Nightforged (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  “I won’t leave you here,” I said. “I just won’t.”

  I’d rather die than admit to Nan that she’d never see her grandson again and that it was all my fault.

  “I’ll stay,” I said abruptly.

  Paono shook his head. “Here’s the thing—I can’t leave you, either. I can’t choose to leave you, anyway. But one of us has to stay. Otherwise, everyone on Ioene dies. Cataclysm.”

  “So . . . you want to put it on me? Make me choose?”

  His eyes were deep hollows. “You’re stronger than me. Always have been.”

  “Stop it. I don’t want to listen to this. The problem is Mieshk. We have to . . .” I started to tremble.

  “Kill her? Don’t think I haven’t considered it. And I’d do it, too.” Paono’s shoulders tensed, pushing Katrikki’s head upright when her pillow shifted. “But she’s too powerful right now. Whoever goes home needs to raise a rescue and a force capable of beating her.”

  I pulled my knees to my chest. The night air was cold and comfortless.

  Your friend speaks true, Lilik. If there were any alternative, don’t think we wouldn’t suggest it.

  “Now, what about Heiklet?” Paono said quietly. “The longer you’re here, the greater the chance they find you.”

  I was gray and dead inside. I didn’t want to talk. No matter what happened, Paono and I were destined to be apart. I wanted to tuck inside myself. To hide deep down in the empty spaces of my soul.

  “You’re strong, Lilik,” he said. “Everyone on this island needs you right now. We can think about ourselves later.”

  I stared at Ioene’s cone, at the fountains of lava and fire-lit ash. Duty. Paono was right. We needed to move forward. Rescue Heiklet and find a way off Ioene. Nothing mattered more than that. I raised my chin, a ghost of a girl.

  “A diversion,” I said flatly. “Any ideas?”

  Paono bit his thumb. “A couple. But what if that just gives warning you’re coming? Mieshk is insane, but she’s not stupid.”

  I shrugged. “We don’t have much choice—Heiklet’s too well-guarded. We can’t get her away without a distraction.”

  He tapped a finger on his knee. “Promise me you’ll call things off if the distraction isn’t working. There will still be a chance we can free her later.”

  The lava’s hissing mixed with the burbling of the nearby spring. I rolled the twig between my fingers.

  “Okay,” I agreed after a moment. “I promise. Wait until the moon is a hand’s span off the horizon. But don’t get caught. Please.”

  Paono gathered his legs underneath him. He held his hand out to shake as if we were business partners agreeing on a trade. I hoped the shadows hid my trembling lip.

  “Stay safe,” I said.

  “Good luck, Lily-pad.”

  He hadn’t called me that in years. Using the nickname now, it sounded more like a goodbye than an endearment.

  Paono and Katrikki left, hand in hand. I turned away, unable to watch them go.

  Chapter Thirty

  I HID NEAR the beach, waiting, as the moon climbed silently into the sky.

  When it hung a hand’s width above the horizon, the boats at the far end of the beach leaped into flames with a roar. Blue and purple sparks swirled with the red and orange of burning wood, the blazes towering over the beach. Even hundreds of paces away, the heat washed over me.

  Heiklet’s guards spun. Flame-lit faces showed shock, anger, and finally, fear. The men pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a wall between the small girl and the panicked scene down the beach.

  “It’s the attack!” one called.

  “Hold steady!” This last shout came from the large man anchoring the line of guards. He carried a blacksmithing hammer and his arms like ships’ masts proved he knew how to swing it. Anker’s friend, most likely.

  Behind the wall of men, Heiklet lay in the gravel. Her feet were tied together, and another thick rope bound her outstretched hands to a pole driven into the earth. The light from the fire revealed cuts on her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, swollen shut. She didn’t move despite the commotion.

  The guards hadn’t budged. Deep down, I’d known it wouldn’t be that easy. I thought about my promise to Paono. Should we call it off?

  My friends moved before I had the chance. Inky shapes rose from the water, slipping onto shore. They approached the guards from the rear.

  Raav and Tkira led. Raav’s jaw was set, and a pair of rocks once again stuffed the sleeve of my old shirt, swinging from his fist. Same beach, same weapon. I prayed that he wouldn’t have to kill again.

