Cradle of Sea and Soil Page 14

  Narune emerged from the memory with a gasp. “The cacica saw what happened to you!” He paused, eyes darting into the gloom of their bohío “And it was just like me. No wonder she wasn’t surprised.”

  Colibrí nodded. “Would you share yours?”

  He nodded and gave her his own memory. A deep frown had set into her face by the end of it.

  It was… difficult seeing her son so desperate. The strength of the Flows of Creation also surprised her; she didn’t recall them being so deep that day, but then, she’d been busy with the Guardian, so who could say? Narune had also been injured and panicked, and maybe he was simply more sensitive than she was.

  But the rest mimicked her own experience. The rush of power. The storm of rage and the guilty pleasure it invoked. She shivered, yet admitted that it was comforting to have someone she could speak to about the ordeal.

  “Are we… monsters?” Narune asked quietly.

  “It’s what everyone believes.” Colibrí brushed a fleck off her tail. “But not what I believe. I doubted, once, but now I’m sure because of you. Narune, you're not a monster. And if I can say that about you then I can say the same about myself.”

  “But I almost killed those Trueborn… Two are crippled forever, and Ikenna might be too. I don’t know what I could possibly say to them or their—”

  “Hush,” Colibrí said, again squeezing his knee. “Those memories will burden your spirit forever. They’ll be painful and raw at first, then become sore to the touch. Eventually, your spirit will heal and leave a scar, but not one meant for boasting.” She shrugged. “And then you keep going. That’s the burden of a warrior. So long as you can feel it in the weight of your spear, then you’re not yet lost to cruelty or coldness.”

  He nodded slowly, then licked his lips. “Will this… keep happening to me?”

  “I’m afraid so, my love. The screams wax and wane. You’ll grow used to them eventually, and on the better days you’ll even forget they’re there.”

  Her son smiled sadly, but looked at her with the same kind of pride he had as a child. Back when he could be amused by simple warrior tricks with her spear, when none of this mattered.

  “Thank you, Mother,” he said gently. “I suppose I haven’t grown as much as I thought.”

  “I disagree.” She cupped his chin briefly. “Now then, I was serious about having you fight at my side.”

  Narune’s face twisted with determination and something flashed through his eyes. “You can depend on me. That should have been my first oath, but I’ll give it to you now.”

  “Good,” she said, pleased. “I’ll hold you to it. Now, I have something that might cheer you a little further: I met the Guardian!” To punctuate his surprise, she touched him and passed along her memory of meeting the Guardian. She held back their final exchange, however, with a pang of embarrassment.

  Narune didn’t even notice the abrupt ending. He sprang up with wonder in his face. “Seas aflame! You met the Guardian! The Guardian!”

  “I did,” she said, standing more slowly and stretching, ears and tail pointing outward. “You would’ve known sooner if you hadn’t been gloomy for so long.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything!”

  She hadn’t said anything because she wanted to give him time to himself, but she fed him a little lie. “I did and you ignored me. You’ve been so dark that you could have swallowed the sunlight.”

  Her son gave her a sheepish look. “That’s true. Sorry. But you’ve made my mind up about something, so thank you.”

  “Eh?”

  He nodded to himself, tail thrashing, and she could see thoughts churning behind his eyes. It wasn't unfamiliar at all; it was the look of trouble.

  “What did you make up your mind about?” she asked hurriedly.

  “Not giving up,” Narune answered. “And now I’m convinced it’ll be worth it, no matter what happens. Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll keep my oath to you; it’ll be the one I cherish above all others. If the cacica won’t let me serve her as a warrior, then I’ll serve you instead. I’m going to go train!”

  “Naru—”

  He gave her a quick embrace, then rushed out the door. Colibrí pulled back a tuft of hair, crossed her arms, and waited.

  He rushed back in, sheepishly fetched his warrior breizo and sandals, then grabbed a spear and ran back out.

