Nightforged (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 1) Page 15

  From the little I’d heard about Raav’s brother, I already hated him. I wondered how Raav managed to live under his roof but didn’t want to talk any more about his past. Inevitably, it would bring up Mareti Korpit.

  “All we need now is to find another exit. We need wood and supplies. Food, mostly.” I peeked into a back room. Shelves lined the walls, and a stool had been left in a corner. Storage.

  “And what happens after we’ve solved the problem of surviving.”

  Raav clasped his hands on the tabletop. He looked at me from under a disheveled fringe of hair. He really needed a haircut. Not that we had any scissors.

  “I don’t know. We don’t have a boat or the wood to build one, unless we want to build a raft out of chairs.” I nudged the chair I’d been admiring earlier. “If the others do manage to put together something seaworthy, I doubt they’ll invite us on the voyage.”

  “Well, at least we’ll have each other.” Raav grinned, but he didn’t make eye contact.

  I stepped into the storeroom to escape the awkwardness.

  “Hard to believe all this was here,” I said.

  “How much of the island has been explored, Lilik? We found this. What if there were other settlements?”

  “And the wood they used doesn’t fall apart. We just need to find more.” Excitement built in my chest. Building materials. Supplies. We might still make it home.

  Raav smiled. “It’s something to hope for, anyway.”

  A loud whoop echoed off the lagoon’s walls. I ducked out for a look. Gaff watched from a ledge midway up the wall, while Tkira, stripped to her underclothes, flew through the air with limbs flapping. She tucked her burn-riddled arms to her body and hit the lagoon’s water with a splash followed by a loud slap when the water rushed back in to cover her entry. The school of jellyfish parted, fleeing for the walls. Tkira returned to the surface and treaded water.

  “It’s warm,” she called. “And there’s a tunnel to the sea underneath the cliff.”

  Heiklet, sitting with feet dangling over the high ledge, giggled. I couldn’t help but smile. It felt nice to have friends and sanctuary. And hope.

  Three buildings held sleeping bunks. Unfortunately, when we paired off, Heiklet and Islilla took one room and Gaff and Tkira another. That left me sharing with Raav. To give me privacy, he offset his sleep schedule from mine. After I dozed off, he’d sneak in, and in the mornings he’d wait until I’d left the building to rise. But it was still awkward, especially when I saw Heiklet and Islilla whispering.

  Each day, we sent two people through the underwater tunnel to forage for nuts, kivi fruit, and mussels. Added to this, a few dormant day-season plants stored energy within edible tubers through the long-dark. And if you were careful gathering the stuff—Gaff donated a strip cut from his overtunic to protect our hands—even Eikkas tresses could be eaten after their irritating oils were removed by boiling in sea water.

  A storage building held a few metal tools, including scissors. Heiklet agreed to trim Raav’s hair after I refused. She did a nice job. Even if I grumbled to myself about it, I liked seeing his eyes. Beautiful things should be appreciated.

  The moon narrowed to a crescent, but the water’s glow cast enough light for us to see when outside. Inside, we burned lamps. In the back room of a sleeping hut, a whole shelf was stocked with glass phials holding various oils. Whoever built the haven hadn’t held our superstitions about the allowable colors for fire—most of the oils burned in beautiful hues from purple to a stunning, shimmery silver.

  A few times when we were alone, Raav tried to start a conversation about Mareti, but I pushed his efforts aside. It didn’t matter. We could be friends without me knowing everything about his love life.

  Each night before we slept, the group gathered on the lowest ledge where we could watch the jellyfish move through a graceful dance. We talked about small things. The patterns in the aurora. Ioene’s moods—the volcano spouted daily, grumbling and shaking, but none of the outbursts matched the first violent eruption that had marooned us.

  I liked the gatherings, and on the night when the moon’s crescent was so narrow I was sure it would be gone from the sky the next, I arrived early with a long stick to stir the waters. The glowing algae eddied behind it, flaring a deeper blue with hints of lavender. It was time to think about our next step. About finding a way home, maybe.

  One by one, the others joined me.

