Nemesis

by Kat Ross

  “Farrumohr was driven out, but some part of him remained. Since that day, Culach has been plagued by dreams.”

  “Nightmares, you mean. I had to listen to them,” Katrin replied ruefully. “His cell was next to mine.”

  “He said he dreamed of Gaius when he was young. Before the Sundering.”

  “Does it mean anything?”

  “It might.” Nazafareen rubbed her stump. “Just don’t ask me what.”

  Katrin took her sword out and began to sharpen it with a whetstone. “I don’t trust the Vatra.”

  “I think he told the truth. He wants Gaius dead. But no, I don’t trust him either.” She stared at Nicodemus, his hair bright against the shadowtongue cloak. “He’s lying about something, I can feel it.”

  “Want me to make him talk?” Katrin sounded eager.

  “Not yet. I don’t think he’s an immediate danger.” She yawned. “I suppose we’d better get some rest.”

  Rhea and Katrin rigged up a shelter with their blankets and sat cross-legged, talking quietly. Nazafareen lay down with her head on Darius’s shoulder, face turned away from the endless sun.

  “I keep thinking about Victor,” he said. “He loved Delilah more than anything in the world.”

  Nazafareen wondered if it was easier for Darius to focus on Victor’s anguish rather than his own. “I know.”

  “When he finds out, he’ll lose his mind.”

  “I’ll bring him Gaius’s heart.”

  His voice was sad. “That won’t help. It won’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  Darius didn’t reply, but she sensed fear in him and knew it wasn’t only for his father. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him there was nothing to worry about, that Gaius couldn’t harm her, but the words felt empty.

  So she rested her cheek on the cuff around her stump, making sure it was far from Darius’s bare skin, and fell into an uneasy slumber.

  Nicodemus scanned the horizon, alert for any hint of movement. He didn’t expect to encounter any of his people so far east—the hunting was poor in the middle of the Kiln—but there were other things to be wary of.

  Nazafareen wasn’t what he had expected. He’d sensed genuine sympathy when he showed his scars, yet he couldn’t shake the memory of her at the Gate. The look on her face—as pitiless and cruel as Gaius. He glanced over to where she slept curled in her cloak. Only the Danai remained awake. His cold blue eyes meet Nico’s.

  He doesn’t trust me. Well, I wouldn’t either.

  Nico had spoken the truth when he held the staff. Its magic bound him as surely as anyone else. But he did manage to omit a few things.

  Like the fact that he’d seen Gaius take mortal injuries and survive—more than once.

  If he’d told Nazafareen, she might have had second thoughts. And she was his only chance.

  When he judged four hours had passed, Nicodemus stood, signaling to Darius with a nod that he should wake the others. They continued the trek south. Before long, Nazafareen caught up and slowed her pace to walk beside him.

  “How much farther?”

  “About thirty leagues.”

  She was quiet for a minute. “What’s your brother’s name?”

  He glanced at her. His right eye still stung like hell and probably looked a horror.

  “Atticus.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Sixteen now.”

  If he lives.

  “Why didn’t you take him with you?”

  Nico’s mouth set. “Atticus was always frail, prone to illness. When he was ten, he caught a fever. It left him with a twisted leg.” He touched his face. “And it did something to his muscles. They droop on the right side. He’s a smart kid, but he never would have made it across the Kiln.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Nico drew a breath. “With Gaius.”

  He saw Nazafareen’s shocked look. “No one else would take him in. They could barely feed themselves.” His mouth twisted. “Of course, Gaius didn’t want him either. Said he was useless. Domitia wheedled and begged. She’s the only one he ever had a soft spot for. He finally relented.”

  In truth, they’d only survived at all because Domitia brought them food until Nico grew old enough to provide for himself. She’d dump a carcass outside the burrow and slip away, though he knew it was her.

  “It was leave him with a monster or leave him to certain death. I chose the first.”

