Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology) by Addie Thorley (best beach reads .txt) 📗

interrupts, looking fierce and unflinching. Like the warrior who fought by my side in the Kalima. I’d foolishly thought I could weaken and control her by cutting her down at Nariin, but being thrust into the forger’s fire has only made her stronger. “Or maybe They knew you were coming. Maybe They want to watch you suffer and sweat before shoving you from the mountaintop.”

“Enough!” Kartok brings his palms together, and my sword arm jerks in response. Before I can comprehend what’s happening, I’ve cut a gash across Serik’s bicep—deep enough to reveal bone. The knife is back at his throat before he even starts screaming.

“If you refuse to cooperate, the boy will suffer,” Kartok says to Enebish.

“Don’t help him,” Serik sputters through his clenched teeth.

“You picked a terrible time to become so devout,” Enebish says as she marches forward, up the rocky trail.

We climb for hours, sweating in the unbearable heat. Between Serik and the sun, which is far too bright and close in this realm, I’m certain I will never be able to wield the ice again. My frozen core is nothing but a puddle, escaping through my skin and evaporating into the thinning air.

After what feels like days, we ascend into a veil of blush-pink fog—the precise color of the pear trees that blossom in the springtime on my parents’ estate. The mist is heavy and cool on my skin and shields us slightly from the harsh sunlight, which hasn’t faded, even slightly, since our arrival. Though, a crescent moon as risen up from behind the peaks and hangs in the sky beside the sun. Proof that this is the Eternal Blue in the most literal sense.

The fog grows thicker and thicker as we climb until I can hardly see Serik, who’s trapped in my arms. Which means Kartok might not be able to see me. I wiggle my fingers to gauge his awareness, focusing all of my energy into one finger. It feels like I’m lifting a warhorse, but I manage to pry my pinky away from the dagger. I’m straining to lift my ring finger when the fog falls away abruptly and, with it, all thoughts of escape.

It was a fool’s notion anyway. Where would I even escape to? I don’t know how to leave this place. Nor do I have the slightest clue what awaits back in Ashkar. And, most horrifying of all, my mind quails at the thought of leaving Enebish and Serik here with Kartok.

The summit of the mountain is no larger than a common parlor, though far more extravagant, with blue-and-white checkered floors, midnight velvet lounges, and cloud-white chaises arranged around a towering mound of rocks, like the cairn Kartok showed me in his book. Tiny twinkling lights and thick swathes of blue silk drape from the apex of the rock tower and form extravagant tentlike walls that rustle in the breeze.

On the opposite side of the terrace, the fabric is pulled aside to reveal a balcony overlooking an infinite expanse of sky and rock. There two figures sit. I can’t see their faces, but one wears a gown the precise shade of a star-riddled sky and the other a robe of the greenest leaves.

My mouth drops open, and I blink as if They’ll disappear. I’m hallucinating—I have to be. I was so certain we’d find nothing up here but additional gray dirt and scattered rocks. Yet here is undeniable proof of more.

Just as you requested.

Air refuses to fill my lungs. I tell myself it’s the altitude. Or the exertion from the climb.

It’s one thing to consider that your views on life and power and the gods could be wrong. It’s something else entirely to have those fears confirmed—and with all the subtlety of a fist to the jaw.

Enebish falls to her knees. Garbled praises and frantic warnings pour from her lips in an indecipherable stream as she crawls closer to the Lady and Father. Serik is so still in my arms, I can’t even feel him breathing. Behind us, Kartok whispers something in Zemyan, then charges past me and Serik and kicks Enebish aside like a cat underfoot.

“I’ve come on behalf of Zemya! The daughter you so callously forsook!” His voice carries on the wind like a clap of thunder, but the Lady of the Sky and Father Guzan do not acknowledge him. They continue looking out, nodding or pointing occasionally. Absorbed in Their own conversation.

“I tried to warn you!” Enebish cries out. “I wrote in the Book of Whisperings!”

Kartok turns and raises a hand toward Enebish, who immediately falls silent. She thrashes and clutches her face, just as I did when Kartok used his sorcery to twist my tongue.

“It isn’t real!” I try to go to her, but my legs have turned to stone. Frozen—just like my useless arms. I can do nothing but watch as the sorcerer advances across the room, his robes billowing, his white hair whipping. He looks so colorless and out of place in this sumptuous palace. Like a stain that was blotted from existence.

“Your reign of injustice has ended!” he cries emphatically. “You can abdicate your power, declare your sins, and give Zemya the glory and birthright She deserves, or I will forcibly remove you.”

Still the First Gods pay him no mind. I can’t tell if it’s intentional. Maybe They simply can’t hear him. Or maybe this is proof of Their supremacy: They do not cower before invaders. They do not shrink. They are omnipotent. Maybe even deserving of my respect.

With a growl that originates in the depths of his chest, Kartok brandishes his curved sword and swings it into the mound of rocks supporting the tent. “Zemya will not be ignored any longer!” he cries as the boulders topple like soldiers cut down in battle.

I gasp, somehow feeling the force of Kartok’s blow in my side. Serik groans as well. And Enebish clutches her stomach, still on her hands and knees. The backlash of Kartok’s attack ripples through all of us—and through the