The Deepest Blue Page 12

  All of them shifted to look into the valley, where Heir Sorka was barking for the next set of spirit sisters to take their turn. Nissala, Resla, and Balka trotted down the slope to face the eager spirits.

  One of the women—Amilla, the stained-glass artist—picked up the conversation. “You need to concentrate both on who you are and who they are, to the exclusion of all else. The clearer your thoughts, the clearer the command you give.”

  “Yeah,” Osa chimed in again. “You can’t doubt. You just gotta do.” All the women drew closer, clustering together around the fire and around Mayara, as if their proximity could give her confidence and courage.

  She looked at them and at Roe, earnest and hopeful. They want me to succeed. It was a warm feeling, and she felt the same way. She wanted all of them to live.

  Turning away, Mayara studied the spirits in the valley. Two of them were attacking Nissala, Resla, and Balka, but most were corralled into a corner, held there by the will of the Silent Ones, waiting until they were needed. As easy as the Silent Ones made it look, she couldn’t imagine having enough control over her own thoughts to conquer the will of so many monsters. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in frustration.

  Hero or dead, she reminded herself.

  “So . . . I just concentrate?”

  “You’re a deep diver, aren’t you?” Amilla said. “You have to clear your mind and focus to dive, right? Think of it like that. Except instead of diving into water, you’re diving into minds.”

  That . . . she could do. Maybe.

  She met Roe’s eyes. At least I won’t be doing it alone.

  MAYARA BREATHED IN DEEPLY, DOING AS AMILLA SUGGESTED AND clearing her mind as if she were about to dive. But instead she focused her thoughts on the spirit that stood in front of her. It was a water spirit, made of sea spray, in the shape of a woman. Her eyes were whirlpools, and her hands were whips of water.

  “Your task for the next month is simple, newbies!” Sorka shouted. “Don’t die!”

  Positioned on the hills that circled the valley, the Silent Ones looked like gray pillars. Heir Sorka was in the base of the valley, on a pedestal of stone that she’d ordered an earth spirit to build for her. Mayara didn’t know if the heir and Silent Ones were here to keep the spirits in or to keep the “newbies” in.

  Both, she guessed.

  That was almost the way it would be once they were on Akena Island. There, the Silent Ones would be responsible for making certain they didn’t try to escape. Here, though, both the heir and the Silent Ones were also tasked with helping keep them in one piece. Because the queen wanted all twelve potential heirs to arrive on the island alive. They were welcome to start dying within minutes of their arrival, but tradition stated that twelve needed to begin.

  But that didn’t mean their training had to be easy or pleasant.

  “Your task today is to learn how to convince spirits that they haven’t seen you,” Sorka announced. “Sounds simple, right? Not so simple. You have to trick their minds. Believe it or not, that’s easier on intelligent spirits. Dumb spirits don’t bother analyzing what they see and hear, but intelligent spirits think like you and me. So how would you convince me I don’t see you?”

  Mayara concentrated on the spirit in front of her, trying to dive into its mind. She pictured herself swimming and . . . There! Her vision split: she was looking both at the spirit and at . . . herself?

  Through the eyes of the spirit, she saw an island woman in a practical wrap dress with leggings underneath. She’d chosen to wear the sturdy, water-resistant clothes Kelo had made her rather than the standard outfits the heir had provided them. She was clutching . . . what was she holding? A knife? But I’m not holding a knife.

  And then the image of herself warped to be a picture of another woman: older, with hair down to her knees, wearing a seal-skin tunic and holding a knife. The spirit hated this woman. This woman had hurt it, and it wanted to hurt her in return.

  I’m seeing a memory, Mayara realized.

  The spirit was merging its memory of some other woman, maybe an heir or another spirit sister, with its vision of Mayara, transferring the old hate onto her. To this spirit, humans were interchangeable.

  That gives me an idea . . .

  She crafted a new image: a monkey, like the kind that lived deep in the island forests of Zanor. She’d seen one once, when a peddler had come through her village. He’d had it in a cage and was hoping to sell it as a curiosity. She’d wanted to free it, but her parents had said no, she couldn’t interfere. She shaped a picture in her mind exactly like that monkey, with silvery fur all over its body, and she pushed it into the spirit’s mind, in place of its image of her.

