by Sarah Chorn
You’ll be okay, he finally said. If you stick with me, you will be fine.
He wasn’t sure if he meant it. He wasn’t sure if he cared or not. He wasn’t sure about anything but the need to go down.
Down into the earth.
Down under the palace.
Down, until his feet were pressed against the shuddering heart of the world.
“I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?” she said finally.
She was right—it didn’t matter. The world was tearing itself apart. He heard the desperate sounds of those trying to survive, felt the palace shaking as though it was being attacked. His bone army was growing in size and the storm was ravaging the city. Her desires meant nothing against what was happening right now.
They had to move, or the palace would fall, the roof would cave in and end them right there. He grabbed Hunger’s wrist and propelled her forward, down the stairs, felt her stumble. The door slammed shut behind them as the palace shook again, more violently this time, like a tidal wave had broken against its walls. The Storm Lord had arrived, somehow Taub just knew it. Felt his presence there, nearby. All that intent and malice, all that power. This storm was just a fraction of what that god was capable of.
It was intoxicating. If he’d been Taub, he’d have been aroused by it. That naked, raw, power pressed against his senses.
He hurried on, moving forward, going down and down and down, further away from whatever was happening up above, dragging Hunger along with him.
The earth swallowed them whole.
Neryan
The moon looked like a slice of sky, removed. It was a purposeful, curving cut. A malicious, silver grin. It made him shudder. He looked between the press of buildings that surrounded him and saw that to the south, the sky was dark. No stars. His water talent was surging inside him. There was far more moisture in the air than there had been before. Something was happening, setting him on edge.
“Are you okay?” Seraphina asked through clenched teeth. She was on her pile of blankets, refusing to move. He could almost feel her pain through their elemental bond, saw it in the tense lines of her face, the way her mouth was clamped shut as though she was smothering a scream.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Neryan,” she admonished. One word was all it took for him to understand that she knew his lie for what it was. He wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine in a long time. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the wall across from her. The room was so small, if they both stretched their legs out, they could meet in the middle of it. This had been someone’s home. Maybe an entire family had lived here, bodies upon bodies. This wasn’t a way to live. Shoved into a small hole like this, tucked far enough away so they wouldn’t be seen, easily ignored, all because they had been born with the wrong skin tone. ‘Freedman’s Quarter’ they called this place. No one here was free.
Not even the ghosts.
“There is something dark slumbering inside of me, and it is waking up.” He paused. Licked his lips. “I want it to swallow me whole.”
She didn’t reply, just stared at him, her face eerily blank, frozen. Cold.
Neryan’s thoughts traveled to Vadden. He wondered if Vadden would come back with food. They were both so hungry. They’d had one puckered apple to share between them, and they’d walked so far. Seraphina, especially, had used up so much of herself just to get here. She needed food more than he did.
She curled up on her blankets, fiddled with the hem of her tattered, torn shawl. “We will have to act soon. Sometime in the next few days, we will have to face him. Either he will end, or we will.” Her words were soft, almost tentative.
“Are you ready for that?” Neryan asked. In truth, he wasn’t sure how Seraphina would handle the situation, seeing Eyad again. She seemed, at turns, very stable and very dangerous. More, he wasn’t sure how he felt about knowing that his life could very well end in a few days. It seemed surreal. Beyond belief. He wanted to see his daughter one more time.
“I’m sorry I dragged you out here. I am selfish to make you do this, Neryan.”
It was too late now, but it felt good to hear her say those words.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be doing any of this. He had to, though. He was tied to his sister, and she had no intention of being anywhere but here, doing exactly this—and he wasn’t strong enough to tell her no. He never had been. If he had it his way, he’d run away with her, far away, into the Red Desert, take their chances. But they couldn’t separate and so here he was. Beside her, staring at a death he didn’t want, and a situation he didn’t want to be in.
She closed her eyes, and he watched her body relax, exhaustion stealing her away. “I am broken,” she murmured. “I used to think that was a bad thing. Now, I realize that the stars are pinpricks in the night, holes in the heavens. Even the sky is shattered and more glorious for it. You say a darkness is waking up inside of you, Neryan. Perhaps this is my darkness, and I love it. It gives me a certain measure of power to just be what I am, imperfections and all. Am I ready to face him? Yes. I am anxious for it.”
“You are not broken, Seraphina. You are art. You are the story of every battle you have ever won,” he answered.
“If things were different,” her voice was a whisper, a smoky hiss in the stillness of their hiding space. “I would run with you to the horizon. We would sit with our feet dangling over the edge of the world and watch what happens when chaos kisses darkness and births beauty. However, we don’t get to decide what life hands us, Neryan. We just have to deal with what we are given. There will be no horizons for us. No edge of the world. No starlit conversations. We were not born for peace.”
There was a pause that felt like it held all of creation in it. Then she smiled, a soft, fleeting curve of her lips. “You are sweet, my brother, but a fool. There is no weakness in being the way I am. Scar tissue is strong. I bend, but I do not break.” She yawned. “We should sleep.”