  One of the guards glanced over his shoulder—first mate Brik, Makal’s father. He growled. “From behind!” he yelled.

  Tkira yelled, feral, and jumped for Brik. She whipped a hammer around, connecting with the big man’s shoulder and forcing the spear gun from his hand. Kicking it away, she swung again, a blow to the ribs that landed with a hollow thunk. Brik grunted and doubled over, coughing and wheezing.

  “Careful!” Raav yelled. “Aim to disable.”

  Three men circled him, but none seemed willing to brave the whipping rocks he twirled like a heavy flail. They held planks and hammers, nothing they could use at range.

  Gaff tackled the remaining guard. They rolled back and forth across the gravel, throwing punches and kicks. Gaff outweighed the other man. Even with his missing leg, he had the upper hand. Blood streamed from the guard’s nose.

  Grunts and snarls filled the air. I peered up the beach where Mieshk’s followers scurried around the fires. The distraction would hold, but not for long. We had to move fast, not get stuck in a prolonged fight.

  “Islilla, untie Heiklet!” Despite my earlier promise to stay hidden, I burst from the brush and ran for the spear gun. Hefting it, I aimed at the big blacksmith.

  “Back off!”

  He circled Raav, ignoring me. I jabbed the spear into his back. “Back off, all of you, or he’s dead.”

  My finger hovered over the trigger. Raav’s eyes met mine, and his went wide at what he saw. I would kill the man if necessary. I’d murdered before.

  “Now!” I shrieked like a crow with its talons ripped out. A seep of blood spread across the blacksmith’s back where I shoved the spear’s tip into his flesh.

  The blacksmith’s hammer hit the beach gravel. He raised his hands. Ready for a sudden attempt to disarm me, I pressed harder on the spear, my trigger finger quivering.

  “The others, too,” I said.

  One after the other, Raav’s attackers dropped their weapons. Brik dropped to his knees with Tkira’s hammer ready to come down on his skull. He glared at her from beneath lowered brows.

  We’d won. I couldn’t believe it. From the side, I heard the wet sound of Gaff’s fist connecting with slack flesh. “Gaff,” I said. “Come hit this one, too.”

  Raav choked up on his weapon, stopping the weighted end from swinging. “They’ve given up. There’s no need—”

  “Don’t argue. We don’t have time to tie them up.”

  “But—”

  I didn’t see it coming. One of Raav’s attackers leaped from the side and knocked the spear gun from my hand. When the weapon hit the gravel, the spear skittered across the gravel. The man’s weight fell on me like a heavy potato sack. My knees locked and folded and then he was on top of me, breathing in my ear and jamming his knee into the small of my back.

  “Wench,” he said.

  My cheek pressed into sharp gravel. Down the beach, a curtain of flame stretched along the tide line, boats disintegrating into burning flotsam. Only three remained unburned, those nearest our scuffle.

  I flailed around like a frog pierced by a gig. The man on top of me chuckled. He shoved my head down, sweat-slicked palm pressing against my ear. From behind, I heard the grunts of further struggle. Gaff cursed.

  “Come on, we can’t lose this thing! Fight!” Tkira’s voice rasped. A rush of air followed her words as if she’d been punched in the gut.

>   “Heiklet, wake up!” Islilla pleaded. “I can’t carry you.”

  Through my pinned skull I felt the vibrations of running feet in the gravel. My hopes sank. Reinforcements.

  “Brik, Gant, back off!”

  Katrikki’s imperious tone was unmistakable.

  I went cold. What had the guards said? It’s the attack, not it’s an attack. They’d known we were coming. I never should have trusted the trader.

  “Mieshk won’t want them harmed,” Katrikki continued. “Not yet at least.”

  Raav’s voice was lower than I’d ever heard it. “You faithless little—”

  “Shut up, Raav,” she said. “I said get off of her, Gant!”

  The weight lifted from my back. I pulled air into my aching chest, and black spots danced across the spinning scene.

  The point of a fishing spear touched my cheek. Moonlight glinted off the barbed tip. Katrikki held one spear gun in each shaking hand. The other was trained on Raav.

  “Anyone else makes a move, I’ll shoot them both,” she said.

  My breath came in gasps. I wanted to shove her down and grind my heel into her throat.

