And I could continue what I’d started. The Kiriilt Islands needed guidance. Otherwise, the Trader Council would likely just regain control. Plus, I’d promised Istanik’s gutterborn a place in Ashkalan. And after the battle for Istanik, I’d made a mental vow to build a home for the children orphaned by Waikert attacks.
There was so much to be done. And I didn’t need magic to accomplish it.
I turned my gaze to Mieshk. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I never thought I’d say this to a gutterborn, but I’d be honored.”
According to Paono’s spark sense, the boat carrying my friends was closing rapidly on the harbor channel. With a tendril of perception, I watched Ashkalan’s docks through Paono’s eyes. I’d released the duskweaving, and had immediately been sucked back into the aether. The Vanished surrounded me. Heiklet stood nearby, smiling and wearing and an ornate uniform I didn’t recognize. Piping on the sleeves was sewn in intricate patterns. It must have been a costume from her home island of Orteshk. It made sense that her self-image would reflect her origins.
Just behind her, I spotted Zyri. The moment I entered Mieshk’s body, I’d lose the ability to speak to anyone here. Until I died again, at least. I felt I should say something, but my emotions were storming through my head, stealing my words. Peldin stepped forward and nodded at me.
“We are almost ready,” he said. “But before we begin, there’s someone who bargained hard for a chance to speak with you before you go.”
From deep in the crowd, a tall figure stepped forward. I recognized him instantly. As Tyrak draped an arm over Zyri’s shoulder, my heart jammed its way into my throat.
“Tyrak,” I said, a tear running down my cheek. “How?”
The crowd parted as I sprinted toward him, sent him staggering with the force of my hug. He laughed and wrapped his arms around me.
“Your trueweaving was rather more powerful than you seem to realize,” Peldin explained. “When Purviiv and I sealed the last rift, we managed it by using our weaving to convince a few of the souls powering the gate to choose dissolution into the aurora. It wasn’t runes in our time, by the way. That came from the Ulstat scholars. There are many, many ways to open the rift. Mavek’s rogue coven built small shrines and etched incantations on the inner walls before forcing spirits into each of the buildings. We were able to destroy three of the shrines, enough to close the rift, but some of the effects still lingered.”
I stepped away from Tyrak’s hug and grabbed Zyri’s hand. I was so happy for them. “Like the storm season?”
Peldin nodded. “And so forth. In all our history, we’ve never been able to undo the binding between a soul and an object. Nightforging, as you call it. But between your Need and Paono’s Want, the spirits that Mieshk bound were freed. None had to choose dissolution in order to escape.”
“I’m still not sure I understand. Tyrak wasn’t in a rune. Did we free all the nightforged souls on the island?”
“We don’t actually know how widespread the effects were,” Peldin said, inclining his head. “The shrines have been destroyed. Your friend Tyrak is free. As you know, distance is somewhat irrelevant in the aether, at least as far as magic is concerned. It’s quite possible you two managed to free every nightforged soul. Everywhere.”
I stood stunned. I could never have imagined undoing centuries of nightforging. All those Nocturnais unknowingly forcing spirits into inescapable prisons... undone. Intense pride filled my chest, no matter how hard I struggled to remain humble.
Turning back to Tyrak, I swallowed. “So I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you. I won’t lie.”
I hoped my words didn’t upset Zyri; I didn’t think they would. Surely, she’d understand the bond I shared with him, especially because it was rooted in our shared experience with her. A glance at her told me I’d judged right. A broad smile lit her face.
“You say that, but it wasn’t that long ago you threw me into the jumbled scree at the top of the volcano. I suppose someone might have found me eventually. In another thousand years or so.” Tyrak smiled as he teased me.
I punched him in the shoulder. “If you’re ever trapped in another dagger, I’ll make sure to keep hold of you when I jump into the lava.”
His face grew serious. “I’ll miss you too, Lilik. I won’t look forward to your death, but I will look forward to the day we can speak again.”
Lilik, we have to hurry, Paono’s voice echoed across the space. I’d never heard a channeler speak into the aether, and the sudden sound made me jump.
