Vessel

Chapter Twenty-Three

Liyana felt as if she had swallowed the desert. Sand poured into her body and flowed through her veins. It pressed against her from the inside out until she felt as if her skin might break. She tried to scream. But sand filled her throat.

She knew it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t in a sandstorm, and there was no sand inside the emperor’s tent. It had to be magic. Mulaf! He must be trying to stop her from saving Bayla.

As if she were working magic, she concentrated on her body. She felt her breath fill her rib cage, and she felt her pulse throb through her arteries. She focused on the shape of her skin, the curve of her legs, the length of her arms. Limb by limb she forced out the sand.

The sand changed to water and swept through her body, filling her lungs until she forgot how to breathe. She fought back. There is no water, she thought. There is only me. Breathe! She inhaled and exhaled. She felt how each breath came in through her mouth and flowed down her throat and filled her lungs. She imagined the air dispersing within her, displacing the water. One breath at a time.

Slowly she regained the feel of her body again.

The third assault was air. It whirled inside her, as if it wanted to rip her away. She clung to herself with her memories: how it felt to dance, how it felt to ride for hours, how it felt to sleep protected between bodies, how it felt to kiss Korbyn.

She heard a voice. It echoed as if the speaker were within a vast cavern, and each word were a stalactite plummeting from the ceiling to the floor. You. Must. Cease.

Liyana tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t obey her. No! she thought at the voice. I will not fail my clan! She would protect this body. It belonged to Bayla, and she would not let it be torn by imaginary wind, or wrecked by water and sand.

Howling, the voice battered her with all the ferocity of a storm. With sheer volume it threatened to overwhelm all other senses, but Liyana was entrenched in her skin.

She tried to open her eyes to see who spoke to her. Her eyelids felt like heavy metal plates, fused shut with fire. She concentrated, bringing all her awareness and determination to bear on her eyes.

Slowly her eyes opened.

She saw Korbyn. He wore a new, ill-fitting uniform, and a blue cloth obscured most of his face, but she’d know his eyes anywhere. Beyond him she saw shelves of labeled jars, stacks of bandages, and a row of cots. She was no longer in the emperor’s tent. She lay on a table. Beside her was a tray of silvery knives, as well as more bandages.

“Is she awake?” Pia’s voice. Anxious.

Korbyn’s eyes bored into hers. Liyana tried again to speak, but her vocal chords wouldn’t respond. She took a deliberate breath. “Still unconscious,” Korbyn said. He cupped her cheek in his hand, shielding her eyes from view.

Liyana closed her eyes. Immediately she was assailed by wind again. This time it screamed through her, erasing all external sound.

Stop! Liyana thought at the wind. Please, stop!

Let me free, the voice said. Strangely, it felt as if the voice were coming from inside of her, not from someone in the tent. Let me live!

A terrible thought bloomed in Liyana’s head. It wasn’t possible. Two souls couldn’t be in one body. . . . I am Liyana, vessel for Bayla of the Goat Clan, Liyana said. Are you . . . Are you Bayla?

All trace of wind vanished.

Silence, then a whisper: This is not possible.

Oh, my goddess. Cringing, Liyana lowered her mental voice to a whisper. Forgive me. She’d been fighting against . . . The thought of it made her stomach churn.

Leave this body, you insignificant speck of sand!

About to apologize again, Liyana hesitated. I am not insignificant, her mental voice whispered. Vessels were cherished by their deities. Their sacrifice was honored.

Bayla did not seem to hear her. I will wreak revenge on he who dared confine me! Liyana felt a cyclone build inside her—sand, water, and wind. You have played your last trick, Korbyn!

She felt pressure in her arms as if her muscles wanted to raise themselves. She knew, though she couldn’t explain how she knew, that the goddess intended to wrap her hands around Korbyn’s throat. Liyana arched her back, fighting to keep her hands pinned down. Her fingers curled, digging into the table.

You say you are my vessel yet you will not relinquish control of this body. Bayla’s voice felt like a lick of fire.

Korbyn is not to blame, Liyana said. He came to save you!

