Song of the Forever Rains

by Mellow, E. J.

  Continue your search, her father had written.

  Well, Larkyra thought, continue my search I shall.

  Larkyra pulled her shadow-stealing cloak more securely around her. Underneath, her leather tunic sat snug and warm against her skin, and her favorite fitted black trousers gave ease to her strides. They were the same ones that had been given to each of the Bassette daughters when their father had taken them out to teach the art of sleight of hand. Only men were allowed inside the Jabari establishments they’d visited, where chance, luck, and a gamble were one and the same. That night the girls had become boys and quickly learned how different life could be. Larkyra grinned at the memory of their fat pockets as they’d left.

  It was a full sand fall past midnight, and Larkyra had once again slipped from her rooms. Her late mornings might come across as a rich girl’s vice, but it was better to be thought of as lazy than to reveal what truly kept her up at night.

  The winding stairs that led down to the castle’s side entrance were damp, as most things in Lachlan were. Stalling at the bottom, Larkyra looked down the long stretch of hall before her, the only light coming from a crack of dim moonlight streaming in from a single door sitting ajar at the end. She was on her way to Darius’s hidden dock, and she prayed to the lost gods that a boat would be there.

  The air was cool in her lungs as she stepped into the night, the rain a mere misting hiss. She made her way down the rocky descent and grinned upon seeing a small boat tied up, lapping waves pushing it against the dock.

  Thunk thunk thunk.

  It was a drumbeat, muffling her footsteps.

  Settling herself inside, Larkyra untied the rope and set about rowing. She was no sailor, and her strokes were nothing like Lord Mekenna’s strong pulls, but after a few sweeps, she got into a somewhat productive rhythm.

  If my sisters could see me now.

  Niya would surely be impressed, Arabessa proud.

  At the thought of her sisters, a knot formed in Larkyra’s chest. By the lost gods, how I miss them, she thought. The only thing in the way of their reunion was her finding this blasted vault!

  Larkyra’s strokes strengthened. She would find it tonight.

  She must.

  Her boat bumped up against the mainland, and after hopping out, she pulled it ashore with a grunt. The torchlight emanating from Castle Island glowed behind Larkyra like a warning as she made her way down the length of the pebbled beach, not stopping until she came across a large section covered in flat bramble and branches. The wood was charred and black; lightning had struck here, and the air felt alive, energy dancing unseen. It was perfect.

  Larkyra let out a hawk’s screech, then another. A thumping gust of wind pushed down from above, and she held out her arms, allowing large talons to wrap around them and carry her up and away with a whoosh.

  “Hello, Kaipo,” she called to the bird, his enormous silver wings reflecting the cloudy moonlight.

  He shrieked his greeting, and wind whipped her face as she studied the land spread out below. She hadn’t been too far off from her destination, and with another screech, Kaipo banked left, swooping over the sleeping village of Imell.

  It would have caused too much of a stir to have the mutati hawk come to her balcony, given that he needed to be a giant tonight. And traipsing through the woods to the bluff at this hour seemed riddled with too many unwanted possibilities. The safest bet, thought Larkyra, had been to first get off Castle Island.

  As seemed to be the rule with most things.

  Kaipo pumped his massive wings, skimming over the treetops before climbing up, up, and up along the mountain’s edge, bringing Larkyra face to face with the Mekennas’ ancient home.

  Even with most of it obscured by the darkness and creeping nature, Larkyra could still make out its once-majestic architecture. Three tall windows stretched down to the balcony. Beautiful rosette etchings and a waved insignia snaked along the border of the broken-tiled terrace floor. Fallen branches and leaves peppered the space. Larkyra looked for a safe spot to land.

  “Thank you, old friend,” she whispered to Kaipo as he gently set her down before shrinking to a size where he could rest on her leather-clad shoulder.

