The First Kaiaru (5 page)

T
hey followed the Blood King out of the secret kavaru gallery, and back out into the Throne Room. He dismissed the
spell of revelation,
and their kavaru ceased glowing. Then he held his hand out, palm up, toward Enashoma.

“The stone, please.”

Still clutching it in her hand, she frowned…then hesitated.

“The stone,” he said again, a hint of irritation in his voice, a flicker of violet in his eyes.

She opened her hand. A glimmer remained within the gem’s depths. A heartbeat-like vibration rippled across its surface. Kenja coursed from the stone into the skin of her palm, along her energy pathways, and into her kenja-heart. It felt…it felt like it was a part of her. Where only minutes ago, the stone had terrified her, now she couldn’t imagine being apart from it.

The Blood King’s hand whipped out and snatched the stone out of her hand. She gasped and stumbled back into Turesobei. She fought back tears and resisted the urge to lunge in and try to get the stone back from him.

“Addictive, is it not?” the Blood King said. He closed his fist around the stone and settled back into his throne. “You will get the kavaru back, and I will train you. But first, I must study it. To be certain I have not missed something important.”

Hannya settled on the floor beside his throne, and Turesobei and Lu Bei started down the steps. But Enashoma remained, staring at the Blood King as he pinched Nāa’s kavaru—
her kavaru
—between his fingers and held it up toward the light. As it glinted, her breath caught.

Yellow eyes, rimmed with violet, fell upon her.

“You are dismissed.”

Enashoma exhaled, then hurried down the steps and followed Turesobei and Lu Bei out into the courtyard.

Turesobei touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I will be…I think.”

He smiled, but she could tell he was hiding a bit of worry. “So you’re going to be a wizard….”

“She deserves to be,” Lu Bei stated.

Enashoma rounded on the fetch and poked him in the belly.

“Ow!” He fluttered back. “What was that for?”

“You kept secrets from me!”

“I couldn’t help it,” he moaned pitifully, rubbing his belly.

Turesobei gave Enashoma a hug. “Welcome to the club.” He half laughed. “Come on, let’s go tell the others.”

“Aren’t you worried about what this means?” she asked.

Turesobei shook his head. “Lu Bei’s right. You deserve to be a wizard. You should’ve been training alongside me all these years. And in the end, having another wizard in our group is a good thing.”

“But me using Nāa’s stone might help the Blood King.”

“Lord Gyoroe.”

“Yes, him,” she said with irritation. She hated having to call the Blood King a normal name. “It might help him accomplish his goals sooner. He might even raise more Kaiaru back to life. That can’t be a good thing.”

“We can’t worry about any of that right now. You know that.”

“But what about this Kaiaru being connected to our family, through me?”

“We can’t worry about that either. All we can do is—”

“Try our best,” she said. “I get it. But…I guess…it’s all so new.”

“There will be a reason for this kavaru waking now,” Turesobei said. “And it’s likely something Chonda Lu set in motion a long time ago.”

They both stared at Lu Bei, and he shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea why Nāa’s kavaru has awoken now. I truly don’t.”

“I’m finding it hard to believe you,” Enashoma said.

“No harm will come to you from Nāa’s kavaru, Lady Shoma.” He wrapped both of his tiny, clawed hands around one of hers. “Of that, I’m certain. Nāa was a gentle soul, kind even by human standards.”

She nodded, reluctantly, and gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed and fluttered away.

“Sobei, could you tell the others? I don’t think I can handle talking about it just yet. I’d like to rest and gather my thoughts first.”

“I understand. Would you like a sleep spell?”

She shook her head. “Just a cup of tea and some quiet time alone. I’ll see you at the feast tonight.”

A
s soon as Turesobei entered the Dining Hall that evening, he scanned the room for Enashoma. He hadn't seen her after they had parted in the courtyard, and even though he'd hadn't wanted to let on, he was worried. Nāa’s kavaru waking up stank of a Chonda Lu plot. The energy pulsing from the stone had felt incredibly familiar and had teased at memories…important memories…of Nāa buried deep within his mind. There was no guarantee, despite Lu Bei’s promise, that their ancestor’s machinations wouldn’t endanger Enashoma.

