by Claire Luana
He shook his head, shoulders slumping. “You will never believe me. I do not even know if I believe it. All right. We will make a deal. Summon your power and show me you can control it. Then, I will take you back.”
She crossed her arms, weighing his suggestion. “What do you mean, control it?”
“Make it do what you want it to do.”
“I don’t know what it can do, besides kill soul-eaters.”
“If you want to go home, find out quickly. Until I am convinced you can care for yourself, I will not take you back. You are too valuable to this world to let you walk into a suicide mission.”
“What do you think you are, my father?” Her voice broke and hot tears welled in her eyes. She spun away, not wanting him to see her cry. No, he wasn’t her father. She didn’t have a father anymore. And soon she might not have a mother.
The deck creaked beneath Vikal’s feet and she knew he stood behind her. She didn’t turn, didn’t accept whatever false comfort he might try to offer. He had helped those creatures kill her father, under a compulsion or not. And now he wanted to hold her captive here while Yoshai was invaded. Rika balled her fists. Not if she could help it.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She tried to remember how she had summoned her power, going deep within herself to find the firm handhold, the connection between her spirit and whatever had given her aid. She was there in a blink and let out a little gasp of surprise. The strange force had felt subdued before, a single rope tied like a lifeline. Now, the power pulsed before her, hundreds of threads of power ripe for the picking. It was overwhelming. She reached and took the smallest handhold of light, trying to coax it towards her. As soon as her intention fixed around it, the rope, the tether in her mental grip, began thrashing and bucking like a wild thing. And at the end of that thread of power was a presence. Another life force that flipped around her mind, her awareness. Straining against her. It was like lassoing a dragon with a spool of yarn. Who are you? she thought, her mental voice tiny and small.
There was no answer, and she pushed down her fear and frustration, ignoring her hammering heart. She had to show Vikal that she could use her power. Just a display of light should do…she gingerly tugged the thread towards her. Please come here, she thought. No reason not to be polite. The presence, whatever it was, seemed to take note of her contact. It turned and barreled towards her like a lion-horse stung by a bee.
Rika opened her eyes with a gasp. Vikal had taken a step back. His hands were up warily. “What have you done?”
Rika spun around, looking at the deck, then the sky. “Something.” She shivered. “It’s like something’s coming. I thought…” She let out a breath. “I must have imagined it.”
Vikal opened his mouth, no doubt to lecture her on her lack of control over her abilities, when his jaw dropped. His chiseled features flared into view, illuminated by a bright light. Rika whirled, backing into him as she saw in the sky what had lit up the night. A brilliant white comet streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of fiery debris in its wake. It was headed…straight for them.
“Rika…” Vikal said, grabbing her hand. “Jump!”
CHAPTER 11
THE BOAT EXPLODED behind them as the bright object careened into the middle of the deck, sending up a shower of debris and seawater. Rika plunged into the dark water, the ocean churning around her. Water poured into her mouth, her nose—burning her nostrils and making her lungs ache for air as she fumbled for the surface. In the dark tumult, she couldn’t tell up from down, and panic pulled at her like an anchor. A bright light whooshed by her in the water, illuminating the turbulence around her. She kicked towards it, following the light, gasping in sweet air as her head breached the surface.
The wreckage was lit like a beacon, and Rika blinked away saltwater, trying to make out the source of the illumination.
“Rika!” Vikal cried, and she spun towards his voice, treading water as he swam towards her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, coughing out the last of the water. “What was that?” she asked, watching in dismay as the ship’s mast and sails collapsed into the sea, disappearing below the surface.
Vikal’s eyes were wide, watching something behind her. She turned, spluttering as a wave slapped across her face.
“I was hoping you would know,” Vikal said.
A crystalline light hovered over the remains of the ship, bobbing in the air. Rika frowned. It didn’t make sense. A comet or a shooting star would have sunk to the bottom. But this—it came back up. As it drew closer, Rika found herself swimming away from it, bumping into a piece of the ship’s railing. She heaved her elbows over it. At least the ocean was as warm as bathwater. They wouldn’t die of cold.
