The Sorrow of the Waters (Kalika Magic Book 3)

  The Sorrow of the Waters

  Also in the Kalika Magic series by Karen Hughes

  Emerald Child

  The Shaman’s Secret

  The Sorrow of the Waters

  Karen Hughes

  Kalika Magic / Australia

  Copyright © Karen Hughes 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  admin@kalikamagic.com

  Kalika Magic

  Australia

  www.kalikamagic.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover design: Carraro Design Management

  Ordering Information: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

  Hughes / Karen — Digital Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9941579-6-6

  For Oliver, Chloe, Lachie, and Abbie

  Chapter 1

  The Dead Islands

  D

  eep inside the earth, the shaman sat by a fire at the edge of a blackwater pool. He rocked back and forth, whispering secret words. In his hand was a medicine pouch filled with totems – a raven’s wing, a dolphin carved from driftwood, a scorpion’s tail, the jawbone of a wolf. He spread them in a circle beside the water. Then he took a small velvet bag from his cloak and opened it, checking the contents. Two seeds. Only two. All that was left of the star fruit.

  ‘Put it in your mouth,’ he said to Nima, who sat quietly beside him.

  The seed was sharp and bitter. It made her tongue numb.

  ‘Now make a wish,’ said the shaman. ‘Don’t tell me what it is. You must keep it in your heart.’

  Nima shivered. She pulled her ragged purple cloak around her shoulders and closed her eyes. The shaman had told her to choose the thing that would make her happiest, the thing that she wanted most in the whole wide world.

  All I want is my mother, she thought.

  A shudder ran through the rocks. The dark walls trembled.

  ‘It is done,’ said the shaman. For a moment his face was grave. Then he stood and tucked the bag inside his cloak.

  Taking Nima’s hand, he stepped into the water.

  Nima gripped her father’s hand. She could feel the water, cold and black, slinking around her ankles.

  ‘Ki-somma,’ whispered the shaman. ‘Koko mi ki-somma.’

  Nima had heard those words before. Her cousin, Kai, had used them. She wished Kai were with them now – he had become a good friend during their journey down the mountain. Together they called on their power animals: the red owl, Sisika, and the snow leopard, Usha. Together they freed the soldiers from the ice caves and rescued Kai’s father, the king.

  But Kai was not here. He was safe at Ballyndor Castle with his family, while she was creeping through the deepest part of the earth, hoping for a miracle.

  ‘Ki-somma.’ The shaman's voice was louder now. ‘Koko mi ki-somma!’

  The water turned from black to silver. Small beads of light glistened below the surface. Wide-eyed, she watched the beads move in circles, clumping together and swirling apart, faster and faster.

  ‘Mottaka,’ cried the shaman. The water spiralled up and up, sweeping her off her feet. She was tossed inside the spiral, clutching the shaman’s arm, crying out for Usha.

  In the whirling, tumbling rush of water she saw the shaman throw his hands in the air and disappear. She lifted her hands, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes as the water flung her from the dark cavern into a sunlit sky.

  It was very quiet. The shaman stood beside her on the highest branch of a tree. He straightened his dark green cloak and checked the leather pouch at his belt. Then he drew his dagger and ran the sharp blade across his palm. Three drops of blood fell on the white bark. There was a hiss and the smell of burning wood. Nima saw the blood melt into gold letters, seared into the tree.

  Taatayo.

  She didn’t know what it meant.

  ‘It’s the Kalika word for wildcat,’ said the shaman, softly. ‘Remember it. If we are separated, you need only to say it and I will find you. This carving is our protection – it’s the only way to summon our power animals to this terrible place.’

  ‘Taatayo,’ she whispered.

  ‘We must return to this tree,’ said the shaman. ‘The veil between the worlds is thin here. This tree is our doorway home.’

  Nima followed him down through the branches. Her foot slipped on the last branch, but he was beneath her and he caught her with strong arms and helped her gently to the ground.

  ‘I know what you wished for back in the cave,’ he said. ‘I knew even before I gave you the seed from the star fruit. I knew what you wanted most.’

  His forehead creased and his eyes grew dark. ‘I wanted it too,’ he said. ‘But I knew it would be more powerful if you made the wish. A mother will always hear her child.’

  He led her away from the tree and out into a grassy clearing. They were in some kind of wood, but the trees stood gaunt and white, and a terrible silence covered everything. There were no birds, no animals, no signs of life.

  ‘She’ll be here,’ said the shaman. ‘There’s nowhere else for her to go.’

  He was looking beyond the trees to the cliffs that fell away to the sea. It was a cold, grey sea that coiled around the shore, hissing and spitting. The air was thick and heavy. There were no clouds in the sky.

  Nima saw that they were on an island, like the one she had journeyed to with Kai to find his father. But this island was much smaller and, except for the copse of white trees, it was bare.

  There was a cloying, stagnant smell in the air – the stench of rotting fruit. She looked down to see that the ground was covered in apples. Brown apples. Soft and squishy. Alive with buzzing flies.

