“No, thank you, sir.” I lift my chin.
Our gazes meet, and Manas’s eyes fly wide open. He leans down and pulls off my headscarf. While he bends over me, I drop my water cup and slug him in the nose.
He swings away, cradling his injury. His fingers come away bloody. Manas crushes my headscarf in his fist. “Seize him!”
Soldiers rush in around me. I do not struggle as they apprehend my sword, wrench my arms behind my back, and bind my wrists. Natesa and Yatin are gone.
Run and don’t look back.
“Commander,” Manas snipes, grasping his talwar, “this is Captain Deven Naik, a conspirator for Prince Ashwin and Kindred Kalinda. This man is a traitor.”
The commander falls all over his words. “He—he said he was from the south. He was wearing a uniform—”
“Enough!” Manas rides to his side, both astride their horses. “Did he have any companions?”
“Two men, one large and one small.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, General.”
“Good.” Manas draws his talwar and plunges the curved blade into the commander’s belly. His whole body twitches, blood blooming around the wound. Manas wrenches out his weapon, and the commander keels over, plummeting off his horse to the sand.
Manas sheathes his talwar and points to the closest unit of soldiers. “Find Captain Naik’s accomplices!” They obey in haste. Manas leans over me, his head impeding the sun. “I should’ve known you were skulking around when we caught the Galer boy. That filthy vermin begged for his worthless life.”
Rohan did no such thing, but I bottle a retort. Manas will not bait me.
Soldiers haul Yatin over to us. Also robbed of his headscarf, my friend walks with his shoulders back. His size must have given him away . . . or maybe not. I interpret his stubborn, set jaw. Yatin was caught intentionally. He let the soldiers find him to give Natesa more time to escape.
“Where’s the third man?” Manas demands.
“No sign of him, sir,” answers a soldier. I do not miss Yatin’s fleeting smile.
“Keep looking!”
The men dash off to search, but Natesa is clever. And with the extra time Yatin’s capture provided her, she will not be found.
Manas smirks down at me. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Deven.” I close my mouth, unwilling to grant him the satisfaction of agreeing. “Bring them.”
The soldiers tether our bindings to the commander’s horse and shove Yatin and me after their general. We slog up and down sand dunes, grime blowing in our eyes and mouths. I stumble to my knees, and the horse drags me until I find my footing again.
Ahead, far past the furthermost soldier and wagon, a haze distorts the sweltering horizon. The smoggy film marks the beginning of a mirage, the gods’ presumed doorway to paradise. But not even the illusion of a fictional haven can close the pit in my stomach.
As we near the front of the troops, the air holds a leaden tang that bleeds on my tongue. The heaviness accompanies, or originates from, Udug. I can feel him near. His presence sticks to me like cobwebs, snagging on everything and itching my skin. We gain on a large unit of soldiers hoisting an elaborate litter. The draperies are closed, sealing its rider in the dark, but pungent bitterness pours from it, tangible as smoke.
Manas calls for a covered wagon to halt and opens the rear door. Opal shelters her eyes from the sunlight. Dried blood covers her bound wrists. Manas could have restrained her with snakeroot or fed her neutralizing tonic to dim her powers, but cutting her is crueler. Her shoulder is wrapped with a bandage, and burn marks the size of fingerprints dot her arms. Yatin and I are impelled inside with her. Manas slams the door and casts us into darkness.
“Opal, are you all right?” I ask.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she whispers. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
My eyes adapt to the dimness and distinguish her slight shape. She is shorter than Kali but nearly as thin. “I’m sorry,” I say. A whimper ruptures from her lips. The wagon starts to rock, bouncing us around. “We came looking for you and Brac.”
“We were separated when the wing flyer crashed. I haven’t seen him since.”
This should be good news. Brac was probably never with the army. Rohan never heard him nearby, and we did not discover a second prison wagon. Then where is he?
“I almost got away.” Opal sniffles. “But the demon rajah struck me with his blue fire.” That explains the bandage on her shoulder. “Manas recognized me and put me in here with other bhuta captives. The demon rajah . . . he . . . he fed off the others’ soul-fire. I’m the only one left.”
