Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World Book 1)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

  He grins, relieved. Leans in to rest his forehead against mine. “We can go as slow as you want, Mags.” He runs his hands down my sides, grazing the wound below my ribs. I wince. Gingerly I lift up my shirt to look at the place where Neizghání stabbed me. The scar is about four inches across. The wound must have been clean, more deep than wide, the lightning blade acting more like a brand as it slipped from my side, cauterizing the flesh. A raised scar the shape of a lightning bolt that will never go away. Kai runs his fingers over it, pressing gently. There’s something there, under the skin. It rolls under his fingertips. Scar tissue? It doesn’t matter. With a burst of insight, I know what it means. Neizghání has branded me as his property.

  I heave, suddenly needing air, the walls closing fast as the room around me spins. But Kai wraps me in his arms, making soothing noises. Something inside me collapses. I want to be sexy, want to be wanted by this gorgeous, kind man. And instead I’m a fucking basket case.

  I step back, putting some space between us. Get my breathing under control. Rest my hands on my hips until I can speak.

  “Why did you lie for me out there?” My voice is soft, a question not an accusation, but he looks up, startled.

  “What?”

  “To Hastiin. Why did you tell him that you heard Neizghání say those things?”

  He hesitates, looks down before he finally meets my eyes again. “You know I’m on your side, right? That whatever it is, I have your back.”

  “What if I’m wrong, Kai?”

  “Does it matter? Either way, you’ve got to face him, Maggie.”

  “Didn’t I just do that? And it didn’t turn out too well.”

  “Not in front of a crowd,” he says, “and not when it’s a surprise. I mean you confront him on your own terms. When you’re ready. When you have a plan.”

  “And what if I can’t kill him?”

  “You have to. It’s the only way that you’ll ever be free of him.” He runs a finger across my scar and I know he’s right. He says, “Turns out Grace has batteries, and while you were sleeping, I had a chance to listen to those CDs.”

  I’d forgotten all about the CDs. “Anything new?”

  “Remember Ma’ii’s hoops?”

  “The directional hoops?”

  “I think I know what they do. And I think I know how to kill Neizghání.”

  I close my eyes, suddenly tired. Part of me has been too afraid to hope I could ever be done with Neizghání, and part of me is afraid of what I’ll do, who I’ll be, without him. But I’ve been without him for months, in body at least. So what am I afraid of?

  “Hey,” Kai says, pulling me close. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you. You won’t be alone. And this time we’re going to beat him.”

  I want to believe him, and the lie is so sweet that I let it stand. Give us this bubble of peace before the coming storm.

  “So tell me about the hoops.”

  Chapter 34

  We leave Grace’s All-American in the dark hours before dawn. I lead a small army. Clive and Rissa ride point, primed for speed and agility on their motorbikes. They will arrive first, scout the location, and radio back on the walkie-talkies Grace provided us. Kai and I follow in my truck, and Hastiin and thirty of his Thirsty Boys bring up the rear.

  The western sky is an inky black above the open desert. Cloud cover is a blessing that keeps starlight at bay, and the moon is waning to little more than a sliver. The easiest path leads us through Tse Bonito, but we all agree it would be safer to circle well south of town, even if it eats into our time.

  “We’ll skim the southern Wall,” Hastiin offers. “No way Law Dogs are searching that far south. Not enough man power.”

  “Look on the bright side,” Clive says.

  “Which is . . . ?” I ask.

  “You’ll get to see the southern Wall.”

  Hastiin gives him a nod. “You bet your ass. Two hundred–odd miles of solid turquoise, fifty feet high. A goddamn wonder of the Sixth World.”

  And it’s everything Hastiin implied it would be. At first, it’s a glimmer of blue in the morning twilight, looking more like a distant ocean than anything else. But as we get closer, I can see it for what it is. The work of the Diyin Dine’é.

  Hastiin raises his hand and we all pull forward and kill our engines, a consensus to stop and marvel.

  “Other side of that Wall is a damned Big Water nightmare,” a Thirsty Boy says to his friend, loud enough for us to overhear through the open windows of the truck. “Makes you feel lucky to be Diné, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” Kai says, his voice low so only I hear. “It makes you feel small.”

