by Beth Wangler
Nihae leans against the wall and rolls her ankle, a grimace crossing her face. “Yes,” she agrees. “What was that?” She seems to press away from me.
Giving up on his pounding, Elesekk braces himself against the door with the heels of his hands. He peers over his shoulder, likewise awaiting my answer.
I crouch next to Saviayr and pull his hand away so I that can check his jawbone. The bone feels whole, though his skin is already swelling. Even in the dim light of the cell, I can see a dark bruise forming.
Their question makes sense: I didn’t exactly follow our plan. Saviayr surely would have used more appeasing language rather than abruptly questioning Yrin on his devotion to his divinities. Still, I was—I am—so confident that Aia wanted me to speak.
Their expressions, though—they look afraid of me. This is far more than the frustration or confusion that I expected.
“I know I didn’t follow the plan. Normally I would discuss it with you first,” I promise. “But...I thought Aia was telling me it was the right time. It just felt right.”
Saviayr pulls my hand away from his face. His voice is deep but strained. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
My brow wrinkles and I tip my head, hoping to read an explanation in his face. Nothing about his guarded expression clarifies what he could mean. I look to Elesekk and Nihae, whose expressions mirror their son’s. I’m the only confused one among us.
“Rai,” Savi says, “you really don’t know?” I shake my head. Savi says, “When you spoke, your voice…”
“It sounded like—like a whole crowd all speaking at once, through you,” Nihae finishes.
Chapter 19
I blink at them. That makes no sense. Only once has someone spoken when it sounded like many voices coming from his mouth.
How I wish Nhardah was here! He is the one living person who remembers that occasion. He’d agree with me. He’d prove to Nihae and Saviayr that their accusation is impossible.
But the only living creatures in this cell are me, Savi, his parents, and a rat peering out of a hole.
Where did Nhardah go?
Without the Firstborn’s testimony, I have to defend myself. “It can’t be. The only time someone has ever sounded like that was when the priest-king of Betha prophesied to Nhardah’s great great grandson Robiroeh.”
“That’s what it sounded like,” Saviayr insists. “Why do you think the royal Yrin reacted the way he did? He wasn’t just angry at your rebellion. He called it witchcraft.”
Slowly, solemnly, Elesekk turns from the door and nods. “They’re right, Rai. You weren’t speaking with your own voice. It sounded like a multitude speaking through you.”
Desperately hoping they’re joking, I search each of their faces in turn. Only truth looks back at me. “What can it mean?” I ask. I have finally accepted my purpose, freeing Maraiah. This—speaking with a multitude of voices—this changes everything. This must mean something even more remarkable.
I don’t want anything more. All I want is for my people to be free.
Nihae rests her hand on my shoulder. “Would you remind me of the story?” she gently asks. “My memory’s not what it once was.”
I want to look at Savi to see if he notices anything strange about her request. Nihae never used to be forgetful.
It’s a reminder of how much we’ve all changed.
Saviayr and I start talking at the same time, then stop with a half-laugh. “Sorry,” he says. “I got used to being the resident storyteller. You go ahead.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
It takes a moment to dredge up the memory of this specific story. It isn’t one that Pitka often asked to hear.
“Robiroeh, Vander-Maraiah’s father, was blessed by Aia with wealth. There were many other peoples ruling the Tion Beriath peninsula then, as there may be now. As Robiroeh and his kinsmen’s power grew, the other peoples grew suspicious. Their kings, fearing he would become a powerful rival, conspired to plunder his family.
“Robiroeh heard his kinsmen had been taken captive by the king of...sorry, it’s slipping my mind. I think it was the king of Coarnome.”
Savi nods. “It was.”
“Okay. So, enraged by the report, Robiroeh raided the Coarnomite capital and executed the king for his unprovoked assault. Returning home, Robiroeh and his kinsmen passed the city of Betha. The people there worship Aia, too, though they are not descended from Nhardah.” It feels so weird to think of my Nhardah as the one in all the stories.
