Spin of Fate, page 20
She disappeared into a dark passageway, and the trio warily entered the tent.
Meizan didn’t know what he was expecting inside, but it wasn’t this: a motley group of a dozen or so children huddled on a thin mattress. They bore an assortment of injuries, from raw red burns to broken bones.
Beside him, Aranel had gone white, bringing a hand against his mouth. “What…how…who would…”
“Kaldrav,” Meizan and Aina said at the same time.
“The soldiers must’ve raided their villages,” Meizan said.
He refrained from adding more because Aranel looked ready to pass out.
But Meizan knew the drill. The soldiers had taken the adults and left the children. From the appearance of the injuries, Meizan didn’t think the soldiers had deliberately harmed any of them—he had seen what deliberate harm in Malin was like, and these children were still in one piece. No, they had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, their injuries an unfortunate byproduct of whatever violence had ripped apart their homes.
Most of the children were silent, except a bawling toddler who couldn’t have been older than two. A couple of them played with sullen expressions, stacking together towers of twigs and fish bones. A girl in the corner was threading together bits of frayed rope into a necklace of sorts.
His fingers glowing with green energy, Aranel started for the crying toddler. Meizan grabbed Aranel’s wrist and stopped him in his tracks.
“Not with chitrons.” Meizan nodded to the crate. “It’s too risky. I would know.”
Aranel ripped open the crate and pulled out various healing ointments and supplies before picking up the tiny child. Meizan couldn’t tell who was shaking more, Aranel or the toddler.
“Come on.” Aina nudged Meizan. She grabbed a roll of bandages and knelt in front of a little girl with a battered leg.
“Have you seen my mama?” the little girl asked, clutching a ragged bundle of cloth to her chest. Its ends had been tied to resemble rabbit ears, and it had two round pebbles for eyes. “I want my mama.”
Aina’s lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking the girl’s leg. “I haven’t.”
Meizan scanned the remaining children to figure out whose injuries were the worst. He settled on a boy with red-rimmed eyes who was prodding the ground with a thin branch.
Without a word, Meizan packed the boy’s wounds with silverbark paste, then wrapped and splinted his arm.
“When can I fight again?” the boy asked. “This is my sword arm, y’know.” He brandished the branch weakly, hissing in pain.
“Not for a while, it isn’t.” Meizan took the branch and placed it in the boy’s good hand. “Ambidexterity is useful. Learn it.”
He moved on to the next victim, one of the older boys who looked to be around twelve.
As Meizan cleaned and sterilized his wound, he thought of the scared mangler he’d taken down the day he’d been separated from the chief.
He wasn’t much older than this kid. Meizan glanced over at Aranel, who was tending to a girl with a stomach wound. The upper’s hands shook as he dressed her injuries, his countenance wide-eyed and distraught.
Idiot. With a face like that, Aranel would only scare the children more.
How would Aranel react if he knew Meizan had knocked out that young soldier, then left him on the ground in a heap? Aina might have accepted it, but not Aranel.
Is that why he’s a Mayani, and I’m stuck in Malin?
Even now, seeing the injured children, Meizan didn’t feel much inside. But witnessing Aranel’s reaction, Meizan wondered if there was something wrong with him. Some sort of basic human empathy that Aranel had but Meizan lacked.
Is it because his soul is lighter than mine? So he can feel things I can’t?
Meizan had felt pain too once. Pain, horror, and even remorse in the face of suffering. But eighteen years of living in Malin had numbed him to it all. Expression blank and heart devoid of emotion, Meizan tended to the next child.
Aranel joined him, the toddler from before now asleep and strapped to his back in a sling.
“Do you plan to carry him around all day?” Meizan asked.
“He’s a baby.” Aranel sounded pained. “He needs the warmth of another human. He needs his parents. He needs…” Aranel shook his head. “How can this happen? How can he be left all alone, to fend for himself in this cruel world? It’s not fair. It’s not—”
“It’s Malin,” Meizan told him. He left out the part where that had been Meizan himself, abandoned before he could walk. “He’ll survive. He doesn’t have a choice.”
