Darkborn (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 4) Page 8

  Closer still, Paono found a sharp-edged rock and clutched it tightly in his grip. A pathetic weapon against Mieshk and her dozens of followers, but he didn’t want to enter that corridor empty-handed.

  As he crept through the dark crevice that opened into Ashkalan, Paono’s heart thudded in his chest. Upon reaching the opening, he stared in confusion. On the terrace before him, half a dozen of Mieshk’s followers were filling in sketched lines with some sort of dark pigment, creating symbols. They used paintbrushes made from bundled twigs, and the paint smelled of mud and ash. Paono didn’t know how to read, but he recognized Kiriilti glyphs. These were not the same symbols.

  As if that weren’t strange enough, at the far end of the terrace, Mieshk blazed in the night. Her skin glowed bright enough to vie with Ioene. Worse, flame shot from her hands. As she waved her arms in the air, the fire burned lines into the walls, creating the outlines of the symbols. When he looked at the runes, dread crept into his heart. I recognized that feeling.

  “Insane wretch,” Paono muttered. He shrank back into the corridor as Mieshk turned. Her followers had finished inking in one of the runes. With the mad grin, she stalked along the terrace and stopped before the finished symbol. Holding her arms wide, she closed her eyes. Paono heard distant screams as she laid hands on the rune. With a jerk, he realized she was nightforging the symbol, imprisoning souls within its pigment.

  Paono, Purviiv said. Listen closely. Reach for their sparks. It’s our only chance.

  Swallowing, Paono shoved through his exhaustion and fear, surfacing to follow Purviiv’s instructions. He released his bond with Mieshk and instead stretched his awareness, searching for the life-lights of Mieshk’s followers.

  As his inner sense unfolded, reaching farther and farther to hold the sparks working in Ashkalan as well as the life-lights of the guards back at Mieshk’s encampment, he sensed his own spark glowing brighter.

  “Now what?” he whispered.

  And in response to his words, Mieshk turned toward him. A bloodcurdling shriek escaped her mouth. “Kill him!”

  Give yourself to the weave! Purviiv yelled in his thoughts. It’s your only hope.

  As Paono fell into the grasp of the sparks, the vision disappeared. His memories evaporated from my mind.

  The temple chamber snapped back into place, walls echoing my shocked gasp. Stunned, I planted a hand at my side. Tingles from my scars spread up my arm all the way to my heart. I blinked. Why had he stopped showing me?

  “So that’s a dawnweaving,” he explained. “I found their life-lights through the aether and pulled our strength together.”

  “Yeah, but what did you—” I cut myself off when I saw the expression of deep regret on his face. “Paono, what’s wrong?”

  He took a deep breath. “I know it was necessary, but whatever I did, I hurt them. When I drew our power together, Mieshk’s followers screamed. They sounded like I was flaying them alive.”

  I blinked, confused. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would it hurt them?”

  “Do you think I know?” he snapped, eyes throwing sparks.

  I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.” A flicker of an idea had started to form. When I expanded my spirit beyond my physical boundaries during a duskweaving, my scars burned. Maybe, when he pulled energy from other living people, a similar thing happened.

  Paono’s anger vanished as quickly as it had come. “I know you are, Lilik. It’s just hard to talk about.”

  “Listen, I have a similar ability. Duskweaving. It uses the spirits of the dead. You won't frighten me by showing me what happened.”

  He shook his head. “Bad enough that I remember hurting them. Worse if I have to let you see it too. After Ashkalan, I was so ashamed. I shut my walls. Tell Heiklet I'm sorry I left her alone like that.”

  I leaned forward to put my face into his line of sight. “Paono, it’s okay. Clearly, the alternative was worse. Whatever Mieshk was doing to Ashkalan… I went there. You can still feel it.”

  He shrugged, gaze unfocused. “Maybe. But here’s the real problem. When I took strength from the sparks, I enjoyed it. Not hurting them, but the way their energy flowed to me. Like I’d stolen something from them and held it within myself. And it felt so good.”

  Tyrak? Do you know anything about this?

