Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  I pushed past her. No, not easy. But just a few short weeks ago, we’d been ready to live under a stack of boulders for the next decade. We would figure this out, too.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ISLILLA COLLIDED WITH us on the stairs. The girl’s face was gray, her eyes wide.

  “Hurry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  I dashed up to the terrace and darted inside. On the bed, Heiklet thrashed and moaned. Her hands formed claws near her chest, trembling.

  “Heiklet!” Gaff knelt beside her. Holding Heiklet’s eyelids open, he examined each eye in turn. “Seen this before,” he said. “Storm. The mainmast snapped and hit one of the sailors in the head.”

  “And?” Tkira said, bursting through the door?

  Gaff just shook his head.

  “Ancestor-gods,” Islilla whispered.

  “Show me,” I said, kneeling beside him.

  Gently sliding Heiklet’s lids open once again, Gaff slid aside to grant me a view. One of Heiklet’s pupils was larger than the other. Handfuls of the blanket clutched in my fist, I stared helplessly. How had this happened? A couple hours ago, she’d been walking with only a little help. Had I pushed too hard? Should we have trusted the island’s dark to hide us while we let her rest and recuperate?

  You made the right choices. The group is safest here.

  I shook my head, disgusted with Peldin’s bland assurances. In his mind, only the group mattered. He’d been ready to sacrifice Heiklet from the beginning.

  Channeler. Listen to me.

  My nostrils flared at his commanding tone. Who was he to instruct me?

  Whatever happens to her, this is not your fault. Mieshk did this. It’s self-centered to think otherwise.

  “Just clap shut, Peldin.”

  Raav laid a hand on my back. Circled around Heiklet’s bed, we held our silence while she writhed.

  None of us had training in healing, but we tried everything we could think of: water dribbled through her slack lips; cool rags on her forehead; blankets covering the windows to snuff the moonlight, followed by the blazing glow of half a dozen lanterns.

  Prayer, even. I asked for help from every deity I’d ever known.

  Sometimes Heiklet woke, but she wasn’t herself. A monster lived behind her eyes. She ranted and drooled and struck at anyone that came near.

  I watched Islilla. She sat against the far wall, wide-eyed and stiff. When Heiklet jerked, she started and cringed. It had to have been half a day since we’d entered Ashkalan, and she’d spent it all here.

  “Tkira,” I said, pulling her aside. “I think fresh air would do Islilla good.”

  Tkira nodded, grim-faced. “I’ll show her the ship.”

  The pair departed, Islilla shuffling like a war survivor. Tkira propped the girl up with an arm around her back, a gentle gesture from the sea-sharpened second mate.

  “No use pretending,” Gaff said. “We need to think what we’ll do when she passes.”

  Raav had the pieces of shredded rope in his hand. He pushed them together. “Not yet. We owe her our belief.”

  “Heiklet,” I whispered, brushing the hair from her brow. She thrashed under my touch, tossing her head back and forth.

  We kept vigil through the long hours while Heiklet wandered the halls of her life’s end. Islilla and Tkira returned briefly, but after one look at her friend, Islilla shook her head and ran back out into the night.

  Heiklet died as the moon set, slipping into the cold waters of the night-dark sea. We carried her silently to a courtyard where the flagstone paving gave way to soft earth. Zyri remembered grass and flowers blooming there in the day-season. With flat stones and tin plates and bare hands, we scraped out a grave, lowering her gently into the trench, sprinkled by tears. She was so small lying there. Just a child who dreamed of a great voyage, a chance to raise her family’s status, an opportunity to save her nation. A life extinguished before she’d a chance to flourish.

  I stayed long after we’d buried her, unwilling to leave her alone on her first night in the ground.

  When the moon rose again, Raav came for me. “It’s not your fault,” he said.

  I couldn’t look at him. “Does fault really matter? She’s gone.”

  With hands beneath my elbows, he helped me up. “No, I don’t suppose so.”

  Raav held me for a long time. I don’t know if it made me feel better, but it did make me feel less alone.

