Gold

by Adam Heine

  The third time it happened, Luthiya curled up in an out–of–the–way alcove and cried. What could she do? She didn’t want to stay behind, but neither did she want to return to Shuenha. I couldn’t stay if I wanted, she thought bitterly. Ama doesn’t want me.

  Of course, Ama knew she was working for Khapah. Luthiya didn’t have to help Khapah, nor did she have to run Ama’s made–up errands. But she always did. Why? It wasn’t about pleasing everyone—Luthiya hardly ever pleased everyone.

  It was about getting her mind off of herself. It was about forgetting her pain.

  So it’s selfish. Luthiya frowned, disappointed in herself.

  She got to her feet and dried her eyes. Sitting and crying wouldn’t help anyone, not even herself. She couldn’t do Khapah’s bidding, not if he wanted revenge. Fighting the Tabaht would only cause more suffering. If Khapah and the others were set on going back to Shuenha, then Luthiya would have to help them see that they were wrong.

  And if that failed, she’d make sure they couldn’t go back.

  Ama would support her. They wanted the same thing, though maybe for different reasons. They both wanted the Shue to survive, to have a better life.

  First, though, she had to finish Ama’s errand, even if it had been invented just to get her out of the chantry. She marched through the tunnels with renewed confidence. She’d finally found a way to serve her people without hurting them at the same time.

  It was a long walk to the Marrow Chamber, across at least two sections that were outside the force walls. She sprinted through the first of these. An underground flow of magma was just to her right, burning her skin with its heat until the force wall hit her like a gust of cold wind. She closed her eyes as she ran through it, enjoying the feel of it. That’s how she ran into Jio, knocking both of them down.

  “What are you doing?” Jio asked, pushing her off with a chuckle.

  “Sorry.” She stood, clasping her hands in front of her. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone else in these tunnels.”

  “Tsio found a new cache of relics,” Jio said, showing her what he’d been carrying—some sort of enormous circular shield, and a wooden cube. “He asked me to help him bring it all to the bone tower.”

  “That’s where I’m headed, too.”

  They walked back together. Nobody wanted to walk through the tunnels alone unless they had to. “What’s Ama doing?” Jio asked after a while.

  “I don’t know. She’s been sending me away lately.”

  Jio chuckled. “She’s figured out how Khapah’s using you.”

  “He’s not using me.” She glared at him. “I help them both.”

  “Right. And who do you side with when they want different things?”

  “I don’t take sides.”

  Jio gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her.

  “I don’t.” She put one hand on her hip. “As a matter of fact, I was about to—”

  “Thiya, stop,” Jio hissed, blocking her with his arm.

  They’d turned a bend. A fire wight stood in front of them, only a few short steps away.

  Luthiya’s heart hammered. “The force walls.” They were in the Glass Hall. Toppled towers of crystal lay at her feet, miniature ruins sprawling across the floor on either side of the path. They’d entered the unprotected passage without noticing.

  “Walk back.” Jio looked much calmer than Luthiya felt, but his voice shook. He lifted up the shield he’d been carrying, though after what had happened to the Tabaht, he must have known it was worthless.

  Luthiya took two slow steps backward. Glass ruins crunched under her feet. The nearest force wall was ahead of them where the Glass Hall ended around the next bend, but the wight was in their way. It would take a hundred slow steps to reach the force wall behind them.

  The wight watched her as she went. It didn’t seem to notice Jio at all. When Luthiya had taken several steps back, the wight began to move forward.

  “Jio, we have to run.”

  Jio nodded. His chin trembled, but his eyes were grim. He began walking backward, too, more quickly because the wight was still ignoring him. “Go!” he said.

  Luthiya turned to run. She’d taken only one step when Jio shouted. She spun around. The wight moved fast, but Jio stepped in its way. The creature glanced at him for a single heartbeat, then it tackled him to the ground.

  “Jio!” she shrieked. The creature grabbed Jio’s chest, its arms going right through the shield he held. He let out a chilling scream.