  Nothing. I’m sorry, Lilik.

  Paono’s eyes met mine. “It makes me no better than Mieshk. You see?”

  I shook my head. Paono could never be like Mieshk. In fact, he was as far from her as anyone could be. But that was the problem. He was so hard on himself. Nothing I could say would convince him to ease up.

  “So what did your dawnweaving accomplish?” I asked, hoping to distract him by moving past the subject.

  Paono swallowed. “At first, Mieshk froze. Her followers too. They were like statues. I thought that would be enough. I just wanted them to stop what they were doing. But I couldn’t freeze her mind. She started to pull the nightstrands away from me. Just like they did with you, they’d been using me for sanctuary from her. And by coming to Ashkalan, I’d brought the souls to her.”

  His face tightened as he closed his eyes. Around him, the glowing sparks swirled as if responding to his inner turmoil.

  “So you hid them somehow.”

  He nodded. “I fought against her to keep hold of them. Magic against magic. To do it, I drew even more life from her followers. They were screaming from the pain of it. Begging me to stop—Lilik, I drew too much. There was a weaver who’d come to make nightcloth for the Nocturnai. Mieshk hadn’t fed him enough, and when I stole from his spark, it winked out.”

  He cast his eyes to the floor, hands curled into fists. Muscles in his neck stood out like metal bands. His jaw was trembling.

  I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Paono, it wasn’t you. It was your Need. I don’t know much about these weavings, but I can tell you that for sure.”

  He swallowed, not meeting my eyes. “Here’s the thing, Lilik. I can excuse myself for hurting someone, maybe even for killing someone. But I can’t forgive myself for enjoying the feeling of sapping their life force. So please, stop trying to argue me out of my guilt.”

  Finally, he met my eyes. He looked so different with silver light that shone from his body. Deep inside his gaze lived the boy who’d laughed with me while we chased crabs across the beach. But he was buried beneath so many layers of hurt and regret that I wondered if that smiling child could ever dig free.

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Will you tell me what happened to the nightstrands? I can’t feel them.”

  After a few breaths, the lights that surrounded him dancing in rhythm with his inhalations, he swallowed. “I had to shield them from Mieshk. I thought to myself that only the aurora could balance her fire, so with the dawnweaving, I grabbed a shard of the aurora and took it inside myself. And after, I invited the strands in.”

  “You have all their thoughts in your head? How can you… I never could have handled it.” My stomach took a slide at the recollection of my joining with Zyri. I’d nearly lost myself at first, drowned in her spirit.

  He shook his head. “They were in my thoughts for a second. Maybe two. Long enough that I had to fight the urge to destroy myself. And then somehow, I pulled one more burst of life from my dawnweaving and locked the strands away. They’re in here…” He pointed at his head. “…in a shell harder than steel.”

  “All of them?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Except for the few strands Mieshk keeps as slaves. And Heiklet of course—she isn’t affected by Mieshk, so she wasn’t using me for sanctuary.”

  I waved my hand through the air, setting the glimmers swirling. “What about these?”

  “Maybe they’re the remnants of the strands. Or twinkles of aurora. I don’t know. They’ve been around me since the dawnweaving. If I focus, I can pull them inside. But having them around… it’s made me feel less lonely somehow.”

  I pressed my fingers to my
temples, thinking. Locked away, the strands were safe. That was good, as long as Mieshk didn’t find a way to get into Paono’s mind. If he kept them there until I needed access to my magic, we could prevent her from growing stronger or finishing… whatever she’d been attempting at Ashkalan.

  “I understand why you’re upset about the… accident during your dawnweaving. But at least the strands are safe.” It was an empty reassurance, and I regretted it as soon as I spoke. Not because Paono’s action had been worthless, but because I knew how his heart worked. To him, nothing could make up for killing someone and enjoying it.

  “They might be safe, but it’s still not okay. It’s no better than a nightforging.”

  “Of course it is. Why would you say that?”

