Darkborn (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 4) Page 5

  Lilik…

  “Hello?” I mumbled aloud.

  Thank the stars. You’re a difficult one to rouse.

  I didn’t recognize the voice, a female who sounded middle-aged, or maybe just weary.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  A friend.

  A friend. In the aether. My mind finally jumped out of the chasm of sleep. I sat bolt upright, the wool blanket pulled tight and scratchy against my neck. Throwing myself wide to the aether, I felt the woman’s presence. A stranger. From the emotions radiating off her, I got the sense that she was earnest yet guarded. Regretful and a keen observer.

  I brushed my hair out of my face. Are you one of the Vanished?

  Yes, I’m fortunate they still accept me among their ranks. For my sins, they should have banished me long ago. My name is Mavek. I suspect you recognize it.

  I gasped despite myself. During Vanished times, Mavek had been the leader of the group of soul priestesses skilled in compulsion. But, like now, the ability to compel souls against their will had been too tempting for some of the initiates. Though Mavek had tried, she hadn’t been able to control her prodigies. A rogue coven of her young initiates had brought about the first cataclysm.

  I do, I said, careful to keep judgment from my thought. Where’s Peldin?

  Hiding. Afraid. The aether is dangerous now.

  But you’re not hiding.

  I’m not. I failed before, and if I hid now, I’d fail again. With these words, the regret that emanated from the woman swelled, a steely-gray emotion.

  From what Peldin said, you did your best.

  Then I needed to do better, she said.

  Mavek, where are the others hiding? They need to come out. I will protect them, but I need advice—I can’t fight Mieshk alone.

  So many questions. Yet every time we speak, we risk alerting Mieshk to our location. We must hurry.

  Hurry where?

  I’ve come to take you to Paono. He can provide you answers, but he doesn’t wish to speak through the aether for fear it might draw Mieshk’s attention. Prepare for a trek. Quickly. Best if we move in a group of four or five, big enough for defense but not so large as to gather notice.

  Paono! Joy flooded my heart at the thought of seeing him again. Just when our situation had seemed desperate, he’d found a way to get in touch with me.

  Leaping from my bunk, I whirled and yanked out clothing and a waterskin, spare socks and a swatch of oiled leather to wrap food in. A knife. If only I’d had one of those on my first trip into Ioene’s wilds. Once again, I grinned at the luxury afforded by having time to prepare. “Okay,” I said aloud. “Give me a minute.”

  Just hurry.

  At ease in the darkness, Daonok breathed deeply as he paddled our boat toward the shore. The oars splashed with each stroke, sending curls of blue-green phosphorescence swirling behind the rowboat. Hidden around a curve in the coast, toward or beyond Ashkalan, a new lava flow oozed into the sea, hissing as it raised a cloud of steam that glowed red against the sky. Above the billowing mass, the aurora shifted and shimmered.

  Behind me, Tkira kept a loose grip on the tiller. In the bow, Jet watched the shoreline, hand on his sword’s hilt. Raav and I sat side-by-side on the bench as our boat cut through a school of glowing jellyfish.

  The sight of the translucent orbs reminded me of watching the sea creatures boil over a cookfire in our lagoon. At the memory of chewing the springy flesh, my stomach turned. I’d eat them again if I had to. But I hoped I wouldn’t have to.

  When the boat scraped the gravel of the beach, Jet hopped out and seized the rail. As he held the boat steady, the rest of us clambered out, splashing down in the cold water. Together, we dragged the boat up onto the shore.

  Tkira yawned as we stretched and tramped toward the tangle of night foliage at the edge of the gravel beach. I’d woken my friends from their first sleeps since before we’d spotted Ioene on the horizon. Tkira had found plenty of reasons to complain about being roused early. But the eagerness in her eyes betrayed her griping.

  As we approached the edge of the beach, I searched the snarled brush for signs of Caffari’s lookouts. Their hiding spots were invisible to me, but a swirl of warm air descending from the mountain’s peak picked up the scent of lampblack, the smell of the dark pigment mingling with ash and a slight hint of the sulfurous vapors that I knew too well.

  A long, flat boulder near the edge of the beach provided a bench. As I sat, I swung my rucksack around to my lap. I pulled out a waterskin and took a deep swallow. The water was warm and tasted of stale wood—it had come from kegs stored deep in the Midnight’s hold. Not very refreshing.

