by A. K. Wilder
“Dive under it, Ash!” Kaylin shouts when I surface a third time.
Too late. The wave smacks my face before I take a breath. But this time it drags me down to a sand bottom and, as the white water pushes me toward shore, I find my feet, shoot to the surface, and take a glorious deep breath of air. Behind me comes another tumbling wave, but it has already spent most of its fury before striking and merely knocks me to my knees. I swim, ahead of the next wall of white water, kicking hard, and catch the momentum, riding it to shore. It drives me along, and I bump and skip like a stone until my belly scrapes over the coarse sand.
On hands and knees, coughing and retching, I crawl the rest of the way out of the water. Once up to the dry sand, I turn over onto my back, brace my elbows, and search the darkness. The next wave rushes in, not reaching my toes.
When it sucks back out, I find I’m the only one left on the beach.
73
Kaylin
I reached for Tyche when the boat capsized, dragging her down into the depths. If nothing else, it gives me time to think. I can’t get them to shore on my own, not fast enough to keep Teern from catching wind of us. I send a silent plea to Salila, which she will love as it puts me even further in her debt. Soon, I’ll owe her all of Amassia. But what to do with the little savant? Instinct tells me to draw the line here. She’s seen what I am, and no doubt when she finds her right mind again, she’ll accuse me of it.
Tyche fights against me, not the sea, which isn’t what I expect. The little thing swims like a fish. As I hold her to my chest and deliberate, the girl’s small fists swing harmlessly at my face. For a moment, I see not Tyche struggling, but Ash, and Ash’s expression as if she knew what I’m contemplating. In an instant, I turn Tyche around, keeping her back tight against me. After the next wave passes over, I shoot to the surface. “Stop your beating, little lassie. I’m trying to save you.”
Tyche struggles to pull away. “I can swim!”
“Not in this swell, in the night.”
She elbows my nose hard and tries to bolt. The next wave comes, and again I dive, taking her down with me. Has she caught a breath? I hope so. She still fights, so I push her down to the reef. It’s impressive that she instinctively grabs it and holds on until the churning water passes overhead. We swim to the surface together and I catch her again. This time I flip her on her back and speed toward the shore before the next wave breaks.
“Take a breath,” I say before we go under again. I swim ahead of the swell, one arm around the girl and the other blocking her strikes. We come up in waist-deep water and I let her go. She stumbles away from me without a glance back. I dive over the next wave and out to search for the others. “Salila, where are you?”
“Lose your little lambs, did you?”
“Help me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because there’s a chest of Sierrak gold in it if you do.”
“Then don’t fret. I’ve got the Heir in my arms already. It’s a feeling I could get used to…”
I shoot to her like a comet. “Take him to shore unharmed!”
She snarls but sweeps Marcus toward the beach. “I wasn’t going to hurt him.”
Another Mar appears beside me. “Shashida, you came, too?”
“Did you say gold?” She smiles at me. “And these are your prey?” Shashida glides around me as another set rolls through.
“Not prey. Will you help me save them?” I reach out, fast as a snake, and hold her arm, forcing her to stare into my eyes. “Do them no harm?”
“Salila said you were testy. But for gold, I will do as you wish.” She swims over me. “Can I have first pick of the males?”
“You will have no such thing.” My grip clamps around her arm and I squeeze until she winces. “There are three more, Shashida, so be quick.” I speed after Salila. “For the Drop’s sake, sister. Keep his face out of the water! Landers breathe air, remember?”
“But I want to resuscitate him. See what his phantom’s like.”
“I promise, you don’t.”
She pouts. “But he will be quite grateful, don’t you think? If I save his life?”
I come up a handspan from her face and clutch her shoulder, fingers cutting into her neck though she doesn’t bleed. “You rescue, revive, and you disappear, without a word to Teern. Do otherwise and I’ll hunt you to your death.”
74
Ash
I don’t believe my eyes when Salila comes out of the surf with Marcus in her arms. He’s alive! Still, my hand goes to my sword, which isn’t there. Useless.
“Stay back.” I motion to Tyche.
