Child of the Kaites (The Firstborn's Legacy Book 1) Read online

I forgot about that. With every part of my body aching, the idea of parting with my sister is terrible.

  “It’s for the best,” Yori says, sensing my and probably Savi’s reluctance. “Maraiah needs to be gathered, and we’re almost through Aia’s seven signs. It won’t be for long.”

  “Why do you have to be so wise?” Savi complains, giving her arm a squeeze.

  Yori grins. “I have to be so I can keep up with you, big brother.”

  “Well, stop it,” Savi says, fondness clear in his voice.

  “Where should we gather everyone?” Yori returns to business, rolling up her blanket.

  Our people are already living close to the coast, from what everyone’s been saying. If they can get to a port, we can leave the mainland as soon as possible. But we should have somewhere to meet and regroup.

  As angry as this will make Ira, the island is the closest port to Izyphor. “Get them to a harbor; we can sail to Ira and figure out from there how to get home.”

  “We should go now,” Nhardah says. “Night will shield us from human eyes, and the kaites will still be keeping the aivenkaites at bay.”

  By the orange light of sunset, Hoenna packs a bag with enough food to sustain Yori and Nhardah for a week. Forziel consults with them by the axex. “Take two,” our guide suggests. “We’ll be able to share, now that Drigo’ll need one.”

  Nhardah shakes his head. “You will need far more speed than we will. We can share.”

  Too soon, they begin their goodbyes. While Yori embraces Nihae, Nhardah hugs me. “I am proud of you, Raiballeon,” he murmurs. “You and Saviayr are a good team. Aia has chosen His Champions well.”

  Tears prick in my eyes, and they fall when Yori turns to me. I hold her close. She squeezes back, careful of my injuries.

  “You be careful, you hear?” I order.

  Yori squeezes my shoulder. “Of course. You be careful, too.”

  “I love you, Yor.”

  “I love you, too, sis. Don’t worry, we’ll be back together before you know it.”

  We exchange peace-to-you’s, then they mount one of the larger axex. It launches itself into the sky with a catlike spring, and its giant wings flap as it rises in the star-studded sky.

  Aia, keep them safe.

  After a subdued meal, in which even Forziel can’t bring himself to talk much, Hoenna sends the three of us to bed. “Rest,” he says. “We will wake you if there is need.”

  I nod and settle down on the blanket. Savi pulls me into his side, though I know the action must pain him. Forziel drops onto his roll, snoring before a minute has passed. The low hum of Hoenna and Drigo talking lulls me to sleep.

  I dream of a little blonde girl standing at the end of the ocean, calling my name. I know it’s Yori. Then she turns, and it isn’t Yori, after all. It’s Pitka, and she’s crying.

  Chapter 40

  We sleep late into the next day and awaken in more pain than before. As neither Savi nor I feel an urge to return to the palace, we pass the day resting.

  Forziel’s still remarkably quiet. Around midday, I remember what happened before the fight. There’s no good way to start this conversation, so I simply say, “So, we met your dad.”

  Forziel glares at me. His black eye mitigates the intimidation of the expression.

  “Forz, you got a dad?” Drigo asks. “I’d thought you were an orphan.”

  “I am,” he huffs and turns away.

  “Son, share your burden with us,” Hoenna urges. “None of us will think ill of you on his account.”

  Forziel snorts. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Forziel tips his head back. “I know what you really think of people born of Izyphorns.”

  Drigo gasps. “Really? You’re Izyphorn?”

  Forziel bolts upright. He shoves his chanavea toward Drigo. “I’m as Maraian as anyone, you take that back!”

  “But Forziel, what of your father?” I ask. “How did that happen? How did you end up with us?”

  He scowls. “What’s there to tell? Amkal is a noble. My mom was a slave. End of story.”

  “Why are you here, then?” I ask gently. “I’d expect someone in your situation to have an easier life.”

  “I ain’t telling.”

  “But Forziel—”

  “Fine! If I say it, will you all leave me be?” Forziel pulls himself to his feet. “My brother and I lived with Amkal till he married an Izyphorn. She had us removed. My mom died of starvation so we’d have enough to eat, my brother died a year ago of infection, I was transferred to a master known for driving his slaves to death, and Amkal never did nothing about it. Nhardah offered me a way out, and I jumped at the chance to start over.”

