I’m paralyzed. I wonder if I should rush in to help, but there’s the risk of distracting Bo. He needs every bit of his focus right now.
The dragon lets out a roar right into Bo’s face so loud I can feel it in my bones.
Bo doesn’t flinch, but when I look closely, I can see his hands shaking. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen genuine fear on my best friend’s face.
The beast charges, fangs bared and wings beating the air.
Bo leaps to the side and darts to the window. The beast stomps toward him, growls rippling in its inky throat. Bo turns to face it, flips his daga in his hands. The dragon jerks his head to one side to avoid it. With its head bowed, Bo jumps at the dragon and slides his knife between its fangs. He’s standing on the dragon’s bottom jaw, using his arms to keep the mouth from snapping shut with all his strength. He shakes with the effort, glistening with sweat. Already, he’s straining. He can’t last much longer like this.
The dragon tries to close its mouth on him. Bo gives one last push, stretching the dragon’s jaw open even farther. He has a small window of opportunity. He plunges his knife in the beast’s mouth, and the dragon’s jaw dips down and crashes to the floor. Bo falls with it, his legs collapsing beneath him. The entire room shudders. Plaster falls from the ceiling. Bo clambers to his feet, and I can see he’s limping. He’s hurt. The dragon picks itself up and sends an earsplitting shriek that rumbles throughout the room. Bo goes for a foreleg, but the beast raises it, and he misses. Bo loses his balance and slides along the floor. The dragon dives for him, but Bo scrambles out of the way just in time.
I want to leap in. This one is too big for him. But something keeps me frozen where I stand.
The dragon’s swishing tail lashes above Bo’s head, swatting at him. He ducks, then dodges, dancing left to right as the beast’s heavy tail tries to crush him. He’s favoring one leg, and the beast notices. In one swoop, the dragon’s tail swings toward his injured leg, and Bo cries out. The beast’s tail wraps around his ankle, hoisting him into the air. His daga slips out of his hand. Upside down, he grasps for it, but it’s just out of reach.
My heart is pounding. Maybe I can run in and knock his daga up to him, but I don’t know what the punishment will be if I intervene. And I might just get in Bo’s way. Bo might die today.
Bo flicks his wrist. The cord wrapped around his forearm snaps the knife back into his hand. In one movement, he slices through the beast’s tail. The beast lets out a roar and arches its back, sending Bo somersaulting through the air. He hits the floor so hard I wince.
He’s not moving.
He squirms, tries to pull himself forward. There’s a small trail of blood under him.
The sin-dragon turns around slowly. Its steps are deliberate. Certain. It knows it’s about to feast.
The room darkens. King Kolade hasn’t moved from his seat, watching with weary indifference. He can’t be bothered with the death of a lowly aki. Izu shows no concern either. No worries that this sin can’t be defeated, or fear of the sin-beast’s power. Maybe they believe I’ll be able to handle the weakened thing once Bo is gone. Maybe they don’t care if I die in the process too. My fists shake at my sides.
The dragon rears. It opens its mouth wide, tenses, then rushes straight for Bo’s body.
Before I know what I’m doing, I break away from the guards, daga in hand, and leap over Bo’s body.
My hands go up.
“STOP!” I shout.
And the beast does.
CHAPTER 8
THE BEAST IS staring at me.
Its head is tilted to one side. Tendrils of black smoke peel off its body. It considers me, like it’s trying to figure me out. Do the inisisa think? I wonder. What, by the Unnamed, could this one be thinking right now?
Bo lies on the floor behind me, completely still. But I think I can hear him breathing. That’s what I tell myself. He’s still breathing. He’s still breathing. He’s still alive.
I take a small step to the side, and the dragon turns its head. Looks me straight in the eye. It seems like it can only see me clearly when I move. I remember hearing about animals like this once. They could sniff you maybe, but it wouldn’t be till you tried to run away that they would find you. My daga handle is slick in my hand. Slowly, I tighten the strap around my wrist. I have no idea how much time has passed. But I need to move. I can’t move, but I need to.
Bo lets out a soft groan.
The sin-dragon tenses. I jump forward and twist, plunging my knife right into the nape of its neck.
