The Forbidden Library (11 page)

His face creased with worry, Zaiporo leaned over him. “You okay? Should I get someone?”

“Pain … I’m in … pain.”

Zaiporo sighed with relief and sank to his haunches. “Thank the gods. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while.”

Turesobei groaned. “This is … good … how? You get … hit in the head?”

“Well, you weren’t feeling anything before. No response. No reflexes.”

“Comatose?”

“Nearly dead. For seven days now.”

Seven?! It seemed nothing more than a blink of an eye to him. Last he remembered was Lu Bei and Shoma scolding him.

“You almost died … twice. Eira revived you the second time by beating on your chest and throwing ashes in your face. She’s been doing all sorts of weird things to keep you going. I doubt most of it works, but apparently some of it does. None of us could do anything, so we just let her do whatever she thought was best. I should go get her now.”

“Water … first.”

Turesobei took a few sips then curled back up. Zaiporo hurried out of the room. It seemed to Turesobei that Zaiporo was gone for hours as pain swept through him in waves from head to toe but always pausing at his navel, where the spirit meridians all met, forming his kenja-heart. There the pain grew so deep it felt like he was being stabbed, slowly, steadily, with the blade being twisted around. Like a hole was being torn open in him.

Sharp, terrible scents assaulted him suddenly. Pungent herbs, decay, and other foul things. He glanced around. Incense smoldered in burners. Long gray feathers speckled with blood lay all around him. A thick pigment that smelled of excrement was smeared all over him.

Zaiporo returned with Eira. Iniru and Shoma followed. Like Zaiporo, they were now dressed in cold weather outfits like Turesobei’s, though Kurine had added decorative stitching to Enashoma’s. They wore all of it except the overboots, the gloves, and the parka. He wanted to tease Iniru about how she was puffed out in clothes now, too, but couldn’t manage the strength.

The medicine woman placed her wrist on his head and then on his neck. She licked his sweat off her wrist, grumbled, and started to pull the covers back.

“Ladies,” Eira said, “if you would please turn away.”

Iniru rolled her eyes and spun around with Shoma. The medicine woman placed one palm high on his chest and the other on his navel. She chanted a moment, swayed, and then shook her head.

“No idea how you survived, but your spirit is renewing, growing stronger every moment.”

“My kavaru,” he muttered in between groans. “The life force in it … keeping me alive … can feel it.”

She held her hand over it and nodded. “Yes, it has been feeding you. Not much, but enough. The fetch is bound to it, yes? That’s why he sleeps.”

“He will … survive so long as … the kavaru … survives.”

Shaman Eira covered Turesobei up and Shoma stepped over and took his hand. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Body feels on fire and … everything hurts like … I’m bruised all over … and deep within … know that feeling … when your arm falls asleep … and you get sharp needle … pricks as it wakes up? Like that all over and inside.”

“I cannot give you medicine for the pain like I did before,” Eira said. “It would kill you in this stage. You’re just going to have to endure it.”

“Didn’t feel anything … until I woke up.”

“Ah,” Eira said, “my apologies then, for it is Torment you will endure now.”

“How long … to recover?”

“Hard to say … weeks maybe.”

He nodded and squeezed Shoma’s hand. “You okay?”

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Terrible, but not … as bad as I probably do.”

“You look like a corpse, but I am proud of you big brother. You said you’d get me through it. You did. Don’t know how, but you did.”

“Got you trapped in … Winter though.”

“I’m alive. We’re all still alive thanks to you.”

He doubled up in pain and when it abated he said, “Not all. Awasa.”

Iniru knelt beside him and stroked his brow. “You did everything you could. She was the only one we lost. We fought the Deadly Twelve and won. Even Chonda Lu died fighting them. We fought the yomon, who the Shogakami imprisoned here because they were so dangerous. And we won.”

“Isashiara … Tochibi,” he said.

“Okay, okay. We lost them too,” Iniru admitted. “But you did everything possible. The odds were
way
against us. You saved us. You even overcame the Storm Dragon. You may not believe it, but I’m really sorry about what happened to Awasa.”

