by Jake Halpern
Line charged forward, errant branches cutting and tearing at his face. It didn’t matter—he was so filled with adrenaline that he felt nothing. He was focused entirely on Marin, who was directly in front of him and running just as fast as he was. Occasionally, his hand slipped out of hers and—in those brief, terrifying moments—he would have been hopelessly lost if it weren’t for the glowing lines on Marin’s arms. Together, they pressed on. Kana was ahead of Marin, and all of them were following the creature that Kana had called Soraya. It must have been Soraya who spoke to Marin at the citadel. She had been helping them all along. But why? Because of Kana, of course. What was between them? Did it even matter?
The woods soon began to thin and they emerged into an open area covered with clumps of ice-encrusted grass, some as tall as Line’s shoulders. Wind and sleet were blowing sideways now, causing the grass to whip madly about. They all ran together until Line took a bad step, twisted his weak ankle, and fell. By the time he rose to his feet, Line had lost sight of Marin and the others. He was about to call out to her when he heard something behind him. It was very close.
Line knew he couldn’t outrun this thing. Not in the darkness. He had to strike first.
He sidestepped into the tall grass and knelt down. With his good hand, Line searched madly for something—anything. Buried under the mud, he found a fist-size rock. For a second, he marveled at how natural it seemed to be holding this rock, waiting to bludgeon his enemy. Who have I become? No matter. He would ponder such questions later, if he lived. Line gripped the rock and waited for several long seconds. The sound of movement grew louder, and when he felt it rush past, he leapt from the grass and struck the darkened body with all his might. He brought the rock down again and again, hoping to hit its head. At first the creature merely growled, as if angered, but then Line heard a sickening crack, and all went quiet. Line fell next to the creature and kept hitting it, well past the time when it was dead.
“Line!” called a voice.
It was Marin.
Line pulled himself off the ground. He stood and looked around, wild-eyed, half expecting hordes of creatures to descend on him.
“Line!”
He pushed himself through the grass, moving toward the sound of her voice.
“Line!”
He followed the glowing lines in the distance. When he finally found her, Marin didn’t even react to his blood-covered arms or to the rock he was holding. She just grabbed his hand and led him through the grass, then up a steep, rocky slope. In front of them, Line could see two figures: Kana and Soraya.
“What happened?” asked Kana, staring at Line’s bloodcovered arms. For a moment, suspicion clouded his face.
Line was about to answer, but suddenly they heard a leathery flutter of wings, and his face erupted in pinpricks of pain. His hands closed around a warm, furry, plump body. Bats. He grabbed the bat that was clinging to his face, ripped it off, and threw it to the ground in disgust. They were everywhere, swarming.
“Up the hill!” commanded Soraya.
Line bent low to the ground and focused on covering his face. Somehow he still remembered to keep climbing. All four of them sprinted, jostling each other as they fought back against the attack. The bats were so densely packed, it seemed as if they were interconnected—one giant, writhing, living thing. The sound of their wings filled the air. And then they were at the tree line and back into the forest. The bats stayed in the open area, circling in a thick cloud.
They paused for a second to regroup. Behind them, the rising chorus of shrieks was drawing nearer. Soraya led them into a stand of pine trees. The ground, which was soft and covered with pine needles, absorbed much of the surrounding noise. They ran for a short while until Soraya came to an abrupt stop and bent down to the ground.
Half a minute later, she grunted in satisfaction, tore at a thick layer of pine needles, and hoisted up an armful of branches caked with mud. It looked like a large bird’s nest that had been flattened. When Soraya lifted the branches off the ground, they heard the sound of rapidly flowing water.
Line knelt down next to Soraya and felt the outline of a small sinkhole. He stuck his arm in and felt the earthen walls.
“What’s down there?”
“A river,” replied Soraya. She stood up. “Can all of you swim?”
“You mean for us to—” began Marin.
“We’ll never make it through the woods,” she said. “But there is another way.” She paused and easily ripped a large branch off a nearby tree. “Quickly now—come here.”
They moved toward Soraya. Marin tripped in the darkness, but Kana caught her. Soraya hissed at her. “Quiet. Someone’s coming.”
Then a deep, gravelly voice spoke—from behind them.
“Soraya.”
Marin and Line turned toward the voice but saw nothing. It didn’t matter. They knew who it was—the creature from the canyon. They couldn’t see him, but the sound of his voice was unmistakable.
“Stay where you are!” yelled Soraya. As she said this, she began pulling Line, Kana, and Marin backward—ever closer to the sinkhole. She then raised the branch that she had ripped off the tree and brandished it menacingly. The jagged end resembled a bayonet.
“Put that down,” said the creature in a calm, almost bored fashion. He took a step closer, into a shaft of moonlight that illuminated his body. He was over seven feet tall, with the same features as Soraya—the elongated ears, narrow face, and large eyes. However, his face and throat looked tight, as if the skin had been pulled back across his skull. And this was precisely the case. A tiny dark bud protruded from the top of the creature’s head—it was a tuft of his own skin, tied off with coarse twine. His eyes, which were entirely black, were fixed on Kana.
