River’s End ch 67: Ready to Outpace Lightning

The world continues to move all around me, noisy as ever, but all I can do is breathe. I only remember to do that because of the rise and fall of Ishi’s chest beneath my hand. If I don’t breathe in, neither will he. It’s stupid and illogical, but it means I take that next inhale.

Noise crawls closer. Footsteps. People. A hand takes my bicep, and I grab it, yank and twist, flipping its owner. I will not move until I figure out what I’m supposed to do.

Weapons surround me, swords and shooters, but they still at a superior’s bark. He says Commander Ishiyae wanted me protected. Others murmur their protestations, but no one touches me.

My advocate kneels to examine Ishi, and my grip tightens. I know he needs medical attention, but if they take him from me now, will I ever find him again? I need medical attention, too. They don’t see that. I’m not cut. My bruises are minor. But an ache consumes me, and I can’t pinpoint its source.

The Surra-na speaks proper Laysis. If I concentrate, I can understand him. He drones on about how they’ll take us both to the central infirmary, where the best doctors are. Again, others argue.

I pretend to stare at him blankly. Before I go anywhere, I need to know what the plan is. Both what it was and how it has changed now that Sazlii...

No, don’t even think it. Don’t relive it again. It’s in the past. It can’t be changed. Figure out how to move forward. Start by paying better attention to the surroundings.

Some distance behind me, they’re setting something up. A cannon? A drill? They mean to break open the Nadinshé’s Peace. If they do that, we’ll have no way off this ship. They’ll kill Valon. Probably Nalquii, too, at this point. It’ll be just me. A rescue party of one with no ship and no knowledge of how to fly one anyway.

I reach out to Nalquii, imagine sinking starry fingers through her skull, but just that. No deeper. Not far enough for Silvika to have a chance of grabbing any part of me I can’t lose.

‘Tell me our plan.’

‘Sit still, child. Keep them exactly where they are.’

The words taste of poison, and everything in me says to rebel. I pull Ishi closer, feet leveling on the floor, ready to rise. ‘They’re planning to crack open the ship.’

She presses buttons, and menus flash. I wouldn’t know what they meant, but she does. She’s powering up the ship’s weapons and aiming. Not at me specifically, but at Ishi and those gathered around him. I just happen to be here, too, and she wants me to keep them here.

I impel my Lorsknu further, not deeper like a knife, but broader like a blanket. They slide beneath her skin, traveling her neural pathways and tugging at the fibers of her muscles. She wants me to be still. Fine. I’ll still her also.

‘He’s a murderer!’

It’s both a scream and a whisper in the way that only a thought can be. And it’s true. Ishi has killed. I can’t deny that or the guilt drenching me. Nalquii had to lose a sister for me to regain my brother. I didn’t want either to die. One did, and I will not lose the other. I don’t want to lose anyone.

As it stands, I won’t hurt Nalquii, and I won’t release her. The next move is hers, or it would be if the world revolved around us. Ishi’s warmth disappears from beneath my hand. I pat the floor, searching for him, though I know he’s not there. His Lorsknu call to me from an increasing interval.

My back hits the wall at the edge of the hangar, and I slide down it. A metallic click sounds, and in the same direction, a single star of life hovers, motionless, unlike the others scurrying behind it.

“[Stay.]” He’s tense, looking for any excuse to fire. My armor protected me once, but this time he aims at my exposed head.

Don’t look too alert. Don’t give him a reason to kill me. Relax. Be limber, casual but ready to outpace lightning.

“[Take me to the infirmary with Ishi.]”

The Surra-na grunts, drawing closer, shooter held high. “[You’re fine.]”

“[I’m fine like a fish in the desert.]”

“[If the fish doesn’t like the desert, wait until the sun comes out.]”

Whatever he means by that, I don’t like the sound of it, but I don’t move. I stay like he ordered. With my back against the wall, I can concentrate on keeping Nalquii restrained without fear of falling over.

“Nal, you are smarter than this.” Valon tows her away from the console. It’s dark inside, but his silver hair reflects the screens in a way his eyes do not. In the dimness, they look like sharp pieces of coal balanced atop his veil. “Silvika chose you for your intelligence, and she needs to listen to you. Look beyond quick revenge or a haphazard takeover.”

