Lumas Rising: Book Two of the Firebird's Daughter series Read online

  Lumas Rising

  Book Two of the Firebird’s Daughter Series

  By Kyrja

  Dedication

  To those who dare to do it anyway.

  Text Copyright @2016, Kyrja

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Cover Design: SelfPubBookCovers.com/LaLimaDesign

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – Late Winter

  Chapter Two – Dark of the Moon

  Chapter Three – Chared’s Plea

  Chapter Four – Practice Sessions

  Chapter Five – Magick and Moonbeams

  Chapter Six – Broken Bonds

  Chapter Seven – Balance

  Chapter Eight – Uneasy Allies

  Chapter Nine – Lies and Mistrust

  Chapter Ten – Friendship and Betrayal

  Chapter Eleven – Giya’s Plan

  Chapter Twelve – Four Flowers

  Chapter Thirteen – One Less Flower

  Chapter Fourteen – A New Life

  Chapter Fifteen – Hunted

  Chapter Sixteen – First Prayer

  Chapter Seventeen – Kaya Remembers

  Chapter Eighteen – Rest Stop

  Chapter Nineteen – Savaar’s Sister

  Chapter Twenty – Amphedia’s Displeasure

  Chapter Twenty–One – Vray’s Fear

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Trapped

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Unexpected Prophecy

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Crystal Seed

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Kidnap and Escape

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Full Moon Rising

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Giya’s Confession

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Denit’s Choice

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Crystal Goblet

  Chapter Thirty – Nieva’s Vision

  Chapter Thirty-One – Hadia’s Courage

  Chapter Thirty-Two – At the Border

  Chapter Thirty-Three – Fire Moon

  Chapter Thirty-Four – Inside Nohoyo

  Chapter Thirty-Five – Fire and Water

  Chapter One – Late Winter

  All the signs pointed to a late winter, and a mild one at that, Honsa knew. The squirrels and other small animals of the forest seemed almost apathetic, compared to the past several years. It was one thing to see a skunk still awake at this late date, but quite another to still have bees searching out new sources of pollen. And just this morning he had seen three snakes, all of which should have already been hibernating. He had watched the climate change slowly since he was very small, but the changes this year were alarming.

  He knew he shouldn’t be so surprised, his grandmother had warned him these kinds of changes would happen in his lifetime. He’d seen the mounting evidence with his own eyes. And then there was the unbelievable number of people who had been settling in the mountains between the desert and the sea. So much chaos! There had been a great deal of resentment and unrest among the Midbar, those who lived in the mountains. The once sparsely-populated mountains now seemed to be overrun with people. Nor was it surprising there had been more Tuq’deb, those from the desert, than there had been Puj’hom, from the city by the sea, making their new homes among the Midbar. As water was becoming harder to find in the desert, it only made sense that those who lived there would seek it here, in the mountains. That didn’t mean he had to like it though.

  Honsa sighed, finding a place to sit next to a tall pine, its shade a welcome relief from the sun that was too hot for this time of day, at this time of the year. Ceirat, Tyran, and Ordan would be arriving soon, as agreed, and they would decide together what, if anything, should be done about any of it. He was within obvious view of the stone bridge, although they hadn’t really discussed which side of it they were to meet. He wondered if he should go stand in the middle of the bridge while he waited, then decided he would be more comfortable right where he was. In the shade, with a slight breeze coming off the river. Not for the first time, he wished this was a normal day, instead of one where he had to meet with other people.

  Opening his water gourd, he removed the scarf from around his neck to wet it down. For the third time this morning. It was a beautiful piece of fabric his older sister had given him, better suited for fashion than to be used as a rag with which to wipe his brow, or cool his neck, but he had always liked the way the blues and greens ran together. It matched his eyes and sometimes made him feel pretty. Nor did Hodi seem to mind how he abused it, as long as he used it. Replacing the stopper on the gourd, and the scarf around his neck, Honsa leaned back on his arms, letting his head fall back as he closed his eyes.

  It was times like this when he felt like such a fraud. All of his life he’d been told that people like him were blessed by the gods. Blessed! Such a stupid word. A stupid, stupid word! What, in the name of the bones of the earth was that supposed to even mean? Because his woman’s body carried the spirit of a man inside it, he was supposed to be something more than everyone else whose spirits matched their bodies? It was just absurd. Sitting up again, he spied a pinecone and threw it, cursing. Then he sighed, knowing neither his body nor his spirit was the problem. He was just frustrated. Frustrated and scared. The changes happening were frightening and he was supposed to be someone with the answers as to what should be done about it. But he didn’t have a single clue.

  Feeling water from the scarf trickling between his breasts, he rubbed at the spot, wishing for all the world he didn’t have to carry the damned things around on his body. They were cumbersome, often got in his way, and collected sweat beneath them. Nor did he think he would ever use them to feed a child. Just because he had the body parts to bear a child didn’t mean he ever wanted to. At least not most of the time. And, with all the strangers cluttering up the land, he was more often mistaken for a woman than the mezhdu he was, regardless of the clothing he wore. Neither male nor female, and yet both. Just like the others who would soon join him.

