Black as diamond, p.39
Black as Diamond, page 39
A revenant whirled into her path. Though her body screamed in pain, she had enough fight left. Palenisa roped a line of sand around its neck. Noticing her, another jerkily approached. She buried her last dagger in its arm, wrenched it back out, stabbed the revenant’s stomach, and dragged the blade down. Guts spilled from its pelvis. Still it lurched for her. In turn, she slashed its throat to the bone.
A snap of her wrist flung the head of the first into the sky. Spinning on a heel, she rounded on it and kicked a hole through its chest. The body broke apart down the middle. A nauseating concoction of viscera and offal clung to her boot.
Wiping stringy blood from her lips, Palenisa advanced on Asaru.
He hadn’t seemed to notice her yet. The soil at his feet was drenched in darkness that leached into the river, turning the crystal waters opaque. On the other bank, Palenisa mirrored his position. Planting her feet wide, arms splayed, she pushed every ounce of her aspect into knitting the island closed. Each of his movements she countered, calling earth to fill in the gap, reflecting his unnatural power with her blessed one.
Fighting for control of the widening gap, Asaru frowned at her, notching deep lines in his brow as his claws curled.
Finally—she had his attention.
His tail flicked side to side, giving him the appearance of irritation, and her eyes narrowed. Was there some give to the possession? Some part of him that lingered after death? Before she had time to ponder each question, a shadow fell over them. Warily, Palenisa watched it drop behind him. From all the legends, there was only one person that could be. Someone whose name was an omen she dared not say aloud.
The murderess. Oprekhet.
Sentient strands of her hair danced like scarlet ribbons. Black mineral spidered up her arms and legs from under the scrap of linen she wore as a sorry excuse for clothing. Her red-tipped claws slid over Asaru’s shoulder and spun him. For a breathless second, horror bled into Palenisa’s veins. But it turned to shock when Oprekhet dragged him into an embrace. She was so much taller that his head only reached her shoulder. Stranger still, Asaru returned the embrace.
Palenisa blinked once. Then twice, thinking the sight must have been a figment.
The murderess wore a smile that was disconcerting in just how banal it was. More chilling than any of the deathless or the gore that littered the sand. Rubbing her cheek against Asaru’s, the murderess tightened her hold, then froze. An ugly sneer marred her expression as she placed her chin atop his head. At first Palenisa thought the glare was aimed at her until she followed the murderess’s gaze.
From a pool of stars, another figure materialized down the river. Hidden by a nondescript cloak, they resembled a crooked vulture. Footholds formed across the surface of the water where they walked. A silver sheaf of hair trailed their delicate footsteps.
“Niekthe,” Oprekhet growled.
As they moved from the riverside, Palenisa strained to hear them over the incessant drumbeat in her ears. A painful heave rumbled up the trunk of her body. The sheer strain of keeping the landmass together pulled at her shoulders. Dry sweat dripped from the wispy hair that feathered her forehead.
The flatness of Niekthe’s voice slithered above the clamor of battle.
“I did not bring you back to destroy what Madib created,” they admonished, thick emotion dripping from every deliberate syllable.
“You have no right to accuse me of anything,” Oprekhet rebutted, her hair lashing like a wild snake. “You murder her, stab me in the heart, then have the gall to claim I destroyed our sister’s legacy?”
Niekthe took another step, and Oprekhet dragged Asaru back, hissing. If she was a baleful storm, they were its eye, slow but no less dangerous.
“I am not the one killing our progeny.”
“Everything you did, you did to spite me,” she said, choking on the words with a pain that surprised Palenisa. “My work would have brought glory to Aedyton, but you couldn’t stand that I actually cared enough to stay and cultivate what Madib made for us. That I was better at this one thing.”
Stretching out a hand, Niekthe tilted their wrist. Variegated violet spread down their fingers into a glowing beam. The light grew, throwing long shadows across their impassive face. As it faded, they curled their fingers around the crooked head of a staff made of diamondglass. They pointed the glinting jagged end at Oprekhet like a threat.
