Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  His face tightened as he closed his eyes. Around him, the glowing sparks swirled as if responding to his inner turmoil.

  “So you hid them somehow.”

  He nodded. “I fought against her to keep hold of them. Magic against magic. To do it, I drew even more life from her followers. They were screaming from the pain of it. Begging me to stop—Lilik, I drew too much. There was a weaver who’d come to make nightcloth for the Nocturnai. Mieshk hadn’t fed him enough, and when I stole from his spark, it winked out.”

  He cast his eyes to the floor, hands curled into fists. Muscles in his neck stood out like metal bands. His jaw was trembling.

  I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Paono, it wasn’t you. It was your Need. I don’t know much about these weavings, but I can tell you that for sure.”

  He swallowed, not meeting my eyes. “Here’s the thing, Lilik. I can excuse myself for hurting someone, maybe even for killing someone. But I can’t forgive myself for enjoying the feeling of sapping their life force. So please, stop trying to argue me out of my guilt.”

  Finally, he met my eyes. He looked so different with silver light that shone from his body. Deep inside his gaze lived the boy who’d laughed with me while we chased crabs across the beach. But he was buried beneath so many layers of hurt and regret that I wondered if that smiling child could ever dig free.

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Will you tell me what happened to the nightstrands? I can’t feel them.”

  After a few breaths, the lights that surrounded him dancing in rhythm with his inhalations, he swallowed. “I had to shield them from Mieshk. I thought to myself that only the aurora could balance her fire, so with the dawnweaving, I grabbed a shard of the aurora and took it inside myself. And after, I invited the strands in.”

  “You have all their thoughts in your head? How can you… I never could have handled it.” My stomach took a slide at the recollection of my joining with Zyri. I’d nearly lost myself at first, drowned in her spirit.

  He shook his head. “They were in my thoughts for a second. Maybe two. Long enough that I had to fight the urge to destroy myself. And then somehow, I pulled one more burst of life from my dawnweaving and locked the strands away. They’re in here…” He pointed at his head. “…in a shell harder than steel.”

  “All of them?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Except for the few strands Mieshk keeps as slaves. And Heiklet of course—she isn’t affected by Mieshk, so she wasn’t using me for sanctuary.”

  I waved my hand through the air, setting the glimmers swirling. “What about these?”

  “Maybe they’re the remnants of the strands. Or twinkles of aurora. I don’t know. They’ve been around me since the dawnweaving. If I focus, I can pull them inside. But having them around… it’s made me feel less lonely somehow.”

  I pressed my fingers to my temples, thinking. Locked away, the strands were safe. That was good, as long as Mieshk didn’t find a way to get into Paono’s mind. If he kept them there until I needed access to my magic, we could prevent her from growing stronger or finishing… whatever she’d been attempting at Ashkalan.

  “I understand why you’re upset about the… accident during your dawnweaving. But at least the strands are safe.” It was an empty reassurance, and I regretted it as soon as I spoke. Not because Paono’s action had been worthless, but because I knew how his heart worked. To him, nothing could make up for killing someone and enjoying it.

  “They might be safe, but it’s still not okay. It’s no better than a nightforging.”

  “Of course it is. Why would you say that?”

  Paono stared at the ceiling, the glow from his inner aurora lighting the planes of his face. “Because, Lilik, I have no idea how to free them. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

  At Paono’s words, a dart of fear leaped from Tyrak into my thoughts. Zyri… he whispered.

  “But it has to be,” I said. “You didn’t nightforge them. You protected them. If nothing else, another dawnweaving will set them free. Your Need decided this. So it must be the best way to achieve our goals. And when it's the right time, your Need will unlock the shell.”

  He looked at me, eyes pleading for understanding. “Here’s the thing. You keep talking about Need. I hear it in your voice—the Need is special to whatever you do with your ability. But every time Purviiv described the dawnweaving, she spoke only of Want. I Wanted to make Mieshk and her followers stop painting those ruins. I Wanted to take the aurora inside me. I Wanted to lock the strands away before Mieshk stole them or I lost my mind in the clamor of their voices.”