Her exhale shakes, and I allow her enough freedom to wipe her face.

He notices the stilted movement. “Silvika? Or…”

Nalquii responds through her teeth. “Fredo.”

“I do not blame him. You would have incinerated us all, firing that weapon within an atmosphere.” He somehow makes the rebuke sound kind, hand on her jaw, fingers rubbing small circles behind her ear.

Her breaths even out, and despite the veil, he gives her a grim smile.

“Your princess must understand we are not on Seallaii. This is Sojourner business, and she must trust Sojourner plans. Fredo might be the only one who can salvage this situation. Can he hear me?”

She nods. Her voice is hoarse. “He wants to know the plan.”

“He needs to at this point.” Sighing, he draws back from her a bit. While Sazlii resents the distance, I’m grateful for it, and I’m the one he speaks to now. “We were supposed to meet with their leader. Sazlii would have killed him, and we would have seen a successor installed with the understanding that their recent aggressive behavior is unacceptable.”

‘Sounds like we’re dealing with children.’

He can’t hear me, but Nalquii’s agreement flows through the Lorsknu like a frothy tide.

‘I’m out here, and they’re not sure what to do with me. Should I meet with their leader instead?’

The wall leaves my back. I’m flying. No, I’m being carried. Dragged, a giant Rablah-na on either side. I plant my feet but find no traction.

“[Where are we going?]”

They stop, knock me to my knees, and pull my arms behind me. Heat flares at my back. That Surra-na wasn’t literal when he talked about a sun, was he?

Someone steps in front of me with a tsk. A finger, cold and hard as steel, tries to lift my chin. When I refuse, he grabs my jaw and jerks my face one way, then the other. “[If it weren’t impossible, one would swear he was Abaeyoi. Do you know what happened to them, boy?]”

I put on my best glower and hope it looks like my eyes focus on him. His breath provides an easy trail, reeking of harsh spices and rotting meat.

He turns his back to me, and it doesn’t smell any better. “[To those aboard the Sojourner vessel, you are granted five seconds to open the hatch. Once this leeway expires, every moment your ship remains sealed is a moment this boy will experience the most excruciating pain we can imagine.]”

With a step back, he tangles his gloved hand in my hair and pulls as if he intends to lift me. I’m light here, so he probably could if a Rablah-na hadn’t clamped down on either of my forearms. They’re not underestimating me. They don’t trust chains not to break or slip. They know Ishi’s strength. They know he can fight.

They don’t know me. Relax, Fredo. Wait for the moment to strike. If I’m going to slip free, I have to believe I can.

I’m not sure I can. Either of my captors can snap my wrist on a whim.

He’s counting. He’s on three. Relax. Think rationally.

I extend my thoughts toward Nalquii again. ‘They only asked that Valon die. Put him in that ice coffin like you did me.’

‘No.’

“[Four]”

‘At least pass along the suggestion.’

‘We are not faking Valon’s death.’

‘You’ll just let them torture me then? For how long?’

I dive into her nervous system again, hoping to at least glimpse Valon in thought, something to give me a little hope. She does see him, but the sight is far down the path of ‘things I never wanted to see.’ They kiss, deeply, like lovers in a farewell, grabbing as if they’ll never let go. Existing at the speed of thought, I experience it in slow motion, every point of contact, doused by the waves of shared grief, longing, and comfort. I’m about to vomit.

I am beyond done. ‘I’m going to find Rosa like I came here to do. Have fun when they break open your ship.’

The Surra—no, he intends to torture me. He doesn’t deserve to be called nice things. The Shlykrii-na doesn’t bother voicing the fifth second. He turns, commands in his throat and mouth open to shout them. With every drop of malice in me, I spit. He chokes. All eyes pounce on him, and distracted hands are looser.

I yank left. The Rablah-na’s vice clamps down on my right arm before I’m free, but that’s okay. That’s not my goal yet.