  Forziel limps toward the axex. We watch, but no one knows what to say. At least, I don’t. He buries his face in Lightning’s neck, then the creature follows him around the mesa out of sight.

  The next morning, a strange hopelessness weighs on me when I awake. I know Aia has been faithful to us. I know Aia has promised to establish Maraiah in the land of promise, and I believe that He is going to free us, and free us very soon. He may even end this today.

  But thoughts of how much we still have to do fill me with weariness. Leading a revolt won’t end when the sultan and royals pronounce our freedom. I may bear this responsibility the rest of my life.

  I can’t think like that. It’s too much. I need to focus on right now, on ignoring all my bruises and aches.

  By now, all the Feasters have scattered. The capital natives hide inside, close to their ill children. Movement immediately catches my attention. Limping down the deserted streets is a delegation of royals.

  “Champions,” they call as they approach.

  Savi and I clumsily stand.

  “Please relent,” one of the royals begs. “We will humble ourselves before you if need be. Just have mercy; let these terrible trials end.

  Savi wraps an arm around my waist when I wobble. “It is not before us that you need to humble yourselves,” he says. “It is before Aia-Thaies, the only God, the Divinity above all divinities.”

  “Where is the sultan?” I ask.

  The royals exchange looks. “We can take you to him, if you require that.”

  “Why would we not require that?” I ask.

  Savi taps my side and speaks up. “It is he who can free our people. If he is ready to submit to Aia’s will, then we shall gladly go with you.”

  Again, the royals exchange looks. “We can take you to him,” is all they promise.

  “Be ready,” I tell Hoenna, Forziel, Nihae, and Drigo before we leave, just in case. Nihae asks why, and Hoenna answers.

  The walk through the city is quiet. Children’s moans and parents’ muffled sobs form a low buzz. When we approach the palace, hushed voices replace the sobs.

  The first words I make out are from the sultan: “Just calm down. Children get sick all the time. You’re really making too much of a fuss about this.” His voice sounds strained.

  “Uncle, it’s my baby boy,” a royal snaps.

  “It’s all of our children,” another adds. “Your family. Your heirs!”

  “And I’m sure they will recover,” the sultan tries as we sweep into the throne room.

  The sultan and royals hunch on cushioned seats, loose vests draped over bandages. They shift to see us, wincing.

  The sultan jerks up. “Why are they here? I did not give you permission to seek these rebels.” He shakes with restrained rage.

  One of the royals who fetched us answers, “You no longer have the right to dictate whether we seek the Maraian Champions. You forfeited that when you let our children suffer.”

  Another royal adds, “You forfeited that when you brought these curses on us by denying their requests. They want Maraiah’s freedom. I say we give it to them.”

  “You would ruin my kingdom,” the sultan says. “If one slave people is freed, all shall revolt against us.”

>   “At least we’ll still be alive,” someone points out.

  Something stirs in me. “It is time for the next sign,” I announce. “We should go to the courtyard for it.”

  The sultan and a couple royals put up brief protest, but most of the royals usher us quickly out of the castle. By the time the sultan joins us, word has spread and some of the citizens have gathered, too.

  I address these citizens and their leaders alike. “Look around: We are here in this city for the Feast of Api. You worship the vole and rabbit for providing you with food, yet they cannot bring rain or sun to nourish the crops. So that you may know that Aia is the one who nourishes you—as a blessing, not as an obligation—and so that you may know He is greater than Api of the Harvest, this is your sixth sign: ‘You starved My people with meager scraps, so now your storerooms will dry up and your surplus grain will turn to dust.’”

  The sultan’s face goes white and red by turns. He collapses before the statues of Api’s animal forms. “Great Api, have mercy! Act for the sake of Izyphor. Preserve our food,” he begs. Most of the royals and all of the citizens copy him.

  The royal Bathatyz points at a servant huddling in the shadows. “Go check the nearest silo or storeroom.”

