Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology)

by Addie Thorley

  “Stop walking like that,” Ivandar barks back at me. “And don’t say anything. Your Zemyan is terrible.”

  “I’ve never spoken a word of Zemyan!”

  “Exactly.”

  I have an overwhelming desire to snatch a rock from the path and throw it at the back of his head. “Not because I couldn’t, but because I have no interest in speaking your barbaric language.”

  “You always have to have the final word, don’t you?” He shakes his head as he collects a handful of sticks, which he transforms into scrolls stamped with the royal seal. He shoves a few into my arms, then tucks the rest against his side.

  When we reach the sentries guarding the gates, Ivandar says something in a high, pre-pubescent voice and waves a scroll excitedly. The sentries admit us with a bored sweep of their blades.

  The inside of the mountainside city is just as impressive as its façade. Colorful drapes hang from the open-air storefronts, connecting one shop to the next, and carts with pretty offerings—from amber resin pendants to sea-salt foot scrubs—trundle past. I sit on a bench in a shadowed corner of a plaza while Ivandar goes to collect supplies for the rest of our journey.

  I watch a girl selling fresh goat’s milk and a group of boys playing with a small silver ball and hoops. When one of the boys overshoots the target, the ball lands in the bucket of goat’s milk, drenching the girl. She bursts into tears as the boys laugh and point, but I only hear a single sob before there’s a flash of movement and the girl and bucket vanish. I watch the empty space, skin crawling to think what’s being done to her now, behind the cloak of magic. But when she reappears several minutes later, her tears are dried, a colorful shawl covers her soiled dress, and an old woman offers her a piece of candy before walking off.

  While I gape, a man holding a fussy baby crosses the square, conjuring tiny fireworks over the infant’s head and making silly faces.

  It seems so ridiculous now, but I have only seen Zemyans at the war front—or in Karekemish, calling for my execution. It never occurred to me that they would live in normal cities and do normal things like sell food and jewelry and chat with friends. That they would calm their babies and console crying children. If I closed my eyes, I’d almost think I was in Sagaan—without the abhorrent magic, of course.

  “You look perplexed,” Ivandar says, walking up with a full satchel slung over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

  I say nothing. I don’t remember how to form words. At least not coherent ones. The thoughts jumbling around my brain are disturbing. And ludicrous.

  “Let me guess … You’re disappointed to discover we don’t spend our days weaving deception and eating raw meat and sacrificing Ashkarian virgins?” he asks with a goading smile.

  “Something like that,” I mumble as we descend from plateau to plateau. A headache is drilling into the center of my forehead and this irritating Zemyan skin is too tight. That’s why I feel like I’m suffocating.

  I need it off.

  I need out of this godforsaken country.

  I need to reach the Kalima as quickly as possible and reclaim my title. Regain my footing. And re-center my mind.

  Which means it’s time to speed this deception along.

  “I wasn’t completely honest with you about the stone mounds,” I say as soon as we’re alone on a dirt path, cutting through fields that look to be weeds, but who knows—maybe they’re bursting with fruit more abundant than the vineyards of Ashkar and this is all an illusion. The reality the Zemyans want me to see.

  I don’t know how I’m supposed to decipher what’s real and what isn’t when nothing feels real. I was abandoned by the Kalima and tortured by Zemyan magic. I am traveling with Danashti’s heir and currently wearing Zemyan skin.

  Ivandar slams to a halt and towers over me, somehow still intimidating despite his pig-nosed disguise. “What do you mean you weren’t honest?”

  “I didn’t lie,” I quickly explain. “Kartok did tell me the mounds are gateways. And I haven’t seen one in years. However, I withheld what happened afterward—to ensure I had leverage to force you to take me to Ashkar. But after everything you told me about the danger Kartok poses to the entire continent, I’m worried we don’t have time to waste.”

  “Why?”

  “Kartok continued thumbing through that book, insisting Zemya would provide a way to accomplish his task without the stone mounds. Then he seemed to find something promising and demanded to know how many different Kalima powers there are, and how they are distributed throughout the battalion. When I said none of my warriors were a weak link, he said they are the link and demanded to know where the Kalima would go.”

