Flame Soul

by Sandler L Bryson

  Baby Head: Sad whimper

  Male Head: “Plus we will tell you a secret human.”

  Hag Head: “A secret we tell ye! Ever giving is Ya-Sudala! Aid humans much we have! Aid humans much we do! He he he!”

  Baby Head: Excited Gibberish

  Male Head: “Any deal made for a soul is not truly a deal at all but a trick. The applicant is bound only by the limits of their own personal beliefs and whatever lies the bargain holder has told to them.”

  Hag Head: “Chicanery it is! A fool’s bargain for fool’s gold!”

  Male Head: “For a soul can never truly be owned by anyone other than the owner and The Creator. We can’t legally take that which we don’t own and which the owner can’t truly give away.”

  Hag Head: “Nope can’t do it! A worthless task it is! Like stealing dung from a sewer? What do we get from that?”

  Kasim started to answer but the male head cut him off.

  Male Head: “A hand full of shit is what we get!”

  Hag Head: “Aye! And Ya-Sudala don’t like shit boy!”

  Male Head: “So, a soul can never be given away despite what you humans may claim.”

  Baby Head: (Gibberish)

  Hag Head: “Tis true! But free will on the other hand! Now that is something we can work with! Aye!”

  The Hag Head’s right eye gave him a cataract filled wink.

  Male Head: “A service freely rendered is a true gift young man. Those we take in abundance.”

  Hag Head: “Yes! We help ye! Ye help us; tick for tack! A fair deal it is!”

  Baby Head: Smiles and giggles

  Male Head: “So, we will give you the sorcerous aid you require to defeat your enemies Kasim. If in exchange you swear an oath of fealty to us. Does this deal sound fair?”

  “An oath of fealty” Kasim shook his head. “What are the terms of the oath? What must I do?”

  Baby Head: Giggles

  Male Head: “The terms are simple. We help you now. In the future when we call upon you then you will aid us. A fair deal is it not?”

  Hag Head: “A fair deal it is! A fairer bargain from the Nguvu Ya Kale ye will not find! Most equitable to humans we are!”

  Male Head: “So what say you Kasim?”

  Baby Head: Whining noise

  Kasim pondered the options before him. Striking a deal with the Nguvu Ya Kale was always a risky task but his choices were limited. The facts were simple. He was gifted with magic of the spirit. Circumstances had prevented him from completing his training. Those circumstances were that an enemy tribe had wiped out his all of his kinsmen. In order to exact justice on the perpetrators he would need more than physical might. He would need magical aid. Ya-Sudala’s bargain was the means of achieving that magical aid.

  Kasim scratched his chin. No matter how he cut it striking a deal was the best way to achieve his goal.

  “Very well, creature,” Kasim said. “I will accept you deal.”

  He sheathed his scimitar.

  “If you give me the magical aid I need including guiding me in the magic of the spirit. I will swear fealty to you and will perform a task you ask in the future.”

  All three heads smiled at his response. The deformed male head gave a lopsided grin; drool ran down the side of his face. The Baby Head cooed. The Hag Head cackled. There was a steady rubbing drone that Kasim took to indicate the larger head that housed the other three was pleased. The Hag Head spoke first:

  Hag Head: “Please we are with ye! So pleased we offer ye a gift.”

  “A gift,” Kasim said eyeing the creature suspiciously.

  Male Head: “Yes. Consider it a small token of our appreciation. A gesture of good faith if you will.”

  “What do you find so amusing?” Kasim asked.

  In response Kasim felt a shock like a surge of lightning flowing through his body. He doubled over in pain and screamed. It felt like something was inside of him and trying to burrow its way out. His vision blurred. Through watery eyes he saw his skin glowing so bright he could see his veins through his flesh. Then as suddenly as the pain had started it was gone.

  Kasim looked at his hands. Where his flesh had once been covered with bumps and marks (the remnants of the skin disease he bore as a child) his flesh was now smooth and brown like polished wood. Kasim looked at his chest and saw the same smooth unblemished skin. Instinctively he ran his hands over his face.

  The skin on his face was likewise smooth except for his cheeks where he felt the crater like acne scars still remained. Even with those they seemed fewer than they had been.

