Chapter Sixty-Eight Ris
chapter sixty-eight
ris
I have to stop myself from crying as we all sit by the fire, Biba and Salvacion wrapped in blankets.
‘And he was so stubborn – as soon as he got an idea in his head, that was it.’ Salvacion laughs.
I smile, my heart hurting from the memory but also from the squeal of laughter that comes from Biba.
‘Bit of a family trait,’ Kopiro says, affectionately, looking at me.
‘I remember Larkin running frantically after Tricky,’ Kopiro recalls. ‘He’d accidentally let her out of the pen, and your father, Jon, was dying with laughter, watching him run around the farm.’
‘He told me that’s when he knew Larkin was family,’ I say, and Kopiro squeezes my hand. ‘My fathers were both already sick then. I think they wanted to know I’d have someone.’
‘Mama.’ Biba’s wails cut through our conversation.
She’s wheezing, choking sobs. They come on so suddenly I’m taken aback.
I take her face in my hands and open her mouth, to see if there’s something lodged there.
She trembles, and then she’s snatched out of my arms. We watch, stunned into silence, as she begins to float in mid-air.
She looks confused and terrified, and I cannot reach her.
We stand under her, watching her kick and suffocate.
‘Why is she breathing like that?’ I ask, desperately. We grasp each other, barely able to understand what we’re seeing. We’re all fixated on her. ‘Biba, please, Biba!’
Her body is illuminated, and she thrashes and then falls. I scream, making to catch her. She stops abruptly in mid-air and then slowly floats into my arms. I squeeze her tight, holding her to my chest.
‘Ris, you’ll crush her,’ Ryla says. ‘Give her some air.’
They prise me away from Biba, and she breathes, ragged and deep. She sits up and stares at the hearth.
‘Bright, bright,’ she whispers.
The flames dance and flicker pale blue.
‘What’s she doing?’ Salvacion asks, and I remember the fireplace at Narra’s inn, the day we arrived. How Biba’s confusion and fear had set the place ablaze for that one moment. I recall the strange afterglow surrounding Hanan, Sinigang, Biba, and Raina in the cavern.
‘Magic,’ I say quietly. ‘Something’s happening to her magic.’
A knock at the door. The door bulges on its hinges with the brute force. We all turn to each other.
‘I’ll handle this,’ Salvacion says, shrugging on her tattered Seaguardian jacket and feeling for her weapon at her hip.
‘Get under the bed and don’t make a sound,’ I whisper to Biba.
She’s terrified, but she obeys. The others keep their weapons close by.
When I can no longer see her little feet sticking out under the bed, I give the signal.
Salvacion opens the door, and the Seaguardians come swarming in. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she asks, sizing them up.
Fetch whines and scrambles to hide under the sofa.
The Seaguardians look at her dishevelled uniform and narrow their eyes. ‘Did they do this to you?’
‘No,’ Salvacion insists. ‘I was caught in the storm, and these fine folk took me in. They helped me.’
The leader of the Seaguardians sniffs. ‘We have power of removal. All touched folk are to be taken at the queen’s request.’
I start back. ‘The queen? She’s alive?’
The Seaguardian narrows his eyes at me, and I know I’ve fucked up.
‘Thank Aistra. We heard there was an attempt on Our Majesty’s life – horrible business,’ Kopiro says, with a face that wouldn’t melt butter. ‘Have you found the culprits?’
He’s the least intimidating of us, and he knows it, folding into himself to seem smaller, plastering on that winning smile.
‘News travels fast, even in these backwaters,’ the Seaguardian snorts. ‘Your neighbours said they saw a shining light coming from this farmstead.’
Curse being in each other’s pockets in a small community. Saving their own skin, happy to point the finger. They’re doing what’s best by them. But it takes a certain softness and shielding by privilege to think the Seaguardians have your best interests at heart.
‘Shining light?’ Salvacion asks. ‘Perhaps they mistook the fire for something else?’
‘I think we can tell the difference between firelight and something . . . unnatural,’ one of the other Seaguardians spits.
‘Look, if there is anything untoward happening here, I can deal with it,’ Salvacion says, her tone commanding. She leans towards the Seaguardian who seems to be in charge. ‘These are simple farming folk. Don’t waste your time.’
