Chapter 26 Hakara #2
Dashu’s face went still, then he straightened, made for the door, and left. He closed it softly after him, but it might as well have been a slam by Dashu’s standards. I’d only seen him lose his temper once, when I’d goaded him to it, and this was something more than that.
Alifra caught my gaze. “I should—”
I held up a hand. “No. I should. You stay here.” I was their bruiser. It was my responsibility. I left the three of them in the cramped cabin, Talie still eating like she’d not had a proper meal in fifty years. Come to think of it, she probably hadn’t.
Dashu was on the deck, his sword in hand.
Two of the crew were now awake, and they watched him from the corners of their eyes as he moved from one form to another.
It was hard not to find your gaze trailing to him when he fought – the fluid movements, the whip-quick flashing of his blade. It wasn’t just fighting; it was art.
I drew my sword. “Care for a sparring partner?”
“Not really.” He grunted as he spun, one foot stopping his movement and becoming the pivot point for another.
I drew my sword anyways, tossing it from hand to hand as I moved from foot to foot, trying to get limber.
Dashu paused mid movement, eyeing me. “You and I both know we’re not a match, not like this.”
“I’ve been improving.” Couldn’t exactly keep the indignation from my voice.
“I don’t feel like teaching.”
“Well, I feel like being taught.” I lifted my sword, keeping my knees loose. “So which of us wins when there’s one of you and one of me?” I struck out, and he batted my blade to the side. “If I attack, will you stand there and refuse to teach me?”
I darted to the side, slashing at his shoulder. One moment his shoulder was there, the next my sword was finding only empty air.
“That’s enough, Hakara. Leave it.”
“Is it?” I circled. “Something is bothering you and you’re pretending no one is noticing.” I thrust my sword at his torso. His blade locked with mine and his foot lashed out. I stumbled, and leaned hard on my weapon, our hilts sliding together.
We were close now, close enough that he could lean in. “We have two gods with us now. It’s dangerous for all of us.”
I pushed, trying to unbalance him. “Danger never seemed to bother you as much as it does now. Even in the Otangu orchards you were cool and collected. If we are fighting a god, we need gods on our side.”
“The Unanointed were doing fine before.”
“No. You weren’t. I’m not fond of where we’ve gotten ourselves either. But the more I find out about what is truly going on in this world, what has happened, who is to blame, the more lies I uncover. Lies I’ve believed my whole life.”
A flick of his wrist, and he was free, dancing away. “I don’t believe the lies. I have the old stories, after all. I am the keeper of them. I know the gods were not all as Kluehnn makes them out to be.”
He wanted so badly to be Aqqilan – the way his ancestors were Aqqilan.
I could see it in every story he told, the way he repeated the words to himself while he sharpened his sword, a family heirloom he’d never let out of his sight.
But I’d had to let so many things go, and I understood I couldn’t trap myself in the past. I struck out at him – once, twice, three times – searching for an opening.
It was like he was surrounded by a cage of metal, one I couldn’t quite see. “Yes, and you grew up in Langzu.”
He leaned on his back foot, his brows low. “What are you trying to say?”
“You’ve still heard the lies – that the gods came to the surface to overthrow mortals, to take this world for themselves.
That they are all selfish and that Kluehnn is the only one who cares.
You think those haven’t seeped into your mind and into your heart?
How many times can you hear a thing repeated before it punctures your defenses? ”
A sharp counter-attack, one I barely managed to block. He bared his teeth. “I am not so weak.”
“Who taught you those stories? Was it your mother? Your father?” I leapt back, dodging a slash at my belly.
“Did they rap your knuckles each time you got them wrong? And when you played with other children, children who weren’t Aqqilan, did they tell you their stories?
Did you look at their unbruised knuckles and wonder if maybe, just maybe, your parents were the ones who were wrong? ”
Two quick moves I couldn’t follow. My sword went clattering across the deck. A foot hooked my knee and I fell. The hard boards of the deck met my back, pushing the breath from my lungs.
He was over me, a hand pressed just below my neck, keeping me down, the point of his sword hovering above my left eye, his breath heaving. Black hair curtained his eyes.
For a moment, I struggled to breathe. But I used what little breath I had to speak.
“You say you didn’t believe the lies, but it doesn’t mean they haven’t touched you.
” I wheezed. “It doesn’t mean they haven’t made some part of you ugly.
And you cannot…” I stopped, felt his hand loosen.
“You cannot live free of it if you don’t know that it’s there. ”
He fell back, rocking onto his heels. “I don’t have to like her.”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “No. You don’t. But we’re all a little ugly inside.” My collarbone was still sore, and I rubbed at it to soothe the ache. “Better if we admit it to ourselves. Let’s figure this out together, right?”
Dashu rose to his feet, sheathed his sword, and helped me up. “It was my uncle who told me the stories. My mother and father were dead. And he never beat me.” His lips pursed. “He never needed to.”
I didn’t pry further as we made our way back below. I’d done enough prying in one day. Best let it rest.
I opened the door to the cabin. Talie sat on the floor, the cleaned bowl in front of her. She was licking her fingers and lips, rubbing at the space around her mouth. Alifra and Thassir stared down at her. She was talking, uncaring whether her audience was actually listening.
“There’s quite a lot of us. Shapeshifters in other forms. Half your feral cats are shapeshifters, my friend. We go where we please and people still toss us scraps. Don’t think I don’t know who you are by now, Nioanen.”
Dashu, Alifra, and Thassir all froze.
I lifted my hands, as though I could stuff the noise back into her mouth.
She continued, checking her fingernails. “Wouldn’t have risked shifting otherwise. Fact of the matter is, you stopped restoration, and that’s given the hidden gods hope.”
No one else was asking questions, so I stepped in, my voice too loud in the crowded space. “Hope for what?”
She met my gaze, her green-eyed stare like a spear. “Enough hope to organize. To fight back. And we need all the help we can get.”