Chanda’s eyes glittered. “Nobody can stop this,” she said.
“You may defend yourself.” The Night Watcher nudged Sakihan’s spear with his boot.
Bast shook his head. “Just get it over with.”
“The goddess extends her hands to bring you home.” The Night Watcher’s sword flashed silver in Howler’s light as he prepared to strike. Halfway through the movement, he staggered, and a gasp escaped him. A dark spot bloomed on his side, where Falean had stabbed him. The reaction was so slight, perhaps only Munayair even noticed it.
“Wait.” She stepped in front of Bast. “You can’t.”
Mehan shouted. “Munayair! Get out of the way! Do you want to get yourself killed?”
“Hey, kid—” Bast tugged at her sleeve.
“You heard him, Naya,” Anjita said. “It’s only what he’s earned.” Her eyes were hard and her voice cold.
Ignoring them all, Munayair took another step and cocked her head. “Khuson?” Her voice quivered. “It’s Khuson, right?” Moonshadows obscured his face, but she thought he looked back at her. Her heart thudded. “It’s Sarem-Oryn Munayair. You know me—don’t you?”
The bloody sword trembled, and he staggered again, more obviously this time. “Munayair?” His voice sounded distant, as if it came from far away.
The sound of her name snapped her tight control, and rage broke like a thunderstorm in her chest. Red lightning flashed across her vision and she clenched her hands into fists. Words clawed out of her throat. “Are—you—an—actual—idiot?”
Av would advise me to breathe, she thought somewhere underneath the rage. He would say I have better mastery of myself than this. But Av isn’t here.
Anjita grabbed her arm, trying to drag her back. “Naya—”
Munayair yanked away and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Your wound reopened, didn’t it?” She spoke through clenched teeth. “Get back to that inn before I have to freeze you from head to toe and take you myself.”
Khuson’s expression was bemused, but he said nothing in his own defense. He looked around, flinching away from the bodies and blood-splattered clearing. His non-sword hand crept down to his side where the dark stain was spreading over his borrowed tunic. He winced. “Munayair.” He looked back at her. “I was too late to stop it. So instead I’ve been … helping.”
“Why us?” Munayair shoved her anger into a tight, compacted ball. “What about all the others? Why are you helping us?”
“You still owe me,” he said with a wink.
Her stomach did a backflip, and she looked away, cheeks burning. There was a soft tug on the hem of her skirt, and she bent with a gasp, allowing Tel to clamber into her arms. “Oh, I was so worried,” she said, running her hands over his body and limbs. “Are you injured?”
“Personally, I don’t care why this one’s helping us,” Anjita growled. “What I want to know is why this one is here.” Her glare bored into Bast. He backed up a step, sweat matting his hair to his head.
Munayair stepped between them, patting Anjita’s arm. “Jita, you’re upset—”
Her hand was shaken off without ceremony. “Upset?” Anjita growled. “Is not the word.” Her eyes glittered, and Bast clasped trembling hands.
“What is the word then?” Khuson asked lightly, stepping forward with a grin. “Agitated, provoked, dismayed, muddled, shocked, distressed?” Everyone was staring. He spread his hands. “No? I could go on.” He drew breath to make good on his threat, and Munayair turned to glare at him.
This show of good humor startled Bast so much he shied away even further. “I didn’t know you could talk like regular folk,” he gasped, half hiding behind Munayair.
“Believe me,” Munayair muttered, “the problem is getting him to shut up.”
“You already know me so well.” Khuson winked again, and she turned away to hide her blush. When she looked back, his gaze was fixed on Mehan, who was inspecting the ground. “Haven’t you got something to say to me?”
Mehan’s shoulders crept towards his ears. “I’m sorry. You getting hurt wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Glad to know it,” Khuson said. “If you’re trying to escape the grove, you should know you’re going the wrong way. But after all those times you refused to leave with me, something tells me this is exactly where you want to be. It’s time to spill your guts, lad.”
“Yes.” Defiantly, Mehan looked up. “I’m going to get inside the barrier before Shivne does.”
A frightened laugh escaped Bast. “What?”
