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

by Beth Wangler

  Forziel throws his fists to the sky and moans. “Why can’t they just be happy that we’re free? It’s only been a day. Soon as we get one group to reconcile, a fight breaks out across the hill. I hope it was worth it, you heading off and leaving us to manage.”

  “It definitely was,” we promise.

  A few tents dot the hillside, but most people only have bedrolls spread out in clusters of families. Flatbread cooking over hot coals mixes with the fresh, earthy scents of dirt and plants. Querulous voices mix with the crashing of waves against the cliffs. I’ve rarely heard the ocean so high on the hills.

  A too-thin woman gently dandling an infant reaches out to stop us. “Have you ever seen such a lush place?” she asks, eyes wide. “There’s plenty of water for us to drink, and look at how many plants there are! I think this must be the fertile land Aia promised our ancestors.”

  I shake my head. “This is Ira, not Tion Beriath. We still have a long way to go before we’re home.”

  Her shoulders droop. She looks at her child, running a finger across its cheek. “At least I get to keep him,” she says.

  Nhardah rests a hand on her shoulder. “Dear girl, this is a barren wasteland compared to that place. It will be well worth the journey.”

  Hope returns to the woman’s eyes. “Really?”

  Nhardah lingers to talk with her, but Savi and I continue climbing. At the top of the hill, we turn and survey the nation spread out before us.

  I look at these men and women: Old, young, individuals, families. They are my people. I labored at their sides in the Izyphorn sun, under the whips of slavemasters. Their cries were my lullaby for five years. Our history is the same, and our future is bound together.

  And finally, no one else can lay a hand on us.

  Warmth expands my heart. I love them, and we are free.

  “What do we tell them?” I ask Savi.

  My hand is still on his arm. I should find a crutch or a cane before we leave the island, but I enjoy being close to Savi. He rests his hand on mine. “We tell them the truth: We are going home.”

  I take a deep breath and raise my voice. “May we have your attention?”

  The hill itself seems to turn toward us, all eyes lifting.

  “Peace to you,” Savi tells them. The curvature of this hill and of the other two nearby amplifies our voices.

  “May it also return to you,” our people chorus.

  “Our fellow Maraians,” I say, “it is our great joy to be here with you. We met on the docks, but some of you may not have been able to hear then. I am Raiballeon, and this is Saviayr. We are your Champions. Aia sent us to the sultan and royals. There He performed great and wonderful signs so that all Orrock can know who He is. Now He has freed us from slavery!”

  A cheer rises, louder than the crashing waves.

  “We sought shelter here on Ira, but we cannot stay. While we are here, we entreat you to treat the Iranines with utmost respect and to live peaceably with each other. We’ve heard some of you fighting over Izyphorn plunder, and we rebuke you for this. Aia’s people are not greedy. We are family. We love each other and share. A time may come for fighting when we reach Tion Beriath and take back our homeland, but this is not that time.”

  A less enthusiastic cheer follows, but no one dissents openly.

  “A man named Tolak has constructed boats that will carry us home. Your elders will divide you into clans and sub-clans for the journey. Follow their directions. As you take your possessions to the boats, please stay on the paths. Also,” an idea strikes me, “if any of you would like to give the Iranines a gift for their generosity to us, please bring it to our camp.

  “Now, we have a hard journey before us. May the elders come meet with us? The rest of you, rest and reunite with those separated from you by slavery. We set sail in the morning.”

  The sun is near the horizon by the time we finish meeting with the elders, directing people to Tolak’s bay, meeting with those who have experience sailing, and receiving the congratulations and thanks of everyone we pass. After a hasty and long-needed bath in the stream, we find our group’s camp, with the axex roosting nearby, at the bottom of the hill.

  Nihae fretfully picks at her loose sleeve, watching the sights on the hill. Hoenna holds a spit of ground squirrels over the fire with his eye on the surrounding activity. Forziel dozes against his axex. Drigo presides over the gifts of gold and jewels that people drop off. He mutters about waste and possibility. Bathatyz sits near the fire, staring thoughtfully into the amber flames. Every so often, she lifts her head to peer around, then resumes her contemplation.