  Slowly, I clenched and released my fists, easing handfuls of gravel into my tight-squeezed palms. Rolling onto my side, I levered up onto an elbow.

  “Stay down!” she shrieked.

  “Just wanted to see your face. I need to know what a snake looks like.”

  Katrikki’s hand trembled more violently. I ignored her and pushed up to a crouch. This was all my fault, my plan, my responsibility. I didn’t intend to get shot, but I wouldn’t let her win, either.

  “Mieshk wants to bargain with you, Lilik.” Katrikki’s gaze flitted over the group. “Everyone back up. Lower your weapons. We’re too few already. If we’re going to make it home, we need everyone’s strength.”

  “Mieshk wants no such thing, Katrikki.” My voice was almost a growl. “You know she needs someone to burn on her pyre.”

  To the side, feet rasped on gravel as Tkira edged toward Heiklet and Islilla. Katrikki didn’t notice.

  I swallowed—if I kept Katrikki’s attention while Tkira scooped up Heiklet, we could run for the remaining boats. Katrikki had two shots, and they’d probably miss. She wouldn’t have practiced with anything so vulgar as fishing tackle. Just feather comforters and five-course dinners for the Korpit heir.

  “Slavering after Mieshk’s attention. Just like a trader.” I glared at her. “So what’s the deal with Paono? Just enjoying your little fling with a gutterborn? Does it make you feel naughty? Dirty maybe?”

  Her upper lip curled, and the gun’s aim wavered. I’d hit a nerve.

  “Because I’ll tell you something, Katrikki,” I continued. “You’re already filthy. A sick piece of trader rot.”

  Her aim steadied. I may have stepped too far.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t wait for Mieshk to kill you.” Katrikki cocked her head to bring her eye closer to the line of her outstretched arm. Aiming. She wasn’t that bad at it—I may have underestimated her skill.

  One of Heiklet’s guards waved a hand to catch Katrikki’s attention. “Not an option, Trader Korpit.” He pointed down the beach.

  Silhouetted against the blaze, a mob of men marched in our direction. The leaders of the group broke into a trot. They’d be here within a minute.

  While Katrikki was looking the other way, I sprang to my feet and slammed into her, clubbing her upper arms with my fists to knock the weapons down. A spear gun crunched to the beach. She staggered and whipped her free hand over to grab the remaining weapon before she dropped it.

  Katrikki backpedaled. Her eyes grew wider, and she mouthed a word: No.

  “Yes,” I said, flinging the gravel I was carrying at her face.

  Her hands flew up to protect her eyes, and the spear sailed from its housing, zinging past me and skipping harmlessly off the beach.

  “Rot, Lilik!” she hissed. “You’re screwing this up.”

  “I hope so.”

  Without her weapons, she was no longer a threat. We might get out of here after all. “Everyone, run!” I shouted. “The last boat is ours. Raav and Gaff on the oars. Tkira brings Heiklet. Go!”

  Raav sprinted for the tide line. A guard cut him off. Feigning surprise, Raav stopped short, pretending to stumble backward. The other man fell for the ruse and stepped forward, directly into Raav’s roundhouse kick. The man sagged, planted a hand on the ground, and then crumpled.

  “It won’t work!” Katrikki said, pitched for my ears alone. “There are fifty people coming. You can’t row faster than a boat filled with oarsmen. I wish you’d trusted me.”

  Trust her? I had, and this was the result. The nerve of her statement obliterated my last traces of self-control. I whirled and stomped toward her. The look on her face told me everything. She knew I was coming for revenge.

  Katrikki raised her palms, gesturing for mercy. I bore down on her—I’d never punched anyone in my life, but I was ready.

  I raised my fist, expecting her to flinch. Instead, she reached out and grabbed my shoulders. She yanked me close and spoke into my ear.

  “They had you beaten. I gave you the chance to get clear. Don’t waste it.”

  I stiffened. What?

  She shoved me backward. “Go!” she whispered. Katrikki flicked her gaze toward the approaching horde.

  Did she mean it, or was she just trying to save herself? She was right; we’d been beaten or nearly so. And she’d got the guards off of us.

  “Go!” she hissed again.

  Maybe she was lying. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, my rage had waned. My friends were halfway to the boat.

  As I turned to run, I heard a roar behind me.

  “Traitor!”