  She felt the spirit’s confusion: it had seen the woman who’d hurt it! Now there was only this animal. But where had the hated spirit sister gone? It could still feel her power, pressing on its mind, but it couldn’t reconcile that with the monkey it thought it saw.

  Mayara used its moment of confusion to slip away. She scrambled over the rocks and ducked down behind them, wedging herself in between. She felt the spirit drift away.

  “Good job, Minnow!” Sorka hadn’t bothered to learn any of their names. She’d nicknamed Mayara “Minnow” as soon as she heard she liked to swim. Liking to swim wasn’t exactly a unique feature on the island, though. Several of the other women had also acquired fish nicknames.

  At least none of us is Tuna. Or Flounder.

  Or Chum.

  She tried not to think about the fact that Sorka had picked the same pet name that Elorna had favored for Mayara.

  Looking out from her hiding place, she saw Roe was in trouble. She’d gotten herself cornered by two ice spirits. Both of them were shaped like tiny dragons, and they were spitting shards of ice at her. Already she had blossoms of frost on her arms.

  “Hey, Spirit Snack”—that was Sorka’s name for Roe—“you’re going to be an icicle if you don’t do something. Distract them! If you can’t convince them not to see you, then make them see something they want more than you.”

  “I’m trying!” Roe said. “I c-c-can’t concentrate. I’m too c-c-cold!”

  Without thinking, Mayara stepped out from her hiding place. “Send them to me!” She pushed her mind toward the two ice spirits. Come freeze me!

  The two ice spirits pivoted and raced toward their tasty new target, and it occurred to Mayara that she hadn’t thought this through. She plunged her mind into theirs, trying to warp what they saw into making them think she was a fire spirit, the same way she made the water spirit see a monkey. She imagined flames and heat—

  And they veered at the last minute, revolted by the nonexistent fire.

  Yes, it worked!

  She heaved a sigh of relief—and was encased in liquid. A bubble of water surrounded her, and she hadn’t taken in a full breath of air. It distorted the valley around her, making the rocks seem to shimmer. Frantically, she tried to push her way out of it, but it moved with her.

  She heard a cackle in her mind.

  Thought you’d escaped, the water spirit cooed. She heard its voice both in her head and in her ears, burbling through the water. But oh, no, I found you, you who hurt me, and now I will hurt you.

  The terror was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It coursed through her, as if it ran through her veins instead of blood. It permeated every thought. No, no, no!

  Mayara tried to run, but the bubble clung to her. She felt her lungs begin to burn. Familiar black dots danced over her eyes. Roe was there, reaching into the water, and then inside it with her. Mayara saw her own terror mirrored in Roe’s eyes as they both fought to break free.

  And then the bubble burst.

  Mayara collapsed onto her knees, with Roe gasping beside her.

  “I can’t do this,” Mayara said. She still felt the terror thrumming through her. Can’t, can’t, can’t. “One I can handle. If I’m lucky. But on the island . . . there will be hundreds. You should find a different team.”<
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  “You saved me just now,” Roe pointed out.

  “And then failed us both.” Mayara flopped backward, looking for who had saved them, and saw two of the Silent Ones corralling the water spirit. They saved us. She wondered if she was supposed to feel grateful, knowing they’d been saved only because it was too soon for them to die. We have to wait and die in the right place, at the right time.

  “We have to keep trying,” Roe said.

  “Or we don’t. Maybe it’s a mistake to try to ‘win’ against the spirits. Maybe we should just try to survive them.” She thought of Kelo and how they’d hidden in the caves successfully for eight days. “Hide until the month is over.”

  Heir Sorka loomed over them. “Hide? That’s your solution? You want to simply hope you’re lucky enough that the spirits don’t find you? You won’t make it a month on luck. Luck might keep you from the spirits for a day. Even a week. But a month? When they’re actively hunting you, and there’s no one to jump in and save you if you get in over your heads?” She nudged Mayara’s leg with her foot. “Get up and try again, Minnow.”

