The Broken Heavens (The Worldbreaker Saga)

by Kameron Hurley

  More bodies lay scattered in the hall, these ones… barely human, though she recognized them. Golden people, two sets of legs, and narrow waists like wasps. Green eyes in delicately featured faces. Like the Empress of Dorinah. Where had these ones come from? Surely not Raisa. Kirana had eradicated all of those who remained. Taking Daorian had been their last stronghold.

  Other worlds were not supposed to come to hers, to this dying orb. She had never seen it happen. She came to the door of Yisaoh’s rooms and threw herself against it.

  “I have it! Empress!” the sinajista called.

  “Carefully!” Kirana said.

  The door charred from the center outward, blackening as it softened the integrity of wood. Two of her soldiers knocked the char out of the opening and stepped through. Kirana went after them, gaze sweeping the room.

  “Mama!” The voice sent a dagger of pain through her heart.

  Kirana fell to her knees. Tasia ran into her arms. She hugged her close, shoving her face into the girl’s hair and inhaling the scent of her. “Your mother?” Kirana asked, raising her head.

  Yisaoh lay in the bed. Kirana took Tasia by the hand and went to the bedside. She heard the ragged wheeze of Yisaoh’s breathing.

  “Oh, love,” Kirana said.

  Yisaoh sweated heavily, hands clutched around her middle. She was swaddled in the sheets, wrapped tightly and shivering.

  “Tirajista!” Kirana yelled.

  The tirajista came over quickly and gently pulled back the sheets. The smell of sweet rot filled the air. Kirana winced. A sour, oozing slash in Yisaoh’s belly writhed with maggots.

  “I’m… Empress, this isn’t my specialty. I’m offensive, not rated for medical–”

  Kirana hit her. The tirajista fell back. “Then go get me one who is!”

  The tirajista ran.

  Kirana bent over Yisaoh. Pushed her hair back. “Hey, love, can you hear me?” But Yisaoh’s gaze was blank, so far away.

  Tasia squeezed Kirana’s hand. “I tried to help,” Tasia said. “I locked the door.”

  “That was good,” Kirana said. “What happened here?”

  “The creatures came.”

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  “There’s no one else. I think. We… Mam said to stay here. There was a lot of noise, and then… there wasn’t.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thirsty.”

  “You, get her some water,” Kirana said to one of the soldiers. The woman passed over a bulb of water and Kirana urged Tasia to drink it, then lifted Yisaoh’s head and tried to get her to wet her mouth.

  Yisaoh coughed, but lapped up a little of it, her body responding even if her mind was addled.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kirana murmured.

  The new tirajista arrived, and Kirana took Tasia into her lap and sat on a nearby chaise.

  “Go clear the rest of the building. You, sinajista, and you, stay here with us and hold the door.”

  The scouting group moved out, and the sinajista and soldier took up a place at the door, far enough away that Kirana felt she could speak to her daughter with some amount of privacy.

  Yisaoh gasped. The air grew heavy. The tirajista had a little bag of salves and potions with her, which rested near her feet.

  “Mama, is she hurting?” Tasia whispered.

  “She’ll be fine, she’s getting help. You did very well caring for her.” Kirana smoothed back her hair. “I need to know more about these people who came here, though.”

  “They were scary,” Tasia said. “I just ran.”

  “All right,” Kirana said.

  Yisaoh moaned. The tirajista had her drink something from a small green flask. Yisaoh’s hand fluttered up, gripped it.

  Kirana bent forward, waiting.

  “Kirana?” Yisaoh whispered.

  “I’m here.” Kirana got up and stood next to the tirajista. The wound on Yisaoh’s belly was closed, but the seam was still red. Hundreds of dead maggots littered the bedsheets.

  The tirajista wiped the sweat from Yisaoh’s forehead. Her black gaze was clearer now, alert.

  Yisaoh reached for her. “Tasia?”

  “I’m here, Mam,” Tasia said. Yisaoh pressed her cheek.

  “Good girl, my good girl,” Yisaoh said.

  “Suari was supposed to check on you daily,” Kirana said. “Has he not?”

  Yisaoh shook her head. “It’s been three days. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

  “I’ll deal with him. Who came here?”

