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

by Beth Wangler

  I don’t know if the aivenkaites are confused or if this is a new tactic, but I don’t relax. If they’re not coming at me, I go at them.

  The problem is that aivenkaites don’t need humans conscious in order to use their bodies. No matter how hard we hit, they keep coming at us. And we can’t, won’t, kill them.

  Time has no meaning. Their attacks are still off, but my energy’s fading. Each punch is weaker than the last. My ankle starts to throb. We’ve pushed them back into the corner.

  The Larien aivenkaite shouts suddenly. They attack with renewed energy. Their hits still mostly miss us, but with all of them pressing us at once, they drive us a couple steps back.

  Savi yelps in surprise. He trips and catches himself but loses his grip on Elgarnoseth.

  A fist slams into my cheek. A foot bashes my hip.

  I’m on the floor. Luemikaroeth’s light flickers.

  An aivenkaite punches Forziel’s face. Forziel punches back even as his head turns with the impact.

  Savi’s hand closes around Elgarnoseth. “Stop! I don’t care, I’ll use this!” he cries.

  A kick aimed at my face scuffs the dirt beside me. Dust makes me sneeze. I push up from the floor. I’m back in the fight, and the aivenkaites’ attacks keep falling short again.

  Blood pounds in my head. My limbs are lumps of granite. My hurt ankle won’t hold any weight.

  Still the aivenkaites fight.

  Aia, where are you? We need You.

  I misjudge the distance between me and an aivenkaite and lose my balance. Luemikaroeth clatters on the hard-packed dirt. Darkness saturates the cell.

  “Rai?” Savi and Forziel ask.

  A blow brushes my shoulder. I fumble in the dark for my sword.

  I can’t find it. Feet trample around me. Someone steps on my leg.

  This is it. This is the end. The compulsion to surrender knocks me to the ground.

  My arms give out. I tumble down, and one last thought flickers through my mind, the closing line of the Lullaby of the River. “The One who holds Orrock is by your side.”

  I grapple for my last shred of strength. “Aia-Thaies, Father, nini-hae.” The words scrape out of my throat.

  “Aia-hae,” Savi begs at the same moment.

  “Aia, we need you, please!” Forziel groans.

  The air shifts, stirred by an invisible hand. Rock creaks as the ground beside me shifts.

  The fight’s been quiet, relatively, but I only realize that now: The aivenkaites all bellow in their own tongue and words in another language fill the air.

  Euphoria bursts through me. The kaites are here!

  Something cold bumps into my fingers. Luemikaroeth. I grasp it with fingers that feel larger than normal. Renewed confidence gives me strength I thought was gone and sets my sword blazing.

  I stand. Kaites fill the air, invisible but active, and some flow through the stone and dirt. The kaitairie in the air push the aivenkaites’ bodies toward the cell’s extremities, then the kaites in the rocks shackle them against the walls.

  Forziel shouts a praise.

  “Champions,” the kaites say, their voices all around, “be ready.”

  My eyes meet Savi. I don’t know what’s coming, but I breathe deep and shift my stance.

  The aivenkaites gnash at the air with their teeth. “We will kill these bodies,” they threaten.

  “You shall not!” the kaites order.

  It’s hard to say what happens, but the aivenkaites’ faces freeze, grimace, and contort in agony. One of the bodies slumps against the wall, fight gone, panting for breath. A rock detaches from the wall and flies at my head.

  On instinct, I block with Luemikaroeth. The rock shatters, and a fiendish scream deafens me.

  “The kaites are pulling the aivenkaites out of the prisoners,” I tell Savi. “Be ready!”

  One or two at a time, the prisoners slump. Some aivenkaites fly at us, desperate for one last chance to stop us. These invariably meet our blades. Some dive into the walls and try to flee. We dive for those and stab the moving bits of stone away from where the kaites bind their captives.

  I wrench Luemikaroeth from the wall, spin in anticipation of another aivenkaite, and find the cell suddenly still. Most of the prisoners have fainted or were already unconscious. Savi slumps against the wall; Forziel hunches on his knees.

  The fight is over.