“The priest-king of Betha came out to them wearing a robe Robiroeh had given him in friendship, with a great company singing a song of peace. Robiroeh went to meet him. The priest-king put his hands on Robiroeh’s shoulders, and everyone listened in awe. It sounded as if multitudes were speaking through his mouth. He said,
‘Most praised be Aia the Thaies of Robiroeh;
may all Orrock bow before Him.
Most fortunate be Robiroeh and his descendants;
may they possess the land and bless all the people.’
“It was then that Aia chose Robiroeh, of all Nhardah’s descendants, to bear the promise of redemption through Nhardah’s descendants,” I finish reciting.
Saviayr leans back against the grimy stone wall with a grunt. “What you said at the end makes me think,” he says, moving his jaw tenderly from side to side. “Maybe this multitude voice happens when Aia is acting on His plan for redemption?”
It’s an interesting idea.
“Might be,” Elesekk hedges, “but what about those other times Aia’s acted on His promise to Nhardah? Like Robiroeh blessing Vander instead of his brother, or Vander’s renaming by the indree?”
“Hm,” Saviayr frowns.
“I suppose we can wait and see?” I suggest. “Maybe it’ll become clearer later.”
Elesekk crouches on the ground beside Nihae. “I think waiting’s all we can do. Yrin isn’t likely to let us out, and that door is solid.”
An air of gloom settles over us. We sit in silence, until all remaining shreds of light leave our cell. If only we could leave as easily! In the utter darkness, I cradle Savi’s head in my lap. Nihae and Elesekk fall asleep, but squeaks and scratching keep me awake. When tiny feet scamper over my legs, I suppress a shudder and curl them closer to my body.
At least my ankle is happy with us sitting in prison instead of trekking all over the desert.
“Are you awake?” Savi’s deep whisper barely rises above the rats’ noises.
I stroke his soft hair. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I can’t sleep. Too uncomfortable.”
“Can I do anything?” He must be aching from the royal’s beating. My heart twists.
“Can you pour me some water?” A hushed chuckle punctuates the joke.
“Oh, yes. Let me send a servant to draw some fresh from the well,” I tease back.
In the dark, Saviayr’s hand finds mine, and he weaves our fingers together. We are quiet for so long that I almost wonder if he’s asleep. Savi’s thumb gently runs over mine, though, calming my fears of the rats and the royal.
Warmth blossoms in my heart. These past two days happened so quickly, our marriage still hasn’t sunken in. Here we are—my beloved Saviayr and me. We are each other’s. I am his wife. He loved me all these years, even as I loved him. He loved me enough to risk his future happiness by telling Maylani our past, enough to brave his royal’s displeasure in marrying a fugitive slave. Though Savi was powerless, he tried to defend me from Yrin’s wrath.
A hint of moisture dampens my scratchy eyes. Thank You, Aia, for the love of this man. Help me love him as he deserves. With my free hand on his hair as a guide, I lightly kiss his forehead. He smells of dust and sweat, but I love it.
At most, we likely have days left to live. Yrin will execute us, squashing any threat to Izyphor like a bean under his heal.
If I am to die, spending my last days with Saviayr is a bittersweet comfort.
“We’ll get out of this.�
�� Saviayr’s whisper comes like an answer to my thoughts. “Aia chose you, chose us. He got you off the ferry, right? We’ll find a way, and somehow we’ll lead Maraiah.”
“How can we get out of that door or past the guards?” I protest.
“Shh. Don’t speak like that. Aia is always victorious.”
I find his hand and squeeze it. “I’m scared, Savi. I never really thought this through. The plan was clear, but now that we’re doing this—I feel like I’m crazy. What can one girl—one couple—do against Izyphor and the aivenkaites?”
Savi’s warmth disappears from my lap. Then an arm snakes around my shoulders and another completely encircles me in an embrace. “Rai.” Savi’s breath rustles the loose hairs by my ear. His chapped lips brush my cheek. “It’s okay that you’re scared. But it isn’t us going against them. It’s Aia.”