  Mayara didn’t move. She hoped another spirit didn’t decide to attack just yet. She didn’t think she could move. Lying on her back, she looked up at the sky. It was blue, the kind of sky that islanders called a dreaming sky, because you could dream up whatever you wanted to fill it. She wondered if Kelo was looking up at the same dreaming sky and thinking of her. He might be, if he’s alive.

  “You aren’t going to learn lying there,” Sorka said. “Up.”

  “Is it hard training people you know are going to die?” She’d talked with the other spirit sisters, getting to know them, but she knew so little about this woman they were trusting to train them. Had she volunteered for this? Had she been chosen? Had she trained anyone before? Did she think they had a chance? Would she mourn them if they failed?

  “You can’t all die this time,” Sorka said. “Belene needs heirs too badly.” Then she stalked off, shouting to another trainee about how she needed to concentrate or that fire spirit was going to burn her balls off.

  Propping herself up on one elbow, Mayara stared after her. “Roe, what did she mean ‘this time’?”

  “Oh. I . . . Well, there were rumors. . . . All the ruling Families denied it, but I overheard Lord Maarte . . . Last year, a batch of twelve spirit sisters went to the island for the test. None of them survived.”

  She shifted to gawk at Roe. “None?” But . . . She’d never heard that. Surely, if it were true, rumors would have flown from island to island. People would have been outraged. “Really?”

  “It was hushed up, but I heard Lord Maarte say it was a shame none of them were worthy. My grandparents, though . . . they think there are too many spirits on Akena. They think the test has gotten out of control. They were furious when I forced Lord Maarte to acknowledge my power and chose the island.”

  “Why did you do it?” Mayara asked. If she’d known that none had survived . . . She supposed that was exactly why it had been hushed up.

  “My mother was an heir,” Roe said. “If I succeed, I can be with her and reunite our family.”

  Mayara could understand that—really, it was not so different from the reason that Elorna had chosen the island. If she’d survived, then she’d have been allowed to see her family.

  If I survive . . . Kelo and I can look up at the dreaming sky together.

  “I think we should hide,” Mayara said.

  “You heard Heir Sorka,” Roe said. “Besides, heroes don’t hide.”

  Dead heroes didn’t hide, Mayara thought. Maybe Palia was wrong and it wasn’t “hero or dead.” It was just alive or dead. She’d never wanted to be a hero. She’d happily give that up if it meant she’d survive. “You can be a hero if you want. I want to survive.”

  “Refresh my memory on how you came here again? Facing a sea dragon to save your family? Yeah, sure, you’re not hero material. Unless it’s to save everybody.” Roe flashed Mayara an encouraging smile. “You can do this. Look how you saved me from the ice spirits!”

  “My sister was the heroic one, not me.” She pictured Elorna, corralling the spirits and making them do her bidding. She probably flew on a spirit the first day of training and was overwhelmed only by the sheer numbers on the island or by bad luck.

  “Say what you want. I know you.”

  “You’ve known me literally less than a week.”

  “Under intense circumstances.” Another of Roe’s infectious smiles. “That makes each day count for about ten years.”

  “All right then. What’s my favorite color?”

  She pointed up. “That color.”

  Correct. “What’s my favorite food?”

  “Let’s see . . .” Propping herself up on an elbow, Roe studied her. Her face was intense and serious. “You look like you like limpets.”

  “I do not like limpets. No one likes limpets.”

  “Sautéed in goat butter and seasoned with sea salt.”

  “Limpets take three weeks to chew.” Despite everything going on around them—the spirits howling through the valley, the spirit sisters screaming, the Silent Ones watching—Mayara felt a smile pulling at her lips.

  “You especially love them fried and then dipped in sauce. Or raw. It’s your secret shame. You have a stash of limpet shells under your bed at home, hidden because you don’t want anyone to know how much you love them.”

  “You realize how badly that would smell?”

  “You realize that’s the perfect opening for me to tease you about smelling?” Roe was grinning widely. Over her shoulder, Mayara saw a flash of amber flame.