  Air, unnaturally cool and soothing, rubs against my face and arms. The innumerable cuts on my arms sting with cleansing. It’s like when the kaites washed my cut forehead during the attack in Tatanda’s house, only there’s much more damage this time.

  Footsteps echo outside the cell door. “We must go,” the kaites whisper. The ground and air still completely.

  The door bounces against the wall. Guards, different from before, stride into the cell, dragging another person. They stop short at the sight of the wrecked cell.

  “What on Orrock?” one of them breathes. He looks between our injuries and the contorted walls.

  The new prisoner curses. Light from Luemikaroeth and the hall glints off the bones strung from his neck. “I never should have left Onili,” he groans.

  “Drigo?” Savi asks.

  The Kedi whips his head up. “Champions? That really you?”

  Feeling rushes back into my limbs—pain, all pain. The room wobbles, or maybe it’s just me. I reach to steady myself on the wall, but it’s too far away.

  I’m falling.

  Chapter 39

  When I wake up, the first thing I know is I’m uncomfortable. I have to pry my eyes open and can’t get my left eye open all the way.

  A soft touch to my hand sets my fingers throbbing. I flinch.

  “You’re okay,” a woman says. “I’m tending your injuries.”

  Memories return. I look around and try to place my surroundings. I’m on a padded mat in a room whose walls are giant granite blocks. Inside the palace, then. Forziel sprawls on another mat, arm wrapped and propped on a cushion, eyes closed. Drigo crouches off to the side, fidgeting with his necklace and watching the room. Savi leans against the wall with his legs stretched out. His head tilts back against the stone, but his eyes watch me. When I look at him, he smiles. At least I think he does. Savi’s cheeks are so swollen it’s hard to tell. Then he looks behind me.

  Near the room’s door huddle some of the royals and the sultan. Their exposed skin hosts countless bandages. Their faces are swollen as badly as Savi’s.

  “But we’ve seen that they have the patronage of some great power,” Bathatyz, the royal who first convinced them to listen to us, protests.

  “She’s right,” another says. “If they die at all, but especially under our care, we will surely suffer retribution.”

  “If we suffer more because of these slaves, you will all suffer retribution,” the young royal Kaflak says.

  “Calm yourself, Nephew.”

  “Aunt, make the Champions heal us, or I shall not be held responsible for what I do. Their signs are affecting my family!”

  I ignore the admonitions of the woman tending my injuries and push up on my elbows. “Your wounds will heal in time.”

  They all jump when I speak.

  “We believe your Aia is great and mighty,” the sultan says authoritatively, turning to face me. “Our divinities have held back from acting to show us this.”

  “Good, but do you still not believe that Aia is more powerful than they?” I ask. “Very well. You have been rebuked for polluting the waters with Maraiah’s dead infants. Far worse than pollution is your murder of these children. ‘So that you may know that I am greater than Rezik Father Physician: All Izyphorn children of one month or older shall become ill to the point of death.’” The change to my voice happens naturally and predictably.

  As the words fade, the royals exchange glances and look at the sultan. The young Kaflak exclaims, “Uncle, surely you will not allow this?”

  The sultan presses a hand to one of his bandages. “Bah! This cannot h
appen. No divinity is powerful enough to bring on a plague single-handedly. It would take a horde of divinities—but their Aia is only one. I am done with this foolishness. Get your pale faces out of my sight,” he orders Savi and me and painstakingly limps out of the room.

  Despite their still-healing wounds, the younger royals, who undoubtedly have children, race past him. The woman tending my injuries whispers, “My nephew,” drops her damp cloth, and hurries away.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Savi, Forziel, and Drigo. Savi stands with minimal difficulty, but Forziel tries two times before he succeeds and has to steady himself against the wall when he does.

  “Hey, let me help,” Drigo offers. He moves to pull Forziel’s arm over his shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me,” Forziel snaps.

  Drigo holds up his hands. “Woah, calm down. You just seem like you could use a shoulder to lean on.”

  Forziel snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure you were thinking that when you stole our supplies and left us to dehydrate in the desert.”