Peldin sighed. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about volume. You were always much better at controlling your voice. Or better, confining your thoughts to the single person you were addressing.”
“Well, I guess we better get on with this before he bursts our eardrums. What do I need to do?”
Peldin chuckled. “Please don’t try to do anything, actually. You’d probably just mess us up.”
Moments later, I felt a slight tug, like the first gentle urgings when Nyralit had forced me back into my dying body after Raav pulled me from the refinery on Araok Island. The tug became a nudge and then an irresistible force.
I closed my eyes and became darkborn.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I WAS TALLER. Sounds were different in my ears as if every splash of a wavelet or crack of cooling lava was hard-edged and biting. The shock sent my heart racing, and when I breathed, the rush of air in the back of my throat swirled in an unfamiliar motion. I coughed, and a different voice exited my throat. I looked around, disoriented.
“Just a minute, Lilik,” Paono said. “I need to shape you.”
Right. First I’d entered Mieshk’s body. Now, he would use a dawnweaving to change my form. A flush of embarrassment heated my face. I’d known this would happen, but I still hadn’t been prepared to wear Mieshk’s shape.
“Peldin says you look ridiculous with Lilik’s expressions on Mieshk’s face,” Paono said as he closed his eyes and began to gather the sparks.
I swallowed. “Tell him I hadn’t realized that benefit of losing my channeling ability. I never have to listen to another of his bad jokes.”
He smiled crookedly. “Ready?”
I began to nod but stopped myself. “It will take a dawnweaving, right? Aren’t you worried you’ll be unable to Want it?”
Paono dropped his gaze. “I learned something, Lilik. While the Vanished and I were debating your fate, I had a chance to speak with a few nightstrands who’d been part of the Nocturnai. In particular, I spoke to the weaver who lost his life when I was trying to stop Mieshk from opening the rift. He’d moved into the aether just as I made the shell to protect the strands, so he hadn’t been able to tell me the truth until they were freed.”
“And?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“You didn’t? But I thought you had his whole spark in your weave.”
“I did. He was so weak, nearly dead of starvation when I started to pull on his spark. He’d been looking for an escape from Mieshk’s compulsion. Already on the edge of life and death, he could sense my Want—he knew I was trying to defeat Mieshk. So he stopped breathing and gave himself to the dawnweaving. Same as you, in a way. I didn’t kill you, but your death came at the right moment for me to capture your spark.”
My chest warmed. “So you feel better about it?”
“I do. Now, will you stop talking and let me bring back my Lilik.”
Smiling, I nodded. “I’m ready.”
When Paono began to remake my body, I expected it to hurt. And it did, but in the way that setting a broken bone brings relief. Discomfort gave way to familiarity. I closed my eyes at the nausea-inducing changes in the shape of my skull, the blurred vision as my eyes were squashed and then settled into sockets shaped just right.
I knew he was finished when I was abruptly myself. I opened my eyes and looked down. Mieshk’s tattered rags were gone, replaced by the clothes I’d worn the day Paono and I stepped a
board the Evaeni and cast off for Ioene.
I glanced up at Paono, confused.
He shrugged. “Peldin said that I needed to keep a picture of you in mind. Something that represented your essence. You were so proud when we sailed for Ioene. So brave.” He smiled crookedly. “It’s how I see you, anyway.”
I returned his grin. “Thank you, Paono.”
A flash of sadness crossed his face. “Of course, Lily Pad.”
My chest twinged. “Paono… I… This isn’t how either of us expected things to turn out, is it?”
“No,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “But I think it’s the way it was supposed to happen. Raav makes you happy. And that makes me happy. And now that we don’t have a cataclysm to worry about, I can let myself look forward to seeing Katrikki again. I think she’ll be good for me.”
I nodded and pulled him into a hug. As I laid my cheek on his shoulder, my hair fell across my face. I stiffened in shock. I’d always thought of my hair as thin and limp, but the stuff growing out of my head now was wavy, shoulder length, with ends bleached by the sun.
