34

I feel the nothing drawing near. Shit . I fling out my hands. An explosion of blue wind ricochets around the cave walls.

Battaby wings flap—but I don’t know if that’s because the creatures are thrashing or my wind has disrupted their lifeless bodies. Somewhere ahead of me, dung splatters to the ground in wet bursts. Battaby crap is the least of my worries because now, I see…

Eyes redder than blood. Shiny eyes the size of saucers. Eyes way…up…there. A blue glow that can’t possibly be moves outward from its body. This creature’s wingspan is as wide as six worktables placed side by side, and the beast stands half of that.

And now, I feel it. Invisible waves pushing and filling my head, wave after wave, no break. I grip Little Lava tighter.

This creature is too big to live in this cave and too big to be a battaby.

My dagger is pointless. I can’t kill this thing with a knife. Maybe I should just run—

Before I can move, though, this thing emits a sound as light as a robin’s tweet but strong enough to drop me to my knees. I fight to hold my head up and to keep the rest of my body from slamming into the dung-thick earth. My teeth click, my tongue twists, and I taste blood. I struggle to one knee, then fling out my hands.

The air crackles and sparks bluer than before.

The creature shrieks, but this isn’t a war cry. It sounds like pain.

Did I hurt it? I scramble to my feet on pulpy legs. Wobbling, I crane my neck to see the beast’s head. But I can’t see anything. Not even a glow.

Why not? Where is it? Is it dead?

I spit blood into the dirt, wipe my chin. A voice in my head whispers, “Tongue. Clicks. Remember.” I shake my head. No, I don’t remember. Tongue. Clicks. Remember. I don’t want to, but I squeeze my eyes shut and force my mind to sift through the indistinguishable grains of sand that is now my memory.

A cliff! A mountain surrounded by a churning green sea. I’m standing near, no , standing on the very edge of a rock jutting from a solid wall of stone. My hand is stretched before me, reaching for…

Don’t know. Wait . I do know. I open my eyes and swallow, but my mouth is dry. I turn my head to the right, place my tongue against the roof of my mouth and… Click-click… Click-click… Click-click…

Echoes.

The creature is not to my right.

Who taught me this? Why was I standing on a cliff? Who was I reaching out to?

I turn my head to the left. Click-click… Click—

Wind whips across my face. The cave’s stench envelops me, and I wobble again. Don’t know if this blast was made by the beast’s wings or from some other source deep in these rocks. I take a moment to steady myself, then turn my head again to the left and click my tongue twice. Click… Click…

No echoes. My clicks stop as though they hit a wall.

I swing my dagger to the left, sweet and low. Feeling the oncoming sweep of wind, I duck before the beast’s wings touch me. I shout, “No,” and I thrust out the knife—and hit something hard. I throw out my free hand again and again and again, throwing bursts of wind one after the other after the other.

The creature shrieks loud and long, louder each time a tempest from my hand hits it.

The cave shudders.

The beast’s shrieking stops, but my ears continue to ring from its high-pitched cry. Those bloodred eyes hang above me, unblinking. Leathery wings, a tapered snout, two scaly horns, and razor-sharp fangs. Green blood trickles from its massive leg and pools in the dirt.

What in the realms ?

I can see it even in this dark. Why can I see it?

The beast cries again, and that cry resounds through the cavern, a mournful sound that shakes the earth beneath my boots. The creature takes one step toward me and falls forward, crashing like a felled tree to the ground. Bam! The ground shakes again, moments away from opening and swallowing up all of Vallendor.

What did I do? Was it the wind? Did I kill it?

I can feel the creature’s life force ebbing in the dark like icy water running through my veins. The creature’s colossal presence diminishes with every labored breath it draws. It’s not moving. I stow my dagger and draw Fury from the scabbard. The sword feels heavy in my grip but still ready and capable of ending the reign of this terrible abomination. I creep toward the creature, the sound of its wheezing growing louder the closer I come.

The beast remains still.

A sudden radiance pierces the darkness, and jagged crystals overhead glow purple and white and blue. I spin in a circle, Fury held high. The cavern is now brighter than all the light outside, and in this brightness, the creature remains sprawled before me, a leviathan brought low, its hide torn, its green blood pooling in the dirt.

I step closer, not daring to breathe, my mind frozen as it tries to figure out what my eyes are insisting exists. My gaze skips around the cavern in hopes of spotting Jadon.

“Jadon!” I call.

No answer.

I turn back to the creature before me, from that snout to its chest, from its chest and up to its snout and then over to those massive wings. Where is the best place to deliver the fatal blow?

“Stop!” A woman’s commanding voice cuts through the cave like icy wind.

