Night Spinner

by Addie Thorley

  I’m so stunned, I can’t move.

  I try to fling myself sideways, but my legs are disconnected from my body.

  At the last second, Orbai leaps into the air and veers in front of me.

  The tiny blades slam into her chest and shred through her wings. She stops abruptly, as if she slammed into the solid walls of Ikh Zuree, and hangs in the air for a terrible second before she plummets.

  Her shriek rends the quiet—a horrific, warbling howl.

  She crumples to the snow, thrashing and keening. Gleaming ice protrudes from her chest, along with an oil slick of blood—so dark and thick, it’s nearly black.

  I can’t look away from it.

  This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

  I drop to my knees and scream at the top of my voice. “What have you done?”

  My ribs are shrinking. Breaking. I can’t breathe.

  Ghoa staggers forward, a wail caged behind her hands. “I’m s-sorry,” she cries. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

  “What have you done?” I shout again. Blood coats my fingers as I claw at the glistening shards. Tears clog my nose and mouth. I am choking, sobbing, drowning. Sinking, severing, shattering. Until there’s nothing left of me.

  Only the monster.

  It shudders to life in my belly, and for once, I do not try to tame it. I let its frenzy burn through me like wildfire. I dare it to slash through the paper-thin barrier of my skin.

  The moonstone trembles in response, pumping its infuriating, serene vibrations through my chest. The sweat dotting my forehead dries. Exhaustion drags at my arms, as if I’m wearing iron vambraces. Before the moonstone can sing the monster to sleep entirely, I throw myself at Ghoa.

  She raises her hands to block my attack, but I’m not coming for her. I need to get Orbai to a healer. And I need to ensure Ghoa can’t stop me or follow me. Which means I need the cover of darkness.

  At the last moment, I dive for her boots. Using my good hand, I snatch her dagger, push to my knees, and raise the knife.

  Ghoa flexes her fingers and a saber made of ice swirls from her fist. It’s five times the length of my dagger. “Put it down, Enebish. You don’t want to do this.”

  “Yes, I do,” I growl. Then I turn the knife on myself, angling the tip of the blade beneath the moonstone. It’s trembling so violently, it feels hot instead of cold. It pumps its poison through me, telling me to drop the knife. To back away from the monster.

  I gasp and press harder.

  “Stop!” Ghoa roars, but I shove the dagger deeper, carving the poisonous rock from my skin.

  White-hot pain lances through me. Rivulets of sticky blood seep down my chest, and I squeal because it feels like I’m cutting out a lethal tumor and an essential organ all at once.

  As soon as the moonstone plunks into the snow, a delicious, familiar tingling reignites in the back of my throat. A steady thrum of heat builds in my palms until I thrust them to the side and tilt my face up to the heavens.

  The sun has risen over the river, painting the sky a brilliant tangerine, which should make summoning the night difficult—especially for someone so out of practice. But as soon as I flex my wrists, the ribbons of darkness wing from the forest like bats. As if they’d been waiting for me all this time.

  I catch their smoky tails in my fists and slam them to the earth with a scream. Blackness swallows the grazing lands, and I bask in its seductive touch, caressing my face like an old friend.

  Because I am a Night Spinner, I can still see everything perfectly. The dilapidated lean-to and spiderweb branches of the forest are simply gray and slightly fuzzy around the edges. But Ghoa can see nothing. It’s a darkness so complete, she’ll forget light ever existed.

  “Enebish!” She stumbles back with her arms outstretched. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I feel awful for hurting your bird, but you purposely provoked me. We’re both at fault. Be reasonable, release the night, and we can find a healer together.”

  I laugh because we are well beyond the point of reason. And we can’t “find a healer together” because no one can know I left Ikh Zuree. No one can know she lost control of her Kalima power.

  Before Ghoa can flood the air with cold, I sweep my foot beneath her legs. As she crashes through the lean-to, I scoop up Orbai’s flailing body and sprint into the trees. Darkness lashes the sky as I run, swallowing even more of the grazing lands. The hollow in the center of my collarbone feels like a chasm: treacherous and jagged and deep. I cough with every breath. The tingling in my palms burns like a handful of hot coals and the stars pull at me, begging to dive and burn and destroy.

