All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (22 page)

The last thing I see is the horror on Vataea’s face and the water swirling in her hands. Her chanting gets louder, until it’s like she’s yelling at the sea itself, but the water swallows and garbles the sound as I try to focus on it.

There’s water in my eyes. My nose. My throat and lungs.

But then it’s just … gone.

I choke on the air that surrounds me, desperate for it, and I’m not the only one. Gagging up water, I squint my eyes open to see Ferrick and Bastian doing the same. They clutch their chests and raw throats, squinting and blinking bloodshot eyes.

I want to settle myself upon the sand to dry my freezing body, but we’re still in the water, a bubble of air formed around
us. I shake the seaweed tangled in my hair and around my arms away as Vataea pushes us forward, chanting dagger-sharp words under her breath.

Blood flows freely from her nose, but she doesn’t stop pushing until the sand is beneath us and we break through the surface, protected by the strange pocket of the ocean she’s formed around us.

We fall to the sand as the barrier snaps. I hit knees-first and a sharp jolt spirals up my spine. I bite back a yelp, sinking my fists into the sand. Vataea’s across from me, her fin gone in favor of legs. Ferrick shakily untangles her sopping tunic from his belt and tosses it her way.

Ferrick pants prayers under his breath while Bastian dry heaves into the sand.

“I thought your sea magic was rusty,” the pirate grits out between ragged breaths, his body shaking.

“It is.” Vataea’s palms are shaky as she wipes the drying blood from her nose and examines it with a grimace.

I feel a rush of gratitude toward Vataea. It would have been so much easier for her to leave us in the water. Without her help, we’d certainly be dead. But after the fight with the Lusca, something between the four of us changed. I trust them, and I get the sense that they’re all starting to trust one another, too.

It’s like we’re becoming a real crew.

“When we get to Arida,” I tell her as I fall to my back, sucking in air like I might never have it again, “I’m throwing a banquet in your honor. You can have all the gold and all the food you want. Thank you.”

Grunts of agreement echo my words, and I sneak a glance at Vataea, who dips her face toward the gray sky and exhales a sigh of relief. The tiniest hint of a genuine smile plays at her lips.

Once again, I can’t help but be thankful she’s on our side.

While Ikae’s streets are stained glass and Kerost is made from cracking cement and cobblestone, Zudoh greets us with towering gray peaks and limestone caverns that stretch through the beach and deep into the land. Thankfully this area appears to have been long deserted, so no one’s around to see our arrival. There’s not even a bird in the sky to crow a greeting.

I hug my arms tightly around myself as we travel along the shore, having paused long enough to catch our breath. Frosty air bites my skin, still damp from soaked clothes and wet hair, and I shiver. Several yards ahead looms a giant building with reflective glass that winks at me in the sunlight that’s slowly beginning to peek through the thinning gray fog. I squint back at my reflection. The building is bigger than any I’ve seen before—sleek and white, with strange panels atop the roof.

It must have been beautiful once, but now the white beams are covered by a light gray film and scorch marks. Several of
the windows are broken, revealing nothing but empty darkness within. On the roof, nearly all the panels sit twisted and ready to fall, while the charred front door tilts on frosted hinges.

“What is that place?” I ask, breath fogging in the air. By Cato’s blood, it’s cold as late winter here.

Bastian stares first at the building, then at the endless sand surrounding us. His brows sink, creasing his forehead in a series of thick, worried lines.

“It was a workshop,” he says, though his voice is barely a whisper, cracking at the edges. “We made medicine and protective charms, and engineered new materials, like the wood of our trees—” He moves as if to point, but his words cut off swiftly. There are hardly any trees, and the ones that exist are half-charred.

Bastian jerks his head to the other side, toward shipless docks. Planks of wood that haven’t been burned away are rotted through, many of them crumpling into the water. With each passing breeze, the wood groans with despair that Bastian echoes.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Zudoh’s sand is not white or tan, but gray. The closer it gets to the water, the darker it becomes. The water has formed a thick tar-like ring near the low tide as rotten algae clings to the shoreline. It’s green and crusty like dried blood, and I grimace knowing that’s what we swam through, and what clings to my curls and my clothes, slicking them down.

I try not to look at the pile of bones scattered on the ground, too large to belong to any animal I can imagine. There’s no trace of skin or muscles; the bones have long since been cleaned by maggots and scavengers. Small, frayed pieces of rope and chips of wood dot the bones.

“What did it look like before?” I ask, keeping my voice low. It’s quiet here, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe.

“It was beautiful,” he says. “Bright white sand. As bustling as Ikae. The people were happy. There were trees everywhere, even here on the sand.”

I squint at the gray ground and realize it’s not just sand we’re stepping on. It’s ash.

This part of Zudoh’s been burned to a crisp.