Vikal had found a piece of flotsam to keep him afloat as well. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It almost looks like…a star.” It was blindingly bright. And drawing closer. Had she done this? Was this the presence she had felt when trying to draw on her power? A possessed star?
The light came to rest on the end of the wooden railing Rika clung to, dimming from painful to merely bright. It was close enough to reach out and touch, but she stilled herself. It looked…like a bird. “A sparrow?” she asked, awe filling her. “You’re a sparrow.”
“Is this some quirk of your power?” Vikal asked. “Why did you summon this thing?”
“I am not a thing,” the thing said. “I am the night sparrow.” Its words came out as clipped chirps, each syllable evenly spaced.
Rika let out a delighted laugh. “You talk?”
“Of course.”
An idea struck Rika and her heart leaped in excitement. “Are you my seishen?”
“Your what?” Vikal and the night sparrow asked at the same time.
“My seishen. On our land, some burners have animal companions who are part-spirit, part-flesh. They’re connected to the burner’s soul.”
“Is that what that great lion was?” Vikal asked.
Rika’s elation dimmed at the mention of Ryu. “Yes. And my brother’s unicorn.”
“I do not believe I am a seishen,” the bird said. “I am a constellation.”
“A constellation?”
“A cluster of stars.”
“I know what a constellation is,” Rika said crossly. “But what I don’t understand is why you fell from the sky and destroyed our boat.”
“You summoned me.”
“I…” Rika’s mouth opened and closed as the creature’s words sank in. She looked at Vikal for assistance, but he was no longer looking at her. He stared towards the island, an odd look on his face—something like shock.
Rika didn’t know what to make of this strange bird and its pronouncement, but she knew she wouldn’t solve this riddle floating in the middle of the ocean. “Can you help us get to land?” she asked. “Do you have any useful skills?”
“No skills,” the bird said, alighting in the air. She watched it flap upward, squinting again as the constellation brightened with the movement of its wings. “I do see a rowboat,” the constellation called. “Perhaps useful?”
“A rowboat?” That shook Vikal from his daze. “There was a rowboat on the bow of each of the leeches’ ships. Did this one break free?”
The night sparrow banked towards the distant island. “This way!”
Vikal and Rika made their way slowly through the debris floating on the slick surface of the sea. And like the bird had promised, a rowboat bobbed in the waves. “Thank the gods.” Rika breathed a sigh of relief. Her father’s sword was pulling her down once again.
Vikal looked into the boat while the star-bird alighted on the bow like a little lantern. “Oars would have been too much to hope for.”
Rika looked back and saw a few splintered boards that were about the right size. “We’ll have to make do.”
In no time, Rika had corralled the boards and shoved them into the rowboat. Her arms burned from swimming and treading water, but she summoned eno
ugh strength to flop into the little vessel while Vikal held the other side to keep it from capsizing. She leaned the other way while Vikal hauled himself over as well.
She handed him one of the boards and without a word, they began to paddle. Rika looked over her shoulder at the wreckage of the ship, and a single thought burned through the fog of her numb and tired mind. “The astrolabe,” she breathed, the reality of her situation sinking in. There was no way she would return home now. No way to help her mother or brother, Yoshai or Kitina. She was stuck here, in this strange place overrun with soul-eaters, with only a brooding soldier and a constellation for company. What had she done?
They reached the shore as the sun’s first rays broke over the eastern horizon. The little bird launched into the air, soaring over Rika’s head. “I return to the stars,” it said. “Until another night.”
“Wait!” Rika called after it. “Do you have a name?”
“Cygna,” it said before banking to the west, away from the rising sun.
