Heir to the Sky (12 page)

She shakes her head. “Rest now, both of you.”

The kindness of these three overwhelms me. We'd always been taught to look down on the unbelievers, in a way. They'd chosen to die by the monster's claw rather than work together to build a new life on Ashra and her lands. If I'd pictured humans living on the earth, I could never have imagined these three in their underground haven, sharing what little they have with nothing but smiles, looking so alive in the face of certain death.

Aliyah shows me the adjoining room, a floor of dirt swept clean and covered with beautiful quilts. They're stitched from furs and odds and ends of cloth, lining the room from one end to the other. It's the complete opposite of my room in the citadel, with its opulent fabrics and gilded edges and giant windows open to the mountains and Lake Agur. Sometimes, on dark, still nights, I could see the rainbow glow of the firefly clouds in the outlands, the cool breeze wafting around my balcony. There's no fresh breeze down here. It's small and stuffy, but cozy. I think that maybe I was wrong about the monster-ridden earth, that there were no safe places down here. This certainly feels like one.

Sayra appears in the doorway with a clay goblet of water, and I drink it down so quickly that I sputter when my dry throat sticks. She smiles and gets me another full glass from the pitcher, and then Aliyah invites me to lie down and rest while they make dinner.

“You're sure I can't help?” I ask, but I'm so exhausted I sway on my feet.

“You've done well to survive until Griffin found you,” Aliyah says. “And he told me about your ribs. Best thing for broken bones is rest.”

“Thank you,” I say. The blankets are as soft as they look, and I can almost forget the hard dirt ground beneath them. In the other room I can see the edge of Griffin sitting at the bench while Aliyah removes his leather tunic and sighs, dipping a washcloth into a basin and dabbing at his shoulder.

Then I see the two huge gashes on his bare back, not from the hazu, but from something much older. They curve inward like crescents from the edge of his shoulders to the top of his hips. The two grooves are thick and scarred, split open like deep lash wounds from a whip. I can't imagine what kind of monster carved those marks into him. I can't believe he survived it.

“Another badge of honor, hmm, monster hunter?” Aliyah sighs. Sayra says something past hearing, and the three of them chuckle between Griffin's small gasps of pain. They mumble in a low and comforting harmony that reminds me of my father speaking outside my bedroom door to the guards in the citadel. The hazu meat sizzles and smokes, and the mouthwatering aroma fills the tiny underground haven.

Exhaustion overcomes me and I close my eyes, finally feeling safe for a moment in this vast and frightening world.

I am with Griffin, Aliyah and Sayra, and we are alive and safe. I could never have imagined any of this even three days ago.

I sleep for maybe an hour before I awaken to the terrible clawing of monsters scratching through the roof above.

TWELVE

I SIT UP
with a shout before Griffin and Aliyah come running into the room. I point at the ceiling, where a monster of some kind is clawing and sniffing high above the surface. They exchange glances before looking at me with sad eyes.

“It's all right,” Griffin says. “They usually give up before they dig too far in. There's easier prey on the surface at night.”

“Get her some water, Griff. You're scaring her,” Aliyah says, and while he's gone she smooths my hair behind my ear. “You're not used to the monsters yet,” she reassures me. “Give it time.”

But I shake my head. I will never get used to the eternal fear of being hunted, of being mere prey to be sniffed out wherever I go. “Griffin said he'll take me to the mountain range,” I tell her. “From there the airships will be able to see me and rescue me. I've told him they'll take all of us, too. You can come live on the floating continents, where it's safe.”

Surprise plays in Aliyah's wide eyes as Griffin returns with the water and a plate of the fragrant hazu meat. Sayra has drizzled it with scarlet honey and spices, and it reminds me of the chicken I had with Elisha at the festival. I breathe in its hot fragrance before I take a bite, while Aliyah raises her eyebrows at Griffin. “Did you tell her you'll take her to the mountains, brother?”

He hesitates while I drink the water. “Yes, I did.”

“I see.”

I don't understand why they're all so cautious about going to Ashra with me. They've never been up there. How are they so sure they'll hate it? Surely it's better than mere survival down here.

“When will you go?” Aliyah asks.

“Sunrise. Kali says the airships will be looking for her, so we need to get there as soon as possible.”

Aliyah shakes her head and takes my empty plate and glass from me. “She's in no condition to travel, and neither are you. That wound will split right open unless you take a couple days to heal up first.”

“But the airships,” I say. I don't mean to be ungrateful. It's just that if I wait too long, they won't search for me anymore. They'll think I'm dead. Which they probably think anyway. Who could survive that fall? And they don't know about the barrier that saved me.

