As one, the ten men surrounding Rhen jumped forward, careful not to scrape his body. Five swords crashed down on his blade. Rhen lost his grip, letting his weapon clang uselessly against the floor. It reverberated throughout the atrium in an echo that faded along with Rhen's hopes. Along with his dreams. Until his heart felt empty.
There was no fight left.
A boot shoved into his back. Hands gripped his arms, pushing him to the ground, securing him.
Rhen couldn't move. He could hardly breathe against the pain searing his joints as the guards continued tugging his limbs. Try as he might to squirm away, there was no freedom.
A hand gripped his hair, forcing his face up, forcing his eyes to the king, who dismounted the throne and stepped down off his dais.
Leaning in close, so that Rhen could smell the fish on his breath, King Razzaq whispered, "See, dear boy, unlike your father, I have friends outside of my palace—friends who informed me that the youngest Son of Whyl had run away from the castle again, without a word to anyone. Your father has no idea where you are. But I know just what you've been up to."
"Your friends have been misinformed," Rhen spat, louder so the guards could hear. Sweat dripped from his lip as his body strained. "Before I set sail, I left a note for my father, sealed with my personal royal emblem. My king knows exactly where I am."
King Razzaq stood, eyes widening slightly as he clasped his hands behind his back, trying to read Rhen's expression.
Time to push it further, praying Cal had indeed sent the note.
"If I am not home for the Naming, my father will know exactly what happened to me. And he will come. No amount of gold in the world would stop him."
The king's eyes narrowed. After a moment, he flicked his gaze to one of the guards behind Rhen and nodded to the right.
Louder, so the room could hear, King Razzaq pronounced Rhen's fate. "You will die, Prince Whylrhen, just like the others you came with. And I will return your lifeless, drowned body to the king myself—a sign of no bad will between two peaceful kingdoms, of course."
He winked.
Something heavy slammed into the base of Rhen's skull. Pain exploded down his neck, his head whipped forward, and all breath was stolen from his body.
He could not move.
His limbs would not respond as throbbing prickles continued to stupefy his nerves. Useless.
The hands gripping his arms tightened, walked forward slowly, and dragged him behind.
And all Rhen could think was, Just like the others.
Captain Pygott was dead. The ship was compromised. The crew…
Jin.
Poor boy, forced to live just to die.
Black spots closed in on Rhen, color drained from his eyes, and the world melted away until everything was gone.
Everything except the pounding of his heart.
Captain, Jin, I'm sorry.
And then all thought ceased to exist.
11
JINJI
~ DA'ASTIKU ~
Consciousness came slowly.
In her head, Jinji was still flying, still soaring over trees and grass. Images flashed behind her pupils. Memories flickering and fading. Faces. Words. Places she wasn't sure she wanted to remember or forget.
Her eyes slid open, then shut tight against the sun.
But one flash was enough.
Her mind opened, and everything she had seen for the past few hours tumbled back down into the unknown, cascading out of her thoughts, locked away once more.
In their place, a daze.
Total confusion.
Where am I? What happened?
Jinji sat up, hand holding her aching head as her stomach growled for attention. Her vision gradually came into focus.
A bed. Wooden slabs. A small circular window. Maps. A hammock below her. Blankets around her.
The ship. Rhen's ship.
How much time had passed, she wondered, looking around the room for some sign. She remembered talking with the Ourthuri, remembered touching Rhen's hand—she could still feel the fire that had burst under her skin, awakening the spirits.
But everything else had vanished.
The door behind her slammed open, jolting her muscles to life.
Jinji's mind pricked at the sound of heavy breathing. The echo of clashing swords rang in her ears. The thud of boots was suddenly louder than it had been a moment ago.
"Jin, you must run." Someone panted.
She spun.
Captain Pygott stood with blood falling down his cheek—his blue eyes glowing from pain and fear. Jinji knew whom the fear was for.
They must have arrived at the Ourthuri city. Rhen must have gone to the king.
The captain gasped, stepping forward, and held her chin in a viselike grip.
"Who are you?" He questioned.
Instantly Jinji understood. She felt for the spirits, felt for their now familiar presence around her face, but nothing was there.
The illusion had fallen.
She was a girl once more.
"I…" She opened, but no words came out. "This is my true face." She said simply. What else could she say?
"A woman?" He stepped back, mouth hanging agape.
Quickly, Jinji called to the spirits, wrapping the knots around her features once more, hiding herself back behind the mask of her long gone brother's face.
"Just as easily a boy," she said quietly.
Shouts reverberated down the steps. More voices seeped below decks.
Captain Pygott shook his head. "There is no time. You must run, Jin. Rhen is inside the city, in the golden palace, you must find him and you must save him. Before any of the Ourthuri knows you are here."
"But how? What happened?"
The captain put a finger over her lips, nodding slightly, sadly. A crash sounded above him, the crack of wood splintering.
"They are about to find us, you must go before they do. I don't know what happened, why the Ourthuri are attacking, but I know the prince is in danger. Please, on my life, you must help him."
