by Claire Luana
The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he ran a hand through his hair. “It is not as impressive as it sounds.” He bent over to pick up a sharp stick, and with one powerful move, drove the end into the ground.
“It sounds pretty impressive,” she said, watching as he began to expertly drive the green nut thing onto the stick, shearing off sections to reveal something within. It was mesmerizing to watch him work.
“I could not even stop the soul-eaters from massacring our people,” he said, grunting as he pulled off the outer shell to reveal a furry brown ball within. “They burned the forest, barreled over any defenses we put up. We did not stand a chance.”
“My father was the most powerful sunburner I had ever known. And they killed him…” She swallowed. “Like he was a helpless child. They’re so strong.”
“Rika,” Vikal said softly. “I am sorry about your father. There is no forgiveness for the part I played in his death.”
She looked away, examining the ombré petals on a creamy-white flower—fighting the vise grip around her heart, the burning in her eyes. “It wasn’t you.”
“But I was in there…I remember—“
“It wasn’t you,” she snapped at him. She couldn’t hear his confession, see the twisted sorrow on his face. Because when she thought about the part he’d played, even knowing he’d been under compulsion…she wanted to rip him apart with her bare hands, dreamy green eyes or no. And she couldn’t think like that right now. She needed him. Clearly. She didn’t even know how to eat fruit here without him.
“Let’s just drop it, okay?” she asked, and he nodded. He fell to his knees a few feet beyond the trail and cracked the brown ball across a rock with a satisfying pop.
“What is that?” Rika asked, grateful for something to focus on other than the memory of Vikal’s part in her father’s death.
He offered one half of the little ball to her. “It’s a coconut. You can drink the water within. And eat the white flesh.”
“Oh! We have coconuts. I guess I never saw them…out in the wild.”
Vikal took a long drink from his half. “They don’t spring to life in neat sections on a plate.”
“I see that now,” Rika said. Was he making fun of her? But no, there was a crinkle of a smile at the corner of his eyes. She drank her fill, closing her eyes as the sweet liquid coated her scratched and salty throat. When she opened them, their eyes met, and he looked away quickly, breaking a section off his coconut with deft hands.
She cleared her throat. “Tell me more about the gods. How many of you are there?”
They resumed their trek. “There are seven that move through the cycle of birth, life, and rebirth. We are not always here at the same time. In fact, it is rare that we are.”
“Do you know each other?”
“There is often an innate connection. When I first met Bahti, we were children. We became instant friends—like we each recognized the divine spark in the other.”
“What are Bahti’s powers?”
“He is god of the burning mountain.”
“Where is he now?”
“I hope that he is sheltering what is left of our people. But he may be dead. Or a thrall.”
“Thrall?”
“Under the leeches’ compulsion. It is we call it.”
“So you hope we can find these gods and band together and defeat the leeches?”
“I think I have already found one.”
“One what?”
“A god. Or, I should say, a goddess.”
He stopped and turned to her. She blinked in confusion, coming up short. Why was he looking at her with such intensity? But then the wheels of her mind clicked into place and she stepped back, putting her hands up. “Oh no. You think…I’m a goddess?” She laughed incredulously. “Remember the incident with the sparrow explosion?”
“I do. You did not have such power when we were on the beach in your land. Do your powers feel stronger here?”
Rika frowned. The power had felt exponentially stronger the second time she’d tried to access it. “Yes. But maybe it’s stronger because I’m getting used to it. It wasn’t the first time.”
“My power was much weakened when we were in your land, almost non-existent. Now that I have returned, it is strong again. I think your power has strengthened for the same reason. Because it comes from Nua.”
“But I’m not even from here! How is that possible?”
“I do not know. In the past there have been generations where one or more of the gods or goddesses were not reborn. We always assumed that they were pausing in the cycle of rebirth for some unknown reason. But what if they were born—only born in another land? Another world? We never knew any world but Nua existed. The astrolabes have changed that. Who knows how many worlds are out there? Perhaps our gods, for whatever reason, are sometimes born far away.”
Rika shook her head, her mind refusing to wrap itself around what Vikal was telling her.
“Sixteen years ago, there was a storm of falling stars unlike any alive had seen before. It was in the heat of mid-summer. I remember it, though I was only four years old. We knew it heralded the rebirth of a powerful god or goddess. My parents were very excited because they already suspected what I was. The priests scoured the island, looking for the babe who had been heralded. But they never found one.”
Rika’s mouth had gone dry.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” she said woodenly.
“And when is your birthday?”
“July…”
“In the stories, the goddess had a great bird that she would ride, a companion of light made manifest. This…Cygna, the sparrow you summoned. Perhaps it is not big enough to ride, but it fits the stories.”
She laughed weakly. “Of course my powers would show up in miniature.”
“They will grow, with practice. When I was first learning to use my ability, I could hardly make a seedling grow.”
Rika turned from him, chewing on her lip. Could this be possible? Did she believe him? True, the ability she had was unlike anything she had ever heard of in the history books of Kita or Miina. And she had felt more raw power since they had arrived here. But if she was a Nuan goddess…why had she been born in Kitina?
