Using the poker, I fished the first open mussels out of the hot water. The akal was delicious. I closed my eyes and savored the springy meat, the taste of the ocean on my tongue.
Before I finished my meal, the ground shook. Hot water sloshed from the divot, scalding my ankle. Upon Ioene’s cone, the fires blazed and flared. A jet of lava sprayed out.
Shelter. Now. I grabbed what I could and scrambled for the beach where I could run fastest.
A short distance up the coast, a trio of boulders leaned together, creating a cave of sorts. I ducked inside, squinting and stumbling in the dark before I knocked my shin on something and crashed to the ground. The mussels I’d managed to save scattered.
Small rocks and ash pelted the area. A few bounced in through the gaps, but the boulders absorbed the direct hits. I drew my knees to my chest, hoping my shelter would hold.
Sometime during the assault of stone hail, I dozed off again, my days in the wild catching up with me. When I woke, I stuck my head out from beneath the boulders. The eruption had ended. The moon had set, and the night was as dark as the bottom of a well.
Back inside, I pawed the confines of my cave in search of my spilled shellfish. After locating three, I leaned back against rough stone and devoured the food, grit and all. The shelter really wasn’t bad. Solid walls hid me from sight and guarded against falling volcanic debris. I’d want to forge onward soon, but I needed to eat to restore my strength. Plus, I’d like to gather a better stock of supplies before heading deeper into the wilds.
This would be home, for now.
As I waited for my food to digest, a ghostly green light leaked into my shelter. I scrambled out of the cave and gasped. The aurora were breathtaking without torches to wash away their light. Bathed in the glow and infused with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt since fleeing the camp, I returned to the spring and gathered my meager supplies before setting to work.
First, I scrubbed my clothes in a freshwater pool, which made me feel almost human. A nearby foilwood grove provided half a rucksack of nuts which I stashed in my cave, intent on grinding them down. By stacking rocks and camouflaging my work with seaweed and driftwood, I sealed two of the three cave entrances. After four tries, I managed to dash back from the lava with a live flame. I built a circle of stones in the center of the cave and vowed to keep the coals smoldering even while I slept. Finally, I started weaving a latticework sleeping mat before yawns overtook me. I slept with the completed portion under my shoulders. Hardly enough to count as a bed, but I was still pleased with myself.
The following days were similar, and during the third moonrise, I reclined on the beach gravel and surveyed my domain while I breakfasted on another helping of mussels. I was proud of my progress—despite everything, I was surviving alone on Ioene.
But I was concerned about the injuries to my hands and thigh. The gashes had closed completely, leaving ridges, cold to the touch. In the dark, they seemed almost to shimmer, silvery like a dense blanket of stars. I couldn’t pretend that was due to the salt water dousing.
Maybe the strange scarring was related to the aether around the island. I rubbed my palms together and, after a moment, shrugged. Alone, possibly for the rest of my life, I doubted I’d ever know.
At least the mountain had been calmer since I arrived. I wondered how the others were faring. The stacks of supplies on the beach wouldn't feed the group for long; some of them had to be getting hungry. Raav’s trader status and wide shoulders would protect him. But the other people I cared for—Paono, Heiklet, Mistress Nyralit, and Captain Altak—were in greater danger the longer the expedition remained marooned.
Once I was established and strong, maybe I could help them. With care, I might be able to make contact and help them get away. I couldn’t promise a raft, but at least I knew how to find food.
Breakfast done, it was time to get to work—today I planned to do a little scouting. While ducking into the shelter, I laid a hand on one of the massive stones. Tingles, like the pins and needles of blood returning to a numb limb, pushed through the scars and up into my wrists. Shuddering, I jerked my hand away. At least a day exploring would distract from my hands.
Before leaving, I laid bark shavings in a dished-out rock and checked that the coals were well banked. Even if I returned in inky darkness, I’d be able to locate the tinder and relight the fire. Stooping low, I shuffled outside.
