Keeping Kaya: Fire Wheel

Keeping Kaya: Fire Wheel

Nicole Warner

AuthorHouse™

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© 2010 Nicole Warner. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/13/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9767-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9766-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010918644

Printed in the United States of America

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

To my uncle Skip, the strongest man I’ve ever seen.

Dedicated to every person who bounced ideas off me, and every supporter of Keeping Kaya: Book of Judan, including Beth Lynch and the 5th period Language Arts class of 2006-2007. The only reason this book continued is because of you.

For Karly Matson, Jessica Imler, Mackenzie Austin, Jacob Gershel, and the rest of you who said we’ll be able to say we knew you once you’re famous. I don’t know about being famous, but I’m just happy any of you liked and encouraged my writing. Your kind of support is so wanted and rare.

For my family who supported me, including my grandmother, and Tyler, my cousin.

The crusted willow branches creaked as a warm wind blew past them, tracing over them like a finger over an edge, feeling it gently. This wind had an aroma to it, one that might be inhaled at a traditional fall festival. Technically, it shouldn’t have had that certain aroma—autumn wind generally did not blow in the summer months, which finally had arrived. The seasons, after being teased with by power unimaginable, had finally fallen back into their rightful places. The only thing out of place in the way of seasons now was this wind, but it had been traveling and touching the land with dainty fingers, feeling the land to grow accustomed to it again. It seemed to almost have a mind of its own, completing a mission in foreign territory. For years it had literally been imprisoned- and now, it had a mission.

It left the beloved forest line behind, and the wind threw itself upward toward the warm sky. The higher it went, the more of the land spread out before it. In the distance, a sharp peak of land rose towards the heavens, towering over its small companions like a king amongst peasants. Everything about the mountain was sharp, hardened, majestic with power. Everything else about land-the culture, the vegetation, the people- was built around this one peak, and not only for its size. In this land the inhabitants called Judan, there was more to it, and all paid their respects.

Behind the large mountain, three other mountains seemed to act as the larger’s throne, cradling the proud mountainside. Behind those mountains strayed the Kiji Mountain Range, a barren land that stretched beyond the horizon, seeming only fit for exiles. They were named after the head of the range, Mount Kiji—the strong mountain that loomed over everything else, with an invisible gaze that the people could only feel. Of course, it wasn’t just the mountain’s sheer appearance that deemed its place in the inhabitants’ history records—it was the beings that lived inside it. Inside the caves of Mount Kiji lived spirits, humanoid creatures that had mythical-like appearances and powers, but were all too real. Everything about them seemed to be graceful, wise, fluent in every motion—very rarely did anyone ever witness the wrath of a spirit that had them so famed in their power. Of course, that was the very reason that they remained in their caves now, asleep in the midst of a darkened time in Judan’s recent history.

But the wind rarely flew off that far. It seemed to prefer the more homely areas of the land, or rather, what used to be homely. True, the forest was still blossoming as it always had, unthreatening and welcoming every adventurer, and the plains were still swaying to every light breeze, making the long grasses dance. The forest line hugged the boundary of the plains, which seemed to stretch for miles on end one way until it hit the mountains. As for the other direction, it went on for a time until the forest started curling around the edge of the plains, finally ending the boundary by creating a small dead end. This strange formation of the vegetation was natural—and very lucky for the villagers.

Speaking of the villagers, the wind sailed over a village, once buzzing with almost medieval style life, now abandoned, though the word abandoned did the truth little justice. Rather, what had actually happened was the villagers had had their homes torched to scare them out, and their villages ransacked. Come many nights later, they then had been corralled and dragged over to a ceremony that destroyed their leadership, and then were shoved back in their villages for a time until at last they were allowed to leave—only be shut into a new village, a large establishment crammed with every other villager whether they liked it or not. The authority of the new place called it Heira—the villagers called it hell.

As if it was disturbed by the image, the wind flew higher, then slowly made its way in the opposite direction, where a glimpse of blue on black could be seen. This was the most of the sea most villagers might ever see—they knew that one lone village used to reside there, but they had been no match for the sea’s wrath, and had tumbled into the sea before they had any time to escape years and years before. After the tale had made its way to the other villagers, the sea was named Ceberus, for no other name seemed as appropriately hostile. It happened so long ago that even in the ancient recordings, the Scribes had written "No one dares approach Ceberus’s waters in fear of being snapped up by the frothing waves. Evil hath taken over the waters that once were calm- even the gentle rolling waves were no match for Evil’s tempting. So evil now, the waters do not deserve to have sea in its title. It is no longer a sea, but a frothing cold predator awaiting the next victim." However, at the time, the water held no hostility in its waves. Evil, apparently, had moved on.

