Chapter
Sixteen

I gasp. My eyes fly open, and I fight my way awake. Danger. There was danger and blood and I failed but—

But I have no idea where we are. Not in the forest; there’s too much stone. It’s similar in color to the stone surrounding Mushokaiji, that chalky gray, so maybe the attack was only a nightmare? My breathing is fine and I couldn’t survive a hit so close to my heart, but…

Tessen is sitting by my side, watching me with guarded relief. There are shadows under his eyes and his shoulders sag. It looks like he hasn’t slept well in days.

“Khya. You’re okay.” Eyes closed, he slumps forward, his head landing on my shoulder. I move to catch his graceless fall, and when my hands land on his back, he’s trembling.

“Did I—” I cut myself off, swallow, and try again. “That wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

“No. Tyrroh, he— And then you—” He shakes his head, the tremor in his body getting worse. When he turns his face into my neck and holds me tighter, I feel his tears against my skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it worked and I’m so happy you’re here, but I’m sorry.”

My heart stalls, skipping a beat before doubling its pace.

Not a nightmare. Losing Tyrroh wasn’t just a nightmare.

My stomach drops, and my eyes burn. When I close them, I can see the black arrow shaft sticking out of his chest and the blood soaked up by layers of fabric. It happened because my wards weren’t strong enough. Because I took away the extra protection the wardstone would’ve given him.

Did we bring him with us? I want to ask. Can we at least give him the respect of making sure his body feeds the soil like it would’ve in Itagami?

But I don’t ask because another memory is surfacing, and it doesn’t make sense.

I was hit, too, wasn’t I? I must have been. I remember the pain and an arrow sticking out of my chest. It hadn’t directly pierced my heart, but it had to have sliced through a lung. Or nicked it. Zonna shouldn’t have been able to save me, not in the middle of a fight like that. But I’m alive and breathing without hitch or pain, so that can only mean…

“What happened, Tessen?”

Tessen makes a noise that isn’t quite a word, but he doesn’t have to answer. I know as soon as I meet Sanii’s eyes, and my racing pulse begins to calm.

They made me drink some of the susuji. They poured immortality down my throat to save my life, and Tessen is apologizing because… I have no idea.

Pushing away the thoughts of Tyrroh, I focus on Tessen. “Why do you think I’m going to be mad at you?”

He shakes his head; words seem beyond him. Sanii crouches on my other side. “He hates that he took away your choice. Even though I told him that you’d already considered the obvious.”

“That becoming as hard to kill as Varan is probably the only way we’re going to beat him?” I run my hand down Tessen’s back. “I thought about it when Sanii tested the susuji on emself. I wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk for the rest of us—I can’t remember how many of Varan’s trials ended in death, but I know some did.” I tilt my face toward Tessen, whispering the words for him. “I’m not angry. I would’ve eventually taken it myself, I think, and you were right to give it to me then. The only thing I regret is that we couldn’t—that we couldn’t force Tyrroh to drink it in time.”

Tears burn in my eyes, and the tremor that’s barely left Tessen’s body seems to transfer to mine.

It’s senseless and impossible, but I wish I could go back to the days after Sanii told me my brother wasn’t dead. As awful as that time was, the problem and my plan to solve it had been simple—find Yorri and rescue him. At least then I felt like I knew what I was doing.

Here, I can’t remember why I ever thought I wanted to lead. Or why anyone should follow.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop.” Sanii’s voice is gentle but insistent. “You weren’t shooting the arrows, and you couldn’t know the tyatsu were carrying weapons created by the guards at Mushokeiji.”

“Is that how they—” I shudder. I’ve used my ward to stop arrows before. Entire volleys of them. None of those strikes ever felt like those had.

“The weapons were spelled and coated with paint made from Imaku stone dust,” Tessen says. “Like the tattoo on the guard. It’s something they developed to fight off the bobasu, I think, but whatever magic they attach to it must make it work against any mages.”

“Did you keep the arrow?”

“Both of them,” Sanii says, nodding. “Etaro and Tsua carried you and Tyrroh with us, and all of us wanted to know about a weapon strong enough to get through your wards.”

Eir tone makes me think ey was trying to make a joke, but I don’t laugh. “Did you give him final rites yet?” Then another question occurs to me. “How long have I been out?”

Tessen glances at Sanii. “Almost six days.”

