The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen Book 4)

by Emily R. King

  A tidy grass hut with a thatch roof overlooks the greenery. A garden has been planted off to the side, alive with rows of vegetables and herbs. Deven comes out from behind the hut carrying a spade.

  He is not alone.

  Jaya pushes open the door of the hut and steps out, balancing a laundry basket on her hip. She holds the door open, and I exit next, hefting a second basket. Our hair hangs loose, swishing across our backs as we stride down to the creek chatting.

  The sight of my best friend captivates me until our forms disappear below the rise. My gaze jumps to Deven toiling in the garden. I prepare to call to him, but Tinley speaks over me.

  “Grandmother,” she whispers. I rip my attention away from Deven. Tinley’s tears flow, her expression full of wonderment. “Can you see her, Kali? She looks so young and happy.”

  I stare back at my picturesque scene. “I see—”

  Tinley covers her gasp. “Haziq is there. He’s waving to me.” She clenches my hand hard. “He said he’ll find me in my next life.”

  “But how?” I stammer. We are both viewing the same opening in the heavens, yet Anoush and Haziq are nowhere.

  Enlil sweeps his spear over his head, and the glimpse into the Beyond ends. Deven and our hut in the lower Alpanas vanish.

  Rawness boils up inside me. I reel on the fire-god. “I don’t understand.”

  “The Beyond is a mirror of your heart’s wish.” His voice gentles to velvet. “What did you see, Kalinda?”

  My deepest wish is vanishing a little every day. It is too fragile to speak of. “What’s your Beyond like?”

  Enlil’s brow creases. “Incomplete.”

  My annoyance dissolves. I should not be short with him, but my heart’s wish is a thin comfort without Jaya and Deven at my side.

  “It is time for Tinley to depart.” Enlil strides to the falcon and pets its beak.

  Tinley presses closer to me. “Kali, are you certain trusting him is a good idea? He looks at you strangely.”

  Everything about this is odd, but Enlil is a god. I have worshiped him since my childhood. For Deven’s sake, I have to accept his aid.

  “I’ll be all right. Will you?”

  “I think so. My grandmother was right. Fate led us here to find the answers we seek.” Tinley pulls me close. “Find Deven, Kali. Find him and bring him home. Your friends and family will be waiting.”

  I squeeze her harder than I normally would. She swiftly kisses my cheek, a rare show of affection, and strides to the falcon. Enlil boosts her onto its back. She waves farewell, and the mahati leaps into the sky. Star-Jumper flies into the clouds, and they vanish beyond the floating rotunda.

  Enlil greets his horses and beckons me over. They remind me of Siva. One of them jerks at his bridle, also crafted from fire. I shrink from the enormous beast.

  “Chaser recognizes you,” Enlil says.

  From where? I would recall meeting a stallion of fire. Chaser butts his head against my extended hand. As with Siva, Chaser’s flames do not harm me. I pat his back and step onto the chariot after Enlil. He is so big I cannot avoid our sides touching.

  “Most mortals are afraid of my chariot,” the fire-god notes.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then I hope you enjoy this.” He snaps the reins, and the horses take off.

  Our ascent is more gradual than a mahati falcon’s. We rise into the violet sky through delicate clouds and closer to the unreachable dome. The higher we climb, the faster the horses gallop. I could fall out the back of the chariot, but Enlil stands behind me and blocks the opening. His protective stance spurs a thought.

  We’ve ridden this way before.

  Nausea simmers in my belly. I was someone else before this life. Many someones. One of the former versions of myself must have been close to the fire-god. Close enough to meet his horses. And if I am correct, she was of importance.

  Our chariot speeds toward an expanding hole. We pass through it, exiting the splendor of Ekur, and fly over a desolate land of moody grays. Enlil lands beside a circular stone in the ground. We leave the chariot and approach the slab. Glyphs of an ancient script are etched all over it.

  “What do they say?” I ask.

  “It is a warning to intruders. This is the main portal to the under realm.”

  Enlil hunts for something on the marker and then drives the end of his spear into a small indent along the rim. Brilliancy bursts across the stone, flowing out in a steady ripple, and the slab disappears. I peer over the edge.