Bastian crouches upon the sand. He scoops up a handful, examines it, makes a fist around it. I don’t follow him, because I understand what he’s feeling. He was born here, and though he’s been gone for many years, Zudoh’s still his home. If something happened to Arida while I was gone, I’d never forgive myself.

Even the ocean is silent, nothing more than a whisper licking my ear. For once, it doesn’t put me at ease. It chills my bones and raises the hairs along the back of my neck, plaguing me with paranoia.

Where are the people? The animals? The
life
?

“There were hardly any fish left alive in the water,” Vataea says. I shiver, remember the feeling of slimy scales and decaying fish we swam through. “That’s probably why the Lusca attacked. The legends always said it liked to roam the cold waters near Zudoh, but if there’s no fish for it to eat here…”

“Then it has to start looking elsewhere.” Bastian sighs. “There’s no way my people can live this way forever. We have to fix this.”

“And we will,” I say, not needing to touch the earth to know its struggles. “You said there were trees here, before?”

“Hundreds of them,” Bastian says. “They’ve all just … burned away.”

“Not all of them.” Ferrick steps forward and points toward the south side of the island. I follow his focus, blinking a few times to ensure I’m not seeing things. About a mile ahead, a thicket of startling white birch trees stretches across the island like a wall.

“It’s dangerous that way,” Vataea says. “I sense more Zudian curses.”

“Then that’s our way to Kaven.” Bastian straightens, determination hardening his stare. “We should get going.”

Something within those woods causes the magic within me to stir, curious. It urges me forward, lulling me toward the trees. But Vataea doesn’t move. She turns her stony face toward craggy limestone mountains across from us instead, where a sea-slick cavern is formed at the edge of the beach.

She nods her head to the side, silently willing me to follow her as she starts toward it. Her eyes are sharp as daggers as she scans the space, but it’s nothing more than a few boulders nestled at the edge of a mountain.

I glance behind me. Though the sun has finally made an appearance, it’s already late afternoon. We’ve no idea where Kaven is or how long the journey through Zudoh will take us, and the last thing we need is to have to travel through unfamiliar territory at night. Especially when we’re wet, freezing, and with a pirate who gets sicker the longer he’s away from his ship.

“We should keep going.” Gently, I take Vataea’s arm.

She hesitates for only a moment, still glaring at the cave, but eventually relents. The moment we go to turn and walk away, a strange squawking sound pierces the air behind us. I reel, weapon in hand, but there’s nothing but gravel and giant stones looking back at us.

“Is someone here?” I ask, trying to peek behind the stones and into the mountain.

After the Barracuda Lounge, nothing would surprise me anymore.

Zudoh answers with unsettling silence, as though holding its breath and waiting for us to leave. The discomfort wraps around me, flooding my arms with goose bumps.

When the sound doesn’t come again, I hesitantly turn back
to start toward the woods, certain it must be nothing more than a strange bird. But I keep my dagger ready all the same.

When we take a step away from the area, the squawk sounds again. Only, it’s not actually a squawk, but strange, garbled words.

“Don’t go in there!” someone manages, though the words are immediately muffled once more.

“Shut up, you birdbrain!” The voice behind the snarl is decidedly feminine.

The voices draw my attention to the corner of the cavern, where thin pillars of jagged limestone form the back wall. Tucked in the far corner behind them, almost unnoticeable between a formation of boulders and the stalagmites, a young boy’s face peeks out from around the stone. He’s there for only a second before a pale hand yanks his head down.

“I’ve already seen you,” I say, though I’m met by only silence once more.

Beside me, Vataea rolls her eyes. She wastes no time closing the space between us and the kids, crawling over damp stones and splaying across them on her stomach to peer between the stalagmites.

“Where is your village?” she demands.

Now discovered, the girl hiding behind the boulders rises to her feet to glare at Vataea face-to-face. Though young, likely around thirteen or so, her pale, freckled face is hardened and her eyes vicious.

“Why do you want to know?” Her words are spitfire, sharp and unforgiving. “So you can burn it down?”

Vataea’s face contorts as she twists herself off the rocks. Somehow, she manages to look elegant while doing so. “Fire’s not exactly my preferred method of destroying villages. But if you’d like to hear a song…”

The girl’s hands are balled into shaking fists at her sides.
Beside her, an even smaller boy rises to his feet. His hair is so light that it’s nearly white, and it’s beautiful against his olive skin. He hunches his shoulders a bit as he eyes the girl beside him, hesitating before he speaks.

“I don’t think they’re here to hurt us, Raya…”

The girl whips her head and her lips curl back into a sneer, but the boy doesn’t back down.

“There’s only four of them,” he presses. “If they wanted to hurt us, they’d have brought a fleet. And they’re definitely not Kaven’s.”

Raya’s lips pinch together as if to weigh the truth of his statement. Though it does little to placate her, her fists relax and the hostility in her voice eases. Her eyes flicker from Vataea, then to me, assessing.

