CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The pulse leaps with the beating of the drums
A roar which thunders, seeps under the skin
The chanting of the Folk thrums through the veins
With force that flowed forth ’fore the world began
A power more sublime there never was
Than that provided to us from the blood
—THE BOOK OF UNVEILING
Darvyn cradled Kyara’s limp form against him, straining to sense her injury. Without knowing the details he could not heal it, and her shield still kept him out. It couldn’t possibly be as strong as all that, especially now that she had lost consciousness. He wanted to trust that her own Song would heal her, but without being able to sense anything, how could he take that chance?
He laid her flat on the bench of the wagon and lifted the bottom of her tunic to inspect the damage. Blood gushed from the hole in her abdomen. The bullet had gone clean through, having hit her low enough to tear through her intestines, poisoning her from the inside. There was no sign of her body starting the healing process, and he could do nothing to help her.
Old scars across her torso caught his eye. One sleeve of her tunic had ridden up, uncovering more. He pushed it up to her elbow, revealing an assortment of lacerations, both old and more recent. Her other arm was the same. Dozens of cuts had punctured her flesh over the years. She could not still have her Song and retain this kind of damage. A particularly deep wound, healed by Earthsong, may scar, depending on the Singer’s talent, but Kyara’s cuts looked shallow. They would have been easy to repair. Who had done this to her and why? And if she had no Song, how could she shield at all?
Since Darvyn could not reverse the damage from the bullet and knit her torn flesh as he normally would, he tried flooding her body with Earthsong. Life energy always sought life and would work to enhance her body’s natural healing factor. It was a far slower process, one he’d never really used before. An injury as grave as hers would require a steady stream of energy, if his plan even worked at all. He wasn’t certain it would, but he routed more of the energy toward her until he felt something catch and take hold. His Song was the conduit through which Earthsong flowed and her body was not rejecting it outright; however, he would have to stay with her for hours in order to keep her from dying.
He whipped his tunic over his head and ripped it into strips to staunch the steady flow of blood gushing from her midsection. Footsteps rushed over, but he did not look up until the bandages were secure.
Farron sucked in a breath. “Kyara was shot? Why isn’t she healing?”
“I don’t think she has a Song. And I don’t know what’s shielding her, but it’s also blocking me from healing her.”
He finally looked over to Farron, wincing at the shock and disbelief etched on his face. Darvyn had seen his fair share of death. He had never been able to save everyone—often not even a fraction of those he’d wanted to. But it was not for lack of trying. He had exhausted his Song, drained himself dry over and over, requiring hours of rest before his power returned. But he had never hesitated to sacrifice a piece of himself to save a life. He would do no less for Kyara.
He explained his spell to Farron, how he was forcing life energy into her dying body. The teen remained quiet, his dark eyes watching Kyara’s gentle breaths. Darvyn kept pressure on her wound, desperate for her to stop bleeding.
The noise of an engine made him glance back. The other Singers had filled in the sinkholes with dirt. Lizana and Zango pushed the diesel crawlers to the side of the road where the captured bush wranglers had been tied up.
“What’s Aggar going to do with them?” Darvyn asked.
Farron scratched his head. “Leave them here. We need to get to the meeting place and hand off the children. We’re going radio silent. He said something about these wranglers isn’t right.”
“Yes, I noticed. They’re clean-shaven with all new gear. It’s like they’re only playing at being bush wranglers. I think they might be payrollers.”
Farron frowned at the men again sitting in a line on the ground. “Why would a payroller pretend to be a bush wrangler?”
Darvyn shrugged. “Maybe it’s some new scare tactic? Some new way to drive fear into the population?”
He extended his weary senses to the men, feeling out their dispositions. Resignation and satisfaction were the prominent emotions radiating from them. Fatigue was setting in, but their sentiments made no sense. It was as though they’d expected to be caught.
“Either way we don’t have the time or manpower to interrogate them further,” Farron said. “Aggar wants us back on our way in ten minutes.” He tilted his head and frowned at Kyara. “Will she be all right?”
