Shadow of the Phoenix

by Rebecca Harwell

  Nadya swallowed the lump that had hardened in her throat. “What do you want of me, Grandmother?”

  “The creature that brought the walls down. Until it is overcome, our city will never be reclaimed.” Drina spoke in the commanding tone Nadya had heard her use to cow the Duke and his son at their council meetings. “You must do this.”

  “That woman nearly killed her. Nearly killed both of us,” Shay said. “How do you expect us to go up against a Cressian nivasi when we don’t even know how she exists?”

  “I suggest you start by finding out just that,” Drina said dryly.

  Nadya knew her grandmother did not trust Shay; she had warned Nadya away from the other nivasi woman. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her grandmother, but her words rang with the wisdom of an Elder, and Nadya listened. “What do you mean?”

  “There is someone you know whose knowledge of the Nomori and the nivasi that come from us surpasses even that of the Elders.” Her upper lip twisted in disgust even as she admitted it. “Someone who might have valuable knowledge that could defeat the Cressian nivasi.”

  Nadya’s eyes widened. “You cannot mean—”

  “In times of war,” Drina said, “sometimes we must put aside our own prejudices for a greater good.”

  “It’s hardly a prejudice, not after what he did,” Nadya argued, but with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized her grandmother was right.

  “I do not disagree with you, child, but we cannot be particular when it comes to our allies, not now.” She cast a glance toward Shay. “Not even I can afford that pleasure.”

  “What are you talking about? Nadya, who is this person?” Shay asked, ignoring the irritated look that Drina leveled at her.

  Nadya swallowed. She turned, angling her chin up to meet her partner’s gaze. “You really don’t want to know, Shay. Believe me. You do not want to know.”

  Chapter Eight

  Waking up next to Shay in the cramped cot they had been assigned in the rough-hewn bunkhouse brought a sense of peace to Nadya she was surprised she was still capable of feeling. If not for the invaders above who had stolen away her home, Nadya thought she might be able to stay like this forever, watching the soft rise and fall of Shay’s chest as she slumbered. It was impossible, of course; she had a mission, as much as she might dread it.

  Shay argued vehemently against Nadya going alone when she awoke. “You are being an idiot, Nadya. You aren’t invulnerable, and they have who knows how many traps and weapons lying in wait. Do you remember the last time you broke into a Cressian stronghold?”

  Nadya winced. She did. Her throat tickled from the memory of the suffocating poisonous gas she had triggered. If not for Shay, she would have died in that room. “This is different. I know the prison. I’ve broken in to it before. Two of us will draw more attention than is wise.”

  After another few minutes of arguing, Shay let out an overly dramatic sigh and agreed. Nadya knew the theatrics hid actual worry, so she kissed Shay and whispered, “I’ll be fine.”

  “You had better,” was the answer.

  * * *

  Seeking out Marko—she could not bring herself to think of him as Duke Isyanov quite yet—was not something Nadya wished to be doing, but she found herself nonetheless wandering through the makeshift shanties of the cavern and listening for the familiar Erevan accent. She did not want to force her presence upon him, not when he was still so uncertain about her identity as the Phoenix. But she did not trust anyone else here enough to ask, and after the argument between her and Shay, she couldn’t quite face Kesali.

  Fate seemed to have a cruel sense of humor that morning, as the Stormspeaker was the sole occupant of the Bulwark. Nadya stood in the doorway and tried to sort out her thoughts.

  “Are you going to stand there all day frozen like a hunted hare?” Kesali looked up at her and smiled. “Come in, Nadya. Want do you need?”

  Straight to business it was, then. It certainly made it easier to get her thoughts in order as Nadya walked up to the table that Kesali leaned over. She couldn’t make heads or tails of the myriad of charts and sketches that littered it, but Kesali’s intense concentration reminded her of a general directing battle movements.

  Perhaps the comparison wasn’t that far off.

  “I was looking for Marko, actually. I have a favor to ask of him,” Nadya said.

  Kesali drew in a breath. “I—I do not think he will be up for granting you favors for a while, Nadya.”

