Darkborn (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 4)

by Carrie Summers

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Places

  People

  Darkborn

  Book Four

  Shattering of the Nocturnai

  Carrie Summers

  Chapter One

  “GET BELOW OR lash yourself to a mast!” Caffari yelled as she stomped past, her voice nearly stolen by the howling wind. “You fall overboard in seas like this, and you’re lost for good.”

  The bandit queen leaned hard, shoes scrabbling for purchase on the tilting deck as she scrambled for the front of the ship. The forward deck was veiled by wind-tossed spray; when I caught a glimpse between gusts, Caffari was lashing her wrists to the wheel. Overhead, clouds roiled, bruised with vivid purples and greens. The wind whipped strands of hair into my eyes while salt spray scoured my exposed skin.

  I swiped water off my face and searched for the nearest mast. I was not going below. No way. My stomach was already churning as violently as the surrounding sea. If I were going to die today, I wouldn’t do it vomiting in the bottom of the ship. Besides, if we sank, I’d much rather try to swim than be trapped in the hold.

  As I staggered toward the mainmast, sailors ran past, weaving and stumbling over the rocking deck. Squinting against the spray, I searched the deck for Raav. His years of shipboard expertise on House Ovintak’s trading fleet had made him indispensable during the six days we’d spent fighting heaving seas. But this storm was far worse. Deadly, judging by the grim urgency in the smugglers’ movements. Surely Raav was somewhere on the deck helping with preparations.

  Unfortunately, most figures were nothing but shadows in the storm. I couldn’t spot Raav in the spray.

  A handful of smugglers had already gathered in a circle around the mainmast and were passing a coil of rope around the group, tugging it tight to secure everyone. I ducked under the loops of rope and helped pass the coil around.

  Now and again, the spray parted, allowing a glimpse of the front deck. Caffari still stood at the wheel, stalwart. At the forward mast, a pair of crewmen lowered the sail, leaving just a small triangle exposed to the wind. Anything more, and the gale would tear the canvas to shreds. Less, and there would be nothing to keep our ship from being turned broadsides to the waves, smashed and sunk beneath the heaving gray waters.

  The other sails had already been furled. After a last pass of the rope around the group, the smuggler beside me knotted the end. Now, we could only wait and hope. Tossed back and forth against my neighbors, I closed my eyes to the fury of the storm and opened my mind to the aether.

  My connection to Tyrak was a solid link of comfort. Sheathed at my waist, his spirit swirled within the confines of the dagger. But otherwise, my mind felt only unbounded emptiness. No spirits dwelt near this vast and heartless tract of ocean.

  Some course you led us on, Tyrak commented.

  Don’t blame me. It was my Need.

  Before leaving Araok Island, I’d gathered energy from the aether, hoping to conjure fair winds to push us straight to Ioene.

  Unfortunately, the effects of my magic, called a duskweaving, weren’t under my control. Instead, fate and fortune decided how to fulfill my Need. And more often than not, I couldn’t even choose what I Needed. So when my duskweaving had finished, instead of calm seas and full sails, we’d ended up with a ship’s compass that no longer pointed north, but rather suggested a direction for our next tack.

  Even so, I’d hoped the guidance would help us weave through the worst of the storms spilling off Ioene. Instead, the rotted device had steered us straight into this tempest.

  Anger flickered when I thought of Trader Ulstat’s fleet, carried toward Ioene by another of my duskweavings. Unlike our ship, his vessels had been given the favorable conditions I’d hoped for.

  Logically, I knew my Need had foreseen a part for him on the island. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  My thoughts fled as another wave threw our vessel high, her hull crackling with the strain. Moments later, the swell dropped away, sending the ship plummeting for the trough. I clenched my teeth over the scream that rose in my throat.

  Caffari’s flagship, Shards of Midnight, was sleek as a hunting shark. Black oil darkened the outer planks of the hull, and her sails were the dark gray of a stormy sea. Perfect for smuggling. And with her expert crew, the Midnight was one of the few Kiriilti ships that could have survived the last six days at sea.

  But this storm was beyond anything the most seasoned sailors aboard had encountered. As the first flash of lightning lit the decks, chased by ear-splitting thunder, I doubted the Midnight would bring us through the next hours alive.

  The sun set as we plunged deeper into the storm, wind and rain pelting us and tearing rigging and cargo from the decks. Thrown by the frothing seas, a fish slapped a smuggler who was tied to the forward mast, knocking him unconscious. Nearby thieves yelled, but I couldn’t make out the words. Only the roar of the storm filled my ears.

  After what felt like days, full dark surrounded us. With each flash of lightning, I saw men and women missing from the ranks, thrown from the ship by the merciless waves. Lost, forever. I hadn’t glimpsed Raav since the storm began. I could only hope he was still alive.

  Snapping in the gale, the small sail tugged us against the wind, just barely keeping us cutting through the worst of the waves. Thunder boomed, a bolt of lightning striking the sea close enough that the smell of sizzling water reached my nose.

  When a flash of light showed a rip forming in the sail, I began to give up hope. Closing my eyes, I dropped my mental barriers and once again searched the aether for help. No one answered.

