The Shaman's Secret (Kalika Magic Book 2) Page 11

  Nima gripped Kai’s arm. ‘I’ll call Usha back,’ she said. ‘There must be something we can do.’

  ‘She won’t be able to break the ice,’ said Kai. ‘The magic here is too strong.’

  ‘It’s old magic,’ said Nima. ‘I can feel it beating in the air.’

  Her face changed, her eyes brightened and she tipped her head to one side as if she were listening for something. Turning back to Kai, she said ‘What would you do in the forest if you found a spell like this?’

  ‘I don’t know. Use one of Chief Wicasa's spells, I guess.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The transformation spell,’ said Kai, thinking of the black cloud in the castle gardens, the people trapped in the trees and the flowers.

  ‘Let’s try it.’ She was still holding his arm. He could feel sparks running from her hand down his forearm to his fingers.

  ‘Chief Wicasa’s magic doesn’t work here,’ he said. ‘Shaman Yanti put a curse on it.’

  The ice creaked. There was a ripple in the walls.

  ‘Shh,’ said Nima. ‘It does work. Magic is magic, no matter who writes it down. The shaman can’t change that. I think you have to do it a bit differently here, that’s all.’

  Kai felt the rocks tremble beneath his feet.

  ‘Can you feel the mountain?’ Nima whispered. She pulled the leather pouch from her back and laid out the medicine wheel.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Dargan. ‘What are you doing? We have to keep moving.’

  ‘We’ll meet you outside,’ said Kai.

  ‘I’ve just found you. I’m not leaving you here.’

  ‘We have to try something,’ said Nima. ‘Please. We won’t be long.’

  Dargan looked at them – at their dripping hair, their pleading eyes, their earnest Kalika faces. It was uncanny. They were so much alike.

  ‘Let me try.’ Kai was begging now. ‘Please.’

  Dargan frowned. ‘I’ll be out the front,’ he said.

  ‘There’s no time to dance our animals,’ said Nima. ‘We’ll just have to call them and hope the medicine wheel starts spinning by itself.’

  She stood before the frozen soldiers, closed her eyes and called, ‘Usha, come to me.’

  The white leopard padded into the centre of the cave and lay at her feet. Nima leaned close to the leopard, as if she were listening. She turned to Kai. ‘Your father is safe,’ she said. ‘He is waiting for us at the village.’

  She stroked Usha’s fur. ‘Call your owl, Kai,’ she said.

  Kai closed his eyes. He thought about the owl: her fiery red feathers, her wide amber eyes. He whispered her name, ‘Sisika.’ The rocks quivered beneath his feet. A wave of colour flickered through the ice.

  Kai felt the flutter of wings, the sharp claws of the owl on his shoulder. There was heat coming from her body. He opened his eyes and saw a small bead of water trickling down the wall.

  The owl screamed, Whoo, whoo! She beat her black-tipped wings, building up the rhythm.

  And the air in the cave grew warmer.

  ‘Now,’ cried Nima. ‘Say the spell.’

  Kai chanted the words.

  Awake now from your secret sleep,

  Follow my voice from your prison deep,

  Let your heart and mind be free,

  Awake now, and come back to me.

  Great cracks sheered through the ice. The beating of the owl’s wings grew faster. The air grew thick and hot.

  The leopard sprang to her feet and paced a circle around the edge of the cave. She growled softly, picking up speed. Steam rose from her fur.

  Kai could see the spell like a grey cloud whirling across the ice. It wrapped around him, choking him. He struggled to break free.

  ‘Awake now,’ he cried. ‘Awake!’

  The magic was too strong. It crept into his nose and ears and mouth; it was like a creeping fog, suffocating him. ‘Ki-somma,’ he whispered. ‘Koko mi ki-somma.’

  Sisika swooped over him, her wings a blur of red and black. Usha pounded past him. The heat was unbearable. He was wrapped in a thick damp blanket, gasping for breath, fighting for his life.

  Nima touched his arm. Her hand was cool, like rainwater. It washed the fog from his eyes and heart, and he found that he could breath again.

  ‘Awake!’ he cried again. The grey turned to white. The spell swept out of the caves, spinning and shrieking like a tornado.