Jinji bit her lips, eyes narrowing to hold in the water about to leak. She nodded, subtle but enough. Yes, she would try her best to save Rhen, to save her friend. She owed him that much for everything he had done for her.
Captain Pygott reached behind him, closing the wooden door at his back, latching it shut.
"It won't hold for long. To the window."
They moved as one, opening the thick glass until the wind whipped Jinji's short hairs. She stuck her head out, noting the ocean a long way below her body.
She would have to jump.
Panic stabbed her heart. Her fingers twitched.
The captain reached out, holding them.
"Can I see your face one more time?" He asked, softly. She could not deny the plea of a dying man. For she knew in her heart that this was his last stand, his goodbye to the world.
Pulling the spirit threads, Jinji let the illusion fall. His eyes widened once more, running over the contours of her cheeks, her plump lips, her curvier nose, her feline eyes.
Reaching up, he cupped her cheek, sighing.
"What a story this will make," he said.
Then boom.
Something heavy thudded into the doors behind them. The wood splintered but did not break.
No need for words, the captain cupped his hands. Jinji stepped into his palms, taking once last look into his deep blue eyes—swirling with the stories he would never get the chance to tell.
Another boom.
And Jinji was gone. Captain Pygott stood, thrusting her body through the window, and Jinji flew, just like in her dreams, until she hit the water with a smack that stung her skin.
A scream caught in her throat, stifled by the sea.
A prick stabbed her heart, and she knew he was gone.
But there was a chance Rhen still lived.
Pushing her feet, Jinji broke to the surface, taking a deep gulp of air before melting back into the waves.
<
br /> Hiding.
Looking for a place to run.
A dark shadow caught her eye through the blue—immobile—and she swam, praying for the cover of wood. Another ship or the dock, anything to keep her out of sight from the attacking Ourthuri above her.
Breaking the surface of the water, Jinji looked up into rows and rows of metal slabs. She was under the dock, the waves rocking her. She dipped under the water again. It was calmer. Safer.
Her eyes stung from the salt, but she forced them open, following the shadow of the dock until the ground closed in on her and rocks filled her vision. Every time she tried to surface, a new wave rolled in, pulling her to the side and underwater. Finally, feeling the strength in her limbs start to fade, Jinji swam to one of the columns and hugged her body close to it, inching higher and higher until her grip was strong enough to fight the waves.
Above the roar of the ocean, she made out voices, but they were foreign words that meant nothing to her. Through the slits in the dock, she saw boots moving this way and that way, coming from nowhere and disappearing just as quickly.
How would she get away unnoticed? Surely, even in a scene as crazy as this, the men who invaded the ship would be wary of a stranger emerging from the ocean.
And then, farther to the side, Jinji saw a sight that made her eyes bulge from her head, practically popping free of her skull. The ground, as if by magic, lifted from the sea, swinging and swaying, rising higher and higher into the air. The movement was slow, methodological. Chains, she suddenly realized, spotting the coils attached to the four corners of the platform. Chains were lifting the land.
Hidden by the dock, the platform lifted out of view, but it didn’t matter. Behind it, Jinji saw another mound of boxes piled high. It was another platform, waiting to fly.
Suddenly, she had a plan.
Crazy? Yes.
But also her only hope.
Jinji dove back under the water, pulling the elements around her body so it looked blue, just like the ocean. She was a ghost under the surface of the sea, an invisible outline that only the spirits could spot.
And she swam.
And swam.
Pumping her legs, pushing her arms to the side, repeating the motion and fighting the current. Every so often, she popped her head above the water for a mere moment, locating the boxes and moving forward again.
When she was close, Jinji stopped and surveyed the scene. No one had spotted her, hidden as she was in her illusion. Men took turns holding one box, passing it on, placing it on the platform. A long line of constantly moving parts, until one leader positioned at the very front of the platform shouted something. He wore different clothes—a long cloth draped from his shoulders to the floor, the color of the glowing moon.
Jinji didn’t understand what he said, but all of the other men stopped and stepped backward. The leader was lifting a large red flag above his head, looking up, and she realized it was a signal.
Pushing forward, Jinji swam around to the back of the platform and placed her palms on the cold metal. No one on land could see her. Looking behind, she realized she was in full view of some ships.
But there was no other option.
Heaving herself out of the water, Jinji landed with a thud on the platform. In one swift move, she was on her side, curled into a ball with the illusion of a box woven around her, hiding the fact that she was human to any wandering eye.
She waited, breathing heavily.
One.
Two.
Three.
No alarm sounded.
Instead, the earth below her shifted, and suddenly she was flying.
The ground below her swayed, pushed and pulled by the wind, but she felt more and more secure the higher she climbed, knowing every inch brought her closer to Rhen and farther from the soldiers below.
Keeping her eyes closed, Jinji practiced breathing, praying to the spirits to keep her safe, to help her find Rhen, to get them both out of there alive. Somehow, she knew she could do it. The spirits would not abandon her, not after pushing her so far into the unknown. It was just another test. Another stop on her journey.
The platform screeched to a stop.
Metal clashed against metal.
Jinji opened her eyes, finding that the sun had disappeared and her nose rested inches from a solid wall.
