Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1)

by Beth Wangler

  Nihae’s forgotten me before, but I was gone for years. How can she forget Yori? I hug my sister.

  She sniffs but pats my back. “I’m fine, Rai, really.”

  Nihae still hasn’t eaten, and it takes us till midday to coax food into her. Then she starts asking for Elesekk. We do our best to follow Hoenna’s advice, playing along with her though she asks the same question over and over.

  Screams and groans echo from inside the city all the while. Outside of our camp, the ground crawls with pests, though they leave us alone.

  In the afternoon, a stranger approaches us. Her hair is pulled back to show her clipped earlobes—a Larien, probably a slave by her shapeless dress. “Are you the Maraian Champions?” she asks the group.

  Savi and I stand. “We are.”

  She looks behind her, but no one in the city is paying attention to us. They’re too busy avoiding scorpions and rats. “I know you are not here for my people,” the woman says, “but what you are doing is good. Izyphor needs to be challenged. I—I can’t do much to help, but I want you to have this.” She shoves a small bundle into my hands.

  “Thank you,” I stutter.

  The Larien nods and darts away, but pauses. “Just...make sure they suffer,” she begs. “For all of us.”

  She’s gone then, before we even know her name, but more follow. They sneak over in ones and twos, bringing tiny packets of food. No one says it, but I’m sure it’s their own meals that they’ve sacrificed for us.

  By evening, we’ve amassed enough food to last us for a week. The stream of slaves slows as they prepare the evening meals for their masters.

  Our attentions return to our own people.

  “Where did you say Elesekk is?” Mama Nihae asks.

  Yori, who has been keeping her company all afternoon, says in a strangled voice, “He’s somewhere good, Mama. You’ll see him again in a while.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Nihae agrees, settling back down.

  “This is crazy,” Forziel says, peering at the gifts we’ve received. “We won’t need to use more of our treasure for food. It’s a good thing, too. The people I bought breakfast from looked suspicious that a Maraian had a gold chain. We don’t need more trouble, not with you two bringing all this crazy on Izyphor.”

  Savi looks at Forziel. “You’ll let us know if anyone gives you trouble, right?”

  Forziel gives a lopsided smile. “Yeah, if you want me to. Hey, anyone want to go do some flying before we eat?”

  “Will Elesekk be back for dinner?” Nihae asks.

  Savi tenses.

  “No—no, I think he’ll be gone a bit longer, Mama,” I say. I rub Savi’s back. He shudders nearly imperceptibly.

  Yori pushes to her feet. “Hey, do you guys mind if I take Forziel up on his offer?” The day’s cares have made her look years older.

  “Go,” I tell her.

  Forziel cheers and scrambles onto the axex Lightning, and Yori climbs onto her own at a more reserved pace. “Race you round the city?” Forziel asks, urging Lightning into flight.

  “You just want to ‘cause you know you’ll win,” Yori answers, following close behind.

  The distance swallows any other words they exchange. Hoenna and Nhardah hunch by the fire together, talking in low tones and preparing our dinner. Nihae’s content to watch them for now, so I turn to Savi. “Hey, are you okay?”

  He swallows and won’t meet my eyes. “Not really, but there’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, linking our fingers together.

  Savi squeezes my hand. “Not right now. Maybe after dinner.”

  We settle into silence. It’s almost...nice. A reprieve.

  Right after dinner, Nhardah approaches us. “My children,” he says. “Shall we talk?”

  It seems more like a command than a question, so we leave Nihae with Yori, Hoenna, and Forziel and follow Nhardah down the ramp to the open desert. Just as they avoid our camp, the pests scatter before our feet.

  Night wraps around us, silent and thick.

  Chapter 36

  Far enough out among the brittle bush and bursage that our voices won’t travel back to camp, Nhardah speaks. “Nihae’s memory is fading quickly. When did this begin?”

  Savi ducks his head and threads his fingers together behind his neck. I rest a hand on his shoulder and answer, “I think we really started to notice it when the bandits captured us. Before then, before Elesekk... before the royal Yrin’s dungeon, I noticed her memory wasn’t as strong as it used to be, but nothing like this.”