“You were right … should’ve forced … her back.”

“That’s all our faults,” Zaiporo said. “All three of us. Awasa wasn’t strong enough. We knew it. And the Warlock … If he’d taken his time, I know he would’ve broken me.” 

“Could’ve broken any of us … given time,” Turesobei replied. “He took the quickest … route. She didn’t … deserve it. Won’t … forgive myself.”

Iniru kissed his forehead. “You rest.”

Chapter 14

Enemy horns blared a note of retreat. The clatter of weapons ceased. The screams of the dying faded. Head spinning, a knot swelling on his head, Turesobei picked himself up from the mud. Fallen friends and slain enemies lay all around. A banner snapped overhead. He looked at the emerald goshawk on a field of gray and sighed with relief. The blood-soaked standard-bearer nodded back grimly. The Chonda Clan wasn’t finished, not yet.

He surveyed the battlefield. His clan of ten thousand now stood but a thousand strong. Forty thousand enemy mercenaries lay dead, their charge broken by Chonda warriors, who sacrificed their lives to save their homeland. Turesobei pulled his blade from the chest of the mercenary warlord. The greater threat was on its way. He’d stopped only the weaker advance force.

A column of the most fearsome knights to ever ride emerged from the pass through the Mountains of the Stars. Behind them marched a hundred thousand spears. The figure that led the knights, Vôl Ultharma, Emperor of Pawan Kor and Lord of the Sun, glowed so bright it was impossible to discern any features beyond his red-gold armor, copper helm, and white cloak. A wave of heat preceded him.

The surviving Chonda bravely formed into their battle lines. Vôl Ultharma’s war cry thundered across the plain and his cavalry launched into a charge. 

Turesobei drew out a spell strip made of bronze with glyphs etched onto it. “Steady! We are Chonda. We bow before no one save the Jade Emperor. This invasion ends here.”

A voice that boomed and sang and whispered all at once entered Turesobei’s mind. “Chonda Lu, greatest of the Kaiaru wizards. We meet at last.”

“I know what you are, Ultharma.”

“Then you know that no one can defeat me. Tengba Ren will be mine. The sacrifice of your people today … meaningless.”

“I know that you can never be slain.” Ultharma’s infantry marched out of the pass and onto the Yundragos Plain. “But I also know that you cannot rule such a nation so large as mine without an army, Vôl.”

Vôl Ultharma held his spear above his head and summoned a beam of fire. Struck in the chest, Turesobei was blown backward, somersaulting through the air. The spell strip fell from his hand.

A scream tearing from his throat, Turesobei snapped up from his bed of furs. Lu Bei sped over to him. 

“Master?”

Turesobei grabbed the fetch by the shoulders. “Ultharma. On the plains. Have to stop him!” He fell back, clutching his stomach, and groaned as pain bore through him like a drill. “The spell strip … have to get it.”

Lu Bei’s eyes flared with surprise. “Ultharma? How — How do you know that name?”

“On the battlefield …”

“Ultharma’s invasion was stopped, master. That battle was long ago. Before my time. You were badly injured, but you saved the day with a most spectacular spell.”

Zaiporo knelt beside him. “Turesobei, are you okay?” He put a hand on Turesobei’s brow. “You’re feverish. Let me get you some water. Then I’ll go get Eira.”

“Turesobei … I am … Turesobei.”

“Yes, master,” Lu Bei said. “You’ve had … You’ve had a nightmare. Rest now. Everything is fine.”

Turesobei lay back down, eyes fluttering in spite of all the pain, clarity despite his drowsiness. “I dreamed I was Chonda Lu.”

“I know, master. I know.” 

*****

Turesobei endured a haze of continuous pain and feverish nightmares. He dreamt of lost loves, of children dying in his arms, of passing through plague-stricken cities trying to bring relief to the sick. He dreamt of the weight of too many centuries upon his soul. Many times he dreamed of fighting a demonic woman who reminded him of Aikonshi, or Awasa when he last saw her with the purple in her eyes and the madness on her face.