  “You knew? That he found out about me being…” Nadya pitched her voice lower. “About the Phoenix?”

  “I suspected for a while, but there was too much to do. Too much at stake for us both to be distracted by it,” Kesali said without looking up. “We never really discussed it, not until you two showed up at the…execution.”

  “He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?” Nadya asked, but she already knew the answer.

  Kesali sighed. “He is taking time to come to terms with it. Don’t try to hurry him.”

  “Wasn’t planning to. I just—” She hesitated. She deserved any anger or fear Marko harbored toward her. Knowing that did not stop the empty ache in her chest. “I just want to stop losing people.”

  Kesali put a hand on her arm, and Nadya drew in a slow breath, separating the sweetness of Kesali’s scent from the sweat and metallic tinge of the cavern air. It lifted old memories to the surface of her mind: she and Kesali dancing in the Nomori square, standing upon the great wall and surveying the damage of the Blood Sun Solstice, falling into Kesali’s bed together in the palace…

  And other memories. Shay’s blades of light twirling through the air the first night they fought. Shay burning the poison gas out of her lungs in the tower of Eagle’s Reach. Shay appearing in the palace throne room, saving the city. Shay holding her shoulders at her mother’s deathbed as she wept…

  “I can’t,” Nadya whispered. She pulled her arm back.

  Kesali looked like she had been struck. “I—I am sorry, Nadya. I intended nothing. I just, with your mother’s death…I am sorry.”

  “I know.” Nadya cleared her throat. “It was never meant to be. Us, I mean.”

  “Are you saddened or relieved?” Kesali asked. Her fingers found the tip of her braid, and she fiddled with it as she looked at Nadya for an answer.

  Nadya considered the question. For so long, she had thought her impossible happily ever after would be with Kesali, owning a tiny house in one of the cramped streets of the Nomori tier, and waking up to her best friend by her side each morning.

  She had truly loved Kesali, and she still did. But that love had turned from fiery romantic passion to the softer affection of friendship.

  “I am happy for us,” she said finally, and Kesali’s brow rose in confusion. Nadya shook her head. “Not in that way. I just mean, we are where we are supposed to be.” She swept a hand over the Bulwark. “This is where you belong, Kesali. You have the strength to bring these people out of the darkness, to resist Wintercress and win.”

  “You are far stronger than I.”

  “Not like that. I cannot lead anyone, not the way you and Marko can.” Nadya smiled, and it was genuine. “I see the way you are with these people, with this cause. No one cares more than you. I am happy you found your calling, and I am grateful to call you friend.”

  Kesali flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I am as well. And I’m happy that you have found someone, even if she isn’t what I expected.”

  Nadya laughed. “Shay does take a bit of getting used to, but I am happy with her.”

  “Do you think you will remain together? Even with…” Kesali’s voice trailed off, but Nadya nodded.

  Even with you choosing to stay and fight for your city? Even with all that separates the two of you?

  “I hope so,” she said honestly.

  Kesali nodded, and after a moment, she too smiled. “I don’t think either of us could have ever pictured this—me married to Marko, leading a resistance to retake Storm’s Qua
rry from invaders, and you, you wearing the mantle of the Phoenix alongside another nivasi.”

  “No, I don’t think so either.” So much had happened in the past two years, so many horrible things intertwined with a few precious moments of light. Nadya sobered, dropping her grin. There was much darkness ahead of them. Wintercress had power they could not have ever imagined, and she had no idea how to combat it.

  “I need to access the prison,” she said abruptly.

  “I figured you were not here for idle chatter.” Kesali led the way out of the Bulwark and pointed to the northern edge of the cavern, where a slim, dark opening could be seen. “That tunnel takes you to the entrance of Miner’s Tunnel. The prison isn’t far, but it will be heavily patrolled. Do I want to know why you’re going there?”

  Nadya shook her head. “No, you don’t, believe me. I’ll be careful,” she promised.

  Kesali grasped her hand then let go, a gesture of friendship and nothing more. “I will hold you to that. The last thing I want to do is explain to Shay how you came to be captured by Cressian forces.”

