Nightforged (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  We filed onto the ship, the bridge bouncing when it took our weight. Dead cinders peppered the deck, but none had so much as scorched the wood.

  “Impervious to rot and fire both,” Captain Altak said. “A treasure beyond treasures.”

  Get the caller next to the mainsail. Our volunteers are ready.

  When Katrikki looked at me, her eyes widened. “The strands. They’re changing. Moving away from you.”

  “They say you need to be in the calling trance,” I said.

  “And then what?”

  “I’m not sure.” I felt like I was drowning. My thoughts were murky, filled with images of Paono running through the darkness with Mieshk behind.

  “Just enter the trance,” Mistress Nyralit laid her hands on Katrikki’s shoulders. “Close your eyes.”

  Tell her to guide us into the sail and rigging. We’ll do the rest.

  I hesitated. “Wait. How is that any better than what we’ve done to the souls we trapped in our nightcrafted goods?”

  Choice. Remember, this was an acceptable practice in our time. Many ancestors chose to bind with family heirlooms as an alternative to the fire’s pull. We do this willingly. Each of the volunteers accepts this fate. They take you as their child, and they are proud to do so.

  I paused, a lump in my throat. “Will you—please tell them I’m honored.”

  Peldin’s voice was warm and gentle. They know.

  Katrikki dropped into the trance, reciting the old words and hovering her hands over the decayed mainsail. The look of astonishment on Mistress Nyralit’s face told me the calling was working.

  The strands’ emotions washed through me. The grief of parting. Final goodbyes amongst friends and families. Dead lovers leaping into their new incarnation, twined together.

  The calling lasted for what felt like hours. In the meantime, I helped the captain organize the collection and stowing of supplies, the refitting of makeshift cleats and filling of water barrels. When the moon peeked over the hill guarding the harbor, Katrikki finally sagged to the deck.

  Tell the captain to raise it, Peldin said. His voice was weary but insistent. Paono can’t keep Mieshk distracted any longer. He needs to lose her and seek shelter.

  Captain Altak drew his brows together, skeptical, but he nodded.

  “Raise the sail,” he called.

  Raav, Tkira, and two of the band who’d come with Paono leaned against the line. I cringed, expecting a tearing sound when the rope parted, but none came. The sail ascended the mainmast, rustle of canvas and quiet whisper of rings against the pole.

  “Tides,” Tkira whispered.

  Words abandoned me. I plopped onto the deck, staring.

  The sheet of sailcloth glowed, magnificent. At the center was a picture of Ioene as she once looked, a steaming, gentle cone atop foliage-draped slopes. At the base, Ashkalan stood flower-decked and grand. Behind the mountain, the sail’s color transitioned from a night sky with stars glittering to the deep azure of the long-day. Though there was no breeze, the sail rippled, tugging lightly.

  “We’ll lower it for now. Men, get on the oars until we clear the channel,” Captain Altak called. “Prepare to cast off for Istanik!”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  CAPTAIN ALTAK STOOD at the bow of the ship, hands planted on the rail. He leaned forward with tense shoulders. Everyone held their breath as we slipped through the narrow exit between the harbor and the open sea.

  A loud crack, the ship jolted to a halt. I stumbled into the water casks that had been hastily lashed to the deck.

  “Oars, halt!” the captain yelled.

  The shout was echoed by a crew member, passing the command down the ladder and into the hold.

  The captain ran along the railing, stopping every few paces to look down into the water.

  “Captain?” Tkira asked, awaiting instructions.

  “Can’t see anything. Black as tar down there,” he said. “Let’s try easing forward. Could be we already dislodged whatever we hit.”

  Tkira nodded curtly. She looked so much more comfortable aboard Zyri’s Promise. Finally back in her element.

  “One stroke,” the captain called out. “Slow.”

  The steep walls of the channel thrust up to either side of us. Boulders piled in a messy jumble at their feet, the mounds towering the height of three men over the ship’s deck. I hoped the rubble piles were stable.

