Ink Adept

by TatiAnna Tibbitts

  A storm rose in Munayair, as black and rumbling as the one in the sky. Her fingers curled into fists, and her jaw ached from being clenched so hard. Her eyes flickered to the bundle in Sachin’s hand. He might choose never to change, she thought, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the chance to try. And he’ll get that chance, even if I have to raise Hel to make it happen.

  A huge clatter arose from the direction of the city, and the ground shook. Villagers screamed and scattered as a new rider appeared. Four times bigger than the first, the green of aged copper, it towered over the stilted huts. Lumbering on unjointed limbs, it rode into the village green and came to a halt a few paces from Munayair, sending Sachin’s horse into a panic. It was the statue of Zain the Conqueror, which had once stood in the town square. Glyphs burned around the ankles of the horse and on the forehead of the rider, and it stood with sword raised in an untiring fist. Lightning shot down towards the village, but instead of setting another hut alight, it hit the tip of the sword and shot into the ground. With each blast of white-hot energy, the chelka’s glyphs glowed brighter and brighter. As Munayair had predicted, the spell absorbed the lightning’s power to fuel its own reserves. Hadad’s shriek of rage echoed among the roiling clouds and reverberated among the hills.

  “Gods.” Anjita laughed. She clapped Munayair’s shoulder. “It actually works.”

  Sisue gaped. “Windsinger’s breath, girl.” She clutched blindly at Munayair’s sleeve. “Have you ever done anything by halves?”

  Sachin grumbled curses, wheeling his horse in a tight circle to calm its frantic bucking. When he finally had it back under control, he jerked it around to face the crowd once more. “We must leave before the storm worsens,” he said. “Those who stay behind do so at their own risk.”

  More than half of the villagers hurried towards him, Nasim among them. But a sizable part knotted together among their homes, glaring. The guard formed ranks, and the order to march was given, but Sachin looked around, frowning. Falean remained, bowed over Bast’s curled form.

  “Journeyer Tersic?” Sachin prompted, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

  Falean didn’t look up. “I’m staying.” She rose, smoothed her grey tunic, and folded her hands demurely.

  Sachin’s voice rose. “What?” The villagers watched in silence. His hands tightened on the reins, and his horse sidled anxiously. “Stay—staying?” He lowered his voice to a carrying whisper. “It’s not safe!”

  She pulled out her salt-tempered dagger and met his eyes. “That’s why I’m staying.”

  When he compressed his lips, Sachin strongly resembled his mother. Finally, he swung down from his horse and snapped, “Very well, then I am too. Captain Behdad, leave half the guard here. Take the rest and see the villagers are housed and fed.”

  The guard paled, stammering, “But sir—your mother—”

  “That’s an order,” Sachin said. “I’ll handle Lady Tarokh.”

  From the captain’s expression, this was not much comfort, but he nodded and began barking orders. Half the blue-uniformed guards fell back around Sachin, while the others formed ranks around the villagers. One took Sachin’s horse and they led the villagers towards the city. Some watched them go with the sick expressions of those who wondered if they’d made a mistake. Munayair recognized Abhi among the guards who stayed, the young soldier from their hunt on the streets of Adasari. He nodded when he saw her, though his face was pale.

  With a swirl of cape, Sachin turned to his men. “We’ll start by preparing the sacrifice. Get him on his feet and make sure he doesn’t run.”

  Sisue was still trying to meet Radhan’s eyes, but he avoided her gaze by staring at the sky. She let out a scoff and rounded on the villagers, eyes flashing. “Have all youse forgotten there’s a storm coming to turn you out of house and home? Get back to work. Scamper!”

  The villagers jumped to obey. Radhan went with them, eyes downcast, although he did cast one look of seething anger at Munayair as he walked by. Sisue crouched beside Bast and dabbed with her apron at his bloodied face, but he turned away.

  Munayair glanced inside the arched doorway to the innyard and saw the stable sitting crookedly atop a huge pile of dirt and rocks. She bit her lip and met Sisue’s eyes, who grimaced and spread her hands. “Just as you said, your chelka sat there all day and refused to let anyone in or out. We had to push food and water for Nasim through the back window. But then the Night Watcher opened the door, said one word, and it melted away.” She shuddered. “I’ve heard of the uncanny powers of spirits, but I never thought to see them for myself.”

