A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

She no longer remembered a time before the storm. It had overspread the dark sky above Uramyesi, stemming from the mouths of dragons. On the ground, far away, the slaughter went on.

In the sky, there was war.

The crack and crash of thunder filled the night. Taugran had summoned its wyrmlings, which besieged the city, circling like gulls. Lightning flashed from the stormclouds that rose to meet the flock. Below, the Abyss threw itself against the cliffs of Uramyesi.

Everywhere, Seiiki roared.

Dumai watched the world turn stark, then black again, over and over. There had been a moon once, long ago, but now it was gone, swallowed by the storm. Even with the blue stone far below, the gods’ power was growing stronger, unlocked by the very air.

Rain drenched Dumai to the skin, so she was as cold as Furtia, skin and scale becoming one, and the wrath of the dragon tightened her chest, and she no longer knew whose anger it had been first. All she knew was the need to destroy the creature that flew before her, that breathed flame from its loathsome maw, making the dragons call out in fury.

The fire. The thought coursed through them both, Dumai and Furtia. The fire of the deep earth, arisen.

Dumai buried her bare hands in manehair. She had danced with silver bells and golden fish, drawn a rainbow through a dollhouse, and never understood what mattered. The fire had risen.

A fire that must be quenched.

Yes, they hissed together. Yes.

Taugran flew past, its golden scales reflecting the fires it set below. Furtia snapped for its tail. Once more, Taugran eluded her. For a creature so enormous, it moved like water. When Dumai snarled in frustration, so did the dragon, and with their voices came a roll of thunder.

Lightning forked from sky to earth, setting a fleet of boats alight. Furtia twisted in the air, pursuing Taugran. Dumai clung to her mane, teeth bared.

Far below, more dragons had come. They blew stormwinds towards the wyrms, keeping them away from the people, who were fleeing inland, away from the battle. A harpoon from a bed crossbow whistled past Furtia, striking a wyrmling in the breast. Dumai hardly noticed. She had eyes only for Taugran. She wished she could hear its voice in her mind, as she could hear the gods. She wanted to hear the voice of chaos.

She wanted to hear chaos scream.

The chase went on and on. The wyrm, unleashing turmoil on the land, burning it. Furtia, soaring after it, battered by the scorching wind from those wings. Other dragons wound about them, surrounding Taugran with lightning.

All the while, Dumai turned colder and colder. In a dark corner of her mind, she knew she had already bled for too long. The arrow was between her ribs, tearing through the inner softness of her body.

The River Lord had killed her. He had set her a trap, knowing someone would tell her that Suzumai was in danger. His guards had been there to make sure she died, whether by arrow or by wyrm.

The Noziken and the Kuposa. So much time wasted on a rivalry that meant nothing. She should have been trying to heal the tortured earth. She should have searched every text in the East until she understood why this had happened, to stop it from ever happening again . . .

She threw the thought off. Her human recollections warred with dragons’ instincts. She clung to the memory of Suzumai, her mother and grandmother, Nikeya, and all the dead Noziken. The Grand Empress would bear no more children, even if the River Lord let her live.

The rainbow had finally come to its end.

Darkness gathered. Her breaths came short. Still she held on, the wind ripping back her hair. She imagined the cold was not death at all, but the great Kwiriki, singing to her.

Taugran released its fire across the shore, torching every boat. And Dumai thought it would never end: the suffering, the dread.

Kwiriki had made a young woman a throne and told her to protect this island. Dumai would honour that bargain, struck long ago in the eye of the storm. She would save Seiiki, at the cost of the House of Noziken. She would keep the promise for as long as she breathed.

Furtia emerged from her own clouds, into the clear night. For a beautiful moment, there was quiet. No rain or thunder or fire. Dumai looked over her shoulder, searching for Taugran. Rain dripped from her lashes. The storm had beaten her skin numb.

It is here, earth child. The star has come. Furtia raised her head. Our time is now. Dumai looked up to see light in the darkness – a gleam of pure silver, flawless and clear.

The star that brought us to this world, Nayimathun had said. The long-tailed light from the black waters of creation.

There it was. White needles were streaming in its wake, falling towards earth like rain.

Kwiriki’s Lantern.

Beneath her, Furtia glowed as she never had. Now every scale was clear as water, so her light came gleaming through. She was a mirror of the star, her crest the moon itself. Dumai laughed for joy and let the magic wash her clean.

We are strongest as the star falls from the black waters. Stronger than the risen fire. Furtia spoke in her mind. For a time, it will be as it was long ago, when water could still conquer flame, as water always should.

Dumai held on to her. She smelled the sea, and rain, and something else.

The fire will die away beneath the star. It will wither back into the earth, but if Taugran sleeps, it will wake again, when the fire rises anew. Furtia swam through the chilled air. You will not be here, but others will. Dumai breathed fog. Taugran should not sleep. All of of our light may quench it. Its heat may scorch us, in return.