The wind had been around the sea, and had battled along with other stronger winds, causing disturbance in the water and air alike. And so the only water that glistened along with this wind was the dew that came off the sweet grass. Tree branches rattled again as the tip of the wind hung lightly amongst them again as the wind lowered, but still hovering high enough to make the land seem so much bigger than what the little area that the most villages had crowded into. Barely miles separated them, and when compared to the size they could have spread across, it would be comparable to having houses right across the river that split Judan almost in two.

Suddenly, a light flashed from the top of a snow-covered peak, one of the mountains that huddled around Mount Kiji. It looked like a lightning streak. As soon as it had appeared, it was gone. If any living being had seen it, even an animal, it might have guessed that a new presence had appeared in Judan. However, although many people were still alive, no one had lifted their head in time to notice the flash. Most of them probably wouldn’t have wanted to know what had caused it—there were enough problems whose cause was undisputable.

Settling back into the trees, the wind hushed again, swirling through the branches once more. It twisted, squirming in and out of the trees until it hit the forest line where the plain met forest. From there it swerved right, playing amongst the grasses, until it curled around, lifting the bangs of a fifteen-year-old boy, revealing his large, soulful blue eyes.

Sighing, the boy ran his fingers through his bangs to stop the strands from blowing into his sightline, but it was a lost cause. A few months had already changed his hair length, although not too drastically. The strands in back still stuck mainly to his scalp shape instead of hanging to his shoulders like one might expect it too, but the hair still was getting more and more in his way recently. His hair might have grown shaggily, but his cerulean eyes hadn’t changed a bit, the same spark still illuminating them. The past months had been hard, but not devastating.

Looking down, the boy let another sigh sound in his mind. Had it really only been a few months since he had looked at what he was seeing now? In front of him, grass parted to reveal a crude grave, the very one he had made months before when his friend had been killed. The death hadn’t been an accident—his death was murder. And the very same boy who was standing in front of the grave now, along with the rest of his group, wherever they were, had been running from the killer these past few months. It wasn’t the agenda of most teenage boys, but most other teenage boys weren’t playing such a huge role as one of the foretold heroes of their own land. Most other teenage boys weren’t Yame.

A few months ago, a new opponent to Judan had risen to power—Zain, or rather, Emperor Zain, as he liked to say. The way he had gained power was the reason Yame and the others had fled—Zain had a grudge, and would rather fulfill it violently. Years before, his parents had suggested having all the villages come together and live in an unanimous setting, under one single governing body; and they had been exiled to the Kiji Mountain Range. Now Zain wanted to carry out his parents’ wishes, but he wanted it ensured in a way that would prove his angry point many times over. To do so, he had fanned out and searched for the Rani series, a series of valuable objects that each held certain power over one of the five elements of Judan—fire, water, earth, air, or spirit. However, each object needed a soul inside it to activate its true power, and Zain had no trouble eliminating any village that refused one of their souls to him. Yame’s village had almost been one of those when Zain had acquired the Ani, the jewel Dove, but after slaying his father, Zain had chased after Yame’s mother, had took the soul out of her, and placed it into the Ani, while Yame witnessed the whole thing. Yame shook his head, trying to get the image of his mother’s soul- in the form of white fire- being sucked into the flaming object in Zain’s cupped hands, but the morbid image remained vivid even if he closed his eyes, plaguing the sight in his mind.

After his mother had been taken, Yame had followed after Zain, hoping to save himself from a life of orphaned abandonment. It was there that he had met Ade, the one man that Yame could see not obsessed with killing and gore in the name of Zain. For a long while Zain had been hiding undercover, but once Yame had been forced to get the Mani, or Jewel Key, for him, Zain broke out in a fit of power and revealed his entire plan, finally taking the big steps to rise to the title Emperor of Judan. Yame broke off from Zain after that, for it was then revealed to him that Zain was the foretold evil in the ancient Book of Judan, and Yame himself was one of the two children foretold to defeat that same evil. Crossing over to the good side had poised its own disadvantages to Yame, though—such as Ade dying in attempt to let Yame live despite Zain’s efforts. The only upside to that event was that Ade’s death had allowed him to finally transform into a formed spirit wind like he had always wanted, and his afterlife became the form of an overwhelming sized eagle made of wind that would fly over Judan the rest of his days. Whether that was good or bad now was a question no one could really answer in unison.

Out of habit, Yame started talking to the grave as if it were Ade. Whenever he had been around it, it seemed to connect him to Ade again. You don’t know the half of what you escaped from, Ade, when Zain finally got to you, Yame muttered, glancing up at the sky. Or maybe you do… Yame hadn’t seen the eagle for a long time.