  Larkyra shook out her cape, wiping the rain from her face and braided hair as she stared into the darkness within the keep. Any wooden door had long since rotted away, leaving only a gaping opening, a portal to another time. Not even a glimmer of a corridor or edge of a hall could be seen from where she stood, and Larkyra wondered how deep this mountainous home ran. How many hidden entrances led inside that did not start here? And who else might know their placement?

  Taking out a stone from her pocket, the size fitting perfectly in the palm of her hand, Larkyra whispered a melodic command: “Shine light; give me sight.” The rock flared white, feeling her magic, before settling into a soft glow.

  Raising it up, she took in a calming breath. “Remember, Kaipo,” she said, “there are no such things as ghosts. Only spirits, and they all rest in the Fade.”

  The hawk snapped his beak in agreement, securing his grip on her shoulder. With a final glance behind them at the view of a thousand lakes lit by a single cloud-covered moon, Larkyra left the Lachlan of the present to enter another, painted in the blackness of an unknown past.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Larkyra sent the glow of her rock to stream forward, illuminating row upon row of smooth, massive columns stretching up on either side of her, guiding her path straight. The space must have been extremely tall, for none of her light reached the hall’s ceiling. Broken stone and marble littered the floor, along with dead leaves and branches, their decomposing smell filling the hall. Larkyra’s eyes followed rats that skittered about as she walked, beetles and bugs quickly following, while she tried desperately to ignore the giant spiderwebs that hung between the columns, their masters no doubt fitting their size.

  Large unlit torches sat at the ready, tempting Larkyra to fill them with flames to truly take in the masterpiece she knew was here.

  While Castle Island had pockets of splendor, this place was marked with ancient history, the expert craftsmanship of a people who’d prospered, perhaps even before the lost gods had left. Larkyra gazed up at the ornate flying buttresses extending out of the columns. Threadbare banners still hung on the walls, swaying lightly in an unseen breeze, the ocean-wave insignia of the Mekenna House barely a stitched shadow in the center. Moonlight shone through the space at odd angles, and Larkyra followed the illuminated path. With a gloved hand, she wiped at a wall’s surface and stepped back as a caking of mud fell away to reveal stained glass, more light falling in.

  Windows.

  This side of the hall must be decorated with large windows facing out of the mountain.

  “How beautiful this place must have been,” she whispered to Kaipo on her shoulder.

  Backing away, Larkyra walked on.

  “What took the family away, do you think?” she mused. “Why leave this place to fall into such ruin?”

  An echo of something deeper inside had Larkyra quickly dousing her light and pressing back against a column.

  The sound rang out again. Footsteps?

  “And who would that be?” she asked Kaipo. “Fly quiet, my love, and see.”

  The hawk took off, soundlessly flapping his wings before he was swallowed by darkness.

  Larkyra listened to her own heartbeat, waiting.

  Though it was barely audible, she could detect a faint shuffling.

  More rats?

  She took hesitant steps forward, only chancing the tiniest glow from her rock as she came to the end of the massive hall. It split two ways, but whatever lurked down either corridor, she needed a stronger light to see.

  Just then a warm orange glow flickered at the end of the passage to her right. A torch.

  Larkyra’s pulse quickened; she closed her hand over her stone.

  The flame came closer, and she could just discern the outline of the figure holding i
t—tall, with a hood obscuring its face—and in the next instant, it dipped out of sight, seeming to have walked through a door.

  Sticks.

  Larkyra searched the blackness for any signs of Kaipo; just when she was about to give up on the creature and take her chances alone, a soft wind fluttered against her face.

  She extended her arm, and the hawk landed on her leather tunic sleeve, his purple gaze snapping to find hers.

  “Well?”

  Kaipo angled his head, nodding in the direction the torch had gone.

  “Oh, you don’t say?” whispered Larkyra with an eye roll. “I wouldn’t have thought to follow whomever that was.”

  The hawk ruffled his wings, unimpressed by her sarcasm.

  As the two set off, Larkyra once again activated her illumination stone. She kept the glow minimal and held it low to her side as she grazed the wall with fingertips, guiding them forward.

