The Last Namsara

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  Her father motioned for the temple guardian to begin. The young woman trembled at the closeness of the Iskari—the death bringer. What her father had turned her into.

  “Tomorrow morning, once your marriage is consummated, I will revoke Dax’s birthright. As an enemy of Firgaard, he will forfeit any claim to my throne. Instead, Jarek will be king after me.”

  In his eyes Asha saw only cold, honed hate.

  “Guardians!” The young guardian’s voice rose up, a little shakily, to replace the dragon king’s. “We gather here tonight to bear witness. To bind this couple together for life. What is bound here tonight can never be unbound.”

  Asha looked from the young woman to the silent, robed guardians beyond. Their hoods were pushed back. Asha glanced at each of them, until she came to the last one: Maya, the guardian who hid Torwin in the room with the scrolls.

  Their gazes met and held.

  “By the power given to me by the dragon king himself . . .”

  Those weren’t the binding words. The power to bind a pair together came from the Old One, not the king.

  Maybe her father didn’t need Kozu’s death to usher in his new era. Maybe he could simply seize it for himself.

  “I weave these lives together as one! Only death can break my threads and tear them asunder!”

  Normally the bride and groom refuted this last line by reciting vows taken from Willa’s story. Because the line was wrong. Willa had proven that Death couldn’t break the bond between her and her beloved. Love was stronger than death.

  “Only Death himself,” Jarek recited, “can tear this bond asunder.”

  Those weren’t the vows. They were butchering Willa’s words.

  She stared at the guardian, wanting her to protest. But the young woman simply stood there, waiting for Asha to repeat the words.

  Jarek reached for Asha’s arm and drew her in close. His grip tightened. Always tightened. “What do you think will happen to you if you don’t say the words, Asha?”

  My father will give me to you anyway. It was the worst punishment she could think of.

  “Say them.”

  She never would. Not to Jarek. The words belonged to Willa. Saying them to Jarek was a desecration. A mockery of Willa’s fierce, unyielding love.

  Asha looked to the guardians beyond the circle of flame. Six sets of eyes looked back at her, watching. As if she were nothing more than a slave being sold and locked in a collar.

  She thought of the people gathered outside. Thought of how, before her mother died, she could hear the chant of prayers all the way from the market.

  Asha didn’t have any prayers. But she had something else.

  “Once there was a king, rotting from the inside out!” Asha threw her voice so hard and so high, she imagined it reaching beyond the stained-glass windows hidden behind her father’s banners. Imagined it reaching all the way to the sky. “He tricked his own daughter into betraying the First Dragon! He turned Kozu against her, letting her burn, all so he could use her! So he could twist her into a tool for his own dark purposes!”

  Beyond the circle of flames, the guardians exchanged startled glances.

  “The dragon king convinced his daughter it was her fault; she burned because she was the rotten one. He showered on her false kindnesses, to make her feel indebted to him. To use her to usher in a new era—one without dissent.”

  “Silence!” her father commanded.

  Jarek squeezed, crushing her bones.

  But Asha didn’t stop.

  “She believed the lies he told. She hunted down monsters because he asked her to, never realizing the most wicked monster of all stood right behind her.”

  From outside, Asha thought she heard murmurs turn to shouts. Thought she heard the crash of lanterns dropped on the stones.

  “Bind them,” commanded the dragon king.

  “But, my king, she hasn’t said the—”

  “BIND THEM!”

  The temple guardian stepped forward, her hands trembling as she did. She took the white silk and, as Jarek laced his fingers with Asha’s, tied it around their wrists.

  “Your worst fear has come true, Father.” Asha stared down the dragon king. “I am corrupted. The Old One owns your Iskari. You have nothing left to use against her, nothing to make her do what you want.”

  The guardian said the binding words. A moment later, Jarek ripped off the silk. It fluttered to the stones at their feet. He grabbed Asha and yanked her out of the circle of torches.

  The sound of shattered glass erupted from above.

  A thousand colored shards rained down on them.