“Six?” It can’t have been that long. Sanii only slept for four, and ey spent most of that time writhing and rolling and screaming in pain. I stayed under for another two. But it doesn’t make sense. If I screamed for days, my throat should be so raw and hoarse that even breathing irritates it. I’m fine. Hungry, a little shaky, and riddled with remorse, but physically fine.

“And we’re sure it worked?” I don’t feel much different, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t changes. Like how much better my eyes have become. I didn’t notice at first, but looking at Tessen and Sanii now, I feel as though I’ve never really seen them before.

How have I never known there was something wrong with my eyes?

It must have been a small deficit, it had to have been for it to go overlooked for my whole life. Now it’s like the world has sharpened, becoming so much clearer and brighter. Colors seem stronger somehow, and I can see details I’d never observed before. Small imperfections in Tessen’s skin and minute shifts in Sanii’s expressions. It’s clear now that Sanii’s eyes are more mottled with specks of lighter brown and Tessen’s have tiny flecks of black, turning them into a beautiful reverse of the night sky.

“The odds are against you if our andofume’s story was true,” Sanii says. “It worked on me, and you’re not dead, so…”

“So it either healed me and left me mortal, or…?” Or I’ve been transformed into something even more impenetrable than my wards can make me and maybe strong enough to stand against the bobasu a while longer.

Tessen picks up an anto and hands it to me hilt first. “Let’s see.”

I adjust my grip on the blade, then I draw the tip down the outside of my forearm, creating a wound that’s long but only just deep enough to bleed. It stings, obvious but ignorable, and sluggishly bleeds.

Nothing unusual happens at first. Then I feel the desosa gathering under my skin, more of it than I’ve ever felt within myself before. Unless I called it in on purpose to power a massive ward. Without a conscious order from me, the desosa moves in clear lines, like it’s following one of Soanashalo’a’s symbols until it pools under the length of the wound.

First it itches, the feeling of healing skin. The itch gets worse until it’s hard to keep from scratching deep. Just before I almost give in, the edges of the broken skin turn pink. Within seconds, the cut closes from both ends, like the desosa is sealing it from underneath.

“I guess that’s an answer,” Sanii says. “Welcome to immortality.”

Immortality. Before Yorri “died,” before Sanii came to me with a story about missing bodies and hidden murals, I wanted to become one of the kaigo, the Itagamin council that served our immortal leaders. Joining the Miriseh wasn’t possible, so the kaigo was the next best thing.

Except, it’s not impossible, but I’m still not going to join them. I’m going to destroy them. Which I had also thought was impossible. It’s not; maybe nothing is.

“I’m sure you’re starving—I was when I woke up. And the others will be glad to see your eyes open.” Sanii taps eir own forehead. “And you won’t lose those lines until every single one of them insists what happened isn’t your fault, will you?”

I take a breath. I try—and fail—to get rid of the lines and wrinkles I can now feel creasing my skin. I give up and follow Sanii toward where the others are sitting near the mouth of this cave.

Although everyone is subdued, their smiles tinged with sadness, their relief to see me is genuine. Sanii was right; none of them blame me. Knowing that eases the sharpest edges of the guilt trapped between my lungs, but that’s all. It was my job to protect us. Tyrroh is dead because I failed. It may not be entirely my fault, but I’m not without blame.

“We finally figured out how the tyatsu have been following us so closely,” Tessen says after we’re settled. He almost sounds like he’s apologizing. “I didn’t even think to look for something like this. Not even Osshi knew about them.”

“I don’t understand. Them?” I look at Osshi, but his face is turned toward the ground.

“The Ryogans have started using the garakyus as spies,” Sanii explains.

“They hide the spheres anywhere with a good view, like trees, and it seems like they’re always active.” Nairo’s full lips purse, frustration and stress marring his face. “From what we can know about how they work, the Ryogans must have outposts within range so someone watches the garakyu in the area.”

“And they’re everywhere?” I can’t tell if that’s a brilliant idea or an absolute waste of resources.

“We’re not sure, but we don’t think so,” Natani says.

“I found one on the road, and it helped me learn how to sense an active one. And now I know I’ve felt it before—so often I started purposefully ignoring them. There were several surrounding Mushokeiji, but once we left the traveled paths, I haven’t found any.” Tessen peers off, scanning the surrounding area. “There’s no reason to watch these mountains. Or there wasn’t before we started crawling all over them.”