  Paono stared at the ceiling, the glow from his inner aurora lighting the planes of his face. “Because, Lilik, I have no idea how to free them. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

  At Paono’s words, a dart of fear leaped from Tyrak into my thoughts. Zyri… he whispered.

  “But it has to be,” I said. “You didn’t nightforge them. You protected them. If nothing else, another dawnweaving will set them free. Your Need decided this. So it must be the best way to achieve our goals. And when it's the right time, your Need will unlock the shell.”

  He looked at me, eyes pleading for understanding. “Here’s the thing. You keep talking about Need. I hear it in your voice—the Need is special to whatever you do with your ability. But every time Purviiv described the dawnweaving, she spoke only of Want. I Wanted to make Mieshk and her followers stop painting those ruins. I Wanted to take the aurora inside me. I Wanted to lock the strands away before Mieshk stole them or I lost my mind in the clamor of their voices.”

  I blinked, shocked. Want, not Need. Paono could use his ability to do whatever he wished. If only I’d been gifted with that kind of magic…

  I remembered something Peldin had said to me on my first trip to Ioene. Only the noblest and honorable of boys were born with the channeling talent. Most likely, it took even greater selflessness to become a life-channeler. I understood the reason now. When you had the power to hurt or kill with just a thought, when you could steal energy from everyone around you and use it for whatever you wished… Almost anyone would succumb to the temptation to misuse that kind of power.

  I could never be afraid of Paono, but his ability terrified me. I was grateful there’d been so few life-channelers among the Vanished. Most likely, the talent surfaced only rarely in their descendants among the Kiriilti.

  After a moment, I chewed my fingernail. “There’s something I don’t understand, then. My duskweaving ability is difficult to control. Maybe impossible. But with you, you only have to Want something to make it happen. Couldn’t you just draw a little energy and use it to undo the dawnweaving that locked them away? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone badly. Isn’t it worth trying?”

  Paono dropped his head. “I tried, Lilik. I’m not proud of my attempt because I tried even though I knew the consequences—I’d killed someone the last time I’d used the ability. But I wanted answers. I thought Peldin could give them to me, so I opened wide and tried to gather the sparks. Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. But I figured out why, at least. The problem is, I can’t make myself Want to hurt anyone. I can think I Want it. But my heart knows differently. Dawnweaving is cruel. So I can’t do it. I simply can’t free them.”

  “Not even to stop Mieshk?” I asked, struggling to understand his feelings.

  “Not even to stop the cataclysm. I know, Lilik. It’s crazy. But I’ve tried, and I just can’t seem to change what’s deep inside me.”

  He stared at his hands. Abruptly, frustration flooded me. What kind of world did we live in when my friend had to be ashamed for being so pure-hearted?

  “Come on, Paono,” I said, standing and offering him a hand. “Let’s go back to the ships. You deserve a real bed. We’ll figure this out.”

  Chapter Ten

  A SINGLE ROWBOAT sat beached on the gravel when Paono and I pushed through the brush and staggered onto the beach. Daonok jerked upright at the crunch of our feet; he’d been sleeping in the bottom of the boat.

  “Would have been nice if you’d returned a bit sooner,” he muttered. But the relief on his face belied his harsh tone.

  His gaze flicked to Paono. To move more stealthily through the darkness, Paono had calmed his cloud of motes, gathering them into his body. His skin still glowed, but with the cloak’s hood pulled over his hair, at least he didn’t shine like the moon.

  “And this is?” Daonok asked.

  “My best friend in the world. Paono.”

  At the introduction, they nodded at each other.

  “Hey… Daonok?” I said. “I really didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “I know. I forgive you.”

  “Mind rowing us to Zyri’s Promise, then?”

  “I’m planning on it. Captain Altak promised me a share of his stash of dried figs if I brought you there first.” Hopping out of the boat, he helped us slide it into the water then took up the oars as we clambered in. A few minutes later, Paono and I climbed the swinging rope ladder onto the deck of the Vanished ship.

  The captain grinned when he saw Paono, the first smile I’d seen since I’d given him the news of Nyralit’s death. Other sailors gathered, some familiar to me from the Nocturnai, and some new faces, too. Behind me, Paono shifted awkwardly. I reached a hand back to reassure him. After so long alone, the sight of all these strange faces had to be intimidating.