Taugran swung over the rooftops, wings gleaming, its wyrmlings breathing fire below. Nikeya could be anywhere down there. Dumai willed her to run, to be gone with the stone.

Earth child, do you see?

Blood leaked from where the arrow had punctured her. The darkness thickened once more, but there was no more pain. She had lived well for thirty years.

Yes, Dumai told her. Yes, great one. I am with you.

She remembered:

Seven dragons, gods of water, circling the beast of the deep earth. The dragons she had rung awake, flying towards chaos. Once she had feared that she had woken them for no purpose, but this must be it. Together, with the comet, they could destroy Taugran.

To make sure the people of Seiiki survived.

To make sure that Taugran never returned, even if others did.

Furtia reached the monster first. The dragons coiled themselves around those tarnished golden scales, sizzling at their touch, and their inner light erupted into whiteness. The comet was in all of them, and they were all soaked in it, as the stars descended.

Drenched in fallen night.

Dumai watched her palms brighten. The light had always been in her. It was how she could speak to the gods. How she had survived Brhazat. At last, she knew the truth, cupped it between her hands – the secret her mother had kept all her life.

That night, long ago, Unora of Afa had swallowed a star, so her daughter could give birth to one. Pajati had given Unora a gift, and now Dumai would give it back to the gods.

Mama, I forgive you. I forgive you all of it. I love you as the rain loves the earth. As the mountain loves the sky. I will love you when the star returns, and when the black waters swallow the world.

Taugran the Golden screamed into the dark. Wrapped around its monstrous bulk, the gods withered like paper over burning coals. Still they held on. They imprisoned Taugran. Blinded by their glow, Dumai heard them all tighten their coils, tighten and tighten and tighten once more, until they had smothered the furnace in the wyrm.

Taugran the Golden was dead before it even started falling.

Red fires blew out across the island. Light turned to darkness, pierced by the tempest of stars. Furtia slid away from Taugran, and Dumai went tumbling with her, into the endless black of the sea.

****

She sank, a woman made of stone. Her bones must have broken when she hit the water, but the pain was distant, shapeless. She opened her eyes. Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps she was already dead, and this was her peaceful descent to the deep, to the Palace of Many Pearls.

Her mind was at rest. She let herself drift, the sound of her own heart slowing, slowing.

She thought of Nikeya and wished.

She wished they could have had more time.

Lights knifed into the sea. They cooled the fire in her bones, in her side, and then she felt nothing at all.

****

She woke alone on cold grey sand, smelling blood and dragon. The Abyss had pushed her back to shore. Unable to feel, she rested on her side, her hair spread under her cheek.

Beside her, Furtia Stormcaller was silent and still. She lay on the sand like a kite without wind, scales burned so dry they flaked away like dead leaves when a breeze sighed past.

It had taken seven dragons to extinguish Taugran for good. The others must be nearby. This shore would be their resting place, and hers.

Dumai reached out to touch the god that had chosen her. More scale crumbled off beneath her fingers.

I’m sorry.

Dawn bloomed on the horizon. The light revealed that the wyrms were gone. Dumai could no longer see their wings, or hear their calls over Seiiki.

On the contrary, there was a terrible silence, away from the roar of the sea.

Kwiriki’s Lantern was still in the heavens, trailing stardust. She could die well, to a sight like this – the sky alive with flecks of silver, and the comet, the sign of the gods’ protection and love.

For a time, she slept, or slipped into unconsciousness. When she stirred again, she was much colder, her hand clammy beside her face. She had become a water ghost. Her side stung where the water lapped it. She could no longer move, so she knew it would be soon.

At first, she thought the pale dragon was a vision, or a dream – the spirit of the great Kwiriki, coming to lead her away. It drifted to land beside Furtia, and then turned to Dumai.

You have fallen like the star. Pajati the White nudged her with his snout. And yet I heard you wish, and I came.

‘Wishgiver.’ Her voice was barely there. ‘I see now . . . that I was a wish.’

She called me from my sleep, and you were formed in starlit waters. Pajati huffed at her. You still have time, though it grows short. While the star is in the sky, its light can mend your flesh, your bones. You hold enough of its remnant . . . but you must use all you now possess, all I gave the dying woman. I cannot offer more, earth child. Not now it is our time.

Her breath came slower. Her heart was a crushed moth, just barely fluttering.

Dream well, for you can choose just once.

If she returned to Antuma, there would be civil war. Seiiki would not survive that bloodshed.

The sea washed around her, fanning her hair. She pictured Mount Ipyeda, the painting on her mother’s wall – the Palace of Many Pearls, and all the blissful people tucked inside. And then she pictured Nikeya.

Nikeya.

As she closed her eyes, she saw the hidden stream one more time, and the figure in the fading distance, still without a face.

I wish I had known who you were. She sent the words across the ashes of the world. Goodbye, my sister, my mirror. My friend.

It was better that she disappear. At last, she saw a way. She reached for the light deep within, and darkness accepted it, like an offering.