When Comes the Fire

by Lisa Cochrane

  It didn't matter, though, she thought as they followed along after the stranger in a former friend's skin. He was a means to an end, and she would use him all the same.

  o—O—o

  Four days into their journey towards the capital and Momal was really starting to set Namida on edge. She didn't know how Darwe never seemed to notice the odd look the older man got in his eyes whenever he looked at either of them. It was almost like he was looking straight into their souls, as if he knew them better than they knew themselves. It set her on edge, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. When she tried to tell Darwe about it, though, he just gave her a funny look, like he didn't know what the blazes she was on about. She sighed, raking her hand through her hair. She had finally had the chance to wash it, and the gathering storm clouds had the humidity sending her hair into a frizzy, fly-away mess. She scowled. She would have to ask Darwe to smooth some rose oil into it. She usually didn't use the stuff, expensive as it was and as limited as her cash flow was, but her hair was one of the few vanities she allowed herself. Her skin was a hopeless cause, for although the right half of her face had decent skin, free of pimples or large pores, the left half was left with spider-web burns that trailed all the way down the left side of her body to her hip. She saw no point in fretting over the state of her skin when only half of it had any semblance of normality to begin with.

  Sighing, she set out to find Darwe, pulling her hood over her unkempt hair and tying it in place with her scarf. He was likely at the tavern below the inn they were staying at, listening in for any information on Kaska's troops. Old habits died hard, she thought, even though they didn't really have much need for gathering their own intel now that they would have access to the Queen's information network once they reached the capital. Nyago lifted his head as she headed out the door, whuffing softly and settling back to sleep as she assured him she would only be downstairs.

  Namida's nose wrinkled as the smell of the tavern patrons wafted over her. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit room searching for Darwe, quickly spotting him despite the fact that his back was to her, sitting at a table with Momal and two other men who had the Queen's sigil stitched to their cloaks. Royal guards, then? She raised a brow. Now they would certainly stick out like sore thumbs amidst the neutral-aligned villagers they mingled with. She frowned at the thought, scanning the rest of the patrons. There was...what?

  She blinked, not sure she was truly seeing what she thought she was seeing. But no, there it was again. A familiar pair of eyes peering out from beneath a deep-set hood, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of their face, but there was no mistaking it. It was Kilish. The woman's eyes flashed as she caught Namida's shocked gaze, and her eyes darted towards the door before she pulled her scarf down just enough to down the last of her drink and press a few coppers to the table as she headed for the exit, shooting a loaded gaze back over her shoulder at the one-armed woman still half-hidden at the foot of the stairwell. Namida shook her head vigorously as though to shake herself of her stupor and quickly strode after the woman, the curiosity burning in her to know what exactly the other woman was doing here, of all places. It had been years now since they had gone their separate ways, but it was as though Kilish wanted Namida to follow her. Why? Did she have information they could use? Something gripped her. Fear, maybe, as she thought that perhaps Kilish needed her help. Though Kilish had not been her best friend—Darwe had, and forever would hold that role—the woman had been like an older sister to Namida, despite the jealousy she had shown for Namida's magick and her talent with a blade despite her handicap. As such, Namida would not hesitate to offer her help to the other woman should she need it. She was one of the few precious people Namida still had, after all, despite the fact they had not spoken for so long. Time and distance did nothing to change the fact that she was fond of Kilish as the sister she had never had.

  Namida trailed Kilish to a small alley a few blocks away from the inn, frowning at the dusty path, nothing more than packed dirt. It was not a rich town by any means, but most villages half their size had stone pathways even in the smallest of alleys. Perhaps this town had never been Blessed, she thought, if there was any truth to the myth that the Ancients had once blessed the settlements of Solus with solid foundations, that they would not sink or be swallowed by the shifting sands of the desert. She frowned. Now was no time to be distracted by such trivial thoughts, she told herself as Kilish stopped a few paces from the end of the alley and turned towards her. There was something in the encounter that brought a sharp reminder of her encounter with Bufuni not so long ago. Something about the mental comparison sent an inkling of dread through her.