  The tirajista wiped a greasy salve onto the red seam of the wound and began to pack up her things.

  “Thank you,” Kirana said.

  The woman bent her head. “Anyone else?”

  “Stay,” Kirana said. “I have scouts looking for survivors.”

  The tirajista bowed her head and went to join the soldier and the sinajista at the doorway.

  “It was sudden,” Yisaoh said. She touched her belly, rubbed the greasy salve between her fingers.

  “Why would any of them come to this world?”

  “You know why,” Yisaoh said.

  “I’m sorry,” Kirana said. “I can take Tasia this time, though.”

  Yisaoh’s eyes filled. “Not me? Not me?” The tears fell freely. She gave a great heaving sob.

  “Fuck,” Kirana said. “Fuck, we’re… soon. I–”

  Yisaoh shook her head violently. “Take her,” she said. “Take Tasia.”

  “No, Mam, I won’t leave you!”

  “Yisaoh, I’m… very close. We are–”

  “Just go,” Yisaoh said.

  “I’m leaving this whole squad with you,” Kirana said. “And I’ll send more. You’ll be protected. Gian has agreed to work together. We have more resources. I will–”

  “Oh, Kirana.” Yisaoh gestured for her to come closer. Kirana bent next to her. Yisaoh still wept, the tears would not stop. Kirana’s heart nearly burst. “You know who pushed that weapon into my gut, Kirana, love? You know who Tasia barred the door against, though I told her to close her eyes, to look away?”

  “Was it Gian? I will fucking murder her. I will murder her and all of her people. I will burn that ark–”

  “No, no,” Yisaoh said, and she pressed her lips to Kirana’s ear. “It was you, love. You came here to murder us.”

  27

  Roh still lay tangled with Kadaan, warm and muzzy-headed under a great bearskin, when he heard the shouting outside. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice away, though it was familiar. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to feel safe, just for another moment.

  Anavha yanked open the thin membrane of the tent, and fell back when he saw that Roh wasn’t alone. His eyes widened at the sight of Kadaan wiping sleep from his eyes.

  “Zezili is here!” Anavha cried.

  Kadaan pulled on his under clothes and reached for a weapon. Roh yanked on his tunic.

  “Wait,” Roh said to Kadaan, waving at the weapon. “What is it, Anavha?”

  “Zezili,” Anavha said. “My wife.”

  “Your wife? Here? Isn’t that… good?”

  “No, oh no, no.” Anavha pressed his hand to his mouth. “Oh no! This is very bad, Roh. This is so bad. Something has happened to her, she looks… Maybe it isn’t her? Could it be a Tai Mora? Maybe, maybe so. But she knew me!”

  Kadaan handed Roh his tunic and said in Saiduan, “Is this a domestic matter?”

  “I just need to calm him down,” Roh said. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  Kadaan shrugged and kissed him. Roh held the kiss a moment longer than Kadaan expected. They leaned in together, still hungry, still warm.

  “Please!” Anavha said.

  Roh sighed. “All right.”

  He had expected that meeting Kadaan again after all this time, after all that had happened to him, would be awkward and terrible. Roh was no longer the dancer Kadaan had known. He had been a slave for a long time now. But they didn’t spe
ak about any of that. They drank aatai and Kadaan told him about how he had escaped Anjoliaa. Roh talked about how he had convinced Anavha into getting them out of Oma’s Temple, and Kadaan found the story incredible.

  They didn’t speak much more that night. The speaking, the reliving of the horror, wasn’t what either of them wanted. No talk of the past. No talk of the future.

  In the wan light of day, Roh saw that Kadaan looked much older than he remembered. The bruises beneath his eyes were deep, and the lines around his mouth seemed to always draw his lips into a frown. But he was warm, and familiar, and for a little longer, Roh wanted to pretend nothing had happened to either of them. He pulled on his trousers, wincing at the sight of his mangled knees, and crawled out of the shelter.

  The wind brought with it the smell of burning. Wisps of smoke curled through the air.

  “Is that us?” he asked Anavha, but Anavha was already babbling again about his wife.

  Saradyn still lay wrapped in a fireweed blanket, snoring near a banked fire. Roh could not see any other source of burning but the fires nearby, all of which were banked and nearly smokeless.

