Under the Lesser Moon by Shelly Campbell

Author:Shelly Campbell [Campbell, Shelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mythos & Ink
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

“Fraesh told me you smelled smoke before anyone else did. Was it like this in your vision?” Vax shied at Iva’s voice. I leaned forward to pat the bird’s neck, but the vaiya would not be pacified. His tail flicked in restless tempo behind me, and I felt muscles bunching as he sank into a defensive stance.

How do you expect him to calm down if you cannot? I ran my tongue over my teeth, frowning at the bitter taste of ashes.

“It wasn’t a vision, just the smell.” Sweet Nasheira, I couldn’t imagine anything like this. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The southern mountain range loomed before us in the gloom. Peaks that, days ago, had been crisp with snow looked grimy and barren now, charred red by the breath of Pau himself. Burnt trees stood like black stubble on a raw face. Rivers of cold slurry tracked down the valleys like muddy tears. The whole landscape reminded me of a skinned animal, stripped of its flesh and mangled beyond recognition.

The cause of the carnage loomed before us, dominating the bruised horizon. One mountain had crumbled, collapsing in on itself as if Nasheira had punched a hole through its brittle skull. Glowing red oozed from the gaping cavity like lifeblood and smoke gushed in an ever-expanding column, a black tumour gobbling up the sky.

“Your visions, are they often accompanied by smell?”

I remembered the oily smell of the wurm as it came into my hut while Yara slept. “Sometimes.”

“You should have said something.” She glared at me.

I gaped at her. Was she really blaming me? She confines you alone to your hut, lets your Speaker rape Yara, and then chides you for not speaking up when no one would have listened anyway?

“I am not your Speaker,” I growled.

I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat, and Vax hissed, sensing my shift from edginess to anger.

Her eyes softened and I noticed the dark circles under them.

“Maybe you should be,” she said quietly.

I laughed to cover the sudden onset of emotions at her words: anger, fear, anxiety, longing. “Don’t let Arsu hear you say that.”

Iva heaved a great sigh. “Your visions are valuable. They would help you lead—”

“Don’t,” I barked, raising a hand, shaking my head even as the scar on my chest tingled. “I was a daeson. I cannot be a Speaker. You said so yourself. When Nasheira marked me, it was only to erase my past, to make me a normal boy.”

“I said that to protect you. Na-Jhalar wanted to kill you. You would have been sacrificed just like the other daeson, but there are people in camp who would support you now.”

“Perhaps the Guide made a mistake.”

Iva touched the daeson’s tattoo on her wrist. “Guides don’t make mistakes.”

I snorted. “Have you seen the bruises on Yara? On your daughters?”

She seemed to crumble a little at those words, and I immediately regretted them. Her daughters had been as battered as Yara when they fled Na-Jhalar’s hut last night and Iva had still rescued the man who’d beaten them.

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