Nemesis

by Kat Ross

  She seized the chance to make a run for Darius, but the drake was not so easily distracted. Muscles bunched beneath its scaled hide and it slithered to cut her off, rearing up on its coils like a cobra. The drake’s mouth yawned open as it prepared to lunge forward. Its barbed tail whipped around behind her.

  And then a rock arced through the curtains of rain, bouncing off the drake’s snout. The creature ignored it, but a second rock—even larger—provoked an angry hiss.

  Nazafareen squinted through the downpour. It was Galen, pale and drenched.

  “Over here!” he shouted at the drake, another rock in his hand. “Come on, you great dumb lizard!”

  The drake gave a contemptuous flick of its tail that sent Nazafareen sprawling. Then its head shot forward and a jet of clear liquid streamed from its throat. The rain sizzled and steamed. Galen screamed as it splattered against his chest. He dropped to one knee, six inches of brown water coursing around him.

  Nazafareen grabbed Galen’s coat and hauled him toward the overhang, which had been transformed into a waterfall by the sheets of rain pouring from the canyon rim above. She ducked through into the hollow behind, the sound of rushing water echoing in her ears. Galen’s teeth clenched as she propped him against one wall. She smelled burnt flesh. On the other side of the waterfall, the blurry shape of the drake swung its head from side to side, hunting them.

  She tore off Galen’s smoking coat and threw it aside. Her breath hissed when she saw the wounds beneath. The venom had eaten through layers of clothing and skin, exposing white bone. There was blood, so much of it.

  “Galen.” She hooked an arm around his back, holding him upright. His head lolled away, his eyes unfocused. Her throat tightened with sudden emotion. Nothing he’d done in the past mattered anymore.

  He’s better than I gave him credit for. Better than anyone did. He doesn’t deserve this.

  The gate lurked a few feet away. Floodwater lapped at its base. It was still dark, but she fancied she saw little ripples on the surface. The gate’s magic throbbed in her head like a rotten tooth. Weak, but enough for what needed to be done.

  She gently moved Galen so that he lay a few paces ahead of the gate and stoked her breaking magic to a boil. It wasn’t hard. She was already livid at the thought of yet another pointless death.

  “I’m sending you to the Lady,” she whispered furiously. “Don’t you dare bloody die until you see her.”

  Would it make any difference? Nazafareen couldn’t be sure. But perhaps the surge of earth magic when his ward broke would help him survive.

  If he had a ward. If he even was the last talisman.

  “Only one way to find out,” she muttered, unleashing her magic straight at Galen.

  He stiffened with a scream, dark eyes flying wide. Behind her, she sensed sudden movement.

  The drake.

  Nazafareen lifted her sword with numb fingers as the drake exploded in a blur toward the overhang. The eyes. Aim for the eyes, she thought, even as part of her knew it was hopeless, she’d never get close enough….

  A shattering explosion and flash of white light knocked her back. The world fell silent except for the insistent buzz of the gate. Nazafareen clung blindly to the rock wall, her head ringing, every hair on end. Floodwater swirled around her. When she opened her eyes, she saw two humps like boulders beyond the waterfall. They slowly slid together and she realized that it was in fact a single hump, and that it had been the drake.

  She checked Galen. His pulse still beat weakly. Nazafareen crawled out from the overhang. The drake was charred to a crisp. More lightning forked across the sky. A miracle. She gave a weak laugh.

  “Nazafareen!”

  She dragged herself up and saw Rhea on the opposite side of the canyon. Katrin stood next to her, swaying on her feet as Rhea held her up. Katrin must have summoned the storm, though it had clearly cost her to work so much power in the Kiln. Nicodemus was with them. He ran towards Darius, fearless despite his lack of a weapon, and Nazafareen felt ashamed that she’d ever doubted him. The second drake gazed at the body of its companion, spat a jet of venom that Nicodemus easily eluded, and spread its wings, flapping off into the storm.

  She sheathed her sword and waded over to Darius, who seized her in a one-armed hug.

