Ink Adept

by TatiAnna Tibbitts

  “There’s something ...” Munayair muttered. “Let me see.”

  She picked up the cord. Lighter than spidersilk, she could only sense it if she concentrated. She tugged it towards the spark fluttering inside Bast. The watching spirits rustled, murmuring amongst themselves. She ignored them, the prickling gazes, the roar of wind. Everything except the calm certainty deep within.

  Is this what you want? she asked the tiny flame inside the spirit.

  The grey death comes, Ennai cried out. Save me, Lady Moon. I am afraid!

  The sad, kind voice echoed in her mind. “Will you save my children?”

  I will.

  For the second time, she reached inside herself where the power waited. Joyfully it rose like a hound greeting its master. It was so strong. A beast’s raw mass, muscle and fur and claws. Then she saw kind eyes looking at her and forgot her fear. When she touched the cord to the spark within Bast, it flared and a joyous flame ran the length from soul to body.

  With waking eyes, she walked in a dreamworld of shining sparks more real than the bodies containing them. Two strange flames caught her attention—Anjita and Khuson, standing close together. Anjita’s spark gasped and sputtered, the color of a flame with no air. In contrast, Khuson’s rose tall and steady, but when Munayair drew closer, she smelled it. The stench of wrongness and decay—she started back—

  “It worked!” Ulger voices rang across the flood.

  Shaken and disoriented, Munayair jolted back into her body. Bast gaped at the tiny tree spirit now hanging upside-down from his arm. Joyfully, the ulgeroi began to sing, voices weaving through the air.

  “This perch isn’t as comfortable as my old one,” Ennai grumped, pulling herself up Bast’s arm. When she reached his head, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and grasped an ear with one foot. “It feels ... unstable.”

  “Hey, watch the names.” Bast gasped with pain. “And the toes!”

  “Oh, there’s penance enough for any man,” Anjita cackled, holding her stomach. Munayair stared at her, still caught by the strange vision of the suffocating flame. When Anjita saw her face, her laughter stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  Shaking her head, Munayair stepped forward and grabbed Anjita in a tight hug. A few tears dripped onto her friend’s shoulder.

  “Naya, you’re shaking.” Anjita hugged her back. “Are you all right?”

  Over Anjita’s shoulder, Munayair met Khuson’s eyes. Hand of the Goddess, he had said. Tentatively, she smiled at him and he grinned back. Relief flooded through her and she buried her face into Anjita’s shoulder.

  When Anjita stepped back, she slipped something into Munayair’s hand. Munayair’s stomach swooped. A limp form splayed across her fingers, dark in the moonslight.

  Dashjin.

  “I never would have found you without him,” Anjita said. “He kept glowing until I grabbed you both.”

  Munayair could not speak. Her body shuddered. She wiped her cheeks and turned. Osoljin sat across from her, shoulders drooping and deep-set eyes closed. Falling to her knees, she laid Dashjin’s extinguished body on the deck. Spirits gathered, sorrowful faces and muted voices. Tevulai fluttered to kneel beside Dashjin, head bowed and hands clamped over knees. Osoljin made no sign of noticing, not even opening his eyes. Munayair bent her head in silence, laying this failure over her shoulders with all the rest.

  Anjita ran a hand over her back. “Hush, it’s all right.”

  One of the ulgeroi let out a shout of warning as the boat bucked like an unruly horse. A thick, sticky mist rolled over them, and a thunderous roar echoed from ahead.

  “It’s never the cataract? We shouldn’t have reached there for a bell or more.” Bast hurried to the prow of the boat and peered over the side, hair smeared in ragged chunks over his forehead. Ennai perched on his shoulder, gazing around with wide eyes. “We’re caught in the current. The waterfall’s a thousand spans high. No point in bracing for it.”

  Lithe as otters, water sprites slipped over the sides, and the boat groaned as they attempted to slo. Ulgeroi swirled around the shredded sail. Even the delj knelt, chanting. All the while, their course towards the waterfall continued unabated. Munayair and Anjita tottered back to the less-crowded center of the boat. Osoljin had not moved, and Dashjin still lay pale and cold in his hands. Munayair knelt in front of the ulger king with head bowed.

