When Jin was done talking, tears rolled down his cheeks. His eyes were red, puffy. His breathing was deep, as though speaking had been more strenuous than even a battle.
Rhen reached out and squeezed his upper arm, trying to infuse comfort.
"I will help you," he said, emphasizing his honesty with one more tight squeeze of his hand. "We will defeat this shadow, together."
Jin nodded, smiling weakly.
Rhen returned it more reassuringly. The boy sounded mad, crazed. Rhen didn't believe in this spiritual beast, but he believed that Jin thought it was real. And that was enough for now.
"Come." Rhen nodded toward the door. "There is something I want to show you."
"What?"
"You have to see it." He grinned slyly, satisfied when he saw Jin's brows knit together and his eyes twinkle with interest.
They both needed this.
They both needed some fun.
When they emerged on deck, Rhen felt the crew staring. A prince and an Arpapajo—this was the stuff of excellent gossip. But he didn't mind, because not being alone somehow made all the difference.
Looking at the horizon, Rhen saw the land had enlarged, taking up a deeper portion of the sky. He could make out jagged cliff faces, the tops of pointed pines, flat grassy hilltops, even the smallest bit of gold ore shimmering against the sun. The western shore of Whylkin was not for the faint of heart. The waters roared in from the chaos of the dueling sea, where warm southwestern currents met with cold northern tides and crashed against the coast in an endless battle, cutting the land into steep walls of rock. Quite different compared to the calm beachy shores of the southeastern lands.
But Rhen preferred the wildness—the mysticism, the magic mirrored in his own soul.
There was a little bit of time before the ship would enter the Straits, a river running through the center of a deep ravine—just enough time to reach the perfect viewpoint.
Knowing Jin followed, Rhen stepped to the edge of the ship, reaching for the ropes knotted into a climbable structure. They were going back to the crow's nest.
Gripping firmly with one hand, he pulled, loving how his muscles burned to life. Every nerve singed with the mix of pain and pleasure, of exertion.
The crew began to stare more openly the higher Rhen climbed, looking on in awe at a royal son so comfortable on the water—a royal son who could scale the ropes just as naturally as one of them.
When he reached the top, his chest was heaving, but his face was plastered with a smile. The gods! It felt good to be in the fresh air, the open water. He had to savor these moments, because in no time he would be stuck behind the palace walls, under the all too close watch of his father.
"Rhen," Jin gasped.
He spun, smirking at the small boy a few feet below him, hugging more than climbing the ropes.
"Give me your hand," he said, reaching down. When Jin held on tight, Rhen pulled him up, still mildly surprised at how weightless he felt. At the same age, Rhen was probably twice or three times his size.
But I was training to be a knight, he reminded himself. Jin had trained for nothing more than hunting game in the woods. And arrows were a lot lighter than broadswords.
The boy would grow with time.
"Hold onto the edge if you need to, but try to stay standing," Rhen said, turning easily on his feet as they swayed with the boat.
The Straits were closer.
"Have you ever heard of the Great Flood?"
No answer came.
Rhen turned to find Jin struggling to stand. He reached his hand out to steady the boy, but Jin shied away, gripping the edge of the wood even harder, until his tanned hands turned almost white.
Stubborn.
"Legend says that thousands of years ago, humans weren't always alone in this world. Other creatures lived among us. Some believe they were giant beasts able to tear trees clean from the ground. Others say they were more cunning creatures—small and terrible that would wreak unseen havoc. And still others claim they were monsters that fed on the blood of children, enslaving us under their reign of doom."
Rhen paused to look at Jin, who, he begrudgingly admitted, didn't seem the least bit scared or frightened—not the reaction Rhen had been hoping for. These were the sorts of stories that only felt satisfying when the listener was cowering in fear—not mildly aloof and turning slightly green.
No matter, Rhen loved to tell it anyway. He imagined Captain Pygott—blue eyes gleaming against less-wrinkled skin, voice hushed and restrained. The captain hadn't been the first to tell him of the Great Flood, but he had been the best.
"We'll never know the truth," Rhen continued, "but we do know one thing—the earth was on our side. These creatures were unnatural, were destroying the world around them. They had no regard for the natural order. Their powers tested the fates, reversed the paths laid down for us by the gods, and because of that, the humans were granted a weapon—nature itself would rise to do our bidding, would help us defeat them.
"So, on the eve of a great war, the humans gathered. Different races, different peoples from all over the world joined together in one place to pray to the spirits, to the earth, to save us. And we were heard."
At that, Jin did begin to pay attention. His body stiffened. Rhen bit his cheek to fight off a grin.
"The spirits listened?" The boy asked, wonder coloring his words.
"They did." Rhen nodded. "As our enemies marched their warriors closer and closer, nature fought against them. Wind crushed buildings to the ground. The earth rumbled beneath their feet, breaking into cracks that swallowed entire villages whole. Fire rained from the skies, burning these creatures alive. But still, they kept on marching, kept on coming. The humans would die, would be enslaved by the all powerful creatures that were stronger than the world itself."
"How did we escape? What did we do?"