  “It warms my heart to see you, Sentinel,” the captain said.

  At the sound of his former title, Paono smiled faintly. “Likewise.”

  I scanned the crowd for Raav but was disappointed. Glancing across the water, I searched the rail on the Midnight, too. As if noticing my interest, Tkira shouldered her way through the crowd.

  “We had to force him into his cabin,” she said softly in my ear. “Caffari slipped a wee bit of evenshade into his drinking water. Poor boy looked ready to tear himself apart over hurting you. Plus he was worried you’d never come back.”

  I nodded, jaw clenched. I didn’t like to think of him so agitated, but at least Raav was getting some rest. Speaking of… beside me, Paono swayed on his feet.

  “I was hoping you had a comfortable berth for Paono,” I said. “And fresh clothing. Especially the cloak.”

  Captain Altak laid a hand on Paono’s shoulder. “For tonight, he’ll take my cabin.”

  I expected Paono to protest, but my friend just nodded.

  The captain summoned one of his sailors with a quick gesture. “See this young man to my bunk. And wake up the cook. He deserves a hot meal.”

  As Paono shuffled off behind the sailor, Captain Altak, Tkira and I shared a glance. Silently, we moved off to an empty section of the deck.

  “You heard what happened, right?” I asked Captain Altak. “With just a word, Avilet controlled everyone but me.”

  He nodded, face grim. “For the time being, we pulled everyone back to the ships. If Mieshk can turn someone just by speaking, makes no sense to leave people on shore.”

  Tkira gestured at a line of men and women along the side of the deck. “We put archers at the rail on both ships. With luck, they’ll be able to put an arrow through her heart before she gets close enough to yell commands.”

  “The prisoners?”

  “Locked up in the Midnight.”

  “Have they been questioned?”

  “Only a little,” Tkira said. “Poor sods are half dead from lack of food. As far as we can tell, the only thing that kept them going was the compulsion. They could barely speak or keep their eyes open after Avilet died. So we fed them and gave them blankets and figured we could talk to them after they rested.”

  I tapped my foot on the deck planks. “I always thought an attack against Mieshk would be difficult. Now… I really don’t know if we can
win this. How do you fight someone with her kind of power?”

  Tkira shook her head, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t know, Lilik.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell.

  “Well, maybe we’ll learn something from the prisoners,” I said. “As far as preparations and defense, I think pulling back is a good choice for now. But there’s another thing I’d like to do. I’ll need to borrow a handful of people. Quick learners.”

  The captain’s brows lowered. “For what?”

  “You saw how close to starvation the prisoners are. I’m guessing no one from Mieshk’s camp has any idea how to forage here. And frankly, neither do any of you.”

  “We brought food stores,” Captain Altak said. “Enough for a month or two.”

  I shook my head. “Not good enough. If the worst happens… If something happens to me or the ships, you need to know how to survive here. I’d like to lead a quick and careful expedition inland to teach them the basics.”

  The captain straightened up. “Fair enough. I’ll send a few sailors with quick wits over to the Midnight after moonrise.”

  I peered over the rail. Daonok was still waiting in the rowboat at the base of the ladder. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  Together, Captain Altak and Tkira nodded.

  “Sleep well,” the captain said.

  I swallowed. After what I’d learned today, I doubted that would happen.

  I woke, groggy, to the darkness of my cabin. I’d managed to fall asleep, but it must’ve been fitful. My covers were a twisted mess around my legs. Groaning, I scooted to a seat.

  The sound of rustling clothing made my heart stop. In the corner of my cabin, a shadow shifted.

  I slapped my hand to my hip, but quickly remembered I’d taken off my belt. Tyrak was hanging from a hook beside the door. I swallowed and clenched my fists, ready to strike back if necessary.

  “I’m so sorry, Lilik.” The voice was just a whisper, but I’d have recognized it anywhere.

  “What are you doing here, Raav? Why didn’t you wake me?”