“My sister, Maida.” Tinley scrunches her nose at my sorry state. I smell of foot rot. “You have a lot to tell us.”
I was thinking the same about her. Last I saw, she was flying off with Kalinda. “Help me stop Gemi’s execution, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”
The mahatis take off across the desert. Chare outraces the chief’s falcon by several wingspans. I attach my gaze to the horizon, overanxious to see the golden domes of my home.
36
KALINDA
Enlil holds the reins steady as Chaser charges through the abyss. After we went through the monstrous mouth in the sky, it retched us out here. I thought I had seen every horror of the Void, but nothing compares to this lonely dreariness. A sea at night has breaks in the waves. A desert has dips and rises that add variety. This chasm continues without end.
“How do we get out?” I ask.
“We must find Deven’s gate!” Enlil replies. Sound does not travel far. Communicating feels like shouting into a box. “Occupants of the under realm cannot leave without a mortal opening a gate for them. Once the gate is open, it will reopen for the same mortal until destroyed.”
Deven inadvertently released Marduk. Returning to me night after night gave Irkalla access to our realm. We did not know, but our ignorance is little consolation now.
Enlil and I fly onward for what could be minutes or hours; my senses cannot discern up from down, let alone the passage of time. Enlil does not admit it, but we are lost. The Void has swept us up and locked us in an unbeatable oblivion.
The horses tire. Strips of their flanks tear off and vanish in our wake. Enlil sends his living flames at the steeds to repair their breakages. The glowing tendrils roll off them and wither to smoke.
I speak directly into Enlil’s ear. “What’s wrong?”
“The evernight is too strong! It is choking their fire!”
One of the horses shatters to embers. By the time we fly through them, the ashes are cold. Two more horses split apart, as does the back end of the chariot. Chaser, the only horse remaining, pushes on.
Enlil and I clutch each other. Cala would usually take advantage of his closeness, but she hid when we left the City of the Dead. Perhaps she knows the evernight will eventually snuff out my soul-fire and she will disappear too. Enlil risks another fate. As he cannot perish, he would plunge through obscurity forever.
My strained eyes pick up on a disparity to our right. The Void, with no variance in color, has a spectrum of textures.
“Look there!” I indicate at the patch. “See how the darkness there is coarser like gravel, whereas the parts around it are soft like muslin?”
Enlil concentrates so hard his eye twitches. “I do not see it.”
Chaser loses a piece of his hind leg. Our weight wears on him.
Without another option, Enlil passes me the reins, and I redirect for the gravelly path. The closer we get, the firmer the roadway appears. Chaser’s hooves touch down, and the chariot wheels spin. Enlil emits a grunt of surprise.
The reins start to turn brittle in my grasp. I strain my eyes, searching for the doorway out.
A sudden pitch and angled slope of the chariot nearly throws us off. We lost a wheel. I hold on as the bottom of the chariot drags against the path, sending off sparks.
A section of the floor flies off and disappears. Enlil coaches Chaser to keep going. I peer down the road. The texture ahead evolves into a grainy wall.
The end of the trail.
I snap the reins and Chaser gallops faster. Flames shoot off from his mane and tail.
“Hurry along, old friend,” Enlil calls. “Give us all your might!”
The fire horse stays on course. Enlil and I brace each other as Chaser disappears into the wall of shadow first. Our momentum throws us through the gate into daylight. I tumble across the floor into a wall. Enlil rolls into the bed frame. Pieces of the smashed carriage smolder on the furniture and floor around us.
Chaser did not make it through.
I crawl toward the open doors of the sunlit balcony and inhale the flowery air. I missed sunshine. And my chamber. And my bed. I will never complain about the desert sun again.
Enlil pulls himself up and stomps out a small flame. He reviews my sketches of Deven on the table. The prospect of seeing him again both delights and terrifies me. What if he still doesn’t remember who I am? My heart is too tender from our last meeting to consider how badly that would hurt.
I grab a handful of dried fruit from a dish and shove it in my mouth. “Let’s find those children.”
“I must not meddle with Lokesh and Irkalla’s agreement,” Enlil replies. I stop midchew. “They have a binding contract that I cannot interfere with. Furthermore, it would be unwise to leave the gate unsecured.”
“Then tell me where the trainees are hiding.”
“I do not know.”
So much for omniscient knowledge. “Can you at least close the gate?”
“Yes,” Enlil replies. “However, Marduk would be trapped in your realm.” I imagine the chaos the chameleon demon could cause and decide against stranding Marduk here. “I will guard it.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I say. Enlil nods and then rightfully interprets my statement as mockery. I pause at the door. He may infuriate me, but leaving without him feels wrong.
“Proceed ahead with caution, Kalinda,” Enlil says, his tone wrought with worry. “I will ensure no one enters or exits the gate.”
How can you stay angry at him? Cala asks.
If those children are captured, it’ll be easy.
I steal down the empty corridors. The quiet is unnerving. Movement outside the door to the wives’ wing halts me. I press my back to a wall. Mercenaries lead the ranis and children down the stairs by knifepoint. The ranis and nursemaids guide the older children by hand, and Shyla carries her daughter.
Once they have passed, I creep to the corner and peek around it into the entry hall. The women and children are going outside. I slip down the corridor to a balcony that overlooks the front of the palace. People in the city congregate at the gates, all looking up. I follow their gaze to Lokesh high on the roof. I do not see Ashwin—or Marduk impersonating Ashwin.
Lokesh’s break from locating the bhuta trainees sets me on edge. What could keep him from honoring his promise to Irkalla?
Unless he has the children and is waiting for nightfall.
I think of the trainees, especially my own students, Giza and Basma. They must be petrified. But they are bhutas. Lokesh’s men would not be a match should the children fight back. He would be clever to imprison them where their powers would not work . . .
The possibility will not let me alone. As I have no other ideas, I tiptoe to the stairwell that leads to the dungeons and start down the circular stairway. At the bottom, a pair of guards protect the entry. One of them is a mercenary. The other man is clean-shaven and wears a black uniform. His fat lip and bruises have healed. He is still scarily thin, but I love that face in any condition.
I round the corner and throw a heatwave at the mercenary. He hits the stone wall and falls, knocked out.
Deven draws his khanda. “The rajah said the rebels would come.”
Letting my powers fade, I hold up my hand for peace. Deven has confused Ashwin with his father, a mistake I made myself when I first met the prince. For simplicity’s sake, I leave his assumption uncorrected. “I’m not a rebel. I’m a warrior. The children the rajah captured are innocent.”
“They’re rebel children.”
I pace closer, wary of Deven’s fast striking abilities and considerable arm length, both traits I appreciate when they are on my side. “They’re trainees. We cannot let the rajah have them or they’ll die. I know you would never hurt a child.”
He retreats a step, his blade outstretched. “I’ll give you a chance to surrender before I call for more guards.”