Her grim tone and vague words made me uneasy. “What kind of things?”
After a brief silence, Kit tried to put me off. “We should do this later.”
“You do realize,” I said, my temper stirring, “I’ve already lived through whatever it is you and Malaq are so afraid to tell me?”
“Don’t be angry.”
“I’m way past angry, Kit. Everyone else knows me better than I do.”
“I know it’s frustrating. But I’m not the best person for this. Until the prison, it had been years. I can’t even remember when you last came to visit my father.”
“Neither can I.”
She grunted. “That isn’t funny.”
“Yeah, it is. But it’s also true. I’m a stranger in my own body. And it’s driving me crazy. So I’ll take whatever you can give me. What happened at the prison, how you ended up being part of Malaq’s resistance… what Shinree like to eat for breakfast. How, if we’re so damn powerful, do we get pushed around and locked in cages? Just talk. Tell me who I am.” Her hand still on mine, I entwined our fingers. “Please.”
“Okay.” Kit took a slow breath. The cold shook her voice. “Our kind ruled these lands a long time ago. Out empire stretched across Mirra’kelan. But we were cruel and careless with our magic. When the empire fell, the other races banded against us. For the first time, they had the upper hand.”
“Because we gave it to them. One of our own kind betrayed us to the Rellans.”
“Who told you that? I’ve never heard such a thing.” I’d rattled her. But I didn’t have the details so I said nothing and she went on. “Our ancestors were captured and drugged. Slave camps were built. Laws were enacted that allowed Shinree to be bred and sold for labor. Breeders learned how to limit the more risky bloodlines. Soldiers like Reth, for instance. And Erudite like you and Sienn.”
I remembered Malaq’s words: two broken erudite. That’s what I am. “Erudite. What does it mean?”
“The direct translation I believe is ‘of all knowledge’, or something like that. I’ve never been good with the language. But stories say the erudite were the elite of us. Common Shinree are born with access to one type of stone magic. Those with erudite blood can cast from all lines. That means your casting abilities have no real limits but for your own strength and imagination. No boundaries but your sense of right and wrong.”
“Did I have that? A sense of right and wrong?”
Kit laughed at my question. “Yes, of course.”
“My father didn’t. He wanted to use my magic to bolster Draken’s invasion.”
“Jem Reth didn’t want your magic, Ian. He wanted something much worse. But I stopped him. I didn’t let him win. I couldn’t.”
“You stopped him?”
“I had to. I couldn’t let him do that to you anymore.”
Her outraged tone turned my mouth dry. “Do what?”
I felt Kit’s body tense. “We should stop. I think someone’s coming.”
“No one is coming. Just tell me. I have a right to know.”
“Yes, but—”
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“You need to understand. You didn’t mean to. It wasn’t…”
“Damn it, Kit—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she burst out. “You didn’t mean it. Reth filled you with Kayn’l. He filled your head with how important it was you succeed. He used the drug to influence you, to convince you the breeding was Sienn’s idea.”
“Breeding?” My heart skipped. “What… what are you talking about?”
“He told you Sienn was willing. That she wanted the Shinree free and giving birth to a child born of two erudite was the only way to see it done.”
It was like a block of iron had fallen on my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely speak. “I… No. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t…”
“You were a slave, Ian. You did what you were told. There were times you wavered. I think somehow, inside, you knew it was wrong. But Jem wouldn’t tolerate you challenging him. He had,” Kit’s voice caught in her throat, “ways of convincing you.”
I pulled my hand away. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was. But Jem Reth planned to raise your child as his own. He would have used it, molded it, and twisted it into something vile. He would have kept you in prison for the rest of your life, creating as many erudite as you could produce and Sienn could bear. In time, he would have had his own private army.”
“No, he wanted me to be with him, to stand by his side. He said he wanted to be a father to me. I remember.”
“And if you had fallen for those lies he would have steered you toward Sienn in more subtle ways. He would have still gained the power and influence he wanted. It would have been his grandchild after all.” Quieter, kinder, she said, “I know this is hard to hear. It’s hard for me to say…and to admit my part in it.”