  Munayair nodded, swallowing down a lump and turning her thoughts fiercely away. She would not think about Khuson, not yet. She had things to do first. A movement nearby caught her eye, and she looked around to see Radhan ducking out of the stable door, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  The clouds hung black and thick, blocking the sun until it was dark as twilight. The air was chill, and the wind tore at her cloak, but still no rain fell. Thunder rumbled like an angry growl, and ashes swirled against the dark sky. The guards hauled Bast to his feet, head lolling against his shoulder. He gaped, good eye half-obscured by blood. His hands shook so much his entire body twitched.

  “Don’t look so downcast, peasant.” Sachin patted Bast’s shoulder. “If this works, for the first time you will have been of use to someone.”

  Gently, Falean spoke. “How is the sacrifice usually done?”

  Bast bared bloody teeth. “The spirit is fond of liquor—large bottles of liquor.”

  Sachin growled and raised a fist, but Falean nodded shortly and turned to wave at the gathering villagers, who scrambled to their huts.

  “Oh no, not this again,” Anjita said. Her scowl didn’t quite conceal the worried line between her eyebrows. “I’ve changed my mind. This is a terrible idea.”

  “I know.” Munayair bit her thumbnail, eyes fixed on the bundle under Sachin’s arm. “Are we really going to stand by and watch?”

  Anjita shrugged. “Da would say the best way to deal with a two-headed viper is to let it bite itself. And if we’re lucky—” She hefted the bow. “We can crush both heads while they’re fighting.”

  “We’re going to need more than luck to win this.”

  Anjita shivered. “Why isn’t Hadad attacking? This waiting is awful.”

  “His life only lasts as long as the storm.” Munayair glanced at the sky. The wind had risen to a near-gale, and the clouds had taken on a strange greenish cast. She cocked her head, frowning, and touched the cage in her sleeve.

  A fishwife appeared with a jug and shoved it at Bast. Tossing the cork away without ceremony, he threw back his head and drank gulp after gulp until the bottle was empty. When he came up for air, his grin was much more genuine. “There we are, all set,” he said, wiping liquor and blood from his mouth.

  “Five gods,” Anjita grumbled, crossing her arms. “I’m as cheered as a lamb in spring all our lives are in those hands.”

  Two guards took Bast by the arms and led him away through the huts. The villagers drew back with muttered curses, passing their hands over their heads to ward away evil. Sachin and Falean followed, with Munayair and Anjita close behind. They reached the last house in the village and halted as the guards marched Bast on, farther up the hill towards the looming clouds. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Munayair, and she attempted a comforting smile. They watched him walk on, lurching on his game leg, head and shoulders drooping with pain and exhaustion.

  “I can’t believe I’m starting to feel sorry for that fool,” Anjita grumbled, smoothing frizzy curls with impatient hands.

  Munayair checked the angle of the sun, difficult to determine through the clouds. Still half a bell before sundown. She looked back at Bast, tightening her hands together and smoothing all emotion from her face. The guards came to a halt, looking at the clouds. The villagers below shifted, murmuring among themselves. The entire world held its breath. Even the wind soften
ed, tugging at Munayair’s dress and hair.

  “Go on, cripple!” Bast’s guard jeered, shoving him forward.

  For a torturous moment, it seemed Bast would fall on his face and that would be the end of it. Munayair’s chest ached. But he steadied himself and hobbled up the slope, step by step, to stand alone a hundred paces away from the village. A lone figure in torn homespuns facing the wrath of the thunderer. He stood staring at the looming black clouds. Even from a distance, the shaking of his hands was visible. His face was the color of old porridge, and his bruised face was dazed, eyes unfocused.

  Munayair’s eyes fell once again to the bundle. She would have to be quick.

  “Guardian of the forest,” Bast cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “On behalf of the people of Adasari, accept this humble offering as a symbol of our desire for peace.” He raised his arms to the sky. Blood and tears dripped like rain.

