The Spirit War (51 page)

“I doubt that,” Nico muttered, pushing the demon’s voice down, down, down until it was little more than a whisper.

You’ll see
, the demon said as he faded.
Talk to you soon.

Nico slammed the boulder down with a rage she’d never felt before. She was standing in the field, panting as the cool air blew over her face. But even as she realized where she was, she knew something was wrong. Her field, the high golden field of her soul with its rolling hills and enormous sky, was dark. It was night, a cool, still night. Nico looked around in confusion and pictured the sun, the bright noon day that she’d created when she’d made this place.

No sun came. When she looked up at the sky, all she saw was darkness. Endless, endless darkness, and something else. She squinted. High overhead, something was moving against the black sky. A hand, she realized as her blood went cold. A clawed hand, scraping at the sky. From the second she saw it, she could not look away. The
hand clenched in the dark above her, clawing faster, harder, until at last it grabbed a great fistful of the sky and, with a horrible, twisting motion, ripped it away.

Harsh, blinding light burned her to ash. Nico fell with a scream, eyes slamming open. She was back on the beach, lying in the sand with Eli standing over her. He was panting like he’d just run a marathon and his hands were gripping the black cloth of her coat, which he’d just torn down.

She blinked at him, confused. “What happened?”

Eli glanced at something beside her. “Looks like you won.”

Slowly, painfully, Nico turned her head. Den’s face lay a foot from her own, his dead eyes open and staring into hers.

“I won,” she whispered.

“You did,” Eli said, reaching toward her with her coat. “Now let’s try to help you survive it.”

Nico looked at him in confusion, and then, hesitantly, she glanced down at her body. Her eyes widened. She was covered in a slick, black liquid. The stuff oozed like hot tar, but it smelled coppery, and it was oozing out of her. Nico’s breath caught in what was left of her chest. It was blood, black blood.
Her
black blood.

With a choked scream, Nico started to scramble away on instinct only to find she couldn’t. Beneath the tarry slick of her blood, her arms were twisted and broken. So were her legs. She looked like a little ink-filled doll dropped from a great height and shattered on the stone. She didn’t even feel pain as she stared at what the demon transformation had left of her body, not at first, and not for the next several seconds. But once it came, it consumed her. Shaking uncontrollably, she fell into the sand, gasping against her panic-frozen lungs as Eli knelt beside her.

She tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Eli wouldn’t have heard her anyway; he was focused on her limbs. A blinding crack of pain hit her as he pulled them straight, wrapping
each one as fast as he could with her coat. She focused on his face as she fought to stay conscious, trying not to think about why he looked so pale and scared.

“Josef is going to kill me,” Eli muttered, pulling her coat tight.

That was the last thing Nico heard before the awakened cloth of her coat crawled over her face and she sunk at last into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER

22

T
he sun hung low over the island as the Oseran ships came around. The fleet was looking ragged. Every runner had arrows peppering its side. Many had dead rowers, struck by a lucky shot, and all the sailors were exhausted. Their tiny supply of clingfire was long gone, but three palace ships were now floundering in the blue water. The first was nearly completely under, her sailors streaming off in lifeboats, which the runners harried whenever they could. The second was burning merrily while the third was taking on water through an enormous gash in its side. Josef had just ordered the flagship to circle back for another strike when his captain shouted, “Sire!”

Josef looked to see the dour old sailor grinning like a boy as he pointed to a thin line of red-tinted signal smoke cutting the evening sky over the beach. Josef lurched forward, rocking the boat as he leaned into the water. Sure enough, the sharp tip of the coral ledge was now clearly visible below their keel.

“We did it,” he said, falling back with a grin.

Behind him, the captain began to laugh.

They’d done it. It hardly seemed possible, yet the proof was right
below them. They’d sunk only three ships out of a fleet of thousands, but it’d been enough. They’d held the Empress’s palace ships over the reef for the two hours they’d needed. Now the tide was rushing out as they watched, bringing the deep-running palace ships ever closer to the rocks below.

“I wouldn’t believe it if you told me!” the captain shouted, slapping his king on the shoulder. “We did it! Thirty minutes until this whole strand is nothing but ten feet of surf over coral. Those big hulkers won’t even be able to turn around before they run aground.”

