by Fuad Baloch
But if she let this man return, despite having spurned her so, that would weaken her authority considerably.
Camsh cleared his throat. “That’s a fair point, Salar. However, the issue of split loyalties wouldn't stand for long, as both surviving children of the late sultan will be marching west together.”
Both surviving children. Nuraya chewed her lip. All three should have survived him, had it not been for her taking Kinas’s life. Had her reputation as the kinslayer preceded her here?
“In that case,” said Salar Ihagra, “we can meet at Rezalan. My scouts say the fortress has repelled many Reratish advances and continues to stand. We can regroup there, and by that time, I hope to have gathered more men to fight for Istan!”
Nuraya gritted her teeth but forced herself to nod. Camsh had provided a face-saving tactic to them both. “Do not engage the Reratish forces until I arrive.” Then turning away from the salar, she motioned to her siphsalar. “Order the forces to march on the double for Kohkam. We’re losing time.”
Chapter 36
Shoki
“How did you learn to do this?” whispered Naila, crouching as they moved silently through the unkempt garden between the castle walls and the building proper, dim torchlight flickering through the windows.
Jiza glared at Shoki. “A trick I picked up from a mentor. Never had the chance to really use it until now.”
“A most useful thing,” said Maharis, crouched as well, “burning our wells so as to mask our residue.” He cast his head around. “Surprising that the inquisitors didn’t even bother setting up guards over the towers.”
Naila scoffed. “Why would they? They never thought we could obscure our aura and just scale the walls!”
Lopas held up a hand. “Quiet! They can still see us!”
Shoki nodded, moving forward. Though the magus was technically correct, Shoki doubted the inquisitors would see anything more than shadows even if they were to look directly outside into the night. Heck, he was having trouble seeing the other six magi as it was.
Again, the strange tug pulled at him toward the inner building. Was that what Naila felt as well, the key to all their questions?
Silently, they inched toward the building. Lopas shuffled beside him, panting with the effort. Shoki nodded at him, then turned away. Good thing the other six magi, in no physical state to scale the walls, had decided to stay away. Naila stopped to whisper in Maharis’s ear. Shoki scratched his chin. Despite her age, the old woman had managed to climb the wall without as much as breaking sweat. What was her well?
Shoki exhaled. Apart from Lopas, Urnal, Jiza, and Maharis, he still didn't know the wells of Naila and the sixth magi whose name eluded Shoki. If the others knew, they didn't share that information with Shoki. He was here with them, but not really a part of their group. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps they resented him for his decision to support the Kalb after the Battle of Algaria.
Naila was still conversing with Maharis. As he waited behind them, thoughts raced through his mind. All day, Jiza had ignored him as they had waited for nightfall before scaling the castle walls. Far from the joyous reunion he’d expected finding her. Had he pissed her off by tipping others to her knowledge of obscuring one’s magical residue? Or, did she fear that which lay ahead? Would these answers finally shed a light on Nainwa’s curse as well?
His mind drifted.
Had Nuraya moved on for Kohkam already? How would her meeting with Ahasan go? His mind conjured the prince as he had seen him last. A plump, bedecked man, whose guard had threatened Shoki the very day he had been ordered by the Iron Sultan to march out to Ghulamia.
He shook his head slowly. Nuraya had been at Ghulamia, carrying out a dialog with the inquisitors. Ghulamia. The place he had set out for, but never really arrived. Now, kismet seemed to have brought Ghulamia to him, while making a mortal enemy of the other man he had been accompanying to the town.
The sixth magus joined Naila and Maharis. Naila said something and the plump magus nodded.
“Are you certain, Erapan?” asked Naila.
“Aye,” he replied, rising, and drawing out a sword. “I used to train with the ameer of Budana’s sons, and if there is any danger, I’ll be more than a match for it.”
Someone scoffed. Either Lopas or Urnal, though Shoki couldn't tell for sure. Naila glared at them both and the sniggering fell away.
“Very well!”
“Wait,” Shoki wheezed, placing a hand over the magus’s arm. “Don’t forget our deal. Before you attack them, remember to give the inquisitors a chance to surrender. We are not here to kill all hope of a future truce.”
