Isle of Wings, page 18
She dropped her hold of him and turned away to walk up a steep hill.
He watched her for a moment before following, unsure what had compelled him to tell her.
The land gradually declined along smooth, flat rocks that sloped down the shore and disappeared beneath the water. Mist rose from the surface of Skye Lake, a white shroud that thinned as morning sun burned it away.
"Here we are," Roana announced.
No clouds marred the sky, but Iniko knew better than to assume it would stay clear the rest of the day. Although the island remained in a drought, storms awoke quick and ferocious as ever across the water.
"You're not worried, are you?" She tipped a hesitant, teasing smile toward him.
"Me?" he said in mock incredulity. "Never."
Roana hustled ahead of him, already removing the straps of her coracle as she half-ran to the water's edge.
"Are we racing there?" Iniko stretched his gait to keep up with her. Clumsily, he removed the coracle from his back and let it drop into the water, grabbing the edge of it at the last minute before it floated away.
"That wouldn't be very fair for you, would it?" She stepped into her coracle, the bowl-like boat twitching and bobbing as she knelt down. "It's just that I have never left this island, not once in my whole life."
"Oh. I get it.” The island did have some unique things he enjoyed, and he had made friends during his stay. But a deep part of him itched to roam. That was why he never invested too much in the island, or in any place that he visited.
Iniko stepped into his own boat, following Roana's example by kneeling in the tiny space. "It's...cozy.” He tried to assess how it was that Roana could look so comfortable perched in hers. After years of living and traveling on water in a ship, the coracle felt wobbly, dipping low into the water whenever he moved.
"You'll get used to it," Roana said breezily. She plunged an oar into the water, paddling until she was a good distance from him.
Iniko set his oar carefully across his lap and dipped his hands into the frigid water. He cupped a handful and brought it to his face. It seemed an important thing to do, somehow.
A cleansing. A blessing.
A way to connect to the water, to the air and stars above...
He let it slide over his skin, tasting it and drinking it, breathing in the crisp, clean scent as it formed rivulets down his face. Words rose up, drawn by the familiar sensation.
I wear this water,
I drink this water,
I breathe this water,
And I become the ship.
I wear this wind,
I breathe this wind,
I speak with this wind,
And I become the ship.
I see the stars,
I feel the stars,
I know the stars,
And I become the ship.
I master this water,
I master this wind,
I master these stars,
And I am the ship.
Iniko opened his eyes as a warm hush of silence followed his words, the memory of when he last used them unfolding before him.
He had been about to leave the shores of Ekesia. His father stood beside him, performing the same ritual along a sandy stretch of beach, scooping water over his face as they said the words in unison. The water soothed the tension squirming inside of him.
Then his father stood and said, We will do as the League asks. Then we will come home. Dread sank into him, heavy and cold.
The memory faded.
Iniko recalled the League of Shipmasters, an organization that both he and his father belonged to. It protected the rights of shipmasters while they navigated the waters of Skye Lake. He couldn't remember anything else about it, though there was something important, if he could just—
A cry from Roana pierced his thoughts. He jerked toward her, nearly capsizing. Curled around Roana's coracle was a long, black squelkin tentacle.
25
Iniko
"Roana!" He grabbed his oar and dug it into the water, arms burning within moments as he tried to quickly reach her. Frustrated with his slow pace, he reached out with his mind, grabbing hold of the squelkin to lure it away from her and toward himself.
A rhythmic thud resounded off the water, breaking his concentration as Roana hit the creature's tentacle with her oar. "GET OFF-" Wack! "MY FREAKING—" WACK! "BOAT!" WACK!
The tentacle flopped away, spraying inky squelkin blood into the misty air before it retreated. Iniko tracked it with his mind, relieved when it descended deeper, apparently no longer interested in Roana's boat.
Roana whirled toward him so fast that her coracle spun. "Ha ha!" she shouted, hefting her oar overhead in triumph. "I did it!" She grinned ear-to-ear as her boat danced in circles. Her cheeks darkened, and the hazel tint of her gaze took on a wild edge.
"I guess you don't need me to rescue you after all."
Roana rolled her eyes. "I don't ever need to be rescued. And anyways, you are about as slow as a mud turtle in that thing. I thought you were supposed to be a shipmaster?" She gave him a look that was equally perplexed and amused.
On impulse, Iniko slapped his oar on the water, propelling a small wave that went over the side of Roana's coracle. She gasped, then slapped water back at him, a laugh escaping her that seemed to open up a bridge between them.
A water-war ensued until he and Roana were sodden, and a puddle had formed around Iniko's knees.
"We should be preserving our energy!" Roana shouted between blasting waves.
With a deep chuckle, Iniko used all his strength to gather his biggest wave yet, causing Roana to screech as it leaped into her coracle.
"I'm practically bathing over here!" she hollered, raising both dripping arms. "I surrender."
"Do you need me to get you a bucket?" he asked as she started to scoop water from her coracle using her cupped hands.
"I'll be fine.” She shivered.
"Are you cold?" Not that he had anything to give her to warm up. All of his own clothes were just as soaked as hers.
"No," she replied. "The sun is warm."
