Cradle of Sea and Soil Page 21

  An island coyote watched him from a crouch a short distance away. It slowly inched closer.

  His mother thought he was pushing himself too hard. But I’m only pushing myself as much as she is. He grunted. Not that telling her that would have made a difference. Well, they could both breathe for a while now, at least. He hadn’t managed to learn anything useful from the foreigners—thought he admitted it had still been pleasant talking to them—but his mother had possibly found a way to hunt down Stillness without depending on luck or the forest’s ability to guide them.

  Now, all they had to do was ward and wait until they could find out if it actually worked. Until then, Narune should be stuffing his belly and sleeping.

  Instead, he had asked Sanemoro to deliver a message to Ixchel.

  He sighed in sudden irritation and swiped at the island coyote as it licked his face. The dark-furred canine leaped away and rolled with exaggerated movements. It didn’t stop until it almost made an entire semicircle around him, and ended up with its head low and rump waggling.

  “Could you stop?”

  The coyote barked and tilted its head, then suddenly rose and looked north, toward the village. The rest of its pack, which had been playing in the tide, paused and turned, too. The one besides Narune made a short series of howls, slow and menacing, and then the group bounded away, down the beach. Probably to swim to another island, or maybe they would dive into the forest.

  He rose and dusted himself. A large group was making their way toward him, most of them wearing spiritseer ponchos in the colors matching the Flows. Narune recognized all of them; Ixchel was at the lead, but the rest were the other youths from the Ritual of Fang and Feather, including Ikenna.

  Narune’s eyes narrowed at them. He hadn’t asked Ixchel to come alone, but he’d hoped that would have been obvious. And why bring such a large group to begin with?

  All Narune wore was a breechcloth and all he had was his knife; he had left his spear and Blade back in their bohío further down the beach. He held his ground anyway, feet spread, and waited.

  They took their time reaching him, but he refused to show them any impatience. When they finally stopped before him, where the sand gave way to grass, grinning smugly, he offered them a formal bow. “Sea and soil,” he said.

  None of them returned the greeting. Many of their grins grew wider.

  Narune glanced at Ixchel. It hadn’t been all that long since the Duels, but so much had happened since then that Narune felt many Cycles older. His friend, on the other hand, didn’t look any different at all. She still stood tall and proud, her face etched with the ghost of a smile that remained even while she was angry or frowning. Ixchel wore her hair a little longer than him, down to her shoulders, and had the sides cut and the back bound in a simple warrior braid.

  Her spiritseer poncho covered most of her impressive scars, but dripped with just as much story and meaning. The garb was decorated with the amber-colored markings of the Celestial Flow. Her Flowing Blade sat in a plain Gourd at her side, but then Ixchel had never liked adornments.

  Spiritseer or not, she was the same Ixchel as before. The friend he had sparred with for most of his life, who had stood at his side when no one else but Kisari would.

  That gave him some hope, even though his heart was thudding loudly.

  They stared at each other for a moment, Ixchel in the middle of the group, and he alone before them. Eventually he nodded at Ikenna. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

  The boy snorted. “Are you?”.

  “Yes, I am. I hope you’re not fool enough to believe I actually wanted to harm you.”

  “Oh?” Ikenna looked at the others with open disbelief as several faces darkened like storm clouds. “You tried to break me after I’d already surrendered, and all while looking like some kind of grinning predator. Seas aflame, I’m lucky to even be standing here, but the others who faced you will probably never be warriors, let alone spiritseers. Oras almost died.”

  What could Narune say? He didn’t remember much of what had happened at the end of the Duels, only bits and pieces, and most of it was just a memory of wild, white-hot anger. That, and sheer pleasure mixed with it. Even reliving the memories with his mother hadn’t changed anything; it was like being forced to drown all over again—fear, panic, and dread included.

  A shiver passed through him.

  Still, some small part of Narune had hoped that their menders would heal the youths and in turn fix his mistake. And I’m a coward for it. I could feel their bones breaking and their insides squirming.

