11
For a while, we just sit in the boat in silence.
Kira breaks it. She turns to me, offers me her sword, and says, “If I hold my hair up, will you chop it off?”
I gape at her. “You … don’t want it anymore?”
She sighs. “No, I do. My hair’s my favorite part of myself, really.” She spits out a lock that blows into her face from the breeze, her few braids now almost completely loose. “But it’s getting fucking annoying.”
Right. I don’t know how to do this, how to be friendly, how to be a friend … I’m out of practice.
But I remember how Kira wiped the blood from my face with her scarf, without question. “Here,” I say, hesitantly. “Before you choose to cut it, let me help you.” I lift my hands, motioning for her to turn around.
Kira brightens. “Really?”
Before I can nod, she’s settling in front of me, legs folded in front of her, sword across her lap.
Gently, I begin to undo the braids, before starting over. She tenses with even the slightest pull, so I take my time. We have plenty out here, in the middle of this river.
Zane just stares at us, reaching into the basket, taking out a flower- speckled muffin from Xara’s inn, and taking a bite.
“So,” Kira says, nodding toward him. “Why are you here?”
Zane just takes another bite of the muffin. Chews. Swallows. “For the magic, obviously.”
She tilts her head, my fingers slipping through her hair, making me lose my place. I start again. “You’re from a Great House. You live in paradise
compared to the rest of us. Can’t have been easy to leave everyone behind, hike down that mountain, and get east to the platform.” She juts her chin forward. “So why? Why risk your life for this? And don’t just say the magic.”
Even though Kira’s tone is slightly accusatory … I’ve been wondering the same thing. I finish one side of the braid, before moving on to the other.
Zane just leans against the side of the boat, then stretches his long legs out in front of him, feet nearly reaching us. Finally, he says, “On a clear day, at the top of our mountain, I could see the glimmer of the gates. But never anything past them. There was … a fog, wiping everything from view.” He lifts a shoulder. “I just wanted to see what was on the other side.”
Kira snorts. “You’re risking dying brutally at the hands of creatures or immortals … for curiosity?”
He shrugs again. “The mountain is paradise, as you say, but it’s cut off from the rest of the world. I’ve known the same small group of people my entire life. There’s no advancement. No changes. Just everything we’ve done for centuries. Our resources will one day dry up. Everyone tries to deny it, but we’ve all seen the signs. The Helmhawks leaving. The mines producing less and less. I’m not the eldest. There are four brothers ahead of me in line. My life will never mean anything. Unless—”
Unless.
Zane’s mountain could be transformed with magic. His motivation might not be the same as Kira’s, or mine, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He’s trying to save his people. Even if their suffering isn’t imminent, if it’s anything like the rest of Stormside, it is inevitable.
He sighs, leaning back. “And I think everyone should go on a wild, transformative journey at least once in their lives.”
He’s probably right. “So now that you’re here, what do you think of the world?” I say over Kira’s shoulder as I finish the second braid, then begin weaving them together. “The world outside of your mountain?”
He shakes his head. “I’m thinking I probably should have stayed put.”
I laugh first. Kira joins in. Then all three of us are shaking with laughter and perhaps a bit of regret.
“You know what? I’m not scared of dying. I’m scared of not having lived in the first place,” Kira declares.
Something in me awakens at that—a foolish shred that mourns the life I might have lived, if I wasn’t rushing into my almost certain death. So I
decide that I’m going to drink up all the wonder of this place, while I can.
As I work to finish Kira’s hair, I look around, watching as the forest along the bank changes. It becomes lusher, full of trees I’ve only seen the skeletons of, in the bare woods of Stormside. Pines, covered in needles.
Willows, hunched forever in mourning. Birches, with their curls of peeling bark. I wonder what kind of creatures lurk within these woods—and if they’re watching us back.
The braid is done. I curl it up and slip it through the gap made by the two braids, just like I do for myself, again and again, until nothing else hangs down. Then I slip one pin from my own hair and use it to secure Kira’s. I’m finished. She turns and beams at me, reaching up to touch my work. “I look like you now, don’t I? Wonderful. How’d you get so good at this?”
“I had a sister. Once,” I say, surprised by the words spilling out of me.
Just like when I told her where I’m from, seconds after meeting.
I guess I just want someone to know. Because if I stop talking about where I’m from, and who I lived there with, then that’s when they’ll all be truly dead.
