Storm Phase – 9
In this epic fantasy, a young wizard with a mysterious destiny, a cat-girl ninja, and a diary that turns into a bat-like creature journey through worlds of monsters and mayhem.
Just to spite his grandfather, Turesobei decided not to tell Arms Instructor Kilono to move away from the tower. The old man could deliver the message himself. But when his feet landed on the polished oak steps leading into the Chonda Library, Turesobei thought better of his decision. The hell he would have to pay would not be worth the spite. He went back to the orchard and with gritted teeth delivered the message. Kilono smiled slyly and ordered his men to disperse.
Restraining his anger, Turesobei trudged back to the library to relax and read, but not to study magic like his grandfather would want him to do. His martial arts lessons wouldn't begin until mid-afternoon, and his riding lessons were after that. This much free time was rare, and he wanted to delve into some books on history. No philosophy, no metaphysics, and absolutely no magic.
He was sick of being cooped up in the tower memorizing runes, reciting casting phrases, and reviewing volumes on energy theory. Wizardry was difficult, yes, but only in a tedious, do-everything-precisely sort of way. Sure, dabbling in magic was fine, but he did not want to be the next high wizard.
He did not want to train students, many of them barely capable of casting the most basic spells. And he did not want to sit in boring council sessions with King Ugara and his advisers or have tea with various nobles to request additional funds for necessary activities. Sure, summoning and binding demons to prepare for a possible war with the neighboring Gawo Clan wouldn’t be so bad. That was the magic he most enjoyed, but it would all be to prepare for something horrible that he hoped would never happen.
What Turesobei wanted was to do something new and exciting. He wanted to be an explorer like his father. Not that he had a choice. While his father got to roam all over Okoro, having adventures, Turesobei would be stuck here in the city of Ekaran for the rest of his life.
“Why me?” he sighed as he walked up the library steps.
Constructed from lacquered bamboo and slate, the Chonda Library was a small building with a three-tiered roof and a fenced-in garden out back. Turesobei removed his sandals and slid the paneled front door open. He was startled to find the Head Librarian standing in the doorway. She bowed and stepped aside so he could enter.
“Do you need help with anything today, my lord?” the librarian asked.
Bowing in respect for her position and age, he replied, “No, Head Librarian.”
“Well, in that case, my lord, I am going off to run a few errands. If anyone needs me, tell them I will return by the third gong. If not sooner.”
As she shuffled out, Turesobei closed his eyes and breathed in the rich, comforting aromas of wax, ink, and parchment. This was his favorite place in all of Ekaran.
The library was filled with rows of shelves that reached the high ceiling, and at various points there were low tables with plush sitting mats and fat oil lamps for rainy days when the skylights didn’t provide enough light.
Turesobei thought about sitting in the walled-in garden but decided he shouldn’t, in case anyone came in looking for the Head Librarian. He went to the table farthest from the entrance, near the open back door. He placed his plum and his pile of books on the table then browsed the library shelves.
Over the course of an hour, he removed a dozen books with interesting titles and read a few snippets from each before putting them back. Finally, he found a tome he couldn’t put down: Legends of the Eastern Continent. That was the land across the sea from which Turesobei’s people, the baojen, had originated.
After standing in front of the shelves and reading the book until his feet hurt, he returned to his table and shoved his spell books aside. As he knelt, he noticed his kavaru was glowing. He lifted the silver chain that held the channeling stone around his neck and stared into it.
This wasn’t normal. The stone should never show any activity without him casting a spell or using some other wizard ability. And this on the same day on which it had levitated while he was dreaming…
The glow vanished. He tapped the kavaru with a fingernail. Nothing happened. He pressed the stone against his forehead, where it matched the size and shape of an unusually dark birthmark.
“Why are you doing this?” he muttered, directing his thoughts toward the stone. Not that it could respond.
Turesobei sensed nothing unusual within his kavaru. As he lowered it, however, it once again flickered for a moment. He should go to Kahenan and tell him about this immediately.
As he began to stand, a glimmer danced along the spine of one of his books. Except… that was not one of his books. Where had this extra book come from?!
Shoving aside the familiar tomes, Turesobei seized the strange book, pulled it to the table’s edge, and then examined it closely.
Bound with wire instead of thread and half the size of the others, it was unlike any book he owned. Though tattered along the edges, the amber-hued, leather cover was polished as smooth as glass and embossed with arcane runes of a type he had never before seen. As his hands passed across the cover, the runes glowed, and he caught the faint scent of rich, black tea leaves.
The first talent a wizard learned was how to see the flows of kenja — the natural and magical energies within his environment — and identify them by their type and source. Kenja permeated the world, emanating from the tiniest grains of sand to the largest mountains, from the dumbest mites to the gods themselves.
With a mere moment of focus, he activated his kenja-sight. To an outside observer, his eyes were now glazed over with a white film, but to him the world became one of brilliant colors overlaying the natural environment.
