The Towers of Xakya

CHAPTER 1

Tonight’s mission would be child’s play—intercepting a cargo of Zoyers on the open road was a hell of a lot easier than breaking them out of their heavily guarded prisons. Less planning. Less risks. Less death.

I just wished the wagon would show up.

A flash of lightning cracked the obsidian sky and illuminated the shivering shapes of my companions lying in wait in the ditch. I blinked the rain from my eyes and muttered another curse—I’d had enough of this swamp already.

Arli, my commander, an ex-Xakyan soldier with three missing fingers, shifted beside me and exhaled a frustrated cloud of breath. ‘Can anyone see them?’ he shouted, over the howling wind.

A selection of forearms, including mine and his, glowed in response as the Gifted members of his crew summoned their powers and peered into the darkness. A few heartbeats later, he had reaped a bunch of dejected nos.

Kavran’s voice cut through the storm from the ditch across the road. ‘Get Mylo to try again,’ he shouted. ‘He can reach further than all of us.’

Pride swelled inside me. At seventeen, I was the youngest member of the crew and had only recently started to master the Gift. I had a long way to go, but everyone agreed my raw power made up for my lack of experience. Arli turned to face me. ‘Give it another go,’ he said. ‘Use your hearing this time.’

I closed my eyes and took a few, deep breaths—a familiar warmth swept through me as the Gift pulsed through my veins. I reached into the deeper layers of my mind, searching for that perfect stillness that would allow me to bend it to my will. I hit the spot almost immediately and directed the energy to my hearing, bracing myself for the cacophony of sounds that would invade my head: howling winds, swollen creaks, scurrying animals…

I sifted through them slowly, methodically, searching for something, anything, that might give the convoy away. And there it was, barely audible even to my enhanced hearing: the clopping of horses, the creaking of wheels over the stone-paved road, the barking of the soldiers ordering the Zoyers to be quiet…

Arli’s voice cut through my trance. ‘So?’ he asked.

I snapped my eyes open and met his questioning stare. The smile tugging at the corner of my lips told him all he needed to know.

***

When I returned to Skeleton Cove in the early hours of the morning, the remnants of the storm hung in the air—black clouds trampled across the stars, and the usually calm waters of the pirate hideout were a threatening expanse of roaring waves and choppy swells. Two schooners and a brig that should have lifted anchor the day before were still docked at the small pier, a sickly moon watching over them.

The storm may have prevented the pirates from leaving, but it certainly hadn’t prevented them from partying—the beach was alive with bonfires, lewd songs, and rowdy crews with enough rum in their system to be immune to the biting winds.

A Kalankoree quartermaster stumbled into my path. I caught him by the scruff of the neck and saved him from falling into a pile of embers. His dilated pupils told me he was as high as a crow’s nest; the small, corked vial sticking out of his fist confirmed it. I instinctively engaged my Gifted vision—a familiar green liquid stared back at me. Nyx. Half a vial left. My heartbeat quickened. Half a vial. Enough to… Before my mind could wander, I yanked it back. Don’t even think about it, Mylo. You’re clean now.

The pirate cursed—whether at me or the embers I wasn’t sure—and mumbled something about looking for a brothel. I ignored him and walked off. I just wanted him out of my sight. I just wanted it out of my sight. And yet, I was still thinking about it as I strode up the windy path leading to Kyso’s cabin to brief her on the outcome of the mission. The uneven slats of her porch creaked under my boots as I reached her weathered front door. I pushed it open and let myself in.

A crackling fire was burning in the hearth and Kyso was sitting at her desk, poring over the coded messages that her trusted network of spies delivered from every corner of the Xakyan kingdom—sometimes in person, sometimes by messenger birds. I often wondered how she managed to do it all: running Skeleton Cove with an iron fist, overseeing the insurgence against King Jefor, teaching me how to master the Gift. She looked up, unbound hair framing her heart-shaped face and mingling with the faint scar running from her cheekbone to her mouth. Her lips stretched into a smile so beautiful it was almost hypnotic.

