The moon is gone, she thought. Only the stars shone above.
It was time.
Yet Koyee kept working, loathe to give the signal to attack. She kept chipping away, waiting for . . . for what? A shred of hope? A sliver of courage?
She looked behind her. Upon the chasm's eastern ledge, a hundred soldiers stood in steel, staring down into the mine. Beyond them lay a camp of tents, and somewhere up there Madori still lived, still needed her, needed a mother.
Once I swing this pickaxe at a soldier, I will never see my daughter again, Koyee thought.
She took a shaky breath, and her arms trembled. Guilt coursed through her along with her fear. Why had she always been so hard on the girl? Once Madori had grown up, had learned about her mixed blood, she had begun to rebel, to shout at her parents, at anyone who approached. Koyee had always responded with shouts of her own, even with a few slaps to Madori's cheeks, and now the guilt seemed too great to bear.
I should have hugged you then, Koyee thought, not fought against you. I should have held you close, told you that I loved you, told you that your crazy hair, your crazy clothes, your crazy ways are fine, that I love you as you are. Instead I scolded you, and I drove you away from me.
Koyee would have sold the treasure of an empire for another life with Madori, even just another moment—to hold her daughter, to tell her that she loved her always, that she was sorry.
I might never see her again, Koyee thought. But if Madori must see me die, if she must see my body wheeled away, at least she will know I died fighting. Koyee's eyes stung. The way my father died when I was young.
She took a deep breath, remembering that turn—so many years ago—when Torin had returned to her the bones of her father. Koyee squared her shoulders. She raised her chin. She turned toward the other miners, and she shouted as loud as she could: "Elorians! We are the night!"
Across the mine, the Radian overseers stared, confusion twisting their faces.
An instant later, a thousand miners swung pickaxes at their masters.
Koyee screamed as she swung her tool, now her weapon. Overseer Nafar ran toward her—towering, gaunt, and sneering. The Magerian raised the stump of his right arm, the one which ended with a whip instead of a hand. He swung that whip toward her. Koyee's pickaxe drove into his face before the lash could strike her. The overseer—the man who had whipped her so many times, had slain so many Elorians around her—crashed down, blood gushing from the ruin of his face. Koyee was so weak she nearly collapsed, but she swung again and again, slamming the pickaxe down until the overseer moved no more.
That is for all those times you beat me, she thought, panting, blood on her face.
"The nightcrawlers are attacking!" shouted Gora, the squat Magerian who had led Pahmey's survivors here, who had beaten Madori bloody too often to count. Koyee silenced the brute with a swing of her pickaxe just as he drew his sword. When Gora fell, blood gushing from his belly, she drove the pick into his neck, finishing the job.
That is for my daughter, she thought, drenched in his spurting blood.
She glanced around her, panting and dizzy. Across the mine, the Elorians were swinging their picks against their masters, but only three other Radians had fallen; many more remained. Dozens of Elorians already lay dead, pierced with Radian swords or simply fallen to exhaustion and disease, the attack taking out the last of their strength. Koyee watched, frozen for an instant, as the living Radians plowed through the herd of slaves, swinging their swords, cutting Elorians down. Most of the picks rebounded harmlessly off the Radians' armor.
"Aim for their faces!" Koyee shouted. "Don't attack the armor. Elorians, aim for—"
Whistles filled the air. Arrows descended from above the canyon. Koyee turned to see many Radian archers standing upon the rim, firing down. The arrows drove into the crowd of Elorians, and screams rose. Blood splattered. Elorians fell dead.
Koyee screamed and swung her pickaxe again. Two other Elorians fought at her side; the three picks took down another Radian soldier.
And so here I die, Koyee thought as more arrows fell from above. Here, in darkness, fighting, a weapon in my hand. It was not a bad way to die.
"Fight your way out!" Koyee shouted. She pointed at the craggy staircase the Radians had carved into the canyon wall, letting them move between the mine and tents above. "Up! To their camp! Overwhelm their tents and slay them all!"
She knew it was hopeless. Not with a hundred thousand slaves could she defeat men in armor, not with the slaves so famished and ill, already nearly dead, chains hobbling them. But if she could, she would die seeing Madori one more time. Her daughter would see her fighting as a free heroine, not dying as a slave.