  Gasping, I tamp down the need. The monster shoves back. My grip on the night wobbles and the darkness spreads even farther. The way my hands are buzzing, there’s a good chance the blackout has spread to all of Sagaan. Perhaps all of Ashkar.

  And I’m secretly glad.

  Cradling Orbai against my chest, I rush toward the city center. Toward the Ram’s Head Tavern. And Temujin.

  Our only hope of sanctuary.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE TAVERN IS DARK AND SHUTTERED, BUT I THROW MYSELF at the door, praying at least one of the Shoniin keeps watch at all times.

  When no one comes, I start yelling Temujin’s name at the top of my voice.

  The door flies open with a thwack, and a boy at least a head taller than I am looms in the entry. “Are you trying to bring the imperial guards down on us?” he whisper-shouts.

  “Help me,” I beg.

  His gaze drops to the gaping wound at my neck where I cut out the moonstone, to Orbai mewling in my arms, and to the scarlet swirls of blood blooming through my tunic. He pales and takes a step back. “Whatever you’re mixed up in, we want no part of it. Who told you to come here?”

  “Temujin! I’m one of you. Let me in.”

  “I’ve never seen you before.” He places his hands on either side of the door frame, filling the entire space.

  “I’m new.”

  “Of course you are.” He scowls, and something about his close-set eyes, so brown they’re almost black, feels familiar.

  “You’re Inkar’s brother! Her twin! I’ve been helping her train the children all week. Surely, she’s mentioned me?”

  “The person she mentioned—”

  “Is me!” I lighten the shadows around my face so he can see my scars, and wave my hand at the darkness hovering behind me, where a clear, golden morning should be.

  He sucks in a breath and falls back. “Blazing skies!”

  I dodge past him and hobble through the common room, which is much easier to navigate with the stools stacked atop the tables and not a customer in sight. “Where’s your infirmary? We need a healer and water and bandages and …” My voice trails off when I push into the hall and find it empty, along with every bedroom door I fling open. “What’s going on?” I demand. “Where is everyone? Isn’t this supposed to be your headquarters?”

  “Wait here,” Inkar’s brother says. He slips into the dusty bedroom where I met with Temujin, and slams the door behind him.

  “Where are you going?” I shriek. “What could you possibly do in there? We don’t have time to wait!” Orbai grows heavier every second, hanging like a dead weight in my arms. I try to follow the boy, but he bolted the door behind him. With a growl of frustration, I kick the knob. Pain zings through my bad leg, but I don’t care. I need to do something. Anything. I’m about to kick the door again, when it swings inward and Temujin stands before me.

  “Where did you come from?” I gasp. “And where’d he go? Never mind. You were right about Serik. And when I confronted Ghoa, she, she …” My shaking shoulders fold over Orbai. “Please. Help us. I’ll do anything.” I’m talking so quickly, I can’t get enough air. My vision shimmers. I think I’m crying. “She’s dying.”

  Temujin squats in front of me. Instead of his usual Shoniin gray, he’s wearing brown drawstring pants and his black hair is ruffled like a crow’s feathers. Was he sleeping in here
?

  “Breathe, Enebish. I can help her. But I need you to calm down in order to make the crossing.”

  “The crossing? What crossing? To where? You told me this was your hideout.”

  “Do you think I’ve evaded the Sky King and his warriors for months by allowing every potential recruit to simply stroll into our stronghold? It was a test.”

  “I didn’t tell her,” I choke out. “Ghoa doesn’t know about the Ram’s Head.”

  “Even if you had, it wouldn’t matter.” Temujin strides to the far wall, devoid of pictures and paint, and taps it with the toe of his boot. “The grandest shrine to the Lady of the Sky once stood in this very spot. It was nearly thirty feet tall, and every rock was painted with gold leaf. They called it the Window to Heaven; have you heard of it?”

  “Maybe?” I vaguely remember my mother’s indignation over the destruction of the sacred shrines. Sometimes, late at night, I’d hear her muttering to her prayer dolls, complaining that the Protector King was purging all traces of the First Gods.

