The Shaman's Secret (Kalika Magic Book 2) Page 9

  Sisika flew to Kai, landing gently on his arm.

  ‘Nima!’ whispered Kai, his face blank with shock. ‘Is it safe?’

  ‘Of course it’s safe,’ Nima said, smiling. She ran her fingers through the leopard’s soft fur. ‘This is Usha. I met her long ago, when I was very small. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

  She was beautiful. Her coat was a creamy white, with a faint pattern of black rings and rosettes rippling across the surface. Her eyes were a deep liquid blue. She padded over to Kai and stood patiently by his side.

  ‘You can pat her,’ said Nima. ‘She won’t mind.’

  Kai hesitated; then he sank his fingers into the soft white fur.

  ‘A power animal comes to help you, not to hurt you,’ said Nima. ‘You have to listen to her. You have to trust her. She'll be by your side when everyone else has run away.’

  Kai looked at the owl on his shoulder; he reached up and stroked her feathers. ‘Whoo, whoo,’ she said.

  ‘Me too,’ cried the king, who’d been standing wide-eyed, staring at the leopard. ‘I want to touch her.’

  The leopard rubbed her head against the little boy, almost knocking him over. He threw his arms around her, burying his face in her fur.

  The leopard flicked her tail; a deep rumbling sound came from her throat.

  ‘She likes me,’ said the king. ‘Look, she’s purring.’

  Nima took the medicine pouch from Kai and laid the totems in a circle. She whispered the words that would take them back to the shaman’s cave.

  ‘Wait.’ Kai plucked a star fruit from a tree by the stream.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘You can’t take that home with you,’ said Nima. ‘It’s too dangerous. You saw what the fruit did to your father, and the seeds are even more powerful.’

  ‘I’m not taking it back. I have to throw it in the water. Shaman Yanti said it was part of the magic.’

  ‘Oh,’ Nima was quiet. ‘I don’t know why he said that. I thought the medicine wheel would take us home all by itself.’

  ‘Maybe it’s something to do with this island. Maybe you have to throw the fruit in to make the medicine wheel work.’

  ‘Well … I guess it won’t hurt,’ she said, looking doubtful.

  Kai shrugged. He tossed the fruit into the water. Nima whispered the words. ‘Nikita nalaka.’

  She gathered the totem pieces into the pouch and took Kai’s hand. Kai reached for the king.

  ‘Namaste,’ Nima whispered to Usha, bowing her head in thanks.

  Sisika was perched on the leopard’s back. Kai smiled at her.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  He turned to Nima. ‘Now what do we do?’

  ‘We jump,’ she said.

  chapter 15

  The Shaman’s Cave

  Two men stood at the mouth of Shaman Yanti’s cave. They didn’t speak, they didn’t smile. Clutching their spears, they watched as the shaman shuffled to the back of the cave and leaned over the dark pool.

  ‘Udub baba mada ba?’ asked one.

  The shaman didn’t answer. He reached into the pool and scooped up the fruit that came bobbing to the surface. He touched its five points, sniffed its sweet honey smell. For a moment, he clasped it to his chest; then he tucked it beneath his blanket and crawled back to the fire.

  Kai felt the water rushing, spinning, whirling around him. The animals of the medicine wheel flashed before his eyes – the snow bear, the red owl, the tiger, and the eagle – and just as quickly they were gone.

  He held tightly to Nima with his left hand and the king with his right. They rose through the water and emerged in the middle of the pool, their clothes completely dry.

  The shaman nodded in approval. ‘Good,’ he muttered. ‘Very good.’

  Kai pulled the king to the edge. He helped him climb into the cave. Nima followed. They were shivering, but their smiles were wide.

  ‘Shaman Yanti,’ called Kai. ‘We did it! We found the –’

  ‘Good work, boy,’ said the shaman. His voice was loud and deliberate: a warning.

  The guards stepped into the cave. ‘Ba dub ma dub,’ said one. He spat on the floor and turned away.

  ‘What did he say?’ whispered Kai.

  ‘He says we are only children,’ said Nima.

  The other guard frowned and shook his head. He said some sharp words to the first and they began to argue.