With his grip redoubled on my hair, the still-retching Shlykrii-na wrenches me upright. I comply too easily, and as he reels, I throw myself right. Tangled, the two of us flop on one captor, and with a twist, my arm slips free. A kick finds the back of my other captor’s elbow, and armor cracks with a sharp, staccato note. A second kick connects with his jaw, louder, and his grip vanishes.

I hit the ground in a roll, already running, and book it for the nearest tunnel out of this hangar. Amid the thousands of stars, Rosa and Ishi are raindrops in a pond, but something tugs at my soul, and I follow it.

***

I can’t find her. I can’t see, and I can’t hide. The Lorsknu show me drunk, distorted things I barely make sense of.

I’m not lost on this enemy ship. I know how to get back to the Nadinshé’s Peace, but it’s not where I need to be, and I would crash into as many walls in retreat as I did getting here. Wherever here actually is.

Judging from the placement of life sources around me, the River’s End is a collection of spires positioned along the edges of a flat, twisting core. I am deep in that central line but between spires. Something like a hollow, faded wail guides me, but I don’t believe it’s Rosa. It’s older, though I don’t know why I have that impression or why it both scares and enraptures me. Should I find it and lay this curiosity to rest? Or should I prioritize my search for Rosa?

Except I have no idea where to start a search for her now.

No, I do. My brother is her vedia. He’ll know where she is. He won’t tell Valon. He’ll never tell Nalquii. But he might tell me.

It feels strange, hoping to use him like this. It’s only because I want what’s best for him, too. I want us to be on the same side. I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand having to share Rosa with others in an entourage. Logically, I understood that it would happen and that it should be a relief. It wouldn’t fall all on me to protect her. To strengthen her. To advise her. An entourage should do all those things, and how arrogant of me to believe myself to be all she would need.

My head knew that, but my heart didn’t. Her smile was among my first memories, and I wanted to be everything for her. The bond was something special just between the two of us. Anyone else would feel like an intruder.

Yet now, if there has to be a third connected to us, as inconvenient as it is, it feels right for it to be Ishi. He’s not an intruder. If anything, Rosa is. The bond between him and I is older, maybe even deeper.

At the tips of my starry fingers, he stirs, barely awake. I can ask him where she is.

“Ho.”

I freeze, arm against the wall I thought was between me and the speaker. Foiled by a window after I’ve come so far.

A Rablah-na steps through a doorway, voice even deeper than it was through the glass. The floor rattles at it. “[Commander Ishiyae, glad to see you! We heard you were injured by Sojourner invaders.]”

How lucky that I have my brother’s face. And how interesting that I’m called the invader when they pulled our ship aboard and demanded some of our party die. Victors get to assign the labels, I guess.

“[Your commander is still a bit unsteady,]” I say with Laysis’ proper third-person reference to myself. The corner of my lip twitches. I could also be talking about Ishi, and the statement would not be untrue. “[He needs to find Ro- his- the Seallaii-na with pink eyes.]”

“[The flower has run off again?]” With a chuckle, he wraps a stabilizing arm around my shoulders. Others gather around as we walk. “[Perhaps you should be nicer to her.]”

“[Perhaps,]” I agree. If they treat Rosa with the respect she deserves, will she cooperate with them? Will she wish to stay here? And if she stays, I’ll stay. I can’t go home anyway. “[Where are we going?]”

“[Forgive the observation, but you do not look well, Commander Ishiyae. Rest in your rooms. Trust us to carry out your search.]”

Can I? In Ishi’s room, I’ll be less likely to have a chance encounter with those who saw me in the hanger and are looking for me. They won’t think to check there, and when Ishi leaves the infirmary, he’ll return to his room. We’ll meet again, not in battle, but in a private place where we can talk.

If these Rablah-nas manage to find Rosa, though, will she come willingly?

They take my silence for a yes, but I can’t leave her rescue to chance.

My steps drag. “[Where will you look for her?]”

“[Unless you have other suggestions, we will return to where she was last known to be and track her.]

Since I’m not sure she actually has run off again, that’s likely where they’ll still find her.

I nod. “[Good plan. When you find her, tell her an urgent matter requires her presence immediately. Tell her it’s about Fredo.]”