“I was such a fool,” Aranel whispered as he dressed another child’s wounds. “My parents and brother ascended to Paramos, and I felt like the loneliest person in the universe. But now that I’ve seen this…”
This is nothing, Meizan almost said. But Aranel’s eyes were wet and he looked ready to break. Meizan held his tongue and concentrated on healing the child in front of him as best he could with their limited supplies.
“I wish I could use my chitrons,” Aranel said, stitching together a gash on a little girl’s chin. “Chitronic healing would be far quicker, neater, less invasive than these substitute techniques. Were we in Mayana, I could have healed these children in seconds.”
“Were you in Mayana, I doubt there would be children to heal.”
* * *
Zenyra awaited them outside the tent, accompanied by Taralei.
Aranel gave a cry at the sight of his cousin, though Meizan wasn’t sure why he seemed so relieved. Taralei looked much worse since they’d last seen her a moon ago. Her hair was thin and lank, her skin coated in the omnipresent crud that seemed to exude from every pore of the realm. Only her keiza shone as brilliant as before.
“It is good to see you all,” Taralei said with a strained smile. “I was busy in one of the eastern caves. We have fifteen more tents of injured children scattered across the village. We’re short on staff; it’s just Eniya and me here. Some of the older children help out, but they’re not much good at healing, and we haven’t had time to train them properly, what with the inrush of new casualties—” She paused, creasing her brow. “Never mind that. Just know your help is much appreciated.”
“Did you check their keiza, Aranel?” Zenyra asked. “Did any of the children look as if they could ascend?”
“I didn’t look closely,” Aranel said. “But yes, some of their keiza did seem bright.”
He rotated the sling around his back so the sleeping toddler was in his arms. Zenyra leaned down and pushed aside the child’s curls. His keiza gleamed. Not as brightly as Aranel’s or Aina’s, but brighter than those of most Malini that Meizan had seen.
“He has hope for ascension,” Zenyra said. She took the toddler from Aranel. “If I can find a torana, he might be able to make it, given time.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do here?” Aina asked. “Help these children ascend?”
“One of the many things,” Zenyra said. “What you see here is the crux of our mission as Balancers. While a part of it is medical aid and food, there is a larger hope that it could contribute toward their ascension. That is the Balancers’ core belief and why I founded this organization.”
She cradled the baby in her arms, smiling as he gripped her finger with a tiny hand. “I do not believe people are inherently good or evil, but rather a byproduct of their circumstances. It would be impossible for even the gentlest souls to live sinless lives when they are surrounded by constant famine, violence, and war.”
Zenyra looked straight at Meizan as she spoke, and he felt as if all the air was being squeezed from his lungs.
“If we elevate the Malini’s quality of life, I believe they will have greater opportunities to lighten their souls and ascend,” Zenyra said. “None of the children in this village are evil. They are only unfortunate—unfortunate to have been born to such circumstances. The Balancers cannot change Toranic Law, but we can change their circumstances. We can show them love and kindness, and give them hope for a better life.”
A hotness rose at the back of Meizan’s throat. His eyes stung as if from the fumes of Merumarth.
Love, kindness, and hope for a better life?
As if that would work. As if that would be enough to reverse a soul’s spin. He glanced at Aina and traced his eyes across her bright turquoise keiza. Aina was living proof that souls could change spin. Meizan turned his gaze back at the baby clutching Zenyra’s finger.
I am years too late.
Meizan knew how he’d fought. How he’d reveled in the fights, reveled in winning and in violence. He wasn’t like Aina or the helpless toddler or the injured children inside the tent. He wasn’t innocent. There might be hope for them, but not for him. Not anymore.
Zenyra took the toddler, along with a boy and a girl with bright foreheads, and left the village shortly after.