  The shaman hobbled to the back of the cave. He leaned close to Nima and whispered in her ear. Nima nodded. She reached for Kai’s hand, motioning for him to hold on to the king.

  The king watched the guards. ‘They don’t like each other very much,’ he said. ‘The big one says it’s the other one’s fault they’ve been left to babysit. He says they should be marching into Ballyndor.’

  ‘You can understand them?’ Kai stared at the boy.

  Nima pulled his arm. She was looking at the stone steps on the far side of the pool. There was nothing at the top. Only a circle painted on the wall, with Kalika letters carved around the edge.

  Nima put her hand out to the shaman. He brushed her away. ‘Go,’ he whispered.

  ‘Not without you,’ she said fiercely, tears shining in her eyes.

  The shaman clutched his blanket. ‘Go,’ he hissed.

  The steps were steep and slippery. Kai held Nima’s hand and dragged the king behind him.

  ‘Ba ribba!’ cried the guards. They swept into the cave, brandishing their spears.

  Nima pulled the bear claw from her pouch. She held it up. The guards shrank back, but only for a moment. They were Dasa Warriors, afraid of nothing.

  ‘Do what I do,’ cried Nima.

  She turned to the wall and began to dance, her feet planted firmly on the ground, her whole body shaking.

  ‘Think of Sisika,’ she said. ‘Call on her to help you.’

  She curled her fingers into claws and growled like a leopard. Dancing and shaking, she closed her eyes. ‘Usha,’ she called. ‘I need you.’

  The guards stopped and stared. They began to laugh.

  Kai took a deep breath and spread his arms. He shook his body, planted his feet on the top step, and thought of nothing but Sisika.

  ‘Whoo! whoo!’ he screamed, twisting and soaring and feeling the fiery energy of the owl running through his body.

  ‘I want to play too,’ said the king. ‘I want to be a bear.’

  Growling, he curled his hands into bear claws and copied the others in their shaking dance.

  The circle on the wall began to move. Dust trickled from the letters at the edge. The painted wheel sank back into the earth.

  The guards didn’t notice. They were still laughing at the gyrations of the children.

  Kai swooped and shrieked. He could feel his fingers cutting the air like feathers; he could see everything through his wide, unblinking eyes.

  ‘Grrrr!’ cried the king. ‘Look at me. I’m a big, black grizzly bear. Grrrr.’

  The wheel creaked, and slowly began to turn. It sank further into the wall.

  Dust rose under the dancers’ feet. The cave filled with the whirr of feathers, the pad of a leopard’s paws, the deep strong growl of a bear.

  The guards fell back behind the rocks, their eyes wide.

  The wheel was spinning now. Flashes of light sparked at the edges.

  ‘Now!’ cried Nima. She grabbed Kai with one hand and the king with the other. Then she ran head on at the wheel, screaming.

  Kai felt the thick fur of the white leopard beneath his hand. He gripped it as they burst through the circle and out into the brilliant white of the mountainside.

  Behind them stood a solid wall of rock.

  Kai landed on the snow, gasping at the cold, laughing at his freedom. ‘How did you do that?’ he asked. ‘It was incredible.’

  Nima grinned. ‘It wasn’t me. It was the animals. The magic of the mountains is in the animal spirits. If you can connect with your power animal, you can do anything.’

/>   Kai flexed his fingers. He remembered how it had felt to look through Sisika’s eyes, to see the world as he could never see it on his own.

  Nima gazed out at the mountain. ‘It’s a long way down to Linden,’ she said. ‘Mugadi will be gone by the time we get there.’

  Kai looked at the king. The little boy huddled against him, shivering. ‘How will we get him down the mountain? He’s too little.’

  ‘I am not,’ said the boy. ‘I’m the King of Ballyndor. I can do anything.’

  The snow was falling as they stumbled along a ridge, aiming for the rocky path at the top of the glacier. Kai thought of all the spells he knew that might bring his father back to normal. But they were Chief Wicasa’s spells, and he knew they wouldn’t work on the mountain.

  He sat on a rock and thought for a moment.

  Nima held the king’s hand, waiting.

  Have you heard of the apiki flower?’ he asked at last.

