Kalenek

The days passed slowly in the underground river. They ran out of food, so Jazlyn used magic to catch and cook fish. Jhorn, Inolah—and without a say, Ferro—refused to eat for two days, but Inolah finally gave in to Ferro’s begging and fed the boy. At that point even Jhorn ate.

But Jazlyn’s root tails eventually ran out. Now they were all hungry, and the mantic witch looked haggard and ill.

She wasn’t the only one. A crowded, jostling boat made sleep difficult for everyone. Such erratic rest kept the worst of Kal’s nightmares at bay, but his growing fatigue was making him irritable.

Jhorn kept the lantern off most of the time, wanting to preserve it. He lit it for short intervals. During one such time, Kal showed Jazlyn the piece of leather with the runes Lady Lebetta had drawn and asked if she could translate them.

“Rune magic is Magonian,” she rasped. “Tennish mantics do not use such primitive methods.”

This confused Kal. “I thought all mantics were the same.”

“An insult to my kind,” she said. “Evenroot gives a mantic spiritual eyes to see shadir. Each mother realm has its own ways of communicating with the shadir. Magonian mantics prefer rune magic and potions. Tennish priestesses rely on the language of the gods. We speak to the shadir as equals, which makes us infinitely more powerful.”

“Infinitely more indebted,” Jhorn mumbled.

This left Kal no closer to having completed his mission than when he had left Wilek in Farway. He hoped his prince would not be too disappointed.

After what felt like a month of darkness, the daylight came like lightning that flashed and remained in the sky.

The river had exited the ream and now flowed along the bottom of a deep, narrow canyon. Kal squinted up at the cliffs, heart swelling with recognition. “The cracks of Jeruka!” he yelled, relieved to know they would not sail off the end of a cliff. “We must be nearing the bay.”

Sand sprinkled down the cliff walls here and there like tiny waterfalls. The canyon ran straight ahead, but in the distance it narrowed and turned.

“Everyone get down and cover your heads!” Kal yelled.

The coming bend was not a turn but a section of rock that had fallen from above, leaving only a narrow gap in the canyon for the river to pass through. Kal hoped the wagon would fit. He glanced at Jazlyn, but she was asleep—in a haze, Qoatch had claimed. Kal tucked his head between his knees.

The port side hit the fallen boulder and knocked the wagon in a half circle. The motion threw Kal against the side, sending an ache up his arm. The impact slowed the wagon’s movement around the fallen rock. On the other side of the boulder, the swift current sucked them in and quickly increased their speed again. Kal kept low as the wagon banged between the cliffs and more fallen rocks.

“The wagon cracked!” Grayson cried.

Kal glanced at the leak, grabbed a leather bedroll. “Put this against it.” He tossed it to the boy just as movement above captured his attention. “Avalanche!” he yelled. “Heads down!”

They swept into a shower of sand and rocks. The wagon bashed against another fallen boulder in the rapids. A stone hit Kal’s shoulder, another his knee. Water was filling the wagon quickly. Kal tried to help Grayson plug the crack, but it was too big. They were going to sink.

The wagon rattled through another narrow opening. Up ahead, the canyon yawned into the Eversea.

Almost there. May Onika’s god help them.

Chunks of rock rained down and struck the sides of the wagon, chipping at the poured stone. One fell onto a pack behind Burk. The boy yelped and pitched the rock overboard.

“Boulder!” Jhorn yelled.

Kal looked ahead. Where? Nothing but clear sea as they shot out into the mouth of the river.

Then they hit. The boulder had been hiding just beneath the water’s surface. The impact catapulted the wagon up out of the water, above the submerged rock. Kal’s body fell back over the side, and he plunged headfirst into the sea.

Underwater, Kal could still hear the low rumble of the avalanche, but more than that, he felt it. Deep, powerful vibrations surged through the water around him. He opened his eyes, and the saltiness stung. White bubbles spiraled around him as tiny rocks shot through the water. He glimpsed a colorful reef on his right and a wall of white light on his left. He kicked toward the light. He could see nothing overhead. No wagon. No people.

His head burst through the surface, and he thrashed around, looking for the others. The tattered tent they’d been using for a blanket floated before him. On his right, a pack. On his left, Jhorn gripping a water jug, eyes wide with confusion. Beyond Jhorn were several others: Prince Ulrik, Burk, and the dune cat, fur pasted to its skinny body. No sign of the wagon. Kal swam toward them slowly, searching for Inolah and Onika and Grayson. Could they not swim?