  Jarek let go. Asha raised her arms over her head, protecting herself from the falling pieces. She looked up, watching her father’s torn banner flutter to the floor.

  A fierce wind howled through the broken window—or maybe that was the dragon.

  With outstretched wings, the dust-red dragon swooped, circling downward, as out in the street, the screaming started. Asha could hear people pushing and shoving, running for cover.

  Shadow landed clumsily on the stone floor before Asha. Gasps rose from the guardians behind her. Two of them fell to their knees.

  Righting himself, Shadow’s pale slitted eyes flickered over her, checking for injury, before narrowing on the commandant and the king at her back. Shadow roared, and the temple shook with the sound. As if the Old One himself had woken from a too-long slumber, angry, ready to take back what belonged to him.

  Atop Shadow sat Torwin, a bow slung over his shoulder and a knife tucked into his boot. Steely eyes met Asha’s. He wore a strange fitted coat and gloves, with a dark green sandskarf pulled up over his face, covering his nose and mouth.

  You’re supposed to be gone, she thought. You’re supposed to be safe.

  And yet her hope ignited at the sight of him.

  Shadow hissed. Jarek stepped back, out of the circle of fire and away from Asha, his hands raised.

  Her father yelled for the soldats. But the doors to the chamber were shut tight. Maya and a few of the other temple guardians were shoved up against them.

  With Shadow’s gaze pinning Jarek in place, Torwin held one hand down to Asha. She rose and seized it, letting him pull her up. Asha hiked up the hem of her dress to straddle Shadow’s back. Torwin’s arm slid around her waist, keeping her tight against him. He clicked to Shadow, who hissed another warning and stretched his wings wide.

  “Are you ready?”

  Her heart thudded at the sound of his voice at her ear, slightly muffled by the fabric of the sandskarf. He smelled like dragonfire and smoke.

  “I’ve never been more ready,” she said.

  His eyes crinkled. She knew beneath the sandskarf he was smiling the smile she loved best. One that involved his whole mouth.

  “Hold on.” His arm tightened as Shadow beat his wings, shifting from foot to foot.

  Asha’s stomach lurched as they sprang into the air.

  In his leap for the window, Shadow knocked over a torch and her father’s crumpled banner caught fire. As they rose toward the window, Asha looked back to the flames, past Jarek, to the dragon king. Smoke twisted around him.

  His eyes raged at her. But underneath the surface, Asha thought she saw the seed of a great fear.

  Be afraid, Father. I’ll make you regret everything you’ve ever done to me.

  Shadow soared out through the broken window and into the night.

  Asha laughed—softly at first. And then deliriously.

  She’d just escaped her own wedding on the back of a dragon.

  They soared over rooftops, then over the wall. Asha turned and looked back, watching the city fall away, marveling at how different the streets and rooftops looked from so high up. Like a winding web. Shadow sailed higher, beyond the wall and out into the Rift.

  The higher they rose, though, the colder it got. Soon Asha’s teeth chattered. Torwin pulled her closer, trying to use his heat to stave off her chill.

  Asha curled into hi
m. With the lower half of her face pressed into his shoulder, she watched her home shrink into the distance before turning her eyes to the sky.

  The stars shone like crystals above them and the moon had bled out. It was waxing instead of waning now.

  It would be pale and slivered and new.

  Thirty-Three

  Asha woke with her cheek against a bony shoulder. Torwin unlatched her hands from their grip on his arm and Shadow fidgeted beneath her, waiting patiently for his riders to dismount.

  They’d landed on some kind of precipice. The Rift surrounded them, snakelike and silhouetted beneath the stars. Somewhere in the distance stood the city, but they were so high and far, Asha couldn’t even make out the wall. Below them sprawled thick, scrubby forest.

  Torwin dismounted first, sliding effortlessly down Shadow’s side. Asha swung her leg over so she could follow and found Torwin already turned to catch her, his hands taking hold of her waist as he guided her down to the earth.