Yatin shifts uneasily. We are both grateful Opal survived, but why her? “The demon rajah told Rohan you’ve been of use to him,” I start, selecting my words carefully.
“He invites me to supper every night and asks me questions.”
“What about?” Yatin inquires.
“He asked me about Vanhi. I didn’t know the answers, so he . . . he burned me. I made things up, but when I couldn’t tell him about the rebels, his frustration grew.” Tears clog Opal’s voice. “I would have said anything to save Rohan.”
Yatin slides closer to her, and she rests against him, crying.
Thank Anu that Natesa got away. We have a friend outside the wagon who knows we are here, but Udug is out there too. And he has no incentive to let mortals such as Yatin and me live.
Little quills of gooseflesh bristle up my arms. He feeds off bhuta soul-fire . . .
Udug is growing more powerful. Try as I might, I cannot strategize our next move. When battling an opponent bigger or stronger than I am, I was trained to go for his feet, knock him down, and disarm him. Udug set his footing on unstable ground—his borrowed identity—but no one will believe me over him. Even if I could knock him off his imposter throne, I cannot disarm him of his powers. Never have I fought an enemy more entrenched in the dark.
The wagon rocks headlong across the desert, bringing us closer to Vanhi. Closer to the start of the war.
21
KALINDA
The airship’s hull provides ample room for all the sisters and wards. Ashwin, Indah, and Pons stay on deck while I help the little ones descend the ladder to below.
Straw carpets the floor, and several yaks penned in the corner account for the stench of manure. I overhear a crewman say the airship was en route to deliver the herd to the clan in the arctic tundra but switched course when they received Tinley’s urgent message about the fire.
We rest on bales of grass and escape the freezing temperature huddled beneath wool blankets the crew passes out. I try to repress my shivering, but the blanket merely insulates my cold. The wards, however, are resilient. One of them begins a game of Fly-Fly Crane, and soon a group of them are darting between the bales with their arms spread like wings.
The sisters let them play, the semblance of normality welcome. After some time, Priestess Mita wanders down the ladder, each of her steps more unenthusiastic than the last. Even after the Paljorians pass out dried apricots, she maintains her scowl.
Sarita shares the bale beside mine with two girls, all chewing fruit. Their soul-fires glow dimly. Need flares at the back of my throat.
I could take a little. Just enough to muffle the cold screaming inside me. If they could feel my deadening heart, they would offer up their light.
I slide my hand under the blanket, reaching for the closest girl’s arm.
“Hungry?” Sarita holds out the dried fruit for me.
“No, thank you.” I jam my quaking fingers between my thighs. I nearly stole soul-fire to stoke my own. This is wrong, yet the craving burns so strongly my eyes sting. I curl into myself. It’s so cold.
Sarita rests her hand on my arm. “Kalinda, are you all right?”
Parch her. Take her light—
I twitch away and rise. “I cannot stand the priestess’s ingratitude any longer.”
A partial truth. Priestess Mita has not given thanks to our
hosts, but her disrespect is also an excuse to leave. Shedding the blanket, I climb the ladder to the open deck. The tidy area is stained mahogany and coated with a glossy veneer, and rigging and rope ladders are strung all over. Chilly air encases me like a snowy tomb. I hug myself to find my elusive inner warmth.
Tinley crosses the deck to me. “There you are. My father and Prince Ashwin are waiting for you.” She drapes a bearskin over my shoulders and directs me to the chief’s private quarters.
I draw the pelt closer. “Are you coming in?”
“I need to see to my falcon, Chare.” Tinley points at the mahati she left near the woods. Her prior falcon, Bya, died during our trial tournament. Tinley was devastated. Mahati falcons imprint on their handlers as hatchlings. The pair became more than master and bird; they were best friends.
“How did you find and train Chare so quickly?”
“A trader was selling her for her feathers. She fell into a depression after her handler died. She wouldn’t let me ride her at first. Now all she wants to do is soar.”
Chare squawks at the airship.
