by A. K. Wilder
The captain nods. “Water’s up and running for weeks.”
“Early for the season,” Kaylin says. “I suspect the runoff of your rich Aturnian soil accounts for the fish runs we’ve heard tell of.”
The captain grunts. “Salmon, for one, are filling the nets.”
“And grouper?”
“Aye, in record numbers.” He shoves the board under one arm, making a choice. “Ten gold each for the lot of you, twelve if you want to board tonight.” He points at the sloop. It’s a sleek ship made of dark wood, the deck immaculate, ropes neatly coiled, and a small crew busy with the rigging. It has a single mast, a pelican banner flying from the tip. Judging by those berthed beside her, the sloop’s a dolphin among gutter sharks.
I want to say “done,” shake his hand, and find a place to lie down, but it would arouse suspicions to accept the first offer. Kaylin’s arm goes around my waist and that has my eyes wide, tingles shooting up my spine. “Six gold a head.” The words burst out of my mouth.
“Eight, and you board at sunrise.”
“Eight and we board right now, plus a bowl of whatever the galley chef has on the stove.” Please, please tell me there’s something warm on the stove.
“There is something warm on the stove.”
I laugh to myself at how literal I can be.
“Done.” The captain smiles and our hands clasp. “It’s six hours till dawn. We’ll set sail with the morning tide, at sunrise, and with luck, have you in Aku before the opening ceremony. If not, there’s always next year, right?”
I’m not going to say wrong and explain that this is the Heir of Baiseen’s last chance. Instead, I say “thank you” in a rush of relief. I’ve never meant those two words more in my life.
Kaylin keeps his arm around me on our way back to the others, our footsteps again falling into sync. I suspend my astonishment and lean in to him. To be honest, I’m not sure I could walk straight without his support right now.
“You seem to collect brothers,” he whispers into my hair.
The softness of his voice makes my legs even weaker. “Brother as in people of a common cause.”
“I see, but do they?”
“Ha-ha.” Brotherly is not what I feel toward Kaylin, bosun’s mate of the Sea Eagle, assassin, and now guide of savants, apparently. But maybe he is just like this, enchanting, demonstrative, a handhold here, arm in arm there… Can it be more than play to him? It sure felt real when we kissed. Accidentally, yes, but still. For an instant, he wasn’t the self-assured sailor I’ve come to know, what with his dazed expression, hands lingering on my waist…
I shake my head to stop the runaway thoughts. This is Marcus’s initiation journey. There are protocols we are expected to follow. Is that why Marcus is throwing me scowling glances? He’s worried I will ignore the Sanctuary rules of conduct? I’m not sure which makes me madder, that I might be tempted or that the Heir has no faith in me. Rest assured, no way will I allow doubt to be cast on the records because I was distracted by a sailor. I exhale, straightening as we approach the others. I hope Kaylin understands.
He lets his arm slide back to his side, though he doesn’t put much distance between us. “There are conventions a journeying wordsmith follows?”
He’s read my mind, which makes this much easier. “On initiation journeys, there are. Strict ones.” A slow smile spreads across my face. Have we been thinking the same thing? When we reach the others, my expression is back to neutral. “I’m happy to report success.”
Everyone lets out a collective sigh, patting me on the back.
“Supper, too,” Kaylin adds.
They outright cheer now.
Kaylin and Samsen support Belair down the pier and up the gangplank. The clay has controlled the bleeding, and Piper’s healings have helped the pain and reversed any toxins that the bolt may have held, but his exhaustion is complete.
Piper and I flank Marcus, bringing up the rear. I don’t know how he is conscious, considering all he’s been through. As I think it, he stumbles.
“We’ve got you.” Piper grips his arm, and he leans heavily on us the rest of the way.
“Nearly there, Marcus. Up the plank, down the hatch, and something warm from the galley. Then you can sleep.” I want to cry from exhaustion by the time we slide him onto a bench seat and settle in with the others.
