The shirt hung loosely too, stretching inches past her fingers. She tucked the fine linens into the hem of the pants as she had seen Rhen do, rolled the sleeves up above her elbows. The neckline gaped open, slipping low on her chest. Jinji looked down, spotting the small but most definitely feminine curve of her breast, wincing.
But there was one more folded cloth. She put her arms through the sleeveless holes and awkwardly buttoned the front. A vest Rhen had called it. Still mildly loose, but, Jinji looked down, it kept her womanly assets very well guarded.
She felt for the spirits surrounding her face, as she did every morning, welcoming their familiar presence. The illusion over her features still held, made only stronger with time. Running her fingers gently through her hair, Jinji felt the short strands spike up, hardened by the salty air.
She missed the weight of her curls, the silky way they spilled down her back, drifting over her shoulders, made shiny by the sun.
But she was not prepared to completely abandon her tribe—her hair would never flow freely again.
Jinji stood straight, facing the door. If she only had one day left onboard, she would try to make the most of it. She had been hiding out below deck for too long, and fresh air would likely do her good, even if it meant an inevitable run-in with Rhen.
Well, she shrugged, she had held her own so far.
Minutes later, Jinji emerged to the curious stares of a few men onboard, including the Ourthuri. It was her clothes, Jinji assured herself, just her clothes. Rhen looked over momentarily, but didn’t let his gaze stick. He was talking to the tall man, the one with burns on his wrists. Judging by the puff to his chest, it was not going well.
No matter, Jinji walked to the front of the ship, ready to look out past the waves for the first sight of these Golden Isles she had heard so much about.
The horizon was flat, dark blue fading into an almost white sky. She could see no mountains, no shorelines, and after a while, even the line faded away as her eyes glazed over, full of dreams and not reality.
"Land ho!"
Jinji snapped back to attention, her head twisting to the noise. She had no notion of how much time had passed, but her body felt stiff and stuck. Rhen was nowhere in sight. But one of the crew was in the crow's nest, pointing straight ahead.
Looking out to sea, Jinji scanned the blue water but could find nothing. And then there, right in front of her eyes, was a golden shimmer, a slight spark like a flame in the distance, almost like the first glance of the rising sun. Could it possibly be?
"Have you ever seen the Golden Isles?" A voice asked, deep and unfamiliar. She spun, tearing her eyes away from the view.
It was an Ourthuri. Eyes scanning, her pupils took in the rippled and raw flesh at his wrists. Parts of the skin seemed almost the same color as her own hand. Other parts seemed a color no human flesh should hold.
He was tall, her neck hurt to look up at him, but narrow.
"I have not," Jinji answered, looking back out toward the bright bump in an otherwise smooth horizon, leaning her forearms on the ship in a relaxed pose.
"I thought so," he nodded to himself, turned to copy her body language, languidly placing his own arms to the rail.
"Why?"
"You do not look like the others, and until today, you did not dress like them. You were not made for the sea like these men."
"No," she responded quietly, sadly, thinking of the trees and the grass.
"At first I thought perhaps you were Ourthuri, but you do not look or sound like us either. And you just said you have never been to the isles."
"I am Arpapajo," Jinji told him, ignoring the cloud of confusion that drifted over his features. "My name is Jin."
"I am called nothing now." He stood taller, bringing his hands behind his back, out of eyesight, a pose both strong and suffered. "But I was once Mikzahooq."
"Where did your name go? I don't understand," Jinji said. How could his name just be stolen away? Erased? Her people were gone, her life shattered, but her name was one thing no one could steal.
"Then you are definitely not from the isles."
That seemed like a very good thing, Jinji suspected, shivering as she caught sight of his mangled hands once more. The isles did not seem like a very forgiving place, though now, growing in her eyes, sparkling like the gems on Rhen's clothes, she did not see why a place so beautiful should be anything but good.
Though, she thought with a smirk, looks can be deceiving. Everyone aboard thinks I'm a man.
"Why do they shine like that?"
"Those islands are not made of plants and dirt like Whylkin, but of metal and rock. They leap from the ocean, harsh and jagged, as though knifing their way through the waters. The edges are steep cliffs, full of silver and gold and copper, and when the sun hits them, well, you can see." He shrugged, eyes glued to the sight even though he had likely seen it a thousand times. There was something wary in his expression, but nostalgic too.
Minding his words, Jinji turned to look over her shoulder. It was true, she hadn’t even realized it, but the sun had crossed overhead, starting the slow descent back down to the earth. The deeper it sunk, the more brilliant the islands before them became.
"And that is why you were chopping down my trees?" She asked, flashing back to the first time she and Rhen had met, a memory she wasn't fond of reliving. But remove the men, the deaths, the pain, and she could still envision her trees, mutilated and chopped to pieces. Stacks and stacks of them, more than any man should use in a lifetime. A waste.
"Not me." He grinned, stepping back playfully as if whipped from her tongue. "But yes, I believe that is what I was meant to do when our ship arrived. Steal trees and animals that cannot grow or survive on islands made of gold."
