The First Kaiaru Read online

  Three days away from her fifteenth birthday, and despite all the adventures and hardships she had been through since leaving home, she was still nothing more than a frightened child.

  Turesobei and the others all thought of her as mature and responsible, because she helped them sort out their problems. But other people's issues were easy. She had no clue how to sort out herself.

  She didn't even recognize her own reflection anymore. Over the last year, she had grown several inches taller and filled out. Aside from her sweet, heart-shaped face, she could pass for a grown woman, especially with the lean muscles she had added running the obstacle course.

  But adults were confident and settled. They knew who they were and their place in the world. Her emotions roiled irrationally like a storm-tossed ship.

  Other than wanting her brother and her friends safely away from the Nexus and the Blood King, she didn't know what—or who—she wanted anymore. Sometimes, her plan to run away with Zaiporo still seemed brave and exciting, but other times, she felt that an arranged marriage to a stuffy aristocrat might be a fair trade for the safety of home.

  Most of the time, she felt doomed, and blamed herself for getting them all stuck here. If only she hadn't pressed Turesobei to send that note to Iniru….

  She shivered, knowing that the Mirror of the Soul would show a frightened, child without the brave face and sophisticated manner she put on for everyone. Underneath it all, she was still nothing more than a sheltered little girl from an aristocratic family. And once she faced the truth, all of her self-control was sure to unravel, leaving her a useless, weeping baby.

  “You are not focusing.”

  “Sorry, Lady Hannya.”

  “We may not have another chance at this for some time, child. I have preparations to see to later today. And starting tomorrow, the missions into the realms will take up my time and energy.”

  In less than two days, Enashoma’s brother and their companions would head out into danger, leaving her alone with the sinister and godlike Blood King. And if Turesobei failed to return, she would be trapped with the Blood King in the Nexus, with no hope of ever escaping.

  Her pulse quickened, and she touched the cold, silver collar clasped around her neck. Turesobei and the others could escape if they wanted, but she could not. If she tried to leave, that device would instantly snap her neck and shatter her spinal column. Only once Turesobei succeeded in retrieving all eight heart stones from the realms would the Blood King remove the silver collar and let them all go—assuming he kept his promise.

  “Ignore the collar, stop worrying, and calm your mind,” Lady Hannya said. “Use the techniques I taught you.”

  Enashoma and Awasa had spent the last few months studying the art of Pawanaré Mudra Abjuration, a style of defensive magic focused on self-improvement, defense, and compulsion. Because of her baojendari lineage and natural talent, she could actually do the First Circle hand forms and a few of the Second Circle forms without a kavaru to channel her kenja.

  If not for the distraction that training in mudra magic had offered and running the obstacle course with the others, she would have gone crazy with worry or boredom by now. But all of that was over. After this test, her training in mudra magic would be complete. Then she would have nothing to look forward to, nothing to occupy her time. She would only have her worries to keep her company, while the people she loved fought for their lives—without her.

  Her heartbeat further increased. Her breaths shallowed.

  “Focus your mind!” Hannya roared, her voice sending vibrations through the bamboo floor beneath Enashoma. “Deepen your breaths. Calm your worries.”

  Enashoma swallowed nervously and locked her hands into a basic focusing mudra. She forced herself to draw deep breaths, filling her lungs with the incense-laden air of the Training Hall. The languid atmosphere was cloying; the floor cold against her skin; the room’s kenja hot and insistent.

  The energies in the room pushed her toward the Mirror.

  But she couldn’t look into her soul. She wanted desperately to be something more than a fifteen-year-old girl beset with worries and hormones, and she was certain the mirror would reveal she was even less than that.

  “Maybe I should wait.”

  “What you should do is face the Mirror,” Lady Hannya said. “Now is the best time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you do not want to.”

  “But—”

  “Child, if Awasa could face the Mirror, then I know you can.”

  Enashoma nodded and cursed her cowardice. How pitiful she was being! If Awasa could face the Warlock and the terrors that lay within her soul, then certainly Enashoma could face her childish fears.

