Speechless in Achten Tan: Book 1 of The Sands of Achten Tan, page 2
I exhale in frustration, my skin tingling with apprehension. He's a healer. The community needs him. I need him. I don't understand why he's doing this. He has nothing to prove.
"Are there any other volunteers?" Ozruhar looks around. The people in the crowd move back, leaving more space between them and the boys in the circle. He nods. "Then let the choosing begin."
Ozruhar raises his palms again, sprinkling a powder over the fire. It erupts in a cloud of purple smoke. The smoke takes form, curling and looping like a snake, dancing and weaving its way around the circle, twisting between the participants. Geb is right in front of me. I move around the other side of the fire so I can see his face.
Not Geb, I pray silently as I move. Not Geb. Please, not him. I'm tempted to use my power to blow the smoke away from him, but I know Ozruhar's magic is stronger than mine.
The cloud of smoke makes its way around the circle, touching one boy and then another. It seems to settle around Kado, and he puffs out his chest, a look of victory on his face. I let out a long breath, relaxing my fists, but the smoke moves again.
No.
It creeps closer and closer to Geb. I'm not breathing at all as the smoke reaches Geb and, curling around his feet, it rises higher and higher till he's encased in a swirling vortex. He finds my gaze across the leaping flames. His eyes reflect the color of the smoke, shining in excitement tinged with fear. I knew he'd be chosen. His magic is powerful and his heart is true and it's going to be the death of him.
Unable to hold his gaze, I turn and run for my parents' lake boat.
Hours later, I'm woken from a fitful sleep by a knock on the door. Stepping out onto the deck, I find Geb already in traveling clothes, carrying a pack.
I cross my arms to hide my trembling hands. Geb looks shamefaced, yet somehow defiant.
"I have to leave, but I didn't want to go without saying goodbye."
I shake my head, signing. 'No goodbyes. I'll go with you.' I turn to go pack my bag. He grasps my shoulder, turning me back towards him.
"You can't. You know you can't."
He's right. I am bound to my Nora until I ascend to Misra. I cannot leave without her permission. My shoulders drop.
'Where?' I sign.
"Flantestate," he says. I gasp. The dark bog where the wizard C'naga's tower lies. "The plants there have magical properties, like no others. I must gather them to complete my assignment."
‘Danger,' I sign. He nods. He knows as well as I.
I sign and my eyes ask the question I can't voice. Why? What do you need to prove?
"I need to know I'm worthy," he whispers. "Maybe then you'll look at me the way you look at Kado."
I snort because that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I look at Kado the way I look at algae cakes when I want a snack. But Geb is my air, the strength at my back, the person I curl up next to when I'm feeling the weight of the world. I can't say it, so I throw my arms around his waist, press my face to his chest. You can't go on a quest. I need you here.
His chest heaves as he blows out a resigned breath.
'Don't go.' I sign. I touch my heart sign and the sign for brother. It's the way I've always told him I love him, but this time, emotion flashes in his eyes as I touch the heart.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, his shoulders heaving in uncharacteristic solemnity.
"When I get back…" He pauses and I look up into his shimmering eyes, "maybe things will be different between us."
I squeeze him tighter and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me so close I can barely breathe. I inhale, soaking in his scent, his strength, and all the things we haven't said yet. His arms release me; his footsteps recede.
When I open my eyes, he's gone.
Chapter 2
The Way to Achten Tan
In the days after Geb's departure, the caverns seem empty and dark.
His presence used to light up the darkest caves. His smile made my own burdens easier to bear. Now I carry my sorrow alone. At first, I resent him just the bit for it. As days stretch into weeks, my annoyance with him morphs into dread, a gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach. Nobody says it, but they all think it.
Geb isn't coming back.
I have no classes and few Onra duties. As I pass other Onra in the halls, they duck their heads and avoid my gaze. I've become a cautionary tale. Nobody taunts me about my repeated failures. Two or three misses were cause for good-natured ribbing, but now I get looks of pity and whispers behind my back. First, I failed my ascension; now I've lost my best friend.