A plinking noise made me look down. The rain had seeped through my clothes, and they were dripping onto the floor. Before I could unfasten my cloak, Kyso flew into my arms and buried her face into my chest. ‘You’re back,’ she said, her voice as hypnotic as her smile.

I hugged her tight, soaked in her warmth, pressed my lips to the top of her head. She smelled of jasmine, and magnolia, and of everything that was good in my life. When she pulled away, the sparkle in her grey eyes had been replaced by concern. ‘Did everything go according to plan?’ she asked. ‘Was the intel correct?’

‘Intel was perfect.’ I draped my sodden cloak over a chair and dragged it in front of the fire. ‘The Xakyan soldiers didn’t expect to be attacked by a bunch of Gifted. By the time they reacted, it was too late.’

‘Did we lose anyone?’ she asked, voice laced with tension.

My jacket felt like a shoal of wet fish. I peeled it off and hung it on a peg on the wall. ’No, but Arli was caught by an energy blast.’

Alarm flashed across her features. ‘Who drove the Zoyers’ wagon to the docks, then?’

‘Arli insisted on doing it himself.’ I kicked my boots off. They landed on the floor with a soft thud. ‘I wanted to take over, but he ordered me to stand down. He took Jarkko and Kavran with him.’

Her posture relaxed. She tracked my movements as I loosened the laces of my damp shirt and slipped it over my head, exposing a wiry chest lined with the collection of scars I’d amassed growing up in Traxia’s notorious Seventh District. ‘He doesn’t trust me,’ I continued, throwing my shirt to the side. ‘He never picks me for the dock runs. He never picks me for… anything.’

She shook a blanket open and draped it over my bare shoulders. ‘Give him time,’ she said, straightening the raw stone pendant hanging from my neck. ‘Insurgents aren’t the trusting kind.’

Frustration took over. ‘I’ve been clean five months, Kyso! How much longer does he need?’

She squeezed the sides of my arms. ‘You can’t blame him for being cautious. Lives are at stake.’

I sank onto the edge of her bed and rubbed the tiredness from my eyes. The coffee pot hanging in the fireplace gurgled and spluttered. Kyso unhooked it from the cooking crane and poured me a mug.

‘Where will tonight’s Zoyers be taken?’ I asked, nursing it between my hands to warm myself up.

‘To Grimstone Rock, like the others,’ she replied, referring to the craggy island off the Xakyan coast where she housed the newly freed Zoyers until they got their strength back. ‘Ships avoid it like the plague on account of its shallow waters. They’ll be safe there.’

I let the coffee roll down my throat. Safe. I loved the sound of that word. I hadn’t felt safe since my mother had died five years earlier. With no father to turn to, a life of crime in the Seventh had been my only option. My friendship with Skye had given me a sense of belonging, but I’d never felt safe. Not until now. In a pirate hideout of all places. I glanced around the cabin—the crackling fire, the gurgling coffee pot, the ginger cat curled up on the threadbare carpet where I did my breathing exercises, Kyso…

Her dedication to our kind never ceased to amaze me. Freeing every Zoyer in Xakya was just the beginning. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before the Great War, when being Gifted wasn’t a crime and we lived in peace alongside the Ungifted. But she’d have to depose King Jefor first.

According to her spies inside the royal palace, the king was becoming more erratic by the day, and even his closest advisors were beginning to doubt his ability to rule. I’d often wondered how she had managed to get contacts in such high places, but knew better than to ask. Her organisation was built on a cell structure and each crew operated on a strictly need-to-know basis. It was supposed to be a security measure—if anyone got caught, they couldn’t give the rest of the organisation away—but I sometimes resented being left in the dark.

I watched her as she joined the cat on the threadbare carpet and started braiding her hair for the night—fingers moving in perfect harmony, as if playing a silent instrument. There was something incredibly soothing about it. Something incredibly soothing about her. I drained the rest of my coffee and set the mug on the bedside table.