  She imagined Shay’s fiery reaction and winced. “Noted. You won’t have to worry about me.”

  * * *

  Nadya practically sprinted through the narrow mining tunnel. Traveling at such speed meant occasionally bashing into a wall when the tunnel curved sharply, but bruises that instantly faded and a faceful of rock dust were far preferable to spending an extra moment in the claustrophobic passage. The air twisted in her lungs, choking her, as she recited the mantras her father had taught her in an effort to remain focused. After what seemed an eternity, she smelled fresh sea air and slowed.

  Two shadows moved against the faint light of the tunnel’s exit. Their soft voices, too low at this distance for even Nadya to make out the words, carried the unmistakable purr of Cressian.

  Stepping back, she secured her cloak and pulled the hood of the Iron Phoenix over her head. Her breastplate shone like new in the small stream of moonlight that reached her. Nadya had only taken a few moments after speaking with Kesali to prepare before entering the tunnel, having retrieved the guise of the Phoenix from the secure trunk Kesali had left in her bunk.

  Time to get to work, she thought and sprinted forward.

  Neither soldier had time to loose a cry before Nadya was upon them. Her fist connected with the iron breastplate of the first, denting it and throwing him to the ground. In the same movement, she swept her foot into the other soldier, slamming him into the rocky face of the carved tunnel.

  Nothing but unconscious groans marred the quiet of the night. Nadya surveyed the area. The squat marble prison stood silent in the shadow of the upper tiers. Its high iron fence had been torn down, and she saw several white uniforms patrolling its perimeter.

  She bit her lip. Killing in cold blood had never been something she did. Had Shay been there, the other nivasi would have had no trouble permanently silencing the soldiers. They’re the enemy, Nadya, she imagined Shay saying. They will show you no mercy, so show none in return. Kindness on the battlefield is weakness, and we are at war.

  She lifted her foot. Her boot hovered over the chest of the taller of the soldiers. It would be painless; she could snap his neck before he even awoke.

  “No,” she whispered, stepping back.

  She imagined Shay rolling her eyes, but Nadya shook it off and ran off down the road.

  The prison of Storm’s Quarry stood alone, an odd sight for the crowded city, where buildings leaned into their neighbors until entire blocks became inseparable units. Built of the same glowing white marble as the outer wall, its thick facade challenged the world to stay out, and in Nadya’s memory, no one had ever broken out of the prison.

  Breaking in was another matter entirely.

  It took her less than ten minutes, three more unconscious Cressian soldiers, and a few bars pried off one of the upper windows. Nadya padded silently along the dark corridors. Her skin prickled with the eerie silence that permeated the prison. Her unrest only grew as she turned down another cell block and heard a singular heartbeat coming from the last cell on the left. Slowly, she crept forward, stopping in front of the barred door. Nadya’s gaze fell on the figure on the cot, and she bit back a wave of revulsion that nearly sent her scurrying back down the hall.

  Lying perfectly straight, hands clasped on his chest, Levka Puyatin, former magistrate to the Duke, looked more like a statue than a man. More than a year behind bars had taken some of the smugness from his appearance. His cheeks carried a gauntness that Nadya didn’t remember, and his hands were roped with scars, no doubt from the labor that long-term prisoners used to pay off their sentences.

  Levka had been charged for every death on the Blood Sun Solstice, and knowing that he could work until his bones turned to dust before disbursing his sentence gave Nadya the small boost of satisfaction she needed to grab the cell door and wrench it open. Iron pins snapped in half, falling to the ground.

  She paused, listening to tell if additional Cressian troops had entered the prison, but she heard nothing but the snores and mutters of other prisoners.

  “Who?” Levka shot upward. His eyes widened when he saw the cloaked figure standing before him, wearing the unmistakable guise of the Iron Phoenix.

  Nadya expected a scream. Or begging. The last time she saw him, Nadya had been holding Levka aloft by his throat, nearly strangling him before her father and the Duke’s Guard had shown up.