The sun was warm. It worked at drying his clothes while they rowed out. They went in easy silence, Iniko trying to improve his technique in order to keep up with Roana.
Roana didn't seem to notice the movements of the coracle, nor did she seem to mind how close the water's surface was to the edge of her boat. Would she have the same confidence on another boat, like his ship? She would be ecstatic if he offered her a journey to the mainland—if he could ever afford it. He wondered what it would be like to travel with her. He didn't think she'd be the type to complain about the ship's conditions, nor the type to worry over the weather or where they were going.
No, she would be a sparrow, thirsty for land of any kind, eager to move and learn and thrust herself into the bosom of life.
Just like him.
He shook his head, realizing he had fallen behind. Forcing the distracting thoughts away, he sped up until he could no longer see Roana's bare midriff, but instead the wide-open water, where a strip of land grew larger before them.
The island was an emerald set in the smooth, flat lake. Trees grew thick as threads on a carpet, and a breeze brought the rich scent of leaves and pine needles.
"It's beautiful," Roana breathed, pausing in her rowing to take it all in.
"There doesn't seem to be a drought here." Iniko realized too late that he brought up a touchy subject.
But Roana shook her head as she stared at the island with awe. "I wonder if there are butterflies here?"
"We'll just have to take a look for ourselves."
They paddled up to the shore. Birds warbled in the trees, welcoming them. The heady smell of hummus mingled with the wet lakewater and the warm aroma of his own skin.
"Let's go to that knoll." Roana pointed to what appeared to be the highest point of the island. Maybe we can see everything from there."
"And maybe we can eat?" Iniko's stomach rumbled at the thought of the food wrapped in his satchel.
"Good idea.”
They pulled the coracles out of the water, stacking them just inside the forest. Roana's clothes remained wet, although Iniko's had dried significantly under the heat of the sun and his own skin. "Do you want my shirt? It's nearly dry." He started to unbutton the top buttons.
She glanced at him, her eyes drifting to his partly exposed chest before darting away. "No, thank you," she replied hurriedly.
Iniko followed her into the forest, unable to stop himself from noticing the way her wet shirt and trousers clung to her skin. He rubbed his hands through his coarse hair, trying to think of something—anything—else.
"So, you've never left the island?" he asked, pushing aside a pine limb. The needles dug into his skin. "I thought the Rain Mages travel frequently to the mainland."
"They did." Her breath came heavier as they beat through a clump of twining thimble-vine. Bees buzzed lazily past them. "But Pia and I were not allowed to go with them. Well, Pia was," Roana amended, "once she turned eighteen. That's when the next Rain Mage in line for the title is presented to the king."
"But you couldn't go with her?"
Roana sighed in irritation. "There was some rule about staying behind, in case something happened to both the Rain Mage and the successor. Except that I was never trained to be a Rain Mage, and I never showed the abilities my sister did."
Iniko absently patted the buttoned pocket where Roana's finger-bone was safely stored. If she wasn't trained to be a Rain Mage, would she know how to use the bone? Iniko had no idea how Rain Mage magic worked. All he had heard about it was that it needed music to be performed, and usually the mages sang, but he had never heard Roana sing a single note.
"Where did you grow up?" Roana asked suddenly. Fat, silvery balsik needles snagged her hair, and she swatted them away, wincing as they pulled at her rolled braid. "Once you were...adopted."
"Ejep.” It was a major port city along Ekesia's shore.
"What is it like there? I heard that the streets are rivers, and people ride boats from house to house."
"There are places like that. Not many, though. The city relies on water, and canals have been built to accommodate shipping and trading." Iniko thought he spotted a red flash of butterfly wings through the trees. "Loads of people live there. Art and spice shops, gardens with fountains, little kafes were you can drink coffee or chocolate, and many, many boats."
"More boats than our harbor?"
Iniko laughed. "Ten times as many."
Roana sighed longingly, then threw Iniko a sheepish look. "I want to see it so badly it hurts." She stopped momentarily, leaning against a tree with one hand while the other absently tidied her bedraggled hair.
"I know what you mean," Iniko said. "I heard so many stories about other places growing up, and all I wanted to do was go there. But training to be a sailor took up all my time, and soon I was out on the water instead of inland. But it turned out that there was a whole lot to see along the shores of Skye Lake."
Roana asked him more about it—the journeys to the mountains of Orion, whether or not he had been to Lach (he had, several times—and once witnessed the infamous Red Morning horse race there), and whether or not he had ever seen a Zarian drogon (he had not, since they mostly kept to the desert caves of southern Zari).
They pushed through the last of the shrubbery and onto the top of the knoll. Sunlight soaked into the clearing, cheerfully bobbing on fern fronds and white-blossomed figary shrubs. The summer air was fragrant with the scent of warmed rock and moss.
They dropped their bags, and Iniko brought out the food.
Roana lay back on a flat rock, spread her arms wide and closed her eyes. "This feels amazing. Like my skin is drinking the sun." A smile teased her lips upward. "You should try it. You're still wet."
Iniko kept his hands busy with unpacking the food. "I would love to, but I'm starving." And for more than just food... He buried the thought.
Roana looked over. "What did you bring to eat?"
