Eighteen
I gasped, and the world blinked into focus once more.
Breathing hard, I looked around, trying to see where we were. To our right was a wall of stone with pillars and broken rock
scattered about the base. To the left, the magma field stretched far below us, the distant forms of the lava worms still writhing
about in futile rage.
“We’re at the temple,” I whispered. Stunned, I glanced at Meeka. The jair’oa still sat on Ratuk’s head, but his eyes were
closed, and his small body was hunched over, trembling. “Meeka . . . how? I thought your magic was gone.”
“Is gone now.” The jair’oa opened his eyes, which had returned to being shiny black, and peered up at me. “No magic left.
Meeka used last of magic to blink you here.”
I blew out a shaky breath. “You didn’t have to do that, Meeka.”
“Meeka made promise.” The jair’oa shook himself and ran both paws over his ears. “Meeka will get human Fateless to goddess
loom. Lava grub would have eaten Fateless if Meeka didn’t help.”
Behind me, Raithe slid out of the saddle and dropped to the ground.
He gave a barely audible grunt of pain as he landed, and I looked down in alarm.
A coin-size hole adorned the back of his tunic over his shoulder blade, the edges burned and black.
I suddenly felt the pain in my own leg and found a similar hole where a drop of liquid fire had landed, searing through my clothes.
Thankfully, the wound was small, though it still throbbed like a knife had been jammed into me.
“Rhyne is coming in,” Raithe muttered, gazing at the sky. His tone was a warning. “Something is wrong, though. I think he
might’ve been hit by one of the worms.”
No.
I dropped out of the saddle and gave Ratuk a quick inspection. There were several tiny black spots in his carapace where droplets
had hit him but, thankfully, no major injuries.
All of that was forgotten as Rhyne landed on the platform with a frantic buzzing of wings. My stomach curled as I turned toward
him. Half the beetle’s carapace was scorched black, with charred bits of shell peeling off, and worse, Kysa was slumped in
the saddle, one arm curled into her body.
I hurried toward them, as Halek and Raithe worked together to gently lower the insect rider to the ground. Rhyne was extremely
agitated, snorting and tossing his head, as Raithe pulled Kysa from the saddle and sank to the ground with her.
My heart dropped. The insect rider’s entire left arm was burned, smoke curling from melted armor. Kysa’s face was white with
agony, her jaw clenched, as Raithe released the armor piece and removed it as carefully as he could. The armor sleeve came
away, revealing charred red skin stretching from her wrist to halfway up her shoulder.
Horror filled me. “Kysa . . .”
“Apologies, Fateless.” Kysa’s voice was stiff, forcing the words out around the agony she had to be feeling. “I was careless. The armor took most of the damage but still . . .” She gritted her teeth, her other fist clenching at her side. “I don’t think I will be fighting anytime soon.”
“Halek,” Raithe said, scanning the terrible wound with a grim, practiced eye. “There are bandages and gauze in Rhyne’s saddlebags.
Sparrow,” he added as Halek nodded and immediately began rummaging through the supplies. “We still have several of the pain
potions from Irrikah.”
“Do not waste pain potions on me,” Kysa gritted out as I returned with a vial of milky white liquid. “This was my mistake.
As a warrior, I must live with the consequences of my actions.”
Raithe put a hand on her noninjured arm, his gaze intense. “It is not a mistake to save the lives of your teammates,” he told
her. “Sparrow and I would have died were it not for you and Rhyne. If easing your pain means getting you back on your feet
sooner, I would much rather have you at my side in battle than not.”
She glared at him a moment, then sighed. “You make a good point, kahjai,” she admitted. “It almost makes me forget that you
are the servant of a Deathless.” Raithe didn’t answer, and Kysa closed her eyes, breathing hard. “I am tired of this,” she
whispered at last, opening her eyes. “This wound will not kill me. I will survive, and I will keep fighting to end the threat
of the Deathless. But were I to fall, kahjai,” she went on, staring directly at Raithe, “I need to be certain that you will
continue our task—to protect the Fateless until she stands before the king.”
“You already know my feelings for Sparrow,” Raithe said in a very soft voice, making my insides turn wildly. “I regret to admit that I have ignored your advice regarding the matter.”
Kysa, even through the pain, managed an exasperated chuckle. “It might shock you to learn this, but that comes as no surprise,
iylvahn,” she said. She glanced at me, a half smile curling one corner of her lip. “The two of you are about as subtle as
a pair of courting stonebeaks.
“I know you will stand with her when she goes to face one Deathless,” Kysa went on, turning back to Raithe. “But what of the other? What if she must become an enemy of both? What
happens if the Deathless queen decides that the Fateless holds too much power and is too much of a risk to her own kingdom?
What will you do then?”
Raithe didn’t answer for a long time. I was frozen, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Kysa, in her straightforward,
pragmatic way, was forcing Raithe to make the choice that terrified me. If the time came, who would he stand with? Me—a girl
he’d known for only a short while—or the immortal queen he had served for hundreds of years?
The iylvahn finally took a quiet breath. “If that happens,” Raithe said slowly, “then . . . I will die. The queen holds the
threads of all iylvahn in her hands. All it would take is a thought, and I would be nothing but dust.
“But . . . to answer your question,” Raithe went on, his words coming a little more haltingly now. “Were the Fateless to become
an enemy of the queen, and I had to make a choice . . . In that one instant before I was killed . . . my choice would be with
Sparrow.”