Her grin fades. She knows about what happened to my village. Everyone knows about the place that was burned down by the wrath of the gods. It was used as a warning. People whispered that we must have done something wrong to invite their fury.
“You’re the only one that survived, aren’t you?” she says.
“Yes.”
She squeezes my hand. “If you survived that … you can survive anything,” she says, nodding, like she’s already decided my fate.
If she knew who I was hoping to go up against, I don’t think she’d be so sure of that. But I nod back anyway.
“Here.” Zane looks like he doesn’t really know what to say, so he reaches into the basket and shoves meat pies and muffins at us. “You should … you should both eat.”
Kira smiles wryly at him. “You don’t have sisters, do you?”
“Only brothers.”
She laughs loudly. “Now, look at you. Stuck with both of us.” She takes a bite out of the meat pie, then says, mouth full, “Holy gods, I want a magical kitchen.”
I crack a smile. “I’m sure a few drops of claimed magic would do it.”
It’s not why she’s on this journey. We both know it. But for a few moments, it’s nice to pretend that the greatest thing we need is food prepared at our every whim.
Kira hums. She leans back in the boat, lying beside Zane’s legs. “Now that I’m thinking, I could also use a magical goblet that refills with wine whenever I want. Good wine.” She looks over at Zane. “Like the type you drink up in your fancy mountain.” He rolls his eyes, and she nudges against him. “What ridiculous dreams will you use drops of magic on, Sterling?”
Zane shifts. His expression is serious. But his voice is light as he says, “A magically refilling bath would be nice.”
Kira groans in agreement. “A bath at all would be heavenly! One that would stay warm the whole time. Can you imagine?”
Zane grunts.
“How about you?” Kira asks, propping her head up to look over at me.
“What ridiculous dream are you harboring inside, Aris?”
Several. None of which are possible. I chew my lip. “Magic in the forge would be nice,” I say. “Something to mute the hammering. Make metals easier to carry … or keep the floors magically clean.” I open my mouth, then close it, realizing that even if I somehow survive confronting the gods, I’ll never be working in that forge again—at least not with Stellan.
“Maybe after this, you won’t have to work in a forge at all,” Kira says, her words light.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and take a bite of the muffin to keep from having to say anything else. The sugar is sour on my tongue, as I try to imagine a future beyond this journey, back on Stormside … but I can’t.
There’s nothing left for me there.
There’s nothing left for me anywhere.
Something hits me square on the head, and I startle, the muffin slipping from my fingers. I look up, only for another drop of water to land between
my eyebrows.
Rain.
I haven’t felt it in far too long, and this water … it’s clear. It’s cold, and clean.
I part my lips in wonder—then the rain falls in earnest, a faucet turned all the way on. Shit. I pick up the muffin and shove the rest of it in my mouth to keep it from crumbling. Zane rushes to cover the pack.
Kira just sits up, staring up at the sky, filling her hands and drinking from them, even though she has a full canteen of water by her hip. Her sword is still in her lap, rain dripping tears down its silver.
Wind blows my hair back, and this isn’t just rain. It’s turning into a storm. “We—”
The boat lurches to the side, and Zane nearly falls over. I grip the edge of the boat to keep still.
“Fuck. Hold on,” Zane says. He’s facing the front.
The blood drains from my face at the sight of surging whitecaps just ahead.
Before we even reach them, the boat hits a rock, shredding its bottom, and my head jerks down painfully, teeth clashing together. Then the prow rises, taking us all up—before we land roughly back against the water.
Xara said the boat never flips. I hope she’s fucking right, as we jolt to the side, everything sliding. I barely keep my hold on its edge, fingers cramping and slipping against the wood. It hits another rock, turning sharply in the other direction, and for a moment, I’m weightless. Time seems to stand still as I watch all of us and our belongings lift—then fall again.
We don’t have a single moment to prepare before the next current hits, sending us all flying. The basket opens midair, spilling food. The canteens soar.
But I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at my pack, which slips off my
shoulder— Right into the river.
No. Everything I worked so hard to save up for. My soap. My canteen.
My bandages. My fabric. All of it but the coin in my pocket … gone.
Just when I think it can’t get any worse, we hit another rock, and Xara’s
basket is lost.
Fuck. This. Current.
Howling wind batters my face, forcing tears from my eyes. I duck low against it, but it’s like a wall, pushing me back. My body slips, but my grip holds.
Everything here is heightened. Even the storms. If I’m going to survive, I
can’t forget that, for even a moment.
We hit the biggest rock so far.
