Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set

by Carrie Summers

  Hands of flame sprouted from the ends of Mieshk’s arms, giant paws as wide as my chest. The heat washed over me, nearly knocking me back. She stepped closer, and pools of stone heated like taffy spread outward from each footfall. Paono rolled and pushed himself backward, heels paddling at the terrace.

  When she drew even with the unconscious guard, the man’s flesh burst into flame. He woke long enough to scream before smoke choked off his voice. In a last act of defiance, he crawled to his feet and leaped from the terrace.

  Mieshk’s black eyes, once again blazing deep inside, turned on me.

  Chapter Twenty

  “HEY!” THE SHOUT echoed down from the highest level of the city.

  “Fools,” Paono whispered as around fifteen newcomers stepped to the edge of the wall.

  Mieshk looked up and grinned. “I was hoping for reinforcements.”

  I stared, aghast. What were they thinking? I recognized Caffari. By their stances, I guessed the others were thieves.

  Paono ran his hands through his hair. “I told Daonok I thought I could shield a few of them. More like five, with some warning so that I could prepare.”

  “Join me!” Mieshk commanded. Her grin spread wider as she threw her flaming arms wide. Above, our would-be rescuers went rigid. Though I couldn’t see from here, I could imagine the slack looks on their faces. Yet at the edge of the group, three people spun, looking at their companions in horror. Moments later, they too fell under Mieshk’s spell. My gaze shot to Paono who stood with eyes closed in concentration.

  “I tried,” he said.

  “Descend!” Mieshk yelled. “I command you to capture these two. If they resist, subdue them.”

  Like thralls, the group above marched for the closest staircase. Mieshk stared, enraptured by her own power. I doubted I’d get another chance. I ran.

  Six levels separated me from the harbor. If I made it to the water and past Mieshk’s gathered followers, I could probably swim free. Maybe. Then again, with my hands cuffed, maybe not. Still, I didn’t know what else to do. I dodged around Mieshk, felt the wash of heat on my skin, and sprinted for the staircase.

  Before I reached it, a shriek pierced the air. A curtain of fire erupted in front of me. The leather soles of my shoes slipped and skated on the grit-strewn stone tiles, and I stopped just short of plunging into the blaze.

  Panting, I spun and ran the other way. My lungs burned both from the heat and smoke and from the effort of sucking in air. Ahead, Mieshk snarled, and with a flick of her finger summoned another wall of fire. I spun again, feeling like a piglet trapped in a farmer’s run. It was no use, but what else could I do? When the next barrier of flames leaped to life before me, I sucked in a breath, screwed my eyes shut, and jumped into the fire.

  My hair curled and stank. The heat on my face was excruciating. Yet I didn’t burn. Instead, the fire was an impenetrable barrier, elastic and flexing beneath my weight. The air around me sizzled. Like a greenwood tree bending and then springing back, Mieshk’s fire accepted my attack, then threw me back the way I’d come.

  I landed poorly, fell backward. Only Tyrak’s sudden nudge kept my head from hitting. Instead, I rolled over my shoulder and came up aching and disoriented.

  Shaking free of my bewilderment, I whirled to see a look of similar confusion on Mieshk’s molten face. She hadn’t expected the fire to respond to me in that way either. But it didn’t matter. Growling, I ran for her. The pits of her eyes widened, and she took a step back.

  We collided in a flash and sizzle. She screamed. A shriek escaped my throat. Between us, an unseen force exploded and sent us flying back. As I stumbled and caught my balance, I looked down and saw blisters rising from my skin where my clothing had been burned away. Mieshk had fared no better. Where our flesh had met, hers had hardened. Frozen.

  I recalled our first fight, so long ago it seemed. At the old cloister, I’d laid a hand on her while trying to recover the figurine and stop her rise to power. My hand had left a blackened print on her arm, and my palm had been burned in the same way.

  I couldn’t pass through her summoned fires. Our energies were elementally opposed. Could I use that? I searched my memories for clues, rifling the dim recollections from Zyri’s time, too.