“Let’s be honest, Sister. All the glories in this world and ours wouldn’t hide how rotten you are.”
For a moment, Oprekhet almost looked hurt. Heartbreak flickered across her face before it settled into a feral mask. Ducking to whisper into Asaru’s ear, she reached out to his chest. Through his chest. As her hand plunged inside the layers of leather and cloth, Palenisa’s eyes widened. From within, she pulled out a trident of black diamond.
“Have it your way,” she spat.
In a blink, Oprekhet was across the bank, plunging the prongs down on Niekthe. The pair met in a clash of sparks, black and white like an eclipse, as their fight dragged them farther from the river.
Palenisa’s knees shook, forcing her focus back to the crevasse. The most she’d managed to do was to keep it from widening farther. It felt like futility, holding the earth together as liquid diamond frothed over the flayed edges. Glancing up, she cast her bloodshot eyes on Asaru.
The man stared up at the mass of deathless as it swelled and shrank, a breathing ball of darkness. Slowly, he raised a hand. One snap, and the deathless ceased fighting. Across the island, as far as Palenisa could see, hundreds of dark faces turned upward. Two snaps, and every one of them hearkened to the silent command of their master. By any means possible, the undead horde swarmed to the sky. Even those torn to pieces followed suit as best they could. Already bereft of sunlight, Palenisa grew frigid as the hive increased exponentially.
Then Asaru shot off, bolting beside the river in retreat.
Flinching, she dropped her hands. Without her effort, the crevasse peeled farther open, but that mattered little if he escaped.
She wouldn’t let him. Couldn’t let him. Maybe if she stopped him, not all hope was lost. Save him from himself. The refrain rang like a prayer. Palenisa burst into a sprint, running parallel to the crevasse to keep Asaru in sight. It was longer, larger, deeper than she had initially thought. Her resistance really had been useless, hadn’t it? Merely delaying the inevitable.
No matter. If she succeeded, then maybe it wouldn’t all be for naught. Maybe.
Gritting her teeth, she drew an elbow back. Despite the lack of warmth, Palenisa tried to conjure sunlight. But when she flung her hand out, starlight burst forth from her fingertips.
Startled, Asaru tried to avoid the rays, but her aim was true. An explosion shattered her eardrums, and the impact sent them both flying. While she was hurled backward, he recoiled silently, black ooze spiking over his form like the raised hackles of a wolvencat.
Three silvery-blue lines scarred the sand as Asaru staggered.
Something fell into the water between them—Asaru’s arm. Severed at the shoulder, the limb twitched. The mineral encasing it evaporated as if averse to the amputated limb.
Palenisa hadn’t realized what she’d done until she blinked away crimson swirls. For a fraction of a second, it felt like the Zodiac had flared to life. She was one with the aspects of the world. Understanding slid into place. It felt right. It felt . . . heretical.
Terror shivered up her spine at the memory of a shadow in a glistening desert.
Sulfur wafted to her nose. Ashes and fetid swamps, but also the smell of the crisp air after fresh snowfall.
The last reserves of her energy fled, and Palenisa’s legs buckled. Though she tried to collect her wits, they dissipated like mist. Dazed, she pressed a palm against an eye. A headache pulsed, pounded, swallowed her whole.
Unaffected, Asaru gazed at the putrid arm as if it hadn’t been part of him. His face set into blank determination, and he waved his remaining hand, swiping a retaliatory wave of black diamond at her.
Sodden in weakness, she couldn’t avoid his shot. His aim was true too.
The dark flood threw her into the river. As she crashed beneath the surface, cold water elicited a gasp, rushing to fill her lungs. Bubbles screamed out of her mouth, her body convulsing as she scrabbled for air.
No, no, no, she pleaded to the spirits, please, no.
Was she dying?
You’re not, the twelve replied in discordant tandem. Swim—and live.
Raging against the blackness threatening to snatch her consciousness, she thrashed toward that pinprick of light above. That salvation. As she broke the surface, her hands met silt and the pain of the earth enveloped her. The longer she dug in for purchase, the more it twisted her head into knots.