Salila has her mouth on Marcus’s, breathing for him until he splutters and coughs, drawing his own breath. He gains his feet as she puts him down, and Salila returns to the sea without a word.
“You’re alive.” I lead him to the shallows, but Marcus looks confused. He shivers in the darkness, his hands curling into his chest. The bandages are loose, hanging in strips, the ends floating on the water as his teeth chatter.
I know what salt feels like on my blisters. What he must be experiencing with all his gaping wounds I can’t imagine. I stagger with him toward the cliffs. Tyche slips over wet kelp as she comes down to greet us. “More.” She points back toward the sea.
Kaylin walks out of the surf with his arm supporting Piper. Behind him is Belair, falling to his knees, crawling, but managing on his own.
“Stay here, both of you.” I let go of Marcus and he crumples to the sand.
I run to Kaylin as Piper drops to all fours. Her serpent immediately goes to ground. “Samsen.” She gasps and coughs up water. “Find him.”
“Already done,” Kaylin answers as a tall, dark-skinned Mar emerges from the sea. She’s like Salila, female, yes, but longer of limb. She carries Samsen over her shoulder. I run to her. “Is he alive?”
The Mar hisses at me, but I don’t back away. Before I speak again, Kaylin stands between us.
“Shashida,” he says, formally. “For your help, we are grateful.”
“You know her by name as well?”
Kaylin takes Samsen out of her arms.
The Mar woman leans very close to Kaylin. “You play a dangerous game with Teern, brother.” Her voice is husky and moist, more phantom than human.
“I hold you to your vow, on your life.” Kaylin turns away, and Shashida disappears into the sea.
My breath catches. “Did you just threaten her?”
“I promise, when we are safe, I’ll explain everything.” Kaylin carries Samsen to shore.
We huddle under the towering sea cliff while wind whistles through headland pines. It’s not much shelter, and it certainly isn’t warm. I’m shaking uncontrollably. We all are. I go to Tyche, hoping to comfort her.
The girl nurses her soggy wet toy to her chest, the little replica of her phantom. Her hair sticks to her soaked clothes, and she’s cold beyond shivers.
“We have to make a fire.” I repeat it a few times before anyone responds.
“I think we must,” Marcus agrees. “Though it’s a beacon to our whereabouts.”
“If anyone is looking.” Kaylin turns to Samsen, who sits hunched next to Piper. “Can you call dry wood?”
“Give me a minute.”
“I can do it.” Tyche sounds small in the dark.
“Do you have the strength?” I can’t see how.
She tucks the stuffed toy deep into her pocket and rises to her feet.
“Let her,” Kaylin says quietly in my ear. “She’ll gain comfort from raising her phantom.”
For a sailor, he knows an awful lot about savants and their phantoms. Tyche avoids eye contact as she walks away from our circle.
“I’ll come with you.” She doesn’t indicate she’s heard me, but I follow anyway.
Farther down
the cliffs, the young orange-robe drops to her knees and up comes her phantom, sand flinging everywhere. It shakes kelp and bits of shell from its hide and turns to lick Tyche’s wet, salty hair. The intimacy warms me and makes Tyche sigh. Kaylin is right. It’s the first relief I’ve seen in the girl’s face since Aku fell.
There’s no sign of shock or confusion in her phantom’s expression. That makes sense. Going by what Marcus once shared with me about De’ral, the little impala has been watching from the depths through Tyche’s eyes, feeling through her hands, hearing through her ears.
Tyche lifts her chin. “Dry wood, please.”
The phantom blinks its big brown eyes and sings. The melodic tune lifts above the pounding surf, enchanting me, and all the nearby driftwood on the beach. When that’s piled high, dry branches rise from the wooded glen beyond the headland. Piece by piece they float toward Tyche, stacking neatly at her feet. I grin through chattering teeth. The tone of the phantom song is so soothing; it calls up feelings of peace and warmth inside me, and I think everyone and everything on this beach must be touched by it. I sweep up an armful of wood to take back to the others. “Well done.”