  Ivandar stares at me without blinking. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, Kartok knows how to access the land of the gods through the Kalima. I think he’s looking for them. Which means the Lady and Father, and all of us, are in real danger.”

  “Why would you suddenly care? You don’t believe in any of this.”

  “I don’t … know what I believe anymore,” I say, treading carefully. Admitting just enough to lure him but not enough to entangle myself in lies. “I just know Kartok is determined to strip me of my power, and if there’s even a miniscule chance he’ll succeed, I have to stop it. But I don’t know enough about the gods to warn them or protect them. And your mother is the only person who has a prayer of reasoning with Kartok, but we’ll need proof of his corruption, proof that the entire continent is in danger, to convince her to turn against him.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Come with me into Ashkar. Help me find the Kalima. And let’s save your fool gods.”

  “You’re serious?” he demands.

  “No, I’m stirring up all of this trouble for fun. Yes, I’m serious! We each have something the other needs. You’ve been begging for answers and aid all this time. Well, now I’m offering it.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust you,” he says, searching my gaze.

  “I don’t know if you have a choice.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ENEBISH

  “FOR THE LOVE OF THE LADY AND FATHER! DON’T JUST STAND there,” Temujin groans. He’s dangling from the branches of a tree, as if every bone in his body has crumbled. “Either cut me down and do what you will with me, or kill me here and put me out of my misery. Despite my impressive fortitude and high tolerance for pain, being partially impaled on a broken limb is rather uncomfortable.”

  “We’d hate for you to be uncomfortable,” Serik says as he hoists himself into the tree. A branch the width of my arm is, indeed, buried in Temujin’s side. The jagged shards stab him like the pronged spears used by ice fishermen in Sagaan.

  “Remove the debris first,” Temujin pants through his teeth when Serik reaches him. “It will be horrendous otherwise.”

  Serik reaches over, but instead of extracting the shards, he frees Temujin’s saber from its sheath and hacks through the branch nestled in Temujin’s flesh, conveniently obliterating the limbs beneath him too.

  Temujin groans as he crashes to the ground.

  “Oops.” Serik hops down beside Temujin, who’s writhing in agony. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

  We move to grab Temujin—me from one side and Serik from the other—but as our fingers close around his thrashing arms, a shadow streaks from the top of the tree and a deafening screech fills my ears.

  This time, I know to jump away from Orbai’s talons before they gouge me. That doesn’t make the attack any less painful, though. Tears spring to my eyes as she banks around a tree and circles back. My mind knows she’s under Kartok’s influence, but my heart still refuses to accept it. The core of my soul is so entwined with hers, I can’t believe there’s a power in this world—or any other—that could sever our bond.

  “Give me your cloak,” I shout at Serik. “Quickly!”

  He unfastens the clasp and tosses me the heavy bundle. I manage to wrangle it into position and fling it int
o the air, just as Orbai dives. She lets out another screech but doesn’t have time to veer before the fabric swallows her, entangling her wings. She crashes into the mud and I jump on top of the wriggling cloak.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, imagining her pain and terror, wishing I could stroke her feathers rather than pin her wings.

  “You didn’t bother apologizing to me,” Temujin says sardonically.

  “That’s because we aren’t sorry.” Serik snaps a vine from a nearby tree and winds it around Temujin’s wrists. “Any pain you feel is deserved. And of your own making.” Then, without a word of warning, he wrenches the shard of wood from Temujin’s side.

  Temujin’s cries are so loud and horrific, Ziva and the shepherds come crashing through the forest, all wide-eyed and panting, certain we’d been attacked by animals—or worse.

  “We found a little parting gift for the road,” Serik announces, dragging Temujin through the muck and displaying him like a goat in an auction ring.