Continuous splashes pulled his focus to the cliffs behind him. An avalanche of rocks tumbled down into the water. This was more than an avalanche. It was an earthquake as well.

The vibration became so intense, the water tickled Kal’s skin. Clouds of white sand swelled up beneath him, hiding the reef from view. Waterfalls of gravel, dust, and stones poured down the precipice.

As rocks fell from above, he suddenly realized—the Five Woes were upon them. He had seen all five now.

Down the coast, a deafening crack felled a section of cliff as large as Castle Everton. Just before it crashed into the sea, Kal caught sight of houses atop it and heard the distant screams.

Five Woes!

“Sir Kalenek, my mother!” Prince Ulrik yelled. He had a hold of Ferro and Jazlyn. “Help her!”

Kal saw Inolah and Onika at the same time. Inolah was floating facedown in the sea. Just past her, Onika splashed and flailed. Kal swam to Inolah, flipped her over. “Nolah!” He gripped the back neck of her dress and paddled toward Onika, dragging the empress along.

“Onika, I’m here!” Kal reached out. Her hand slapped his face. “Calm down.” He grabbed her arm, and she climbed on him, submerging his head beneath the waves. Kal pushed away from her and kicked himself back to the surface. He spat out a mouthful of salty water. “Onika!” He grabbed her wrist. “Relax!”

Qoatch swam up to them. “Pass the empress to me.”

Kal handed Inolah to the eunuch and pulled Onika close. “You must calm down,” he said. “We ride the waves. We don’t fight them.”

“I can’t . . .” She panted, choking him with her arms. “Can’t swim.” Her cheeks had flushed bright pink. He marveled at how her pale skin bared every emotion.

“Well, I can. We’ll simply float here until help arrives.”

The roaring subsided—the earthquake and avalanche over—but the swish of sand still rained down the cliffs and into the water. Then came a rolling wave that must have lifted them three levels—a result of the fallen cliff, no doubt. Onika screamed, but this far from shore, the wave did not curl or swamp them. It merely carried them farther out to sea.

Kal swam in place, supporting Onika’s weight. The blind woman clung to him, pressing the side of her head against his tunic. There they waited, riding the waves of the Eversea and the countering swells from shore, which decreased with each passing. In the growing silence, soft sounds became easily noticeable: Onika’s breathing, murmured talk from the others, the lap of the water against their bodies, the dripping of water from their hair, the purr of the breeze, the distant hiss of waves hitting the cliffs.

“I can hear your heart, Sir Kalenek,” Onika said, pulling Kal from his reverie. “It has been broken but will someday heal and be filled with joy.”

The words stunned him. The way she saw into people . . . So strange. But could she be right? Would he ever find joy?

Kal and Onika had drifted apart from the others, who were now clustered in a circle. Kal was relieved to see Inolah awake and swimming on her own. And Grayson, holding tight to Qoatch. A high-pitched growl brought up a chorus of laughter.

“Rustian?” Onika whispered.

Kal chuckled. “Your cat does not sound happy.”

“Rustian dislikes water, but he is an excellent swimmer.”

“He is an unyielding protector,” Kal said. “You are lucky to have him.”

“Not luck,” Onika said. “Providence. And now I have a second protector. Though I might lose you for a time, Sir Kalenek, you will return to me someday. Never forget that.”

Kal pondered her words as he swam slowly toward the others. Everyone had survived. Grayson was bleeding from his temple, having been hit in the head with a rock, but there were no other injuries reported.

They swam east along the coast, where they could get a better look at the remains of Jeruka and the port. The sight of so many boats, still intact, comforted Kal. Surely one could carry them back to Everton.

It wasn’t long before they were picked up by a fishing vessel. The captain was awestruck to learn he had rescued the Imperial family, and they were instantly taken to port. From there, wagons carried them toward the palace. As they moved through the city, Kal observed the destruction. Roads were cracked and uneven, houses collapsed. In the rubble, people held their dead and wailed.

They found the seaside palace eerily silent. When word spread of the Imperial family’s arrival, servants came running. Their group was divided and swept in different directions. Priestess Jazlyn insisted Qoatch bathe, and the eunuch was forced to join Kal and Burk in the steams.

Kal bathed, dressed in a fresh Rurekan guard uniform, and was led to a private room, where he lay down, tucked his dagger under his pillow, and dozed off, wondering how long it would take before they could set sail for Everton.