River’s End ch 65: A Huge Loss

Traitorous. Banished. The words echo as I hide with Sazlii in the neck of the ship above the control room. It’s a maintenance access point for the weapon arrays digging into my back, but if that’s all, why would this space have shielding to block our life signs from scanners? Someone intended for this to be a hiding place, probably the same one who thought it would be great to have the lasers appear to shoot out of the bird-shaped ship’s eyes and beak.

I’m not sure that someone isn’t Valon.

“You will need to be quieter once the search begins,” Sazlii whispers.

“Sorry,” I grumble, hugging my knees closer to myself. We’re crammed in here like canned vegetables, and it smells of our own breaths. I didn’t have breakfast, but she ate baffble recently. The sweet acidic fruit’s aroma isn’t bad, just very noticeable.

It’s dark, or at least, no light slithers across my skin, but I feel her gaze. Maybe it’s her curiosity. The Lorsknu perk like dapkie catching the scent of prey.

“Valon says you can see beyond the walls of the ship.”

He also told me not to tell anyone that, but I’m starting to trust Sazlii. She has protected me more than once. She explains things. She doesn’t tease me about my feelings, and she takes them seriously. If Sjaealam views himself as my father, I want to see this caring mykta as my mother.

At my nod, she continues, “How close are we to the River’s End?”

It looms, sparkles of life forming a massive beast, jaws closing around us. “Very. Why?”

“You need answers to settle you, things you should know before we board. In time, you will get more details from the memories Sjaealam gave, but I will tell you quickly. Do not interrupt.”

I play the part of a good child, motionless and attentive as the Lorsknu weigh her every word. She speaks the truth, at least as she believes it, even if she does not like the tale. Neither do I.

“Lily wanted Rablah to be the perfect blend of Surra and Seallaii, to combine the beauty of both. She loved Surra and spent many of her adolescent years studying there, befriending the elite drawn in by her charisma. She made gifts for them, creatures meant to entertain and protect. She patterned one of these after the original idea for vedia. She could bond with it, one mind in two bodies, one to remain on Surra, the other to travel the stars.

“When she was murdered, the Surra-na rebels thought they destroyed it as well, but it waited within the ruins of the largest elite palace, unable to move, plotting revenge. Wisteria claimed Lily was not dead, but no one believed her. Wisteria was a keilan, and though Sjaealam did all he could to safeguard her, she was brought to Seallaii and killed.”

I almost say something at this point, but I hold my tongue. She hasn’t gotten to the important part yet.

“Centuries passed, and Lily’s anger grew. Why did her family never come for her? Why let Wisteria die? Why abandon Rablah? She harbored three goals: Humiliate Seallaii. Ruin the name of Surra. Give a beautiful world exactly halfway between them to her Rablah-nas.

“She played the muse of countless Surra-na inventors until they crafted what she needed: a mechanical army, swift, space-faring vessels, and the means to animate her again.

“Of course, her clan came. Kel destroyed her and blamed himself for it all. That guilt bled into Sjaealam, but the damage could not be undone. Grenswa barely survived, and they named the invaders Shlykrii, slayers. Sjaealam did what he could to clean the mess, and what he could not fix, he covered up.”

“That’s how he became the hero of Grenswa?” I bite every word.

Sazlii sighs. “It is not a title he takes pride in. I say this so you know he does have secrets he would die to keep. Silvika believes these secrets include past plots to assassinate his sister and steal the throne. They have a message from your father claiming exactly that, and the ruler of Seallaii died meeting with him. They believe either it was a trap and Kel killed her, or Sjaealam learned of Kel’s confession and killed them both. Kel betrayed Seallaii, or he betrayed his royal, and to Silvika, this latter is worse.”

Swallowing hard, I nod slowly. “I’m surprised we weren’t banished sooner.”

“The Abaeyoi are River’s direct descendants. To lose that line is a huge loss for the River Guardians.”

A chuckle rumbles in my chest. It shouldn’t be funny, but I can’t stop the laugh. River betrayed the world again and again as he conquered it and never lived by its rules. Why expect anything else of his descendants? Had they not taken in my father, a vedia, one of their ancestor’s creations, the clan would have never born a keilan, let alone two. My brother, assuming some version of him existed, would have remained the secret weapon of the River’s End and destroyed the River Guardians before they could banish him. The line’s impunity would have stayed intact.