  Luthiya’s breaths came rapidly. Golden light pulsed through the wight’s arms, making it brighter, almost solid. Meanwhile, Jio grew weaker. His skin was already grey and stretched. “Jio!” she screamed again, tears streaming from her face. What do I do?

  Jio looked at her, though the face she saw was not the friend she knew. He looked like a corpse. “Go,” he rasped. Then he fell still.

  The wight stood slowly. It was larger now, as solid as the stone walls. Its feet stood firmly on the ground, and its glow hurt Luthiya’s eyes. It was nothing like the ghostly creature it had been.

  It faced her.

  She ran.

  Her vision blurred. The creature gained on her; she could hear it. It had footsteps now, echoing through the tunnel like war drums. She turned a corner. Her toe caught in a crack. She fell.

  The wight’s yellow glow illuminated the walls, growing brighter with each second. She scrambled to her feet, hardly noticing that she’d skinned her knee.

  The footsteps came closer. The air grew cool, though she was still far from the force wall. It was the wight, communicating. Luthiya no longer believed cold meant gratitude.

  The force wall was just ahead of her, but her legs ached and she could barely see through her tears. The light in the tunnel grew unbearable. The wight’s outstretched hand appeared in the corner of her eye, centimeters from her shoulder. She screamed, twisting away, only to stumble on a protruding rock shelf. She hit the ground hard and covered her face from the wight’s attack.

  It was many heartbeats before she realized nothing had happened. She peeked through her fingers. The wight towered over her, its shoulders rising and falling as though it was breathing hard from the chase. It made no move toward her. It took Luthiya too long to figure out why: she’d made it to the force wall.

  She should’ve felt relieved, but all she could think about was Jio’s desiccated face staring at her with hollow eyes. She curled into a ball, put her hands on her head, and covered her face with her arms. She thought she was long out of tears, but they came freely, violently, her body shuddering with each gasp. Her sobs echoed down the tunnels, but there was no one there to hear.

  Chapter 8

  The air became warm, the tunnel dim. The wight had left, though she didn’t know how long ago.

  I have to go, have to warn the others. But she couldn’t. The thought of moving, of going back outside the force wall, physically hurt, like a band tightening around her chest.

  “Can’t.” Her voice shuddered. “I can’t.” The tunnel was empty, but she could still see the wight standing there, burning like death. She shut her eyes, and the burning became her home in Shuenha, set aflame by the Tabaht with her parents still inside.

  “NO!” She stretched out her hand, not caring that the house was surrounded by mounted soldiers. But she couldn’t move. Something held her back.

  “Don’t! You’ll die with them.”

  “I don’t care. Let me go!” She twisted and pulled, but Khapah was too strong.

  He turned her to face him. His normally handsome face was darkened by soot, streaked with blood. “We have to live, makoeh.” He dried her face with his sleeve. “They want you to live.”

  “Have to live,” she breathed. “Have to.” There were a couple hundred people in the upper ruins. They were in danger. They had to know what had happened, what the wights were capable of.

  Luthiya took three deep, quaking breaths. She balled her fists, forced herself up. The wight was
really gone; only the dim blue light from distant glowglobes lit the tunnel. She took two deep breaths, then she bolted through the force wall and into the sweltering tunnels outside.

  She glanced down every branch, looking for any sign of the wights’ golden glow. She took different turns, avoiding the Glass Hall. She didn’t have the strength to see Jio again. She hardly had the strength to do what she was doing. The next force wall came sooner than she thought, and the cool air sent a chill up the back of her neck. She launched herself up the stairs and into the Marrow Chamber.

  “Khapah!” She was frantic. People gave her strange looks, but she didn’t care. “Where’s Khapah?”

  “Here. Thiya, what is it?”

  He hustled over from the archway where two wights stood drinking. Luthiya recoiled at the sight of them.

  “What?” He took a closer look at her. She must have been a mess: cuts and scrapes, clothes drenched in sweat, eyes swollen from bawling. He brushed a lock of hair that had stuck to her face. “What’s wrong, makoeh? What happened?”

