Shadow of the Phoenix

by Rebecca Harwell

  * * *

  “To access a secure site, you need someone who specializes in getting people where they aren’t supposed to be,” Levka said as they left the inn several hours after dusk. “Lucky for us, a port city is rife with smugglers and pirates.”

  “And you will barter with what coin exactly?” she asked, only to receive a smug smile in return.

  Protectress, save us. She went along only because, so far, Levka’s schemes had proven to be brilliant. Unstable and dangerous, but brilliant.

  He led them away from the inn, down narrow, twisting city streets. Despite the late hour, Brome was alive with sound: the bubbling of a wood flute, laugher of sailors enjoying their first ale ashore, shrieks of children chasing one another through lines of drying linen. The life of the city, however, soon gave way to eerie alleys and an oppressive atmosphere that warned off any who fell on the right side of the law.

  Nadya averted her eyes from the stares that followed the two of them. She pulled her cloak tightly against her chest. “We really shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

  Levka did not even glance at her. He walked with squared shoulders, meeting the gaze of every person they passed. “One doesn’t find smugglers in the posher parts of any city. Or rather, those kind of smugglers are far more difficult to find, and harder to impress. These cretins will do for our purposes.”

  She winced. “It won’t do any good to get ambushed before we meet with anyone.”

  Levka simply shrugged and continued onward.

  Nadya followed him, shaking her head. He either had no sense of danger, was completely suicidal, or believed so thoroughly in his own superiority that he couldn’t possibly imagine anyone attempting to cross him.

  He came to a stop at the corner of a dark alley. A pile of refuse occupied the adjoining lot, running into the warehouse that he pointed out. It was a squat gray building with a squat gray man standing in front of the door.

  “Who are we talking to in there?” she whispered.

  He gave her a look, and Nadya glared at him. “You cannot be serious.” She shook her head. “You’re not leaving me outside again while you go in and make deals.”

  “You do not speak Cressian. Neither do you have any sense of tact or persuasion. You’re a liability in there, Nadezhda.” Levka held up his hand when Nadya opened her mouth. “You don’t trust me. Fine, I don’t trust you. But there is a reason you agreed to do this with me. You need me for this part, and you know I will do anything to see my city freed.” His eyes burned into hers.

  Nadya looked away first. He would do anything, including betray her. She couldn’t help but recall his soft words from the week before, when they’d first shared a room at Nim’s inn: You need monsters to defeat monsters. If there was anything she could trust about him, it was his devotion to Storm’s Quarry.

  “Go ahead,” she said, backing away. “I’ll wait out here. Try not to get yourself killed.”

  Levka flashed her a smug smile and approached the lookout at the door of the warehouse. After a hushed conversation in Cressian, he disappeared inside.

  Night grew darker in the lower parts of Brome. Nadya kept out of sight as best she could, loitering across the street from the warehouse. She drummed her fingers against her leg nervously. She couldn’t quite hear was what being said inside the stone building, and the heavyset man who stood in front of the door, arms crossed, dissuaded her from trying to move closer.

  They would either emerge together with the information they needed, she thought, shrinking in the shadows, or she would emerge, short one former magistrate. Either way, a win.

  A girl’s yell broke through Nadya’s thoughts.

  Down the street, three grown men cursed and sprinted after a smaller girl. She wore a thin dress and a scarf around her head, blond hair streaming out as she ran. In her arms, she clutched a large sack.

  Nadya bit her lip. She knew exactly what Levka would think of her interfering and drawing attention to herself, and that made up her mind.

  She waited, timing it so she did not move until the girl’s pursuers were nearly on top of her. Then Nadya leapt forward, slamming one of them to the ground. She twisted and thrust her shoulder into the chest of another. He went down without a sound.

  The girl screamed and backed away from her. Ignoring the queasiness that rose in her throat, Naya turned away from the Cressian girl and grabbed the arm of the remaining man.

  “Run,” she said in Nomori. Whether he understood or not, her message was clear. As soon as she let him go, he dashed down the road, tripping in his haste to get away.