  A huge, white wall of suspended water rushed forward to envelop them. “We need to get out of the river!” Khuson yelled over the cataclysmic roar of the vast, unseen cascade.

  “If only I’d thought of that!” Bast screamed back, leaning on the tiller, horror stark on his white face.

  Munayair bowed until her forehead touched the decking. “King of the ulger, I have failed,” she said. “I couldn’t keep my promise.”

  Osoljin sighed and his light green eyes finally opened. He took her hand and put Dashjin’s body into her palm. “Have you failed?” he asked. “Look, if you have eyes that can see.”

  She gazed at Dashjin, so tiny in her big clumsy hands, one wrong move could shatter him into fragments. Looking back at Osoljin, she stammered, “I-I don’t know how—”

  He held her gaze. “You promised to bring my son back to me,” he said. “I hold you to your oath.”

  The mark on her wrist burned and heat blossomed within her chest, a furnace clawing at her heart and lungs. An oathmark? A promise?

  Will you save my children?

  I will.

  Unassailable certainty filled her. She rose, Dashjin still cupped in her palms. Spirits fell away to either side as she walked with measured tread towards the prow.

  Khuson reached for her, eyebrows furrowed. “Munayair, what—”

  The ship shuddered and shot forward like an arrow, water splashing over the prow. Khuson thudded backwards onto the deck, but Munayair’s balance never wavered. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, at the sky shifting from soft blue to yellow.

  “We only have moments!” Bast shrieked, backing away from the wildly-pitching tiller. “Everyone lay on the deck!”

  “What! How’s that going to help?” Anjita howled back.

  Munayair paid no heed. The pressure still filled her, commanding and inescapable. Noises echoed from behind her. Her friends calling out to her, perhaps. It didn’t matter. She had more to do.

  The boards creaked and groaned, and wind whirled through her hair. A break in the fog allowed her a glimpse of the chasm ahead. Black water foamed white, hurling itself over the precipice to smash against rocks and whirl around a pool before continuing to the sea.

  A brilliant sliver of light emerged from behind the horizon.

  And with it, power came surging, enough to drown her. With a gasp she raised her hands. Light poured from her fingertips, passing into the ship. It spread and twisted along the railing, along the sides and underneath. Across the decking, up the mast, into the cabin.

  The ship scraped against a rock before it flew over the edge.

  Chapter 56: Last Love

  They sailed through the mist, smoother and faster than on water, down and down and down. Ulgeroi swirled, laughing, and water sprites leapt in cascades of silver droplets. It took forever. Munayair’s head spun.

  They hit the water with enough force to knock everyone to the deck. Grinding rose from the hull as they scraped over rocks before the boat sailed on without pause. Rocky cliffs rose on either side, while the black flood continued at a terrific pace.

  “We—we’re alive,” Bast whispered, looking over the side of the boat and back at the waterfall towering behind them.

  Munayair looked at Dashjin, small and pale on her rough palms. Where before she had seen only darkness, now, deep inside the prince’s body gleamed a pinprick of light. “Oh,” she whispered, cupping her hands to warm him. “Dash? Can you hear me?”

  Tiny sparks shot across Dashjin’s wings. His eyelids fluttered open, and he grinned. “Lady Moon, you’re alive!” he cried. “Glory to the Windsinger!” His wings flared and he l
eaped into the air, dancing around her head in joyous loops.

  “But ...” she gasped, tears flooding hot down her cheeks. “His doom—”

  “You have much to learn, girl,” Osoljin said, smiling.

  Dashjin settled on her shoulder, clinging to her ear. She blinked, trying to clear dizzying spots from her vision. The lights still gleamed inside Anjita, Bast, and Khuson as well as the spirits.

  A water spirit leaned over the side of the boat, beckoning. “We hit some rocks,” she said. Bast bit back a curse. “The water is coming in. My siblings and I can persuade it to remain outside for only a very little time.”

  “I see a good landing spot,” Anjita cried, peering over the rushing black water. She pointed. “There! Trees, a beach.”

  The water sprites swam on either side of the foundering boat, pulling it towards shore. Bast kept his hand on the tiller, white-knuckled, until they came to a pebbled beach lapped with tiny waves. Anjita leaped into the water to pull the boat up the beach. As the sprites fell away, the faithful boat finally sank, filling with water to Munayair’s calves. Bast stepped out, averting his gaze from the wreckage.