  Kilish gave a small smile as she pulled her scarf and hood down at the same time, the older woman's familiar face coming into clear view at last. So she had not been mistaken, after all.

  "Hold, friend," Kilish said warmly. "How have you been these past cycles?"

  The cycles had treated Kilish well, Namida thought. The older woman didn't look as though she had aged a day, and her hair was meticulously braided, decorated with the warrior's beads that Namida had never bothered with, thinking the tradition foolish when one was trying not to be identified as an enemy. It was just as well. None of the warriors they had come across that sided with Kaska upheld the tradition, anyway. It eased the fear she hadn't realized she'd been entertaining in the back of her mind to see them in Kilish's hair, and her hand that had been twitching towards the dagger tucked in the back of her belt—her sword still being up in the room at the inn—relaxed at her side.

  "Well enough, I suppose," Namida said stiffly, not sure how to treat the time that had passed without their speaking. Should she ignore it, act as though no time had passed at all, or would that seem too familiar? Pah, she knew nothing of how to socialize with other people outside of Darwe. She was clumsy and awkward in her dealings with them, and usually left anything that required being relatable or charismatic to Darwe. He knew how to deal with people. She, to be frank, did not. "You look well. What have you been doing with your time?"

  Kilish's eyes turned sharp, and she pursed her lips. "I've been trying to track down the traitor Momal. Last I heard he was seen traveling this way, heading southeast. I plan to confront him." Her gaze pinned Namida in place, a strange glint in her eye as though she already knew the answer to her question before she even asked it. "Have you seen him?"

  Namida was silent for a moment, trying to debate whether or not she should let the information slip. Kilish was on their side, she thought, had never shown any indication to the opposite; but still, did she want to tell the woman who had been like an older sister to her, the one who had found her own uncle dead and sworn revenge on his killer that she was going to see the queen with the man whom Kilish still believed to be his killer? Namida was still struggling herself with the idea that he might not be. There had been no evidence pointing to anyone else, but she knew now that there had been another spy within the complex. There had to have been, if Momal was a spy for the queen, as the one who killed Master Dorozi for wanting his apprentices to ally with the queen would have done so under Kaska's orders. She resisted the urge to yank at her frizzy, unbraided hair in frustration. She owed Kilish the truth, she supposed. She knew how all-consuming the drive for revenge could be better than anyone. She raised her eyes to meet Kilish's piercing gaze once more.

  "I know where he is. But you should know, I don't think he was actually the one who killed Master Dorozi." Kilish's eyes flashed, and then she was gripping the front of Namida's cloak, pulling her close to her face. Namida's eyes widened. When had she closed the large gap between them? It was as though she hadn't even moved, no rustle of fabric or hair out of place from where she had been before. Kilish's teeth gleamed white in the dim light of the alley as she bared them in a snarl.

  "And why, pray tell, do you believe that?" Kilish said, her voice low and dangerous.

  Namida refused to blink, to move her eyes from Kilish's. Her nerves were
on edge, ready to explode into action at a moment's notice. Things had gone from distant but amiable to dangerous and foreboding in less time than it took her to bat her eyelids. Her fingers twitched for the dagger once more, but she forced her hand to still for now, not wanting to create conflict where was none...yet.

  "Momal is taking Darwe and I to see the queen," Namida said quietly, not wanting any unwanted listeners to hear, should there be any looking in on their private conversation. "We were right that he was a spy, but he was on the opposite side all this time. If Master Dorozi had intended Darwe and I seek audience with the queen, why the blazes would Momal murder him? It would only benefit his side in the end if we had gone to her to begin with." She took a deep breath. "I think there was another spy, someone who actually was on Kaska's side all along. I think that's who you're looking for. That will be who killed Master Dorozi."

  Kilish's face went carefully blank, and it set off more alarm bells in Namida's head than her former hostile expression had.

  "I see... Thank you for sharing your theory." The momentary twist in her expression, the malice and contempt that suddenly shone in Kilish's eyes, was the only warning that Namida got before the knife was at her throat. "I suppose you've shared these theories with Darwe, too, hmm? Of course. You two share everything, after all," she said, not even giving Namida a chance to respond. She shot Namida a poor attempt at a sympathetic look. "It's a pity. I was truly hoping I wouldn't have to kill him. You, on the other hand...well. You can kindly die."