  Colibrí shook her head and sat back down to finish her whittling. The world and the war felt like they were in shambles, but she let the smile on her lips go unchallenged anyway.

  Chapter 14

  Narune flipped over his mother’s large canoe and began shoving it toward the water. To fish, he had told her, and that wasn’t exactly a lie. He would just be fishing a little later.

  He wiped his forehead, which was already slick with sweat, and glanced across the teal sea. The greater islands, six in total, were linked by living bridges. Most of them were a mass of root-roads that stretched above and below the waves or skipped across islets. But there were many smaller islands too, scattered around and in between their larger kin, and these were rarely joined to the veins of the main forest. Most were used as harbors for the seamaster’s living ships, but a few were sacred places of the spiritseers.

  He resumed his work, then paused again when a voice called out to him. He turned to find Sanemoro approaching, a tired smile on the sage’s face. Though he had seen less of his two friends, Sanemoro had come more often than ever, much to Narune’s delight.

  “Sea and soil,” Sanemoro said in greeting with a slight bow.

  Narune bowed in return, then paused thoughtfully. He had spent countless notches going over what he wanted to say to the man, but now the words refused to come to him.

  “Is something wrong, Narune?”

  Everything. He shook his head. Narune was naked against the heat, having decided to leave behind his warrior garb to avoid suspicion. He had brought his simplest breechcloth for later, his knife still belted to it, but it sat on the beach beside the canoe.

  “Actually, I need to speak with you,” he told the sage.

  Sanemoro raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, how may this humble sage serve?”

  “When you learned about what happened at the Duels, what did you think?” Narune asked. He had avoided talking about the Ritual with Sanemoro, but he needed to know now. “You can be honest.”

  “Oh, I was furious! Colibrí, of all people, had to calm me down!” Sanemoro answered, throwing his arms up. “May my days remain stormless, but if the cacica had actually hit you or Kisari with that arrow, then I would have, well—” He made another dramatic gesture with his hands. “—who knows, maybe torn it from your corpse and stabbed it right back into the cacica’s wooden heart, screeching the entire time! Oaths be damned and Guardian as my witness!” He shouted that last dishonorable bit toward the forest, as if the Guardian really were listening.

  Narune laughed. Afraid for me, but not of me. I’m not sure what we did to deserve you, Sanemoro, but I hope you can forgive me for misusing our friendship.

  “I thought that would be the end for me,” Narune said, and then he explained his oath to the cacica. The sage frowned, not seeming all that surprised, but Narune continued and said, “The cacica won’t even give me the chance to hold warrior oaths like my mother, or to become a warden like Kisari. I’m useless, in other words. Left to die quietly.”

  Sanemoro frowned and shook a finger at him. “Only the halja have no purpose, Narune. You just need to find another one, even if that means going where you do not expect.

  “Warriors do not travel the forest in a straight line, do they? No, they do not, but they still get to where they intend. Life is like the root-roads; full of many twisting paths and their distractions.”

  Narune smiled, tail flicking. “Thank you. I needed to hear those words.” He took a deep breath, then said, “Sanemoro, I need you to teach me the spiritseer craft.”

  “Eh?” Utter horror rippled across Sanemoro’s face, then he
closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “You were just telling me that I should search for another way,” Narune pointed out.

  “Well, I take it all back. Never listen to me again, Narune, for I am apparently a fool who sends youths on equally foolish journeys.”

  Narune looked across the sea to where the sacred island waited. “The whole point of the Ritual is to reveal those resilient and focused enough to master spellcraft. Even though I lost myself during the Duels, I doubt anyone could argue that I didn’t do as well as any of the others, correct?”

  Sanemoro narrowed his gaze at Narune, his chin-long hair straight and smooth. It fluttered in the breeze, but the sage didn’t seem bothered by the strands in his eyes. Sanemoro crossed his arms and said in a terse but patient tone, “True.”