  I collapse on a bedroll with a groan. “It feels so good to be clean.”

  Savi sinks down next to me. “Where’s Yorchan?” he asks.

  Now that he mentions it, I haven’t seen my sister since we got back from our meeting with Tolak.

  “Someone came by looking for her a while back,” Hoenna answers. “One of the elders, I think.”

  We lapse into silence, exhausted beyond words. Revelry breaks out around us. Voices raise in song. Some pull out instruments, some turn pots and buckets into drums. They fall into each other’s rhythms and pick up “Sultan’s Decree,” an old song, one we used to whisper in hope.

  “There once was a sultan’s decree,

  A sentence to death, guaranteed.

  Our children were dying,

  Our people were crying,

  But something he could not foresee.

  Thaies did not ignore our pleas;

  Our lamentable plight He did see.

  He heard all our sighing,

  Then He was replying

  That with all our prayers He agreed.

  He acted with utmost degree

  Of power, to our greatest glee.

  Our people uniting,

  He did all the fighting

  Now finally Maraiah’s free!”

  Everyone joins in the last verse. Their voices echo off the three hills.

  When Hoenna judges our food ready, Nhardah shows up and the eight of us eat a quiet meal. There is so much to do, but others can see to it for now.

  Yori comes back when the sky darkens. Forziel rouses himself, and he and Yorchan start trying to compose a new song to commemorate our liberation.

  I stretch out on a blanket and let their chatter and humming blur together. I expect to fall instantly asleep, as tired as I am. Instead, my mind races. I toss around. By the time the hill is quiet and the star Landurziel, the night guide, appears, I give up trying to sleep and wander to the edge of the cliff. There I sit, far enough back to be out of danger, and raise my eyes to the other indree.

  They continue their dance in the sky, too slow for human eyes to notice night by night. Even though my ears are numb to their song, I imagine I feel its entreaty and hope.

  I breathe slowly and deeply. In the quiet, the tempestuous thoughts that kept me awake rise to the surface. At first, the past clouds my mind in a disordered mess: Weariness from our desert journey, reuniting with Savi, finding Yori, losing Elesekk, marrying Savi, the trek through the abandoned city, interacting with the sultan and royals, meeting Nhardah-Lev, and so much more.

  I’ve been pushing these thoughts aside since they happened, focusing on the present. Now I acknowledge them. Strangely, that acknowledgment is what helps me move past these memories.

  My thoughts slow and turn to the future.

  As I told Savi outside the capital, I’ve never thought about what came after freedom. If today showed us anything, it is that Maraiah will still desperately need a leader.

  Aia, will that leader be Savi and me?

  The waves crash in their eternal—or almost eternal—rhythm, louder than they were this afternoon. The aivenkaites haven’t broken free; we’d know without a doubt if they had. Still, the sea is uneasy.

  I blink up at the indree, searching out familiar constellations. I straighten. Something is different. The indree who formed the Captive’s shackles have moved away. Even t
he sky proclaims what Aia has done. Still, the indree are not the reason we are free. They, like Savi and me, are only faithful servants. Aia is the reason we are free.

  Salt spray, perhaps my imagination, mists over my arms. It mimics the peace settling over my heart.

  Maybe we will continue leading Maraiah, maybe Aia will raise up someone else. Either way, He has prepared and guided us this far. He will continue to guide us to the end.

  I sense, more than hear, movement to my right. Nhardah joins me at the edge of the cliff, his silhouette black against the stars.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks, soft enough not to disturb those sleeping behind us.

  “I couldn’t sleep, but I’m okay now. Why are you still awake?”

  Nhardah looks out at the light of the waning moons shimmering on the rough water. “My heart is troubled. I was about to seek out Mithrida when I saw you were up.”

  “Oh, I can go if you want to talk to your wife.” I make to stand up.

  The Firstborn shakes his head. “No, stay. I can talk with her later, and she is occupied right now. Your company is good for this old man.”

  “Why are you troubled?” I ask, settling back in. I leave my injured ankle out and pull my other leg up under my chin.

