by Claire Luana
“Interesting?” Vikal said. For some reason, Sarnak’s unflappability needled at him. “I wouldn’t call it interesting. Nua is as good as destroyed. My wife is dead. I was enslaved to the worst kind of monster, forced to watch as my hands killed my own kinsmen. I wouldn’t call it interesting.”
“It’s certainly not uninteresting,” Sarnak retorted.
“What do you want, Sarnak?” Vikal asked wearily.
Sarnak didn’t respond but simply sat, looking at him.
With a grunt, Vikal stood and paced across the chamber. “I don’t have the patience for your enigmatic lessons right now. Speak your piece, or I’m leaving.” He couldn’t be here, pinned under the weight of Sarnak’s ink-black stare. Looking deep into his soul, to the things Vikal couldn’t face himself.
“Do you remember when you used to spar with Goji?”
Vikal slowed, looking back warily. The god wanted to talk about Vikal’s childhood? “Of course,” he said gruffly. “What about it?”
“The man was a seasoned soldier, one of the best on Nua. Even the king before you couldn’t beat him. You were a thirteen-year-old boy. But every time you lost, you sulked like a little girl who’d had her doll taken away.”
Vikal grimaced. “I did not like losing. I still do not.”
“This much is clear. You are too hard on yourself. You always were. You expect perfection, and such a thing does not exist. Not for a king. Or even a god.”
“This is not a sparring match! This is Nua’s future. Sarya’s life. The souls of our people…the threads of the jungle…” He trailed off as a lump grew in his throat. “Because I was not strong or smart enough, I failed them.”
“The people do not seem to think you failed them. They want you as their king. No one even suggested voting you out while you were gone.”
“They should have! I abandoned them. Fought for the enemy. Look what has become of us!” He motioned to the dark space around them.
“They believe in you. Even when you do not believe in yourself. The island is with you still. I felt its rejoicing when you landed on our shores once again. It led you and the goddess of bright light to this place, back to your people. Nua needs you.”
Vikal pressed his fists to his forehead, trying to calm himself. “The forest,” he said. “They burned so much. Poisoned the lakes…Nua will never be the same.”
“Nua is stronger than you know. It will rebound. And now the words you will not voice, though they are defeating in their silence. Sarya. You must forgive yourself for Sarya.”
Vikal fell back into the chair with a heavy heart. Sarnak’s words were meant to comfort, but they only brought new feelings of wretchedness. Even if he somehow forgave himself for his prideful hand in Sarya’s death, could he forgive himself for what came after? He loved Sarya with all of his heart. So why was he lingering in the hallway outside Rika’s room? Why had the look of betrayal in her eyes twisted his heart?
“I did not deserve her love,” Vikal finally said, running his fingers through his hair, cradling his head in his hands. “She has only been gone a matter of weeks and I am having…thoughts.”
“About the lovely young goddess you rescued from a foreign land? Yes, I can see how that would encourage…thoughts.”
He couldn’t meet Sarnak’s eye. “Sarya deserved better than me.” Rika deserves better.
“She says she chose you anyway, you sand-headed water buffalo.”
Vikal’s head whipped up. “What did you say?” His heart skipped a beat within his chest. Those words…they were Sarya’s. It was the name she called him whenever he was being bull-headed. Well…she had said it a lot.
“She said she should be drinking tea with her ancestors, but you keep her tethered to you as tightly as a babe on his mother’s apron-strings.”
Vikal couldn’t comprehend what Sarnak was saying. “Sarya. Is here? She’s speaking to you?” The whips of white he had been seeing…so subtle he was sure he’d been going mad. Could they truly be Sarya?
Sarnak sighed and stood. “The god of endings sees souls into the next cycle. Helps them move on. But in some cases, they are not the one who needs help. It is those still living who refuse to let them go.”
Vikal found himself on his feet, looking around the cavern, lit only by Sarnak’s glowing orb. A breeze tousled his hair, bearing the scent of jasmine and coconut. They were inside. There should be no breeze here. He froze, feeling unmoored. “Sarya?”