  I blinked, shocked. Want, not Need. Paono could use his ability to do whatever he wished. If only I’d been gifted with that kind of magic…

  I remembered something Peldin had said to me on my first trip to Ioene. Only the noblest and honorable of boys were born with the channeling talent. Most likely, it took even greater selflessness to become a life-channeler. I understood the reason now. When you had the power to hurt or kill with just a thought, when you could steal energy from everyone around you and use it for whatever you wished… Almost anyone would succumb to the temptation to misuse that kind of power.

  I could never be afraid of Paono, but his ability terrified me. I was grateful there’d been so few life-channelers among the Vanished. Most likely, the talent surfaced only rarely in their descendants among the Kiriilti.

  After a moment, I chewed my fingernail. “There’s something I don’t understand, then. My duskweaving ability is difficult to control. Maybe impossible. But with you, you only have to Want something to make it happen. Couldn’t you just draw a little energy and use it to undo the dawnweaving that locked them away? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone badly. Isn’t it worth trying?”

  Paono dropped his head. “I tried, Lilik. I’m not proud of my attempt because I tried even though I knew the consequences—I’d killed someone the last time I’d used the ability. But I wanted answers. I thought Peldin could give them to me, so I opened wide and tried to gather the sparks. Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. But I figured out why, at least. The problem is, I can’t make myself Want to hurt anyone. I can think I Want it. But my heart knows differently. Dawnweaving is cruel. So I can’t do it. I simply can’t free them.”

  “Not even to stop Mieshk?” I asked, struggling to understand his feelings.

  “Not even to stop the cataclysm. I know, Lilik. It’s crazy. But I’ve tried, and I just can’t seem to change what’s deep inside me.”

  He stared at his hands. Abruptly, frustration flooded me. What kind of world did we live in when my friend had to be ashamed for being so pure-hearted?

  “Come on, Paono,” I said, standing and offering him a hand. “Let’s go back to the ships. You deserve a real bed. We’ll figure this out.”

  Chapter Ten

  A SINGLE ROWBOAT sat beached on the gravel when Paono and I pushed through the brush and staggered onto the beach. Daonok jerked upright at the crunch of our feet; he’d been sleeping in the bottom of the boat.

  “Would have been nice if you’d returned a bit sooner,” he muttered. But the relief on his face belied his harsh tone.

  His gaze flicked to Paono. To move more stealthily through the darkness, Paono had calmed his cloud of motes, gathering them into his body. His skin still glowed, but with the cloak’s hood pulled over his hair, at least he didn’t shine like the moon.

  “And this is?” Daonok asked.

  “My best friend in the world. Paono.”

  At the introduction, they nodded at each other.

  “Hey… Daonok?” I said. “I really didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “I know. I forgive you.”

  “Mind rowing us to Zyri’s Promise, then?”

  “I’m planning on it. Captain Altak promised me a share of his stash of dried figs if I brought you there first.” Hopping out of the boat, he helped us slide it int
o the water then took up the oars as we clambered in. A few minutes later, Paono and I climbed the swinging rope ladder onto the deck of the Vanished ship.

  The captain grinned when he saw Paono, the first smile I’d seen since I’d given him the news of Nyralit’s death. Other sailors gathered, some familiar to me from the Nocturnai, and some new faces, too. Behind me, Paono shifted awkwardly. I reached a hand back to reassure him. After so long alone, the sight of all these strange faces had to be intimidating.

  “It warms my heart to see you, Sentinel,” the captain said.

  At the sound of his former title, Paono smiled faintly. “Likewise.”

  I scanned the crowd for Raav but was disappointed. Glancing across the water, I searched the rail on the Midnight, too. As if noticing my interest, Tkira shouldered her way through the crowd.

