Warmaidens

by Kelly Coon

  “We won’t do it.” Nasu, like Dagan, strained against his chains. “I’ll never fight him.”

  “Yes, you will.” Uruku smiled almost gleefully, turning away from the three of us. “For every minute you do not fight, I’ll cut off a finger from one of these two young women.”

  Iltani raged, the veins in her neck standing out against her skin. “You absolute piece of sheep manure. You call yourself a lugal?” She was backhanded to the carpet, yet again, by the guardsman’s heavy paw. She got up on her knees, her eyes glittering, and rammed her head into his groin as hard as she could. The man bellowed, and she was knocked sideways by the hilt of another guardsman’s sicklesword, but this time, her eyes rolled back into her head and she lay still.

  “But Dagan wouldn’t stand a chance against me.” Nasu pulled with all his might against his chains. “He’s not a fighter.”

  Next to me, Dagan bristled. “I certainly knocked you to the ground before.”

  “Ha!” Uruku’s sharp laugh of delight echoed throughout the throne room. “A quarrel already!”

  Dagan strode forward, pulling the guardsmen with him, his passion making him forget his pain. “Uruku, listen to me. Set us up in a Trial of Ordeal. I will fight Nasu to prove I tell it true. But you must let them and my ummum go free.” He jerked his head to me and Iltani.

  Gudanna smiled at Dagan, self-satisfied like a cat. I could imagine her with a gray tuft of squirming prey in her mouth.

  “You are in no position to bargain, boy. But I will promise you this: If you best Nasu, and deliver the nin, you can have the girl of your choice. If it’s one of them”—she pointed her eyes like daggers at me—“so be it.” She looked at Shiptu, who stood quivering near Nasu, her shoulders stooped. “And your ummum will be released.”

  As they tugged us out the entrance Nasu, Assata, and Shiptu had been led in, a scuffle sounded around the side of the Palace wall. The clash of metal against sandstone brick. Soft grunts and a throaty cry from Assata. A man’s angry curse. The wet squish of a weapon hitting flesh.

  Then, moments later, it was still, and the only sounds were our own uneven breaths and the chains chinking together as we were dragged toward the Pit and whatever the gods had decided our fates should be.

  SHIFTING TO RELIEVE the pressure of the ropes around my hands, the press of my healing satchel against my belly, I tried to drift back into the few moments of restless slumber I’d managed since being tossed into this outbuilding near the Pit. Before posting themselves around the perimeter, the guardsmen had left Nasu’s and Dagan’s weapons with them for the trial, warning us that if we used them to end our own lives, they’d kill Shiptu, Dagan’s brothers, and Iltani’s parents.

  Shiptu had been taken back to the dungeons to await the ending of the trial. My heart hurt at the thought of her down in the damp, not knowing whether her son would live or die. Either Assata lay dead in a gutter somewhere, her eyes picked from her head by the birds because the guardsmen had gotten the best of her, or she’d simply used her apparent weakness to her advantage and led them into a trap. I pictured her free from the city, racing toward Laraak to gather the warriors who would come in and free us all, Arwia—no, Sarratum Arwia—at their head. My throat ached with all the ways it could go wrong, but I was clinging with all my might to hope. Assata had winked at me. It had to mean something.

  They’d chained the four of us up in the corners. Gala had requested that both Iltani and I be tied by our waists so I could treat her, but both Dagan’s and Nasu’s arms were linked to rusted bronze hooks set into the wall. Brown bloodstains dripped down from previous prisoners waiting for their turn in the Pit, and I shuddered, imagining the atrocities that had been committed in this building.

  Nasu slept fitfully, his beard grown in sparsely, his hair longer since we’d been away from Manzazu. Dagan sat nearby, blinking into the moonlight that streamed in from the cracks in the rushes of the ceiling.

  “Dagan?”

  His brow lifted, but he did not answer. I’d given both Nasu and him arnica and hemp for pain, and though they needed salve for the lacerations on their backs, both had told me not to bother as they’d likely have wounds again on the morrow.