  I don’t say anything, but Kai’s close to the truth. It’s a reminder of the power we’ll be up against in a few hours. Because if the Diyin Dine’é can do something like this, what chance do we really have against Neizghání?

  “Let’s go,” I say. Shove the truck back into gear and pull out first. The Thirsty Boys and the Goodacres fall back into formation and we move west, keeping the Wall to our left for another fifty miles, until Hastiin signals for us to cut north.

  Time passes quickly, the excitement of seeing the Wall up close and general nerves keeping us alert and keyed up. For a while there’s a lot of banter on the walkie-talkies. The twins calling out every arroyo the truck might accidentally careen down. But after a while they settle. The wind whips through the open window, and the cool stillness of the early dawn fills the cab. Kai and I are quiet, each wrapped in our own thoughts. The silence between us is thick, surprisingly tense.

  “You sleep okay?” I ask, concerned. I’m well aware he expended so much of his energy healing me, and I’m about to ask even more from him.

  For a moment he stares at me, stunned, like a deer in the headlights. But then he seems to shake himself. “Yeah, just bad dreams again. Can’t get rid of them.”

  I nod. I’m pretty sure we all had bad dreams last night.

  Two hours later and we hit the turnoff at Rough Rock, leaving any road and signs of civilization behind. I turn briefly to look over my shoulder, but the town quickly disappears into the darkness.

  “Not much farther,” I tell Kai. “The nest of Bad Men we took out was at the mine. It’s been abandoned for a while now, but there’s trade to be had in salvaging the old equipment. Plus, Bad Men use the coal seams in their ceremonies . . .” I realize I’m babbling. Nerves. And Kai’s not even listening to me. He’s looking out the windshield, eyes on the sky. I follow his gaze.

  “Look at that sky,” he says. “Does that look normal to you?”

  The sky should be bright by now, the impossible blue of an autumn morning. Instead it looks faintly green. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

  “It’s like my dream,” I whisper.

  Kai whips around, eyes wide and worried.

  “I had a dream. Back when we first met. There was some weird shit in it. Neizghání dressed as a witch. You, with wings of some kind. Anyway, in my dream the sky was like this over Black Mesa.”

  “I believe in dreams,” Kai says hoarsely. “Do you think it meant something?”

  I frown. “I hope not. That one didn’t end well. Hey, you sure you’re okay? You seem—”

  The receiver crackles. “Rabbit, this is Rissa. You there? Over.”

  Kai picks up the walkie-talkie. “This is Rabbit. What do you see? Over.”

  “You still letting her call you Rabbit?” I ask.

  “I don’t think I can stop her,” he mutters.

  Rissa says, “We don’t see anything.”

  “Could you be more specific? Over.”

  “I mean there’s nothing here at the mine entrance, in the place Maggie told us to look. Over.”

  “Are you sure?” I say, grabbing the walkie-talkie. I add a belated “over.”

  “I’m sure. You said take the road into the mine, right? Well, we’re there, only there’s . . .”

  The transmissions dissolve into static and a loud boom vibrates
through the speaker, echoes outside around us. A flash of lightning at the top of the mine’s old slurry tower.

  “That’s our cue,” I tell Kai, my voice high and jittery. I bring the truck to a stop, anxiety thrumming through my body now. I open the door and slide out. He moves over to take my spot behind the wheel.

  “You positive you want to do this?” he asks.

  “Just remember the plan, okay?”

  He nods. “Maggie . . .”

  I look up, already on edge, the adrenaline kicking in. My mind already on what comes next.

  “Remember that we’re friends, okay?” he says. “And I . . . I’m on your side.”

  I smile. “More than friends. Partners. Now go. Don’t keep the rest of them waiting.” I slam the door closed. Watch the truck rumble away into the darkness. Shake my hands out, nervous. Worried about this crazy plan. Worried that despite Kai’s reassurances, I may not make it through alive this time.

  I wait until the truck’s trail of dust has disappeared, briefly palm my weapons. Shotgun on my back, shells at my waist. No Böker, but I’ve got my throwing knives and the Glock and the new leather pouch on my belt, holding Ma’ii’s naayéé’ ats’os. The hoops are slightly warm against my hip, like living things. I roll my shoulders and take a few deep breaths.