Her muscles tensed, alert. Feet thudded behind her, and she heard voices. Somehow, during the climb, she had neglected to realize that getting onto the platform was only half the battle.
Getting off unseen would be impossible.
Getting off unnoticed, unsuspected, might be just within limits.
Thinking quickly, she pictured the only Ourthuri man she had ever really come into contact with—the man on the ship, with burns along his wrists and a haunt to his eyes. She pictured his face, his tall lean build, his olive complexion. Dancing with her, the spirits coiled together, binding to her skin.
The men at the docks who had been piling boxes onto the platform had been like him, unmarked and burned. She prayed that those tasked with removing the items would be the same.
Copying their garb, Jinji pictured Mikzahooq, the Ourthuri who had been so kind to her, and silently thanked him for letting her borrow his face.
Opening her eyes, Jinji brought her hand before her, sighing with relief at the sight of callused fingers. The skin around her wrists bubbled an ugly red, mixed with flecks of black ink that could not be completely washed away. Letting her eyes travel farther down, Jinji saw her chest was bare with hard and flat muscles. Cloth was tied around her waist, and she didn't care to look any farther.
Taking a deep breath, Jinji crouched on all fours before gripping one of the boxes closest to her and standing fully erect.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she fought to hide a smile.
Her gamble had worked.
Men circled the platform, dressed like her and unmarked like she currently was. Their eyes carried the same haunted glaze that Mikzahooq's had. They didn’t make eye contact with each other or with anything, like their souls had been erased along with their tattoos.
Gripping the box tightly, Jinji tried to blank her stare as she followed another man off the platform and into an open room. Guards dressed in flowing golden robes held swords before their eyes, but none of them looked twice at her. So Jinji continued following the line of unmarked men as they silently trekked across the room and into a sunlit corridor.
She couldn't help but peek from underneath hooded brows at the shimmering gold all around her.
It must be the palace. No other place could be so grand and so commanding.
Her blood began to buzz with energy, sizzling into her limbs.
Rhen was close. She could feel it.
But Jinji had no idea where to go. Columns lined her vision, opening into different rooms and different atriums, acting like walls. The unmarked in front of her continued stepping at an unchanging pace, weaving intentionally and with purpose through the maze before them.
Veering to the left, the men turned into a closed corridor with solid gold walls and openings that let the breeze fly in unchecked.
A hand gripped Jinji's arm, squeezing her skin tight, and yanked.
Dropping the box, Jinji tumbled sideways, pulled by an unseen force. She pressed her lips to keep from shouting, wincing as the boom of the box echoed down the long hall.
Pushed by invisible arms, Jinji crashed into a wall.
A soft thud sounded behind her.
Spinning, Jinji caught the sight of a door slamming closed—it was the first door she had seen in this city. As it sealed shut, it melded into the wall, almost indiscernible, and Jinji was left in a small boxy room with no way out.
A body slammed into her, knocking her tight against the wall as the cool steel of a knife settled against her throat.
It was a woman.
Her face was hidden underneath of veil of golden links, dangling from a delicate jeweled crown t
hat rested on her head. But even through the small metal pieces, Jinji saw hardened wet eyes, read the anger and hurt pouring out from them.
And then something truly magical happened. The spirits awakened in Jinji's eyes, circling the woman before her in a shroud of blue so bright that it almost hurt. Water rippled along the girl's skin, clinging to the decorations on her tattooed arms, flowing down her long dress, and splashing around her face.
Jinji's heart stopped.
Aside from Rhen, she had never seen the spirits cling to a human before. And now it was happening again. But not with fire, with water. The girl was a walking ocean, her anger like waves crashing into Jinji's skin.
But instead of fear, Jinji felt comforted. The spirits had sent this woman to her. Somehow, she was meant to help.
The Ourthuri was speaking, shouting, pushing the knife deeper into Jinji's skin.
Slowly, with as much confidence as she could gather, Jinji said, "I do not understand."
The woman paused, tilted her head, and forced the knife closer as her gaze narrowed.
"You are not Ourthuri?" She asked, her voice deep and full of pain.
"No."
The knife pressed closer as the girl leaned in. Jinji didn't try to fight back.
"How do you wear that face?"
Jinji gasped. The girl recognized her, recognized the illusion—the man, Mikzahooq. Closing her eyes tight, she bit her lip, before breathing deeply.
Please, Jinji asked the spirits, please let this work.
The illusion fell away.
Jinji stood before her attacker unmasked.
The girl stepped back in shock, her mouth dropping along with the knife she held.
"I traveled with Prince Whylrhen," Jinji spoke quickly, "who came to the palace today to return four Ourthuri men that we found on a ship. One man, Mikzahooq, was very kind to me, and I borrowed the image of his body to sneak here to save the prince, who I believe your king is going to kill. I can sense the spirits around you. I can sense that you have magic too, and that it does not frighten you. I promise I did not come here with the intention to hurt anyone, only to save the prince who has become a dear friend to me."
While Jinji spoke, the girl lifted a hand to her mouth. Tears dropped below her veil, falling swiftly to the ground. She nodded slowly.
The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons) Page 14