"Dried apples and berries," he said, motioning to what he had laid out on his satchel. "Dried goat. And some spiced bread."
Roana sat up. "Oh, that does sound good. I'm so sick of eating fish." She grabbed a strip of goat and shoved it into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss as she chewed the tough bit of meat.
"What did you bring?"
She spoke through her mouthful. "Just some carrots, and some roasted squaroot seeds. Oh, and some herbed cheese—the only reason why Nan keeps the cook around." She laughed. "Well, and because she knows I probably can't cook."
"You've never tried?" Iniko pulled out the little pot of cheese and spread some over a hunk of bread.
"I never needed to. We've always had a cook. Actually, we had several cooks."
"We had a cook on our ship, too. At least, I think we did." The savory cheese melted in his mouth.
"You think you did?"
Iniko hesitated. "The shipwreck that I was in... I don't remember it very well. I had a head injury." Her brow furrowed, and he added, "I remember the storm and how my father died. But nothing from the weeks before, and only some of the days after."
Roana shook her head. "How did you survive it?"
He hated to spoil the moment. "Someone found me on the wreck."
She said nothing, but lay on her side against the mossy rock, eating a handful of berries. Iniko tucked away the remainder of the food and laid next to her, not touching, but close enough to feel her heat. A breeze stirred her hair and drifted over him. She smelled faintly of soap, of lakewater, and something warm and fresh on top of that—a smell that made him want to lean closer.
He didn't.
A butterfly near the trees caught his eye. He could sense the faint consciousness of it, a flicker of light against the void of the sky. He tugged it closer.
The butterfly dipped low over the clearing, its mind easily pulled by the fingers of Iniko's power. He held out a hand, watching as the butterfly drifted down and down, skimming over Roana's head before landing on Iniko's palm.
Roana sucked in a breath. "A niobe!" She sat up slowly to inspect it. "The outside is like the sunrise, and the inside is like the sunset."
It walked around Iniko's hand, flashing its wings open and closed, sunset and sunrise.
"Do you know a lot of butterflies?" he asked.
"We had a whole conservatory full of them at Alagón for sending messages. There used to be loads across the island. Náyade's little messengers."
"I've heard of your isle goddess.” He thought of the numerous temples scattered around Taragona. "What are those strange words engraved on her temples? 'I am the strength of ten thousand wings...'"
"'Through my bindings, I am freed,'" Roana recited, watching the niobe in Iniko's hand, "'In the darkness, I am reborn.'"
"Are the sayings about the butterflies?"
Roana snickered as if she thought his naivety was endearing. "You've never heard the legend of Náyade?"
"It's not exactly the type of thing we sailors are entertained by," Iniko joked.
"Right. Far too modest a story, I imagine." Her eyes glinted as she sat back and took a deep breath. "Long, long ago, there was a maiden who washed upon the shores of the island. She was a beautiful woman with an ample bosom." A smile crept over her face. "She had waves of hair that tumbled down to a rear-end shaped like a pumpkin—"
He started to grin. "Roana—"
"Alright," she laughed, her cheeks flushing dark. "You were really getting into it, though—"
"I knew you were making it up—"
"But you still liked it."
"I couldn't help it. Nothing gets me more excited than pumpkin-shaped—"
She started cracking up, flopping onto her side while she held her stomach, as if laughing hurt. Warmth spread from her mind, reaching out like golden sunlight.
It touched his mind, a caress of joy.
Do you even know how beautiful you are?
The temptation to pull her close gripped him, and he clenched his hands, forcing his mind to relax.
She doesn't want this, he thought, recalling her disgust of his ability. Probably no woman would want it, if they knew what he was capable of.
Roana sobered. "The truth is, I don't know what Náyade was supposed to have looked like. Nor do I really care. Legend says she washed upon the shores of this island, weak and starving and lost." Roana rubbed her fingers over a patch of moss. "She discovered the beauty of the island, and watched the caterpillars who ate a feast and wrapped themselves in cocoons, sleeping for weeks before emerging as butterflies.
"She had never seen anything like it, and was mystified by the transformation. Perhaps the caterpillars had magic, and, growing weary of being bound to earth, used this magic to grow wings so that they could be free. Náyade wanted so badly to go home that she followed their example, thinking that if she mimicked everything they did that she, too, would transform. She ate plentiful food that she grew herself, slept through the harsh winter and emerged in the spring, beautiful and strong and winged. You see, she had transformed from a maiden to a nymph, and was now free to fly home.
"But she had grown to love the beauty and isolation of the isle, and vowed to stay and protect it. She took pity on the people that washed up dead on the shores and bestowed them with life using her butterflies. The sayings on the temples are her words, reminding us of who she is and all that she learned."
Iniko let her words settle around them. "Do you believe it?"
She sat up. "I suppose I want to believe it. That Náyade is watching over us, protecting us..."
"But?"
"That is also the duty of the Rain Mage—to protect the island and the people—but there isn't one, so it isn't being done. And I never really feel Náyade. Especially not after..." Her eyes flicked to his, hesitant. "After my family died. There was nothing there, nothing to make me feel better. Nothing to make it..."
