by Tomi Adeyemi
I can’t think about that now. All that matters is this. I need to get Zélie ou—
The shouts ring first.
The heat comes next.
We crash to the ground as a blast from above shatters through the fortress wall.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
AMARI
THE FORTRESS TOWERS over Gombe’s horizon like an iron palace, casting its shadow through the night. Troops man every corner, leaving no meter unprotected for more than a few moments. My heart beats in my throat as we wait for the guards patrolling the southern wall to pass. Thirty seconds is all we shall have. I pray to the gods above that thirty seconds is all we need.
“Can you do this?” I whisper to Femi, stepping away from the overgrown kenkiliba bushes granting us cover. Since touching the sunstone, his hands do not remain still, running over his fingers, his beard, his crooked nose.
“I’m ready.” He nods. “It’s hard to explain, but I can feel it.”
“Alright.” I turn my attention back to the patrol. “Next time they pass, we go.”
The instant the guards round the corner, Femi and I dash across the manicured wild grass. Tzain, Kenyon, and Imani follow fast behind, sticking to the shadows to avoid being spotted by those above. Though many divîners from the tóju agreed to help, only Kenyon and his team were willing to touch the scroll and awaken their magic. I hoped they would be enough to take the fortress down, but not even all five of them could fight.
Khani turned out to be a Healer, and Ife awakened his powers as a Tamer. Without magic that could strike quickly, it wasn’t safe for them to enter. Thankfully, Kenyon turned out to be a Burner, Femi a Welder, Imani a Cancer. Not the maji army I had hoped for, but with the sunstone’s surge, they could be the only soldiers we need.
“Fifteen seconds,” I hiss, panting as we reach the southern wall. Femi places his hands against the cold iron, moving over the grooves and plates with the grace of an enlightened Welder. He feels around for something I can’t see, painfully slow as our time aches by.
“Ten seconds.”
Femi closes his eyes and presses harder into the metal wall. My chest clenches as time ticks away.
“Five seconds!”
Suddenly, the air tightens. A green light glows in Femi’s hand. The metal wall ripples open like water.
We all rush through the emerging tear, sneaking into the fortress as quietly as we can. Hard footsteps pound outside just as Femi slips in. He manages to close up the wall moments before the next patrol marches past.
Thank the skies.
I let out a long, slow breath, savoring the small victory before the next battle commences. We’re in.
But now the hard part begins.
Polished swords adorn the walls around us, reflecting our anxious faces. This must be the armory.… If this fortress’s structure mirrors the one in Lagos, we must be near the commander quarters on the upper level. That means the prison cells have to be below—
The door handle twists. I hold up a hand, signaling everyone to duck out of sight as the armory door groans open. I hear the sounds of a guard approaching and catch his reflection in the glinting swords as he enters.
I watch the guard, waiting, counting each step he takes. He’s close. One more step and we can—
“Go!” I hiss.
Tzain and Kenyon strike, tackling the guard to the ground. As they shove a rag into his mouth, I run and close the door before any sound leaks out. By the time I return, the soldier’s screams are muffled. I crouch down and release my blade, pressing the cold metal into his neck.
“Scream and I’ll slit your throat.”
The venom in my words surprises me. I’ve only heard this poison in Father’s voice. But it does the trick.
The soldier swallows hard as I rip the gag from his mouth.
“The maji prisoner,” I bark. “Where is she?”
“Th-the what?”
Tzain whips out his ax and holds it above the guard’s head, daring him to feign ignorance again.
“The cell is at the base! Down all the stairs, the farthest one to the right!”
Femi kicks the guard in the forehead, knocking him out cold. The guard hits the floor with a heavy thud as we run toward the door.
“Now what?” Tzain asks me.
“We wait.”
“For how long?”
I study the hourglass timepiece hanging around Kenyon’s neck, reading the grains as they fall past the quarter mark. Where is the second wave?