A few hundred paces from the lava flow, I struck uphill, paralleling the molten river. In many spots, the lava flowed through a hardened tube, a black stone tunnel too hot to touch. Elsewhere, melted rock roiled and oozed, flaring brilliant red where cracks webbed the black crust. The river blazed a path up the mountainside, visible until a bend in the channel tucked it back behind Ioene’s flank.
I climbed, balancing from rock to rock across boulder fields and scree slopes. Sweat dripped along my ribs, tickling. The pleasant sensation of motion eased my nerves. Between the time inside my cave and the weeks before, confined to the decks of the Evaeni, I’d been feeling more trapped than I realized.
When the moon skated along the edge of Ioene’s ash cloud, it was time to turn around. Before descending, I found a flat stone and sat to enjoy the view. With the horizon below me, the sky felt endless. Out to sea, lines of glowing algae marked the wave crests as they marched toward shore. Slightly downhill and to the side, a small vent released steam, the gas lit a dull orange by the fire beneath. Wisps draped the landscape like the grasping arms of a wraith, curling and coiling around the stones. While I watched the steam move in the shifting air currents, I rested my palms on the earth. The tingle spread up my arms again. I ignored it—the scenery was too stunning.
All right. Time to go.
I stood, stretched, and started tramping back down the hill. When I passed through the coils of mist escaping the vent and carrying scents of sulfur and fire and steam, I felt suddenly giddy.
My feet were fuzzy, like unspun wool at the ends of my legs. Perched on a narrow stone ridge, I wanted to laugh.
No, not perched. Sliding.
I tried to catch my balance, but everything was so hazy. My backpack snagged on something and tore free.
Scree clattered as I slipped and slid, and I giggled at the sight of a crevice ahead. The crack yawned wide, ready to swallow me up like a wiggling fish. What a funny thought. My elbow scraped stone and all of a sudden I dropped, plummeting along a rock wall that rasped the skin from the knobs of my spine. It tickled.
My stomach somersaulted, and I stared at the spinning slice of sky above. The stars were beautiful. Something hit my head, and it hurt an awful lot, but then another impact crumpled my leg to my chest, and I couldn’t see the stars anymore, but that was okay. I’d just go to sleep until my stomach stopped doing flips.
Chapter Eighteen
MY TONGUE WAS like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. Rot and reap, my head felt like it’d been pounded between a boat and the dock. When I opened my eyes, purple sparks bloomed and faded to pitch-black. Not a hint of light filtered into . . .
Where was I?
I vaguely remembered falling, but the recollection felt coated in spun sugar. Unreal and far too sweet. I must have been confused by fumes from the vent—a few Nocturnai logs had mentioned their dangers.
I lay on my belly. Beneath my cheek, the stone was warm and polished. Groaning, I shut my eyes and ran fingers through my tangled hair. Sweat had glued strands together; my scalp hurt when I tugged. The air smelled of stone and stale body odor. My hand crept to my neck, afraid. Relief spread from my chest when I felt the nightforged chain of Paono’s pendant.
Worming like a snake, I explored the area. To one side, the ledge dropped into the abyss, and on the other, my fingertips brushed vertical stone. I scooted toward the wall, the crunch of gravel echoing in the chasm. The raw knobs of my spine brushed stone; I jerked away, whimpering.
When I cracked my eyelids, I jerked, stunned.
My hands were glowing. The scars on my palms sh
one bright enough to light my surrounds. A faint white shimmer, but down here it was enough. Extending my hands toward the chasm’s opposite wall, I squinted. Nothing. The far side hid in shadow. Finally, I peered over the lip of my ledge. Inky dark swallowed the light. I tossed out a small pebble and listened. Silence. I shuddered, realizing how lucky I’d been to land on the ledge.
Once more, I examined my hands. What was happening to me?
Judging by the thirst burning in my throat, I’d been unconscious for a long time. During the fall, I’d lost my pack and everything in it. Even disregarding the weird scars, my situation wasn’t looking good.
