Nightforged (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  Tkira chuckled, but it wasn’t a friendly laugh. She finished repacking the rucksacks and tossed one to Raav and the other to Gaff. “The nuts won't last long in our stomachs.” Her scarred face twisted when she looked at me. “Maybe our gutterborn friend can tell us where to find more.”

  Despite hearing the insult all my life—and frankly, calling myself gutterborn more often or not—my anger blazed at Tkira’s tone. She’d been almost kind to me after my injury. But I wouldn’t forget how she’d acted with the stowaway, indicating what sort of person she was.

  “Yeah, well, you’ll wish they weren’t in your stomachs soon,” I retorted. “The cramps will start soon. We’ll want water and a place to rest while you empty your guts.”

  Raav planted his feet wider. “If we actually want to survive the next decade, maybe we should let Lilik teach us the basics.”

  Islilla’s face went white. “A decade? What about finding a way home?” She clenched her uninjured fist at her side.

  Heiklet touched her friend’s shoulder. Together, they looked strangely like children. Delicate and lost.

  “He didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “We’ll find a way back. But we should plan for the worst.”

  Raav rolled his shoulders, a mischievous grin brushing his lips. “So, Lilik. Where do we find water and shelter? Command me.” The look in his eyes sent little barbs of fire into me.

  Cheeks hot, I looked away—I was being a total idiot, drawn to this trader because I’d just lost Paono.

  “Near the shore. Better chance of finding fresh water the lower we get.”

  “All right, then.” Raav helped Heiklet and Islilla to their feet. “Lead on, Lilik.”

  As I started down the frozen river of rock, I ignored a long look that passed between the adults. They’d be more humble once they started vomiting.

  Sharp stone ridges pushed through the soles of my shoes, making me grateful my father had talked me into buying a pair with good, hardened leather; Heiklet jerked a foot up more than once when it landed on a knife of rock.

  From somewhere down below, the breeze picked up the perfume of kivi blossoms. When the currents shifted, tumbling down from above, they carried the fire-scents of the volcano, ash, and cinder stinging my nose. Occasionally, the mountain shook, a deep rumble that sent pebbles dancing on the frozen lava.

  Once we neared the shore, I led them crosswise to the flow. Single file, we leaped across trenches and balanced along ridges, sometimes scrambling on hands and feet to cross deeper folds in the stone.

  The others grumbled at my choice of route. I pretended not to hear. We needed to get across the flow and into the broken landscape beyond.

  A patch of Eikkas tresses spread like joyous rot at the flow’s edge, oily and shining and stretching tendrils onto bare rock. Tkira nearly jumped into it, and I considered letting her suffer the consequences, but I sprinted over and grabbed her shirt. Her scar was white against her face when she whirled on me, offended.

  I pointed at the tresses. “Your skin would burn from the plants’ oil. It’s unpleasant. Trust me.”

  Tkira didn’t answer. But she didn’t jump either.

  By the time we skirted the patch of tresses and clambered off the flow, Raav was bent double and groaning. Islilla’s face was slick, shining wet in the light of the rising moon. Gaff stumbled and vomited a few hundred paces later.

  At the next flat spot, I called a halt. The ailing group members collapsed, moaning and shaking. Only Heiklet seemed unaffected.

  “Did you eat the nuts?” I asked.

  “I left mine for Islilla.” She stared at the others. “Are they going to be okay?”

  “As long as they have enough water.”

  Heiklet jumped for the packs, dumping them out on the rocky jumble. She examined the water skins, shaking each. “Three full.”

  Not enough. We had probably ten water skins total. Full, they’d probably get our friends through this.

  “Get them to drink as much as they can hold. We’ll have to look for a spring.”

  Heiklet held a water skin to Islilla’s mouth. I noticed her eyes no longer skidded off as she looked at me. “What if we get lost?”

  “We’ll try to come straight back, but if we miss them, we’ll go until we find the lava flow and then retrace our way past the tresses.” I settled the empty water skins in a pack, along with a single knife and my cloak. The blankets I folded and set next to Raav. He could figure out who needed them. “Let’s go.”