“They should’ve already hit—”
A blast thunders and booms, reverberating through the iron under our feet. We press against the wall as the fortress quakes, shielding our heads from the swords that rain from the walls. More blasts ring from outside, followed by the yells of running guards. I open the door a crack, watching soldiers fly by. They sprint toward a fight I pray they’ll never find.
The divîners who weren’t willing to awaken their powers agreed to fight from afar. Using the bar’s alcohol, we managed to make nearly fifty firebombs, building while others constructed the slingshots they would use to launch the explosives. With the distance, the divîners should be able to strike and flee on their ryders before the guards get close. And while the guards are distracted, we’ll make our escape.
We wait till the thundering footsteps are silenced before fleeing the armory and heading down the stairwell in the center of the fortress. We sprint down flight after flight of stairs, descending the floors of the iron tower. Just a few more levels until we can set Zélie free. We shall head straight for the sacred island. With two days left, we’ll make it just in time for the ritual.
But as we descend another stairwell, a group of soldiers blocks our path. When they raise their blades to strike, I have no choice but to scream.
“Attack!”
Kenyon strikes first, sending a prickle of fear through my skin as his heat warms the air. A powerful red glow swirls around his fist; with a punch, a stream of flame erupts, knocking three guards into the wall.
Femi lunges forward next, using his metal magic to liquefy the blades of the guards’ swords. As they skid to a halt, Imani steps forward. Our Cancer, perhaps the most terrifying one of all.
She leaks dark green energy from her hands, trapping the men in a malignant cloud. The moment it touches the guards, they crumble, skin yellowing as disease rages through them.
Although more guards filter in, the maji’s powers flourish, unlocked with threatening strength. They run on raw instinct, fueled by the unbreakable swell of the sunstone’s surge.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Tzain takes advantage of the hysteria, pressing against the walls to slip through the battle. I follow his lead and join him on the other side, racing down another stairwell to rescue Zélie. With this power, no one can stop us. Not one soldier will stand in our way. We can defeat the army. We can even face—
Father?
The guards flank Father on all sides, shielding him from attack while he runs along the upper level. As he surveys the uproar, his dark brown eyes find mine, zeroing in like a hunter targeting his prey. He stumbles in shock, but only for an instant. As my involvement in the attack sinks in, Father’s rage breaks free.
“Amari!”
His glare freezes my blood. But this time I have my sword. This time I am not afraid to strike.
Be brave, Amari.
Binta’s voice rings loud. The sight of her blood fills my head. I can avenge her now. I can cut Father down. While the maji take out the guards, my sword can free Father of his head. Retribution for all his massacres, every poor soul he has ever killed …
“Amari?”
Tzain pulls my attention, allowing Father to disappear behind an iron door at the end of his hallway. A door Femi could easily melt …
“What’re you doing?”
I blink at Tzain and keep my mouth shut. There is no time to explain. One day, I shall fight Father.
Today I must fight for Zélie.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
INAN
I CLUTCH ZÉLIE to my chest as another blast rings. The fortress shakes. Black smoke fills the air. Screams echo against the iron walls. Cries break through the charred door.
I run into a chamber and look out the barred windows; though flames blast the walls of the fortress, no enemy appears. Instead troops scream as they catch fire. Panthenaires run rabid in fear.
It’s a chaos unmatched, bringing back all the horrors of Kwame’s blaze. Maji attack again. My soldiers fall as they reign.
“No!”
I run away from the window and look out the iron door as a mangled scream rings from the floor above me. Fire and metal and disease wage war, ravishing an endless stream of soldiers.
The men who charge are incinerated by a Burner’s flames. Those who shoot arrows are struck by a Welder—the bearded maji reverses each arrowhead, sending the sharp metal straight through the shooter’s armor.
But worst of all is the freckled girl. A Cancer. A harbinger of death. Dark green clouds of disease spew from her hands. With one breath, the soldiers’ bodies seize.
A slaughter …
A slaughter, not a fight.