  The storm rumbled. Lightning flashed on every side, and terrified villagers threw themselves to the ground. Zain’s statue absorbed the blasts without moving. Bast trembled from head to foot but did not retreat so much as a fingerswidth.

  “I am not surprised you’re angry at me,” he yelled into the strengthening wind. “I took advantage of you, lied to you.”

  Thunder crashed and wind ripped through the trees, sending leaves and branches flying into the air. A thin whine was building behind the wind, like the sound someone makes who is in pain and trying not to scream.

  Anjita fidgeted. “This isn’t working. We need to get everyone out.”

  “Sorry about that.” Bast gestured towards the clouds looming over him. He swayed a little, unbalanced. “But you gotta admit, it’s not my fault you’re as naïve as a newborn baby.”

  A murmur ran through the waiting villagers.

  Anjita let out a strangled noise. “What is he doing?”

  “Spirits,” Munayair whispered, hiding her face in her hands. “I can’t watch.” She peeked through her fingers in the grip of horrified fascination. The storm was silent for a long moment as the wind strengthened, and the clouds overhead swirled.

  Bast was yelling now, words slurring together as he waved a finger, warming to his topic. “How dense are you, anyway? The way you swallowed all that nonsense about me being some big hero—I thought you were a prophet, or something. Well, you’re going to hear the truth for once. Guardian of the forest? You’re as bad a Night Watcher as I am an emissary. And it comes down to the same thing in both cases. Cowardice.”

  A cry of rage roared in the voice of thunder and wind. For a moment, Hadad’s birdlike shape was illuminated against the clouds with flickering lightning. The booming of the thunder echoed from the hills.

  Bast was shrieking now, cheeks red and eyes wide. “Yeah, that’s right! I said coward!”

  Munayair looked at Sachin again and crouched slightly, preparing.

  Anjita’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Fool boatman, he’s making Hadad angry, luring him to the ground,” she muttered. “And it’s working—Naya!”

  Munayair ignored the cry as she darted forward and knocked into Sachin, snatching the bundle from under his arm. He shouted and grabbed for her, but she was running flat out. She clutched the marble box and let the rest fall, still running. Sachin, right behind her, stopped to retrieve the flute. She pelted up the hill, struggling with the complicated latch on the box as she ran.

  Hoarsely, Bast screamed at the raging sky. “But the biggest coward here isn’t me, or even you for once! It’s that mage in my head, yelling at me to do as I’m told or he’ll squash me!” A grimace tightened his lips. “So why don’t you stop making a donkey of yourself and let’s get this over with.” He flung his arms wide.

  Far overhead, the thunderer, visible only as a trembling shadow against the black, lifted his voice in response to the challenge. The wind screamed faster, tearing at Munayair’s clothes and smothering her with her own flying hair. She fumbled and nearly dropped the box. Anjita was yelling something behind her. She could hear nothing apart from the roaring wind and her own pounding heartbeat.

  Only a few steps away stood Bast, but he didn’t see her—wide eyes fastened on the sky, mouth hanging open with terror. She glanced up and her stomach lurched. The thunderer descended in a whirling funnel, a dark and hungry mouth of screaming wind.

  Chapter 49: Spitting Into the Wind

  For an instant Munayair stood rooted to the ground as death reached from the heavens. Bast’s guards pelted down the slope only to rise screaming into the air, disappearing into the voracious maw. Hadad’s claws flashed, milky eyes fixed on Bast with terrible purpose. The wind shrieked in their ears.

  Munayair stopped and wrestled with the box. Finally, the clasp slid back, and she grabbed a handful of the fine grey powder inside, letting the rest scatter as she threw the box aside. She ran her fingers over a spell on her neck and, with trembling breath, blew the powder out into the wind.

  Light burst above them, blindingly bright. Gasps and screams rang out as villagers cowered back, shielding their eyes. Great wings beat against the air. As they blinked sunbursts from their stunned vision, they saw an astonishing sight. Another thunder spirit, yellow eyes blazing, hurtled towards the roiling clouds.