Soon, her breath was evening out, deep and slow. Neryan watched the night a bit longer, face pressed against a crack in the door, hoping to see Vadden; but at some point, he fell asleep as well, his body demanding it of him.
And then everything changed.
The door to their hideout banged open, and that’s how they were found, the wood slamming into Neryan’s curled legs, Seraphina on a nest of blankets that smelled like someone else’s life. Soldiers poured into the tiny room, six at least, taking up all the space. Rain was falling in sheets outside, lightning flashing and thunder booming loud enough to shake the world. A storm after a year without rain was shocking enough, no wonder he’d been feeling so much moisture in the air earlier. No wonder his water had been surging, demanding to be used. This wasn’t a mere squall, this was a torrential downpour. This was the kind of rain that could rewrite the city. Water fell, thick as a wall, impossible to see through. The guards were soaked to the bone, anxious and wary. One wrong move, and they’d lash out, he saw it in the way their eyes darted around, wide and full of white. The way their muscles were bunched. The way they jumped at every flash of lightning and boom of thunder.
Soldiers surrounded them in a flurry of motion, bristling with weapons and threat, voices shouting loud enough to be heard over the rain outside.
“Get up!”
“Move!”
“Hands in the air!”
“The streets are flooding!” The one closest to the door said. “We’ve got to move or we’ll be stuck here!”
It was happening so fast. Everything crashing down on him at once. He felt like the world was an ocean, and he was drowning in it. “What’s going on?” He asked, stupidly. He knew what was going on. Eyad knew where they were and he was making a move, bringing them in. Vadden had never returned and Seraphina…
He turned, studied his sister, watched her.
Seraphina was cracking right before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.
The invasion seemed to
have thrown her right over the edge. She woke with a gasp, grabbed her cane and lurched to her feet.
“Use your talent!” One of the soldiers shouted and suddenly they were surrounded by wind, a tornado of wind, locked in by a cyclone. Outside the storm was raging, and in here they were surrounded by armed men and a wall of air moving so quickly none of them could hope to get through it.
Seraphina’s eyes went wide, taking in the situation.
And then she snapped.
She let out a multi-tonal scream that was so loud, so uncomfortable, he felt his ears bleed. An instant later, she burst into a column of fire, lighting the wall behind her, and the ceiling above them. They had to leave, all of them, or they’d be burnt alive. Seraphina stood there, yelling and burning. She was so bright, so powerful, he could feel himself boiling. He couldn’t go near her. His water stood no chance against the rage of her inferno.
The heat was immense, more an attack than a sensation. They backed away from her, out of that tiny room that was already burning its way through the night, and still he could feel her heat, feel his water boil in response. Soon he’d be nothing but vapor. She’d kill him. Her fire was spreading, hopping from one building to another. Not even the rain could quench it.
“Seraphina!” He shouted. Guards wrapped their hands around his arms. “Seraphina! Stop!”
Stay here and burn, or go out into the world and drown. Two choices, and both of them terrible.
She was out of control. The wind died down, and suddenly everyone was focused on surviving. “Do it,” Neryan heard one of the guards shout. “She’ll kill everyone! Do it! Now!” Something flew through the air toward his sister. An instant later, something hard hit his head.
He felt rain, saw fire, and then darkness wrapped around him with a lover’s embrace.
He woke sometime later. He was wet, covered in water, but that didn’t bother him. It felt right, like being wrapped in a blanket, though he wasn’t drying off. No, his element was throbbing inside of him, calling all the water in the world to him. He was covered in it, dripping with it. Soaking it up. Becoming part of it. He was balanced carefully on the edge of something momentous. Things were changing. He was changing. He heard a voice, somewhere below him, calling his name.
He was needed.
He got to his feet, started walking before he realized he’d been chained to the wall by his wrists. He was in the palace. He knew this place, the stones that made up the walls, the even floor, the thick wooden door that was closed and locked tight. They’d knocked him out and brought him here like so much baggage. A roar of anger burst from him, deafening in the tiny room. Metal clinked against metal as he fought his restraints. His survival instinct rose up and suddenly he was a caged animal, a cornered bear. He had to get out of here. Had to get beyond these walls. He was too big to be kept somewhere so small.
Water clung to him, running down his body, touching every part of him. The floor was soaking, a puddle filled the room, flowed under the door, out the hall. He could hear the storm beyond the palace still raging, all that lightning and thunder. He could hear it through the walls, the way it was tearing Lord’s Reach apart. It mirrored how he felt. Rage, barely kept in check. A force bent on destruction. He wished he could destroy. Wished he could lay waste to the city.
All that rain was doing incredible things to him.
The door to his room burst open and a guard entered, a thick baton in his hand, eyes full of menace. He stepped aside and gestured at someone in the hall. An instant later, Eyad entered.
Neryan hadn’t seen Eyad in years. He’d expected a lot of things. A vital man in the prime of his life, a vigorous glint in his eyes, perhaps a knowing smile. He did not expect this wizened husk of a person with yellow skin hanging from him. He hadn’t expected to hear Eyad’s breath rasp through his lungs, whistling in and hissing out as though he’d been poked full of holes. Eyad, before, had seemed like a man beyond illness, beyond death; but this Eyad was very obviously locked in the throes of both. How much time did he have left?