  The big blacksmith was on his feet again. He marched toward Katrikki, mountainous arms ending in fists of rock.

  “What?” Katrikki looked so offended that the blacksmith hesitated.

  “Don’t even think about playing the white-hankied innocent. I saw you talking to her. Pushing her toward the boat.”

  He latched Katrikki by the upper arms. She screamed.

  Paono sprinted forward from the approaching group. “Katrikki!”

  No! I couldn’t watch. Nothing I could do would save him and delaying would only doom my friends. Teeth gritted, I forced my legs to pump.

  The mob grew closer, feet pounding in the gravel. Mieshk’s voice rose above the hubbub, a high wail.

  “They’ll be aboard before we catch them. Oarsmen to another raft! We’ll cut them up and use them for bait. A gift from Ioene to bring us the food we need to survive.”

  Ahead, my friends neared the shallows. Tkira and Islilla dragged Heiklet with her arms draped over their shoulders. The nightcaller stumbled along, conscious now. I funneled my anger into my legs and caught the group, cold sea pouring into my shoes when we splashed for the boat.

  Above the din, Paono called out. I wanted to shut my ears to his voice, to forget that we were leaving him at Mieshk’s mercy.

  “Give Katrikki to me,” he said.

  The big man shook Katrikki’s arm. “No way—”

  “Blacksmith.” Mieshk spoke as if the man were a dead thing washed up by the tide. “Hand the girl over to Paono. Her betrayal hurts him the worst. He has first rights to her punishment.”

  Thank the tides! Mieshk hadn’t figured Paono out. Maybe he and Katrikki had planned this, or maybe she’d betrayed him, too. It didn’t matter. Right now, we had to get clear of this beach.

  Raav and Tkira heaved Heiklet into the bottom of the boat. One by one, the others vaulted over the low rail and plowed forward to make room for the person behind.

  Gaff slapped my back when I clambered into the boat, so short of breath I could barely talk. “Row!” I puffed. I craned my neck to check our pursuers. Cold fear stabbed me—Mieshk’s oarsmen were already to the other boat. We’d never outdistance them.

  My shoulders slumped.

  “Lilik.” Raav held up a m
akeshift bow. He’d crafted it from a foilwood stick, stringing it with the cord from our supplies.

  “We’ve got arrows carrying oil-soaked rags,” Tkira said. “Lots, since none of us is much of a shot. Gives us a chance.”

  The boat jerked forward. I fell off my bench and into the bottom of the shallow hull, mostly atop Heiklet, who moaned. Gaff, sitting behind me now, held a pair of oars clutched in his horse-sized hands. We skimmed out of the shallows.

  “Okay, slow,” Raav said. “I need to aim.” He plucked a tuft of shaved bark from within the oiled leather pouch at his neck. After fluffing it on the bench I’d just vacated, he struck sparks from the flint and steel. A wisp of smoke curled up to join the pall of smoke that hung over the shore.

  Suddenly, one of Zyri’s memories surfaced. Her family often took holidays on the long-gone smaller islands. While relaxing beneath an awning of thick silk pitched to block the sun, they cooked fish over the campfire. Porpoises leaped in the softly crumbling waves. Zyri wiggled her toes in the warm sand.

  I shoved away the recollection. Now was not the time.

  The rag on Raav’s first arrow burst into flame, and he aimed the shot high. It arced over the water, dribbling flame that sizzled when it hit the sea. The shot fell at least fifty paces short.

  Mieshk’s oarsmen took up the paddles, and they heaved in unison, sending the boat rocketing from the shore. The line fixed to the shore anchor snapped tight with a twang, and the boat jerked to a halt—it would have been comical in another situation. One of the men shouted and speared a knife down on the stern rail. The rope rolled out from beneath the blade.

  “Incompetent,” Tkira said. “Maybe we didn’t need the arrows after all.”

  “Wait,” Raav said. “Look down the beach. Away from the crowd. Don’t be obvious about it.”

  About a hundred paces from the group, Katrikki was sprinting for the water. I squinted, confused. On the beach, Paono rolled on the gravel, clutching his groin and face as if he’d been attacked.

  Katrikki splashed into the shallows, casting panicked glances at Mieshk’s group. When the water reached her knees, she dove and swam, seal-like, straight for us.