To either side, the ledge stretched away into darkness, overhung by the sheer chasm wall. After my near-miss on the ridge climb, I knew better than to try going up. Instead, I picked a direction and crawled, too afraid I’d stumble off the narrow ledge if I tried walking. Not long after, I stopped and stripped off my jacket, leaving just a thin linen shift over my torso. The hard stone was bruising my knees. Using my thumbnails to sever the first few threads, I ripped the jacket’s sleeves free. The tearing noise echoed, a loud snarl. I tied each around a knee, pulled the jacket back over my torso, and started forward again.
I whispered as I crawled, nonsense words hissing out of my dry throat like the rustle of corn stalks in a breeze. Sometimes I thought I heard a whispered response. Words of encouragement, and little folk tales to help me forward: my old habit of concocting stories to make my life less desperate, resurrected on Ioene.
My thirst grew from oppressive to unbearable. I imagined condensation forming on a tin pitcher, drops cutting wet lines down the sides. A ladle sat in the cold water. When someone lifted it free, liquid sloshed and streamed back into the ewer. In my mind, I shouldered the person aside, lifted the pitcher, poured it over my hair. Water cascaded down my body.
You’ll make it, said the whisper in my head. Another image filled my thoughts, of a staircase of rubble that led out of the chasm, the fire-glow of Ioene lighting the exit.
Thirst was a fire poker shoved down my throat. My eyes were balls of sandstone in their sockets, and my heart was a butterfly fluttering in my chest. Nonetheless, I continued forward.
A boulder wedged between the chasm walls, blocking the way. I wormed underneath, feeling the weight looming above, not daring to breathe. When I reached the other side, a taste of sweet air tickled my nostrils. Cooler. My throat tightened.
Legs weak, I stumbled backward into the boulder when I stood. The massive rock wobbled and shifted. Air hissed through my clenched teeth while I stepped away.
Quiet, Lilik, the voice reassured me.
I leaned into the wall. Cheek pressed against stone, I felt each nubbin of rock, each crystal where lava had hardened its syrupy flow. A puff of fresh air swirled over me.
Illuminated by the thin wash of light, the ledge ahead broke into a set of blocks that ascended into darkness, an echo of the vision I’d had before sleeping. Too exhausted to wonder at the resemblance, I tottered forward.
One foot after another, with a shoulder scraping along the wall for stability, I climbed the stacked blocks. The abyss lurked on one side, dark and waiting, but soon I inhaled a lungful of sea breeze.
When I pushed through the opening, a faint brush of aurora lit the heavens. Glorious. I smiled, my lips cracking.
Unfamiliar hunks of rock hulked at my back. I recognized none of the landmarks I’d memorized on my ascent, but down the hill, I spotted the ruddy glow of the lava river spilling into the sea. I could use it to guide me down.
Though my body screamed with the effort of movement, one step after another I staggered toward the beach.
Finally, I heard the crash of waves on the shore. The slope’s angle gentled, and the hiss of molten rock doused by sea water filled the air. Home.
Foilwood twigs snapped and crackled when I stumbled through the last stand of brush and onto the rock shelf where the fresh water pooled. I shoved my face into the spring, and chill liquid poured down my throat. Immediately, my stomach clenched. Oh, Lilik. I barely got clear of the pool before I vomited all over the rocks.
Trying again, I sipped small mouthfuls, forcing myself to stop while I was still thirsty. I stood, swaying, and gazed down at the beach.
I jerked, a shock traveling my body.
A fire burned just outside the trio of boulders, and a few dark figures huddled around it. Down at the waterline, a raft had been pulled up onto the shore.
Mieshk.
Chapter Nineteen
I DROPPED FLAT onto the rock shelf, my belly twisting in knots that had nothing to do with drinking too much water. My fist slammed the stone. All that work on the shelter, and now I'd have to abandon it. I’d already lost my pack and destroyed my jacket. The only possession I had remaining, my cloak, was still inside the cave.
That cloak symbolized many things. Hope. Small victories. Survival.
Let them have my shelter and my food. I wasn’t going without my cloak.
Gravel crunched when I stepped off the shelf. I cringed, but no one around the campfire seemed to notice.
A few sharp-edged rocks nestled beneath the rock shelf. I hefted one, testing its weight and settling it in my grip. Not the best weapon, but better than nothing.