“I will leave you two alone,” Sarnak said, reaching up and spinning his totem with a single finger. “If I cannot get you to see sense, perhaps she can.”
The light of the orb cast wobbly shadows on the walls. Sarnak disappeared into the hallway, but Vikal knew…he wasn’t alone. The hairs on his arms stood on end. “Sarya?” His voice was small.
As the orb spun, it began to knit together an image in the air, as if a spell was being cast, added to by each revolution of the sphere. Sarya began to take form. Her delicate brow, cascading black hair, soulful brown eyes. She wore the same dress she had the day she’d died, magenta silk trimmed with golden thread, a fold of fabric falling gracefully over one shoulder. A sob escaped his throat and he ran to her—only to find his arms embracing nothingness.
“You can’t hug me, you…”
“Sand-headed water buffalo,” he said with her, tears beginning to fall. “I know. Because you are not real.”
“Of course I am real. I am just lacking a body at the current moment.”
“How is this possible?” Vikal asked. “Your soul…it was consumed. I was certain it would be the end for you. Your last cycle.”
“Even the soul-eaters do not have the power to rip a soul from the cycle of rebirth forever. I was a captive, much as you were, within the soul-eater’s essence. When the goddess of bright light destroyed the soul-eater, I was released.”
Vikal’s elation dimmed at Sarya’s mention of Rika. Had she been alongside this whole time…watching? Shame burned his cheeks. He had dishonored her by how quickly he had grown to respect Rika. Grown…close to her.
Sarya clucked her tongue. “I am not hovering over your shoulder every moment, Vikal. We always knew this was a possibility. When we chose each other, we knew there was a risk. That a goddess of bright light would be born. That the fates would take you down another path.”
“I choose my own fate,” Vikal said. “And I chose you. I still choose you.”
“You have always been honorable to a fault, Vikal. That is one of the things I love about you,” Sarya said, raising a translucent hand as if she could reach out and grab his nose. He let out a choked laugh. It was such a Sarya gesture. Whenever he was being too serious, caught up in the stress of his duties, she would reach out and grab his nose. It had never ceased to bring a smile to his face. It seemed it worked even after death.
“Better,” she said. “It pains me to see you so full of despair and mourning.”
“It pains you?” he said. “What of my pain? How am I supposed to get through this life without you? I cannot do this alone.”
“You are not alone,” she said. “You have someone new to stand by you. It brings me great comfort to know that you are loved, that you will love again.”
“Never,” he said, though the hated part of himself whispered that was a lie. “I will never love anyone but you.”
“Is there no end to your stubbornness, water buffalo?” Sarya said. “It always was your destiny—to love the goddess of bright light. To have had the time I had with you was a great gift, and one I will cherish into the next life. But you were only ever mine for a time.”
“That’s not true. I am forever yours. And you are forever mine.”
She looked at him with kindness in her brown eyes. “A heart is capable of loving more than one person. Do not limit yours. Let it grow to make room for what is new.”
“I would never betray you like that,” Vikal said, desperate to believe his own words.
“It is why I asked Sarnak to spea
k to you. It is not a betrayal when one cycle is done to move to the next. It does not diminish what has come before. The cycle of our love is complete. It is time for me to move on, to be reborn into my next adventure. But I cannot do so unless you release me. Unless you move on as well.”
“What do you ask of me?”
“To let me go. To be happy for all the rest of your days.”
Her words cut him to the quick. “I…cannot. I do not know how.”
“Then we will both be nothing more than ghosts.” With those words, she stamped her foot and vanished.
“Wait!” he cried. “I am sorry! I will do whatever you want. Just come back. Stay with me.”
But she didn’t return, didn’t rematerialize. The light of Sarnak’s orb cast lonely patterns on the wall as it continued to spin in a lazy circle.
Vikal sank onto the floor, feelings of wretchedness overtaking him. Bahti was right. Somehow, despite his best of intentions, he had betrayed two women.