  A deep shout echoed down the street. Nadya turned, and her chest constricted. A uniformed Cressian soldier stood there, his saber out and pointed at her throat. Was this man here for the girl as well? How far was she willing to go to protect her?

  The girl, however, cried out in Cressian and ran toward the soldier. Nadya moved out of her way. She dropped the sack when she reached him and threw her arms around him. The soldier returned the embrace one-handed, never dropping his weapon.

  Nadya couldn’t understand her distraught words, but the similarity of their features—the green eyes and broad nose—was unmistakable. This girl must be his daughter, and he glared daggers at Nadya as if she might attack at any moment. Another hurried exchange, and the girl took off running toward a row of buildings on the opposite block.

  The Cressian soldier kept himself between Nadya and his daughter until her figure had disappeared into a nearby building. His blade never wavered as it pointed at Nadya’s throat.

  This was an enemy soldier, but this was also a father protecting his daughter. Nadya felt a pang of homesickness and grief, and she lowered her arms. Hands out in front, as if approaching a wary animal, she backed up until she stood ten paces from the soldier. Her stance didn’t change, in case he decided to lunge for her.

  Idiot, she could hear Levka chastise in her mind. If we are found out, we will have to leave Brome without getting the information we came for. And without that, Storm’s Quarry is lost. Is the future of your city worth one man?

  The Cressian soldier did not lower his saber. “You are the Iron Phoenix,” he said in heavily accented Erevo, and Nadya’s stomach sank. Whatever cover they had, this man could blow it at any moment.

  “You escaped Storm’s Quarry?” His voice carried an undertone of contempt, and the flash of derision in his eyes came not from her title, Nadya was sure, but from her actions.

  Defensive words rose up in Nadya’s throat. She wanted to explain to this stranger, to this enemy soldier, that she hadn’t left Storm’s Quarry to its fate. That she was here, in Brome, seeking knowledge to expel Wintercress from her home.

  “I am going back,” she said finally, and the Cressian soldier straightened, eyes sharp and searching as he stared at her.

  Silence stretched between them. He did not lower his saber, and she did not back down from her offensive stance, hands balled into fists and at the ready.

  “You saved my child. A debt is owed.”

  Of all the things she expected him to say, that was not it. “She needed help,” Nadya said. “You owe me nothing.”

  “You didn’t have to.” His stare intensified, and Nadya found herself struggling to hold his gaze.

  What did he expect her to say? That she would have let a teenage girl get hurt in order to keep herself hidden? Maybe that’s exactly what they’ve been told of me here. The thought turned her stomach as much as an ocean wave.

  “I am not a monster,” she said quietly, wondering why she needed this man, a stranger and an enemy, to believe it.

  The tip of his saber bobbed up and down, as if in agreement, and then, in one fluid movement, he sheathed the blade. “Perhaps not.” He crossed his arms. “What does the Phoenix seek in Brome so far from Storm’s Quarry?”

  Nadya glanced back at the warehouse, where Levka negotiated for the help of pirates to break in to the Nomori temple. He would be furious if she shared anything with anyon
e, let alone a citizen of Wintercress. She found herself fingering the outline of the metal band around her upper arm. Her seal of the Protectress warmed to her touch, and Nadya drew a deep breath. “The ancient temple of the Nomori.”

  The soldier raised his eyebrows, but he nodded slowly. “Very well guarded.”

  “I noticed.”

  A small smile cracked his face. “Yes. I spent a rotation there just after the excavations stopped. Very cramped and musty. We slept on the ground.”

  She winced in sympathy.

  “There is a back entrance to the temple.”

  Her expression gave way to disbelief. “What?” Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as Nadya tried to calm down. “How do you know that?” Why are you telling me?

  “Because we caved it in. Gunpowder and some sparks. Captain decided it required too many men to guard both, and the back entrance is small, hardly noticeable. We filled it with rock and left it alone.” He studied her for a long moment. “Rocks that are too big for a person to move.”

