Shattered sunlight book.., p.16
Shattered Sunlight (Book Five of the Storm Below), page 16
Trembling, she stepped in after Amiria. Charred wood lay everywhere. The chalcedony engine had rolled to port, following the ship’s list. A section of the stern had burned completely through.
“I don’t see her,” Uickthio said, looking around, her heart thudding at the damage.
“Fled,” hissed Amiria. The air crackled with static electricity. “Send out patrols. She burned her way out of the back of the ship. Kill her!”
*
Esty ran across the sky, racing over the tops of trees. The ship burned behind her, now resting on the ground. Sparks flared beneath her feet as she stepped upon the echo of the earth. If her Gift was stronger, she could dance as high as she wanted.
She could barely walk higher than the treetops.
The roar of flames suddenly snuffed. She threw a glance behind her. Golden light poured out of the stern of the ship.
“Oh, no,” she groaned, running faster.
“Esty!”
A form swooped over her, almost invisible against the night sky. Esty’s eyes widened. A pegasus wheeled around, skimming over the treetops. Chaylene on Starfire. Esty raced at her as Amiria’s song arose. Chaylene twisted in her saddle. She pulled back on the reigns. Starfire’s gray wings flapped furiously. He neighed and whinnied, tail swaying as he slowed to almost a hover. Chaylene’s face twisted, sweat glinting gold on her forehead.
Esty darted to the hovering Starfire. She reached the stirrups as a bolt of lightning arched from the ship, striking a nearby treetop. Sparks flared and sap sputtered into flames. The pine blazed like a candle. A hiss streaked by.
“What was that?” Esty groaned, reaching the pegasus and scrambling up into the dual saddle.
“Crossbow bolts.” Chaylene twisted around, aiming her weapon. A bullet hissed from her pressure rifle. “Strap in.”
“Straps?” Esty looked down, then noticed them by her leg. She reached down, fumbling as another crossbow bolt hissed past followed by a crackling lightning bolt. The hairs on her arms stood up as the air burned with ozone.
“We’re just out of the thunderbusses’ effective range,” Chaylene said, voice tight. “Hurry.”
As Esty fumbled with the strap, the pegasus’s wings flapped harder, propelling them forward. It was slow at first, and then they were moving faster and faster, the landscape streaking beneath them. They left the ship farther and farther behind.
Esty leaned into Chaylene, holding her as the air whipped by them. A boil of emotions exploded out of Esty. She shook, sobbed, and laughed all at the same time. She didn’t know what she feared, who she grieved for, or why she laughed. Her body shook, trembled. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream.
They had escaped. They hadn’t killed Theisseg, but they had escaped.
Chapter Fifteen
The Sunlight General held a wet cloth over her mouth as she surveyed the damage. It had been close.
Despite the damp rag, wood smoke filled her lungs. Uickthio coughed, her eyes burning. Blinking tears, she glanced at the body of the dead marine who still lay in the door, a red jacket draped over his face.
Amiria stood in the engine room, staring out the back of the ship. Her clawed foot rested on the dislodged engine. Soot caked the dull, chalcedony gem.
“They escaped,” Uickthio reported to the Golden Daughter. “Our sharpshooters failed to kill them.”
“This engine is near its failure point,” Amiria said, her back to Uickthio. That vulnerability Uickthio had seen in the Golden Daughter after the weapon detonated on Rhogre, killing nearly five thousand soldiers and sailors, appeared. “If I had not put out the fire when I did, we would all be dead. How did saboteurs almost kill me?” Amiria turned, her vulnerability swallowed by the cold, crackling tone in her words. The light faded from her brilliance. A faint tang of burned air knifed through the wood smoke for a single breath. Amiria fixed her golden eyes on Uickthio. “Tell me, Sunlight General, how this could be possible.”
Uickthio’s heart constricted. A weight pressed on her chest as she faced Amiria’s cold anger. A shiver went through the Sunlight General. Only her discipline kept her from trembling. She kept her back straight, arms at her side, and forced herself to answer. “Hestril Eiroff has been masquerading as one of the marines for some time. Perhaps since the attack. She set fire to the engine room and killed Private Dehvon.”