CHAPTER 23
RIKA’S TEARS HAD started falling before she reached her room. She hated those tears, cursed them. Her father deserved tears. Her mother and brother and the brave defenders of Yoshai who were probably under attack right now deserved tears. Vikal did not deserve her tears. These people—this land—didn’t deserve her tears. They didn’t care about her. They cared about what she could do. What power she had been born into. They cared about some ancient goddess who was wearing her skin. The goddess was just as bad as the leeches. Stealing her life for her own purpose.
Rika pulled her father’s sword out from under the little cot that she called her bed, curling around the cold metal like a lover. She traced the etching on the scabbard, the leather of the grip, the ruby of the pommel. Her father had held this sword, had walked through life with it on his hip. It had rested by his side when he’d met Rika’s mother. When he’d fought to overthrow the mad moonburner Queen Airi. It had sliced through tengu, saving their lands from destruction. It had sparred and parried, been sharpened and oiled. It had rested at his bedside when he’d gone to sleep each night. Rika let out an incredulous laugh through the darkness of her tears. She was jealous of a sword. She set it back down on the ground with a sigh.
She lay on the hard bed in misery, trying not to think about Vikal. As much as she had tried to focus on learning how to use her power and getting home, something had crept in—something more. In those moments when Vikal’s stoic mask fell, she saw glimpses of who he had been before the soul-eaters had taken him, and it was someone she wanted to know. Wanted to be near. And that fire had flamed brighter for thinking he might feel the same. But now, she saw the truth. Everything had been carefully calculated to win her aid, to convince a lost girl that a god like Vikal could fall for her. She felt like a fool. He was in love with another woman. And she could hardly blame him. She was his wife! Rika squeezed her eyes shut. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
At least she hadn’t thrown herself at him. A sliver of kindness crept into her angry thoughts. She hadn’t told him how she felt, or tried to kiss him, or flirted shamelessly with him. She knew, inside, what she had been feeling, but he didn’t. She could pretend that nothing had passed between them, that it was nothing but a business arrangement that had brought her here. Free his people, then free hers. It was this thought that finally settled her mind enough to sleep. She would complete her side of the bargain. Then get the hell out of Nua and never look back.
When Tamar came to fetch her in the morning, Rika dragged herself from bed. Exhaustion pulled at her, and the claustrophobia of being away from the sky and movements of the sun and moon was beginning to drive her mad. She wanted to open her third eye, to summon a star to blow the walls off Goa Awan and expose it to the open air. But she was too cautious to even try her powers, keenly aware of what had happened when she had summoned Cygna. As much as she longed to practice with her powers, she couldn’t risk exposing the last remaining Nuans by summoning a shooting star like a bullseye, could she? Though she had gained insight and control from Liliam…it still seemed an unnecessary risk.
“How long have you been in this cave, Tamar?” Rika asked.
Tamar considered, scrunching up her face as she skipped in front of Rika. “One passing of the moon?”
“A month?” Rika blanched. “That’s a long time.”
“I am very sick of tana root,” Tamar said.
“I don’t blame you.” Rika chuckled. She couldn’t help it, being around the girl lifted her spirits. How could she be so delightful when her father was such a brute? “What are you looking forward to eating the most when you get out of here?”
“Laklaks!” Tamar’s eyes rolled back in her head as she pantomimed the ecstasy of eating whatever it was.
“That sounds like a duck call,” Rika said.
“They are these little green cakes.” Tamar sighed. “My auntie makes the best. They are so good right out of the fire. You can try them after we defeat the leeches!”
“I’d like that,” Rika said, shoving down her guilt. Tamar was a sweet kid, but she couldn’t stay here just to keep from hurting the girl’s feelings.
“What do you want to eat when we defeat the leeches?”
Rika’s heartstrings twanged. “In my homeland, there are these little round pastries called honey cakes. They are gooey and flaky—you can’t eat one without getting it all over yourself. I’d like one of those.”
“That sounds good! I’ll have one of those too.”
Rika smoothed the hair on Tamar’s head. “It’s a date.”