  “The king may have destroyed the framework of this sacred site, but the window remains open.” He lifts his right hand, spreads his ringed fingers, and places his palm against the wood. It sizzles and cracks like logs on a fire. Red-orange light outlines his hand, and the dark wood grain ripples. In a flash, it’s white and translucent, streaming skyward like a river of fire.

  I clutch Orbai closer and stare up in disbelief.

  This is a gateway to the realm of the Eternal Blue.

  Temujin truly is Goddess-touched.

  A thousand questions elbow through my mind: Does this mean all of his claims are true? Is his rebellion blessed by the First Gods?

  Temujin brushes his bangs from his eyes, which are even more yellow and catlike beside the glimmering wall, and offers me his hand. “Welcome to the realm of the Eternal Blue, Enebish,” he says.

  Then we plunge into starlight.

  I am enveloped in delicious warmth: smooth as cream, thick as honey, and fragrant as lemon balm. For a split second I am suspended like a cloud. Then my feet land with a thud on what feels like grass—soft and spongy beneath the thick soles of my winter boots.

  I suck in a breath and immediately cough because the air is hot. And sticky. It’s such a contrast to the biting cold we left behind, my lungs sputter. Perhaps the glowing door was made of actual fire. Maybe I’m burning alive. Dead, at Temujin’s hand—just like Ghoa warned.

  Temujin chuckles with amusement. “You can open your eyes. And you can stop squeezing my fingers. I’d like to keep them.”

  I snatch my hand back and mumble an apology, but the words fall away the moment I look up. Everything is green—a lush, tropical green so bright that it makes me squint. I spin a slow circle. We are standing on a jetty overlooking a river that appears to be the Amereti, but it can’t be because it’s swift and bubbling instead of crusted with ice. And a vast field of orange globeflowers unfurls all around us. There are no buildings, no Sky Palace, no city at all. Overhead, the sky is an icy, striated blue, like the glaciers covering the tundra of Chotgor. Hoopoes, with their colorful crowns of pink feathers, tweet as they cartwheel through the clouds.

  Orbai would love to be up there chasing them.

  She’s no longer squirming in my arms, and her breath is a shallow tremor. “Are your healers close?”

  “This way.” Temujin motions for me to follow him, and we trek across the field, toward the rough-hewn peaks encircling the valley like a bowl. I need to remain calm and steady for Orbai, but the farther we walk, the more my hands tremble. Every time I glance down, I choke back a sob.

  “It looks like Sagaan, right?” Temujin says, I suspect to distract me.

  I muster a nod, because the peaks in the distance do look like the Ondor Mountains, speckled with trees and bathed in swathes of steam. But they can’t be.

  “Technically, this is Sagaan. Just a different layer, a higher plane. Think of the realm of the Eternal Blue and Ashkar as identical maps lying one on top of the other. Though the lines are the same, they are separate entities. It’s what makes this such an ideal hiding place. If the Sky King or your sister were to walk into that bedroom, they would find only a rumpled bed and dusty shelves.”

  I shake my head at the sheer brilliance of it. No wonder Ghoa can’t catch Temujin and his Shoniin. They can, quite literally, vanish into thin air. Sheltered in the land of the First Gods.

  He leads me up a lone hill, due east of a colorful encampment. In Sagaan, I’m fairly certain the Sky Palace sits atop this crest, but in this realm, there is a long, squat structure. It hasn’t any walls, just thin jade pillars holding aloft a bright yellow roof that has eight pointed corners.

  Inside, the floor is a mosaic of lustrous pearls, opals, and sapphires, depicting the different regions of Ashkar: the austere desert, the frozen tundra, and the rolling grasslands. The far corner of the pavilion is crowded with coral pots and obsidian urns, and in the center stands a granite altar over which hangs a brass thurible that spills spicy purple smoke. It tickles my nose with cardamom and lavender.

  Temujin stops beside the altar. “This is the Temple of Serenity. It’s the heart of the realm of the Eternal Blue—a direct conduit to the Lady of the Sky—and the burial place of Her most devoted followers.” He gestures to the regiment of urns. “Her power is all encompassing here. Can you feel it?” He carefully helps me lower Orbai to the stone slab, then he places his hands over mine, pressing them into the altar.