  “We had to force him into his cabin,” she said softly in my ear. “Caffari slipped a wee bit of evenshade into his drinking water. Poor boy looked ready to tear himself apart over hurting you. Plus he was worried you’d never come back.”

  I nodded, jaw clenched. I didn’t like to think of him so agitated, but at least Raav was getting some rest. Speaking of… beside me, Paono swayed on his feet.

  “I was hoping you had a comfortable berth for Paono,” I said. “And fresh clothing. Especially the cloak.”

  Captain Altak laid a hand on Paono’s shoulder. “For tonight, he’ll take my cabin.”

  I expected Paono to protest, but my friend just nodded.

  The captain summoned one of his sailors with a quick gesture. “See this young man to my bunk. And wake up the cook. He deserves a hot meal.”

  As Paono shuffled off behind the sailor, Captain Altak, Tkira and I shared a glance. Silently, we moved off to an empty section of the deck.

  “You heard what happened, right?” I asked Captain Altak. “With just a word, Avilet controlled everyone but me.”

  He nodded, face grim. “For the time being, we pulled everyone back to the ships. If Mieshk can turn someone just by speaking, makes no sense to leave people on shore.”

  Tkira gestured at a line of men and women along the side of the deck. “We put archers at the rail on both ships. With luck, they’ll be able to put an arrow through her heart before she gets close enough to yell commands.”

  “The prisoners?”

  “Locked up in the Midnight.”

  “Have they been questioned?”

  “Only a little,” Tkira said. “Poor sods are half dead from lack of food. As far as we can tell, the only thing that kept them going was the compulsion. They could barely speak or keep their eyes open after Avilet died. So we fed them and gave them blankets and figured we could talk to them after they rested.”

  I tapped my foot on the deck planks. “I always thought an attack against Mieshk would be difficult. Now… I really don’t know if we can win this. How do you fight someone with her kind of power?”

  Tkira shook her head, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t know, Lilik.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell.

  “Well, maybe we’ll learn something from the prisoners,” I said. “As far as preparations and defense, I think pulling back is a good choice for now. But there’s another thing I’d like to do. I’ll need to borrow a handful of people. Quick learners.”

  The captain’s brows lowered. “For what?”

  “You saw how close to starvation the prisoners are. I’m guessing no one from Mieshk’s camp has any idea how to forage here. And frankly, neither do any of you.”

  “We brought food stores,” Captain Altak said. “Enough for a month or two.”

  I shook my head. “Not good enough. If the worst happens… If something happens to me or the ships, you need to know how to survive here. I’d like to lead a quick and careful expedition inland to teach them the basics.”

  The captain straightened up. “Fair enough. I’ll send a few sailors with quick wits over to the Midnight after moonrise.”

  I peered over the rail. Daonok was still waiting in the rowboat at the base of the ladder. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  Together, Captain Altak and Tkira nodded.

  “Sleep well,” the captain said.

  I swallowed. After what I’d learned today, I doubted that would happen.

  I woke, groggy, to the darkness of my cabin. I’d managed to fall asleep, but it must’ve been fitful. My covers were a twisted mess around my legs. Groaning, I scooted to a seat.

  The sound of rustling clothing made my heart stop. In the corner of my cabin, a shadow shifted.

  I slapped my hand to my hip, but quickly remembered I’d taken off my belt. Tyrak was hanging from a hook beside the door. I swallowed and clenched my fists, ready to strike back if necessary.

  “I’m so sorry, Lilik.” The voice was just a whisper, but I’d have recognized it anywhere.

  “What are you doing here, Raav? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  He stood and crossed the small room, wide shoulders blotting out the faint light that leaked in around the door. Planting hands on either side of me, he leaned close as if to kiss me. As I shifted forward, awaiting his lips, he jerked away. He dropped to his knees at the edge of my bed.

  “The moon isn’t up yet. I didn’t want to disturb you. But I couldn’t stay away. I had to hear you breathe to prove to myself that you were okay.”

