Page 24 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

Silence threatens, but Darin fills it quickly. “Perhaps Musa can send him a message,” my brother says. “In the meantime, Tas, I’ll show you how to trim the sails. We’d best take advantage of this wind while we have it.”

They move to the stern of the shabka, and the Beekeeper touches my shoulder. “Laia,” he says. “The Martials are amassing forces off the southern coast of the Tribal lands. They’re planning an invasion. The wights just brought word.”

“Do the Tribes know?” I say. “They must. There have been skirmishes before.”

Musa shakes his head. “This isn’t a skirmish. And the Tribes don’t know. Some fey magic cloaks the Martials. The wights heard a few of the generals speaking. They plan to attack at the waxing moon.”

Three weeks from now. “You can warn them,” I say. “That’s time enough to send a message—”

“I will,” Musa says. “But skies know if they’ll trust it. Keris and the Nightbringer are too strong, Laia. The Tribes will fall. And she’ll move north—”

To Delphinium. To finish what she began in Antium. Musa moves offto speak to the Shrike. Near the deep purple sail, Darin’s smile flashes as he shows Tas the rigging.The world’s not only full of bad things, you know.

I wish I believed that.

«««

The days pass quickly, filled with fishing, training with the Shrike, and catching up with Darin, Musa, and Tas. When the sun sets, we marvel at the brilliant sheets of violet and pink and green that light up the northern skies.

By sunrise on the fifth day, we spot the far side of Fari Bay. The rocky coast is steep, and the towering treetops of an ancient forest appear, blue beneath a clear sky and rolling westward as far as the eye can see.

The Waiting Place.

Harper speaks with the Shrike while Musa and I listen to one of Tas’s stories. But we all fall silent at the sight of the wood. Whispers sound on the wind and a shiver ripples through me.

“You know”—Musa drops his voice so only I can hear—“if you could just get Elias to talk to you, he might let us across—”

“No.”

“It would save us nearly three weeks.”

“We’renotgoing through the Waiting Place, Musa,” I say. “You of all people understand what it means to have the love of your life turned into someone else. I don’t want to see him again. Ever.”

“Beekeeper.” The Shrike’s attention is fixed on the empty sea behind us. “Can we make this thing go any faster?”

I squint—but even in the moonlight, I see only whitecaps. Then an arrow cuts through the air, embedding itself in the wood of the tiller, inches from Musa’s hand. He curses and the Shrike pushes past him, draws her bow, and releases a volley of shots.

“Commandant’s men!” she says as a cluster of longboats comes into view behind us. “Take cover—aah!”

I hear the sick thump of steel embedding into flesh, and the Shrike staggers. I am up now, nocking and releasing arrows as fast as I can.

“Watch your left!” Musa snaps as more longboats appear to the south. And the north.

“Ideas?” I ask the Beekeeper as the boats close in. “Because I am running out of arrows.”

“One.” Musa glances at me, and then toward the trees of the Waiting Place. “But you won’t thank me for it.”

XI:The Soul Catcher

For a week after I kill Cain, I dream.

I stand upon a great, blackened field, flanked by familiar faces. Laia of Serra is to my left and Helene Aquilla to my right. Keris Veturia stands apart, her gray eyes fixed on something I cannot see.The Mother watches over them all. The scims in my hands gleam with blood.

Beyond us, a great, rabid maelstrom. It is a thousand colors, teeth and viscera and dripping claws. The storm reaches out, wraps a putrid hook around Laia.

Elias!she screams.Help me!

Helene reaches for Laia, but the maelstrom roars and swallows them both. When I look to Keris, she’s gone, replaced by a gray-eyed, blonde child who takes my hand.

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