Though he could have, should have, been more than a friend. All my reasons for holding him at arm's length seem pitiful and misguided now, denying us both the happiness we could have known before it was too late. Maybe if I hadn't held him at arm's length, he wouldn't have felt the need to prove himself by going on Ozruhar's quest. If something happened to him, it's my fault.
Four weeks after Geb's departure, Nora Egelwrath summons me to her study.
"We must discuss our next course of action," she says, her golden eyes glowing with rare compassion. To see any emotion from my mentor is unsettling. I was sure her features had solidified into stone decades ago.
"What's the point?" I sign.
Her gaze settles on me, as heavy as a hand. A raised eyebrow her only admonishment of me wallowing in self-pity.
“So—you intend to give up? Live out your days without your voice and full power?" Her voice holds no inflection, yet her criticism of this plan is obvious.
"No," I sign. "But I don't know what to do."
"Something is blocking your power. Whether it is in your own mind or in the way you are using it… it is obviously beyond my ability to help you."
"Maybe it's gone," I sign. Like Turosh is gone, and now Geb.
Nora shakes her head. "It isn't gone. That wave above the falls… before you lost control… was impressive. Your power may be greater than any other in this land—"
"Or maybe I'm just broken."
Nora's frown stills my self-pitying hands. "You must sharpen the knife before you can use it. It takes even longer to sharpen a sword."
Always with the wisdom.
"Wise one," I sign, ducking my head with a smile.
The Nora cuffs me affectionately for my disrespect. "I'll let you have that one. But no more. If what we're doing isn't working, to persist is folly. I want to send you to someone who may help you, but the journey is perilous and your destination even more so. Are you brave enough to go? Or will you give in to doubt and self-pity and live out your days as the Speechless One?"
I clench my fists. I won't give up. It's not in my nature.
"I'll go."
"Good," she nods. "I want you to add a tattoo. SPEECH IS FORBIDDEN. Put it somewhere not too visible."
"Forbidden?" I sign and lift an eyebrow. I can't speak. I have no voice.
Her weathered shoulders droop. "The world isn't a safe place for girls who can't cry for help. Even those with magical powers. Better to let them think your silence is a choice. An oath that can be broken when in need."
I nod my agreement.
"In purple ink," she adds.
The algae of the caves are infused with magical properties. We make the tattoo ink by mixing vlish quartz dust from the rocks and phosphorus algae. Each color is infused with different magical properties. My tattoos are more than mere decoration or communication. My choice of colors, words, and symbols weaves a tapestry of power across my skin. Purple algae carries the power of communication. Running my fingers along the tattoo will implant the written words as a thought in another's mind.
"You will take a supply of my elixirs with you," she continues.
I gasp, then bow my head in gratitude. Her elixirs aren't the watered-down versions we sell in the markets of Achten Tan, where the magic is so faint it's merely a suggestion. Nora Egelwrath distills pure power into her elixirs.
My skin tingles as she guides me over to her shelves and hands me the colored crystal bottles one by one.
"Blue algae enhances the senses. But you must choose—sight, sound, touch, taste, or smell. It enhances one sense temporarily at the expense of the others.
"Red algae will give you the power of invisibility, to pass unnoticed right in front of people. Green algae is for healing. It will close a wound, extract a poison from your veins, but it cannot grow limbs or reverse death. Don't even try." Her eyes pin on me as though I intend to raise undead hordes for fun.
"I won't," I sign. She huffs as if she doesn't quite believe me.
"Yellow algae strengthens you. Don't go lifting G'ants above your head in the marketplace, though." I look down so she won't see my eye roll.
"And finally, purple, for communication." The purple is the rarest and most expensive of the elixirs. "To communicate via thoughts. It only works between people who have both consumed it recently, for a short time, and it leaves the users drained and powerless. You will need to rest in a safe place as it wears off. Use it sparingly," she cautions.
I cradle the small precious bottles to my chest. Nora grabs a scarf from her desk, wrapping them up carefully.