  “I’m… sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “If it matters.”

  “It doesn’t,” Ikenna snapped.

  Narune turned to face Ixchel. She wore her usual lazy smile and looked bored. He couldn’t tell whether it was a ruse or not, which bothered him a little, but when their eyes met she waggled her eyebrows.

  “I… wanted to talk to you alone,” he finally said.

  It was Ikenna who answered. “We wouldn’t let any of our friends face a Halfborn on their own.” He laughed darkly. “Especially after you proved that not even several of us was enough to stop you. I’ll admit that I thought the cacica was water-minded at first, but shame on me for not taking her intended warning more seriously.”

  “Shame on us all,” another said. The girl glared at him. “We should have refused the challenge or demanded real weapons.”

  “What happened was an accident,” Narune snapped. He glanced over at Ixchel and gave her a pleading look. “Ixchel, you already know this. I’ve hurt you while training before, but no more than you’ve hurt me, and you’ve won more times than I can count. Are you honestly afraid of me?”

  His friend regarded him silently for a moment while the others shifted in the sea breeze and eyed her. It didn’t take Narune long to realize that she would be speaking to them as much as to him.

  “I was an ignorant sproutling then,” Ixchel finally said. “I didn’t understand anything, Narune. None of us did. Now I train and fight beside my spiritseer father, and I am only beginning to understand the horrors real warriors endured while you and I basically played. I see now that for all our pride and strength we’re barely keeping the war at a stalemate.”

  Narune scowled, his heart thudding faster and faster, his face burning. “That’s not an answer,” he whispered, though he feared that he already knew what Ixchel would say.

  She shrugged. “Fine. Do you know what I really think, Narune? I think you were holding back because you were afraid of letting me see the real you. That’s why you always lost to me. But then the Ritual skinned us down right to our spirits and you couldn’t hide anymore, and what I saw scared me. More than halja, or dying. Those things I can understand; death is just a part of Creation and the halja are monsters through and through, but seeing you like that?

  “Seas and skies aflame, Narune. I thought I knew you, but here you were keeping this a secret from me. When you finally stumbled, all I could think of was, ‘What if this happens again and he comes after me or someone else? Could I stop him?’ And I knew I couldn’t, Narune, but even that wasn’t as terrible as realizing how much you frightened me.”

  Narune licked his lips, tail falling low. “Ixchel, I—” He faltered, licked his lips again, and tried once more. “You’re… wrong. I never held back against you and I never needed to. What you saw at the Ritual isn’t who I really am. That’s not me, and you know it.”

  “Oh? So you’re telling me you’ll never become a rabid beast again?”

  Narune was silent and Ixchel laughed. I just need to explain it to them, then maybe… “My mother and I are trying to learn more about our… affliction. We call it the Jurakán, and it’s not something that can easily command us. Sanemoro is helping, and we’re learning from those who came before us.” He panned his gaze across the others. “The first time is supposed to be the worst, and it caught me by surprise while I was already tired and hurt. The Flows of Creation also makes it harder to ignor
e, and they were deep that day. See? This isn’t something that can just happen!” He wasn’t sure about that last part, but he said it anyway because it was what he desperately wanted to believe.

  Ixchel gave him a look of pity. Somehow Narune found that was worse than disgust or hatred.

  “Naru,” she said gently. “A single spear can turn a battle, but what’s the point in bringing it if you’re not sure which way it’ll point? You’re not worth the risk. A hard thing to say, but it’s the truth. The cacica made that very clear.” She sighed and looked away. “You shouldn’t even have been born. Maybe it would be easier for everyone if you hadn’t.”

  Narune froze and the sudden quiet was suffocating. He had expected her to say a lot of things, but never this. Not after all the days they had spent together with Kisari, sharing their dreams and the waxing and waning moments of their lives.

  What made it all worse—and what shamed him to no end—was the thought he caught lurking in his mind, the sudden, furious wish that he, his mother, and Kisari hadn’t been Halfborn. It felt like agreeing with the belief that they were something less, and in that moment Narune hated himself almost as much as the other youths seemed to hate him.