“Fish chowder and buns?” Kaylin serves us, not waiting for an answer. He’s made friends with the chef and fills generous-sized bowls from a pot.
I moan my appreciation, as do the others.
“Nearly to your destination.”
“Many thanks to you.” I speak for Marcus and the others whose mouths are full, eyelids sagging. The soup is delicious and warms me to the core. I’ve never had chilis in chowder, but I’m glad for them now, though my nose begins to run. When Kaylin heads topside to talk to the captain, I catch his gaze.
“I’ll be back,” he says, I think just to me.
When the soup is gone and the cleanup done, I climb into my hammock. Marcus is in the one next to me and I turn to face him. “My Heir?”
He murmurs but doesn’t open his eyes.
“We’re going to make it to Aku, just like we always planned.”
Eyes still closed, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight, a smile lifting his face. “Ash?”
I wait for him to say more but the next thing I hear is snoring.
27
Ash
Bells ring, and the sloop pitches back and forth. Sunlight spills down the hatch where I am wrapped in the gentle swing of the hammock. In my sleep, I kept pressure on the inside of my wrist, which kept the nausea at bay, but still I awake bruised and incredibly sore from the last two days of battle and capture and escapes.
A quick count shows four sleeping forms around me. Kaylin must be on deck. I wait for the pitch to lean me close to the floor, slip out of my hammock, and gain my feet. When the sloop pitches again, I head to the hatch and climb.
I cross to the rail. The sunlight makes the deep teal water sparkle like gems. Waves roll along the channel and break on the reefs surrounding the Isle. The offshore wind blows the white water from the crests and showers me with mist. I go up on tiptoe, holding the railing with both hands, and laugh aloud. “Aku! Aku!” I call like a bird singing to the sun.
The sacred Isle of Aku is the most exhilarating sight I’ve seen in my life. It’s a safe harbor for those who come in goodwill to train their phantoms and raise in ranks. There is no stronger sanctuary in all of Amassia, and we are here. We have arrived!
“Finally,” my inner voice whispers.
The cliffs loom high and rugged, the beaches sandy white and backed by a forest of pine and spruce that climb to the top of the highest peaks. Well above the headland sits the oldest teaching sanctuary in Amassia. I make out the copper-green tiled rooftops and the brightly colored flags after the tradition of the southern savants, in order of their rank: brown, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red. I spot another tower with only two flags, one black and one white. Black for the robes of the Bone Throwers, but the white is a mystery to me.
“The lass awakes!”
I pull my attention away from the island at the sound of Kaylin’s voice. “Not too late, I hope?” I shade my eyes to find him climbing down from the crow’s nest.
Kaylin leaps to the deck and takes a wide stance in front of me. “It’s a brilliant morning. And you are a delight to my eyes.”
Something deep in my belly flutters, and I blush.
As the ship rocks and pitches, Kaylin and I turn to gaze at the Isle. My eyes linger on his profile, taking in his wind-tossed hair and open face. He’s a delight himself, but I’m not going to say that aloud. “Does that mean we are too late?”
His smile dims. “I won’t lie, lass. It could go either way.”
All ou
r struggles only to miss out now? “Can we go any faster?”
“We dock around the leeward side.” He points north. “Nearly there.”
My eyes cut to the road leading to the top of the Isle. It looks like a scaly reptile, snaking its way to the clouds. “How far?”
“A three-mile climb. It’ll take a fast jog to reach the gates by the fourth bell.”
“It’s just after first bell. Three hours should be enough.”
“It’s still hard, especially after such a journey. We’ll need every minute of it.”
I hesitate, my lips parting. Did he say we?
“I believe so.”
He’s coming with us?
“Why not just ask?”
It’s the obvious thing to do, of course. Just say, “Are you joining us, Kaylin?” But, suddenly I’m not sure how to begin or where to put my hands. “There is much to see on Aku.”
“True words.” He turns back to me. His eyes are smoky in the morning light, and it’s all I can do to meet them before quickly glancing back to the island.
