below seemed. What did life and love matter to a creature with dominion over the skies?

  He felt a tug. Something tethered him to the pointless human world below. His name. Someone called his name. Someone dared summon him! Claws dug into his neck. Pain and the irresistible pull of that voice calling his name pulled him back to the earth.

  Turesobei woke from the dream.

  Aikonshi hovered above him. “Wake up, idiot!”

  She helped him up. He stood on shaking legs.

  He grabbed her hand. “Claws.”

  Aikonshi didn’t question you in the thick of battle. She flicked the claws out from her fingertips. He grabbed her hand and raked the claws down his arm, drawing blood. He smeared the blood onto both hands.

  Their eyes met. She nodded. She understood. Blood magic. It was dangerous, might kill him, would definitely cause lasting harm, but they didn’t have any other choice.

  He quick-cast the spell of binding force and directed it at himself. He hoped it would hold the dream back. At least buy him a little time. Time was all he needed. He staggered from the effort. Aikonshi held him up.

  “Lu Bei, now!”

  The fetch popped out into his Lu Bei form and flew toward the Winter Child.

  Turesobei called to the storm energy. Lightning speared down from above and struck the storm sigil on his cheek. A shroud of visible, crackling storm kenja formed a translucent shell around him, only a hand’s length away from his body. Wings of cloud sprung from this shell, as did ice claws on his hands.

  One of the clones stepped toward him. He thrust his hands out and struck it. Storm energy crackled off his palms and burned the clone, who collapsed, convulsed, and went still. Another charged him, he stabbed it with his ice claws then blasted it off the mountain with a wind burst.

  A flash of the dragon flying through the clouds. He staggered and then came back to himself. Motekeru, despite his chained hands, grabbed the Wolf and threw him forward so that he fell between Turesobei and the Winter Gate.

  Turesobei and Motekeru had caused enough confusion with their sudden attacks to slow the Deadly Twelve’s reactions.

  Lu Bei locked onto the back of the Winter Child’s nightgown and yanked her out of the Warlock’s reach. Barakaros pursued, but Aikonshi wrapped tendrils around him. Iniru darted between two clones and took the Winter Child by the hand. Awasa swung Sumada at Iniru’s head, but she easily ducked under the clumsy attack. Iniru and Lu Bei led the child back to Enashoma and Zaiporo’s relatively safe position. The Twelve didn’t go after them. They were now more concerned with Turesobei.

  A blast of the Spider’s webbing streamed toward Turesobei. The silk threads melted when they struck his energy shell. He summoned a miniature cyclone and focused it around the Spider. He lifted her into the air and threw her next to the Wolf.

  The Warlock shrugged free of Aikonshi’s shadow tendrils, shoved Awasa aside, and charged after the child. Zaiporo and Enashoma backed toward the mountainside, trying to get as far away from the gate as possible. Hakamoro and Aikonshi fought clones, backing away as they did. They couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  As Turesobei gathered a lightning blast, the dream came upon him again. He fought it back. He was supposed to be Turesobei and the Storm Dragon, but he couldn’t control it. And the spell was barely containing the power. The energy shell was blistering his already raw skin. Random shocks fired into his body, numbing muscles and shooting pain down through his bones. He was losing strength. All his willpower was spent fighting to stay conscious and to control the energy so that he didn’t become all dragon.

  “Sobei, look out!” Iniru cried.

  It took him too long to focus. The Warlock’s arm was extended in Turesobei’s direction. A knife whirled toward him. He turned. The knife pierced the energy shell, slowing as it did so, and clipped him on the arm. Thanks to his armor it only sliced a shallow line in his skin. But that was all it took for the poison to work.

  Turesobei clapped his hands together and fired lightning at the Warlock. A clone leapt in front of him. The blast killed the clone and knocked it back against its maker.

  As Turesobei gathered energy for another blast, the poison raced through his system. His pulse slowed. His muscles stiffened. Two clones rushed him. He tumbled them backward with a gust of wind.

  The dream came on him. He returned on his own … but slowly.

  The Poisoner dropped a cloud of toxic gas on the others, while the Spider and two clones closed in from both sides. Motekeru and the Wolf still battled. Awasa fought to break free of shadow tendrils Aikonshi had wrapped around her.

  Lu Bei freed the two amber wolfhounds from webbing. Turesobei hadn’t even noticed they’d been bound.

  The Warlock with two of his clones charged Turesobei. The wolfhounds got in the way of one clone, biting at its knees, while Lu Bei popped the other in the face and dashed away. Turesobei beat his wings of cloud and flew up and back a few steps, just far enough to narrowly dodge a slash by the Warlock, Turesobei let out a blast of lighting. It wasn’t as strong as he had planned but it was the best he could do that fast.

  The lightning knocked the Warlock and the two clones halfway to the gate. The Warlock leapt back up to his feet, his chest smoldering. The two clones climbed up slowly, their wounds had nearly incapacitated them.