“Would it be such a terrible thing, to be a goddess?” he asked gently.
She turned back, taking in his handsome face—worried and cautious. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad.
“If I believe this rebirth nonsense…If I believe that I am what you say I am…” She paused. “What am I goddess of?”
“Goddess of bright light.”
Goddess of bright light. It did have a nice ring to it.
CHAPTER 13
AS THE DAY progressed, the heavy heat of Nua’s afternoon settled over them like a blanket. Vikal let it melt into his bones and permeate his muscles, hardly minding the sweat that dripped off him and slicked the leather armor to his skin. He was home.
The terrain grew rugged as they neared the ridgeline that would stretch Nua before them—all the way from its eastern to western shores. The trees and foliage helped their passage by leaning out of the way, bowing in deference to their god. Vikal opened his third eye and smiled to himself at the explosion of green tethers tying him to every living plant on the island. He surveyed the land with relief. It seemed his absence hadn’t been too detrimental. Here, the threads of the jungle were vibrant and lush, thick with birth and life, death and decay—the cycle of a healthy forest. Beyond, past the ridge and the shadow of Kaja Kansa, he didn’t know what he would find. Those threads were twisted—or missing altogether. The soul-eaters had burned much of the forest on their march to Surasaya. How much had been destroyed? And more importantly, how many people were left?
As they walked, Vikal pointed out to Rika the plants and animals they passed—a family of bearded monkeys, a colorful green parrot, the downy white frangipani flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. His makeshift satchel filled with more bounty as
he pulled up fruits and roots that they passed. The girl had tied her long, black hair in a knot at the back of her head and drank deeply when they finally found a stream. Though sweat poured off her, rolling down her smooth skin and dampening her stained tunic, she didn’t complain, and she kept up his vigorous pace. She was tougher than she looked.
He sighed. Of course she was. She had lost her father and been essentially kidnapped by a stranger who might as well have been her father’s murderer. It was a miracle she was tolerating his company at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a whisper of white, a curving smile and undulating lock of hair. When he turned, it was gone. He stifled a sigh. It must be wishful thinking that made him think of Sarya, to think he saw her here in this forest where they had fallen in love. He wished she were here. His wife had had a way of making people feel welcome and wanted, becoming their instant friend. And with Sarya, it had been genuine. She would have known how to help this poor girl.
Rika was looking at him sideways under her thick lashes, her chest heaving from the effort of the hike.
“We should be to the top soon,” he said.
“Thank the gods,” Rika said. She let out a little laugh. “Or…thank you? Right? Because you’re a god?” She shook her head. “The idea takes some getting used to.”
“It did for me as well.”
“Will you tell me about the gods or goddesses?” she asked. “You said there are seven? What other powers do they have?”
“Of course,” Vikal said, grateful for a topic that felt safe. “My friend Ajij is god of the deep sea, and like I said, my other friend Bahti is god of the burning mountain. He’s a bit rough on the edges, but he has a good heart.”
“Any goddesses?”
“Kemala, goddess of dark spaces. She is really quite sweet,” he said hurriedly when he saw Rika’s eyebrow raise. “A little intimidating at first, though. And then there is Sarnak, who trained most of us. He seemed ancient when I was a boy—he is practically a fossil by now.” Vikal paused, his tone turning somber. “If he is still alive. He is the god of endings.”
“Endings?”
“Yes. Death…but not so morbid. We believe all life is circular. When we leave this place when we die, our spirits rejoin the great consciousness. It is an ending of sorts, but not the end. When we are born in a new body, the cycle begins again.”
“We believe something similar, I suppose. When you die, your spirit goes to the spirit world, where it may spend just minutes, or years, if you have reason to hold on. But eventually, you pass along. We don’t believe you come back, though.”
“So once you are gone, you are just…gone?” he asked. “It sounds sad.”
A cloud of emotion passed over Rika’s face and her lower lip quivered. Vikal could have kicked himself. Speaking of the sadness of her beliefs, after her father had just passed on…
“I’ve never thought about it much. Before now.” Rika managed, her voice thick. “I guess it means we have to make the most of the time we have.”
“That is a good way to live, whether you come back or not.” But to only have one chance to get things right on this Earth…what pressure.
“Are you the ruler of Nua?” Rika asked. “The way you talk about the people…it’s like you feel a sense of responsibility.”
“I do,” he admitted. Though I have failed them. “I am…I was…a king of a sort. Our ruler is selected by the people—who make a pledge of faith towards that ruler. If the people are displeased with you and withdraw their pledge, you must step down. I do not know…perhaps things have changed since I left.”
“The people would abandon you because you couldn’t defeat the soul-eaters?”
“Perhaps the people thought I abandoned them.”
Rika was silent.
“And what of you? Your father was…the king?”
“My parents shared power,” Rika said quietly. “They ruled together.”
“And who would rule when they are gone?”
“Me,” she said. “If I ever get back.”
