by Wagner, Raye
Her scream crawled over the lip of the rock, shaking me with her desperation, and then the sound of breaking foliage… followed by silence.
A faint wheeze escaped me as my mind caught up to reality, and then I spun on my heel and sprinted down the path, panic driving my pace.
6
Today
The perimeter road appeared empty at first glance, but pieces of rubble lay scattered outside the buildings destroyed by the magîk blasts. The frequency of destruction waned as we drew closer to the market square, but the severity, the brutality, increased. At first I thought the bodies were random, but as we approached the third one, I noticed all of them had been positioned exactly the same: arms extended overhead, hands together to create the point of an arrow or spear. Direction or threat? Probably both.
Verl, the man with a green thumb who could grow anything, was lying face up, eyes staring unseeingly at the sky. His wife, Pyrt, beside him with her neck slashed. Turm, a magî who traded cheese, yogurt, and milk, was missing his legs—from mid-thigh down—the bloody stumps in shreds around the hunk of bone protruding on the left side. I scanned the area, but their souls weren’t close—if they were still here at all.
Dostane whispered to her daughter, words of encouragement and warning, and the young magî kept her gaze fixed on the buildings, not the road, as her mother guided her.
Each corpse made me cycle, from relief it wasn’t Mar, to despair and loss, to dreaded anticipation for the next victim. The half-mile walk stole years from my heart, but I couldn’t step off the road, couldn’t stop until I knew whether or not Mar was safe.
“You need to be careful,” a young girl said, her transparent soul appearing suddenly by my side. “If they see any of you…”
I turned to her, anxious for her next words, but the apparition was gone.
Rot.
We approached the square, and three men in crimson leather pants stood across the path, barring the entrance. Their eyes remained trained on the road, and Doli pulled us between the tannery and the bakery. She raised her eyebrows, first at me then her mother. Unsure of the meaning behind the expression, I wasn’t willing to take the risks needed to walk by the Serîk, so I pointed toward a path. If we skirted the edges of the jungle, we could circle around and come in from the other side.
The next half hour crawled, every second filled with terrible trepidation that we would be caught as we dodged the nearby Serîk on our way to the forest. I saw a few more magî in red leathers but didn’t recognize any of the kümdâr’s guards. Finally, we darted into the trees, and the relief drove us to run deep into the thick brush, the slapping of leaves and snapping branches pulling me up short.
“Stop,” I whisper-yelled.
The two women turned toward me, panic etched into their features: wild eyes, lips parted, and blanched skin. The three of us faced each other, and I shook my head.
“Doli, we need the shield,” I kept my voice low but urgent. “And we need to get out of here. The trail is as obvious as their corpse-arrows.”
I pointed back the way we’d come, and they both gasped and nodded at the trampled berth. Doli put the shield up, making my vision undulate and break apart, and we returned to the beginning of our path and then carefully wound into the jungle, keeping closer to the edges as we circled toward the market.
The coppery smell of blood grew stronger, as well as the rancidity of brutal murder, and I pulled on Dostane’s hand as I bent over and retched—despite my stomach being empty. As I straightened, Doli held out her hand, offering several torn mint leaves. Brilliant that. I grabbed several more, stuffing some in my mouth, and then held the fistful close to my nose, trying to crowd out the pervasiveness of death.
We arrived at the market, but the square was filled with magî. Whatever was happening in the center held the outpost captive, but the crying and wailing crescendoed and crashed in a wave of sorrow, and with the next lull we could distinguish their words.
“Tell us where she is,” the leader yelled, the same voice we’d heard outside the rock.
Me? I gulped and looked at the other two magî, but both of them were looking at each other. One of them?
I scanned the trees and smiled grimly. The strangler fig tree in front of me was perfect for climbing with its twisted bark, but I hated heights. As in worse than being stuck in a rock. My palms and soles tingled with the thought of climbing, but I shoved away the fear. I needed answers, and the only way to get them was to go up.