“[Yes, Sir.]” Their agreement is sunshine upon my skin, yet shadows of doubt swirl through it. I hope it wasn’t a mistake to mention my real name.

“Commander,” another ventures in a soft, unsure tone. Oddly, he uses the Sishgil word, and the rest of his sentence is a mix. “Cut you the hair? Damaged the battle to it?”

Several beats pass. While that grammar doesn’t fit with those words, it is familiar. Instead of only detangling his meaning, I drop each term into my database of synonyms and find the vocab that suits the arrangement. It belongs to one of Seallaii’s oldest languages, Diama. Rosa hates it, but it’s Dollii’s favorite to write fantastical tales in because its way of always putting the verb first emphasizes the actions.

I stick to Laysis, though. “[Someone evil cut it, but he’s dead now. The hair will grow back eventually.]”

Despite condolences and huzzahs from the rest of the group, the one who asked only darkens with more doubt. It is an odd chill, like when a cloud hides the sun or when a breeze hits your face from below if you stand too close to the edge of a ravine.

My supporter’s grip tightens. “[Commander, why do you stare at Ponpi as if you see right through him?]”

I hold back a guffaw. That’s an accurate way of describing how I see anything.

On second thought, maybe a little teasing will clear the air. “[Just trying to figure out why he reeks.]”

A few laugh, but not the one who holds me upright. He stops. “[What’s his name?]”

From the way he says it, I’m sure “Ponpi” is the wrong answer. That was a test, then.

I cut left, but my supporter’s hold is too firm. This close, my elbow jab doesn’t have the leverage to crack his armor. My kick is caught, and so is a feinted punch, then a real one, all before I hit the ground with them on top of me, arms pinned behind my back.

My wiggling does nothing as they excitedly chatter about what to do with me. Their Diama grammar is even harder to follow with all of them talking at once. The loudest claims I must be a shapeshifter that came with the Napix envoys. Another suggests cutting my arm off because a shapeshifter’s would bleed differently. A third much more reasonably advises that a small incision would grant the same proof.

Shapeshifters are myths, as are the Napix and all their uncanny abilities. But if these Rablah-nas have met envoys from that supposedly faraway world, then maybe I’m mistaken. Me denying the existence of such creatures will hardly convince them. So, I fall still and listen, waiting to feel the sting of a blade and hoping they don’t take offense at how I bleed.

A growling voice drops from the ceiling. “[Took you idiots long enough.]”

There's a metallic squeak—a vent opening maybe—then four padded feet hit the ground.

A soft paw presses into my cheek. “[Ishi has a very noticeable scar through his left eye.]”

Whoever he is, he has very sharp claws, and in this position, he could easily give me a mark to match my brother’s.

“[Goddess-kin sometimes erase scars.]”

The newcomer snorts. From the paws, the stance, and the scent, I’m certain he’s canine. “[Oh, and have you seen Ishi erase his?]”

“[He could—]” The sentence ends in a light punch from one of the others.

“[What point are we even arguing? He’s not Commander Ishiyae, and as his pet, Togdy knows that best.]”

The canine’s foot leaves my face, but his gruff voice acquires deeper menace. “[You’ve been told enough times that Togdy is older. Ishi is Togdy’s pet.]”

A thought escapes as a whisper. “[Togdy, like the Dossea-ku bush?]”

“[It’s a very formidable bush with spikes.]” With deliberately heavy steps, he walks onto my back and sits between my shoulder blades. “[Such a shame that you don’t recall helping to pick it out. You were once Togdy’s pet, too, Fredo.]”

I don’t take that literally, but this Dossea-na probably knew us when we were small. I tear through every corner of my memory, but there’s not a trace of him, no stray hair or echo of voice. Yet, if I helped pick out his name…

“[What was your name before?]”

“Nour.”

Despite the fact that I am pinned in an unfavorable position by people who suggested cutting my arm off less than a minute ago and that Togdy’s weight is doing its best to smash my lungs into the floor, I laugh. I’m probably insane at this point. “[If I was named ‘rust’ in Menyaze, I’d have changed it, too.]” With another realization, I sober. “[Wait, do you speak Menyaze?]”