Its roar echoes in my ears, rattling my brain. The dragon writhes beneath me, more fiercely than anything I’ve ever fought. Then, I’m flying.
When I hit the wall, I can hear the snap of bone. I fall to the floor with a thud. Taking a shaky breath in, I come up on one knee. Something wet and warm dribbles down the back of my neck. I put my hand to it, and my fingers come back red. I cough, and pain wracks my ribs.
The dragon looms over Bo’s body. My knife is still stuck in its neck. The inisisa convulses, barely holding itself together. Its inky body starts to become thin and patchy. I can see right through it. Tendrils of smoke rise up from its scales; its shape grows blurry and hard to discern.
I try to stand on my feet and can’t. My entire body aches. The dragon takes one step toward me. Then another. Then it dissolves.
In waves, its body loses form, and it turns completely to smoke.
Little exploding stars cloud my vision, and my head pounds. I put a hand to my forehead and stagger to my feet, checking for broken bones. But as soon as I stand upright, the sin slams into my throat like a spear pinning me to the wall. It’s never hurt this much before. I fight it, I try to swing at it, kick at it, break away, but I can’t. Tears stream down my cheeks. This time is different. This time, I can’t take it. I’m paralyzed. The sin has taken hold of me. Every bone in my body, every inch of skin, every muscle. I can feel it in my arms and fingers, in my legs and my toes. It fills the space between my ears and behind my eyes. Everything is going black.
Guilt squeezes my heart. I gag on the massive sin forcing itself into my body. I can feel the pain turning into a grief-filled kind of shame. It latches on to every thought running through my brain. Why didn’t I jump in to save Bo earlier? Why was I so cruel to Aliya? Why did I lie to Omar about how Eating gets easier with time? Why haven’t I sent more money to Mama and Baba? I feel guilty for every single step I took in the Forum, for hiding my skin from others.
Suddenly, it stops. I see Haris, the golden-haired princeling, standing in front of me. This is impossible. The one whose sin was burned into my forearm as a lion. I stumble toward him and reach my arm out for help. Or barring that, for him to cut me down. Any relief from this pain. The princeling is near enough to touch. He’s real. My fingers brush against the crest on the princeling’s chest, then he disappears.
I open my eyes, then begin hacking. There was no princeling. It was just a hallucination. That’s never happened before. Why was there someone else in King Kolade’s sin? And why did that sin change shape?
Light returns to the room as servants part the heavy red curtains. Everything is suddenly made of sunlight, and I have to shield my eyes. The sin turns in my stomach. I can barely hold it down. But I can breathe again. Finally.
Bo’s on his feet by now. Despite the pain thudding in my body and echoing through my mind, I can feel myself grinning. I knew it. He’s alive. He favors one leg over the other, and there’s a tiny stream of blood leaking down his face, but other than that, he seems like he came out of it in one piece. We both did.
Izu stands at King Kolade’s side. Looking at the king’s face, I can’t tell what he’s thinking, or whether he’s even processed what he just witnessed. He’s just as expressionless as that sin-dragon was. I stand straight. My back aches. Then, gingerly, I make my way to Bo and the others. It feels like I ju
st got stomped on by a pack of bears . . . or, I guess, attacked by a ferocious dragon made up of evil and sin.
“Aren’t you glad I tagged along?” I say, trying to crack a smile. Son of a stone-sniffer. Everything hurts.
When I make it to Bo’s side, a servant rushes in holding a small gilt-edged box. The servant, standing before King Kolade, opens the box. Its contents glow so bright both the king’s face and the Mage’s are bathed in white. A small smile plays across Izu’s lips. Izu nods, and the servant closes the box and hands it to him.
I lean over to Bo and whisper, “That’s gonna feed us both for two months at least. Maybe three.” No matter how they split it for us, it’s gonna be a magnificent haul.
Izu, box in hand, heads for the door.
“Let’s go,” I say, and Bo and I trail behind him. My mouth is already watering at the thought of all the puff puff I’m going to buy at Zoe’s.
“Arrest them.”
I whip around, and King Kolade is standing there, arms folded across his chest. He glances at the Palace guards. “I said, arrest them.”