  Namida grabbed Kilish's wrist before the dagger could plunge into her neck and twisted harshly, ripping a cry from Kilish's lips that morphed into a snarl as they both leapt backward, slowly circling as they tried to identify the weak spots in each other's defences. The dagger hung limply in Kilish's hand, but her eyes hardened as she touched her other hand to the wrist there and murmured a few words of magick, her fingertips glowing as she healed the wrist.

  This was her chance. Namida slid the dagger from her belt in one fluid motion and leapt across the distance between them. Her dagger aimed straight and true, propelled by the anger she felt at having been so blinded by her closeness to the older woman that she had so completely missed her involvement in Master Dorozi's murder. How could she not have seen that Kilish was the other spy? She was furious, but even moreso than with Kilish, she was angry with herself for being so foolish as to think she knew Kilish well enough to have ruled her out as the traitor on Kaska's side. She thought Kilish was like her, her father having been killed by Kaska early in the war, but it just went to show that you could never truly know a person. And that Kilish was a damned fool.

  Kilish's eyes flashed as the dagger drew near, and then her glowing hand came up to protect her throat. Unarmed? Namida mentally scoffed at the thought, until she realized that Kilish's hand still glowed—but the glow had turned black. She felt a sudden dread fill her as she tried too late to avert her course, and the dagger plunged straight into the miasma surrounding the older woman's hand.

  Namida screamed as a wound opened up in her own hand where it should have been in Kilish's, her grip stuttering on the hilt of her weapon as bright red blood gushed over it, causing the dagger to drop to the dirt with a dull thud. She grit her teeth, diving to the side as Kilish swiped at her with her own dagger, her wrist now fully healed. With only one hand to wield a weapon with, Kilish had put her at a distinct disadvantage by injuring her hand right from the start. What was she left with? All she had now were her flames, but even those were sporadic at best these days... She ground her teeth together, clenching her bleeding hand into a fist, her fingernails digging painfully into the wound as she leapt back out of range of Kilish's arcing blow aimed for her shoulder and chest. Damn her powers, where were they when she actually needed them? She danced back out of range once more as Kilish continued to press forward, holding out a hand and trying to envision the flame appearing around Kilish, her brow furrowing as she reached out unconsciously...

  Kilish's eyes widened and she leapt sideways, a roaring flame bursting to life in the air where her head had just been. Kilish's eyes widened as she stared at the crackling fire that would have killed her. Her distraction was her downfall.

  Namida leapt at Kilish with a high kick that caught her chin, causing her teeth to jar together and her jaw to crack as she was sent sprawling to the ground. Namida quickly pinned the older woman's arms to the ground with her legs, wrenching the dagger from her now useless hand and pressing it to Kilish's throat.

  "Now, what was that you were saying about dying?" Namida sneered even as her mind raced. She should plunge the dagger into Kilish's perfect throat, ruin her blemish-free skin and end her life, just as she had intended to do to her. This woman had killed Master Dorozi in cold blood, her own uncle for crying out loud, and had pinned the blame on someone who aside from having ulterior motives for being at the complex had, in truth, been entirely blameless for the tragedies that had taken place there.

  And yet...her hand shook as she pressed the blade closer to Kilish's throat. She had killed so many people in the past few years, but they were all just...people. She had never known them before she killed them, never knew their names or faces or if they had families back home. Never knew their likes or dislikes, or that they still dreamt of having kids one day even though their lover's family had fled the country and they were still hung up on the man they'd once thought they would marry. Even if everything that Kilish had told her about herself and discussed with her over meals or tea had been a lie, she had still known the woman that she had once thought Kilish to be. That woman was still her friend, even though the person in front of her now had betrayed her trust and tried to take her life.

  No. She couldn't kill her.

  "Well?" Kilish said through gritted teeth. "Do it already. Get it over with."