The ship shudders, then falls still with a groan, and I sober. Silence and stillness fester for several seconds before voices filter through the floor. It’s scan proof but not soundproof? Sazlii’s not surprised, so apparently that’s correct.

Likely due to her being the only one not wearing a veil or helmet, Nalquii’s bell-like voice rings the clearest. “[You speak to the sovereign of Seallaii through her vedia. We demand an audience with your leader.]”

Only every third word of the reply is discernable, something about their king being interested but the River Guardian having to die. It’s a valid response. Valon can control their ship, probably. He’s also annoying.

“[You there behind the spokesman,]” Nalquii calls, “[with the scarlet braids flowing from the back of his helmet, is that your real hair?]

I hold my breath. Is it my brother? Or are the braids a trophy stolen from another member of my family when they were murdered?

If someone answers, I don’t hear it. My Lorsknu are as hard to hold back as a stream.

‘No one will notice us,’ they excuse, but Nalquii channels Silvika again, and I will not get sucked back into that underworld. If that’s really Ishiyae, I won’t pull him in.

Nalquii walks away, down a ramp maybe? Valon said he would open the hatch to this room alone and seal off any others. Sazlii and I could have hidden elsewhere if we didn’t have to worry about the ship no longer listening to me any moment now.

“[Do you think that helmet conceals you, Sojourner Child of the Stars? You can barely stand there. Your fear and pain are as Seallaii’s rings.]” She switches languages, and her voice softens. “I know exactly who you are. Your bond with my little sister is very unfortunate. Otherwise, I could have extended a second-tier connection to you.”

“I’d die before being yours.”

“You will die, true. I would keep you only as long as needed for you to accomplish my objective. Now my poor sister will have to experience the loss of a vedia when these Shlykrii-nas kill you.”

He flinches. Enough of my Lorsknu have seeped into the room, I feel everything, every breath, every blink hidden by a visor. Can I position everyone in there like dolls? End this fight before it begins?

Sazlii grabs my shoulders, thumbs pressed to my collar, and unlike her sister, she does have the strength to complete the move. “That is a knife that must never be wielded,” she hisses, “no matter how much that ridiculous princess deviates from the plan.”

It was just a thought. I wouldn’t have done it. Silvika made Nalquii stab her beloved. I won’t be like that, forcing people to do things against their innermost will.

Chaos grips the room below us. When Nalquii orders the Shlykrii-nas to attack Ishiyae, they do, but not all of those with him are susceptible to her charisma. Massive Rablah-nas mow down any target he gives them. They have Valon in their sights, but the scyuen leaps in front of him, enormous wings like a wall. The next moment, she is a needle of liquid mercury, teeth piercing armor, delivering her venom to thighs and torsos.

Nalquii moves just as fast, dodging Ishiyae’s every shot and firing back at him.

Sazlii shakes me. “If you get involved, you will only bridge them again, and Ishiyae has no chance of fighting her within.”

“Isn’t that what we want, an easy victory?”

“Could you live with being the cause of his easy defeat?”

No. My heart pinches, both at the thought of losing my brother when I’ve barely met him and at the fact that she understands this.

As she retreats, fingers toggling the latch, it hits me why she understands. Pain coats her movements, medicated into a dull, thin layer. The Lorsknu trace it to deeps slashes on her side, chest, and neck.

Below, a bullet hits Nalquii’s shooter, and it sparks. She hurls it at Ishiyae, and as he evades, she tackles him. He tumbles, twists, and slams her into the wall. It caves to cushion her, but the ship’s safety features won’t protect her from her dagger in his hand.

“When did Valon’s scyuen slash you?” I ask, but the door beneath Sazlii falls open, and she drops onto Ishiyae.

Zajal could have clawed her for any number of reasons, but it makes the most sense if she restrained the scyuen when Nalquii stabbed Valon. Back on Grenswa, when Dollii had only threatened him, I had shared Zajal’s mind. She had determined the golden-haired human must die for that. Someone actually stabbing him? More than once as he screamed? There was no way the scyuen would not have come. She would have shredded Nalquii.