“Indeed,” noted Naila, her voice dry, sarcastic. “Not a courtesy we can expect in return, you do realize that?”
“We have to prove ourselves their betters,” Shoki replied.
Naila motioned, and Erapan trotted up to the large doors. His body tensing, Shoki gritted his teeth, turning his gaze toward Jiza. She was looking straight, still ignoring him.
“Jiza,” he called out, waving with his hand to draw her attention.
She ignored him.
Erapan paused at the doors for a breath. A stupid thing in Shoki’s estimation considering he was clearly visible under the torchlight flicking overhead. No alarms sounded. Balancing his sword in one hand, Erapan opened the doors with the other, then entered.
Lopas exhaled. “By Rabb, I’ve never liked waiting.”
Shoki nodded.
Long, tense moments passed.
Finally, Erapan ducked his head out. “Clear!”
They rose from the shadows, and in a single file rushed toward the doors.
More torchlights flickered at regular intervals inside, lending the castle a gloomy, foreboding ambiance. Trepidation building in his gut, Shoki followed Erapan as they headed east, the strange pull in Shoki’s heart increasing by the second.
“Where are they going?” asked Jiza, sliding in beside him.
Shoki furrowed his brows, whispered, “A good question.” None of the magi had been in the castle before, something he had discovered before they had ventured in. Yet Naila continued to lead them on as if she knew exactly where they needed to be. “Can you feel this pull eastward?” Shoki asked Jiza.
“What pull?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Shoki tapped his feet. “Doesn’t matter. By the way, I wanted to thank you for teaching them how to obscure their residue. It will help them make a clean break once they’ve destroyed their blood phials.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she whispered back, then turned around and began following Naila once more.
Shoki watched her shuffle ahead, momentarily captivated by her sashaying hips. Despite their predicament, Shoki’s thoughts strayed back to the time they had spent together. To the time, back in Nainwa, when she had—
He bit down on his tongue. “Ow!”
“Everything alright?” whispered Lopas.
Shoki nodded, forced his legs to keep moving. Had he become one of those men who despite the woman they loved, couldn’t discipline their gaze? His mind retraced Jiza’s words. Had he really made a mistake? He exhaled. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to not only help the magi break free from the inquisitors’ clutches, but also give them a technique that would make them that much more difficult to trace.
Then again, wasn't that the point in the first place? Every man and woman, magus or not, had the right to be left in peace, presumed innocent until proven otherwise?
He shook his head, hurrying after Naila, taken aback by all these weighty thoughts that had somehow found a home in his mind. Where had he learned to think like this?
They climbed two flights of stairs, not coming against any inquisitors or guards. Shoki’s heart thudded against his ribs. It was all going too smoothly. Erapan remained in the front, keeping a lookout, the sword held out firmly. Now that Shoki watched him in action, he could see some truth behind the man’s claims about his training. He was slow to move, but with the weapo
n by his side, he moved with a grace that belied his bulk.
On the third floor, Naila froze. Slowly, she raised her hand, the manicured fingers pointing toward a wing that ran east to west. “There!”
“Are you certain?” asked Erapan.
She nodded.
Shoki caught a concerned expression on Jiza’s face. He exhaled. Was it possible Naila had an affinity for blood? Maybe that’s how she could detect where their phials were stored? Another thought gave him pause. If she did have the affinity for blood, what were the chances she was the magus he had faced at the Battle of Algaria?
He clenched his fingers, remembering how the magus had been feeding on the blood he drew from warring soldiers. That one magus had been responsible for hundreds of deaths that Shoki had witnessed himself.
Erapan tiptoed toward the wing, the sword steady in both hands, as other magi waited. Naila still stood with her hand pointed east. Shoki stared at the old magus. If she was indeed who he suspected, then she had fought against Shoki, Lopas, and Urnal not that long ago.
Shouts came from the floor behind them. One voice called out the loudest. “Intruders!”
“Hurry!” shouted Erapan, motioning them toward the wing.
