“No. Just me and one other.”
“Why were you cast out?”
He considered a moment before answering. “I learned about the plans my tribe had for the Faoii and for my own people. I could not condone the coming slaughter, so I buried my criukli into my superior’s chest and deserted.” There was no hint of regret or remorse in Tendaji’s response, but there was no pride either. He could have been explaining what he’d eaten for breakfast. Despite herself, Kaiya shuddered. This was the Croeli she had always heard of in the stories.
Faoii-Eili seemed unfazed. “Detail your dealings with the Thinir Tribe.”
The interrogation continued for a long time. Tendaji spoke of his superiors, first of his true commander, then of the one he had killed, and finally of his uncle. He spoke of rarely being with the tribe itself, often scouting in far corners of the country; about how things slowly and subtly changed between every visit, until finally the place he returned to was not a home at all. He spoke of his desertion and his attempts to gather other deserters to his cause against Thinir, and of the outrage he faced. He spoke of hatred and battles that he had experienced, both firsthand and from the lips of those he had considered brothers. Of his audience with King Lucius. Of his conversation with Kaiya in the cell below the keep.
Faoii-Eili asked question after question, digging into every aspect of Croeli culture and any plans Tendaji might have been aware of. Kaiya watched in silent disapproval as her superior questioned the weakened man without pause. His answers came continuously, his voice unfaltering. Kaiya watched Tendaji carefully, but she never saw any sign of him false-facing.
Emery, who had entered shortly after the interrogation began and who was only briefly glanced at by Eili before being casually ignored, stood by Kaiya in an uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, as the interrogation dragged on, Kaiya’s insides filled with stone. She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes, indignant that a Faoii could treat another human being, Croeli or not—brother or not—with so little humanity. Tendaji had long since proven his intentions, and the questions that dug into his private affairs held no use for the Faoii other than a sick determination to make him fully realize his current helplessness. Kaiya strode to Faoii-Eili, determined to stop this torture, but was forcibly halted by a sudden and violent change in the sewer’s surroundings. With a swiftness that made her head spin, a new and ghostly scene superimposed itself on the area, and new people swam before her eyes.
Kneeling at Tendaji’s feet was an emaciated, naked man with grey and tattered wings, hands set firmly on the grime-covered ground. Across from him, an angel of orange and yellow fire cascading from her ivy helm continued the never-ceasing tirade of questions. The answers flowed continuously from the broken man’s mouth, and Kaiya’s heart tore as she studied his bent and shaking shoulders. In her mind’s eye, she reached out for her ailing brother, only partially aware that the image she saw was not real.
Or, she imagined a familiar voice whispering, is it the only true thing you’ve ever seen at all, Faoii-Kaiya? As she did, the grey man’s head jerked up.
From the sunken sockets of that crippled, dingy apparition, the piercing amber eyes of a wolf returned Kaiya’s stare, so full of strength and surety that she could only choke back a surprised gasp. Under that gaze, Kaiya felt a storm building in her, around her, and through her, filling her heart and mind and the sewers that surrounded them all—so passionate and powerful had the air become. Awestruck by this . . . Vision? Hallucination? Dream? . . . Kaiya tottered to a stop.
Eventually, the figures faded, and though the amber eyes did not dissipate for a long moment, Kaiya was at last able to redirect her attention to the real-world interrogation between Eili and Tendaji. Slowly, as though underwater, their words floated toward her.
“How old were you when your mother abandoned you to the Croeli?”
“Nine years, eight months, and six days.”
“How did they respond?”
Several more minutes went by before Faoii-Eili finally paused in her questions. Kaiya followed her gaze into Tendaji’s steady eyes. Wolf eyes? No, pale blue. Like frosted ivory. Finally, Faoii-Eili asked the question that she had evidently been building up to:
“You have not lied to me. At all. Why?” Shaken from her slightly disoriented reverie, Kaiya looked to her brother for an answer. The simple, too-little asked question of why was one of the most important. What motive did he truly have to help them? Were blood ties enough to banish an entire lifetime of separation?
The answer came in the same unemotional tone as the others had: “If you do not trust me, you will never trust her.” A long, slender finger pointed directly at Kaiya. “She has vouched for me. And you need her.” Faoii-Eili looked like she was going to say something but changed her mind. Tendaji continued, “She’s right, Faoii-Eili. If the last of the Faoii do not work together, then there is no hope for this world and its Goddess. The husks of the people may not die, but their hearts will decay until they become as my people have.” He paused, and Kaiya sensed the slightest hint of a shudder.
“Thinir and his army have almost succeeded in destroying Illindria’s hold. You must have sensed it by now—the chill in the air. The void that wasn’t there before. You have to stop him.” Tendaji sighed, and for the first time, his voice seemed unsteady.
“The rot and corruption that is my fellow Croeli sickens me. They follow their orders—no matter how dark or twisted—without question or understanding. Their eyes lose the light that makes them human, and they travel the world like empty husks. When I dream at night, a woman’s voice tells me to add my strength to your Order. To my sister’s Order. So I will. Illindria demands it.”