“You said you stopped him. How?”
She fell quiet.
I found her face in the dark and turned it toward mine. “What did you do?”
“I killed them.” Kit heaved a great sob and it all tumbled out. “I couldn’t believe when it happened. Erudite don’t reproduce well. No one knows why. But Sienn conceived three times. Maybe it was her, or you, or the fact that you both carry erudite blood. Something made the babes take root inside her. So I had no choice. I used a spell to make her body reject them. I didn’t harm Sienn,” she said quickly. “I swear. But after so many failed attempts Jem began to believe she was barren. She was no use to him, so he sold Sienn as labor. That’s how Malaq found her. Reth tried a few other women, but when none of them conceived, he gave up and left the prison. I was reassigned, and you were taken to work in the mines.”
Kit went on spewing out details. The more she spoke, the more she cried.
I wanted to tell her to stop. Except the sickness in my stomach had moved up into my throat and it was taking all my effort to shove it back down.
“Forgive me,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t bear what he was doing to you. I couldn’t stand the pain in Sienn’s eyes. I thought nothing could be worse. Until she figured out what I’d done. The way she looked at me after...like Sienn knew it wasn’t her fault the babes died. It was mine.”
I struggled to put my anguish aside and comfort her. “She couldn’t have known, Kit. The Kayn’l—” I stopped. Swallowing, gathering my courage, I said the unthinkable. “Sienn was aware?”
“Sienn knew everything I did to her.”
And everything I did. My whole body was shaking. “Why? Why wasn’t she given the drug?”
“Reth wanted any child conceived as pure as possible, so he kept Sienn on a low dose. It didn’t mess with her senses or her mind much, but it did prevent her from casting and made her less resistant.”
To me. I closed my eyes. Suddenly, the water around me was twice as cold, the air in my lungs twice as thin. I was in utter darkness and it wasn’t enough to hide me.
I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to ask. But I had to. “Did I hurt her?”
Kit said nothing and I had my answer. Her pause turned lengthy, and in the background of her continued silence was the song of dozens of swords meeting. Yet, the possibility of being discovered and the death that might follow was nothing compared to how wretched we both felt. Like a flower gone too long without water, Kit’s body was limp against me. Mine was so tense, puppet strings couldn’t have pulled me any tighter.
It made no difference that I scarcely recalled Sienn. Discovering what I’d done to her had stripped me of any shred of hope, dignity, and honor I might have once had. It robbed me of decency and humanity. It filled me with an acute sense of shame and guilt over something I couldn’t remember doing—something I couldn’t even fathom doing.
Badly, I wanted to crawl away. I wanted the solitude and space to rage and cry and scream at the gods until my throat bled. Then I wanted to find Draken and my father and tear them to pieces.
But I couldn’t.
I was stuck in a cramped, dark hole with someone who had borne witness to my offense. I could only imagine what Kit thought of me. I certainly knew what she thought of herself. The disgrace was in her voice as she wept. Too loud, I thought, as the sounds of combat drew closer.
“Stop,” I said softly. “Kit, you have to stop.” I cupped a gentle hand over her mouth. Words came out of me. I had no idea what they meant. “B’tay roosta,” I whispered in Shinree. “Pah’nea, intae’a.” I took my hand away. “Better?”
She let out a shuddering breath. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve hoped and prayed for so long that you might forgive me. I know I have no right to ask for it. Not when you’re in such pain.” Her fingers brushed my face. “I wish I could erase it.”
“Don’t.” I pulled back, but there was nowhere to go. “I deserve it.”
“That’s not true. It’s not like you…”
“Enjoyed it?” My whispered voice turned cruel. “How do you know I didn’t? That maybe on some level I liked hurting her? How else can a man be made to do such violence if it isn’t in him to begin with?”