  I watch the shepherds’ reactions closely, looking for the slightest hint of compassion, the smallest flicker of sympathy. They were ready to hand me and Serik over to him before the fire. And I know how persuasive Temujin can be. How he makes you feel so essential and respected—right up until the moment he slits your throat. We must tread carefully. I can’t have the shepherds secretly aiding him because he gave them a few stolen ration sacks back on the grazing lands.

  Thankfully, everyone is still so distraught from the fire and water cannons, no one makes a move to defend Temujin. We bind him with proper ropes and start our journey north to Chotgor. Serik leads the wagon train, keeping us on track and the shepherds in check, and also heating the air so it’s slightly warmer as we pass through. I, on the other hand, hang back and keep a close watch on Temujin, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he starts weaving his carefully crafted lies.

  “I meant what I said,” I overhear him telling Iree the next day, when the mugginess fades and the first hint of a chilly breeze rustles the leaves. “All of this traipsing across the continent is unnecessary. You’re in no danger. You have no reason to bustle about recruiting allies or whatever it is Enebish has convinced you to do.”

  Temujin chose this moment with care, hoping Iree would be weak and pliable, dreading the punishing wind and cold to come, but Temujin doesn’t know how stubborn and grudging this particular shepherd can be.

  Iree tugs sharply on Temujin’s rope, sending the rebel sprawling. “Half of my flock perished because of you.”

  I tilt my face up to the heavens and praise the Lady and Father. After which I immediately ask Them to help me stay vigilant. Iree won’t always be holding Temujin’s rope, and there are many others, like Emani or Lalyne, who will lap up Temujin’s lies like cream atop fresh milk.

  I debate sending them all ahead, insisting I be the one to manage Temujin, but that’s what I would have done before. I don’t want to be that wary and untrusting person anymore. I can’t be. I refuse to let Ghoa and Temujin and Kartok continue to win, and the best way to thwart them is to trust the shepherds and show I’m capable of working as a team.

  On our third night of travel, Temujin makes a grab for the darkness. I knew it was only a matter of time. I just didn’t know how much of my power Kartok had siphoned, or how much Temujin could access—or even how he accesses it, for that matter. But it must have dwindled considerably, since he doesn’t reach for starfire.

  It happens as we’re breaking down camp at sunset, the group still in fairly high spirits, despite the ever-thinning trees and the snow beginning to crust the grass. One moment, the midnight tendrils are gliding around my neck and cooing in my ears, preparing to shield our caravan, and the next they’re clumsily yanked away. Like a child holding a quill with so much concentration, it stabs through the sheet of parchment.

  I could easily snatch the darkness out of his untrained grip and be done with it, but since he’s considerably weaker than before, I decide to use it as a teaching opportunity. I’ve been showing Ziva something new every day—how to coax the ribbons into flat stitches to form the netting that conceals our caravan. How to nudge those tendrils along in the direction you want them to go. How to toss a cluster of darkness to incapacitate a person. And now, how to disable a halfwit. I don’t know where in the skies Temujin thinks he’ll go, or how he’s going to get there, considering Ziva and I can still see him plain as day, but I make a point not to think about the inner workings of his dubious mind.

  “Ziva!” I call.

  “It isn’t me!” she insists as she scrambles to where I’m folding my bedroll.

  “I know. Not even you’re this pathetic.” I shoot her a teasing grin and she shoves my shoulder. “It appears our aspiring Night Spinner has taken a handful of darkness…. How would you react?”

  “By taking it back.” She lifts her hand, but I drape my fingers over hers.

  “You could … but consider our enemy. Temujin acts like a spoiled, entitled child. That would only start a tug-of-war.”

  “You don’t think I’m strong enough to best him?” Ziva’s thick brows flatten into a familiar scowl.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Of course you are. But it’s a needless waste of energy.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “If he wants the darkness, give it to him.”

  Ziva cocks her head in confusion. “But—”

  “All of it.”

  The corner of her mouth curls. With a flick of her wrists, she gathers the night in her arms and thrusts the bundle across the encampment at Temujin, who’s attempting to blend into the shadow of a rock. The oily darkness pummels him like a waterfall, knocking him flat on his back. He gulps and sputters as if he’s truly drowning, and I encourage Ziva to keep the tendrils flowing perhaps a tad longer than necessary.