  “Anything to finish before we leave?” I asked.

  Both Daonok and Jet, new to the island, cast nervous glances at the fiery summit. Jet clenched his jaw as he shook his head. For Daonok’s part, he narrowed his eyes at me. I needed to try to speak to him alone. His words had affected me, but I was the only channeler among us. No one else could follow Mavek’s instructions.

  After a moment of silence, I opened a gap in my mental barrier.

  Mavek? I asked.

  You’re ready?

  We are.

  I’ll give you directions as you walk, she said. There’s a faint path leaving from the far end of the beach.

  “Follow me,” I said as I lifted my rucksack.

  “Hey, Councilor?” Jet asked.

  I smirked at his insistence on using a title for me. I slowed my pace so he could draw even with me.

  “Something’s been bothering me,” he said. “You say this Mavek’s initiates were responsible for the cataclysm. You sure it’s a good idea to let her guide us?”

  I suppressed a cringe as I imagined Mavek’s reaction to his words. She didn’t need more reminders of her part in the end of her civilization.

  “If she bears responsibility for the evil acts of her students, then I’m just as guilty for failing to stop Mieshk Ulstat.”

  And I’d respond that you bear no fault for Mieshk’s actions, Mavek said. But it’s one thing to hear those sorts of reassurances and quite another to believe them. I am quite familiar with that predicament.

  I think we understand each other well, I said.

  But as I said, we should talk little lest we alert Mieshk. Perhaps in the days to come we’ll have more opportunities to speak freely.

  True to Mavek’s words, a narrow path, scarcely visible between tangles of overgrown foliage, struck up into the jumbled wilds on Ioene’s slopes. Peering, I could make out the ancient slate flagstones that prevented the brush from erasing the path entirely. That explained how Mavek knew the path’s location. Distance and direction in the physical world were quite difficult for the nightstrands to perceive. But with her memories of the island’s past, she could help us navigate.

  I started to take the lead, but Jet laid a hand on my arm.

  “Please let me,” he said, wrapping a hand around his sword’s hilt. “Just in case.”

  I drew breath to object, but thought back to Daonok’s words. Lips pressed together, I nodded. As Jet crashed through the brush that overhung the path, I stepped in behind him. Raav followed me. Lithe and nearly silent in his movement, Daonok roved to either side and ahead. Tkira brought up the rear, grumbling as she hiked.

  As we walked, my hand drifted to Tyrak’s hilt. After Mavek’s warning about alerting Mieshk, I was nervous about speaking to him through the aether.

  I wanted to ask him his theories about how the nightstrands were hiding. But I’d understand soon enough—Paono would explain everything. My chest warmed in anticipation at the thought of seeing my best friend again.

  The Vanished pathway wound higher and higher up the volcano’s flank. Where the slope steepened, steps made of ancient stone blocks cut through cliff bands. In the center of each step, a slight depression had been polished by the soles of long-ago shoes. As we trudged, single-file, I inhaled the perfume of kivi blossoms, the smell of the sea, and the acrid
breath of the volcano.

  Ahead of me, Jet scanned the darkness, hand on his sword. The nightforged boot knife I’d given him poked up from the holster on his knee-high leather boots. The sight brought a smile to my lips.

  After about an hour’s walk, we reached a small clearing.

  Best spot for a quick rest, Mavek said.

  Rather than speak to her within my thoughts, I nodded, knowing she could perceive the action.

  I turned to the others. “A quick break.”

  Jet dropped his rucksack and pulled out a loaf of bread, breaking off a portion for each of us. As I chewed my first bite, I sat on a rock at the edge of the cleared area. A stand of foilwood, its pale bark looking like bony fingers in the moonlight, overhung the trail beside me. I grabbed one of the small nuts that had fallen from the branches.

  “After I fled the Nocturnai, I made camp beneath some boulders,” I said, smiling sadly. “I was away when the others found my cave. They gobbled up my stash of foilwood nuts. Spent an hour spilling their guts after that. All except Heiklet, who was smart enough not to eat something she didn’t know was safe.”

  “Oh, tides, that was awful,” Raav said.

  “Heiklet… I truly miss that child,” Tkira added.