  They watched as the spell twisted through the rocks and vanished into the mountain.

  Nima pointed to the wall of ice. The white leopard had slowed her circle; the owl kept a steady beat with her wings. The ice fell away in great chunks, smashing down to the cave floor.

  The soldiers pushed their way out of the wall, panting and gasping. Water ran through their hair and down their faces. They shook their arms and legs, shivering and laughing, wrapping their arms around their bodies.

  Kai held out his arm for Sisika. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

  Swivelling her head, Sisika blinked her large golden eyes. Kai had the sense that all the secrets of the world were locked inside those eyes, everything he would ever need to know. The owl blinked again; then she spread her fiery wings and flew into the sky.

  He looked at Nima. Usha had vanished, but there were clear marks on the ground where her paws had burnt into the ice.

  ‘I knew we could do it,’ said Nima.

  ‘Yes you did,’ said Dargan. He was standing at the far end of the cave, watching them.

  ‘Did you see them?’ asked Kai, running to him. ‘Usha is the white leopard, and my owl is called Sisika. She’s the one you followed in the snow.’

  Nima gave him a warning look. Dargan was frowning; he looked closely at Kai, searching his face.

  ‘It’s very hot in here,’ said Nima, taking Kai’s hand. ‘Maybe we should go outside.’

  Kai shook her off. ‘Usha was here, and so was Sisika,’ he said. ‘Ask them.’ He pointed to the soldiers.

  The men looked blank. ‘We didn’t see any animals,’ said one.

  ‘Yes you did,’ cried Kai. ‘A white leopard and a big red owl. You must have seen them!’

  The man shook his head slowly. He looked at the others, and then he looked at Dargan. His eyes said what Kai knew they were all thinking. The young prince is crazy: he’s always been like that. Too much magic can do that to you.

  ‘Come on Kai,’ said Dargan gently. ‘I saw you close your eyes and say some sort of spell. One of Chief Wicasa’s, I guess. You did well. Aunty Mai will be proud of you. Now let’s get moving.’

  Dargan led the men out into the sunlight. Kai and Nima followed.

  ‘You can’t tell him about it,’ Nima whispered to him. ‘Baba says you have to open your heart and let the mountain in. If you haven’t done that you won’t see.’

  Kai looked back at the mountain rising into the clouds. He looked up at the glacier, pitted and cragged like the face of a giant. Pressing his foot against the rocks, he could feel a steady drumming running through his toes and up into his heart.

  Nima was watching him. ‘But you found it, which is the only thing that matters,’ she said. ‘Can’t you feel it? The mountain is part of you now. The magic is inside you.’

  The drumbeat quickened. Kai swayed. The mountain towered over him; its power thundered through him. He fell to his knees, struggling for breath.

  Nima was beside him. He looked at her with glazed eyes. ‘The mountain,’ he whispered. ‘The mountain.’ Then he smiled, swayed, and fell flat on his face.

  ‘Help,’ cried Nima. ‘Please! Someone!’

  The soldiers stopped. Dargan pushed his way through them to gather Kai in his arms. He brushed Kai’s hair back from his forehead and examined his face. His fingers touched Kai’s cheek and the boy sighed.

  ‘I think he’s okay,’ said Dargan. ‘Probably just exhausted. We need to get him down to the Moon Tree. We can shelter there.’

  One of the soldiers motioned for Nima to climb onto his back. Darg
an hoisted Kai over his shoulder.

  They set off down the mountain.

  chapter 19

  The Story of Moto

  Indie lay on the bare dirt of the goat shed. She was roped to Jabar, who moaned whenever she moved. The old man who had helped her was tied to a post; his arm twisted behind his back, his head hanging forward.

  She slumped against the ground. There was no way out. The door was bolted shut. Four men stood guard outside: their spears sharp, their orders clear. If she tried to escape again, the other two would die.

  There were voices outside, and Mugadi came into the shed carrying three bowls. Without a word he placed one in front of her. Indie reached out and kicked it into the dirt.

  ‘Now, now,’ said Mugadi. He was smiling, a gentle smile that was somehow worse than his sneer. ‘The emperor is asking for you. He wants to see his little gift.’