“The library alone is the most esteemed in Amassia.” I lace my hands behind my back, feeling my palms sweat. When the sloop lurches, I grab for the railing.
“This is you asking him?”
Shh! “What I mean to say, to point out, really, is that it would be a shame not to partake of the Isle of Aku while you have the opportunity. Before winter sets in. As it does this time of year…”
“Really?”
Kaylin lifts an eyebrow. Does he enjoy my floundering?
I try again. “More to the point, are you staying?” My face bursts into flames, no doubt red as a High Savant’s robes.
But Kaylin doesn’t laugh at my unraveling. Quite the opposite. He leans in to tuck strands of windblown hair behind my ear before straightening. “Would you like me to?”
The muscles of my throat tighten as every cell in my body says yes.
“You’ll need to speak up,” my inner voice prompts.
“Em, indeed,” I manage to reply.
His eyes gleam as he leans in again. Is he going to kiss me? My breathing falters, then I realize, no, silly, we aren’t going to kiss on the deck in front of all Aku.
He simply gives me a formal bow. “Then yes, I will be most pleased to stay, for a time.”
Warmth rushes through me and I sputter an unintelligible word that sounds something like “glabich,” which was not my intended response. But, to be honest, I have no idea what my intended response was going to be. Maybe great, or good news?
Mother of Mar, where has my vocabulary gone?
Kaylin only chuckles.
We both do, as together we turn back to the island. It’s growing larger as we glide over the reef toward the sandy bay.
Thanks to the fresh sea air, the heat in my face eases, my poise returning as we share a moment of reverence for Aku, the smallest realm in Amassia—with the greatest consequence.
“We made it,” Kaylin says softly, his eyes still on the mountain sanctuary.
“We did.” I reach out my hand to take his. “Thanks to you.” My fingertips tingle at his touch before I pull away. “I’ll go wake them!”
I hurry across the deck, too many emotions rolling through me to identify a specific one, but once down the ladder I sober. Disembarking will be anything but quick, even though we have no baggage or sea-weary horses. Oh, the horses—my hand covers my mouth to hold in a sob. We’ve lost so much on this journey. Not just the lovely beasts, but the introductions for us all from Brogal, the scrolls and sanctuary seal he entrusted to me. His personal translation guide… I’ll have to write some b’larkin spectacular records for Marcus and Belair to make up for it.
I wonder if Kaylin will stay the whole time? He could help with—
“Maybe get the initiates to the gates before they close first, or there will be no records to write at all.”
That sobers me further. “Marcus! Belair! It’s past first bell!”
My call is met with groans from everyone.
Marcus is hardest to rouse, the few hours of rest doing him more harm than good. He’d clearly been running on sheer willpower the night before. Belair fares little better, and Piper, with her phantom down, can do nothing but change their dressings, offer a quick cup of broth, and shuffle them onto the dock when we finally reach it. To top it off, the wind is not in our favor. It blows hard into our faces.
In the end, we stumble down the plank and assemble just as the second bell rings. My nose tips skyward to the Sanctuary, following the winding path up the mountain. The other candidates must be there already.
I look to Piper where she leans against the dock railing. She’s expended all her energy healing the others and herself over the last two days. Samsen props himself against her, clutching his shoulder. Has it popped out of the socket again and he’s not said? Marcus is on the ground, head bent forward, hands wrapped around his knees. This isn’t good.
“Rise, savant.” I give Marcus a shake, but he only groans.
We’re not going to make it.
No. I will not allow myself to think like that. I will get Marcus and Belair through those gates if it is the last thing I do.
“Forgive me,” I say under my breath and shake his shoulder, harder. He lifts his face and I slap it, stinging my hand like a hive of hornets. Belair gasps at my actions, but I have the Heir’s full attention now. “You have to lead us to the Sanctuary, and you have to do it now.”
He opens one eye. “How much time?”
“Not enough, unless we go now.”