“What?” Bo hisses as the Palace guards each grab an arm. “What’s going on?” He winces. His bad leg almost gives out.
They drag my friend to the floor. Even as beat-up as he is, Bo can still fight, but there are too many of them, and they pin him.
Another group of guards bursts through the door. They’re coming straight for me.
“What’s going on?” Bo shouts, his face pressed to the tiles. The fight drains out of him, and he stops resisting. He has no energy left.
I look to Bo, then at Izu, who now stands in the doorway, his expression saying nothing at all. He turns and continues walking down the hall.
The guards are just a few paces away now.
“Run!” Bo shouts. “Run!” And for the second time in a half-moon’s time, he saves my life.
I snap out of my trance. I can hear the guards stomping after me. There’s nowhere to go. The guards are blocking the only exit. I look left, right, nothing but wall. The room is still in shambles from our fight with the dragon. No way to climb up to the ceilings.
The window.
I can’t think of how much everything hurts. I make a break for the window, running as fast as my lungs will let me. I jump and crash straight into the glass.
It shatters, and I’m flying through the air. It’s crisp and fresh in my lungs, cool on my face. My limbs swim through the air. Wind plasters my tattered clothes to my body. I land hard on the stone pathway connecting two palace towers. Guards at both ends turn at the commotion, see me, and begin marching forward.
Come on, Taj. Get up. I don’t even bother looking before I vault over the wall. In the air, I pray that the solid ground isn’t too far below me.
“Stop him!” guards shout. “Stop the aki!”
I hit the grass and roll down a small hill. When I stop, I hear the rushing of a shallow river. It courses, snakelike, through the gardens. I splash through it, and in the distance I see the main gates. The guards at the entrance have received the call to arms. A series of shouts echoes around me. I veer away from them and see a span of gate overgrown with vines where no guards have been stationed. I squeeze my body through the bars, bruising my ribs and tearing my clothes so that they are practically rags on my body.
Suddenly, I’m at the edge of a cliff formed by a man-made hill carved into the landscape. I chance a look behind me. More Palace guards.
I jump.
CHAPTER 9
MY FEET HIT the ground. My legs crumple under me as I roll. I scrape my hands and knees on twigs and dry grass and pray I don’t smash my head on a rogue rock. Bruised and aching, I finally feel myself slow down. I’ve reached the bottom of the incline. When I get up, my hands are shaking. There’s nothing around me but towering barriers of ivy on either side of winding dirt pathways. It’s impossible to tell which way is out. My chest feels tight, and suddenly I realize I’m panicking. I can’t remember the last time I felt this scared. I have to snap out of it. Thinking about what will happen if I get caught isn’t going to help. When I’m safe, I can ponder things at my leisure, like perhaps why the Kayas want to arrest me for doing my job. And what they’re doing to Bo right now.
I run around one corner of hedges, then another, hurrying down a trail, but it’s just a dead end. I hear footsteps and double back. I crouch low against one wall and wait. The footsteps draw nearer. Slow, ambling footsteps. Shadows lengthen around the corner, then a young couple comes into view. They wear flowing white gowns. The young prince has a sword at his belt and a Palace crest embroidered on his sash. They walk by, and I thank the Unnamed that they can’t be bothered to notice the battered aki crouching just out of sight. I wait until I can’t hear them anymore, then hurry away, down another path.
More footsteps. And these are heavier—the distinct thud of work boots on hard earth.
Palace guards.
They whisper to each other just within earshot. They’re trying to find me. I strain my ears and can hear them agreeing to split up. I reach for my strap, then realize that I left my daga behind. It’s sitting there on the floor of King Kolade’s chambers. It takes every broken bone in my body not to mutter a curse.
I turn to try a different path, but my shirt catches on a twig. Just my luck. I pull, and it tears. The sound quiets the guards. I can hear them drawing closer. I tear myself loose, running as fast as I can.
It feels like I’m running in circles. Just when I think I’ve found my way out, I run into another green wall. All I hear now are the commands of Palace guards. They’re closing in on me. Path after path after path, then finally a light. I careen around one last hedge and find an open field. I see the Forum in the distance. There isn’t even a gate between us.