“Can you keep me shielded if I’m not touching you?” I whispered to Doli, pointing at the tree.
She frowned and then nodded. “Yes, but I’ll have to stay close.”
Dostane closed her eyes and swallowed. When she opened her eyes, her expression was one of sad resignation. “Don’t lose your focus—either of you. I’ll wait here.”
We scampered up the trunk, the rough bark scraping against my exposed knees and hands. I pulled Doli to a stop as soon as we stood where the leafy branches would help conceal us.
“This one is the thickest,” I whispered, patting a thick bifurcation of the trunk. “And it goes out toward the square.” A half dozen smaller branches all climbed upward, but this one was perfect, as in the biggest, and I inched my way up, using the smaller, though still wide, limbs to steady me. A dozen feet up, and the thickest part of the branch divided again, and the diameter of the extensions shrunk, making my stomach flip.
Through the leaves I could make out the square, filled to capacity with all of Heza gathered, but I couldn’t see past the one branch blocking the very center of the plaza. I glanced at Doli, her eyes wide and skin slightly green, and noticed there was no wavy shield present—not that we needed it, but still.
“You all right?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I hate heights.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Me too. The trick is to only look upward.”
“Then how will we get down?”
I looked up, setting an example, because I didn’t even want to think about getting down. “Let’s deal with it once we see what’s going on. Right now, you could fall out of the tree and be just fine—we’re only a dozen feet up.”
She gritted her teeth, making it clear neither of us believed what I’d said. “Fine. But you’re making it really hard to keep the shield in place.”
“It doesn’t matter so much here, but if I have to hang out of the branches to see, it will matter.” I scooted forward, this time on my hands and knees, keeping my attention fixed on a branch several feet in front of me. As soon as I arrived, I glanced at Doli, who remained at the bifurcation in the tree.
“I have to stop here. I just can’t… but as long as I can see you, I can keep you shielded. Tell me if you see Mar.”
I pursed my lips, but there was no point in saying anything. Turning my attention to the crowd, I scanned the square, searching for Mar. He was easy to pick out because of his size—smaller than most male magî, though he stood out among the Serîk because of his tunic and the blood smearing his face. His expression of defeat made my heart hurt, and he sucked in several deep breaths, one right after another, catching his breath.
There were four distinct groups in the square. The Serîk, dressed in their red leather pants and fitted jerkins—nearly thirty of them. A dozen of the kümdâr’s magî surrounded a clearing, and almost as many guarded a couple clusters of the citizens of Heza. One of the groups being watched was smaller than the other—Mar among the magî on the left, just short of twelve total. The cluster on the right, maybe forty or so, consisted primarily of women and a few children. The rest of the outpost’s population stared at the cleared space, the area we’d skirted past to get to the jungle.
One of the Serîk stood in the middle of the clearing, screaming at the magî of Heza, while holding a large, round object in his hand. Then I noticed the body at his feet, the headless body, and knew he was using the severed head as a threat to keep the citizens in line. While we were too far away to d
istinguish his words with the current wailing, the contorted, angry expression on his face and vitriolic tone of his shouting was enough to know he was pissed.
The crowd quieted, and my insides clenched as the Serîk dropped… the head.
Fetid rot.
“What do you see?” Doli whispered.
I quivered and didn’t bother answering. The cacophony waned, and his voice carried.
“Bring me another one,” he yelled. “I will kill each of them until someone tells me where she is. It is the kümdâr’s command.”
One of the Serîk pulled another woman from the group of women and children, and a fresh wail arose. He gripped her by the neck, shaking her as he yelled. I glanced at the smaller group, and several magî cried in protest. But Mar’s expression morphed from fatigue to intense focus—on the female magî now being held by the Serîk.
“Silence,” the red guard screamed.
The female flinched, tears rolling down her face, and then her expression relaxed, her eyes closing as if she were resting and at peace.
“Who’s doing that?” the Serîk yelled. “Who?”