Turesobei had tried his best to explain to the others what had happened during Enashoma’s test and how it had led to her getting the kavaru and being trained as a wizard. They were, understandably, upset. Awasa, in particular, had asked some very difficult to answer questions, especially since he carefully left out any mention of the Maker's Brush.

He had strong suspicions about its connection to Nāa and the women of his family. But so far, it seemed that he and Enashoma had kept the brush a secret from Lord Gyoroe, and Turesobei hoped to keep it that way.

Apparently though, he hadn't done as good a job assuaging their friends’ fears as he had hoped. Turesobei sighed as he overheard them whispering in worried tones about her. They were completely ignoring the lavish decorations Lord Gyoroe had created for this feast.

Exotic flowers sprouted from vases on the tables. Bright scarlet streamers hung from the rafters. And tiny, sparkling globes of every hue floated throughout the room. Three servants played festive tunes on a zither, a drum, and a flute, while a fourth sang softly. Turesobei made a point of looking impressed.

Lord Gyoroe, his eyes a pale blue, greeted them warmly at the door and gestured toward the low table. “Please, my honored guests, take a seat.”

Gyoroe walked around to the head of the table and knelt on a cushion. Hannya settled in to his left. Turesobei took the spot on his right. As everyone else chose their seats, Enashoma hurried in and sank onto the cushion beside Zaiporo. The stocky zaboko boy shot her a worried smile. She returned it briefly before lowering her gaze modestly. That was very uncharacteristic of her, but Turesobei guessed she was trying to avoid Iniru and Kurine's anxious stares. And he couldn't blame her. Awasa was the only one acting at all normal.

A group of servants brought out platters heaping with berries and vegetables, rice and eggs, sizzling meats and fish cooked in an array of spices. Bowls of red wine as dark as blood were poured for everyone. It was the most amazing array of food Turesobei had ever seen.

“This could feed my whole village,” Kurine said, shoveling spicy meats onto her plate and avoiding everything that might taste sweet.

Iniru scooped blackberries into a bowl. “Mine, too.”

The two girls knelt side-by-side, just past Hannya and across from him. They were getting along—and well. Too well. It honestly scared him as much as it excited him. After months of sniping at one another, arguing and outright fighting, they had agreed to a truce, one in which they would share him and try to become friends.

Two nights ago, he had spied on them as they discussed their relationships with him and one another. Iniru knew he had overheard them, but she hadn't said anything more about it. And Kurine didn't mention it either.

Despite being able to memorize the most complex magical incantations, he never could recall which k’chasan relationship term was which. And the rules of those relationships forever vexed him. All he knew was that they had specifically discussed the one that let him marry them both…someday...if it all went well. And then they’d also be bound to one another as official friends…whatever that meant…and assuming he’d understood that part correctly.

Of course, none of that would be allowed or accepted amongst his people. Besides, life didn’t work that way. A boy didn’t get to marry the two most beautiful and capable girls he’d ever met. Something would go wrong long before he had to face his family, and it would probably be his fault.

There was no point in worrying about it, though. He should just enjoy this...whatever it was that he had with them, while he had it. Because starting tomorrow, they would be fighting for their lives. Turesobei tried not to think about it, but they knew the odds were stacked against all of them surviving through this.

“You know, I have not eaten since before I was locked in here.” Gyoroe’s eyes morphed to heather green, representing his most relaxed personality. “Perhaps I should not have denied myself such a basic pleasure for so long.”

Turesobei tried to take his own advice, shoved his worries about Enashoma and the future away, and tucked into the delicious food. While they ate, Lord Gyoroe regaled them with humorous tales of old Tengba Ren and Pawan Kor.

At first, no one wanted to laugh at the stories. It was always bewildering when the Blood King behaved like a normal person. The others rarely interacted with him and had no idea how to respond. But the tales themselves were funny and the food and decorations festive enough that eventually they forgot to be nervous. Even Enashoma started to laugh, and once, Turesobei would’ve sworn, Motekeru’s eyes burned a little brighter.