Even Khuson was taken aback, eyes widening. Munayair and Anjita watched in silence.
Mehan continued in a quick, breathless voice. “There’s something in there he wants badly. I don’t know for sure what it is, but if he wants it, I’m going to get it first.”
“And you risked all our lives for this?” Anjita cried.
“Not smart, lad,” Bast shook his head. “If it were so easy, Shivne would have done it by now.”
But Khuson said nothing, and Munayair watched him. His eyes were cast towards the ground, and his eyebrows were lowered. He was completely still except his left thumb, rubbing the pommel of his sword. Munayair recognized the restless movement. Her hand stole into her pocket and she smoothed Tel’s forehead.
“Some of the mercenaries say he’s after treasure,” Mehan continued, voice shaking. “Taichar thinks there’s an ancient god hiding beyond the barrier, but I know better. There’s only one way to rise in Tsai-chuul—power, as much as you can. And power comes from one source.” As he spoke, the same fervent light burned in his eyes as in Shivne’s.
Spirits, Munayair thought.
“Glyphs,” he continued. “New—or rather, ancient—glyphs, for spells no one in the world can counter. The mages have been searching out new glyphs for three hundred years. Inventing new spells and ways to use them against the adepts. Soon they’ll be unstoppable.”
“Then why betray them?” Anjita’s eyes narrowed. “Why join the losing side?”
“Shivne doesn’t trust me.” Mehan’s lip curled. “He thinks he can hold me back by refusing to teach me, sneering down his nose—as if that would scare me. I’m a Bui-taran half breed who grew up in a stable. I’ve been sneered at my whole life.”
“You endangered innocents.” Khuson’s tone was flat. “Youth is a flimsy excuse.”
He shifted, and Mehan’s eyes dropped to the sword in his hand. “Yes, goodman,” he squeaked. For the first time Munayair caught a glimpse of the frightened child Chanda had worked so hard to protect.
Khuson lowered his head. “Don’t fear me,” he sighed. “Just stay on the good path.”
As he swung away, Munayair took a step forward and laid a gentle hand on Mehan’s arm. He wrenched his gaze away from Khuson’s sword to look at her. “I didn’t let Chanda go hungry,” she said, holding his dark eyes. “I won’t let you, either.” He blinked hard three times, then looked away.
“Naya, I need answers. Why is he with us?” Anjita demanded, nostrils flaring as she glared at Bast. Luckily her first fiery rage had passed. Her hands were clenched at her sides instead of hovering over her tattoos, but her eyes were still throwing sparks.
“He’s running from the mages, too,” Munayair said softly.
“Then let him run his own way. I don’t trust him not to switch sides again the minute things look chancy.”
“Hey,” Bast snapped, “I’ve been helping the whole time you were chasing butterflies. Without me, you would have run back to Shivne like a good little sacrifice!”
“And how did I get in that situation?” She gestured around. “How did any of us?”
“I had no choice!” Bast recoiled. “If I don’t do what they want, they can hurt or kill me, quick as thinking!”
Anjita scoffed. “Then you die.” Without hesitation.
“Easy to say.” Bast shook his head.
Munayair touched his trembling shoulder. “There is always a choice. You just have to make one.”
<
br /> Bast swallowed hard, staring at her.
Like a cold mist, Chanda tugged at Munayair’s arm. “Miss—miss! Something’s wrong—”
“What is it, Chanda?” Munayair turned.
A strangled sound came from behind them. Chanda’s body had worked the sash out of her mouth. Before anyone could react, she threw back her head and howled. The sound rattled Munayair’s teeth, echoed through the trees, and startled birds into the sky. Chanda’s ghost flung herself towards the body only to ricochet again, spewing curses.
“Gods, she’ll bring the entire pack down on us—” Bast hovered, reaching to cover her mouth but unable to bring himself to touch her.
“What’s wrong?” Mehan dropped to his knees. “Is she hurt?”
Abruptly the noise stopped. Chanda’s lips curled in a ghastly smile, dead eyes fixed on Khuson, who nodded. “It’s a signal to the rest,” he said, “that she’s found me. They’ll be here before long.”