  Screeching with rage, Hadad plummeted among crashing thunder towards this unexpected rival. Heaven and earth shook when they collided with a thunderous boom. The tornado twisted, then tore itself into shreds.

  Bast’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Five gods, where did that come from?”

  Munayair staggered, chest heaving, limbs trembling. She shook her head, staring up at the titanic battle raging among the clouds. The thunder spirits were visible only as a flash of light here, a thrashing of wings there. The clouds whirled in slowly changing patterns. Down on the ground the wind intensified, shrieking and kicking clouds of dust into the air.

  Anjita’s voice rose shrilly over the roaring wind. “Get back here, or I’ll kill you and that thrice-blasted boatman myself!”

  Munayair shook off her fear. She grabbed Bast’s arm, dragging him backwards. He stumbled, nearly knocking them both off their feet, but she held him up through sheer desperation and gestured. The air split open in front of her, hot as a hearth and shimmering like heat haze. Anjita stood on the other side, arrow nocked, scanning the sky. In a moment they were through, and the portal slammed shut behind them. They fell in a heap at Anjita’s feet and gulped in air.

  A cry tore through the clouds, and an instant later the new thunder spirit dove into view. In close pursuit came Hadad, claws outstretched and beak clacking with rage, white eyes glowing hot. As he passed overhead, Anjita’s arrow shot into the sky. His torrent of flight did not slow, wings straining as he streaked along the slope. Scattering like sheep, villagers fled in search of shelter from the thunderer’s wrath.

  “I missed!” Anjita’s voice caught.

  Then Hadad slammed into the ground full tilt and rolled, ungainly, in an explosion of scattering feathers. He knocked a row of huts off their stilts and came to a halt near the river, covered in a thick layer of dust. His harsh shriek hung in the air, and thunder rumbled in response, subdued and almost sorrowful. At the same moment, the illusion of the second thunder spirit soared overhead and faded.

  Bast sat shaking with laughter, and Munayair grabbed him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking?” She barely recognized the high, trembling voice as her own. “The mage can hear everything, can’t he? Because of that brand on your chest?”

  “Not nearly,” he slurred, grinning. He tapped his forehead with an audible rapping sound. “Missed one trick. ‘E can’t get in ’ere when I’m soused.”

  Av, you were right about compassion. What if nobody had ever believed in him? She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay? I thought I lost you.”

  “Don’t congratulate yourselves just yet!” Anjita hauled them upright and pointed down the dusty slope.

  Hadad shri
eked towards the sky, wings battering the air, and galloped down the beach. The huddled villagers screamed and scattered, piling onto the wharf and the waiting boats. At the front of the wharf Abhi and the other guards formed ranks, spears at the ready, braced for the spirit’s attack.

  “He’s calling lightning!” Anjita warned, leaping on Munayair and Bast and knocking them to the ground. Munayair got her head up in time to see a bolt shoot from the sky and shatter one of the tethered boats. The heat ruptured boards and rope as easily as a horse chomps through grass.

  “Spirits, no.” Munayair scrambled to her feet and reached for the chelka call in her pocket. While activating it, she checked the angle of the sun again. “We have no time.”

  “We can’t help anyone if we’re dead.” Anjita scrubbed at the spells on her arm without appearing to notice she was doing it.

  The ground shook as the statue of Zain the Conqueror raced towards them. Together they shoved Bast up behind the huge copper man and then mounted themselves. Metal flanks bunched, and the horse wheeled and began pelting down the hill. Within moments, they caught up to Sachin and Falean running side by side down the slope.

  Anjita leaned over and held out a hand. “Get on!” she cried.

  Falean grabbed her hand while Sachin seized the metal stirrup to swung aboard behind Munayair. They clung to Zain’s waist, seeking shelter from the wind roaring past. Terrified villagers shoved and screamed as lightning raced across the sky. Another flash, and a column of water and debris shot twenty spans into the air.

  The horse’s hindquarters bunched, and then they were sailing over Hadad. He hissed like a snake and his head shot up towards them, but his serrated beak glanced off the metal horse’s belly. They landed with a jolt that sent the humans flying, and Zain took its place in front of the wharf, sword raised.