  He had come early, knowing he would need time to sort through his feelings before the others arrived. Especially Tyran. She was about as arrogant as they came, and supremely comfortable in her role as mezhdu, happy to bully everyone around her. Honsa shook his head, as he often did when he thought of Tyran. Mezhdu were supposed to spend their lives learning how to help make things balance, not boss people around. He’d heard of others who had abused their power like she did, always claiming to not only hear the voices of the gods, but to be the voice of the gods, or the land, or some other kind of spirits. It was mad and it was maddening, both.

  He’d been perfectly content to spend his life observing the world around him, free of the burdens of producing some kind of material goods in order to fit in, or to even survive. He was welcome wherever he went because of the tattoo on his left cheek. It was rather small, all things considered. Just two wavy lines under his left eye. His own lines had more of a blue color, while Ceirat’s and Tyran’s looked black, and Ordan’s still looked freshly done, but was beginning to look greenish. Of course, he’d only had his tattoo for a short time. At nineteen, Ordan was the youngest among them, while Ceirat was the oldest.

  Honsa shook his head, scolding himself for letting his mind wander over things that had no bearing on the problems at hand. It was far easier to think of a hundred other things than it was to consider what to do with their dwindling water supply, all of the strangers who had made the mountains their own, and the very real fact the desert
was advancing on the mountains.

  He heard footsteps behind him just a moment before he heard Ordan’s voice calling out to him. “Overthinking as usual?” Honsa felt the right side of his mouth lift in a smirk, then shook his head. This wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of overthinking something. It seemed to be his forte.

  “Quite the opposite this time, I’m sorry to say,” he chuckled quietly, craning his neck to watch Ordan approach from behind him. The younger mezhdu loped down the easy slope, kicking pine needles and leaf litter out of his way as if he was a child at play, then planted a loud kiss on Honsa’s forehead before plopping himself down right next to him. Honsa felt prickles of happiness dance across his shoulders, lifting his heart, and smiled. It would take Ordan a very long time to learn balance between joyfulness and solemnity, and he was glad of it.

  “There you are!” he heard Tyran call out from his right. As usual, her tone sounded like she was accusing him of something. He tried not to scowl, reminding himself it was his own fault if he thought she sounded critical. Ceirat was with her, and judging from their faces, neither was very happy about it. While they often worked well together, Honsa had always had the distinct impression neither cared very much for the other.

  “I still don’t understand why we had to meet here, instead of in our meeting hall,” Tyran complained, while Ceirat, two steps behind her, rolled her eyes, then discretely winked at Honsa. Turning his automatic smirk into a wide smile to hide his understanding of her long-suffering annoyance he suggested that they get down to business as long as they were all already gathered.

  “Just because you like to sit on the ground doesn’t mean the rest of us do,” Tyran looked at Honsa, frowning.

  “Then feel free stand,” Ceirat countered, sitting down on Honsa’s left. As she sat down, they all felt the earth tremble violently under them. A moment later, the ground exploded between where they were gathered and the river, a short distance away, showering all of them with dirt, rocks, and debris. Tyran screamed as she was knocked off her feet by the shaking of the earth, then screamed again when she was hit in the forehead with a fist-sized rock.

  Honsa had tumbled on to his chest and was still trying to turn himself over so he could find his balance when he saw Ordan scramble over to Tyran on his hands and knees. Ceirat, too, had ended up on her face, and was just now turning over. He suddenly felt a tremendous heat coming from the place where the earth had exploded and knew from their reactions his companions had felt the same thing. Another, smaller explosion of dirt, accompanied by a short burst of flame erupted from the same place, and then Honsa saw a woman standing there, her chest heaving, with her hands on her hips, and she was on fire.

  Chapter Two – Dark of the Moon

  It was interesting, Sakari noted, that Sahil had waited until the dark of the moon to let his pursuers catch up with him. Not for a moment did she believe he’d left such an important consideration to chance. Yet, she couldn’t help but to wonder if Afdal had taken note. And Sahil’s tiny fire – he had to know it was as a beacon to those the emperor had sent after him. Yes, she decided, he did know. It was his own challenge to his former students: Do you see the trap I have set for you? She’d known all three of Sahil’s former apprentices the emperor had chosen to send after him all of her life, and was fairly certain each of them would understand the message of the magically-created fire. And all three would know there were other traps besides. It was the very reason they hesitated now.

  Would they remember how much their former teacher hated the cold and notice just how very cold it was tonight? Perhaps they did, thinking this was exactly why he had allowed himself the small flame. Maybe they even underestimated him enough to think he was too old and too frail to withstand the chill in tonight’s air. Sakari bit her bottom lip to stop herself from shaking her head. There were so very many small things to take into consideration when you were stalking someone as clever as Sahil. Not, she knew, that there were so very many like Sahil left. The emperor, in his stupidity, had killed off far too many magic makers in the beginning of his reign, fearful they would gather together to oppose him. She wasn’t sure just why it was that so many of those who had ruled her homeland were so stupid, but suspected their distorted way of looking at the world prevented them from understanding cooperation and compromise were much better tools than oppression and murder if they wanted to remain in power very long.