The magî grew silent, and several looked around, clearly perplexed.
“Tell me who is helping her, and I’ll let her go,” the leader bellowed.
He was lying; I knew it with every fiber of my being. Skimming over the cluster of magî with Mar, I noticed he was the only one staring at the female magî with such intensity, which meant… What was he doing?
“What is Mar’s magîk?” I whisper-shouted back at Doli.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then she said, “He can make it so you don’t feel anything.”
My heart sank.
“What are they doing?” Doli asked.
My attention returned to the crowd and then the Serîk and his prisoner. The leather-clad man yelled at the magî of Heza again, and the weighted silence that followed made my skin crawl. Certainly, they wouldn’t believe him—
The Serîk dragged a blade down the magî’s arm, the burst of crimson running down her skin and dripping onto the stone beneath them, but the woman remained quiet.
“Who’s doing that?” the Serîk screamed. “Tell me who is wielding their magîk, and I’ll release her. But if you continue to hide, I’ll kill them all!”
No. No, no, no. They can’t—
“Mar! It’s Mar,” someone in the group nearest Mar shouted.
The Serîk grinned, and his grip shifted to the female magî’s scalp. With a quick stroke of the blade, he severed her head from her body, the latter crumpling to the stone and blood gushing from her neck.
I sat up, the thick branch blocking my view of the square once again. “Doli,” I gasped. “I need you!”
My panic must’ve driven her, for I felt her behind me only a moment later. Struggling to push the branch out of the way, I heaved against the wood and was rewarded by the splintering sound of the limb breaking. The bushy foliage fell to the ground, and I pointed out into the crowd where two Serîk were dragging Mar out of the smaller group of magî.
“Can you magîk him invisible?” I asked.
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes.”
Mar was there, and then he wasn’t. One of the Serîk yelled, and the other doubled over as Mar must’ve hit him. Mar flickered into existence for a moment and then disappeared again.
“Get it together,” I snapped at Doli.
Tears streamed down her face, and she nodded.
“Get out of here,” Mar bellowed in his deep tenor. “Get out of here, Dîsa and Doli!”
The Serîk leader flinched and then snapped, “Find them!”
And at the same time, Mar yelled, “Heza, fight!”
Several things happened at once. The magî dressed in red turned away from their leader, and I felt their gazes. My heart leapt as I realized—
“The shield!”
“There!” a Serîk shouted, pointing up at the tree—at us.
“I can’t do it here and there,” Doli snapped.
A fraction of a second later, a roar went up from the crowd, and suddenly the magî of Heza moved as a wave and crashed into the Serîk.
“No!” Doli screamed.
I turned to Doli and blinked in surprise. Wait… “Why do you have us shielded? What about Mar?”
She shook her head and pointed over my shoulder at the chaos. “I can’t see him anymore.”
I glanced back, and my attention snagged on the dozen Serîk headed our way.
“We have to leave,” I said, my throat clogged with fear. “They’re coming.”
We scrambled back to the trunk, and as soon as Doli got to the split, she jumped. Without thinking, I pushed off after her, crashing to the ground with a thump as the landing drove the air from my lungs.
“What happened?” Dostane asked. “What’s going on?”
Sucking in deep breaths, I climbed to my feet as Doli explained in a rush.
Grabbing both females, I said, “We need to hide.”
The three of us sprinted into the foliage, terror and the Serîk chasing after us, but after a few minutes, Dostane stopped us.
“If we need to hide, we should go back into the mountain,” she said between breaths. “No one can find us there.”
That wouldn’t do. “We should split up. It will force them to split up.”
“And then what?” Dostane asked.
I took a deep breath as responsibility settled on my shoulders. “Then I’ll go to Yândarî and find out what’s happening.”
The older magî leveled me with her gaze. “I think we just saw what’s happening.”
