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He smoothed tendrils of hair from my face. I made a conscious effort not to flinch as his fingers caressed my cheek.
“Are the rumors true? Are you really a Soulfinder?” he whispered to me. He stroked my arm in a possessive way. “Perhaps I can siphon a cup of your blood before I deliver you to Jal.” He reached for the knife hanging from his belt.
I moved. Pulling my switchblade from my pocket, I triggered the blade and rolled over, slicing his stomach open. But instead of falling back in surprise, he leaned forward and wrapped his hands around my neck.
A blur of motion beside me, and Moon Man leaped to his feet, swinging his scimitar in a deadly arc through Rough Voice.
I struggled with the leader. His weight trapped my arms. The pressure from his thumbs closed my windpipe. He attempted to connect with my mind, and would have succeeded with his magical attack if the Curare on my switchblade hadn’t worked so fast to paralyze his power.
One problem remained. Trapped under the frozen Vermin, I couldn’t breathe.
Moon Man, I called. Help!
One minute. The clang of weapons split the air.
I’ll be dead in a minute. Just push him off. A brief flurry of steel hitting steel was followed by silence. The man on me fell to the side. I freed my arms and pried his hands from my neck.
Moon Man reengaged in the battle. He fought three men. One man’s decapitated head rested next to me. Lovely.
My short blade wouldn’t last against their long scimitars and my bow was in the jungle with my pack. Gathering power, I sent a light touch to one man’s mind. Relieved he wasn’t a Warper, I sent him puzzling images to distract him.
He dropped out of the fight with Moon Man and stared at my approach with a baffled expression. The man raised his sword a second too late. I stepped close to him and nicked his arm with my switchblade, hoping Curare still clung to my blade. Unable to use his sword, the man dropped his weapon and lunged. His intent to subdue me rang clear in his mind, but I deepened my mental connection and forced him to sleep.
With only two attackers left, Moon Man had both their heads off in short order. He strode over to the man sleeping at my feet and raised his scimitar.
“Stop,” I said. “When he wakes, we can question him about Cahil’s plans.”
“The other?”
“Paralyzed.”
Moon Man rolled the leader over. The blood from his stomach wound had pooled on the rocks. After touching the man’s neck and face, Moon Man said, “He is gone.”
The cut was deeper than I thought. A felt a tinge of guilt as I scowled at the body. The leader probably had more information than the other man.
“It is a good thing. He was a Warper. We would not have gotten anything from him except trouble.”
I looked at the scattered carnage. The headless bodies cast macabre shadows in the pale moonlight. The side of my face and the wound in my back throbbed. The cool night air felt icy on my wet clothes. Tauno and Marrok both needed medical attention, and we couldn’t go anywhere until the Curare wore off. And the thought of spending the night surrounded by corpses …
“I will take care of them,” Moon Man said, reading my thoughts. “And I will build a fire. You take care of the wounded. Including you.”
Pulling the arrows from Marrok’s thigh and Tauno’s shoulder, I gathered power but couldn’t assume their injuries. The Curare in their bodies blocked my magic. An interesting discovery. It seemed when under the influence of the drug, a person couldn’t do magic or be affected by it.
I mulled over the implications as I searched in my pack. Finding a few lumps of Theobroma, I gave it to Moon Man to melt over the fire and feed to our paralyzed companions. From my own experience with Curare, I knew the drug didn’t affect the body’s ability to swallow, breathe and hear. So I told them what I planned to do.
The last of my energy faded after healing my own wound. I curled into a ball on the ground and fell asleep.
When I woke, watery streaks of color painted the sky. Moon Man sat cross-legged next to a fire, cooking a divine-smelling hunk of meat. My stomach grumbled in anticipation.
I checked on the others. Marrok, Leif and Tauno still slept. Leif’s cut had scabbed over, but I would need to heal Marrok’s and Tauno’s wounds. Moon Man had tied the Daviian prisoner’s arms and legs with some jungle vines even though the Vermin remained unconscious.
Moon Man gestured for me to join him. “Eat first before you heal them.” He handed me a sliver of meat speared on a stick. When I sniffed at the offering, he said, “Do not analyze it. It is hot and nourishing. That is all you need to know.”