"But why steal?" It was not a term she was used to, but neither was gold, or ship or anything that had seemingly transitioned into daily vocabulary for her. Money. War. Steal. All things the Arpapajo had no use for, but the rest of the world seemed all too eager to discuss.
"That is for kings to know." He shook his head. "Not me."
"Why not?"
He laughed, a deep baritone that vibrated through her chest, catching her off guard. "You ask a lot of questions. You always seem so quiet. I didn't realize what I was in for."
Jinji bit down on her cheeks to keep from smiling and to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. "So much of this world is new to me."
"And I thought your friend put you up to it. He is also a man with a lot of questions. Too many."
At his mention, Rhen popped into Jinji's peripheral vision, his eyes boring into the side of her head. She felt them there, staring at her. A tingle spread down her neck, stretching across her back and to her fingertips, an awareness. She shifted slightly, so his body was no longer in view, but that did nothing to calm the nerves cascading down her limbs.
Had time run out?
She coughed and swallowed, gripping the banister tightly, trying to focus on the islands still coming into view. A second had poked through the horizon, to the left of the first, close behind it.
A thought popped into her head as she silently stared ahead. Maybe she asked so many questions to avoid giving many answers. Maybe she could use that against Rhen.
Maybe.
Her gaze flicked to the Ourthuri, his deep brown eyes were studying her, trying to read her reaction. They were almost black, she realized, but there was no sign of the shadow there.
"You do not seem happy to be going home," she said quietly. A crease surfaced in his olive skin, just above his brow. He released a long breath, looking through Jinji and not at her.
"I have no home."
A feeling she knew well. But surely the Ourthuri were still alive, unlike her people. She couldn’t help but wonder what could be so bad that this man was an outcast to his family, his land? But she held her tongue. There was a haunt hovering over him that she did not want to awaken.
"So what will you do?" What did other people who had
no home do? Did they travel the world looking for answers that might never come? Or was that just her?
"I will die," he said simply, matter-of-factly, as if there were no other outcome. His eyes sharpened, retreating from his glassy vision, returning from his memories. "It is not as frightening once you've accepted it," he added quietly, voice wavering.
Before she could ask the question burning her lips, he nodded his head, a quiet goodbye. And then he was gone, walking away and back to the group of three men who also looked out of place on this ship.
Who is going to kill you?
She wanted to ask it, almost spoke it loudly into the wind to make him turn around. Somehow, it felt important to get the answer, to push for one.
Jinji lifted her foot and prepared to go after him when a hand clamped over hers, trapping her fingers against the ship.
"Nice chat?"
Rhen.
And he felt like fire. His skin burned, flames against her palm, as though the spirits had awakened upon contact.
Jinji yelped, pulled back, but Rhen would not release his grip.
"I think you've been avoiding me Jin, and I would like to know why."
She met his eyes briefly and they flashed blue. A ghost passed over his face, momentarily changing it, lifting his cheekbones, darkening his skin, brightening his eyes to the color of the ocean instead of the grass.
Jinji blinked.
The mirage was gone. But she couldn't get it out of her head.
Somehow, she recognized the face—a face she was certain she had never seen before. But deep down beneath her memories, a primal instinct flinched with awareness.
Fire spirits brightened her vision, circling his features, surging down Rhen's body. Her fingers tingled, begging her to craft the illusion of the face again, to study it, to remember it.
Jinji shook her head, pushing the spirits out. They clung to her eyes, refusing to disappear, sparking her fingers until they stung.
All Jinji could think to do was shut her eyes tight, cramming her lids into her cheeks, blacking out the world, breathing, until she felt Rhen's fingers release her hand, felt the fire in his touch evaporate.
She opened.
Everything was normal.
Except Rhen.
His curiosity had been piqued even more. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, he studied her, tried to read her.
"Jin?" He asked slowly.
"Yes?" She responded, pretending ignorance.
"I think you know."
"I'm not feeling well," she said, and looked back out over the rail, leaning her hands against the wood for the strength to hold herself upright. A quake rumbled her insides.
"Really?"
She nodded, actually feeling her face turn green. Something in their touch had affected her, had rolled her stomach into knots, had made her body turn against itself.
"Will you still not tell me about the fight?" He asked, leaning in, lowering his voice. "I know you did something, Jin, I told you before. Whatever it is, you can trust me."
Jinji just shook her head, feeling bile rise in her throat.
"I cannot help you unless you tell me the truth. You might be surprised at how I react. At the," he paused, sighing and running a hand through his hair, "at the assistance I can provide."
Jinji opened her mouth to reply, but instead of words, vomit spewed from her lips. She recoiled, dropping her head over the side of the ship, coughing as the shakes wracked her body. Her stomach rolled, forcing everything out, until only vile air remained, and still she dry heaved, sapping the energy from her now aching limbs.
He put a hand on her back, trying to soothe her until it was done.
But her vision had gone blurry. When she looked at Rhen for help, all she saw were flames, rising from his body, smoking into the wind, flaring in her eyes.
Jinji dropped to the ground.
"Captain!" She heard Rhen shout, but already her vision was going spotty.
"The sea has finally claimed its victim," a voice said. Blue splashed in her vision as an old, gray faced leaned over her. "It was only a matter of time, Whylrhen, until the sickness came on. No one survives his first trip without being tested at least once, not on the open ocean."