“So, this is the boy . . . ,” said the creature, eyeing Kana appraisingly. “Soraya, do you really think that you showed this child mercy by allowing him to live?”
“Father!” said Soraya. Her hand tentatively folded around Kana’s arm. “This child is—”
“Yes, I know who he is,” whispered the creature. Then, from behind his back, he brandished the glittering battle-ax with the two-foot-long cutting edge—the one from the mayor’s house.
“Soraya, this isn’t my doing,” continued the creature. “It’s yours.”
Soraya eyed the ax and then her father. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”
“Then you do it!” snapped her father.
Marin sucked in a breath of air.
“It’s okay,” Kana whispered. “It’ll be okay.”
“All right,” said Soraya. She dropped her stick, stepped forward, and extended her arms. The creatures looked at each other for several seconds. Clearly, he didn’t know whether to trust her. But then he came to a decision, nodded solemnly, and handed her the massive battle-ax. Soraya took the weapon, ran her fingers along its blade, and turned to face Kana.
Kana stiffened. Marin tried to move between them, but Kana pushed her back. There was no point. He was done running. In a way, he knew that this moment was coming all along—from the very first time that Soraya had visited him in his room, weeks before. In fact, he suspected it might end like this: deep in the woods, in the darkness, at Night, with his sister at his side. And he was strangely at peace with it. Soraya and her father were right. He didn’t belong anywhere—and he never would. The inevitability and certainty of it all washed over him and deadened his sense of fear.
Kana looked directly into Soraya’s eyes. “Help Marin and Line get to the sea,” he whispered. “Please.”
Soraya took a step closer and raised the battle-ax high over her shoulder. Then there was a quick whir of movement, followed by a loud crack. Soraya had spun around and swung the battle-ax at her father. He managed to avoid the blow, and the battle-ax glanced off a nearby tree and clattered to the ground. Her father recovered quickly, but not before Soray
a had pulled Kana, Line, and Marin toward her.
“Hold your breath!” she commanded. She wrapped her arms around them and fell backward into the sinkhole. Together they plummeted through the void: emptiness, rushing wind, and the cold, dark shock.
CHAPTER 56
Kana plunged into the water and hung there, several feet below the surface, until finally he popped up, gasping for air. He panicked, swallowed water, and flailed about. The river’s current whisked him through a roaring void of blackness. The numbingly cold water deadened his senses, making his legs heavy and useless. Time seemed to stop. He lost track of where he was and his thoughts faded to a flicker.
Then he saw a faint glow in the distance and a silhouette. Someone gesturing to him. He floated toward the person rapidly, which was an indication of the power of the current. A muffled voice called out. It was Soraya.
She grabbed Kana, clasped him by the shoulders, and yanked him out of the water. There was just enough light to make out Soraya’s features. Her eyes were eerily still and calm, as always, but her voice betrayed a hint of anxiety.
“Prepare the boat!” she ordered. “I’ll get your friends.”
Kana rose to his feet, teeth chattering, and moved toward the mouth of the cave. For the first time in days, he felt cold. Behind him, Kana could hear her pulling Marin and Line out of the water. Kana knew he should turn his attention to the boat, yet precious seconds passed and he just stood there, staring at the cave paintings in front of him—the swirls of blue and green paint forming vivid depictions of the sea and the forest. His father had made these.
My father.
Kana didn’t know his father’s name. He knew only that he had lived here and had painted on these walls.
And what of my mother?
Kana knew the truth, and still, it was hard to fully grasp it.
Moments later, Soraya appeared with Marin and Line in tow.
“What are you doing?” demanded Soraya.
Kana held up his hand, a gesture for patience. “I know we have to leave,” he said.
Somehow, Soraya understood.
“There’s the boat,” she told Marin and Line brusquely, pointing in the direction of the smooth wooden hull. “Drag it outside and get it ready by the river.”
Line nodded and left, but Marin stayed. Her face was terribly bruised, but her eyes were the same as ever—fierce and determined.
“Kana, I’m not leaving you here,” she said. “You are coming off this island with us.”
Kana looked at the ground. “Marin, go to the boat—please.”
“Promise you’re coming with us,” said Marin. She took his hand. “Promise me.”
Kana felt her cold fingertips and the warmth of her palm. “I need to speak with Soraya,” he whispered. “Please.”
“All right,” Marin replied. She left to help Line with the boat.
Soraya faced Kana and leaned in toward him. “You need to leave,” she said. “He will be here soon. And others will follow. He didn’t jump in right away—he doesn’t like the water—but he’ll swim after us when he realizes he has no other choice.”
Kana nodded. His eyes were drawn to the furrier boats painted on the wall. “How did he die—my father?” His voice wavered.
“It’s not what you think,” replied Soraya with a shake of her head. “He was older when he came, and something was wrong with his heart.”
“I feel like I have memories of this place,” said Kana quietly, almost to himself.
“I understand,” replied Soraya.
Kana nodded and looked down. Of course she does. She was here, too.
“What happened?” he whispered.
“I was young,” she replied softly. “And I was scared. By the time that you were born, your father had died. By then it was almost Dawn. I knew what was expected . . . But I could not . . . I left you on that rock instead.”