Shoki needed no encouragement. Blood pounding in his temples, he dashed forward. Erapan rushed back, turning his back to them, taking up a position at the landing. He couldn't use his jadu against the inquisitors, but he obviously rated himself a warrior of sorts. And a man willing to be a martyr.
Jiza ran past Shoki and entered the wing, joining Naila who had proven the fastest of them all. Maharis was the next one to run past Shoki. Cursing, Shoki pumped his arms, moving his legs to keep pace. As he turned right into the wing—shuttered doors to the right containing only gods knew what treasures and secrets, a sheer drop to the left into the darkness—shouts grew louder behind them. Ahead, he caught sight of Naila continuing to sprint, someone who knew exactly where to go.
Erapan bellowed, his voice accompanied by the clang of steel on steel. Huffing, Shoki sprinted, his heart threatening to tear itself out of his chest as that unseen power continued to pull him toward Naila.
Twenty yards ahead, Naila stopped in front of a door. No different from the two dozen they had passed earlier. “This one!”
Maharis nodded, then stepped toward Urnal. Shoki came to a stuttering stop just as Maharis placed his hands on the short magus’s thin chest. For a breath, nothing happened. Then, the dark-skinned magus’s chest convulsed, and his body began spasming. Worried, Shoki stepped forward to see if the man was alright but Jiza placed a hand on his arm.
After what seemed an eternity, Urnal gasped and straightened. Outwardly, he looked the same but as he began to move toward the door, the floor reverberated with each footstep. Maharis wheezed, once more reduced to the feeble man Shoki had grown used to seeing.
Urnal turned to his side then, squaring his shoulders, crashed into the door.
The wall shuddered at the impact, but the door held.
“They’re in the artifact wing!” came a shout behind them.
Shoki darted his head around, cursing himself for not having brought any weapons with him.
“Again!” ordered Naila.
The magus complied, crashing into the door again. The door held, giving no signs of caving. Muttering under his breath, the magus ran back a dozen paces, then, taking a deep lungful of air, coiled his body with tension.
“Urnal, halt or we will sever you!”
They all turned around. An inquisitor, dressed in the gray turban of his order stood a dozen yards from them, a bloody sword in one hand, a phial in the other.
Behind him, Urnal unleashed a mad howl. Before Shoki had time to turn, the walls around him groaned, followed by a crashing, splintering sound. Urnal screamed in euphoria.
A second inquisitor came into view, his sword bloody as well. He, too, stood beside the first inquisitor, both of them glaring at the magi.
Shoki dared a look behind him. Urnal lay on the ground to his side, his facial features twisted like a pig’s as it was slaughtered, splinters of wood and metal strewn about him, a gaping hole in the door that had failed to stop him. Through the shattered door, Shoki caught a glimpse of shelves containing objects of various shapes and sizes.
He blinked. Objects of various shapes and sizes. None that looked like blood phials. The inquisitor’s words floated up in his memory. He had called this the artifact wing.
“Rabb curse you, abominations!” shouted the first inquisitor as Shoki turned toward them. “Urnal, I gave you an opportunity. I did!” He shook his head as if genuinely saddened by the prospect of what he needed to do. He motioned to his companion as more shouts came behind them. The other inquisitor slipped in closer, their shoulders touching. Both of them closed their eyes, their hands cradling the blood phial, and started chanting in a strange, musical tongue.
The magi around Shoki hissed, stepped back. Urnal still lay on the ground, muttering to himself, still grinning.
“Get up, Urnal!” Shoki shouted. He didn't react.
The inquisitors’ chanting picked up. The temperature dropped to freezing, setting Shoki’s teeth chattering. He stepped back, confused. More inquisitors ran up to join the two. An ambush, Shoki realized. They had known where the magi would head and had allowed them to walk straight into the trap. More shouts came from the stairwell. Erapan must have fallen.
“Inside!” shouted Naila. “Now!”
Shoki swallowed, unable to turn away. A dozen more turbaned figures appeared in the dark, specters striding toward them. No matter how powerful they were, how much Naila seemed to know what she was doing, they had all walked into a death-trap. No magus, not even as many as they were, could survive severance against this many inquisitors. Inquisitor Aboor had won in the end, with Shoki’s inadvertent help. Once they were severed, there would be no more hope of any reconciliation between the magi and inquisitors.