He straightens slowly, and in his deep brown eyes, I see the fear that echoes my own.
28
Marcus
Ash and Kaylin pull me to my feet when I stumble for the tenth time. Why is the bosun’s mate still here? That’s a question for later, though. At least they’re keeping me upright, but what I really wish is for Samsen to call a carriage to take us these last miles, or maybe turn the blasted headwind around. That’s not going to happen. Initiates must enter the Sanctuary without phantom help, or horse and cart for that matter. It’s part of the initiation which began the moment we left Baiseen. “Come on!”
The road to Aku Sanctuary is long, winding, and steep, a rocky terrain with trees bent by the wind. The fringing grass is dry as straw. I really thought it would be greener, from the stories I’ve heard. The ground rocks beneath me and my head spins. “I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s better if you don’t.” Ash presses the insides of my wrists until the nausea passes. She fusses over me, brushing mud from my clothes and pushing hair out of my face as we hurry up the mountainside. “You’re a complete mess as it is. No need to stink of puke.”
I glare back at her and push on. She’s as red-faced and winded as any of us, though Belair is the worst. He took the arrow, after all.
We took a knife in the chest, De’ral reminds me.
I’d forgotten all about it, seems so long ago now.
Two days.
The pain is still there, when I think of it, but so much of me hurts that the individual injuries blur and my whole body aches as one.
Ash’s touch is tender, even though her face is hard. “We’ve made it, Marcus. We’re here.” She squeezes my forearm. “Against all odds.”
“Not. Through. Gates. Yet.” I save my breath, which comes in gasps, trying to conserve strength. I’m Marcus Adicio, Heir of Baiseen, here for my initiation training on the Isle of Aku. I practice it in my head and keep my legs moving.
If Piper hadn’t healed me—multiple times now—I’d be back at the headland, dead under an ironbark tree. I grit my teeth and keep moving forward until all I feel is the slap of my feet on the hard packed road and the rush of blood in my ears. And the pain.
“Marcus, look up,” Belair says, stumbling to my
side. He chokes out the words. His eyes are bloodshot and swimming in wet sockets. “The gates!”
Fifty yards away, they rise, high as the bell towers in Baiseen. It’d take an entire team of draft horses to draw those gates closed—or some powerful callers.
And then I hear a noise, like the pounding surf redoubled. No, it’s cheers! The road ahead is lined with orange- and yellow-robes, yelling at us, yelling for us! They’re whistling and hooting, shouting Khu-laua, Khu-laua, the ancient word for “initiation” on Aku. Their phantoms are up in a menagerie of shapes and sizes, some in the air, some on two legs, some four. In a rush of spirit, I believe we have made it, but Ash’s voice goes up an octave.
“The gate. It’s closing!”
At that moment, the fourth bell rings. We have three more tones in twice as many seconds, one for each hour since sunrise.
“Marcus, sprint for it!” Ash yells as she falls behind.
I look over my shoulder, my momentum paused mid-stride. Belair’s stumbled to the ground. Ahead, the gap at the entrance shrinks. The debate in my mind lasts less than a second, and I turn back to Belair.
The bell rings a second time. Two more to go.
The crowd cheers their support.
Kaylin hoists Belair up, and I grab the Tangeen’s arm and sling it over my shoulder. With a push from Samsen and Piper, I call on phantom strength.
Run! It’s De’ral booming in my head. His strength surges through me in a rush.
Third ring of the bell…
My feet pound the earth. This is it. My realm, my future, my everything hinges on those two giant doors drawing closed.
Faster!
In a massive leap, Belair and I fly through the narrowing gap, falling headfirst onto the grounds of the Sanctuary proper. The others stream in behind and pick us up as the fourth and final ring fades away.
Behind us, the gates slam closed.
There is no time to savor this moment. I can scant draw a full breath and already Samsen is pushing me forward. “To the training field.” He shoves me hard. “The first elimination trial has begun. Go!”