Amiria’s eyes flicked down to the corpse. “And did I see Chaylene Jayne on the pegasus? How did she survive Xorale’s knife?”
“I ordered her to have medical attention,” Xorale said, sounding weary. “She’s been recuperating on the ship since then.”
The hairs on Uickthio’s arms stood up as Amiria hissed. The air crackled with her anger. A cold wind gusted through the smoky room, whipping the gray into a tornado around the Golden Daughter for a moment.
Terror gripped Uickthio as a mini cyclone raged before her. She’s going to kill me as punishment.
Then it ended. The light from Amiria flared warm, comforting. “I see, Xorale. Sunlight General, have your crew begin repairs. No rest until the ship is skyworthy.”
“Amiria,” Uickthio trembled, her heart beating faster, her shoulders relaxing.
“Xorale, I fear we must talk about Chaylene in private.”
“Yes,” Xorale said, her voice weary. “I think we should.”
Amiria swept past Uickthio, warm feathers brushing the back of the Sunlight General’s hand. Uickthio stood rigid, listening to the receding thump of Xorale’s boots and the sharp click of Amiria’s claws as they ascended out of the hold. Only when they were on deck did Uickthio stagger. She clutched to a scorched beam for support, her eyes staring at the heart of the ship.
I almost allowed the Golden Daughter to die. Uickthio knew why. The last weeks of being weak and feeling lost were a test. Amiria’s found me wanting. She only awoke when things were dire. She should have cleansed me.
*
Xorale’s stomach roiled as she followed Amiria out of the smoky hold. The vapors didn’t bother Xorale; her Blessing of Minor Mist kept it from affecting her lungs or clouding her vision. She took deep breaths, preparing her arguments.
It was time to convince the Golden Daughter a new way had to be taken, that mercy had to be shown. Yes, it would take longer, but it had to be done. Innocents didn’t need to die if there was another way.
They passed the menagerie on the way to the stairs topside. Xorale glanced at the trees outside the open stern of the ship and smiled. Chaylene had escaped. She had a chance to start a new life, but only if Xorale convinced Amiria to see a new way. Chaylene was misguided. She ludicrously thought Amiria would destroy Les and Vesche and a dozen other skylands out of petty revenge against Ary.
Xorale was confident her daughter would see reason.
They burst onto the deck. The crew fell to their knees, ebony faces staring with worship at Amiria. “You saved us,” someone called out in Vaarckthian. Xorale was picking up the tongue.
“You heard our prayers and awoke,” another voice added.
“I did,” Amiria said, speaking in Vionese to Xorale and Vaarckthian to the crew, her voice so beautiful, a sweet song. Nothing so lovely could be as evil as Chaylene claimed.
Amiria would never condemn millions to death.
“I am sorry you were afraid,” continued Amiria. “Mother and I have been wrestling Theisseg. She was freed. We were not in time to stop the foul followers of the Storm Goddess from succeeding. Tonight’s fire was another of Her attacks to try and stop paradise.”
The crew groaned in horror.
“Much evil has befallen the world. I will ask so much of you all.” Amiria’s wings reached out, her golden feathers brushing the faces of those closest. Tears fell down their dark cheeks, awe shining in their expressions.
A man called out, his words lost to Xorale, but they sounded confident, a declaration of support.
“I know you won’t,” Amiria said. “Wait. I will address you soon and tell you what we must do to combat Theisseg.”
Then she turned and headed to the open door that led to the cabins. Xorale followed as many hands reached out to touch her sleeves as to touch Amiria’s feathers. Xorale forced herself to smile at the Vaarckthians. They vanished beneath the stern deck and entered Uickthio’s stateroom.
Xorale trembled as she stood alone with Amiria.
“Tell me,” Amiria said, her soft feathers touching Xorale’s cheeks, “why did you spare Chaylene?”
Xorale breathed in deep, readying herself as she looked into the Golden Daughter’s eyes. “She didn’t deserve to die.”
“She was tainted by Theisseg. Isn’t that reason enough? Before I went to fight Theisseg, you were committed to killing Chaylene. What changed?”
Xorale trembled “I . . . I stabbed her and . . .”
“And?”