“Who are you,” she asks, “and why are you here?”

The island is no longer quiet. Footsteps kick up sand behind me as Bastian and Ferrick draw forward, caution in their eyes, their hands clenched around their weapons, ready.

The kids draw a tiny step back as they approach, and Raya pushes the small boy behind her. Both of them gape up at Bastian with too-large eyes, as though he’s somehow threatened them. Bastian’s face contorts. He takes a quick step back and drops his hand from his blade.

“We’re not here to fight you,” I tell her. “I’m Amora Montara, the Princess of Visidia.”

Though the girl’s skin pales, she makes no motion to relax or give away her thoughts. The young boy, however, has no such hesitation. He covers his mouth with a gasp and nudges the girl in the side. She swats his hand away, ignoring him.

“You didn’t say why you’re here.” Raya barely breathes as she fights to hold her chest proud and feign calmness. But her eyes are unblinking and her chest quivers.

I return my weapon to its sheath and close the space so only the rocks are between us.

“We’ve come to help,” I tell her. “To stop Kaven.”

The boy drops his hands from his mouth and begins to turn.

“Ari—” Raya growls in protest, still side-eyeing Bastian with deep scrutiny. Ari shoves her hand from his shoulder and crouches.

“It’s not safe for you here,” he says. “Not even to talk. Kaven’s eyes are everywhere; he probably already knows you’re here. You shouldn’t have been able to get past the barrier.” The boy waves us forward, as if expecting us to climb over even more rocks and weave between the stalagmites to follow him into the small crevice of space he shares with Raya.

“Don’t touch this one.” He nods precisely to the stone he presses his small hands to. “Zale cursed it to make sure no one would be able to find the entrance. If you don’t know where to touch, you’ll get trapped in the curse until you forget what you were doing.”

He slips his fingers into a tiny crevice and pushes the stone to the side, revealing a small hole he waves us toward.

“We’ll take you to our camp,” he says, quiet and urgent. “You can speak with Zale.”

Ferrick shoots me a look, waiting for me to make the call. Bastian’s fingers dance on his thigh, tapping anxious, tense beats. But I don’t share either of their blatant hesitations. Though it’s true we could be walking into a trap, I trust the urgent tone in the boy’s words and the way Raya scowls as she waits for me to step forward, not liking what’s happening but accepting it needs to be done.

Her angry caution is enough to win my trust. I climb over the stones and drop to my hands and knees, crawling through the darkness.

The air is damp and stagnant, nearly suffocating in the tight space. My lungs are heavy and the ground’s chill bites at my palms and knees as I crawl forward. The others are directly behind me.

“Is everyone doing all right?” I ask.

Bastian responds with a breathy laugh. “Couldn’t be better. I’ve got a nice view.”

Though he can’t see it, my eyes practically roll straight out of my skull to compensate for the heat that warms my cheeks. If this space were any larger, I would have turned and punched him on the shoulder.

“Enjoy it while you can, pirate.”

Fortunately, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes for the walls to stretch around us and the world to brighten as we ascend into the depths of a cavern, able to stand tall. Stalactites dangle precariously from the ceiling.

Beneath the surface, luminous jellyfish-like creatures skirt over the water. They shine through the murky tide, a green light that brightens the stone walls.

“What is this place?” I’m breathless as I stare down at the small creatures. At my feet, a tiny salamander with long gills poking from its neck flees from its hiding place and dives away from us, toward the opposite corner of the cavern.

I sneak a careful look at Bastian, whose chest rises and falls shakily. His lips are pressed together as he scans the cavern, eyes brimming. Zudoh’s shore is a desolate, burnt wasteland, but this cavern is the picture of undisturbed beauty. It’s a small glimpse into the island I imagine he remembers as his home.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him.

His eyes flicker briefly toward me, throat bobbing as he nods.

“I thought I knew every inch of this island,” he whispers, voice stolen by the cavern. “But thank the gods I was wrong.”

I clasp a hand to his shoulder and squeeze, just once, certain we see the same sign—Zudoh may be suffering, but this island isn’t gone yet. If a place like this still exists, then there’s hope.

But even with that hope, Bastian’s shoulders slump a little more with each step he takes. As the others walk ahead, I set my hand upon his shoulder. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? We’re finally here.”

He meets my eyes for no more than a fleeting second and offers a small, tense nod. “It’s just been a while. I’m … not sure if anyone will recognize me. Or if there’s even anyone left for
me
to recognize. I was so young.”

“All we can worry about right now is making the most of our time here.” I smile, expecting Bastian to mirror it, but his jaw is tense and his shoulders rigid.

“Amora, there’s something you should—”

“This way!” Ari yells as he dashes ahead of us, making both Bastian and me flinch in surprise. I turn back to the pirate to let him finish, but he screws his mouth shut and nods ahead.

“We should keep moving.” And before I can stop him, he turns to catch up with the others.