“Give the signal,” Josef ordered, laying the Heart on the deck beside him. “We’re going home.”

A whoop went up from the sailors, and they leaped into action. The ship jerked as the sail swung around, forcing Josef to duck or be conked in the head. He didn’t mind. The moment he’d released the Heart, the exhaustion hit him. He collapsed gratefully on the deck, savoring the wonderful feeling of being flat. Although his body was sending him strong signals it never wanted to move again, he reached up one last time, grabbing the edge of the ship and hauling himself up for a look at the rapidly approaching shore. The crescent beach of the bay was shrouded in shadow as the sun sank behind the mountain, but there was still enough light for him to see what was there. Or, more worryingly, what wasn’t.

There was no sign of Den, or Nico. The sand was sundered, and even this far away he could see the dark patches left by blood. Blood, but no bodies.

“What was that, sire?” the captain said.

“I said go faster,” Josef grunted, falling back to the deck.

“Yes, sire,” the captain said. “Fast as we can.”

Josef nodded and lay still as the narrow flagship raced home across the retreating blue water.

The bay filled as the runners returned. Of the ninety-five ships, eighty-two had made it back. A far better number than Josef had
expected, and mostly due to the runners’ speed. The Oseran archers simply hadn’t been able to keep up. All around him, men were hopping from ship to ship, hugging and shouting in joy as they roped in.

Josef’s captain steered the flagship away from the crowded docks, beaching it instead. Josef hopped out the second they scraped bottom, sloshing through the water to the beach as he made a beeline for the narrow stair leading up the storm wall. Those sailors already on the beach moved respectfully out of his way, whispering in awe. Any other time, this change would have made him self-conscious, but now Josef was too preoccupied to notice. He reached the top of the storm wall and ran for the watchtower, throwing open the heavy door and climbing the stairs three at a time. Eli met him on the second landing.

Josef pushed straight past him. “How did it go?”

“Den got the worst of the fight, if that’s what you’re asking,” Eli said, keeping right on his heels.

“This isn’t the time to be clever,” Josef growled. “Did she win?”

“Well, Den’s dead,” Eli said. “So is Tesset. Nico is alive, for the moment.”

“If she’s alive, she’s staying there,” Josef said firmly. “She’s a survivor.”

“I’m well aware of your confidence in her unkillability,” Eli said. “But you really should listen a moment before you barge—”

Josef slammed open the door to the observation room and stopped cold.

“—in,” Eli finished, coming to a stop beside him.

Josef said nothing. He just stared.

“I did all I could,” Eli said softly. “But I’m not a doctor, and I couldn’t get the actual doctors near her without her coat going on the defensive. I don’t even know what happened in that fight. I’ve seen a lot of bloodied people, mostly you, but I’ve never seen injuries like—”

His voice dropped off as Josef moved away. Josef crossed the room and fell to his knees beside the small, black bundle lying on the floor against the wall.

Nico was completely wrapped in her coat, cocooned like a caterpillar. That much was normal after a big fight. What wasn’t normal was the dark pool of thick black liquid seeping into the floor beneath her. Josef swallowed. Slowly, gently, he reached out, brushing the wet cloth with his fingers. The coat twisted away from his touch with a sound that reminded him of hissing, but the sound stopped as Nico’s small, pale hand emerged from the coat’s folds, her thin fingers reaching for his.

Josef gripped her hand, sucking in a breath when he saw the black stains on her nails. Her pale skin was mottled black and purple, and he could see the beginnings of larger wounds on her arm before it disappeared into her coat. A long, burning stab of guilt cut through him, and Josef winced, opening his mouth before he realized he had no idea what to say. He sat there a moment, clutching her fingers as he searched for the words.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered at last.

“Don’t be.” Nico’s voice was thin and muffled by the coat. “I kept my promise.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Josef said. “This is my war.”

“Your war is my war,” she whispered. “You should know that by now.”

“Well, you won’t have to fight it anymore,” Josef said, folding his hands over hers. “Rest, Nico. I’ll win it from here.”

“I know you will,” she said, her fingers going slack.