And this is his rescue? A jail of flesh instead of a jail of stone? Bayla’s voice was so loud inside Liyana’s skull that it hurt. I will show you what happens to those who cross a goddess. Suddenly the pressure inside her vanished as if the goddess had left.

Alone in her head, Liyana drew a full breath. She imagined the air spreading through her body, and her arms and legs trembled. “Korbyn,” she said.

“Bayla,” Korbyn breathed into her ear. She felt the tickle of his breath. “Do not move. We are in danger.” She felt his hands on her shoulders, holding her down on the table. She lay still.

“I’m not Bayla. I’m Liyana.” Opening her eyes, she saw his face close to hers. He was bent over her, and behind him she saw a white-clad guard. Quickly she shut her eyes again.

She wasn’t quick enough. The guard pulled Korbyn away from her. “Speak your name,” he ordered. She felt hard coldness on the hollow of her throat.

She opened her eyes again. A sword tip touched her throat. “Liyana,” she croaked. She pressed her back against the table as if she could sink away from the blade.

The guard raised the sword . . . and then returned it to his scabbard. Scowling at her, he grunted. “The emperor wished her to return.”

Korbyn shielded her. “She isn’t well enough to move—”

“Carry her,” the guard said.

“I can walk,” Liyana said. She pushed herself up to sitting—and the wind slammed through her again. She collapsed backward as the world snapped into darkness. This time it felt much worse. Instead of merely Bayla’s soul, she felt the magic of the lake flood into her, and she instantly expanded to feel the tent, the sand, the camp, the plains, the desert, as if she were them and they were her. . . .

No! she cried. She focused on her body, rejecting the magic and huddling within the confines of her skin. I can’t let you hurt Korbyn. Or endanger my friends.

Bayla’s voice increased to a howl. I was tricked and trapped and—

And you will be free! Liyana promised. But you must let me help first! You don’t know the situation—

Wind and sand battered her insides. She felt as if her blood were churning in her veins. I am your goddess, Bayla said. You belong to me!

I am a free woman of the desert, and I belong to no one, Liyana said. I will give you this body of my own free will as soon as it’s safe to do so.

Inside, the storm quieted. She felt the goddess’s presence inside like a swirl of wind, stirring the sand in all directions, but she was not raging. You will then leave if I cooperate? Bayla asked.

Of course! You are my goddess! Liyana said.

She felt warmth circle inside her, and there was silence, blissful silence. Her chest loosened, and she inhaled and opened her eyes. She was in a medical tent. She remembered that Korbyn had mentioned he’d found an unused medical tent. Korbyn peered down at her. So did the emperor’s guard and three people with blue facecloths.

“Liyana?” It was Pia’s voice. She was one of the people in blue. “You—”

The person next to her squeezed Pia’s shoulder, and Pia cut off what she was about to say. “It is a good thing that she is Liyana.” It was Raan. “Otherwise she’d be dead from our friend here, per the emperor’s orders.” Raan fixed her eyes on Liyana—the only part of her visible—clearly delivering a hint.

“I am Liyana.”

For now, Bayla said within her.

She let Korbyn and the other assistant—Fennik, she guessed—help her from the table onto the stretcher. As they hefted her up, Pia and Raan flanked her, keeping the stretcher steady. The guard led them out of the tent. With their footsteps masking her voice, Liyana whispered to Pia and Raan, “The deities are trapped in diamond statues in the emperor’s tent. We can free them with the sky serpent knife.”

“But . . . it failed,” Pia said. “You’re here.”

“Bayla’s here too, inside me,” Liyana said. “I don’t know why I’m not gone.”

Raan’s eyes were wide. “You didn’t die.” She began to tremble. “We . . . we don’t have to die?”

Before Liyana could respond, their guard hefted a corner of the stretcher, picking up their pace and ending the opportunity for conversation. As she was carried through camp, she tried to think of what she’d say to the emperor. She wondered what he’d think of what had happened, if he knew what she’d done. He must know, she thought. Otherwise the guard would not have been ready with his sword.