“Why do you get to decide what I need to know? Why can’t you just give me the information I ask for?” My frustration extended beyond the mystery meat.
“That would be too easy.”
“What’s wrong with easy? I can understand if the most stressful aspect of my life was worrying about Bain’s next history test, but lives are at stake. Ferde could be stealing another’s soul and I might have the power to stop him.”
“What do you want? For me to tell you to do this or do that and wa-lah!” Moon Man flourished his hand in the air. “Instant success!”
“Yes. That is exactly what I want. Please, tell me.”
A thoughtful expression settled on his face. “When you were training to be the Commander’s food taster, would you know what the poison My Love tasted like if Valek had just described it to you?”
“Yes.” There was no mistaking the sour-apple taste.
“Would you trust your life on that knowledge? Or others?”
I opened my mouth to reply but paused. Now I couldn’t remember the poisons I hadn’t tasted or smelled. But I’ll never forget the tartness of My Love, the rancid orange flavor of Butterfly’s Dust, and the bitter thickness of White Fright.
“I’m talking about magic. Testing food for poisons is different.”
“Is it?”
I pounded my fist on the ground. “Do Story Weavers sign a contract or make a blood oath to be difficult and stubborn and a pain in the ass?”
A serene smile spread on his face. “No. Each Story Weaver chooses how he will guide his charges. Think about it, Yelena. You do not respond well to orders. Now eat your meat before it gets cold.”
Stifling my desire to fling the food into the fire and prove the insufferably smug Story Weaver right about my inability to take orders, I bit off a large chunk.
Spiced with pepper, the oily meat tasted like duck. Moon Man fed me two more pieces before he would let me return to the sleeping men and heal them. Tired, I snoozed by the fire.
When everyone had roused and gathered around the campfire to eat, we discussed our next move.
“Do you think they would set more ambushes in the jungle? Leave more Warpers in our path?” I asked Moon Man.
He considered my question. “It is possible. They left one at the camp who sacrificed himself. This one was supposed to come back. Our spies have determined the Daviian Vermin have about ten Warpers—eight now. Two are very powerful, and the rest have various lesser talents.”
“The ambush leader had enough magic to create and hold a null shield.”
Moon Man turned the meat roasting over the fire. “A valid and alarming point. Which means they might have been performing Kirakawa for some time.”
“What’s Kirakawa?” Leif asked.
“It is an ancient ritual. It has many steps and rites. When done correctly, it transfers the life energy of one person to another. All living beings have the ability to use magic, but most cannot connect to the power source. A person performing Kirakawa will either increase their magical power or gain the ability to connect with the power source, and therefore become a Warper.
“Their leader mentioned levels and a binding rite. They are probably using the Kirakawa to grant certain members magical abilities and increase certain Warpers’ powers. Their leader would not want all the clan members to be equally powerful.”
“How is the Kirakawa different than the Efe ritual Ferde used?” Leif rubbed the cut on his cheek.
“The Efe ritual binds a person’s soul to the practitioner, increasing their power. While blood is needed, it isn’t the medium holding the power in Efe. The soul carries the power. And the person performing the ritual must be a magician.”
“It sounds like anyone can use this Kirakawa to gain power,” Leif said.
“If they knew the proper steps. With the Kirakawa, the victim’s soul is trapped in blood. It is gruesome, too. The victim’s stomach is cut open and the heart is removed while the victim is still living. The Kirakawa is also more complex than the Efe ritual.”
“Could any magician use Efe? Or just the Soulstealer?” I asked.
“A Soulfinder could, but no one else. Is that a straight enough answer for you, Yelena?”
I didn’t dignify his comment with a reply. Instead, I asked about Mogkan, Alea’s brother. In Ixia, he had captured over thirty people, turning them into mindless slaves so he could siphon their power and augment his own. Valek and I had eventually stopped him from gaining control of Ixia, which explained Alea’s desire for revenge.
“Mogkan tortured them both physically and mentally until they could no longer bear to be aware of their surroundings. They retreated within themselves and just became a conduit for him to exploit. Their magic remained in their bodies.”