  “Arammu?” I tried again.

  He shook his head, nodding at Iltani sleeping in the corner, curled in a little ball, a piece of jagged pottery she’d found buried in the dirt clutched in her fist. Once in a while she murmured the word “no” in her sleep and jerked as if flinching from a blow.

  “I want to talk to you,” I whispered, pushing myself up awkwardly to sit, using my wrists as leverage. “Please. You’re upset and you’re willing to fight Nasu, but what if you lose tomorrow—” My voice cracked as I spoke, but Dagan turned toward me, blinking his bruised eyes, a small smile on his cracked lips.

  “Then you will be free from answering my question of marriage, won’t you.”

  His reply brought tears to my eyes. “Do you think I wish you to die so we will not be married? You cannot believe that.”

  He smiled, but there was no joy in it. Just a deep well of ache, one in which he might drown.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, Arammu. Of course I do not believe that. It is my weakness talking. Self-pity.”

  “No, Dagan. Don’t say that.”

  He looked at Nasu bleakly. “The real question is what if I win, Kammani? Could you look at me the same way if I kill our friend? Could you love me as you do now if I send him to the Netherworld?”

  He blinked his swollen eyes at me and shifted toward the wall.

  My heart throbbed with pain for him. His spirit had been crushed. He’d lost his brother Shep, lost his ummum to Uruku’s lair, was being forced to kill his friend, and doubted the love I felt for him. Part of that was my fault. I hadn’t gone out of my way to show him that I loved him with all that was in me, as he’d done for me, time and again.

  Dagan had only ever told me the truth. I was a skilled A-zu, as the loyalty of the Koru could attest, but though my skills were good, I had much to learn about trusting my gut, and Dagan had helped me be the best healer I could be by encouraging me to do that. He knew the dreams I carried with me and helped me shoulder them when they got too heavy.

  It dawned on me then how important he was to my craft. He helped me. He supported me. He championed me, trying to push me further.

  With him by my side, I was better at what I did, not worse. Tears pricked my eyes.

  He didn’t hold me back, he held me up.

  The tears in my eyes rolled down my cheeks. “Dagan.”

  He turned his head.

  “I love you.”

  He nodded, a small, sad smile on his face. “Don’t cry, my sweet. I love you, too.”

  My voice broke. “And I’ll love you no matter what happens with Nasu, all right? We’re together in this, like you said before when you helped me with Rish. And together we’ll find a way out. I swear it. I swear it.”

  I held his eyes as I cried. After a moment, his eyes filled, too, and he stretched across the outbuilding as far as he could, extending his long leg to try to reach me. I stretched as far as I could, too, and could just barely manage to brush my sandal against his.

  We were a partnership, and for both of us, that meant giving. I wasn’t sure I was ready for marriage, and didn’t think I owed him that. But now, sitting here, looking at that amber-eyed boy, I knew what I wanted: a life with him. I was a healer, but I was a healer in love with my broad-shouldered, bighearted Dagan, and for the first time really ever, I realized that didn’t make me weak.

  It made me powerful.

  * * *

  She is fair, she is fair, she is lovely and fair.

  Singing my abum’s song, the Boatman sits in the corner of my old hut, mist enshrouding his shoulders, candlelight flickering softly from the sconce near his head.

 
Nasu kneels at his feet, sharpening a dagger against a leather strap, and Dagan sits next to Nasu, a big grin on his face as he casts his final lots and beats Uruku in twenty squares.

  “Aha!” he shouts. “You bet against me, and you will lose every time!”

  He collects his golden coins and shoves them into his purse at his waist, but they all fall out the second he drops them in. Morose, Uruku picks up my brother, Kasha, by the scruff of his neck and marches toward the door.

  I try to speak—to stop him—but my mouth has been sewn closed with tight, neat stitches. Nanaea appears at my elbow, the needle and thread in her hands.

  Near my ummum’s pallet, Iltani is braiding a rope, end over end over end over end, her tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth, a black cloak over her shoulders. Smears of kohl outline her eyes and run down her cheeks from where she’s been crying.