Who must know what? Bayla asked.

The emperor of the Crescent Empire, Liyana said. She pictured the emperor ordering her death—Bayla’s death—and then she thought of him telling the story of his parents, trying so hard to hide his pain. She wanted to tell him that she was still alive, though she didn’t know why it mattered to her that he knew. Perhaps because he’d treated her honorably? Or because he’d listened to her stories and shared his?

Liyana felt a burst of surprise—not her own emotion. It felt like bubbles in her abdomen. This is not the desert? Bayla asked. I was taken from the desert? Who would dare?

Gleaming in the sun, the emperor’s golden tent rose before them. Lying on the stretcher, Liyana saw the banner of the crescent sun as the guards escorted them inside. Korbyn and Fennik lowered her stretcher onto the floor. Liyana sat up. She steadied herself with both hands on the floor, then rose to her feet. “Your Imperial Majesty—” she began.

The man behind the desk was not the emperor. A statue in each hand, Mulaf the magician froze as he stared at her. “Bayla,” he breathed. She saw crates around him lined with velvet. Several of the statues were already nestled in the crates. One crate was sealed shut.

Liyana shook her head. “Still Liyana.”

“But . . . the broken statue.”

“It failed. Where is the emperor?” Liyana asked.

You lied to him, Bayla said. Liyana felt her outrage like an ember of fire in her fist. Vessels should be pure of heart and mind—

I believe he is the one who trapped you, Liyana said.

Fury flamed inside her so fast and hot that she gasped in air. As she swayed, Korbyn grabbed her shoulders. He steadied her. His hands felt warm through the fabric of the robe.

“So now you understand that you are free,” Mulaf said. He placed the statues back on the shelf, and he scurried to Liyana’s side. He clasped her hands to his heart. “You will be an example to the others. They will flock to your side!” He kissed her hands. “This is a wonderful moment.”

Liyana felt Bayla raging inside her, and she managed a weak smile.

I want him to suffer! Bayla howled.

Can you use magic against him? Liyana asked.

You control the body so you control the magic . . . but perhaps I can feed you the power. In an instant Bayla was gone, and then she returned with a roar that filled Liyana’s ears. Mulaf was speaking, but Liyana couldn’t hear the words. She watched his mouth move as a flood of magic flowed into her. Her soul stretched to encompass Mulaf—but she was still not in a trance. According to Korbyn’s lessons, all magicians and deities had to be in a trance to access magic, but with Bayla feeding her power, Liyana remained alert and aware. Awed by this, she experimented with a step forward. She could walk, and the magic stayed stretched around Mulaf.

Kill, Bayla said.

Liyana smiled at the magician. “Sleep.”

He toppled over.

She reached further with the magic, and the guard slumped to the ground. Liyana had expected a wave of exhaustion when she finished. But it didn’t come. Yanking the sky serpent blade out of her sash, she ran to the statues. She found the silk worm, shattered it, and thrust the pieces to Pia, who clutched them to her heart.

Entering a trance, Korbyn chanted Pia’s words, softly so the guards outside would not hear. Pia began to dance. “Mine next,” Fennik said.

Liyana scanned the shelves for the horse statue. . . . She didn’t see it. She searched the open crates. No horse. Beside her, Fennik yanked off the cover of the sealed crate. The metal nails bent and screeched. He pawed through it and then held the horse statue aloft.

She severed its head.

“Liyana . . . thank you.” Fennik cradled the pieces. “I cannot express—”

“Then don’t,” Liyana said. “Just dance.”

He pulled down his facecloth, smiled broadly, and then kissed her cheek. With a wink he replaced the facecloth.

As Korbyn chanted the words for Sendar, Fennik joined Pia in the dance, leaping and twirling. Silent, drumless, they kept each other’s time. Liyana’s eyes slid to Raan, who was staring at the dancers with a stricken expression in her eyes.

Korbyn whispered urgently to Liyana, “Break the other statues!”