  He leaned down and untied her hands. She sat up, her eyes livid.

  ‘Look what you’ve done to Jabar,’ she said. ‘He can’t even speak. And the chief – he’s an old man; he didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘No one deserves to be hurt,’ said Mugadi, jerking her to her feet. ‘Sometimes it just happens.’

  She bit her lip, feeling a sharp pain as his fingers dug into her shoulder, refusing to cry out.

  ‘We are going to the emperor, you and I,’ said Mugadi. ‘The whole village is asleep. I have guards on every door. If you so much as squeak, I will tell my men to take it out on Jabar.’

  He lifted the boy’s arm with his snakeskin boot, and let it fall back to the floor. Jabar screamed. Mugadi gave him a look of absolute disgust.

  ‘No,’ Indie whispered. She looked at Jabar, smashed and broken on the ground. She wanted to pick him up, brush off the dirt and the blood, and say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. But it was too late.

  Jabar closed his eyes. He turned his head from her. ‘Go away,’ he whispered.

  The Emperor of Moto lounged on a pile of silk cushions, while his slaves scurried around him. He had a bowl of sweet cherries on one side and a bowl of purple grapes on the other; and he shovelled handfuls of both into his mouth so that the juices ran down his chin and onto his jewelled gown.

  He beamed when he saw Indie, and rubbed his hands together. ‘Moto has waited a long, long time for this,’ he said.

  His eyes were small and black. They fixed on her, glittering, as Mugadi pushed her to her knees.

  ‘The Emerald of Ballyndor is mine,’ said the emperor. ‘At last, my poor ancestors will be avenged.’

  He wiped his chin with his hand, and then rubbed his hand on his gown, leaving a smear of red and purple.

  ‘Do you know the story of Moto?’ he asked.

  Indie nodded, but he told her anyway.

  It was a simple story, about two Kalika brothers who discovered a way to cross the silver veil and travel between the worlds. The first remained in the forest and became a great chief. The second went to the mountains in search of a deeper magic. In time, they were both summoned to Ballyndor.

  The people of the royal city treated them like kings. They wore the finest silks, the most precious stones – all brought from Moto by the gypsy traders.

  The young emperor across the mountain came personally to Ballyndor to meet them. He brought a wonderful gift, a sword carved by the Veladin high in the mountains of Moto. But the young emperor was no fool. He wanted something in return for his gift. He asked the brothers to show him the fabled box, the black trunk painted with flames that they had used to cross the silver veil. When they refused, the young emperor returned home, gathered his army and marched into Gort, demanding the magical trunk.

  The walls of Ballyndor were strong. The young emperor did not get his prize. He retreated to Moto, wounded and angry, swearing that he would be back for the gifted sword.

  War followed. The young emperor died. His successor vowed to avenge him. It became a matter of honour in Moto. Each new emperor would swear an oath to regain the Sword of Veladin and steal the fabled trunk.

  Great battles raged. Moto invaded Ballyndor, and Ballyndor invaded Moto. But nothing had happened in the last fifty years, and the two countries had traded and visited and tried to ignore their history.

  Until now.

  Now, with Mugadi and the Dasa at his side, the emperor saw his chance.

  ‘You are a little young,’ he said, wrinkling his nose. ‘But no matter. We shall be married and you shall live in the palace with my other wives.’

  ‘Married?’ cried Indie. ‘I won’t marry you. You can’t make me.’

  ‘Oh yes I can,’ said the emperor. ‘I had no trouble making my other wives marry me. I have 107 of them you know. I locked up their fathers, their mothers, their brothers and sisters – all in my nasty damp dungeon. You’d be amazed how quickly they changed their minds.’

  ‘That’s horrible,’ said Indie.

  ‘Yes,’ said the emperor, looking smug. ‘They’re all completely miserable, of course, spending their time sobbing and wailing and brushing their lovely hair.’ He smiled broadly and held out his hand. ‘Now, be a good girl and don’t make a fuss. Mugadi says your father is dead. Pity. I was looking forward to watching my soldiers kill him. Still, it means your mother will be awfully lonely by herself in that big castle. I’m sure she can be persuaded to join my wives. It’ll be company for you both. Thoughtful of me, isn’t it?’