Another crawler rumbled to life as one of the Keepers revved the engine. With one of those, he could definitely make it to the school with plenty of time to fix the well and come back for Jack. But if he left Kyara, she would certainly die.
Some nagging doubt about the events of the past day dogged him. Was it a coincidence that the well-supplied group of bush wranglers had accosted them while Kyara was with them? Darvyn had believed her story about seeking her sister, but without being able to verify if she was lying with Earthsong, he had to entertain the possibility that she wasn’t what she seemed.
Her breathing was steady, and the blood flow appeared to be slowing. Still, the only thing keeping her alive was the constant stream of Earthsong coursing to her. No other Keeper would be able to help her. No one else could use this much Earthsong without quickly exhausting their inner Song. If he left Kyara now, she would surely die. Until he had some proof that she wasn’t who she’d said she was, he couldn’t let that happen.
“Do you think they’ll make an exception and let her in the safe house considering she’s injured?” Farron asked.
Darvyn shook his head. “I’ll have to take her with me.”
Farron gave him an assessing look. “Does this mean you’re not going to the safe house?”
Darvyn retrieved his spare tunic from his pack and slipped it over his head. “You had no idea what I was planning. You can tell him that and not be lying.”
Bringing a stranger to the school was an even bigger risk than bringing one to a safe house. But Darvyn could ensure Kyara didn’t know the school’s location. And if it turned out he couldn’t trust her … He shivered. He’d just have to climb that peak when it appeared.
Aggar was questioning the group of captured bandits. He was unlikely to get any answers, but his attention was centered on them. Lizana had just lined up the last crawler along the side of the road.
Farron said nothing, but his eyes implored Darvyn to change his mind.
“Safe travels, my friend,” Darvyn said, touching Farron’s forehead. Resigned, the teen mirrored the gesture, then stepped back.
Darvyn climbed from the wagon and lifted Kyara into his arms, then carried her down the road. Aggar hadn’t noticed them, his focus aimed at the bush wranglers.
Kyara’s body was slack. Darvyn settled her on the crawler farthest from the others and climbed aboard behind her. She slumped over the handlebars and nearly slid off. He tied the remaining strips of his ripped tunic together and looped it around both of their waists, staying clear of her injury, tethering them together so she wouldn’t fall off. When he flipped the ignition switch, the metal beast roared to life.
Shouts came from behind him, but he pointed the crawler north and drove into the bush without looking back.
Kyara battled for consciousness, scrabbling her way out of the dark cavern that had closed in around her. She tore her eyes open and was momentarily confused to find a smattering of stars twinkling against a blue-black sky. She shifted, bracing herself for the pain she’d felt when the bullet had punctured her, but it never came. Her hands went to her abdomen and pulled at the hem of her bloodstained tunic. Smooth skin met her fingertips. She looked down and sucked in a breath.
A soft, orange light glowed next to her. She sat up and came face-to-face with Darvyn. They were camped, just the two of them, somewhere in the bush.
“How are you feeling?”
She pressed a hand against her stomach. “Better.”
He barked out a dry laugh. “You actually heal rather fast.”
She swallowed. “Did you … did you heal me?”
“Not exactly. I just kept you alive until your body took over.”
The cold of the night broke through, causing her to shiver. She’d been lying on her coat and wrapped herself in it, relishing the lingering warmth of her own body heat.
The lack of scarring at the bullet site left her perplexed. Had her immunity to Earthsong been affected or was this something else? She had enough scars to know that even her own fast healing had never been so complete.
“Thank you,” she said, wary. He hadn’t smiled once since she’d awoken. In fact, his whole demeanor was careful, assessing. “Where are we? Where’s everyone else?”
“I had to make a detour.” He watched her intently. His stare remained even when she averted her own gaze. But she couldn’t stay away for long. Glittering in the firelight, his eyes begged to be looked at, studied. She bet there were a thousand stories locked inside.
“A detour to where?” She forced the question out. Cold fear settled in her gut when he didn’t answer. He knew. Somehow he’d found out who she was and why she was here. Now he was going to kill her.
Oddly enough, the thought calmed her. She would be grateful for death after so long. But just as quickly, her anxiety rose. If he knew, then why had he aided her in the first place? What was going on?