"Guard these and use them wisely. Don't let them fall into the wrong hands. With the magic in your veins, these elixirs are powerful tools, but they can be used—and misused—by many.
"When you reach Achten Tan, seek out Gerwyn the Wise. She is as old as the bones the city is carved from and just as crusty, but she has forgotten more about magic than I ever knew. If anyone can help you, it's her."
I turn to leave but Nora Egelwrath's bony hand grips my shoulder, her nails almost cutting into my skin. "Don't be too trusting, girl. Achten Tan operates by its own rules. It will chew you up and spit you out if you give it a chance."
I shudder and clasp her aged hand with my own.
"I'll be careful," I sign.
I say a tearful goodbye to my parents. My mother looks grim, and my father is full of advice on how to act on the road. I know he'd accompany me if I'd let him, but I must make this journey on my own.
"At least wait till the next market day," my mother implores. "Travel with the caravan."
I shake my head. "The next market is weeks from now." A sense of urgency has overtaken me. I've decided to leave and every moment I delay crumbles my resolve.
"Maybe wait for Geb to return. He'll go with you…" Her voice trails off.
"Jooma…" my father warns, his voice filled with sorrow.
"No," I sign and stamp my foot for emphasis. "He's not dead. He's coming back," and when he makes it back home safely, I'm going to kill him, "but I'm not waiting any longer. Geb went without me. I can manage without him."
"Mila…" My mother's voice is soft. She exchanges a look with my father. Despite having parents of his own—as well as six sisters and a brother—Geb is like a second son to them. My fists clench and my jaw tightens. They lost Turosh, they think they've lost Geb, and now they feel like they're losing me.
"Forget it, Jooma," my father rumbles. "She's a stubborn one. I have no idea where she gets it…"
My mother narrows her eyes at him. Throwing up her hands, she cries, "Fine! Go. Get trampled by a G'ant or drowned in the tar moat—see if I care." She's trying to be light-hearted, but I detect the tremble of fear in her voice, a deeper sadness in her eyes.
"I don't know where she gets her dramatic flair either," my father grins, drawing me into a hug with one arm and my mother with the other. I stand with them for a few moments, breathing in their comfort and support, well aware of the permanent gap in our circle.
"I love you, mother," I sign. "I love you, father."
My mother's eyes soften and she squeezes me one last time before letting go.
I've never been further than an hour or two from our caverns.
Geb and I used to venture down the river on foraging trips in search of herbs and fruits growing on the river banks. I stick to the familiar river as long as I can. Once I pass the ruins of an ancient city, its name long since fallen out of memory, I cast out across the desert towards Achten Tan. Away from the river, the landscape is barren, vast plains of reddish sand stretching as far as the eye can see. The dusty earth is littered with the skeletal remains of gigantic prehistoric beasts. This land is their graveyard.
I shudder when I think about the people who choose to live in such a place, where the wind howls over the desert like a lost spirit. I draw my cloak around me, protecting my face from the whipping sand. My braids spin in a frenzy of motion down my back, bone shards, stone fragments and shells clicking against each other as the wind unwinds my tightly curled bun like a playful tease.
It's hard to see in the sandstorm, but as night falls, the wind calms and the moons rise. First reddish Vitaloom, then its smaller, yellow sister, Jelthune, glowing over the bone wastes. When the only shelter to be had is bones, I curl up inside the bleached skull of a snarling, long-dead beast. I shudder as I recall the tales that used to frighten us as children: of the wizard C'naga and their army of wraiths, the unborn.
Get a grip, Mila. Those are children's tales, intended to scare the young and impressionable. C'naga’s bog is where Geb headed. Thinking of Geb is a stab of pain that draws my mind away from the scary fables, reminding me I'm still one part angry at him, to two parts scared for him—or possibly the other way around.
