Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1)

by Beth Wangler

  Even the aivenkaites pause their attack, delighting in a life cut short.

  Then another voice joins the fray, yelling in wordless rage. Nhardah charges up the hall. The fury on his face gives me hope. Nhardah will save us. Nothing, not even aivenkaites, could stand against the Firstborn’s fury.

  The aivenkaites whirl back into motion. The fingers of ice tighten around my neck.

  Nhardah shouts, “Rai, catch!”

  Something twists through the air. Light glints off it. The aivenkaites flinch away.

  By some instinct, I catch it. Leather wrapped around metal claps into my hand: A sword. The instant I touch it, knowledge starts flowing up my arm. I’ve only held a sword once, before Tatanda caught Anik teaching Mayli and me to use it, but I somehow know what to do.

  I swing and hack and duck and twist and somehow manage to avoid hitting the walls, Nihae, or Savi. The blade catches one of the aivenkaites in the neck. Its shriek chills my blood but leaves me feeling stronger. The body crumbles, and the shriek flies off into the night.

  In the back of my head, I’m aware of Nhardah giving Savi the same command and of another sword joining the fight. But there is too much happening, too much to process, too much motion and danger.

  Until, suddenly, there isn’t. I blink, and I’m standing in a quiet hall. The ringing screams fade. Then I can hear my ragged pants, loud in the corridor where they were inaudible the moment before.

  Sight, too, returns gradually. The world widens from the pinpoint focus I had during battle. Light from Nhardah’s torch wavers over six hideous, deflated corpses, over Savi panting and clutching another sword, over Nihae bent across Elesekk’s empty body.

  My knees buckle. The sword slips from my hands. It bounces in the pools of red on the ground.

  Elesekk. Elesekk is dead

  Chapter 21

  Elesekk is dead.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  A moment ago he was walking behind me, and his breath was noisy, and his heart was beating.

  Then the world turned upside down, and now he’s just…

  Dead.

  It must be some mistake.

  “No,” Savi breathes. He stands frozen.

  Nihae cradles his head. “Please,” she begs. “Elesekk. Dornih. Daevah. My precious one. Beloved—say something!”

  My lungs squeeze. I press a hand over my gaping mouth and stare.

  “Elesekk, please.”

  Elesekk’s chest doesn’t rise. His eyes don’t open. His lips don’t quirk.

  Savi melts to his knees. He scoops Elesekk’s graying hand from the pool of aivenkaite blood. “Dad.” Savi’s voice scratches, broken.

  A touch to my back—I jump to my feet. Everything narrows to a point, instantly. My hand clenches around empty air. The sword—it’s still where I dropped it. I need it in order to slay the aivenkaite touching me.

  Familiar mahogany eyes make it through my battle-ready haze. It’s just Nhardah.

  “We can’t stay,” he says into my ear, and nods at Nihae and Saviayr. “We need to get them up.”

  I balk at his cruelty. “But they just…” I point at Elesekk, unable to name what happened.

  Nhardah follows my finger. The torchlight shows how deeply wrinkles are etched into his dark skin. “Rai, we have to think of the royal and his soldiers.”

  What Nhardah means takes a moment to make sense. Then I drag a hand over my face. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, but he’s right. “Savi,” I touch my husband’s shoulder, “we have to go.”

  The eyes Savi lifts are impossibly lost. My heart breaks even more.

  “Rai?” he croaks.

  I squeeze his shoulder. “Here. I’ll help you lift…” I bite my lip and shake my head, then kneel next to Elesekk. He still feels warm. Elesekk could be asleep, except for the tilt of his head.

  My hands are under Elesekk’s ankles when Nhardah says, “No. Leave him.”

  “But Nhardah, it’s Elesekk. We have to bury him.” A wave of panic burns the back of my throat.

  “We can’t spare the time.”

  “Please,” I beg. Tears start to sting my eyes. I blink furiously. If I start crying now, I won’t be able to stop. “Lev.”

  Nhardah’s shoulders droop. “I am sorry.” He sighs. “We should expect pursuit at any moment. And I have a feeling more aivenkaites will be after us soon for injuring their brethren.”