Kira goes flying, and I don’t think. I risk my hold by grabbing her by the back of her shirt, keeping her in the boat. But not all of her.
Her sword slips out of her hands, into the water.
“No!” Her scream pierces even this tempest. Desperately, she stretches her arm to her side, palm open, the same way she did when she claimed the sword. The same way Raker called his own.
Nothing happens.
“Stop!” Kira shrieks.
The boat obeys. We all go flying as it suddenly halts. I land in the middle with a thud, bones screaming. It immediately jerks to the side, fighting the current.
“What are you doing?” Zane yells from the front.
Kira doesn’t answer. She makes to throw herself off the side, before I pull her back. “We don’t know what’s in there,” I bellow over the onslaught. “And the weather … you’ll drown.”
She looks back at me, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the rain. Her voice trembles. “I’ve—I’ve never been chosen by anyone. Or anything. This—this blade chose me. I can’t leave it behind.”
“What about your sister?” I say, my voice breaking on the last word.
She shakes her head. “I’ll never get her the magic she needs without a weapon like this.” She slips from my hold—and before I can say anything else, she’s jumping over the side.
I gasp, gripping the wood, peering into the sloshing water, watching as
her figure disappears.
It doesn’t surface again.
A minute passes. I throw a look over my shoulder at Zane, who is clutching the sides of the boat, being tossed about wildly by the surging streams, waves crashing into the prow, and sputtering foam all around him.
The boat is filling with water. We have to keep going.
She’s gone. Trying to save her would be a death wish. Even if I could.
Even if I could— Metal clangs at my feet, glimmering through the deluge. Her sword. I rush to the side and see her hand reaching out. I take it— But a rush of current pulls her away, past the boat. She disappears beneath the waves again.
“Follow her!” I scream, and the boat is released from its hold. I’m knocked onto my back. The wall of rain blurs my vision. I lose sight of Kira
in the whitecaps.
Then I see her hand again.
I reach over the side, grazing her fingers, before she’s pulled under. No. I strain, curling toward the water—and the boat lurches again. I fall forward.
Zane pulls me back, arm around my middle.
“Look. There she is.”
Up ahead, she’s clinging to a massive rock. The boat bounces back and forth before reaching it.
Zane pulls her into the boat. She gasps, retching water, her legs folded beneath her.
I crawl to her as the wood groans and rocks, fighting to stay upright.
“Are you okay?”
Kira nods weakly. She grabs the hilt of her recovered sword, knuckles pale. She’s freezing. There’s no time to speak, no time to do anything at all but hold on as the boat races forward.
The river churns into a series of whirlpools. The rain turns into relentless throwing daggers, aimed right at us. The wind becomes a rampart. All conspire to flip the boat. Only its magic saves us. We cling to the sides. My hands grow cold and sore, but I don’t let go.
Once dusk falls, the weather only worsens.
My eyes close against the storm; I curl my body to preserve as much heat as possible. I think about hot meals and warm socks and soft bedding. The magic my mother once told me about. All things that I might never have again, but I imagine them, until the river finally smooths. Until the rain thins.
I finally look over at Kira. Without the constant rain and water splashing
into the boat, I now see it.
Red, puddling beneath her.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I demand, rushing forward, searching for where she’s bleeding.
Her legs. One of them was shredded by a rock.
I take a strip of ripped fabric from her pants, and wrap it around and around, as tightly as it will go. She looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
They close.
“No,” I say, clutching her hands. They’re freezing. “Stay awake.”
It’s almost dawn. We’ll be at our destination soon. I’ll be able to wrap the wounds better. We could find her help. But she needs to stay awake.
Her eyes close again. I pinch her fingers.
“Tell me—tell me something,” I plead. I said the same words to my sister
as she was dying.
Kira goes quiet. I pinch harder.
“Tell me about your sister,” I say.
At that, she smiles. “She’s—” Her voice fades away.
“She’s what?”
“She’s a terrible liar,” she says weakly. “Everyone always beats her at
cards.”
I nod. “What else?”
Quiet. A rock jostles the boat.
My voice rises. “What else?”
She takes a shaking breath. “She … she hates lying, but she lies for me.
She lies when she says she’s had enough to eat. She lies to the neighbors about the firewood missing from their backyards.” She swallows. “She— she lied in front of a guard and kept me from the jails when I was accused of stealing food.”
Her eyes glisten as they open again and hold mine. I don’t drop her gaze, gripping her fingers tighter, and she squeezes back.