He stopped, looking at her. “We will get you back. I promise.” He had failed so many people so many times—Sarya, Cayono, his subjects. The capital of Surayasa was overrun, Castle Nuanita taken. Burned and destroyed. But perhaps…perhaps he could find some small piece of redemption if he could help Rika prevent a similar tragedy in her own home. As soon as they defeated the soul-eaters here…
“I thought my land was gone, but here it is. Perhaps the leeches will not do so much damage to your home before we can return.”
“I hope you’re right.”
As they resumed their trek, an acrid smell tickled Vikal’s nose. Rika sneezed.
Vikal stretched out his hands, brushing them against the green vines and knobby tree trunks they passed. The threads here vibrated with pain and sorrow. “Something’s wrong.” The top of the ridge was in sight, and Vikal could wait no longer. He had to know. Had to see. He took off up the mountain, spurred on by a dark intuition. As he crested the ridge, he stumbled to a stop, his legs seeming to turn to stone from shock. Words—thoughts—froze in his mind.
Rika reached his side a few seconds later and rested her hands on her knees, panting. “What—?“ she began with a gasp before the words died on her lips.
The island was…a wasteland. A smoking, wrecked slope of blackened, twisted tree trunks. The jungle ended a hundred yards below them, and all that went beyond it, as far as the eye could see, was destruction. Dotted lakes, once blue, sat like stagnant pools of ink, and even the shining ocean beyond the far stretch of shore was putrid with waste.
Vikal had thought there was a limit to the amount of sorrow that could pour from one man’s heart. He’d thought he had reached it when Sarya had turned to dust, thought that the well of agony and guilt and rage had run dry. He had been wrong.
Vikal opened his arms wide and screamed, a primal cry of anger and sorrow. A flock of birds alit from the canopy behind them. The cry echoed off the hillsides and valley. He screamed again, picking up a rock and hurtling it down the hillside into the ravaged stretch of forest. He threw another rock, and another before sitting down in disbelief and burying his head in his hands. The trees and bushes seemed to curl around him, a comforting embrace, sharing his mourning. This cannot be. This cannot be Nua.
Rika dropped down next to him, pulling her knees against her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
Vikal’s broad shoulders shook as he sobbed into his hands. He didn’t care if the girl saw him cry. He had no pride left, no honor. Like this island, he was a broken thing.
Rika voice was quiet. “Nua can regrow. If we kill them all, it will.”
“It is a fool’s errand,” he said. “I saw you kill that leech and it freed me, and I thought it changed everything. I was kidding myself. You are one untrained girl against hundreds of them. Thousands. They are powerful beyond belief. They are nearly impossible to kill. They eat and consume and eat and consume. All you will do if you try to go against them is die.”
“I will with that attitude,” she said petulantly.
“Do not be naive!” he shouted from where he was sitting, grasping her shoulders in one lithe motion. “You forget what I have seen. Every moment I was under those creatures’ power, I was aware. Awake. I remember…everything.” His hands shook, and his grip tightened, digging into the flesh of her arms. “I killed and slaughtered and maimed for those things. My own people…I might as well have set this fire. They are unstoppable.”
She stared at him with unflinching gray eyes, her jaw set. She didn’t back down from his ferocity, but matched it with her own. “You said you believe in beginnings and endings. A cycle. Well, these creatures began somewhere, and they will end somewhere. Let it be here. Let it be Yoshai. Gods willing, my home isn’t gone yet. For whatever reason, I have this ability. So I’m going to kill as many of them as I can before I go.”
He deflated, loosening his grip. His head fell forward and he heaved a great sigh. He w
as supposed to be a ruler of men—brave, bold—god of all green things, and he was getting lectured by this strange, steely-eyed girl. And gods help him, she was right.
“Let’s make them pay,” she whispered.
He nodded, closing his eyes. “All right,” he said, though he did not believe it could be done. Not really. Not anymore.
Silence stretched between them.
Rika stood and extended her hand to him. He looked from it to her and back again. After all he had done, he didn’t deserve her companionship, let alone her forgiveness. But she was all he had. The smallest glimmer of hope that she could change things. And perhaps he was all she had too. So he enveloped her hand in his own and pulled himself to his feet, scrubbing away the tears with the heel of his other hand.
“Where are we headed?” she asked.
Goa Awan. The name of the holy place swam to his mind unbidden. Yes. Goa Awan. But how to explain… “There is a legend that the creator spirits formed Nua on the back of a giant sea turtle.”
“Right,” Rika said with a little eye roll. “Of course.”
“The legend says that the great turtle was best friends with a flying snake, the spirit who formed the sky. The snake was exhausted from setting the sky in the heavens and flapping the stars away from the land with gusts of wind from his wings. So he rested on the back of his friend, falling into a deep sleep. When Nua was born, it formed right over the back of the snake. When the snake awoke eons later, he panicked, finding himself encased in darkness. He thrashed about below the ground, raising the earth into the mountain we see today. Finally, he found his way out, breaking a hole through the top of the mountain and flying into the sky.”
Rika nodded. “Great story. Not sure how it impacts where we’re going…”
“The snake’s attempts to free himself left caves and tunnels under the mountain. They are called Goa Awan. The lost caves. We will find my people there.”