She sniffed the air but didn’t smell smoke. For the first time, she peered at the orange glow she’d noticed earlier. It wasn’t a fire. Instead it came from the boulder next to Darvyn, which radiated with heat like metal in a blacksmith’s forge.
“We’re off the highway,” he said. “Something urgent came up, and I had to bring you along.”
She hesitated to question him more for fear of what he may ask her in return. Could he sense her emotions now? Was that why he was looking at her so carefully?
The night sky gave no indication of their location. She stretched her senses, searching out nearby Nethersong. Kilometers of open desert surrounded them, the Nether bright in her mind’s eye.
“The children are safe?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So, basically, you nabbed me?” He grimaced. “Why?”
“You were dying. I was the only one who could save you.”
His words sent her pulse racing. She couldn’t ask him why he was the only one. It wasn’t possible … He was definitely too young to be the Shadowfox. Perhaps he was simply the second-strongest Singer in the group and the actual Shadowfox had to go on with the children, leaving her in the care of someone strong enough to help her.
Her wound throbbed with the need to stay on her assignment. Until she knew for sure that her cover was blown, she would stick with her story. She had to.
She wanted to ask how exactly he had saved her, but it didn’t seem like something a normal person would wonder. Not unless she wanted to reveal her immunity to Earthsong—he obviously knew, but it was better not to discuss.
“This urgent matter of yours, I suppose it won’t take us anywhere near Checkpoint Seventeen?”
He shook his head. “But it shouldn’t take long. It can’t. Then I can take you back to find your sister.”
He turned to the glowing rock. On top of it sat a cooking pot. It was a nice trick, the heat and light of a fire without the smoke. A good cover for those seeking to hide their location. If Kyara had a normal Song, she would have done something similar.
“We would have been there tonight had the crawler not overheated,” he said. “Once it cools enough, we can be back on our way.”
“You stole one of the bush wrangler’s crawlers?” She turned behind her to find the vehicle parked a few paces away.
“I don’t think those were bush wranglers.”
When she faced him again, the intensity of his gaze froze her in place. “I think you’re right,” she said. “Something about them was off.” She suspected Aren had hired the men to attack the Keepers. Whether he thought he was helping the mission or merely antagonizing her, it was just the sort of thing she’d been afraid of when she’d found out he’d been sent to “assist.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” she asked.
“No.”
At least the children were safe, and hopefully off to somewhere better, though she could not imagine where that might be. She turned back to inspect the crawler.
“The headlights aren’t very strong. I’m not sure how you would have made it.”
The night suddenly brightened around her. She spun around, shocked to find a ball of flame floating in the air between them. Just as quickly, it was gone again.
“Handy,” she said, catching her breath.
He shrugged and stirred whatever was in the pot. “Have you been injured much in your line of work?”
Icy fingers held her in place. Then she remembered that he believed her to be a courier. “Sometimes.” Not since her training, though. Ydaris bleeding her for various spells didn’t really count. Did he ask because he’d seen her scars? There was no good explanation as to why a courier would be a blood bank for a practicing blood mage. “It’s dangerous work,” she said simply.
“Do you enjoy it?”
She took a deep breath and stared out into the darkness surrounding them.
“I hate it with all my heart and soul.” He straightened sharply, as if surprised by her answer. “But it feeds me, clothes me, keeps me out of … trouble.” She shrugged.
“And you’ve never thought of joining the Keepers?”
She shook her head. “Do you really think you can win against the immortal king? His power is limitless.”
“Everything has limits. If he were omnipotent he would be able to leave Lagrimar. The Mantle would be nothing but an inconvenience. But it keeps him in check. Even he has weaknesses.”
“Well, good luck finding them.” Her fingers worried a stone at her feet. She dug a small hole, creating a tiny hill of soil.
“Chip away at a mountain little by little and you’ll dig a tunnel,” he said.
“So that’s what saving the children is? A chip of rock from a mountain?”
“We save who we can. Not nearly enough, but you can’t save everyone.”
Outrage snaked through her. She destroyed her little pile, flattening it with the palm of her hand. “And what happens when you die and the sum of your life is a pile of dust at your feet? The mountain won’t even have felt it.”