The implications over the different ways for people to abuse power raced through my mind. “Going back to the Kirakawa. If the Daviian Vermin have been performing it for a while, then they could have more than eight Warpers.”
Moon Man nodded. “Many more.”
Paranoia sizzled up my spine. Convinced Warpers surrounded us, my desire to return my friends to the safety of the plateau pressed between my shoulder blades.
However, if the Daviians wanted to find more victims for their ritual, the Zaltana Clan teemed with people and magicians. With the Warpers using a null shield, the clan would have no warning. Fingers of desperate fear squeezed my stomach as the images of my mother and father being mutilated filled my mind.
7
“HOW DO YOU COUNTER the null shield?” I asked Moon Man, failing to keep the panic out of my voice. The jungle around us darkened and I imagined predators lurking behind every tree and bush. Only the small fire we huddled around gave off any light.
“Magic cannot pierce the shield, but find a way around the shield’s edges and you can use your magic.”
“What are the shield’s dimensions?”
“Depends on the strength of the builder. The one we used in the plateau was as tall as a man astride a horse, and as wide as thirty men. But we had four Story Weavers combine their powers to build it. For one Warper, the shield would have to be smaller.”
I looked up at the trees. The ambush had come from above. Would they use the same tactic for another ambush? No. If the first attempt hadn’t worked, then a different strategy would be used. Being higher than your target had many advantages, and if I climbed into the tree canopy, I might be able to get past the edges of another null shield and discover where another ambush lurked.
Knowing my next move helped to dampen my terror for my family. I made contact with Kiki, projecting my awareness up toward the plateau.
Any trouble? I asked.
No. Bored, she replied. Go?
Yes. I’ll meet you at the Illiais Market rendezvous location.
I then told my plan to the others.
“Not without me,” Leif said. “I grew up in the jungle. I know every leaf and tree.” His body stiffened with determination.
“That is why you need to stay with them. To show them the way to the homestead. To help them avoid predators.”
Leif crossed his arms over his broad chest. But he knew I made sense, so he couldn’t argue.
“I need to question our prisoner before I go. There could be a chance the other Vermin might not be targeting my family.”
The man groaned and blinked at me when I woke him from his deep sleep. Moon Man had been right to tie his arms. There hadn’t been enough Curare left on my blade to paralyze him.
The Vermin’s tunic and pants had been ripped, and I glimpsed portions of blackish-red tattoos on his brown skin. Moon Man reached over and ripped the man’s right sleeve off.
The Story Weaver pointed to the symbols on the man’s arm. “He has made the proper blood sacrifice to prepare for the Kirakawa ritual. That ink in his skin has been mixed with blood.” Moon Man’s shoulders dropped as if he grieved. “The Sandseeds were wise to banish the old rituals.”
“You were misguided and fooled into following the teachings of Guyan,” the prisoner said. “Not wise but weak and pitiful, giving up your power to become docile pathetic Story Weavers instead of—”
Moon Man grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Docile and weak were not words I would have used to describe the Story Weaver.
“Where did you get the instructions?” Moon Man asked, shaking him.
The man smiled. “I am not telling you.”
“Instructions?” I asked.
“The details for the old rituals had been lost to time. At one point in history, we knew how to perform many different rituals to increase our power. Our clan passes information down to our children through teaching stories. Once Guyan became our leader, the evil ones who knew the required steps were killed. The information should have died with them.” He dropped the Daviian to the ground.
I remembered Dax reading a bunch of ancient tomes when we had tried to interpret Ferde’s tattoos to discover why Ferde had been raping and killing those girls.
“There were a few books in the Magician’s Keep. A Sandseed might have written the instructions and symbols down before they died. Perhaps there is another copy that the Vermin are using.” I turned to the man. “I guess you’re not going to tell us what the Vermin’s plans are either?”
He met my gaze and sneered. It was all I needed. My family could be in danger. I sent a rope of power toward his mind and rifled through his thoughts and memories, extracting the information I needed. I suppressed the pang of guilt and my recollections of when Roze Featherstone had tried to examine my mind in a similar fashion. She had thought I was a spy from Ixia, and the Ethical Code didn’t apply to spies or criminals. I could argue the same in my defense. Did that make me the same as Roze? Perhaps. The thought made me uncomfortable.