‘Dark thoughts?’ she asked, securing the end of her braid with a piece of string.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me and sank into its warmth. ‘Nice ones, actually.’

She hooked an eyebrow. Smiled. ‘Care to share?’

‘I was picturing what it could be like. Living a normal life. Not having to hide what we are.’

She joined me on the edge of the bed, rested her head on my shoulder. ‘Hold that dream. We’ll get there.’

I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressed my lips to her forehead. I had come to her at my lowest, and she had pieced me back together. If I finally had a future to look forward to, I owed it to her: she had taught me to master the Gift, been there for me as I battled my addiction, given me purpose when I had none, loved me without asking for anything in return. Until now.

Our relationship had started out as a casual affair—no strings, no commitments—but after nearly four months together, she needed more. And I wasn’t sure I could give it to her. I cursed my feelings for being such a tangled mess; cursed myself for not loving her with the right intensity. Or maybe I did, and this was how true love felt. Uncomplicated. Comforting. Safe. A golden sunrise that brings a smile to your face, rather than a pink streaked one that takes your breath away.

A draught sneaked through the cabin’s uneven logs and blew the candle out. ‘Maybe the gods want us to go to bed,’ mused Kyso.

I scrubbed a hand across my face. ‘Sounds good. I’m exhausted.’

She snuggled closer and nibbled the side of my ear. ‘The gods haven’t said anything about sleeping…’

A grin found its way onto my tired lips. ‘Then we’d better not upset them.’

Her giggles tickled my neck. She pulled me towards her, and we melted into a kiss.

CHAPTER 2

The ramming on the door woke me with a jolt. Pirates are the volatile kind, and it wasn’t unusual for Kyso to be woken up in the middle of the night to settle drunken disputes.

‘Send them away,’ she mumbled against my chest. ‘I’ll deal with it in the morning.’

I entangled myself from her embrace and tied a blanket around my hips. My pistol was resting on the bedside table. I grabbed it just in case, lifted the latch, and swung the door open. The figure standing on the porch could have spooked a lesser man—translucent skin, hair so blond it bordered on white, eyes as piercing as shards of ice. The thick fog that had come in from the sea made Kalmar’s ghostly features even more unnerving than usual.

I blinked in confusion. What the hell was he doing on Kyso’s porch? The Rogue Wave hadn’t been docked at the small pier when I returned last night, and Kyso hadn’t said a thing about him or Phoenix being here.

If he was surprised to find me at Kyso’s, he didn’t show it. He just surveyed my outfit—or lack thereof—and snorted. ‘At least one of us is having a good night,’ he said, in his thick Laskian accent. ‘Get dressed, lover boy. I need you.’

In the short time I’d known him, he had never asked me for anything. I took in the dark rings under his icy blue eyes, his dishevelled hair, the pool of water his dripping clothes had left on the porch. Had he just sailed in? On a night like this? Granted, as a Tempestii he could control winds and currents, but sailing in these conditions was dangerous by anyone’s standards. I searched the fog behind him for Phoenix’s presence—they were practically joined at the hip—and came up empty. An ominous feeling crept into my bones.

‘Where’s Phoenix?’ I asked.

He fixed me with a grave stare. ‘Taken.’

The blood froze in my veins. At the tender age of nineteen, Phoenix was the most feared pirate of the Great Sea, wanted across the Six Kingdoms. For pirates like him, “taken” was nothing but an antechamber to the gallows. Kyso, who had materialised next to me in a woollen tunic that reached just above her knees, ushered Kalmar inside and sat him on a stool in front of the fire. ‘When and where?’ she asked him, pouring him a large glass of rum, which he drained in one go.

‘Three days ago, Traxia.’ He pushed his empty glass towards her for a refill. ‘The royal guards took him to Black Raven.’

I frowned. Black Raven, a low-security prison on the outskirts of the Sixth District, housed petty thieves and small-time criminals. ‘Why would they take him to Black Raven?’ I asked Kalmar. ‘Pirates are thrown in Iron Bolt, with the murderers and the cutthroats.’