  Nhardah sighs long and deep. “I had hoped that what I saw before we parted was just a reaction to shock. This is worse than I feared.”

  Savi’s voice is ragged when he speaks. He doesn’t lift his head. “I don’t understand. How is this happening?”

  “Hoenna called it the Wasting Curse,” I add. “He said something about ghouls, but that’s not real.”

  “I have seen this happen only a dozen times in all my years. For some poor souls whose lives are full of heartbreak, eventually one great loss seems to snap their strength. Her grief for Elesekk is killing her. At least, that is the best that I understand it.”

  “Is there nothing we can do?” I ask in a strangled voice. “Can’t we help her?”

  The gentle hissing of skull insects audible before Nhardah answers sinks my heart. “Pray that Aia will complete His promise and redeem creation. I know no other solution. I am so sorry for bringing this grief to your family.”

  “That isn’t enough,” Saviayr says. His voice is carefully calm. “Maybe you can be detached while we mortals wither and die, but this is my mom.”

  Nhardah steps closer to Savi, shoulders back, eyes sad. “Do you think I am detached in all this? I have seen more loved ones die than you will know in your short life. You think I should pity your loss, for soon you will lose mother as well as father, but at least your loss is not permanent.”

  “You don’t get to make this about you.” Savi pokes his finger into Nhardah’s chest. The Firstborn’s eyes flash, but he does not move. “Not when you’re the reason my dad died and my mom’s fading.”

  “Savi,” I try to interject, but he keeps going, voice raising.

  “Why couldn’t you get there earlier with the swords? You’re immortal, you knew from the kaites what was coming—why were you late? How do you dare talk about death so lightly when you’re blessed with immortality?”

  I tense. If they break into a fight, will I be able to calm them?

  “Do you honestly think immortality is a blessing?” Nhardah’s voice booms.

  “Of course it is,” Savi says.

  “In Elcedon, maybe. There—I don’t have words to describe how perfect it was, not since the Rending weakened language.” Savi scowls, but Nhardah rants without paying him attention. “In a world that never knew Elcedon, in a world with such evils and struggles as we face, yes! Death is a rest and release from suffering, but it would also just be a way of the world.

  “Why is death so hard for you to accept? Because this world has known Elcedon. I remember that perfection. I think even you, born mortal, remember it in some deep part of you, and so we all know that death is not the best it could be. But it is a mercy. In short years you will join your loved ones in merciful death, while I and my dear ones are forever separated. Your trials and sorrow will cease. Those who die have respite I shall never know.” Nhardah stands tall and stern. Power and pain roll off of him, almost tangible.

  Heart aching and heavy from Nhardah’s words, I brush my fingers against Savi’s hand. His jaw twitches.

  Nhardah’s speech reminds me of a conversation I had with Yori a few days ago, before we reached the canyon. I asked her how she was handling Elesekk’s death, and she smiled at me. “I’m okay now,” Yori said. “I needed that cry—you know, when we were in Onili’s camp?—but now I’m good. He will walk again, and we will see him. I was thinking how he always wanted to be free, and n
ow he is, just in a different way than we anticipated.”

  I believe that just as much as my sister; I wish I felt the same comfort as her.

  It’s a while before Savi responds. “But why were you so late?” he asks, quieter. “Why couldn’t you save my dad?”

  Nhardah’s stern, proud posture crumbles. His chin dips down to his chest. He shudders. “I am sorry. I—I was too slow.”

  The skull insects’ and scorpions’ hissing is too quiet yet deafening. This is a terrible realization. Nhardah failed. The Firstborn can make mistakes.

  The capital looms to the north, a black hulk topped with the gleaming palace and temple in the light of the indree and moons. Savi and I have such a great obstacle before us. If Nhardah himself is fallible, our task is impossible. We’re too young, too weak, too inexperienced.

  But Aia has made fire from nothing, turned the rivers dead, and sent insects and rodents to torment the Izyphorns. I have to believe He can hold true to His word.