  “Thank the gods you’re unharmed,” he murmured in her ear. “I thought it had you.”

  “It almost did.”

  She pulled back as Nicodemus joined them. “We came as fast as we could,” he shouted over the rain. “I saw the drakes heading this way.” He shook his head in wonder. “It was Katrin’s idea to call a storm. I didn’t think she’d manage it, not in time.”

  “We found a gate,” Nazafareen shouted back. “I think it might be reviving. Galen is hurt badly. Maybe we should—”

  Her words were cut off by a rumble from the canyon they’d come from. A wall of water raced toward them, at least eight paces high. She took a step toward the overhang where she’d left Galen, but it was too late. Darius clasped her hand. They turned and ran toward the left fork, Nicodemus sprinting behind. She saw Katrin and Rhea disappear into the opposite canyon, their heads bobbing above the whitewater. There was no sign of Galen.

  And then the flood hit, a torrent of churning brown water. The world spun upside down as the current swept them into oblivion.

  26

  There Will Be Blood

  Coarse sand scoured her cheek. Nazafareen pushed up to sit, Ygraine’s sword digging into her back. The rain had stopped. Sunlight poured down, relentless and brutal. She heard running water and above it, a rhythmic sound, like a bellows pumping.

  A few paces off, Nicodemus knelt on the ground, copper hair plastered across his forehead. He was pounding on Darius’s chest. Nazafareen hurried over. Her body felt like one big bruise, but nothing seemed broken thanks to Darius. When the wave hit them, he’d held her tight and shielded her from the rough canyon walls. Now he lay limp, skin white as birch bark. He wasn’t dead, she could feel him through the bond, but he looked close to it.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  Nicodemus glanced up. “He took in too much water. I saw fishermen in Tjanjin revive a man this way. Pinch his nose closed and breathe into his mouth.”

  She obeyed immediately. Four quick breaths, then Nicodemus resumed his pumping.

  “Come on,” she whispered. Darius’s lips looked blue. Like a corpse.

  “Again,” Nicodemus said.

  Desperate, she cupped Darius’s face in her hand and filled his lungs with air. Something stirred in the bond. He gave a weak cough. Muddy water trickled from the corner of his mouth. Together, she and Nicodemus rolled him to one side and let him spew it out. His misery made her own stomach roll in sympathy. At last, Darius rolled to face the sky again, swiping his mouth with a sleeve.

  “Where are we?” he croaked.

  “Back end of nowhere,” Nicodemus replied with a half smile.

  “I knew that,” Darius muttered.

  “About six leagues from where we started. The flood carried us more or less the right way, at least.”

  Nazafareen looked around. The Red Hills lay behind them. The flood had washed them out to the plain and then dissipated, flowing into broad slow-moving channels that shimmered like mirrors. But the sun’s heat was already evaporating the shallow rivers and Nazafareen could see they’d soon be gone. She didn’t know how they’d cross the Kiln again without water skins.

  “Have you seen any sign of the others?” she asked Nicodemus.

  He shook his head. “The canyons are a maze. Assuming they survived, they could have come out leagues away.” He glanced around. “We can’t stay in the open long. We’re too close to Gaius’s burrow.”

  “Will he suspect the rainstorm was unnatural?” Darius asked.

  “How could he not? I’ve seen rain out here perhaps twice in my entire life.”

  Nicodemus tugged his shirt off and wrung it out. Scars covered his torso and chest—not only the
round puckers from wyrms he’d shown her before, but others too. Some looked like tooth marks.

  “How old are you, Nicodemus?” Nazafareen asked.

  He pulled his shirt back on and threw the shadowtongue cloak across his shoulders. “Twenty, or thereabouts. I don’t know my exact birthday.”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. He raised an eyebrow.

  “You thought I was older.”

  “By at least a decade,” she admitted.

  “The ravages of the Kiln,” he said lightly. “Wreaks havoc on one’s delicate complexion.”

  She smiled. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes, but that wasn’t the only reason. He had a self-possessed, competent air that was rare for one so young. Darius had it too, the result of his harsh upbringing among the magi. She wondered how old Nicodemus had been when his mother died.

