“Definitely, but they’re about a mile east of here, and they’ve stopped for the night,” Tessen reports. “We don’t think they’ll be able to follow if we keep to the mountains for a while instead of the roads. In a day or so, we’ll hit the roads to pick up some distance.”
“Unless the Nyshin-ma and the andofume change their mind before the sun comes up,” Rai says beside me. “They didn’t seem too sure about the plan an hour ago.”
“Maybe because of him.” I gesture to the sleeping guard, without lifting my head from Rai’s shoulder. “What are we planning to do with our prisoner?”
“They were hoping to get details about the experiments from him,” Tessen says. “And they were also thinking you might want to test your skills with the niadagu cords on him.”
“What?” I sit up.
“We have a live subject for you to test yourself on, Nyshin-pa. Don’t turn down the chance,” Rai says.
“It’s a big jump to go from binding rocks to people.” And the spell comes with warnings in every book. If the mage’s intentions aren’t perfectly clear, and if the level of magic used isn’t perfectly right, and— Essentially, if everything about a niadagu isn’t perfect, it goes horribly wrong. Or it doesn’t work at all. Neither risk is worth taking when it could cost a life and a lot of information.
“I’ll do it if you aren’t ready to try,” Tsua says as she approaches. “But you know how to make the cords hold the desosa now, and you’ve worked the spell before.”
I look down at my wrist, at the new cord tied there, a replacement for the one I left tied around the rock in Kaisuama. Binding truly is the best way to keep him here. There’s too much else we need to worry about and too big a chance he’ll escape from a non-magical restraint. Or his people freeing him if they find us.
“I’ll do it.” I look up and meet Tsua’s eyes. “But not now. Tomorrow morning if I’m rested enough.”
I’d prefer to wait until we’re back on land that produces desosa like it should, but I have the wardstones. Natani’s are too drained to be much use as protection; they’ll be enough to give me the energy I need to bind the guard, though.
“Fair.” Tsua looks down at the guard and shrugs. “He’ll sleep the rest of the night, I’m sure. From the way he acted the last few hours, I don’t think he’s ever walked more than a mile in a day. He acted like he was being tortured.”
“Weakling,” Rai mutters, flicking a tiny pebble at him.
Near the fire, Etaro and Nairo begin slicing strips of meat off the animal and scooping cooked grain into the bowls from our packs. Then, with a single gesture, Etaro floats the first full bowl across the fire toward me.
“Eat and get some more sleep, Khya,” Tsua says. “We need to leave before first light, as soon as we get our guest bound.”
Since the sleep I’ve had wasn’t nearly enough, I don’t argue. I devour the food—and try not to stare at the bowl when it’s empty, wishing for more.
When I wake up in the faint, gray light of pre-dawn, Tessen has curled up behind me, his arm draped over my waist and his nose pressed against the curve of my throat. Even though the fire is only embers, it’s warm here, and despite the stone underneath us, I’m almost comfortable. Only when I hear others moving around the camp do I force myself to get up.
Throughout the night, some of the limited desosa here must’ve soaked into my body. The ache in my joints is minor now, and the gnawing hollowness inside me nearly gone. I feel almost whole. I’ll still use what’s left in Natani’s wardstones, mostly to avoid draining myself again so soon, but I think I could bind the guard with my own power if I had to.
“Did he tell you anything about the experiments?” I ask Tsua over breakfast.
“Not much. Yet.” Tsua turns toward the guard, a man who’s steadfastly staring at the ground. “But he confirmed what I’d feared—the prison is controlled by acolytes of Masya-Mono, the goddess of both law and magic. The experiments have been going on for so long most of the guards don’t know when they started. Only the commanding officers, some high-ranking staff, and selected special officials are allowed in the room.”
“What makes you think he can tell you anything if he’s never been inside?” I ask.
“Because in a place like Mushokeiji, where the only company they have is each other, how easy do you think it is for anyone to keep a secret?”
“They kept secrets in Itagami,” I remind her. “Life-changing secrets.”
