Burn Bright (22 page)

Ruzalia waited by the under-cabin's window, her face hidden by impenetrable eye-shades. Her thick, red hair – the same colour as Rollo's – was knotted at the nape of her neck like rope.

‘Take that one to the healer,' she ordered, placing a lit cigar between her lips.

A serious-looking girl dressed in light armour helped Markes through a partition, to the opposite end of the cabin.

Puffing smoke, Ruzalia sank into a large armchair and motioned for Naif and Charlonge to sit opposite her. ‘So which of you is the cause of all this trouble?'

‘I am,' said Naif without preamble. ‘The Ripers are divided because Lenoir killed one of the Night Creatures to protect me.'

Ruzalia leaned forward. ‘You? How fascinating. Why would the leader of the Guardians do that?'

Naif met Ruzalia's penetrating stare with a steady gaze. ‘That is not important right now. I have a message for you from Eve and Clash. We've seen inside Danskoi. The Ripers are using the Peaks to make new Night Creatures.'

Ruzalia slapped her thigh in anger. ‘Danskoi. Right beneath my nose all along. I knew some perverted doings were at hand, but had no proof of it.'

The three gazed from Ruzalia's viewing window as the levia-flies engaged the globes in a clash of light beams. Globes ignited and dropped like fiery comets to the ground. In their dying light, Naif could see more Ripers swarming up from Los Fien towards Danskoi in metal carriages, racing towards Lenoir and the others.

Then the zeppelin lifted and swung away.

The wrench of leaving Ixion faded a fraction as the light trails blended with the glittering luminosity from the clubs and majestic churches, transfixing her. Beautiful.

‘Hold tight,' said Ruzalia.

The zeppelin lifted again, so quickly this time that Naif's stomach felt as if it had been pitched outside her body. She gripped her chair and pressed her forehead to the window-glass, swallowing against the unpleasant sensation. Nothing but darkness below and above, and the vanishing lights of Ixion.

Where are we going to in this endless night?

Ruzalia leaned forward and dropped a translucent mask on her and Charlonge's laps. ‘Quickly. Put it on.'

Charlonge obeyed instantly but Naif stared at the mask with suspicion.

A moment later, as brilliant daylight and Ruzalia's laughter exploded upon her senses, she clamped her eyes shut and fumbled for it. She waited for the eye pain to subside before she dared to open them again and peer out through the mask's filter.

The radiance of the sky and water made it hard to distinguish one from the other and for a moment she wondered if they were upside down. Then she saw a stretch of little green shapes – islands spaced apart as though they'd been sprinkled upon the ocean carpet by a giant hand.

She closed her eyes against the assault of light and colour and rested back in her seat while, next to her, Charlonge wept with sadness and relief.

A notion came to Naif then, born of anguish and anger and sorrow at what she'd left behind her; a thought emerging from her confusion. ‘Ruzalia, is it possible that the Ripers may not be the creators of what is happening in Ixion, but are caught in a trap of their own?'

Ruzalia crushed her cigar into a metal ashtray on the arm of chair and crossed her legs. She leaned back and blew rings into the air between them. ‘You pose an interesting question, youngling.'

Naif sank her face into her hands, exhausted with pain and sick with possibilities. ‘I have a friend called Rollo. He saw a Riper in Grave talking to a Councillor.'

‘Indeed?' The pirate woman leaned forward, lighting another cigar. ‘Did your friend hear their conversation?'

Naif shook her head. ‘No.' Saying it aloud gave her a surge of purpose. ‘But I will find out.'
For Rollo. For Krista-belle. For all of them
.
I will find out and come back.
‘Ruzalia, please can you take me back to Grave?'

This book has taken me several years to write. It's a book I felt so passionate about that I kept working on it despite contracts for other novels. Many people have been a part of
Burn Bright
and I'd like to send them all my heartfelt thanks. Firstly, to Tara Wynne, my agent, who loved it right away even when it was just a one paragraph idea. My writers group ROR, who encouraged me to continue with it after they saw a skeleton
draft (Tansy Rayner Roberts for her excitement, Dirk Flinthart for suggestions about the gangs, and Margo Lanagan who said it was full of de Pierres ‘yummies', Richard Harland, Rowena Cory Daniells, Trent Jamieson and Maxine McArthur for the
thumbs up
).

Special thanks go to my publisher, Zoe Walton, who saw potential in the manuscript and gave a lot of extra time to help me re-work it into something much better. Zoe, I will never be able to thank you enough! Then there's the Random House team. WOW! What can I say? You have been truly amazing. Peri Wilson, Sarana Behan, Justin Ractliffe, Linsay Knight – a gift to this veteran adult fiction writer venturing nervously into new territory.

I'd also like to mention my early readers, Ruth Cohen and Amy Parker, who gave invaluable feedback. And the Burn Bright Staffies who've been working so hard to make the website a vibrant place to visit long before the book entered the world.