  The Poisoner dropped an acid cloud on Turesobei, but he summoned a whirlwind and blew it away. Turesobei increased the whirlwind’s intensity and focused it on the Spider and the two clones closing in methodically on his friends. The winds pulled the wraiths back into the Poisoner. The Deadly Twelve struggled to break free as the wind reached gale strength. Motekeru kicked the Wolf into the whirlwind and crawled away from it, wounded and slowed by poison.

  Turesobei used the whirlwind to shoved the wraiths in it toward the Warlock who stood near the Winter Gate, recovering from the blast Turesobei had hit him with. But Turesobei’s strength and the winds began to fade. The dragon dream flickered in and out. The winds sputtered. The energy surrounding him dimmed. He lost the winds entirely. Laughing, the Warlock and the other wraiths advanced toward him. Awasa hung behind them, sword in hand, confused about what she should do.

  “You gave it your all,” the Warlock said. “But face it, even with your storm powers, it is not enough. You are not Chonda Lu. You will never—“

 
A giant, vermillion-skinned man, nearly twice Turesobei’s height, burst through the gate. Snow from the Celestial Realm of Winter swirled through after him. White hair stood straight up on his head, and his white broom mustache puffed out. Solid black eyes flicked around, taking in the scene. A forked tongue caressed the tusks that protruded from the corners of his mouth. He carried a curved sword of onyx and wore pelts of white and gold fur.

  Not a man nor a demon, not in the usual sense. A yomon. A being of chaos. Immortal kindred, it was said, of the Kaiaru, though the lore was highly suspect. None had been seen in millennia. Turesobei had seen sketches and read scant descriptions of them. Savage, wicked, immensely powerful. The One Hundred and the Eight were far worse than he imagined.

  Bellowing a war chant, the yomon surged forward and struck the head off a clone with one swipe of his sword. The clone’s head tumbled off the ledge and his body turned to a pile of dust. The yomon lifted a ram’s horn and blew a thunderous note. A clone lunged in and stabbed him in the leg. With blinding speed, the yomon stabbed his sword through the clone, lifted it high in the air, and pounded it onto the ground. The demon bellowed his war chant again. If the poison affected him, he showed no immediate sign.

  Another yomon, not quite as tall but with the same basic appearance, stepped through. He thrust his spear at the Wolf, who dodged away, but barely. The portal turned clear, showing a snowy landscape beyond. Behind this newest yomon loomed dozens more.

  “We want the same thing as you!” the Warlock shouted to them. “We have opened the portal so that you might—”

  The big yomon shouted something in a language similar to Ancient Zaboko and swiped at the Warlock. The wraith ducked under the attack and darted away. The Deadly Twelve spread out.

  There were too many enemies, too soon. Turesobei gathered his strength and decided he should first slow the yomon from coming through the gate. He blasted the second yomon, knocking him back into the portal and into those rushing up behind him. He took a breath and then aimed at the first giant. This blast wasn’t as strong. The yomon staggered back. He sneered, bounded forward, knocking the Wolf aside, and struck Turesobei with a haymaker that would’ve crushed every bone in his body if not for the energy shell dampening the impact.

  The punch knocked Turesobei against the mountainside. He fell and the energy shroud vanished.

  Chapter 66

  Turesobei lay stunned but conscious where he had fallen. The connection to the storm energy had been severed, leaving him empty. That was the only good thing, that he wasn’t falling into the dream. Yomon poured from the portal. The Poisoner, the Wolf, and the Spider fought desperately, but were losing ground. Only their speed kept them alive, and only the Poisoner’s acidic cloud at the gate slowed the yomon down, though the big one breathed it in and laughed.

  The Warlock fought one-on-one with the big one. The yomon-ga, Turesobei decided. Their attacks made for an incredible blur. While these two were a match, the Deadly Twelve possessed slightly greater strength and quickness than the rest of the yomon, who also lacked their special abilities. But the yomon outnumbered them.

  Her eyes wild, Awasa swung Sumada at the half-dozen yomon that encircled her. She had no skill but the yomon all feared the white-steel blade after one of her reckless swings sliced deep into the gut of one, killing him.

  As the smaller yomon rushed through, Motekeru, Hakamoro, and Aikonshi again fought defensively, unarmed, and retreated. Everyone fought against or fled from the vermillion-skinned devils. Except the Winter Child who stood straight, seemingly uncaring. Zaiporo, Enashoma, and Iniru shielded her. It seemed clear that the yomon were heading toward her. Like the Deadly Twelve, they probably wanted to seize her and prevent her from ever closing the gate.

  Lu Bei zipped over and placed his hand on Turesobei’s forehead.

  “Master, are you okay?”

  “Help … Iniru … Shoma …”

  “I will keep them away from you, master.”

  “Break the webbing … get away through the tunnels.”

  “We tried already, master. Much tougher than her normal webs. Couldn’t cut through it. My little blasts did no good.”