  “Well, that’s all tradition demands; the right to become a spiritseer is earned, not given. The rest I can teach myself from the manuals. I know that’s a disadvantage, but it’s not an obstacle.” He thrust a finger at Sanemoro. “And I have more than just a bundle of leaves; I have you, a sage who can translate memories and who has watched the spiritseers in person. Since they already lean heavily on warrior training, between my mother and you, I think I can make a spiritseer of myself.”

  Sanemoro thought for a moment. “And what about the danger? One mistake and you could die. And what about your oath? What is the point of shaping a warrior who casually breaks them?”

  “War itself is dangerous, Sanemoro.” He shrugged and spread his arms. “As for breaking my oath… well, I’ll wear that shame forever.”

  “Narune,” Sanemoro said gently. “Oaths are only worth as much as the one who forged them. If an oath is proved useless or false, then so is its shaper.”

  “True, but I know for certain now that sometimes even breaking an oath is the right thing to do,” Narune said slowly. “And that an oathbreaker can still be good and honorable.”

  “Oh? And how do you know this?”

  “Because Colibrí made an oath to the cacica to give me back to the forest.”

  Silence was the only answer, but then what could Sanemoro say? To suggest all oathbreakers were irredeemable would mean saying the same of his mother, as well as suggesting that Narune should have been killed as a sproutling.

  But it was unfair and cruel to trap him like that, so Narune instead decided to give him the truth.

  “Sanemoro,” he began, meeting the gaze of the uncomfortable sage. “Let me tell you why I want to become a spiritseer. Then you can decide whether or not to train me, but promise you won’t tell my mother; this is something even she doesn’t know.”

  Sanemoro snorted. “Then it is probably something she should know.”

  “I didn’t tell her because I know my reasons are silly and childish. That’s my struggle; to find a way to make my dream more than a tale that can only be told, but never lived.”

  “Fine,” Sanemoro said, waving a hand. “I will hold my tongue this one time. For you. I doubt you will change my mind, but I will listen.”

  He nodded, took another breath, and then emptied his spirit. “I owe my mother more than I can ever repay. She broke an oath for me and never seemed to regret it, even though I know I’ve burdened her other oaths. Even now, she’s fighting to save the Trueborn who call us monsters.

  “Yet, there’s no one I can think of who is less of one. She deserves as much as any other warrior! I want the Trueborn to see how great she is. I want her to grow old among friends and comrades in a good bohío, surrounded by my sproutlings—even if I have to adopt them. And when her time comes to return to the forest, I want her to go knowing she was properly honored and that I’m not alone.” He spread his arms wide. “If I can earn more glory than even my mother, enough that it shocks the Trueborn, then maybe my story will shine bright enough to blind their gazes toward our ears and tails and wash away the horrors in our blood. But to do this, I need to prove, without a doubt, that we’re not dangerous traitors by becoming a champion of the tribes instead.”

  Learning more about the screaming storm and how to ward against it would need to be a part of that journey. That would mean confronting it directly instead of cowering and shoving it away. Narune shivered at the thought, but at least he had one advantage over the Halfborn of old: the knowledge of how their dark story ended.

  “If I fail, then at least this time there will only be one of us,” Narune continued. “And we’ll know for sure—no more Halfborn.” He smiled sadly.

  Sanemoro said nothing for a very long time. The waves behind Narune churned, the breeze cut through the air, rustling the distant canopy of the forest and dusting sand from the beach they stood on.

  “You have thought about this,” Sanemoro eventually said, his voice quiet, his expression thoughtful, yet pained. “And now I see why you will not tell Colibrí. No sproutling should ever see their life as a debt to be repaid; she would beat you senseless for your stupidity if she ever found out.”

  “I know.”

  Sanemoro made a face. “Well, I would be breaking my own sage oaths if I taught you, but…”

  “From what you’ve told me, your oaths only prevent you from giving away your knowledge if you’re confident it would be misused or cause harm.”

