It will pass. Mieshk just snared another spirit to feed to Ioene. The next sensation will be grief for the volunteer who joins the aurora to balance the surge of fire. I’m sorry, Lilik. You aren’t trained for this. In our time, channelers were identified as infants. You would have been prepared.
“I don’t understand.”
It’s an ancient balance. I will explain when we have time.
I had to shove words past the wall in my throat. “The fire . . .”
We at once fear it and hunger for it. Lilik, before you return to your friends, you need to know one other thing. You are our sanctuary, just as this lagoon is yours. The farther you are from Mieshk, the better. She tempts us, tugging at our resistance.
“We’re planning to leave this place as soon as we rescue Heiklet.”
If we succumb to Mieshk’s call, there is no hope for either of our people. Consider the greater good. Sometimes, a group member must be sacrificed—
“I will not leave her.”
A cold shiver traveled my spine. Maybe I was feeling their anger, or maybe it was doubt creeping through my body. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t abandon her. It was my fault she’d been captured.
Spoken like a true leader. I cannot begrudge you such loyalty. Consider this, at least. If you will not sacrifice your friend, perhaps you can sacrifice your pride. Let your friends shoulder the danger of the rescue. And try to think of which allies you might still have amongst Mieshk’s group.
Mistress Nyralit? Paono?
While I was pondering how I might contact one of them without endangering myself further, a wash of sadness hit me. So terrible that I choked and stumbled to my bunk. Mourning for the soul of the volunteer.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered.
As am I. For pressing our grief upon you, and for the loss of our brethren. Remember this when you make your choices, Lilik. The living and the dead depend on you.
The realization of my responsibility hit like a sledgehammer. My body started to tremble.
If you weren’t capable, you wouldn’t still be here. Against the odds, you landed on the shores of Ioene. You’ve survived Mieshk’s assaults. Other people have sought your leadership because they sense your potential. You must always consider the consequences of your decisions, but you must never forget your abilities either.
Lilik, you must go now. Rally your group and rescue the young soul priestess if that is your decision. But waste no more time.
“Wait. One more thing,” I said. “What does Mieshk want? Why is she doing this?”
The speaker’s voice was unbearably sad. She wants the impossible. This happened during our time, too, when madness and the talent for compulsion surfaced in the same individual. Mieshk wants Ioene’s fire to course through her veins, and she’ll kill every one of you in her attempts. You gave her the power to attempt it.
“What? How?”
The figurine. Carved by the last mad priestess. It makes her commands nearly irresistible. We cling to you to save our sanity; the dead have always bonded with channelers. If she captures you, she’ll summon the cataclysm. Remember this when you walk into her clutches to save your friend.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“WE’LL PACK TRAVELING supplies, stash them outside, and then head for Mieshk’s camp,” I said. “After we rescue Heiklet, we’ll empty the cache rather than swim back inside. If we’re pursued, it might make the difference between capture and escape.”
The group had gathered on the shelf down by the water. A storage trunk stood open, its contents arrayed on the stone while our rucksacks lay in a neat line. Raav pulled a snug-fitting leather shirt from one of the packs. Hardened ribs and metal accents on the piece made it almost sturdy enough to count as armor. When I shrugged, he looked pointedly at my scars as if to suggest I could use a little extra protection. Fine, maybe I could. I rolled my eyes and snatched the garment from him.
Tkira snorted. “I guess that’s your opinion on our plan. Anyone else want to add to this discussion, or are you all too cowed by Lilik’s sudden evidence of a spine?”
“Last time we listened to her, Heiklet got captured.” Islilla met my gaze. “Why should she make the plan? We have enough food to hide out here for a few days. Why not focus on Heiklet and then get ready to leave?”
Lead, Lilik, I thought. Have faith in your abilities. “It’s complicated. A lot to explain, and I don’t understand much of it. But the longer I’m near Mieshk, the more dangerous things get.”
