Rising Like a Storm

by Tanaz Bhathena

  A hoarse sound that might be a laugh. “That I’m still alive, you mean. Death would be a blessing in this place. But Rani Shayla doesn’t bestow it easily. Even daily torture isn’t as bad compared to the healing. Yes, she’ll eventually send a vaid to heal your injuries. And then, right after, have a Sky Warrior cut into you again.”

  I fall silent for a long moment. “Who else is in this prison?”

  “Right now, it isn’t full—if the guards’ gossip is to be believed. Raja Amar had initially signed an order to free the cage victims being held here. After Shayla took the throne, she overrode the order, deciding she was better off reselling them at the flesh market. Didn’t make much off them, from what I hear. The mammoth turned out to be a liability, trampling half his handlers. He had to be put down. The peri she sold escaped his merchant owner by killing him in the first week. The merchant’s family demanded compensation from Shayla, which she, naturally, didn’t give. Now, apart from the shadowlynx, which even the guards are afraid to approach, this prison holds only me, Amira, and you.”

  “Amira’s still alive, then.” Relief briefly flickers in my ribs. “Gul had nightmares about you both.”

  I wonder if she’s still having them. I wonder who’s taking care of her now.

  “Amira’s alive,” Juhi says. “And she will probably remain so until Gul is captured.”

  “If Gul is captured,” I correct. “She won’t make it easy. She’s stronger than she was before. I’ve felt her magic.”

  “Which is why they got to you first, didn’t they? So that they could draw her here to Ambar Fort?”

  “That was my fault—I went to attack Alizeh,” I say, my guilt like salt rubbed over an open wound. “Gul’s too smart. She won’t take their bait and pay the price for my stupidity!”

  “Oh, Cavas, I wish I could believe you. But you don’t believe yourself.”

  In the darkness, something prickly crawls across my foot, a bloodworm that I kick off in the sharp blue light of the shackle.

  “I wish I could tell her not to come,” I say.

  “Can’t you?” Shrewdness returns to Juhi’s voice, reminding me why I didn’t trust her the first time I met her—why I still don’t feel wholly comfortable confiding in her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you felt her magic. That’s very specific.”

  We’re complements. It would be easy to say aloud. But the prison’s walls likely have ears and I don’t want my words falling on the wrong ones.

  Juhi seems to understand. “Try,” she whispers. “Try to tell her.”

  I close my eyes, breathing deeply, my mind entering that eerie, meditative space that makes my skin glow, that takes me back to Tavan’s darkened temple. I make my way to the shadowy sanctum, where Sant Javer waits alone, watching me calmly. I hesitate, feeling shy. Gul, I know, has spoken to the sky goddess several times, but I’ve never done so with the saint I’ve worshipped since I was a boy.

  My tongue eventually unties itself and I wish him an “Anandpranam.”

  “She isn’t here, my boy,” Sant Javer says softly. “She hasn’t been here for a while.”

  My already fraying nerves teeter on the edge of breaking. “Gul?” I call out. “Are you there? Gul!”

  The pain makes it difficult to concentrate and so does the distance. Barely a moment goes by before I’m opening my eyes again, my head resting against the wall where I collapsed.

  “Juhi?” I whisper.

  “Still here,” she says. “You began glowing for a bit and then you collapsed. What happened?”

  “It didn’t work,” I say. “I couldn’t reach her.”

  And I’m terrified that if I do reach Gul, all I’ll hear in return is silence.

  17

  GUL

  Gul? Are you there?

  “Gul!”

  Kali’s voice shakes me from my stupor, her strong hands gripping hold of my shoulders before I fall face-first into the sand.

  “Tired?” she asks, sounding weary herself.

  “A little.”

  I pinch my arm, the pain steadying me somewhat, jerking me into wakefulness. When Subodh first broached the idea of leaving Tavan at nightfall, I didn’t think much of it. The city wasn’t my home, and after Cavas’s capture, less so. After a day of mourning and packing our belongings, we finally left the city this evening. But traveling the desert at night is easier said than done. Despite the threat of the Sky Warriors hanging over my head, exhaustion eventually began creeping in and I found myself yawning from time to time.