“You're easy pickings for the monsters ahead if you don't take the time to heal,” Aliyah says. “Rest now.” She leaves the room, and as much as I don't want to admit it, I know she's right.

“Don't worry,” Griffin says. “I promised to get you to the airship, and I'll get you there.”

“Why are you helping me?” I ask, the words surprising me as much as they surprise him. “I know you said you help the fallen, but you've done that. Why take me all the way to the mountains? Aliyah doesn't seem to think it's a good idea.”

He chuckles under his breath. He's washed his face, and the paint is gone from his cheeks. He still wears his shell necklace, but his weapons and all their leather straps are gone, his chest bare. I can see the trails of old scars, bites and claw marks etched into his skin by different predators. “Aliyah's been protective ever since I can remember,” he says. “She's all the family I have left. The two of us and Sayra are the only ones left from our village, so of course she always worries.”

The only ones left? I don't know how large the village was, but three survivors means many lost. They have so little left, so much of a burden to carry. And now I'm putting him back out there, on what Aliyah thinks is a hazardous trek.

“I can't let you do it,” I decide. “Show me the way to the mountains, and I'll go alone. Look what happened today. I can't put you in any more danger.”

Griffin twists his shoulder so I can see the hazu's wound across his back, the one that sits atop the crescent moon gashes. “This?” he says. “I've had worse. It's brave of you to tell a monster hunter to mind his own business. And I don't mean to sound arrogant, but you're biting off more than you can chew. I'll take you to the mountains. I promised, and that's the end of it.”

He leaves the room, and I lean against the wall. The dented lantern tied at my hip presses against the blankets as I look down at the broken candle inside.

I don't know what lies ahead on the way to the mountains, but I know if I'm not safe alone, then it will be more terrible than I can imagine.

* * *

The next several days are a pleasant change from running for my life. In the daylight, the trapdoor in the main room is open, and the fresh, sweet air floods in. Aliyah, Sayra and Griffin take me to the waterfall to replenish our supplies. It's smaller than I'd pictured, not a raging angry current like the waterfall on Ashra, but steps of jagged rock, down which the water flows in frills of misty lace. The air is filled with the spray of cool water, and the birds call to each other through the forest. Griffin takes handfuls of the water and splashes them at us, and we run away like children, squealing, circling around to fill our basins and dump them over his head. I feel like I'm on the edge of Lake Agur with Elisha as we talk and laugh, as if the four of us have always been close friends.

But at night, the monsters claw at the top of the underground haven, snorting with their large nostrils and bellowing as they stomp around the forest. The three of them sleep through the horrible sounds, but I lie awake for hours, waiting for the ceiling to burst and the monster's fangs to rip through the dirt and into my flesh.

One morning, Aliyah stands with me near the waterfall and hands me a bow and a quiver full of arrows. “You need to be able to defend yourself,” she says.

“You're a monster hunter, too, aren't you?” I ask.

She nods. “It's the path I chose when our village was destroyed.”

“And Sayra?”

She shakes her head. “She's got a gentle soul. Monster hunting isn't easy. You have to grab hold of the fear that overtakes you when death itself charges. You have to take that fear and give it fangs. You have to lose everything so that you have nothing to lose. Sayra lost everything, but it made her turn inward instead. She helps in other ways.”

I imagine Ulan, empty and destroyed. I can't even fathom what they've been through.

“I heard what happened to your parents,” I say. “I'm sorry.”

Aliyah smiles gently, then sits on a stone ledge beside the waterfall. The beads of water glisten on her dark skin. “I'm sure you've wondered about Griffin being my brother,” she says. “Of course we're not related by blood. My parents were good people. They found Griffin wandering in the fields, crying. He was barely a baby then. I remember them bringing him home. ‘Aliyah, water!' they said to me.” Her eyes gleam with the memory. “I went to the well by our house, and for the first time I found the strength to turn the handle myself and bring up the bucket. I was just a babe myself, really. Four years old.”

I imagine Griffin and Aliyah as children, Griffin with a tuft of curly brown hair as he ran in the field.

“He had a broken arm and kept crying for his mother. We knew she must've been taken down by a behemoth or griffin. There were so many surrounding the village. Poor dragonling that he was. He was such a happy little boy once he felt at home with us.” She laughs as she remembers. “He used to take my father's harpoon and pretend he was hunting sea serpents in the field behind our house.” The smile fades from her lips, the waterfall rushing through the silence. “He changed when the griffin attacked our parents. It ripped the thatched roof clean off. Without my brother, I would've died that day. Sent the harpoon right between that griffin's eyes.”