  I start slow, just jogging, getting my footing on the dry cracked earth. The land here is barren, nothing like the relative lushness of the mountains or my little valley. The sad sickness of Black Mesa settles in around me. In the growing light, under the green sky, it is suddenly so much like my dream that chills race across my arms, pulling goose bumps.

  I hit my rhythm after a half mile. Speed up until I’m running at a steady clip. The slurry tower grows larger and larger, looming over the vomit-colored sky. I stay low, moving as quickly and as quietly as I can. I hit the first outbuilding and start climbing up the narrow metal ladder that runs the length of the tower. The first few stories go quickly, but by the time I’m halfway up, the metal is cold under my hands and it rattles and shakes like it wants to separate from the building and send me tumbling to the ground. Too loud, I tell myself, even though I know there’s no way he didn’t see my approach. I pause to warm my hands, scan the ground below me. I can see the motorbikes sprinting across the mesa, but still no monsters. I touch my hands to the hoops again and remind myself of Kai’s plan.

  “You can do this, Maggie,” I tell myself. Because once I’m on the roof, I’ll be afforded a 360-degree view of the entire landscape. It’s the perfect lookout, and that lightning strike tells me that Neizghání agrees with me.

  Only when I pull myself up to the roof, it’s not Neizghání who is waiting for me.

  “Yá’át’ééh, Magdalena,” Coyote says. “How delightful. Have you come to watch the carnage?”

  Chapter 35

  “Ma’ii.”

  “That is my name.”

  “And why am I not surprised you’re here,” I say, stalking forward. He’s wearing another Western suit, but this one is done in shades of blacks and grays, a froth of creamy ruffles at his neck, a single blood red rose in his lapel. A black cowboy hat sits atop his head.

  “Because where else in Dinétah would I be?”

  “Where is he?” I ask, scanning the roof for Neizghání. But we’re alone, the trickster and me. “I know you were in this together.”

  He frowns. “You think I would collaborate with that oaf? Surely you jest.”

  “You need to go.”

  “No, Magdalena,” he says, an edge to his voice. “I think I’ll stay.”

  I curse, irritated. I was sure Neizghání would be here. He’d admired the vantage point before, said it would be a fine place from which to view the land below. And the lightning. But maybe I’d misread him. Maybe he was down in the field even now. I feel Coyote’s eyes on me. “Look, I don’t care what your part in this was. I’ll deal with you later. Right now I—”

  We both hear it at the same time. The scream of a dozen motorbikes accelerating at once, the charge of a hundred bloodthirsty creatures. He tilts his head, listening. “Ah . . . there it is. The clarion call. And we are away!”

  I rush to join him at the edge of the roof. A mass of pale bodies moves eastward, pouring up over the lip of the canyon. Like a wave of larvae, they come. Dozens, as far as I can see, converging on the break in the chamisa line.

  I see the Thirsty Boys on their bikes, rushing to meet them. Flamethrowers strapped across their backs. The truck is parked in the distance, and a lone figure that can only be Kai stands in the bed of the truck, facing the oncoming monsters.

  In unison the Boys veer out, stretching wide to flank the monsters. The Boys’ weapons ignite, and they coat the tsé naayéé’ in a blazing blanket of flame. The monsters’ shrieks echo across the mesa as they burn.

  “Clever,” Ma’ii observes.

  “Wait. They’re not done.”

  Kai climbs up on the roof of the truck. He plants his feet and thrusts out his hands. I can almost hear his singing. I see Clive nearby blast a gust of fire into the sky.

  And the wind comes. Just like at Rock Springs, the fire takes flight. Becomes a twisting inferno and eats through the ranks of the creatures like a hungry beast.

  “Fascinating,” Ma’ii says, eyes on Kai, his tone one of begrudging respect. “And unexpectedly swift.” He pulls the pocket watch from his vest and checks the time.

  From my vantage point I can see we’ve decimated their ranks. There’s only a dozen monsters left. Clive and Rissa join the Thirsty Boys and together they ride them down, removing heads from bodies or dousing them in flames. I grin, breathe a sigh of relief. Our plan worked.