“Hopefully we’ll be well gone before they think to add any more garakyus.”

“We should go to Jushoyen and appeal to the Jindaini.” Osshi’s words are so unconnected to anything it takes me a moment to translate it. Jushoyen is… Yes. The central city of Ryogo, and the place where the Ryogan leader lives, a man who holds the title of Jindaini. Which makes what Osshi said ridiculous.

“They’ve been hunting you since you landed,” I remind him. “Since before then.”

“But I didn’t think it would take this long,” he argues. “It’s been three moons and the only weapons we have are the ones they’ve been creating in Mushokeiji, but now you’ve stolen a third of their supply, so even if we do go warn the Jindaini, we won’t be able to create enough of the weapons we need to defend ourselves from the bobasu!”

Rai looks at Osshi like he suggested we jump into the ocean. “Even if we warned your Jindaini, and he believed us, and we gave him back every speck of stone we took, Mushokeiji still wouldn’t have enough of this rock to make the number of arrows they’d need to create a hole in the Itagamin army.”

“And Ryogo has spent centuries villainizing the bobasu—even Chio and Tsua. They suppress magic, believe ebets are sent as retribution from the Kaisubeh, and punish an entire village of people just for the crime of being born in the same place as the bobasu.” I gesture widely, encompassing everything with the sweep of my hand. “Yet you think the Jindaini will be fair-minded enough to listen to the very people he’s been taught to fear most?”

“You forget, Osshi,” Tsua begins. “You’re not only expecting the other ten bobasu, you have to prepare for an army. Thousands of warrior mages just as strong as Khya and the others. If what we’re attempting doesn’t work, the Jindaini won’t be able to save anyone.”

“The only effective decision he could possibly make would be to evacuate, but that order would force Ryogans to leave everything they know behind,” Chio says. “Something tells me no one is going to be any more willing to follow that order than the people I knew when I was a boy.”

Osshi winces, but then nods. “Only the Kaisubeh could convince most of us to leave this land without even trying to fight for it.”

“I’m certain we can convince the army itself to return to Shiara once the bobasu are dead and their lies exposed,” Natani says. “But as long as Varan and his followers are alive, they’re the only voices that army will listen to.”

“If you want to save Ryogo, Osshi, keep helping us.” I lean in, holding his gaze and hoping he’s listening. “Even if we were only serving our own interests, we’d still be the only thing that can help your people, but I promise we won’t abandon you. We’ll do everything we can to ensure the bobasu don’t cause any more damage here.”

For several heartbeats, he looks at us, eyes narrow and expression uncertain. Then he drops his gaze and nods. The agreement seems too grudging for me to be comfortable with it. Tessen is watching Osshi with the same speculation.

…

The next morning, we leave the spot where we hid from the pursuing soldiers while I healed, and where the others gave Tyrroh a final farewell, one like he might’ve had if he’d died on a mission in the desert. Rai and Nairo had burned him to ash. The collected remains are now in a bag Etaro carries. As we travel, Etaro slowly spreads the ash through the forest.

By the end of the first day, all we have left of our leader—of our friend—is his memory and the hope whatever afterlife the Kaisubeh promise the Ryogans isn’t closed to us.

It’s not the final rites he should’ve had, but it’s better than anything the Ryogans would have given him if we’d left his body behind. At least now he’ll feed the soil and return life to the land, performing one last service, just like he would’ve done in Itagami.

In the middle of the second day, with several hours to go before Osshi and the andofume expect us to reach the spot where Soanashalo’a left us, Tessen stops.

My chest clenches and I raise my wards, inwardly marveling at how much clearer the flow of the desosa feels and how much more of it I can contain. “What is it?”

“Shh.” He holds up his hand. There’s no tension in the gesture or his face, so I relax my posture even though I leave my wards up. Then I signal to the others to stop and wait. Tessen is looking down, so he must be sensing something on or under the wet, rocky ground. It’s got to be something important to stop him in his tracks like this.

“Just because the katsujo running through the Nentoado range is the one Varan found doesn’t mean it’s the only one that exists. It was just an idea, but after Suakizu, it seemed more likely,” Tessen says slowly, seeming distracted. “Maybe the Kaisuama vein was just the closest to the surface. I was almost positive there are others. We may not have to go back to Nentoado.”