Tsua shakes her head. “There were more than ten thousand citizens there, and you all had more work than you could handle keeping the clan safe and fed. Mushokeiji has less than a hundred guards and even fewer staff.”
“Bellows, you’re right.” I rub my hand over my mouth. “Rai and Etaro acted gossip-starved even with thousands of people to spy on. I can’t imagine how bad they’d be with less than a hundred.”
“I’ll trust your judgement on that,” Tsua says with a smirk. “Are you ready, then?”
I hold up one finger, moving off to collect the diminished wardstones from Natani before I return to Tsua’s side. As I settle down beside her, I see Tyrroh give most of his wardstones to Natani. I’m relieved Natani has the added protection, but I need to find something to replace the drained stones soon.
“You’ll watch over it, right? In case things start to go wrong.”
“Yes, but take your time, Khya.” Tsua’s expression becomes serious. “It’s important. Once you speak the words of the spell, there’s no way to go back or slow down. And definitely no chance to stop it. The magic will either succeed or fail at that point.”
And that’s what I’m worried about. No adjustments. No mistakes.
But how many chances will I have to feel the full use and power of this spell as it works on a person before I have to undo the cords on my brother and the other prisoners? None, so I’ll regret it if I don’t take this one.
I cross the camp and kneel next to the guard. He doesn’t lift his head, but he watches me out the corner of his eye. Posture stiff, he leans away. His long hair had been tied back with a length of leather when we saw him inside Mushokeiji. Now it’s loose, and when he tilts his head away, his hair conceals his face, a thick curtain of black dividing us.
His arms are restrained in front of him, wrists tied together. I move my hand toward him, but I can’t make myself touch him yet. It feels wrong. In Itagami, even with our enemies, we rarely put our hands on anyone without permission. Not outside of combat. There’s no chance this man is going to give me permission, though, and there’s no other way to perform the spell, so I need to do this.
My murmured apology makes his head snap up, fear shining in his eyes. The look turns to confusion when I wrap the red cord I untie from my own wrist around his, above the ropes Tsua tied him up with yesterday. He struggles the instant the cord touches his skin, pulling back and trying to tip himself sideways, muttering words that must be Ryogan curses Osshi hasn’t taught us. He only stops when Rai closes in on him, fire in her palm. Etaro slides into the space opposite her, making shards of rock hover in front of the guard’s face.
“She is going to keep you from escaping, and you are going to let her.” The threat of or else hovers over every one of Rai’s words.
The guard’s mouth opens, then his gaze jumps quickly from Rai’s flames to Etaro’s rocks to my red cord. His expression changes slowly, fear transforming into something else. Something calmer. Resignation, I hope. This will be so much easier if he isn’t fighting me.
When I grip his right forearm to start again, he closes his eyes and holds steady. I wrap the red cord just loose enough to keep it from cutting circulation, and tie a knot he won’t be able to undo with one hand. Then, touching both Natani’s wardstones and the cord, I wrap energy around the fabric, shaping my intentions as I shape the desosa.
He cannot stray more than a hundred feet from my side. He cannot warn the Ryogans about us. He cannot cause us harm. He cannot sit idly by while someone or something
else causes us harm. He cannot hurt himself to escape.
Layer by layer, I bind him to promises as specific as I can make them and sink them into the niadagu cord. When I feel the desosa settle, I finish the spell and say, “Tozaiko nitoko.”
The guard gasps. His head snaps back. Every muscle in his body tightens, straining against his skin. Skin that’s fast becoming an alarming shade of red.
“Tsua! Zonna!” I scramble back. “What is this? What’d I do?”
The man screeches, the noise barely human. Frantically, he scratches at his arm, nails digging into the skin. Like he’s trying to tear the niadagu spell out of his body.
“Can you stop it?” Tsua’s question makes my racing pulse stutter. Someone—Tessen, I think—wraps their arms around me. She’s not talking to me.
“I’m trying,” Zonna growls, his hands on the guard’s chest. “Everything makes it worse!”