  When everyone was present, I stood to get their attention. “So . . . Any proposals for what we do next? We’re too comfortable here. Even if Mieshk can’t get to us, we can’t stop the spring storms from hitting the island.”

  Tkira looked at Gaff and shrugged. Despite her initial abrasiveness, she’d loosened up since we’d found safety. She seemed happier than she had aboard the Evaeni. Maybe she enjoyed the freedom from a constant list of tasks handed down by the captain. Still, she must have missed home, even if home was a tiny shipboard cabin. Tkira had to have friends at various ports, plus some contact with her children. I wanted to ask about her life before the eruption, but I hadn’t had the chance or the courage.

  Gaff, on the other hand, chafed at the confinement. He volunteered for extra foraging duty and asked constant questions about the Nocturnai logs. For all that, though, he rarely shared his thoughts.

  "I say we start searching for other ancient settlements,” Raav said. “We can use this spot as a base for exploring.”

  “We’re not worried about Mieshk?” Tkira asked.

  “Yes and no. Even if they heard the cave-in, they probably thought it was another earthquake.” Raav clasped his arms around his knees and propped his chin on his hands. “The underwater tunnel is the only entrance. It’s invisible if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But if we start exploring the island in earnest, we’ll be exposed.”

  I stirred up another swirl of phosphorescence. “We’ve been risking our sanctuary every time we leave to forage. But you’re right. A bigger expedition puts us in more danger. We need to know what they’re doing. I thought we’d see them searching this part of the coast by now. What if they haven’t come because they’re starving and too weak to bother with us anymore? Should we let them die just because they were stupid enough to follow Mieshk?”

  I was thinking of Paono, I realized. But there were other people we might lure away from Mieshk. Between Gaff with his crutch, Islilla and her sling, and Tkira and her healing burns, we were a ragged bunch. We could use a few able bodies on our scouting ventures.

  Islilla scuffed her feet on the smooth stone. “I doubt any of them would care if we starved.”

  “You don’t really think that’s true.”

  She dropped her eyes. “Fine. I guess they can’t all be crazy.”

  Raav straightened one of his long legs. “Lilik is right. We’re better than them. Shouldn’t we try to help those who’ll accept it?”

  Tkira scowled. “We don’t have a raft, and I’m not swimming back to the village. Don’t see why you want to stir that snakes’ nest anyway.”

  “Let’s forget the village for now,” I said. “And we don’t have to contact them. What if we go back to the beach where they attacked us. Watch to see if anyone visits and what they do if they come.”

  Gaff shrugged. “If they’ve stopped returning, we could forage in that direction as well. And maybe stop watching over our shoulders so much.”

  We’d been traveling the coast in the opposite direction from the village. Being able to explore in both directions would open many options.

  “Great,” I said. “I volunteer.”

  “Why you?” Gaff asked.

  “Because I know the area around the lava flow. I spent a week there before you guys came.”

  “We shouldn’t forget, in that time you managed to narrowly avoid drowning only to fall down a crack and nearly die of thirst,” Raav added.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m still the best choice.” Besides, I wanted the quiet time. A couple nights out, away fro
m the reminders about Raav and Mareti. Away from Tkira’s abrasive moods.

  “All right,” Tkira said. “I nominate Lilik as scout.”

  “We shouldn’t break the pair rule,” Heiklet said. “Especially not for this.”

  Since our first day in the lagoon, we’d been strict about not leaving the sanctuary alone. It had been my suggestion, and now I regretted it. Resigned, I waited for someone to suggest that Raav join me.

  “May I come with you?” Heiklet asked in a near whisper.

  The others looked as shocked as I felt.

  “I’m small and quiet,” she said. “If you’re the best choice, that makes me second.”

  “You aren’t scared?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. But how else will I get over it?”

  “I’d be happy to have you with me, Heiklet,” I said.

  “It’s settled then,” Gaff said. “Tomorrow you two head out.”

  Raav paced a slow circle, loitering until we were alone.

  “I think you should tell them about the figurine,” he said. “No one will hold it against you now.”

