by Beth Wangler
Nihae screams. She dangles in the air, kicking, tethered only by Hoenna’s grip on her wrist. Savi’s scream for his mother splits the air.
I cry her name, but my axex won’t go near hers or the aivenkaites grasping at Nihae’s heels.
Bathatyz leans to the right, so far that I fear she’ll fall off. But she doesn’t. The axex turns toward Nihae, and Bathatyz rights herself.
We’re at Nihae’s side. The aivenkaite pulling at her twists its cloud shape to look like a scorpion.
I shout and plunge Luemikaroeth into its center. The aivenkaite howls as it’s sucked back into the Void.
Hoenna pulls. Nihae rises.
My axex is yanked back. If not for Bathatyz holding onto me and the axex, I’d be falling to the ground like my last remaining crutch.
Forziel shouts.
By the time my axex rights itself, the group is yards away. Nihae still swings through the air, encircled by two aivenkaites, the only others who got past the kaites.
She is too far for me to reach. Still, I have to try.
Bathatyz shrills. The axex strains to catch the group. I stretch out Luemikaroeth.
Savi drives toward his mother, face white from effort.
Light grows in Luemikaroeth’s blade. Then something new happens. The sword warms and vibrates, like it gains extra life. Pale blue light streaks to meet Elgarnoseth in Savi’s hand. When it touches his blade, it spreads up and down, thinner, and pushes a blue line from our swords toward Nihae.
Drigo swears. “What on Orrock is that?”
The light reaches the aivenkaites. They shrivel with wails, not as suddenly as when we stab them but still inexorably forced away from Nihae and dragged back to the Void.
The light brightens as we near Nihae. By the time the aivenkaites’ cries fade, we’re upon her.
Hoenna grips Nihae only by her fingers.
“Mama!” Savi reaches for her.
“Lean the way you want your axex to go,” Bathatyz instructs.
Savi does. He nears Nihae enough to grab her other hand and help her back up to the axex’s back.
The struggle is over, at least for now. The other aivenkaites strain toward us, but no more break past the kaites. I gulp air. The light from our swords dissolves.
“What was that,” Drigo says, not really a question. “Did you know your swords could do that?”
Savi slumps but straightens when his axex takes that as instruction to descend. “I get the feeling we’re just beginning to have an idea of what these swords can do.”
“When Nhardah told us everything the swords did for the kaites, he didn’t mention this,” I say. “Either he was still withholding information, or this is something new.”
Forziel’s cry of delight distracts us all. What looks like a line of smoke smooths the line of desert meeting sky. The wide blue ribbon of the river Havilim weaves toward it, through deep canyons and bare red rock striped with shining white. The smoky line thickens. Beneath us, rock softens into the orange sand of Izyphor’s coast.
“The sea!” Drigo laughs. “I never thought I’d see it!”
We’re already here, miles of desert crossed before the sun is halfway down to the horizon.
We’re about to meet our people, really meet them, for the first time as the Champions. Will they follow us? Will they desert us like Laen? The sultan’s signet ring dangles over my heart, next to my chanavea. This is the only proof I have of our freedom.
We loop around the royal Yrin’s city. My heart squeezes. Elesekk’s body lies down there, abandoned to decay slowly in the hot, dry depths of the tunnel under the city. May he walk again at the end of the ages, when Aia redeems creation.
The city is past. The beach draws near, with the busy harbor. Aia, I have no idea what to expect. You have brought us this far. Please let the people receive us well. Please let them believe in our freedom.
The harbor is dark with people, packed in as close as the capital during Api’s Feast. They wait, restrained by Izyphorns from boarding boats. The people on shore notice us and point to each other.
We direct the axex toward a stretch of open ground between the crowd and the water. As we lower, the crowd sharpens into clarity, so I can distinguish one person from the next. I smile. They are all Maraian, or mostly. Yori and Nhardah succeeded in gathering our people.
