Storm of Locusts (The Sixth World, #2)

by Rebecca Roanhorse

I know the rest of the sword is four feet long, its blade forged from the raw lightning that the sun gifted to his son as a weapon. His son who was once my mentor, once the only man I ever thought I’d love. But I tricked that man, trapped him and imprisoned him in the earth. I know I didn’t have a choice, that it was either him or me. And as much as I loved him, I loved myself just a little bit more.

“So this White Locust guy thinks he’s . . . what? Scouting for a new world?” “Something like that,” he admits. “Says the Big Water was some kind of moral punishment and it’s his job to lead us to a new land.”

“Men like him can’t be happy with living. They got to be praying for the end of the world. They thrive on death. Convince weaker men that only they can save them, but it’s all bullshit. Don’t trust those death-dealers, no matter how sweet their words. They only want to die and take you down with them.”

What’s making you so nervous?” “What are you talking about?” he says, voice thick with irritation. “You’re fidgeting like I asked you to tell me how you feel about your mother loving her other sons the best, and you told Ben to check my straps twice.”

“She slit the throat of Coyote because he double-crossed her, and she buried alive Naayéé’ Neizghání, the hero of Dinétah, even though she really loved him. She shot a powerful medicine man through the heart. So, who are you? Who are you that she won’t slit your throat? That she won’t bury you alive? Or slice off your wings inch by inch? Or cut out your tongue out to make sure you never sing again!”

Tah sighs, long and heavy. “He was a good man.” “No, he was a complete ass,” I say, tired, “but he was my friend in the end. And I don’t have many of those.”

I love you. Don’t follow me.

Kai is smart. He would know what those six words would do to me, how they would make me want to destroy worlds to reach him, how they would send me reeling toward something as terrible as hope.

“You want to know how I got my clan powers? My nalí and I were attacked by monsters. Monsters who murdered her in front of me. They were going to murder me, too. But something happened, and they didn’t. Because I murdered them all first.” I shift in my seat. “I killed them all, Ben. Violently. Brutally. And I loved it.” “You did?” A whisper. “Never felt better in my life.” “How old were you?” she asks, her voice so soft it’s almost lost to the wind. “Fifteen.”

“Kai didn’t make Caleb volunteer for some kind of wing-implant surgery. He definitely can’t make him climb up there to be nailed to a wall. His powers don’t work that way.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I just mean that when something is part of your identity for so long, even if it’s not a good thing, it’s hard to let it go. Even if maybe you should.”

Look, just remember, Rissa’s my sister, Grace’s daughter. We love her.” “That’s your problem.” His smile becomes a full-on grin. “I suppose it is. Just try not to stab her, okay?” “I won’t unless she hits me again.” He raises his hands in surrender. “That’s all I can ask.

“I thought you were turning over a new leaf,” Rissa says to me. “Trying not to kill people.” “I was, but that was yesterday. Today, with the whole captured and drugged thing? I’m feeling pretty aggro.” Rissa gestures to Aaron like there’s nothing she can do.

“And how is that different from rape?” Rissa asks. “How is that different from what your two buddies were thinking they could do to us?” He looks genuinely taken aback. “It’s marriage. She’ll have babies, raise a family.” “And what if she doesn’t want any of that?!” “All women want that.” Rissa and I exchange a look over Aaron’s shoulder. He shakes his head, clearly confused.

“Not you. No one would believe you as a fine lady. But Ms. Goodacre . . .” He turns and gives Rissa a little bow. I feel like I should be offended, but I’m so far from offended. Being a fine lady sounds like a fucking nightmare.

“I knew what he was doing was dangerous,” she says. “I should have told my mom. She would have stopped him. He would have listened to her. But I didn’t. I’ll always regret that. I’ll always wish I had said something. To Mom, to Clive. If I had, maybe Cletus would be alive right now.” “Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Maybe he would have done it anyway.” She blows out a breath, nods without making a sound. “We all carry sins, Rissa.” The tone of his voice is heavy with the surety of his wrongdoing. “Some carry a heavier burden than others, but none of us are clean.”

“That won’t be necessary. Your fame, Godslayer, precedes you.” That name again. “Where did you hear that name?” I ask. “On the tongue of a dying angel, from the mouth of a storm king. It is known.”

“She told me what happened to her as a bride at Knifetown.” Something seizes up in my chest. “Don’t tell me . . .” “No, nothing like that,” she says, looking back at Aaron again. “But it was bad enough. Poked and prodded and graded. Bishop gave each bride a freaking grade, like a side of beef. That’s how he set their reserve price. Grade B would sell for less than an A. . . .” I wave my hand, disgusted. “I get it.” “It was humiliating. Awful. But no one . . . violated her.”

