The Shadow Soul (16 page)

He expected to sight land early today, and to arrive in the Ourthuri capital tomorrow evening.

One day
, Jinji thought,
one last day of living constantly on edge
.

She listened, waiting for the sound of a snore that did not come, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut before taking a deep breath and relaxing them.

Keep closed
, she ordered.

Try not to move.

And then she felt his gaze land on her, scanning her face. A shadow penetrated her lashes, hot breath kissed her cheek, and a tingle shivered up her neck.

"Jin," Rhen whispered.

She ignored him, counting to ten in her head.

"Jin, are you awake?"

He poked her shoulder gently. Jinji moved, rolling over, groaning in protest as though still caught in a dream.

A loud, frustrated sigh flowed into her ears.

"I'll get to you later," he said gruffly, and then Jinji heard bootsteps on wood, the creak of a door. She counted to fifteen, knowing Rhen could not remain quiet for such a lengthy stretch of time.

Still silence.

Jinji stretched her arms overhead, sitting up slowly in the hammock and opening her eyes, wincing at the bright sun filtering through the window. Another cloudless day. Another unbroken stretch of blue.

The novelty of the sea had most definitely worn off.

Jinji needed the forest.

She yearned for it.

She looked down at her hands, almost surprised to see them look just as normal as ever. Her skin its usual brown, but underneath it, the spirits were dancing, tingling, urging her to weave more, to keep building her power.

Curious, Jinji closed her eyes, picturing trees and grass, sunlight filtering through leaves, the gentle patter of a stream, and the flutter of a butterfly hovering over the bright red of a flower.

Her eyes widened instantly, and she stepped down off the hammock into her forest. The clearing, almost the same as she remembered it, minus the laughing face of Leoa. She walked forward, just a few steps, and there was the patch of yellow, perfectly shaped for her body, the spot where she had sat for hours and hours just to think, just to be. Jinji sunk to the floor slowly, waiting for the comforting cushion of her home, her sacred place, but the ground below her butt was still hard wood. Unyielding. Unnatural. Not the soft patch of dirt she wished it was.

The illusion fell, shattered, taking Jinji's mood with it.

Time to face the day
, she sighed.

By the corner, under her hammock, were the fresh clothes Rhen had promised the night before. Newworlder clothes. Her first.

Yesterday, pestered by the stink of Janu's skins, skins that were never meant for the sea, Jinji asked for something new to wear. But now, faced with the reality, she didn’t feel ready. Not ready to remove that last tie to her home. But what had once been soft, comfortable fur was now harsh and scratchy, itching her skin, causing a rash.

Biting her lip, Jinji pulled Janu's shirt overhead, holding it before her.

Eyes watering, she removed the pelts around her legs and balled them all into one lump, stuffing it under the hammock.

Naked was not enough to describe how she felt, shivering there, staring at the bleached out skins. Exposed. Alone. Abandoned. Judged.

What would her mother say if she saw her only daughter dressed like one of them? What would her father do if he knew she had killed like one of them? What would Maniuk think if he realized she was sharing this room with one of them? Would Leoa still laugh with her, brush her hair, or would she look from a distance with scorn?

Jinji couldn’t breathe.

Her throat closed in, held by invisible hands, the very spirits of her tribe calling her to join them, to be at her rightful spot.

Better dead than unrecognizable.

Diving forward, Jinji cried out, gripping the skins in her hands. Stumbling backward, she reached for the clasp on the window and tossed Janu's clothes outside.

Her neck loosened. She gulped in one strained breath. 

Then panic.

Shoving her head out of the hole, she searched for the skins, finding them just in time to watch them sink below the surface—gone.

Her hands shook.

Her lip quivered.

She took a deep, uneven breath.

Then another.

One more.

Her mother, her father, Maniuk, Leoa, even Janu—they could say nothing. They were gone. They had left her alone.

Her mind settled, her heartbeat slowed, her thoughts cleared.

They loved her—they would not have judged what it took for her to survive. 