  Two nights later Temujin attempts to steal the darkness again while we’re wading through the deepening snow. This time, the inky weave barely snags and he collapses with a frustrated roar.

  I snicker and yank him back to his feet, pleased to be holding the rope tonight, to witness this failure. “I thought Kartok promised you access to Zemyan magic?”

  “He did! I drank the hot-spring water. That’s how I was able to wield your siphoned starfire! I don’t know why—”

  “You don’t know why the enemy lied to you?” I say with a needling grin.

  “He didn’t lie. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

  “The logical explanation is, you’re pitifully naïve.”

  “Just kill me and be done with it.”

  “Not until you give me what I want,” I say for what must be the hundredth time.

  “I can’t give you any information.”

  “You mean you won’t,” I correct him. “If Kartok discovers you relayed his plans, he won’t appoint you governor of Sagaan. All of your treasonous scheming would have been for nothing.”

  “No, I mean I can’t. I don’t have a choice.”

  “ ‘We always have a choice,’ ” I parrot the seemingly valiant proclamation he spewed at me back in the false realm of the Eternal Blue. “ ‘It’s no fault of mine if you can’t bear the alternative….’ ”

  “Fine. Yes. Initially, there is always a choice. But sometimes we make mistakes that limit our options, cinching them into a funnel, until every choice has been stripped away and we’re shackled to the path of that original misstep.”

  I resume marching without warning, forcing him to stumble to keep up.

  “Why don’t you ask Orbai if she can’t or won’t stop trying to return to Kartok?” Temujin gestures up ahead, to the shepherd tasked with transporting my eagle. She’s trapped inside a cage originally intended for a dog, still attacking the wooden bars as if they’re the carcass of a rabbit.

  I’ve visited her every day of our journey. Begging her to come back to me. Whispering happy memories of our years together. Reaching out to gently stroke her golden feathers. But her eyes continue to dart with a wi
ld intensity I haven’t seen since the day she arrived at Ikh Zuree, just hours after being snatched from the tundra. Every time my fingers get close, she lunges to snap them off.

  There has to be a way to reverse the binding. I will find a way to reverse the binding—or spend the rest of my life trying.

  “So quick to forgive your eagle, but so quick to condemn me …” Temujin muses into the silence.

  “Orbai is a bird,” I retort. “She doesn’t have agency or a conscience. She can’t be held accountable.”

  “Do you think the binding magic cares if you’re bird or human? I’m doing my best within the parameters I’ve been given.” Temujin’s voice hitches, and it makes my gaze flit back. I watch him totter through the knee-deep snow, battered and bloodstained. The last time I saw Kartok in the Temple of Serenity, he tried to slit my throat in order to heal me with Loridium—to bind my will to his, as he’d done with Orbai.

  And, supposedly, Temujin.

  How much of the rebel’s treachery has been intentional and how much is Kartok’s pull? I wonder before I catch Temujin watching me with those mournful golden eyes. Willing these thoughts into existence.

  Thankfully, I’m immune to his charms this time. In fact, I revel in his moans over the next two weeks as we trudge toward the Chotgori steppes, where the wind blows sideways and frost gnaws at your fingers and toes—even with the help of Serik’s heat.

  “Please kill me and reap your revenge,” he begs me every day.

  And every day I smile and say, “But this is so much more satisfying than killing you.”

  We arrive in Arisilon City three weeks to the day from the time we left Namaag. Even though I knew we wouldn’t be greeted by a welcoming party and whisked away for hot baths and a feast, and even though Temujin claimed the Chotgori were living in squalor and forced to work in the mines, the sight of their ravaged capital still grinds my heart like the heel of a boot.

  Just get to Chotgor, I’d chanted through every grueling league of our trek. As if making it this far north was the ultimate goal rather than the first rung on an incredibly high and rickety ladder.