  Moments later, I heard Mieshk laugh. Fire sprang up around me, pressed close like a coffin. But it couldn’t touch me. I tried to run, but the flames resisted me, threw me back. I screamed, looked down at my arm, saw blisters rising. Frantic, I rubbed at them. The pain numbed as the blisters popped, leaving shimmering flesh where the aurora-blessing healed my raw skin.

  The flames pressed closer, becoming a suit that danced just a finger’s width away from my flesh. Agony on all sides. Searing heat. I couldn’t breathe.

  Tyrak! What do I do? I yelled into the aether.

  Against my will, my arms raised, fire crawling over the limbs.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Mieshk said, her sneering voice. “I always enjoyed playing with dolls. But enough of that for now.”

  When the flames disappeared, I collapsed to the terrace, breath wheezing through my throat. I blinked in an attempt to restore moisture to my eyes. The urge to retch came with a flood of saliva. Coughing, I scrambled to my feet.

  The scene was blurred, Paono a glowing blue form a few paces away. A scorched ring showed where fire had held him prisoner as well. As I blinked again, trying to focus, shadowy forms surrounded me. Clawing hands fell on me. Dead eyes glinted in the night.

  Helpless to resist Mieshk’s command, my friends lifted me from the ground, raised me high above the terrace. I craned my neck and spotted Paono held aloft by others.

  “Now,” Mieshk said, “please hold them while I finish my work.”

  Six pairs of hands pinched and prodded and shifted as they held me high above the stone floor of the terrace. Every few seconds, I tried to twist from their grasp. It was pointless, I knew, but the alternative was to accept my fate. I didn’t know everyone who held me. Tkira was beneath my left arm and rib cage. I’d caught a glimpse of her expressionless face during one twist of my spine. Imprisoned in her own head and forced to hold me captive, I couldn’t imagine the rage she must be feeling.

  One of Captain Altak’s new sailors held my shoulders, and I thought I recognized the thief holding my right thigh, a young man who Daonok had been training in the art of silent movement. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at the others, but no doubt I’d be able to place all their faces, even if I didn’t know their names.

  Held nearby, Paono relaxed into the grasp of his captors—Caffari among them. His eyes were closed. The cloud of glimmers around him had settled close to his body.

  My lip twitched. How could he be so tranquil while this was happening? Especially since, if he could just let go of his qualms and concede to causing a bit of pain, another dawnweaving could free the strands. Once my magic was restored, my Need could end this. Instead, the Hunger would devour our world.

  Even as the thoughts circled through my mind, I felt the tug at my soul, the same sickening sensation of having my lungs yanked free of my chest. It hurt. A lot. Beneath me, my captors trembled at the sudden pain. Okay, so maybe he was trying. Unfortunately, as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished.

  Trying, and failing yet again.

  Can you talk to him, Tyrak? I asked. Maybe you can help him through this problem.

  I tried. But I don’t have the proper bond with him. It’s different than when I spoke to the other strands through you. He’s alive. Part of the physical world. If not for sharing a connection to Zyri, you and I might not have been able to touch minds either, remember?

  Yes, I remembered. But it wasn’t helpful.

  Any other ideas? I asked. It seems so simple to me. He just needs to Want to free the strands.

  Well, I’m not sure it is that easy. The life-channeling talent is rare. And someone who can dawnweave… almost unknown. Many people in my time claimed that dawnweaving magic was just a rumor. I’d guess it appe
ars in someone like Paono for a reason. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t defy his honorable nature. This naturally keeps the dawnweaving from enabling someone with even a shred of malice from using the ability for evil ends.

  I balled my fists, my body going rigid with frustration. But right now, his ability is the only thing that can prevent an evil end. It’s just the opposite.

  Tyrak brushed ghostly hands over mine, prying at my fingers to loosen them from the hard fists. I know that. But I’m just telling you my theory. Maybe part of Paono still believes there’s another way to win, whether that’s true or not. Maybe he needs to truly despair before the alternative becomes acceptable to his overly-noble heart. Or maybe his regret over the death will make it impossible for him to use the magic again.

  Then we’re doomed?

