This is our home. Our childhood. Somehow preserved inside the palace of the First Gods.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, every inch of me prickling.
The Goddess or Ghoa, or whoever She is, takes my hand and leads me to the twin settees with the black and gold stripes. The ones the matron swore she’d throttle us within an inch of our lives if we ever dared to sit in.
“I don’t have much time.” Again, the delivery sounds like Ghoa, but the graceful way She moves and Her placid expression are all wrong.
“What’s going on? How is all of this possible?” I ask urgently.
“I am whoever you need me to be. This palace is wherever you long to be. My children are as varied as the blues of the sky, so I, too, must adapt in order to properly serve them. Strong for some, merciful for others. Wise and serene, compassionate and long-suffering.”
“Where did Ghoa go? I don’t understand,” I say again, staring into my sister’s brown eyes, but seeing the reflection of the Goddess.
Two answers come in unison, rising from the same pair of lips:
“I’m here.”
“She’s here.”
It sends me into an even deeper spiral of confusion. I clutch my head so tight, my bad arm twinges. But I keep squeezing. Praying the pain will bring clarity. I’ve dreamed of speaking with the Lady of the Sky all my life, but I watched Her die on that balcony. And I’m desperate to know why Ghoa leapt to save Father Guzan, desperate to have some sort of closure after everything we’ve been through, but that’s just as impossible.
Gentle fingers slide beneath my chin and tilt my face upward. “Much to Kartok’s dismay, I cannot be killed,” the Lady explains. “Not in the sense that you interpret death. My form may pass away, but my essence is infinite and simply finds a new host.”
“And Ghoa is that host?” I blurt. I know it’s impertinent to question Her, but this proves that I am dreaming. Ghoa would never let the Lady of the Sky take her form. And the Lady would never want to reside in someone like Ghoa—proud and disbelieving, cruel and selfish.
The Goddess flinches and draws back, even though I’m certain I didn’t speak those thoughts aloud. “Not holding back even a little, are you, En?” All of the Lady’s softness vanishes, and the challenging glint in Her eyes is so irrefutably my sister, a sob works its way up my tightening throat.
Ghoa’s really in there, somehow.
They both are.
“Is that honestly what you think of me?” Ghoa asks, and it could be the ringing in my ears, but it almost sounds as if her voice catches.
“You know it’s not,” I whisper.
For all her flaws, Ghoa is also bold and courageous and self-sacrificing.
All ideal qualities in a goddess.
As if summoned by the thought, the Lady’s aura rises once more, looking bewildered for a moment before settling into this new skin. “The transition is usually immediate,” She pants, “but Ghoa refused to cooperate at first. Then she made several demands … one of which was speaking to you, which I’m trying to honor.” Her face pinches with strain and Her breath grows heavy.
I stare at the Lady of the Sky. Unable to comprehend what She’s saying, what I’m seeing. “What do you mean the transition is usually immediate? That makes it sound as if this has happened before.”
“It has. Three times. I believe you know them well: Jamukha, Zen, and Ciamar.”
“The Goddess-touched?”
She nods. “There’s a reason so few people have achieved that designation. It isn’t enough to simply be devout or to make a grand demonstration of faith, worthy of legend. It requires sacrificing oneself for my sake. For the benefit of the whole.”
“Are you saying Ghoa is Goddess-touched?”
“Why do you sound so skeptical?” Once again Ghoa’s indignation propels her to the forefront, though her lips are cocked in a grin. “Is it so hard to believe?”
“Yes! You didn’t even believe in the First Gods until we were thrust into Their realm. You wouldn’t sacrifice yourself for either of Them.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t for Them.”
My hands catapult into the air and I leap from the settee. “Doesn’t the Lady have a problem with that?”
Ghoa looks down at her lap, and her voice grows as soft as a whisper of darkness. “Why would She ever have a problem with love? What could be more powerful as the source of Her new life?”
It’s the closest Ghoa has ever come to admitting that she loves me, and it does something to my insides. My chest feels like it’s collapsing and expanding all at once. My eyes flood with tears of rage and gratitude.