  She is fair, she is fair, she is lovely and fair.

  Dagan looks up. “Did you hear that?” he asks me. “Who is singing?”

  I raise my finger to point at the Boatman, but the bottle of nerium has been stuck to my hand with some of the sticky bitumen, and I cannot shake it off.

  A cold wave of river water seeps under the curtain hanging in front of the doorway and begins to flood the room.

  Get out! Get out! We’re going to drown!

  I want to scream as the water rushes in faster and faster. My hands find the end of the thread at my mouth and try to pull, but Nanaea’s stitches are sure and strong. I stand and reach for Iltani, but she sinks underneath the water and is gone before I can catch her, her black-streaked eyes blinking at me beneath the surface.

  The frigid water rises to my calves. Then above my knees.

  Panicked, Dagan stands and pulls Nasu out of the water. But Nasu lunges at him with his dagger, and they square off, sloshing through the steadily rising tide.

  We must get out! Now!

  Nasu jabs at Dagan and he weaves to avoid the hit. Dagan counters with a thrust, and Nasu jerks backward. They fight, swinging their blades, splashing with each jab. Each near miss. The water rises to their waists. Their chests.

  The water rises to my chin.

  I’m going to drown!

  I claw for something to keep me afloat, but the nerium bottle won’t leave my hand. I bump into Iltani’s cold, clammy body, and she shrieks at me, bubbles and black eels pouring from her mouth, while she tries to pull me under.

  The water climbs past my lips. I choke as it goes up my nose and burns down the back of my throat, and a scream tears through my sewn mouth.

  Dagan turns his head as if just noticing I am there, and as he does, Nasu pulls his dagger out from under the water and slits Dagan’s throat.

  Dagan!

  He sinks beneath the waves, blood pulsing from his neck with every one of his heartbeats.

  And before long, I’m not choking on water anymore.

  I’m choking on Dagan’s blood.

  DAWN BROKE WITH the crowing of a rooster from somewhere in the distance.

  Though my dream had filled my mouth with bile upon waking, it had given me a glimmer of an idea. I just needed Nasu to listen to me.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists in their restraints.

  “Wait. A dream? You had a dream and now you want to do what with our blades? You aren’t an expert at war tactics.”

  My face flushed. I’d done a lot of harm when I’d been trying to heal. And I hadn’t trusted him or even myself, but now we needed to work together or we would all die.

  “Well—”

  Nasu twisted his wrists. “Don’t even speak. Neither you nor Dagan have had any regard for the expertise sitting right in front of you this whole time.”

  Dagan’s eyes were hard when he stared at Nasu. “Arwia believed that we could sneak the brides in and take out Uruku, but you and Assata destroyed those plans before we could execute them.” His voice was hoarse. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes yourself. Your coup alerted Uruku to our presence.”

  Nasu sneered in disgust. “Kammani’s plan to give Uruku the poison is likely what alerted Uruku to our presence.”

  “Your failure to communicate one another’s plans is the problem.” Iltani spat. “Had you simply joined forces, as Arwia has told you time and again, Uruku’s body would be feeding the worms as we speak. Yet here we sit.”

  “Wait, friends. Please.” I held up my hands, misery wrapped around my throat. “Many of these problems came about because I was not listening to anyone, not even myself. But I want to now. The Boatman has given me an idea about how to save both of your lives until Assata does whatever it is she is planning to do.” I’d told them about Assata’s wink, but though they all thought it could mean anything, I was holding on to the hope that it was a message that she had some sort of plan to rescue us.

  “But I need help putting it all together. Isn’t it worth at least listening to me so you don’t have to try to kill Dagan?”

  Nasu sighed and looked down at his bare knees.

  “Explain again what you want to coat the blades with?” Dagan asked me.

  “The nerium. The blades will dry, and will make whoever is cut with the tip appear to be dead.”