  “Forziel,” Savi says. His quiet word cows the boy.

  Putting weight on my ankle makes me realize that it’s been splinted and wrapped. Even so, it hurts. I try to take a step and wince. My ankle won’t be supporting weight for a while.

  Savi’s at my side before I can look for a crutch, slipping my arm over his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

  And so the three of us limp out of the room. “Wait,” one of the royals cries. “Save our children.”

  We ignore her. The Izyphorns refused Aia’s last offer of leniency; now we will see all seven signs.

  We wander through the palace searching for an exit. Wailing starts, echoing through the labyrinthine halls. Whispers follow: “your child”—“fever”—“sudden.”

  When at last the golden light of the sun shimmers on the granite walls, we step out into the courtyard. The sight of Nhardah pacing just beyond the columns of the faces of the dead greets us. His eyes dart to the palace entrance, he lets out a cry, and he hurries to us. “Hae-Aia! I was about to come after you. Young Yorchan came back last night saying you were prisoners, and we’ve been in a state ever since.” Nhardah draws up short. “But what happened to you? Mithrida knew the kaites suspected evil afoot. My children, what has befallen you?”

  Savi adjusts his arm around my back. “Perhaps we can have this conversation at camp?” he suggests in a faint voice.

  “Of course. You look like you’re about to drop. Let me help.” He moves to take me from Savi.

  For an irrational moment, I refuse to let go of Savi, and he refuses to let go of me.

  “Saviayr, you can hardly hold yourself up, let alone support another’s weight. Raiballeon, let me help you,” Nhardah prompts, gentle.

  “Careful,” Savi says.

  When I’m in his arms, Nhardah notices Drigo. He squints at the bandit. “Who are you?”

  “That’s Drigo,” I say.

  “The one who betrayed you?” Nhardah asks.

  “‘Betrayed’ is a little harsh,” the Kedi protests.

  “But it’s true,” Forziel points out.

  “Can this wait till we’re back at camp?” Savi sighs.

  With Nhardah’s support, we make it through the now-deserted city before collapsing. The others shout and rush to us when we come into sight of the camp. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you,” Yori apologizes.

  “If you had, you’d be in the same state as us, or worse,” I say.

  “What happened to you?” Yori asks. “Torture?”

  “Aivenkaites,” Savi answers.

  Hoenna hurries us over to the blankets by the fire. When we’re settled, he covers the distance between himself and Drigo, slamming his fist into Drigo’s face.

  “That’s for stealing from us, your crew,” Hoenna scowls. Then he smacks Drigo’s back. “But it’s good to see you again. Glad you weren’t killed by the desert or Altik’s crew. How’d the Champions find you?”

  Drigo rubs the back of his neck. “About that. So, I was going great, got a huge load of treasure and was heading off to find my own place. Then I ran into Laen.”

  “Laen,” Hoenna exclaims. “How is she? Why’d you leave her?”

  Drigo snorts. “I wouldn’t worry about her, if I were you. Laen sold me and the treasure out for entrance into Altik’s crew.”

  “Ah. How’d you survive that? Altik hates you.”

  “I’m lucky he hates me too much to kill me outright. He took my treasure and sold me back into slavery.” Drigo looks over at Savi and me and tilts his head. “So you’re actually Championing? That wasn’t just a story?”

  “Of course we’re actually being Champions,” I say.

  Hoenna’s lips twist up. “Not all of us lie and betray our friends just for personal gain.”

  “Ouch.” Drigo grimaces. “I deserved that.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Hoenna laughs.

  “Yep. But seriously, what’s the plan? What are you all up to?”

  I squint at him. “Drigo, do you honestly expect us to tell you that? When you abandoned us without supplies?”

  “Hey, I’m with you now. Can’t blame a bandit for being, well, a bandit, can you?” Then he sobers. “I don’t have any better options than sticking with you. If you’re actually being suicidal and trying to get your people free...Heck, I saw what happened back in the canyon, with the crazy storm and your glowing sword. Weird things have been happening in the desert recently, the water turning fowl, inexplicable fire. I’m betting you were responsible for that?” He raises an eyebrow.

