Cradle of Sea and Soil Page 19

  “Think of something else, and try again. What else can we do?” Colibrí answered, then she stretched and glanced over at Narune. “Are you going to rest?”

  He shook his head; he wanted to practice a little longer.

  “Then I’ll go fishing until you’re done,” she said.

  Narune watched her vanish into the bohío, then he glanced back at Sanemoro and waggled his eyebrows.

  The sage sighed. “Maybe I can stay a little longer.”

  “Your training saved our lives, you know,” Narune said. It was the truth, but he also said it to feed the sage’s pride a little. “But knowing how to craft spells would have been useful.”

  “There’s a spiritseer saying for that, Narune: Willingly become the rapids in your Flow and you will only crash against rocks.” Sanemoro sighed and began circling him though, despite his words. “You memorized the manual?”

  Narune nodded. His knowledge of lore-marks was still imperfect, but Sanemoro was good at turning ideas until they fit snugly inside Narune’s head. Sanemoro managed it so casually too, which left Narune awed.

  Sanemoro rose from against the bohío and went out onto the grass where Narune still stood with his Blade. The sage passed a hand through his hair, then tested Narune’s knowledge while pacing in the morning sun.

  The basic leaf manuals were burned into his mind by now, so Narune replied to the sage’s initial questions with confidence. Eventually, they turned toward the contents of the two foundation manuals Sanemoro had allowed Narune to read.

  There were three foundation spells, each technically incomplete, for the spells were meant to be the hearts of more advanced and complex sorcery. Despite this, Narune’s manuals insisted that foundation spells were versatile and useful in their own right, and so should be regarded with the same solemn respect as advanced sorcery.

  Narune answered Sanemoro’s questions more slowly this time as he thought back on what he had read. The art of spellcrafting was the same for every spiritseer, but each spell took a different form based on the Flow that shaped it, which also meant they had unique quirks. Most manuals dedicated themselves entirely to a single spell for that reason alone.

  “Very good,” Sanemoro said at last, seeming pleased. He made a gesture, and Narune drew his Blade and started Channeling. “You seem ready to move on to a formal display, but just remember everything we practiced, eh?”

  Narune nodded and took a stance on the grass, Blade held in a two-handed grip, while Sanemoro continued circling him. Oily black color spilled from the hilt until it formed a curved edge.

  He tried to calm his beating heart, but knew his tail was already betraying him.

  Sanemoro cleared his throat. “The Carrion Flow is death, but death is the turning point toward life. To devour is to repurpose.” The sage stood aside and swept out an arm.

  The Carrion Flow was so rare that only a few voices had contributed insight into its version of the spells, but they had seemingly tried to leave behind as much knowledge as possible for anyone who stumbled after them. Narune thought back on all the mental imagery and advice the manual had offered.

  The first spell was a guard; that meant something different for each Flow, apparently, but based on what Narune had read the spells were all defensive in some way. He moved his Blade and eyed the inky tail that followed it. For Blackflow, the spell was formally called Devour.

  Narune breathed in, and then out, readied himself, and then willed the movement of power—his power.

  Heartbeat to hand, hand to Blade, everflowing power to purpose, purpose without end. Narune made small movements with his Blade as well, shaping his Blackflow as it passed through. A ripple of pressure jolted his body, startling him, and then the tail of Flow left behind a stain suspended in the air, like a brushstroke across flesh or a leaf. It immediately began to dissolve and smear, then the stroke suddenly widened, mimicking a beast’s maw in the vaguest way possible, before seemingly washing away into nothingness a few heartbeats later.

  “I did it!” he exclaimed. The ordeal left him strangely breathless and it had felt as if he had flexed every muscle in his body just to maintain control, but he’d done it.

  “Focus,” Sanemoro said despite the smile on his face. “Craft the spell again.”

  Narune cast the spell again, the thrill no weaker than the first time.

  Sanemoro nodded. “Again.”