"Eloria, we are the night!" Koyee cried, leading the way toward the stairs. Behind her, those Radians already in the canyon were butchering Elorians one by one. From above, arrows still fell. Soon a hundred slaves had died, but Koyee climbed onto the staircase, and she swung her pickaxe, knocking a Radian down. The other Elorians climbed behind her—bald, battered, weary, and free warriors.
"We are the night!" they cried together. "For Eloria! For Koyee!"
She kept climbing, knocking men down. Her ankles were hobbled, the chain only a foot long, just long enough to let her climb step by step. She had fought in battles before—upon the walls of Pahmey, in the canal of Sinyong, in the streets of Yintao, in the heart of Cabera Mountain—but here was her greatest battle, the last battle of her life. Here she was stronger and nobler than ever before.
She reached the edge of the staircase, emerged from the mine, and hobbled into the camp. Her ankles were still shackled. Her arms were so weak she could barely hold her pickaxe. Twenty Radians or more rode toward her upon their horses, all in steel, bearing lances, and Koyee raised her pickaxe, ready to fight and die.
Steel arrows flew through the night.
Battle cries rose.
Koyee winced and swung her pickaxe blindly.
The Radian riders crashed down, arrowheads bursting out from their chests. Their horses reared, whinnied, and scattered.
Koyee stared and gasped. Tears flooded her eyes.
"Hope," she whispered. She trembled. "Hope is here."
With battle cries and swinging katanas, a hundred Ilari soldiers rode into the camp upon black panthers, slaying the Radians and roaring for the night.
Koyee ran. Her chains clattered between her ankles. She fell and found that she could not rise. She crawled.
"Madori!" She climbed over a Radian corpse. At her side, an Ilari warrior astride a panther locked swords with a Radian rider. "Madori! Daughter!"
No answer came. Koyee tried to stand up. She fell again. Her head thumped against the earth, and her pickaxe fell from her hands.
* * * * *
They rolled among the smoking bones, the daughter of an emperor and a famished, dying woman torn between day and night. Above in the sky, the dragon howled and swooped. Magic shot out from Lari's hands, blasted skyward, and stretched across the pit's opening like a membrane. Tianlong the dragon crashed down against the black, quivering shield; Madori could see his fangs and claws scratch against it, unable to break through. Jitomi's muffled voice cried from beyond: "Madori, Madori!"
Lying with Madori among the bones in the mass grave, Lari laughed maniacally. "They cannot break through! Even the dragon of the nightcrawlers is too weak to resist my magic." She looked back at Madori. "It's just you and me now, mongrel. You tried to steal my plaything. You tried to kill yourself. But you are mine to torment, and you will be mine for many years." She grabbed Madori's wrist. "Return me my dagger so that I may cut off your fingers. You won't be able to try that trick again without any fingers."
Madori screamed and tried to hold onto the dagger. But she was too weak. She cried out as Lari twisted her wrist, and the dagger fell from her grip.
"You cannot win!" Madori shouted. "Ilar attacks. Eloria fights back. You will die this turn."
Lari laughed and drove her knee into
Madori's belly. Madori coughed, unable to breathe. She gagged, losing the paltry meal she had eaten in the tent.
"I will live forever!" Lari shouted, laughing. Shreds of magic still clung to her fingers, and her hair crackled and rose like a fire. "No nightcrawler can harm me. I will turn you into a creature. Give me your hand! I will cut off finger by finger."
She grabbed Madori's wrist again. Lying on the pile of skeletons, Madori screamed, grabbed a bone, and tugged. The bone detached from the skeleton, and Madori swung it like a club. The femur connected with Lari's head with a crack.
"You cannot win," Madori repeated, her voice hoarser now, weaker. Every breath drained out precious energy. "I defeated you at the trials at Teel. I will defeat you now. Your kind will never win."
She swung the bone again. Lari's temple bled, but the princess managed to catch the bone. She shattered it in her palm as if it were a twig.