  Heiklet stood, shoulders straight despite her fatigue. We’d been walking for most of a day, and the girl had to be close to collapse. But two pairs of eyes would do more for spotting water, and that’s what our companions needed.

  We set off across the scree slope, walking side by side. Every few hundred paces, I scrambled atop a boulder and scanned the landscape for the telltale glint of water.

  “So,” I said while we walked, “you can look at me now. Are the strands gone?”

  “No. But I’m getting used to them.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Lilik . . . ?” Heiklet stopped walking. “Why can’t you see them? You’re a nightcaller.”

  I’d known this was coming, but I hadn’t figured out a good story to explain it. Telling the truth was risky. Heiklet might be kind, but that didn’t mean she’d forgive me for lying.

  “Mistress Nyralit said something is wrong with the aether. That's my only idea.” The lie was cold on my tongue, like a ten-day rain. But I didn’t know what else to do.

  “Any idea why they’re attracted to you?”

  None I wanted to acknowledge. “Not really.”

  “I think they need something from you. Maybe it has something to do with the eruptions. Or with the rest of us being unable to call.”

  Her suggestion was strangely similar to Raav’s: they’d come to me for protection. I bent my knees, ready for another shouted whisper in my mind. None came. Maybe the other had been my old story-telling habit, run wild in my exhausted delirium.

  “But the strands are just wisps of night aether. Lines of power. They aren’t alive.” At least, that’s what Mistress Nyralit had taught us.

  Heiklet shrugged. “Maybe not. But if you didn't call them, it must be the other way around. They came.”

  “I guess.” I started walking again.

  “I think they’re changing you.”

  Filling my nostrils with cool sea mist, I kept my eyes on the terrain before my feet. What other revelations did Heiklet have bottled up inside? How long had she waited to bring these things up?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your hands and spine. Everybody sees, but they’re all too afraid to ask about it.”

  “They’re scars. I don’t know why I’m healing this way.”

  “Okay, well, it’s not just your scars. It’s in your eyes, too. I don’t think anybody else has noticed. But when I look at you—when we look at each other, I mean—I feel like I’m seeing the moon over the ocean. I’m relaxed. Soothed. I guess that’s part of the reason I can look past the—past your little nightstrand problem.”

  I smiled at that, and Heiklet giggled. Yes, quite a nightstrand problem. Who would have guessed that the only untalented nightcaller on the expedition would end up drowning in strands, totally unable to get rid of them?

  “You know what I think it is?” she said. “I think you’re being nightforged. Infused just like a sword blade.”

  Me, nightforged? I wiped my hands on the coarse weave of my trousers to dry the sweat. When my scars slipped over the fabric, the skin tingled.

  “Well,” I mumbled, “thanks for being honest.”

  Heiklet nodded. “We have to tell the truth with each other now, don’t you think?”

  The truth. Right. And wasn’t I doing a superb job of it? I gestured toward a nearby boulder. “Probably a good view from up there.”

  “Do you need a boost?” She marched to the boulder and clasped her hands at knee-height, ready to
provide a foothold. Though I stepped into the cradle offered by her hands, I pulled hard with both arms to make sure I put almost no weight on her.

  Up above, I spied a faint reflection, moonlight glinting through the tangled sticks of a dormant bush.

  “There,” I said, “Water, I think.”

  We hurried across the remaining distance and shoved through the webbed mess of sticks. Yes. Water. The spring trickled from a deep cleft in a rocky buttress, the gap wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. I cringed from the dark slot, remembering my recent encounter with a similar chasm.

  Outside the cleft, the spring pooled in a hollow about the size of a washtub. The water was cool and delicious, like icy nectar sliding down my throat. This time, I didn’t have to fight the urge to vomit. Things were definitely looking better. I had allies, and they’d come with blankets and supplies. Together, we might actually find a way home. Over time we could recruit more voyagers into our group of renegades. Without followers, Mieshk had nothing. We could take back the camp.