  I must have blanked at some point, because I can’t remember when the desert scenery shifted from the parched, cracked ground outside Tavan to an ocean of sand or when the sky shifted from navy to black, sequined with thousands of stars. There is no Sunheri to light our way tonight, the first day of a new moon cycle. I adjust the blanket around my body, trying to warm my frozen nose against it.

  “Sorry,” I tell Kali, my voice muffled against the blanket. “Were you calling for me before?”

  “A few seconds ago,” she replies. “You were dozing. Many of the women are tired, too.”

  Tired, shivering. Stumbling, as if weighed down by our meager belongings, a small sack of food and a waterskin each. Agni and Subodh trudge ahead of everyone else, carrying tent poles and other heavy equipment.

  “I thought I heard…,” I begin, my voice trailing off.

  “Heard what?”

  “Nothing.” I stifle the hope before it roots in my brain and refuses to leave. Cavas and I never practiced communicating at long distances. There’s no way I heard his voice. “I must have fallen asleep, like you said.”

  “You’re not the only one.” Kali rubs her eyes. “I feel like I’m about to collapse. But Subodh says we’re nearly there.”

  Nearly at the dunes that lie to the west of Tavan—slippery hills of Dream Dust that shift with the wind, muddling travelers, sometimes burying them alive. People avoid the Dunes if they can—and this includes the Sky Warriors and dealers who sell the Dust at exorbitant prices on the streets of Ambarvadi.

  Which is why the Dunes are also the fastest way to cross the desert and find Raja Amar, I remind myself. Subodh won’t tell anyone Amar’s exact location—“a precaution in case we get captured,” he explained.

  Moments later, I hear Subodh speak: “Let’s stop here for now. The Dunes aren’t much farther.”

  As sighs of relief echo through the camp, he rises on his hind legs and raises his front paws, casting a web of light around us.

  “That should protect us tonight,” he says. “My shield won’t turn us completely invisible, but we will remain hidden from a distance. Also, the living specters will sound an alarm if any danger arises.”

  Specters like Latif, who have still not faded, who for some reason remain loyal to our cause.

  Kali magicks a lightorb, the heat of it breaking the night’s cold stillness. Soon enough, we gather around the bright sphere hovering a few inches over the ground, warming ourselves. Agni lies down sideways, resting her head on the cool sand next to me, her eyes fluttering shut as I stroke her mane. I know she won’t sleep like this for long—not when we’re so vulnerable out in the open—but for now I want her to rest as much as she can.

  I take a small sip from my waterskin and chew on a roll of cold, stale bajra roti, slathered with butter and jaggery. The butter must have melted when we first started walking, but I can taste the salt from it mingling with the cane sugar.

  “My mother used to make this as a snack for me when I was a little girl,” I tell Kali, the memory surfacing seemingly out of nowhere. “It was the only way I would eat bajra roti back then—with a dollop of butter and jaggery on top.”

  I can still recall Ma sprinkling the millet flour over a flat wooden surface, rolling out roti after roti, cooking each on the tava into perfect, round pillows. Papa ate his bajra roti exactly the way I did, and Ma would laugh whenever she saw us, grease dripping down our chins. A year ago,
the memory would have made my heart seize painfully. Today I simply feel myself basking in its warmth.

  Falak, who overhears me, says, “My ma did something similar. She would also mix her jaggery into the karela she cooked for us. Didn’t do much for the taste, though.”

  A few laughs emerge at the mention of the bitter gourd. I force a smile. I don’t deserve the Legion’s kindness or their compassion. It’s because of me that they’re in this state—because of my refusal to do proper death magic during practice. But today I don’t have the courage to point that out.

  “I’m not a fan of karela, either,” I admit.

  “It’s supposed to be good for you,” Kali scolds.

  “Oh? Then why don’t you eat it?” Sami raises an eyebrow, her bright-brown eyes sparkling. Everyone laughs, including Kali.

  As the conversation goes on, I find myself dozing again. I’m about to lie down next to Agni when a keening sound rips the air.

  The lightorb warming us vanishes.