  A sludgy darkness percolates in the pit, not velvety or satiny like the shadows in the mortal realm but alive and squirming. The inky nest wafts of rotting sinew. Gooseflesh puckers my skin. The chilly evernight pours over the lip of the hole and swipes at my feet. I sidestep from contact, my joints rattling.

  Enlil hoists his spear and straps on a satchel I did not notice he had. He may have summoned it from nothing. Gods can do that, I think.

  “Kalinda, you have your powers, but are you otherwise armed?”

  I reveal the turquoise hilts of the daggers at my hip. Since I am down to one hand, he must think I need another defense. “They were my mother’s.”

  “Yasmin’s.”

  “You know her?”

  “We are acquainted.” Enlil disregards my astonishment and edges up to the portal. The writhing sludge retreats from him and simmers. “You will possess your Burner powers in the under realm, but they will not replenish. Do not rely on them unless you are in dire need.”

  Standing at the doorway to the Void, all hope and love in my life feel far removed. “The gods cannot reach us where we are going, can they?”

  “Anu and Ki have no authority in the under realm.” Enlil takes my hand. “I will not let any harm come to you, Kalinda.”

  And I will defend him.

  The whisper comes from far down inside me. Before I can pinpoint its origin, Enlil puts his toes over the pit.

  “We could lose each other in the pathways of shadow, so we must jump as one.”

  His warmth shields me from the cold emanating from the portal. I lock my knees to quiet my trembling and gaze into his burning eyes. The same strange voice inside me expels a dreamy exhale. I feel around for the source of it and discover a barrier, like a sealed hatch. Something dwells down past my inner sight. I dare not investigate further or I may let it out.

  Enlil threads his fingers in mine, and we leap.

  Seething winds accost my ears as the evernight charges in around us. Enlil’s lightning spear casts illumination at our surroundings. The portal opens to endless paths and upside-down stairways. We plummet past them, unobstructed by the meandering trails. Black scorched ground appears below.

  “Bend your knees!”

  I do as Enlil orders, and we land in a pile of sludge. The sticky muck absorbs our fall. Enlil lifts his staff overhead, illuminating our location. We fell into a tar pit. The gritty wetness rubs abrasions over my bare arms and legs where my trousers rode up. I squirm to get out only to sink deeper.

  “Be still.” Enlil dives his hands into the tar and heaves me out of the sludge. At eye level, his gaze shines like piercing stars.

  He slogs through the tar.

  “How are you not stuck?”

  “Nothing may kill me here. When you and I are close, the elements of the under realm cannot harm you as well.”

  The tar gurgles. A bubble pops near my feet, and cold air flashes out, stinking of moldy chickpeas. Each inhale crowds my nose and throat, the very air strangling me. At the embankment, Enlil sets me down. We dropped into a massive cavern riddled with pits. Spiky rocks protrude down from the cave ceiling and up from the floor. In the places they nearly meet, the points look like fangs in an unwelcoming grin.

  I wipe at the tar on my clothes and the sores where the substance chafed my skin. We have barely arrived and already Enlil has rendered me incompetent.

  “Thank you,” I push out between set teeth. Enlil chuckles and melts the patches of tar off his leg
s. “What?” I ask.

  “Your pride amuses me.”

  “This isn’t pride. I simply prefer to take care of myself.”

  “But you are unconfident in your ability to do so.” He lowers to one knee and cleans the tar off my skin. The stickiness melts and drips into puddles. “In another life, you were the greatest warrior of your generation.”

  My heart thuds against the trapdoor. “I was?”

  “I could remind you. Should you desire, I will retract the veil over your memories.”

  I am tempted to see myself as he does, but that is not why I summoned him. “Who I was isn’t relevant to who I am now.”

  He finishes and stands, his expression downcast. “The future is relevant to the present.”

  “But you want to show me the past.”

  “The past reminds us where we were so we may understand where we must go.” Enlil considers my glower and crosses the cavern. Rid of the sticky tar, I keep up at his side. “When you are ready, I will show you. You will be pleased. Your memories are yours, but they also include people you love.”