  My Need had altered the compass which had led us here. I wanted to believe we’d somehow come through this because surely I Needed to reach Ioene. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe through some inexplicable twist of fate, the only way to stop Mieshk Ulstat from shattering the world was for me to become lost at sea.

  I feel responsible, Tyrak, I said as I forced my breath to slow, my heart to stop racing. If this was the end, I wouldn’t face it as a terrified mouse, but rather the flawed woman I was growing into.

  For what?

  For bringing you here, I said, thinking of what would happen to him if we sank. I’d die and enter the aether. But Tyrak would spend centuries rusting on the seabed. Eventually, the blade would disintegrate. What happens when a nightforged object is destroyed?

  On Ioene—if the soul is worthy—they may join the aurora.

  The answer didn’t give me confidence. Unlike on Ioene, where the aurora shimmered in the darkness, the night sky here was filled with nothing but stars. And now, storms.

  If we go down, I’ll wait here for you—in the aether, I mean. Maybe you’ll be able to join me when the dagger crumbles. At
least, I hope you’ll be able to.

  Selfishly, me too, he said, failing to keep his tone light.

  If I could give you anything, it would be a reunion with Zyri, you know.

  I know, he said, extending a thread of warmth with the thought. But don’t give up yet, Lilik. My mother always said that life and hope are different words for the same thing. And you’re still very much alive.

  Another crack of thunder. Another flash of lightning. But this time, I thought I glimpsed a shadow just over the next wave crest. A phantom of hard lines against the rolling swell.

  Did you notice that? I asked.

  Notice what?

  Maybe it had been my imagination. I nudged the thief beside me and tried to yell the question in her ear. In the darkness, I couldn’t see if she responded, nor could I hear her answer. But when the next bolt flashed across the sky, I spotted it again, the dark silhouette of a ship.

  Against my better judgment, I grabbed hold of the mast and wormed free from the ropes binding me. I shimmied up, craning my neck to look over the bow. Another flash confirmed it. We weren’t alone in the storm. Moments later, a chance parting in the clouds let in a shaft of moonlight that turned the roiling sea to liquid silver and outlined the masts and decks of the new vessel.

  Just the sight of another ship was shocking, but when the vessel turned, granting a view of her sail, I gasped.

  My soul leaped with joy at the sight of the shimmering colors. Outlined in glowing threads, a picture of Ioene rippled on the nightwoven sail of Zyri’s Promise, the ship we’d discovered on our first trip to Ioene. Whooping with excitement, I slid back down the mast, planted my feet on shoulders and into ribcages—earning a few disgusted glares—as I climbed down to the deck. There, I grabbed the end of a spare rope that was knotted to the base of the mast. For safety, I wrapped the rope around my arm—at least I was trying not to be an idiot—and trudged against the sheeting rain and howling wind to reach Caffari at the wheel.

  Exhausted, she looked at me with something between admiration and disgust. “What are you doing?” she mouthed, her words lost in the shriek of the storm.

  Frantically, I pointed. Maneuvering through the massive swell, Zyri’s Promise had circled around and now drew alongside us on the leeward side. At the helm, Captain Altak’s broad chest clearly marked him. Like Caffari, I guessed that he had tied himself to the wheel.

  Caffari stared in shock, gripping the wheel as if a wraith had materialized on the deck.

  Because of the mountainous waves, Zyri’s Promise couldn’t get closer than a hundred paces without the ships smashing together. I wasn’t sure what the captain planned until I saw Tkira, the first mate, staggering for the rail. She held a spear gun, the spear loaded. No doubt, a long rope attached the spear to a stout anchor point on the Vanished-built ship. They intended to pull us free of the storm.

  Tkira fired, and the shot fell well short of our decks. Though I couldn’t see her face at this distance, I imagined her twisted scowl as she hauled the spear back and reset it in the launcher. As I watched, my stomach clenched. For safety, Captain Altak had sailed into our wind shadow. But the gale was still too strong. Tkira’s weapon didn’t have enough power to reach us. But if someone from our vessel shot—trusting the wind to carry the spear farther—it just might work.

  Leaning to put my mouth beside Caffari’s ear, I yelled, “Do we have a speargun?”

  She nodded, pointing to a stowage box in front of her. I staggered forward to retrieve the weapon.

  Two smugglers were lashed to the foremast. I crossed the deck like a drunk, safety line trailing behind me. In response to my shouted instructions, one of the men knotted a rope to the mast and spear then helped me cock the gun.

  As I stepped to the rail, the boiling clouds rolled back over the moon, plunging us into darkness once again. The glowing sail was a ghost in the storm, a phantom that appeared and vanished at the whim of the spray and waves.

  Remember where the ship was, Tyrak said.

  As he spoke, the sensation of his body curled out from the dagger, smooth as smoke. His hands fell over mine, steadying the spear gun. As I pulled the spear back to cock the weapon, he nudged the point of the small harpoon skyward.

  Better if it sails all the way over than falls short, he said.

  Wrapped around my arm, the safety line kept tugging at me, throwing off my aim. Finally, I shook free of the loops of rope then widened and steadied my stance. Head over my shoulder, Tyrak whispered encouragement in my ear. With a deep breath, I squeezed the trigger and let the spear fly.