  Atticus had begged Nico not to go. He was terrified of being left behind with Gaius. But they both knew he wouldn’t survive the harsh journey across the Kiln. And finding a way out was his only chance. Nico had nearly died a hundred times searching for food and water. One day, he wouldn’t return to their burrow. It was only a matter of time. When Domitia proposed they seek out the gates and try to revive one, he’d grasped at the chance.

  But he still remembered his last glimpse of Atticus, standing beside the hole into Gaius’s burrow, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

  The guilt ate at him every single day.

  Nazafareen nodded to herself. “That’s the real reason you want me to kill Gaius.” She gave him a shrewd look. “So you can get your brother back.”

  Nico said nothing.

  “It’s been two years and even if he’s alive, Gaius might not let him go. He could have poisoned his mind—”

  “Don’t.”

  She fell silent, then said quietly, “He could be like Domitia now. That’s what you’re afraid of.”

  Nico felt a surge of irritation that she’d read him so well. He should have kept his mouth shut.

  “I know what you think of her. That she’s pure fucking evil.” His lips curved in a sardonic smile. “I’ve thought the same more than once. But she saw herself as a force for right.”

  Nazafareen snorted.

  “Gaius says the other clans tried to enslave us,” Nico persisted. He knew now it was all bullshit, but some perverse part of him wanted to needle her. “To force us to make talismans—”

  “That’s a lie! The war started over a woman. A Danai. Gaius wanted her and she didn’t want him. So he burned her lands and then he turned on the others.”

  Nicodemus blinked. “Who told you that?”

  “A Valkirin at Val Moraine. He had visions. He saw the war, through the eyes of Gaius’s chief advisor.”

  “The Viper?”

  “Yes.”

  Nicodemus thought of the mortal accounts he’d read at the Temple of Apollo. They didn’t mention a woman, but they did say the Vatras had invaded without provocation.

  “We may never know what really happened,” he said wearily. “I’m not sure it even matters anymore.”

  Nazafareen scowled. “Of course it matters.”

  “My point is that Domitia didn’t know any of that.” He looked at Nazafareen. “If you were her, you might have done the same.”

  She looked outraged. “I’d never kill innocent people.”

  “They weren’t innocent to Domitia.” He shrugged. “Believe what you wish. But she told me once that she thought you were alike, and I think she was right.”

  “She burned people alive in the brazen bull! People she accused of witchcraft. She only did it to spread fear. To stoke their hatred of the other clans so they wouldn’t object when she enslaved and killed them.”

  He gave her a cockeyed grin. “I never said she was perfect.”

  Nazafareen snorted in disgust. “You’re despicable.”

  “And what about you? I know what you’re capable of. Maybe better than you do yourself.”

  She stiffened and strode ahead. Nico watched her go, wondering why he’d provoked her. It was a foolish impulse. She could crush him like an insect. And he needed her on his side. Needed her to trust him.

  He scanned the horizon. Talking with Nazafareen had distracted him, but now he realized they’d reached the edge of a faint bowl-shaped depression.

  “Stop!” he shouted.

  She turned back with a
questioning look, but it was too late. With a yelp, Nazafareen sank to her waist in the sands.

  24

  The Red Hills

  One instant, the ground beneath her feet was solid. The next, it collapsed like a trapdoor springing open. Nazafareen spread her arms and her descent was arrested, but she could feel how unstable the surrounding sand was. Little trickles ran toward her on all sides. Darius started to rush forward, but the Vatra flung out a hand.

  “Stay back. You’ll be swallowed too.”

  Nazafareen shifted and slid a few inches deeper.

  “Don’t struggle,” Nicodemus barked. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Darius spun toward Katrin. “Can you lift her up with air?”

  Katrin studied the sky with a faraway expression. “I’ll try.”

  The Vatra’s shadowtongue cloak stirred as a breeze rose, blowing sand into Nazafareen’s face. It had little effect on her predicament except to make it worse.

  “I’m sorry,” Katrin said after a minute. “My power isn’t what it was beyond the Gale.” She frowned. “I can still touch the clouds, they would answer me if I called, but I cannot forge bonds of air to lift her.”