  I smiled wryly and took another drink—I was getting ahead of myself.

  With the water skins brimming, the rucksack was heavy. My shoulders cramped under the burden. Several times on the way back, Heiklet offered to take a turn carrying, but I wouldn’t let her. The rucksack probably weighed half as much as she did. We retraced our route without difficulty and stumbled upon the miserable group. Tkira was just crawling back out of the bushes, having emptied her stomach again.

  “Problem, Lilik,” Raav said.

  I swung the backpack off my shoulders and tossed a water skin to Heiklet who started around the group, urging everyone to sip.

  “What’s wrong?” My calf along his thigh, I tipped a swallow past his lips.

  He pointed a shaky hand back the way we’d come. A line of torches moved along the coast, spaced every fifty paces or so up the slope. Combing the terrain. No surprise that we were being hunted, but I’d expected to evade a blundering group, not an organized search.

  “Oh.”

  There were at least twenty of them, probably crew and oarsmen. After the fight on the beach, Mieshk would send her strongest.

  “They’ll be here in an hour or two,” I said. “We can’t stay.”

  Raav’s lips were dark and full in his pale face. He tried to sit, trembled, and collapsed. “I don’t think we have a choice—I can’t even sit up.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THE TORCH LINE moved steadily toward us. With a searcher positioned every fifty paces, moving in strict formation across the hill, they’d find us for sure. Not even the darkness and brambles could hide a group our size.

  Could I distract them? Mieshk would send strong, heavy hunters. I was small and quick and could squeeze through spots that would trap bigger men like corks in bottles. But that would mean splitting the group.

  “You’ll feel better in another hour or two,” I said. “They may not get here before then.”

  Raav’s head rolled on his neck. He stared at me with vacant eyes.

  I grabbed his shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll figure something out.”

  He blinked, long and slow. His lips parted, and then he was on his belly scrambling for the bushes. He heaved and gagged. After a long pause, he crawled back.

  “What if I distract them?” I said.

  Raav touched my cheek. His fingertip was cold. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

  My heart caught in my throat.

  “Okay—okay . . . I won’t,” I whispered, taking his hand in mine.

  His smile was thin, like over-watered porridge. We remained like that for a long time, watching the torches advance.

  From the clearing’s edge came the crash of breaking sticks. Even Gaff, who’d spent the most time in the bushes, sat bolt upright.

  “Sorry I scared you,” Heiklet said, hands on her knees while she caught her breath. “I got a little lost on the way back.”

  I hadn’t even realized that she’d left. Her shirt was torn and her forearms scratched and bleeding.

  “Where did you—”

  “Come on,” she said. “We have to get them to the spring. There’s a way to hide.”

  I stepped toward her. “What? You went back? So fast?”

  “I thought that more water might help them move.” The backpack sloshed when Heiklet dropped it to the rocky soil. “Heavy,” she said blandly.

  Even Islilla raised her eyebrows.

  “Let’s go!” Heiklet pulled on Gaff’s shirt, urging him to stand. The oarsman groaned and tried to roll away from her.

  “Lilik, get them up.” Her voice held the commanding tone of a trader. Heiklet’s family might not have held trader status for long, but she was growing into her position. The look in her eyes dismissed any reluctance I had to following her.

  I grasped Raav by the forearms and dragged him up to crouch. “What did you find?”

  “The crevice. It’s a passage.”

  “To where? What would keep the searchers from following us?”

  “We don’t have much time.” Heiklet tugged again at Gaff. The oarsman batted at her. “The torches are moving faster than we can walk.”

  Heiklet wouldn't get Gaff upright on her own. Hurrying over, I shoved my hands under him. Together, we levered him upright and stuck his crutch beneath his arm. The man swayed, but seemed to decide that fighting us would take more effort than walking.

  Islilla crawled to her feet on her own, and by the time we’d badgered a silent and sweat-soaked Tkira into standing, Raav had staggered to the break in the brush where the path exited the clearing.