"So it's just sea sickness?"
"A bad case, but yes."
"What can we do?"
"He'll be fine by the time we reach port. And you and I must talk before then. Geoff! Take the lad below decks."
The voices deepened, words catching each other, stringing together until one was no different from the other, and it all blurred into the sound of her own moaning.
Someone picked her up, but she did not feel it.
No, she was floating, apart, drifting through time.
Pictures began to dance in her vision.
Strange images, shadows flying, dancing. Spirits chasing after them.
The caress of a hand across her stomach, up her arm, down the back of her spine. Chills. Pressure on her lips. Pleasure.
And then pain, a knife stabbing her back, crying out. Dropping to the ground, helpless, knowing death was near, knowing she could not stop it.
A room. Large white columns, arching into a vaulted ceiling, rock. Other people. No faces, no names. Children, men, women. All looking at her. All falling before her. Red spilling out onto the floor.
Holding a hand, squeezing it, praying, knowing her other half was slipping away, was leaving her, was gone.
And then flying, soaring over land and sea. Wind whipping her scaled body, large yet graceful, different yet familiar. Wings fanned out on either side catching the breeze, drifting higher, sinking lower, floating over rock and river. Free.
Jinji rolled in her sleep. Her eyes flicked back and forth beneath closed lids as she moaned and thrashed. She pushed sheets onto the floor only to reach down and wrap them around her body once more.
A fight had risen within her; some foreign body had awoken and was trying to take over. All she could do was resist.
Resist and hope it would end soon.
10
RHEN
~ DA'ASTIKU ~
They had arrived.
Da'astiku. The capital city of the Kingdom of Ourthuro. Home to the king's palace.
"Raise the royal flag," Rhen told Captain Pygott. They had been waiting for the perfect time to call out his princely presence, and this was it.
Looking ahead, the ship was just close enough for Rhen to make out the great pulleys of Da'astiku, the Mountain City. Unlike the cities of Whylkin—flat on the plains, settled beside a bay, or nestled in a river bend—Ourthuro cities were built on the top of island mountains, none more so than this one.
Rising above, gleaming like the sun itself, was the golden palace, visible from all parts of the city as it sat on the highest mountain peak in the center of everything. From that level, metal bridges connected mountaintop to mountaintop, cascading down the side of the cliffs from plateau to plateau. The homes shrunk in size and fine materials the lower you went. The Ourthuri were a people of metals—gold for the king, silver roofs for the highest classes, and nothing but dull iron for those in the lowest. Everything about their society denoted class—the lower on the mountain, the cruder the metal, the simpler the tattoo.
All the way at the base of the city were the docks, holding ships of every shape and size. And rising from the floating docks were the giant pulleys. Huge platforms that hung from metal chains, lifting to bring supplies from the ships to the different layers of the cityscape. They were operated from large wheels beside the palace manned by the unmarked, who strained themselves almost to death, pulling and pulling all day long in an endless cycle—their punishment.
It was no wonder, Rhen sighed, that no king in the history of Whylkin had been able to win a battle against this city. Even Whyl the Conqueror had been stopped, his last attempt at expanding his empire.
"Still a sight to behold," Captain Pygott said beside him. Rhen just nodded. He had been here before, but still his throat was
trapped in awe. "Poor Jin, too sick to see it. The boy is missing the best part of the journey."
Poor Jin was right. Rhen had returned to his cabin late last night, too dark to make out the boy's features, but the sound of painful gasps had made him wince. Still this morning, when Rhen had briefly glanced over before getting dressed, the boy was curled in the hammock—hands covering his face, knees balled right up to his chin. So small Rhen could barely make him out in the dull morning light. But the groans had stopped. Perhaps that was something.
"Surely he'll wake today," Rhen said, "at least in time to catch a quick sight before we leave for Rayfort."
"Ay, I hope so." The captain paused, rubbing gloved hands together. "Have you thought on what I advised last night?"
Rhen nodded. "I know what you're saying, but I must go alone. Nothing can be perceived as a threat, not so close to their home territory. If what I suspect is true, even arriving unannounced will make King Razzaq wary. I am going on behalf of my father to return the four men we found on an abandoned ship floating in the middle of the sea, nothing more."
"Will he kill them?"
"The prisoners?" The captain nodded. "King Razzaq is a notoriously harsh man." Rhen looked to the side where the four Ourthuri sat, hands chained behind their backs and ankles locked to one another to keep them from running once the boat docked. Their faces were stoic, unreadable and hard like their mountain homes. Storm clouds brewed in all eight eyes. "But I hope we have not brought them to their deathbeds."
"And you will not stay the night?"
"No." Rhen shook his head once. "I will use the news of my nephew's birth as an escape if I must. I will engage in conversation, stay for the meal he will offer, and try to uncover as much as I can from the sights around me. But too much foul play happens under the cover of darkness, I won't risk it."
"That is something at least." Pygott sighed, worry weighing his bones down into a slouch that wasn't normally there.
The Shadow Soul (A Dance of Dragons) Page 12