He shouldn’t, but I want him to say yes. It’ll mean Ishi trusts him enough to teach him. He’s a friend.

He stands and noisily shakes his fur into place. “[Despite Fredo’s deplorable memory and the fact that he left us behind, he is goddess-kin.]” His claws dig into the back of my neck as he steps off me. “[Even more than that, he is like Lady Wisteria.]”

Four of my six captors let go, and the other two flinch.

“[Let him up,]” the Dossea-na says, claws clicking on the hard floor as he prances away. It’s not an order, more like the granting of permission. They don’t have to, but it wouldn’t be wrong if they did. As if he doesn’t care one way or the other. Which wouldn’t be as bad if he didn’t add, “[Togdy knows what he searches for. If he follows, Togdy will show him. If not, someone less friendly will find him.]”

“[We can’t just let him wander around, even if he is goddess-kin,] the one still pinioning my arms protests. He’s the first one who spoke to me. The slightest tremor mars his stalwart grip, and the Lorsknu croon at the scent of his unease. “[Especially if he is goddess-kin. The Napix envoys will board soon.]”

Stopping, Togdy throws back the most sarcastic sigh. “[Those would be the less friendly ones Togdy referenced.]”

I should take it as a warning. Logic sees that clearer than any light, but my curious heart longs to see what creatures they’re labeling with the Napix name. If they are real, I want to see them. I want to witness them showing off everything that the legends claim. Can they really walk amid flame and not burn? Live off energy siphoned from the heat of the air. Transform one object into another.

Of course, I won’t be able to actually see it. But can the Lorsknu discern the tricks behind it?

The clicks of Togdy’s feet fade to nothing in the distance. He said he knows what I search for. He’ll show me where to find it. Her. He’ll take me to Rosa, and that’s my top priority now. It has to be.

My hands are numb. Any attempt at moving them brings an ache to my shoulders.

“[Please,]” I whisper to my captors, “[let me follow the Dossea-na.]”

***

Everything smells old in here. Stale. Slowly rotting, and I hate it.

“[Moody, aren’t you?]” By my side, Togdy snorts. “[You’ve forgotten every manner Togdy taught you.]”

With a deep breath, I place a hand on the thing he has led me to. It’s warm. I could almost fool myself into believing it breathes. “[You said you were going to take me to what I was looking for.]”

“[Togdy did, even if you didn’t know this was it. Go on inside. It won’t eat you.]”

I’m not sure about that. The Lorsknu have already dived in, and it’s too much. Like a man carrying a thousand rugs, I’m about to collapse for all the images they show me. I shouldn’t have come this far. I knew as soon as I fell in line behind him that he headed in the direction of whatever pulled at me before. Whatever had led me away from Rosa. I wanted to find it. At every turn, I also hoped we would veer away from it. Now, here we are at the open hatch of my family’s ship.

The Star’s Serenade, he calls it.

When did I walk in? I am inside, right? Or have I left my body behind completely now? No, this is solid. I can’t go through the walls.

I sit. Togdy sits next to me and licks his paw.

“{You taught me manners?}” I try in Menyaze.

He finishes cleaning his paw before he answers. “{If you know anything useful, Togdy taught it to you.}”

That’s inaccurate, but I’ll grant him the exaggeration for now. “{I need someone to help me process all of this.}”

“{Not Togdy’s job.}”

Fair, even if it’s not what I want to hear. He doesn’t leave, though. With a yawn, he noisily combs at his floppy ears with a back foot. Tentatively, I reach toward him. The touch is a tap at first, and when he doesn’t object, a pat. Then I scratch behind his ear like I might for a dapkie.

“{You used to do that when you were little.}” He leans into my hand, solid. An anchor.

I’m here on the floor, not crawling through the walls. With this one hub in place, I can figure out where all the spokes lead, how they dangle and twirl around one another. It’s not the way a wheel is supposed to work, and yet it does, too efficiently. It’s a deadly thing, and I barely understand the surface of it. The rest lurks like shadows in deep, murky water, and I’m barely managing to keep afloat.