The two inquisitors fell silent, their final words hanging in the chill air. The phial fell on the floor, smashing, its contents spilling over. Shoki glanced sideway at Urnal, fearing the worst. He, too, had broken a phial to free Maharis, but that event hadn’t carried the terrible dread ushered in by the inquisitors. Urnal’s body spasmed once more, his eyelids falling shut. Someone shouted. An instant later, the magus’s eyes popped open.
They had turned a pale milky color, his face smoothing out as if all emotion had been drained from it. He no longer muttered. Slowly, Urnal clambered onto his feet, his eyes moving straight past the shocked faces of magi and the gaggle of inquisitors.
Silently, he started walking toward the inquisitors. Shoki raised his hand, wanting to call him back. More inquisitors filled the wing now. At least thirty, dashing any hopes for breaking through even if the magi had physical weapons.
Without looking down, Urnal walked over his spilled blood, not once turning back to his companions. The inquisitors stepped aside, letting the magus—the severed magus—shuffle through and past them.
A hand grabbed Shoki. “In!” Shoki turned around, nodded dimly at Naila. “Grab any artifact once you enter.”
Stepping over the debris, a tremor creeping in his limbs, Shoki entered the room beside Jiza. Shelves lined the room in front, just as he had seen from the outside. At the sound of glass bottles shattering, Shoki turned around. Maharis was smashing phials containing blood.
So, the room had contained blood phials. A useless thing though, considering even if they got rid of the phials, the inquisitors wouldn't need to bother chasing any of them. They were more than seventeen—plenty to sever the magi one by one.
“There!” shouted Naila. “There’s the Hejar stone! The last piece for our blood magic ritual.”
“The Hejar stone?” croaked Shoki. His eye fell on a large, smooth stone placed on a shelf by itself. His heart almost leaped out of his chest at the sight, an irresistible force pulling him forward.
A stone Shoki had seen before.
Voi
ces screamed in Shoki’s head—ones he hadn’t heard in a long while. “No!” he whimpered, stuttering back, both hands reaching up to claw at the pain shooting through his temples. “Go away!”
Naila grinned, her hands outstretched as she approached the stone. The Akbar artifact. The Hejar stone the pari folk had had Shoki move.
What was going on? What had he caused?
“Don’t touch it!” Shoki shouted at Naila, ignoring the voices in his mind. “Come back here!”
Naila shook her head, then placed her hands on the Hejar stone.
A sharp crackling noise filled the air, followed by peals of thunder and the maniacal laughs of the pari folk.
Chapter 37
Nuraya
They came upon the first group of lute players twenty miles from Kohkam playing The Blessed Istan in the middle of a village center. They were accompanied by northern peasants dressed in their colorful headgear and thick robes. Each subsequent village, they encountered more musicians and an ever-swelling number of peasants.
Instead of letting Nuraya’s forces through, the peasants and the lute players joined her, slowing her already snail-like pace even more. Northern soldiers carrying curved scimitars followed them from a distance. Ahasan’s men, not looking very pleased.
Nuraya shook her head. Not too long ago, she’d been reduced to a dozen men. At best, she had hoped to find a fraction of those who had survived the djinn attack. Now, even Camsh struggled to come up with an exact number of all those following her, declaring their loyalty to her cause, offering to fight under her banner.
Camsh had recommended turning away the newest recruits. Not only were their loyalties most fickle, he had argued, but letting in more untrained peasants would make them paradoxically weaker by diluting the chains of command.
All fair points, she had conceded but had overruled him in the end. If nothing else, she needed sheer numbers in the absence of any other marker of strength. A vast sea of bodies willing to lay down their lives at her command was an asset she needed to be seen with. Her mother had been wrong on many things, but she had always appreciated the Istani customs of pageantry and its effect on the eye of the beholder. One lesson she had imbued in her daughter. Power was an abstract thing—something Nuraya had come to realize—dependent on neither shows of strength or bravado for display, but in things much more implicit than that.