  The servant sprints off. The leaders of Izyphor moan their prayers. The faces of the dead, some crumbling, most bearing evidence of painstaking repair, stare. In the midmorning light, the stone faces look almost alive. The textiles of Yza Mother Wren crack overhead as they billow. Through the gaps between them, I glimpse storm clouds towering up, as dark as the pewter tableware in Tatanda’s house. The clouds strain toward the capital. White wind and wispy clouds restrain them.

  I bump my leg against Luemikaroeth. I’ll probably need the sword soon.

  The servant rushes back. The sultan and royals pick themselves up. “Well?” the sultan’s nephew calls. “What do you report?”

  The boy stops and grips his knees, breathing heavily. “Empty. I checked three. The wheat is dust.”

  The sultan drags shocked eyes from the servant to us.

  “Cousin,” one of the royals says, “if we do not let them go, we will surely perish.”

  I interrupt before the sultan can answer. “You did not know Aia-Thaies. Now He has one last sign for you, to finish introducing Himself.” I breathe deeply. “‘I am the Maker of All, the Giver of Life, Water, Harvest, and Fire. It is I who decides when a person is born and when they die. To those who follow Me I am both Mother and Father, Healer and Defender. To those who rebel against me, I am He who Consumes. No one who opposes me will stand, and their memory will be wiped from Orrock.’”

  The breeze rises into a soft wind. It weaves gently through my hair and the frayed edges of my clothes. When it brushes the pillars of the faces of the dead, though, the stone crumbles. At first, it’s only grains like powder. Then it quickens, till dust fills the wind.

  The Izyphorns gasp. Some cry out. Some fall to their knees. All bear expressions of horror as the images of their ancestors’ faces, meant to keep their souls from being sucked into the Void, disintegrate before their eyes.

  Something tickles my ear. Threads fill my hand when I swipe at what I assume is a fly. “Rai,” Savi says, and points up.

  As the pillars crumble, the woven fabric draped over them unravels. Loose threads drift down to coat every human and object in the courtyard.

  When the wind finishes its task, the courtyard hangs motionless in the garish sun. The usual mesa-top breeze resumes. Threads flutter. Dust motes dance in the shimmering heat waves.

  Then a royal darts over and rips a ring from the sultan’s finger. The precious metal tings on the pinwheel bricks at our feet. “Go!” he shouts, voice shaking. “Maraiah is free. That signet is a sign for any who question you. Leave us. Leave this land.”

  Another pulls a jewel-encrusted comb from her hair and tosses it at us. “Yes, go. This will help you in your travels. Begone.”

  The others take their cue, showering us with wealth and urging us to leave.

  That’s it? It’s over?

  We are free.

  “We did it,” Savi breathes, hands opening automatically to accept the jewelry being shoved at us.

  That doesn’t sit in my heart as true. After all this, it seems I’ve done very little.

  I’m about to say something to that effect, when Savi says, “Aia did it.”

  We are free.

  It doesn’t feel like I expected. I don’t feel different. Nothing seems real.

  The thunderheads rumble. They strain against the cloud tufts holding them back.

  They’re closer than they were a moment ago.

  “We need to move,” I say. “Savi?”

  “Coming.” He looks down at the bounty in his arms, then back at me. “We can’t take all of this with us.”

  “Here,” someone shoves a crutch at me. “Go!”

  Savi dumps some of the royals’ gifts, and I move as fast as I can on my new crutch.

  Drigo appears beside us. “Don’t just leave all that stuff,” he exclaims. He scoops up as much of the royals’ treasure as he can. When he catches my eye, Drigo asks, “What? It ain’t stealin’ if they gives it to us.”

  “We need to travel light,” Savi says.

  I look at the storm clouds growing taller overhead. “And fast.”

  Drigo looks up. “Wait, are those clouds…”

  “Yep.”

  He swears. “Okay, then let’s go.”

  Thunder cracks.

  We may be free, but the aivenkaites won’t let us stay that way for long.

  Chapter 41

  In camp, the axex ruffle their feathers and scold us with a thweee-thwee-twheet. Forziel runs between them, cooing.

  Thunder rolls louder than their racket.

  “Hurry!”