  That warning pulls me out of helpless heartache. I waver for a moment. How can we leave Elesekk’s body behind? But we have to. Resolution fills me. My head clears. I let go of Elesekk and instead reach for Nihae. “Okay. Nhardah’s right. Mama, Savi, we’ve got to go.”

  The determination in my voice rouses Savi. He helps drag Nihae to her feet and drapes her arm over his shoulder. “Mama, we have to keep going.”

  Nihae moans.

  “Come on,” Nhardah orders us to action. He sweeps around with the torch held before him and sets a brisk pace down the hall. Savi, half-dragging Nihae, stumbles after him. After stooping to retrieve the sword I dropped, I follow. The sticky, wet blood on the handle makes it difficult to hold.

  Light from Nhardah’s torch leaps over the stone walls. Now I can see the unevenness of the ceiling. The way twists enough that Nhardah often disappears from sight. He keeps checking his pace to accommodate us.

  Moving faster, it’s easy to tell that the corridor slopes downward. The front of my thighs and my lower legs start to burn as only happens when running downhill. Before too long, my knees hurt, too.

  “We’re almost out,” Nhardah calls back. The air smells fresher than anything since we first entered the royal’s palace. A square of dark gray sky fills the way ahead of us. Nhardah stomps out the torch and plunges us back into darkness. “We must proceed quietly,” he instructs.

  I gasp in deep breaths, force myself to breathe normally, and touch Nihae’s back to lend her strength. Nhardah leads the way again. We slink out into the cool air of the desert right before dawn, in an unremarkable street of squat, thatch-roofed houses. The dark line of the city wall floats just over the roofs of the houses, and the ground slopes away from it. The tunnel led us under the city, then. These are the tenements outside the city proper.

  Good. If we were inside, we’d have to wait for the gate to open in the morning, and then we would certainly be caught.

  Nhardah doesn’t keep leading away from the wall for very long. He slows and weaves back and forth across the street, peering into the blackest shadows. I don’t dare ask what he’s doing, for fear the sleeping residents will hear and catch us. Instead, I grab Nhardah’s arm the next time he darts across the road.

  Nhardah just pats my hand and keeps moving.

  A few houses farther along, Nhardah disappears into the shadows. Savi, leading Nihae, follows, only to bump into the Firstborn when he reappears. Two strangers are with him. One is a boy; the other’s cloak hides their features.

  Conversation is too dangerous, so I don’t expect an explanation yet. It can wait until we’re safely away.

  Past the tenements, the sand rolls endlessly away in the end-of-night gloom. Out here, I feel even more exposed. People silhouetted against the sand are easier to spot than people in the city’s shadows.

  We haven’t gone far when Nhardah tells the boy, “All right, lead the way.”

  “Let’s run!” the boy answers. He darts off, followed by the cloaked stranger.

  Nhardah runs after him and waves for us to follow.

  “Come on, Mama,” Savi whispers. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “But...we can’t leave Elesekk.”

  “I know.” I rub her arm. “But we have to.”

  Nihae whimpers. Still, when Saviayr tugs her hand, she goes along. I trail a few steps behind until I’m sure she’ll keep going with us.

  Then I run.

  The desert air steals the dampness pooling in my eyes, and the movement drains my crowded thoughts.

  On and on we run. The boy sets an easy-to-mai
ntain pace, yet soon I’m out of breath and struggling to go on. My throat is parchment dry. My ankle grows increasingly sore. I have to gather my skirt in hand to stop it from tripping me.

  I used to be able to run for miles just fine. Life on Ira was too easy, and I’m not used to this much activity. Running so long combines terribly with last night’s sleeplessness. At least it’s bad enough that I have no spare energy to think of Elesekk. Every bit of strength is focused on moving forward and breathing.

  The gray sky lightens. The sand turns tan. My legs are limp seaweed, but somehow they carry me forward.

  When I think I can’t go on, Nhardah calls out for us to stop. Nihae crumbles. Saviayr clutches his knees, gasping. I crouch and hug my stomach. There’s little food left in me, but I may still be ill.

  The boy and the cloaked stranger were ahead of us the whole time. They turn back after they recover. From the depths of the hood bursts forth a girl’s voice — “Saviayr!”

  Savi’s head jerks up, and so does mine. That’s Yori’s voice.