“Because what happened in Suakizu proves there’s some connection at least to the survival of different areas,” I murmur, working through the logic in my head. Then, “Wait. You said was. Why aren’t you positive now?”

“No, I was almost positive until I found another one.” Tessen smirks, smug pride I haven’t seen for moons shining in his eyes. “Now I’m absolutely positive.”

A thrill buzzes through my veins, raising bumps on my arms and across the back of my neck. I used to hate that look on his face, because it always meant he was about to say something that’d make me either want to hit him or kiss him.

Now, I definitely want to kiss him. “You found a katsujo.”

“What?” Tsua looks down and then into the trees. “Where?”

Everyone looks down, excited whispers rippling through the group. Miari drops to her knees, her hands pressed to the stone. I glance at them, but quickly go back to watching Tessen.

“About a half mile below where we’re standing.” Tessen taps the ground with the toe of his boot. If that’s true, there’s no way anyone else will be able to feel it. “We’ve been following it for a while, but I couldn’t be sure what I was feeling until now. It’s closer to the surface here.”

Which changes so much.

Just the journey from Ahta’s to Kaisuama and back took us more than a week. Returning to the section of the mountain Ahta called home from here will add more time. Traveling to wherever we need to go next—likely the coast to find or steal a ship that will take us back to Shiara—will take even longer. If we can use a different katsujo to enhance the Imaku rocks and make them powerful enough to kill the bobasu—and yourself, a voice in the back of my mind reminds me—then we can head straight for the coast.

No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t grab hold of the desosa under our feet. I can feel it on the extreme edge of my awareness, but it’s as intangible as a heatwave in the desert.

The more I consider what all of this means, the dimmer my excitement gets. “Knowing others exist won’t help if we can’t access them.”

“True.” Tessen’s nose wrinkles, and he scuffs the rock with his boot. “Lo’a knew the stories about Kaisuama. Maybe she’ll have a way to track a different vein down.”

I touch the pendant hidden under my clothes, and hope rises a little. She did say I could ask for help. So when we find her hours later, after filling her in on everything that happened, Tessen and I tell her about the deeply buried katsujo. “Is there anything you know of that can help track especially strong concentrations of desosa?”

Her eyes first widen and then narrow, her gaze seeming to turn inward. Then she shakes her head. “I cannot think of anything, but let me consider it. A friend from another family is better versed in the deeper, older beliefs, and she might be able to give me an answer.”

As she leaves, I can’t help thinking she does know something. I don’t press, but I find myself at a loss because until we know if it’s possible to track a katsujo, we can’t choose a destination. Which means we can’t prepare for whatever’s next. After what happened with the guard from Mushokeiji, I don’t even want to practice the niadagu spell. Not yet. I could train, or maybe run the perimeter of the camp, but neither holds any appeal. It wasn’t my swordplay that failed Tyrroh, it was my wards. If I’m going to practice anything…

“Where are the arrows?” I ask.

“Rai has them,” Tessen says. Only after the words are out do his eyebrows pull low. “Are you worried? Rai knows to keep them well away from you.”

“That is the exact opposite of what I want, actually.” I spot Rai near one of the bonfires, watching Sanii and Etaro teach Ahta the basics of fighting with an anto.

“Ahta, can I borrow Etaro for a while?” I ask the little ebet.

The relief on ey’s face when we walked into the hanaeuu we’la maninaio camp was touching. Then ey’d unexpectedly thrown emself into Sanii’s arms, which was both amusing and disconcerting. I hate to separate em from the two ebets ey seems to be especially attached to, but Etaro is the only one who can do what I need. The child agrees, only a little reluctantly, and Etaro grins as ey jogs to where Sanii is sitting with Tsua and Osshi.

“What did you need, Nyshin-pa?” Etaro asks. I’m happier than I want to admit that ey didn’t call me nyshin-ma. Tyrroh is gone, but I’m not ready to take his place.

“I need you to get the arrows from Rai and shoot them as fast as you can at my wards.”

“What?” The protest comes from four different voices in near-perfect unison.

Tessen grabs my arm and spins me to face him. “You can’t be serious. Those things almost killed you before you were immortal, Khya. What do you think they’ll do to you now?”

