Emmy

  The further they travelled from the camp, the lighter Emmy’s heart became. Despite the potential for danger from Masvams, she grinned. They were free and there was no going back. All they had to do was travel across the Althemerian countryside to get to the city and they would be safe.

  Emmy nudged Skitter’s flanks with her boots to encourage him to ride side by side with the other vaemar.

  ‘How far is it to Kubodinnu?’ Emmy asked.

  ‘The journey will take two nights,’ Rel replied. ‘That is as long as we encounter no obstacles. I say nights because it is safer to travel by moons’ light. We are less likely to be stumbled upon and questioned by Althemerian soldiers.’

  Emmy’s heart grew heavier at that. She hadn’t considered that danger, only the Masvam threat.

  ‘What will we do if we’re discovered?’ Charo asked.

  Her hands were tightly wound into Rel’s cloak, as if afraid of something more than the Masvams.

  ‘We will hope that Skitter and Jawbone here,’ Rel replied, patting her vaemar’s neck, ‘are light enough of foot to let us flee. Once we get to Kubodinnu and Bomsoi, we will be safe in her protection—and the protection of the queen.’

  Behind Emmy, Zecha squeaked.

  ‘The queen?’

  Rel, undulating on the vaemar’s back, nodded.

  ‘Yes, the queen of Althemer. Bomsoi is one of her closest aides. Queen Valentia will protect us once she knows we are with my friend.’ Her face grew grim. ‘Until then, we must avoid Masvams and Althemerians in equal measure.’

  Zecha pulled close to Emmy’s back, his arms around her waist squeezing tighter.

  ‘We’re going to meet a queen,’ he whispered. ‘Amazing.’

  As long as we make it there alive, Emmy thought. But she kept that to herself. Instead of replying, she concentrated on keeping Skitter up to Jawbone’s pace.

  The night stretched on with their journey. The moons rose ever-higher, lighting the darkness. They kept to the edge of forests, eventually crossing into the shadow of high cliffs. At night the roads were almost dead, but the three moons cast enough light to make stealth difficult. Rel guided them down to the coastal path that ran beneath the dark edge of a precipice. It curled around a sharp outcrop, the thin road winding through a narrow gap in a row of jagged rocks. They went one-by-one, Rel leading. But as soon as she rounded the corner, she yanked Jawbone to an abrupt stop.

  ‘Whoa!’

  Emmy grasped Skitter’s reins and pulled him aside, just preventing a collision with Jawbone’s rear. The two vaemar grunted and huffed heavy breaths. Emmy urged Skitter through the gap to come to Jawbone’s side again. She drew her brows low and looked at Rel and Charo. Even the former’s eyes were wide with fear.

  ‘What?’ Emmy asked.

  Charo raised one arm to point towards the horizon. Emmy followed its direction.

  Her stomach went to stone.

  There were ships silhouetted against the horizon and they weren’t Althemerian.

  They were Masvam.

  The shapes brought back fiery memories of Bellim and the attack there. Once more, Emmy watched as the tall-masted vessels crept along, dark against the deep blue of the night sky.

  ‘Where are they going?’ Zecha asked. His breath was warm on Emmy’s neck.

  ‘They can’t be going for the capital or Athomur if they’re heading in the opposite direction to us,’ Emmy replied. ‘We marched south from Athomur.’

  Rel’s face was still as stone, pale as a spirit in the moons’ light.

  ‘There is only one place of value in this direction,’ she said. She never took her eyes from the ships. ‘That is Hutukeshu Encampment.’

  Reality spread across Emmy’s vision like tendrils of ink in water. If the Masvams were heading for the encampment, Commander Pama and the others certainly didn’t know it. The soldiers were getting ready to march, not to protect themselves.

  Reality hung heavy upon them, like the stifling air before a Decos storm. Zecha was the first to speak again.

  ‘We have to go back.’

  The truth of those quiet words ached in Emmy’s ears. Her own reluctance to do so shamed her. If the ships were this close and Commander Pama had done nothing, it could only mean she truly didn’t know. If she didn’t know, the encampment was as good as destroyed—and the only ones who could warn her were the four who were running away.

  Rel remained very still, her eyes unblinking as they remained fixed on the ships. Behind her, Charo shook her head and closed her eyes.

  ‘No, we don’t have to go back,’ she said.

  ‘But Charo,’ Zecha began.

  ‘No!’ Charo’s shout echoed into the distance. ‘The Althemerians kidnapped us, pretending to save us. We don’t owe them anything.’ Her voice hitched, and tears budded in her eyes. ‘They made me a slave again when I had been freed. No. We don’t have to go back. We owe them nothing.’

  Ever-good Zecha reached out to comfort her but she batted his hand away.

  ‘Charo,’ he said, ‘if we don’t warn them, who knows how many will be killed?’

  ‘And without the soldier-slaves of the camp,’ Rel continued, ‘when they do sail for Athomur, the city will fall. Then the Masvams will march on to Kubodinnu. Once they have the capital, Althemer is lost.’

  Charo’s silver tears spilled. Emmy’s stomach churned. Rel was right, but so was Charo.