  They continued for a while, Narune cutting through the air with his Blade and leaving behind oily tears in the air that opened and closed as if they really were ravenous predators desperate for a meal.

  Once Sanemoro was satisfied with his ability to cast the spell, he began throwing stones at Narune. Narune blocked them with Devour, crisscrossing streaks in the air like barricades and getting a feel for how long they took to widen so that he could use them more effectively.

  The stones thudded off his Devour spells as if the inky black shapes were solid. Narune knew it was only the most basic use of Devour, but his manual had explained that the spell’s main purpose was to act as a gateway to more advanced spells and suggested that he wait until that stage. Not that Narune had much of a choice—Devour was supposedly meant to parry sorcery, but practicing that was a little beyond his reach right now.

  Maybe he could eventually ask Ixchel to help him, but this was enough of a challenge for now.

  “Well done,” Sanemoro said after tossing one last stone. He again cleared his throat, waited for Narune to return to a neutral stance, then intoned, “The sun falls behind us when it begins to set on our lives, casting ahead the shadow of death and prompting us to walk ever toward it. For you, it means death always stands before your enemies.”

  Narune transitioned into the second spell, Thousandth Sun. He thrust his Blade forward then pushed down to gush his Flow outward. It was like slamming something large and heavy into a puddle with all his strength. He then tried to take hold of all that power and shape it.

  He felt a moment of panic as the Carrion Flow surged within him and forced him to recenter his focus onto it—Channeling meant keeping his teetering power in balance, no matter what he was doing, which only made distractions that much more dangerous.

  The spell formed and Blackflow seeped into every shadow in range. Sanemoro tensed, looking afraid even though he didn’t say anything, but Narune immediately realized he didn’t have the strength or control to command so many shadows. He, instead, focused on the shadow cast by their bohío—and watched as his Blade trembled, then a black crescent blurred out from the shadow like a shark fin and shattered itself against the wall. A black line appeared along where it had struck.

  The wood aged and decayed to rot along the cut a heartbeat later.

  Narune frowned and lowered his Blade. He hadn’t aimed the crescent; controlling the spell was more difficult than he’d expected. Doing even that much had also left him feeling exhausted.

  Sanemoro raised an eyebrow. “Eh?”

  “That was embarrassing,” Narune said.

  “It is almost as if you are a novice!” Sanemoro laughed, and at Narune’s glare, laughed harder. “Calm, Narune. You will not become an adept in a day. That you managed the first two foundation spells is worthy of pride. Now, you must master them.” He stretched and yawned. “Which is a good place for me to leave you. I am satisfied that you understand the techniques enough to practice them, so do so. I already transcribed the next foundation manual for you as well, but I do not want you attempting anything but the preparatory exercises. Really, you should just focus on those two spells for now, because the third is the most difficult and dangerous.”

  “I will,” Narune promised.

  Sanemoro gathered his basket and unlit coral lantern, gave Narune a bow, and then began making his way back toward Kayuya Village. Narune wasted no time getting back to his training and returned to the exercises from the first and second foundation manuals. He kept his binding of leaves nearby, pinned open by a stone, and alternated between the two spells he had
learned.

  Devour was simple enough to cast, if tiring, but Thousandth Sun was challenging in every way.

  Narune knew how to solve that problem. He returned to his spot and slowly continued through the exercises one by one. He lost track of the notches as he pushed himself, sweat pouring down his limbs, his breath forced into rhythm.

  Sorcery for a spiritseer was as much a physical experience as it was a spiritual one, and every use of Flow also drew strength from his flesh.

  It felt like he was using every muscle at once and before long parts of his body he didn’t even know existed were aching, but he didn’t stop. Instead, Narune pushed himself to maintain his Channeling in spite of his faltering body.

  Eventually even his stubbornness wasn’t enough, though, and he could feel his grip on the Carrion Flow slipping. With an annoyed grunt, he let the Flow dissipate from his body and his Blade hiss to nothingness, then stretched—and cried out.

