by Claire Luana
She clambered up Cygna’s wing, grasping its silken feathers, wincing when she slipped and pulled a bit too hard. It felt real beneath her, but the glow emanating from the sparrow made it impossible to forget that she was not walking upon just any wing.
“To the palace,” Rika said, settling into a little valley atop Cygna’s neck. She buried her hands in its feathers, silently apologizing. If this was anything like riding a koumori, she would wish she had a saddle. Better hold on tight.
“It will be done,” Cygna said, and it launched into the air. Even with her tight grip, Rika was nearly unseated by the power of Cygna’s wingbeats as they rose through the air. As they reached altitude, she let out an incredulous laugh. Well, this would make more of an impression than walking in on blistered feet.
They swooped towards the palace, and Rika’s hair streamed behind her, the wind pulling tears from the corners of her eyes.
It only took a few moments to close the distance to Yoshai. The scene below her wiped the grin off her face. Hordes of black-clad soldiers moved throughout the city like a plague. The soul-eater forces were concentrated around the palace, completely surrounding it on all sides. At the gate was a mass of men with a battering ram, crashing against the wooden gate with fearsome blows. As she soared overhead, thousands of green eyes looked up to follow her progress—soul-eaters and thralls alike.
Rika couldn’t help it. She opened her third eye and pulled at a thread of a star, sending it down towards the men and soul-eaters attacking the gate. It hit with a satisfying explosion of light, tendrils of starlight searching, penetrating the soul-eaters, burrowing into their armor. Rika’s head swam from the effort, and she held tight to Cygna’s feathers as her world spun around her. Or was it just Cygna banking towards the courtyard at the very top of the palace?
The night sparrow landed in the courtyard with a thunderous crash, sending moonburners and sunburners scrambling. It let its wing down and Rika launched herself from her perch, half-tumbling, half-running down its side. She didn’t care about appearances. She was home. “Mom!” she screamed, scanning the faces. “Koji?”
The blue uniforms parted as someone pushed their way forward through the crowd. “Rika?” It was her mother. Her silver hair was wild, her uniform dirty and torn. But she was alive. Real and solid and alive.
Rika ran for her, and they crashed together in an embrace as forceful as Cygna’s landing.
“My daughter,” Kai said, her thin body wracking with sobs. “You’re finally home.”
CHAPTER 30
VIKAL TORE THROUGH the trees, pumping his arms and legs as fast as they could carry him. Blackened limbs blurred by, bleeding into strange specters silently observing his passage. His thoughts were before him—on Goa Awan. Had the others reached the caverns? Had the soul-eaters? Were they too late? His heart, though…his heart was behind him. Sailing on a ship plunging through a hole in space. He should have kissed Rika. He had longed to…lingered far too long while he’d debated and doubted…and then it had been too late. It would only have made things worse. They were never going to see each other again. Either they would defeat the soul-eaters, and he would never be able to journey to Kitina, or he would die here, defending his land. So what good would a kiss have done? He groaned. He still should have kissed her.
Vikal’s steps slowed as he began to lope up the mountain, his sandals straining against the soft earth. From the corner of his eye, he swore he caught a glimpse of Sarya floating beside him, a silver wraith against the green of the jungle. Once she had been a comfort, a constant reminder of how real their life, their love, had been. Now, part of him wished her gone, and that part was growing. It shamed him—the guilt festered in his gut. What kind of man loved two women? He had promised he would love Sarya forever, forsaking all others. But he had been so quickly undone by the bright-eyed, fiery foreigner who had saved him from compulsion—who had looked upon the face of the horrors he had perpetrated without flinching. Who now sailed across the sea alone to defeat an army. What tremendous courage. Rika was a remarkable goddess. A remarkable woman. She deserved better than his ruined heart.