Their gazes flitted to the buildings and around the ring of cliffs that protected our haven. I could tell that they were questioning my logic.
“I’m not saying we proceed without a plan. I have ideas on the rescue to share. But we can’t take any more time than absolutely necessary.”
Gaff scratched the back of his neck. “Talking in riddles about you and Mieshk. As far as I’m concerned, asking us to follow you without a good explanation isn’t so different from that Ulstat girl naming herself a deity. And Islilla is right. This is a safe spot to retreat to immediately after the rescue. Why leave it?”
Around the circle, nods confirmed agreement. I was losing them.
Looking to Raav first, I drew breath. “If I don’t get farther from Mieshk, she’ll bury the island in lava.” I gritted my teeth. “The nightstrands told me.”
“Uh . . .” Gaff said.
Raav returned the metal scraper he’d been examining to the trunk. “I’m not sure I understand.”
I swallowed throat dry. “I’m not sure I do either. If Heiklet hadn’t seen the strands enter the stone just before the tunnel collapsed, I’d probably think I’d gone insane.”
“They talk to you?” Islilla asked. Her eyes were wide, luminous in her small face.
I nodded. “They say I’m a channeler.”
A lava spout erupted from the mountain’s crown. Firelight sprayed across the heavens, scarlet against the cool wash of the aurora. I wondered if that was the burst of energy from the soul Mieshk had taken.
“What’s a channeler?” Raav asked. “Like a nightcaller?”
My eyes wandered to the mural. Did all channelers glow?
I shrugged. “I guess it’s similar. I don’t really know. The strands claim they’re the spirits of the people who built this place. They call themselves the Vanished. Mieshk is causing the eruptions by using her calling talent to force them to bond with the volcano. The closer I am to her, the harder it is for them to resist.”
As I finished speaking, a sort of awe settled over the group.
After a moment, Gaff snorted, a noise halfway between a laugh and an exasperated sigh. “Oh, why not? Say we believe you. The nightstrands tell us to leave, I guess we ought to listen. We still have the problem of getting Heiklet away from that scarecrow of an Ulstat, though.”
“You agree then? We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready?”
The big man looked around the lagoon, sucking his teeth. “We weren’t going to stay forever, anyway.”
The others nodded, and relief passed through me like cool water.
“So . . .” I said. “How about that rescue plan?”
The floats were Gaff’s idea. With foilwood bundles propping us under the armpits, we could approach Mieshk’s camp from the sea, low enough to the water that the waves would hide us. Mieshk’s people wouldn’t expect us from that side. We decided to formulate the rest of the plan once we got a closer look at the camp, but I had some ideas.
We left Islilla and Raav to gather supplies from the lagoon while Tkira, Gaff, and I swam out the tunnel. Tkira clambered up the jumble of cliffs that thrust up from the shore, intending to examine the movements at Mieshk’s camp. Gaff and I headed the other direction, walking a short distance before finding a spot to harvest foilwood. While he snapped twigs from a thicket near the beach, I struck up a rubble-choked gully. Sweat trickled down from my hairline and sticks broke free in my hands, as I let my thoughts unfold.
So much had happened, and I felt so a
lone. I wanted to be wrapped in my father’s hug and to play dice with Jaret. I missed exploring with Paono, finding surprises in the gutterborn slums. Street musicians who could play like songbirds. Dark alcoves where a flowering vine had somehow rooted.
Paono. Thinking about him made my chest ache.
In the gully below, rocks shifted and grated against one another. A twig snapped, and I jumped. I spotted Gaff. He was struggling up the rubble, hopping on one foot where the ground was too uneven to use his crutch. I sighed and clambered toward him. Obviously, the man had something to say, and I didn’t want him to twist an ankle trying to reach me.
“Well?” I asked once in earshot of him.
He made note of the surrounding boulders and talus and the rather sparse stand of foilwood. “Interesting choice of a spot to collect your twigs.”
A light blush warmed my cheeks. “I needed time to think.”