  It’s Ajib, standing only a few feet away from us, his eyes red and wild, saliva foaming at his mouth. I find myself rising to my feet before a shadow blocks my path. Agni snorts angrily, neighing a warning.

  Stay back, she tells me.

  It’s Ajib! I protest.

  That isn’t Ajib!

  To my left, Subodh growls, “Do not go any closer. The stallion is too far gone for us to help him.”

  As he speaks, Ajib rises to his hind legs, hitting the magical barrier so hard that I hear it vibrate.

  “We can’t leave him like this!” Kali says sharply. She unsheathes her dagger, the blade glowing red.

  Subodh roars at the same time that Ajib releases another terrifying neigh. Beyond the magical barrier, a shadow leaps, spiraling horns rising over its head: a shadowlynx that digs its claws and teeth into the stallion’s left flank.

  A pair of hard hands grip me by the biceps, hold me back from leaping forward.

  “I’m sorry, Gul.” Sami gasps. “You can’t save him! It’s too late!”

  I twist away from her and run toward the stallion, Kali next to me, our daggers raised over our heads.

  A booming sound erupts, throwing us backward, flat onto the ground. By the time we rise again, the shadowlynx is licking its black paws, its eyes gleaming in the reflected light of our burning daggers.

  Subodh towers over us both, his giant mace glowing red. “Stay here, you two. Nothing can be done to save that horse.”

  “You stopped us!” Kali screams at him before I can. “Why did you stop us?”

  “Because if not the shadowlynx, then the Dream Dust would have killed you!” Subodh thunders. “Do you think we face only one enemy in the desert?”

  In the silence that follows, we hear the shadowlynx making quick work of Ajib’s remains. Wind howls beyond the barrier, sand rising in the air.

  “Sleep,” Subodh says. “We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

  In the moonlight, Kali is as pale as bone, her gray eyes blank.

  “Subodh,” I begin. “He shouldn’t have—”

  “No,” she cuts in quietly. “We aren’t shadowlynxes or dustwolves, who’ve developed some sort of immunity to the Dream Dust. Subodh was right to stop us and to protect the other women. I should have been more careful. It’s … it’s Ajib. That horse stayed with me the whole time when Juhi first rescued us. He sensed my pain and fear faster than any human did.”

  I say nothing in response.

  What if it had been Agni who was affected by the Dust? What would I have done?

  As if sensing my thoughts, the mare nudges my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her neck and bury my face there to hide my tears.

  The rest of the night passes by in relative peace, Sami being the first to fall asleep. The others soon follow. Three people don’t sleep—Kali, Subodh, and I—each of us watching the shifting dunes of sand that lie ahead.

  Eventually, Subodh turns to us both. “Sleep, both of you. I will wake Falak when it’s time to change the watch.”

  I expect Kali to protest, but she nods without argument. I, myself, am too exhausted to argue. I fall asleep almost instantly, my sleep surprisingly untouched by dreams, waking only when patted lightly on the shoulder by Falak.

  “It’s time to wake up,” she says, her breath sour, her voice like gravel.

  “It’s still dark,” I mumble.

  “It’s nearly morning. We need to start moving soon.”

  To my surprise, many of the women are up already, some making tea with the aid of the lightorb’s heat.

  I notice Kali and Sami sitting on the ground, teacups in hand, talking seriously to each other. Not wanting to disturb them, I make my way to Falak and pack our equipment quickly, working in silence as snippets of quiet conversation float in the air.

  Dawn breaks by the time we begin moving again, mauve shading the sides of terra-cotta clouds, their peaks and curves seeming to blend into the Dunes at this distance. The sun crawls up the sky, a hot orange ball that sears the inside of my eyelids red if I look at it too long.

  Farther ahead, the clouds disperse. The sun rises, and so does the heat. We draw our dupattas over our heads, veiling our faces against the glare. Sweat gathers in the soles of my jootis and beads down my back. My chapped lips burn. Here, there are no trees, no cacti, no honeyweed bushes. Only hills upon hills of golden sand. At midday, Subodh pauses behind one of these hills for a short break in its shade.

  “We aren’t far,” he says. Beyond the hill, I spy shifting peaks of sand, Dust swirling around them. “I suggest you eat now.”