Liyana scanned the shelves. She could see no difference between the diamond statues with deities and those without. The emperor could have caught more than the five she knew of. “I don’t know which ones have deities—”

“Break them all. At least then they can never be used.” He resumed chanting for Oyri and Sendar. Pia and Fennik were dancing faster, their feet beating a tattoo on the silk-covered sand.

Liyana turned her knife on the statues that littered the shelves. Systematically she sliced and shattered them. She halted at the scorpion. Coiled diamond, the arachnid looked as if it was midstrike. She held it in her hand and turned—

Raan was beside her, only inches away. “Swear to me you didn’t die. Swear you are Liyana.”

“I am Liyana, but I don’t know why I lived,” Liyana said. Raan was shaking, and her eyes were as wide as a wild horse’s. “I can’t promise you anything.”

“The Great Drought . . . It’s here too, isn’t it?”

Liyana nodded.

“Then there isn’t an escape,” Raan said. “There is no other life for our people.”

Liyana wanted to embrace her, but Raan may not have welcomed it. She thought about saying that she was sorry. The words caught in her throat. She didn’t think Raan would have believed her anyway.

Tears poured from Raan’s eyes and were caught in the facecloth. “Break the statue. Korbyn, say my words. Use your magic. Call my goddess.”

Liyana sliced the scorpion statue. She held out the shards.

Raan stared at the shards for a long moment. “If you lived through this, I can live through it.” She took the shards. Liyana watched her walk shakily to the center of the tent. Around her, Pia and Fennik silently swirled and leaped on the silk carpets. Korbyn chanted. Imitating the other two vessels, Raan danced. She held the shards of the scorpion statue so tightly that the edges sliced her fingers. Red stained the diamond.

Liyana turned to the crates. She picked up the falcon statue.

Across the tent, Mulaf woke. He leveled a shaking finger at Liyana. “You’re her! Bayla! Murderer!” His voice rang out. “Guards!”

The three other vessels collapsed.

Six guards burst through the tent flap, and Liyana dropped the falcon statue. She raised her sky serpent blade in front of her. Quickly Korbyn pointed to the magician. “He attacked my assistants with his magic! Arrest him!”

Swords raised, the guards advanced on Mulaf.

The magician continued to point at Liyana. “Kill Bayla! Before she destroys us all!”

Liyana backed away. “You escorted me from this tent to mine after I met the emperor. You told me about the Cat Clan. You said I was safe and free. How could I remember this if I was Bayla?”

Eyes wide, Mulaf lowered his arm. “But . . . your power . . . You used magic. I felt it!” He didn’t resist as the guards surrounded him. Two of them clamped their hands on his arms.

Another guard knelt next to Pia and felt her pulse. “This one’s dead,” he reported. He stood and wiped his palm on his uniform, as if to wipe away the feel of death.

Liyana rushed to Pia’s side. Shaking, she felt for her pulse as well. She couldn’t find it on Pia’s wrist. She felt for the pulse on her neck. Nothing. She lay her head against Pia’s chest. “She isn’t breathing!”

“That’s normal,” Korbyn said. Fennik also lay still and silent. But Raan writhed on the floor and moaned. “This”—he knelt beside Raan—“is not.”

Pia’s eyes popped open. “I live,” she said. It was Pia’s voice but it wasn’t. “But it’s dark! I cannot see!” She clawed at her face and yanked away the facecloth.

“Shh,” Liyana whispered in her ear. She replaced the facecloth and glanced at Mulaf. His eyes were on Raan. “Pretend you’re Pia, the vessel. We’re in danger. Say as little as possible.” Sweet goddess, it had happened so fast. Like that, Pia was gone.

Fennik sat up. He looked around.

Korbyn bolted to his side. He made a show of checking Fennik’s vitals, but Liyana guessed he was whispering in Fennik’s ear as well. Sendar’s ear.

She knew she should feel joyful for them, but instead all she felt was an ache. Pia and Fennik! She helped Pia—Oyri—to her feet. Several of the guards had left Mulaf’s side and had trained their swords on Liyana and Korbyn.

Sendar held himself still, and Liyana knew he was in a trance. Outside, a horse trumpeted. And then other horses whinnied and cried. Liyana heard shouts and the stamp of hooves.