“She’s hungry.” Tinley opens her satchel to show me a dead hare and then disembarks. I watch her feed Chare and scratch her feathery breast. I wonder if Chare learned to trust Tinley because she sensed she was brokenhearted too.
After a brief knock on the chief’s door, I enter. Lanterns brighten the modest cabin. Animal teeth of all sizes are strung across the wall behind the chief’s desk where he and Ashwin are seated. Indah and Pons sit off to the side.
“Kalinda,” says the chief, “please join us. Prince Ashwin was explaining your circumstances.”
I occupy a chair near Indah and Pons, and Ashwin resumes.
“After the demon rajah fulfills my wish, I believe he intends to assist Kur in avenging Anu for usurping the mortal realm from the primeval gods. My study of the Samiya temple’s texts reinforced the grudge between Kur and Anu. I’m even more convinced the demon rajah plans to release his master. The only way to vanquish him is to cast him through the gate to the Void, but nothing I read has cited where the gate is located.”
Chief Naresh lays his hands over his broad chest. “We don’t know where it is either. Only demons or fallen souls can find the gate.”
“I know of a way,” I say. We have failed to unite with the rebels, but we can still accomplish one task before we leave the mountains. “Rajah Tarek visited me. He said my thoughts summoned him from the Void.” My gaze bounces from Indah, to Pons, and then to the chief. They stare at me in confusion.
Ashwin pales. “You saw him again?”
“On our first night at the temple. He came to me in the north tower.”
“He’s done this before?” Indah asks.
“I understand it sounds . . . odd, but I’m not imagining it.”
“We believe you,” she replies, and Pons nods. “Our people have tales of souls traveling by shadows.”
“As do ours,” the chief adds.
“Tarek knows where the gate is,” I say. “He said he would show me. In return, he asked that I stand before the gate and speak his name.”
Ashwin pushes to his feet. “No. You summoned Tarek just by thinking of him. Consider what power it would give him if you spoke his name at the gate.”
“The prince is right,” says Chief Naresh. “Names hold power.”
“But what if this is the only way?” I ask.
Chief Naresh exhales, building a long pause. “The mortal realm is closely intertwined with the Beyond and the Void. We cannot tamper with that balance.”
Ashwin paces in front of the desk. “We cannot bargain with Tarek. We’ll find another way to find the gate.” He anticipates my protest and raises a palm. “Don’t think of him, Kalinda. Don’t invoke the evernight. We’ll turn to the light for help.”
“Like we turned to the rebels?” I rejoin.
Ashwin stops pacing and looks up, dodging our gazes. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted Hastin.”
His admission drops a pause over us. I am just as to blame as he is. I wish I could take back the cruel things I said to him this morning.
Chief Naresh breeches the silence. “Prince Ashwin told me the warlord thinks ending him will also end Udug.”
“I believe the opposite,” Indah says, quiet but definitive. “Ashwin should have died from Anjali’s winnowing, but he healed rapidly. Not even bruises remain. I can only presume that Ashwin’s heart’s wish ties him to Udug in other unseen ways.”
My mind races to reach her logic. “You think Udug’s immortality extends to Ashwin so long as he is bound by his heart’s wish?”
“Yes.”
Indah knows nothing of my strife with Ashwin, but could her theory also extend to me? Ashwin’s bargain with Udug may explain why the icy poisons have not consumed me. The heart’s wish of the prince could be prolonging my life.
“Our Galers are storing up strength for the flight back to Paljor,” says the chief. Indah whitens at the mention of the airship flying. “We’ll provide temporary refuge to you, as well as the sisters and temple wards.”
“Thank you, but I cannot go.” I smile to ease my refusal. “I’m needed in Vanhi.”
“You’ll never make it in time to join the navy,” says Pons.
“I will if Tinley flies me on her falcon.”
“My daughter isn’t going near the war front,” Chief Naresh answers.
“We understand,” Ashwin replies. I arch a brow at his use of “we.” He intends to come with me? “She can take us as far as you’re comfortable.”
I add one last entreaty. “Please, Chief Naresh. We have to help our people.”
