The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(10)

The witstone. I scrabbled at the cargo hatch, and then at the loose boards below. The boxes of witstone lay beneath. Anyone who knew my boat could see it was sitting lower in the water than it normally did, but there were few who knew my boat the way I did. I grabbed a handful of the white, chalky stuff, pushed myself up and dumped it into the brazier.

I could have been gone, long gone if I’d not stopped for the boy. If I’d not stopped to ask after the boat that had taken my Emahla. But ifs couldn’t save me now. I fumbled with the flint and then struck it against the side of the brazier. Sparks showered onto the witstone; it caught fire as easily as if it had been chaff.

White smoke surged forcefully from the brazier, bringing with it a gust of wind that caught the sail and filled it. My ship lurched forward toward the harbor opening – which was now twice as wide as it had been when I’d arrived. Sweat traced tracks down the side of my face. The sun had risen higher in the sky and the heat of it licked at the back of my neck. It didn’t seem fitting that the world should end on a cloudless day.

I blew on the flaming witstone and adjusted the mainsail. We weren’t the only ones speeding out of the harbor, but we were among the first. On the ocean, my heartbeat calmed, though my fingers still trembled. I caught a look at Alon, still sitting and shivering at the bow, arms wrapped around himself. The swim hadn’t washed all the dust from his face. His eyes widened as he stared at the island behind us. I risked a glance back.

The scale of destruction stole the breath from my lips. Half the buildings in the city had collapsed – nothing more than rubble. A gray plume of dust and smoke rose into the air, obscuring the trees. Flocks of birds had risen from the trees, dark specks among the plume.

“Auntie Danila . . .” Alon said.

Sometimes one was enough. One had to be enough. I swallowed. “She might have made it out, lad – don’t despair yet.” Around us in the water, I saw other shapes moving away from the island – goats, deer, cats, dogs, even rabbits and mice – all swimming, all abandoning the island. The deep stirred, the scales of some giant creature breaking the water briefly before it dove back down. I caught glimpses of fins and bright spots of luminescence. Even the beasts that lived on the underside of the floating island were leaving. Dread burrowed at the base of my neck, prickling down my spine.

The island trembled more violently, sending more of the city tumbling to the ground. The ground began to sink in earnest, as lazily as a person slipping into a bath. My mind calculated out the problem before my heart could believe it. If the island sank completely, the water would rush to fill the space left behind, creating a whirlpool.

If we did not get far enough away, we’d be pulled in. “By all the Alanga,” I murmured. We were moving quickly, but not quick enough. We’d barely cleared the harbor. I threw more witstone onto the fire, wiping the chalky dust off on the jacket. My little boat jumped in the water, but then slowed once more. I could see the eddies and currents, moving other boats about without regard for the wind. Someone on one of the boats screamed.

The witstone. I had to dump it. It was slowing us down.

Even with death staring me in the face, my mind scrambled for other options. I clamped down. No. I wouldn’t be like those people still at the docks, still hoping the quake would end, that they’d be able to return to their homes. They were still there if they weren’t drowned already.

“Alon, give me a hand with this, would you?”

The boy unfroze when I gestured to the hatch door. People always responded better in a crisis when given something to do. He held the door up as I dug for the boxes and heaved them onto the deck. A wealth of witstone, illicitly acquired, but mine. Enough to pay my debt to the Ioph Carn.

I reserved a handful for the brazier and then tossed the boxes overboard, one after another, before I could change my mind.

Enough – now not enough. Island sinking or no, the Ioph Carn would find me and demand their payment. But for now I was alive, my boat skimming across the water, my heartbeat quick and strong.

Alon crept back to the bow of the ship like a wounded animal. I’d pushed him hard, but I hadn’t wanted to leave him behind. He curled in on himself and began to keen. The opium was likely wearing off right about now too.

“Your auntie might still have gotten out,” I said. I knew it wouldn’t help as soon as I said it. He was eight; he wasn’t stupid. Although he lived on a smaller island, he probably came to visit his auntie often; he probably knew this place like a second home. And it was gone, dissolving into the ocean, Danila with it too.

He glanced at me, red-faced, from beneath his elbow. “They’re gone,” he wept. “The people are dead, the island is dead, the animals –” He lifted his head to look at the animals swimming alongside our boat. “They’re going to die too.”

The island behind us shook once more, and that last rumble broke down the walls I’d built around my horror. What had caused this? In all the old stories – even the ones of the Alanga – there was no mention of islands sinking. Quaking, yes, but not this. Not an entire island destroying itself, taking everything with it. I did my best to bolster my feelings. It wouldn’t help me or the boy if I fell apart, no matter how badly I wanted to.

I leaned over the side of the ship and saw a brown kitten, struggling in the waves. It had nowhere to go, but still it swam on. It scrabbled at the side of my boat, hoping for some purchase. I knew the feeling. Its brown eyes met mine, and I could feel its desperation.