Together, Tyche and I lay the fire. The tinderbox from the gear is long gone, but being the resourceful sailor that he is, with only a dry stick and a flat piece of driftwood, Kaylin sparks a flame.
“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” I ask him.
“Aye, lass. Plenty.” Not boasting makes him seem even more capable.
Cheered on by the breeze, we have a roaring flame in no time. My arms and legs tingle as blood returns to my limbs. Everyone else relaxes as well, clothes steaming in the warmth, blue lips turning to more natural tones. For Tyche, the heat is a sedative. She rests her head on her hands and falls fast asleep. The rest of us talk quietly while we busy ourselves drying our clothes in front of the fire.
“Do you know where we are?” Marcus asks Kaylin.
“I have us north of Gleemarie.”
I sit next to him and pull up a mental map of the area. “How far would that be? One hundred and fifty leagues from Baiseen?”
“As the crow flies. On horseback, farther.”
“Horses,” Marcus says. “We’ll need fast ones.”
“To reach Baiseen in time to warn of Tann’s madness, and for the southern realms to hide their first whistle bones?” Kaylin asks.
“Is there any other goal?” Marcus’s voice is challenging.
“Survival in enemy lands comes to mind,” Kaylin says to us all, but his eyes rest on me.
“If we replace the horses every night and morning and stick to good roads, we can reach Baiseen in five days or less,” Marcus says.
“Ahead of the warships?” I ask.
Kaylin shrugs. “Depends on winds and currents.” He looks at the faces around the fire.
“We need rest,” I say, letting my eyes fall on Belair, who hunches like an old man.
“Don’t look at me like that. I can ride,” he answers, straightening. “But how do you propose we find fresh horses, morning and night, and disguises to keep us out of shackles, seeing as we must stick to well-trodden roads if we are to reach Baiseen ahead of the fleet? Enemy roads, I might emphasize.”
“Gleemarie has plenty of farms.” I frown. “There’s no coin, though, is there?” I look hopefully at Kaylin. “That chest of gold?”
“Gone,” he says. “But that shouldn’t slow down a band of savants.”
I pinch my brow, guessing what will come next.
“Will there be food?” Tyche’s eyes open again, large and luminous.
“Hungry?” Kaylin asks.
She frowns at him, and then, as if making a decision, she says, “Yes, please.”
“That I can see to.” Kaylin chooses a straight branch from the wood pile, pulls out his knife, and in two strokes, gives it a sharp point. “Fancy fresh rock cod?”
Tyche nods again.
He pulls off his shirt and starts to walk away.
I run to catch up. “You’re going to spear fish? In the dark? After what we’ve just survived?”
“The little lassie is hungry.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles.
A bubble of laughter escapes my lips. In spite of everything, he has our well-being on his mind. Still, I force a mock frown. “And I suppose I know what you mean when you say lack of gold won’t slow down a band of savants?”
He leans in close, his arm going around my shoulders, seemingly unconcerned that all eyes are on us. “Aye, lass,” he whispers. “I’ll make fine thieves of you yet.”
75
Marcus
I scan the road as it curves close to the tree line north of Gleemarie. It’s a perfect ambush point, according to Kaylin. He waves me back, and I duck out of sight. I can hardly fathom what we’re about to attempt.
Kaylin, Samsen, and Belair hide with me in the pinewood, silent save for a few stomach growls. Kaylin’s rock cod satisfied us for the night, but with the urgency to reach Baiseen ahead of Tann’s fleet, we spared no time to fish and cook in the morning.
The plan is to steal military mounts, the logic being if we’re seen galloping south on the coast road in Aturnian military uniforms, it’s less likely we’ll be haltedor reported. The war-trained horses should be the fittest, too. The problem is, as Ash predicted, so far, no troops have come by.
Until now.
“Steady,” I say and make a fist, keeping the pain to myself. Deeper in the woods I spot De’ral and the sun leopard awaiting orders. So far, my phantom hasn’t eaten a whole village or churned the woods to pulp, which is good, considering I promised Piper he wouldn’t. We had a fierce argument, but in the end, I am the Heir, even without my official seal, which is at the bottom of the sea, or my yellow robes, which must have burned along with all the other neatly folded robes in the main hall of Aku. Still, I remind De’ral. “No killing the horses. No squashing the riders. We steal the mounts only. Do you understand? Catch, not obliterate.” Part of me is so confident I want to laugh. Another part of me, like Piper, is riddled with doubt.