  Nasu met my eyes. “According to the Trial of Ordeal, that would prove the man standing to be honest, and would prove the man who’d ‘died’ a liar. But what then?”

  It appeared he would work with us. At least for now.

  “How long does the nerium last?” Dagan asked.

  “Half a day. Not long enough for someone to bury you.”

  “But long enough for the person to be dragged away for burial rites without chains and without being watched.” His eyes lit up.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  Dagan craned his neck to see Nasu. “So in the Pit, you could cut me to make it look fatal.”

  Iltani piped up. “And when Dagan is dragged away, he can go to Laraak if Assata hasn’t already done so, and bring the Manzazu army in to take out Uruku.”

  “And what will you say when Uruku questions you about Arwia?” I asked Nasu.

  “Tell him,” Dagan started, rubbing his chin against his shoulder, “that she’s in hiding somewhere.”

  Nasu twisted in his restraints with a grimace. “Wussuru. It’s a half day’s ride away. He’ll be forced to send some of the guardsmen to go looking for her and will move the numbers more in our favor with us. They’ll have fewer to fight.”

  “Yes!” I sat up taller. “You could give Uruku a false message! He will be forced to give credence to anything you say once the gods have proven you to be true. Our ensis would kill him for sacrilege themselves if he did not listen.”

  “But once they got what they want out of you, they’ll—” Iltani drew a line over her throat.

  “Maybe,” Nasu told her. “But hopefully I could draw out my usefulness until Dagan arrived with the Manzazu army.”

  The barest flicker of hope lit up Dagan’s face. “Yes. It could work.” But then his smile faded. “But what of you and Iltani? You’ll be seated in chains watching the trial. If they go to Wussuru and find it empty, they’ll kill you both.”

  Iltani snorted. “Do you think us incapable? Come, now. I can convince that ignorant husband of mine to help us.” She smiled, but there was no mirth in her eyes. “The foolish, foolish child.”

  “That didn’t work before, and now that you’ve tried to give him that poison and eat his ear, he’ll never trust you again,” Nasu told her.

  Iltani shrugged her freckled shoulder. “I didn’t try to eat it. I tried to remove it. But…he loves me in his own twisted way. I’ll use that to my advantage.”

  Nasu raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but Iltani lifted her chin with the fierce determination I knew simmered under her flippant mannerisms. The sadness and anger that boiled together.
“Kammani and I will survive, like we always do. And so will both of you if we trust one another.”

  “Are we in agreement?” I asked.

  Dagan and Iltani both agreed, and after a moment, Nasu’s quiet “yes” united us in our mission.

  “Perfect. Give me your blades, then,” I told the boys.

  After much sweating and cursing, Nasu and Dagan were able to wriggle their daggers out of their scabbards and fling them in my direction. Each clattered to a stop across the sandstone floor, and Nasu’s rested barely out of reach. I froze, waiting for the door to squeak open and a guardsman to enter, but nobody came. Stretching my foot forward, I swatted at the copper hilt, missed, and strained against the rope at my waist until I felt it would tear me in two, but finally, I managed to grab it between my toes and pull it to me.

  Fumbling under my heavy cloak, I reached my healing satchel. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I shifted so that a ray of light filtering in from the rushes overhead shone inside. There was the laurel and sage. The arnica. The small vial of poppy. The blue cohosh. Gently, I shook the bag so that I could see even more clearly, and saw the small sack of bitumen and the little red bottle of nerium.

  After working them out of my satchel and up my cloak, I rolled each blade in the bitumen, then tapped more of the fine powder onto the sticky blades.

  “Done.”

  Sweating, I stuffed the nerium and bitumen back into my satchel and looked up to find all three of them watching me. Dagan, eyes swollen and bruised, smiled at me softly with blood-crusted lips. Nasu nodded, a show of faith. Iltani grinned wickedly and made an obscene gesture.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said.

  Swallowing hard, I considered the two blades lying next to one another: Dagan’s dagger with the emerald-encrusted hilt, and Nasu’s dagger with lapis lazuli threaded on his.