Flaxen hair hanging in one thin braid catches my eye. My little sister stands near the front of the crowd, arguing with an Izyphorn standing between the Maraians and the docked boats. One of the people next to her taps her shoulder and points at us. Yori turns and shades her eyes. “It’s the Champions,” she announces. The crowd hushes. “What’s the word?”
I grab the sultan’s signet ring and hold it up. “We are free!”
The resulting cheer is deafening. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins—everyone hugs each other.
My axex lands with a thud that nearly sends me tumbling from its back. My kinsmen flock around me. Dozens of hands help me off of the axex and offer support in lieu of my lost crutches. For the first time, I really feel it: We are free, indeed.
Chapter 42
“What do we do now?” someone asks once all of us have dismounted our axex, and the question is repeated.
Leaning heavily on Saviayr, I turn to face the Maraians. “My brothers and sisters and cousins,” I raise my voice. “Long have we been in slavery, entreating Aia for liberation. At long last, He has heard us. He chose me, Raiballeon of Charn, and Saviayr of the same clan, to Champion our people. We have just come from the capital, where Aia introduced Himself to the Izyphorns by seven signs and demanded our release from captivity. This very day, Aia’s promise has been fulfilled: We are free!”
A cheer of “hae-Aia!” rises.
“That’s all very well.” The harbormaster stands with feet spread and arms crossed in the middle of the dock. I recognize him from when we returned to the mainland just a couple weeks ago. “But I’m going to need some higher authority than a slave’s word to convince me to let you on our boats.”
I slip off my chanavea and draw the sultan’s ring from the cord. Handing me over to Yori, Savi takes the ring and hops up on the dock. He holds it up for the harbor master’s inspection.
“I witnessed this very thing that the Champions speak of,” Bathatyz declares, striding forward with all the confidence of a powerful royal. “Your rulers have spoken, releasing Maraiah from our authority. They are free to leave.”
The harbormaster bows low. “Then I bow to the wisdom of my great royals and illustrious sultan. My boatmen will take these Maraians wherever they wish to go—provided they can pay their ways.” His lip quirks up at the end.
“Drigo?” I call.
The bandit tries to look innocent. “Yes, O your Championess?”
“The treasure?”
He raises his eyebrows. “What treasure do you mean?”
“Drigo,” Savi says. “Pay the man.”
Drigo huffs. “Fine. I swear,” he mumbles, digging in one of the bundles and pulling out some gems, “I’m gonna end up even more of a pauper following you.”
Hoenna pats him on the back. “You know this is better.”
Drigo rolls his eyes.
When the harbormaster is paid, the crowd presses forward, crying, “Tion Beriath!” Savi holds out his hands for them to wait. Supported by Yorchan, I move closer to him. “My people, will you accept and follow Raiballeon and me as your Champions?” Savi asks.
They cheer. The anxiety in my chest warms into joy.
“Then, harbormaster, we ask to be ferried to Ira,” Savi says, in accordance with our plan. “We will decide how to proceed from there.”
At that, Yori makes sure I’m leaning against the dock and jumps back onto it. She calls out orders for different elders to direct the people.
It’s chaos, but people get where they need to go. Boats trundle out of the harbor, bobbing low under the weight of their many passengers.
Just before sunse
t, Yori and Savi rejoin me, though the rest of the group comes over first. Yori hugs Nihae, who only looks slightly puzzled. “How are you doing, Mama Nihae?” Yori asks.
Nihae pats Yorchan’s hand. “It’s kind of you to ask,” she says.
Yori darts a look to Savi and me. “How is she?” she whispers.
Savi’s eyes sadden. I touch his arm and answer, “She’s a bit worse, but not by much. She doesn’t want to eat anymore.”
My sister sighs. A second later, Yorchan shakes off her sadness. “Well, we need to be moving. Most of our people are already in boats. They’ll need you two there when they reach the island.”
“Are we sailing or flying?” Forziel asks, fingers buried in Lightning’s fur.
Flying would be fastest, but the axex look tired. They’ve flown far and fast today. I’m also exhausted, and the dark cloud still looms. The long ferry ride may be our last chance to rest before the aivenkaites overpower the kaites.