  And this emperor wasn’t as terrible as the queen before him, nor the king before her. One day, perhaps, her people would have a ruler who actually did something besides hurt, maim, and kill the very souls they were supposed to rule. One day, the blood-soaked land might be green with fruit, vegetables, and even flowers, instead of muddy-red. She didn’t hold out much hope for such a miracle in her own lifetime, but she had hope just the same. That’s exactly why she was here, stalking those who stalked Sahil. She had waited a very long time for him to seek out Kaya, and when he’d finally taken the first steps out the door, she’d been ready.

  He had waited too long, and he’d known it as surely as she had. He never should have waited for the emperor’s daughter to die, but he’d been so distracted with his own work he’d forgotten to take a peek out at the rest of the world. She’d lost a good friend clearing the way before Sahil of those who would have stopped him. Aken. She let the name pass through her, knowing there was nothing she could do to bring him back. He had given his life in the name of the same hope still fluttering within her own heart. And Kraas? No. Sakari closed the door on that name. She wouldn’t think of her. It was possible she was still alive. It didn’t matter if she was, though. Not right now. Far better to assume her lover was dead and find out she’d been delightfully wrong once Sahil brought Kaya back, than to fill her heart with dread now. Kraas was either dead or she was not, and there wasn’t one single thing she could do about it. Not today. She had promised she would go on without either one of them, just as they had vowed to do the same if she had been the one to fall.

  She had followed Sahil for a few days, once he’d gotten out of the city, then she’d hung back to watch who would follow him. Nor had she been surprised when she had seen Afdal, Than, and even Sashio making their way north. She’d waited two full days after they passed before drawing the Uchawi symbols on her feet that would take her quickly past them and directly to Sahil. Invisibility had never been her strong suit when she’d been younger, so she had practiced for months while she had been waiting for Sahil to make up his mind to go find Kaya. She’d been ridiculously pleased to discover her efforts had paid off when she’d been able to pass the three of them without incident.

  She’d been following Sahil for close to six months now, alone, except for those few times when he’d detoured through cities or villages. Even then, she was careful to blend in, using all of her training, chants, and Uchawi symbols to appear exactly as though she belonged where she was. Glamours had always come easy to her, especially when making herself look older. She had long since discovered she was less-likely to be questioned if she looked more mature, and even a little haggard. Nor had language been a barrier for her. She had long been fascinated with languages, but had used magic on this journey to make herself understood instead of taking the chance of misspeaking. The last thing she wanted was for someone to remember her, or to start asking questions about where she was from. Perhaps, in time, her skills would be honed to the point where she would be able to speak languages without magic chants, symbols, or spells, but today was not that day.

  Still, she’d done well, she thought, and was proud of herself, especially given that Sahil had taken anything but a straight route. There were many times when she wished she could have just asked him what he’d been thinking when he went one way or chose another. Was he purposefully keeping his pursuers at bay, or did he not know where he was going? Sakari had never asked Sahil if he’d created a sigil especially for Kaya so he would be able to find him if it became necessary, and now it was too late to ask. Perhaps, if
she was very lucky, she would be able to ask him herself. She hoped she lived long enough to be able to sit by a fire some evening, sipping honey wine, like they used to do when she was much younger, and ask him. She desperately hoped he would live long enough for them to have such a conversation.

  She’d spent the past ten days allowing herself to get closer and closer to him, her intuition telling her something was going to change. Perhaps it was the shifting of the season as it was getting later in the year, or maybe it was the landscape, as it seemed to all but disappear; it was obvious they were about to head into a desert. Whatever it was that had told her to draw near, she was glad she’d paid attention. Just this morning she had watched as Sahil had drawn very specific sigils in the sand, undoubtedly chanting under his breath while he did so. It was just as obvious he’d found whatever he’d been looking for. Mostly likely some sign of Kaya, or, at the very least, something that pointed to him in some fashion.

  And then she’d felt the strange calling, or maybe it was a casting of some kind that Sahil had sent out. She’d never felt anything like it before, but it had made her head feel funny, as if there was some kind of buzzing sound in there. She’d wondered if it was a warning, but it hadn’t felt like that kind of … signal? She still wasn’t sure, all this time later, as she lay on her belly in the scree that was mostly sand, watching him from a distance. Would Afdal and the others wait until morning? Or would they go after Sahil tonight? She wondered if she would interfere, or if she would let him handle the three of them himself. She knew what she wanted to do, but she sincerely doubted she would step in unless they managed to actually capture him. She would give her life to see Sahil complete his task of finding Kaya, but she wouldn’t throw it away unless she could make a difference.

  There! They were on the move.