  It was a choice of saving themselves or saving so many others. She had been an almost-slave to Krodge, then taken as a slave by the Masvams. Saved by one Althemerian hand but enslaved again by the other. She owed them nothing. This was their chance to escape. Surely with the Masvams sailing for the encampment, that would make their path to Kubodinnu clearer.

  The thought kept circling in Emmy’s head. They owed them nothing.

  Yet so much blood would be spilled, she thought. There would be so much death.

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  In her head, Emmy made one choice. But in her heart, she made another.

  ‘Zecha’s right,’ she said softly. The truth of her words pained her. ‘The Althemerians may be just as bad as the Masvams who took us in Bellim, but at least they spared our lives and there’s a chance to be freed.’ Her brand seemed to burn anew. ‘I don’t want to go back but we have to, Charo.’

  Trembling, Charo would not nod agreement. Instead, she looked away, back towards the horizon. In front of her, Rel finally broke her gaze from the ships. Suddenly she looked as old as the sea itself.

  ‘We must go back,’ she said. ‘Consider it the way to repay your debt. Then we will go to Kubodinnu with clear consciences.’

  Charo said nothing and kept her face averted, but the shake of her shoulders told Emmy her tears were flowing freely.

  ‘We’ll be okay,’ Emmy said.

  But the words fell flat even to her own ears.

  Turning Jawbone around with a nudge to his left flank, Rel urged him back the way they came. As she did, her eyes locked with Emmy’s for a moment.

  We will survive.

  The words were as clear in Emmy’s head as if Rel had spoken aloud. But her lips remained shut as she rode onward. As Emmy pulled Skitter around, Zecha tightened his grip around her waist.

  ‘We’ll be okay,’ he repeated.

  Hearing it from his mouth was no better than from her own.

  Rel kicked Jawbone into a run, and Emmy did the same with Skitter. They pounded back along the sandy cliff path, up towards open ground, and this time thundered along the well-beaten road instead of hiding amongst the trees. Jawbone’s sable fur was edged with white, rather than cloaked in shadow.

  It was the right thing to do, Emmy knew as she kept Skitter on Jawbone’s strong paws.

  But that didn’t make the reality any lighter on her heart. They were free. Now they were going back.

  And whether they would live or die was entirely unknown.

  *

  The morning was clammy. The wool of Emmy’s tunic clung to her skin, pasted beneath the heavy stiffness of her leather surcoat. The daggers Rel had given her hung like boulders from her belt. She stood some distance away from the healer’s building, watching the harried preparations for attack.

  Everything since they had returned to the camp had been a blur.

  Charo had been spirited away back to her barracks, no excuse now for her being away. She was required to be with her fellow soldier-slaves as they prepared for battle, lining the edges of the camp and battling down in defenses Emmy didn’t try to understand.

  As night turned to morning, dewy mist hung in the air. The sharp tang of salt and seaweed languished, rising from the waterline. As the sun rose, the mist burned away. Now, as Emmy saw the sea again, she wished it would return.

  Enormous ships floated in the distance. Their masts rose like thin talons, pointing to the sky in supplication.

  The Masvams were ready to strike.

  Emmy had escaped the healer’s building, thinking anything was better than the suffocating silence of anticipation, of empty stretchers awaiting the injured. Sometimes shadows morphed from the corners of the room, swirling into figures on the cots. Sometimes they were faceless. Sometimes they were Charo and Zecha.

  As many of the ill and injured as possible had been deployed back to their barracks. Only those unconscious or unable to move remained, silent in fear or oblivion.

  But the sight of the Masvams was worse and Emmy turned away, weaving between the rows of soldiers and messengers as they assumed their positions and ran messages across the camp. At the sight of her red sash and tsimi cloakpin, one heavyset Althemerian lieutenant grabbed her by the collar of her surcoat and thrust her in the direction of the healer’s building.

  ‘Get to your post!’ he snapped.

  Head spinning, Emmy stumbled into a run and headed back to the building.

  As she approached, her pace slowed. She stared at the weeds growing between the cracks in the parched earth. She looked up, shielding her eyes against the light of the rising sun.

  The moons, though gone from sight, hung in her mind like silver baubles.

  ‘Protect us,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’

  Understandably, there was no reply.

  Emmy pulled the door open and entered on silent feet. She bit her lip. Burning braziers cast a dim light across the walls. Shadows crept across the stonework.

  How likely was it that they would all live? Charo was gone and Zecha had been co-opted into helping run supplies. Rel was still in the building but neither that nor the wooden walls would offer much protection, Emmy knew.

  Perhaps none them would survive.

  Shipbait, as Commander Pama was fond of saying, was nothing more than arrow-fodder. Even if Emmy somehow stayed safe from the battle, Charo and Zecha would surely perish—and Emmy didn’t want to think about that.

  Medicine-Yarim and Medicine-Asri slunk in corners and alcoves, arms hugging themselves as if to keep the battle at bay. Medicine-Yarim caught Emmy’s eye and for once did not glare. Emmy nodded as she passed, not knowing what to say, and disappeared behind Rel’s curtain.