Tamar stilled and she looked up to see Bahti standing at the door of the cave, his red eyes glowing reproachfully. His arms were crossed, and in one massive fist, he held a gleaming hammer the size of Rika’s head. His totem. “Tamar, what did I tell you?”
“Yes, Father,” Tamar whined, looking sidelong at Rika. “Bye!” Then the girl scampered down the tunnel, quick as a shadow.
Rika squared her shoulders, facing off against the big man. She refused to be intimidated. She was here to help him. “Bahti.” She nodded at him and shouldered by him into the meeting room.
The other gods and goddesses were already waiting, together with Cayono, who polished the short knife that he kept in his belt. “Good morning,” she said coolly before going to stand beside Sarnak at the far end of the table from Vikal. She needed as much distance between them as possible.
Vikal looked at her intently for a moment, as if trying to communicate something with his eyes. She turned to Sarnak. “How did you sleep?”
“Huh?” Sarnak said, raising a bushy eyebrow. “Would have slept better with some wine. Time to get out of this cave.”
Vikal cleared his throat. “Sarnak and Rika met with Rika’s past selves yesterday, and as we can all see, her third eye is open. She is ready to enlist the aid of the stars in defeating the leeches. Right, Rika?”
“Correct.” She nodded curtly.
“The plan is simple,” Vikal said. “We sneak into the palace by way of the hidden stairs. Ajij will control the tides to get us in. We locate Rika’s totem, staying out of sight for as long as we can. Each of the soul-eaters are connected to the queen, and each of the human thralls are connected to the leech that turned them. Therefore, once we encounter anyone, they will know we are there.”
“I can keep the humans out of our way,” Kemala said. “But I will not be able to help with the leeches.”
Vikal continued. “Once we retrieve Rika’s totem, we will help her eradicate the soul-eaters from the island. Hopefully they will come to us—drawn by our attack.”
“Can starlight over there handle this?” Bahti asked.
“My name is Rika,” she snapped. “And in case you forgot, I’m the only one who can save your sorry asses. And if you want me to keep helping you, you could treat me with a little bit of respect. Just one grain of rice’s worth.” She held her fingers together.
“That is a scary little bark, but if we are betting everything on your newfound
power, we need to know you are ready. I would not send a newborn foal into battle as a war-horse, and I cannot help but think this is what we are doing.”
Kemala recovered first, laying a hand on Bahti’s shoulder. “Rika does not have to prove herself. If Vikal and Sarnak vouch for her, that is enough.”
“He’s right,” Rika said. Kemala turned in surprise. As much as it bothered her to have Bahti question her control in front of everyone, she needed to know too. It was one thing to use her powers in the dark spaces of her mind, under the watchful eye of her past self. It was another to do so in the heat of the moment, with the glowing eyes of the soul-eaters bearing down upon her. She needed to know she was up to the task. Rika opened her third eye, steeling herself against the nauseating wave of threads and connections that bloomed into view. Each of the gods were surrounded with them—tethering them to each other, to things invisible beyond the walls of the cave. Kemala’s dark threads were intricately tied to each of them, and as Rika examined the shimmering ebony thread that tied the goddess into her, she got the feeling that Kemala could see her, really see her. She flicked her attention beyond Kemala, following a familiar silver filament. She traced along it, letting her consciousness flow through the bedrock of the mountain into the clear night sky above. Cygna, she thought, tugging gently on the thread. I need you.
The tether connecting her to Cygna vibrated, trilling like a bell as the stars shuddered in the sky, beginning to fall towards her. She willed Cygna to travel through the opening far above Sarnak’s chamber, through the strange concoction of tunnels that filtered the light deep below. Cygna’s speed astounded her.
When Rika opened her eyes, silver light was already blooming in the hallway, speeding towards them. And then Cygna was in the cave with them, soaring above their heads in a sweeping arc, coming to rest on the table between them. A grin stretched across her face. It had worked much better than last time, when she had accidentally destroyed their boat and dumped them into the ocean. When she saw Vikal’s matching grin, her smile faltered. She looked away.