  “Which is always the case for those who meddle with the Flows!” Sanemoro snapped. “And I would be ‘training’ you in name only. All of my instruction would be secondhand, from manuals and observation.”

  “I trust you more than a silent stack of leaves, and respect you enough to let your reasoning guide my caution.”

  “Seas and skies aflame,” Sanemoro muttered. He brushed hands across his face. “Please, Narune. Let me sit and think on all the troubles and struggles we might have. I promise you, I will consider it seriously.”

  Narune nodded gratefully. “I won’t think any less of you if you refuse me.”

  “But you will not stop, will you?”

  “I’ll look for another root-road,” Narune admitted with a grin. “My mother… has proved to me too many times that she is worth all this. That we are worth all this.”

  Narune waited, watching emotions play across the sage’s face, and was touched by what he saw.

  He knew family wasn’t about blood, but bonds, and sharing the soil that made up their bodies was only one kind of bond, and rarely the strongest. Most Islandborn had more than one or two parents, because those who adopted them later in life—say, to teach them a craft or lore—became as much their parents as those who had gifted them life.

  Narune felt he was beginning to understand that truth a little better now.

  Sanemoro exhaled, then turned at the approach of someone. Narune turned with him and spotted Kisari walking toward them, her head cocked hesitantly. She was dressed more formally than usual, wearing a flowered sarong that matched those growing in her hair, and some seashell bracelets. The necklace she wore had nutshells woven into them too, each studded with a waterstone.

  He hadn’t seen her in a while, and knew what her arrival meant.

  Sanemoro saw his expression and laughed. “I will leave you to spend time with her, then.” He placed a hand on Narune’s shoulder. “Allow me some time to think, but know that I feel your words are those of an adult and not a sproutling. You are growing quickly, and it might not be long before you do actually earn your adulthood.”

  Sanemoro gave one final nod then turned to offer Kisari a warm greeting as she approached, then excused himself. Kisari stared at his back for a while, then spun to face Narune with a frown.

  “You’re not running from me, I see,” he said, nipping.

  That was apparently still a sore wound for her though, because she glared back. “My mother forced a lot of compulsions on me.”

  “And I think less of Ayo because of it. Your mother knows we’re close friends.”

  “Narune!”

  He shrugged. “It’s the truth. You don’t deserve it; neither because of how you were born or because you were brave
enough to stand beside me when the only other warrior that would was Ixchel.” He moved forward and kneeled, surprising her. Narune bowed his head. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you for that yet, by the way. You fought for me even though you’re a warden, and then at the end you helped draw me out of the screaming storm. I owe you for both of those deeds, and all the trouble I caused you. Ask whatever you want of me and I’ll do my best to see it done. That’s my oath to you.”

  He glanced up to see her blushing. “You saved my life too, you know,” she said. “That arrow would have killed me.”

  Narune shrugged. “So, why are you here? Did your mother calm down?”

  She shook her head. “My father forced her to remove a few compulsions.” Then, while helping him push his mother’s canoe fully into the water, Kisari gave him news of the village.

  She told him that everyone was still talking about the Duels and what they had seen. Kisari had been confined to her father’s caney because of it; secluded from Warmaster Jhul’s other mates and children, and only Ayo had been allowed to see her. Kisari apparently believed it was because of her mother’s power over her, especially because of the compulsions she received.

  Her father and mother had then nipped at each other for weeks about the cacica and she feared they might eventually become bites, but so far, the cacica herself hadn’t forced them to throw Kisari out—or worse. Her father, however, believed it was only a matter of time.

  “What could they do?” Narune asked gently as he held the canoe, the water up to his calves. “Send you away? Like us?”

  “At best,” Kisari replied.

  “Well, you know that you’ll always have a home with us. My mother would adopt you in a heartbeat, and then love you twice as much as she does me.” He laughed.

  Kisari smiled, looking relieved. “Thank you, Narune. I’m… very pleased to hear that.”

  “Did you honestly believe it would be otherwise?”