  “Anavha, what’s burning?” Roh asked again.

  Anavha hugged himself; he was trembling. “I don’t know about that. It’s just, Zezili–”

  A woman strode toward them, one with a tawny Dhai complexion but the flat features of a Dorinah. Roh saw something odd about her immediately. She moved too fast. Her skin was too clear. Something in her black eyes gave him pause. Roh limped forward and placed himself in front of Anavha. Anavha made some kind of strangled shriek and froze in place.

  “Who are you?” Roh asked in Dorinah. “Anavha wants to be left alone.”

  “He’s my husband,” the woman, Zezili, said. Her black hair was long and shiny, twisted back from her face in a single loop.

  “You don’t own him,” Roh said. “This is Dhai.”

  Behind him, Saradyn sat up, stretched, and yawned. Zezili’s gaze moved to him, and her eyes widened. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Saradyn caught sight of her and laughed.

  Zezili roared at him and bolted past Roh, knocking Roh and Anavha out of the way. She tackled Saradyn and punched him square in the face. His nose burst, spewing blood.

  Roh, dumbfounded, watched them roll around in the turf.

  Kadaan came out just as Saradyn bit the woman’s cheek, spraying more blood.

  “Do we want to break this up?” Kadaan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Roh said. He glanced at Anavha. “What–”

  “He cut off her hand,” Anavha said. “And kidnapped me, I suppose. Well, it was Natanial, but it was for Saradyn.”

  Roh thought that interesting, as Zezili seemed to have both hands. Tira was risen, though, and Sina, and Oma. He supposed all things were possible. Why being kidnapped by Saradyn didn’t seem to bother Anavha at all was puzzling, though.

  A blazing ring of fire surrounded the two struggling adversaries, so hot it nearly singed Roh’s eyebrows. He stumbled back, twisting his ankle on a divot in the ground, and fell. Kadaan reached for him.

  Maralah came up to them, one hand out, face intent, little tendrils of fire dancing along her fingers. “That’s enough! No violence in the camp! Enough! Get up!”

  Two twining whips of fire lashed at Zezili and Saradyn, finally drawing them apart. Zezili sat back, snarling, her hair singed. Half of Saradyn’s beard was a melted mess; the air filled with the smell of burnt hair. He was shouting things at her in Tordinian as he got up. Still raging, he smacked his hand against a tree, for all the good it did him. Blood poured freely from his nose, spilling down his front.

  “Saradyn,” Roh said. “Let it be.” Kadaan helped him to his feet. A burning thread of pain shot through Roh’s ankle. Just his luck.

  “Attacked me!” Saradyn bellowed, in Dorinah.

  “Sounds like she had good cause,” Kadaan said.

  Maralah stalked up to them. “What the fuck is going on here?” she asked in Dhai, though the word “fuck” was in Saiduan.

  “Anavha?” Roh suggested, because he honestly had no idea.

  “I’m his wife!” Zezili said, rubbing at her bleeding cheek. “I have a right to speak to my husband. But him!” she pointed at Saradyn. “This man is a fucking war criminal. A fucking warmonger. You cast him out or I’ll fucking kill him.”

  “Is she real?” Anavha breathed. “Saradyn, you can see, can’t you? Is she real? Is she some other Zezili? An imposter?”

  Saradyn rubbed at his face again. Glanced at Roh. Roh tried again, speaking more slowly, “Is this woman from here? Or is she a shadow?”

  “Ah,” Saradyn said. He snorted. “Zezili. The same. Ours. Yes, same dumb cattle.”

  “Fuck you, Saradyn, you mewling shitfucking–”

  “You’ll shut your fucking face,” Maralah said, and a wavering shield of shimmering heat surrounded her, so hot even Roh winced. “You get along or you leave the camp. We go by Dhai rules here. Woodland Dhai rules say no one owns anyone and nobody beats up anybody, no matter what you did outside this camp. I don’t like it either, but that’s how it is.”

  “Those are weak fucking rules,” Zezili said. “You fucking kill me, then!”

  “I might,” Maralah said. “Don’t test me.”

  “No one said anything to me about Dhai rules,” Zezili said.