  Cramps dug into his flesh and a powerful wave of exhaustion sent him careening face-first into the grass. He lay there in agony and slowly forced himself to breathe again. The cramps dulled after what seemed like an eternity, but trying to move sent pangs through him that warned of their return.

  A shadow fell on him sometime later, and a hand pressed against his neck. Narune? his mother’s worried thought came through.

  I’m… fine. I think. Cramps. Tired. Even his mind was sore.

  She lightly slapped him on the back of the head and he winced. You gave me a fright! He could feel anger pouring from her touch. What would you have done if a halja had come for you?

  Welcomed death gladly, at this point.

  She paused for a moment, then he felt the power of their bond stab into him. He flinched.

  I’m sorry! Don’t!

  Oh?

  Seas and skies aflame, if you make me move now, I’m going to die and it’s going to be your fault.

  He heard her snort, but her hand moved away. Instead, she reached up and twisted one of his long ears.

  “Ow.” His voice was muffled and monotone.

  “Kisari and Ixchel are on their way. I saw them further up on the beach. I’m going to take your Blade and manuals inside.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” he said, his words still muffled.

  He heard her laugh and knew she was probably shaking her head, but she tugged the hilt from his hand and undid the belt with his Gourd. He lay there until he heard Ixchel and Kisari draw close, but didn’t move until they stopped next to him.

  Ixchel, of course, immediately kicked him.

  “Oi!” he said, wincing. “Ixchel.”

  “How do you know it was me? Maybe it was Kisari.”

  He rolled over and frowned up at his two friends. “I’d still blame you even if it was. Where have you been?”

  Ixchel and Kisari exchanged a look that Narune didn’t like, but then Kisari looked away and Ixchel sighed.

  Kisari wore a lavish sarong today, more formal than the ones she’d usually wear. Ixchel, on the other hand, was dressed in the poncho of a spiritseer. It suited her well, and was decorated with amber marks and ornaments; the color of the Celestial Flow, whose aspects were almost all related to the sky. Her Blade sat in a simple Gourd at her hip, within easy reach.

  “Busy,” she said with a casual grin. “My new father isn’t any less strict than my other two. Might even be more so, since he’s teaching me his own craft. How… have you been doing?”

  Narune frowned, but before he could say anything Kisari crouched then and reached for one of his arms. “Come on, let’s help him up first.”

  Ixchel glanced at Kisari, then back down at Narune. “Uh, why are you even on the ground in the first place?”

  “I’m just tired from training, is all. I’ve—”

  Kisari grabbed his arm. Don’t tell her. He frowned as Ixchel grabbed his other arm and hoisted him up. We need to talk. Without her.

  He said nothing as he supported himself and winced when his thighs protested. They let him go, leaving him confused and uncertain. Why would Kisari say that? Why shouldn’t he tell Ixchel? He could trust her, just like he always had, whether or not she agreed with his decision.

  He glanced between Kisari and Ixchel, and Kisari met his gaze. Ixchel seemed oblivious to it all, and after a moment the three of them went on a slow walk along the beach. Kisari stayed silent most of the time, leaving an awkward feeling in the air, and Ixchel filled it by telling them about her training. Most of it was familiar to him now, but he pretended to be in awe and envious of her opportunity.

  “Anyway, sorry I haven’t been around,” she said, laughing awkwardly. “Maybe I’ll have more free time once I’ve finally managed to impress my spiritseer father, but right now I don’t think I’ll be able to come all that often.”

  Narune cocked his head. “Not even during festivals? Or maybe you can sneak out every so often—”

  “No, Narune,” she said. “We’re on our way to becoming adults, which means we’ll soon have oaths and responsibilities we can’t ignore. Besides, things are pretty bad in the forest right now, so the Circle is using everyone they can, including novices like me. Keeps me pretty busy even when I’m not training.” She paused and rubbed the back of her head. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were doing well. I know I didn’t visit much after the Ritual… sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine,” Narune said hesitantly. “I understand.”

  She smiled, then turned to go. “Well, I should head back before I’m missed.”