Crawling to her knees, Palenisa shuddered. Wait, not her—the ground. Plates shifted deep below—it was the ground that shuddered. Black plasma gurgled from the crevasse like lava, scalding hot. Her cheeks blistered from the heat, and it felt like she was being slashed to pieces by her own scythe. It was burning. It was burning.
She rolled away as the gaping crevasse yawned like a mouth slit open at the sides. Shakily, she rose onto her elbows and searched for the source of the earth’s pain. The cold stone of her heart went still.
Too late. She was too late.
Water fell into the empty nothing. There was no more river, just a sudden drop in the earth as Asaru swung the saw one last time. Palenisa buried her fingers into the sand and formed handholds as Aedyton split in half with a succinct crack.
A loud cry drew her attention, and she caught the end of Oprekhet’s bout with her sibling. The murderess thrust a fist forward, knuckles riddled with shards of diamond. The force sprawled Niekthe across the other side of the once-crevasse. A liquid limb wrapped around their neck and slammed them into the ground—once, twice, until they went still. But not dead. Though it looked close, so terribly close.
Before Palenisa could react, Oprekhet reached for the sky in an imitation of supplication. A glossy wall of black diamond shot up before her. Curving her arms back, she stretched the darkness into a dome. The dome expanded, racing to cover one half of the bisected island in a thin, translucent sheen.
Flexing her fingers, Oprekhet pulled harder, tugging with visible strain until the landmass slowly split from its earthly moorings. It shouldn’t have been possible. And yet. And yet. Palenisa watched in horror as half of Aedyton was cruelly ripped apart and began to drift away.
A harsh wind came in from the sea as the island drifted. Beyond the dome, the land was cast in gray. Crystal trees toppled to shards when they hit the ground. Pyramids shook apart into mounds of rubble and burnt bricks. Sunlight bounced off the faceted bubble as the few trapped survivors pounded helpless fists against the translucent stone.
Soon the dome was too far away for her to make out the abject terror on their faces. But it would haunt her. The image had seared itself on the backs of her eyelids.
Kneeling on the edge of the newly formed shore, Palenisa stared at the horizon. Heat gathered in her eyes, blurring them. Hopelessness caged her incoherent mind. There she sat, a pathetic pale speck on a broken island surrounded by death, destruction, devastation. Even when she tried, she failed.
“Save him from himself,” she whispered. The echoing voices of the Zodiac wrapped her in their imagined comfort. But no matter how many times it was repeated—speaking the words didn’t make it so.
Once more she said it, and a tear slipped free, rolling down her ashen cheek.
Wren
The limp hand in his felt more unreal than real. Disconnected, Wren watched the fractured pieces of himself. Like a mirror, they reflected his totality: the uncertain future, the horrible present, and the bittersweet past.
The past he so longed to return to. Back when everything made sense.
Wren was thirty, a bright-eyed child traipsing down the grassy hill of his new home as he carried Dakazna like one would a loaf of bread. The wolvencat yawned, revealing gummy infant teeth. Half-formed wings twitched at her back. She was only a year old and couldn’t fly yet.
Once he’d found the perfect spot, Wren dropped to the ground. Green smeared his freckled arms as child Wren dug through the earth. Dirt was crusted beneath his nails from earlier when he’d been digging up flowers. He was going to plant them for his mother. Because she liked flowers—black ones and blue ones—and lately, she’d been looking really sad.
Wren was finishing his sizable hole when he accidentally knocked the nubs atop Dakazna’s head. The wolvencat yipped, swiping up with blunt claws, catching his rolled sleeves.
“Scavite, Daka!”
As he comforted the animal, a click reached his ears. Tilting his head, he looked up to see his mother peering around the crooked door of their moss-covered home. Curious eyes alighting on her, he broke into a smile, revealing the small gap where he’d just lost his first fang.