Only three maji battle, yet the soldiers crumble beneath their power.
It’s worse than the destruction of the divîner camp. At least then, the soldiers were the first to strike. But now their premature fear seems justified.
Father was right.…
There’s no denying it now. No matter what I desire, if magic returns, this is how my kingdom will burn.
“Inan…,” Zélie whimpers. Her warm blood leaks down my hands. The key to Orïsha’s future. Bleeding in my arms.
The pull of duty weighs down my step, but I can’t listen to it now. No matter what, Zélie must live. I can find a way to stop magic after she’s safe.
I race through the empty hallway as the battle rages. I ascend another stairwell. Another blast rings.
The fortress quakes, knocking me off the steps. I clutch Zélie as we fall; this time she can’t muffle her screams.
I brace us against a wall when another blast hits. At this rate, Zélie will bleed out before she escapes.
Think.
I close my eyes and press Zélie’s head against my neck. The schematics of the fortress run through my mind. I search for a way out. Between the guards and maji and firebombs, there’s no way we can escape. But we don’t need to … they’re coming for her. She doesn’t need to get out.
They need to get in.
The cell! I rise. That has to be where they’re headed. Zélie screams as we rush down a stairwell. Her cries join the agony of the night.
“We’re close,” I whisper when we take the last corridor. “Just hold on. They’re coming. We’ll get back to the cell. Then Tzain will…”
Amari?
I don’t recognize my sister at first. The Amari I know hides from her sword.
This woman looks ready to kill.
Amari sprints down the hallway toward us with Tzain following close behind. When a guard charges her with his blade outstretched, she’s quick to slice him in the thigh. Tzain follows up with a blow to the head that knocks the soldier out cold.
“Amari!” I shout.
She skids to a halt. When she spots Zélie in my arms, her jaw drops. She and Tzain rush to meet us. That’s when they see all the blood.
Amari’s hand shoots to her mouth. But her horror is nothing compared to Tzain’s. A strangled noise escapes his lips—something between a whimper and a moan. He shrinks. It’s strange to see someone his size appear so small.
Zélie peels her head from my neck. “Tzain?”
He drops his ax and races to her. As I hand Zélie over, I see that the gauze pressed to her back runs red.
“Zél?” Tzain whispers. The loose bandages reveal the full extent of her wounds. I should’ve warned them.
But nothing could prepare anyone for the bleeding MAGGOT carved into Zélie’s back.
The sight shatters my heart. I can only imagine what it does to Tzain. He holds her. Too tight. But there’s no time to criticize.
“Go,” I urge them. “Father’s here. More guards will come. The longer you wait, the more impossible it’ll be to escape.”
“Come with us?”
The hope in Amari’s voice cuts me. The thought of leaving Zélie makes my chest tight. But this isn’t my fight. I can’t be on their side.
Zélie turns back to me; fear floods her tearstained eyes. I lay a hand on her forehead. Her skin scorches hot against my palm.
“I’ll find you,” I whisper.
“But your father—”
Another blast. The hall fills with smoke.
“Go!” I shout as the fortress shakes. “Get out while you still can!”
Tzain rushes off, carrying Zélie through the smoke-filled hysteria. Amari starts after him but hesitates. “I won’t leave you behind.”
“Go,” I press. “Father doesn’t know what I’ve done. If I stay behind, I can try to protect you from the inside.”
Amari nods and follows Tzain, accepting my lie with her sword raised. I collapse into the wall as I watch them disappear up the stairwells, crushing the desire to follow. Their battle is won. Their duty fulfilled.
My fight to save Orïsha has only begun.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
ZÉLIE
ESCAPING THE FORTRESS is a blur, a painting of madness and pain.
Through it all, my back rips open; with each tear the agony burns raw. My vision goes black, but I know we’ve escaped when the heat of the fortress opens into the cool night air. It whips against the gashes carved into my skin as Nailah carries us to safety.