Behind him, Yame heard someone break through the bushes. His response was immediate, swinging around alertly (for it wasn’t like he was without enemies). Who came through the bush, however, was far from an enemy. It was Kaya.

There you are. We’ve been looking all over-! When Kaya caught a glimpse of what Yame was looking at, she stopped in her speech abruptly. Oh, she uttered, giving Yame a concerned glance. That was more like Kaya—rarely was she so acerbic with him as she had been when breaking out of the foliage. Her voice went soft again as she asked the question she’d been meaning to ask Yame again for the longest time. Are you all right?

Yame said nothing for a while, making observations he hadn’t acknowledged for some time. His mouth hung loosely clenched, and his eyes softened, a reflective expression Kaya had grown uncomfortably accustomed to in these past few months. Kaya had been slightly affected by their travels, making her appearance more like her personality. Her hair had grown as shaggily as Yame’s had, but her hair had already hung past her shoulder-blades, so she was used to having to blow a strand from her face ever so often. Now, the uncombed strands framed her face in feral waves. The strands were still mostly brown, but a few lone strands were extremely close to reverting to the mixture of blond and brown like they had been before. Her clothes (brown pants and a once white long-sleeved shirt, rugged village attire) were ragged, a little more worn. It was a drastic change from the crisp appearance the village elders had once tried to impress on her. A small smile perked at his lips at the thought of anyone trying to tame Kaya, of all people.

Kaya had been the villager who nearly caught Yame as he stole the Mani. The memory of her hand, furiously scraping at his back in the chase, still made his heart race. While the first meeting wasn’t the friendliest between them (they had spent most of it in her pursuit through the darkness, with Yame barely escaping the village beyond her grasp), soon after one of Zain’s men put Kaya on the other end of his scope, and Yame’s conscience had compelled him to save her. Eventually the two adolescents became allies, if only under a common enemy—Zain. With her village decimated by Zain’s men, the two teenagers both sought a way to retaliate, and in their quest, revealed that their rebellion had deeper roots. Kaya was soon revealed to be the second child foretold in the prophecy, and was also the Child that was granted the powers not even a spirit had—a tremendous magic. Once his chaser, Kaya was now his ally—perhaps a tinge more.

Yeah, I’m fine, Yame answered, giving a small convincing smile as he looked back at the grave. Yeah, I’m okay. He turned his head back at Kaya. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’ve been whining and moping over Ade’s death.

Kaya bit her lower lip. True, Yame hadn’t been moping over Ade dying. Then again, Yame wasn’t one for public dramatic displays. He grieved differently, silently. Kaya had seen the dreariness that always appeared in his eyes, the lifelessness that plagued him days after the grave, and she knew how long he could try to hide it. It was worse than having someone verbally complain, because there was no real effective way of approaching it. Kaya had noticed.

But he seemed better now. He was smiling more, it seemed like he had lost his sorrowful shadow for the time being, and now here he was, standing in front of Ade’s grave without his wistful eyes. Still, this was Yame, and with Yame it could be hard to tell at times what he was feeling.

Yame raised an eyebrow at her drifting expression. It seems like you’re a little worried about something, though. What’s on your mind?

Kaya snapped out of it. Nothing, she replied, and immediately she silently scolded herself. She knew she shouldn’t have said that—she shouldn’t be playing the guess-what-I’m-lying-about game. But it was too late to swallow that comment now, for Yame was staring back at the grave curiously. Kaya had no idea how to say, really, what’s the problem without making it seem like she was accusing him of lying to her.

Yame’s stare remained on the grave, the smile still sweetening his features. If you say so, he said, kneeling down. Gently, he plucked a late blossoming Meu flower, its stem still firm and the leaves spreading about the size of his palm, three antennae shooting upwards about the length of a grown man’s index finger. He tossed it on the mound of dirt in front of Ade’s grave. Kaya sighed.

You do know that I’m not gonna come down hard on you like Oasis if you admit something you’re not proud of, right? she asked quietly. Her question forced Yame to close his eyes gently, crinkling his brow in concern as he turned to her. His answer, however, didn’t even form on his lips before another voice, deep but not bass-like, cut in the air.

What makes you think I’d come down hard on Yame? Both kids swiveled around in panic, and sure enough, the same face they were expecting to see was smiling back at them through a light layer of shadow. They had to crane their heads up to see it, because Oasis was seven feet standing, tall even for being nearly thirty years of age—twenty-seven, as he generally snipped.