He flinched then rose to his feet, awestruck. Before his eyes, kenja currents across the spectrum blazed. And with the exception of a binding spell of astounding complexity woven throughout the other magic in the book, the swirling patterns were unlike anything he’d ever before seen or studied. Someone of advanced skill had bound tremendous power into this book. To what purpose, he had no idea.
The table he’d dropped his books on had been empty when he’d arrived in the tower this morning, so Kahenan must have placed this magical tome there during his training session. Only, how had his grandfather done that without him noticing? More importantly, why would he do it?
He frowned as he rubbed his chin. Kahenan might be testing him, to see what he would make of the book, what he might do with it. While that was the most plausible explanation by far, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing his grandfather would do. He’d certainly never tested him this way before. Although after that stunt Kahenan had pulled today with Arms Master Kilono, anything was possible.
Of course, someone else could be playing a prank on him, although he couldn’t imagine how a student, or even an adult wizard, could get their hands onto something like this and sneak it into Kahenan’s tower while he was there.
No, it had to be Kahenan’s doing, perhaps through the use of a spell of invisibility or telekinesis. Unless… unless some unknown magic had caused the book to appear on the table.
He laughed at himself. That was an utterly ridiculous notion.
The important question was: What should he do about it? No one should fool around with a powerful artifact of unknown purpose and origin. If this were a test, then the only correct choice would be returning it without further examination.
But there was no way he was going to take the book back without first satisfying his curiosity. This was the most interesting thing involving magic he’d encountered in months, maybe years.
Besides, it wouldn’t be wise to interrupt Kahenan while he was conducting an important ritual, especially when he was still angry. And Turesobei didn’t want to see him anyway. Not after the way he’d been treated today. He was tired of being told that he had to be a wizard, and he was exhausted by the relentless training sessions, day after day without a break.
Leaving his kenja-sight active, he knelt and picked up the book. The energy currents intensified, and his kavaru pulsed in rhythm with them. Why was this happening, and how? None of this made sense. He rotated the book, examining it from all angles, but that didn’t reveal anything.
“Just what are you?” he said aloud.
The book seemed to quiver in response. He tossed it onto the table and rocked back. For several minutes, he watched it, but nothing changed in the kenja patterns. There was nothing to do now but open it.
With a few deep breaths, he steeled his courage then unlocked the bronze clasp that kept the book shut. The front cover fell open, and then the pages flipped back and forth. As the paper shuffled, the aroma of richly brewed tea spread, and within moments, the library smelled like a teahouse.
Blank pages flipped faster and faster, and the kenja currents intensified as if they were building up to… something powerful. He scooted back. The cover snapped shut, and the kenja currents dimmed. Was that it? He leaned forward to peer at it closely. Then, without warning, the book exploded with a muffled pop, its leather cover and crisp pages bursting into tiny fragments.
He threw his arms up, expecting to be pelted by debris, but that didn’t happen. Restrained by magic, the fragments swirled within a spherical cloud two feet in diameter. In the midst of that miniature maelstrom, the book’s still-intact binding wire unfurled then twisted into the skeleton of a bipedal creature no larger than a cat. The churning cloud drew in upon itself. The bits of paper layered muscle onto the skeleton, the scraps of amber-hued leather knitted into skin and bat-like wings, and the fragments of the bronze clasp formed into tiny claws.
The book and the debris cloud were now gone, and in their place there stood a strange little being with pale amber skin and darker amber wings. After a huge, musty yawn, it unfurled those bat-like wings, flexed its clawed hands and feet, flicked a forked tongue across its tiny fangs, then swung its barbed tail. Large, round eyes that appeared to be orbs of pure energy darted around, studying everything in the library.
Releasing his kenja-sight, Turesobei’s jaw dropped. This creature... it... it was a magical construct! Only his ancient kairu ancestors could build such things, although he had never read of any that could shift from one form to another and appear biological. But that didn’t mean it was impossible. Much of the kairu lore was now lost.
“Aha!” the construct said in a faint, child-like voice that grew stronger with each word. “Free, free, free at last.”
An intelligent construct? This had to be a demon... right? Summoning minor demons and binding them into objects was standard practice for wizards. However, demons could not transform the objects into which they were bound, so perhaps this creature was both a demon and a construct. Although that didn’t make much sense.
The creature stepped forward, tilting its head to one side then the other, its vibrant eyes roaming as it examined Turesobei carefully.
“So young and vital, master.” Smiling broadly, it reached out and touched Turesobei’s cheeks tenderly. Its little hands were warm; its tiny claws cold. “Oh, how I missed you.”
“What are you?!” Turesobei sputtered.
Wings quivering, it playfully patted Turesobei’s cheeks. “Such silly games you play, master!”