  Still, the heaviness of loss thickens the air around us. How can we keep fighting for freedom when we’re still grieving? Instinctively, I bite my lip, then wince at the discomfort of the raw skin. Instead, I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Where do we go from here?” I ask the men.

  They stare at each other long enough that I despair of them answering. I’m trying to think of what to say next when Nhardah says softly, “I’m sorry. I cannot undo my failure or make Elesekk’s death right, but I grieve deeply for his loss and my role in it.”

  Savi’s hand shakes. “I don’t know if I can forgive you yet.”

  Nhardah nods. “I have no right to your forgiveness, nor is my remorse dependent upon it. But though I don’t ask for you to forgive me for my own sake, please try to do it for yourself. Bitterness festers and injures the one who cannot forgive.”

  Savi swallows.

  When it becomes clear he’s not going to answer now, I take a deep breath. I’m exhausted. Talking with Savi will have to wait till tomorrow, but hopefully this has been helpful for him. I tuck my hand around Savi’s arm and lean close to him. “Thank you, Nhardah. Now, it’s late, and we must appear before the Izyphorns tomorrow. Shall we return to camp?”

  I awaken later with a racing heart and vague memories of what could have been a dream or a shout. Everything around the camp is still, even the axex and insects. Propping myself on my elbows, I look around.

  Jshai Pot, the larger moon, has set, leaving only the crescent of Jshai Peth, the smaller moon. I almost don’t see Savi sitting up and staring out at the expanse of the desert.

  He looks over when I say his name. “Rai? Why are you awake?”

  I sit fully up. “Something woke me. Why are you?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  I scoot closer and rest my head on Savi’s shoulder. “Are you upset about our talk with Nhardah?”

  He shrugs. “Yes. And no. My head won’t be quiet.”

  “What’re you thinking about right now?”

  “That I hope I didn’t wake you. And I’m a mess inside.”

  I wrap an arm around his waist and tug him closer. “Savi, you’re hurting. That’s okay.”

  “But I just...I can’t mourn Dad. I can’t…”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  After thinking with closed eyes, Savi says, “When I thought you died, it ruined me. I gave up. If the royal Yrin hadn’t come along, I don’t know what would have happened. Then it turned out that none of it mattered. You weren’t dead. And Nhardah’s saying I’ll see Dad again, that death is a mercy, so mourning is pointless. It’s selfish of me to lament something that’s brought Dad peace.”

  I squeeze his side. “I don’t think that’s what Nhardah meant. He was trying to soften the blow of death, to give you some hope. That doesn’t mean you aren’t right to mourn. It’s okay to feel what you feel.”

  “But...I don’t know if I can go through that again. I can’t do it if it’ll be pointless in the end.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder. “It’s not pointless if it brings you peace.”

  “But it won’t help our mission. If I give into grief, I’m just going to be a burden to you. And now I’m making you lose sleep. What’s my purpose here if I’m just making your life more difficult?”

  “Hey,” I say, loud and sharp. The sleepers behind me shift. I lower my voice and continue. Tears come to my eyes. “You are so important. I couldn’t do this without you. Savi, I love you. You’re my best friend. Without you, I gave up. I resigned myself to exile and being an historian. You keep me grounded and make me think about the practical side. In all my years planning to stand up to the sultan and free Maraiah, do you know I never gave a practical thought to how I would do that—until you suggested it? You’re teaching me about diplomacy, and your support is so important.” I pause. “I love you, Savi. I need you.”

  He shivers. “Do you—you mean, you really do?”

  “I really do.” I must tell him this more often. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know that.”

  “I need you, too, Rai.”

  Those words fill me with lightness. Yes, I should definitely tell Savi this more often. I lean closer and kiss him.

  “You’re right, you know,” he says, after a while. “You really are terrible at planning. Now that you’ve given me permission, we’re going to have to fix that.”

  This isn’t him letting himself mourn, but we’ve talked about a lot today and it’s late. I laugh and let him get away with the distraction. “Good.”