Oasis wasn’t exactly part of the prophecy, but he was caught up extremely in Zain’s little war game—he was Zain’s brother. However, Oasis was completely on Judan’s side—it was helped by the fact that Zain had tried to murder him right before Ade’s death. Although as a child Oasis and Zain had been close despite Zain being four years Oasis’s senior, whatever feeling Zain might have had for Oasis was either evaporated or hidden extremely well. Oasis still guarded everyone, sometimes a little too much. He had a tendency to be over-protective. He was leaning on a tree, the bark creaking under his weight, even though for his height he was actually quite thin. His black hair had always hung pretty close to his eyes, hanging loosely over his narrow face. His clothes had taken a huge beating from trying to keep Zain’s army’s filthy claws or paws or whatever else they had off of the kids. It was a miracle he was still in one piece, let alone his clothes.

The look on the two kids’ faces broadened his grin. Relax, guys; it’s not like I’m out to get you or anything. He took his weight of the tree, shoving his hands in some unknown pocket in his black pants, and it seemed he had forsaken the black coat and thick green cloak in the summer weather. He wore a tattered white sleeveless shirt, and loose ecru bandages hung around his forearm, probably from some wound he had forgotten to tend. His frame looked like one for a serious figure, but the playful look in his brown eyes made them sigh in relief. They smiled in return.

A somber look flashed over his dark eyes. But ya know, it’s not like I’m gonna ridicule you about Ade, though, Yame, if it’s still bothering you, Oasis continued, a little more seriously. Yame shook his head.

Why is everyone asking me that? I’m fine, really, I’m not holding anything back, Yame protested. Oasis didn’t even have time to roll his eyes before a red-and-gray blur shot out of the forest, tackling Yame around the waist and rendering him a colorful blur as he tumbled. A yell came sharply from his throat before the grass enveloped him right next to the grave.

"Woo! He screamed, he screamed. What now?" a tomboyish girl voice called triumphantly. From the grasses jumped another girl, red hair grazing her shoulders, a fierce wolfish spark in her eye, and adorned in a red village shirt instead of a pale garment. Even more interesting were the black-tipped gray lupine ears that rose from her red strands, and the bushy tail squeezing its way through a hole in the back of her pants. She was the adolescent wolf demoness, Niji.

Niji was also related to Zain, but just a little more reluctant to admit it to the others—she was Zain’s daughter for a few years of her childhood, before she ran away, wanting to escape her cruel upbringing. She had encountered the others in the very village where they found the Book of Judan, and had clung to their group despite her annoying outbursts of pride of her demon blood. Demons were a proud species, both animalistic and some even magically-capable. Even so, her eccentric demon ways turned out useful.

I did not scream! Yame protested, sitting up so quickly he nearly encountered whiplash. I yelled! There’s a difference!

Yeah, like the difference between rain and water, Niji sneered. "Gotta stay on your toes around me, Yame. Because now, I can make you scream!" Niji waved a finger at him, a canine tooth curling over her lip.

Yame didn’t even bother trying to explain it was a yell, not a scream. Persisting the point would be like trying to impression a rock. Whatever. Are you quite done scaring the crap out of me?

Niji shrugged. That’s up to opportunity. If the opportunity comes up…

"If the opportunity comes, you better hope that it’s the opportunity to run away from me the next time you try to give me a heart attack!!" Yame shouted.

"Yeah, right. You, scare a demon into running? Not likely, so calm down before you get whiny, ‘kay? Niji laughed, turning to the others while Yame raved silently behind her. I was just trying to see if he could prove his point, by not holding anything back. Judging by that scream, I guess it was the truth." This didn’t help Yame’s fury much.

Then, quite suddenly, Yame calmed himself. Very smoothly he walked up to Niji and folded his arms, repressing an impish sneer. You think what I did was a scream? he asked, serene. Kaya raised an eyebrow, knowing that if Yame was calm in this situation, then something was about to go wrong for Niji.

Yeah... Niji answered suspiciously. She folded her arms in return, imitating the boy. What of it?

‘Then what do you call this?" Yame asked, lancing Niji in the side with his index finger. Niji yelped, leapt in the air, then came down to dirt twitching beside a laughing Yame.

You should’ve seen your face! Oasis taunted, always glad to enjoy a lesson for his niece’s humility. Niji shook dust from her ears, then paced back and forth. A plot of revenge was already etched into her scowl.

Forget it, Niji, Yame said lightheartedly, although he stepped back as a precaution. I got you, and there’s no possible way you could get me back as hard as you want to.

Yeah, yeah, bragger, Niji muttered.

Look who’s talking, Yame replied.

Yeah, yeah, all right. There’s no need in arguing it any further. I think it’s time the children learned to get along, Oasis sighed, crossing his lanky arms across his chest.

