Selina J. Eckert - Of the Clouds (Fireflies & Faeries, #1)

Of the Clouds

Selina J. Eckert

Copyright 2019 by Selina J. Eckert

sjeckert.wordpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: .

ISBN: 978-1393995203

First e-book edition August 2019

Book design by dragonpenpress.com

Cover Image: Deposit Photos

For my muse, my love, my bear,

Who dreamed this world

before I could write it.

One

C RASH!

The red clay pot shattered into a million pieces. Dust billowed down from the shelf, engulfing Quri and Chuki in a thick vermillion cloud. They coughed, and the dust spiraled away from them in lazy swirls to settle on every nearby surface.

Quri turned to her mistress, an apology already on her lips, but the coating of red dust on Chukis face plunged her into laughter instead.

Im so sorry, Mistress! she choked out between coughs and laughs.

Chuki glared at her, and Quri flinched, expecting to be scolded or punished. Chuki was strict, harsh even, rarely smiling or showing her pupil the slightest bit of praise. But to her surprise, Chuki chuckled softly to herself, the wrinkles around her eyes almost hiding their dull navy color. I did much, much worse when I was your age.

She waved a finger, and the dust congealed back into a cloud, rising even from their skin, and the pot pieces reassembled themselves. Quri choked back her laughter, sky-blue eyes wide.

Chuki glanced at her. A few more years, and youll know that one. A good shaman needs to know mending spells, after all.

Cant I learn it now? Quri asked.

Not yet, young one. You arent ready for more advanced magic. Focus on your studies.

Quri felt her heart sink into her toes, but she did her best to hide it with a nod and a forced smile. Chukis response had been the same for the last twelve years, since she had started learning spells at the age of five. Always not yet, even though Quri had already mastered most of the basic spells. When would she finally see how much Quri could learn? When would Chuki stop seeing the child she used to be and start seeing the competent magician?

Thankfully, Chuki was distracted by a knock on the wooden door behind them, otherwise Quris expression might have given away her rebellious thoughts.

Together, they turned toward it. Chuki crossed the packed earth floor in only a few steps, flinging the door open in one swift movement and allowing the chirping of the evening insects into the small home. Their hut was on the edge of the village, just outside the reaching branches and claws of the jungle, set apart from the neat roads and homes of the Inti. Just the way Chuki liked it.

Yes? Chuki demanded, peering out into the golden light of the setting sun. What is it?

Quri settled back in the chair at the table, fiddling with the page of the open spellbook. She had been trying to merely change the color of the pot, not destroy it, but she wasnt sure where her spell had gone wrong. She scanned the steps of the spell while she pretended not to listen to the whispered words at the threshold.

Well if hes so sick, why dont you just take him home? Chuki hissed.

The journey is too difficult for one in his condition, the stranger replied, voice steady and strong. Quri would have been shaking in her sandals if she stood in his place, confronting the most powerful and feared shaman the Inti had seen in many yearsor so the villagers whispered behind Chukis back. And there was good reason for them to fear her. But, remarkably, he held his composure. Hes likely to die if we try to find help there. Youre our last hope.

And what makes him so special? Chuki retorted.

Hes the heir to the Kumya. Let him die, and war will be upon your heads, I can promise you that.

Quri sat up straighter while Chuki simply looked exasperated, backed into a corner. War was bad for their health, or so Chuki had said time and time again.

She leaned sideways in her chair, trying to see past her mistress to the men outside. There were at least two, one of them holding the limp body of a boy who couldnt be much older than Quri. The evening sun set their gold jewels on fire, nearly blinding her. None of her people, not even their own chief, dressed in such extravagance. Instead, they focused their efforts on intricate beadwork, leaving the gold and jewels for the temple and trade.

The limp boy had the dark eyes beneath fluttering eyelids and raven-black hair of a Kumya. Why would the prince be here?

Chuki finally sighed. Very well. Bring him in. But only he can stay! The rest of you must leave.

The men exchanged a glance, expressions grim, then nodded at her. Chuki stepped aside, and the man carrying the prince strode through the door. Chuki shuffled in front of him in her creaky, hunched-over posture, clearing various pots and magical implements out of the way, then gestured toward Quris cot near the hearth. Quri jumped up and hurriedly stowed away the bits and pieces of her art projects and spellwork into a shining wooden box under the bed, making room for the ailing prince. If she hesitated too long over any task, there would be a punishment for her later, probably scraping out the hearths chimney. It was long overdue for a thorough cleaning.

The man set the boy on Quris clean blue blanket, and then Chuki was upon him, waving her hands at him like a squawking bird, hurrying him out the door. He stumbled past Quri, barely sparing her even a glance in his haste to escape, and then he was back on the stoop. Chuki slammed the door behind his retreating form, barely giving him enough time to clear the threshold.

The hut fell into the dim evening light, the sounds of the jungle softer as they were shut out, and Quri began lighting the lanterns around the walls. Chuki would need all the light they could bring for the examination and preparing a treatment, and the sun would be below the forest canopy and surrounding mountains soon. As Quri lit the lanterns, Chuki leaned over the boy, grunting as her hands danced over his still form, checking pulses and energy as she went.

Once the lanterns were lit, Quri joined her mistress at the bedside. She wasnt ready to learn healing yet, or so Chuki kept telling her, but she still wanted to absorb all the knowledge about it she could glean. It would likely be fewer than ten years before she took the shamans place among the Inti.

She examined the boy with her eyes as Chuki examined him with skilled hands, trying to see what her mistress saw. But all she saw were those closed eyes, painted in bright blue and gray, like a stormy sky, like his peoples namesake. His long, dark hair, once neatly plaited and glossy but now frizzed and dull with illness. She almost reached out a hand to stroke the shining skin of his cheek, dusted with gold yet ashy and flushed, but she restrained herself. No need to draw Chukis ire needlessly.