Word of Truth

by Rhett C. Bruno

  She’d shared a body with a goddess, and she couldn’t lie—there’d been times when the power felt good. She’d been tempted to give in, to give Nesilia full control and let the world that had been so cruel burn.

  But she couldn’t…

  Her own life had its value—but the lives of everyone in Pantego were worth so much more. If Nesilia had indeed found a willing host as powerful as Sigrid seemed to be, everyone was at risk.

  The wind blew shining black locks of hair over Sora’s face. She brushed them back, letting her fingers linger a moment. With thumb and forefinger, she traced the point of her ear, recalling every crude word ever spoken to her about her heritage. All the ways she’d been treated, used, abused, hurt, shamed, broken, lied to, forgotten…

  “Who cares about you, Sora?” Nesilia had repeated time and time again while she occupied Sora’s body. She would laugh and say, “A thief? You think he’ll come and steal you away from here? No one is coming. We are the same. You are forgotten, like me.”

  It was a tool Nesilia had tried to use against her. Useless at first, but after time in Nowhere, Sora slowly started to believe it until finally… Whitney had done the impossible. Now there could be no doubt. A man capable of breaking into the mind of a powerful mystic possessed by a goddess, and retrieving his prize—that was the World’s Greatest Thief.

  But she could never let him know that. His head was big enough already.

  She laughed a tiny little laugh before her gaze flitted to the southern cloud, and her mouth went straight as an arrow. She thought of all those who were, no doubt, suffering in Yaolin City at Nesilia’s hands, just as she had. Her mind traveled back to Winde Port and the Panpingese District, where Tayvada Bokeo had lived and died.

  The world was doomed.

  Sora had felt Nesilia’s immeasurable power. No one could stop her.

  “This vessel is powerful.” Sora remembered Nesilia’s words after she overtook Sigrid.

  Sora cleared her throat, feeling a new sense of resolve. She glared south and said, “I am the daughter of the most powerful mystic to ever walk Pantego and its greatest King.” She was almost shocked by the fervor in her own voice after so long in silence, trapped in her own thoughts, but defiance rose up within and with it, so did she.

  “That’s right,” Sora said, Elsewhere’s magic bubbling up inside her, siphoning the energy of her blood like a true mystic. Fire and embers danced around her clenched fist. She was in control. “I’m not some tongueless dog, Nesilia. I am Sora…”

  Something prickled against her hand, which now rested upon the smooth wooden rail. Opening her eyes, she found Aquira’s head nuzzling there, little yellow orbs looking up at her, blinking both sets of eyelids over and over. A soft purr escaped the wyvern’s scaly lips.

  Sora’s eyes watered, and she leaned in.

  “Oh, Aquira,” she said, so soft it was barely audible. But the wyvern heard her and chirped.

  Sora wrapped both arms around her reptilian friend and pulled her in close. The spot on her chest where the bar guai had been remained tender. Still, her healing power had made its former presence nearly imperceptible—physically, at least.

  “I’m so sorry for leaving you, Girl. I’m so—“ Her words cut off as she let out the emotions she’d been bottling up for so long.

  Aquira blew a small puff of steam from her nostrils and settled in, still purring.

  “I’ll never leave you again,” she said. “I promise. We are together forever.”

  Just then, a dark, foreboding sensation choked her. Visions of Nesilia, larger than life, brooding and hovering over Yaolin City assaulted her mind.

  Forever, she thought.

  That word held such little meaning now. What did “forever” look like when a crazed goddess was on the loose, bent on destroying all life? Because as much as Nesilia proclaimed her desire to purge the world of weakness and let the strong rule, Sora had seen her true heart. No one would be worthy in the end, not in her eyes. Nothing would fill the void that Iam had left inside of her. So, she’d fill it with the suffering she’d known for countless years until there was nothing left to suffer.

  “I can’t keep going like this, Aquira,” Sora said.

  The little wyvern, who, admittedly, wasn’t very little anymore, drew back her long neck. Her frills folded, and her rough tongue flicked outward as she stared right into Sora’s eyes. Aquira’s horns had begun growing in, Sora noticed, and new tears formed in response to all the things she’d missed.