All these people …
All these maji come to save me. What will they do when they learn the truth? That I’m broken. Useless.
Through the blackness, I try something, anything to feel magic’s rush. But no warmth runs through my veins, no surge erupts in my heart. All I feel is the searing slash of the soldier’s knife. All I see are Saran’s black eyes.
I faint before my fears reach their full fruition, not knowing how much time has passed or where we’ve gone. When I wake from the haze, calloused hands wrap around my body and lift me from Nailah’s saddle.
Tzain …
I’ll never forget the despair carved into his face when he saw me. The only time I’ve seen that look was after the Raid, when he discovered Mama’s body in chains. After everything he’s done, I can’t give him a reason to make that face again.
“Hold on, Zél,” Tzain whispers. “We’re close.” He lays me down on my stomach, exposing the horrors of my back. The wounds draw a crowd of gasps; one boy begins to cry.
“Just try,” a girl coaxes.
“I—I’ve only done cuts, some bruises. This—”
I spasm at the woman’s touch, seizing up as the pain rips through my back.
“I can’t—”
“Dammit, Khani,” Tzain cries. “Do something before she bleeds out!”
“It’s alright,” Amari soothes. “Here. Touch the stone.”
Once again I flinch as the woman’s hands press down, but this time they’re warm, heating me like the tidal pools surrounding Ilorin. The warmth travels through my body, soothing the pain and aches.
As it weaves under my skin, I get my first breath of relief. With it, my body jumps, snatching the chance for sleep.
* * *
THE SOFT EARTH FLATTENS beneath my feet, and I instantly know where I am. The reeds brush against my bare legs as the roar of rushing water falls nearby. On another day, the falls would beckon me closer.
Today they sound wrong. Sharp, like my screams.
“Zélie?”
Inan comes into view, eyes wide with worry. He takes a step forward but stops, like if he gets any closer I’ll shatter.
I want to.
To crack.
Crumble into the dirt and cry.
But more than anythi
ng, I don’t want him to know how his father’s broken me.
Tears well in Inan’s eyes and he shifts his gaze to the ground. My toes curl into the soft earth as I follow his lead.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes; I don’t think he’ll ever stop. “I know I should let you rest, but I had to see if you were…”
“Okay?” I finish for him, though I know why he doesn’t speak the word.
After everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling okay again.
“Did you find a Healer?” he asks.
I shrug. Yes. I’m healed. Here in our dreamscape, the world’s hatred isn’t carved into my back. I can pretend my magic still flows through my veins. I don’t struggle to speak. To feel. To breathe.
“I…”
In that instant I see a face that cuts like another scar in my back.
Since the day I met Inan, I’ve seen so much in his amber eyes. Hatred, fear. Remorse. I’ve seen everything. Everything.
But never this.
Never pity.
No. Fury grips me. I won’t let Saran take this, too. I want the eyes that stared at me like I was the only girl in Orïsha. The eyes that told me we could change the world. Not the eyes that see I’m broken.
That I’ll never be whole again.
“Zél—”
He stops when I pull his face to mine. With his touch, I can push away the pain. With his kiss, I can be the girl from the festival.
The girl who doesn’t have MAGGOT etched into her back.
I pull away. Inan’s eyes stay closed like they did after our first kiss. Except this time he winces.
As if our kiss causes him pain.
Though our lips touch, the embrace isn’t the same. He doesn’t run his fingers through my hair, graze my lip with his thumb. His hands hang in the air, afraid to move, to feel.
“You can touch me,” I whisper, fighting to keep my voice from cracking.
The lines in his forehead crease. “Zél, you don’t want this.”
I pull his lips to mine again and he breathes in, muscles softening under my kiss. When we pull apart, I press my forehead to his nose. “You don’t know what I want.”
His eyes flutter open, and this time there’s a glimmer of the look I crave. I see the boy who wants to take me back to his tent, the gaze that lets me pretend we could be okay.