“Check outside,” one of the guards ordered.

The soldier nearest to the door obeyed. He returned only a minute later. “It’s the horses, sir! They’re stampeding!” He darted out again.

Sendar opened his eyes.

Clever boy, Bayla thought.

Mulaf’s eyes widened. He looked at the doctor and his assistants as if the force of his gaze could help him see through the facecloths. In another second he would connect them with the broken statues. Liyana glanced at Korbyn. She didn’t know if he had a plan. We need to leave now, Liyana thought.

We need a larger distraction, Bayla thought. Horses aren’t frightening enough.

“Are there worms beneath us?” Liyana whispered to Oyri. Often the great worms burrowed below the bedrock, following water deep within the earth, surfacing only in the salt flats to spin their thread.

Oyri nodded. “Far, far beneath, but yes.” Stilling, she concentrated.

Mulaf flapped his arms like an agitated bird. “You must stop them!”

On the ground, Raan moaned and twitched.

Liyana saw Mulaf close his eyes, preparing for a trance. She picked up the falcon statue and threw it at him. It hit his stomach. He flinched, his concentration broken, and a guard pressed a blade to Liyana’s throat. “He was about to use magic!” she said. “You can’t trust him!”

“Tie them all up and gag them, including the magician,” one of the guards ordered. “We will sort this out after the crisis is over.” He pointed to three of the guards. “You and you and you, help outside.” The three soldiers rushed out. Only three remained.

“Ready yourself,” Oyri said softly.

The floor began to shake. Liyana fell to her knees.

Across the tent, Mulaf fell against one of the guards. He grabbed for the guard’s sword hilt and tried to yank it free. A second guard rushed to stop him. Sendar leaped on the third guard. He slammed his fist into the soldier’s chin.

Korbyn hefted Raan over his shoulders as the ground began to crack beneath her. “Liyana, watch out!” he yelled.

In the center of the tent, the earth split apart. A giant silk worm burst through the floor and reared above them. Oyri grabbed Liyana’s arm. “Guide me to the tail!”

Liyana yanked her away from the worm’s gaping maw. “Here! Back here!” The bulbous tail lashed in front of them. It swept into the emperor’s desk, knocking it onto its side with a massive crash.

“Help me jump on it!” Oyri ordered Liyana. She tightened her grip on Liyana’s arm.

Liyana balked. “You can’t mean—”

Jump, vessel, Bayla ordered.

Pulling Oyri with her, Liyana threw herself onto the worm’s tail. Oyri wrapped her arms around it. Liyana dug her fingers into the wet silk strands that coated the worm’s body. As Oyri and Liyana clung to it, the worm thrashed, tearing the tent further. The tarp fell, covering Mulaf and the guards. “Do not let go!” Oyri shouted.

The worm arced in the air. It flipped its body upward, and Liyana screamed. She closed her eyes, and the worm slammed into the earth. Rocks and dirt flew around them as the worm dove into the tunnel it had made.

Liyana felt rocks and dirt pummel her back. She clung tight and buried her face in the wet silk. Her body hit the wall of the tunnel, and she nearly lost her grip. She squeezed tighter. The tunnel felt hot around her, and she smelled the worm’s sickly sweet sweat. It clogged her throat.

I will feed you magic, Bayla said. Guide the worm!

Liyana felt the magic pour into her, and she expanded in a rush. Suddenly, without entering a trance, she was the worm, tunneling through the earth, aware of the two bodies clinging to her flesh. Water, Liyana thought at the worm. She pictured water beyond the army encampment, near the grove of trees where she and Pia and Raan had pitched their tent.

The worm raced for it.

With a crash the worm burst out of the earth. All of a sudden Liyana felt the sun on her face. She couldn’t open her eyes—dirt flew all around her. Chunks of earth rained everywhere.

“Release now!” Oyri shouted.

Liyana let go.

She fell to the ground, and the wind rushed out of her lungs as she impacted. When she opened her eyes, the worm was gone.