‘He wasn’t arrested on piracy charges.’

I frowned harder. ‘What was he arrested for?’

‘Breaking the curfew.’

I blinked. ‘He was arrested on land?’

He scrubbed the exhaustion from his face. ‘Yep.’

Kyso and I exchanged puzzled glances. Phoenix hardly ever left his ship, even when his crew made port. On the few occasions he set foot on dry land, he stuck to the taverns of the Seventh, where the watchmen had given up enforcing the curfew. Mind you, that was five months earlier. Leni’s marriage to Prince Balian had effectively put Traxia under Golden Army control—maybe things had changed.

Kalmar carried on. ‘He bought himself some time by giving the guards a false name. If you ask me, Iklan Numri sucks, but I guess he wasn’t in a creative mood with a rifle pointed to his head.’

Kyso gasped. ‘You were there? And you didn’t help him?’

Her disdain washed right over Kalmar. ‘There was nothing I could do,’ he said flatly. ‘Too many guards.’

I didn’t judge him. In life-or-death situations, practicality often trumps honour, but Kyso was righteousness personified—leaving a man behind was unthinkable.

My brain raced through Phoenix’s grim options. ‘It’s only a matter of time before someone recognises him,’ I said. ‘And then he’s heading straight to the gallows.’

Kalmar’s eyes cut through me. ‘That’s exactly why I’m here. I need your help breaking him out of Black Raven.’

I didn’t even have to think about it. I owed Phoenix too much. He’d saved my life on more than one occasion and introduced me to a secret world where runaway Gifted lived among the Ungifted. He’d also introduced me to Kyso. In a way, he’d been the catalyst for my rebirth. ‘How soon do you want to leave?’ I asked Kalmar.

‘Sunrise,’ he replied, getting to his feet. ‘I need to rest my crew.’

Kyso stepped forward. ‘Mylo’s not ready,’ she told him. ‘Take Asiw and Setros instead. They’re not as powerful, but they’re much more experienced.’

My jaw twitched—she was so used to being in charge, she often forgot I was perfectly able to make my own decisions.

‘It’s not his powers I’m interested in,’ said Kalmar. ‘It’s his knowledge.’

Kyso frowned. ‘What knowledge?’

‘Mylo was born and raised in Revi,’ replied Kalmar, referring to the Traxian capital. ‘He knows the city like the palm of his hand.’

‘Setros lived in Revi for a few years,’ insisted Kyso. ‘He can find his way around it just as well.’

‘Setros wasn’t a smuggler,’ I said. ‘I know every shortcut, every waterway, every hiding place.’ Every nyx den. I cast the thought from my head and carried on. ‘I also did a short stint in Black Raven on smuggling charges, so I know my way around the prison too.’

Kyso shook her head. ‘There’s got to be another way.’

‘There isn’t,’ I said firmly, and then to Kalmar: ‘I’ll see you at sunrise.’

He nodded once and sloshed out, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake. Outside the window, the darkness was beginning to lift. I’d pack and get some rest—we’d be sailing in stormy seas, and I doubted I’d get much sleep on the Wave. I grabbed my satchel and crouched by the trunk at the foot of the bed. The lid groaned as I flipped it open. My crumpled clothes came into view, next to Kyso’s neatly folded ones. Behind me, a board creaked. Her bare feet appeared in my field of vision. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said.

‘If anyone can break Phoenix out of Black Raven, it’s me,’ I replied, rolling up a spare shirt and shoving it into my satchel. ‘I’m going.’

‘You’re not ready, Mylo.’

I looked up. ‘If this was one of your missions, you wouldn’t hesitate to send me in.’

‘This is different.’

I stood. ‘How?’

She shot me a pointed stare. ‘You know how.’

I spread my hands, tried to keep the frustration from my voice. ‘I’ve been nyx-free five months now.’