  As soon as the rope snapped tight beside my waist, my concentration fled. I staggered with the rocking of the deck. When the next wave hit, I sprawled, slamming the water-slicked planks with my chest. My fingers scrabbled for purchase as I tried to crawl toward the center of the vessel.

  Another wave threw the boat hard to the side, and I slid toward the rail. My body smacked the posts, the impact rattling my teeth. Clutching desperately for a grip on the rail, I found nothing but empty air as the boat heeled hard in the other direction, sending me flying for the foremast. I slammed into the sailors lashed there, and by some miracle, one managed to get a grip on my shirt. I shoved my arm through the coils of rope binding the men to the mast and hung on.

  Moments later, the mast groaned under the strain as the rope tied to its base grew taut. My shot had reached its mark. As Zyri’s Promise moved out in front of us, taking a position ahead and to port, timbers deep in the hull of Shards of Midnight crackled with the strain. But the mast held, and slowly our ship turned prow to the waves. Overhead, our small sail luffed, no longer needed to keep us heading into the wind and waves.

  As we gained speed, Zyri’s Promise dragging us from danger, the smack of the swell began to relent. Froth from the wave tops slid across the deck, visible in the wan moonlight penetrating the thinning cloud cover. The rain eased and fell straight down rather than slicing diagonally.

  Eventually, I sagged against the mast, my arm escaping the coiled lines as I slumped to the deck. Exhausted, I sank into darkness.

  Chapter Two

  THE SUN’S WARMTH sank into my body as I returned to awareness. Salt crusted my eyes shut, and when I rubbed them, they stung. Keeping my eyelids closed, I groped for a handhold to help me sit up. A garbled moan fell from my lips.

  “Thought you meant to sleep the rest of the way to Ioene,” Caffari commented. “Hey, Lilik? Don’t panic.”

  “Don’t what?”

  A bucketful of frigid water splashed my face. I sputtered, slapping at the air in front of me. Caffari chuckled and shoved a rag into my hands. “Dry your face before you open your eyes. Keeps the salt out.”

  Grimacing, I swiped the rag over my face. “Thanks?”

  “Sorry about that. If I’d given a better warning, you’d have opened your eyes to see what was coming.”

  I blinked, squinting against the sudden pain of midmorning sun. My vision was blurry, probably from the recent scouring by wind and spray. Ahead, half a dozen figures stood at the forward rail. Caffari crouched before me, none the worse for wear as best I could tell. She shoved a waterskin into my hands, and I took a few big swigs of the lukewarm liquid.

  “Raav?”

  “The mainmast suffered some damage. He’s helping some of my crew assess it.”

  I blew air from my lungs in a relieved sigh. Still disoriented, I shook my head and sat up. The world spun. But as I planted my hands on the deck, I realized it wasn’t heaving or tilting. Not even a mild swell passed beneath the ship. After days of wild seas, I didn’t know what to think.

  “What happened to the waves?”

  “On the open water, they’re still rolling high enough to drown a stack of elephants. Zyri’s Promise dragged us here for shelter.”

  “Where is here?” And what in the blue depths were elephants?

  Caffari’s shadow moved off of me as she flung her arm in a gesture of welcome. Beyond the front rail, still a blurry mes
s, low hills rose from a band of blond-colored shoreline. I blinked again and my vision sharpened. Squinting, I spotted a few low buildings tucked amongst scraggly trees that tufted the hills.

  “You familiar with the anchorage?” I asked.

  Caffari’s mouth drew up at the corner. “Unfortunately, yes. The local population is not too fond of us. But the way I see it, if they wanted us to leave their merchant vessels alone, perhaps they should have reconsidered selling to Kiriilti trader Houses.”

  I cast another skeptical glance at the low island. “Did you warn Captain Altak?”

  Caffari rolled her eyes. “Of course. What kind of person do you think I am? He was quite surprised to learn that you and Raav were aboard, by the way.”

  “Wait, so he didn’t know we were on the Midnight when he rescued us? I thought he must’ve been trying to chase us down.”

  Caffari grinned. “He had no idea. Towed us free of the storm because he considered it a matter of honor. Couldn’t watch another vessel sink when he had an opportunity to help.” She snorted as if such virtuous actions were a sign of weakness.

  “My Need…” I finally understood. “The compass wasn’t guiding us to Ioene. It was sending us to meet Zyri’s Promise.”

  “Seems likely,” Caffari agreed.

  “So Captain Altak got us to a safe harbor only to find you have a history of stealing from the locals?”

  She shrugged. “I did what I could. Rowed over to your Captain Altak’s ship to warn him as soon as he dropped anchor. He claims to have a special relationship with the villagers. Said he’d smooth it over.”

  I shrugged. “I guess he knows what he’s getting into, then.”

  In the center of the ship, a small group had gathered around the mainmast. My chest warmed at the sight of Raav. He stood with his back turned to me, face tilted up to assess the damage.

  As the men and women paced around the mast, gesturing, I noticed the weariness that hung over their frames. Had anyone else slept, or was I the only lazy fool aboard?