  More and more yomon marched through the portal. There was nowhere to escape to with the tunnel sealed. They could flee into the cave on the far end of the shelf, but they would be trapped if they even made it there. He had tried to stop it. The One Hundred and the Eight poured through the gate. Eternal winter would soon fall over the land. The only good thing was that it looked like the yomon would slaughter the Deadly Twelve. Grandfather, Mother, the clan … they would all be safe from them. Winter and the Gawo, he couldn’t help that.

  Why had the power gone out of him? He had opened the channel all the way and fully embraced the power. Unless …

  When he had tried to blend with the Storm Dragon power, he had bound it by spell and will, out of necessity. Otherwise, he would’ve fallen into the dream. But maybe he couldn’t be both Turesobei and the dragon that way. Maybe he needed to give himself over to the power completely, not force it into the shape he wanted. Maybe he had to control the dragon within the dream and not try to bring the dragon to him. So what if he ultimately lost himself? He needed only maintain enough control and remember himself long enough to blast these yomon back in, take the child into the Winter Realm, and then have her shut the portal. She couldn’t do it from this side.

  “Lu Bei, I’ve got to let go. I’ve got to become the dragon.”

  “Master, I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “Nothing else has worked. What happens will happen. There’s no other choice but to trust to what I’ve become … a creature of storm.”

  “As you wish, master. I will guard you to my dying breath if something goes wrong.”

  “I know.”

  Lu Bei spun around, hovered in the air with both arms out, hands sparking energy. Always dramatic.

  Thinking of the dragon, Turesobei relaxed and opened himself to the storm mark. There was no crack of lightning. No burst of energy. He went to the dream world as a dragon again, but this time willingly, and with more awareness. He was himself … for now.

  He flew high above, where the sky had turned a dark blue and the stars shone faintly even though it was daytime below. A glint on a mountain far below caught his attention. In a blink he was at the summit.

  Floating in the air across from him was a zaboko woman with piercing eyes and deep red lips. Despite her young face, her long hair was pure white. She wore the flowing gown of a high priestess. In her hands she held a jade orb veined in red, an object he knew far too well: The Storm Dragon’s Heart.

  “Who are you?”

  She flashed a smile and said seductively, “You know who I am.”

  “Naruwakiru.”

  “In my old human form.”

  “Why am I here? I have to go back!”

  “You must deal with me first. And you know why I’m here.”

  “I took the power of your heart, so I took in the memory of you as well.”

  “And that fear has held you back.”

  “You tried to dominate me, and I broke you.”

  “But you still fear me. You fear my power, my legacy, and my memory within you. You do not wish to become a dragon. You fight it day and night. Did you know? You are always fighting it.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing. I am only a memory. An echo. You are the Storm Dragon now.”

  “Why are you are a human in this dream?”

  “Because I was once like you. A Kaiaru. Yes, Kaiaru once walked amongst the zaboko race, too. Long, long ago. Their lines faded out. I created the Storm Dragon’s Heart from my kavaru and bound my soul to it. I began to capture power. I grew strong. I became a goddess unlike any other. Now you have this power. And the last of me.”

  “I’ve got to go back. Why am I here, wasting time?”

  “Because you have to face me or you will never merge the dragon with yourself. You will
only wield the power, and then at a risk of becoming a mindless beast if it gets away from you.”

  “Do I need your permission? Is that it?”

  “The only permission you need is your own. You must acknowledge me. You must accept that my power is part of you.”

  “I’ll become the dragon, though, won’t I? That’s what happened to you and to Okishenaga, isn’t it? You accepted the power and it overwhelmed you. You became dragons. Will I be able to change back again?”

  “I could not. But perhaps you have greater willpower. And you have Chonda Lu’s stone, whereas the heart was my kavaru. I could never escape it. The heart housed my soul. So maybe you can resist where I could not.”

  “I have no other choice. And I’ve got to hurry. I’ve got to get back out there.”

  “Only a moment has truly passed.” Naruwakiru reached out her hand. “Come, accept my blessing.”

  “Were you evil like everyone said?”

  “In the beginning, I was greedy and selfish … like most Kaiaru. But not evil. Once the power took over, it corrupted me. I wish you well with that.”

  Turesobei flew over to her and she placed a hand on his snout. “I accept that you are part of me and that I am the Storm Dragon now.”

  “Then you have my blessing. Which is, in fact, your own. And I shall forever fade away.”

  She disappeared. He went nowhere. He snapped his head around, looking below. This was the summit of the mountain where the Winter Gate was. He spotted the shelf below. This was still a world of dream. He felt certain of that. He snapped his wings against his slender body and dove down. As he plummeted, he saw his friends fighting desperately below. He saw his own body. He aimed for himself.

  Remember who you are. Remember what you’re fighting for. You must save your friends and family, stop the yomon, kill the Deadly Twelve, close the portal. You are not a storm dragon. You are the Storm Dragon Turesobei.