  Ya-Sudala’s baby face gave a squeal of pure childish delight. Then the other heads spoke.

  Hag Head: “Ye see! A gift to ye Ya-Sudala has given! Handsome ye now look!”

  Male Head: “Yes. Those who serve Ya-Sudala are rewarded well.”

  Hag Head: “But forget the promise ye made to us do not!”

  Baby Head: Squeals of delight

  Male Head: “We will give you another boon for free as well.”

  “What is that?” Kasim asked.

  His voice came heavy in this throat as he struggled to comprehend the gift he had just been given. All of the years of being a semi untouchable, of being thought of as ugly—gone. It may be selfish but all he wanted to do was find a mirror or stream and see what he looked like without the blemishes that had made him a pariah all of his life. The demon’s voice brought him out of his reverie.

  Male Head: “We will tell you the location of your enemies The Banula and the warrior you call Tumo.”

  Mention of Tumo’s name caused fire to erupt in Kasim stomach.

  “Where,” Kasim said.

  He gripped the hilt of his scimitar so tight the veins in his hands stood out. “Where can I find them? Tell me.”

  Ya-Sudala’s baby head giggled.

  Male Head: “Go into the desert. Go deep into the sands to the place men call The Tears of Otala. There you will find the Banula.”

  Hag Head: “Yes There ye will find Tumo and the enemies ye seek!”

  The baby head gave a squeal of pleasure.

  After speaking a swirl of rainbow mist surrounded Ya-Sudala. Within the mist Kasim again glimpsed the spheres he had seen before. The circles containing numerous images and worlds and places he did not understand. The creature’s body began to fade.

  “Wait!” Kasim called. “How will you aid me when I find them?”

  Hag Head: “When ye reach ye destination call upon us!”

  Male Head: “Yes! Simply wish us to aid you and we shall.”

  The Nguvu Ya Kale disappeared within a shower of golden sparks. Kasim stood dumbfounded. His right hand still gripped his scimitar like a vice. After a few moments his word thus for. Kasim’s hand instinctively touched his mostly healed face. He took a deep breath. He now knew where his enemy was and what he had to do. More importantly he now had the power to do it.

  The climb back down the mountain would be as long and treacherous as the ascent but there was no use delaying the inevitable. Kasim walked towards the edge of the mountain. He offered a small prayer as he began to climb down.

  “May the Orisha and the ancestors guide me in my actions and help me see justice done.”

  His path chosen Kasim set off determined to avenge his tribe.

  ◆◆◆

  III. Death by Stone and Tears

  The Tears of Otala; large stones so named because of their tear dropped shape. It was said the rocks were formed when the god Otala looked down upon humanity and cried with joy at the beauty of creation. Two of his tears fell to earth and created the twin stones. Kasim crouched down on a dune overlooking the valley that held Otala’s Tears. Stars glistened like polished gems in the night sky. The moon was full. From his vantage point Kasim had a clear view of the valley. Ya-Sudala’s words had been true. The Banula were spread out in the valley below bustling around like ants on a dirt mound.

  It had taken him over a month to reach his destination. During which time Ya-Sud
ala had come to him in feverish dreams and taught him more about channeling spirit magic. The images Kasim recalled from the dreams were so foreign and alien that Kasim often wondered if he really was being instructed by the Nguvu Ya Kale or if everything had all been in his imagination. The feel of his recently healed skin reminded him of his mission and the strength of his patron.

  “Unless all of this is in my mind too. For if I was mad how would I really know?” Kasim asked.

  Kasim shook his head and pushed such thoughts away. If he was mad then it was irrelevant because everything thus far would have been a dream. If it was a dream then whatever he felt (the pain, the loss, the sadness) were still real feelings as were all feelings. No. He would not stop. He would carry this through and if it was merely a dream bring it to completion.

  From where he lay Kasim could see men crouched around campfires drinking and conversing in loud raucous voices. Women were also huddled together in groups singing, and playing musical instruments, and talking with each other. Children ran around in small packs screeching with delight and chasing each other. A breeze, warm and gentle, bereft of the sun’s scorching heat wafted across the camp carrying the scent of cooking meat and spices. It was a pleasant scene.