“She’s only twelve, but she’s so smart. I used to steal her books from the ruins of an ancient house. It had been almost completely looted, but no one cared about the books, of course. Every time I would go out thieving, I would bring one back. She would be waiting with the most delicious food.
Somehow, she made potatoes taste good without salt. I can’t explain it.”
Her sigh shakes her whole body. “I would give anything for her potato soup. She puts—she puts some sort of pepper in it.”
“You’ll have that soup,” I say, putting both of her hands between mine, trying to give her some warmth. “What happened to her?”
Kira frowns. “Our mother—she was addicted to hemdrake. She didn’t stop using it when she was with child … and my sister was born weak.
Frail. My mother abandoned her at the outskirts of town, next to a forest, hoping the wolves would get her. I snuck out and brought her back. I began stealing milk and fed her every day. She gripped my finger—like this.” She wraps her hand around my pointer finger. “And those eyes … they looked at me like I was the only person in the world. And I was … for her. I still am.”
She shakes her head. “The drug killed my mother soon after, and there we were, alone. She was always feeble. She couldn’t leave the house, but
she was smart and capable and began weaving for money. Between that and the thieving, we carved out a life. But then … she started having the same signs my mother did. Shortened breath. Uncontrollable shaking. I saved everything I made from stealing to bring a medic to our home, but he said she’s beyond help. Her lungs are too small. She’ll suffocate to death one
day soon. The only hope—”
“Is magic,” I finish.
She nods. “I knew the Questral was approaching. I promised a merchant a portion of my winnings if they took her in. They did. I didn’t tell her until the last day, and you—you should have heard how she screamed at me.
How she told me she could live with her own death but not mine …”
She looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy and dejected.
“You are not going to die,” I say, gripping her hand tighter. “Her name.
Say it.”
Tears stream down her face. “Anise. Her name is Anise. I named her— named her after the flowers my mother abandoned her on.” She laughs.
“There are so few flowers on our side. But there they were … a patch of them … as if they were holding her.”
I nod, throat tight. “Anise will get medicine. Anise will get better. You will survive this.”
I have no business saying these words, or caring if she does survive this.
But I do. I do.
Her gaze locks onto mine. Something in her changes. Firms. The fire in me spreads to her, like inviting a person to share the heat of a hearth, and I see the resolve set in her face. “I will survive this,” she whispers.
“You will survive this,” I echo.
She holds on to my hand with the strength of a person who hasn’t already lost a good portion of her blood. She doesn’t let go, until our boat knocks
against the riverbank—and stops.
“We’re here,” Zane says softly.
The sun is creeping over the horizon. Kira is still clutching my hand.
We lift her out of the boat, and Zane curses as he sees the extent of her injuries. Her leg—it’s ruined. Her knee buckles, and we catch her. We all take one step together. She screams with pain.
“Stop,” she says, shaking her head, her hair still pinned back. “You both —you know,” she chokes out. “You know I’ll never make it. You know I’m going to put you both at risk and—and it’ll be for nothing.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I say, voice firm. I couldn’t save my sister, but I will save hers. “We will reach the end—together.”
Zane looks over at me. He says nothing, but I can read it in his face.
I look down at her leg. Even if we can heal the cuts, she won’t be able to walk alone, let alone run.
“Aris,” she says, voice low and serious.
“No.” I remember my sister telling me to leave her. Telling me to save myself. My eyes burn with the memory. I close them. “You will survive this. You will.”
“Aris,” she repeats, and it might as well be my sister speaking. “We made
a pact. Remember?”
The quest must come first.
I open my eyes. She grips my hand. “Put me in the boat. It will sail back to Xara. She’ll help me get back to the gates—I know she will.”
“But your sister—”
“You’re going to make another pact,” she says, her voice firm. Her green eyes are blazing, searing into mine. “You’re going to promise me … if you make it back … you will get magic to my sister.”
It isn’t a fair request. I’ve only known her a handful of days. I don’t even plan on going back. But if somehow I do … “I promise,” I say, meaning it.
Zane and I walk her to the boat, which sits there as if waiting for a command to be let loose again. We lay her inside. She looks up at me, on her back … and I can’t help but feel like I’m looking into a grave.
She grabs my hand again. “I believe you,” she says, tears slipping down her face. In her other hand, she holds on to the hilt of her sword. The purple gem sparkles.
The boat departs from the riverside, fighting upstream. Our fingers slip past each other. And it reminds me of the night I lost my sister.