  “Jio, he—” Her throat closed up. She couldn’t say the words. She threw herself into his arms. His shirt muffled her voice as she said, “He’s dead.”

  “What?” His grip tightened.

  “The wights.” Her words spilled over each other then. She told Khapah how she’d met Jio in the tunnel, how the wight had cut them off, how he… he. He saved my life.

  Khapah said nothing for a long time. She pulled back to look at him. His face had gone ashen. “When was this?” he managed.

  “I don’t know. I–I was scared. I lost track. I…”

  “It’s okay, makoeh. We’ll take care of it.” He swallowed, then shouted for Tsio. “Get everyone inside the force walls,” Khapah told him. “Travel in groups, and whatever you do, stay away from the wights.”

  Tsio chuckled. “We already do that.”

  “It’s different now,” Khapah said, his jaw firm. “They killed Jio.”

  Tsio’s smile fell away. He nodded, then left to carry out Khapah’s orders—not before grabbing a halberd, though.

  For all the good it will do him, Luthiya thought.

  Khapah took her hand. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “To the chantry. Ama will know what to do.”

  Luthiya followed, feeling numb. Only hours ago she had made some kind of decision. What was it? Did it even matter now? No, Khapah was right. Ama would help them. Then maybe they could leave this awful place forever.

  ***

  Ama’s back was to them when they entered the chantry. She was crouched over something that gave off a soft yellow glow. Luthiya clutched Khapah’s hand, convinced for one terrible moment that Ama was conversing with a wight.

  Khapah squeezed her hand and kept walking. Ama didn’t turn around, but she said, “I’ve found it, Thiya! I was right.”

  They came closer and saw her hunched over the urlimnion. It glowed brighter than it had ever been, oscillating back and forth around its vertical axis. “Why is it doing that?” Luthiya found herself asking.

  “The wights. They’re the key to it all! They do need help. The urlimnion reacts as we aid them.”

  “Aid them how, exactly?” Khapah asked.

  Ama finally stood and turned around. Her mouth opened in a wide smile, her eyes wide and bright. Luthiya simmered with anger. How could Ama be so happy when they were surrounded by these murderous creatures? She had said they were harmless.

  Ama’s smile disappeared when she saw Khapah and Luthiya’s faces. In controlled tones, she asked them what was wrong.

  Luthiya clenched her teeth to bite back her anger. “The wights killed Jio.”

  Ama’s face became grim, though her eyes retained a bit of their manic look. She nodded. “I am sorry.”

  “We need your help.” Khapah stepped forward. “Either to control the wights, or else help us escape them.”

  Luthiya squeezed Khapah’s hand. This was not how she would’ve had it happen, but it might happen. They could leave.

  Ama pursed her lips, looking down at the urlimnion as it twisted back and forth. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Please! You persuaded the wights to attack the Tabaht. If you can’t control them, you can at least guide them away somewhere, yes? While we head up the Charred Pass to—”

  “You misunderstand me.”

  “I do understand. You were right before, but this isn’t about revenge or justice. We need your help to save our lives.”

  Ama shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “How do I explain in a way you can fathom?” she muttered. “Do I even bother? Would such a slight have any effect on the tidal matrices…” She reached a hand up to where her tattoo lay half–hidden beneath her hair.

  Khapah looked to Luthiya, who just shrugged. Ama did this sometimes, talked to herself as though Luthiya weren’t there, or knowing she was but thinking she wouldn’t understand. It was how Luthiya had learned to work half the relics Ama had in her possession.

  “So be it.” Ama opened her eyes and focused on Khapah. “You have to understand, this world is larger than you can even imagine. You—your people, your ancestors, your entire history—are an infinitesimal speck of dust, whisked away in one blink of Time’s eye. Maybe I could help you survive for a few more months or years, perhaps even a generation or two, but eventually you would fade like everything else. Simply put: you are not worth the time.”

  Her eyes grew wide, hungry. “The fire wights, however, are ancient, intelligent, enduring. They predate the Ninth World and have the capacity to outlive it. Helping them would truly matter.”