Taralei guided Meizan, Aranel, and Aina to another tent, where they spent the evening healing more children. A pair of rambunctious twins, whom Meizan and Aranel were helping, seemed cheerier than the rest while they compared their various burns.
“Mine’s bigger,” said the girl with the broken tooth. She shot her twin a lopsided grin. “Yours is shinier, but mine’s way bigger.”
“Yours is bleedin’ ugly!” her twin retorted. “Mine’s shaped like a nagamor!”
“D’you have rocks for eyes? That’s nothin’ like how a nagamor looks.”
“Is too! I saw it!”
“You saw a nagamor?” Aranel asked. “That’s terribly brave of you. I think I might pass out from shock if I saw one.”
“I think you might too,” the girl told him seriously. “Though your hair’s nice.”
“I didn’t pass out.” Her twin puffed her chest. “It flew this close”—she pinched her fingers together—“and I stared right at it.”
“Lucky it didn’t stare back,” Meizan said, ignoring Aranel’s glare.
“You know you’re not supposed to meet a nagamor’s eyes, don’t you?” Aranel said. “You’ll be in a world of pain, a thousand times worse than these burns, if you do.”
“I can handle it,” the little girl assured him. “Last year, I went fishin’ with my pa and got bit by a saberfin shark.” She pulled up her skirt to reveal a ring of shallow incisions around her ankle. “That hurt a thousand times worse’n this.”
“That looks nothing like a saberfin bite,” Meizan began. He fell silent at Aranel’s look and resumed working on the girl’s bandages with a shake of his head.
“ ‘Sides, the nagamor wasn’ even the coolest part,” she went on. “There was this angry old lady, breakin’ rocks with her fingers. She’d go like this”—the girl wiggled her fingers with a flourish that looked nothing like actual channeling—“and then boom! A huge rockslide.”
There was a loud clatter as the instrument tray Aina was holding dropped to the ground. Cursing, she ducked to pick it up.
“Sorry,” Aina muttered as she surfaced. “Whereabouts did all this happen? The nagamor and the—the angry rock lady?”
“Up north, by the Muzireni,” the girl replied. “We were camped by the banks and got caught in all the fightin’. There’s a big battle goin’ on between the king’s army and the weepers.”
Meizan squeezed the tube of ointment he was holding so hard it spurted all over his fingers. Either he’d misheard her, or this little girl had no idea what she was talking about.
“What are the weepers?” Aranel asked, casting an odd look Meizan’s way as he handed him a spare tissue. “Some sort of monster?”
“No, you dummy,” her twin said derisively. “The weepers are the rebels who ran away from the king’s ice dungeons. There’s thousands of ’em, and they all got ugly blue lines down their faces that make it look like they’re cryin’ all the time.”
Meizan’s heart hammered. Blood rushed to his ears and blocked out all other noise.
They had escaped. The three thousand disappeared members of Kanjallen had escaped Kaldrav’s clutches. His clanmates had survived. And they had regrouped and were fighting Kaldrav’s army not far from this village.
* * *
Meizan volunteered for lookout once they’d finished healing the children. With Zenyra away in search of a torana, they’d be staying a night in the rift before returning to Incaraz. Or at least Aina and Aranel would.
Meizan snuck out as soon as he could and crept past the chitronic shield. He wasn’t familiar with this part of Malin, but they’d crossed the Muzireni a couple days back. All he had to do was retrace their steps back to the Noxious River, then follow it northward until he reached the battlefield.
He would be reunited with his clan soon. He would be able to fight alongside Kanjallen.
“Good. You’re here.”
Meizan whirled around to see Aranel, face grim, hood drawn low over his forehead to hide his keiza. “I figured you’d go after her as well.”
“Why aren’t you in the village?” Meizan demanded.
“Same as you, I’d hope,” Aranel said. “To stop Aina before she does something incredibly daft. I know she wants to find her mother, but for Sherka’s sake.”