Faoii-Eili’s eyes grew wide with an uncontrolled bloodlust. “Blasphemy!” The older warrior shrieked as she stepped forward. “Blasphemy!”
Kaiya stopped her with a gentle hand. “Listen.” A song had formed in the air like needlework through a handkerchief. It was not a sound so much as an invisible beam of sunlight as diapha- nous as a string of silk from a spider’s web. But it was everywhere, filling the Faoii and the sewer.
Moments passed, and Kaiya released a breath she had not been aware she was holding. With it, a flood of uncertainty and doubt left her, and she was filled only with the Goddess’s embrace. As the song continued, rising and drifting through Kaiya as a wave breaks over a sandy beach, joyful tears and laughter poured from her. She lifted her arms in longing and ecstasy, her fingers brushing the stained cobwebs of the sewer’s walls. But the sewer was gone; she saw only Illindria’s fields and earth while a warm sun and gentle breeze pulled at her braid.
When Kaiya opened her mortal eyes again, Eili was crying, her already-broken face cracking with sudden emotion.
“The Goddess’s presence is not known in this city,” Faoii-Eili whispered to no one in particular. “With all the prayers I offer, with all the Oaths I swear, I thought I still knew what Her embrace felt like. Has it been so long . . .?” The older woman’s knees shook, and she hit the floor with a dazed expression. Kaiya resisted the urge to help her stand. Eili was true Faoii again, in tune with the Goddess for the first time in many years.
She would have to remember how to stand on her own.
11
All right, girl.” It hadn’t taken long for Kaiya to figure out that Faoii-Eili moved her spoon when speaking, which usually meant her flicking stew carelessly across the table. Kaiya maneuvered away from the projectiles as she pleated her curly black hair into its familiar braid. She had been in the sewers for three days, and Faoii-Eili’s resolve for action was catching. They only needed a plan. “We can’t be the only Faoii left. Too many girls were given orders outside the monasteries to have all been caught. We just have to find ’em.” Moving her stew bowl to one side, the blonde warrior unrolled a map onto the table, pinning it down with a stone at each corner.
“Most of the girls that came to the capitol were imprisoned or killed immediately. There
were a few I got to before Lucius, but even then, there was nothing I could do except keep them comfortable until they passed.” She wiped a hand over her face. “Goddess, if I’m not a Preoii yet, I should be. Too many dirges for too many young.”
Kaiya bowed her head for the fallen, picturing those that had straggled their way to the capital from distant monasteries, broken and bloodied from a war they had not been prepared for. The images swam before her eyes, memories that were not her own.
She watched young girls supporting each other as they dragged themselves to the city gates, their eyes full of hope and pride that they had made it this far. Some had barely made it into the outer city before they were escorted away by armored guards; others were received by hooded vagabonds who had brought them here, where they’d lain in burning agony and delirium before finally passing into Illindria’s embrace.
Tendaji, sitting across from Kaiya, furrowed his brow. “The fevers you describe . . . Some of the Croeli have recently begun coating their blades with criukli poison. It has no antidote and incapacitates its victims quickly.” He studied one of the daggers as though there was writing on it that only he could see. “Odd. It was not widespread when I left. And Thinir would never have condoned its use . . .” He drifted off, contemplating.
“Leave it to the Croeli to create something so horrible.” While still not friendly with Tendaji, Eili had adopted a cool, dispassionate tone when speaking with him. “I tried to find out what afflict- ed those poor maidens, but I had no luck. They always spoke of bells before they passed. I didn’t know a poison could do that.”
Tendaji’s eyes darkened. “The poison doesn’t cause the bells. Thinir does. They’re somehow connected with the magic that his war god has provided. They’re the signal that lets him dig into your mind and play with your head. If you hear them, they start to color Thinir’s words, and you want to follow him. Everything he says starts to make sense.” Tendaji’s voice was low. “Your people are not the only ones who have spoken of this.”
Kaiya thought of the bells and the laughter she’d heard in the monastery, and then of Preoii-Aleena’s calming voice that had quieted the other sounds. She shuddered. Thinir had been in her head. Somehow, his power had had hold of her. And yet she had lived. No others could say the same.
“Why poison ’em, then? If he wants to get in their heads, he must want ’em alive.”
“Some of the Croeli believed that criukli poison could drown Thinir’s whispers out—”
“Superstitious nonsense,” Eili cut him off. “People used to believe that tonicloran poison could turn you into a god or some such, too.”
“Maybe. But superstitions always start from somewhere.”
“Listen to you, knowin’ nothin’ and everythin’. Don’t know why I ever let one of your kind sit at my table anyway.”
“How many Faoii eventually reached the city?” Kaiya cut in, hoping to avoid another argument. Eili’s voice softened as she redirected her attention to the young Faoii.
“I know of twelve for certain. Six pairs that at least had each other in their final days. That is somethin’ to be grateful for, if nothin’ else.” A silence loomed over the table. “No one should die alone.” Kaiya refrained from biting her lip.
“Faoii-Eili,” she finally whispered, “may I ask . . .?” Kaiya dropped off, not sure how to finish.