The ghost glowered at her body in a towering rage. “I’m going to get back in there,” she stated, “and everyone responsible is going to pay with their entire hide.”
“Munayair!” Mehan turned, and she was surprised to see tears standing out in his eyes. “Can’t you do something for her? I can’t bear it!”
Pale-faced and trembling, he was almost unrecognizable. Gone the arrogant young initiate who had denied knowledge of a sister only two bells before. Slowly, Munayair knelt beside him, staring down at Chanda’s restrained body contorting towards Khuson. When Shivne-Mage had bent over the captive woman, light flashed between his hands—and then she rose as a dead thing, a chouloi. If it could be done, surely it could be undone. Closing her eyes, she held her hands over Chanda, searching …
“What’s she doing?” Mehan whispered. Someone made an uncertain noise in reply.
Warmth ghosted across her palms. She tightened her fingers, but it scattered. “I almost understand.” She looked up at the ghost shining in the moonslight. Chanda shook her head, though there was a line between her eyebrows. “Perhaps if I had more time.”
Bast snorted. “Don’t give him false hope, kid.”
“Nobody asked you, khuttach,” Anjita snarled as she moved around the clearing, picking weapons off the ground. “Be thankful your skin is still whole. If it had been up to me, I promise it wouldn’t.”
As Munayair made to rise from her knees, a glint of white among the mud and roots caught her eye. She picked up the small object and looked at it thoughtfully before tucking it away in her pocket.
Bast was avoiding Anjita’s eyes. “Shivne-Mage took the girl’s soul out, and only he can put it back. It isn’t pretty, but there it is.”
“Aren’t we lucky to have a mage expert with us,” Anjita said with heavy sarcasm. “Let’s just get out of here.” She picked up Sakihan’s spear and held out a dagger to Munayair, who took it with reluctance, trying not to think about what was making the handle sticky.
“Listen.” A fey grin spread across Khuson’s face. They stood like statues, silent woods pressing on them.
Munayair could barely hear over her own heart drumming, but all the small sounds of the forest had gone dead. And from every direction came the sound of slow, lurching footsteps and the heavy breath of the chouloi.
Chapter 31: Backs Against the Wall
“Five gods—five gods,” Bast groaned, raking his scruffy beard. “Dead—we’re all dead—”
Khuson’s hand closed around Munayair’s, yanking her into a pounding run before she could even gasp.
“Naya!” Anjita’s startled cry echoed. Any other sounds were swallowed by the rasp of breath and her heart thundering in her ears. Khuson ran like a wolf, silent as a shadow. Munayair’s mark burned under his fingers. The others scrambled after, shouting. “Where are you going?”
“—nothing that way but—”
A golden haze rose before them, curving away far overhead. She cried out, but Khuson was already swinging them to a halt with the barrier at their backs. Behind them, Bast collided with Anjita and she shoved him so he staggered, panting, against a tree. Mehan trailed in the rear, chin jutting in defiance of the glittering tear tracks on his face.
“Stay here.” Khuson’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll try to turn them.” He was gone again, quick as a fox into the shadows.
“Why are we here?” Bast eyed the barrier as if mere proximity could drive them mad.
“Tactically sound,” Anjita said. “They can only attack from three sides. Naya, shield please.”
Munayair stuffed Tel into her pocket before feeling around for a shield stone. Her searching fingers found only the heavy wine jar. Too late, she remembered the rock she had left behind. It still contained enough energy for a few bells—if only she had it. She took out her empty hands and sighed. “I hate skin spells,” she muttered.
“Never mind,” Anjita said instantly. She knelt and touched a spell on the inside of her elbow. A shield shimmered into being, like glass in the moonslight.
Munayair watched, running her fingers over Sakihan’s amulet. Hidden on that dull metal disc was the secret to keeping them safe, if she only had time ... Av, you know so many more glyphs than me, do you recognize any of these? But she no longer expected a response. It was like she was already used to the aching emptiness in her mind. As if the silver bear with kind blue eyes had never been real. Just something she had imagined long ago when she was a child.
“Naya, can you help?” Anjita gasped.