Kaya looked up at him, craning her neck. Since when have you been the fun killer? she questioned.

Niji was struck surprised. Where have you been? That’s Oasis in the hole for ya.

Kaya shrugged. Good point.

All right!! Oasis raised his hands in surrender, no longer enjoying the banter, now that the humility lesson was aimed towards him. Again, you guys are being really obvious here.

Aw, are you afraid we’re gonna hog your title, Captain Obvious? Yame cooed jokingly, using Oasis’s old nickname that Yame had given him. Oasis waited a few moments before answering, before a mischievous smirk extended the width of his face, matching his sparkling eyes.

Not afraid of you! Oasis cried lightly, then pounced on Yame playfully. Trapping Yame’s head in the crook of a long elbow, Oasis mauled Yame to the ground, playfully attacking Yame’s already shaggy-haired scalp. In the joking moment, the two girls leapt on Oasis, pulling Oasis and the boy to the ground in a heap. Yame eventually escaped Oasis’s grip, but became entangled in the pile of flailing limbs that now blossomed in the grass. After a little while, all of them were on the grass, heaving breaths and trying to stop the fits of laughter in between. In a moment of realization, Yame groaned, putting a hand on his head.

We are the only ones who horseplay next to a grave.

Well, being the first to do things is our kind of style, isn’t it? Niji replied, rolling on to her stomach. Yame gave a small laugh.

Oasis sat up, running a hand in Niji’s hair. That’s true. However, he added, lifting a protesting Kaya gently by the elbow, we can’t be the first heads Zain hangs as trophies on the wall, so we might want to lay low. I swear, Zain can sniff out laughter from miles away, and we all know he’ll try to drown it away.

If he catches up to us, we’ll be lucky if that’s all he does, Kaya commented, pulling her arm stiffly out of Oasis’s grip. We’re not exactly his biggest idols.

Well, then, we’ll just have to not let that happen. Oasis ruffled her hair as well. After all, you and Yame are certainly not expendable.

Suddenly, Niji straightened, her ears twitching stiffly and her tail bristled. A moment of tense silence resounded, and a flood of panic suffused through Oasis’s chest with his heartbeat. What is it Niji? he asked, concerned.

You can’t feel that? Niji asked absentmindedly, still perusing, alert.

Feel what-? Oasis began, but then a wave of chills exuded through his veins, crackling over his skin like a motionless wind. His fingers straightened and twitched from the force of it. In the heat of the summer sun, he felt the kiss of winter. Yeah...woah…. He turned to ask Kaya and Yame if they felt it too, but their ambivalent expressions and numb muscles signaled the answer.

Yame seemed nervous, but his numbness thawed before the others. A fear flooded through him, but not the same kind of fear as the others. I can feel it, too…it’s almost like the feeling I got when I first met—

NALE’S HERE! a shrill voice called behind them. Two green-skinned arms wrapped around Yame’s neck in a friendly embrace. Looking up, Oasis was so surprised that he forgot to grow scarlet in the face when he looked at the barely-clothed spirit. Nale had only been with the others for a short time those few months ago, and they hadn’t seen her until now. Her eyes twinkled jade, and the green ribbon that snaked around her body glimmered in the sunlight. Her hair hadn’t grown, as spirits aged slower than other mortals, and floated behind her still like she was constantly in water. Everything about her was some shade of green.

Why is it always me she hugs on! Yame groaned, the skin around his cheekbones turning red already. Nale appeared not to notice the boy’s discomfort.

How’s it goin’, Nale? Niji asked casually, clearly enjoying Yame’s predicament. Her smirk was flamboyant, almost toothy.

Better now! Nale answered enthusiastically. I’ll tell ya, these past few months have been killin’ me!

The others looked at each other and smirked. Yeah, we know the feeling, Oasis told her.

"I mean, I haven’t seen you guys in forever! Where have you been?" Nale asked laughing.

Hiding, Yame said, a little more sullenly. "The armies have been nipping at our heels for, in your words, forever."

Armies? Nale asked, but this time a little more downheartedly. You mean…they’re real?

Of course they’re real! Yame snapped back, grasping Nale’s wrists and trying to pull them off of him. Any rumor you hear about Zain nowadays can’t be bizarre enough to not be true.

But…I mean, they say no one survives the armies, Nale said gloomily, her eyes turning confused. She refused to part her hands.

Yeah, that’s usually true as well, Yame replied. Feeling guilty for having disrupted her child-like behavior, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder and winked at her. But hey, we’re not just anybody, are we?

Ah, yes. Being the Children finally has one advantage among all the other chances of violent death, Kaya sighed, leaning back on her hands.