  With a quiet splash of the oars, paddles skimming the shallow water rather than digging, the ship glided forward. One pace and then another. We hit no more rocks.

  Captain Altak climbed onto the roof of the captain’s cabin to better see our progress.

  “Iron horseshoes, I think we’re going to make it,” he finally said.

  A small whoop rose from the crew as we burst from the harbor into the open sea. Light swell passed under Zyri’s Promise, and the deck rolled beneath my feet. My stomach churned. I ignored it.

  Behind us, the volcano rumbled. Lava frothed from her cone, a wide spill tumbling down the slope toward the city. We’d made it just in time.

  I squinted at the shoreline, hoping to see Paono stumbling onto the beach. Now that we were away from the island, we could drop anchor. Paono had always been an excellent swimmer. I didn’t care what the Vanished said. I wasn’t leaving him behind.

  I stood, ready to ask Captain Altak to call the halt, when I heard the voice in my mind.

  Lilik. Faint, but unmistakable.

  “Paono?” I said. “How?”

  A channeler speaks with the dead, a life-channeler with the living. And there’s no need to talk. I can feel your thoughts and emotions, remember?

  Then he understood my plan. We were going home together.

  No. We knew this from the beginning, Lilik. Someone has to provide a refuge for the strands. Otherwise, they’ll be exterminated and the island destroyed.

  Yes, I thought, but why can’t the strands just follow us home?

  They’re bound here.

  “Then I’ll stay.” It was too strange to think a conversation with him. And by this point, people were used to me talking to the air. “Peldin said that we had to protect you. You’re the only one who can heal the island. Besides, you have no idea how to survive on Ioene. I do.”

  The strands will teach me what I need. Lilik, if anyone can organize a rescue, it’s you. I believe that. Until then, I can stay safe. My ability gives me an advantage over Mieshk that you don’t have. It’s better this way.

  No. He was wrong. I searched the deck for Katrikki. The two of us together could convince Paono that he was being an idiot.

  When she met my gaze, she appeared to immediately understand my need. With a quick pace that only traders or ship’s crew could manage, she crossed the rolling deck.

  My mind is made up, Lilik. Please don’t make it harder on me.

  Katrikki’s hands slid into mine. Though I didn’t want to touch her, I restrained the urge to pull away. My other hand found Paono’s pendant, still nestled against my chest. That night outside Captain Altak’s chamber when he’d asked me to wear the necklace felt so long ago.

  She’s not so bad when you get to know her. I think you could be friends.

  It was all so confusing. Was it possible for Paono and I to remain best friends, even with Katrikki? Even with . . . maybe . . . Raav?

  I don’t know either. I think it is. But I know I want the best for you, and you’ll always be close to my heart. We can figure out the rest another day. Some other year, when we’re together again.

  Another year . . . I couldn’t imagine Paono here alone that long. I wondered if we’d be able to talk like this once I returned home, or if it only worked when I was near him.

  I’m so tired—it’s exhausting to speak to you even at this distance. Farther, I don’t think I could manage. Besides, I need to focus on Mieshk.

  Off the ship’s stern, Ioene burned against the night sky. Rot. Why did Paono have to be right? One of us needed to stay, and with his abil
ities, he was the better choice.

  “Paono. Wait.”

  I thought of the sanctuary, remembering every detail so that Paono could perceive it. Water, food, impervious stone walls to protect him from the eruptions. Alone, he wouldn’t have to forage often, and he could check his bond with Mieshk before venturing out.

  It will work, I think.

  “So it’s goodbye?”

  For now. I love you, Lilik. Whatever form it takes, it will be forever. Take care of Katrikki for me. And give Raav a chance.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  One more thing. You have to let Zyri go. She’s changing you, Lilik. Neither of you deserves to lose your souls.

  And just like that, I knew he was gone. My heart was hollow.

  “He’s staying on the island,” I whispered, squeezing Katrikki’s hand.

  Her face twisted like crumpled paper. Not pretty, but grief rarely is. I pulled her into a hug. She stumbled as I helped her to a seat on one of the casks. No matter what I might say to criticize her, she loved Paono. For that, I could try not to hate her.