  Finally, I sighed. “A lot of work to do,” I said.

  “Heiklet would want us to make it home. To do everything we can.”

  Peldin had remained silent since I’d snapped earlier. I was grateful for it. Forcing away my resentment, I gritted my teeth and spoke.

  “Peldin?”

  Yes?

  “Can you speak to her?” I said.

  Yes. Once she finds her way to us.

  “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll never forget her bravery. I’ll carry her in my heart forever.”

  I will. She won’t be alone, Lilik.

  “Thank you.”

  Now. It’s time to let go of your grief. You did your best, and she is gone. Focus on our goals.

  Like a sudden gust of wind, anger blasted through me. I would not be told how and when to grieve. Throughout Heiklet’s capture, rescue, and death, Peldin had tried to instruct me how to act and feel. No more.

  I didn’t know it was within my power until I shut him out. Just like that, he vanished from my thoughts. He tried to contact me, but his nudges were like the pointless fluttering of Zyri’s night-glowing insects against the globe of glass.

  A cavern of peace opened inside my mind. The strands’ emotions had been bleeding into my own since they’d first broken through to me. Their sadness for the souls lost to Ioene, their fear of Mieshk and her manipulations, all gone. I was alone with my feelings, and the grief I felt for Heiklet flooded into that cavern, pure, crystalline, and entirely my own.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ISLILLA RAISED a pair of glass goblets. In the lamp’s flickering glow, they shone, iridescent. We were sorting through the remains of an ancient dining room. Inside, the wood, iron, and cloth had fared better than anything exposed to the elements. But none of the pieces of fabric were large or strong enough to work as sailcloth.

  “Beautiful,” I said, smiling faintly at her. I struggled to look at her without remembering Heiklet’s face.

  The goblets probably had some sort of unexpected magic, just like most artisan-crafted objects we’d found. There’d been the prism that somehow pulled in starlight and held it captive, twinkling brighter the longer we held it in the open air. Before that, I’d found a bowl that sang a simple melody when we poured water in it. Amazing things—I wasn’t clear whether the effects came from nightforging, a soul giving its life to the objects, or whether the artisans had used the opposing energies of Ioene and the aurora. From Zyri, I’d learned that the lines of power created by these forces had allowed stonemasons to make the city’s walls impervious to lava. Given time, I knew I could discover many other secrets of the Vanished. But I had no care for that. I wanted to sail for home and return with an army to avenge my friend.

  “Watch.” Islilla wrapped her hand around one of the goblets. When she removed it, a red hand print remained in its place.

  “You try.” She held out the other glass out.

  Islilla delighted in each of our discoveries, as if by focusing on them, she kept her grief contained. I couldn’t say no to her. When I laid my palm against the glass and then removed it, a yellow print remained.

  “They don’t fade unless you shake them,” she said. “I bet it was to tell people’s cups apart at dinners.”

  At least she could pretend to be happy. Since Heiklet’s death, I’d sunk deeper and deeper into a swamp of doubt over the ship’s state. Three days of searching through the city, and we’d found nothing to help us set sail. Soon we’d have to start planning the foray into Mieshk’s encampment, but no on
e wanted to do that.

  We have a better chance of swimming home than stealing the tents from over their heads. That’s what Gaff had said. He was probably right.

  So where did we go from here? Maybe Raav had the right idea. Bit by bit, we could rebuild Ashkalan. With enough care, the city might shelter us from both the storm season and the long-day.

  Or maybe we should consider his other, indirect suggestion. Killing Mieshk would solve a lot of problems.

  Yet again, Peldin beat at my defenses. I still hadn’t forgiven him, but sometimes, like now, I considered asking him for advice. The impulse vanished quickly—Peldin wouldn’t be any help with this. Islilla and I had searched a tailor’s store, innumerable linen closets, and even the shop where canvas awnings had been stitched together with a heavy awl. None of the fabric had enough structure to hold up to the winds we’d encounter on the way home.

  “Do you want them?” Islilla asked. “The goblets.”