"We've already won, mongrel." Lari smiled and licked blood off her lips. "Your kind is all dead, all but a few scattered wretches. You will be the last nightcrawler alive."
She swiped her dagger.
The blade sliced Madori's finger, cutting through the joint.
Madori screamed.
Her blood gushed out, spraying Lari's face. Her finger fell, dangling from her hand by only a shred of skin. There was no pain, only horror, only so much blood.
"I love the taste of your blood." Lari greedily licked the blade. "Now for the next finger. Slower this time, so you can feel it."
The princess grabbed Madori's hand again and lowered her dagger.
Madori's eyes rolled back. She felt ready to faint. She felt the blade begin to cut her skin.
I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry. I failed you.
Koyee was smiling down at her, rocking Madori in her arms, singing a lullaby, a song of the night. They were back in Fairwool-by-Night, and Madori was very young and felt very safe. Sunlight fell through the windows and a robin sang outside. The music soothed her, the song "Sailing Alone," a song of fear, of longing, of passageways in the dark.
You survived, Mother, Madori thought. You survived, Father. You fought great enemies and you defeated them.
The blade cut deeper.
"Good . . . bleed for me, mongrel," Lari said.
Madori screamed in rage.
"I am Elorian!" Her voice roared, torn with pain. "I am a daughter of Eloria. We are the night!"
She formed a fist with her four remaining fingers. She drove that fist upward and slammed it against Lari's face.
Lari fell back, her nose crushed, her tooth knocked loose. The dagger fell from her grip and clattered between the bones. As the skulls watched, Madori lifted the dagger, stumbled toward Lari, and drove the blade downward.
The dagger crashed into Lari's chest, thrust between the ribs, and sank deep.
Lari screamed, gurgling on blood.
"You could have lived," Madori whispered. "You could have lived in peace, an empress, an ally." She twisted the blade. Lari twitched, kicking, gasping. "Now you die among the bones of those you murdered."
Madori pulled the dagger out. Lari gave one last twitch, one last gurgle, then lay still and silent.
The magic vanished above, revealing the sky again.
Madori fell.
She lay on her back atop the skeletons. Her head tilted sideways, and she saw the skulls looking at her, and it seemed to Madori that she could see their eyes again. They were watching her. Thanking her.
Arms wrapped around her, and blinking, Madori thought she could see Jitomi's face. He was kneeling above her, calling her name, but then he faded like the world, and she smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
THE DISTANT LIGHT
"Hush now, little Madori. You are home. You are home."
The little girl smiled softly, her nightmares easing. Whenever she dreamed of monsters under her bed or ghosts in her closet, her mother's soft words could soothe her. Mother was stroking her hair now, and Madori felt her fear flow away. The pain of fever dreams melted like the candles they used in the night.
She blinked softly, struggling to open her eyes. The bed was soft around her, warm and safe, womb-like, enveloping her. Mother looked down from above, her lavender eyes loving.
"Mama?" Madori whispered. "Are the monsters gone?"
"Yes, sweet child." Koyee wiped the sweat off Madori's forehead. "All gone. We defeated them."
Madori shivered. These dreams had been worse than monsters or ghosts. She had dreamed of cruel men in steel, and many bones, and starvation in darkness, and . . .
She frowned. She sat up in bed so quickly her head spun. The room swayed around her. And she remembered.
She was no longer a child but a woman. The iron mine. The chasm of bones. Lari. Jitomi.
"Mother!" Madori's eyes flooded with tears. "Mother, you're alive."
Koyee looked thin, almost skeletal, her cheeks sunken and her eyes huge. White stubble covered her head, all her long, silvery hair gone. But she wore a cloak of lush black silk, the cloth embroidered with red flames. She smiled warmly and color touched her cheeks.
"I'm alive, sweetling. We're both ali—"
Madori would not let her complete her sentence. She leaped up and wrapped her arms around Koyee, squeezing so hard, never wanting to let go. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks onto Koyee's cloak.
"I'm so sorry, Mother." Madori shook, barely able to breathe. "I'm so sorry for everything. For everything. For how I was. For fighting, rebelling, running off to Teel. Please forgive me."