  After her shoulders stopped bobbing, she sucked in a deep breath and said, “I’ve got to talk to Whitney—to everyone. No one understands just how awful what she has planned is. I’ve seen what she can do, and I was fighting it. I can’t imagine what will happen if Sigrid wants it too. Panping will just be the start. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.”

  She took a deep breath and turned away from the black cloud above Yaolin.

  “I never should have let us waste time in coming here,” she went on. “What was I thinking? We have to stop Nesilia, no matter what. I’ve been… selfish.”

  “No, you haven’t,” said a voice from behind her.

  It startled her, but only for a second. She’d recognized Whitney’s voice every time, whether in Elsewhere or Nowhere and now, even on Pantego. There was no mistaking it. It kept her sane for Iam-knows-how-long.

  “Whit,” she said, turning and running toward him. He didn’t even budge as the full weight of her slammed against him. “I’m so sorry.” The words came out muffled, mouth pressed against his shoulder. His arms felt so good around her. It may not have been cold here in Myen Elnoir, but the frigid feeling of Nesilia’s presence had yet to leave her, even after so many weeks, and he warmed her.

  “Sora,” he said, pushing her back, but only enough that he could see her eyes. “You have no reason to apologize.”

  “But—“

  “None!” The word was abrupt but not harsh. “Listen, what you did… what happened to you… it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I went looking for them, for mystics, without you, because of what my powers did to you. It was a mistake. Iam and all the gods, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were being you, Sora,” Whitney said. “You never were one to sit back and let others have all the fun. When we were kids, and you heard I was breaking into Galleo Donavan’s dad’s bakery—what did you do?”

  Sora’s gaze fixated on the silver clasp of his cloak, anything to avoid his eyes. Then she felt his finger lift her chin. Her eyes remained downward. He brushed her cheek, the wet of a tear smearing across it.

  Whitney leaned down, forcing himself into her line of sight.

  “What did you do?” he asked again. When she didn’t answer, he said, “You broke in first. You ate all the sweet cakes, so I didn’t get any.”

  She laughed, barely.

  “Then, the next day, you told Mr. Donavan it was me,” he went on. “That night, when I returned, he was waiting with his rolling pin. That hurt, Sora!” He rubbed at his head, playfully.

  Sora remembered how mad Whitney had been that day, but now, he laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in.

  Whitney never knew how much it had upset her that he’d been breaking into Mr. Donavan’s place without her. That was the moment she realized Whitney had a whole world of adventure that she hadn’t been invited to take part in. She hadn’t even eaten all the sweet cakes, she’d just tossed them to the pigs in Mrs. Dodson’s farm. And she cried that night, too, though she’d never have let Whitney know. She’d done everything to mask those tears from him.

  But that was the day things changed, and he hadn’t the slightest clue. Standing here now, she’d give anything to go back in time and just tell him everything. How he was all she had in Troborough. That Wetzel, for all his guidance, was nothing more than a crotchety old man who’d never so much as hugged Sora, much less played the role as a father after her real father, King Liam Nothhelm, left her with him, so
she’d never be discovered.

  That the only time she’d felt accepted was when she was with Whitney. That knowing he’d been hiding things from her killed her inside. That the day he’d left her younger self standing in the woods while he trudged off to explore Pantego was the day her heart shattered into a million pieces.

  She wanted to tell him that when she’d followed him and Torsten to those dwarven ruins, it was to drive a blade through his heart so that he’d feel half the pain she’d felt for so long, but she hadn’t been able to. And it was that fact which proved she was nothing like Nesilia, no matter what the goddess had said. Sora had chosen forgiveness.

  She loved Whitney as a child, she loved him in those ruins, and she loved him now, more than ever. She’d often used anger as a means of escaping this very emotion, but no longer. Her lips formed a small, involuntary smile.

  “That’s my girl,” Whitney said, wearing that same crooked grin he would affect before getting up to no good. “Now, it’s time you stop beating yourself up and join us. We need—“

  “I can’t, Whit,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “You can.”