  And then something to the south catches my eye. Rounding a curve and coming over the hillside.

  “Ah,” Coyote says, sounding thoroughly entertained. “The cavalry!”

  I watch in horror as more monsters pour onto the mesa, coming up fast behind the truck. Kai turns toward them, hands raised. I hold my breath as he stumbles. I know he’s exhausted, tapped from healing me and then being forced to use powers so soon after. I scream uselessly for Hastiin or Clive or somebody to come back and help Kai, but they can’t hear me, and the monsters are closing in. They won’t make it to him in time.

  Lightning strikes the field.

  Blinding bright, and by the time I blink away the afterglow and can see again, he’s there. Fifteen feet in front of Kai, standing between him and the monsters. He’s magnificent, black hair flowing down his back in a curtain of shadow. Armor bright. He carries his lightning sword in his hand.

  And everywhere he points it, destruction.

  “Punctual!” Coyote snaps his pocket watch shut. “Now the fun begins.”

  I gape, mouth hanging open, as Neizghání clears the field. Monsters fall everywhere. They burst into flame, as if at his command, or simply shatter into pieces. He swings his arm and shears heads from necks in one blow. Running, spinning from their hungry mouths, he is violence incarnate. He is beautiful.

  “I’ve got to get down there,” I whisper as I watch him lay waste to the army.

  Coyote runs a clawed hand through the snowy ruffles of his shirt. “Tarry a moment, Magdalena. And I shall first tell you a story.”

  “What?” I say, distracted as I watch Neizghání run a huge tsé naayéé’ through. He’s a force of nature, but there are so many of them and only one of him. And they seem to keep coming. Hundreds of them.

  “About a lonely coyote, wrongly accused, and a young girl in a fine position to help him get his revenge.”

  That gets my attention. “What are you talking about, Ma’ii?”

  “Did you not notice me? There on the mountain with you after you killed the first monster?”

  A scream draws my attention back to the battlefield in time to catch a Thirsty Boy go down under a swarm of white bodies. Even with Neizghání’s help, Hastiin’s Boys are dying.

  “Stop this, Ma’ii. I know the tsé naayéé’ are yours. Why
are you doing this?”

  Coyote cocks his head. Blinks. “The tsé naayéé’?”

  “Don’t deny it. I know you have the fire drill. I know you made them.”

  “Oh, I don’t deny it. But you misunderstand. I didn’t just make the tsé naayéé’. I made them all. They are all my monsters, Magdalena. From the very beginning.”

  “Yes, I know. Lukachukai, and Crownpoint, and Rock—”

  He tsks sharply, disapproving. “No, no, no. From an isolated pine ridge,” he croons as he strokes claws through the ruffles of his shirt, “up above Fort Defiance.”

  My blood runs cold.

  “So simple, really,” he says softly. “I knew Neizghání was already hunting that witch and his creatures. All I needed to do was ensure a rendezvous. A desperate girl. An inevitable rescue. A bleeding-hearted hero. How could he not take you in?” He shudders theatrically. “Nasty business with your nalí, though. Cannibals. Such a horror.”

  I can’t breathe. I’m not hearing this. I can’t. This can’t be true.

  “Regrettable. Truly. A parent can never control his children. But then look at my latest creation.” He sweeps his arm across the battlefield below. “I knew I needed something sufficiently monstrous to pull you from your little sulk, and what better than what lured Neizghání to you in the first place? A little girl, beset by flesh-eating monsters. Although,” he says, his voice thoughtful, “if I am honest, and I am always honest, these creatures have been a bit of a disappointment. A little too single-minded, you understand. And such disappointing conversationalists. Did you know they cannot speak? Grunts. Moans. But not a clever turn of phrase among them. I assume that’s why they keep trying to devour human vocal cords, but who can say? Unfortunately, they cannot.” He chuckles at his joke, drifting into a melancholy sigh. “It turns out the fire drill can create the spark of life, but it can’t bestow a soul.”

  I finally manage to open my own mouth. “What have you done?”

  Ma’ii beams. “Well, only make you great, of course!”

  “What?” I croak, my voice shredding in disbelief.

  “I don’t expect you to be grateful now, but in time.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.