“Worse? It can’t—oh. Oh no.” Tsua sits back, horror widening her eyes. I lean back against Tessen; his arms tighten around me. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse and wrecked. “Zonna, st-top. You won’t… You can’t save him from this.”
From what? I want to demand. The words won’t come. They’re trapped in my throat along with my breath and my heart.
It doesn’t take long. In another minute, the guard is dead. He dies clawing at his wrists and choking on nothing. On air.
And it started the moment I activated the spell. However it happened—whyever it happened—I did it. His isn’t the first life I’ve taken, but none of the others felt this wrong. They were enemies. It was in battle, in a fair fight.
This? This feels like murder.
“Khya, I’m so sorry.” Tsua’s words barely register, but then she kneels in front of me, and I can’t see the guard. “This is my fault. I should have guessed…”
“Guessed what?” Tessen. That’s Tessen’s voice demanding answers.
“Here, vanafitia.” Chio’s voice shifts Tsua’s attention, and she moves back to see what he’s found. A tattoo is inked into the man’s chest, the lines stark black against his beige skin.
When Tsua brushes her finger over one of the lines, she hisses and yanks her hand back. “They created the ink out of stone dust from Imaku. Bellows, it makes sense.”
“What happened?” The words burst out of me far louder than I’d intended.
But it works. Tsua looks at me, guilt in her eyes. “It’s a protection and a security measure for Mushokeiji. If I had to guess, I’d say it would stop some spells from hurting them, but would turn others into weapons that ended their lives. Spells like the niadagu, which could force them to betray the prison.”
“But I… Did he know?” Rai demands.
“He must have.” Etaro is staring at the black symbols on the dead man’s chest. “Did you see his face?”
“He knew.” The expression makes sense now. It was resignation, but not to becoming a prisoner. He was accepting his end.
Tessen makes a pained noise. “Why would they do that?”
“They were guards of a prison for mages in a land that fears magic,” Chio says. “Anyone who commits a crime using magic, or breaks a law regarding the study and practice of it, gets sent here. Those people have families and partners, people willing and able to attack the prison with magic. And at least some of the prisoners are strong enough to break free of their cells, even with the spells they used to keep magic repressed.”
“Having some measure of security in place to protect the guards or Mushokeiji as a whole makes sense,” Tsua finishes. “And I should’ve known there’d be something. This wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry, Khya.”
It doesn’t erase the guilt lodged in my chest.
And I don’t even know if the binding worked before it killed him.
…
Tsua and I arrange the guard’s body under an overhang, shielding it from the elements until the other guards find him. He died protecting his land, and he deserves whatever honors the Ryogans will give him. By the time we’re done, camp is packed. We’re off before the sun fully rises above the eastern mountains.
The pace is grueling, the terrain is rough, and there’s no good hunting along the way. Only once do we see an animal in the distance that’s worth the effort, but only Wehli’s enhanced speed could’ve gotten a blade anywhere near the beast. He tries, determination on his face, but although his left-handed skill with a sword keeps getting better, his balance when traveling at speeds the rest of us can’t conceive of is still off. He tries, chasing after the creature—
—and he trips, seemingly over his own feet, before he’s halfway to his target. The noise startles the animal. In seconds, it’s gone.
He doesn’t speak for the rest of the afternoon. Not even to Nairo and Miari. None of us push him.
Our victory is tainted by the guard’s death, and by the lingering uncertainty of pursuit. Every time we think we’ve lost them, Tessen picks up sounds in the distance. We change direction often, sometimes going toward the wrong horizon for over a mile just to lay a false trail. If they’re even tracking us by their senses.
Partially because of the hunters behind us, Tyrroh and the andofume decide to risk the more populated lowlands earlier than they’d planned in order to gain speed and distance. Speed or solitude. We can only have one, and solitude doesn’t seem to be working for us now.
After Nentoado and Suakizu, the hills of northern Ryogo almost seem warm. But they’re also grayer and wet—it’s still raining here. From the way the ground sucks at my boots, I don’t think it’s stopped raining for days. At least the winds are gentle. It’s not storming, just steadily raining.