  Munayair looked at the delicate lavender sky. Here in the river valley, the sun had not yet risen. Anticipation curled in her gut and she scanned the gnarled trees crowding the beach. She turned and whispered to Anjita, “I’ll be right back.”

  Anjita frowned, but Munayair didn’t wait to hear any objections. She dodged through the trees, almost running as the top branches turned gold. A soft sound touched her ears and she turned. In a nearby clearing, Avlingai nosed among roots and scraped at rotting branches. Munayair hesitated, memory of the nightmare running down her spine like cold water. His head rose, and blue eyes regarded her as a long pink tongue swept writhing grubs into his mouth.

  She shot forward. Arms tangling around his neck, she pressed her face into bristly fur and breathed in the musk-and-honey scent. “Av,” she said, “I missed you.”

  Oh, my dear. He pressed a cold nose to her arm. I do apologize. It won’t happen again.

  “It had better not.” She scolded to keep tears at bay. “Why, you haven’t missed a morning since ... since the fire.”

  Sister, given my way, I would never leave your side. I promise you. He glanced at the sun peeking over the tops of the trees, bathing the copse in golden light. Even now my time is short.

  She dug her cold hands deep into the soft fur behind his ear. They watched in silence as the sun melted over the horizon. The mist transformed into a haze of gold and the shadowy trees into glowing white and silver.

  At length, Avlingai stirred and nudged her with his heavy head. I must go, sister. I will see you tomorrow. He licked her hand and began to ramble off into the woods.

  “Av,” she called. He paused. “Why don’t you ever ... stay with me? After the sun is risen?”

  He considered her, nostrils flaring and claws digging into the earth. Finally, he said, Haven’t you solved my riddle yet? He bowed low before jogging away.

  She turned and halted, blinking. Khuson knelt nearby, eyes closed and sword across knees. The cat sat beside him with paws tucked under her. She blinked and hurried past him, back towards the river. Her emotions raced by, confusing and unsettled as the shadows of clouds cast on distant mountains. He scrambled to follow a step behind. The cat stalked leaf shadows, always in sight.

  “Your friend seems nice,” he said. She could hear his grin. “Cuddly.”

  She froze, then whirled to face him. “You ...” She bit her cheek. “Did you see him?”

  “Did I see ... the huge bear you were hugging?” He tilted his head. “A dozen times now. Shouldn’t I have? Is he an outlaw or something?” He lowered his voice. “Is there a price on his head? Because I could really use the coin.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Why are you here?”

  His eyes remained riveted on her face. “Goddess,” he whispered. He reached out to touch her cheek, her hair. His hand landed on her shoulder and tightened. “I still can’t—is this real? You’re alive?”

  “Khuson, answer me.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “You said you have to stay away to keep me safe. Why did you come back?”

  Huffing, he held out a hand. “Somehow I always have the same reason.”

  She looked down to see a familiar face looking back. Half-wood, half ceramic, Seek smeared along his forehead, limbs dangling. His kinetic energy must have run out long ago.

  “I said hold onto him,” Khuson scolded. “Don’t let go, I said. I remember distinctly.”

  “Tel!” she whispered. Tears blurred her vision as she cradled his familiar weight.

  “I shouldn’t use an innocent chelka as an excuse. There’s something else.” She looked up and found him staring from only a handspan away. Her breath halted. “But I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid?” she repeated. Her heart thundered.

  Never releasing her gaze, he sank to his knees. He unsheathed his sword and held the pommel towards her. “Accept my allegiance. Please.”

  She gaped, looking from the proffered weapon to the terrifying intensity in his eyes. “Why?” she finally managed. “You protect the innocent. And I’m ...” Cursed, she thought.

  Khuson didn’t lower the sword. His eyelids flickered. “Please, I can’t explain. Accept me.”

  She raised a trembling hand and put it on the pommel. Why am I so frightened? she wondered.

  He bent his head over her hand. “I’m giving you power over me, Sarem-oryn Munayair,” he said. “Whatever you command, I will obey. I will walk in your footsteps and drink water from your palms. If I should find myself opposed to you, I will strike out my own heart first.” He met her eyes once again, and her stomach lurched.