"We didn't do anything. The gods did, the spirits did. They sent a wave of water taller than the highest mountain over the land. It drowned the entire world, covering the earth in an endless sea, killing all but the most devout humans who had gathered here, at the base of the realm of the gods, the mountains we now call the Gates. It was the Great Flood. And when the waters receded, all that remained were the lands of Whylkin and the handful of islands we now call the Kingdom of Ourthuro. Everything and everyone else was buried, lost to the world for all time."
Rhen let the silence stretch and hang, filling the tiny space between them. The shoreline had closed in; the sky was slowly disappearing as the cliffs took over. The Straits waited before them, an open mouth poised to swallow the ship.
"That's a good story," Jin whispered.
Raising an eyebrow, Rhen looked at the boy, then back to the sea. They were so close. So close. He waited, one more moment, before responding, "It isn’t just a story, Jin. Look."
Rhen pointed to the front of the ship, to the blue waters extending beyond the bow, and past them to the start of the Straits.
The ship was still a little far away, but Rhen knew where to look. Already, he could see the white and black dots scattering along the inner walls of the Straits. The closer they got, the more obvious it became to his well-trained eyes.
Jin's brows were still furrowed. His neck was extended, stretching as close as possible to the scene. Rhen watched as the boy pursed his lips, as wrinkles spread along his forehead.
A shadow fell over them.
Jin gasped, head wrenching up to the sky. A yelp escaped his lips, as though he expected something to drop from the clouds.
Rhen smirked. It was just the cliffs, stretching high overhead and blocking out the sun. They were just about to cross over into the mouth of the river.
Which could only mean one thing…his story was working. It wasn't right for someone to be anything but scared during his first trip through the Straits—it was a rite of passage, one step in becoming a man. Plus, his brothers had done the same to him. It was only fair that Rhen got to inflict the pain on someone e
lse.
"Rhen!" Jin gasped. And Rhen knew he had finally seen it—the thing that legends were made of, the unanswerable mystery. "Are those…?"
"Yes."
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the scene that still made his throat hitch in terror, and gulped deeply.
Bones.
Skulls.
Armor.
All of it, stuck between layers of hardened, immobile rock.
Most of it just looked like thin strips of white or black sandwiched between brownish-gray stone. But every so often, two empty eyes would peer out, hollow and haunting. The glint of a now dull blade might catch the sun. Or the chink of rusted armor. The longer one looked, the more there was to see. A hand pushing out through rock. A spine bending almost in a circle. A helmet, cracked clean in half with the bone missing, taken by time.
"Buried by the flood, by nature itself," Rhen said.
An entire battlefield lay stuck in these walls, frozen in time yet completely forgotten.
Rhen snuck a quick look at Jin, who was still enraptured.
He took a small step back, the biggest the tiny space would allow, hoping Jin might forget he was there.
He waited.
Waited.
Slowed his breathing.
Knelt down.
Hid.
Then in one quick motion, he sprang forward, wrapping his hands around Jin's shoulders and throat while yelling as loud as he could into the boy's ear.
Perfect.
Instantly, a screech, as high-pitched as any Rhen had heard from a woman, broke free of Jin's lips. And kept going. And kept going.
Until Rhen, enveloped in a fit of laughter, fell to floor of the small crow's nest—his body too uncontrolled to hold him upright.
The screech finally came to a halt.
Below them, Rhen heard muffled coughs—coughs that sounded distinctly un-cough like.
He rolled onto his back. He felt the boy's eyes on him, heard his heavy breathing.
Then suddenly, Jin was on the floor too, next to Rhen, bursts of joy escaping his lips.
"Jin," Rhen forced out between deep breaths, "you, you sounded…that…a girl…so high."
The words were incoherent, but he knew Jin would understand.
They stayed like that, comfortable, until all sound except deep breathing died away. Then Jin stiffened, sitting up, pulling his thighs flat against his chest.
Rhen stayed where he was, watching clouds float by overhead, perfectly content to let his feet dangle in the breeze.
"Rhen?"
"Hmm?"
He shifted his gaze to Jin, whose head rested on his knee, pensively studying the cliff face to the side of the ship.
"Do you think…" He paused. "Do you think the flood was real?"
Rhen shrugged. "I don't know, Jin, it's just a legend."
"Do you think…" He paused again. "Is it possible that a human caused it? Someone like you or me?"
Rhen sat up, listening.
"What if before, people could use these gifts, could actually make things happen?"
"How so?"
"What if before, instead of just pulling the fire under your skin, you could create it? What if someone could do the same thing with water?"
"That's not natural," Rhen said the first words that came to mind. But part of him was intrigued—the part of him that as a boy had tried to do that very thing.
"I think it would be the most natural thing in the world," Jin said, soft and fragile.
"Well, if you feel a sudden urge to drown the kingdom, let me know, okay?" He grinned.
Jin rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.
"We're in this together, you and me," Rhen said, nudging the boy with his knee. "We'll defeat the Ourthuri. Dissipate your shadow. And with whatever time is left over, we'll figure out what the spirits mean to do with us. Agreed?"
He offered his hand.
Jin looked at it, and then slowly stretched his own forward.