  Narune’s nails stabbed into the soft flesh of his palms, and he felt his tail start thrashing. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, and sensing them sharpened his embarrassment and drove his shame deeper.

  “That’s a cruel bite,” he muttered without looking at her, struggling to keep from sniffling or letting loose even a single teardrop.

  When he finally trusted himself to meet her gaze, he found Ixchel frowning. “Yes,” she said. “It is. I’m sorry, Narune, but just keep to yourself, alright? You and your mother are making everyone nervous, and I want no part of that. It’s bad enough that everyone blames me for letting you go wild enough to hurt everyone.”

  His ears perked up. “What? They’re blaming you?”

  “We don’t,” Ikenna said hastily and several other youths muttered agreement. Ixchel looked around them with an unhappy frown. “It’s just village gossip. People are saying she knew what would happen, and just wanted to see the mess it would make. Everyone knows that Ixchel has always been more sea than soil.”

  Narune knew that too. Ixchel adored adventure and discovery and had always allowed her heart and spirit to guide her more often than her mind and body.

  So why then are you letting others tell you what to think? He gave her a desperate look, but Ixchel shrugged.

  “Point is,” Ikenna continued as he stepped forward, “you need to stop giving her a hard time and making things worse. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  The words struck like lightning inside him. His tail froze, his hands trembled, and he felt his nails draw blood. Something must have shown on his face because Ikenna and all the other youths stepped back in alarm.

  “I don’t know what it’s like?” Narune shouted, tail now snapping from side to side. No. Don’t. Have calm. They’ll never know how it feels. No point in wasting my breath. He exhaled for what seemed like an eternity and then faced his friend. “I’m sorry, Ixchel.”

  It felt like a terrible, miserable way to slaughter not simply a friendship, but a deep, extensive piece of his life—Ixchel had been that important to him, and he knew it.

  Ixchel said nothing as she regarded him, the sea breeze catching a few stray strands of her hair. She nodded once, and then, unbelievably, that was that.

  Ikenna clapped his hands. “Good. Are you done then, Halfborn?”

  “Yes. Ixchel can take her sentinel warband and go.”

  The boy grinned and shook his head. “Oh no, there’s another reason we came!”

  Narune frowned and crossed his arms. He glanced at Ixchel, but she had donned a look of disinterest again.

  “See, the Ritual was all I could think about while I was licking my wounds,” Ikenna continued. “And I vowed to return all that you’ve done to me and the others.” He reached out his hand and one of the youths handed him a blunted spear.

  Narune stared in disbelief. “What? You’re going to claim to be afraid of me then ask to fight?”

  Several of the youths drew their Blades and awakened them, startling Narune further. Ikenna glared at him. “Yes, we’re afraid. But there’s nothing wrong with fear; all warriors know this. You acknowledge and respect it, but then you fight anyway because that’s what the courage of a warrior means. That’s how we’re able to face monsters every day.” He gestured at Narune. “Monsters like you.”

  Despite his own creeping fear, Narune stood his ground and lifted his chin. He tried not to look at Ixchel again, partly because it would only hurt all the more to see her refuse him in front of the others, and a voice at the back of his mind whispered that she would.

  He didn’t know how to feel about that, or what to say or do. Narune hesitated as his heartbeat filled his ears with a furious rhythm and the rest of his body began to tremble too. The turmoil of his thoughts soon broke his focus, freeing the tears he had been holding back without warning.

  “So that’s it?” Narune asked, voice cracking. It was too late to hide what was on his face, so he didn’t bother trying. “You’re just going to murder me here and walk away proud of yourselves?”

  Ikenna regarded him for a moment. “No. So long as you fight with your human-half we’ll treat you like a warrior.” A grin played across his face. “And if you don’t, then this time we’ll do what the cacica was too much of a coward to do. No one will fault us for that.”

  Those holding awoken Blades spread out in a circle around him and held their weapons with meaningful looks.