  “Just let me talk. I just—I knew you weren’t dead, but I went to Panping anyway. I… I abandoned you.” With that, her head pressed against him once more.

  “Abandoned?” Whitney scoffed. “Are you mad? You were searching for me, same as I was you. Only the mystics could have helped you.”

  “I went for myself too… I was so selfish.”

  “I’m always selfish, and I promise, you weren’t. And no, you didn’t know I wasn’t dead, but c’mon? What were you supposed to think? I disappear into thin air, and the next time you see me, I’m in Elsewhere, being chased by demon hounds. If our roles had been reversed, I’d have thought you were dead.”

  “It was my fault you were there to begin with!” Sora said. She wasn’t even sure her words carried beyond the nook of Whitney’s armpit. She just stayed there, releasing emotions she’d forgotten she had. Screaming in Nowhere had grown so tiresome with nobody listening, she’d given up on it.

  “Sora… you didn’t do that,” he said. “That wasn’t you.”

  Pulling back, Sora wiped her nose with the sleeve of her kimono. She couldn’t speak, but she looked up at him in a way she hoped encouraged further explanation. As always, Whitney knew exactly what she was asking.

  “It was the Sanguine Lords. They banished…” Whitney stopped for just a fraction of a second before saying, “… Kazimir and he was holding me. That’s it. Bad timing.”

  “What?” It was all Sora could manage. The knowledge, whether true or not, that she hadn’t been responsible for sending Whitney to that awful place brought a small sense of relief to her overburdened heart.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Kazimir disobeyed his gods, or masters, or whatever they are—were. They exiled him to Elsewhere to atone for his sins or rebellion. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the longest. I don’t even know how he got out… it might have been better if…” His breath caught in his throat.

  Sora knew it must have been trying for him to talk about the vicious upyr that he’d apparently befriended—the upyr who’d tortured her. Although she’d barely spoken on the trip back from Brekliodad, Whitney had. It was one of the many things about him that simultaneously made her love him and infuriated her—Whitney never knew when to shut up. He’d told her all about Elsewhere, and living with Kazimir for six years, and Fake Troborough, the whole thing, even when she’d made believe she was sleeping.

  “Come here, sit down,” Whitney said.

  He dragged her down a couple steps to a bench bolted to the deck, and she was snapped back to the present. Aquira landed beside them, and Sora suddenly found herself grateful that the main deck was empty. Whitney took the seat next to her and reached out to scratch Aquira on the top of the head.

  “Aquira missed you,” Whitney said.

  “I’m so sorry, Whit,” Sora whispered. She rubbed the top of his hand. “I really am.”

  “You never have to be sorry with me. You did what you thought you needed to.”

  Sora pulled her hand back and stared down at both of hers. She saw blood there even though she knew they were clean. There was always blood on them now.

  “You cared about the upyr, didn’t you?” Sora asked.

  Whitney was quiet, something he rarely ever was. He shut his eyes, cleared his throat, and said, “I know it doesn’t make sense. When you knew him, he was a monster. But then—“

  “He saved my life,” Sora interjected. “You were going to say it might have been better if he’d stayed in Elsewhere, but that’s not true. If he hadn’t escaped with you, I might still be trapped with her. She… she might have used me to destroy the world already.”

  His hand moved from Aquira’s head and clasped Sora’s. He smiled—not the same as earlier, though. This time, it was distant, diffident, and she quickly realized why. Whitney Fierstown, as caring and thoughtful as he might be, loved receiving credit. Even more so when he actually deserved it. This time, it wasn’t some tall tale.

  “You saved my life too,” she said. “I’d still be stuck in that awful place if not for the both of you and the others.”

  Whitney perked up noticeably and chuckled. “Kazimir may have been a blood-sucking pile of undead shog, but he was my blood-sucking pile of undead shog. And now, because of me, his apprentice is…” He exhaled, grew serious, and said. “Six years, I was there with him, Sora. That’s a long time. It’s a long time to forget past… indiscretions.”

  Sora wondered if he was referring to his actions when they were younger, and he left her. He’d told her he was sorry about a million times on that trip back from Brekliodad, and every time, she’d just stared at him.