The weight of the memory presses on both of us as I try to imagine the horror of that day. But I can't, not really. I lost my mother so young that I have no memories of her. Losing my father would break my heart, but it would never be so vicious an end as the jaws of a monster. I can't imagine what Aliyah and Griffin have seen, what they've been through. “My deepest sympathies,” I say, resorting to my regal upbringing. It seems larger than anything I can say or offer in exchange.

Aliyah forces a smile and stands up, wiping the water droplets off her arms. “It was a long time ago,” she says. “And the only way to survive down here is to become stronger. And now you have some learning to do, don't you? Let me see your arm for archery.”

She wraps a leather strip round and round my left wrist so the bowstring won't rasp against my skin. And then she shows me how to hold the bow, how to pull back the taut string with all my strength. My wrist stopped hurting two days ago, but the effort still burns in my ribs.

“Ready?” she says. “See if you can hit that trunk.”

I nock the arrow and aim at the tree she's pointed out. The bowstring snaps forward but the arrows drops, clattering to the ground beside my feet. My cheeks blaze.

“First try,” she says. “It takes getting used to.”

The next fifteen arrows follow suit, leaving a mortifying trail that zigzags slowly closer to the tree trunk. At last, the sixteenth arcs through the air and far past the trunk into the tangle of ferns and underbrush.

“Better.” Aliyah smiles. “Want to take a break?”

My ribs are aching, but I shake my head. “I want to get it right.”

“I told you,” Griffin says suddenly, and I look up, startled. He's sitting beside the spray of the waterfall. How long has he been there? He was soundless, like a barn cat. I never heard him approach. I flush with embarrassment. I hope he hasn't seen my pathetic volley of arrows.

“Told her what?” I say.

He smiles, his eyes gleaming. “That you're a fighter. That you don't give up.”

I flush like the Phoenix herself is blazing through me. He's seen my effort, not my failure, just like before. I can't stop the smile from spreading over my face, and it only brightens the smile on his.

I pull back the bowstring with renewed strength. The ache in my ribs only fuels me on.

“Looks good,” Aliyah says. “Lightly, now.”

My fingers are feather tufts on the string. I let the arrow fly, and it soars into the underbrush.

“I missed,” I say.

Aliyah nods. “But the strength behind the arrow improved.”

The quiver is empty, and I bend to gather the arrows on the ground.

“I'll get them,” Griffin says, and before I can protest he's vanished into the thick forest where my arrows have gone astray. I can tell from Aliyah's raised eyebrows that he's not always so helpful.

“Let's try something else,” Aliyah says, handing me her crescent-tipped spear. “In case Griff blanks and you have to fight something closer range.”

I look at the jagged bone fastened to the wooden staff. “What monster is that from?”

“Behemoth fang,” she says. “Huge snarly beast from the lava lands. They roam near the village where Griffin and I grew up.”

I hold the spear and arc it slowly, the serrated tooth of the behemoth piercing the air. “It looks really sharp,” I say.

“It can cut through the flesh and bones of smaller monsters,” she says. “Nasty beasts, behemoths.”

“And you killed one?”

“Three,” she says. “Griff and I together. They're not easy to bring down alone.”

I swipe the spear around a bit as Aliyah guides my hands. She shows me how to hook the fang through the air, where to place my hands for the best control of the weapon.

“You tease each other a lot, you and Griffin,” I say. “I'm an only child, but I always wished for a sister.” Elisha is like my sister, I think. I miss her dearly.

“Griffin has a big heart,” she says. “He saved me, but he's never forgiven himself for not saving our mother and father. And now he wants to save you.”

The guilt floods through me like fire. “I told him I'd go alone to the mountains,” I say. “I don't want to put him in danger.”

“Oh, I know that,” she says, and she smiles warmly, raising an eyebrow. “But I can see in your eyes and his that my speech might be a little too late.”

I don't follow, and I tilt my head at her, confused.

“He has a big heart,” she says again. “But he lives a dangerous life hunting murderous beasts. And though he looks all right and means well, he's very scarred, Kali, very fragile underneath all that tough monster-hunter guise. And if you're completely set on returning to the continent and leaving him behind...well, then I suggest you start letting him down now.”

It takes me another minute to understand what she's saying. Griffin has been so kind to me, laughing and smiling and... Oh. My eyes go wide.

“Oh, no,” I stammer. “It's not like that. I'm engaged. To a man on the continent.”

Aliyah's eyes widen. She wasn't expecting that. And I can see how it must look through her eyes, that he's fetching my arrows and putting his life at risk to take me where I want to go; that we sit side by side every night on the bench, joking warmly as we eat the hazu meat Sayra prepares; that we splash in the waterfall and feast on the berries we pick in the warm afternoon sun.