  Rel sat on her cot with her head bowed. The long box Emmy had seen before lay across her lap. As Emmy entered, she opened the box. Emmy’s breath caught at the beauty of what was inside.

  It was a sword. Its scabbard was elaborate and beautiful, inlaid with intricate patterns of lacquered wood. It made the daggers slung at Emmy’s waist seem no deadlier than blunted kitchen knives.

  Emmy sat beside her on the cot, words caught in her throat. Rel reached over and took her hand, squeezing lightly.

  ‘You’re scared,’ she said.

  Swallowing, Emmy nodded.

  ‘Yes.’

  Rel squeezed her hand again.

  ‘I’m not scared,’ she said. ‘I have faced death many times. That doesn’t concern me.’ To prove the point, she jangled the bracelets on her right wrist, then patted her sword’s scabbard. ‘No, I’m not scared.’

  Her weapon’s hilt was long and wrapped with soft leather. The pommel was large, a deadly weapon by itself.

  ‘Where did you get that from?’ Emmy asked.

  Perhaps it was a futile question, but in the face of death it seemed like any question was a good one.

  Rel took the sword from the box, stood, and in an impossibly swift movement unsheathed the sword. Emmy jerked back as she arced it through the air.

  ‘This is Haelo,’ Rel said. ‘She has been my weapon for many cycles—a gift from my friend.’ She swept the sword forward and twisted around, thrusting its tip towards Emmy. She withdrew it as quickly as she had driven it forward, then held the hilt to Emmy. ‘Hold her.’

  Emmy hesitated, but at Rel’s bidding, she rose and took the sword in both hands. She staggered under its weight, the tip scraping the ground. She tried to swing, but her arms burned with the effort to wield it. Rel didn’t laugh. She slipped behind Emmy to rearrange her grip.

  ‘Haelo is strong,’ Rel said into her ear. ‘She knows me but she doesn’t know you. Haelo doesn’t like to be held by anyone she doesn’t trust. She makes itself too heavy for the untrustworthy to lift.’

  As soon as Rel’s hands were on the hilt, it was as if the weapon was hewn of air. Emmy’s jaw dropped as Rel guided her arms.

  ‘How?’

  Rel did laugh this time and withdrew her hands from the sword. As soon as she did, the blade sank, half-wrenching Emmy’s arms from their sockets.

  ‘Haelo becomes heavy because I let it go,’ Rel said.

  ‘But how?’ Emmy asked. ‘How can that be possible?’

  Rel retrieved her weapon and returned it to its sheath. She adjusted the belt slung at her waist and attached the scabbard to it.

  ‘My friend,’ she said.

  Fear bloomed like a black spot. Emmy grunted and planted a hand on Rel’s arm. She gripped hard.

  ‘Tell me more about your friend and the Uloni,’ she said. ‘If I die, I want to die knowing as much about my folk as I can. I—’ Her voice cracked. ‘I don’t want to die feeling alone.’

  Rel enveloped Emmy in her strong arms. The gesture made Emmy’s throat close and she stiffened, but something made her relax into Rel’s embrace.

  ‘You are not alone, Emmy,’ Rel said. ‘You’ve never been alone.’

  She pulled backwards and held onto Emmy’s upper arms.

  ‘I wanted your first meeting with my friend to be in the flesh,’ she said. She gave a low chuckle. ‘Now is perhaps not the time, but I need you to know you are not alone, Emmy.’

  Emmy blinked at the sudden light in Rel’s eyes. It started low, like a mild haze behind her pupils. She placed her upon Emmy’s shoulders and the blue glint spread like unfurling petals.

  ‘I will show you, Emmy.’

  Rel blinked, and the whole round of her pupils came up bright and shimmering like twin stars. Her skin and armor morphed to her natural blue and purple. Emmy couldn’t look away.

  ‘Rel? What’s happening?’

  ‘You’re going to see you are not alone.’

  Her eyes glowing the brightest of blues, Rel touched a claw to Emmy’s temple.

  The world pulsed and undulated like a storm at sea and Emmy found herself rolling on waves of bright blue light. She clung to Rel as they hurtled through the brightness, blinded by fear and confusion. Something drew them forward, some kind of…power. Rel’s heart quickened. Emmy’s beat in time with it, as if they were one.

  They soared up from the saltwater shore and the world spilled around them. The moons rose, impossibly bright as they caught the light of the sun. Everything else washed out like a faded pattern. Emmy heard voices, a thousand voices, a million voices, all at once. Talking. Laughing. Crying.

  There was only one possibility. This thing that was happening that wasn’t meant to be, this unexplainable leap from reality into the rolling blue.

  This was magic.

  Moon Rogue. The words came as an echo.

  Magic.

  Moon Rogue.

  Emmy couldn’t breathe. It didn’t feel like the evil others painted her with, like the sharp taint of a curse or a spell woven from darkness and malice. Rel was there and they were joined at the hand. There was no evil. There was only togetherness and the pulse of their lives, entwined.

  Then Rel loosened her grasp.

  And Emmy was falling, falling, falling…