I watch as he tilts his head back, pushing his hair from his face with long, elegant fingers, familiar turquoise rings catching the light. And God help me, my heart does a little flip-flop. It’s not that I’d forgotten the effect he has on me, the sort of otherworldly beauty he possesses. But maybe I had forgotten how susceptible I was to it.

I have to ask. “Did you remember . . . ?” “That you shot me?” He says it lightly, but I can almost taste the undercurrent of bitterness. “Yes,” he says, lowering his eyes, “but I remember that I let you.” I smile, thin and pained. “It was the only way. Neizghání would have never—” “I know,” he says gently. “I remember it all now.” “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “There’s no reason to be sorry. We agreed. I agreed.”

“I . . . I made the deal to help Gideon with his work so Caleb could go home, and Gideon promised. I would have never, Maggie. If I’d known, I would have never.” “I know.” At least I think I know. I know the old Kai would have never, so I have to believe this Kai wouldn’t either. “Is he . . . ?” “He was with Clive, headed back to Tah when I last saw him.” Kai stiffens. A shudder rocks his body, and he bends at the waist, head between his knees like he’s going to be sick. His cigarette drops forgotten from shaking fingers. “Are you okay?” I ask, alarmed, reaching for him out of instinct. His back trembles under my hand. “Kai? Kai! What’s wrong?” “What did you say?” he asks, voice thick. “About my cheii?” He doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t know. “He’s alive. Tah is alive.”

“No, Kai. He’s alive. And he’s waiting for you.” I rush on, scared that if I stop, I won’t say it. “I’ve been waiting for you too. Both of us. You have family in Dinétah. That’s your home.” “But Gideon said . . .” He trails off, shaking his head. I have a feeling Gideon has said a lot of things. Kai looks at me, and there’s something different about his posture, something of the man I know. But it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. “What’s going on, Kai?” I ask, suspicious. Because that look. I know that look. “I think I may be a fool, Maggie,” he whispers to me. “I think everything I’ve done may end up being for nothing.”

I was hoping you had some insight. For example, why do they build a wall to keep some men out? Why do they favor one woman over another? If all Diné are their children . . . if even I am their child, as you so kindly pointed out, and we all belong to the land, then why am I left to suffer and rot while others prosper?”

“Maybe your Kai has his own plans,” Aaron cuts in. “Rissa said he was an accomplished liar. Maybe he’s a spy on the inside.”

One deep breath and I pull the sword free in one smooth motion. Lightning curls around the blade, sending tiny sparks in the darkness. Lightning wraps around my hand where I grip the leather hilt and lightning dances up my wrist all the way to my elbow. It doesn’t burn. It just . . . waits. It feels like contained energy, eager for me to direct it. Just like Tó said it would. I straighten and breathe deep as the energy flows through my body. I can feel my wounds knitting closed, my headache clearing, Gideon’s drugs melting out of my bloodstream. “Damn,” Rissa whispers, her voice full of awe. “You’re glowing,” Aaron murmurs. “Not just glowing,” Ben adds. “You’re on fire.” “Your skin,” Rissa says. I raise an arm and see that my skin has in fact taken on a deep blue glow. “And all the cuts are gone. Even your head.”

“I got no love for my brother. He and I parted in the worst of ways. Me on my feet and him bearing a dozen cuts from my knife, bleeding him out.” “Something you regret,” I say, pushing back. “Something I regret,” he says, nodding. “A man shouldn’t knife his brother, no matter his offense. But me regretting ain’t going to change a thing. He needed to die then, and seems like he needs to die now.”

In the light of the new sun they look like shining drops of dew strewn along the face of the concrete like jewels on a necklace. One every fifty feet or so, moving steadily down the face of the dam like drops of rain against a windowpane. Every once in a while a drop of pearlescent dew breaks free, shattering the beauty of the scene with a sudden violence as it goes rolling down the wall headlong. A quickening plummet, faster, faster, until the tiny pearl-like figure ruptures against the rocky shallows hundreds of feet below. And as I watch, others are tossed back and forth across the vertical surface of the dam, caught in crosswind. Their strange ballet is mesmerizing until I realize what I’m looking at. And that those shiny dewdrops aren’t dewdrops at all.

“Your life means more to me than his death. Does that make sense?”