  Abruptly, I felt a quiet presence prying at my walls. My heart stuttered as I opened a gap, wider than the one I’d left for Mavek.

  Lilik…? a young voice said.

  My breath left my body in a sigh of wonder. Could it be?

  Heiklet?

  Lilik! I thought it was you but I couldn’t be sure until—

  Stop! Mavek roared in my head. You’ll give them away! Mieshk will kill them!

  “Heiklet’s here,” I whispered. “I can hardly believe it.”

  Lilik, you have to get away, Heiklet said. Now!

  Clap shut, child! Mavek snapped. Unless you want to watch your friends die. Paono is close, Lilik. He knows you’re coming. Gather your things.

  Confused, I lifted my rucksack. I swallowed as I turned to the others. “Mavek says Paono is close, but…” My brows drew together. “Something’s wrong. Just moments ago she told us to rest.”

  My hand fell to Tyrak’s hilt. Noticing the gesture, Jet stiffened. Grabbing his sword, he bared a hand’s width of steel.

  “What’s happening?” Tkira said, even as her hands curled into fists.

  Daonok had been pacing back and forth along the trail while we snacked. Now, he drew his dagger and dropped into a crouch.

  Your little friend is confused, Mavek said. She had no channeler to guide her into her new existence.

  Run! Heiklet screamed.

  When the first twig snapped, Jet’s sword sang as he pulled the full length of steel from the sheath. Men roared as they leaped, crashing through foliage near the exit to the clearing. An arrow whizzed past my ear.

  “Run!” I yelled. But as I spun to race back down the trail, two more men stood from their hiding places and blocked my path.

  “Rot,” I muttered, pulling my weapon free.

  Chapter Eight

  HOW COULD YOU, Mavek? Rage blackened my thought as I shoved it into the aether.

  Before me, one of Mieshk’s followers, an oarsman from the failed Nocturnai, snarled and circled. He was trying to force me to turn my back to one of his fellow ambushers. I held Tyrak in a defensive posture as I quick-stepped toward my group. We were outnumbered, but if we could fight back to back, we could protect each other.

  The man struck, and I parried. My blade missed his arm, but I followed my slice with a kick to his gut. Air whooshed from his lungs, smelling of decay and the poisoned scent of a starving body devouring its own muscles. Every one of the ambushers had sunken cheeks and glassy eyes.

  My shoulder met Tkira’s, and we closed ranks. Glaring at the closest attackers, I raised my dagger again. In the dark of the island, the blade reflected the blue-green light of the heavens.

  When Mavek answered, the sadness in her voice was as deep as an ocean. I fought her, Lilik. But I couldn’t resist her command to seek you out and deceive you. I wasn’t strong enough. None of us are, anymore.

  Behind me, Jet grunted as he blocked an attack. The blow forced Jet to step back, pushing our group toward the brush that edged the clearing. The movement brought me within arm’s reach of the two men nearest me.

  I deflected the clumsy attack of a scrawny man, a former deckhand from the Evaeni. I remembered him—he’d been wiry before, but the weeks on Ioene had turned him skeletal. My deflection knocked him off balance; I stepped close and elbowed him in the hollow of his throat. The man gagged.

  Spotting an opening, the other nearby attacker struck. He aimed a rusty knife at my ribs only to be stopped by Tkira’s fist to his face.

  As our nearest ambushers staggered back, I risked a glance at the rest of the clearing. All told, six men and two women circled us. They were tired and emaciated. If their ambush had gone as planned, they might have killed or subdued us before we’d managed to draw weapons. But thanks to Heiklet’s warning, we might win this.

  To my right, Daonok growled. “Bunch of rotted novices. I almost feel guilty.”

  Leather rustled when he sprang. I heard muffled bumps and the wet sound of flesh parting.

  “How do you fare, Daonok?” Tkira called.

  “My blade’s a wee bit dirty now,” he responded. “I’ll have to wash the blood off later.”

  The first mate cackled. “Anyone else want to try us?”

  The scrawny man nearest me shuffled forward but made the mistake of a quick glance his fellow ambushers. At that moment, Tyrak flowed from the dagger and sped my reflexes. Together, we shouldered the man backward. His hands flew up in an attempt to catch his balance, and with a leap, I brought both forearms down on his weapon hand. His knife clattered to the ground.