  She marches toward him. As she does, her cloak falls loose. Flaxen hair spills out, framing crystal blue eyes. Yori laughs. “I had no idea we were meeting up with you. What’s going on? What did you do?”

  Savi staggers up to meet her. Yori flings her arms around his neck, but Savi encircles her in a crushing hug and buries his face in her shoulder.

  Yori’s smile falters. “Savi?”

  Savi pulls away and swallows but doesn’t speak.

  Yori glances quickly at Nihae and me, hardly looking at us. “Where’s Papa Elesekk? What’s wrong with Mama Nihae? Saviayr of Charn, where is your wife?”

  It’s my little sister. I take a step toward her.

  Savi draws in a shaky breath and digs his fingers into his hair. “You’ll...the...my wife — you’ll be happy about her.”

  Yori’s eyes find and linger on me for a heartbeat. All expression slides off her face. Yori blinks. “Rai?”

  She shuffles a foot toward me.

  Despite all the grief and exhaustion, I grin and stumble toward her. “Hi, Yori.”

  Yorchan doesn’t say anything, just reels across the gap between us and draws me close. She’s taller than she used to be, warm and soft and strong. I clutch at her and shake.

  My little sister.

  “How are you alive?” Yori whispers against my shoulder.

  “I never died. I had to run away to save you all.”

  She pulls back. Her blue eyes shimmer, and she smiles. “I want to hear all about it.”

  Nihae moans, drawing all of our attention. Yorchan looks back at Saviayr. “Seriously, where’s Dad?”

  Savi slumps. “Yori…”

  She shakes her head, looking at him with suspicion. “No. Please, Savi.”

  “He...it was...the royal Yrin imprisoned us. When we were escaping, aivenkaites…”

  Yorchan steps back, eyes wide with horror. “They didn’t possess him?”

  “No, no. But he…”

  I stand between the two of them, torn. Do I reach for my husband or my sister? He already knows, but she’s just finding out.

  While I weigh the decision, I can at least help him bear the news. “Papa Elesekk died,” I finish as gently as I can. My voice cracks.

  Yorchan covers her mouth with her hands. Her face reddens, and tears flow from her eyes.

  The three of us reach for each other at the same time. Yori weeps, and Savi’s breaths are short gasps. Tears dampen my cheeks. Together, we share in the loss of this man who was a father to all of us.

  “Mama,” Savi chokes out, reaching to draw Nihae into our circle.

  Nihae ignores, or maybe doesn’t hear, him. Her eyes stare blank at the desert, and she rocks back and forth.

  When we move to her, though, Nihae holds up her arm between us and shakes her head until we leave.

  After a while, Nhardah interrupts us. “I am sorry, dear ones, but we need to be moving. We are not far from Yrin’s palace, as the horse or camel rides.”

  I rub my wrists over my eyes and sniff. Metal catches my swollen eyes. I’d forgotten about the sword still in my hand. My fingers ache when I uncurl them.

  The blood has dried black on the sword. I kneel and rub the blade through the sand, which chips away the filth.

  The sun dips over the horizon. Its first gold rays catch the cleaned metal and glint silver-blue. I’ve seen this before—the fordue metal, the shimmering fuller, and the swirling guard. Three nights ago, this sword danced through the air on Ira’s hill, dispatching aivenkaites and guarding me and Nhardah.

  Saviayr is cleaning his sword, too, revealing the black spike down its center and the pyramid pommel. That sword kept mine company on that night. What did Nhardah call them?

  “But how…”

  “These are the Swords of the Champions,” Nhardah answers, anticipating my question. “Slayer of Falsehood—” he points at my blade, then at Savi’s— “and Defender of Truth. The kaites who forged these poured their lives into them. These alone of all the weapons on Orrock can harm the aivenkaites. When touched by these swords, the wicked ones are flung back to the Void to recover.”

  “Wow,” the strange boy gasps. “That’s awesome! I thought they were myths.”

  Nhardah smiles. “No, indeed, Forziel. The swords Luemikaroeth and Elgarnoseth are very real.”

  “Forziel,” I repeat the name. The boy has weathered skin, sun-bleached hair, and bright green eyes. He’s taller than Savi, but his cheeks still bear the softness of boyhood. “Who are you?”