  “Huh? Oh . . .” I realized I’d been staring off into space. “No, keep them.”

  She smiled and heaved open yet another chest with rotted leather hinges.

  Our lamp started to gutter. I lifted it from the niche in the wall and adjusted the wick, throwing dancing light onto the blank stone walls. In Zyri’s time, bright tapestries had covered most interior stonework, making the rooms feel warm and welcoming. Not in all the buildings, of course. Just as in Istanik, some city sections were home to a rougher crowd. There, soot from ill-tended hearth fires stained the bare walls, and in many taverns, straw was strewn over the floor to soak up spilled drinks. And in the uppermost tiers, a different mood pervaded. Within the high chambers, soul priestesses and the occasional male channeler cloistered themselves in dark-draped rooms. Walls hung with silks ranging from black to deep purple gathered whispers into their folds.

  “Lilik, I think you need a break.” Islilla laid a hand on my shoulder.

  I shook free of my thoughts. Yes, I was focusing too much on my pasts, both of them. Time to clear my head and consider the future.

  The moon hung over the harbor, painting the city in ghostly silver. Far below, I spotted the others crawling over the landslide debris that had clogged the channel. This, at least, was going well. Already they had cleared a strip of open water between the harbor and the sea. Not deep enough yet to accommodate the ship’s keel, but both Gaff and Tkira felt confident they’d succeed. They worked at prying rocks from the channel bottom with the long oars found aboard the ship, and when each boulder tumbled into the harbor’s deeper water, they cheered.

  A shout echoed, and at first I thought it came from below. Only when the newcomers called again, “Hello? Lilik?” did I realize the sound came from the city’s upper tiers.

  I peered. Up where the hidden entrance gained the city, a handful of torches blazed. My heart leaped in fear. We’d discussed stationing a guard above, but we were so few with so much to accomplish. As a group, we’d decided that an occasional patrol would be enough. Every few hours, someone slipped outside the city entrance to look for signs of Mieshk.

  A sick feeling welled in my gut. What if Peldin’s demands for attention had been a warning? But I quickly realized that Mieshk wouldn’t yell to announce her arrival. She’d attack. These people had to be friendly. For the first time since Heiklet’s death, hope warmed my chest.

  “Islilla!” I called through the door. “Get out here.”

  As I reached the nearest staircase, the people up top yelled again and were answered by shouts from the harbor’s mouth.

  “Yes, we’re here!” I called. I took the stairs two at a time.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t run any longer—my legs were burning from the climb—I spotted him.

  “Paono! You made it!”

  My feet kept slapping the gravel-strewn flagstones, and within minutes, I flew into his hug. Paono squeezed me tight.

  “The strands wouldn’t guide you here. I was so mad. How did you—we thought the entrance would be too hard to find.” The words tumbled out of my mouth.

  Paono spoke into my ear. “We’ll talk about it later. You, me, and Katrikki.”

  Neither the serious tone nor the mention of her name diminished my joy over seeing him. I looked up at that familiar face and felt I was home. And strangely, when searched for the jealousy I’d felt for his new relationship, nothing came. My friend was safe, and I could see in his eyes he still cared about me. It was enough. I gave a last squeeze before releasing him, and the pendant pressed against my breastbone, no longer uncomfortable.

  “Lilik.”

  I whipped my head up at Captain Altak’s voice, gravelly and raw. Right . . . the others. I hadn’t even bothered to see who’d come with Paono. Half a dozen crew and craftspeople stood behind him, haggard and sunken-cheeked. Mistress Nyralit had come as well. Her shredded robes were tied around her legs like pantaloons.

  “How did you get away?” I asked.

  The captain’s heavy shoulders tensed. “It doesn’t matter. We did as little harm as we could.”

  The somber lines of his face told me all I needed to know. There’d been a struggle. Quite possibly, people had died.

  “Well, you’re here. That’s what matters.” I glanced at Paono. “And you must have destroyed the figurine, or you wouldn’t have come.”