  Now that that’s over.

  Peldin. Ugh. I was so very weary of having him in my head.

  “What do you want?”

  Forgive me for having eavesdropped, but Paono is right. Your guide was a temporary arrangement. Time to release her before you’ve gone too far for her to rejoin us.

  Paono and now Zyri, too? I blinked my eyes and saw the ocean drenched in long-day sun. Swordfish jumped off the bow of her family’s sailboat. She lounged on a pile of rigging, hard coils of rope pressing into her legs. Birds squawked, begging for the minnows that Zyri’s father used as bait.

  A light haze hung over the sea. Ioene’s beaches were vague shapes in the white mist, but Zyri looked anyway, knowing that Tyrak was on one of them. He’d planned to travel with his father to the shipyard to put in an order for a new dinghy. That evening, lava burst from Ioene’s heart. Zyri never saw Tyrak again.

  I blinked again, and the vision dissipated.

  Ioene growled. Spouts of lava arched across the sky, and the ash cloud had billowed above the horizon.

  It’s time, Lilik. You have to be the one to surrender, or she cannot leave you.

  I swallowed. “Okay.”

  You aren’t relaxing.

  He was right. I didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. I didn’t want to lose her and her memories of Tyrak so soon after saying goodbye to Paono.

  Another memory intruded. During the long-night when Zyri was just a child, marching footsteps shook the terrace outside her home. She hid under blankets in the corner, behind a woven basket that her mother dragged over. The blankets were woolen, itchy, and Zyri could hardly breathe. Her heart thudded when the door opened. People shouted at her mother. They were looking for talented children. It was time to induct neophytes into Mavek’s Hands.

  Zyri’s fear was so strong that I felt sick. I wanted the memory to stop. I bit my knuckle, but still the fear came.

  Another memory pounded me. Zyri, crying because Tyrak was dead. They wouldn’t let her look for his body. Wouldn’t let her say goodbye.

  Another. Zyri was drowning. Seawater filled her lungs, and she choked, sucked in another lungful. Panic. Fires burning all around, and Zyri coughed, lungs full, heart seizing.

  All her pain, her heartache. Her recollections burned in me, excruciating. Why now? It was as if I’d lost all ability to filter them.

  “Peldin! Help me! Make it stop!” I hissed the words, ready to sob.

  I can’t see what you see. What’s the problem?

  Abruptly, I realized Zyri did have control over what she shared. Early on, she’d shown me many wonderful things to go with the tragedies she’d shared. The good memories were the best parts of her life on Ioene—if I loved it like she had, I’d want to save the island and the spirits bound there. But now she wanted freedom, and she shared only the ugly side. In her way, she was helping me break our bond. Teaching me that her life was not a storybook tale to be enjoyed at leisure. She was as real a person as I, and as deserving of her independence.

  “Okay, Zyri.” I breathed deep and closed my eyes.

  I thought of my father. Hands so big that half a dozen eggs could rest in each. Jaret’s laugh when he tried to bait me into chasing him. Meat pies and the evening market.

  I was going home. I fell into myself.

  When I opened my eyes, Zyri was gone. The memories she’d shown me were still there, but they were like the scattering of possessions my mother had left behind when she abandoned us, the last remnants of someone long gone. Already, some recollections began to fade, and I knew that eventually I’d forget everything if I didn’t write it down.

  Empty, yet strangely content, I turned from the smoking volcano. The oars pulled strongly at the water now, and it wouldn’t be long before we’d cleared the lava shoals.

  “I suppose it’s goodbye with you, too,” I said, knowing Peldin would understand I was speaking to him.

  Indeed.

  “I have a question, first. The mural . . . During your time, Ioene was peaceful and rounded, but the volcano in the picture looks like it does now. The figure . . .”

  You want to know if it’s a picture of you.

  I nodded.

  Despite what you might believe of me, I don’t know everything. This is one of the rare cases. Your lagoon . . . a secretive group lived there. While I am sure some of them are among us now, none have offered their tale. Maybe the mural depicts a prophecy of your coming, or maybe someone wasn’t very good at drawing mountains.