A root tripped him, and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees. The forest had always worked with him before, not rejected him. “What do you want from me?” He hissed at it, scrambling to his feet and resuming his climb. “I’m here to save your people. I can’t save Rika’s too.” The jungle seemed to thicken around him, and he screamed with frustration, snapping his third eye open and using the threads of power to force the forest to make him a path. “I know she’s your goddess too,” he said, panting, the words scraping his throat. “And I’m worried about her as well. But it has to be this way. She’s on her own. She chose that.” No, his inner voice seemed to say. You chose that for her. You promised you would help her and you abandoned her.
The waterfall came into view and Vikal redoubled his efforts, ignoring his ragged breath. There were no soul-eaters or thralls in sight, but the shuddering threads of the jungle revealed that they had passed this way. They must already be inside. What was going on? Were they already pulling Nuans into their sick embrace, turning them to ash?
Vikal clambered up the slick hillside parallel the waterfall, his muscles quivering and spent from the climb. His foot slipped, leaving him hanging in space, his feet kicking, his fingers straining against the wet rock. A vine took pity on him and snaked beneath him, hardening into a foothold. “Thanks,” he panted, climbing the rest of the way up and hauling himself over the ledge. He flashed back to the memory of clamoring up this face while watching an unconscious Rika strapped to Cayono’s back. He’d had the strength of ten men when it had come to saving her.
Vikal slipped behind the rushing waterfall into the dark of the tunnels. He moved through them by feel, his heart hammering in his throat. Where were the others?
The tunnel began to brighten before him with the light of a hundred stars. He must have been close. He heard Bahti’s voice booming from the cavern beyond. What was going on? Why were they talking, not fighting? He lowered his head and sprinted to the end of the tunnel into the illuminated light of the huge cavern. What he saw…was nothing like he’d expected.
A tall soul-eater stood in the middle of the Gathering Hall, surrounded by thralls and soul-eaters. Vikal quickly counted ten of the leeches. Less than they had feared. Still far too many. But it wasn’t that fact that stunned him. Or even the fact that the creature held Sarnak by the throat, the god’s toes barely brushing the ground. It was that everyone was gone. Where were all the Nuans? Where were his people? Had they already been killed? Devoured?
Bahti apparently had the same question. “Where is my daughter?” he cried, pointing his hammer at the soul-eater like a promise.
Vikal slipped behind Kemala, pulling his swords from their sheaths in a whisper of steel. “Where are they? Are they alive?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “They’ve…vanished. But this place doesn’t have the residue of fear or death that I would expect if we had arrived…too late.”
“They’re safe,” Sarnak groaned. “But you better get to killing these things.” With ferocious strength, the soul-eater tossed the old man across the cavern. Sarnak tumbled to a stop against the far wall, his disheveled robes a riot of orange. As he hit the wall, the cavern flickered somehow, as if reality itself had tripped and stumbled. Suddenly, the cavern was full to the brim with Nuans, wide-eyed with fear, hands clutched together in prayer.
Kemala gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Tamar!”
Bahti roared, running for his daughter. And then they were gone. Tamar was gone.
“Sarnak…” Vikal said to himself, realization dawning on him. The god’s power controlled the cycles—did that include the cycles of time? Somehow, he had shifted their people…out of time. Out of this ending. He didn’t understand it, but his eyes didn’t lie. He focused on the god, who was still clutching his head, lying prone on the cavern floor. The soul-eater who had been holding h
im locked its evil gaze on Vikal, and then swiveled slowly to look at Sarnak.
“No!” Vikal screamed, launching forward to do something—anything—to stop the soul-eater from reaching Sarnak. The distance was too far—the creature moved with impossible speed. Vikal had hardly made it two steps when the creature lifted Sarnak’s body and tossed him across the cavern with a sickening crunch.
Instantly, the cave shifted, the fabric of reality snapping back into place. Once again the Gathering Hall was full to the brim with Nuans. Vikal bowled into a group of women, knocking them onto the floor, tangling in their skirts. “Attack them!” Vikal said, scrambling to his knees and pointing at the stunned soul-eaters. It was the only time he had seen the creatures surprised.