He jabbed his fingers into the creature’s soft chest and shoved it back. “I am not playing,” he said sternly. Having dealt with demons before, he knew better than to indulge them. “Tell me who and what you are. Now.”
A stunned look creased its round face into a deep frown. “I’m a book, master. Your diary, as a matter of fact. Though you clearly don’t remember that.”
“Clearly.”
Blinking tears, it bounded forward and grabbed Turesobei’s kavaru. The channeling stone glowed as the little creature reverently cupped it in its hands. “I fear I am early, far too early. Or worse. Please, please, please say you haven’t forgotten me!”
With a yank of the silver chain hanging around his neck, he tugged the kavaru away from the creature, then tucked the stone into his shirt. “I do not know who or what you are.”
“I am what I said.” The creature blinked tears, wiped them from its cheeks, and sucked in a deep breath. Then it swept its arm out and bowed dramatically. “I am the illustrious Lu Bei, diary extraordinaire. At your service, master. As always.”
“I… I am Chonda Turesobei.”
The creature pursed its lips. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
“Well, since you don’t remember me — yet — I would like point out that I go by my entire name. Lu is not a surname. If you call me Bei, I will refuse to answer. Unless you make me. Also, male pronouns only please.” He glanced down at his genderless body then spun around. “Not that it matters, I suppose, but that’s what I’m used to.”
“Is this… is this all a trick… or a test?”
“I should hope not, master. If so, it is a very bad one indeed.”
“Did my grandfather put you up to this?”
“No, no, master. I should think Lord Kahenan would be very angry with me. If he knew I existed. Which he most certainly does not. I came back to you all on my own. Just like I was supposed to.”
Either the little creature was lying, seriously confused, or wrong in the head. “You came back to me? Like you were supposed to? That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Which is quite troubling, master… to us both.” He scratched his chin. “Say, master, how old are you?”
“I am sixteen.”
“Younger than ideal,” the creature muttered.
Ideal for what? He had so many questions. “How old are you, Lu Bei?”
“That depends. What year is it?”
“1476.”
“In that case, I am 2,438 years old.”
“Who made you?”
“You did, master. Didn’t we cover this already?”
Turesobei pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “No games, remember.”
“I swear it’s not a game, master,” Lu Bei whined. “Oh, how I wish you could remember me!”
“Unless it happened when I was a small child—”
“It did not, master.”
“Then I have never met you. And I certainly didn’t create you. None of my textbooks cover the methods required for making even the simplest constructs.”
The creature hopped forward and touched the kavaru through Turesobei’s shirt. The stone warmed and vibrated. “I swear you created me, master. I swear, I swear, I swear.”
This didn’t make any— “Oh! You were made using my stone!”
“Well, of course, master.” Lu Bei rolled his eyes. “It is your kavaru, after all.”
“It is not mine. This is the kavaru of my ancestor, Chonda Lu. I am merely its current guardian.”
“No, master, that kavaru is—”
The resonant strike of a bass gong sounded across Ekaran, followed by a baritone triple-tap to designate the time.
“Oh crap!” Turesobei leaped to his feet. “I’m late for arms practice. Again! I’m going to be in loads of trouble.”
He placed his spell books on a high, empty shelf where he knew they would be safe. It wasn’t his first time stashing his books and hurrying out. It was practically a daily occurrence.
“Who would dare punish you, master?”
“Arms Master Kilono for one.”
Now, what was he going to do about Lu Bei? He grabbed the back of his neck and groaned. Allowing a potentially dangerous creature to wander free was unacceptable. He should immediately take it to Kahenan, but this book, this experience, it belonged to him. Maybe it was selfish, and it was certainly foolish, but he wanted to learn more about Lu Bei on his own before revealing him to his grandfather.
“You’re trying to figure out what to do with me, right?” Lu Bei asked. “The answer is simple, master. I can go with you!”
“Absolutely not!”
“In that case, I will remain here — in book form.”
“Will you stay that way until I get back?”
“If that is your command, master, then I will obey.”
Turesobei studied Lu Bei’s expressions, as if he would be able to tell whether the strange creature was lying. “Swear it.”
Lu Bei crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head. “On my existence and my honor, master, I swear that I will remain in book form until you return.”
Every moment he delayed increased the amount of trouble he was in, so he needed to trust Lu Bei. Besides, if he was going to keep this to himself, then he had no other choice. And anyway, the creature was bound to his kavaru. Surely, it would obey him.
“Transform now,” Turesobei said. “Quickly! And do not let me down.”
“Never, master!” Lu Bei shouted as he burst into a small debris cloud.
The entire process from before repeated in reverse, though at much greater speed, and within a few moments, Lu Bei was once again a small, leather-bound book lying on the table.
Turesobei fixed the bronze clasp in place, in case that would prevent Lu Bei from transforming again. Then he tucked the ancient tome behind his spell books on a high shelf in the back of the library and raced outside.