  But not for the Iron Phoenix. Nadya caught herself before she squealed. She met the soldier’s pointed gaze and bowed deeply. His eyes widened in surprise as she said, “Thank you, sir. Any debt between us is repaid in full.”

  He nodded once and turned to walk away.

  Nadya belatedly wondered his name as she watched him go, and her elation faded a bit as she realized she’d likely never know it.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered as she, gently as possible, shoved the lookout away from the door enough to slip inside the warehouse. Her nerves got the best of her, and his head slammed into the door. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. She paused a moment to ensure he was still breathing, and then entered the door.

  Levka stood within a ring of five pirates, all armed to the teeth. Their leader sat on a wooden crate, leg dangling off its edge lazily. He had a golden stud in his ear and a saber on his belt. It was drawn the instant he realized Nadya had entered the warehouse.

  She swore she saw a blood vessel pop in Levka’s forehead, but she ignored him and put on her best vapid smile.

  “Pardon my husband,” Nadya said in her best imitation of an Erevan courtier accent. “He is often lost and forgetful. A simple fellow, really, one with delusions of adventure.” She slung an arm around Levka, whose eyes crinkled with anger. He was, at least, smart enough to keep silent.

  “I just put him to bed with a glass of warm milk a couple of hours ago,” she continued, enjoying herself perhaps a bit too much. All the while she spoke, she edged herself and Levka toward the door. “I go to check on him, and he’s gone. The innkeeper said he left muttering about ancient treasures.”

  “Is that so?” one of the men said in stuttered Erevo. He looked from Levka to Nadya, his fingers stroking the sword at his belt. “Should keep better watch over such a fool. He could’ve been killed wandering around here.”

  “What about the coin he promised?” a slim woman piped from the corner. She had a triangle tattooed over one eye, and she twirled a dagger around her fingers without glancing at it. “He said he knew someone who could break into the treasury house in return for our help. We can’t let that walk out the door.”

  Nadya shot Levka an acidic glare. So he had bartered her strength in return for being smuggled into the temple. She would need to have a friendly discussion with him about that once they were out of here.

  “He knows all of three people, one of whom is his mother. I apologize, gentlemen, madam,” she said and inclined her head. “But you’ve been misled. I will take him away before he causes you any more lost time.” She bit the inside of her mouth, waiting. Nadya knew she could take on the half dozen pirates in the room, but she doubted she could do it without calling attention to them.

  After a long moment of silence, the man with the gold earring laughed. “Take your husband, madam, and see that he keeps himself out of trouble.”

  Nadya ducked her head in thanks and nearly shoved Levka out the door.

  “What in the name of the forgotten gods are you doing?” Levka exploded as soon as they were out of earshot. “You ruined everything! Didn’t you learn after Nim? I had nearly cinched us a deal, and you barge in with your petty insults and—”

  “I found us a way into the temple,” Nadya said calmly, knowing it would infuriate him even more. “While you were playing merchant with a bunch of pirates, using my skills as barter, I might add, I found out about a secret entrance in the back of the temple. No guards, only a couple of large stones in place to prevent entrance.” She couldn’t help the triumphant grin that spread across her face at Levka’s disbelieving look. “Don’t worry,” she added, “I’m sure you will still be useful for something.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It did not come as a surprise to Shay when, one morning not long after Aster’s interrogation, she walked up to the smithy to find the messenger boy with the missing front teeth waiting for her.

  “The Duke and Lady Stormspeaker want to see you.”

  She tossed him the last bite of her breakfast and made her way to the Bulwark.

  Marko and Kesali barely looked up as she entered.

  “Once we have word from Nadya that she is returning with the tools to deal with the Cressian nivasi, we can put the second phase of the plan into action. Until then, we must make Prince Trillium as nervous and frightened as possible.” Kesali finally glanced at Shay. “That’s where you come in.”

  “I guessed as much.” Shay glanced between the two royals. “Well, what am I to do to the dear Prince?”