Don’t say that! Nale whined. I don’t want to think about that at all…I don’t want to imagine you guys…you know…

Writhing in front of Zain in a pile of our own blood? Niji asked casually. Nale let out a small whimper, and the others all turned their glares toward Niji.

Oh, yes, thanks Niji, very helpful. Yame rolled his eyes.

What? It was a suggestion, Niji whined back at him.

Oasis cleared his throat, as to cut the tension. Like Yame said, we’re not just anybody, we have an advantage, he said gently to Nale, his tone low and voice soft, overwhelmingly comforting. "But it’s probably best that we don’t discuss too far into it. Thoughts of that unfortunate event happening won’t help us any," he added, giving a serious look on the other teenagers, scolding. Nale smiled at him.

Fun killer... Niji muttered under her breath in a light voice. Oasis furrowed his brow, but a smirk came across his face as he ruffled her hair, sending Niji flat on her back in the grass again.

Oh, but um, guys? Nale asked sheepishly, tightening her hands into fists hard on Yame’s collarbone.

Yame picked up the uncertainty in her voice right away. What is it? he asked cautiously.

There’s something I’ve got to tell you… Nale continued, her eyes drifting to the ground next to Yame’s feet, avoiding their own stares for a few brief seconds.

Well then come on, spit it out! Niji demanded sharply. Kaya glared apprehensively and then turned her stare back to Nale as well.

Well first off, Zain’s called off the search, and brought his armies back home.

This brought a cheer from the four others.

But this isn’t exactly a celebrating reason, though.

Silence.

Nale brought her stare up from the ground, her eyes fearful. Jee just went over and tried to learn some more about Zain and all…and the only thing she sent back was this. Nale pulled a piece of brown cloth out of the ribbon near her hip and handed it over. Free of Nale’s grip, Yame slid over by Oasis’s side with the others as Oasis took the cloth in his hand, the edge flopping limp over his fingers. The edges were ragged, as if ripped from a larger piece of fabric. In his gargantuan hand, the brown material looked orphaned and fragile.

"We’ve heard Zain was looking back on ‘matters of power like we originally planned’, but we don’t know what he means by that, Nale added mournfully. I’ve tried to get what the cloth means, but we all know I’m not too bright, and I can’t find the others."

A few months previously, Yame and Kaya had succeeded in awakening a cave full of spirits. They had all fled somewhere unknown, though, and by the sounds of it, Nale hadn’t successfully located them either.

Oasis lowered his hand so the others could see what was on the cloth. It was a drawing, with the black lines fading already at the fraying edges. From what they could see, the lines licking up the sides were the edges of flames, but barely the sharp razor teeth of real flames that the drawing may have once depicted. As of now, the flames’ teeth were dull, worn, but consuming none the less. Amongst the midst of the flames, there was a round circular object drawn, the one thing in the drawing still bold in its lines. There was a round center in the middle of it, with spokes protruding from it to the thin outer edge of the object. It almost looked like an old wagon wheel, or a wheel of an ancient chariot.

I don’t see what Zain would want with an old wooden charred wagon wheel, Niji commented.

Not wooden. It’s all solid color…made of some sort of stone, probably. Yame shook his head.

A wheel made of stone? Why would someone go through the trouble of carving one? Kaya’s mouth tightened. Unless... the wheel wasn’t for travel after all.

Yame’s eyes widened. No, not for travel, he breathed, putting a finger on the drawing. Do any of you know about the Rani series in detail?

The only detail I really care about is that all the series is in Zain’s possession, Niji pouted.

No. Not all of it, Yame corrected her. There’s Hidden Objects he hasn’t found. The object that the elders put extreme power into, but didn’t bother to turn them to jewel, so to not make it obvious. The objects that they hid, because the objects controlled the very elements, and the elders thought it was too much power. Remember?

Why would a demon want to remember that, when there’s prey to catch? Niji scoffed.

Well, you might want to remember that now, Yame told her sternly, because there’s five Hidden Objects in all, after the five elements—fire, water, air, earth, spirit. Three were destroyed, but two are yet to be found, opposite elements,

So can we tell which one Zain’s setting his sights on now? Kaya asked.

From this drawing, yes.

So Zain just wants a rickety old wheel? Nale shrugged.

Yame shook his head. Not just any wheel, he answered. The Fire Wheel.

A timid guard stumbled up the red carpet over which a mighty throne was looming. He held his stomach, his face pallid as he approached the throne. When he approached not five feet away, he rose his finger as if to say something—and vomited.

Zain groaned.