I curl into his strong embrace. At Savi’s reminder, some of my anxiety lessens. I try to hold on to that truth. Aia is in charge, just like Nhardah said when we were leaving Ira. The idea feels like it’s just words.
“Do you remember the song we used to sing at times of mourning?” I ask Savi.
His breath tickles my ear. “Oh—yes, I do. We should sing it.”
“Will it wake your parents?” My voice shakes.
Savi huffs a quiet laugh. “They could sleep through an attack by Aivenah himself,” he assures me. “Even if we do wake them, they won’t mind.”
Trusting his judgment, I nod, and his voice fills the chamber with melody.
“You are good;
all good things come from You.
You are near;
we are not forsaken.
We are bowed,
our burden is too heavy.
You, Aia,
are strong and near at hand.
You are light;
darkness will not triumph here.”
I sing with Savi in a trembling voice. Strength flows from the echoing notes. The song makes it easier to believe, makes the dark less oppressive. My voice grows steadily as we repeat the verses.
A couple rounds in, hairs tickle the back of my neck. I reach back to scratch the itch, and air moves across my hand. Savi’s head is on the other side of mine, so it can’t be his breath.
I freeze.
Savi stutters to a stop, too.
“Savi,” I whisper, “I think something’s here.” Is it an aivenkaite?
His arms squeeze tighter around me. “You feel that, too?”
“Yes.”
We are silent. The air stops moving. Then it starts again.
I don’t feel that subtle charge in the air that I associate with kaites of any kind.
“Rai, there’s only stone behind me,” Savi whispers.
I clench my teeth, then straighten. When we were just sitting in the dark, I was terrified. Now that there might be an actual threat, I calm enough to put my shoulders back, turn, and feel along the cool wall behind us.
My fingers find a divot between two of the stones. My palm, stretched across the crack, catches a breath of air. The dungeon is under the rest of the palace, and the architecture keeps this the coolest place in probably the whole manmade mountain. The air flowing through the crease is warmer.
I hold my breath and listen. Is it an animal trapped on the other side? But Savi, Elesekk, and Nihae’s breaths are the only sounds.
Not an animal, then. And not an aivenkaite, either. Neither kaites nor aivenkaites breathe.
I try to dig my fingers into the stone joint. “Savi,” I murmur, “there may be something behind the wall.”
His hand tightens on my hip. “Any idea what?”
The warmth comes again. I press my nose close and sniff. It’s dusty and smells like the orange Izyphorn clay soil. “Maybe...it might be a passageway.”
There’s shuffling, then Savi’s fingers brush mine on the wall. “Really?”
“See if you can move one of these stones.”
I scratch along the edge of the nearest stones. My fingernails snap, but I don’t care. If there’s the possibility of a way out, it’s worth it.
I push against the top of one of the stones, and it wiggles—just barely.
“Savi! This one moves. Help me.”
There are no handholds for pulling, at least none that we can find in this dark. “Maybe we can push it,” Savi suggests.
“We can try.”
I wedge my shoulder against the rock and dig my sandals into the grimy floor. On the count of three, both of us shove.
Rock scrapes against rock. I stop pushing to breathe and feel for the rest of the wall. The stone has moved, two fingers’ width farther back than those around it.
“Papa, Mama, wake up,” Savi calls. I put my back to the wall and push with my legs.
Savi speaks again, farther away. Elesekk and Nihae groan and grunt. When Savi says, “We may have found a way out of this cell,” they stop complaining.
All four of us throw our weight against the stone. Little by little, it scoots back. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. I retie my hair in a quick bun, roll up my loose sleeves, and keep pushing.
When it clears the wall, the stone slides much more easily. I keep one hand on the edge of the opening and feel around with the other. “It seems like another room or passageway,” I tell the others.
“Where does it go?” Nihae asks.
I breathe again, and the air smells fresher than before. “I don’t know for sure, but we should explore it, right?” I lick my dry lips. “It can’t be any worse than waiting for Yrin to execute us.