  “Yes, I can’t say I’ve grown especially fond of this place,” Darius said, pushing up to sit and making a quick inventory of his knives. “So where’s this burrow?”

  “A few leagues west,” Nicodemus replied. His face set into stubborn lines. “I plan to find Atticus even if I have to continue alone. But I understand if you want to seek out your friends. I leave the choice to you.”

  Nazafareen thought of Galen, of Rhea and Katrin. She hated to abandon them, but searching the Red Hills could take days and they had no food. Their packs had been washed away in the flood. And without Nicodemus, they’d likely never find Gaius—or he’d find them first.

  “That wasn’t the deal, Vatra,” Darius growled. “You promised to follow orders.”

  Two pairs of blue eyes locked. “And I did. I could have abandoned you a hundred times. Gone my own way.”

  Darius’s tone was icy. “Don’t play the hero. You stayed because you need Nazafareen to kill Gaius.”

  “Ah, but your motives are pure, is that it? Saving the world from evil. Or is it simple revenge you seek?”

  Darius scowled. The hair on her arms rose as power flowed through the cuff. Little cracks appeared in the earth at Nicodemus’s feet. His own expression darkened, then shifted to surprise.

  “You’re working earth power,” he said softly.

  Darius blinked. The ground settled itself. “So I am.”

  And then, like becoming suddenly aware of music that’s been playing faintly in the background, Nazafareen realized that the full bond had returned. She could read Darius’s emotions and physical sensations—lingering frustration, a blister on his left heel—and had been for some time now, at least since they’d washed up at the riverbank but possibly even before. It had been gradual and she’d been too focused on the drakes to notice.

  “What does it mean?” she asked, fearing the answer.

  “Only one thing,” Nicodemus said grimly. “The barriers around the Kiln must be failing.”

  Darius muttered a curse. Nazafareen remembered the surge of power from Katrin when the shield almost failed. The way the wards of the Gale had shivered and flexed.

  “It’s our fault,” she said. “We shouldn’t have tampered with it.”

  Darius closed his eyes. “How long until they’re gone completely?”

  Nicodemus shrugged. “Another day? Perhaps a week or a month, if we’re lucky. But if the wards are no longer dampening elemental power, I expect the storms are failing too.” He paused. “Gaius and his followers will sense it. They’ll realize what’s happened and they won’t hesitate to take advantage of it.”

  Darius cursed again, more bitterly.

  “So if we go after Katrin and Galen, if we wait to have the brute force of the talismans on our side, he could be gone by the time we return,” Nazafareen said.

  Nicodemus didn’t reply.

  “Then I say we dig him out of his burrow,” she said. “Finish this while we still can. If he gets out of the Kiln, countless more will die before we stop him.”

  Darius blew out a slow breath. “Is your power returning too?” he asked Nicodemus.

  The Vatra gave a thin smile. “Yes. I would demonstrate, but….”

  “No need,” Darius said quickly. He looked at Nazafareen. “If we go in, can you break their flows?”

  She nodded. Her breaking magic drew on the sun, which now hung directly overhead. It sizzled in her veins and marrow. “I can obliterate them.”

  He fingered a knife, then slid it back into the sheath and turned to Nicodemus.

  “Any second thoughts?”

  “None,” Nicodemus said with a level gaze. “And you?”

  “I just want to kill the bastard.” Darius’s tone softened. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said before. I was being a prick.”

  Nicodemus inclined his head. “No apology necessary.”

  “Let’s do it then. Which way?”

  “Across the plain.”

  They walked for an hour, slaking their thirst from the rapidly shrinking pools of water. The ground rose and became rougher, with sheer pinnacles of sandstone rising up like sentinels. Nicodemus stopped in the shade of a large boulder and pointed west.

  “Do you see that rock about three leagues off? Gaius’s burrow lies beneath it.”

  Nazafareen stared at the dark mass. It thrust straight up from the earth, unbroken and flat on top, a thousand paces high. The stone was the color of tarnished silver. She thought of Kallisto’s words.