I startle, rocking back on my heels and nearly falling onto the creature’s wing. Spinning around, I blink in astonishment to discover Sybel, ethereal and imposing, marching toward the fallen creature and me. She wears a gown of chainmail, but it can’t be mail, not by the way it floats and folds as she moves. And whatever this metal is, it’s not gold or silver or copper or iron. Yet all these colors shift from ring to ring, like the sky choosing both day and night, dusk and dawn. Her four faces swirl until they decide to show the angriest face of all, the lion’s stony visage of rage and terror that makes the realms step back. “Put away your sword,” she demands.

I blink at her, then scowl. “This creature attacked me, and the others attacked the man who came with me.”

Nostrils flaring, Sybel lifts her chin. “How are you so certain when you know nothing?”

My cheeks blaze with heat. “Why are you here now? Where were you when burnu nearly mauled me to death? Did you find me then and stop my blood from soaking the ground in that meadow?” I hear my frenzy and hostility, but I can’t stop myself. I’m lost, and I’ve lost my friend and my focus. “Are you here to save me? To save my companion?”

“Put. Away. Your. Sword .” Her voice is hard, and her eyes shine with golden light. “I know you’re frightened, Kai, but do as I say. I won’t repeat myself.”

I glare at her. “Tell me: Where is the man who came with me?”

“I don’t answer to you,” she says, brows furrowed.

I take a step toward the beast and raise my sword. “Nor do I answer to you. I won’t spare a monster whose kin attacked my—”

“Do not choose violence,” Sybel instructs. “And don’t you ever justify violence to me.” Her eyes soften with sorrow as she looks down at the fallen beast.

“Violence begets violence,” I say, gripping Fury tighter. “It’s the way of this world. This monster deserves punishment for—”

“For what ?” that hard face asks. “For existing ?”

The storm within me still swirls, but I feel a slight dip in its intensity. “So, I’m to do what? Ignore what these creatures did to us?”

“And what did this creature do to you?” she asks, motioning to the monstrous beast.

I take a breath and let my mind quiet. I whisper, “He did nothing. Directly .” I throw my chin up toward the ceiling of battabies, except there are no battabies hanging from the ceiling, not anymore. Just those jagged crystals overhead shining that purple, white, and blue light. No saloroaches creep across the floor. The stench of dung and death has diminished, and the air feels lighter and looser than before.

“He did nothing,” I say again, slowly lowering Fury from my overhead hold. I step away from the fallen creature and ask, “Where are we right now?”

“Where are you right now?” Sybel responds. Before I can spit out, “Azzam Cavern,” she raises her hand to interrupt me.

My mouth pops closed, and my mind flags. The desire to kill this creature is gone. “How did you know to find me here?”

Sybel smirks. “So arrogant and presumptive. You think I came here for you ?” She touches the creature’s chest. “This battawhale cried out in distress—unnatural and unwarranted anguish.”

Battawhale? Have I heard that designation before?

“I came to stop its murder,” she continues. “He is the only one left in Vallendor.”

The only one left . My heart pinches at the thought, and my eyes burn with tears as I shake my head . This creature hurt us, me, Jadon, who is trapped and injured somewhere. “Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe—”

Sybel holds her hand up again. Then she looks upon the battawhale with mercy and goodness, her face soft, her smile softer. Softer than she’s ever looked at me. She whispers to the dying creature.

I try to swallow, but my dry throat resists. “What about those whom this creature killed? Will you be whispering healing words into their ears? Will the dead hear your sweet refrains?”

“As with everything,” Sybel says, not even looking at me and choosing to keep her focus on the battawhale, “there is a reason this creature called for help in defending himself.”

Yeah, and I think I know that reason. “Why is Elyn sending otherworldly to kill me?”

Sybel gazes at me with squinting, inquisitive eyes. “Is that what she’s doing?” Then her eyes drop to my chest. “Whose armor is that?”

“My Renrian host let me wear it,” I answer. “ He doesn’t want to see me hurt.”

Her eyebrows lift, and she nods at the sword. “And your weapon? Another gift from this compassionate Renrian?”

I scoff and lift Fury. “No. This is a gift from a Mafordian blacksmith. The same man who this one”—I nod down at the battawhale—“and the others…” The accusation dies on my tongue. I have no idea what happened to Jadon. My anger flags and drifts from rage to dread. What did they do to him? Where did they leave him in this dank, dark cave?

Sybel removes her hand from the battawhale’s chest and places it on his snout.

The battawhale closes his red eyes.

“Is he… Is he dying?” I ask, stepping forward.

“Not yet, but he requires healing.”

“Maybe death is better,” I say. “You claim that he’s the last one of his kind here in Vallendor. How lonely and miserable must that be? No companionship. Living in the dark. Attacking everything that moves—”

“And here you are,” Sybel replies, “lonely and miserable. No companionship. Living in the dark. Attacking everything that moves.” Her gaze smashes into mine. “And if the blacksmith and the Renrian are companions, if they cared so much, why did they send you to this cavern? Didn’t you say that burnu almost killed you? If that’s so, what kind of friends would put your life in danger yet again? Your scars haven’t even aged and here you are, fighting for them?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I say.