  The stone warms beneath my palms, like a rock in the sun. It grows hotter and hotter until my throat tickles, as it does when my Kalima power wakes. Only this is sharper and stronger and more frenetic. Everything in this realm is more intense—the sun beating down on my face, the density of the air itself, even the ground beneath my feet seems to pulse to a rhythm all its own.

  “It feels so strange,” I say. I had always thought the Lady of the Sky’s presence would feel like coming home, but it feels more like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff.

  “The intensity can be overwhelming at first,” Temujin agrees. “The pulse of the Goddess is much stronger here, which is why we’ll be able to heal your bird.” He removes a small cedar chest from behind the cluster of urns. Inside, there are thumb-sized pots of glittering black dust and vials of a tacky green liquid.

  “Keep her still.” He dips a tiny silver spoon into the black mixture and sprinkles the powder over Orbai.

  “What is that? I’ve never seen—”

  Temujin holds up a finger, and I fall silent. He unhooks the thurible overhead and waves it over Orbai’s body so the purple smoke rolls over her in thick coils. When it has devoured her completely, he kneels on the opposite side of the altar and sings a hauntingly beautiful song. It reminds me of wind skiffing across sand and of the stillness of the desert at night. Even though I don’t know the words, my heart knows the melody. The place. This feeling.

  Home, a chorus drums in my ears.

  Once I get a feel for the tune, I hum quietly with Temujin as tears of worry and gratitude and something I can’t quite name wet my face.

  When the song ends, Temujin dips his fingers into the green liquid and flicks it into the smoke. It smells of churned soil and wet metal, and as soon as the droplets touch the haze, it begins to dissipate.

  I clench the side of the altar and hold my breath.

  Orbai comes into view bit by bit, and I make a high-pitched choking sound. She’s no longer lying on her side but standing and preening her bloody feathers. Her wings are folded neatly at her sides and those terrible shards of ice have melted into nothing. She shuffles over to peck my fingers, and I crumple into a pitiful, blubbering heap.

  “Thank you,” I cry as I take her in my arms. She struggles and screeches, but that only makes me hold tighter.

  After inspecting every inch of her, I set her down and turn to Temujin, gesturing to the chest filled with strange medicines. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And the empire’s finest
healers care for the Kalima.”

  “The empire’s finest healers don’t have access to this medicine. It’s called Loridium and it’s made from the tears of Father Guzan. It can heal any wound, no matter how deep, so long as the breath of life still dwells within the injured.”

  “Incredible,” I say reverently. “This could help so many warriors at the battlefront. Have you considered—” I reach for the chest, but Temujin snatches it away.

  “Loridium is very rare. And it’s most effective in the realm of the Eternal Blue, which is why the Lady and Father initially brought their most faithful followers into this realm. How else do you think Jamukha the Invincible survived so many bolts of lightning? How do you think they healed my wounds?”

  My heart squeezes as I stare across the altar at Temujin. “This is reserved for the most important Shoniin, yet you were willing to use it on my eagle?”

  “I don’t judge the worthiness of a friend on whether they have feet or feathers. I think the Lady and Father would find her deserving, don’t you?”

  A nod is all I can manage.

  “Should we take care of your injuries as well?” He gestures to my throat, where the moonstone used to be. The ragged skin is inflamed and crusted with blood, but the wound itself isn’t deep. “Save the Loridium. This is hardly life-threatening. Some water and towels will do.”

  Temujin purses his lips and hesitates, but then he shrugs and retrieves a bowl of water along with a stack of clean cloths from the chest. I expect him to hand me the supplies, but he wets the linen, leans across the altar, and presses it against the gash.

  His hands are surprisingly gentle. His face is unnervingly close—less than a breath away; I can count each dark eyelash fanned against his cheek.

  “It’s honorable, what you’re doing for the shepherds,” I blurt because I have to say something.

  “I’m only giving them the aid they should be receiving from their country. And the shepherds aren’t the only ones who have been forsaken. Have you been to Chotgor since Ashkar conquered it? They’re living in squalor. The Sky King seized their fishing boats, disbanded their fur-trapping companies, and forced them to conscript or be sent to mine the tundra for ore to make ammunition. Even children. And surely you’ve heard about Verdenet?”