  “We might not eat again,” I hear one of the women mutter behind me. I chew on a meager quantity of dried dates and take small sips from my waterskin for sustenance.

  As we eat, Subodh places his paw on the ground. Bright-blue light emerges from the spot, and sand erupts around the rajsingha, nearly making me tumble over. The reason for the disturbance is a bird—a shvetpanchhi with a bloodied wing, a scroll falling from its beak and into the sand. Without a word, I rush to Subodh, who now leans over the bird, gently brushing its wing with his front paw.

  “Rest, old friend,” the Pashu king tells the shvetpanchhi. “I will make sure you are sent back to Rani Sarayu. You have risen above and beyond your duty.”

  I hesitate a few feet away. “Can I help?” I ask.

  “Not unless you have knowledge of animal-healing magic.” Subodh’s great yellow eyes focus on me. “This bird was attacked by arrows yesterday while flying back from Ambar Fort.”

  A chill goes through me. “Ambar Fort? What—why? You’re writing to someone there?”

  “Rani Amba,” Subodh replies. “It’s how I’ve kept track of everything that’s been happening with Raja Amar these past few months.”

  He was Pashu. A rajsingha, if you want to get specific. I recall the words Queen Amba had spoken months earlier, expressing her annoyance with Lohar’s third queen, Farishta, who’d called Subodh a lion.

  “Rani Amba knew you were alive this whole time?” I ask the Pashu king.

  “Not until four months ago. She thought, like everyone else, that I’d been killed during the Battle of the Desert. We started corresponding again only after you arrived in Tavan.” Subodh picks up the tiny scroll the shvetpanchhi dropped. “A dangerous scheme in many ways. But Amba has always been clever. She releases two or three birds at once to confuse the palace’s spies. Here, she attached a decoy letter to the shvetpanchhi’s leg, enclosing the real scroll in its beak.”

  He breaks open the seal—two full moons stamped into marbled blue-and-gold wax. Scanning the letter quickly, he hands it to me. “What do you think?”

  The letter itself is short and, as expected from someone being spied on, cryptic. There is no salutation.

  “‘The shifting hills hold your answers, if you can find your way through them,’” I read out loud. “Does she mean the Dunes?”

  “She does, indeed.” The sand around Subodh glows blue again. “It’s not the first
time the both of us have had the same idea.”

  He carefully places the injured shvetpanchhi onto the sand and, surrounded by that eerie blue light, makes a sound akin to a bird—an odd, high cry that reminds me of the first time he and Rani Sarayu communicated through Tavan’s reservoir.

  Drishti jal. I recall the substance Subodh used to form the connective link and wonder now if that’s what he’s using again. The shvetpanchhi remains strangely calm for a bird being sucked into the sand, and once it’s gone, Subodh turns to us.

  “The Dunes are a place of deadly magic,” he says. “They can trick you into moving one way instead of another. They can lead you back exactly where you began. They can show you falsehoods—including people who no longer exist in this world.”

  A visible shudder goes through the group.

  “The only way we can get through the Dunes unharmed is with the aid of one who can see through their magic,” Subodh says. “The only ones who can do so are those capable of meditating with their eyes open.”

  Every head swivels in my direction. My skin feels prickly and exposed despite being fully clothed.

  “You knew,” I say. “You’d planned this.”

  “This route through the Dunes? Yes, I did.”

  “Rani Amba suggested the same route. How can you be sure that it isn’t a trap and that there aren’t Sky Warriors or bounty hunters waiting for us at the other end?” I demand.

  “There might be,” Subodh agrees. “We’ll have to take the risk, though, won’t we?”

  The silence around me is broken only by Agni’s snort.

  “What must I do?” I say at last.

  “Ask the sky goddess for her guidance. Once we are in the Dunes, we won’t be able to see one another. But you will be able to see the way through them.” He holds up a coil of rope. “We will all be tethered to you.”

  I take the rope with shaking hands. The last time I dived into a dust storm, we lost a horse, and Kali, Cavas, and I nearly died. Now I’ll be leading more people into a place even deadlier.

  They trust you, Savak-putri Gulnaz, a voice whispers in my head. Subodh. And I do, too.