Kana looked past Soraya, at the painting of two figures staring down at something. That something was a baby—him.
“I regret many things,” said Soraya. She reached to touch Kana’s cheek. It was tentative and soft. “But there was no taking you back to this cave. They would have killed you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked with a trace of anger. “We could’ve . . .”
“We could have done nothing,” she replied. “There is no life for us together, just as there was no life for me with your father. Just a few moments.” She breathed heavily. “Now only one thing matters . . .”
Behind them, from the darkness, they heard the faintest splashing sound.
“Go now,” said Soraya. Her body stiffened and her voice became intense, almost guttural. “He’s coming.”
“Come with us,” pleaded Kana.
Soraya shook her head. “Impossible.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the cave opening. Tentatively, she placed her long fingers across his shoulders. Touching him like this seemed to affect her in a profound way. Her eyes glimmered for a moment—as if briefly coming to life—and then she staggered as if she’d lost her balance.
“Take the river downstream,” she continued. She leaned into Kana and breathed his scent.
“Kana—do not go ashore. The woods along the river are waking.”
Kana couldn’t move.
There was a second splash and then a third. The air in the cave grew pinched and close.
Soraya touched two fingers to his forehead. They lingered there for a second. Then she spun around and retreated into the darkness of the cave. Kana ran down to the water, where Marin and Line were waiting for him. They had the boat in the river and were already sitting in it, Line at the stern, Marin in the middle of the boat. Kana hopped in at the bow.
“Where is she?” asked Marin.
“Just go,” said Kana. His voice cracked, and Marin could tell he was crying.
Line and Marin both hesitated.
“GO!” Kana yelled.
Line nodded. With a powerful thrust, he dug his oar into the riverbed and shoved off, guiding the boat into the fast-moving current of the Coil. The river took hold of the boat quickly, pushing it downstream, beneath a thick canopy of trees and into the inky blackness beyond. Kana tried in vain to catch a last glimpse of the cave, but it had vanished.
CHAPTER 57
Line sat in the stern of the boat, shaking with cold, his good hand on the well-polished tiller. Sleet battered him, and at times he could barely see the rest of the boat, much less guide it down the river. His fever had subsided, thanks to the lekar that Marin continued to give him, but his wound still ached. It felt good to be at the helm of a boat—it gave him a sense of confidence and purpose.
“Kana!” he yelled. “Get to the edge of the bow—we need your eyes.”
Kana leaned over the edge and immediately called out a warning: “Two rocks off starboard bow!”
Line cranked the rudder violently and the boat lurched to port. The hull scraped the rocks, then slid.
“There’s a sharp turn to port ahead,” said Kana. “I’ll tell you when.”
“How far?”
“Five boat lengths!” He paused. “Four lengths, three lengths, two lengths. Now!”
The boat turned and continued downstream. With Kana guiding him, Line navigated through several more rapids. Meanwhile, Marin used her oar to shove floating branches out of the way. Rocks thumped against the hull, but the boat was ruggedly built. The Coil deepened and the trees crept closer to the water’s edge. Then the river narrowed a little more, forcing Line to maneuver the boat sharply. Kana glanced back at Line and Marin.
“We’re fine,” said Line in a terse voice. “Just keep telling me where to turn.”
They cleared another bend and Kana let out a shout. Just ahead, a massive tree had fallen across the river, leaving an opening only a few feet high for them to squeeze u
nder. A curtain of moss, glistening with ice, draped across the gap and extended down to the water.
“Slow down!” Kana ordered. “Hard to starboard—get over and hug the far bank!”
Line threw the rudder into position, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Seconds later, the boat careened headlong into the tangle of moss. At their angle and speed, the impact spun the boat sideways. It stopped perpendicular to the current. Water began crashing over the gunnels.
“We’re stuck!” yelled Kana. “Hold on!”
Marin and Kana tore at the moss, but within seconds, the force of the water against the boat had pushed them through. It looked like they were free, but then they heard a great cracking sound overhead, followed by an explosion that shot a geyser of water into the boat. The tree had been rotten inside, and the impact of the boat had caused it to weaken and crash into the water, narrowly missing them. Just then, something small bit Kana on the neck. Then it happened again.
“They’re dropping everywhere!” Kana shouted, swatting at his neck.
“What’s dropping?” demanded Line. His question was answered when he felt something land in his hair and wriggle furiously. He pulled out a caterpillar-like insect that had jagged ice crystals embedded in its fur. It rose up in his palm and thrust a curved pincer deep into his thumb. Line yelped and the thumb blossomed in sharp pain. Soon he was being stung all over.
Line forced himself to keep hold of the rudder, ignoring the stinging along his scalp and arms. He felt the current grab and spin the boat, careening it toward the opposite bank, where the branches of a fallen tree were sticking out like spikes.
“Kana!” Line yelled. “Behind you!”
An instant after Kana saw the sharp branches looming, something threw him to the bottom of the boat. Line had grabbed both Kana and Marin and yanked them down with him. Seconds later, the boat spun around again, although this time they were pushed downstream. Line scrambled back to the rudder.