“Let’s sail.” At Forziel’s drooping shoulders, I add, “But you can fly, if you’d rather.”
He perks up. “What about you, Yorchan?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been working nonstop since I left you all. Rest sounds divine.”
Forziel droops a little but sticks with his decision to fly.
Drigo and Hoenna set to splitting the remaining treasure load, both ours and some that the other Maraians have compiled, between the axex. Savi and I seek out the harbormaster. “Which is the fastest boat you have left?” we ask him.
In short time, Savi, Nihae, Yori, and I are settled in a sheltered nook against the boat’s railing. Not far away, Drigo sprawls on the deck while Hoenna leans against a crate near him. Bathatyz perches on a roll of rope, surveying the Maraians around her with interest. Nhardah leans against the railing. His mahogany eyes sweep over the deck and the other boats bobbing out of the harbor.
I’ve never seen him so content.
“I ran into Fynor, Yrin’s guard?” Yori tells us. “He says he’s glad you escaped, by the way. Fynor also said the royal Yrin has been pouring over some scrolls, muttering about witchcraft and mysteries and speaking Aia’s name since we fled.”
I squeeze Savi’s arm. He looks at me. “Your scrolls, Rai.”
Was it Aia’s plan for me to lose those scrolls in the scuffle in Yrin’s throne room? Warmth fills me. Then all my work was not in vain.
“Could be,” Yori shrugs. “When I got here, the same things were happening as when we left the capital. The Izyphorn children grew deadly ill, then suddenly healed. No sooner had the food stores dried up than all the faces of the dead disintegrated. When that happened, the royals still along the coast, who hadn’t gone to the capital for the Feast, all threw up their hands, shoved cattle, chickens, and gold at us, and declared that they would no longer enslave us.
“Well, there was a lot of chaos, as you can imagine. But Nhardah and I had gotten the elders to listen to us before the last sign. We convinced them we should leave the mainland, so we had already started gathering people here at the harbor. We’d actually just finished that when you showed up.”
When we’re all caught up, we decide to rest. I curl around Savi, a blanket tucked around us to ward off the cool sea breeze. Sleep claims me instantly.
It’s the dark of night when I’m shaken awake. “We’re nearly there,” Yori says.
It takes a while to straighten, as I am still sore from the prison battle. Savi and Forziel’s groans tell me they feel the same. Forziel cradles his splinted arm close to his body and curls forward. He must have changed his mind about flying sometime in the night, but his axex and the others’ wings flap overhead, mingling with the creak of the boats and the splash of waves against the hull.
The eastern horizon warms where the water meets the sky, a sight that grew so familiar in my years in Tatanda’s household. The first glow of dawn shows the force of aivenkaites still towering up toward ierah, farther away than before.
I doubt that the distance between us will last, but it’s nice for now.
Ahead, the three hills of Ira break through the surface of the ocean’s ebony depths. A couple yellow lights shine as pinpricks on the residential hill, the first movements of early risers.
I had no idea I’d feel so happy to see this island again.
Savi stands beside me at the railing, arm around me. I lean into his side. Nihae and Yorchan huddle under their blankets.
We draw near the harbor. Savi suddenly stiffens. “Rai, I know how we’re going to do it,” he says, the light of the rising sun breaking over his face. “I know how we’re getting from Ira to Tion Beriath.”
He tells me, and I laugh aloud. “That’s perfect! How did we not think of it before?”
Savi chuckles and kisses me. “I have no idea, but hae-Aia for His provision.”
I have to agree.
The boat bumps into an open dock.
Chapter 43
We nearly caught up with the front of the flotilla during the night, but Maraians already clog the small Iranine market when we dock. Big Akima, first of the shopkeepers to arrive, eyes the strangers with consternation. Fists on her hips, she approaches an old Maraian woman. The sea and the crowds drown out her words, but I imagine Big Akima is demanding an explanation. When the old woman answers her, she seeks out a younger woman. Whatever the latter says, Big Akima scowls, throws her apron over her shoulder, and stalks back up the path to the residential hill.
