And now, here is someone to stand beside me.
TWENTY-TWO
NORTH
“There is a story among my people,” Nimh says, her eyes on the dark river ahead of us, hands resting on the boat’s wheel. “It is said that a thousand years ago, when the gods still walked among us, the world was ready to come to an end—that existence had grown weary, and it was time for life to begin anew.”
Another time, I might have asked her to skip ahead and get to the part where I’m some prophesied savior of her people. But we still have distance to put between us and her pursuers, and nothing but time.
And, if I’m being honest, I like the way she tells stories.
“To that end,” she goes on, “a new god was born. He was called Lightbringer, and he was to remake the world. But he was young and untested, and when the time came, he was afraid to do what must be done.
“When the other gods decided to abandon humanity and take to the sky, he fled with them instead of fulfilling his destiny. One god stayed behind—the first living divine—and she gave us words of prophecy. They eventually became the Song of the Destroyer—the Lightbringer’s story.”
“This is the prophecy about me?” I interject.
She nods. “It tells us a new Lightbringer will come, and finish what the first one could not. Restore balance to this world, remake it into one where its people can thrive.”
I sigh. “And you believe this prophecy is coming true now.”
She echoes my sigh, unaware of how closely the sound matches—I hide my smile in the dark. “I have faith, yes.” She’s standing there like a statue, the cat motionless at her side, guiding the riverstrider’s boat down the slow, lazy river.
The only real noise is the lapping of the engine’s blades as they slice through the water at the stern—because that’s what’s driving this thing. An engine. It’s soundless, and Nimh says it’s running on magic—because what doesn’t in this place—butsomethingis turning the blades on the propeller. It could be a circuit that the insertion of the keystone completes. Or a reaction between the keystone and one of the materials the boat is made of.
Or the power could be magnetic—the harnessing of some kind of attraction or repulsion.
Funny thing is, after the initial rush of excitement that I might have found a power source that can help lift my own ship, I stopped really thinking about it. Glider repairs don’t feel like my top priority. Ensuring Nimh’s safety does.
I don’t know when that happened.
“I know your people believe mine are gods—,” I begin.
“Descended from gods,” Nimh corrects me, voice lightening a little. “I have revised my opinion about your people’s actual divinity since meeting you.”
It’s a dig, but I feel a rather foolish smile spread over my features. “Oh, very nice. To be fair, we didn’t know we were meant to be anyone’s gods.”
I catch a glitter in her eyes as they shift momentarily away from the river to catch mine. “Did your people never simply lookdown?”
I lean back, this time watching the river myself. “I’ve wondered that once or twice since discovering you existed,” I admit. “But the clouds below Alciel are pretty thick. No one’s gotten a good look through them in centuries. And I suppose …”
“You suppose?” Nimh asks curiously.
“I suppose my people stopped wondering what else might be out there.”
She’s quiet for a little while, and then says very softly, “I think that would be a very hopeless sort of life.”
A part of me wants to object to that, because my people are happy, for the most part, and fed and secure. But I know security isn’t exactly the same as hope, and the more time I spend here, the more I wonder what we gave up when we forgot about gods and magic and the power of prophecy.
I clear my throat, hoping to change the subject. “So what is it, exactly, that I’m meant todo? Shouldn’t I be prepared in some way?”
Nimh is quiet for a moment before she answers, her voice thin. “I promise I will be honest with you, North. I will tell you what you wish to know, I just …” She falters, and I fold my arms over my chest to stop myself reaching out to offer to steady her. “It is a long story, and it is full of things for which you have little patience. Magic and destiny and divine callings.”
My chest constricts and I force a slow breath. It’s been a long night, but for Nimh far more so than for me. “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?” I suggest. She nods, features flickering with gratitude.
The world slips by us in the moonlight, the trees getting thicker the farther we go from the city. Great mossy blocks of stone are strewn in among the brush, as though the jungle is taking back what was once the edge of the cultivation. The ruins have been visible on the banks for some time now, and I think the temple and its surroundings used to be much bigger—that they’ve contracted over the centuries to huddle where they do now at the place where the rivers meet.
I’m still afraid.