“Understood, girl. I figured as much. Just give me a minute to say what I got to say, and I’ll leave you be.”
“All right.”
Gaff’s face was stern. “If you’re going to be our leader, you’ve got to stop keeping secrets.”
“Secrets?” I snapped off a twig and added it to my small pile as if to prove that I was actually working up here.
“It’s obvious you’ve been hiding things since the beginning. Probably such a habit now you don’t even recognize it. Take this business with the nightstrands. You say they talk to you. Okay, but when we ask for details, you claim you don’t understand.”
“But I really don’t.”
“Then let us help you figure it out instead of dodging our questions. We wouldn’t follow you if we didn’t honestly believe you’ve got the smarts and integrity for it. Sure would help if you let us in, though.”
Absently, I picked at the bark on one of my twigs.
“You’re hiding something, and I’d be willing to bet it’s because you’re ashamed,” he said. “But we’ve got to get past that. So cough it up.”
The words just fell out of my mouth. “It’s my fault that Mieshk is so powerful. I brought a particular figurine on the voyage to . . . help me call the strands. Mieshk stole it and she’s using it to force the nightstrands into the volcano.”
I waited for the inevitable anger and judgment. He’d have more questions about the figurine. Or maybe accusations. I’d all but admitted that the eruption and sinking of the Evaeni were my fault. If he followed what I’d said to its logical conclusion that is.
“Well, that scratches the surface, I suppose. You’re expecting me to hate you for that, huh?”
I threw a rock at the smooth face of a boulder. “Yeah.”
“Well, quit it. Fact is, we’re stuck here, and it seems you and your nightstrands are the only advantages we’ve got.”
“But I—”
He held out a hand. “Now wait. I’m not saying you’re innocent. My guess is there’s more to the story.” Gaff set his crutch down and sat beside me. “But it’s a good start. You’ve got to start trusting us, Lilik. We came for your help surviving on this island. We stayed because we believe in you.”
“I’m still trying to figure things out.”
“And you’re afraid of being wrong. You’re afraid that we’ll decide you’re a fraud and not worth following.”
I snapped another twig. “I guess.”
Had I always been so distrusting? Maybe it had started when Paono turned traitor. Or maybe earlier, when my lies had gotten too big for me to manage.
Tucked up in the gully’s folds, I couldn’t see the beach. Occasionally, the breeze carried a whiff of salt-tang, but mostly the air smelled like earth and stone and the night foliage that thrived on Ioene’s heat.
“It’s scary, the things that are happening to me,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it. But you can handle it, kid.”
“I hope so.” I watched the ash cloud billow, cloaking half the stars. “Thanks, Gaff.”
The man snorted. “I’m just being selfish. I want off this rotted island more than anything, and you’re the key.” He nodded up the gully. “Keep climbing if you want. Take some time. I’ll collect your share of sticks.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IN OUR TIME, priestesses skilled in compulsion—the ones like your nightcallers—were called Mavek’s Hands. Mavek was their leader, and she kept them under iron control. Only the highest circle of girls could execute the official duties, and the others were held to a strict schedule of prayer and meditation.
During the long-night, there are two forces at play. You can still see their manifestations in the mountain’s fire and the aurora. The fire represents power and vitality, and the aurora embodies tranquility.
Ordinarily, when a person dies, their spirit melds with the night aether. It’s a pleasant existence, detached from earthly life but still aware of it. Most of us are content. But especially in the long-night, the fire tempts us with the promise of a return to the vital beings we once were. It makes us act irrationally, turning us from detached observers to malevolent poltergeist. You saw what we can do with the cave-in. A soul that takes the fire’s mana can use it to harm the living.
There are two ways to manage the fire’s temptation. One is to seek a channeler. By speaking through the soul priestess, the spirit finds a window back into life and a way to commune with the living. In our time, spirits that didn’t seek help on their own were forcibly helped by Mavek’s Hands. After a trial where the descendants were offered a chance to plead for leniency, the soul’s fate was chosen. Using their power of compulsion, the priestesses banished the most troublesome souls to the aurora’s calm. Dissolution. Others were allowed refuge in an artifact controlled by the descendants, similar to your nightforging process. This binding cannot be undone, but the fate was considered preferable to dissolution in the aurora.