  She steeled her courage and deepened her breathing, envisioning a breeze playing across a field of lavender. Her mind calmed. Her worries disappeared. Her focus sharpened. She guided kenja into her hands and switched her fingers into the intricate mudra of summoning the Mirror of the Soul.

  “Excellent,” Hannya said. “Now, open your kenja-heart.”

  Though it seemed easy, this was the hard part. It was one thing to summon energy from your kenja-heart or to focus your meditations on it. But to open it wide was akin to standing before an audience and removing your clothes…your identity…your everything, so that anyone looking could see you for who and what you truly were.

  Enashoma locked her focus on a spot a hand’s-width below her navel. She tapped into the flow of kenja and visualized a lotus flower opening ever so slowly, dewdrops rolling off the petals as they unfurled into the sunlight. Kenja flowed from a deep spring within her.

  “Very good," Lady Hannya whispered. “Now, close your eyes and gaze into the Mirror.”

  Enashoma shut her physical eyes, enabled her mystical vision, and opened her third-eye to the Mirror of the Soul.

  A dark, glistening pane floated before her. She peered into the glass, expecting to face some pitiful version of herself.

  Instead, a pale man with lavender eyes gazed back at her.

  Chapter Two

  Enashoma screamed and opened her eyes—her real eyes. She scrambled back from the brazier, grabbed her inner robe off the floor, and clutched it to her front.

  The Earth Dragon vanished and warm, magical light poured down from the ceiling, dissipating the shadows.

  Enashoma kept backing away, as if she could run from what she had seen within herself.

  Hands fell onto her shoulders. She screamed and lashed out as she spun around. Her hand struck flesh, and she bolted. She was halfway across the room when she heard the command phrase of a spell and felt a pulse of kenja. Her legs weakened, and she sank to the floor.

  “Be calm, Enashoma,” said a husky voice. “Be calm.”

  Panting heavily, she turned to see Lady Hannya walking toward her.

  In her human form, Hannya was elegantly tall with skin the color of the sky just before twilight’s end. Her lustrous vermillion hair cascaded down her back. Her fiery eyes matched the ruby kavaru embedded in her navel, which was visible since Hannya’s smoky dress left almost nothing to the imagination.

  She knelt in front of Enashoma and took her hands. “Are you okay?”

  Enashoma nodded. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

  Hannya touched a fading mark on her left cheek. “It was an excellent strike. I commend you.” She smiled kindly, but the fangs pricking onto her bottom lip made the attempt less than effective. “Now tell me, what did you see that frightened you so?”

  “I saw…a man…a Kaiaru…staring back at me. I panicked and closed my third-eye.”

  The smile fell from Hannya’s face. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Enashoma shook her head. “Not a word.”

  Hannya chewed at her lip, her feverish eyes locked on Enashoma.

  “That’s not what I should have seen, is it?”

  “You should not have seen anything at all.”

  “What?! You mean I’m empty inside?”
r />   “Child, we are all empty inside.” Hannya relaxed her gaze. “We are but vessels of flesh, carrying the memories of our physical lineage, our learning, and our experiences. Remove all of that and the only thing that remains is the one great mystery: our awareness of it all.”

  “What’s the point of seeing that?” Enashoma asked.

  “If you can face the emptiness within, you can face anything, and you will know that what you are is what you make of yourself. There is great strength to be gained in such knowledge, and that strength will increase your focus and the power of your mudras.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” Her heartbeat kicked back up with worry, as the effects of the calming spell faded. “But—but what I saw wasn’t emptiness.”

  “Describe this man to me.”

  Enashoma tried, but all she could remember was pale skin, dark hair, and lavender eyes.

  “That is not much to go on.”

  “Sorry. I ran as soon as I saw him.”

  “But you thought he was a Kaiaru…why?”

  “Because…” Enashoma shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Fortunately, the image still resides in your memory.” Hannya took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. The fact that she was clearly rattled by this scared Enashoma even more. “Form the mudra of linking minds and open a one-way channel to me. Show me exactly what you saw.”

