The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(9)
This time, he nodded at me.
I caught a glimpse of the faces of the other children – panicked but still placid, their steps unsteady. Their parents, their aunts and uncles would come. A lie, a lie – my mother’s voice. I shook it off. I couldn’t help them all. “Deep breaths,” I said, and then ran, still holding on to Alon’s arm. The boy might have been short, but he could keep a decent pace. We dashed around the pond and back toward the docks.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The narrow street now felt like a chasm, one into which we were falling without hope of escape. Another building to our left teetered, beams breaking. The soldiers behind us screamed as I yanked Alon forward, just out of the way of the collapsing facade. Dust swept across the paving stones, climbing into my nose. I tried not to think of the soldiers now buried in the rubble, the people that might have been inside. I had to focus on keeping us alive. Alon began to cry, a high-pitched keening sound. “I want my mother!” he sobbed, pulling at my grip.
Oh, child. I did too. She’d sat through hurricane winds, ignoring the rattling shutters and the wailing wind as if they were merely overwrought children. I promised myself – I would find a way to visit home again if I lived through this. “Listen,” I shouted, “you need to run. If you don’t, you’ll never see her again.” The words shut him up more cleanly than a slap. There wasn’t time to regret them. I wasn’t big or strong enough to carry him.
I thought I recognized the doorway to the drinking hall, but Danila would have to make her own way out. The ground jolted, throwing me into the wall of a building, my shoulder catching the brunt of it. I pulled on Alon’s arm to keep him upright. The air was hazy; it made my eyes water. But between the gaps in the buildings I could see blue ocean and blue skies. We skidded down the uneven stones. A falling tile hit Alon on the shoulder and he reached for the wound. I pulled him along before he could touch it, merciless.
And then the air cleared and we were at the docks, a cloud billowing behind us as though we’d brought this destruction with us. Despite the shaking and the destruction, people hadn’t yet filled the harbor. They hesitated on the edge of that precipice: is it bad enough? Will I feel foolish when this is all done? What of the belongings I’ve left behind?
Fear nipped at my heels, and I knew by now to pay heed to my fear. The thought of remaining on this island filled me with a dread I couldn’t name. Maybe this would all stop, the island having sunk only a few measures. But maybe it wouldn’t, and it was the second maybe that roared in my mind.
A few people tried to get into the Imperial boats – searching for protection – but were warned off by the soldiers. Others made for their fishing boats. A hulking construct with the face of a long-beaked bird did its best to stop each of them. “Please declare your goods before leaving,” it croaked out. “The shipping and sale of unauthorized goods may result in fines and imprisonment. Sir, I need to perform a randomized search of your cargo hold.” Bureaucrat constructs were my least favorite. I waited until it was occupied with someone else. “Alon,” I said to the boy, “that’s my boat out there, at the end of the dock.” Wood creaked and groaned behind us; stones ground against one another. “The dock is unmoored. We need to swim. I’m going to let go of your wrist now, but you’ll need to follow me. Kick off your shoes if they weigh you down.”
I didn’t wait to see if he nodded; I ran for the water while the construct’s back was turned. It couldn’t do much without Imperial soldiers backing it up, but this wasn’t the time I wanted to be attracting undue attention. The ocean’s surface jittered with the shaking earth, obscuring my reflection. I saw, with a shock, that the backs of my hands were gray with dust and dotted with blood. No time to check for injuries. I plunged into the water. Here, in the harbor and at the end of the dry season, it was as warm as the surrounding air. I took my own advice, kicking off my shoes as soon as the water came to my chest.
Anchors still weighed the docks to the ocean floor, so they’d only shifted instead of completely floating free. Each stroke felt surreal, brought me back to swimming in the ocean as a child, even as the island behind me fell to pieces. I seized the edge of the dock and climbed up, splinters digging beneath my fingernails.
Alon was only a short distance behind me. Good boy – he’d kicked off his shoes. I bent to help him onto the dock. My boat was moored at the other end, swaying gently in the water. It was a small thing – big enough for some decent cargo and for weeks at sea, but smaller was quicker. Smaller meant less witstone used when I had the use of it at all. This far from the dust and falling buildings, my mind cleared. “There’s my boat,” I told the boy, and this time I didn’t have to shout. “We’re going to your parents.”
He followed me like a little lost lamb.
As soon as I was aboard, years of training took over. Checking the lines, undoing the docking line, hoisting the sail. The cacophony from the island faded to a dim sound in the back of my mind. My father had started teaching me to sail as soon as I could walk. Here, on the boat, my feet were steadier beneath me than on the quaking island.
Alon found a seat at the bow, and he sat there, mute and shivering.
A crack filled the air, loud as thunder. I looked back and swallowed. The island was sinking, the harbor now nearly fully submerged, the buildings at the edge creeping into the water. This wasn’t going to be enough. I had to do something, get away faster.