  “But what if they do? All we have is each other. I don’t want to break our group in two.”

  He shrugged. “Your choice. But secrets have a way of turning sour when they’re kept in dark corners.”

  His hands were in his pockets, and the blue light from the water accentuated the lines of his face.

  “You can tell me about Mareti if you like,” I said. “I’ll listen this time.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Let’s go back to our room.”

  Inside the building, I sat on my bunk while Raav lay upon his. He pillowed his head with his hands, staring at the ceiling. We’d decided to burn the green lamp oil to remind us of the fields on Stanik Island, and patterns of color swirled on the ceiling.

  “It starts with my brother, actually. He’s twelve years older than me. Waikert scows sank my father’s ship when I was an infant. So Frask took charge of me.”

  “I’m sorry about your father,” I said.

  He waved away the concern. “I don’t remember him. The important thing is Frask. My mother is the head of the household, but only in name. Frask runs everything. He’s a brutal man. Extremely harsh. When I was ten, my mother was caught flirting with a commoner. He tied her to a chair and hit her over and over. I tried to stop him, and he said he’d only quit if I punished her myself.”

  Raav stopped speaking. His eyes seemed focused on a point far beyond the roof of our small room.

  “I had to use a knotted rope and hit hard enough to draw blood, but it was kinder than Frask’s blows. She cried with gratitude over my so-called mercy.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Trader business happened behind closed doors in houses built of marble. I was under no illusion that their lives were idyllic, but I hadn’t imagined something like Raav described.

  The lamp hissed when its flame licked a drop of condensation from the glass hood.

  “Here.” Raav sat up. He lifted his shirt to expose his back. Scars crisscrossed his skin.

  I gasped.

  “I was not a very obedient boy,” he said.

  My mouth tasted bitter. I reached across the space between our bunks and touched one of his scars. Raav shivered. Goosebumps rose on his lamp-lit skin.

  “Anyway,” he said, replacing his shirt and lying back down, “things weren’t easy for Mareti either. She doesn’t have the knack for accounting that Katrikki does. She’s not ruthless enough to head a trader House. So they’ve revoked her heir-status and named Katrikki in her place. That’s probably for the best, because the life of an heir would crush Mareti. She’s too kind. Dreamy-headed.”

  Hearing Mareti described that way blew fresh air on the little flame of jealousy that I nurtured. It had been easier to tell myself I didn’t want anything from Raav when I envisioned him falling for some shallow, over-privileged girl.

  “We kissed once, at some gala or another. Sneaked off into the gardens. That’s it,” he said. “I wanted more, but Mareti didn’t. Up until the day we left, I would have fallen at her feet if she’d asked. That’s the truth.”

  He turned his head and stared at me.

  “But people move on, Lilik. I hardly remember what she looks like now. If we were home tomorrow, and she offered her love, I don’t know what I’d do. The certainty I used to feel about her is long gone.”

  I tried to see the situation from Raav’s perspective. “I guess that people assume you want to attach yourself to the Korpit fortune.” Everyone knew they were among the richest families in the Island whereas Raav’s House had fallen in status.

  “That’s why Katrikki chose me as her sentinel. To keep me out of her family’s money pot. Frask has already made noise about disinheriting me because he thinks I’m weak. No big loss—given his recent history of trade deals, we won’t have much left in a few years.”

  I looked at the ceiling. “If you don’t marry into another House, what happens to you?”

  He adjusted his head on the pillow formed by his hands. “I used to think that making my own way would be torture. Without a strong starting position, I figured I’d have to scratch my way up in the trading markets, beat my head against wall after wall just to amass a fraction of my brother’s assets. Now . . .” He gestured around the small room. “Now I guess I can separate luxury from necessity, and poverty doesn’t seem so bad.”

  I smiled sadly. “I suppose we’ve all learned similar lessons. Thanks for telling me. Sorry I didn’t let you before.”

  “Good night, Lilik. Sleep well.” Raav rolled away from me. “And thanks for listening.”