  Much like the scene in my village before they rode in and slaughtered everyone thought Kasim. His lips twisted in a bitter smirk as he spied the man he held most responsible for the raid.

  The man called Tumo sat at a campfire on the far edge of the camp. Despite the dark robes that billowed around him Kasim could tell he was a tall strapping man standing easily over six feet in height and of good a weight (most of it muscle) to boot. Tumo’s skill as a warrior was legendary. Though one could not tell it by Tumo’s current demeanor the big warrior was known to be a savvy and guarded if vicious opponent. Tumo currently sat on a stone drinking a flagon of banana beer. The man’s dark face was split into a big smile showing nearly perfect white teeth. He boasted of some of his past exploits to the gathering of warriors. At that moment Kasim realized he had never hated anyone as much in his life as he hated Tumo.

  Kasim climbed to his feet but stayed crouched low.

  “The blood of my people shall be avenged,” he said.

  Kasim placed the palm of his right hand on the ground. He pressed his palm deep into the soil, feeling the sand and rocks beneath his fingers.

  “Ya-Sudala, I Kasim of born of spirit, Son Haben and Salihah, The Chief and Queen of the Naban call upon you now!

  Kasim’s eyes turned a smoky grayish-white as he allowed the power of his birth element to flow through him. He continued speaking. His voice was loud and commanding.

  “By the bargain of the pact we made and sealed in spirit and trial I invoke you to aid me! To help me vanquish the foes that stand before me! I invoke you Nguvu Ya Kale keep thy bargain and aid me!”

  Kasim felt nothing happen. Then from the other side of the dunes he heard voices mumbling in concern. He had made no attempt to keep his invocation quiet. No doubt some of the Banula closest to him had overhead his invocation and were making mention of it to their tribesmen.

  For a moment Kasim felt a twinge of fear and anger tingle his gut. It was not fear of death or of being caught that concerned him. It was fear of failure and anger for the same reason. If he had given away his position needlessly then he had given up the only advantage he possessed: the element of surprise.

  A curse was upon Kasim’s lips but before it left his mouth he felt the ground tremble. It started as a gentle vibration but steadily increased in strength and violence. Kasim looked up just in time to see a group of Banula warriors crest the hill where he had positioned himself. One of the warriors—a tall lanky man with bloodshot eyes pointed at Kasim.

  “Look here! A Naban dog! One who must have survived the raid,” the man said.

  He spat on the ground.

  “We should let him join his-”

  The man’s words were cut short as another tremor hit. This one was powerful enough to cause the Banula to fall to the ground. Kasim jumped to his feet. The earthquake seemed not impact him for some reason. Kasim continued to focus. His eyes remained smoky as he drew on the strength of his spirit magic. In his mind he heard Ya-Sudala whisper to him.

  “Yes boy draw on the strength of your power,” the deformed male head said.

  “Yes made ye stronger we have!” the Hag head whispered.

  The hag gave a maniacal laugh. The voices faded.

  Some of the Banula had climbed to their feet. Without hesitation they drew their weapons and ran towards Kasim.

  “Kill the accursed sorcerer!” the lanky man screamed.

  He charged at Kasim, sword raised.

  The warriors did as instructed coming towards Kasim like a swarm of angry hornets.

  Kasim felt no fear. The power of spirit was within him, calming him, taking away all sense of things that prevented him from achieving his mission. He was in a state of pure focused concentration. He felt in tune with everything around him but separate from it at the same time. It was unlike any sensation he had ever experienced. If this was an example of what the Nguvu Ya Kale could do then how great would he be as his powers grew?

  The Banula warrior swung his weapon down at Kasim. The blow was meant to decapitate him. Kasim parried the scimitar with his own sword as easily as he would have stopped a child’s attack. After blocking the blow Kasim shot forward in a blur of speed. He swung his scimitar in a reverse motion. The Banula warrior saw what was happening but was powerless to stop it. The man’s head fell to the left. A shocked expression in his blood shot eyes.