Meizan narrowed his eyes. So Aina had slunk off too? The girl could barely channel. What the hell was she thinking, trying to sneak into a war zone by herself? Meizan cursed under his breath and turned to Aranel. “Did you see what direction she went in?”
From her reaction earlier, he hazarded a guess that Aina was headed to the Muzireni too. Her mother was probably fighting for Kaldrav’s army. A lot of clan runaways ended up captured and forced to join his ranks.
“I saw her heading that way.” Aranel pointed into the gloom. “But it’s too dark to see far.”
Meizan nodded and set off without another word. To his surprise and annoyance, Aranel decided to tag along. The meddling upper was the last thing Meizan needed to worry about in this situation.
“Go back,” he told Aranel. “I’ll deal with Aina.”
“I’m coming too,” Aranel protested. “The both of us have a better chance of convincing her than you do alone.”
“I’m not going to convince her. I’m going to beat some sense into her stupid, thick head.”
“And I’ll heal her after so you don’t cause permanent damage.”
Meizan spun around, eyes blazing. “You realize we’re headed to a flaming war zone, Aranel. Full of fighting and violence, your two least favorite things.”
“I know that.”
“Then you know there’s no way you could survive with your precious soul untainted. It’s not worth the risk. Not for you.”
“Yes, it is,” Aranel said, and it took every bit of Meizan’s patience not to garrote him with his own hair.
“You’ll get in the way,” he growled. “This is not the time for your charity.”
“This has nothing to do with my soul. I’m coming because Aina is my friend, but she’s also a foolish girl who can’t channel properly. I can’t abandon her to—to whatever happens in this realm to girls who can’t channel properly.”
Meizan glared at him, and Aranel stared defiantly back. Either the idiot was telling the truth, or he was utterly delusional.
“This better not be like Merumarth with the bleeding kapizer,” Meizan warned. “If we come across Kaldrav’s soldiers, you will hurt them, your soul-spin be damned.”
“Incapacitate. I will incapacitate them and hurt only if I deem it absolutely necessary.”
Fine. Meizan could deal with that. “Come on. If we’re quick, we can stop her before she reaches the war zone.”
And then Meizan would send Aina back with Aranel and reunite with his clan.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Rebel Army
A battle raged across the broken plains of Malin, staining the Noxious River red with blood. From where Aina stood atop the plateau, she could make out two factions.
The first bore the sigil of Kaldrav the Cruel, tattered black flags with a single white circle. They chased a second faction, smaller in number, that carried unfamiliar blue banners marked with a crying eye. The majority of the blue-bannered soldiers seemed to be retreating from the battle while a quarter of their ranks stayed behind to fend off the pursuers.
Is Mama a part of this chaos?
Aina scanned the mass of fighters, but they were too numerous and distant for her to make out anything. Even if her mother were here, Aina had no idea which side she was on. Was she one of the rebels fleeing Kaldrav’s army? Or had she been captured and forced to fight for the sadistic king himself?
As Aina watched the skirmishes unfold, another thought struck her—one she had never bothered to contemplate during her own days of running from Kaldrav’s soldiers. Why the hell did the king want to unite the clans into a single army? Once united, they’d have no one to fight against.
Even Kaldrav can’t be idiotic enough to try for peace.
Or could he? The idea of a peaceful, united Malin was too strange to comprehend. Outside of Incaraz, Aina hadn’t lived in the realm for over a year. But she’d heard enough about the clan wars—the bitter blood feuds between Kanjallen and Chiren, Virator and Razamir—to know that whatever their king’s plans, the Malini needed to fight something.
Regardless, Aina’s priority remained finding out which side her mother fought for. And while she had an excellent vantage point from atop this plateau, she needed to get closer to the actual battle.
Checking that her chitronic concealment was in place, Aina crept down the cliffside, scanning the chaos below for broken earth or falling rocks—telltale signs of her mother’s channeling.