Sazlii risked her life to prevent that. She did not want Nalquii to win that fight, but nor would she let her sister die.

Ishiyae scrambles away from Sazlii. His weapons lie in pieces scattered across the floor. They exchange barely blocked strikes in an endless series. Each moment of impact is a still frame, no movement or time between it and the next. Sazlii is stronger, wiser. Ishiyae is faster and more cunning. He sees where she hurts and aims accordingly.

Nalquii leaps on him from behind and tangles his limbs with her legs. Throat trapped in the crook of her elbow, he can’t breathe. A spare dagger, smaller but no less sharp, parts his armored collar as if it is made of sponge, and the blade rests against his flesh.

She whispers, but the Lorsknu hear it as if she speaks into my own ear. “Still want to die?”

No, he absolutely doesn’t. He never has. His desire to live burns hotter than a supernova in a way that is so familiar, how could I ever have forgotten it? He explodes into movement and wrenches free. With a horrible pop, his shoulder dislocates, and the knife licks his skin, drawing a line down the same arm. The Lorsknu flock to his pain, lapping it like thirsty rodents.

He has Nalquii’s wrist. He sweeps her feet from under her. A boot sinks into her gut.

I sit here, watching. Doing nothing. Sazlii is occupied dealing with the infinite flood of Rablah-nas clambering up the hatch. They surround the ship. Valon stands in a corner, protected by his scyuen.

Why have I come if I’m just going to do nothing? I’ll sneak out in this chaos. I’ll find Rosa, bring her back here, and Valon can worry about whatever other plans he has.

My knees leave my chest, toes curling over the edge of the opening. Ishiyae pauses, and so do I. He knows someone’s here, but does he know who? Will he fight me? I don’t want to fight him.

He leaps. Fingers hook around my ankle. As I start to fall, my Lorsknu scatter. All is dark, silent except for a shriek. Rosa’s voice tears through my head, and it is everything. All I see. All I hear, feel, taste, or smell.

Just as abruptly, it vanishes, and the scene slams back into me. It’s too much, like a power surge lighting the world before everything shuts down. I’m in darkness again. My Lorsknu tell me nothing. I’m not sure they’re awake.

All I have is the view as it was in that moment—me on the floor not far from Ishiyae on his knees. Rablah-nas surround us, protective but confused by how much my face looks like their commander’s beneath his helmet. If anything changes, I have to rely on my ears or the passage of air over what little of my skin is exposed.

“What happened?’

Ishiyae doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure he can. He’s Rosa’s vedia. If her cry nearly knocked me out, what did it do to him?

‘Rosa? What’s going on? Show me where you are and what I need to do.’

“This isn’t working,” Sazlii bellows as blades scrape armor with metallic cries. Her daggers are sharper and don’t scrape. They puncture and slash, clearing a path down the ramp. “Seal the ship and stay inside, Valon.”

No, we’re not here to hide. Rosa needs us now. Even if I can find the words, they won’t listen. Let them close the door. I’ll be on the other side of it.

Gulping a deep breath, I squeeze between the Rablah-nas’ knees and charge after Sazlii. The ramp rises. I keep low and roll beyond its side, bouncing off unseen obstacles. I didn’t have the Lorsknu’s sight for long, but how much of a crutch it’s become. Every unlevel surface catches me off guard, and the warmth of enemy soldiers hardly gives me enough time to swivel around them. The air whispers of their blades, and I stumble more than dance.

Something punches my chest, and I go down. A bullet. It’s not enough to pierce my woven scyuen hide armor, but it’ll leave a bruise. A moment later, I regain my footing, but a forearm pushes me back. With a thud, my shoulders hit the hull of the Nadinshé’s Peace, and I stay, unable to breathe. I’m not sure if that’s because of the pressure outside my chest or within.

I wish I could see my captor’s face, see if we really look that much alike. My eyes are broken, and he wears a helmet, but his heavy, uneven breaths wheeze through its cracks. If I weren’t trapped in this darkness, I might glimpse some of his face. I’d be able to tell if his hair is the same red as mine.