  He rubs his chin. “I cannot say. My heart warns something evil is coming.”

  I laugh, quiet. “I could have told you that.” I gesture out at the darkness, where the kaites hold back the aivenkaites.

  “No, it is more than that.” Nhardah sighs. “I do not know. But I am uneasy.”

  I don’t know what to say. We settle into silence, watching the sky. “Can you hear them?” I ask about the stars.

  The Firstborn closes his eyes. “Barely,” he admits. “Sometimes I think I’m hearing things, but somewhere deep inside of me I still remember the silence at the start of Orrock, before the indree were singing their call to redemption. That is when I hear them the clearest.”

  “What does the song sound like?”

  Nhardah doesn’t answer, just bows his head.

  We sit without talking till my eyes at last grow heavy. I’m finally ready for sleep. Nhardah must notice, for he says, “Go to bed, child. You do not need to worry about me.”

  “You’ll find Mithrida?” I check. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Yes. If she is able to get away, I’ll find her.”

  I pull myself up. Before I go, I say, “I’m sure you know this, but Aia is on our side. He will be with you, whatever comes.”

  Nhardah sighs. “Thank you. Your words mean more than you realize.”

  With a pat to his shoulder, I return to bed. The wind picks up, cool enough that I wrap the blanket on top of myself and curl into Savi.

  The storm will come tomorrow. Now, I sleep.

  Chapter 45

  Savi shakes me awake in the thin light of morning. “Rai, wake up.”

  I shake in his hands, frantically blinking away the images besieging my mind. Savi pulls me to his chest. “You’re okay,” he repeats against my hair until my shaking subsides. “Was that another nightmare?”

  I nod.

  “Rai, why do you have so many nightmares? What are they about?”

  We haven’t actually talked about them before, so I tell him now. I share what they used to be when I was living under the slavemaster’s threat and how they’ve changed since our reunion. “This one, though, I’ve never had one like this. Nhardah was...so many screams, so much blood.” I shudder and cling to Savi.

  “Hey.” He rocks back and forth, crooning. “None of your other nightmares came true, right? We’re okay, we’re alive. Nhardah’s going to be fine.”

  Eventually I calm, though the nightmare still unsettles me. May Savi be right, and may this be as harmless as my other nightmares. Regardless, it’s time for us to move. Already the hill is awake, people breaking up camp.

  “We’re in for rough sailing,” Forziel remarks, eyeing the clouds that darken most of the horizon.

  “I know. But we can’t stay here.” Savi gently rouses Nihae.

  As I roll up Savi and my blankets, the healing woman Ayri approaches, brandishing a gnarled stick. “What did I say about staying off of that ankle?” she asks, tisking.

  “There’s too much to do.” I wrap a strap around our blankets.

  “At least use a cane, something to take some weight off,” Ayri reprimands. She shoves the stick at me.

  It’s rough and knobby but better than nothing. I fit it under my arm. “Thank you, Ayri.”

  “Be careful, Champion,” she warns. “If you don’t rest your ankle long enough for it to heal, you’re likely to end up crippled for the rest of your life. I’ll be surprised if you get off without a permanent limp as it is.”

  With our camp packed and our people leading the way to the boats, Savi and I climb the hill one last time. At the top, I look over the hills that sheltered me for three years and lately hosted all my people.

  This is goodbye.

  Despite the bustle of preparing for our voyage, the Maraians notice Saviayr and me on the hill’s peak and gradually stop to listen.

  “People of Aia,” I address them, “peace to you. Please gather your families and prepare to board your designated boat. We will leave for the bay in order of clans. Move quickly, but do not endanger each other. Everyone shall have time to find their place safely. Now, would the clan of Lacashain follow your elders along the path?”

  Thus begins our exodus from the island.

  We expect it to take several hours for everyone to board. That leaves us with time to take our gifts to the Iranines and say goodbye to Tatanda’s family. Once we’re sure all the elders remember where people are going, Hoenna looks after Nihae and Bathatyz is tasked with carrying our meager belongings. Yorchan helps direct traffic with the elders. Forziel prepares to bid the axex farewell.