Kemala took up his cry. “Constellations! In the name of your goddess, attack!”
The constellations surged to life, swooping and pouncing at the nearest soul-eaters. The Nuans screamed and ducked, scattering every which way.
Vikal plunged towards the nearest thrall, knowing the humans were the only ones he could fight. The other gods were fighting some of the soldiers, even some of the Nuan men were joining ranks. The constellations attacked the soul-eaters, pouncing upon them with glowing rage, snarling teeth and raking claws. The centaur’s arrows were vicious—in short order the constellation had peppered a soul-eater with shafts, its arrows piercing the soul-eater’s armor like knives through warm butter.
The soul-eater who had attacked Sarnak was clearly the leader of this unit. It moved with lightning speed, tossing people before it like leaves in the wind, seizing others and making them thralls, desperately trying to turn the tide in its own favor. It was ruthlessly efficient and thus far, none of the constellations had been able to touch it. The scorpion lashed out at it with fearsome claws and tail, but the soul-eater rolled and ducked, wrecking more havoc in its wake. Vikal headed towards it, wading through the fray. Until he froze, realizing who stood next in its line of sight. Tamar.
The frightened girl had lost her caretaker and was standing amongst the chaos and screams, her tear-streaked eyes wide with fear.
“Tamar!” Vikal screamed, launching into a run. “Come here!”
She turned to him, recognition written in relief on her face. She didn’t see the soul-eater coming for her. But it saw her. And it saw Vikal.
She was too far. The soul-eater was going to get to her first—crush her small body with one of its armored fists. “Rika, help me,” he breathed, saying a prayer to the goddess of bright light.
It was as if she heard him. An arrow of starlight streaked from across the cavern and thunked—quivering—into the soul-eater’s body. It was enough to slow its progress and Vikal altered his path, barreling into the leech with all the force he could muster. Pain exploded through his shoulder as he hit the creature, bearing it to the ground. He reared back and punched it right in the face, feeling that there was flesh in the dark recesses of the helmet. He punched it again and again, pouring his anger and rage into his attack. The month of being under its mind control. The destruction of his island. Sarya’s death. Displacement of his people. Bringing Rika into his life and then ripping her away again. These creatures were pure destruction. Evil and chaos and cruelty. He longed to smother it with his bare hands—to feel its life slipping away, as these things had taken his.
“I think you got it,” Bahti said from behind him. Vikal looked around. The bodies of the other soul-eaters were strewn about the cavern. Dead. The men who had been enthralled were beginning to wake from the nightmare, shaking their heads and looking around with clear eyes for the first time.
Vikal slumped back on his heels, his breath hissing through his teeth. His fist was bloody, the clean red of his own blood mixed with sickly green of the leech’s.
“Vikal,” Cayono called from across the Gathering Hall. “Sarnak’s in bad shape.”
Vikal hauled himself to his feet, hurrying to where Cayono knelt over the crumpled body of his friend and mentor. Flecks of blood speckled Sarnak’s lips, and when Vikal delicately probed at the back of Sarnak’s head, his fingers came away wet. He exchanged a look with Cayono. Sarnak’s injuries were grave.
The god’s eyes fluttered opened to reveal pools of black. “Are they dead?” he asked, his words thick and slurred.
“We got them. Thanks to you. You saved our people.”
“‘Course I did,” he said. “This was fated to be.”
“Of course.” Vikal smiled at Sarnak’s conceit despite himself. “Now hold on. We will get you help.”
“Nothing for it,” Sarnak said. “I see my ending bright and clear.”
“No, Sarnak.” He didn’t think he could bear to lose another friend. “This is all my fault. I should have known that the soul-eaters had something up their sleeves. I should have protected Goa Awan. Protected you.”