  He looked very pleased with himself. ‘Your mother,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘How marvellous. I’ve heard she’s very pretty. Even prettier than her sister.’

  ‘Aunt Sofia,’ whispered Indie.

  The emperor gazed into the distance. ‘Now there was a lass with spirit. I only met her once, when Mugadi brought her to Moto. She had a woman with her, carrying the baby –’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘Why yes,’ said the emperor. ‘And she made a fine looking mother, though you could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Not that I blame her. I have over 200 children myself and they are all very tiresome.’

  Indie could feel the world spinning. ‘Are you sure the baby was hers?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. Sweet little thing. Didn’t cry at all.’

  He settled back into his cushions with a sigh. ‘That was all a long time ago,’ he said. ‘Now tootle-oo. Off you go. I’m going to have a little snooze.’

  As the guard led her away, the thought tumbled over and over in Indie’s head. A baby. Aunt Sofia had had a baby?

  On the far side of the goat shed, Indie saw a shadow. For less than a heartbeat, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the outline of a big cat. It darted between the houses without a sound, disappearing into a small hut at the edge of the village.

  She looked at the guard. He had seen it too. He grasped his spear and motioned for her to follow.

  In silence they crept toward the hut. Through the window she could see the light of a single candle. An old, cracked voice murmured a lullaby.

  ‘There, my little one,’ said the voice. ‘No one will hurt you now.’

  The guard pushed open the door, his spear in front of him. Inside was an old woman nursing a little boy. The boy’s hand was covered in a soft white bandage and he whimpered as he slept.

  The old woman looked up, without a trace of fear. ‘My grandson had a nightmare,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if we disturbed you.’

  The guard looked suspiciously around the hut. ‘The mountain lion –’ he began.

  ‘It was a leopard,’ said the old woman, looking at Indie. ‘A white one. He often dreams of leopards. And eagles and owls and bears. Dreams can be very powerful.’ She fixed the man with a steel-blue stare. ‘They can seem very real.’

  The guard shook his head. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Yes they can.’

  The old woman bent back over the boy and brushed the red hair from his forehead.

  The guard shook his head again, as if to clear the cobwebs in his brain. ‘A dream,’ he murmured. ‘Only a dream.’


  He dropped his spear and wandered out into the night.

  ‘What did you do to him?’ asked Indie, wide-eyed.

  The old woman smiled. ‘The mountain has ways of muddling minds. I helped it along a little.’

  ‘Will he be okay?’

  ‘I hope so.’ The old woman chuckled. ‘It’s a long walk back to his village, but he should be there by morning. I imagine his family will be very pleased to see him.’

  ‘Can you do that to the others?’

  The old woman shook her head. ‘Only a few at a time,’ she said. ‘And even then it is difficult.’

  Indie looked away. She was so disappointed she couldn’t speak. A bright flame of hope had flickered inside her for a moment, and then gone out.

  ‘Don’t despair,’ said the old woman. ‘I know enough to keep you safe here until morning. Any soldier who comes to find you will go marching straight back to his village. That should give them something to think about.’

  Indie tried to smile. ‘I have to go back to the shed. They’ll hurt Jabar if I’m not there.’

  ‘No they won’t,’ said the old woman. ‘I will cast a sleeping spell over the shed. Anyone who steps in the door will fall asleep immediately. It will only last until morning, but it might give that poor boy a bit of peace in the meantime.’

  Indie closed the door and sat in a rocking chair. The old woman put a blanket over her legs and brought her moka bread and hot coco, while the little boy slept soundly in the corner.

  Indie nibbled, but she could not eat. She sat on the edge of the chair, her feet tapping on the floor.

  ‘I have to escape,’ she said. ‘I have to get Jabar away from here before Mugadi kills him.’

  ‘Shh,’ said the old woman. ‘They are coming for you. You must be patient.’

  ‘Who is coming?’ asked Indie. ‘Is it my father? Is he alive?’

  ‘Of course your father is alive.’ Indie followed her glance to the sleeping boy. ‘You are very much alike.’