  ‘The flower in the old stories?’ asked Nima. ‘The flower that can heal anything?’

  ‘Yes. Brek said if I could find it I could combine the power of the forest with the power of the animals.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘That’s the answer! That’s the way to turn him into a man again.’

  He shook his head. ‘I was so worried about finding my father that I forgot all about the flower. Shaman Yanti was supposed to help me find it.'

  ‘It's too late now,’ said Nima. 'We can't go back.'

  'Then we'll have to find it without him,' said Kai. He grabbed her hand to pull her up, and a sharp jolt sent him flying backwards. It was like lightning in his fingertips, a current surging between their hands.

  ‘What was that?’ he gasped.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Nima lay on the ground, nursing her arm. She stroked her hand, checking for missing pieces. ‘It feels like my fingers have been torn off. Everything looks okay, but they still tingle.’

  ‘So do mine,’ said Kai.

  The little boy was watching them. ‘I want to be a bear again,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe later,’ said Kai. ‘We’re going on a treasure hunt now.’

  The boy’s eyes lit up. ‘What’s the treasure?’

  ‘A flower.’

  ‘Is it big or little?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What colour is it?’

  ‘You’re telling him stories,’ said Nima. ‘The apiki flower isn’t real, don’t you know that?’

  The boy grinned. ‘I’ll find it anyway,’ he said.

  chapter 16

  The Emperor and the Elephant

  The Emperor of Moto sat in a sumptuously decorated box, atop an enormous, lavishly beaded elephant. He shouted directions to his men, his great belly wobbling as he did so, his pudgy fingers stabbing at the air. His voice was incongruously high-pitched for such a large man. He tended to speak through his nose; and when he was angry, as he was now, it rose to a painful screech.

  ‘You expect me to do what?’ he demanded, his face purple.

  ‘Walk, Your Brilliance,’ said Mugadi. ‘Your elephant will not fit through the ice caves with you on its back.’

  ‘Preposterous,’ said the emperor. ‘I am wearing my best gold slippers, as you can see. I did not plan to walk.’

  ‘It is not far, Your Eminence. Perhaps I can assist you.’

  The emperor looked down at the hard-faced warrior, his spear strapped to his back, his knives hanging from his belt.

  ‘I suppose you could lend me your boots,’ he said.

  Mugadi’s eyes narrowed. His lip twitched. He leaned down and untied the strap on his snakeskin boots.

  The emperor smiled. He called three of his men to help him down from the elephant. Then he pulled on the boots and stomped up and down in the snow.

  ‘They’ll do nicely,’ he said. ‘Lead the way, my man.’

  Barefoot on the icy ground, Mugadi walked into the caves. He sneered at the soldiers of Ballyndor, still trapped behind the ice, and led his mighty army – complete with horses, wagons and one enormous elephant – through to the other side.

  ‘The shaman’s curse holds,’ he said, resting his hand on the rock at the entrance. ‘Good. I was afraid it would fade with the rest of his magic.’

  He climbed onto his horse, a great shaggy beast with fire in its eyes, and pulled the bridle tight. One of the men lashed Indie’s hands together with a rope, and then lifted her up in front of him.

  ‘No tricks, Princess,’ he said. ‘We have two days ride ahead of us. I would hate to have to drag you behind my horse.’

  Indie scowled. ‘I wish I had my father's sword,’ she said.

  Mugadi laughed. ‘No more swords for you, little emerald. The emperor thinks you are pretty. He plans to take you to Moto and keep you at the palace as a pet. Like a little dog, I guess. And then, when you are old enough, he will marry you.’

  Indie swallowed. She turned to see the emperor being hauled onto his elephant. His skin was pasty. His nose was red. He smiled a fat, sickly smile and waved at her with his fingertips.

  Beside her, Jabar swore softly. He sat on a buckskin pony, his reins tied to the saddle of the horse in front. His hands were bound behind his back. There was a gash across his forehead and blood trickled into his eyes.

  ‘We’ll stop at Linden tonight and stock up on provisions,’ Mugadi called to his men. ‘Be ready to fight. They don’t like us very much, but they have the best moka bread this side of the mountain.’

  ‘Splendid,’ said the emperor. ‘I do like a nice piece of moka bread.’