Finally, a huge thank you to Yunyu for wanting to play in my world and inviting me to play in hers.

I hope
Burn Bright
does you all proud.

Sleeping bats hung from tangled roots along the roof of the cave, quivering as they dreamed. Naif didn't once glance up at them as she passed through on her way to the jetty. Even on Ixion they had not gathered in one place in such numbers, and their twitching sleep unnerved her.

Ruzalia's island, Sanctus, was a maze of water-tunnel caves and ready mists. Markes and Charlonge
had taken to using the hill paths to traverse it, soaking in whatever watery sunshine they could, but Naif still felt safer underground, in the darkness. Something about the wild, windswept island deepened the ache in her heart.

Their escape from Ixion in Ruzalia's airship brought her both terrible relief and sadness. She'd left behind her brother and her friends. She didn't even know if Suki was still alive. What if the Night Creatures had overrun them? What if the cruel Ripers, Brand and Modai, had overthrown Lenoir?

The thought of Lenoir brought a flush of warmth to her skin. Even from across the other side of the Golden Spiral, Naif could sense him; a heavy presence in her mind that was both a weight and a strange comfort.

Other times, usually when she was alone, she'd feel a tug, low down in her stomach, and a tingling at the tips of her breasts. In those moments she cursed the fact that the Riper had saved her life. She had no wish to be bonded to someone so dangerous.

Since coming to Ruzalia's island, her sense of him had become accentuated. When she'd reached a decision just moments ago, she'd felt his presence so sharply she'd found herself turning, peering into the dark, half-expecting him to appear.

He did not approve of her choice, she knew, but that would not stop her.

Picking her way down a worn rock ledge, she saw a small jetty protruding into the water tunnel. At that
moment, though the ocean was calm and the tide low, she was able to step down without slipping. When the sea was ruffled, she imagined that it would be hazardous getting to the jetty.

According to whispers among the island's Ixion refugees, Ruzalia had lost crew by choosing to moor her boat in a dangerous tunnel instead of the bay outside – events she was rumoured to accept without a flicker of emotion.

Naif could see Ruzalia now, at the bow of her ship, rubbing a cloth across the side; her wild red hair tied back and an expression of fierce concentration on her face.

She stopped at the beginning of the jetty and watched.

‘What brings you down here?' the pirate called out without lifting her head from her task.

‘I want you to take me back to Grave.'

Ruzalia paused from her task. ‘Have I not told you that's a foolish notion?'

‘Yours is but one opinion, Ruzalia.'

The tall woman stiffened, and then straightened. She dropped her cloth onto the deck and vaulted lightly onto the jetty, covering the distance to Naif in quick angry strides.

Naif stepped backed to the rock wall and found herself pinned there.

‘I did not risk my life bringing you and yours here to listen to such impudence,' said the pirate.

Naif drew a shallow breath and steeled herself against
the woman's ferociousness. She had come to provoke an answer, and she wouldn't waver. ‘You've been taking that risk all along. You didn't do it for me alone.'

‘What would you know of my reasons?'

‘I've talked to … others.'

‘Others? The Liberated?' She snorted. ‘None of them would ruin a story for a pinch of the truth.'

‘Please, Ruzalia, take me back to Grave. I have to find out why the Ripers have been going there.'

The pirate leaned in so close to her that she could feel the heat of her breath.

‘No.' The word was said quietly but with intensity. ‘Now leave me to my work.'

She turned her back on Naif with utter finality.

There was nothing for Naif to do but retrace her steps through the cave labyrinth. When she reached the high spot where bats rested, she glanced back. Ruzalia had returned to tinkering with her sleek ocean racer. There would be no changing the woman's mind and as she stood there, her disappointment was almost drowned by Lenoir's relief.

Naif found Markes on the balcony of the room she and Charlonge shared in La Galatea. The Liberated were roomed mainly on the north side of the grand old resort to benefit from the morning sun. But for some reason Ruzalia had put Naif and her friends on the south side
where the long daytime shadows allowed thick mildew to cover the marble balustrade.

The three of them had dragged a rusted wrought iron table and some broken wicker chairs out there, and used it as their private place to talk. In the days following their arrival, their conversations had been about Ixion; what they'd left behind, what might happen now they'd left. Ruzalia only gave them scant news, and Naif was haunted by not knowing about Suki. Was she alive? Injured? Was she safe with Rollo and Joel and Eve, or were they all in danger?

Recently, though, their talk had shifted to the tensions on the island among the Liberated. They seemed, Naif thought, to be divided into two groups: those who had escaped here by choice, with the help of Dark Eve, Joel and the Cursed League, and those that Ruzalia had abducted from the barge. Somehow, she knew ahead of time that they were over age and would be at risk. Those ones didn't believe her.

They hadn't seen what Naif had seen. And
none
of them knew what about the church of Danskoi; the horror of what was happening there to those who had been withdrawn.

Charlonge looked up and saw her. ‘So what did Ruzalia say?'