I lay on the flat top of a boulder and listened to the speaker’s story. Overhead, the stars were pinpricks of cold light, doused here and there with the blue-green shimmer of the aurora. Dissolution into calm. What a strange notion.
“What happened if Mavek’s Hands didn’t banish a soul in time?”
Ioene’s fire is greedy. Delve too deep, and she takes you in.
“It causes eruptions?”
And earthquakes. Upheaval. The storms that lash the island are energy left over from our cataclysm. One thousand years later, the island still suffers.
“Why are the aurora flaring now?”
Because of our sacrifices, of course. You felt some of this in the emotions we shared with you earlier. For every soul that Mieshk Ulstat throws into the fire, one of us must go to the aurora to dull Ioene’s wrath. It’s the only way we’ve kept you alive long enough to help us.
My heart was sinking to the bottom of an ice-cold sea. I felt sick. I should have listened the first time I heard voices down in the crevice. While they’d been choosing nonexistence to buy enough time to get through my thick, stubborn skull, I’d been worrying about inconsequential things like whether Paono was cuddled up with some trader.
You had no training, Lilik. You didn’t know how to listen. Remember, we forgave your kind long before you were born. Don’t indulge your regrets when you have the chance to finally change our fate.
“You said a mad priestess carved the figurine?”
Mavek was wise, but she underestimated the brashness of youth. Some of her younger acolytes grew tired of their lives of prayer and began acting on their own. We rounded them up and condemned them to exile, but not before one of them created the effigy and filled it with fire-touched souls. Their vitality is like a magnet, which is why it’s been used by talentless girls for so many years. We are often able to resist its pull, but in the hands of a powerful priestess like Mieshk Ulstat, the only hope we have is you. And Paono, I suppose, if we could manage to worm into his bull-headed thoughts.
I pressed my fingertips into the stone beneath me, wishing that thoughts of Paono didn’t tear at my heart.
>
You haven’t asked why he can channel—I’m surprised at your restraint. You know that only girls can call the strands, so it must seem curious that a boy has this talent.
“I suppose.”
You don’t need to pretend he didn’t hurt you, Lilik. We were human once, too. We know what friendship means. At any rate, compulsion is restricted to young women. Ordinarily, channeling is as well. But there are rare cases of extreme empathy in young men. Only the noblest boys showed the talent in our time. Think about that before you decide that your friendship is over. Paono may surprise you.
My jaw tightened, and I realized I was about to cry. Angry with myself, I hopped down from the rock.
“I should get back to Gaff,” I said. “He needs help collecting the foilwood.”
Wait. Lilik, time is short. I told you earlier that you would have to make hard decisions. This is the first. Will you accept one of us as your guide? She will meld with you and mix her memories with yours. You may feel violated by her presence. It will be disorienting. But if I must explain everything in this manner, it will take weeks to teach you what you need to know.
To me that didn’t seem a hard decision at all. The memory of a builder mixed with mine? It would be incredible.
I can see the smile on your face. Don’t think it will be easy. The things we remember . . . We ended in tragedy, Lilik.
Right. I nodded, sobered. “I still want to do it.”
Go to your friends first. You’ll want them around while you become accustomed to the experience.
When I returned to the beach, Tkira had finished her scouting mission and was adding to the foilwood collection. Piled on the gravel, our combined efforts looked like a sleeping sea monster. Gaff nodded at the mound and picked up a pair of scissors and a blanket.
I grabbed a knife to pare small twigs off the larger branches. “See anything, Tkira?”
She yanked on another stick, breaking it free with a crack. “Same. Fires up and down the beach. They’ve set lookouts to watch the inland approaches.”
Nightforged (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 1) Page 17