He leaned forward, forcing their gazes to collide. “Chip away enough and he’ll feel it. When I’m gone, someone else will grab my pick.”
Her anger dissipated. “You have purpose. Maybe that’s enough.”
“Everyone needs purpose. We all have our life’s work.”
“Do we?”
“Perhaps you were not meant to be a courier. Perhaps your life’s work still remains to be discovered.”
A pained smile tugged at her lips. She considered her actual life’s work: dealing death. “Life’s work is living until the end. Nothing more.”
“Ah, so you’re an Avinid.” He sat back again, resting his hands on his knees. The position gave off the appearance of relaxation, but she felt he was always alert. Never truly relaxed. Much like her.
“I don’t worship the Void like the Avinids, but I understand the desire. It’s easier to believe that all this is for nothing than to try to assign some significance to the details of our lives. You Keepers worship some sleeping queen who is supposed to awaken and save us from the True Father. Five hundred years is a long nap. And those who follow the ancestors believe our long-dead foremothers will offer some comfort. That their animal spirits hold answers to life’s mysteries. I’ve never seen a sleeping queen or a talking serpent. I am very familiar with the Void, however.”
Those dark eyes penetrated her skin and filled her with a warm longing that gnawed at her insides.
“You are a very interesting woman, Kyara.”
Her cheeks heated. “Let me take a look at the crawler,” she said, rising, seeking to avoid further scrutiny. “I may be able to get it working.”
The metal was still hot, but she wrapped her hand in her sleeve and popped open the side compartment to reveal the engine. The capital of Sayya was clogged with various motorized contraptions shipped in from Yaly or cobbled together by amateur mechanics. When not on assignment, Kyara liked to tinker with all sorts of mech from radio transmitters to rickshaw bearings. It was something she’d learned from Ydaris.
She peered into the recesses of the engine but couldn’t see much with the dim light. Suddenly a small ball of fire appeared near her head.
She recoiled, then caught herself. “Thanks,” she said under her breath. “Unless we have water to spare it will be several hours before the starter will catch again. The exchanger is clogged with dust. The fastest solution is to flush it. Otherwise, I can scrape it once it cools.”
“Water isn’t a problem,” Darvyn said. He produced a metal canister and crouched near a saltbush, then snapped off a tough branch. Holding the canister under the broken branch, he waited. Kyara wasn’t sure what was happening until water began to leak out of the branch into the waiting container. When the canister was full, the water shut off like a tap in the castle.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her the container. She stared at the water for a moment, and a great thirstiness came over her.
As if he could read her mind he said, “Go ahead, take a drink. There’s more.”
She sniffed the water. Virtually all food in Sayya was produced at least indirectly because of Earthsong, but she’d never seen it done right in front of her. The water was clean and fresh, aromatic with the gentle scent of the saltbush about it, but not unpleasant.
She drank down half the canister, and Darvyn refilled it in the same way. Then she set about clearing out the engine clog.
Darvyn watched over her shoulder. She looked back a few times, but he remained silent, his steady interest covering her like a shawl.
“There you go. Should last another few hundred kilometers.”
His eyes were wide. “Where did you learn that?”
She brushed off his apparent awe. “You come across lots of contraptions living on the road.” Standing abruptly, she took a step away from him. The heat coming from his body was starting to scramble her brain. They were alone, truly alone, and her awareness of him was impossible to ignore. Fortunately, her stomach chose that moment to grumble.
“What are you cooking?”
Darvyn went to his pot and spooned some sort of mash into a metal cup and handed the concoction to her. It smelled bland but melted on her tongue.
“What is this?” she asked, scooping more into her mouth.
“Just a squashed tuber,” he said, eating his more slowly.
“Where did you find tubers before harvest?” She’d burned her tongue in her haste but did not care.
Darvyn merely shrugged and offered her some more water, which she took readily.
When they’d finished eating, he packed up, and soon they were on the back of the crawler. Kyara sat behind him, forced once again to wrap her arms around his waist. She failed miserably at not allowing his proximity to affect her. She leaned in, sniffing his neck surreptitiously. His scent filled her nostrils, the sweet tang of oldenberry mixed with a smoky spice all his own.