  The shaman took her arm and pointed to a mound of sticks piled against the largest of the trees. Leaves and broken branches had been woven together to make a rough hut.

  A creature crept from this hut. It was a woman, but she wasn’t like any woman Nima had ever seen. Her dark hair was long and matted, her silk dress torn and black with filth. She put her hands to her face when she saw her visitors, checking her skin as if she was preening in front of a mirror.

  The shaman’s face changed. Pity and horror filled his eyes.

  ‘Sofia,’ he whispered. ‘What have they done to you?’

  The woman took a step towards him. She raised her chin and smiled. It was a strong smile, the smile of a woman who expected to win, despite everything.

  ‘Shaman Yanti,’ she said, and her voice was warm and soft. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  She pushed her matted hair out of her eyes and stood like a queen, waiting for him to approach.

  The shaman hesitated. His fingers brushed his medicine pouch. There was uncertainty, doubt, in his smile. He did not step forward. Instead, he took a clear crystal from his pouch and held it out to her. It was as big as his thumb, and shaped like a perfect diamond.

  Nima watched the woman’s fa
ce. Her eyes glittered as she looked from the shaman to the crystal. She was still smiling, but it was not a nice smile.

  A whisper of fear crept into Nima’s heart. This was a mistake. This woman couldn’t be Sofia, the queen’s sister. She couldn’t be Nima’s mother.

  As if sensing her thoughts, the woman turned away from the shaman and put out her arms. Her face softened, her smile changed, but her eyes remained the same.

  ‘Nima,’ she said. ‘My little girl.’

  All the lonely nights Nima had spent in the shaman’s cave came flooding back to her, all the days of caring for the bewitched old man, listening to his rants and his taunts, his barbed angry words.

  He was so different now. The spell was broken. He was young again, and she knew he loved her as a father should.

  Maybe this was the same. Maybe some kind of spell had changed her mother into this evil creature. And maybe, once the spell was broken, she would be loving and gentle too – the way Nima imagined a mother should be.

  The woman came closer, still holding out her arms.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my darling,’ she said. ‘I made a terrible mistake. I should never have left you. It will be different this time, I promise.’

  The crystal in the shaman’s hand turned from clear to a deep blood red. The shaman touched it to his lips, and then placed it carefully back in his pouch.

  ‘We shouldn’t have come,’ he said. ‘I am a fool.’

  ‘You are a wonderful, clever man,’ said the woman, her words sickly-sweet. ‘You won’t leave me here. You love me. I am the mother of your child.’

  ‘No,’ said the shaman in a strangled voice. ‘You broke the first law of magic – we both did. I’ve paid the price. I’ve changed. I don’t think you have changed, Sofia.’

  A look of fury passed over the woman’s face, but she quickly smoothed her features into a smile.

  ‘You found me,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have done that if you didn’t love me.’

  The shaman was backing away. He reached for Nima’s hand. The sea around them churned; the sky grew black.

  ‘You can’t leave me here,’ shrieked the woman. ‘Nima! Come to me, my darling.’

  The shaman pulled Nima behind him. ‘Run back to the tree,’ he hissed. ‘I’ll follow you.’

  Nima turned and ran. She could hear the woman's screams, harsh and terrifying in the still air, but she didn’t stop. When she looked back, the woman had thrown herself at the shaman. She was clawing his face, kicking his legs, gouging his skin with her long dirty fingernails. He held her back with one hand, frantically trying to pull the dagger from his belt.

  Nima reached the tree. She began climbing through the branches. She was sobbing, taking deep ragged breaths, scrabbling at the bark with her hands.

  She should never have come here. She should have stayed with Kai and Indie. She should have travelled back with them to Ballyndor Castle.

  There was a terrible cry. She looked down to see the shaman stagger and fall against the trunk of the tree. Behind him was a shadow creature, a panther with glossy black fur and yellow eyes. It was crouched low, growling, with its hackles raised.

  No! She couldn't lose her father as well as her mother. She turned to climb back down, but the shaman was waving his arms, telling her to climb faster.

  Sofia stood beside the panther, clutching the dagger. The blade was covered in blood. She threw it to the ground and leaned down to caress the panther's fur, watching as the shaman fell to his knees. For a moment, there was silence. Then Sofia shrieked with laughter, turned away from the shaman, and began to pull herself up the tree.

  Nima climbed higher. She could feel the tears in her eyes, the ache in her heart; but she couldn’t think, she could only climb. Higher and higher. Until she reached the branch where the shaman had written in blood.

  ‘Taatayo,’ she cried, putting her hands on the golden letters. ‘Taatayo.’

  She looked down and saw her father's body dissolve into the earth. There was nothing left, no sign that he had ever been there.

  Nima heard a snarl, felt hot breath and sharp teeth against her back. It’s the panther, she thought, her body going limp with fear. But then she saw tawny fur and jutting teeth, and she knew it was taatayo, the wildcat ... her father.