You don’t get to do this! I want to scream. You don’t get to ruin my life and then expect to undo the damage by jumping off a cliff and claiming to love me.
I don’t want to forgive her. No one has ever hurt me more. Yet I’m desperate to throw myself into her arms one final time because no one has ever sacrificed so much for me either. And no one has taught me so much—both the good and the bad. Aspirations and warnings. Like it or not, Ghoa shaped me like a sculptor, carving away the excess material to reveal the person I would become.
Ghoa places a hand over mine—her skin far too soft and clean, without a single callus from her saber. “You know I’ve never been good with words, and I know it will never be enough, but I’m sorry, En. I hope you felt it on the mountaintop. But I wanted to say it. Needed to say it.”
A tear slides down Ghoa’s face—one of the few I’ve ever seen her shed. The only one that doesn’t harden into ice before it drips from her chin. It makes her feel so much more human, so much more fallible and real. It’s only when she reaches out and touches a gentle finger to my cheek that I realize I’m crying too.
“I’m out of time,” she murmurs.
She starts to pull away, but I grab her hand, suddenly not ready to let go. “What does that even mean? Where will you go?”
“I’ll slowly fade as the Lady strengthens. Whatever remains of me will eventually join the other Goddess-touched warriors outside the palace. I believe there’s a lovely length of golden rope waiting for me. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion the others won’t be eager to welcome me,” she says with a wry smile. “Eternity will be interesting.”
I’d assumed the dimness of the Goddess-touched warriors was due to the advancing dark of nothingness, but it’s all that remains of them after giving their life for the Lady of the Sky.
I try to picture Ghoa among their ranks, standing serenely beside Jamukha and Zen and Ciamar—the tether between the First Gods and the world. And it’s all wrong. Ghoa is action and speed and skill. She is decisiveness and control and ruthlessness.
I tighten my grip, crushing her fingers. “But the other Goddess-touched warriors returned to Ashkar to live out the remainder of their lives before returning here. That’s the entire point! Sacrificing your life for the Goddess so She can continue to give life to us all. It’s one eternal round.”
“Just because the Lady isn’t giving me new life doesn’t mean She isn’t honoring Her debt.” Ghoa gently peels my fingers from hers.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I chose to give my reward to someone else. Zemya needs a wise, compassionate leader far more than Ashkar needs another washed-up warrior.”
“You’re not washed-up. And the prince?”
Her smile is sly, but her gaze is heavy. Maybe even sentimental. “Tell Ivandar that if I were capable of respecting or caring for a Zemyan, it would be him. I expect him to name his first daughter for me. To ensure I’ll always have the final word. And tell Serik he was right—he’s a far better warrior than I ever gave him credit for. But I’d still whip him in the sparring ring. And you, En—”
Her voice chokes off and her eyes go vacant. I swear I can see the scars on her arms fading one by one. She shrinks steadily lower, ceding ground to the Goddess. Almost gone. But with a gasp, as if emerging from underwater, Ghoa musters the strength for one la
st charge. “I know you wield the darkness, but for me, you have always been the light.”
She lifts her trembling hands, I expect to give me a final Kalima salute, but she drapes them around my neck and pulls me close. Hugging me.
She still smells of horses and leather and iron. Of snow and grass and wide-open air.
My Ghoa.
Sister, mother, and friend, all in one.
“Thank you.” I hug her back fiercely. But I don’t know if she felt it. Or if she heard. Her body is too soft, her hair too long, and her skin smells of honey and globeflowers. I don’t have to pull away to know I’m embracing only the Lady of the Sky. Which is glorious and inspiring and fills me with so much peace—yet somehow leaves me the slightest bit cold.
A fact I find oddly comforting.
I emerge from the palace hand in hand with the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan. Serik and the others clamber to their feet, looking at us agog as we glide down the gold-dust path. Shouts of praise and hundreds of questions fly at me from every angle, but Ghoa’s voice, and all of the impossible things she said, continue to clash like sabers in my ears. Too loud to focus on anything else. My gaze keeps drifting back to the three ethereal forms standing sentinel before the palace, even though I know she won’t be among the Goddess-touched. Not yet.