Besides a few horrid memories of watching an initial level of the Kirakawa ritual, the man knew almost nothing. Ordered to stay behind and ambush anyone who came out of the caves, his small unit had scheduled a rendezvous with the larger jungle group at a later time. Where and when the meeting would be, he had no idea. And, more important, he didn’t know what the others planned to do.
He had a few tidbits of information. I confirmed that both Cahil and Ferde had come this way and they traveled with a group of twelve Vermin.
“Fourteen is not enough to win in an attack on the Zaltanas,” Leif said, pride in his voice.
I agreed. “But winning isn’t everything.”
My anxiety to leave increased a hundredfold. A group of Vermin had entered the jungle and my clan could be in trouble. Images of my father and mother being captured and staked to the ground replayed in my mind. The thought of my cousin Nutty climbing without care through the trees and falling into a trap, hurried my preparations.
I shouldered my pack, threading my bow through its holder. “What about our prisoner?” I asked Moon Man.
“I will take care of him.”
“How?”
“You do not want to know.”
“Yes, I do. I want you to tell me everything!”
Moon Man sighed. “The Vermin were once a part of the Sandseed clan. They are our wayward kin, and they are infesting the rest of Sitia. How we deal with them is in accordance to our laws, and it is the proper way to take care of Vermin.”
“And that would be?”
“You exterminate them.”
A protest perched on my lips. What about those members who might have been misguided? But my question remained unvoiced. Now wasn’t the best time to argue crime and punishment.
Instead, I gazed at the tall trees, looking for a way up into the canopy, wishing I hadn’t left my grapple and rope in the cave. I found a long vine and used it to climb into the higher branches. After a moment to reorient myself—the Zaltana homestead was to the west—I swung over to the next tree.
I kept my magical senses tuned to the life around me, seeking the Daviians and other predators as I traveled toward home. The web of branches and crowded trees slowed my progress. After a few hours, my sweat-soaked clothes were ripped, and my skin burned and itched from innumerable cuts and insect bites.
Resting on the branch of a hawthorn tree, I scanned the area between me and Moon Man. There was no sign of any intelligent life so I linked my mind with Moon Man’s and Leif’s.
You will be safe to travel to this area, I said, picturing the small clearing below. Stay there until I contact you again.
They agreed.
After I rested, I pushed my way through the jungle’s canopy, staying alert to any sign of the Daviians. The rhythm of climbing from tree to tree combined with the steady pulse of the jungle’s undisturbed life force. When an out-of-tune presence plucked at my senses, my energies focused on the distant ripple. Engrossed, I concentrated on discovering the source. A man in the tree canopy. Before I could determine if he was friend or foe, my left hand grasped a smooth and pliant branch. Surprised, I jerked my awareness back and my mind connected with a hunter lurking in the trees.
The leaves rustled with movement. The terrifying rasp of a stirring snake surrounded me. The limb under my feet softened. I scrambled for a solid branch, and touched nothing but the snake’s dry coils. The necklace snake’s coloring blended with the jungle’s greenery so well that I couldn’t determine where the rest of it lay.
I closed my eyes and projected into the snake’s mind. It had looped part of its body between two branches, creating a flat net now closing around me. Pulling my switchblade from my pocket, I triggered the blade.
When the heavy coils of the snake dropped onto my shoulders, I knew I had mere seconds before the predator would wrap around my throat like a necklace and choke me to death. I sensed satisfaction from the snake as it moved to tighten its hold.
I stabbed my knife into the snake’s thick body. Would the Curare on the blade affect the creature? Mild pain from the thrust registered in the snake’s mind, but it considered the wound minor.
The snake contracted around me, trapping my legs and left arm. I realized the necklace snake held me aloft. If I cut through its coils, I would plummet to the ground.
Another loop brushed my face as the snake tried to encircle my neck. I pushed it away with my free arm. A coil slid up my back.
Deciding the odds of surviving a fall were better than dying by strangulation, I stabbed my blade in the nearest coil with the intention of sawing through it. Before I applied more pressure, the creature stopped.