Koyee laughed and her own tears fell. "Only if you forgive me for being a horrible, stern nightmare of a mother to you. My own mother died when I was so young, and I didn't know how to handle you." She held Madori tight. "I'm so glad we're both here."
Held in her mother's embrace, Madori looked around her. Where was "here?" She saw curving clay walls, iron beams, and a small round window. The room was still swaying. At first Madori had thought herself dizzy, but now she realized—she was on a ship.
Gingerly, she released her mother, stepped off the bed, and stood for a moment on bare feet. She was wearing a silken gown, and her wounds were bandaged. A thought struck her and she looked at her hand. Her finger, which Lari had cut off, was reattached and bound tightly. A smile tingled across her lips, and Madori tiptoed toward the porthole and peered outside.
A gasp fled her lips. Many other ships sailed outside, a great fleet—their sails battened, their decks lined with cannons, their figureheads shaped as dragons and panthers. Red flames were painted onto iron hulls.
"The Armada of Ilar," she whispered in awe. She spun back toward her mother. "Jitomi! I remember. He brought aid." She laughed. "Not all Eloria has fallen. There is hope."
A voice spoke softly behind her. "There is always hope."
She turned around, saw him standing at the door, and her eyes dampened anew. "Jitomi."
He smiled, though there was pain and sadness to that smile, and suddenly Madori hesitated. She had parted from Jitomi in anger at Oshy. Would he still be mad at her? Were things still broken between them? But then his smile widened, and his eyes softened, and he held out his arms. She raced toward him and they embraced. He kissed the stubbly top of her head.
"Silly little Billygoat," he said.
She gasped. "Nobody but my parents is allowed to call me that." A thought struck her, and she turned back toward Koyee. "What of Father? Have we any word of him?"
Koyee still sat upon the bed, her hands in her lap. Her eyes darkened. "Only rumors. They say that your father was captured in Kingswall, but that Cam freed him from his Radian captors. Men speak of a Free Arden in the northern forests, joined to Verilon. A northern front rages there. I believe that Torin still lives, that he still fights." She placed a hand against her chest. "Our hearts are joined, and I can feel his heart still beating with mine."
Madori breathed a sigh of relief. Father was fighting in the war, but he had not died, at least not that they knew of. She snif
fed and turned back toward Jitomi. "What of Tam? And Neekeya?"
Jitomi lowered his head. "Of them we have no words, no whispers, no rumors. All we know is that, when we parted last year, they were heading to Daenor. We've heard talk of Daenor falling to the Radians, but not of our friends' fate."
Madori nodded silently, and fear for her friends gnawed on her. "I need to see the water and the sky." She wobbled toward the door, still so weak. When she passed by a mirror, she looked at herself, and she barely recognized the reflection. The girl she had been—with tanned skin, fierce eyes, and two long strands of black hair—was gone. Instead she saw a pale, thin woman, only black stubble on her head. Her purple eyes seemed even larger than usual in her gaunt face. She tightened her lips, looked away, and exited the chamber.
She found a staircase and climbed, holding onto the rail for support. The smell of oil, steel, and water filled her nostrils, and she breathed in deeply and climbed onto the deck.
"We're sailing on the Inaro," she whispered in awe. She would recognize this river anywhere; it was the river that ran south of Oshy, her home in the night, and that morphed into the Sern River upon which Fairwool-by-Night had stood. She did not recognize what part of the Inaro this was, only that here was the starlit water of her childhood.
The deck stretched hundreds of feet long, and many Elorian soldiers bustled across it. They were not the soldiers of Qaelin, her homeland; Qaelish soldiers wore steel scales and elegant, curving helmets. These soldiers wore heavy, lacquered plates painted red and black, tassels hanging from them. Their helmets were shaped as snarling demons complete with horns and fur mustaches. Many katanas hung across their backs, the grips wrapped with red silk. Here were the soldiers of Ilar, the southern empire Jitomi was from.
When she looked across the water, Madori saw many other Ilari ships, all bearing the Red Flame sigil. She gasped to see some Timandrian ships too—tall carracks built of wood, their sails woven of canvas. When she noticed that Ilari banners rose from them too, she tilted her head.
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