“I think they’ll hurt, but that I won’t die.” I put my hand over his on my arm. “If the rock alone could kill immortals, we’d be done, wouldn’t we? It won’t kill me, but whatever they did to it made it capable of piercing my wards. I need to learn how to defend against them. I need to keep the rest of you safe if this is what the tyatsu are coming after us with.”

“Sometimes I hate it when you make sense.” Tessen’s expression scrunches, his war with himself clear on his face. Then, he stills. “Compromise?”

“I’m listening.”

“You ward something else. A tree or a rock or whatever you like. Ward something that won’t care if an arrow strikes it, and test yourself that way.”

“Not a bad idea.” A grin twitches up the corners of Rai’s lips. “I knew you kept him around for a reason.”

“Hush, you’d miss me if I was gone, too,” Tessen shoots back absently, his eyes never leaving my face. “That should still work, shouldn’t it?”

“It—yes. Actually, it should.” And I should’ve thought of it immediately. I so rarely use my wards to protect anything but people; it’s like I momentarily forgot I could.

Once my friends believe I’m not on the edge of a dangerously ill-advised decision, it only takes a few minutes to set up a good arena for our tests away from the edge of the camp. Ahta and Sanii follow once Ahta understands what we’re doing. Ey’s fascination with magic is even sharper and more obvious than eir captivation with our two ebets and their weapons.

“I’ll place a single flat ward in front of this tree.” I point to the trunk. “Start slower than the speed it’d be from a bow, and we’ll see what happens after that.”

Etaro nods, warily eyeing the two black arrows in eir hands. “One at a time first, too.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” I carefully raise a ward, still not used to how well I can feel the desosa in the air. And definitely not used to feeling as though it runs in ordered paths alongside my own veins.

The first arrow raises in front of Etaro until it’s parallel to the ground and level with eir chest. Ey meets my eyes. I nod.

The arrow flies toward the tree. My ward flares bright and painful at the point of impact. I gasp, feeling an echo of that strike in my chest but managing to refill the hole punched in the ward instead of allowing it to shatter. And then—

Thunk. The arrow embeds itself in the tree.

Gritting my teeth, I shake myself out and raise my ward. It hurt, but it was okay. Better than the first strike in the forest. Maybe the susuji’s enhancements weren’t just physical; maybe it strengthened this, too.

“Again,” I demand, keeping my voice even.

Etaro raises the second arrow, and at my nod, ey blasts it in my direction.

Thunk.

“Bellows.” I rub at my chest though I know the pain is coming from my wards. “Again.”

“You’re gonna remind her even the high-and-mighty immortals have limits before she passes them, aren’t you Tessen?” Rai asks wryly as Etaro magically yanks the arrows out of the wood and floats them back toward emself.

“Maybe.” He lifts one shoulder, the motion dismissive but his expression proud. “But every time I think she has a limit, it moves, so I guess we’ll have to see how this goes.”

It goes nowhere good for the next hour. Each arrow Etaro shoots finds it’s mark, and each impact echoes through my chest like it passed through me to get there.

“More power won’t help.” Tsua’s voice surprises me. I hadn’t noticed her and Zonna approaching. “Focus on the material, instead. Focus on the elements of the spell on those arrows and the feel of the stone. Adjust the layers of the ward, not the power running through them.”

Layers. Could I layer the wards? I’ve never done that before. Maybe it’s not working because I’m trying to do too much with a single ward. If I slow the arrows down with one ward, maybe I can stop them with another. And if two wards aren’t enough, I can layer more behind them. Assuming I can even hold two complex wards without overloading myself. And assuming I can keep one up after the arrow pierces the first. And assuming this theory has any merit at all.

I close my eyes and try to picture what I want from the desosa, remembering the feeling of the arrows both when one struck my chest and all the times Etaro has shot them at the tree. But even after I fix the image in my mind and shape a dual layer ward in front of the tree—

Thunk.

“Blood and rot,” I mutter, wincing.

Etaro pulls the arrows out of the tree and floats them back to em. Gripping them in one hand and watching me uncertainly, ey hesitantly asks, “Again?”

I nod, taking a slow breath and bringing my wards back up.

Given how this has gone so far, it’s unlikely I’ll make any real progress tonight, but that doesn’t matter. The Ryogans have become the enemy, and this is how the enemy is armed. We’ve already lost one of our squad—no. I’ve already lost one, and I will do everything I can to keep from failing my friends again.