  But the former magistrate stared for a moment and then gave her a gesture of welcome as if she had knocked on the door of his manor and not torn down the bars of his prison cell. In near-flawless Nomori he said, “To what do I owe this pleasure, Nadezhda?”

  “Levka,” she managed finally. She leaned the broken door against a nearby wall and stepped into the cell. “You look horrible.”

  “On the contrary, I feel wonderful.” Levka stretched. “Fresh air and exercise have done wonders for my physique. And I’ve had so much time to devote to my studies.”

  Nadya glanced around. The cell contained only a cot, a bucket for waste, and a tray that sat upon the ground holding only a dented tin cup. No books to speak of. She smiled.

  “Prison suiting you well, then?”

  “Better in here than out there, if our sudden change of guard is anything to judge by.” Levka shrugged. “Storm’s Quarry, Wintercress. Who carries the keys makes little difference here.”

  His heartbeat picked up as he uttered the final sentence, and Nadya wondered why he would lie about such a thing. To throw her off balance? So far, the former magistrate was doing an excellent job.

  “So, what brings you here, and in the regalia of the Iron Phoenix, no less? I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

  She started to speak, but Levka waved a hand. “Please, Nadezhda, take off that hood. Such machinations of secrecy are moot, are they not?”

  She groaned but complied. He was right, after all. He was the first person, unknown to her at the time, to learn of her nivasi gift. She had been fifteen at the time, and his monstrous older brother had preyed upon who he thought was a defenseless Nomori girl. Instead, she had accidentally snapped his spine while defending herself, and Levka had witnessed the entire thing.

  “That’s far better, don’t you think?” Levka said.

  Nadya ignored him. “Tell me what you know of nivasi.”

  Levka laughed, and she silenced the urge to throw the dented cup at him. “So that’s why you stole into the city prison in the dead of night. Why ask me? You have the personal experience. Not to mention, don’t your people pride themselves on their histories? Ask one of the ancient women who sit by that disgusting fountain.” He smiled and waited.

  “You’ve done research,” she said, hating the way he had taken charge of the conversation. “You were a magistrate. You had access to records and books the Elders never did.”

  “Maybe I did. That life is far beyond me now.”

  “It was your life’s work,” she said, remembe
ring with a slight shiver the way had he spoken about nivasi. The pure anger, the hatred in his words—I always knew you were a killer—still twisted her stomach. “Don’t try to tell me that a year in this place has wiped it from your memory.”

  “Of course not,” Levka said. “I’m telling you that I have no interest in aiding you. Now, run along before Cressian soldiers appear, and I get caught in whatever scuffle you’re sure to incite.”

  She had not expected it to be easy to get the information from him. Nadya stepped forward. “You will tell me,” she said in a low growl, “or—”

  “Or what?” Levka laughed again, but this time, it sounded hollow. “You’ll kill me?”

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “On the contrary, rumors of the Iron Phoenix’s exploits have made it down here. I’ve heard the guardsmen gossiping about the daring escapades of the Phoenix and…” He paused, pretending thought. “The Shadow Dragon, was it? Tell me, how is Shay these days?”

  In three steps she had crossed the cell and shoved a hand into Levka’s chest, forcing his back against the wall. “What do you know of her?”

  “As you said, I’ve done my research. Nivasi have been appearing with more frequency among the Nomori, but they are still extremely rare. More than a decade ago, a young girl was killed for being able to call flames into her hands. Years later, a grown woman appears who can conjure blades of fire. Too coincidental to be separate nivasi. Relax, I haven’t spoken of her to anyone.”

  Her grip didn’t lessen. “I do not believe you.”

  “If I had wished to divulge either of your identities, I would have. But doing so would have given the monstrous Phoenix and Dragon enough humanity to make nivasi seem safe, acceptable to trust. Not something I want.”

  Was he speaking the truth? Nadya hadn’t been listening to his heartbeat, as her own thundered in her ears. She had considered over the past months that Levka could have revealed her identity, but when no regiment of the Duke’s Guard had shown up at her doorstep in the weeks after the Blood Sun Solstice, the worry had faded.