A pact.
Clouds gathered in the boy's eyes, but Rhen chose to ignore them. Instead standing, stretching his arms high overhead, and letting a yawn open his mouth.
"I think I need some food," he said sleepily, before jumping easily down onto the ropes, starting his descent.
The day was too beautiful for doubts.
15
JINJI
~ WHITE STONE SEA ~
Jinji was leaving.
She would wait until Rhen was reunited with his family, until he was distracted, but as soon as that happened, she was gone.
She had to be.
It had all started with a dream—so small, so insignificant, yet everything.
Jinji sat in the golden palace. Rhen's head rested on her lap. A gold dress flowed over her limbs, her eyes were hooded with the veil, and she ran her fingers lovingly over his cheeks.
"Rhen," she whispered, dipping her lips down so they skimmed the soft skin below his ear. "Wake up."
Hair fell over her shoulder, hair that was black and long and luscious—hair that was not cut in mourning, that showed no respect for her heritage, for her family.
A hand gently cupped her cheek. It was coarse and callused, yet comforting.
"Jinji," a deep voice said. She pulled back, meeting sparkling green eyes—the color of the forest just before twilight.
Rhen.
And he looked at her like she was his world.
Slowly, she pulled the metal mask off her head, but his expression bore no surprise. He knew who she was. He had known the entire time.
His fingers slipped behind her neck, running through her heavy locks, massaging the skin around her shoulders before pulling her down.
Down.
Closer.
Until their breath mingled, hot and electric.
And then his lips were on her skin, setting it ablaze. His fingers like lava as they traced a path down her back, over thin fabrics, to her hip, and still lower.
Jinji gasped.
She had never been touched like this before. Never been held like this.
Her skin prickled, hot to the touch. Her fingers stretched into his hair, gripping the short strands, forcing his face closer.
But then they both stopped moving, halted in time.
Suddenly, his lips turned cold. His hands fell away.
Jinji sat up. But it was not Rhen below her anymore.
It was Maniuk—face frozen in betrayal.
She blinked.
The face changed to that of her father—eyes downcast with disappointment.
Tears blurred her vision, so she rubbed them away.
Now her mother—mouth open in disgust.
"No!" She yelled and stood, backing away.
The body shifted, flipped over—rotting fingers gripped the ground, pulling the carcass closer. The figure stood.
And it was Janu.
"Have you forgotten?" He asked. The skin around his lips flaked away. "Have you forgotten what you are?"
His hands rose up and gripped her cheeks. His skin melted off, dripping to her feet until finally it was her own face that remained.
"Remember," she said, "remember."
And then she had awoken, panting in the darkness, her heart racing as fast as it had ever felt. But it wasn't the shadow—it was her own guilt haunting her.
The dream played on repeat in her sleep, sometimes changing location, but always the same. Rhen or her family. Rhen or her vengeance.
She could not have both.
Traveling with Rhen had brought her no closer to answers. It had been a distraction—perhaps a needed one, a way to free herself from the loss, to open herself up to the outside world, now far less scary than it had been only weeks before. But there was no forgetting her people or her mission.
The spirits were guiding her, but toward what? It was time to take fate into her own hands. And if Rhen could not help her defeat the shadow, she needed to leave him behind and find someone who could.
; No matter how much her heart tightened at that thought.
"Are you practicing? Like that?"
Jinji turned. She had forgotten about the sword resting in her lap, the one Rhen was trying his best to teach her how to use. Her mind had been elsewhere, but now she was aware.
The world filtered back into focus.
"No." She shrugged, removing it and letting it drop onto the ground beside her. She was at the bow of the ship, sitting with legs crossed as she gazed out at the waters before her.
They had left the deep canals, the cliffs, and the river behind long ago. Now they were in the White Stone Sea as Rhen had called it, affection evident in his voice. This was his territory, his home. And it was as beautiful as anything she had ever laid eyes on.
The sea was turquoise—brighter and more vibrant than any waters she had ever seen before. Rhen said it was the sand.
There was a mountain range in the middle of the sea, huge peaks that stretched endlessly into the clouds. The locals called them the Gates—the entrance to the spirit world. No humans had ever been able to climb them and live to tell the tale, though Rhen assured her that some had tried. But the stones, he said, were pure white. The mountains looked like snow and ice from afar, but they were rock. A smooth, polished stone unlike anywhere else in their world.
The sand was made from that rock—the waters beat against the mountains, knocking pieces off and breaking them down into rubble. The pure ivory that decorated the sea floor turned the water the most unbelievable hue, a liquid gemstone.
"We should be arriving in Rayfort today, a few hours at the most," Rhen said from above. He stood next to her, resting his forearms on the wooden rail, eyes focused on the search for his home. "I recognize the shoreline."
Jinji stayed seated, keeping her distance. "What will happen when we get there?"
"I imagine my family will be both relieved and annoyed at my appearance. The Naming should be happening soon, they've likely been postponing it until I return. The ceremony cannot be completed without the entire royal house present. My brother and I must hand over our right to the throne to the new Son of Whyl, removing our claim to keep the future succession untainted."
The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons) Page 18