Perhaps Curare had paralyzed the snake. I pulled the blade out and the snake resumed its tightening. The Curare hadn’t worked. But when I reinserted the knife, the creature paused. Odd. I must have found a vulnerable area. We were at an impasse.
Through my link with its mind, I sensed the snake’s hunger warring with its desire to live. I tried to control the predator’s will, but our minds were too incompatible. Even though I could feel its intentions, I couldn’t direct its movements.
I wanted to avoid killing the snake, but I could see no other way. Once dead, I should be able to cut my way back into the trees.
“Hello. Is someone in there?” a man’s voice asked.
My struggle with the snake had seized all my attention. Cursing myself for forgetting the man, I directed my mind into the tree canopy and encountered the well-protected thoughts of another magician. But Warper or Story Weaver, I couldn’t tell.
“Has the snake got your tongue?” He laughed at his own joke. “I know you’re there. I felt your power. If you don’t belong in the jungle, I’ll gladly let the snakes have you for dinner.”
“Snakes?” I asked. His speech patterns sounded familiar. Not Daviian. Not Sandseed. I hoped Zaltana.
“Your necklace snake has sent a call for help. You might kill this one and untangle yourself, but by then its kin will be here to finish the job.”
I scanned the jungle canopy and, sure enough, I felt five other snakes moving toward me.
“What if I do belong in the jungle?” I asked.
“Then I’ll help you. But you’d better make a strong case. Strange things have been happening lately.”
I thought fast. “I’m Yelena Liana Zaltana. Daughter of Esau and Perl and sister to Leif.”
“Common knowledge. You have to do better.”
Soul mate to Valek, the scourge of Sitia, I thought, but knew that wouldn’t help my case. I searched my mind for a bit of information only the Zaltanas knew. The problem was, since I had been raised in Ixia, I knew only a few things about my lost clan.
“I could send you on a wild-valmur chase, but wouldn’t it be easier if I gave you a piece of sap candy?” I held my breath, waiting.
Just when I was convinced I would have to cut my way out of the snake before its brothers arrived, a low drumbeat throbbed. More beats followed. The vibrations pulsed through the snake.
The snake relaxed. A gap appeared above my head and a green painted face smiled down at me.
He extended his hand, which was also camouflaged. “Grab on.”
I clasped his wrist. He pulled me from the snake’s net and onto a solid branch. Relief puddled in my knees and I had to sit down.
The man’s clothes matched the jungle’s colors and patterns. He placed a leather drum on the branch and played another song. The snake unraveled and disappeared into the jungle.
“That should hold them off for a while,” he said.
From his clothes and dyed-olive hair color, I knew the man had to be a Zaltana. I thanked him for helping me.
His answering nod reminded me of someone. “Who are you?” I asked.
“Your cousin, Chestnut. I was out on patrol when you were here the last time so I didn’t get a chance to meet you.”
After living in Ixia for fourteen years, I had finally returned to a home I hadn’t known existed. It had been such an emotional whirlwind, and I had met so many cousins, aunts and uncles it was unlikely I would have remembered him even if I had been introduced to him.
Seeing no sign of recognition on my face, he added, “I’m one of Nutty’s brothers.”
Nutty’s stories about her siblings had been humorous and I remembered a game I used to play with her against her brothers before my kidnapping.
“How did you control the snake?” I asked.
“I’m a snake charmer,” he said as if the title explained everything. But when I failed to respond, he said, “It’s part of my magic. The necklace snakes are very hard to spot. Not only do they blend in so well, but also they mask their life energy. Even if you’re able to sense the other jungle animals you probably wouldn’t feel the snakes. Not until it was too late.” He rubbed his hands together in appreciation. “They usually hunt alone, but if one gets into trouble it can call to the others with a low sound we can’t hear. My magic allows me to locate the snakes and hear their calls. And my drum is my way to talk to them. It doesn’t work on the other animals.” He shrugged. “But I keep the snakes away from our homestead.”
“You were out on patrol when you heard my snake?” Funny how I had become possessive of the creature that had tried to squash and eat me.
“Yes. Although, when I left this morning, I had hoped to find more than snakes.” He gave me an odd look. “I guess I just did. Why are you here, Yelena?”