Paono laughed as he clasped my shoulders and squeezed, stepping back to look at me. “You’ve been complaining about your hair for the last ten years. I figured I’d give you a chance to see the other side. We can explain it as some effect of being shielded from the lava. And if you decide you want your old hair back, we can do that too.”
For a moment, I cringed, waiting for Peldin’s scathing comment. But no voices entered my thoughts. Focusing my concentration, I went through the same mental motions that had opened me to the aether before. I felt nothing. Heard only my own thoughts circling. True to Peldin’s warning, my magic was gone.
I lifted a strand of hair, tugged, and watched, cross-eyed, as the slight wave sprang back into place. I could get used to that.
“Here they come,” Paono said, gesturing at the harbor entrance with his chin.
I squinted into the dark. A single lantern lit the occupants of the rowboat. I recognized Jet at the oars, his wide shoulders and humble bearing unmistakable. But I didn’t know who else was aboard until I heard Raav yell a greeting.
As the little dinghy drew even with the wharf, I turned my head away and whispered. “Mieshk? Peldin? If anyone’s listening, please tell Mieshk that no words are adequate to thank her.”
Maybe she was listening. Maybe one of the nightstrands was looking through my eyes right now. The thought made me a little uncomfortable, but only because, unlike before, I had no way to know. It was very difficult for a nightstrand to fully engage with the human experience; I remembered that from my time in Araok’s aether. Only because Raav’s spark burned so bright and because his emotions had been so high had I been able to experience the world through him.
Anyway, the dead were really only interested in the day-to-day lives of the living when those mortal beings were the last hope for saving the world. From now on, I hoped to look forward to general anonymity.
In the front of the small rowboat, Captain Altak looked up at Ashkalan with an expression of wonder. He’d been here before, more than once, but I imagined it would take a long time before any of us could forget the overpowering dread that had emanated from the city’s walls when Mieshk had painted her runes upon them. The complete absence of that feeling easily explained that the awestruck look on his face.
After a moment, he managed to shake free of his trance and reached a callused hand for one of the stone pilings. With a sailor’s ease, he clambered out of the boat with a rope in tow and quickly tied the little vessel up.
Stepping to the back of the boat, he caught the line that Tkira tossed, fastened it to a cleat, and stretched. The lines of grief were still deep on his face, but the sight of a cleansed city had lifted some of the weight from his shoulders. The Ulstats were finally defeated. The island was healed. If we wanted, we could rebuild our ancestral home.
I stepped forward and extended my hand. His warm, rough palms wrapped it from both sides.
“It wasn’t easy, Nightcaller Boket. But you did it.” He glanced quickly at my clothing but said nothing. Surely, half these people had seen me swallow the Hollow One, and at that point, I’d been wearing the tattered rags of a gutterborn. Not to mention, I’d been able to travel the length of the beach in one long stride. So a change of wardrobe was not particularly remarkable, given the circumstances.
Behind him, I spotted Raav. He sat patiently in the boat, waiting his turn. Out of sight of the captain, I raised a single finger. Just a moment. I owed Captain Altak this chance. He’d lost his beloved for this victory.
“Nyralit would be proud of us,” I said.
His smile was melancholy. “That she would.”
“And there’s something else, Vidyul. When Paono and I destroyed the runes, we freed the strands within. But it seems we may have undone the other nightforgings forced by the Nocturnais. I think it will give her peace to learn that the souls are no longer imprisoned. I suspect she already knows—any souls trapped in nightforged objects on Araok Island have probably entered the aether there already.”
“I’ve wanted to ask you,” the captain said. “Is she confined to Araok forever? What happens if I die elsewhere? Will I never see her again?”
I chewed a fingernail. “I don’t know the answer. The strands I met there were tied to the island and split into domains by the nature of their souls. Cruel spirits were in a congregation with the Ulstats, and kind hearts were with the Silent Queen.”
Paono stepped up beside us. “Peldin and Purviiv—Vanished channelers—have a theory. They think the aether is fractured into domains because the strands are confused. Ioene is the seat of our people. They believe any spirit who has entered the aether should be able to travel here. We just need channelers to help advise them.”