The leading Seaguardian cocks his head, looking at the nest of blankets on the sofa and the Dodi doll. He raises an eyebrow.
‘Now don’t tell me this is yours.’ He laughs, sneering at Salvacion.
His attention continues beyond to the other room.
The door to the bedroom is ajar, and underneath pours out a light, too blue to be candlelight and pulsing strangely.
We rush towards it, but we’re powerless to stop the Seaguardians from entering the room and making towards the glow emanating from underneath the bed.
I throw myself in front of the lead Seaguardian, but he shoves me back onto the bed. He’s on his knees, grabbing Biba forcefully by the ankle. She bucks and kicks and spits and bites like something rabid.
‘Hold still, you witch,’ he yells, defending himself from her attacks.
It’s a free-for-all now. We try to waylay the other Seaguardians, to bring them down. We can’t let them take Biba.
‘Stop!’ Biba yells, and a spark flies from her body to his. The Seaguardian seizes up, gripping his chest. He slackens, letting go, and tumbles to the floor.
‘What in Paranish?’ another Seaguardian rushes over to their leader, rolling him over. They listen for breathing and check his pulse. ‘He’s dead.’
We look at each other, and the air rushes out of the room. The Seaguardian lunges for Biba. ‘She fucking killed him!’
The rest of them attack with fresh relish. They’re no longer aiming to disarm us and take her. They are striking to kill.
We’re a tangle of limbs. I grab flesh and wrench hard, careless of whether it’s a friend or foe I’m hurting. All I know is I have to get to her. We’re a sweaty tangle on the bed and floor. There’s something wet seeping onto my stomach. I feel around for a wound, but it’s not my blood.
Cutting through the chaos is an unsettling, eerie sound, repeated over and over.
‘Vullis!’ Hoarse and desperate wails.
Ryla’s face is coated in grime and sweat. Their hands are shaking and there’s blood on their tunic. They double over, a retch threatening their throat. Their expression shifts like a storm, whipping winds deciding their course.
Now I see him. Vullis’s beard is matted with blood and his face is a pulp. It’s a piece of fruit smashed against a rock. His body is bruised and broken, lying at horrible angles. Biba has her hands on his chest. Tiny fingers covered in blood and guts.
I grab a Seaguardian by the collar, lifting him bodily off the floor. I kick away the fireguard and throw him headfirst. He wails in pain, trying to crawl away. I have my boot on his back. He’s going nowhere.
When he finally stops screaming, I see Ryla and Kopiro have taken care of the others. They’ve made less mess than I have, but it’s been more personal, hands-on, throats choking the life out of them.
I rush over to Biba, who is still lying next to Vullis. She’s wailing, streaks of blood in her hair and on her face.
The body stirs. It gasps and wheezes, bones cracking as its hands find purchase on the floor. Bruised knuckles, broken fingernails. It bends and crawls until it’s on its knees. I look at Vullis, his blue eyes milky and unseeing. He’s no longer my friend. This isn’t Vullis, but the shell of him.
‘Did it work?’ Biba asks quietly, desperate hope on her lips. She stands next to him, reaching for his hand.
‘Don’t touch it – that’s not Vullis!’ I yell and she starts back.
Fetch emerges from under the sofa. He pads quietly over to the figure, sniffing curiously. He begins to whine.
‘Fetch, come here, boy,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
The dog looks at me, confused, and cocks his head, ear flapping.
Vullis grabs Fetch by the scruff of his neck and raises the dog off the floor. We all start screaming, desperate to go to him but keeping a distance.
‘Vullis!’ Kopiro implores.
Those milky eyes again. They turn clear for a moment, back to Vullis’s dark brown.
There’s warmth and life to his look. He opens his mouth to speak and then screams. Vullis falls to the floor with a sickening thud.
No longer moving. Fetch lands on his feet with a yelp.
I grab at the dog and check he’s all right.
The corpse is on the floor, spurting blood from its belly. Everything is covered in dark viscera. I look at Biba.
‘I couldn’t do it,’ she says. ‘His soul wouldn’t stay inside his body again.’