He watched as Eyad’s sickly eyes scanned the room, lighting on the figure of his sister, chained to the wall like he was, but sleeping. With a start, Neryan realized he hadn’t even thought about her yet, hadn’t wondered where she was, or if she was okay. Nothing. “She’s fine,” Eyad said. His voice was still strong, despite how withered he was. “I am keeping her asleep.”
Frustration rose up, frustration at this man who had the ability to chain them up and keep them docile, still. Neryan raged, tugged at his chains, felt the iron bite into his skin. Water made him slippery and he lost his footing, and fell with a splash on the wet floor. “Seraphina?” He shouted, trying to reach his sister, but the room was just large enough, and his chains just short enough, to keep him out of reach. “Let me go to her!”
“She’s fine!” Eyad barked. “Get control of yourself. You’re leaking everywhere, Neryan. You’re flooding this level of the palace.” Neryan stopped, and realized with a sudden shock that in his rage, he’d been calling more and more water to him, filling the room with it. He was pulling it toward him. His element reached out, and water reached back. Contact made, as easy as breathing. He felt everything through it. His mind flowed along the hallway, felt the guards out there, felt their panic, knew how their feet were moving in his growing puddles. He knew where the stairs were, and that he’d have to go up to get out of the palace and down to get to that damn voice.
Seraphina slept, and Eyad watched him cautiously.
“What do you want with us?”
“I should like to keep you,” Eyad said. “Close.”
Close, in this instance, wasn’t referring to proximity. This usage was a threat, not a measurement. Close was what one did to another person. Close, so they could be watched. Close, so he could control.
They were to be kept.
Close.
“I could pull all the water from your body now, and drop you where you stand with no more than a thought,” Neryan hissed, fighting his chains, his eyes locked on his sister.
“You could,” Eyad replied, “but you won’t.”
“How could you possibly know that? You beat my sister! You tortured her! You have starved the land! How many have died because of you? You aren’t a savior, Eyad, you are a tyrant! Under your banner of liberation, you have chained a nation. There is nothing about you that is worth saving.” Neryan paused, sucked in a breath. Water came with it, filling his lungs, but not choking him. No, it felt like it belonged there. He was breathing water. Incredible. He’d never felt more alive. All slippery and ready to move.
“This isn’t about me. You won’t kill me,” Eyad said, calmly, “because the second you lose control and give in to your element, is the second your sister snaps and you won’t risk her, will you? You’d risk just about everything but her. The way she was when she came in here, I’m amazed you held on, but one wrong move, one step in the wrong direction and she’s done for, isn’t she? Whatever she’s turning into, she’s too powerful for you to control. And all of this, every bit of this, is for her. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” Eyad paused. “Something is different about you. Your sister, she’s changing, but fighting it. You aren’t, are you? And that is making it far harder for me to wrap myself around your mind. I can’t push or pull you the way I can with her. Your thoughts are swimming away faster than I can catch them.” His voice trailed off, almost as though he were talking to himself. Eyad studied him. “What are you becoming, Neryan? And what will happen when your sister follows suit?”
Neryan struggled at his chains. Seraphina slept, water kept away from her by his will. Everything was wet, save for her corner of the room. Her hands were pillowed under her head, her body curled into a ball. Her chest rose and fell steadily. She looked peaceful. “What do you want with me?” He finally asked, sagging. His fight against the chains that held him was futile.
“You have been working with Vadden,” Eyad said.
Neryan di
dn’t reply.
“I know you have been working with my husband,” Eyad shouted, waved his hand in the air. His feet went thwap-thwap in the water Neryan had pulled into the room. “It isn’t a secret. I knew you met up with him weeks after you escaped. I’ve kept watch on you.”
“Your… husband.” Neryan repeated, slowly, testing out the word.
He’d known they were more than friends, perhaps lovers, maybe cousins or something, but married? That hadn’t ever occurred to him. “Vadden is your husband?” He wasn’t sure what he felt about that, not quite shock, not quite betrayal; just the sudden illumination that comes along with all the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, and the picture finally becoming clear. All that tension, all those secrets Vadden had been carrying around with him. No wonder. If anyone knew he’d been married to the Premier, no one would have trusted him. No one would have let him in. He’d have been killed the second he stepped out of Lord’s Reach. He’d obviously buried that part of his life down as deeply as Eyad had, both men understanding that their survival depended on them keeping any relationships they had secret.
“I am too sick to draw this out, Neryan. You’ve been working with my husband. Where is he?”
“How should I know?”
“Answer me!” Eyad shouted, his voice loud enough to make Neryan flinch. The room seemed too small to hold his sudden roar. A guard appeared from the hall, and Eyad waved him off. He stood upright for a moment, drew himself tall, and for an instant he looked like the man he had been, regal and broad, full of life and vitality. “It is harder for me to pin your thoughts down, but not impossible. I will know what you are thinking. You can’t hide from me. If you know where my husband is, I will find it out. You will tell me, or I will have one of my torturers force it out of you and make your darling sister watch.”
