Dream of a City of Ruin: Dreams of QaiMaj Book II

Chapter 9: Stormbirth Waters: Maia

Maia

Maia stood in the middle of a storm of black dust. It coated her furs and clung to her skin. She inhaled it and tasted it in her mouth. She gagged and choked on black dust.

"Mother . . ." She was inhaling her mother's dust as dark, feather clad figures drifted close, reaching for her with pale fingers, turning her to dust. She saw Lubar's face, his expression frozen right before the wind gusted and scattered him in black dust over white snow.

She saw the egla of her childhood dissolve to snow, her grandmother puff away in dust. And then she was running, running away, running over ice, faster and faster, and then she was above the ice, carried in strong warm arms, away from the black swirling dust, fleeing, the sole survivor once more . . .

Maia snapped awake and would have tried to run, but the arms still held her, Dynat's arms, strong and hot and reassuring. Her face was swollen and her eyes and throat were tired from crying. Her wrists and ankles were bruised and scabbed where the chains had held her suspended from the Dhuciri's bird for hours. The Child of Ice had healed Dynat to save his life, but she could not spare her fading power on Maia's minor wounds.

A sound reached her ears and brought back memories of her childhood even more keenly than seeing the Liathua scattered and dusted had. It was a particular lapping of the waves against a narrow rocky strip of shore between the Stormbirth Waters and the sheer cliff face they were hidden within. She had stood on this shore as a child.

Night was still fading, but a greasy grey painted the sky above the waves. A light snow was just beginning to fall. Dynat shifted in his sleep, murmuring as Maia pushed his arms away and rose. Stasia sat in the entrance of the cave, looking skyward. Maia hesitated for a moment, staring at Stasia's back. Her hair was still half done in tiny braids in the south coast style. Her efforts to save the Khell had aged her even more; she looked like it was time for her journey over ice. She was humming a very quiet tune that Maia did not recognize. It sounded sad and chilling.

Taking a deep breath, Maia tapped Stasia on the shoulder. The girl turned and smiled gently. Her eyes were red-rimmed with grief, and Maia felt a mixture of thankfulness and possessiveness—how could Stasia share her grief? She was not Khell.

"The last wings I saw were headed north over the water, three hours past," Stasia said.

"I shall venture down to the shore," Maia said. "Like bait for a doal-hole. If they capture me, the two of you can free me. And I will try to rope them, as well." She patted the pouch at her side and brushed past Stasia into the open.

Their mad flight had taken them far along the coast. These waters looked similar to the place the Dhuciri had stopped to rest. Here a giant iceberg loomed in the distance, and Maia could hear the shrieks of gwenwing nesting on it. She sat on the ground just beyond the cave's entrance, alone, and watched dark grey become light grey, then light grey become white, feeling the gentle sensation of snow flakes falling on her face. The light grey sky was shedding snow as far as the eye could see. Below, the flakes hit the water and disappeared.

After a long while, she heard Dynat and Stasia emerge behind her, but she stayed where she was, legs crossed, messy braids dusted with powder ice. They joined her, standing on either side, looking out at the waves in silence.

"Nothing has changed," Stasia said finally. "We must still cross these waters somehow and find the City of Ruin. I'm still convinced that the people of Sholaen are there. And the Dhuciri must be taking the Khell somewhere. Why not this city? Some of your people must live, Maia. They would have dusted us all at Pebble Beach, if they intended to kill every single one. Why go to the trouble of capturing them all just to kill them?"