  Narune said nothing and frowned at her as she strode back toward the village far in the distance. When he glanced over at Kisari, however, she was glaring at their friend’s back.

  “What happened?” Narune asked, confused.

  “Some of the novices from the Ritual cornered me,” Kisari said after a moment of hesitation. “They were pretty angry, and wanted to ‘spar’ against me.” She laughed and brushed back hair from her face. “Me, an unarmed warden, against maybe eight or so of them, and all of them spiritseers. Said it was just like the Ritual and that it was fair because I was a monster. I’m pretty sure they just wanted to hurt me, though.”

  Narune stared at her, stunned. “So, what happened?” he eventually repeated, his gaze narrowing.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Ixchel saved me, then walked me over here.”

  Confusion again struck at him, and he looked out toward the village. He couldn’t see Ixchel any longer. “Shouldn’t she have?”

  “The problem is that all the novices nipping at me were her new friends.” She hugged herself. “And she waited an awfully long time before stepping in.” Then she began to tell him what they had said to Ixchel. Suddenly, things became clear.

  And it was all his fault.

  Chapter 19

  Colibrí eyed the foreigners’ small village. It nestled along the northern beach, which had forced them to take an indirect path around Kayuya. Black stone buildings pressed close together, each of them shaped like honeycombs, and these were just barely taller than the stone walls surrounding their home.

  They called themselves the Casteónese, and though they weren’t the first outsiders to come to the archipelago—ships sometimes braved the sea to bring news and to trade—they were the first ever to be granted the right to nest on the islands.

  Colibrí remembered when the pact had been first made, back during Cacica Anacaona’s time. No one had thought much of the foreigners then, for they were supposedly like sages and more interested in forest-lore than trade or a warrior’s craft, and Cacica Anacaona had at best wanted to see how outsiders would fare in a land as harsh as theirs.

  Narune also regarded the foreign village from beside her, now a familiar presence. Her feelings on that remained conflicted, but it was difficult to ignore the facts. He took this all seriously—took himself seriously—and had already proved dependable. In fact, Peacemaker’s trap probably would have worked if not for Narune’s aid. He was heading toward adulthood
at a full sprint and left her nothing else to feel but pride.

  She watched him regard the foreigners’ village with confusion. It was evening now, the day coming to an end, but a light storm had made the day gloomy a little early. Lightning still streaked above, and both of them had flattered their ears against the sharp cracks of thunder.

  “What do you hope to gain from them?” Narune asked. He had probably assumed they were going hunting. “Allies?”

  “Yes, and maybe even answers,” she replied, then made her way forward. She turned as he followed. “Peacemaker will always have the advantage so long as he can avoid the Trueborn warriors. Meanwhile, you and I are left at the whim of whatever is guiding us; a very slow and predictable road. Our hunt is faltering.”

  “And you think the foreigners can help?”

  Colibrí looked at him. “Oh? Have the spiritseers and sages thought of anything else?”

  “No…” Narune admitted as they neared the camp. “Sanemoro says the sentinels are finding halja in the forest now, but no one has found any signs of Peacemaker. He also says the Circle can’t agree on how his sorcery works, either.”

  “And that’s what led me here. They’ll never ask the foreigners for help, because the truth is that for all Yabisi’s claims about the war, we still fuss over our pride and traditions.”

  “Maybe the cacica thinks there’s no point in asking them?” He shrugged. “I mean no disrespect, Mother, but even I can’t see how they can help us.”

  “The greatest advantage you can have on a hunt is knowing your prey. The same is true in battle. Peacemaker knows us, which is why he’s remained the predator, but if he knows less about the foreigners, then maybe they can help us sidestep his game.”

  He frowned and nodded. “Well, that makes sense…”

  “I’m not hoping to find Peacemaker drinking chicha in there, Narune. I’m just trying to think of anything the Trueborn aren’t doing themselves, small or large, clever or simple, and hoping something gives us another angle to pounce from.”