  I look at Savi. “Aia was responsible,” he corrects.

  Drigo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but He wasn’t doing anything like that till you two came along, right? So you’ve got a real chance, best as I figure. I stick with you and it’ll be a ride, that’s for sure. I’ll either end up dead or free. Either way, I’ll see the craziest stuff I’ve ever seen,” Drigo finishes. “Besides, if I run into Altik again, I’m a dead man.”

  “I can’t believe what rotten liars those Izyphorns are,” Yori interjects, changing the subject. “They said you’d be free to come and go, then they locked you in prison out of nowhere.”

  “I don’t think the sultan and royals knew,” I say. “I think the guards were lied to by the aivenkaites.”

  Nhardah stares at the ground, solemn. “Their onslaught will only intensify as we approach our goal, I fear. Saviayr, did you notice anything extraordinary about Elgarnoseth in this encounter?”

  Savi’s voice slurs because of the swelling around his lips. “It was different this time. The aivenkaites—it was like they couldn’t tell where we were until I dropped Elgarnoseth. Is that what you mean?”

  Nhardah leaps into the air and laughs. “Yes! It’s what we hoped!”

  The axex, resting in the shadows away from our campfire, make scolding shweeps and ruffle their fur at his outburst.

  “What the…” Drigo jumps.

  A large axex, Forziel’s friend, scuffs closer, searching out the boy. Drigo screams and flinches back. Savi and I burst into laughter.

  “Lightning,” Forziel laughs, ruffling the axex’s fur. “Were you good while I was gone?”

  Drigo hides behind us, pointing at the creature. “What—what is that thing?”

  Forziel plants his fists on his hips. “That is no thing. That’s Lightning, my axex.”

  “Does it eat people?”

  “I mean, not if they don’t make it angry,” Forziel answers. “Or not if they aren’t dead. Now that I think about it, they might be scavengers.”

  “That’s not actually that comforting,” Drigo says.

  Yori laughs at him. “Relax. They’re sweethearts.”

  Drigo keeps the fire between himself and the axex, but Savi and I focus back on our conversation with Nhardah. We’ve very nearly died too many times for the Firstborn to keep holding back information. “Please stop keeping us in the dark,” I say. My hand bumps Luemikaroeth and I add under my breath,
“Literally.”

  Nhardah nods and folds his legs to sit on the ground near us. “You’re right, but I’ve had good reason for this. When those blades were forged, a dozen kaites poured their essence into them. It was a long process, and the remaining kaites decided there were better ways to combat their wicked brethren, but they did use these swords most effectively.

  “When we gave them to you two, we hoped but did not know if the swords would react for you as they did for the kaites.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t just tell us,” I point out. “Nhardah, we’re fighting for our lives. We should at least know what advantages we might have.”

  The Firstborn sighs. “From your perspective, I see what you mean. We did not want to give you false hope, but very well: Raiballeon, your sword is named ‘Light in the Darkness’ or ‘Slayer of Falsehood.’ It has the power to give you light in great need and to blind those who embrace evil by the power of truth. Saviayr, your sword is named ‘Champion,’ ‘Defender of Good.’ It has the power to physically shield those who pursue Aia and to throw evil ones into confusion.”

  Savi and I look at each other, running through what has happened since we gained the Swords. I don’t think Luemikaroeth has blinded anyone, but maybe that was part of why the aivenkaites couldn’t find us in the prison. As for shielding, maybe that’s how the ceiling’s collapse didn’t crush us when we were in the Ruined City.

  “Huh.”

  “It is well for you to know this now,” Nhardah continues. “The aivenkaites will stop at nothing to thwart you, both now and on the way to Tion Beriath.”

  That prediction leaves us quiet. Overwhelming weariness fills me. My ankle pulses and my bruised fingers throb. We’re close to the end of the signs, but we’re not done. If—when—Izyphor frees us, our journey home will have just begun.

  Nhardah speaks so easily of Tion Beriath, the land of covenant. He already assumes we will see that long-promised land.

  “That reminds me,” Yori says, scooting closer to us. “When are Nhardah and I going to the coast?”