  When her slippered feet touched the stony ground, she looked up to find his worried gaze tracing her scar. Remembering the sight of herself in the mirror, she turned her face, keeping the scar out of his sight.

  “I’m fine.”

  Torwin’s hands slid up her cheeks. Gently, he turned her to face him.

  “Are you?”

  The breath rushed out of Asha. She nodded.

  With his hands still cradling her face, his gaze continued to search her.

  Asha grabbed hold of his wrists, stopping his searching gaze. “No one hurt me,” she said, willing him to hear what she wasn’t saying: Jarek didn’t hurt me. “I promise.”

  He lingered over her, trying to decipher if this was the truth or her attempt to protect him. Finally, he nodded.

  Shadow whuffed. Torwin and Asha both looked up, over her shoulder, at the hulking dark form. Torwin’s hands fell away from her face. Whistling to the dragon, he reached out a palm and Shadow nuzzled it before turning and launching himself into the sky.

  Torwin motioned Asha toward the thick woods. “This way.”

  She stood for a moment, watching him. He seemed different here, so far from the city. Dressed in his strange jacket and gloves, with a bow slung over his shoulder and a knife tucked in his boot.

  He seemed free.

  The trees clustered so closely together, their boughs blocked out the starlight. The wind rustled the crisp leaves of eucalyptus trees. This part of the Rift was unfamiliar to Asha, and she had difficulty keeping up. She stumbled through the darkness, her dress catching on branches, her feet snagging in root systems. Pine needles crunched beneath her footsteps, echoing loudly in her ears.

  “Some hunter you are.” Torwin smiled in the darkness. His fingers brushed against Asha’s, making warmth bloom through her. “You’ll alert the entire camp to our arrival.”

  “Camp?” she whispered, distracted by the back-and-forth movement of his knuckles across hers, soft and hesitant. “What camp?”

  “It’s not much farther now,” he said.

  But Asha didn’t want to leave this wood. She wanted to stay right here, alone in the darkness with him.

  Torwin seemed to want that too, because his footsteps slowed. He laced his warm fingers through hers. “Asha?”

  “Hmm?”

  “There’s . . . something I need to tell you.” His thumb ran nervously across her skin. “Before we go down there. In case I lose my nerve.”

  Asha paused, suddenly nervous too. “All right.”

  In the darkness, she heard the soft sound of him swallowing. “I’m leaving.”

  The words sliced the air, cold and abrupt.

  “Leaving?” Asha frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Torwin took a deep breath. “Your brother gave me enough coin to buy passage aboard a ship in Darmoor. From there, I’m heading north. Across the sea.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised her. This was what he’d wanted ever since he’d stolen her slayers that night in the temple and made her show him the way out of the city.

  He wanted to escape. To be far, far away from everything that had ever hurt him.

  Asha didn’t blame him.

  Still, her footsteps halted. The thought of him, gone . . .

  Torwin stopped too, turning to face her in the dark. He still smelled like dragon musk and smoke. “You could come with me. If you wanted to.”

  Asha fell into silence, thinking of the last time he’d made her this offer. She’d turned him down then, and that had been a huge mistake.

  “Just think of it, Asha: freedom, adventure, the salty sea air on your face. . . .” She could hear his excited smile. “I’ve never even seen the sea.”

  He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

  She tried to smile, tried to catch his excitement. But her heart suddenly felt so heavy.

  “When?” she asked, even as she dreaded the answer. “When do you leave?”

  Before he could respond, though, the light of a lamp flashed across their faces.

  Asha didn’t think; she reacted. Her hand slid out of Torwin’s. Grabbing the knife in his boot, she pushed him behind her, positioning herself between him and the intruder.

  But all she could see was a light in the trees.

  “It’s all right.” The heat of Torwin rushed up her back as he closed the distance between them. “It’s only the patrol.”

  “Actually,” came a voice with a honeyed accent, “it’s just me.”

  “Jas?” Torwin asked.

  Asha squinted through the bright orange glow of the lamp, her blade lowering. The bearer of the lamp lowered it to his side, illuminating him.