It was the same scene over again. A guard, torn by his conscience and stressed by his duties, would submit to his fears; the mild trance of magic, merely a precaution by the Emperor, would then break. The sudden energy change would affect the guard physically as well as emotionally, and the rancid march and explosive sickness would then ensue. Sure, Zain was Emperor now, but Zain couldn’t help but groan. He hadn’t had a thing to laugh about these past few months. First, his precious quest for the Book of Judan was destroyed in his fury, and then his brother and those brats escaped the Emperor’s elite army numerous times over! Now this. It wasn’t the breaking of the trances that was getting to him—that he could fix easily. It was the symptoms that annoyed him most. For some reason, the pungent odor seemed to spread to every room of his towering palace, and not even a team of a hundred maids could get rid of it. He was starting to understand why no one person had previously wanted to assume rule over all of Judan.

Even so, Zain had conquered. A small smirk stretched Zain’s thin lips taunt as this thought came to mind, and he opened his eyes again, sparkling with a new wolfish twinkle. He smoothed straight jet-black hair from his forehead, the skin now ivory from lack of need to be outdoors. His clothes were slim along with his frame; even his eyes seemed to be thin, nearly slitted with large pupils and brown color suffusing his sockets. No fancy garments adorned him, although his clothes would seem exquisite compared to what the other subjects wore. His garments were made of silk, always dark in color. Tied loosely at his waist, a long black overcoat gave him the countenance of a raven.

His idea to usurp Judan had been fueled by a grudge, born from his childhood. Ever since his parents had been banished Zain had vowed to make the people pay. So far, so good. There was just one obstacle—well, four to be exact.

Zain resisted the urge to pound the throne’s arm at the thought of them. Slippery devils! How had his oversized brother and his little precious Children gotten away from the swarms of devilish creatures that were his armies? They had taken up so much of his time. Not only that, their blunderings had cost him his wife and one of his daughters. Well, the real loss was in his daughter, Aya. His wife Vieer had never been much of the compassionate one, and besides, the marriage had been arranged against his will. That vixen was brutish, unbridled in a way that stirred the darkness in her heart. She had been uncontrolled, a cyclone in his plans.

Clean it up, Zain murmured to the other guards, fluttering his slender fingers in the direction of the bile steaming on the floor. He could have sworn they had let out sighs of relief, but he let it pass. No doubt they had been expecting him to fume at the sick guard, paling with bits of excrement crusted on his lips. However, Zain was too tired to rave at the guard for the moment. Rubbing his eyes, he rose his weary stare. So many thoughts rumbled through his brain like thunder, then his subconscious kept rejecting them, muffling them under a veil of perplexity. It was a never-ending battle. So tired….

Zain stood and walked past the guard over to the large window, which he threw open despite the light rain shower that had just begun. He gladly let the cool raindrops fall on his face, waking him slightly. Behind him he heard hustling as his workers cleaned up the mess and dragged the sick one a safe distance from the throne, but they didn’t get rid of him just yet. Zain had to help him before they did.

Brother? came a voice from the end of the hallway. Zain sighed—he already knew who it was. He could envision her wild visage, her copper strands dusting her armored shoulders, eyes blazing. Gigi, his death-crazy sister and the infamous kidnapper of Oasis a few months back.

What is it now, Gigi? he sighed again.

Time is shortening. What are you going to do now, about…them? Gigi asked. Looking over, Zain could see that the past few months had been hard on her. After all the energy of the Rani series flowing through the land, sending out strange currents of magic, now Gigi had lines running down her face of weariness. Lately, her mood had been muddled, and despite her efforts to hide it, everyone knew she wasn’t feeling her best. With currents dying off only slowly, it was likely Gigi would grow ill too, and perhaps pass away from all the stress her body was trying to cope with. Gigi had brutally suffered her exiled childhood, and so her body wasn’t as prepared initially. Zain bit back his sigh behind tight lips, but the same tired expression remained on his face.

Nothing, he answered.

Nothing? Gigi exclaimed. But—they might jeopardize the entire plan you’ve created!

Calm yourself, Gigi, Zain assured her tiredly. I do not mean to let them waltz in and jeopardize anything I’ve done; at least, not without a fight. I just do not feel up to chasing them all the way to Ceberus and back. When they want to fight, they’ll come to me.

What happens until then? Gigi asked suspiciously.

Zain, despite his mood, smiled at her. Until then, we build up our strength. Already I am searching for the Hidden Objects—two still remain, you know.

But don’t only the spirits know where they are? Gigi protested.

Supposedly.

And you destroyed the Book of Judan, the only key we had to finding them, correct?

That is correct.

I don’t see where this is going, brother.

It’s not as simple as our last chase, I agree. Zain nodded. But there are other clues, other ways to finding out where the objects might be. Besides, there are a few spirits awakened.