  She stood shaken. “I’ve ... never heard the oath said so before. I accept and offer all I have in return—not much to brag about, I’m afraid. The magic I have learned, my position which was stripped from me when the adepts sundered me.”

  Sliding his sword back into its sheath, he stood. “Thank you.” He looked at her and she gazed back, mouth gone dry. She needed to blink more than usual.

  The cat jumped on Khuson’s leg, clawing up his pants. He yelped and bent to grab her. Munayair pressed a hand to her pounding heart and drew in a steadying breath. Khuson put the cat on his shoulder and she curled herself in his hood, closing her eyes and yawning. He looked at Munayair, but the spell was broken.

  “Tell the truth.” She raised an eyebrow. “Antagonizing Naasiha wasn’t wise.”

  “All part of the plan,” he said with a grin. “We should go before Anjita comes looking for you too.”

  Sure enough, as soon as Munayair and Khuson emerged from the trees, Anjita hurried over. “Will you stop disappearing?” She glanced at Khuson and smiled. “We’re not going to be able to get rid of you, are we?”

  “Call me bad penny,” he said, winking. She giggled.

  Ulger and firebugs swirled through the air, and the rest of the spirits waited along the beach. No sign remained of the boat apart from another eddy in the raging current. Bast stood with chin lowered to gawk at Ennai clinging with her face buried in his shirt, tiny body shaking.

  Munayair bowed low to the kudai. “Your distress is my fault,” she said. “You warned me about Olon, and now your tree is dead. I know I can never atone for your loss—”

  “I’m not crying about my tree.” Ennai glared with tears glittering in her eyes. “I am crying about a boat! This new body has far too many emotions. How can you all live like this?”

  Bast winced. “Most of us learn when we’re children.”

  “And some of us never learn.” Anjita hid a smile behind her hand as her eyes glittered at the boatman. “You’re that upset about a broken-down scow?”

  “Dad would skin me alive for losing it,” Bast said, close to tears himself. “Dunno how I’ll make a living now. Slaving away in a mine, most likely.”

  Ennai sniffed, the haughty look returning. “I have been bonded to a dolt,”
she muttered. “Put out your hand, Bast. Look at the seed clinging to your sleeve.”

  Looking confused, he did as she said. The tiny seed shivered and sprouted, green leaves reaching for Sorath while roots flowed towards Jöra. In an eyeblink, a tree stood on the beach, taller than Bast already. He jumped back, swallowing an oath, sweat beading on his forehead.

  “By the five holy names,” he gasped. “How did you—”

  She rolled her eyes. “We, you dunce. We did it. We’re bonded. You’re a mage now. An elemental mage of earth.”

  Dashjin laughed until he doubled over. “Too bad about her sharp tongue, mage,” he said. “Should have thought twice before saving her, huh?” Ennai sniffed again while Bast gaped at the tree, trembling.

  One of the water spirits galloped on four flippers towards Osoljin. “My—my lord!” she panted. “Someone is coming.”

  Cries rose from the spirits. The ulger formed a tight, gleaming ball, while goblin warriors charged with jabbing weapons. Anjita grabbed the bow from her back, and even Bast picked a large stone from the ground.

  Osoljin held up a hand. “Wait.”

  A spirit rose from the waves, glowing clear and green as deep running water, and with it the scent of growing things. Eyes as large as an otter’s looked around curiously. Her hair cascaded into the flowing stream, crowned with lotus and star-like duckweed flowers.

  “I am the gokhai,” she said, soft as a rivulet trickling over pebbles. “Freed at last from miserable Odde and restored to my true form.”

  In an instant the mood changed. Water spirits danced, laughing and splashing in the shallows. All the spirits joined in. Tembu flashed through the air, ulgeroi sang, goblins stomped their feet and chanted. Khuson fell to one knee, head bent, and the others followed suit in astonished silence. The gokhai turned towards the sun and sighed as a breeze rippled the surface of the river.

  Munayair didn’t dare raise her eyes, afraid of the condemnation she would see. The confluence destroyed, a demon released. The gokhai must have harsh words to say about these mistakes.

  A hand caressed her hair. Gentler than the warm rains of spring, more persistent than rivers of ice grinding mountains into dust. Her head rose. The spirit smiled at her. “Thank you for freeing me.”