Every time he woke up, someone was with him. Zaiporo slept in the room and was almost always there, resting and recovering. Enashoma or Iniru visited sometimes in the day, though he saw them less than he would have thought. Kurine came everyday, with Narbenu or Eira as a chaperone, and she would stay by his side all night. Kurine insisted on feeding him, and he was so exhausted he let her. She would dab ice across his forehead and sing him lullabies. Her voice was as pure and sweet as any he’d ever heard, but the songs made no sense to him. She often sang herself to sleep but would wake if he even budged.

Turesobei tried to talk to all of his visitors, but he rarely got out more than a sentence or two before pain or drowsiness overwhelmed him. 

As his internal kenja returned, the pain worsened. He had sacrificed years of his life to save his friends. A decade at least, maybe more. Assuming he’d ever live to reach an old age. Which was laughable. The way his life was going, he’d be lucky if he reached eighteen. So long as he recovered to his former strength, he’d be grateful for however many years remained to him. 

*****

The defiant blaze in Awasa’s eyes burned into him. It was the last time he’d seen her. The last time he would ever see her. “I hate you,” she screamed at him. “I hate you.” And she should. It was all his fault.

Turesobei awoke. The room was almost entirely dark. No one was there. No one at all. That was strange. 

“Zaiporo?” he whispered. “Kurine?”

No one answered. Had something happened? He was drenched in sweat. His fever had broken. The pain wasn’t half as bad as it had been. He thought about calling Lu Bei but decided not to. If no one was here watching him, then they weren’t worried about him anymore. He was well enough to help himself for a change. He sat up and drank the bowl of water they’d left him.

He felt closed in, trapped, like he was in a tomb. He desperately wanted to be outside, to be in the open, just a window would do. He climbed onto his knees, the vision of Awasa still swimming through his mind. He’d dreamt of her over and over until he thought it might drive him insane.

Turesobei clutched his kavaru and bowed, touching his head against the cold stone floor. He wasn’t religious. Most Chonda weren’t. They performed the basic rituals honoring their ancestors, the Great Deities, and the Shogakami, and they observed all the major festivals. But Turesobei prayed now, earnestly and fervently, naming every deity he knew. He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed that he would find some way to return his companions home safely. Whether the gods could hear him, whether they would help him, whether they ever helped anyone … He didn’t care. Prayer was all he could do.

“Goddess Kaiwen, Earth Mother, here I lie in your womb. In some strange cold place and time. Help me take my companions home. Help us. In any way that you can. I am your humble —”

With a sound like giant wings whipping out, a shadow filled the room, plunging it into complete darkness. Along with that shadow came a cold that was beyond the cold of ice and wind, a cold of emptiness and despair. Two catlike eyes amidst the shadow opened, baleful eyes that burned and flickered like scarlet flames.

“You returned,” a deep but feminine voice rumbled. “I knew you would. I have dreamt of you for thousands of years. Of how I would devour you and how delicious and slow and painful my revenge would be.” The flaming eyes bore down on him. “The day of my revenge draws close. I know. I know because you must come to me. You will have no other choice.”

Chapter 15

Turesobei cried out and scrambled back. He tore free from the covers. His heart pounded. Pain raced through his limbs and thundered in his head. The fiery eyes and the relentless shadow had vanished. A dim pink light illuminated the room. 

Kurine grabbed his hand. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

“Where … where did you come from?”

“I’ve been here with you all night,” she replied, frowning. “I brought you dinner after I finished work.”

“But I was alone. Just now.”

Narbenu knelt beside him. “We were here the whole time, lad.”

Rubbing his eyes, Zaiporo tapped on the star-stone a few times to brighten the room. “All of us.”

“But you were all gone, and I wasn’t in the covers. I was kneeling, praying. The room fell into darkness … then it … she … came for me.” He began to tremble uncontrollably.