  Treasure is dumped on blankets, blankets bunched into bundles, bundles hefted onto the axex, all while Forziel sorts us into pairs for riding the beasts. “I’m sharing with Nihae,” Hoenna decides, “while Drigo and Forziel will carry most of the treasure. Rai and Savi will be unburdened—just in case.” He eyes the clouds.

  Forziel is first off the ground. Drigo stands beside his axex, shaking his wrists and muttering to himself, then carefully rests his hands on the creature’s back.

  “It’s going to eat me,” Nihae protests when we guide her toward the beast she’ll share with Hoenna.

  “This axex, Nihae?” Forziel says. “It already considers itself your friend! It’ll protect you, not hurt you.”

  Nihae lets us help her up then, but says, “I don’t like this. Where’s Elesekk?”

  A shout slows us as we scramble onto the axex. The royal Bathatyz, her rich robes flapping, runs toward us.

  “Up, up,” I order our group, hefting my crutches up onto my lap. If the Izyphorns changed their minds, we’re not going back into slavery. Why they’d send a middle-aged woman instead of a runner or a younger royal, I do not know.

  “Wait!” Bathatyz throws her hands in the air and waves them.

  “You freed us,” I shout back. “You cannot take back your word.”

  Bathatyz drops her hands. “Don’t be silly. I’m not here to take you back. I’m here to join you.”

  I almost drop my crutches.

  Drigo snorts.

  “Don’t look so skeptical and shocked,” she frowns. “We all witnessed your Aia’s signs. I would be a fool—and indeed, many of my family are—to ignore what I’ve seen with my own eyes. I will follow your Aia as you do.”

  Despite what happened with the bandits, this takes me aback. It’s one thing for other slaves to become Maraians—but an Izyphorn, and a royal on top of that?

  I pause in indecision for a moment, but Aia was clear. “Aia is gracious,” I tell Bathatyz. “Even a chief of the daughters of Izyphor can return to faithfulness to Him. Welcome to our family.”

  “She’ll have to ride with you, Rai,” Forziel decides, accepting Bathatyz instantly. “You’re the lightes
t.”

  I nod and help Bathatyz up behind me. “Hold on,” I tell her.

  As soon as she does, Forziel cheers and the rest of us join him in the air. “Head west, away from the storm,” Forziel calls.

  “No, fly south,” Savi instructs before I can.

  “That’s crazy! You see those clouds? They’re aivenkaites, right? We oughta be going away from them.”

  “South,” I agree with Savi. “That’s where our people are.”

  “Why am I agreeing to this?” Forziel groans, but his axex turns south and the rest of ours follow.

  Flying with a passenger, angry black clouds towering higher and higher to the right, is a far cry from the freedom and joy of flying with the kaites. Gone is the nostalgic delight from our flight to the capital. My body aches from the fight in the dungeon. My crutches rattle on my lap. Bathatyz bumps heads with me whenever the axex unexpectedly shifts. The midday sun directly overhead sears my exposed skin.

  And the cloud of aivenkaites stays close to us.

  “They can go faster than this,” Bathatyz yells, too close to my ear.

  “They can? But how?”

  She shrills, and I temporarily lose hearing. The axex bolts forward, outstripping even Forziel.

  I twist and call to the others, “Do what she just did!”

  The air fills with shrills, and our flock of axex streak across the bright blue sky.

  The aivenkaites, a black heap of writhing clouds, roar in thunder and lightning. Translucent, the kaites twist the wind like mammoth birds and white zindrumih of legend. They flash before the aivenkaites, reigning them back.

  A funnel of dark cloud slips between the kaites, paling when separate from the other aivenkaites. It hurtles toward us. Wind, hotter than the desert air, hits a moment before the evil cloud wisps do.

  I yank Luemikaroeth free. One of my crutches tumbles off my lap. It’s too small to see when it hits the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Bathatyz shrieks. “You’ll kill us both!”

  “It’s the only way to stop the aivenkaites,” I answer.

  When we flew to the capital, the axex somehow knew where to go without much direction. Maybe they were just following their leader, ridden by Forziel. Whatever the reason, I have no idea how to steer this axex so that I can protect us from the aivenkaites. The evil spirits, three of them, dance out of my reach, tossing the axex about like dry autumn leaves.