“What happened to my shield sister?” Eili’s good eye twinkled and got a faraway look. “King Lucius—or Thinir, if your story is true—had our old barrack burnt down. The coward attacked in the middle of the night. A beam fell across our bed. I dug at it until my fingers bled, but the flames only rose higher. Elsa . . .” She trailed off, bringing a hand to her scarred cheek. The silence reigned again. “Goddess grant her better battles.”
Suddenly, Kaiya feared that Eili would ask about Mollie. Kaiya had not fought nearly so hard to save her shield sister, the person she loved more than anyone on earth. Did I even close her eyes? Kaiya frowned, ashamed. She could not remember. Mercifully, Eili did not ask.
“That was four years ago. I shoulda known then that there were darker powers at play than an agin’ king. The Croeli have been in power longer than I dared fear.” Suddenly the woman slammed a fist down onto the table, causing everyone except for the ever-stoic Tendaji to jump. “Damn our Order for being so independent! We shoulda kept better contact with the other factions. We coulda known when the winds changed!” Kaiya said nothing. Agreeing now would not help anything.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen another Faoii besides me?” Kaiya finally asked. Eili rolled her shoulders, bringing her emotions back under control.
“Eight months. Those last two girls were slightly more coherent than the others had been, and their story was similar ta yers. There was no warning, no time to prepare. One mornin’ the Croeli were suddenly at their gates. The attack was quick and brutal, and they had been left for dead. These men were particularly cruel. One of them stabbed them both with his poisoned blade even after they’d been struck down by ordinary steel.
“The fever had already taken most of their minds by the time they reached me, but they spoke of horned monsters that fought like Faoii and of bells that had been burned away by fire. I suppose that their stories weren’t so incredible after all. I didn’t think an army could just appear outta the blue like that.” Kaiya turned to Tendaji, suddenly curious.
“How do you—” She stopped herself and tried again. “How do the Croeli appear so suddenly? From the monastery, we could see for miles. But they just . . . showed up.”
Tendaji sat silently for a moment. “I do not know.” Eili narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Kaiya read no dishonesty in his features. “I was never part of the infantry. My shield mate and I—” He faltered and moved on hastily. “I . . . we . . . were scouts. Infiltrators.” Kaiya raised her eyebrows. She had never seen Tendaji flustered before. “We were trained to move in shadows, but we always had to remain on this side.” He stressed the words, but elaborated when he was greeted only with blank stares.
“Whatever magic the infantry uses—Blinking, they call it—it gets its strength from numbers. The more people that use it, the more potent it is. It allows Thinir’s men to move across great distances in a short time, but they come back . . . different.”
“Different how?”
“There is less light behind their eyes. They start following any orders they are given without argument. And they speak of the bells. It’s unnatural, and I am sure that it is what gives Thinir his power.”
Kaiya frowned. “If it makes people more obedient, why didn’t Thinir make you travel that way too?” Tendaji chuckled dryly.
“It’s unlikely that he expected to be betrayed by blood. And there was too much chance of missing important information if we used magic rather than skill. We needed to keep our heads clear. Our minds sharp.” He looked up, his gaze intense. After a moment, it softened. “I wish I could tell you more.”
Kaiya thought for a long moment. Something about Tendaji’s story caught at the back of her mind.
“How long have you been here, Faoii-Eili?” she asked, trying to pin down the tickling feeling that nagged at her.
Eili shrugged. “Nearly five years. I never noticed any change in the king, if that’s what yer wonderin’. Originally, Elsa and I had only stopped ’cuz we noticed Illindria’s absence here and thought we could do some good.” Her face got a faraway look again, and she sighed. “It was Elsa’s idea. She was always softhearted.”
Eili shook her head angrily before continuing. “I shoulda recognized immediately that our actions did no good. We were threatened often enough by the king and his men that I shoulda noticed somethin’ was wrong. I just thought it was ’cuz we refused to wear his bloody dresses and our girls beat his soldiers at the field games that first year. Sure, he called us a cult, but no one seemed to mind us. Then he barricaded our doors and set the place on fire. The few of us that survived were picked off in the followin’ weeks
. Girls couldn’t even go ta market without disappearin’ off the street. And the streets are so twisted, no one ever noticed when or where it happened. I never got an answer about any of my missin’ girls.”
The twisted streets. That was it. Kaiya brought her head up sharply. “Have you ever seen Lucius’s army mobilize?”
“What in Tapestry are ya—no. No, I haven’t.” Eili narrowed her eyes, suddenly perplexed. “Whatcha thinkin’, girl?”
“What about you, Emery? Has the army ever left the inner city?” Kaiya tried not to look too excited as she pressed the question. Emery thought for a long moment.
“Not as far as I know, ma’am. But there really hasn’t been a need.”
“What about with the nomadic tribes to the south? The Danhaid? That war was only five years ago. Didn’t the king send soldiers to fight them?”
“I’m sure, ma’am. But I don’t remember it. I was just a stablehand then.”
Eili caught on and rose to question one of the guards in her underground rebellion. He admitted that he had worked as a soldier but had never been asked to leave the city during the Danhaid Wars.
The Last Faoii Page 9
