Sky Breaker (Night Spinner Duology), Addie Thorley [100 books to read in a lifetime txt] 📗

I hold my breath and wait. The thief was well ahead of me. Almost out of range. But after five long seconds, the night rebounds with a snap. The stolen tendrils slingshot back to my hands and a shrill cry rends the night. An intense, visceral shudder works through me—the feeling of a thousand scorpions scuttling down my limbs.

If you’re not Enebish the Destroyer, why do screams still follow you?

It takes me much longer than I’d like to reach the wreckage. Long enough that my impressive attack will have lost most of its impact, but I eventually catch up with the thief. They’re dragging themselves through the sand on hands and knees. The ravaged ball of starfire smolders behind them, churning noxious white smoke into the air.

I don’t bother shrouding myself in darkness. There’s no point.

“I can’t believe you thought you could steal from us without consequence,” I say, my voice cold and hard. “Or beat me at my own game.”

The thief glances back and squeals. They hoist themselves to their feet and try to run, but the starfire grazed their left calf, leaving a long strip of shiny red skin. Burned to the bone.

“Stay back!” they yell, reaching skyward.

I freeze, bracing for a return volley of starfire. But the pricks of light above us barely quiver. “You don’t know how to call them, do you?” A twinge of laughter creeps into my voice.

The thief grumbles and surges forward, but thanks to their newly inflicted injuries, they’re no longer faster than I am. We limp on and on and on through the desert. My thighs burn and sand collects in the corners of my lips, but with every excruciating step, I manage to close the distance. I’m so focused on catching them, I don’t realize we’ve scaled a series of switchbacks and crossed a flat stretch of rock, until the thief drops into a square hole cut into the earth.

My heart stutters with disbelief as I peer over the edge—at the long colonnades and sandstone altar. At the ornate mosaic walls and hand-carved columns. A place our scouts swore they couldn’t find. A place they claimed doesn’t exist.

Sawtooth Mesa.

“Wait!” I cry, my mind scrambling.

The thief limps on.

I leap into the temple without considering the drop, and land in a painful crouch. Zaps of electricity climb my injured leg like wasps, but they’re easy to ignore. My entire body is tingling. Buzzing with newfound energy. I take off after the thief’s retreating shadow, more determined than ever to catch them.

They knew the way to the temple of the kings, which means they are Verdenese. And of high rank. They could know something about King Minoak.

The sandstone altar, on which every king of Verdenet has been tattooed, dominates the center of the space. The thief ducks under it and streaks into the colonnades beyond, which are made of intricately patterned orange and white tiles. When standing close, they depict small scenes of life in Verdenet. But when viewed as a whole, they turn into an impressive mural of the Lady and Father. Down the length of each wall, there are at least twenty doors that undoubtedly lead to twice as many halls. It could take weeks to find the thief once they disappear inside—if I ever do.

“Wait! I just want to talk to you!” I gasp.

Labored, breathy laughter trails from the thief. “You nearly took off my leg! I’m not interested in talking to you.”

Their voice is higher than I anticipated. Softer too. It makes me pause for half a second before spitting, “If you don’t stop, I’ll obliterate the temple!” I thrust my hand skyward, praying they can’t see how much my arm is trembling. I don’t want to destroy this sacred place—not to mention throw away the only lead we’ve had in weeks—but they’ve seen too much. They’re plainly up to something.

They halt, eyes popped wide in the darkness. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Their heavy breath fills the quiet.

“Answer my questions, and I’ll be merciful.”

Still no response.

“This isn’t an invitation; it’s a demand!” I yell, tugging a bolt of starfire closer.

The thief remains silent, but behind us, a second voice calls, “Ziva, is that you?”

This voice is deeper and accompanied by the shuffle of much heavier feet. I whip around, looking for a second assailant, but to my surprise, the thief—Ziva—shouts, “Stay hidden!”

That only makes the pounding footsteps quicken. “Why? What’s wrong?” The questions are cut off by a grating cough.

“Run!” Ziva screams. “As deep into the temple as you can! I’ll find you when it’s safe.”

“You won’t be finding anyone if you’re dead,” I cut in—loud enough for her accomplice to hear.

“Ziva!” the unseen voice cries again, closer. I widen my stance, spread my fingers, and stare down each bejeweled doorway as if a lion might leap out.

It turns out to be a fairly accurate prediction.

A dark shape emerges from a door to my right—large and broad with filthy sand-crusted furs draped over bare shoulders and bloodshot eyes peering through a tangle of hair. They even roar as they charge at me.

Tingles ignite my throat and my palm sizzles as I grip the starfire tighter.

Ziva tries to erect a protective wall of night around the man, but it doesn’t affect my vision in the slightest. He, however, trips in the sudden dark and crashes into a pillar. As he crumples to the ground, moaning and clutching his side, Ziva throws herself in front of him. Though, it’s a needless sacrifice.

The starfire is already slipping through my slackened fingers, drifting back up to the heavens as I squint at the mewling figure.

The man might be wearing the rags of a beggar, but he has long gray hair the color of storm clouds and thick-muscled legs that are covered in tattoos from knee to ankle, and the golden rings climbing the ridge of his left ear are almost too numerous to count, especially as he thrashes in pain.

But I do count. All the way