  Darius cursed. “I can’t either.”

  Nicodemus pulled a rope from his pack and started to tie it around his waist.

  “I’ll go,” Darius snarled.

  “I’ve done this before,” Nicodemus said evenly. “You haven’t. I’ll just end up having to rescue both of you.”

  Darius hesitated, then gave a brusque nod.

  Nicodemus secured the rope and tossed the other end to Darius. He took a step forward, sinking to his knees. The sands shifted and she slipped lower. The sands nearly reached her chin now. The heat of them was like an oven. Their bond was muffled, but she could feel a hint of Darius’s fear.

  “Hurry,” he said, his voice tight.

  Nicodemus tested each step, his hand extended toward her. He was up to his waist now, four paces away.

  “Very slowly,” he said in a calm voice. “Try to move one arm.”

  She did. The sands gave way a little more.

  She suddenly remembered what Culach had told her about the Viper, that he was swallowed up by the desert. She wondered if it had been at this very spot.

  “How deep is the hole?” she whispered.

  “Deep. But don’t worry, I’ve—”

  The last layer collapsed. She squeezed her mouth shut, sinking down into suffocating heat. She fought the urge to breathe, but her lungs screamed for air. And then something gripped her tunic, hauling her up inch by inch until she emerged, gasping. It was Nicodemus, plastered with sand.

  “Got her,” he called.

  Darius and Rhea had the other end of the rope, and quickly hauled them both to safety. When Nazafareen’s feet touched firm ground, Darius gave a shaky smile and made the sign of the flame—a pious gesture she hadn’t seen in a long time. Nicodemus spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You’ve been here before,” Katrin snapped. “Why didn’t you bloody warn us?”

  “I only passed through it once, farther west.” His face darkened. “We lost two people.” His finger traced a line around them. “If you look closely, you’ll see the edge.”

  Nazafareen could just make out a slight subsidence, though she wouldn’t have known what it meant.

  “This area is riddled with holes. They’re covered by the wind, but the slightest pressure causes the top layer of sand to collapse.”

  “What now?” Rhea asked.

  “We go around. Follow in my footsteps.”

  Nicodemus moved cautiously, leading them west towards the blazing sun. Several times he tested the ground ahead with a rock from his pocket.

  “The wards on the Kiln dampen elemental power,” Nico said. “I expect the clans did it so we couldn’t forge talismans to escape.”

  “Wise of them,” Katrin murmured. She scratched her head. “I think I could make it rain, though I’d have to call the clouds from a long way away.”

  “Don’t,” Nico said sternly. “Unless you wish to light a signal fire for Gaius that we’re coming.”

  She scowled. “I didn’t say I would, Vatra. Only that I could.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, we might need your power yet.”

  They skirted the Sinking Sands, turning due south again. The ground grew firmer and they made faster progress. Nazafareen plodded along behind Nicodemus, her thoughts turning to Herodotus. She missed his company. He was always interesting to talk to and their conversations had made the time on the Chione pass quickly. If he were here, he would be cheerfully grilling the Vatra about his clan’s customs—what they ate and what they wore, how they made their burrows and what they used for weapons.

  With the Marakai, the questions had seemed innocuous. But out here, in the middle of this unforgiving land, the answers could be important. What if something happened to Nicodemus? She sensed he regretted telling her about his brother, but perhaps he would consent to tell her more about the Kiln.

  Nazafareen fell into step beside him.

  I must do it the way Herodotus does, she thought. With a light touch.

  “Easier walking,” she remarked.

  Nicodemus grunted.

  “I haven’t seen anything besides those wyrms. What do you hunt for food?”

  He glanced at her. “Bush rats.”

  “Oh. Where do they live?”

  “Not out here.”

  She waited for more, but his gaze had returned to the horizon.

  “Are they tasty?”

  “What?”

  “Bush rats. How do you cook them?”