  “I mean, it seems like Aia’s got a plan for what we’re doing here, and it’s working out okay. Aside from the imprisonment.” Savi ducks to rest his head on my shoulder. I curl into him. “But what do we do if—when—Izyphor releases us? How do we deal with that?”

  The very question sparks a yawn so wide it’s painful. “Yeah, yeah, that’s important,” I agree. “But can we talk about it in the morning?”

  Savi shifts and presses a kiss to my neck. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It can wait till then.”

  Chapter 37

  “I’ll go,” Yori declares the next morning. “I’ll start gathering everyone together.”

  We’re discussing what to do when we’re free.

  “Absolutely not,” Savi and I say in unison.

  “Yori, you’re not putting yourself in danger like that,” I add.

  She laughs, a sound of pure entertainment, and throws her head back. “Sis, would I honestly be in more danger there than I am with you?”

  That gets me. She’s right, I’m endangering her. We have to figure out how to get her to safety.

  Before I can reply, Yori holds up her hands. “Wait, no, calm down. I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I want to be with you. But you have to admit, I’m the best person for the job. The elders know me. I know where to find everyone. I’ve been training at diplomacy, just like Savi. I’m the perfect person to be the Champions’ emissary.”

  “She has a point, you know,” Hoenna says, just loud enough to hear. He quickly occupies himself with keeping the fire going.

  Savi’s shaking his head. “No. No, Yori. You can’t honestly think we’d let you go off alone, completely unprotected, especially with all the aivenkaites around and the Izyphorns getting agitated by Aia’s signs. You’re out of your mind.”

  Yori puts her hands on her hips. “Saviayr of Charn, I’m not a child anymore. You don’t have to keep big-brothering me. I’ve handled things for Yrin all on my own; I can do this.”

  “Yor—” I start.

  Nhardah clears his throat. “I will go with her.”

  Savi and I turn on him. “What?”

  Nhardah crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You don’t need me anymore. You are the leaders Aia called you to be. I can do far more good going with young Yorchan to gather the rest of our people together.”

  “But we just got both of you back,” I protest.

  Nhardah smiles fondly at me. “Young Raiballeon, we will be reuni
ted soon.”

  Yori clasps her hands together, blue eyes wide. “It’ll be perfect, don’t you see? They already know me—think how convinced they’ll be by the sister of the Champions and by the Firstborn himself.”

  I don’t want to see, but Yori’s right. I just can’t admit it yet.

  Savi scowls beside me. “We’ll talk more about it later,” he decides and stands. “Now it’s time to visit the palace.”

  “We’re coming with you again,” Forziel declares, hopping up from where he leans against his axex. “Me and Yori.”

  “No,” Savi answers.

  Yori takes his hand and fixes us with the cajoling look she perfected as a child. “Please? We want to see what the next sign is.”

  I groan and rub my forehead against the growing pressure there. “Fine. But you do everything we tell you to.”

  People peek out of their tents’ flaps and slink out of their houses to follow us. Crunched bugs coat the ground. Here and there, live beetles and scorpions scurry away from our feet. A mouse scampers across the street, barely missing my toes.

  Someone must have notified the rulers of our approach, because the sultan and royals arrive at the courtyard at the same time that we do. Bright red spots pepper their exposed skin. One of the royals flinches and stomps something, presumably an insect.

  “Stay behind us,” Savi whispers to Forziel and Yori.

  The sultan scratches absently at the bug bites on his neck. New bags have formed under his eyes. “Have you come to tell us what sign your divinity will wreak on us next?”

  “Will you relent and release Aia’s followers?” I ask. Something prompts me to add, “Beware: This is your last chance for mercy. After this, your fate is sealed.”

  “Maraiah may not go free,” the sultan says wearily.

  As much as I want our freedom, I feel a strange energy at his decision. Like the Larien slave said, Izyphor deserves all the suffering they get. It looks like they have more to look forward to.

  “Then yes. We are here to speak for Aia.”

  Savi speaks up, frowning. “Wait, aren’t you going to have your magicians demonstrate?”

  The sultan raises an eyebrow, and one of the royals says, “Everyone knows the magicians can control creatures.”