  She came to an arched doorway, watching as the faded orange light of the stranger’s torch crept down a set of spiraling stairs. Larkyra quickly followed.

  The air was mustier here, the space warming the farther she descended, as if the center of the mountain had its own supply of heat. Reaching the bottom, she caught sight of the figure turning into a hall. Larkyra’s heartbeat raced as she pocketed her stone, she and Kaipo silently following the retreating glow. They passed through a long corridor, then another. The flame they chased remained steady, its bearer unaware of their existence, as Larkyra kept a safe distance.

  Whoever it was, they seemed to know their way, especially when they turned a bend and stopped before a semicircular wall—a dead end. The stranger raised their torch to illuminate a large, round copper-covered door in the center; a design of a lake-filled landscape was intricately carved into the surface. Etchings of mountains and hills glowed against the flickering flame, while at the top was a sparkling sun and cloudless sky. A portrait of Lachlan’s past.

  Larkyra drank it in from where she stood, at the far end of the corridor, hidden in a dark corner.

  It was hard to believe Lachlan could have once looked as such, could have shone with such life.

  The figure walked the curved wall’s length, lighting the awaiting torches. A massive circular alcove awoke around them, revealing two more round copper doors, but in these were carved scenes of lapping waves with dozens of ships, their sails filled with strong winds.

  Larkyra shrank back into the retreating shadows, tucking Kaipo more securely to her side. With the brighter light, she was able to regard the figure in full. By the wide shoulders and build, he was most definitely a man, but what had her brows creasing was that he looked familiar.

  She had seen that brown leather mask before, that dark cape. Once, as he’d stormed out of the king’s chambers in the Thief Kingdom.

  Her heart raced at what this meant, and she watched as he pulled a chain tucked beneath his clothes from around his neck. He loosened a ring dangling from it before fitting it into a notch in the center of the door. Lifting his other hand, he pressed three fingers into grooves within the carving.

  There was a huff of air, dust spitting from the seams as the massive slab cracked open.

  The man slipped inside.

  Larkyra remained where she stood until Kaipo nipped at her ear.

  “I’m going.” She pushed his beak away. “But you’re staying here.”

  He nipped again.

  “Someone needs to be the lookout.” She nudged him to hop to the ground.

  As she peeked through the open circular door, Larkyra’s eyes went wide. The entire rectangular space was filled with leather trunks stacked floor to ceiling, almost entirely obscuring the white marble walls.

  The man’s torch was resting on the stone floor, sending shadows dancing across the room as he bent over a case in the far corner. His cape spilled around his feet as he fiddled with the clasp’s lock. Larkyra took this moment to push inside, making like a gust of wind as she crouched behind the nearest trunks, peering through a crack.

  The figure glanced behind him, shadowed eyes searching for the soft sound of her movement, but when he only found the same empty room, he resumed his task.

  Larkyra’s skin buzzed. She was filled with the thrill of the hunt, of watching without being watched.

  A low creak. Her eyes held on to the stranger as he opened a case, letting out a blinding reflection from a pile of silver.

  By the Obasi Sea.

  Larkyra’s mouth watered.

  She’d found it. The Lachlan vault.

  But who was this thief?

  Meticulously counting out coins, the man filled a small bag and tied it shut before he threw it into a larger sack by his booted feet. He moved to open another case, and Larkyra frowned as he pulled out pickled vegetables and packages marked with Wheat, Rice, and Barley.

  Food? Food was also kept in the family vault?

  Having finished his raiding, he stood, stretching with a grunt.

  Pushing back his hood, he removed his mask to wipe away sweat, and Larkyra’s breath was stolen from her.

  Darius.

  Lord Mekenna.

  Darius.

  Her mind screamed the names over and over. He was the masked man. He’d been in the Thief Kingdom, in an audience with her father . . . and was here now, pillaging his own family’s vault.

  But . . . why?

  Chaos erupted in Larkyra’s blood as she watched Darius frown at the bag at his feet, his red hair glowing burnt orange under the torchlight.