  “You’ve been a big help,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  Of course, if it were a prophecy, don’t you think it’s somewhat egotistical to assume the glowing person is you? What about Paono?

  “I hope you don’t expect me to miss you once we’re separated.”

  I don’t have to hope. I just know.

  “Goodbye, Peldin.”

  Goodbye, Lilik. You did a good job, despite yourself.

  Soon after, Captain Altak called for the sail to be raised. Canvas unfurled, rippling in the dead air. Though not a breeze stirred, within moments the boat was cutting across the water as if running before a gale.

  Home. I could already imagine the spires of Istanik.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  THE SUN WAS warm on my face when we sailed past the harbor guardstones. Raav stood beside me, his hand against mine on the rail. We'd had little time alone on the voyage because the leagues sped so quickly beneath our keel, and at the sight of Istanik, I wondered if I’d been deluding myself. Traders and commoners didn’t mix. Why assume that anything about our voyage would change that?

  Maybe because our voyage changed everything else.

  There would be no more Nocturnai. As a result, there’d be upheaval. Without nightforged weapons, the Islands were easy prey for the Waikert. It would take traders and seaborn and gutterborn acting together to solve the problem and protect our shores.

  And maybe . . .

  For one thousand years, Ioene had been a savage, dangerous place. But it could be healed. The descendants of the Vanished could reclaim their hidden home and their ancestral knowledge. Zyri’s Promise sailed at ten times the speed of the traders’ fastest vessel. Who could say what other secrets the island held?

  For the moment, other matters were more pressing. Mieshk still held power on Ioene, endangering the lives of the unfortunate crew who’d fallen under her sway. Worse, if she regained even a fraction of the power the Effigy had given her, she threatened even the Kiriilt Islands.

  And for some of us, it was personal. How could I remain on Stanik while Paono was alone in the dark, the sole defense between Mieshk and cataclysm? How could I let Heiklet’s death be for nothing?

  Today, there would be tearful hellos. Explanations. Dinners with our families.

  Tomorrow our new work would begin.

  “Will you and Islilla visit the Srukolks today?” I asked. Heiklet’s family
had planned to remain on Stanik Island during the Nocturnai rather than returning to their home island, Orteshk. I didn’t envy Raav the task of carrying them news of her death. I would have liked to go with him, but for now, the barrier between traders and gutterborn was as strong as ever. My presence would not be appreciated.

  He nodded, face sober. “I’ll tell them what you said about her. Once we explain what we learned about the strands to the Trader Council, I’ll meet with the Srukolks again. With you channeling, we may be able to contact Heiklet once we return to Ioene. They may be able to speak to her. Gain some peace.”

  “And what about Katrikki’s sister?” I asked quietly.

  Raav’s pinky finger wrapped mine. “I don’t know,” he said.

  A dart of cold stabbed my chest. After everything we’d been through, after the new closeness on the voyage home, did he still have feelings for her? What about our plans? Ashkalan was still out there. Waiting to be awakened.

  I jerked my hand away.

  “Wait, Lilik. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way.” He hugged me around the shoulders. “I don’t know how she’ll react when I tell her I can’t marry her. We have nothing in common, other than hatred for our respective families. I’ve been worrying about how to explain that without hurting her.”

  “Have you stopped to wonder how much—or how little—we have in common?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What if I told you that, in your case, I wouldn’t care if we were direct opposites?”

  I smiled and looked toward the mist-hazed roofline of the city. After a moment, Raav chuckled and lifted my hand from the rail. He rubbed gently at a smudge of ink on the meaty outer edge of my palm. “Looking forward to a real supply of paper?”

  During our voyage home, I’d been recording everything I could remember from Zyri’s time. Unfortunately, paper was worse than scarce. My handwritten words covered the margins of personal books that had somehow survived both the eruption and Mieshk’s war.

  “Almost as much as a basket of fresh fried dough sprinkled with cinnamon.”