Charlonge, the Church of Vank supervisor, who Naif had thought so mature and confident when she first arrived on Ixion, now seemed worn by worry.

Pining after Joel. And my brother does not deserve it.

The thought filled Naif with pain. She'd gone to Ixion to find her beloved brother but, when she had, something had changed between them.

She loved him still. Dearly. More than her life. But she'd learned things about him, and was no longer blind to his nature. Joel
wanted
the war against the Ripers. He wanted to fight with Dark Eve on the Lesser Paths of Ixion. Ixion had made Joel a hero, and he didn't want to leave there.

‘She won't listen,' answered Naif. ‘I will go without her help.'

‘What do you mean … without her help?' demanded Markes. The dreamy musician's expression that inhabited his face most of the time faded and he gave her a sharp look.

Naif flushed. Markes was the first boy to make her heart beat faster. Even though he had chosen Cal as his friend, and had not been as brave as she wished at times, when he looked at her intently, like now, she could barely take a breath.

His hair had grown longer since they'd been on Sanctus, and his skin had gained colour with sunlight. He looked healthier, lovelier than ever, and she often found herself staring at him.

Charlonge teased her gently about it. It was the only time the girl ever used a lighter tone. Like Naif, she was haunted by what they'd left behind.

‘I could take Ruzalia's boat. She's expecting bad weather and it's moored in the cave,' said Naif.

‘That would be dangerous,' said Charlonge, automatically cautious and responsible.

‘Ruzalia would be so angry she might kill you for it,' said Markes.

‘She's planning a raid tomorrow. The boat will empty tonight while she inducts the newest ones.'

Markes looked out across the island, past the mountain to the sea. ‘Who would sail it? It's open sea between Sanctus and Grave. And the tides have been high. Leaving the tunnel might be dangerous.'

‘You could steer us safely. You've sailed in Lake Deep.'

His gaze alighted on her again, his expression pleased at her confidence in him. Then his forehead creased. ‘If the Elders find us back in Grave we'll be sent before the court.'

‘What about your friends?' Naif asked him. ‘They would hide us. My father would only turn us over to the warden, and my mother would be too frightened to help.'

As she said it, Naif had an overwhelming urge to see her mother. It was a hollow desire, she knew, for her mother would likely shun her now.

Then a sharp Ixion memory pierced her – Lottie calling for her mama as she died in Naif's arms. Lottie had burned brightly and paid the price for her recklessness. The girl's fear of death without her mother at her side would stay in Naif's heart forever.

But she wouldn't get comfort from her own mother. That must not be why she was returning. Grave held the
answer to secrets of Ixion. That was why she must go. For Joel and Rollo and Suki on Ixion. For dead Lottie. But mostly, for Krista-Belle.

She felt a tug at her consciousness again, and a flooding sense of disapproval.
Lenoir.

‘Stop!' she cried aloud.

‘Stop what?' asked Markes.

Naif turned away from him, hiding her face. ‘Nothing, I meant … Charlonge, what is it?'

The older girl had moved to one end of the balcony and was leaning over the balustrade, staring to the south. Beyond the mountain, the sea glinted dully and the horizon was a mist of salt spray; the entrance to the Golden Spiral.

‘I'm not coming with you,' Charlonge said quietly. ‘I'm not from Grave. What you seek there is not part of me. I'll stay here and help Ruzalia.'

‘What do you mean help?' asked Naif.

‘Ruzalia only has Mesree and her men. Too few to manage all the Liberated ones, and I'm experienced with supervising.'

‘Don't be caught in this just to stay close to my brother, Char.'

Charlonge turned hotly and faced her. ‘It's not just about Joel. You're not the only one allowed to be useful, Naif. I have chosen my path. That is all I will say.'

Naif's heart sank. Unravelling the mysteries of the Golden Spiral and the connection between Grave and Ixion was the only way to help her brother and her
friends. Ixion would only become more dangerous. She'd seen the power of the Ripers and the bestial way they tore at each other. She'd been cornered by the Night Creatures and known the sting of their barbed tentacles. Leyste had stalked her. These were not human foe, no matter how they might masquerade.

She looked at Markes.

He shook his head slowly. ‘I don't want to go back, Naif. Sorry. I-I'll stay and help Char.'

Naif clenched her fists in frustration. If she had to, she'd go alone. But the thought terrified her.

‘Stay here with us,' said Charlonge. The girl came to her with arms outstretched.

It was still not natural for Naif to be spontaneous with emotion. Her Seal training had been all about solitude and meditation and isolation. That's why Joel had run away to Ixion and why she had followed. Life in Grave without him had been unbearable.

She forced herself to step into Char's embrace, glancing across her shoulder at Markes.

He looked away, guiltily.

‘Let's go and have dinner in the hall. We don't want Ruzalia sending someone looking for us.' Charlonge hugged her and let go, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘You won't do anything foolish, will you? Promise me.'

Naif smiled but she didn't answer. She knew exactly what she must do.