The Lady and Father halt between my group of rebels and Kartok’s battalion of Zemyans and Shoniin, standing in a shaft of radiant sunlight that has broken through the black shroud of nothingness.
“We thank you for the bravery and diligence you exhibited by coming here to defend us.” The Lady nods at our small but formidable group, fronted by Serik and the kings of the Protected Territories. “As for you …” She turns to the group of Zemyans and Shoniin, who throw themselves facedown into the grass, insisting they knew nothing about Kartok’s plans. That they never wanted to wage war against gods. The Goddess waits for them to quiet before continuing. “We thank you, as well, for forcing us to reassess a feud that’s lasted centuries too long,” She finishes with a warm smile.
They glance up tentatively, their faces slack with disbelief—a very different sort of disbelief.
“You’re thanking us?” Chanar murmurs. “But you nearly died. We forced our way into your realm….”
Oyunna swats Chanar over the head. “No need to remind Her.”
“As a token of our thanks, we shall return you to your home. Come.” The Lady sets off across the lawn at a jarringly quick clip that instantly makes me smile. There’s a bit of Ghoa in Her yet.
The rest of us scramble to keep up.
Serik appears beside me, questions rushing from his lips like a waterfall. “What happened in there? What did the Lady say? What became of Ghoa?”
I don’t have the energy to explain. Or the words. Or the willingness—if I’m honest. I want to keep it all to myself a few minutes more. To imprint the conversations I had with both the Lady of the Sky and Ghoa deeply in my mind before I open them up to the scrutiny of others.
“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but is it okay if we’re quiet now?” I lace my fingers through Serik’s and look up at him. His hazel eyes are no longer guarded or exhausted but as wide and as open as the grasslands in springtime.
“Take as long as you need,” he says, kissing the back of my hand. “If I can wait nineteen years for my Kalima power, I can certainly wait a few hours for this. Just tell me one thing…. Is she gone?”
After a moment’s contemplation, I shake my head. Because Ghoa will never truly be gone.
“Good,” Serik says with a quiet smile. “I still need someone to blame for all of my problems.”
“Really, Serik?” I ram my shoulder against his side and he chuckles.
“You know Ghoa wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We fall into companionable silence with the rest of our group, taking in the splendor of the garden as the Lady and Father lead us back the way we came. I peer through the thick covering of emerald and garnet leaves. I part the flowering shrubberies with carnelian blooms, looking for a gateway or a tunnel, or even a snag in the air itself. Completely forgetting that we have a final stop to make before we can return to Ashkar.
The corpses of several shepherds and Namagaan warriors, and even a Kalima warrior, lie tangled in the grass where we initially crossed into the Eternal Blue, their blood as bright as the ruby berries dotting the trees. But my gaze goes immediately to the Zemyan prince and his pale, unseeing eyes.
Whispers explode from both groups, and a good number of Zemyans lurch after the First Gods as They kneel at Ivandar’s side. Suddenly desperate to protect the prince they were so eager to depose.
Father Guzan raises both hands, and the earth surges up in front of the advancing Zemyans, throwing them onto their backs. Behind this wall of protection, the Lady of the Sky extends Her palms over Ivandar and chants a song that’s an amalgamation of every sacred hymn I’ve ever known. Curls of blue smoke drift down from Her fingers and envelope the prince in a thick haze. The ritual is jarringly similar to Kartok’s Loridium, but then, why wouldn’t it be? Zemya is a child of the Lady and Father. She may have forged Her own magic, but the foundations of Her power, Her training and tutelage, came from Her parents. Proving yet again that They aren’t so different.
As soon as the smoke dissipates, Ivandar surges up from his back with a gasp, as if escaping the throes of a nightmare. He pants and blinks against the harsh sunlight, which continues to punch through the crumbling darkness. His hands rove over his chest and torso, feeling for wounds that are no longer there—though the evidence remains. Blood coats his fingers and plasters his tunic to his chest.