Xorale didn’t want to admit her horrible crime to her Goddess’s daughter. She stared at Amiria through tear-filled eyes, her beatific countenance distorted by Xorale’s shame. But she had to answer. “She . . . was pregnant. I killed an innocent baby.”
“There are no innocents. That child had Theisseg’s taint. It is why we had to burn the children. You remember all the children you burned.”
Xorale shuddered, their dying screams on the pyre echoing through her mind. “I . . . I . . . do.” She swallowed. “But . . . your Mother is merciful. Shouldn’t we have shown mercy to them? Found a way to free them instead of spreading pain?”
“And that’s why you let Chaylene live? Because of the misery you caused your friend?” Amiria paused, her distal feathers warm on Xorale’s cheeks.
She nodded. “I killed my dearest friend’s baby. Her blood was warm on my hand. It was wrong. I murdered her child. I almost murdered her.”
Amiria clucked in disappointment. “So now you want me to show mercy instead of cleansing the skies?”
“We can still cleanse the skies, but not through suffering.” Xorale swallowed. “It might take longer to achieve peace, but isn’t that better? Maybe you don’t understand about pain.”
“Because I’m not mortal? You think I don’t understand your suffering?”
Xorale nodded.
“Oh, my sweet Xorale, I do understand. And you have suffered greatly.”
“I have.” Xorale’s heart beat faster. She understands. Chaylene was wrong. She’s not Theisseg. She’s not going to destroy millions.
“Chaylene’s told you something. A truth about me that disturbs you. You are trying so hard not to believe it.”
“She did.” Xorale sniffled, a shudder wracking her body as she regained control of her crying. A laugh escaped her lips. “Something foolish. She claimed you’re Theisseg.”
“Yes, yes, like Estan before her. But you don’t believe that, do you?”
“Of course not. You’re—” my daughter “—Riasruo’s daughter.”
“So what was it? What else did she say?”
“That you were going to destroy the Dawnspire on Les.” Xorale laughed again. She sounded like a downyheaded fool just speaking it aloud.
“I am.”
The laugh died on Xorale’s lips. “What?”
“I plan on destroying the Dawnspire on Les. Briaris Jayne has forced my hand. He freed my Sister. I need to show the stakes of the new game to make sure She doesn’t interfere in whatever minimal, meaningless way She now can.”
A tremble wracked Xorale. “No. No. But all those people will die.”
“Will suffer?” The distal feathers stroked Xorale’s cheeks again. They were so warm. “Like you suffered on the Twenty-First of Nmiozhoa, in the year 395 of Vaarck’s Founding.”
Xorale trembled, her eyes widening.
“Yes, yes, you remember that day well. Two days past your fourteenth birthday. Your unborn daughter, and she was a daughter, was two hundred and twenty-seven days old. You were in the final third of your pregnancy, your stomach round when you saw Farhil Thuchay, a wealthy man with an attractive purse. You had already stolen enough for the day, but you thought more wouldn’t hurt.”
Xorale remembered prowling through the crowd, her loose clothing hiding her pregnancy. She wanted that purse. She wanted more money, to be ready to care for Amiria when she was born.
“You were skilled. You lifted his purse with ease. You thought you’d succeeded. You turned, about to dart away, when an iron hand seized you by the shoulder.”
Xorale trembled. She could feel that tight grip hauling her into the alleyway. “Why are you bringing this up?”
“Because that day of suffering is why you broke from me,” Amiria said. “I pushed you over the one line you could never cross—harming an unborn child. You suffer because you caused your child’s death.”
“No, he did it,” spat Xorale. “That man! He killed my baby!”
“Only because your greed drove you to steal his purse.”
“I needed money to eat!”
“But you had enough money for three days or more. You didn’t have to steal his purse. You’ve always known this. You are why your daughter is dead. Just like you are why Chaylene’s child is dead.”
Xorale struggled, but the wings holding her head were strong, the feathers suddenly as hard as stone, cold. Confusion whipped through her raw soul. “Why are you doing this?”
“He threw you down into the alley and snarled, ‘Greedy slattern.’ The first blow struck your stomach. Be comforted, it killed your child instantly. She did not suffer in your womb.”