Returning the smile, Sabine stepped outside and planted her hands on her hips. The deep creases made her look really pretty. Despite the heat, she wore a suman embroidered with thorny flowers that glittered in the summer sun. Beneath it was a tunic, bright as pomegranates, that fell like petals over loose trousers. Her skin was brown as precious jewels, dotted with the stars themselves. Like him, her hair was a curly ocean, braided with a blue ribbon to rest over one shoulder. She was as beautiful as our Lady Blessed Sunnai, she of the thousand thousand suns.
“Tios-demovan loi, Anemone?” What are you doing?
Shyly, Wren presented the haphazard bundle of flowers to her. He couldn’t find dahlias or the unique blue buds that were his namesake, so he’d pulled whatever looked close enough to the images in his botany tome. That they came from the garden of a neighbor located higher up on the hill was neither here nor there.
“Chei.” Sabine kissed her teeth. “Mior dorai, the thief.”
Shaking her head, she picked her way over to him. Uncaring of the dirt, she dropped to her knees and embraced her child. She pressed her cheek to his, transferring warmth between them, then kissed all over his face as he giggled. Lips like butterfly wings brushed his skin.
Pulling away, Sabine ran a tender finger above his brows with a drooping smile. Often she did this, stared at him like she was searching for something. Wren wasn’t sure if she’d ever found it. The look was one he didn’t understand the meaning of. Adults could be quite confusing.
“Tut-vaneran takeš, D’ya?” Are you all right?
Mussing his messy baby curls, Sabine turned to gaze over the undulating landscape of Sika. The only home he’d ever truly known, having left their clan when he was little more than an infant.
“Mis vaneran,” she said. I am. “Don’t you worry your head.”
Her attempt to comfort him fell like leaves at harvest—she wasn’t all right, and he thought he might know why. Clutching Dakazna to his chest, Wren frowned. He buried his face in her sleek back. Purring, Dakazna pressed her wet nose to the crook of his neck, tail wrapped around his arm.
Voice muffled by smooth, smooth fur, he probed further, “Are you upset because of Daj?”
It was a question that occasionally ran through his mind. He knew nothing of the man heredity claimed to be his father. Save his name—and what he was.
A king. The king.
Wren didn’t quite know what that meant. Other than the fact that it made his mother sad. And anyone who made his mother sad couldn’t be family. Didn’t deserve to be family. So he decided then, with the simple logic that came easily to children, there was only one person in the world who mattered. His mother. And Dakazna of course—he couldn’t forget the spoiled beast who lay stretched liquid across his lap.
A large hand tangled with his, snapping his gaze back up to Sabine. The tips of her fingers were covered in scars from sewing needles and spells, her palms thick from calluses born of the labor it had taken to get them there. And she wore her ring on her hand rather than around her neck like she used to. It was made from cracked bone—“an antler,” she’d once told him when he asked what it was. Though she hadn’t told him who had made it for her.
“Not quite. Zaosha isn’t always on my mind,” she chuckled. Cupping his cheek, she pressed their foreheads together. Shining brown and gold eyes bore into his. “I was actually thinking about how much I love you.” Sabine’s voice was unshakable, unbreakable, but with a thin, desperate undertone. “Venan’tios sunnai ci sterr, movenuem dahlila du apua.” You are my sun and stars, little water flower.
There was once again that strange look on her face as she thumbed his cheeks. Her touch was loving, a comfort the child sank into.
A comfort that Wren still remembered clear as day. That was the last time she’d ever said his father’s name aloud. He could ponder the reason for days and days, but that wouldn’t change the past—all that remained was the present.
By the time he came back to himself, the battle that raged on the island was over. Time had passed so quickly that it felt as if he’d been there forever.
Clutching his mother’s hand tighter, he pressed it to his face as he sobbed, shoulders shaking with each pained heave as bountiful tears rolled down his cheeks. He had meant to suffer for his mistakes, but not like this. Not like this.
Khetry glowed far too bright, pulsing warm and alive, even though the world over which it was woven was full of cold things, dead things. The sludge of possession still clung to him like a putrid scent. The actions had not been his own, but he bore the consequences all the same. It was his blood imbued in the needle, his fingers that painted the spell in the commingling of their ichor. And his damnable curiosity that had led there in the first place.