My wards keep the water off, but the muck makes our travel slower than any of us hoped. Tsua, Etaro, and Miari help where they can, Miari firming the ground when it becomes impassable, and our two rikinhisus lifting us free of the mud when we get stuck. It makes me miss the rocky slopes of the mountains, and it forces us to stay on the roads for several miles longer than we wanted to be.
Then, near the end of the day, Tessen’s head snaps north, cocked for listening, not looking. “Someone’s out there.”
Instantly, I check the wardstones, grateful for the normal levels of desosa in this area as I reinforce them. Everyone draws their weapons and readies their magic, most facing the same direction as Tessen. The others watch the rear.
Knowing how sensitive Tessen’s hearing is when he’s listening at a distance, I keep my voice so quiet I can hardly hear myself. “What is it?”
“Movement. Breathing. A lot of people—can’t tell how many.” His voice is barely louder than mine was. “There. They’re moving parallel to this path, not approaching… They’re not speaking, but there’s something that sounds like…” Tessen eyes snap open. “No! Brace, Khya!”
A barrage of a thwacks. A heavy volley of flaming arrows streaks toward us. I feel a sharp impact and a flash of heat from each one. Without my ward, each arrow would’ve landed in flesh. And we’re lucky it’s been raining for so long or the trees would’ve caught fire.
“How long can you keep your wards up?” Zonna asks.
“Long enough,” I insist through gritted teeth. “Run.”
Then another arrow strikes my ward.
And pierces it.
My ward shatters. I gasp, sparks of white-hot light flaring across my vision and sizzling over my skin. I stumble. The arrowhead grazes my thigh. Searing pain explodes from the wound, spreading fast as lightning.
I lose balance. As I fall, my eyes lock on something I wish I could unsee.
An arrow in Tyrroh’s chest.
“No! Zonna!” My scream tears through my throat. I try to push myself back up; tremors in my muscles buckle my joints. I collapse by Tyrroh’s side.
Zonna rushes toward us, hands outstretched. But there’s so much blood. The front of Tyrroh’s clothes are soaked, blood and rain plastering them to his chest.
“Etaro, Rai, incoming!” Tessen shouts orders beca
use I can’t. I failed. My wards failed, and Tyrroh is bleeding, dying, and the shocks from whatever shattered my ward are running through my body, and it’s my fault because he had to give up his wardstones after I drained the ones that should’ve protected him and I can’t—
Zonna shouts and jerks his hands back from the arrow shaft. He mutters curses and leaves it where it is, pressing his hands to Tyrroh’s chest. I reach for the arrow; Zonna can’t heal Tyrroh until it’s gone. But Zonna plants his hands on my chest and shoves me back.
Another arrow smacks into the damp soil, missing Tyrroh’s throat by inches. Missing my back by inches.
“Deflect what you can and run,” Zonna shouts.
Tessen reaches over my shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the ground with one hand and forcing me to my feet with the other.
“No.” I gasp, my first step sends a jolt through my chest. “Ty-Tyrroh! We can’t—”
“He’s gone, Khya. Run,” Tessen orders.
But we can’t leave him! I want to fight against em, turn around and throw Tyrroh over my shoulder to carry him home with us, but I can barely breathe. The air catches in my throat. It burns in my lungs. My skin buzzes and sparks like someone is running tiny shocks of lightning across it. I can’t unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. My eyes won’t focus.
Something is so very wrong and I can’t even call for help.
And the arrows are still falling.
Then Zonna moves in on the opposite side from Tessen, reaching for my hand. His skin is noticeably warmer than mine until the cool, soothing flow of his magic rushes through me. It patches the jagged cracks it feels like the arrows left in my mind. Because they did. The arrow may not have struck my skin, but it broke through my wards while they were up. The impact frayed the lines of power in my mind. Much worse, and it might have broken them completely.
“Better?” Tessen casts a worried glance over his shoulder.
Sea of Strangers Page 25