Josef raised her hand to his lips for a moment and then carefully tucked her arm back into the coat. The cloth rustled, pulling Nico back into its protective swaddle. Josef stood and turned to see Eli hovering in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help her.”

“You brought her here,” Josef said bitterly. “That was more than I could do.” He met his friend’s eyes. “I’m going to win the war, Eli. No matter what, I’m going to win.”

“I know you are,” Eli said with a grin. “Why do you think I’m still here?”

Josef shook his head. “Come on,” he said, starting for the door. “We’re not done yet.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Eli said, his smile widening at Josef’s murderous look as they jogged down the stairs.

Nara frowned at the gap left in the line of her palace ships, and her scowl only deepened as she turned to the man kneeling at her feet, his forehead pressed against the tile floor of her balcony.

“Well?” she said. “Did you crush those buzzing gnats holding up our assault? I would like to get close enough to launch the war spirits before we lose the entire front to whatever idiocy is going on at the front.”

“The Oserans have retreated, Empress,” the general said, pressing his head harder against the ground. “But we must pull back as well. The tide is going out. Your fleet will be stranded on the rocks if we do not retreat.”

Nara looked away with a sniff. “I do not retreat.”

“But, Empress,” the general’s voice trembled. “We’ve already lost three ships. If we do not retreat now, we could lose the rest of the first wave.”

“General,” Nara said, glaring down. “Do you know who I am?”

“You are the Immortal Empress,” the man said, crouching lower. “Queen of all the world.”

Nara lifted her chin. “And do you think that the queen of the world fears something as trivial as the tide?”

The general swallowed. “No, Empress.”

“You must have faith, General,” Nara said, opening her spirit.

The general shook visibly as the enormous pressure landed on him. “I believe,” he whispered.

The Empress began to smile as she opened her spirit wider. When her power was roaring in her ears, she reached out, plunging herself into the current that was still waiting below her ships. The mob of water spirits screamed and thrashed as she grabbed it, but her will was absolute.

“The fleet moves forward,” she said, her voice thick and resonant with power. “I don’t care how many troops it takes. Beach the ships if you have to. We conquer the island by nightfall.”

“Yes, Empress,” the general said, crawling backward out of her presence all the way to the stairs before standing and running down to the command center to signal her orders to the fleet.

“Well?” Josef said, joining his admiral on the stone walkway above the bay. “How much longer?”

“Not long,” said the admiral, dancing from foot to foot in his anticipation. “Tide’s nearly out. There’s no way they can escape now.”

“Good,” Josef said, nodding to the crowd of gawking sailors and guardsmen crowding the beach. “Get those men onto the cliffs. Once the ships hit the rocks and start taking on water, the crews are going to head for the shore. If they land, it’ll be bad. No one fights harder than men with no retreat. We have to sink their boats before they reach the shore.”

“Yes, sire,” the admiral said. He saluted and started down the stairs, barking orders as he went. Josef stayed put, glancing at Eli as the thief stepped up beside him.

“You’re growing more kingly by the minute.”

“Save it,” Josef grumbled, glaring at the distant shadows of the
palace ships. “We’ve bought some time, but if the Council reinforcements don’t get here before the tide comes in again, that’ll be that. I can’t sink the whole fleet by myself. All it’ll take is one of those ships making landfall and we’ll be overrun.”

“If it happens, we’ll deal with it,” Eli said firmly. “You’ve bought us a reprieve for the moment. That’s something to be—”

Eli stopped midsyllable, his face screwing up in a look of surprise.

Josef tensed. “What?” he said. Because Eli looking surprised was never good.

“It’s just—” Eli bit his lip. “I’m no sailor, but isn’t the water supposed to be moving toward the
sea
when the tide goes out?”

Josef blinked and looked down. Sure enough, the ocean was rushing into the bay, pushing the line of the surf back up the beach.

“Don’t tell me the Empress can even change the tides,” he whispered.

“No,” Eli said. “Look.” He pointed, moving his finger back and forth from the sea to the bay, tracing a faint line of darker, deep running water running in through the Rebuke’s protective cliffs. “It’s a current. She’s pushing against the tide with a current.”