“No, no, no.” Xorale twisted, struggled. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You cried out to Riasruo as you lay on the ground, struggling to protect your baby. A vain gesture. Do you remember calling Her name?”
“I don’t know.” Tears poured down her cheeks. Her voice was hoarse. “It was four years ago. I probably did.”
“And She never answered you, did She?”
“She never answers anyone.” Snot dribbled out of Xorale’s nose, staining her lips as she tried to pull away. “Why are you punishing me? Because I spared Chaylene?”
“I’m enlightening you. Riasruo never answered you. She let your child die. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because She was imprisoned until Briaris Jayne freed Her.”
“What?” Xorale sniffed loudly, struggling to understand.
“Why did you cry out to Riasruo? Why not Theisseg?”
Xorale furrowed her brow. “Because She’s evil.”
“Why?”
“She’s the Dark Goddess of Storms. She sends winds and rains and causes destruction.”
“Imagine how She felt. She brought the rains that sustained the crops. Her winds circulated the air, making sure cold places received warmth and warm places received cool. Her weather is just as important as the sun. But no one prayed to Her. No one thanked Her. They all cried out to HER! MY SISTER!”
Electricity crackled about Amiria’s beak. Wind swirled around the pair. Golden feathers became dark, stormy. Lightning arced between feathers. The scent of burnt air tinged Xorale’s nose.
“Y-you’re Theisseg,” Xorale squeaked, trembling in the grip of the Storm Goddess. Her mind gibbered as she fought to escape.
“YES! And no one ever loved me. They only feared me. Hated me. Cursed me. No matter what I gave them, I was despised. They feared my children, called them monsters. They prayed to Riasruo for deliverance from my Storms.” She let out a mad, cackling laugh. “So I understand suffering, my sweet Xorale. I supped on it for thousands of years. I schemed. I escaped my Sister’s prison and trapped Her in it. I usurped Her place, conjured the Storm, and lifted the skylands. I created the Dawn Empire and let it slowly rot. Yes, the Stormriders hastened its end, but it would have failed eventually. You all would have realized the truth: Riasruo ignores your prayers. She never cared for you. You would turn bitter. You would suffer. And then you would understand.”
“And . . . now?” Xorale asked, her voice a tight whimper.
“I had to intervene again. Start all over. But I am patient. Oh, yes. Once we rid the world of all the Wrackthar, I’ll create the Dawn Empire again. It will fade into corruption, and you will all suffer with no relief. No deliverance. Riasruo may be free, but She can’t touch the world any longer. I have won.”
Xorale’s stomach rebelled. Her vomit spilled out of her mouth. Every death since she’d killed Admiral Weits spilled through her. The fires, the burnings, the men and women and children she’d murdered. Velegrin. She did it all for nothing. Her knees buckled. Theisseg held her up as her stomach heaved again.
“Yes, yes, suffering,” Theisseg cooed. “It is so filthy, so degrading. It destroys the soul bit by bit. I had so much fun destroying yours, Xorale. And now you’ll suffer even more.”
“No.” Anger soared through Zori. Not the dark bitterness that had suffused her after Guts’s death. Zori stared at the face of evil. A self-righteous fury gripped her. The Dark Goddess had made a game of Zori’s pain, driven her to kill her friends. “I won’t help you! I won’t be the Minister of Fire. I will tell everyone the truth!”
“No, you won’t.”
Zori sneered. “You must have so much down stuffed into your head if you think I would help you willingly.”
“I never said you would be willing.”
Lightning arced into Zori’s brain. Her eyes widened. She let out a shout of pain. The electricity coursed through her body to her soul. It gripped her. Her body spasmed as the energy became chains wrapped about her will.
“You have my Blessing,” Theisseg crooned. “A bit of me is inside of you, waiting for me to seize it. Your puppet strings were tied to your soul almost a year ago. It was fun twisting you. And it’ll be even more fun seeing the little glint of free will left in your mind as you watch helplessly as you carry out my commands. We shall bring so much suffering into the world, my sweet Xorale.”
An impotent rage howled in the corner of Xorale’s mind as Theisseg became golden again and sang a melody of love. Zori tried to take control of her body as Xorale hugged Theisseg.