We need to get our people to the grazing hill and find Tatanda as soon as possible.
Savi helps me over the gap between boat and dock. I wince when I step too hard with my injured ankle, compensating for the dock’s lack of movement. Under the palace healer’s splint, the swollen skin and battered joint are tender.
There’s a crash. Someone knocked into a support for one of the stalls, loosening it. Without support, the roof caves in.
If we don’t get to the grazing hill, the whole island may be destroyed.
My shouts catch no one’s attention, so Drigo whistles.
Every head turns.
“We cannot stay here,” I order my people. “Gather your possessions and take that path. It leads to an empty hill where we can camp. Settle away from the animals grazing there, and do not touch them.”
It’s slow work, getting so many people to move together. Yori seems to be everywhere at once, finding the elders and other leaders, enlisting their help. Nhardah keeps a close eye on Nihae, reassuring her when the crowd confuses her. Forziel hops back on Lightning and leads the way.
We stir up choking clouds of red dust. By the time people are settling in, the sun has risen in a crimson glow. The cloud of aivenkaites looms in the north, taller and darker than any storm cloud I’ve seen before.
“Let’s go to Tatanda,” I tell Savi, “before Sandat and the rest get up a mob.”
Hopefully we’re not too late already.
Yori snags my arm before we can leave. “Not so fast.”
“Yor, we don’t have time. I need to talk to Tatanda and the other prominent Iranines.”
“They can wait long enough for someone to look at your ankle. Savi, how can you let her walk on that?”
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not letting her do anything. We haven’t had time to slow down, and I didn’t think there was anyone on the boat who could help.”
“See?” I tell my sister. “Don’t blame my husband for not taking care of me. It’s my decision, and I say I’m fine. Besides, someone looked at in the palace.”
Yori snorts. “Yeah, and I’m sure they gave you the best of care. Besides, I’m your sister, and I get to be annoying. Here’s Ayri, one of the Jorahittes and the best healer we have.” Yori throws her arm over my shoulder and hangs on me, throwing off my balance. “She’s going to take a look at your ankle.”
I wobble and try to shove her off. “Yorchan.”
“It’ll just take longer if you resist,” she sings.
She has a determined glint in her eye,
one I recognize from growing up. I’ve forgotten how determined Yori can be.
Savi sighs. “Yori, please?”
She squares her shoulders. “Savi, it’s for her own good.”
“Fine.” I huff and lower myself to the ground. There’s no getting around Yorchan at times like this.
She grins, and I cross my arms. Ayri undoes my sandal and the splint and probes my ankle with gentle hands. I hiss.
“Your ankle may be broken,” Ayri announces after a while. “At the very least, it’s badly sprained. I’m going to wrap it back up, and you must keep your weight off of it. Here’s a leaf that will help reduce the swelling.”
I gnaw on the bitter dried leaf while Ayri binds my ankle. I squeeze Savi’s hand through the process. As soon as Ayri gives her permission, I struggle to my feet. Ayri did something different when she wrapped it; my ankle doesn’t hurt quite as much now.
“Better?” Yori grins.
“Be quiet,” I tell her. “Okay, yes. It’s better. Now we have to go find my uncle.”
“We have an uncle?” Yori asks, trailing behind Savi and me.
“I have an uncle of sorts. I told you about him before; he took me in when I had to flee.” We pass Forziel, and I snag his arm. “Hey, make sure the Maraians stay on this hill. Get the others to help you.”
He nods and runs off to enlist Nhardah, Hoenna, and Drigo’s aid.
I would expect the Iranines to crowd close to our encampment, but I only glimpse a couple daring children peeping out from behind a serviceberry bush. No adults are in sight.
At first, Yori interrogates me about my life on the island. I try to answer, but the questions running through my head distract me. Do Sandat and his anti-Maraian friends know we’re here? Will they stir up violence? Will Tatanda receive me in his home, after the way I left? Will the other Iranines listen to him, if he agrees to help us?
Will our plan to reach Tion Beriath work?
Savi answers enough of Yorchan’s questions that she falls quiet.