But suddenly, in the middle of his fourth story, Gyoroe’s eyes shifted to violet specked with scarlet. His animated demeanor disappeared, and he raced through the rest of the story, as if its telling was the most distasteful thing he had ever done. By the end, his eyes had faded to gray. He stopped eating and drinking and glared at everyone, causing them to silently rush through the main course.

When their dessert of custards, berries, and pies arrived, Hannya ignored his shift in mood and told them a romantic tale that, not surprisingly, ended tragically with a hero failing to save his people or his lover before dying horribly. Afterward, Kurine, Iniru, and Enashoma wiped away tears. Awasa gazed at them in confusion, and Zaiporo cleared his throat and looked away.

Turesobei sighed morosely. He had read that legend before. The lovers’ tragic end only made him dwell on what would most likely happen to all of them. Except that he feared history wouldn’t remember him as a great hero, but as the fool who had restored the Blood King to power, bringing death and destruction to his world, before meeting a terrible end.

The servants removed the plates and brought them bowls of watered wine and tea. Hannya whispered into Gyoroe’s ear, and his eyes shifted to pale blue. Smiling, he stood and clapped his hands together three times.

“It is time for your gifts.”

Gifts? They glanced at one another in confusion as servants brought in a collection of weapons, armor, and other items.

One servant placed a recurve bow, three quivers of arrows, and a saber on the table in front of Zaiporo.

He leaned forward and touched the items. “These are for me?”

“Indeed,” Gyoroe said. “The bow was crafted from the finest wood and enchanted so that arrows loosed from it can injure supernatural creatures. Using the rune-carved, peach-wood arrows from these quivers, the bow can cause as much damage as a sword with trace amounts of white-steel. Also, the bow cannot be broken or the string snapped by any natural means, and neither cold nor heat nor damp shall affect it. The saber contains two percent white-iron. Against a powerful demon, it would be like striking a tiger with a dagger, but it is better than nothing.”

Zaiporo stood and bowed. “Thank you, Lord Gyoroe.”

A servant gave Iniru a crescent knife and a set of twelve throwing spikes. She weighed the spikes in her hands.

“I did not create a sword for you, since you have chosen to use Turesobei’s white-steel blade during battle,” Gyoroe said. “The spikes are laced with traces of white iron, and the knife, like Zaiporo’s sword, contains two percent white-iron.”

A servant presented a warhammer and a crimson shield emblazoned with a rampant gold bear to Kurine. She oohed and ran a hand along the shield. “It’s so pretty!”

“Only the strongest of demons or magic spells could break this shield. It contains powerful protective enchantments and was constructed with wood from the sacred kasa tree, which is harder than iron and lighter than bamboo. Also, dark-iron flakes were laced into the reinforcements so that it can absorb energy attacks. The warhammer contains two percent white iron and a
rune of the ram of force
that will triple the strength of each solid blow you strike. That particular magic will fade in time, but not before you have completed the tasks I have set for you.”

Wow. Even for the Blood King, magic of that sort would take considerable effort. All the time Gyoroe had spent by himself, when they didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, he must have been working on these items. Kurine’s, in particular, were amazing. But then, Gyoroe had always liked Kurine a lot, for some reason, so it wasn’t surprising that he’d put extra effort into her items.

Kurine bowed deeply. “Thank you, Lord Gyoroe. I shall put both items to good use defending Turesobei.”

“See that you do.”

Another servant gave Awasa a torc made of silver strands twisted together and a pair of matching silver arm bracers with purple trim.

“What weapon could I give you that would serve as a better gift than Fangthorn?” the Blood King asked. “As for the torc, it will bring some calm to your mind.”

“I could have used that sooner,” she said irritably.

“We thought it best that you learn to control your impulses without it,” Hannya said. “Besides, the effect is not powerful. It will only serve to take the edge off your anger. You will still need Fangthorn with you at all times.”

“The bracers,” Gyoroe said, “possess an enchantment that will increase the potency of your mudras and prevent your hands and fingers from cramping.”

Awasa bowed. “I shall use these things well, Lord Gyoroe.”