I need to understand this ability, but the mere thought of slipping under the surface fills me with such cold, everything within me slows to nearly a standstill.

I need to at least figure out what my range is. Can I still contact Nalquii? What about Sjaealam?

Too soon, the Dossea-na stands. “{Togdy hopes you’re still a friend. If you are, you’ll stay here until Ishi and Togdy figure out what to do with you.}”

“{I don’t have time—}” I try to rise, but he places a paw on my leg, claws clicking against my armor.

“{If they see you, you’ll mess up Ishi’s plans. So, stay.}” He whirls and flees.

Without an anchor, I’m lost again, spine against the wall but also in it. Through it. Surrounding it.

Focus, Fredo. Think. Collect yourself together with reason. You’re a humanoid with two arms, two legs, a head, and a core. You can’t go through things. You can’t fly.

Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

The word echoes, and all the impossibilities pour in. I can’t help Rosa like this. I can’t go home, even if I do rescue her. I can’t stay here. Unless…

What are Ishi’s plans?

Every plan I try to make leads back to that question. Ask him, Fredo. He’s there, less than an arm’s length for the Lorsknu.

But what if his schemes are unacceptable? What if he won’t listen to me? What if he really does hate me?

I hover, a hairsbreadth from clasping his shoulder. Surely he feels my attention, but he doesn’t respond. I must be bothering him. I should retreat.

I don’t have time to retreat. Time doesn’t stop for my woes. These Napix envoys will board and conduct whatever business they’re up to. The Shlykrii-nas will crack open Valon’s ship and kill him.

Who cares about any of that? Rescuing Rosa is all that matters. We can take this vessel, the Star’s Serenade, Rosa, Ishi, and I. Togdy, too, if he wants to come, and the Grenswa-nas if any of them are still alive. We have to return them home.

Would Dollii come with us, then? The four of us, traveling the stars, a family.

The rings on my left hand warm. “I would drop everything for you, Fredo.”

“Dollii? I hear you. Say something else, so I know it’s not a dream.”

“If it is, we’re having the same one, and there is no one else I’d rather share a dream with.”

The rings are uncomfortably hot. My Lorsknu swirl around them, nipping and tugging. They probably sense the others of their kind trapped within and no longer asleep. Did I summon Dollii by thinking of her? But this isn’t the first time she’s occupied my thoughts.

“This isn’t your first call,” she confesses with a trickle of amusement and a dash of embarrassment—a sprinkle of spice amid a warm, sweet drink. “I didn’t deem my input appropriate while Valon read the Girly Gab quiz to you, however.”

“You heard all of that?” A hollow pit forms in my stomach and fills with fire.

“Most of it—only things said aloud, mind you. And I was glad to hear it.” She clears her throat. “Softer feelings aside, though, tell me what has happened. Sjaealam refuses to see anyone, and I was so worried you had died.”

“Sazlii,” I croak, but my voice only breaks that one time. The rest of the words flow as if through a broken dam. I tell her everything, and she tells me what has happened on Grenswa.

Baby Minshyal is doing well. They have proven Niiq is Chrome, and the Iodine patriarch has adopted her. Sjaealam and Lafdo have been working with scientists, doctors, and manufacturers to combat the bioweapon the Shlykrii-nas had released into the oceans, but now Dollii has taken Sjaealam’s place. It’s hard. A lot of it is beyond her understanding, and Grenswa’s days are long. But it’s fulfilling work. Because of it, many of the Essentia patriarchs have opened negotiations with the royal capital. Timqé wants things to be less segregated.

“Is he the official first prince and next king, then?”

“That is likely if his brother does not return.”

I flip that thought over in my mind several times, staring at its ugly underside before voicing it. “Would it be better if Hent doesn’t come back?”

“Better for whom? For Grenswa as a whole, perhaps yes. Better for Hent and those who love him, certainly not. Better for Seallaii, no since we have promised to do all we can to bring him home. To fail will cause a loss of face.”

“I’ll rescue him, too, then, if I can.”

The smile in her next words lights my heart aflame. “I know you can.”

Continued in Chapter 68

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