  He stops before a network of tunnels. No signs are posted to specify where they lead or how long they go on for. His spear casts a glow down the beginning of the paths, his corporal light wreathing us. Enlil peers down each one and then signals at the second to last.

  “This is the route to the first gate.”

  A gate? Of course. According to Inanna’s Descent, we must pass through seven gates before we reach the City of the Dead. I presumed they were figurative symbols. I had not considered they were literal distance markers. “How do you know this tunnel is the right one?”

  “The stench.” Enlil wrinkles his nose. “The reek of pain is most putrid down there.”

  I cannot smell anything over the drying tar on my cloak. We enter the tunnel of the fire-god’s choosing and rely on his effulgence to carve a path into the dim.

  19

  ASHWIN

  Breakfast is always quiet in my atrium. I dine alone and watch the door.

  After leaving Pons and Indah’s chamber last night, I wasted no time issuing a relocation order to the troops stationed at the city wall. At dawn, a unit marched through Vanhi and up to the palace. Yatin is currently supervising the settlement of their camp.

  Even knowing the palace residents were safe, I could not sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, I was with Deven in the middle of the desert. Kalinda and my mother were trapped in quicksand. No matter how hard we pulled and dug, we could not free them.

  The cook made my favorite fried bread with extra honey. I pay more attention to the doorway than my plate. At last my chamber servant enters.

  “I found it.” He sets a small jar before me.

  “Are you certain this is the one?”

  “Healer Baka assured me it’s lavender.”

  I spin the lid off and sniff the cream. Clean lavender with a hint of rose hip. I tuck the small jar into my jacket pocket as a messenger brings in a letter. In the message, Priestess Mita requests my attendance at the Sisterhood temple. The builders have come upon a complication that requires my input. Brac asked me to stay in the palace, but I will not postpone the completion of the temple.

  I grab a handful of cinnamon sweets off a dish on the table and thank the servants. “If you need me, I’ll be in the wives’ wing.”

  The path there is direct and unencumbered. At the entrance, Eshana rushes out and speeds off without a word.

  “Good morning, Eshana,” I call after her.

  She spins around. “Your Majesty! Have you seen Parisa? She was gone from our chamber when I woke, and she missed breakfast.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “She may be at the elephant stables.” Eshana glances about the vacant doorway and drops her voice to a scratchy whisper. “Her father was an elephant handler. He died when Parisa was young, and she was sent to the Hiraani Temple where we met. Did you know we were claimed together?”

  I was unaware. She goes on without my reply.

  “Our rank tournaments were consecutive. The cut on Parisa’s head was more severe than she lets on. The blade nearly shattered her skull. She’s struggling with your choice for kindred, but I hope her apprehensions don’t influence your decision for who you retain in your court.” Eshana plucks a stray thread from my jacket sleeve and leaves her hand there. “Whatever you decide, I’ll go with Parisa. We came to the palace together, and if we must, we’ll leave together.”

  I cannot speak intelligently about Parisa’s state of mind, though I do appreciate Eshana’s perspective. “I’ll take your thoughts into consideration. One question: Were you or anyone from your court in the library yesterday?”

  “Me?” She sounds scandalized. “Skies, no. We all know not to go in your library.”

  “Thank you, and thank you for informing me about Parisa. You’re a considerate friend.”

  Eshana reddens from ear to ear, then waves good-bye.

  I pass into the wives’ wing. Down the same corridor, a group of sisters gathers at an arched casement to view a crowd at the front gate. The protestors have returned.

  I fist the lavender lotion in my pocket. Visiting Gemi will have to wait. I hustle outside to the guardhouse. The angry mob throws stones into the grounds and at the guards on the ramparts. Yatin leads me into the garden, out of view of the gate.

  “Captain Yatin, what’s going on?”

  “The people are alarmed, sir. Commander Lokesh told them you rallied the soldiers to guard your viraji and left our people defenseless. They blocked every access in and out of the palace grounds.”

  “Lokesh lied.” Or did he? I summoned the soldiers to guard us from his growing rebellion, but never at the expense of our people’s safety. “The city has sufficient protection. Is Lokesh out there now? I’ll speak with him.”