  A heartbeat later, Daonok jumped in front of me and plunged his dagger into the man’s shoulder.

  “Wait!” I hissed. I didn’t want anyone to die if we could help it. Most of Mieshk’s followers had started as innocent crew of the Evaeni. No doubt they felt trapped by that choice.

  Daonok cast me a glare and then clubbed the man on the temple. The ambusher crumpled, limp.

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t objected quickly enough for all of Mieshk’s followers. By the time I spun to take in the rest of the scene, three former deckhands lay bleeding on the ground. Two had vacant eyes and slit throats, and the other wriggled feebly, hands clutching the gaping wound in his abdomen. Blood slicked the ancient paving stones of the clearing, reflecting the glow from the heavens.

  “Enough!” The voice was a shrill screech. I grimaced as I searched for the source. “Drop your weapons!”

  Nearly a dozen knives and swords hit the ground. With Tyrak still clutched in my grip, I whirled.

  It took a moment for me to understand why so much metal had clattered to the flagstones. What in the rotted tides? My friends had all laid down their swords and were now looking at the discarded weapons in bewilderment. Tkira had been fighting barehanded, and she stared at her open fist as if unsure what to do with it.

  “I said… Drop your weapon, Lilik.”

  The voice was behind me. I spun as Avilet Majkut rose from her hiding spot near the clearing. When the Evaeni had sailed from Istanik, five nightcallers had been aboard. Heiklet, the youngest, had died as a result of Mieshk’s brutality. Katrikki and I had returned home aboard Zyri’s Promise. Avilet and Mieshk had remained on Ioene. To tell the truth, I had nearly forgotten her. During the Nocturnai, she’d lived in Katrikki’s shadow. I’d assumed Mieshk had used Avilet in the same way she did the sailors, treating her as an expendable resource.

  I was wrong. Where before, Avilet’s skin had been smooth, the light cocoa color so common in the Islands, cracks now split her cheeks, the gaps an angry, fiery red. The surface of her flesh looked charred and dry. Her hair, once shoulder length and shining, was reduced to scattered tufts. But worst of all, her eyes glowed red.

  My mouth
was hanging open. I shut it with an audible clap. On the ground, the man with the slash across his belly writhed. No one but me seemed to notice.

  Avilet’s lip twitched. “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” she snarled. “Drop. Your. Weapon.”

  She stared at Tyrak, expectant.

  “I have no idea why you think I’d do that,” I said.

  Avilet flinched as if struck. As she crashed through the brush toward the clearing, I grabbed Daonok’s arm and shook. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  It’s the compulsion, Lilik, Mavek said. I always suspected it was possible for a soul priestess to command the living if she gained enough power. I’m sorry to say Mieshk proved me correct.

  Beside me, Tkira finally recovered from her shock. Hissing and spitting like an alley cat, she leaped on the nearest ambusher.

  “Stop.” Avilet’s command arrowed across the clearing. For a moment, I felt a desire, ever so faint, to obey. But it certainly wasn’t strong enough to change my actions. Tkira, on the other hand, froze.

  Avilet stepped into the clearing and strode toward our small group. “You,” she said, tapping one of the ambushers on the shoulder. “Pick up your weapon and kill Nightcaller Boket.”

  Without a word, the man, an oarsman judging by the piles of muscle that remained on his arms and shoulders despite weeks on the island, crouched and hefted a blacksmith’s hammer. Roaring, he jumped toward me.

  Aided by Tyrak, I easily sidestepped the attack.

  Why aren’t her commands working on me? I asked Mavek. And for that matter, why are you telling me all this after you brought us here to die?

  The man’s charge took him past me, leaving his back vulnerable for a strike. I raised my blade but hesitated. If Mavek’s words were true, he’d only attacked because of Avilet’s command. Should he die for an impulse he couldn’t control?

  Lilik? Tyrak said. That was our chance.

  I know. Just wait, I responded.

  I’m not sure, Mavek said. I think her compulsion fails on you because you’re a channeler. And strongly aurora-blessed at that.

  The big man spun. Regret flashed in his eyes as he raised the hammer and swung again. I ducked, and the iron head of the mallet swooshed over my head. As I rose, I aimed a kick for the side of his knee. Beneath my toes, bones crunched. Something snapped. The joint buckled, and he yelled through gritted teeth as he hopped backward.