  “Sure.” Paono smiled woodenly at the same time that Peldin launched another barrage at my wall. My hopes sunk. Paono hadn’t done his part. Which meant we couldn’t leave. Well, it was just another thing to work out. At least he was safe.

  The others crested the last flight of stairs. Katrikki shrieked and ran to Paono, hair flying. She threw her arms around him. He bent his face to hers. I couldn’t hear the words he whispered.

  “Raav,” I said, turning aside. “Let’s show Captain Altak his ship.”

  An hour or so later, a small group of us huddled together in a room halfway between the harbor and the uppermost terrace. The room’s stone-stacked walls room pressed close, holding Paono’s words tight inside. Rapt, we sat on hard stone benches and listened.

  “Something has changed with Mieshk,” Paono said. “Her eyes glow, almost as if they’re on fire. Every time I tried to get close, she’d turn and stare at me. Like she knew my intentions.”

  Katrikki laid a hand on his arm, and Mistress Nyralit murmured encouragement. We’d included the strandmistress in our conversation for her expertise on the strands. I didn’t understand why Paono insisted that Katrikki be here, but it wasn’t worth arguing over.

  I chewed my lip while Peldin pounded on my mental shell. I’d have to let him in soon, but I didn’t want to split my attention between him and Paono.

  “So you came for help?” I asked.

  Paono’s eyes were glassy. “I wish I’d had something so noble in mind. I came because I was too scared. You didn’t see what’s happening to her and her followers. For all I know, she’ll soon start sacrificing volunteers to make more willing strands.”

  Mistress Nyralit winced at this reminder that the nightstrands were the souls of the deceased. I could only imagine her guilt. I wondered how many spirits she’d forced into weapons and wine glasses during her stint as a nightcaller, not to mention those she’d indirectly condemned by training later generations of callers.

  I wanted to be angry at Paono for failing his part of the plan. But what right did I have? He hadn’t asked to be a hero. He’d only come to Ioene because of me. Besides, a few days ago, I’d argued that the role was too risky for someone like him.

  “We can’t leave without getting the Effigy from her,” I said. “So how will we do it?”

  “We don’t have a working ship anyway,” Paono mumbled.

  “Assuming we figure that out,” Katrikki said. “Why is it our responsibility to deal with Mieshk before we escape? Let the nightstrands fight for themselves.”

  Peldin renewed his assault on my barrier.

  “I know!” I finally hissed, exasperated. “Just wait your turn.”

>   “Huh?” Mistress Nyralit said.

  “The strands. I’ve been blocking their spokesman. We had an argument.”

  “Oh.” She looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Paono, how did you find us?” I asked.

  He’d been avoiding the question since he arrived; a small line formed between his brows when I asked again. Paono clasped Katrikki’s hand in both of his. He studied her profile while he spoke to me. “Do you know anything else about channelers, Lilik?”

  “Like what?”

  “You sense the nightstrands, right?”

  “Not like a nightcaller does. It’s just the voices . . . And a sense of presence, I suppose.”

  A wave of consternation crossed his face. “Same. But you don’t feel anything else? No . . . no special bonds?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.

  “I’m not sure how to explain it.” Paono released Katrikki’s hand and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I sense you, Lilik. It’s as if there’s a stretchy, shimmering thread that connects us. It’s both cold and hot, and I know how you’re feeling. Some of your thoughts, too. I followed the bond here.”

  I realized now why he was holding Katrikki close. I could imagine her feelings about this, and they weren’t kind.

  For once, Peldin ceased his scratching at my shield. Silence filled the room. Katrikki looked pained.

  “Since when?” I said.

  “I first noticed it just after Heiklet’s rescue.” He paused. “You were tired. Scared. Determined to lead.”

  “And now? You can feel me still?”

  “Your emotions are always there, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a river. I’m sorry for staying with Mieshk instead of joining your group. I didn’t realize how deeply it hurt you.”

  My lips and tongue felt rubbery. What else did he know about?

  “Yes,” he said. “I think Raav is good for you. You should give him a chance.”