  Khapah narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean? To help them?”

  Ama rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen what they need.”

  “We give them water.”

  “Water is not enough.” She pressed her temples with one hand. “You must understand. This is their home, has been for millennia. The founders of this city invaded their territory and cut off their wells. The wights cannot leave, so they were forced into hiding.”

  Of course, Luthiya thought. That was why the city had force walls everywhere—it wasn’t just the heat; it was the wights themselves. Had the wights…”What—what happened to them? The founders?”

  “Surely you are not as ignorant as all that, child.”

  Luthiya shut her eyes. She knew, but she didn’t want to see it. The wights broke in somehow, killed them all.

  “What does this have to do with us, Ama?” Khapah raised his voice, maybe hoping to intimidate Ama. It wouldn’t work.

  “Kulla’s crest, I have to explain everything, don’t I? You are intruding just as the Ossiphagans did.”

  “But you brought us here!”

  Ama threw up her hands. “I am only following the tugs and pulls of this body. If it weren’t for me, you would’ve been killed already—by the Tabaht, or the wights, or starvation. I gave you months you did not deserve. But what good does it do, when I can give the wights so much more?”

  Luthiya clenched her fists. “You’re not drawn to help. You pick and choose for your own needs, for your stupid… urlimnion.” She gestured toward the spinning object behind Ama. “How can you justify helping those monsters?”

  “Who is the monster?” Ama laughed. “Weren’t you going to use them to slaughter the Tabaht? Even you serve your own needs, Thiya; I saw the relief on your face when you thought Jio’s death meant you could manipulate your people away from this place.”

  Luthiya turned away, fighting back tears. She’s right. Gods, I haven’t even mourned him.

  “Empathy for those who are like you is trivial, weak, the kind of thing you teach a toddler. True compassion is for those you do not—cannot—understand.”

  “This is pointless,” Khapah said. “Why can’t you help us both? They want the city and its wells. We want to leave.”

  “It’s more than the wells.” That manic look returned to Ama’s eyes. “When the wights took Ossiphagan, they dis
covered something much more potent than water.”

  Luthiya trembled. She remembered the wight in the tunnel, how it had changed after feeding on Jio, growing brighter than the sun, taller, solid as stone. “Blood.”

  “Life,” Ama replied. “Something you have in abundance.”

  Khapah had the knife out before Luthiya realized what was happening. He leapt at Ama, his face twisted in rage. Ama had already raised her metal pipe to her lips—the weathered flute Luthiya had seen among her artifacts. Luthiya tried to warn him, but Ama played a minor five–note phrase then stepped aside as Khapah fell forward, unable to move his arms or his legs.

  Luthiya ran. She covered her ears, but she wasn’t fast enough. Before she could block them out, the first three notes struck her mind like arrows. Her legs betrayed her, and she tumbled across the chantry floor. She came to a stop a couple meters from the door, facing Ama. Her hands and arms were frozen, pressed against the sides of her head.

  Ama looked at her flute with a smirk. Then she laid it down next to her other artifacts and picked up a blue sphere of glass. She ran one finger down the surface of the sphere as though caressing it. A light kindled inside it as she traced complicated figures across its surface. The air in the chantry grew unbearably hot.

  “What are you doing? Why is it hot?”

  Ama snorted, but didn’t look away from her work with the sphere. “The force walls are down, stupid girl. I doubt the Shue will offer their water freely.”

  The words were muffled to Luthiya’s covered ears, but she understood enough to make her heart race and her breath grow shallow.

  Ama set the sphere back down. She put one hand in the space between the urlimnion and the bench. When she lifted her hand, the gyrating urlimnion stayed with her, hovering two centimeters above her palm.

  “Where are you going?” Luthiya asked.

  Ama ignored her. With her free hand, she picked up something that looked remarkably like the shield Jio had been carrying when he died. Then she marched to the door, her feet clacking against the black stone. She passed Khapah and Luthiya without a word.