Like a hand moving after having been sat upon all night, the Lorsknu stir with an unpleasant tingle. They show me fragmented flashes. My own face, drawn with tension. Sazlii bending back under a strike, another coming at her from behind. She flings a blade through the first attacker as her braid wraps the second’s sword and pulls it from his grasp.

My brother holds Nalquii’s very sharp dagger beneath my chin, but it shakes. Because he can’t hurt me? Or because he wields it with his injured arm?

Two syllables slide off my tongue, something I used to say often. Something I had forgotten, but my muscles never did. “Ishi.”

He pushes away. “[How…? Why…?]”

Two more words, strained and small. There’s nothing physically constricting my chest anymore, only the weight of all the worlds I know. “{Help, please.}” Menyaze. Does he even understand Menyaze? I feel like I’ve said this to him before in a memory just out of reach. A dream, maybe. He lives on a Shlyk—

No, I shouldn’t call them that, not when that sullied reputation is my family’s fault. He has grown among these Surra-nas. His unfinished sentences are in Laysis, so I choose my words in that language as I grope toward him. “[Help me find her, Ishi.]”

“{Fredo, I’m so—}”

Another flash, a Surra-na and a rifle his same size taking aim at me.

Ishi steps between us. “[Stop. Protect him as if—]”

Rosa’s scream comes again. To me, it is distant, a vibration through a nearly severed rope, but Ishi teeters. I catch him and fall against the hull of the Nadinshés Peace again. He stays on his feet. Doubled over. Trembling. Hands tangled in his hair. Moisture drips on my fingers. Tears?

He started to tell me something in Menyaze before, and I’d rather stick to it, our mother tongue, even if I can’t remember our mother speaking it. “{Ishi, what’s happening?}”

Metal clatters. He dropped the dagger. “{I hate you both so much.}” He hisses. “{It doesn’t matter. Please stop. Just make it stop.}”

“{I’m trying.}” Grip firm on his arms, I shake him as much as I dare. “{Tell me where Rosa is, and I promise I’ll make this pain stop.}”

“{You don’t—}”

He rips from my grasp. A blade whooshes in front of my face, trailed by the sweet acidic scent of baffble. An explosion of fear fuels my Lorsknu just long enough to give me one frame. Ishi kneels, injured arm wrenched behind him. Sazlii’s foot presses on his back, her dagger a braid’s width from his nape and descending.

I shout. It’s a wordless, stupid cry, an infant’s wail, demanding what it can’t articulate, but the Lorsknu understand it. Groggy and hobbling and knowing nothing but my desperation, they cling to Sazlii. She stills for less than a heartbeat, but that’s all Ishi needs.

Movement of the air is not enough to paint the scene, but he moves so fast, I’m not sure I would see it all anyway. As my heart begins a thump, Ishi still kneels, and before it finishes, he faces Sazlii, her own dagger through her ribs. In the silence between heartbeats, a squelch tells of the blade’s twist. Sazlii’s gasp gurgles, and I am at her side as she crumples on the floor.

No, no, no, this can’t be happening. A nightmare. It must be. Silvika’s fabrication. Sazlii cannot die like this. I press my hand over the hole beside her sternum. Hot blood flows between my fingers. I am the blade that must never be wielded. She said that only a few minutes ago, but I interfered. If I hadn’t stalled her…

If I hadn’t stalled her, my brother would lie here instead.

Behind me, Ishi sinks to his knees and falls on his side as if her mirror image. Only he’s not bleeding out. Did the blade impale her heart? Regardless, untreated, this wound will be fatal. I have to get her to Valon. River Guardian medical treatment saved me after I burned on that island. It can fix this little hole.

I slide my arms beneath her, but she doesn’t rise with my hands. As if she is a sand sculpture, her body flakes and crumbles. I balk, but the Lorsknu don’t. They are tiny carrion birds, and I wish I could choose not to watch.

She’s gone, and the filth of it adheres to me, sinking into my skin so I can never scrub it off. It reeks of blood and everything bitter.

Rosa screams a third time, unseen somewhere on the other side of a vast sea, and I can’t move. Beneath my hand, Ishi’s chest rises in a shaky breath. Enemy soldiers surround us, murmuring, but it doesn’t even sound like words. Someone, please tell me what I’m supposed to do.

Continued in chapter 66: An Ember in the Waning Light

Thank you for reading!