  Sora shook her head solemnly, thinking about her own time buried deep in her mind and couldn’t imagine doing it for six years. Then, she looked up. The sun was nearly tucked behind the Pikeback Mountains to the north, and Pantego’s moons could already be seen hanging in the sky. Then she looked south again, fighting back the irrational fear of night that she’d been feeling ever since Nowhere.

  “What was it like?” she asked softly, trying to picture a world where the sun and moons didn’t exist. She’d been there with Whitney, but not for long, and most of that time was spent trying not to die from monsters and giant squids.

  Whitney’s face scrunched up, and he followed Sora’s gaze to the horizon. “It wasn’t all bad,” he said.

  His answer surprised her, and it must have shown on her face because he leaned in closer as if to comfort her.

  “You were there,” he said. “Well, not you-you, but old-you. Not old you. Younger-you.”

  “Me?” Sora asked, incredulous.

  “And younger me, and my parents and, well, everyone. All I can say is it was the weirdest experience of my life,” Whitney said with another chuckle. “I relived so many things there. It was like being an outsider to my own life.”

  Relived? Sora thought, wondering if that was why Whitney had brought up the bakery and had apologized so much. Had he seen her crying? Had he recognized how much he’d hurt her so many times? What about the time he’d left for good?

  “You keep apologizing to me. I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “You’ve offered plenty of those on the trip here,” Sora said.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d heard me.”

  “I was sad, not deaf.” Now it was Sora’s turn for a slight snigger, mirthless as it was.

  “Well, all I know is that Little Whitney was a shog-headed triss,” Whitney said.

  “And big Whitney isn’t?” Sora added. This time she chuckled. A real one.

  “Point taken. But either way, it was me who abandoned you. I was an idiot. I never should’ve left. If I hadn’t—“

  “You probably would have died right beside your parents in the plague,” Sora cut in. “Besides—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—Iam or the Pinyun tsu chahn ji duo, or whateve
r other gods there might be controlling things… they had a bigger purpose for you, Whitney Fierstown. World’s Greatest Thief or not… you helped saved Pantego more than once.”

  “No one is controlling my destiny,” Whitney said, puffing out his chest. “Nor yours. And you know what? We did save the world once already. Together… and Torsten, I guess.”

  “Iam’s shog—“

  “Sora! Language!”

  “Where… how is Torsten?” Sora asked.

  “He’s in Yarrington, last I heard. Blind as a priest.”

  “Blind? What? How?”

  “Redstar. The same night you and I were together in Elsewhere… burned out his eyes. Tssssss, pop!” Whitney placed his fists over his eyes and spread his palms like they were bursting.

  “That’s an awful thing to joke about,” she scolded.

  “He’s fiiiiine.”

  Sora had heard Freydis and Nesilia discussing Redstar’s death during the Earthmoot, which established Freydis as the new Arch Warlock. Though she wasn’t there when it had happened, when Sora tried to put her mind on Redstar’s death, she could see fragments of the very moment he’d died—the instant Nesilia left King Pi’s body and entered into hers.

  “But Torsten killed him,” she said, low. “Drove a sword right through his chest after the Drav Cra killed Wren the Holy.”

  “How did you know all that?” Whitney scratched his chin. “I don’t remember talking about that oversized knight on the sea.”

  Sora’s chin dropped to her chest. “Because Nesilia knew.”

  Whitney’s eyes went wide. “Do you know everything she knew?”

  She shrugged. “I shared every memory with her… sometimes I think she’s still…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Still what?” Whitney’s brow furrowed.

  “Nothing… never mind. I think I need sleep,” she said. “I just want this to be over.” She went to stand, but Whitney slid in front of her and kneeled so she couldn’t.

  “Still what?” he asked. “You still feel her, don’t you?”

  Sora went quiet, stroking Aquira’s tail. She was exhausted just from having the conversation in the first place. She’d grown used to Nesilia merely talking at her. Telling Whitney that she believed Nesilia might still be in her mind somewhere, lurking… it was too much.