“What happened?” he asks, finally glancing up. He squints and gasps even louder when he registers the faces of the beings on either side of him. “Am I dead? Where’s Zemya? I thought She would greet me….” Ivandar tries to scuttle back, but the Lady places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“You were dead, but thanks to a friend, you won’t remain so. We’re going to find Zemya now.” The Lady rises with the grace of an eagle taking flight. The Father extends a hand to Ivandar and helps him to his feet.
“What friend? I still don’t understand….” Ivandar’s round, frightened eyes scan the crowd. Looking for Ghoa. When they fail to find her, his gaze settles on me. I give him a single, somber nod.
His entire frame sags. He clutches his bloodied shirt even harder. “How? Why would she do this?”
Before I can answer, the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan join hands. Shocks of brilliant green grass and swaying ferns spring up beneath the Father, and another plaque of darkness crumbles from the Eternal Blue sky directly over the Lady’s head, enfolding Them in the largest swathe of sunlight yet. They whisper words too low for any of us to hear, and when They raise their joined hands overhead, the garden falls away, bringing us to stand before a high stone wall with a gate large enough for only one person to pass at a time.
Ashkar stands beside the gate, clad in gleaming lamellar armor—the most glorious Kalima warrior I’ve ever beheld. Yet I’m neither awed nor impressed. The sight of Him floods me with too many conflicting emotions. He gave me my power, for which I will always be grateful. But He also led me to use that power to attack and enslave. To conquer and claim the people and places He feared.
Maybe He truly thought Zemya was a threat. And perhaps She was. Or maybe He was even more afraid of sharing the smallest part of His glory with His sister, of not being the best in the eyes of Their parents. I know better than anyone how the need for praise and approval can drive you to do things you never would have considered. But for some reason, I had assumed the gods were above this. That They had transcended such lowly human emotions. But maybe it’s that humanity, that fallibility, that keeps Them tied to us. Bringing out the best and the worst in all of us.
When He spots our group, Ashkar brandishes His saber and moves in front of the gate. “What are they doing in our realm?” He levels His blade at the Zemyans.
“Lower your weapon,” the Lady commands.
When Ashkar doesn’t immediately comply, She flicks Her wrist and His blade flies away on a gust more violent than anything a Wind Whisperer could conjure. “We’ve had more than enough bloodshed. It’s time to lay down our weapons and grudges.” She holds out Her hand. “We’re bringing your sister home.”
Ashkar stares in horror at the Lady’s hand. “But She—
“Never had a chance,” Father Guzan interrupts. The timbre of His voice shakes the walls of Ashkar’s watchtower. The rocks and mortar groan, threatening to collapse. At last, Ashkar sighs and opens the gate.
A current that feels like both wind and water sweeps us up and washes us through a tunnel of shadows. I brace for the glaring brightness of the snow and the unforgiving sting of the cold, assuming we’ll return to the ice caves, where we entered the realm of the Eternal Blue. But when my feet touch down, I’m standing on white marble steps, cluttered with singed debris. The blackened husk of the Sky Palace looms over us, and a sore battle rages across the Grand Courtyard. A melee of Ashkarians and Zemyans fight with blind rage, defending their homes and families to the death. Battling for the rights and respect they believe they’re owed from feuds that began centuries before.
The carnage is horrific; I’ve never seen such a bloody battle, not in all my years at the war front. Both sides are so consumed by the chaos, they fail to notice the gods, standing there. Watching them slaughter one another.
I glance at the Lady of the Sky, waiting for Her to unleash a storm of lightning. Or for Father Guzan to rend the earth and command their attention. Or for Ashkar to leap to the aid of His people, to ensure they defeat His sister’s followers. But none of them move.
I, on the other hand, am going to burst out of my skin if I don’t move. The tendrils of darkness shiver in my periphery and whisper in my ears. Ready now that we’re no longer in the Eternal Blue.
Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) Page 36