  Mugadi whipped his horse into a canter. The Dasa Warriors and the foot soldiers of Moto followed at a steady march. The emperor’s horsemen made up the flank – their armour shining, their faces hard. They thundered into the tiny village, 6,000 men on battle chargers. Last came the elephant, with the emperor sitting in his box.

  A group of men from the village walked out to meet Mugadi. They wore the simple blue cloth of the farmers of Gort, and they carried no weapons. Otherwise, the place seemed deserted, although Indie thought she could see the terrified faces of some of the other villagers, peeping from the windows of their houses.

  ‘We have nothing to give you,’ said the old man who led the group. ‘Our fields are bare. Our crops will not grow. This land has already been burned and destroyed; there is nothing more you can do to us.’

  Mugadi smiled. ‘We do not come here to hurt you. We come to help. Ballyndor has deserted you. The king is weak, useless. What has he done for you? Nothing. The emperor in Moto has seen your suffering and comes to offer you a new beginning – bow to him and he will protect you.’

  There was silence. The men of Linden murmured among themselves.

  Indie twisted in the saddle and threw herself from Mugadi’s horse, landing heavily on the ground. The old man cried out and ran to help her to her feet. Seeing her face, he dropped to his knees, his head bowed, followed quickly by the other villagers.

  ‘This man is a traitor,’ cried Indie. ‘He has kidnapped me. He is marching to Ballyndor to kill my mother. Don’t listen to him!’

  Mugadi laughed. ‘It is true,’ he said. ‘The royal family of Ballyndor has had its chance. The country is in ruins. In the mountains, my people are starving. The king and queen have done this to us, to you, to the whole country. It is time to make a change.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Indie stood very still. The villagers were looking at her, waiting for her to speak. ‘This land was destroyed by Sofia, the queen’s sister. It had nothing to do with my mother and father. They will fix it. They are fixing it now.’

  ‘They are doing nothing,’ said Mugadi. ‘They sit in their comfortable palace, watching their people starve.’

  He leaned from his horse, lifting Indie from the ground by the scruff of her cloak. She struggled and cried out. Rushing to her aid, the old man was brought up short by the point of a Dasa spear.

  Indie spat in Mugadi’s eye. ‘Let me go,’ she cried. She wasn’t afraid. She knew that he needed he
r: she was his gift to the emperor.

  Mugadi wiped the spittle from his face. As if reading her thoughts, he leaned closer.

  ‘I may not kill you, Princess,’ he said, in a low dangerous voice. ‘But there is nothing to stop me hurting these men and their wives and their little children if you step out of line. Remember that.’

  It was like a blow to her stomach. Her face turned white and she stopped struggling. He lowered her to the ground.

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘Now perhaps these nice men will help us set up our camp for the night.’ He looked at the villagers who stared back defiantly, and raised his voice. ‘This village now belongs to Moto. Anyone who disobeys the emperor will be flogged.’

  The village of Linden was a cluster of mud-brick houses, the roofs thatched with plains grass, the floors laid with stone. At the centre stood a great temple, surrounded by large sacred rocks.

  The men made their camp among the rocks and on high ground behind the village, while the emperor settled himself inside the temple, his elephant tethered to an ancient tree.

  The old man was clearly unhappy about the sleeping arrangements. ‘Our god is Alonzo, the Sun King,’ he said, wringing his hands anxiously. ‘This is the only temple he has left in Gort.’

  ‘It is very beautiful,’ said Mugadi. ‘The emperor is used to beautiful things, I’m sure he will look after it.’

  There was a crash and a tinkling of glass. The old man flinched.

  ‘Oh bother,’ came the emperor’s voice. ‘Now, who put that there?’

  ‘Alonzo is a jealous god,’ said the old man. ‘He will be angry.’

  ‘Let him be angry,’ said Mugadi. ‘In Moto they have only one god, the emperor. All other gods must bow before him.’

  ‘How can you do this?’ said the old man. ‘You can’t save Gort by giving it to the emperor. He will destroy our temples; he will ban us from worshipping our gods. Moto is a terrible place. At least in Gort we are allowed to think for ourselves.’