They followed the ball of fire he spelled into existence as they raced off into the night. Fatigue soon enveloped her. The thrum of the engine beneath her and the firmness of Darvyn’s body against her threatened to lull her back to sleep. She fought it as long as she could. Regardless of the way it felt to be this close to someone, she needed to remain alert.
“It’s all right. You can sleep,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s natural to be tired after an injury like yours. There’s no use fighting it.”
As her traitorous body began to obey him, the doubts and fears once again crept in. Was she any closer to discovering the identity of the Shadowfox? If she had a god to pray to, she would beg to never complete her mission.
Darkness surrounds Ulani. She’s light as a feather, floating through the night sky. Only there are no stars, no moon or clouds. Just darkness all around. But it’s not the Hollow Place. She feels calm and patient. Expectant.
Someone is nearby. A warm presence wraps around her, and though she can’t see anything, she knows it’s a woman.
“Hello, little one,” the woman says. Her voice is like a rainbow, colorful and bright. It shines over Ulani’s floaty, feathery self and brightens the darkness.
“Hello,” she replies.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve come to visit me, Ulani.”
She doesn’t remember having been here before.
“Oh, you were a very little girl. Too young to recall. But I’m glad you’re back. I don’t know how long we’ll have together, though.”
Ulani’s floaty self nods her weightless head. She’s not sure if the woman can see anything, but she likes listening to her talk.
“Where are we?”
“Do you know where dreams take place?”
Ulani thinks hard. “The World Between, I think.” She feels rather than sees the lady smile.
“Yes, you’re right. We’re in the World Between.”
“How did I get here?”
“Dreams take people many places in this world. Some trips pass near enough to me so that I may converse with the traveler and some do not.”
Ulani isn’t sure she wants to ask the next question, but she does anyway. “And who are you?”
If voices can smile, the lady is definitely smiling. “My name is Oola.”
“Are you dreaming, Oola-deni?”
Oola tsks. “How I wish my brother hadn’t been so pedantic when creating your language. No need for all that, dear one, just Oola is fine. And yes, I guess you could say I’m dreaming as well. I’ve been dreaming for a very, very long time.”
“Is it lonely here?”
Oola doesn’t answer for a long time. When she speaks, it is very quiet. “Yes.”
Ulani wants to hug her, but her floaty, feathery self doesn’t have arms. “Sometimes, when Papa would lock my sister in the closet, I would sit outside and sing to her. That would make her feel better. Do you want me to sing to you?”
“I think I would like that, Ulani. Thank you.”
She thinks of what she should sing and settles on her favorite lullaby. One of the only memories she has of her real mother, before she ran away from them, was of her singing at night. Helping her get to sleep. When her mama sang to her, she never had nightmares. Oola was already dreaming, but maybe she could still go to sleep and wake up to a new day full of light.
“Rest now, little one,
for the day is done
Night crawls over everything,
darkness now has won
And if the light stays hidden
and morning never comes
On my heart your name is written
I love you more than the sun.”
She hears Oola smile again. “That’s a lovely lullaby, and you sing it very well.”
“Thank you.” Ulani preens. “That’s the only verse I know though.”
“Would you like to hear the next verse?” Oola asks.
“Yes, please.”
When Oola sings, her rainbow voice lights up the darkness. Ulani settles in to listen.
“Don’t cry, little one
Save your tiny tears
They’ll be needed one day soon
To wet the wasted years
So when the sky’s distempered
And dry the rivers run
On my skin your name’s remembered
I love you more than the sun.”
Ulani likes listening to Oola sing. She likes it very much.
“You have to go now, Ulani, but I hope you will visit me again.”
“I hope so, too.” She doesn’t want to wake up. She wishes she could stay here forever.
“You and your sister will need to stick together. You’ll have to watch out for her. But don’t worry, you’ll soon have help.”
The last time someone came to help them hadn’t turned out so good in the end. But she trusts the lady with the rainbow voice. And she hopes to dream of her again soon.