  Though dead and headless the man’s body remained standing upright. His tribesman stood flabbergasted as their tribe mate’s blood showered down on them like red rain. The body quivered and collapsed to the ground in the opposite direction of the warrior’s severed head. One of the Banulas gave an ear shattering scream. It was not a scream of defiance or rage but of pain and terror. That scream was followed by another and then another until screams of agony filled the night in a chorus of agony.

  Kasim blinked and saw what was causing the yells. All around him rising from the stony sands were hazy incandescent shapes. Though misty the forms were humanoid in shape. They glowed with a pale blue-white light. The forms were attaching themselves to the Banula. Whomever they touched screamed then shriveled like dried plums before collapsing in a pile of dust and bones. Only their clothes and weapons remained.

  One of the shapes flew by Kasim. In the creature’s face Kasim recognized the features of his teacher Yobachi. It was then Kasim realized these forms were the spirits of his tribe, his ancestors, coming to aid him in his vengeance. His power had called them forth.

  I would never have been able to call these spirits up on my own Kasim thought. Not all at once!

  It would normally have taken years of training just to summon one spirit, and even then the caster would only be able to have the spirit answer simple questions ( and often in a vague manner). Sometimes, a truly gifted adept would be able to have a spirit perform a routine task such as delivering a message or manifesting physically to a third party. What was happening now was unprecedented as far as Kasim knew. So far he was pleased with the boons his newfound patron offered. The joy sparked a fresh wave of fury in his heart.

  “Banula dogs! You die today,” Kasim screamed.

  He raised his scimitar over his head. The bloody blade glistened; a red specter against the pale moon light.

  “I Kasim, last of the Naban come for you!”

  Kasim gave a tongue-rolling yell, the war cry of his tribe.

  He raced forward. The power of spirit flowed through him as he surged into battle. It felt like he was watching everything in a dream. Around him he saw his ancestral spirits grabbing and draining the life from the Banula. The few foes that escaped the wraiths Kasim felled with the ease of a farmer cutting down weeds. His scimitar glistened silver and red as he swung it left and right leaving death in his wake. The screams of his enemie
s echoed like a heavenly choir in his ears. Kasim’s lips twisted in a smile as he saw the Banula fall under his power. His smile stopped when his eyes came to rest on one person: Tumo.

  The giant black robed warrior stood on a dune surrounded by a host of Naban spirits. His falchion (Death Flame) glowed with ebony fire. Though surrounded by enemies the big man showed no fear. He moved amidst the apparitions like rage incarnate. He wielded the large blade with a beautiful (albeit deadly grace) that would have made a dervish dancer green with envy. Unlike the weapons of his tribesman Death Flame’s golden hued blade did not pass harmlessly through the specters. Whatever spirit his rune covered blade touched yelled in pain before fading into a smoky wisp. With each kill the golden blade seem to glow brighter.

  Kasim watched as the spirit of his mentor Yobachi soared towards Tumo. The large warrior had his back turned on the spirit. Yobachi eyes flared with ghostly light as his hands reached towards Tumo’s neck. Kasim felt a twinge of regret. He had come to slay Tumo for killing his tribe but if one of his ancestors killed the Banulan what right did he have to be angry? They had just as much right to kill the warrior as he did.

  His fear of being robbed of vengeance turned out to be unwarranted. Just as Yobachi’s hands neared Tumo’s back the warrior spun around with the grace of a ballerino. The big man’s lips twisted into a lopsided grin. The grin did not touch his eyes. Tumo’s golden falchion cut through Yobachi’s wispy form in a blur of motion that was almost imperceptible.

  Kasim saw Yobachi’s eyes widen in shock.

  “Yobachi!” Kasim screamed. “No!”

  Yobachi’s lips opened in a silent cry. The spirit turned to look at Kasim. Fear and disbelief shined in his teacher’s eyes.

  “Yobachi,” Kasim said, his throat so tight the words came out as a whisper.

  The spirit of Yobachi dissolved into an amorphous form before drifting away like pipe smoke in the desert wind. The haunted look in his instructor’s eyes remained locked in Kasim’s mind. Though that image was quickly forgotten in a haze of burning rage as he heard Tumo burst into a fit of guttural laughter.