  The intruder was a young man, maybe a year younger than Asha. The horn hilts of two huge knives gleamed at his hips, and a maroon sandskarf was wrapped loosely around his shoulders.

  Everything about him said scrublander.

  Enemy.

  Asha lifted the knife again. The boy’s smile slid away.

  “This is Jas,” said Torwin, stepping out from behind Asha and resting his hand on hers before peeling his knife from her fingers. “Roa’s brother. He’s a friend.”

  Roa. The girl who betrayed Dax.

  “What’s he doing here?” she demanded.

  Jas smiled nervously, looking to Torwin for rescue.

  “He’s here to help,” Torwin said, tucking the knife back into his boot on the side farthest from Asha. “Jas, meet Asha.”

  At her name, Jas’s eyes went wide. He glanced at her scar. “The Iskari,” he whispered. Her reputation apparently preceded her, because Torwin didn’t say anything more. “I’ve heard . . . a great many things about you.” He lifted his fist to his heart, and then—as if addressing Asha a moment more might make her reach for the knife again—he turned to Torwin.

  “You haven’t seen my sister, have you?”

  Torwin shook his head. “We only just arrived.”

  Jas worried his lip with his teeth. “She and Dax quarreled, and now she’s disappeared.”

  Asha frowned in confusion.

  Dax was here? With Roa?

  Asha looked to Torwin. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s . . . a lot you don’t know,” he said. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He looked to Jas. “Coming?”

  The boy shook his head. “I need to find my sister.” Glancing to the Iskari, he said, “It was nice to meet you, Asha.”

  She nodded, then followed Torwin through the trees.

  When the woods grew sparse, voices mingled with the sound of the wind in the leaves. When the trees disappeared completely, Asha found herself standing atop a hill covered in pinecones, looking down over a camp of thousands. Dozens of bonfires burned, surrounded by groups of people sitting and drinking. Canvas tents of all sizes were pitched around them.

  “Welcome to New Haven,” said Torwin, motioning to the bowled-out valley below. “The name was your brother’s idea. This is where he’s assembling his army.”

  My brother, she thought, her
heart racing, is plotting a war.

  Was Dax even capable of such a thing?

  Suddenly, two forms approached. When they stopped, Asha saw they were draksors. Draksors studying Asha with the same wary look she directed at them. They nodded to Torwin, then stepped back.

  Torwin held his hand out to her, but Asha—all too aware of the patrols watching—didn’t take it. Instead, she headed down the hill, toward the tents and the bonfires.

  The moment she set foot in the camp, hundreds of eyes looked up, first to the Iskari, then to the slave at her side. Asha couldn’t help staring back. Around every fire were not just draksors and skral but scrublanders too.

  Enemies . . . united.

  Dax did this?

  “Asha,” Torwin said from behind her. The moment he did, a hushed silence descended. Asha halted on the trodden-down path and looked back. Torwin clearly wanted her to follow.

  Asha looked past Torwin, to the faces lit up by firelight. Draksor and skral. They sat side by side, sharing jugs of wine. But collars still hung around skral necks. And skral eyes didn’t quite meet draksor ones. And every gaze narrowed on one young man. The slave who said the Iskari’s name. Out loud. As if he had a right.

  The hair on Asha’s arms rose. She went to Torwin’s side, her fingers moving to an axe that wasn’t there. She stayed close as he led her to a tent guarded by two scrublanders, their double-edged sickle-like swords sheathed in leather scabbards. They nodded to Torwin, who stepped inside the tent.

  Asha followed him in.

  Thirty-Four

  A map lay unrolled across a roughly made table, and over it leaned Dax, his finger tracing some boundary Asha couldn’t see. Next to him, looking where he looked with her arms crossed over her chest, stood Safire, the bruises on her face receding. Around them stood a hastily pitched tent, the fawn canvas kept aloft by roughly hewn columns made of thick branches.

  Asha’s heart jolted at the sight of them.

  When Torwin cleared his throat, Dax and Safire looked up, their mouths opening at the same time.