  That leaves Drigo for us to enlist, since Nhardah hasn’t appeared yet. He and Savi lug the gifts up to Tatanda’s house. Despite our last parting, I hope my uncle will distribute our gifts to the Iranines and allow me to say one last farewell to my cousins.

  We brave the glares of the Iranines on the way and find Tatanda’s house in chaos. Servants rush back and forth. My cousins call to each other across the house. The usual neatness is in utter disarray, so much so that we initially go unnoticed.

  Mayli runs through the room, doubles back, and squeals.

  “Maylani, where’s your mother’s keepsake box?” Tatanda shouts from the bedroom.

  She doesn’t answer him but throws her arms around Savi and me.

  “Maylani?” her father calls again.

  “Oh, you’re here! Then we’re not too late.” Mayli clasps her hands. She’s clad in the plainest clothing I’ve ever seen her wear. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  “Isn’t what exciting?” I ask.

  “Where is that girl?” Tatanda yells, storming through the house.

  He stops abruptly when he sees us.

  “What is happening?” I ask whoever will answer.

  Tatanda straightens his shoulders, yanks his vest straight, and declares, “Isn’t it obvious? We’re coming with you. Anik, will you bring out the trunks already?”

  Pitka appears, struggling under a bag that’s far too heavy for her. She squeals when she sees us—a shocking likeness of Maylani’s squeal—and throws herself at me.

  Savi has to catch me, or I’d fall over.

  Tatanda resumes shouting orders at the servants, who hasten out the door bearing what looks like boxes holding all of Tatanda’s possessions. Then he notices Drigo. “Who are you?”

  “Uncle, this is Drigo. We brought gifts from our people to thank the Iranines for their hospitality.” I look around the disaster the house has become, and the next statement becomes a question. “We thought you might distribute it for us?”

  Tatanda humphs. “How would I do that from a boat out at sea, hm? Leave it here. They’ll deal with it when they come to ransack the house.”
/>   “You really think they’ll do that?” Anik asks. He runs into the corner of the doorway.

  Tatanda raises an eyebrow. “Can you remember a time when one of our people left the island for good? It hasn’t happened in my lifetime. They’ll be angry, they already are, and they’ll take it out on what we leave behind.” He rushes us out the door, then turns back to the quiet rooms and halls. “Ah, my home! These walls have been my shelter since birth.”

  Tatanda lowers his head. After a pause, he turns and starts down the path. “Onward, before I change my mind.”

  My cousins take that as a warning and stay remarkably quiet. Head held high, Tatanda leads us past the neighbors, who come from their houses to glare at us. Some spit as we pass and flick their fingers to ward away evil.

  None of us talk until we reach the bluff over the harbor and find Forziel arguing with the axex. “No, you can’t come,” the boy says, stretching between them and the ramp.

  The hawk-lions bump into him.

  Yorchan, a few paces down the ramp, grins and chuckles quietly.

  “What’s going on?” Savi asks.

  Forziel sidesteps to block one of the axex. He blows at the hair hanging into his eyes. “The stupid creatures won’t listen to me. Go home! We’re going on boats far away. You won’t want to come, trust me.”

  One of the axex, the one he’s ridden since we found them, flaps its wings, takes to the air, and settles below Forziel on the ramp.

  Yorchan cackles, cupping her mouth.

  Forziel turns slowly to face Lightning. “Really?” Forziel grinds out. “It’s going to be like that?”

  The axex squawks and soars over the edge of the cliff. The others follow it down to the beach.

  Yorchan clutches her stomach and guffaws.

  Forziel glares at her. Then he throws up his unbroken arm and huffs. “Fine! I give up. They’re coming with us.”

  When I check on my cousins, Pitka’s eyes are huge. She stares open-mouthed at the axex.

  Anik whistles and flicks Pipit’s shoulder. “Pretty neat, huh, little squirrel?”

  Pitka just nods.

  I limp down the hill, leading the way. “I wish you’d seen the whole thing,” Yori says, wiping tears from her eyes. “Forz was trying so hard, but the axex wouldn’t have any of it.”