My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of the familiar shingled roofs and dilapidated columns. And I run as fast as I can.
As soon as I enter the Forum, bodies swarm around me. That familiar push. I never thought I’d feel this happy to be caught in the crowded, smelly, noisy public square, to find the alleyways I know so well, to be surrounded by all the hawkers, the jewelers, the booksellers. All is just as I left it. I take in a deep breath and smell the warm waft of pepper soup.
Heading toward home, I notice the beggars hiding in the dark and the comatose aki who have either Eaten too many sins or are simply weary of their work. The Crossed.
I think back to the heavy footfalls of the Palace guards and shudder. What would have happened had they caught me?
No. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing the thought away. When I open them, I stand still and breathe in my freedom.
Just as I inhale, though, I hear it: the clank of armor immediately behind me. Shrieks and shouts erupt from the crowd as the guards barrel past people, cutting an arrow’s path straight for me.
“Out of our way!”
“Arrest that aki!”
“Grab him!”
I set off at a run. The crowd parts for me, even as I weave my way around bodies, around stalls, through crowds listening to the holy men.
But as much as they despise aki, the people in the Forum are on my side. I may be nothing, but at least I’m not a Palace guard. Many of the merchants and Forum-dwellers move slowly or shuffle in the way of the oncoming guards to give me a bit more time to escape.
I spot a staircase spiraling up around a house and dart up the stone steps, eventually coming to a roof from which I can see most of the city center. The Forum is laid out before me, the streets shaping quarters that look like honeycombs. From here, I can track the guards and see just which swarms they’re struggling through. I can see where they are, where they’re coming from, and where it looks like they’re going. From up here they look like streams of ants with blood-red sashes wrapped over their chests.
My clothes whipping in the wind, I get a running start and leap o
nto another roof, where someone’s laundry dries on clotheslines. I land hard on my feet and grab for the line, using it as leverage to swing myself over to another shingled rooftop, accidentally taking a damp tunic along with me. As I soar through the air, I can see the hill where the shanties sit in the distance, where I know the Aunties can protect me. I land on a slanted sheet metal roof and clamber over the edge, then slide down the other side. When I hit the gutter pipe, I push off, reaching for another rooftop ledge as I go flying forward.
I scramble up the side, taking a breath at the top. I look down at the streets below and try to gauge my progress. The soldiers are bugs in the distance, heading in the wrong direction. I can barely hear them barking orders. I take a deep breath, let my shoulders roll back, and feel the tension go out of my body for a second.
I turn, take a step forward, then immediately regret it. My foot slips on something slick. I hit the shingles hard and start sliding down. I grasp at the shingles, trying to stop myself, but they fall away beneath my grip. I hit the ledge hard enough to let out a grunt and fall over, hanging on to the roof by one hand. I glance down toward my dangling feet. The alley below is far. Hard as I try, I can’t swing my other arm up. I’m gonna have to fall.
My body tenses. I let go.
As soon as I hit the ground, I crumple onto my side. Dust swirls around me as I writhe in the dirt. Pain bites through my ankle. Definitely sprained. I don’t recognize the smells and sounds here. Everything feels unfamiliar. I can’t tell which dahia this is. I manage to push myself up against the wall of the building I just fell from so that my hurt leg is stretched out in front of me, straight. My clothes have torn open, completely exposing the sin spots on my arms and chest. The laundry, now dirty, falls from my hands. It’s better than what I’ve got on though. I slip the stranger’s shirt over my body. My pants are shredded, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I lean against the wall of the house, trying to get my balance back. It takes so much energy to keep pressure off the bad ankle, but I have no idea how much longer I can go on. I don’t even know where I am. People are talking, I can hear it coming from the windows above, but the lilts are in the wrong place, and their words get clipped off after the wrong vowel. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. The strange language follows me down empty street after empty street. I have to keep walking. I know the guards are still after me, and even the Unnamed would not be able to protect me from what they’d do to an aki. The worst part is that I have no idea how far the shanties are from here. My stomach drops. My heart thuds in my chest. Panic. I feel as though all of a sudden, there’s nothing but forever between here and home.
Beasts Made of Night Page 8