Turning slowly, Jinji unfolded the clothes Rhen had left. The pants, a deep soft black leather, slipped easily over her legs, loose and clearly meant for a larger person. But better that than have them stick to her thighs or her bottom, round like a woman and not flat like a man.

The shirt hung loosely too, stretching inches past her fingers. She tucked the fine linens into the hem of the pants as she had seen Rhen do, rolled the sleeves up above her elbows. The neckline gaped open, slipping low on her chest. Jinji looked down, spotting the small but most definitely feminine curve of her breast, wincing.

But there was one more folded cloth. She put her arms through the sleeveless holes and awkwardly buttoned the front. A vest Rhen had called it. Still mildly loose, but, Jinji looked down, it kept her womanly assets very well guarded.

She felt for the spirits surrounding her face, as she did every morning, welcoming their familiar presence. The illusion over her features still held, made only stronger with time. Running her fingers gently through her hair, Jinji felt the short strands spike up, hardened by the salty air.

She missed the weight of her curls, the silky way they spilled down her back, drifting over her shoulders, made shiny by the sun.

But she was not prepared to completely abandon her tribe—her hair would never flow freely again.

Jinji stood straight, facing the door. If she only had one day left onboard, she would try to make the most of it. She had been hiding out below deck for too long, and fresh air would likely do her good, even if it meant an inevitable run-in with Rhen.

Well, she shrugged, she had held her own so far.

Minutes later, Jinji emerged to the curious stares of a few men onboard, including the Ourthuri. It was her clothes, Jinji assured herself, just her clothes. Rhen looked over momentarily, but didn’t let his gaze stick. He was talking to the tall man, the one with burns on his wrists. Judging by the puff to his chest, it was not going well.

No matter, Jinji walked to the front of the ship, ready to look out past the waves for the first sight of these Golden Isles she had heard so much about.

The horizon was flat, dark blue fading into an almost white sky. She could see no mountains, no shorelines, and after a while, even the line faded away as her eyes glazed over, full of dreams and not reality.

"Land ho!"

Jinji snapped back to attention, her head twisting to the noise. She had no notion of how much time had passed, but her body felt stiff and stuck. Rhen was nowhere in sight. But one of the crew was in the crow's nest, pointing straight ahead.

Looking out to sea, Jinji scanned the blue water but could find nothing. And then there, right in front of her eyes, was a golden shimmer, a slight spark like a flame in the distance, almost like the first glance of the rising sun. Could it possibly be?

"Have you ever seen the Golden Isles?" A voice asked, deep and unfamiliar. She spun, tearing her eyes away from the view.

It was an Ourthuri. Eyes scanning, her pupils took in the rippled and raw flesh at his wrists. Parts of the skin seemed almost the same color as her own hand. Other parts seemed a color no human flesh should hold.

He was tall, her neck hurt to look up at him, but narrow.

"I have not," Jinji answered, looking back out toward the bright bump in an otherwise smooth horizon, leaning her forearms on the ship in a relaxed pose.

"I thought so," he nodded to himself, turned to copy her body language, languidly placing his own arms to the rail. 

"Why?"

"You do not look like the others, and until today, you did not dress like them. You were not made for the sea like these men."

"No," she responded quietly, sadly, thinking of the trees and the grass.

"At first I thought perhaps you were Ourthuri, but you do not look or sound like us either. And you just said you have never been to the isles."

"I am Arpapajo," Jinji told him, ignoring the cloud of confusion that drifted over his features. "My name is Jin."

"I am called nothing now." He stood taller, bringing his hands behind his back, out of eyesight, a pose both strong and suffered. "But I was once Mikzahooq."

"Where did your name go? I don't understand," Jinji said. How could his name just be stolen away? Erased? Her people were gone, her life shattered, but her name was one thing no one could steal.

"Then you are definitely not from the isles." 

That seemed like a very good thing, Jinji suspected, shivering as she caught sight of his mangled hands once more. The isles did not seem like a very forgiving place, though now, growing in her eyes, sparkling like the gems on Rhen's clothes, she did not see why a place so beautiful should be anything but good.