  I hate to say it, but maybe.

  Hearing the resignation in his voice, I thrashed again, desperate to get free of the hands that clutched me. No use. Finally, I sagged into their grasp to rest. My vision was less blurry now, but the damage from the flames had turned areas of my sight cloudy. That had been fading as the aurora-blessing mended the burns, but not fast enough. As I stared at the twinkling stars near the horizon, I wished for the chance to see them clearly one last time.

  My mind was open to the aether. I knew when Mieshk finished painting the last rune when the distance screams of her captive nightstrands echoed across the boundary between domains.

  The final rune. I closed my eyes. We’d failed.

  The moment the screams died, the Hunger swelled, pushing at the seams. Before, it had been a pulsing, oppressive nearness. Now, the deepest blackness dropped over Ashkalan. It felt as if at any moment, the city would fold in on itself, squeezing us down until we were nothing at all. Terror filled my heart.

  The end of the world had come. The space between worlds thinned. Stretched. Doom’s tendrils pulled at the fabric.

  Beneath me, someone gasped. The grip on my lower legs faltered then steadied. Had Mieshk’s command faded?

  Shush, Paono whispered across the aether.

  I wasn’t talking, I responded. There’s nothing left to say.

  Not you, Lilik. The others. I managed to shield three of them. They’re only pretending. Two are holding me, and one you. I’m trying to quiet her.

  That explained the trembling grip, but it didn’t matter anymore. The gate was finished.

  Lilik, look, Paono said, fear finally coloring his thought.

  I turned my head one way, then the other.

  My heart stuttered.

  Over the harbor, the rift tore open with the sound of metal screeching over slate. Though the night on Ioene often felt impenetrable, the rent in the world was many times denser. Unfathomably dark. The crack in the world exposed pure nothingness, a bottomless, infinite pit filled with nothing but the Hunger’s desire for annihilation.

  The hands on my lower leg trembled harder, as my body shuddered with matching terror. No one moved. I didn’t think anyone could move until Mieshk strode back from her completed rune, threaded between our groups, and hefted her still-unconscious bodyguard from the terrace floor.

  She slung the man over her shoulder and marched back to the staircase.

  “The Hollow Ones are coming,” she said. “I feel one now. It will be hungry.”

  The Ulstat girl descended a flight of stairs, stopped, and waited. Shadows crawled out from corners and doorways, spilling across the city as Mieshk lifted the bodyguard above her head. When the creature crawled out of the hole in our world, an abomination formed of eyes and teeth and limbs, huge yet small, shrieking yet utterly silent, horror spilled down my spine.

  My mind rebelled. My stomach heaved. The thing filled the air above Ashkalan’s docks. A shard of the void. Hungry. Mieshk threw the unconscious man, and before the body hit the ground, the creature shredded the limp form, turned the body inside out in a bloodless transformation from living to nonexistent. His soul lasted longer; I felt him enter the aether screaming and terrified only to be snared by the whip tendril of Hunger that pulled him toward the gaping maw.

  The Hollow One began to devour the nightstrand, pulling him apart drop by drop, shred by shred, savoring each bite.

  I jerked, startled, when Mieshk spoke.

  “The rest of you wait here,” Mieshk called to the followers lining the wharf. “Be patient. Your turn will come. Don’t attempt to flee when it becomes your honor to join with the Hunger. I must journey to the fire’s core. Your bodies and souls will sate the Hollow Ones temporarily. But none shall be as tasty as the perfect sacrifice I’ve planned to welcome my new power.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SHE WANTS TO personally hand your soul to the Hunger, Paono said across our link. I feel it in her spark.

  I think that’s fairly obvious, I said.

  But she wants to draw it out. Make sure your spirit is tormented when it enters the aether. She plans to kill us both. More, she wants to force us to choose who dies first.

  What was the point? Was this just another manifestation of her madness, or did she really believe that she could somehow influence the Hunger, wooing it with the souls of her enemies? It seemed to me that even through the veil of her insanity, she ought to be able to glimpse the truth. The Hunger had no care for human actions. It only wished to destroy.