  “He fears sickness, according to what his cousin revealed. We will use that. After all,” Kesali said with the wicked smile that was beginning to unnerve Shay in its ruthlessness, “a city at war is ripe for plague.”

  There were several signs of plague, the Stormspeaker had informed her. Rats, for one. In ancient stories that spanned races and nations, rats were always depicted as the demons that carried sickness upon their breath. Peanna had already sent her rats out into the lower tiers. Instead of delivering messages, they followed Cressian troops, skittering and squeaking enough to gather the attention of the soldiers.

  Next, quarantine. Kesali and Marko had sent unassuming Erevans and Nomori out into the first two tiers of the city to begin a gossip campaign. Word traveled among those still living there, and families began painting different symbols upon their curtains and doors in black ink. A single line dotted at each end: there is sickness here. Two lines crossed over one another: there is death here.

  And finally, victims. This, as Kesali had instructed, was where Shay would come in. Those who had already perished in the Cressian invasion would give their deaths for the future of the city. Erevan and Nomori families alike had donated their dead for the greater good of the city, forsaking the death rites that each held so dear. The fallen of Storm’s Quarry had discreetly been piled up around the Nomori tier.

  Shay halted in front of one such pile of dead, the third she had visited that night. Gray limbs stuck out underneath a layer of rubble, wriggling with maggots. She gagged at the smell, a mixture of sulfur and vomit that twisted her insides until she couldn’t breathe.

  It’s just like lighting the coals of the forge, she tried to tell herself, but her words were less than convincing.

  Blue fire bloomed at her fingertips and soared into the pile of dead flesh. Insects gave one last rustle before they were turned to ash. The scent of smoked flesh overwhelmed that of decay, but it made Shay even sicker, if that was possible. She struggled to contain the ferocity of her flames. Wintercress needed to recognize the burned corpses for what they were in order for this plan to work. After a minute that felt like it had stretched for hours, the pile of bodies before her lay charred, but unmistakably human.

  Her gruesome task done, Shay called fire into her hand. It formed a small blade, and she crouched on the cobblestones in front of the burnt bodies. Carefully, she carved two crossed lines into the ground, melting the stone until its message became cle
ar: beware of the plague dead.

  If this was not enough to force Prince Trillium to withdraw his troops, then Shay did not know if anything would be.

  She rose to her feet and felt it—a slight tremor in the ground. Shay had only time to throw her arms up over her face before a barrage of stone slammed into her.

  Pain. It ripped through her core like lightning. She did not even have time to draw breath before fire burst from her chest. Strong flames bathed the street corner in dazzling orange and white light. It burned through the haze of pain that clouded her mind, and Shay snapped her eyes open. Two long blades of white fire, distilled into the purest light, extended from her hands.

  Fifteen paces away, a slim woman in a simple white uniform stood. Her hands rested at her sides.

  “You,” Shay hissed. She brought her blades up in front of her, crossed and ready.

  The Cressian nivasi looked as she had the day of the Duke’s execution, not a glimmer of sweat or a hair out of place. Her sharp blue eyes watched Shay like a peregrine falcon assessing a field mouse.

  But Shay was no mouse.

  “I’m no common guardsman, if that is who you were expecting. It’ll take more than a bit of rock to take me down.”

  The blond woman tilted her head. “I remember you.” Her words carried an eerie, flat tone, and Shay instinctively backed up.

  “Yes, and I remember you. You got lucky last time. That ends tonight.” She spoke with reckless confidence that she did not feel. Shay knew that without Nadya and the knowledge she sought in the ancient Nomori temple, she stood little chance against this creature, this woman with the blood of Wintercress, the power of the nivasi, and the ability to move mountains.

  The Cressian nivasi did not answer. Instead, two chunks of stone ripped themselves from the ground with a terrible grinding noise. They floated in the air on either side of her like twin cannonballs, and Shay swallowed hard.

  Her back ached with the memory of the last fight she and Nadya had with this impossible woman. Only dumb luck had saved them, and Shay had a horrible feeling that she had run out of luck.