Munayair shoved the amulet into her pocket. Using Nastaran’s dagger, she traced glyphs into the dirt along the inside of the shield. Each new symbol sent a shiver of light up the shield and a shudder along Anjita’s skin.
The woods were silent apart from clammy fingers of wind. The moons hung overhead like a pair of eyes, one wide and brilliant, the other squinting. Tachoul drifted through their shield, staring at some marvel beyond mortal sight. Not even they could cross the barrier, but they massed in awe-inspiring numbers just outside. They paid no attention to the fearful humans huddled in their midst. Munayair had never seen them so … focused. Whatever waited inside that barrier, the tachoul wanted it just as badly as Shivne-Mage.
A soft sound made its way through the shield, and Munayair spun, peering at the dark forest. “They’re coming.”
At first, she saw only the confusing jumble of shadow and moonslight. Then she glimpsed movement. Chouloi, ragged breaths and ungainly footsteps loud in the stillness. There were dozens of them, shifting ranks impossible to count. Bast’s face was the color of lye soap. Mehan stood by the shield, scanning the approaching faces, bottom lip clamped between his teeth.
“Goodman Hashemi, now’s the time,” Munayair said.
“Me?” Bast repeated faintly.
“Nasim said your family were allies of the Night Watcher. If anyone can get us inside, you can.”
“What?” Anjita half-turned, staring. “You knew how this whole time?”
Bast gulped, glancing at the shimmering barrier. “That’s—that’s a long time ago ...”
Anjita rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to leave this shield as well?”
“I—I’ll try,” he whispered.
“Gods!” Mehan jumped back from his anxious vigil beside the shield. A shadow had appeared in front of him.
Khuson’s eyes swept over them with a glitter of gold, corners of his mouth turned down. His breath rasped, and his posture was stiff and hunched. “Those things are relentless,” he said. “I couldn’t distract them, I’m sorry.”
The snarling grew louder—the ground shook. The closest were only paces distant now, reaching out as if to embrace. Fingers gleamed bone-white in the moonslight.
“Never mind that.” Munayair turned to Anjita. “We’ll lower the shield so—”
“No need.” Khuson laid a hand on the shield, a faint line between his eyebrows as he leaned forward.
Anjita flinched. “What in the five holy names are you ...”
Munayair blinked,
or the air did—and he was inside, a glimmering shadow. Anjita’s mouth hung open, and Munayair felt a similar expression on her own face. The only person a shield would admit was its creator—and he had just … come in. Without breaking the shield, no less. Drawing on the strength of the earth, the glyphs glowed with a steady light. It was impossible, and yet he had done it.
Golden son … her mind whispered.
But there was no time to wonder. Chouloi charged, snarls muted by the shield. They slammed again and again, clawing the frictionless surface. Bader’s light illuminated their sunken features, howling mouths and distorted eyes.
Munayair shuddered, casting her eyes down to focus on her breathing. In—one, two, three. Out—one, two, three ...
Mehan went stiff, like a bloodhound catching a scent. Coming slowly through the moonshadows, Chanda dragged one leg with hands bound behind her, gaunt face etched with silver light. He pressed against the shield, eyebrows lowered, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Only Munayair could see the slight misty shape beside the body, walking slowly with shoulders slumped.
“Good, now we can get inside the barrier,” Anjita said. She glanced expectantly at Khuson, and Bast turned with a sigh of relief.
Khuson began to laugh. “You’re hoping I can help?”
“But—” Munayair frowned. “Isn’t this the Night Watcher’s home?”
“I’m a mortal, same as you, Munayair. I live in the world of flesh and blood.” Despite the amused smile, a faint tang of bitterness clung to the words. “Trust me, the guardians kicked me out every time I’ve tried. And I’ve tried many times.” Bast groaned and returned to staring hopelessly at the barrier.
She clung at straws. “They didn’t drive you mad though.”
“You’d be amazed how far a little charm will get you.” He winked.
Her face burned. “Will you stop doing that?”
“See? It’s even working on you.”
She threw up her hands.
“All we have to do is last until daybreak, right?” Anjita sat with head bowed, the weight of the shield sitting on her shoulders, wincing at each blow. “I can do it.”
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