Awakened?

By our dear relative and his trio, no doubt.

Do you plan on finding them?

Zain looked at her oddly. What, and put in even more effort? Look at me, Gigi, I’m tired to the bone and must save up my strength for our brother, the Children, and more importantly, finding the objects, he scorned.

So how are you going to get an idea where to find the object?

I’ve already gotten a lead from a certain little spirit. A sneaky spy, I must say, I would not have found her had I not been annoyed by another ill-stricken guard and was rolling my eyes toward the ceiling anyway. Zain smiled as if it pained him. She didn’t want to confess, but I eventually got the information I wanted from her.

Where is she now?

Zain nodded his head toward the wall, where above the glass stand holding a blood-stained knife was hanging another plaque holding a bat-like wing, about the size of a large goose’s, seeming to be sawed off where the wing would meet the body. Gigi turned back to him, a mixture of awestruck and horrified.

You did that... to a spirit?

She was a young spirit, so fair that it seemed no one would know her. I interrogated her, then decided I wanted a souvenir. Just a little message to those spirits to let them know that I don’t trust them. Zain shrugged.

Oh, wonderful. Good thing you cleared that up so well, Gigi said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Zain noticed, but decided to ignore it—a habit he did not usually practice.

So, what object are you going to target now? For all you know, the two objects could be on opposite sides of Judan itself, Gigi asked cynically.

Zain grinned, exposing his canines. Naturally, I want the one that’ll cause more hurt, more quickly.

Naturally.

And so, my goal now is to obtain the Fire Wheel.

There was silence as Zain let the full impact soak in the moment.

Huh?

Zain sighed at his sister’s ignorance. You don’t know what the Fire Wheel does, do you?

Gigi shook her head, ginger hair flopping over her shoulders. I suppose I can guess. Not exactly an imaginative name, is it?

Zain droned on, impatient of repeating the information he had gone over so many times in his own mind. "The Fire Wheel is the strongest fire element object in existence in the entire Rani series. Its power reverberates so potently that the stone which the wheel is made of never goes cold. If one obtained that wheel, the power they would inherit would be tremendous. You could summon fire from any surface, in any quantity you wished. You’d become the fire’s master. Imagine not just taming the decoration of a torch, Gigi, but harnessing an entire element. Legend is that the last energy emitted by it was last seen in the village near Ceberus." He picked up a cup of strong musky liquid that resembled tea, and took a sip of it.

So, what, are you going to send your armies down there to collect it?

Zain felt the steaming liquid slide torturously down the wrong pipe, inducing him to sputter and pound his chest to try, in vain, to cool his lungs. He replied in a husky voice. And what, lose them to Ceberus’s waters? My army is not invincible, Gigi! I first must confirm my findings.

How long will that take?

I don’t know. It may be days, or even weeks. Perhaps months. Though it certainly seems serpentine, I am hoping for word of my newest venture to leak, and then our little rivals to search for Wheel, confirming my suspicions. When that happens, it will not take long for them to accidentally give me a clue about where they’re going. Wherever that is, I can be there days before they can, Zain answered, setting down his cup lightly.

And if they don’t make their little predicted mistake?

This is my brother we’re talking about, Gigi. They talk stupendously about him, but he’s bound to err somewhere.

I’m just saying, what if he doesn’t?

Then I will take whatever force I need to in order to get ahead. However, as of right now, I must dedicate my time to research on the subject. Who knows, maybe something a little more obvious will creep up after all. Zain turned and walked straight in front of the guard kneeling on the carpet.

Look into my eyes, Zain demanded coolly. The guard didn’t dare disobey. Summoning the energy Zain now had inside him, he allowed it to flow through his flesh, the warmth still crackling his skin. With a deep breath, Zain willed the magic to trickle into his neck, then his head, floating like smoke up through his eyes. A haze draped over his vision as the magic veiled in his irises. Genteelly, he looked straight into the guard’s pupils, and focused.

Then, something odd happened. A speckled shell of light appeared around the guard like a cloak, translucent and foreboding. This shell was the embodiment of Zain’s magic, the trance that weakened the minds of guards that were stubborn to submit to him. In places, the shell was breaking inward, collapsing and fragile. With another breath, Zain allowed his magic to flow out of him, and wrap like fingers around the shell, knitting the broken areas.

The gesture completed, a sudden migraine blossomed in Zain’s brow. Impatience brooded within him. Feeling better now? Zain asked lightly, a serpentine bite to his tone. Yes, the guard replied.

Good, Zain said firmly, then snapped his fingers to summon other guards to heave this one to his feet. "I presume you’ll