“Try not to crash-land next time,” Vikal called after it grumpily, hopping out of the boat into the surf. He heaved the boat up onto the beach, aided by the rhythmic pounding of the waves. The rays of the sun gilded his tousled dark hair, illuminating him like a halo. When at last the boat was out of the surf, he grunted, wiping his hands on his pants.
Rika jumped out of the boat into the soft sand. She wrangled her tangled salty locks into a knot and looked up to take in her first real glimpse of Nua.
The island was in a word—breathtaking. Lovelier than a dream. There was much she found beautiful about her own homeland, but this—she admitted begrudgingly to herself—it was a sparkling jewel. The island rose from the sea in soft folds of green jungle before jutting into the sky to meet in a craggy peak. Even this early in the morning, the air was warm and humid, lush with smells of green palm fronds and fragrant flowers. Rika could only imagine what amazing plants and creatures sheltered below the shadow of the rich canopy. “This is your home?” she asked.
Vikal nodded. He had fallen to his knees in the sand and was looking at it with tears shining in his eyes. He buried his hands in the sand, pulling out a handful and letting it sift through his fingers.
“It’s pink,” Rika said with surprise, bending down and picking up a handful of sand herself. It was soft as flour and squeaked between her fingers.
“I thought I would never see it again.” His gaze was fixed on the jungle, and Rika was surprised to notice that the vibrant green of his eyes was reflected in the colors of the thick foliage. “I have you to thank for this. For bringing me home. And we are not too late. They have not burned everything.”
Rika swallowed a lump in her throat, his words sparking within her. She looked back at the sky, at the blanket of stars that were yielding their dominion to dawn’s light. Somewhere out there was her home. And she would likely never see it again. Never see her mother or brother. Never ride Michi through the grass, never play hide-and-seek with Quitsu, never spar with Emi. And no matter what happened, she would never see her father again. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the memory of his scream of agony, of him turning to ash before her, of her hands scrambling through the remains of his body. Of Ryu, trying to protect them, vanishing into the night. There was no closing out those memories, no erasing them. A vision of Yoshai burning swam to the surface, unbidden—of soul-eaters breaking down the sea gate, burning the palace, sucking the life from her mother. No. It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be real.
A sob escaped her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, turning from Vikal. She wouldn’t cry. Not again.
“Rika.” Vikal placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just need a minute.”
“I will help you return home,” he said. “I swear it. Once you master your powers and we defeat the leeches here, we will have our pick of their ships. We will return to your land and defeat them for good.”
She whirled on him. “How? How will I learn about my powers? I tried to summon some light and I blew up our ship with a sparrow!”
Vikal pressed his lips shut, but the corner of his mouth crept up in a smile.
Rika let out an incredulous laugh and closed her eyes, a tear leaking down her cheek. She shook her head, her sorrow mingling with the ridiculousness of their situation in a strange cocktail that somehow made her feel just a tiny bit better. She welcomed it, clung to it. She wasn’t ready to let her sorrow over her father bear her away in its powerful tide. Not now. Right now, she needed to hold herself together.
Vikal chuckled—that velvet laugh again. “That was one powerful bird.”
Rika heaved a sigh, opening her eyes. “How am I supposed to defeat these leeches if I don’t know a thing about these abilities?”
Vikal stood, brushing the pink sand from his trousers. “I might. First, we find water and food. Then, I will tell you what I know.”
CHAPTER 12
THEY TRUDGED ACROSS the soft sand into the shadow of the jungle. Vikal flowed through the forest like he’d been born to it, and at times Rika could swear she saw the plants and vines bow out of his way to make a path. “Do you know where we are?” she asked as they walked.
He nodded. “I know the pink sand beach—Pulau Ungu. We keep towards the volcano Kaja Kansa until we cross a ridgeline, and then we will have a view of the whole of Nua.”
“What’s a volcano? And what’s Kaja Kansa?” Rika asked. The words were unfamiliar.
“It is a mountain that spits fire. Kaja Kansa is its name.”
“Fire?” she asked incredulously.
“Not all the time. But yes. When it is angry.”