“Ian, no. You aren’t like that. Kayn’l is designed to rob our will and make us suggestible. It was worse on you, the way Reth played with your dose. Constantly raising and lowering it, trying to find the right level to make you compliant yet afraid enough to cooperate. Your body never had a chance to acclimate to a rhythm. I think if it had, and if the rhythm was broken once, quick and clean, you’d be recovering faster.”
A sudden crash erupted in the hold, and Kit’s body jumped against mine.
Nearby, a man screamed. Metal clanged. Wood smashed. The floor above us shook with a heavy weight. There was another cry. Then silence.
The stretch of nothing was excruciating.
Finally, a single loud footfall disrupted the quiet. The thudding gait gave way to a series of unmistakable, dull, scraping sounds. Someone was moving the bed.
The plodding steps came back. They stopped directly overhead, and a low, rumbling growl seeped down past the boards. Sticky, strings of saliva oozed through the cracks in the floor and onto my shirt. They dripped warm onto my hand.
Something sharp scratched the door. It creaked slowly open. A sliver of light seeped in, and four bony, black claws reached down inside the hole.
I pulled Kit tight against me and whispered in her ear. “I forgive you.”
SIX
I was no match for the beast. I had no leverage, no room to maneuver. No weapons. No magic. As its claws wrapped around Kit’s neck, and it ripped her off my lap, all I could do was grab her legs and hold on.
Yet even as I did, I knew it was the wrong move. Confined, with Kit on top of me, I couldn’t reach the beast. I couldn’t protect her.
I looked up. Kit’s fingers were bleeding from pulling at the claws. Only short, breathless, sputtering sounds were making their way past her constricted throat and out her mouth.
The sounds slowed.
Stopped.
In my grip, her legs twitched.
I let go.
Unimpeded, the towering, black furred beast heaved Kit high into the air. It spun to throw her, and I scrambled up out of the hole. I got to my feet as Kit skidded across the floor and smacked into the wall. She lifted a shaky hand to her head. Kit was dazed, but alive. I couldn’t say the same for the men lying inside the doorway. One no longer had a throat. Two more were sprawled out a few paces away. Their backs, awash in glistening red, had been shredded down to bone.
I eyed the weapons still in their hands. Then I eyed the creature.
I knew what it was; Krillos was wearing its claws. I knew I’d encountered an eldring myself before as well. The specifics were fuzzy, but I didn’t need them to understand my opponent had the power to close the distance between us in one leap. The proof was in its generous frame and long, muscular hind legs. Jointed backwards at the knee, the reverse configuration sparked the notion that it might be an awkward, clumsy creature. But eldring were nothing of the kind. They were fast and strong. They were skilled, dangerous predators that enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill.
I looked again at the dead men’s blades. If I could reach one before the eldring reached me, being armed would take my chances up from none to slim. Something told me I was used to those odds. I’d certainly faced them when I faced the eldring. Yet, I’d gotten in past the claws, tusks, and teeth. I’d broken through the black, furry pelt and gray, leathery hide. Someone here has, too, I thought, noticing multiple wounds on all four of the creature’s limbs. Nothing vital had been hit, thanks to the heavy vest covering its organs. Sewn together at the sides with a thick cord, the overlapping metal plates protected the eldring’s entire torso from harm.
My eyes lingered on the vest. Something about it didn’t look right. Neither did the helm sitting on top of its egg-shaped head. Fastened with a buckle under its jutting chin, black spikes as long as my foot decorated the top of the helm. More spikes stuck up from the shoulder joints of the vest. Shorter, sharpened versions of the same material protruded from the eldring’s mace; a hefty weapon with a solid iron ball at the end. Deadly in design and weight, the mace could easily shatter a man’s face in one hit. Fortunately, I didn’t think my opponent could manage such a fatal blow. Its grip on the shaft was far from sure, as if its animal claws weren’t made to hold a man’s weapon.
They’re not, I decided. And eldring don’t wear armor.
The beast twisted its head toward the door. Hearing something I couldn’t, it stood still a moment, blowing air through its nose; listening. Then it loped over to investigate. Stopping just shy of the exit, the creature’s mammoth body bent in a slight squat. It was a fighting stance, and one that allowed me to see clearly that it was male.