  “Okay,” I said. “You lead, Heiklet.”

  She guided the others, a stumbling, moaning parade, through the thicket and out onto the scree slope. I took the rear, just beyond Tkira, urging her on. The jumble of rocks made for shaky footing. Heiklet wove back and forth, searching out the easiest path. Stones clattered when she shoved loose rocks aside. Sometimes, she stopped to help our sick friends over difficult sections. Every few hundred paces, I clambered up higher to check the searchers’ progress. The torch line gained on us, slowly but inexorably.

  Finally, we heard the trickle of water.

  When we reached the spring, we gathered in a semi-circle around Heiklet. Behind the girl, Ioene’s crown spouted a jet of lava high into the night sky. I glared into the deep gash, not at all eager to shove myself into another narrow fissure.

  “Lilik goes first,” Heiklet said. “We can use her hands for light.”

  Raav’s voice was thready, lacking the usual resonance. “Lilik was right? What keeps them from following us?”

  “Doubt,” Heiklet said confidently. “No one will guess we’d trap ourselves in there.”

  “Which brings up the question . . .” Tkira said.

  The second mate looked ready to wrap her callused hands around Heiklet’s throat, but that was an improvement over emptying her stomach every five minutes. In fact, everyone seemed perkier, past the worst cramps and vomiting.

  Given the improvement, I wondered if Tkira was right. Why trap ourselves?

  “You assume it’s a dead end,” Heiklet said. “But there’s fresh air coming from the other side. I smelled it.”

  “You’ve been in?” I asked.

  “Far enough to know there’s an exit.”

  Gaff snorted. “Just by feeling the air? You sure you weren’t noticing a breeze coming in from behind?”

  Heiklet said nothing. She looked to me.

  “We can stay ahead of them for another hour or two,” I said. “But you're weak. We need to find food.”

  “Even if they do check the cave, they’ll have to walk single file, maybe double at best,” Heiklet said. “We won’t have to fight them all at once.”

  At the mention of fighting, Raav’s cheek twitched.

  “We won’t have to fight at all,” I said quickly. “Heiklet's right. They won't expect us to go in.”

  The others looked skeptical, but we didn
't have many choices. Someone had to go first. I stepped around the pool and squeezed into the crevice. Immediately, the walls pressed in, closing around me like a vice. The sky narrowed to a thin slice of stars.

  My heart raced, but I kept my nervousness from my face as I encouraged the others. The volcano’s fire highlighted five anxious faces. One by one, they stepped into shadow.

  The passageway stretched out before us, continuing through hardened stone deep into Ioene’s belly. My palms washed the rocky chimney with a pale glow like starlight. Tkira muttered words I couldn’t make out, the whisper echoing down the passage.

  Each time I dropped to hands and knees to scramble over a rough portion of the passage, the others fidgeted uncomfortably in the sudden dark. The chasm narrowed, squeezing, and soon I turned sideways to pass a constriction.

  “Gonna be wedged like olives in an oil press,” Gaff complained. But somehow, the man hopped through.

  Beyond the rocky throat, we entered a larger chamber. The walls pulled back, arching over the space and pinching down to just a slit above. Our footsteps echoed hollowly. On the chamber’s opposite side, a thigh-high triangle of dark exited the cavern.

  “Is it through there, Heiklet?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t come this far.”

  “But what about the fresh air?” Gaff said. “I thought you felt an exit.”

  “I did. It was sooner.” Heiklet shuffled to the low passage and placed her hands in front of the gap. “Feel,” she said.

  Crouching before the hole, I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward the gap. Yes, there were air currents. Cool, and the scent of an ocean breeze was unmistakable.

  “She’s right. There’s—wait . . .”

  With the light from my palms cast upon the stone wall above the passage, letters emerged. Ancient writing had been carved into the rock in a flowing script.

  “It’s like the writing on the forges,” I said, awed. Over the years, many smiths and glassworkers had etched their creations with the inscriptions. As a result, almost anyone from the Kiriilt Islands would recognize the lettering.