  The trunks at her back shuddered a thud. She had backed away from where she was safely crouched.

  Darius’s green eyes snapped to her hooded figure, and heart pounding, she jolted from her corner, out the door.

  “Oy!” His angry voice trailed behind her.

  But she didn’t stop, didn’t pause, as she sprinted past Kaipo. He screeched as he flew beside her, a question: Attack?

  It was probably bad that Larkyra had to think on it. “No, no,” she huffed out. Taking out her illumination stone, Larkyra raised it, throwing a light onto her dark path.

  “Stop!” Lord Mekenna roared behind her, closer than she would have liked, as she raced down hall after hall before skidding and grabbing hold of the doorframe that led to the spiral staircase. She took the steps up two at a time, the lord’s fading curses echoing behind her, until she reached the landing. She breathed heavily, allowing a drop of hope to fill her before continuing on.

  The only way forward was to make like the lost gods and be gone.

  She sprinted into the main hall, careful of the fallen debris as the doorway to the balcony outlined her salvation, all the way at the opposite end.

  Something smacked hard against her, making her grunt as she hit up against a large column. The cavern shook with the impact.

  She kicked the attacker in the shin, then went for his privates next, but he seemed to know her mind, for he blocked her aim, spinning her around and pressing her cheek into the cold marble.

  “Who are you?” he spat. “Why have you followed me?”

  The hood of her cape covered half her face, and her mind spun for an escape, how to reach her tucked-away blades before—

  Darius ripped her hood down. There was a shocked pause as he stared at her, the very lady he currently housed as his family’s guest, before he shoved away from her, as if she had the power to burn him.

  “Larkyra?” The question came out like a dying man’s last words. Whispered. Weak. Unaccepting of his fate.

  At this moment, Kaipo made his presence known. He flew from the rafters to attack Darius.

  “Kaipo, stop!” demanded Larkyra, watching the lord curse and smack at the monster pecking and clawing at his head.

  The hawk screeched his release before landing on her forearm.

  Darius attempted to straighten himself, his hair a ruffled mess, while his left cheek dripped a single red slash where Kaipo had snagged him with a talon. Larkyra winced.

  The lord looked fro
m her to the silver hawk on her arm.

  “What . . .” He shook his head. “Why are you . . .”

  “This is, uh, a lovely place.” Larkyra glanced around. “I bet we could fix it right up with a bit of dusting.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Darius’s disoriented state quickly changed to one of rage as he strode toward her, a charging bull. She backed into the column again.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Larkyra raised a staying hand. “Now, now,” she placated. “I could ask you the same thing. In fact, I shall. What are you doing here?”

  “This isn’t a game!” His voice echoed through the enormous hall. “Why are you here?” He eyed her clothes, the silver hawk on her arm. She pushed the bird into the air, and Darius watched him fly away, disappearing into the dark.

  “Who are you?”

  “Larkyra Bassette. Daughter of Dolion Bassette, Count of Ra—”

  “I know your name,” he said through gritted teeth. “But who is Larkyra Bassette?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Darius raked a hand through his hair. “Stop playing games,” he growled. “Why are you here? How did you get in?”

  She’d never suspected Darius to be capable of such rage. And she might very well have been insane, for witnessing it sent a spark of heat through her, happiness perhaps, that he was capable of such energy when she had only experienced him hidden in his own mind and home.

  Of course, she now knew why he made himself scarce.

  “I came in as I suspect you did. Through a door.”

  “If you are trying to make me into a madman, you are succeeding.”

  “It is not exactly what I was hoping to make you, but I’ll take it.”

  A growl as his gaze slid over her once more. “Why are you dressed like that? You look like a lifter . . .” His eyes sparked as they caught hers again. “Were you—were you looking to steal from me?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  This is bad. This is really bad.

  “Why, then? Why did I find you hiding in our vaults? And answer me plainly! At least uphold your word of that, or you will regret coming here.”