  Hannya adopted a mudra with her right hand and placed two fingertips from her left hand onto Enashoma’s forehead. Hesitantly, Enashoma formed the correct mudra with her right hand then reached out toward Hannya. Her left hand was shaking.

  “Focus only on what you saw in the Mirror. I do not care about your private thoughts.”

  Enashoma nodded, swallowed nervously, then touched her fingertips to Hannya’s forehead. A pulse of kenja jolted through her as their minds connected. She pictured the pale man with the lavender eyes again. This time, she saw the details she had, in fear, blocked out before.

  The man wore only a knee-length skirt of gossamer-thin blue cloth, revealing most of his willowy build and skin as pale as the whitest paper. Narrow lines of mauve streaked through his lavender eyes. His lips were a bright red and looked like fresh blood against the extreme paleness of his skin. Wispy, black curls framed his delicate face and tumbled down onto his bare shoulders and chest. His odd appearance alone was enough to identify him as a Kaiaru. But the amethyst stone fixed into his flesh a hand’s-width below his navel left no doubt.

  What disturbed her, even more than just seeing him, was that the placement of his kavaru matched the location of her kenja-heart, and that the light glinting within the stone matched the rhythm of her heartbeat.

  Enashoma snapped her hand back and severed the connection.

  Hannya rocked back, with a look of shock on her face. “How could this be?”

  “Who is he?” Enashoma asked.

  “Nāa, a Kaiaru long gone from the world.”

  “Why did I see him in my soul mirror?”

  “Because, Enashoma, you are somehow…inexplicably…a Kaiaru inheritant.”

  Chapter Three

  “I’m a what?” Enashoma asked.

  “A Kaiaru inheritant,” Hannya said. “I am sure you know by now that we Kaiaru aren't just immortal. If we are killed somehow, our power and personalities continue on and can be reborn into new bodies. The most common way is through a volunteer. The volunteer, preferably a direct descendent of the Kaiaru, adopts their kavaru through a complicated magical ritual, during which the identity of the Kaiaru subsumes them. Bits and pieces of the volunteer's personality or memories sometimes linger on, but nothing more.”

  Enashoma’s heart came almost to a stop. She had a feeling she knew what Hannya was about to say. And as much as she wished she was more than just a scared baojendari girl, Enashoma did not want to be anyone or anything else either—especially a Kaiaru. Chonda Lu may have founded her clan, but he'd done a lot of terrible things, too. And Hannya, the only decent Kaiaru she'd actually met, had betrayed them to the Blood King. Kaiaru were almost always bad news.

  “Sometimes, however, a Kaiaru's descendants chose not to bring them back or forgot the rituals to do so. Sometimes, a Kaiaru's enemies kept their descendants from volunteering themselves. In these cases, if the Kaiaru's will to live remained powerful enough, they could be reborn through an inheritant. The inheritant is born, indistinguishable from any other infant, to one of their direct descendants. Until the inheritant touches their kavaru, they have no idea what they are and appear in every way to be completely normal, albeit unusually talented in the magical arts—like you, Enashoma. This rebirth can take days, years, or even centuries. I know all of this is confusing. No one completely understand the inheritant process, not even Lord Gyoroe.”

  “I’m…I’m an inheritant?” Enashoma choked down a sudden wave of nausea. Her head spun. This couldn't be true. “Like—like Sobei….”

  Hannya flinched. “Like Turesobei…how do you know about that?”

  “I’m not clueless when it comes to magic. I did grow up with a wizard brother and grandfather. I can read between the lines when you, Lord Gyoroe and Lu Bei talk about his special destiny. Besides, once I started learning to read kenja signatures, it was kind of obvious. His patterns are like yours, like a Kaiaru’s.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  Enashoma shook her head. “I don’t think so. I just pieced it together recently. And I didn’t have a name for it.”

  “Say nothing to your friends. It is better that away. And obviously, telling your brother is pointless.”

  Enashoma nodded as her mind raced through the implications of being a Kaiaru inheritant. Nāa’s amethyst kavaru: she had never seen one like it before. If she had to touch it to turn into him, then all she had to do was make sure she never came anywhere near it. That way, she would never turn into him. Problem solved.