“My totem,” was all Sarnak said, reaching out his hand towards the orb, which had rolled a few feet away. Cayono fetched it and placed it in Sarnak’s hands. “She was…” He coughed again, a wet hacking sound. “Right. You are a rice-headed water buffalo.” Sarnak spun the orb, and with a sluggish orbit, it began to glow, throwing light into the cavern. Rotation by rotation, another figure came into view, in a magenta skirt and sash.
“Sarya? Bahti cried, running to her but pulling up short, holding his hands up to her incorporeal face.
“If I had known how you two would martyr yourselves, I would never have agreed to die,” Sarya said, clucking her tongue, hands on her hips.
“Agreed…” Vikal trailed off. “What do you mean?”
“Sarnak and I agreed it would be best not to tell you, as you would just as soon kill him for it. But now that he is dying anyway, it is time you knew the truth.”
“What truth?” Bahti’s voice was hesitant.
“Sarnak told me what was going to happen the day the soul-eaters landed on our shore. I knew I went to meet my executioner.”
Vikal looked from Sarya’s ghostly face to Sarnak’s bloodied one, confusion coursing through him. “Then why? Why did you go?”
“Just like the day of absolute silence. The island needed a sacrifice.”
“That is a children’s story! A fable!”
“But are not all fables based in a grain of truth? If I had not been killed, they would have taken you. And if they had taken you, you would never have become a thrall. You would never have journeyed to another land and brought back the one person who could save us.”
“There had to be another way!” Bahti said. Kemala had come to stand beside him, her fingers lacing through his.
“The god of endings sees all possibilities. There was no other way. So I took this burden gladly, knowing it would save my love, my family, my niece, my people.”
Vikal’s thoughts stuttered and stopped, unable to comprehend what Sarya said. She had stepped forward to embrace that soul-eater, knowing what it would cost her. Knowing what it would do. He hadn’t thought it possible, but this only made him respect Sarya more.
“So will you please stop blaming yourselves? Throwing away your lives with guilt and sorrow. I chose this. Me. So you could live. So live!” She fluttered her hands like a mother ushering her children out to play.
Sarnak’s floating orb fell from where it floated with a resounding thunk, making Vikal jump. He fell to his knees at Sarnak’s side, but Cayono shook his head. The god was gone. Vikal looked up to see Sarya slowly disappearing. But at her side, hand in hand, was Sarnak. The god gave him a little salute before they both vanished into the dark.
CHAPTER 31
RIKA DIDN’T WANT to let go. It only took the first breath of her mother’s orange blossom scent for the dams to burst—for the careful walls and makeshift barriers she had built around her feelings to evaporate completely. She was a girl again in her mother’s arms, scared and sorry and missing her father down to her bones. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Father,” she sobbed into her mother’s silver hair. “If I had known how to use my powers�
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“Hush,” Kai murmured, stroking her back. “Not you too. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Koji’s fault. It is not a child’s job to protect their parents. It’s our job to protect you.”
Rika sniffed, pulling back from her mother.
Kai traced her face, running a thumb over the third eye tattoo on her smooth forehead. “But you are not a child anymore. You have grown into a woman, and I can see you have a story to tell.”
“I’m sorry I was gone so long. I couldn’t come back sooner.”
“No apologies. You’re here now.” Kai pulled her into a hug again, rocking her back and forth.
“Rika?” an excited voice called. Surprisingly deep. She pulled back from her mother and saw Koji standing in a red leather uniform, dirt and blood smeared on his face. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had grown up. “Koji!” she said, and they ran towards each other, pausing awkwardly just before embracing. It had been years since they had been close enough to hug.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. She laughed and pulled him in, crushing him in her embrace. “I can’t believe Mother let you put that armor on!” she said, her voice muffled in his shoulder.
He laughed. “It took some convincing.” He looked her over. “Where in Taiyo’s name have you been? What are these ridiculous clothes? And what is that, some dirt on your forehead?” He wet his thumb and went to wipe at her third eye tattoo, a grin on his face.