  He stared straight ahead. “Oh, we make a lovely stew with peaches and wine. And honeyed cakes for dessert.”

  “You needn’t mock,” she growled. “I was only asking.”

  His mouth twitched. Nazafareen cursed her temper.

  “The Marakai eat raw fish,” she said. “And black kelp.”

  “I know.” He looked down at her. “What about your people?”

  “Mine? I….I’m not sure.”

  He looked puzzled. “How can you not know?”

  “I lost my memories,” she muttered. “All of them beyond a few months ago.”

  “How?”

  “I did it to myself.”

  “On purpose?”

  “No, by accident.” She frowned. “Why are we talking about me? I meant to—” She caught herself and fell silent.

  “Meant to what?” He seemed decidedly amused now. “Interrogate me?”

  “No.” She made a show of pulling out a water skin and taking a drink, then examining the skin. “What about water? Where do you find it?”

  Nicodemus laughed. “You’re terrible at this.”

  “This?”

  “Being subtle.”

  Nazafareen sighed. “A friend of mine is writing a book about the different cultures. More than one book, actually. A set of histories. I’d like to be able to tell him about the Vatras when I return.” She gave a small smile. “If he was here, he’d pry every last scrap out of you.”

  Nicodemus was silent for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said, “There are dunes by the sea. The Sand Hills. It’s the only place we get rain. If you dig down, the fresh water sits on top of the salt water.”

  “What’s the coast like?”

  “The waters are infested with sharks. No ship can come near because of the reefs offshore. Most of the hunting parties stay near the coast. They catch crabs and a few other things that live in the dunes.” He paused. “Gulls were the only birds I’d ever seen before I left the Kiln.”

  He answered her questions readily after that. As he spoke, Nicodemus seemed to relax a little and even enjoy himself. He carefully avoided anything personal, but it occurred to her that the last two years must have been lonely, pretending to be other than what he was. He told her where to find the handful of healing herbs that grew in the Kiln and how to track a bush r
at to its hole. He told her about the nine types of sand in the Kiln and how to treat the bite from a rock spider. He explained how to use thorns to sew a shadowtongue cloak. He said the reason the Vatras lived apart from each other was that too many together attracted predators.

  Nazafareen filed away the answers, but she soon ran out of things to ask. Beyond day-to-day survival, the Vatras had no true culture. No music or art. None of them seemed to live long except for Gaius, and their knowledge of the past came from him—all of it lies.

  Finally, she thanked him and fell back to walk beside Darius again, relating her conversation with the Vatra.

  “I want to hate them all,” she said. “I really do.”

  He looked at her shrewdly. “But you think they got a worse punishment than they deserved?”

  “I don’t know. Yes.” She sighed. “The ones who were born to this. They never had a chance.”

  “We’re not here for them,” Darius pointed out. “We’re here for Gaius. You’ll be doing his people a service, Nazafareen.”

  “That’s true. But is it enough?”

  He cast her a narrowed glance and she let it drop.

  As they moved south, the hardpan began to crack and rise up. Buttes of rock thrust from the earth like islands in a dry sea. The gullies winding between them lay in deep shadow. Nicodemus held up a hand and the party halted.

  “The Red Hills,” he said. “They were shaped by ancient rivers. Gaius’s burrow is on the other side.”

  “I don’t like it,” Darius said, studying the terrain. There were a hundred places to hide. “Why can’t we go around?”

  Nicodemus shrugged. “We can, if you’re willing to walk an extra sixty leagues or more.” He paused. “Without stopping for water. Because there isn’t any.”

  “Are the Red Hills inhabited?” Nazafareen asked warily.

  He shook his head. “No, but we must watch the skies. Drakes hunt here.”

  “You mentioned them before. What are they?”

  “The smartest thing in the Kiln.” He gave a hollow laugh. “You’ll know one when you see it. With any luck, we won’t.”

  “And if we do?” Darius demanded.

  Nico’s cobalt eyes glittered. “Run like hell.”