  This time Narune couldn’t help but glance over at Ixchel, but she only shrugged.

  “You made it sound like before was a fluke,” she said. “If you’re telling the truth, then they won’t hurt you any more than they would any other warrior.”

  Narune took a few calming breaths, though he knew his limp tail and ears were giving him away, and he couldn’t stop licking his damn lips. “I’m unarmed,” he said, though he knew it would do no good.

  “You have your knife,” Ikenna said with a shrug.

  Which Narune wouldn’t draw, because he knew the cacica would be forced to act against him and his mother if he accidentally killed any of them outside the Proving Grounds.

  The Jurakán surged along with his fear, its discordant voices growing louder until they became a shrieking vortex. He sensed how easy it would be to allow the screams to swallow his spirit, to let it bathe him within a storm of rage—a Jurakán in truth.

  Narune ignored it, flattening his ears even though he knew now that the screams were more than just sound, and pushed away the smoldering feeling in his chest. Ikenna smiled and took a stance along with several of the other youths. Ixchel stood watching, her face impassive, and that hurt more than anything her peers could do to him.

  Narune took an unarmed stance. He fought back until sweat and blood dripped down his flesh and the pain clawed deep enough that he felt it in every movement and breath. Then he kept going anyway, because in his heart he felt it was braver than giving in or giving up.

  Chapter 21

  Colibrí stood near the edge of the village in front of Lishan’s bohío. The sun was still high, but she found herself impatient. Jerrico hadn’t perfected his artifact yet, but her visits increasingly left her hopeful and she was eager to go see what the Guardian thought of their plan.

  She scratched her chest and glanced down the knoll, where a wide expanse of grass and shrubs separated her and Kayuya Village. The beach bordered the glittering sea further out, and ahead, to the north, the River Guanasa flowed through the village, toward it.

  Even this was too close to the village, really. The sentinels usually stayed near the war towers around the village, but they’d be in their right to slay her if they spotted her. That was unlikely, though; Lishan’s bohío sat on a knoll hosting the roots of a stray, stunted tree-lord, and the lord stood between it and the
village. Colibrí was grateful for the old tree’s shelter, because it was the reason she was able to safely get her beloved chicha.

  It was probably also why Yabisi always chose it as their meeting place.

  It would be disastrous for the cacica to be seen with Colibrí, but she doubted that Yabisi actually cared. Yabisi wore her position as first among all Islandborn like a warrior wore scars; if you couldn’t understand their meaning, you weren’t worth the worry.

  Lishan herself sat on a thick cloth mat in a tiny oval of sunlight, fiddling with several bowls and lidded pots. One hand scooped and pinched while the other worked a bone pestle. The woman’s mender lore was excellent, as Colibrí knew all too well—no one else besides Sanemoro would openly tend to her or Narune—but she was pretty certain Lishan wasn’t actually a mender. Colibrí frowned. In fact, she couldn’t even guess what Lishan’s warden craft might be. The wisewoman knew too many lores, even for someone her age.

  Colibrí watched the woman continue to mutter to herself as she worked her herb and moss mixtures.

  “Always bothering poor Lishan! No respect for the true elders, eh,” the woman said, and she glanced up from her work to glare at Colibrí for the hundredth time that notch.

  “It was the cacica’s idea, great wisewoman,” Colibrí said with a bow. She didn’t take Lishan’s complaints personally; this was how Lishan’s kindness looked, though Colibrí suspected the gifts she had brought with her—some rarer herbs, roots, and lichens from deep in the forest, as well as a pouch of nuts and some plump birds for good measure—had helped appease the wisewoman a little. “I’ll leave as soon as I am able, I promise.”

  Lishan grunted and glanced back down to her work. Soon, rustling and the crunch of footsteps drew Colibrí’s attention, and she turned. She didn’t expect any trouble, but grasped her spear tighter anyway.

  Yabisi and—to her surprise—Warmaster Jhul turned around a curving root and stepped into Lishan’s little clearing.