My vision blurred. Relief and terror swelled within me like a storm, tearing at my insides. He had chosen me. I had desperately hoped he would, but at the same time, if the queen did turn against us, I would lose him either way.
Kysa sighed, leaning back against the rock again. A look of reluctant approval and regret crossed her face as she gave Raithe
a nod. “I’ve misjudged you, kahjai,” she muttered. “My hatred for the Deathless might have blinded me until now. For that,
you have my apologies. I would . . . be proud to stand with you against the Deathless, whichever one we must face.”
Raithe shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Kysa,” he said, though I could hear the relief in his voice. Turning, he held out
a hand to me, and I snapped myself out of my daze to hand him the potion. He gave me a brief smile before turning back to
the insect rider. “What matters now is getting you back on your feet. We’re going to need you with us when we face the Deathless
King.”
“I doubt that, kahjai,” Kysa said. “One warrior will not be able to turn the tide against a Deathless.” She reached out with
her other arm and took the vial from his fingers. “But I appreciate the thought.” She glanced in my direction, then at the
temple behind us. “We waste time here. You and Sparrow need to get to the loom. The Deathless King will not wait, and neither
will the abomination that is still hunting us. I . . . cannot help you now. I will only slow you down.”
“Kysa, we’re not going to leave you here alone.”
Halek stepped forward, carrying several rolls of gauze, and sank to his knees on her other side. For once, his face was dead
serious as he looked at Raithe. “I’ll stay with her,” he said.
“Halek . . .”
He met my gaze, blue eyes intense. “This isn’t our story, Fateless,” he said. “But Kysa is right—you need to reach the loom.
Don’t worry about us too much.” A smile quirked his mouth. “I’m not convinced our fate is to die on the steps to the temple
of the Deathless. That would be a very anticlimactic end to our story. So, get going.” He jerked his head toward the temple
steps. “We’ll see you again when you have the power of a goddess, and then I’m sure things will get even more interesting.”
“Sparrow.” Kysa’s voice stopped me from responding. “Before you go, will you check on Rhyne for me?” the insect rider asked.
“I wasn’t able to see the severity of his wounds. If he is injured, I need to know how badly.” She paused and moment, then
added, “It would be prudent to check Ratuk as well . . . to see if his wing has been permanently damaged.”
I nodded. Heart in my throat, I went to the rock beetles. Both stood beneath a crumbling stone overhang, heads down as they
huddled together. Rhyne snorted and tossed his head as I approached, agitated and impatient. I reached up and put a hand on
his carapace.
“Easy, Rhyne,” I whispered, as the rock beetle huffed, turning a shiny black eye on me. “She’ll be all right, I promise.”
He snorted again, but seemed to calm slightly. I rubbed his carapace, wincing as bits of it flaked off like ash beneath my
palm. But the shell was still whole beneath the charred exterior. I shook my head and patted his horn, and he rumbled in approval.
“You are the toughest beetle in Arkyennah,” I told him. “Kysa is lucky to have you.”
He tossed his head once more, as if telling me he already knew that. I smiled and moved on to my own beetle.
“Hey, Ratuk,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against the base of his horn. “You were amazing back there. I’m sorry I couldn’t
let you fly sooner.”
He nudged me gently. I scratched his chin and pulled back to look at him, examining the many small burns that speckled his
carapace. Much like Rhyne’s, they seemed to be surface level, bits of shell flaking off and drifting to the ground when I
rubbed at them. Fearfully, I gave the command to open his wings, and he did, extending the transparent green membranes out
to either side.
I blew out a breath of relief. The gash in his wing was still there, but it was only a little larger than before. Miraculously,
he had made it through that hellish obstacle course, dodging lava and giant worms trying to kill us, without tearing it completely.
“You’re a champion, Ratuk,” I told him, taking a step back. “Stay here. You too, Rhyne. Protect Kysa and Halek. I’ll be back
soon.”
Ratuk gave a soft rumble. Rhyne snorted in disapproval but didn’t follow as I walked back to Kysa and Halek.
The insect rider still lay against the rock, but her eyes were closed, one arm draped over her stomach, which rose and fell with shallow breaths.
Halek was studiously bandaging her injured arm, wrapping gauze around the terrible burns on her skin.
He didn’t notice as I approached, his focus entirely on the insect rider.
In the Fatechaser’s gaze, I saw concern, sympathy .
. . and something I couldn’t place. He didn’t look up as my shadow fell over them, but Kysa’s eyes fluttered open, fixing on me.
“The beetles?”
“They’re both fine,” I told her, and she nodded, sinking back against the rock.
“Go, then,” she said shortly. “We will join you if we’re able, but you need to finish this quest, Fateless. Do not come back
until you have the loom.”
With one final look at the pair, the grievously injured yet proud insect rider and the Fatechaser wearing an expression I
had never seen on him before, I turned and walked toward the temple of the Deathless Kings.
Raithe waited for me at the foot of the stairs with Meeka perched on his shoulder, that tufted tail beating an impatient rhythm
against the iylvahn’s collarbone.
“Meeka? You’re coming too?”
The jair’oa twitched his whiskers at me. “Meeka promised Meeka would guide Fateless to goddess loom,” he said, sounding slightly
offended. “Fateless not at loom yet.”
“All right, then.” I looked at Raithe, who gazed at me with that unreadable expression on his face. “I’m ready. Let’s get
on with this.”
Together, we walked up the shattered steps, ducked through the crumbling archway at the top . . . and entered the temple of
the Deathless Kings.