  Namida looked at her, really looked at her, her eyes searching for any sign of the sister figure she had once known. She couldn't seem to see it anymore. Perhaps it had never really been there at all. She sighed, standing up and stepping back to let a shocked Kilish scramble to her feet, moving back into a defensive position once more. Namida tucked the dagger she still held into the back of her belt, slick as it was with her own blood. It was a nicer blade than hers was, anyway.

  "Leave," Namida said. "If I ever see your face again, I won't hesitate to kill you."

  There was nothing but malice in Kilish's eyes as Namida turned to walk away, heading back down the alley to the road that would lead her back to the inn. She frowned as she spotted Nyago at the end of the alley, making his way towards her. The hound's ears suddenly flattened back against his skull as he bounded towards her.

  "Nyago? What—"

  He growled as he leapt at her...and past her, a cry sounding as his teeth gnashed and ripped at flesh as Namida whirled to see what was going on. Nyago's teeth were dug into Kilish's arm, Namida's dropped dagger from earlier now fallen at her side. The hound shook his bulky head, tearing at the flesh of Kilish's arm as she shrieked. Before Namida could call out to warn Nyago, Kilish had curled up her legs between her body and his and, with a powerful kick from both legs, sent the hound flying—along with a fair sized chunk of her own arm. She gave a ragged gasp as her hand clenched around something on her chest—an amulet?—and suddenly she was enveloped in the same darkness that Bufuni's killer had been. Namida inhaled sharply. The dark magick set off alarm bells in her mind, putting all of her senses at edge with the very wrongness of it. There was nothing to be done about it now, though, as the darkness faded to reveal nothing more than a pool of blood soaking into the dirt where Kilish had lain mere moments ago. Nyago shook himself as he stood from his sprawled position in the dirt, favoring his left forepaw as he made his way over to her. Namida sighed and knelt before her faithful companion, ignoring the blood that dripped from his maw as she wrapped her hands in fistfuls of his fur and leaned against his side.

  "You've got to stop saving me, Nyago. One of these days you'll wind up dead."
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  She meant it, too. It seemed to be all that happened to anyone she loved—they either ended up dead, or they betrayed her. And she did not want to live to see the day that Darwe or Nyago ended up in either of those categories, because if she did, then she might as well die herself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Namida felt awkward. The palace was a looming structure, four storeys high and twice as wide and long as the multi-building structure the compound had been before it was destroyed. She felt it was an overly flamboyant symbol of wealth and status, and she frowned to think that she and Darwe were going to go in there looking like paupers in their well-worn travel clothes and kneel before a monarch that in all honesty, she wished she could do without. She sighed, glancing over at Darwe and noting his frown. She nudged him in the side with her elbow, making him glance over at her, one eyebrow raised.

  "How do I look?" she drawled, smearing some dirt from the back of her hand onto her cheeks. "Fit for an audience with the queen?"

  Darwe gave a bark of laughter, and Namida grinned in turn. At least she had dispelled the tension looming in the air as Momal led them past guards posted almost every few feet. Her smile faded at the realization that there were so many soldiers posted here, at the palace, with few to none in any towns further than a few days' travel away. She schooled her expression so she would not show how her blood was boiling as Momal flashed a letter with the queen's royal seal on it to grant them entry to the palace. The guards gave brisk nods of approval after inspecting it, and the heavy wooden doors were pulled open to let them through.

  Gleaming marble floors and white-washed stone walls seemed to swallow them whole. The ceilings were much higher than she was used to, and the corridors wide enough to allow soldiers to march down them at least ten abreast, she thought. She worried the inside of her cheek, her eyebrows furrowing when she bit down too hard and a familiar coppery taste leaked onto her tongue. Nyago butted his head against her hip, and her eyes darted over to him as he padded silently at her left side. His large pointed ears flicked forward and back, as though he was overwhelmed by the strange new sounds of their surroundings, but his dark eyes bore into her own. He could probably smell the tang of blood as soon as it filled her mouth. She shook her head, silently telling him not to worry. Not that she believed he would listen to her for one moment. Nyago might not be able to scold her like a human could, but he was always worrying over her, sending her annoyed looks when she didn't heed his warning glances. She stifled a sigh at the thought. Nyago fussed over her even more than Darwe did most of the time.