Without warning, the eldring released a bone-jarring howl and swung. My view was blocked, but I heard the juicy, crunching sound of impact. A wide cascade of blood slapped wet against the wall. I waited for the eldring to fall on its kill. Then I sprinted over and borrowed two swords off one of the dead crewman. Running up behind the beast, I didn’t waste time trying to breech the metal vest. I aimed below it; slashing both blades low across the eldring’s hairy backside.
The cut was deep. The shriek that came after was frightening.
Crawling off his meal, the eldring turned on me. He pushed up from four legs to two then bared blood stained teeth and took one large, lengthy, pissed-off step that brought him in so close I smelled the carnage on his breath.
I backed up.
He followed. Black nose wrinkling, the eldring sniffed the air between us as if taking my measure. I saved it the trouble and sunk my blades into his groin.
I barely got them yanked out before I had to jump back—far back—to avoid the beast’s absurdly long reach. I didn’t quite make it.
Claws cut across my chest and swiped straight through my tunic. It was more of a skimming than anything, but I still lost skin, and the force sent me smashing into one of the wooden support beams; striking it with my back and ricocheting off onto my face. Thanks to my faulty senses, I hardly felt it. Later, though, it was going to hurt like hell.
Shaking the hair out of my eyes, I got up. The eldring squatted. He prepared to jump, and a spurt of blood shot out from the back of him. Stumbling, the beast lurched sideways, revealing a Langorian behind him with an axe in each hand. Breeches shredded and bloody from the knee down, the man’s bearded face was streaked with claw marks. But his dark eyes were strong and purposeful. They shifted from the eldring, to me, and I recognized him. It was the deckhand I accosted in my attempt to escape the ship.
The man I rendered unconscious and hid in a fish barrel had come to defend me.
“Go!” he hollered. “Get the girl and run.”
“Fuck running,” I told him. “We bring it down together. It’s the only way.”
Surprise lit his glance. “Together, eh? You’d fight with one like me beside you?”
“You see anyone else in the room?”
Smiling broadly, the man limped farther in. He skirted around the eldring, putting it between us. “Hey! Beastie!” he yelled, waving his arms. “Over here!”
“Stop it,” I warned him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“My duty, Shinree. I swore to the captain I’d protect you. Don’t make me a liar. Now run, damn you.” With a wink, he pitched a weapon at the eldring. It hit the side of the metal helm and bounced off. The strike didn’t draw a speck of blood. But injury wasn’t the point. He’d been trying only to snag the eldring’s attention away from me.
It worked.
Before I could do a damn thing to stop it, the beast dropped its weapon, leapt forward, and tore out the man’s throat. As the eldring sat down upon its meal and feasted, the deckhand’s legs jerked and twitched. Blood rolled across the floor in a widening pool.
As I listened to the bones snap, I wondered, why? The man was a stranger, an enemy. Why would he endanger himself for me?
“You goddamn fool!” I cried.
The eldring’s head shot up. His face, slathered in bits of wet, red flesh, turned in my direction. Black lips curling, pointed tusks jogging up and down as it chomped; wild, feral eyes narrowed. Scrutinizing me as he swallowed, leisurely pulling in the fibrous strings dangling from his mouth, the beast gulped down the last bits and backed off the body. Crouching, he took his time folding all four claws around the handle of his mace.
As my drooling opponent advanced, he lifted his weapon higher, and I realized the spikes adorning the head weren’t metal. They were stone.
If there’s power in them, I can channel it. I can defend this ship.
I stared at the stones, sleek and black, and I wanted to touch them. I wanted to repay my rescuers, to avenge those that had perished. I wanted blood.
But my motives weren’t that simple, or that pure. I wasn’t merely aching to fight. I was aching to do harm for the sake of the pleasure it would bring. I was yearning to breathe in the magic. The need to channel it through my veins and make everything in the whole, wretched world fade away was suddenly paramount.
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 6