“Oh yes, it does,” she counters.

Fresh tears scald my eyes. “Why is this creature more deserving of kindness than me?”

Sybel glares at me with her stony face, the cords of her neck tight. “Compassion is all we’ve shown you. Me, more than anyone. You are still taking breaths because of my compassion. Yet you do nothing but destroy—”

“That thing attacked—”

“Kai,” the woman says, holding up a hand, her voice as soft as new grass. “You must seek another path. To protect not only those you consider companions but all of Vallendor. That is why you’re here. Not to do… this .”

The battawhale now glows with amber light. His chest isn’t moving.

“He means you no harm, Kai,” she says, nodding to the creature on the ground. “He fights only to survive, as you do. Men have encroached upon these forests, and he is only defending his kin—he’s the last king of his kind, striving to preserve their lives.”

“But the Renrian’s cottage—”

“Was built scores of years after these creatures were loosed upon Vallendor.”

Is Sybel saying that the predecessors of this battawhale originated from another realm ?

I tilt my head. “What does that mean? Loosed? They weren’t born here? You’re telling me that I’m not to defend myself or the peoples of Vallendor but instead defend creatures who aren’t even from this realm? You just told me to protect not only my friends but all of Vallendor. These two things cannot be true at once.”

“Small thinker,” she admonishes.

“Tell me, then! How do I protect Vallendor in that way? Tell me!”

“Kai, this isn’t you.” Sybel’s whisper carries the mass of mountains. “Ultimately, violence is not what you stand for.”

Her words strike deep, igniting a firestorm within me. “Then what in Supreme’s name do I stand for?” Weary, I hold out my arms. “If I’m not a fighter, then who am I? How do you even know me? Can you tell me that instead of telling me what I stand for and that I must repent? Can you tell me who I am and what I’ve done?”

My tears finally break and spill down my face as my body sags with frustration. Weak, I sink to my knees, every piece of me—my heart, my eyes, my breath—heavy and impossible. This dirt has more strength than me. The filthy air has more direction than me. The space between my ears feels bulbous, expanding with every breath I take. I lift my hands to press against my eyes but stop. My hands are filthy, shit-stained, and bloody, and I gag just looking at them.

The battawhale takes a deep, wheezy breath.

“Elyn is justified in hunting for you,” Sybel says, her attention back to the battawhale.

“Tell me what I did wrong,” I plead, then pound my fist in my palm. “Specifically. Tell me! What did I—?”

“You destroyed Chesterby,” she says, the lion’s face speaking now.

That’s the town Jadon and Olivia mentioned when we first met. The one destroyed by earthshake. I gape at her in confusion.

The battawhale wheezes loudly again, and Sybel hurries back to his side. “He’s dying.”

My mind, though, is no longer in this cave. Chesterby.

“Kai!” Sybel says, interrupting my thoughts. “He’s dying.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what more I can do or say,” I say. “Can’t you heal him?”

Sybel blinks at me with eyes that shift color with every inhalation. “No,” she says, stepping back.

“No, what ?” I ask.

“Either you do something to keep him alive,” she says, “or you let him die. Step closer to your own doom if you dare. This creature didn’t ask to be brought here. Yet here you are, at the very bottom of this cavern, invading his home to kill him. I can’t tell you who you are. You must discover that for yourself. But if you want to feel again, to understand again, if you want to know the part you play today and tomorrow, what part you played before, you must make amends.”

How will I make amends for my failures?

Her previous words fill me with anger. I don’t know how to heal the battawhale. I don’t know how to make amends for failures I can’t remember.

“It’s not too late,” Sybel whispers. “You’re still missing so much of yourself. You’re still missing the piece of you that will answer all your questions.”

I look up at her through angry tears. “My amulet?”

Sybel nods. “Your amulet.”

My hands are filthy, and so I won’t touch my skin where my amulet should be. And now I feel its absence. Iciness across my collarbones has replaced the rhythmic warmth on my chest.

“Kai,” Sybel says, her gaze still leaden. “You are so much more than a fighter, than a destroyer. But you’ll never discover the breadth of your being until you reclaim your amulet. It’s here in Vallendor. I feel it—but it is not mine, so where it sits, exactly, I do not know. What I do know is that if you take care of this poor creature, you will take an important step toward recovering your amulet and reclaiming who you are. You will not discover your purpose or true self without it.” Before she turns away, she adds, “This time, choose to take the correct path.”

“I’ll heal him, then. That’s the correct path, yes? Where do I find medicines for him?” I ask, my voice broken, desperation threading through each word. I drop my head, push out a breath, and look up again. She’s gone.

“Sybel,” I cry, whirling around. “Where did you go?”

The battawhale is still here, though, and his breath continues to rattle in his chest. He’s dying, and I can’t let that happen.