Rika shook her head at the strangeness of it all. But in her world, women burned the energy of the moon. So who was to say that here a mountain couldn’t breathe fire?
“Ah!” Vikal said, approaching a tall, leafy tree ladened with rich, purple fruit. He reached up to grab a fruit just out of reach, and the tree bent towards him, relinquishing its treasure.
“I saw that!” Rika said, pointing at the tree accusingly. “It moved! I thought I was imagining it…but the whole forest…it’s moving around you!”
“Eat,” he said, holding out a fruit to her. “Then I will explain.”
Rika examined the fruit in her hand with skepticism, but her rumbling stomach quieted any doubts. She bit into the fruit—or rather, tried. Her teeth wouldn’t puncture the thick skin. It was like leather. She gnawed at the fruit with her molars but couldn’t get anywhere. “How do you eat this thing?” she asked, glaring at it.
Vikal looked at her and shook his head. In his own hand, he had somehow cracked open the purple skin to reveal sections of smooth, white fruit within. “Do not eat the skin. Here. I will show you.” He took her hands, lacing her fingers together. The sensation of his touch traveled up her arms into her torso like an unfurling ribbon, but she ignored it, just as she ignored the lock of hair falling over his eyes. Fruit. He placed the purple thing between the heel of her hands. “Now press,” he said, gently pushing her hands together between his own. As more pressure was exerted, the skin of the fruit split in half.
“I did it!” she said, delighted.
He smiled, but as their eyes met, he dropped her hands and stepped back. “I hope you like the flavor. It is very sweet.”
Rika discarded the skin and bit into the fruit, letting its juices run over her chin. The flesh was firm but yielded in a satisfying crunch. “It’s delicious,” she said, taking another bite.
Vikal stripped two huge leaves from a nearby palm and fashioned them into a little satchel, which he filled with fruit. “Ready?” he asked. “I would like to reach the ridge by nightfall. See what we can see.”
Rika nodded, chewing the last of her fruit and wiping her sticky hands on her leggings. “Lead the way. And it’s time to get talking.”
He sighed, stepping back onto the trail the forest somehow made for him. “Yes.”
; Vikal handed Rika another fruit and she popped it open as they walked.
“Do you have gods in your land?” Vikal asked.
“Yes. We have a god of the sun and goddess of the moon.”
“Any others?”
“Just those two. There’s a…creator of our world, but he is above the gods. He created them. At least that’s what my mother said.”
“Are these gods born? Do they die?”
Rika frowned, considering as she chewed. “I don’t believe so. They were created, and they always have been. They can die, though. A few years before I was born, they were almost destroyed.”
He nodded. “In Nua, in this land, the gods are born like men. They live and then they die. And then they are reborn. It is a cycle we have seen many times over. Sometimes, for whatever reason, it takes many years for a god to be reincarnated. Other times, the god is reborn as soon as the old body is put to sea.”
“So the gods are like people? What do they look like?”
Vikal stepped off the path and picked up what looked like an oversized green nut. “They do look like people. They are people. But they are more. They are gods. Other cultures might think of them like…demi-gods? A god’s rebirth is heralded by a storm of falling stars. In this way, we know to keep a close eye on the babies who are born that night, to watch if they develop special abilities.”
“What kind of abilities?” Rika was fascinated now, the rest of her snack forgotten. Gods as people, walking among them? Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, looking around at the forest. A vine undulating in the corner of her eye suddenly froze, as if guilty at being spotted.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she asked. “God of the forest, or something.”
He turned. The green in his eyes seemed brilliant here, shining with power and force. His three eyes. The third eye on his brow glowed as well. “Yes. I am the god of green things. The forest speaks to me, and I to it.”
She looked around her, craning her head to look up at the soaring canopy, so thick and lush that the hot sunshine barely filtered through. This was all Vikal. He controlled it all. She looked back at him, letting out a steadying breath. “Okay. Nice to meet you, god of green things.”