  “He’ll twist your words to reinforce his lies. Sir, you’re best off returning inside and letting us manage him.”

  Everyone’s recommendation is for me to ignore Lokesh. No one thinks hiding behind my army is gutless. “As you say, but you need the proper authority to represent me. The army needs a leader. Serve as my general, Yatin. You’re doing the work; you’re entitled to the prestige.”

  “I’m honored,” Yatin rumbles in his mild baritone, “but I cannot accept. The army deserves its true general.”

  “This was Deven’s idea.”

  Yatin’s eyes expand. “How is he?”

  “He’s holding on.” I regret minimizing Deven’s pain, but reminding Yatin that his friend is in grave danger will do no good. “Will you lead in his stead?”

  Yatin dips his head. “I will serve as you command.”

  A soldier runs down the path and draws up short. “Your Majesty, pardon the interruption. Captain Yatin is needed at the guardhouse.”

  “General Yatin will be right with you,” I reply.

  The soldier aims an amazed look at Yatin, bows, and dashes off. Yatin rubs fingers over his bushy eyebrows, pressing them down. He must be overwhelmed, and, for the foreseeable future, overworked.

  “When this is over, I’ll send you and Natesa on a honeymoon wherever you wish.”

  Yatin chuckles. “You’re concerned Natesa will be mad that my advancement may occupy more of my time.”

  “Regardless, you deserve a break.” I did not expect to share these feelings, but they must be said. “Having lost some of my men, I’m even more grateful for those who stay.”

  Yatin grabs me in a hug, lifting me off the ground. He sets me back down and his face reddens, comprehending his casual handling of his ruler. I smile to lessen his embarrassment. He pulls at his chin sheepishly until shouts compel him to return to his post.

  Alone in the garden, I notice a lavender bush along the path. I run my hand over the blossoms and sniff. It has a sharp smell that is both medicinal and floral. Oddly pleased that Gemi’s experiment worked, I refocus on my next task. Choosing a lemon tree with ideal boughs, I climb halfway up. Above me, a family of
monkeys swing to an adjacent tree and chatter to one another. I settle on a limb and watch the happenings below. The leafy branches shield me from the soldiers setting up camp and afford me a view of the gate.

  Yatin and the soldiers clear a path in the crowd for a string of military wagons to pass through. The foolish protestors chant, “Return to tradition.” What is it they miss most? The tyranny? Bloodshed? Total disregard for their happiness?

  “What are you doing?” a voice calls from below.

  Gemi stands beneath the tree, gazing up at me.

  This is not how I wanted to see her today. I hope she loses interest and continues on her way, but she lifts herself onto a low-hanging branch and climbs. My branch quakes as she straddles the bough in her trousers, her bare feet dangling.

  “Why are you hiding?” she asks.

  “I’m not. I like to climb.”

  She tugs at my tunic sleeve. “You need more comfortable recreational attire.”

  “Natesa snuck into my chamber and removed all my favorite clothing,” I say. My viraji laughs, the merry sound like the jingle of a dancer’s wrist bells. “What are you doing in the gardens?” I ask her.

  “I was studying the monkeys. We don’t have their kind in Lestari.”

  I have given no thought to the types of monkeys in Tarachand versus those in the Southern Isles. Monkeys are widely considered pests. “Learn anything of interest?”

  “They sleep, travel, and hunt together. The mothers carry their young on their backs for what I think is the first year or so of their life, and when the guards are not paying attention, they snitch their food.” We chuckle together, and she asks, “Why are you up here?”

  “I was investigating a route out of the grounds. I need to visit the Sisterhood temple in the city, but the gates are blocked.”

  Gemi watches the throng beyond the wall. “They don’t want me as their kindred.” I shake my head in objection. “Don’t patronize me, Ashwin. I heard what Lokesh said. They want you to wed one of your father’s ranis.”

  “The people are acclimating to new ways. They’ll learn to accept you.”

  Gemi readjusts on the tree branch and our fingers meet. I pull away from her touch.