Edging along the edge of the beach, I crept forward until the fire stood between me and the water. The newcomers sat silently around the blaze, poking at the fire with sticks. Someone dug into the coals and fished out an akal mussel, no doubt from the collection I’d harvested and kept fresh in a nearby tide pool. I wondered if they’d eaten up my nut stash, too. If so, I hoped that they’d neglected to grind and leach the flour. They’d have bellyaches for that.
Motionless as a stone carving, I waited until my legs cramped, and still no one said anything. I crept from cover, intending to circle around the back of the shelter to reach the entrance.
There were six people around the fire, and judging by the amount of firelight they blocked, at least two were adults. They sat in an arc, looking out over the sea. When I drew nearer, one turned and granted me a profile view. Makal, the cabin boy—his hair was even more ratted than before, and hunger had hollowed deep shadows into his cheeks.
Why would Mieshk send a small boy out with a search party? Was she really that unhinged? As I leaned forward, squinting, my foot slid down a grit-covered rock. I crashed to the gravel, loud as a flock of startled chickens. The group at the fire sprang to their feet. Flailing, I raised my fist, rock clutched tight. A pathetic defense.
“Lilik! You’re okay!”
The low voice held the tenor notes of a stringed instrument: Raav. I peered at the rest of the group. Raav, Makal, and . . . Heiklet had been sent too. Arm splinted and tied up in a sling, Heiklet’s sentinel, Islilla, hung back. That's right—Mistress Nyralit had said her arm was fractured. Why would Mieshk send this ragtag group after me?
Unless they hadn’t come to capture me. Hope licked my heart, but I couldn’t let it take a bite. Not yet.
I scrambled backward, tired and weak and wishing I’d chosen a rock light enough to throw rather than a bludgeoning weapon.
“Wait.” Raav held his hands up. “We’re on your side.”
“My side?”
“Yes, your side. I mean—”
“Where’s Paono?” I scanned their faces. Second mate Tkira’s sharp eyes peered out from her scarred face. I didn’t recognize the other adult, an oarsman by appearance.
Heiklet stepped forward. Her gaze slid to the side when she looked at my face.
“Why are you here?” I pressed. “Why won’t you look at me, Heiklet?”
"It’s the strands,” she said. “You’re covered in black eels. Oily smoke. I don’t know how to describe it.”
I rotated the stone in my hand. “Yeah, well, I guess they like me.”
Raav put his hands in his pockets. “Listen, Lilik. Nobody blames you for being nervous. Half the expedition wants you dead.”
“Only half?”
> “Okay. Maybe more than that."
"But we don’t!” Heiklet said.
“Where’s Paono?”
“Sorry, Lilik,” Heiklet said. “Paono didn’t want to come with us.”
I’d been alone for a week. Hungry, tired, scared, exhausted. Abruptly, it was all too much.
“Why are people so stupid?” I yelled. “So happy to believe Mieshk Ulstat? And why are you eating my food?”
Heiklet glanced at the others, sheepish. “We found the mussels in a puddle. They’re yours?”
I nodded, arms crossed.
“We didn’t know. We wouldn’t—Lilik, we’ve got no ship, no hope of rescue, and there’s only enough food for the next month, if we ration.” She chewed her lip. “Paono said you know everything about Ioene. And he was right. You have food here. A bed. Water.”
But he hadn’t come. I badly wanted to ask why. Yes, he was mad that I’d lied. But had he really chosen Mieshk over me? The notion sat like rotten food in my gut.
“So you came to ask for help finding food?” I said.
Raav approached with hands out. “And to warn you. Mieshk—”
“I was there when she took over. I saw.”
He grasped my wrist and pried the rock from my clenched fingers. Though he must have seen my glowing palm, he said nothing. I didn’t fight when he helped me up.
“I heard about the reward for capturing me.”
He shook his head. “You can trust us.”
“If you say so.”
“Yes. I say so.” Raav gestured at the lava flow. “I’m impressed that you made it here, by the way. But you look terrible. No offense.”
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 11