  Even after I blew out the lamp, I watched his back, the rise and fall of air moving in and out of his lungs. Down inside, Raav was nothing like I’d imagined.

  My scars tingled, both on my palms and along the knobs of my spine. Eventually, I laid a hand on the wall, wondering if the nightstrands would speak to me again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  HEIKLET AND I swam through the tunnel after a light breakfast of baked jellyfish. Not the best meal—disgusting actually—but it was quick. After crawling onto the beach, we rested on a driftwood log. Face to the sea, I closed my eyes. Mist from distant breakers that crashed on the lava shoals freshened the air. It was a good day to be moving.

  We brought a single backpack. Inside, I’d tucked two water skins, a waterproof canister filled with foilwood nut cakes, a handful of leaf-wrapped mussels, and my cloak. Our quick swim and the oiled leather of the pack had kept out most of the water, but I shook a few drops from the cloak and strapped it on the outside of the pack to dry. To divide the weight, Heiklet slung the water skins across her body.

  Speaking little, we fell into a pace that was quick without feeling rushed. After about an hour’s walk along the coast, we rounded a bend and spotted the glow of the lava river. We left the beach and, pushing through brush and scrambling over scree, we traversed cross-country until we reached the spring near my first shelter. From the rocky shelf, we saw no evidence of fires or activity, but we spoke in whispers nonetheless.

  After shoving the pack and water skins under an overhang, we crept forward through the foilwood tangle. I pushed the sticks aside for Heiklet, careful not to bend them to the point of snapping. Our feet rustled softly in the leaves, a quiet sound nearly lost in the hiss of lava running into the sea.

  Crouched at the thicket’s fringe, I peered up and down the shore. Anker’s body was gone, which was a relief. I’d never seen a dead person. Well, unless you counted Anker himself, in those panicked moments of the fight. I didn’t know how I’d react to his lifeless form.

  The beach appeared empty, just a stretch of black gravel broken by tufts of dried seaweed and the occasional thrust of a larger, wave-battered rock.

  “Wait here for a minute,” I whispered. I hopped down from the brush-choked shelf, feet crunching in the pumice, and stepped toward the water to see farther down the coast.

  The ocean�
�s scent was stronger here than near the lagoon, probably due to the piles of seaweed at the tide line. Out to sea, jellyfish danced and twirled in the swirling waters where the wave motion mixed with hot jets from the lava. The stars glittered. Altogether a welcome change from the lagoon’s crowded confines. Heiklet was the ideal companion for a day like this. Quiet and pleasant. Not much older than my brother Jaret, in many ways she reminded me of him.

  I strode up the beach to the leaning boulders and peeked inside, raising my palms to light the interior. The bed shelf was just as I remembered, padded with a mat of sticks atop leaves and seaweed. On the floor—

  Wait. I dropped to a crouch and held my hands over the fire right. The coals were still warm. Hot, even. Reap and rot. My feet slipped as they paddled the gravel, digging deep trenches while I scrambled back toward Heiklet.

  My stomach leaped into my throat when a shriek pierced the air. I pushed my legs faster, long strides flying over the beach.

  “Run! There’s too many—”

  Something clamped down over Heiklet’s words, cutting her off. I froze.

  Another scream, this one muffled. Near the spot I’d left her, a pair of dark figures dropped to the beach, coming into aggressive crouches.

  I stared, paralyzed. Heiklet. The men shuffled forward.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t fight two grown men, plus however many were with Heiklet. Flight was my only choice, get away and return with help. I whirled and sprinted down the shore. Behind me, running strides crunched in the gravel, gaining.

  I cut hard inland, nearly losing my footing. With terror digging talons into my back, I vaulted with a crash into a thorny tangle. Sticks clawed at my arms, legs, and face. I plowed on with blind panic, stumbled and went down onto a bed of rocks that felt like knives. Rolled. Scrambled forward. Behind me, my pursuers grunted and complained when they entered the patch of thorns.

  I couldn’t outrun them, had to do something besides run like a terrified rabbit before the hunting hounds. I needed to use my knowledge or my size.