  “I am. I’m fine.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up beside me, but his body was rigid and immovable.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He sank down onto his heels. “Don’t you remember? I almost killed you.”

  Fighting the urge to sigh, I dragged my hands through my hair. After a moment, I turned and lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing the new scar.

  “It’s healed, see?”

  “Much deeper, and things would have been different,” he said.

  “But that didn’t happen.”

  “No, but it could have.” Raav finally took a seat beside me. “There’s something I want to ask you, and I want you to take it seriously.”

  “Okay…”

  “What if we just sailed away from here? Forget defeating Mieshk. We could stop at the Kiriilt Islands and warn everyone. And then we could keep going. Somewhere safe and far, far away from Ioene.”

  After what I’d learned about Mieshk’s powers, his questions tugged at my heart. It would be easier to just leave. We couldn’t win against Mieshk, so why throw our lives at her mercy?

  I stared into the darkness as my thoughts circled. Finally, I laid a hand on Raav’s knee. He tensed but didn’t move away.

  “I can’t give up now. We might manage to warn a few Kiriilti. But many more will die if we don’t find a way to stop this.”

  There were more reasons, but Raav’s mood was too black for me to want to mention them aloud. I didn’t yet understand what Mieshk had been doing at Ashkalan, but I sensed that if she completed it, we’d have more than the cataclysm to worry about.

  He nodded, a rustle in the dark. “I thought that would be your answer.”

  The darkness in the cabin seemed to press closer, stifling hope.

  “I don’t like seeing you like this,” I said. “It’s like you’re defeated already. But I still believe we’ll find a way to beat her.”

  His shoulder moved as he shrugged, rubbing against my arm. “It’s not just Mieshk. Even if we win against her, I’m afraid, Lilik. Every time I close my eyes, I see my sword entering your back. What if that never goes away?”

  I squeezed his leg. I wasn’t sure what else I could say to convince him. “Everything heals, even your memories.”

  He stood and stepped toward the door. “I hope you’re right.”

  Fatigue tugged at me, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I needed to do something besides lie in the dark and worry. Sliding the covers off my body, I swung my legs over the edge of my bunk and dragged on a padded wool jacket. I slipped out the door to my cabin and shut it quietly behind me before t
iptoeing down the hall, careful not to wake those who were still asleep.

  As I descended the ladder into the lower level of the hold, the air got noticeably damper. A single lantern cast a flickering glow over heaps of cargo and patches of damp that oozed in through gaps in the hull. A few storage rooms lined one side of the hold. To convert it into the makeshift brig, one of the small cabins had been barred from the outside.

  A single smuggler lounged on a canvas-draped mound of cargo. Around his nest, there were lines on the floor where the wood looked fresher than the surrounding planks. The panels which had been bolted to the floor in those spots, forming hidden compartments where the smugglers could store illicit goods, were now stacked and stowed against the far wall.

  “I need to talk to the captives,” I said when the thief glanced at me.

  He yawned and nodded. “Suit yourself,” he said, pulling a long knife from his belt. “Yell if they give you trouble.”

  “They’re all inside?” I asked.

  The thief was busy using the tip of his knife to trim his cuticles. He nodded without looking up. I lifted the bar away from its brackets and squeezed the latch. The door swung open on oiled hinges, exposing the pathetic huddle of captives slouched against the far wall.

  Emaciated after weeks on the island and no longer innervated by Avilet’s compulsion, they turned dull eyes to me. I lowered myself to a cross-legged seat in the doorway.

  “Have you eaten enough?” I asked. There were five of them, but I suspected I could win against the whole group in a fight.

  Nearest me, one of the two women ran her tongue over cracked lips. “More than we’ve had in a while. Not enough to fill our bellies.”

  I nodded. “I’ll make sure you get more soon.”

  As I ran my eyes over them, the largest of the captives, a big-boned man who’d probably looked like a mountain before his extended deprivation, sat up straighter.