  Still held aloft by our enslaved friends, we were being carried up the mountainside. Mieshk marched ahead, melting her way through obstacles on a straight path toward the boiling cauldron inside Ioene’s crown. She couldn’t burn me alive with her own fire, not with my aurora-blessing repelling her magic. But not even the aurora could protect me from the lava inside Ioene’s summit crater.

  I have an idea, Paono said. I managed to bind a few sparks on my last try. I really Wanted it, and even managed to perform the weaving despite the pain I knew it caused. But the shell around the nightstrands is too strong. When I built it, I’d joined hundreds of sparks to mine, but more importantly, I killed to build the prison. The full vitality of a living person cements the walls. The only way I can shatter them is with another fatality. And I just can’t Want that, Lilik. I tried, but I just can’t.

  As our bearers marched up the glassy path created by Mieshk’s fire, I bounced in their grip. Ioene sputtered and fumed, but the smell of cinders was nearly overpowered by the heavy perfume of kivi blossoms. The night-blooming flowers spread in a massive patch on either side of our obsidian pathway. I breathed deep, memories rising in my thoughts.

  The flowers had been special for Tyrak and Zyri. I remembered him weaving her a necklace of their blossoms. In the darkness of Ioene’s night, the flowers were just ghostly hints amongst the black and red leaves. But in the light of the lanterns which had illuminated the island during Vanished time, the true colors of the petals were revealed. They took their hues from the energy of their surroundings. While still attached to the kivi plant, the flowers were a dull gray. But draped as a garland around Zyri’s neck, deep blues and purples had washed through the blossoms.

  I have to be the one to die first, Paono said, interrupting the memory.

  I lifted my head and looked up the trail. The people bearing my friend walked ahead, setting the pace. Paono was much heavier than me, and they would have been quickly outdistanced otherwise.

  I took a minute to calm my thoughts. This was just like Paono. Always the martyr. But why play into her game of making us choose?

  You don’t think it will free the strands, do you? I asked. I doubt it works that way.

  I don’t know what else to do, Lilik. I’ve tried everything.

  Try again. The dawnweaving is the key. Force yourself to realize that we’re all dead anyway. A single life lost is infinitely better than seeing the whole world destroyed.

  I know Lilik. I do. I want to make that choice. But when I attempt the weaving…

  Your heart betrays you. I know. It’s hard for me, but I’m trying to understand.

  It’s hard because you’r
e so frustrated, he said. It’s okay, Lilik. You forget that I can sense your spark. I can know what you’re feeling. Everything if I wish.

  I grimaced at the reminder. I’d known he could sense my feelings—we talked about it before I left Ioene. But I’d tried to forget that detail of his life-channeling, preferring to feel as if my thoughts were mine alone.

  I respect your privacy, he said. I don’t try to listen in to how you feel. It’s just that sometimes your emotions are so intense they’re impossible to ignore. I know how much I’m frustrating you. It should be so easy to let go of my regret over what I did.

  But I’m just me, Lilik. The same boy who loved you from those first days when we played together at the beach. The same boy who let you go when he realized he wasn’t enough for you. You’re a shooting star. A crackling bonfire. I knew the best I could offer was a sturdy base for your flame. Whereas someone like Raav was the air that could help you blaze brighter.

  I lay in my captors’ grips, stilled by his words. I’d known he cared about me, but I hadn’t realized the depth of his feelings. I loved Paono too—as a friend and cherished childhood companion. But in the last months, I’d realized that he was too stable. Too reliable. Better that I’d found Raav who could stand up to my often-fiery temper, even help me channel it. My steadfast friend would only be hurt by it again and again. I thought he’d chosen Katrikki because he didn’t want to risk the friendship he had with me by trying to change its nature, but it seemed he’d let me go for the same reason I’d pulled away.

  I wondered if I’d been underestimating him. He was standing up to me in his own way right now. Standing up to the whole world and refusing to sacrifice his morals no matter who and what consequences stood against him. I had moved on, but maybe I didn’t quite understand my own reasons.

  You are only telling me this because you think we’re going to die, I said.