“But why would the kümdâr do that?” I muttered. The only conclusion I could come up with was if the rumors of Zerôn collecting magî for another kirinî had some truth. Did that mean Zîvrünê was trying to hide me? And if this had to do with me, there was even more of a reason for me to separate from Dostane and Doli. “Listen, this might be related to me—maybe.”
I glanced at Doli, and she tilted her tear-streaked face and narrowed her eyes.
“Maybe,” I emphasized. “I don’t know, but I should go find out. And if it doesn’t have to do with me, you should still go hide.”
“Who you are, Dîsa?” Dostane questioned either my sanity or the validity of my instructions. “What are you talking about?”
So I told her as much as I could, as fast as I could. Their eyes widened, but I didn’t stop talking to answer their questions. We had no time. After telling them my true identity and the rumors I’d heard before leaving Yândarî, I ran through the places I’d been—after I first left. “But I don’t know what any of them have done since, and I’ve been in Heza almost a year. Still, it’s got to be better than staying here.”
“What about my brother? Are we just supposed to leave Mar here?”
I wet my lips, considering my words. There was no easy way to say the truth. If he was still alive when the Serîk left Heza, he would likely be with them, especially if the kirinî was happening.
“We can hide nearby,” Dostane said. “And in a few days go check. If he’s still here…”
“I’ll look for him in Yândarî,” I said, rushing to fill the silence. “When I get there. Just in case the Serîk take him.”
Doli’s hazel eyes filled with fresh tears, and the rumble of thunder overhead promised the sky would weep for the fallen in Heza. I glanced up through the canopy, anxious to be on my way. Maybe Zîvrünê or Zîyanâ had tried to find me and I’d been too effective at hiding. Maybe I’d waited too long to go back. Maybe—
“Good luck, Zädîsa,” Dostane said, interrupting my musing. She put her arm around her daughter and pulled her close. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it even more than us.”
Doli sniffed and wiped her nose with her hand. She shrugged her mother’s arm from her shoulders and pointed at me. “If Mar dies because of you, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”
Her words smacked into me, all of our friendship d
isappeared with her words. I reeled, trying to come up with the right expression to mollify her, to breach the sudden chasm. But she didn’t wait for a response. Grabbing her mother’s forearm, she stepped away with a yank of momentum.
“Doli!” Dostane admonished. “She didn’t know.” There was a rustling of leaves as the two women departed, and then Dostane reappeared and, with a sad wave, said, “Goodbye, Zädîsa.”
The words rent my soul, but I had no time to waste. If the attack on Heza was my fault, I didn’t deserve forgiveness. I blinked away the tears and followed the slope down off the plateau.
7
Three Years Ago
Halfway down the mountain, the clouds burst, wringing their moisture out in sheets of water. The ground beneath my feet oozed, the mud sliding over the rocks with the deluge. Behind me, Zîvrünê and Zerôn shouted, but their words were lost in the pouring rain and the whooshing sound of blood in my ears.
Zîyanâ fell over a hundred feet, and while my mind was telling me what I should expect at the bottom of the path, I wanted so much to be wrong. Perhaps magîk or even a miracle would’ve saved her. Maybe she grew plants to cushion her fall or… Was there anything else that could save her?
My heart crashed into my ribs, the force of its impact a vice-like pressure cinching tighter and tighter with every beat. Visibility declined as I started to shake and tremble from the shock. I stumbled over something—my feet, a rock, a broken branch—and landed on my hands and knees, the muddy ground splattering my clothing, chest, and face. Gulping in air, I raised my head as a blur of activity brushed by on my side, and a moment later, a hand was thrust in my face.
“Come on,” Zîvrünê said. “Let’s go.”
As soon as I lifted my hand, he yanked me upright, and I slammed into him. He swayed but, grabbing me by the arms, held me steady. Stepping back, he released his hold, only to snatch up my hand and pull me forward.
Neither of us spoke as we hurried down the rest of the trail, the colors of the lower canopy blurring through the rain and my tears. Footsteps pounded behind us, Bîcav and his brother closing in. All of us racing to the bottom—to find what?