  “Wait. You said an inheritant transforms after touching their kavaru.”

  “Correct,” Hannya replied.

  “But Turesobei has had Chonda Lu's kavaru for as long as I’ve been alive. Why is he still himself?”

  “Your brother is not a normal inheritant. Truthfully, we are not certain exactly what your brother is. Chonda Lu went to great lengths to ensure that no one interfered with his destiny, shrouding it in layers of magic.”

  “So that’s why Turesobei passes out or can’t understand when anyone tells him anything about his destiny and being an inheritant, but I can?”

  “Indeed.”

  Enashoma took a deep breath and tried to relax. “Being an inheritant doesn’t sound too bad. All I have to do is make sure I never come anywhere near Nāa’s kavaru.”

  Hannya smiled sadly. “A kavaru has a habit of finding its way to its inheritant, regardless of distances or circumstances.”

  "Oh." The fragile wall of hope Enashoma had constructed to help her process the disturbing news collapsed into a pile of rubble. Tears welled in her eyes, and she choked back a sob.

  Hannya wrapped an arm around Enashoma’s shoulder. “But that is not always the case. Sometimes an inheritant will die without ever coming into contact with the kavaru, in which case another inheritant will later be born.” Hannya pulled her arm away and wiped a tear from Enashoma’s cheek. “Regardless, you are not going to transform today. You are safe within the Nexus. Nāa’s kavaru is far from here.”

  Enashoma gathered her composure and thought about everything Hannya had told her so far. “Why did you say it was inexplicable that I was an inheritant? Since Sobei is, wouldn't that make me more likely to be one, too?”

  Hannya's worried frown sent chills down Enashoma's spine. “The opposite, actually. The odds are far and away against you both being inheritants, because inheritants are only born into their own direct bloodlines. You and Turesobei are descendants of Chonda Lu.”

  “Couldn’t I be a direct descendant of both Nāa and Chonda Lu?”

  “It is possible.” Hannya gestured to the light, kav
aru-sized birthmark on Enashoma’s forehead that marked her as a direct descendant of Chonda Lu. “But there would be a sign to show that you were.”

  Enashoma bit her lip nervously. “I—I don’t know about Turesobei, but I do have another mark.”

  “Show me.”

  Enashoma moved aside the robe she had been clutching to herself to reveal her lower stomach and the ever so faint birthmark directly over her kenja-heart.

  Hannya shook her head. “I do not see anything.”

  Enashoma leaned back and twisted so that it would catch the light better. “It’s just a little paler than the rest of my skin.”

  “Ah, I see it now.”

  “I didn’t even know it was there until about a year ago. And I assumed it was random until I learned where my kenja-heart was. Even then….”

  Hannya nodded. “You had no reason to think it was a bloodline mark. Otherwise, your family would have told you about it.”

  “Maybe they don’t know we're related to Nāa, too. My mark is so faint, and I'm his inheritant. Maybe I'm the first to have the mark in ages and the knowledge was lost….”

  “Doubtful, and that kind of knowledge does not get lost easily.”

  “Maybe someone in my family married a direct descendant of Nāa several generations ago, and I'm the first Chonda the mark has shown up on.” Enashoma could hear the panic creeping back into her voice. It was bad enough finding out that she was an inheritant. She couldn't handle having some mysterious destiny, like Sobei's, hanging over her, too.

  Hannya shook her head and sighed. “For both you and your brother to be inheritants—that seems incredulous to me.” She took Enashoma’s hand and helped her up. “Come. We must consult with my lord.”

  The Blood King, who preferred to be called Lord Gyoroe, stepped out of nowhere to appear right beside them.

  “I am here.”

  Chapter Four

  With nine different kavaru soul gems instead of one like normal, the Blood King was a strange sort of Kaiaru. A cat’s-eye-yellow gem sparkled on his forehead. A deep orange gem glimmered on one hand, a pale green on the other. The remaining six gems were hidden beneath his gray, monk-like robe. His skin was the color of pale fog; his hair was the dark of the morning sea.