“Lord Motekeru….” Gyoroe shrugged. “Alas, I have no gift I can give a warrior as mighty as you. But you seem in rough shape from the wear and tear of so many battles. I could—”

“I carry my scars with pride,” Motekeru grunted, “and I wish only to rejuvenate by eating the hearts of Master’s enemies.”

“If that is your wish,” Gyoroe said. “Now, for the Illustrious Lu Bei, a bag of the last tea leaves picked from Tsubaia Mountain before it exploded.”

Lu Bei, his eyes as wide as Turesobei had ever seen them, snatched the tiny bag from the servant’s hands. He sniffed the tea with a deep breath and sighed contentedly. “It is pure heaven and a most kingly gift. Thank you, Lord Gyoroe! I shall treasure the bowls I brew from these leaves and think pleasant thoughts upon you.”

Lu Bei swept his arm out as he bowed. The bag disappeared.

Gyoroe’s eyes had been milky white with kenja-sight as Lu Bei bowed. As his eyes returned to emerald, he sighed. “Chonda Lu at his most clever indulged in pure whimsy. I confess, I partly gave you the tea so I could figure out the trick. But I still cannot tell where you put the bag. Nor do I yet understand how it is that you can drink tea at all.”

Lu Bei grinned. “It is all a trick so simple that none can understand.”

A servant handed a shortsword to Turesobei.

“To you, my apprentice, I gift a white-steel sword named Dairo. It contains ten percent white iron. It should be a good stand-in for you while Iniru wields Sumada.”

“Thank you, master.”

Sumada was nearly thirty-five percent white iron, making it one of the finer white-steel swords in existence.

“For you, Enashoma, I have two gifts.” Gyoroe stood. “First, a set of bracers like those given to Awasa.”

A servant placed the silver bracers on the table in front of her and hurried away. Gyoroe reached into his robe and drew out an iron circlet decorated with silver filigree in a blossom pattern. Housed in the front center of the circlet was the amethyst kavaru of Nāa.

“The circlet was my idea,” Hannya said. “I thought it much more befitting of you than a simple chain.”

“Where did it come from?” Enashoma asked. “It’s exquisite.”

“It belonged to one of my favorite students, many centuries ago,” Hannya said with a mournful tone. “You have always reminded me of her.”

“Who was she?”

“The beloved queen of a zaboko nation long forgotten.”

“Are you sure it’s not too fancy for me?”

“I am certain this circlet is the perfect choice,” Hannya said.

As Gyoroe approached, Enashoma’s eyes brightened, and she eagerly held out her hands.

He shook his head. “Stay where you are.”

Gyoroe lowered the circlet onto her head, as if he were anointing a queen. Enashoma’s red lips spread into a broad smile, and she practically bounced in place. Gyoroe waited expectantly for a moment, then sighed.

“I am placing Nāa’s kavaru in your keeping, until I find a way to restore him, and all my other Kaiaru brethren, to life.”

“Thank you, Lord Gyoroe,” Enashoma said.

“Soon, we will begin your training.”

Enashoma, no longer demure in the least, turned to Zaiporo. “What do you think?”

“It looks very—”

She waved him off. “Never mind, you’re a boy.” She glanced at Awasa, then turned to Kurine and Iniru. “Well?”

“It’s…uh…very pretty,” Iniru said awkwardly.

Kurine clasped her hands together. “Absolutely gorgeous. It matches your face and your eyes perfectly, and it makes you look radiant.”

“It’s not too showy?” Enashoma asked.

“Not at all,” Kurine said.

Iniru shrugged and whispered, “A little.”

“I like it,” Zaiporo muttered.

“It suits you well, Lady Shoma,” Lu Bei said. “And if it is showy, there’s nothing wrong with that. You should look like a queen!”

Awasa tapped the purple, eight-pointed star on her forehead. “We kind of match now.”

“We do!” Enashoma said.

“How does it feel?” Lord Gyoroe asked.

She traced her fingers along the silver filigree and laughed. “It fits perfectly.”

His eyes flashed violet. “The stone—not the crown.”

Unfazed by his sharp tone, Enashoma said, “I don’t know how to describe it but…tingly and…natural, really. Even though I can feel energy from it surging through my pathways, it feels as if it has always been with me.”