  Maralah snorted. “Probably because ‘don’t murder the people who are providing you aid’ should have been immediately obvious.”

  “Could you just agree to leave Anavha alone?” Roh asked. “He’s clearly frightened of you.”

  Zezili frowned. “What? No, he’s my husband. Anavha, you’re not frightened, are you?”

  Anavha, still shaking, did not look at her.

  “Stay away from him,” Maralah said. “And you–” she pointed at Saradyn, “–you stay away from her.”

  Three other Dhai approached her, elders from the Woodland camp. Maralah began explaining her use of her gift, and the tussle between Zezili and Saradyn. Roh wondered if they would be exiled. Saradyn had provided a lot of aid to him, and his ability to find spies among them was valuable. Perhaps if he could speak to them…

  Roh tried to move away from Kadaan, but putting pressure on his ankle sent a fresh wave of pain. He sucked in a breath.

  “I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Kadaan said.

  “It’s fine–”

  “Tira is risen,” Kadaan said. “They can repair the injury in a few minutes and relieve the pain. There’s no need to suffer.”

  Roh heard the other part of that, too, and he admitted it made his heart a little lighter. “I suppose there are some things that can be mended,” Roh said.

  “Yes.” Kadaan squeezed his hand. “We have time.”

  Yet, as Roh walked to the doctor’s tent with Kadaan, he wondered how true that was. Did they have time? If they got onto that ship together and sailed south, if they left all of this to the Tai Mora and the various warring factions from other worlds, how safe would they truly be? For how long?

  “This is Sola,” Kadaan said, introducing Roh to a lean young Saiduan woman in the medical tent who wore a leather apron. She had long, bony fingers and a chin that barely emerged from her jaw, giving her the appearance of a turtle.

  “Twisted ankle,” Roh said, apologetic, because it seemed so small a thing to bother her with.

  “Have a seat here, I’m just finishing with a patient.”

  Kadaan helped him sit on one of the cots. “I’m going to go and eat. I’ll bring you something to break your fast,” Kadaan said.

  Roh sat at the edge of the cot, legs dangling. Sola stood a few paces distant with a young woman, administering what appeared to be a very bitter tea. When Sola moved away, Roh saw the grimace on the girl’s face. She, too, sat at the edge of her cot, legs dangling, one foot twisted under slightly. She leaned to one side, and worked her weak left hand in her lap; it had clearly just been regrown.

  She r
aised her head. Met his gaze.

  There was a long moment.

  Roh stared at her, dumbstruck. Her face was full of shiny scars, and her hair was much longer, her eyes somehow blacker, and her frown had clearly deepened, aging her face before its time. Her skin was sallow, sickly, and she was far too thin.

  He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t entirely sure it was her.

  Something tugged at the corners of her mouth. A smile? Almost.

  “We really have to stop meeting like this,” Lilia said.

  Roh burst into tears.

  28

  Kirana turned over the hourglass on her desk and watched the black granules slip through it for the fourth time in a quarter hour. Her daughters played in the waiting area outside her study. She did not usually want them up here, but after what had happened back on her world, she wanted them close. Wanted to hear the sound of their laughter.

  She had left Yisaoh with a force of over a hundred to look after her, including several of her most trusted jistas. It was not a good time to be short of jistas, but if Yisaoh died… what was all of this for?

  The sand ran its course.

  She turned over the hourglass again.

  Kirana had fought herself before, on this world. But that Kirana had been a sickly pacifist. That Kirana would never have considered leaping across worlds to hurt that which Kirana most valued. But the question that Kirana kept coming back to was… why? Why murder Yisaoh and Tasia? So she could bring across her own children to Raisa? But that would also mean that Kirana had to kill her, if she meant to come over. It made her head hurt.

  Monshara had burned out the Dhai camp where they found Tasia, but if Yisaoh, this world’s Yisaoh, had been there, she had survived the attack, because her own wife could not come through. Yisaoh remained stuck, and time was, as ever, shorter and shorter. Never enough time.

  And Suari was missing. She had relished the thought of torturing him slowly, over many days, but when she sent soldiers to look for him, he was missing, his meager belongings gone. Was he conspiring with her other self? For what purpose? Maybe the other version of her was nicer to her omajistas.