“Then all those souls we imprisoned and carried away…” Captain Altak began.
“Will find their way home,” Paono finished. “And any Kiriilti who have died can join them. Nyralit can choose to join Ioene’s congregation. And nightstrands from Orteshk Island, too. Heiklet’s ancestors can meet her in person.”
In the boat, Daonok perked up. No doubt he was thinking of his lost daughter, and the chance to speak to her through a channeler. The chance to be together again, someday. As I watched, Tkira slid a hand—very sneakily—onto his knee. I quickly looked away before they noticed my attention.
“And someday, I can do the same. Return here to be with Nyralit.” Captain Altak nodded as he turned back to me. “Would you consider training them?”
My brows drew together. “The strands?”
He shook his head. “The channelers. We know the talent runs in our kind. There must be hundreds spread across the Kiriilt Islands. Compellers too. We need to open a school to assure that their talents are used properly.”
I chewed my lip and took a deep breath. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” I stepped back so that everyone could see me. My closest friends were here, people who deserved my honesty. I opened my mouth and began to lie. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to convince Paono to start their training. The Vanished can help him. The truth is, when we sealed the rift, I burned myself out. My magic is gone.”
Shocked silence held until Caffari clambered out of the boat. She rolled her shoulders and shook the stiffness from her knees. “Seems the effort gave you a haircut too.”
Raav raised an eyebrow at that. He’d been curious, clearly. But he’d respected my request for patience.
A blush warmed my cheeks. “That one is Paono’s fault,” I explained. “He shielded me from the lava, but not all of my hair made it into the protective shell. As for what’s left, seems that being trapped in a bubble beneath a lake of lava is enough to curl anyone’s hair. Even mine.”
Somewhere deep down, I felt a little twinge of shame at how easy the lies came. I thought I’d become better than that. But I understood Peldin’s demand that I keep this secret.
As Captain Altak strode
away, staring up at Ashkalan, my attention finally turned to Raav. He stood, surprisingly awkward in the rocking boat. His trader upbringing meant he was usually as steady as a post no matter how a deck wobbled beneath his feet.
“Just wait, you fool,” Tkira said, instantly on her feet and climbing onto the dock. She dropped to a crouch and extended her arm. Raav seized her wrist, and she helped him onto the wharf.
I glanced down at his leg and understood. An oar had been sawed in half, and now the pieces were bracing his right leg from groin to ankle. To walk, he had to swing it from the hip.
All at once, I remembered the sound of his bones breaking.
I swallowed, stricken, as tears welled.
“Lilik, don’t. I’m fine. If it’s broken, it’s not bad.”
“But I… I did this.”
“Did you? I seem to recall you jumping between me and that… thing. I could’ve sworn you ate it. It’s no wonder you struggled for control afterward.”
I looked down at my feet. “But I hurt you. I should’ve been stronger.”
He smirked. “And I put the end of my sword into your back. Shall we call it even?” He held his arms open. After a moment’s hesitation, I ran to him. With my arms wrapped around his waist and my cheek pillowed on his chest, it finally hit me.
We’d won.
Raav pressed a kiss into my hair. He lifted a strand. “I liked the other style, but this works too.”
Abruptly, the vision I’d seen while lost in the ocean of possibility came back to me. I realized now that it hadn’t been another woman walking with Raav through Istanik. I’d only believed that because I’d known there was no way my hair would be anything but straight. But it was me. It had always been me. Somehow, fate had known I’d accept Mieshk’s offer long before I did.
So what of the other visions? Istanik, flattened. Armies marching. I recalled the girl imprisoned because the nightstrands spoke to her. The other young woman with the tattoos, her frantic search for answers. The flashes of war and strange magic and far-off lands. The Hunger had nearly swallowed our world a thousand years ago. And again today. And at some point, desert nomads on Reknarish had fought a similar battle.
Darkborn (Shattering of the Nocturnai Book 4) Page 22