  She launched herself forward without thinking, slamming into Roe. Together, they tumbled down the slope as the fire spirit scorched the earth where they had just been lying.

  Watching it soar away in a streak of flame, Mayara said, “I continue to think running and hiding is the best plan.”

  “And I continue to think that when the time comes, you won’t.”

  AT THE END OF THREE DAYS, MAYARA FELT LIKE SHE SHOULD FEEL ready. She didn’t feel ready, of course. She felt as if she’d been pounded by waves, pummeled by rocks, and flattened by falling trees, which was not so far off from what had actually happened. When Heir Sorka called an end to the training, Mayara collapsed with Roe and Palia by one of the tents.

  Palia shared a slice of pineapple with the two of them, as all twelve trainees waited for Heir Sorka to address them for the last time.

  “It’s not like we don’t know the rules,” the dockworker Osa complained. “Don’t leave, and don’t die. Pretty simple. Can’t we get on with it?”

  “Are you that anxious to die?” the fisherwoman Tesana asked. She had burns that looked like claw marks on her upper arm. One of the other spirit sisters, Dayine, was rubbing a salve onto her wounds. “This is our last night to mourn what we’ve lost. I intend to treasure it.”

  Others nodded.

  Mayara looked at their faces, all streaked with dirt and sticky with sweat. She did feel as if she’d known them for far longer than three days, as Roe had said. A part of her felt like she’d known them forever, as if they’d always been here, training with Heir Sorka, and they always would be. It was hard to imagine anything or anyone beyond this place and time existed.

  “Do you think they know we go tomorrow?” Mayara asked.

  “I asked my daughter to light a candle for me on this night, our last night before the island,” Palia said. “Told her to blow it out after a few minutes, though, so she wouldn’t waste the wax. She’ll need to find her own way now. I wish there was more I could do. Always thought I’d be there to help her.”

  “You might be,” Roe said, patting her on the shoulder. “You might survive. We might all survive!”

  Palia snorted. “Didn’t you hear that everyone died last year?” The rumor had spread through the trainees until everyone believed it. Pooling knowledge, they’d realized no one could name a single new heir from the last te
st. And more tellingly, Heir Sorka, who had heard the gossip spread, hadn’t denied it.

  It hadn’t done good things for morale.

  “But that can’t happen every year,” Roe said, “or there would be no more heirs. The queen—and Belene itself—needs heirs. If the test stayed that deadly, she’d cancel it. She wouldn’t send us to certain death.”

  Maybe not certain death, Mayara thought. Just very, very likely death. But she didn’t say it out loud.

  Roe continued. “We have a chance. If we stick together.”

  Striding past them, Heir Sorka didn’t look as if she cared about any of their conversation, but when she climbed onto the stone in the center of the valley, it became instantly clear she had been listening. “You can’t stick together.”

  She heard Roe suck in air. She felt her own heart plummet.

  “Wait—what did she say?” Palia said.

  “She can’t mean it,” Roe said.

  Mayara agreed—they must have misheard. If they weren’t able to face this together . . .

  “Listen up, everyone,” Heir Sorka barked. “Here’s the part where I give you key advice that will help you survive.” She began to pace back and forth on the stone pedestal. It only allowed for three steps in each direction before she had to pivot and pace back. “You will be delivered to the island with nothing but the clothes you wear. No weapons. No supplies. No food. No anything. You may use whatever you find on the island and in its waters to aid in your survival. Your limits are the end of the reef that surrounds the island. Venture farther than that, and you will be turned back.”

  Sorka glanced beyond them, and Mayara twisted to see that they were ringed by Silent Ones, more than she thought she’d seen before, closer than they’d been. She shivered looking at their white masks.

  “Akena Island is home to over one hundred spirits,” Sorka continued. “They vary in strength and intelligence, but they all have one thing in common: they have been instructed to hunt you down. Because the aim of this test is to assess your individual worthiness, the spirits have all been ordered to attack those of you in groups first. In other words, you will be safest on your own.”