Though
, she thought with a smirk,
looks can be deceiving. Everyone aboard thinks I'm a man.

"Why do they shine like that?"

"Those islands are not made of plants and dirt like Whylkin, but of metal and rock. They leap from the ocean, harsh and jagged, as though knifing their way through the waters. The edges are steep cliffs, full of silver and gold and copper, and when the sun hits them, well, you can see." He shrugged, eyes glued to the sight even though he had likely seen it a thousand times. There was something wary in his expression, but nostalgic too.

Minding his words, Jinji turned to look over her shoulder. It was true, she hadn’t even realized it, but the sun had crossed overhead, starting the slow descent back down to the earth. The deeper it sunk, the more brilliant the islands before them became.

"And that is why you were chopping down my trees?" She asked, flashing back to the first time she and Rhen had met, a memory she wasn't fond of reliving. But remove the men, the deaths, the pain, and she could still envision her trees, mutilated and chopped to pieces. Stacks and stacks of them, more than any man should use in a lifetime. A waste.

"Not me." He grinned, stepping back playfully as if whipped from her tongue. "But yes, I believe that is what I was meant to do when our ship arrived. Steal trees and animals that cannot grow or survive on islands made of gold."

"But why steal?" It was not a term she was used to, but neither was
gold
, or
ship
or anything that had seemingly transitioned into daily vocabulary for her.
Money. War. Steal
. All things the Arpapajo had no use for, but the rest of the world seemed all too eager to discuss.

"That is for kings to know." He shook his head. "Not me."

"Why not?"

He laughed, a deep baritone that vibrated through her chest, catching her off guard. "You ask a lot of questions. You always seem so quiet. I didn't realize what I was in for."

Jinji bit down on her cheeks to keep from smiling and to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. "So much of this world is new to me."

"And I thought your friend put you up to it. He is also a man with a lot of questions. Too many."

At his mention, Rhen popped into Jinji's peripheral vision, his eyes boring into the side of her head. She felt them there, staring at her. A tingle spread down her neck, stretching across her back and to her fingertips, an awareness. She shifted slightly, so his body was no longer in view, but that did nothing to calm the nerves cascading down her limbs.

Had time run out?

She coughed and swallowed, gripping the banister tightly, trying to focus on the islands still coming into view. A second had poked through the horizon, to the left of the first, close behind it. 

A thought popped into her head as she silently stared ahead. Maybe she asked so many questions to avoid giving many answers. Maybe she could use that against Rhen.

Maybe.

Her gaze flicked to the Ourthuri, his deep brown eyes were studying her, trying to read her reaction. They were almost black, she realized, but there was no sign of the shadow there.

"You do not seem happy to be going home," she said quietly. A crease surfaced in his olive skin, just above his brow. He released a long breath, looking through Jinji and not at her.

"I have no home."

A feeling she knew well. But surely the Ourthuri were still alive, unlike her people. She couldn’t help but wonder what could be so bad that this man was an outcast to his family, his land? But she held her tongue. There was a haunt hovering over him that she did not want to awaken.

"So what will you do?" What did other people who had no home do? Did they travel the world looking for answers that might never come? Or was that just her?

"I will die," he said simply, matter-of-factly, as if there were no other outcome. His eyes sharpened, retreating from his glassy vision, returning from his memories. "It is not as frightening once you've accepted it," he added quietly, voice wavering.

Before she could ask the question burning her lips, he nodded his head, a quiet goodbye. And then he was gone, walking away and back to the group of three men who also looked out of place on this ship.

Who is going to kill you?

She wanted to ask it, almost spoke it loudly into the wind to make him turn around. Somehow, it felt important to get the answer, to push for one.

Jinji lifted her foot and prepared to go after him when a hand clamped over hers, trapping her fingers against the ship.

"Nice chat?"

Rhen.

And he felt like fire. His skin burned, flames against her palm, as though the spirits had awakened upon contact.

Jinji yelped, pulled back, but Rhen would not release his grip.