  “That’s right! I haven’t introduced myself yet!” Forziel bounds over and grabs my hand with both of his. “I’m your guide. It’s such an honor to meet you, Champion Raiballeon.”

  I blink at him and slowly drag my eyes to Nhardah. “Champion? What have you been telling this boy?”

  “You bear the sword, you bear the title,” Nhardah says. “Besides, am I wrong? You do plan to champion Maraiah, do you not? Is that not why you were just imprisoned?”

  I pull my hand from Forziel’s grasp. Off to the side, Yorchan whispers Saviayr’s name.

  “Just a minute, Yor,” he says.

  “It is,” I answer Nhardah. “I’m just surprised. Have you been spreading stories about me? Is that what you do when you disappear?”

  “You’d be surprised at how fast hope travels,” Nhardah answers.

  Forziel bounces. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it. “Yeah, and everyone’s talking about how you had the Voice of a Multitude. It’s so awesome—like we’re living in one of the old stories!”

  “Savi,” Yorchan repeats, louder.

  He goes over to her. “Yes?”

  Forziel shifts his pack. “You’re not gonna kick me off your team, are you? I’ve always wanted to travel. I’ve studied maps forever.”

  I purse my lips. Involving Savi, Nhardah, Nihae, and Yori is one thing. Savi’s stuck with me. Nhardah’s immortal and the one who dragged me into this. Nihae’s, well, my mother, and we can’t leave her behind. Yori’s my sister.

  But this mission has already cost Elesekk his life.

  The pain of his death cracks open. I gasp. Tears fill my eyes. It’s too dangerous, I shouldn’t involve anyone else. I should send Yori back to the city. I can’t involve this boy.

  “Um, Rai?” Savi says. “We have a problem.” The panic in his voice contradicts the calm of his words.

  I blink and glance over. Savi stands with feet braced, knees bent, and sword raised. Nihae huddles behind him. They both stare back the way we came, where the once-smooth sand is writhing. It twists and wriggles and squirms closer faster than any cavalry could.

  There’s no use in pretending I don’t know what it is. Sand plumes into the air, a cloud raised by the thrashing desert. Only one thing could make dead land move like that.

  “Aivenkaites. Run!”

  Chapter 22

  Deep buzzing builds slowly. At first, it’s like a hundred hornets far off. I hear it between f
ootfalls, since each thud of my feet drowns it.

  But it keeps getting louder.

  “Don’t look back,” Forziel yells. “It’ll slow you down.”

  Savi, paces ahead of me, shouts encouragements to Nihae. She bobs in the corner of my eye, head down, bent forward.

  The deep buzz grows.

  Yori sprints, keeping pace with Forziel.

  It’s moments until the aivenkaites will reach us. How many must it take to set the whole desert rolling? Dozens—maybe even a hundred. In the tight tunnel under the palace, Savi and I were hard pressed to fight off six—and they were constrained by the bodies they possessed.

  And Elesekk…

  A wave of panic blinds me. We’re all going to die. I careen forward without sight.

  A few paces. My ears start ringing. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Then calm washes over me. My eyes fly open. My straining lungs gulp in air.

  The rising sun burns pure white ahead, just to the left. It sparks off of Saviayr’s sword.

  “Faster,” Forziel calls.

  “Mama, get in front of me,” Savi barks, voice strained.

  “Aia-ni, ouni-hae,” Nhardah shouts at the sky. “My Aia, save them.”

  The buzz is as loud as the crack of waves against Ira’s cliffs in a storm.

  Each thud of my heart echoes through my body.

  The desert underfoot hardens. Wind has swept the sand from the bedrock here and carved sculptures into the rocks jutting out of the ground. I fly past a towering amber monolith.

  The sound is no longer a buzz but a roar.

  My fingers tighten around Luemikaroeth. My mouth goes dry.

  The pillar of limestone beside me moves.

  I swing the sword, following it with a shout and my whole body. Metal bites into moving rock. The spire explodes. Gravel rains around me.

  The ground lurches. I stab between my feet, and the dirt cracks with a scream.

  More screams. The aivenkaites are everywhere. Flying sand and pebbles blind me. I swing, slash, stab, hack. The aivenkaites’ roars shake the ground—or maybe that’s the aivenkaites themselves.