Before I nod off, I watch the clouds drifting in front of Jelthune as the moon sails through the night sky. Vitaloom is setting on the horizon, its orange glow casting strange moving shadows amongst the bones. I sit up straighter. Those can't be shadows. They're moving away from the darker patches cast by the bones and across the sand, drifting closer to me.
I freeze, unmoving, not breathing as the shapes draw closer, looking like broken shadows. Dark and jagged as holes cut in the world. Icy fingers of fear brush my skin, the night growing colder as the shadows drift past my hiding place. I press deep into the crevices of the skull.
"Mila, are you here?"
I freeze. It can't be.
Geb's voice, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the desert.
Hope lights up my heart. Maybe he returned to the caverns, heard I was on my way to Achten Tan and set out after me. That's exactly the kind of thing Geb would do. I start to rise, then freeze, torn between my desire to run to him and warn him and my fear of the shadows lurking between the skulls.
I clutch my pack, fumbling with the clasp as quietly as I can. Carefully, I pull the parcel of vials from my pack, sifting through them till I find the red elixir, the one that grants invisibility. I'll go to him unseen, and hope I don't frighten him. I uncork the bottle. How much do I need? I take a small sip, the tart taste burning my mouth and throat. I gulp as the burning sensation spreads into my limbs. My fingers and toes are on fire. My blood flows like lava through my veins.
"Mila," Geb's voice comes again. "Where are you? Answer me."
Confusion gives me pause. Geb knows I can't answer him. And how did he even know where I was? I lean forward until I can see a clouded shape between the bone shards. It looks like a person surrounded by shadows.
"Mila, please. I need your help." The voice trembles and cracks.
It can't be him, but what if it is? I can't stand by and watch him die. My body is so hot, I feel like I can burn through the shadows just by touching them. Maybe I can. If the elixir works, they won't be able to see me. I tense, preparing to leap.
Wait, I hear my Nora's cautioning voice drilled into me through years of training. Don't react. Think. Something isn't right. The unborn swirl around my hiding place, crisscrossing the space between me and the cloaked figure. Somehow, they know I'm here, but they can't get to me. They circle Geb but don't attack him. They're trying to lure me out.
Why can't they get to me? They avoid the other bones strewn around us, weaving around them but never touching. The bones! The skull grants me protection. I need to get to Geb, grab him, and make it back to the skull.
Shouldering my pack, I wrap the vials in several layers of clothing to keep them from rattling. Then I wind my scarf tightly around my hair to keep my braid ornaments silent.
I tread as lightly as I can, moving out of the skull’s mouth, careful not to brush the sharp ancient teeth. The top soil is soft sand whispering over a hardened layer below. My feet don't leave footprints.
Can they see me?
"Mila?" Geb cries. The wraiths surge, charging towards him, swarming all over him. He throws his hands up, his cries transforming into screams of pain.
I break into a run, throwing myself with abandon between the shadows and grab Geb's outstretched arm, yanking him towards me.
The hood falls away from his face.
The face before me is a bleached skull. Glowing blue eyes burn in the hollows of its eye sockets. Broken teeth line a dark cave of a mouth that yawns wide, opening in a hideous laugh.
Chapter 3
Bone and Blood
The grinning apparition in front of me laughs at my confusion, then dissipates. The remaining wraiths swirl closer. They tricked me.
My disappointment that it isn't Geb almost drives me to my knees in despair. To have hope after so long, only for it to melt like mist between my fingers, deals my spirit such a blow that I almost ignore the howling unborn circling me.
They drift closer now. Dark eyes focused on me. The red elixir isn't working. A wraith hisses, a sound that freezes my blood. Maybe I needed to drink more. I remove my pack, fumbling with the ties.
"Take another sip," a ghostly voice whispers in my ear. "The magic in your blood glows brighter when you drink, witch girl."
I yank my bag closed and struggle to see my hiding spot amongst the swirling shadows.
STOP. I draw my finger across my tattoo, threading a spell into my touch.
The wraiths cackle. "You may control blood and bone, little witch, energy and matter, but we have neither life nor substance. We are the unborn. Made of shadow. You have no power over us."