And she has reason for concern, good reasons for wanting to find me a red-robe warrior to teach me greater control. Because she saw the results firsthand. I’d been self-assured in my final days of training, convinced Zarah’s instructions were paying off and De’ral and I had finally found our rhythm. But that was before the attack that changed everything. And in those moments when De’ral and I were fully joined, when nothing mattered save annihilating every threat to Aku and her people, both real and perceived, I knew not who was in control. Or if there even was control. I recall only rage and blood and a savagery that seemed to be such a part of me I fear perhaps I’ve always been more monster than man. The savant and the phantom are one, I think as Kaylin’s words come back to me. I must stay in control this time. No second chances.
Samsen slips deeper into the woods and calls over his shoulder to Kaylin. “Try not to get blood on our coats this time, will you?”
The sailor chuckles. I grimace.
Much deeper in the woods, Ash and Tyche wait, ready to call and calm the horses while we disable the riders.
Samsen’s phantom circles overhead in the form of a large tern. It sings its clipped tune and suddenly the riders heading down the road find themselves on runaway steeds. The horses race into the woods as Piper and I close in behind them. The moment the phantom stops singing, De’ral and the sun leopard jump from hiding, turning fear to terror. The horses drop their haunches and skid to a halt, rolling back, trying to escape the ambush. Five of the riders fling from their saddles. Before they pick themselves up from the ground and draw swords, we are on them.
De’ral punches the remaining riders out of their saddles, using wild swings left and right. They hit the ground and don’t move. I have to work harder than my phantom, but I flip, head-butt, and knock out two whi
le Samsen, Piper, and Kaylin take care of the rest. Belair stays by the road, keeping watch in case anyone sees our highway robbery and tries to intervene. I hear Tyche in the distance, chanting, gathering the mounts.
“That’s enough!” I command De’ral when he picks up a body and opens his mouth. “Leave them be.” I shake with the effort to stay in command. “To ground,” I order, and De’ral melts into the earth, rushing back to me. I turn to see if anyone noticed my inner struggle, but they’re all busy with their own concerns.
“Hold!” Samsen yells to Kaylin. The sailor’s arms are raised, gripping a sword doublehanded, ready to swing wide. “No blood, remember?”
Kaylin reverses the blade, thwacking the hilt into the back of the rider’s head and knocking him out. “This one looks about your size,” Kaylin comments as he measures up the Aturnian slumped on the ground.
We’re into the Aturnian uniforms in moments, keeping the smallest for Ash, Piper, and Tyche. Even then, they have to roll up sleeves and cuffs. I notice they all strap on swords, including Ash.
“I think I’ll never be without a weapon from now on,” she says.
After what we’ve been through, I fully understand.
The entire exercise takes less than fifteen minutes, not counting the roadside wait. We pass around the soldiers’ waterskins and rummage in the saddlebags. They are well stocked with thick brown bread, dried meat, fruit, grains for cooking, and rounds of cheese. We stand in a circle together, sharing food and deciding the best match of horse to rider. I wipe crumbs off my chin stubble and give the command to mount up.
By the time the sun reaches midmorning in the east, we are south of Gleemarie, galloping full tilt toward Baiseen. I’m not sure of the others, but my horse, a tall, stocky brown mare, is smooth and easy. I have to admit, she’s even more responsive a mount than Echo, long be her path. The Aturnians have fine bloodstock, certainly. If we could only reach mutually beneficial trade agreements instead of trying to cut one another’s throats. Then again, after the attack on Aku, what chance for peace could there possibly be? It hits me in that moment, the irony. For so long, I’ve thought only of my seat on the Council, the many ways I’d bring about better diplomacy and peace. Perhaps I’d been blind to it, or naive as Father often said. Well, if Tann wanted a war…