  In an instant she was falling back down through the crust of the earth, into a world of shadow. Through swirls of black water. Through silver lights and a glimmering mist. Twisting and turning, tumbling over and over, down into the dark.

  She opened her eyes. The shaman lay beside her. His cloak was covered in blood and his face was white, but he was alive. He gave her a weak smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I thought she would be different.’

  Nima pulled back the shaman’s cloak and touched his shoulder with trembling hands. The gash was wide and ugly; the blade had cut deep.

  ‘Usha,’ she called. ‘Please help me heal my father.’

  The pad of paws sounded in the cavern. The great snow leopard stepped out of the darkness.

  Nima closed her eyes. The snow leopard paced around her in a circle. Heat filled the air, coursing through her hands and into her father’s body. She could feel the power of the mountain flowing through her. She was the apiki flower. She could heal anything.

  ‘Is it better, Baba?’ she whispered.

  The shaman struggled to sit up. He put his hand to his shoulder, and it came away covered in blood. So much blood.

  Nima wanted to cry. Why wouldn’t it stop bleeding? If she couldn’t heal him, he might die.

  She jumped to her feet. Something was missing, something she needed to make the magic work.

  ‘We have to find Kai,’ she said.

  It was a long walk down the mountain, and her father insisted she send Usha away. ‘There’s nothing more she can do for me,’ he said.

  There was no moon. They trudged on through the darkness. The shaman’s breathing was harsh and slow. He leaned heavily on Nima’s shoulder, and her knees buckled under his weight.

  When they reached the Moon Tree, they stopped and looked out at the Gilliba Plains, stretching on for miles and miles, silent and deserted. The armies of Moto and Ballyndor had packed up and marched back to their respective kingdoms; the Dasa Warriors had followed the boy, Jabar, home to the mountains. There was nothing to show the soldiers had ever been there, only the trampled sweetgrass and the scattered ashes of the cooking fires.

  The shaman sank to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Nima could see the blood seeping through his green cloak, staining it a deep dark red. She fell to her knees and threw her arms around him. He flinched. She let her arms drop, her eyes wide with fear.

  ‘It’s too far,’ the shaman whispered. ‘I can’t make it to the forest.’

  ‘You have to,’ she cried. ‘You have your power back. I've seen what you can do. You can heal yourself, Baba!’

  The shaman shook his head. ‘I’ve done something terrible. I’ve released an evil that should never have been set free.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Sofia … Your mother.’ His face went white and he put his hand to his shoulder as if he could still feel the blade.

  ‘But we left her behind,’ said Nima.

  The shaman fumbled for his pouch. He took out the crystal. It was a deep dark red.

  ‘She’s here,’ he said, and there was fear in his eyes. ‘Somewhere on this plain.’

  ‘She’s here,’ whispered Nima. My mother. She could hardly say the word. She thought of the terrible creature with the shrieking voice and clawing fingernails. My mother.

  The shaman took a deep breath and spoke slowly, as if each word was more painful than the last. ‘When Kai brought back the star fruit from the Island of Dreams I used one of the seeds to restore my magic and make me young again. The other I gave to you. The seed was very powerful. By eating it and making a wish, you gave her the magic to escape.’

  Nima stood and walked away. For a moment she stared
out at the plain, a small figure with her hands hanging by her sides. When she turned back there were tears in her eyes.

  ‘You let me make that wish,’ she said. ‘You knew what would happen.’

  The shaman said nothing. He rolled onto his back with a groan and stared up at the dark sky.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Nima asked, her voice shaking.

  ‘I loved your mother,’ said the shaman. ‘She was jealous of her sister and angry with her family. She wanted Gort to be different. That didn’t make her a bad person; it didn’t make me love her any less.’

  He raised himself onto his side, wincing.

  ‘Your mother got lost in the magic. It is a powerful force, more powerful than any other. You can work with it, you can let it flow through you, but to do that you have to surrender to it. Your mother couldn’t do that. She tried to control it, to manipulate it. She thought she was doing the right thing.’

  Nima stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘Of course she did!’ he said. ‘No one sets out to be evil. No one really believes they are bad. That only happens in fairy stories. Your mother made choices, that’s all. Who are we to decide whether they were good or bad?’

  ‘Did she hurt people?’ whispered Nima.

  The shaman said nothing.

  ‘Please, Baba,’ Nima pleaded. ‘I need to know the truth. You owe me that much.’

  Her father sighed. ‘She made your cousin, Kai, very sick,’ he said, ‘but she only meant to weaken his magic, and to get Tenzel into the castle.’

  ‘Tenzel?’

  ‘A nobody, a fool. Called himself a sorcerer and sat on the throne while your mother made her secret plans. He’s dead now.’

  Nima’s face was pale. ‘What else did she do?’

  ‘She locked the king away in the tower and the queen in a magic locket.’

  ‘No,’ whispered Nima.

  ‘And she used a transformation spell to imprison people in the gardens of Ballyndor Castle.’