He sits up from his reclined position. “I’ll permit this out of respect for your parents, Kalinda. Let’s speak with Tinley.” He and Ashwin rise to find his daughter.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” I say, staying with Indah and Pons. “Will you two be all right going to Paljor?”
“We’ll be fine.” Pons rests his big hand over Indah’s small belly. They must be glad to miss the war front.
Indah pats Pons’s knee. “Would you leave us a moment, please?” He kisses her cheek and goes. I presume Indah wants to speak about her father or her pregnancy, but she focuses her serious gaze on me. “I’m concerned about you, Kalinda. I saw what you did to Prince Ashwin last night. Parching may seem like a reasonable remedy for your pain, but too much parching is dangerous.”
I bristle in defense. People are not afraid of Burners merely because they fear fire. They fear the violation of someone parching their soul. “I only borrowed Ashwin’s soul-fire because I was trying to stop the wildfire from spreading.”
“You didn’t borrow anything—you robbed it. Parched soul-fire cannot be returned.”
I snap my mouth shut. The opposite of parching is scorching, wherein a Burner pushes their powers into another and scorches them to ash. So, no. I cannot return the soul-fire I take.
“Parching too often is addictive. You could become dependent on others’ soul-fire to replenish your powers.” Indah places her hand on mine. “What are demons most known for?”
“Frightening people.”
“They frighten us because they thrive off destroying all that shines. Demons spite the stars, curse the moon, and abhor the sun. I know Udug’s cold-fire is still within you, but the cost is too great for you to give in. You’ll sacrifice your inner radiance for a moment in the sun—then it will fade, leaving you parched for light.”
I tell Indah what I dare not admit to Ashwin. “I don’t know if we can defeat him.”
“You can. Fight him, Kalinda. Hold on to your inner star and don’t let go.” Indah seals her encouragement with a kiss on my cheek. Being with child has opened her to all sorts of affection. “I’ll go see where Pons got to.”
She leaves the chief’s quarters, but her caution acerbates my worries. Will Udug’s cold-fire forever change me? I know of only one way to find out.
I exhale and clos
e my eyes.
A tiny light glows in my mind. My inner star’s color has changed from a clear light to brilliant sapphire. The longer I search for purity in the blue light, the icier I feel. The star grows razor-sharp points that spike into my skull. Behind my eyes, it burns like frostbite. I open them, and tears pour out. The stinging inside my head stays, a rising pressure of cold.
Indah and Pons come back in to find me doubled over and clutching my head.
“Kalinda, what happened?” Indah asks, hurrying to my side. I wait for the flash of cold to thaw, but the icicles impale deeper. She presses her warm palm to my forehead. “You’re freezing.”
Her warmth is like a cool drink in the desert. I react as a starving soul and draw in her heat. Her soul-fire flows into me, trickling down my body. Indah gasps, locked against me, as I parch more and more—
Pons wrenches her away. She teeters, and passes out. He catches her limp body and jostles her. Indah does not wake. His terror-filled gaze darts to me. I have devoured Indah’s soul-fire, chewed it up and swallowed it down.
Backing away, I have no words. No justification.
I flee the chief’s quarters and run down the plank. A brisk wind slaps my cheeks, but I am warm. So wonderfully warm and bright.
Demons steal the light.
Is that what I am becoming? Udug’s cold powers are strangling the mortal and bhuta sides of me. Without them, just one part of my heritage will be left—the ancestry line that traces back to the fire-god’s natural father, the demon Kur.
Clutching the bearskin at my throat, I slow near the mahati falcon. Tinley and her father ready the great bird for our journey. While they pass heated words back and forth, Ashwin waits a respectful distance away. He also wears a bearskin for our flight.
After a reticent glance at me, he explains, “Tinley wants to stay in Vanhi and fight, but her father forbids it.”
“I’m sorry I was angry with you. It was unfair of me.”
His attention jumps to me. “I’m sorry my heart’s wish hurt you. I wasn’t aware I had . . . that it tied us together.”
The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 3) Page 19