Chapter 20
The way is dark. I lead, scuffing one foot forward at a time. The wall keeps going, and another runs close enough beside it that I can’t straighten either arm fully. As far as I can tell, it’s a passageway rather than a room. My hand runs along the walls, searching for forks and the impossible decisions they might force on us. Their stones steal heat from my hands even as their rough surfaces scrape my palms.
“Can you go any faster?” Savi whispers from the back of the group.
I bite my lip. “This isn’t exactly easy.”
He sighs, and Nihae’s hand squeezes my shoulder. I try to picture what we look like, me with both hands on the walls, them with one hand on the wall and one on the shoulder of the person ahead. Nihae’s toe juts into my sore ankle. “Sorry,” she whispers.
I force myself forward, try not to limp, and say, “It’s okay.”
The darkness steals all sense of direction. I can’t tell if we’re going straight or gradually winding around in circles, much less if we’re going up or down. When my head spins, I squeeze my eyes shut and keep going.
Our breaths are loud in the silence. I try to pick out which breath belongs to whom. The shallow ones are Nihae’s, the slow are Savi’s, and the loudest are Elesekk’s.
Then I shuffle my foot forward, and it meets only air.
I gasp and step back, onto Nihae’s toes. She grunts.
“Why are we stopping?” Elesekk asks.
“The ground drops off.”
“For how far?” Savi asks.
The air hasn’t changed. It still is warmer and fresher than the cell, and it still moves in a subtle draught. I slowly crouch, one hand on the wall to steady myself. “Nihae,” I whisper, “hold onto me.” Only when her hands grip onto my shoulders do I dare lean forward and feel for the rest of the floor.
Nothing meets my hand within arm’s reach of what lies ahead. Even the air doesn’t draft up, like it might if there were a chasm ahead.
I try reaching down the stone.
There it is—a step. We move forward, but now every step is even more painfully slow than before. The steps go on, fifty in all, and I check each one to make sure it doesn’t open into a gaping hole.
When the ground levels out, we all sigh in relief. Here, our slow pace feels much faster than it used to.
“Your shoulder is so tense, Rai,” Nihae says it in a regular voice, and the volume makes me flinch.
<
br /> All three of us hush her.
“I’ll relax when we’re safely out of this tunnel,” I murmur back to her.
“Where are we going?” Nihae asks.
Elesekk’s voice is gentle. “We’re trying to get out of the palace, dearest. We don’t know where this tunnel leads.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
The walls and the darkness stretch on. I’m beginning to think we’ll be forced to rest, or maybe even be trapped down here forever, when something changes. At first, I think it’s the darkness playing tricks with my eyes. Then Elesekk says, “Is that light ahead?”
That confirms it. The tunnel ahead shows faint gray light, just enough that we can make out where the walls and floor join.
I laugh in relief. Light. We’re almost out!
Then a shriek shakes my bones.
I freeze. Nihae’s fingers bite into my shoulder.
The shriek repeats, accompanied by cackling like a roaring fire.
“Aivenkaites.” The word leaves my mouth dry.
For a heartbeat, we’re all frozen. Next moment, we’re scrambling back the way we came, tripping over our feet. It’s senseless. There were no branches in the tunnel. There’s nowhere to hide. And we can’t outrun aivenkaites.
Aia!
Their voices grow faster than the light. I glance back. Orange light silhouettes forms of what used to be humans. Did these people give themselves willingly to the aivenkaites, or were their lives forfeit by deception? Either way, the evil spirits inside those bodies have twisted the flesh into something grotesque.
Fear blinds me. I claw my way up the tunnel, but it’s like a dream where I try to run in air as thick as honey.
A slimy hand curls around my arm and yanks.
I scream. Savi screams. All our screams mingle, human terror and aivenkaite evil. I scratch and kick and bang my head back against the fiend.
Elesekk’s scream cuts short. A snap echoes over the scuffle.
“Dad!” Saviayr’s shriek pierces my ears.
For a moment, everything slows. I lose focus on the aivenkaite attacking me. All the world narrows to the gray shadow of Elesekk slumped on the floor, neck bent too far. Nihae’s wail is an eternal lament.