  Three towers in opposition, one grey, two black.

  It did look a bit like a tower, though one forged by the geological forces of the Kiln. But she didn’t see how that knowledge helped them, nor where the other two towers might be found.

  “How do we get in without being seen?”

  “Leave it to me.” Nicodemus squinted at the valley. “I have a good idea where to find Gaius’s sentries. Will you give me a knife?”

  Darius stared at him. Then he reached into his boot and took out the eel knife Nicodemus had been carrying when they found him near the Gale.

  “You swear you didn’t kill Sakhet-ra-katme?”

  “I swear I didn’t. Though Nazafareen was right. I’m to blame for her death.” Nicodemus paused. “I’d rather have the other one, if you don’t mind. Silver-chased handle?”

  Darius chewed the corner of his mouth, then produced the second blade. Nicodemus eyed it with a funny expression, half amused, half abashed.

  “I stole this too,” he admitted. “It belonged to Meb. If I ever run into her, I’ll give it back.” He slid the blade into his coat pocket. “I meant to ask, what happened to her?”

  “She went with the Marakai,” Nazafareen said.

  The Vatra smiled and for a moment, his face didn’t look so hungry. He held out Sakhet’s knife, hilt first, but Darius pushed it back.

  “Take them both. Always better to have a spare.”

  Nicodemus accepted with a slight dip of his chin.

  “I have to scout alone. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” Nazafareen said without hesitation.

  After a fraction of a second, Darius nodded.

  Nicodemus turned and loped off, his cloak vanishing against the landscape. Nazafareen’s head throbbed like a rotten tooth. She couldn’t imagine how the Vatras lived out here. It was two degrees short of hell.

  She stared at the pinnacle of rock and felt an instant of vertigo. Yes, there was a darkness lurking beneath it, a malignancy. She could sense it in her bones.

  “What’s wrong?” Darius asked, concern in his eyes.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. You can’t conceal it from me, Nazafareen.”

  She looked at him. “The breaking magic. Does it leak through our bond?” She’d never asked him this question outright before, though she’d wondered.

  He seemed to frame his response carefully. “Not the magic itself, but its effect on you.”

  “The anger, you mean.”

  “Partly.” He studied her. “Right now, I can feel you responding to something. Is it a talisman?”

  “I…I don’t know.” Her head
pounded. The blackness of the void rose in her throat like acid. “I don’t think so. This is something different.” She gave a weak laugh. “The only way I can describe it is pure evil, Darius.”

  He didn’t smile. “I believe you.”

  She looked away. “I hope I can find the source of it.”

  What she didn’t tell him was that it stirred up her own streak of cruelty. Not evil. Even on her worst days, she didn’t believe that. She was a force for right, a champion of the weak.

  I am not like Domitia, she thought. Whatever Nicodemus thinks.

  But part of her was also no longer bound by traditional morality. Part of her would balance the scales no matter the cost.

  Part of her would enjoy it.

  She tore her gaze from the jagged tooth of rock and met Darius’s eyes. He knew. How he still loved her was one of life’s great mysteries. The pain in her head eased a fraction.

  “My mother was a hard woman too,” he said softly. “Fearsome, even. I wish I’d known her better.”

  “She tried to stop me when I left,” Nazafareen said. “To talk me out of it.”

  She sensed his surprise. They both knew Delilah had never liked her much.

  “She said my hatred would only poison me and I should let it go.”

  Darius gave a sad laugh. “That doesn’t sound like my mother.”

  “It’s true.”

  “She gave me my set of woodworking tools. Victor kept offering me a sword.”

  Grief tightened her chest and Nazafareen realized it was not simply her own, but his as well.

  They shared memories of Delilah and Tethys until Nicodemus materialized like a wraith out of the desert and dropped a pair of shadowtongue cloaks at their feet. One had a splash of fresh blood on the hood. Darius arched an eyebrow, but she sensed he was impressed.

  Nazafareen threw the cloak across her shoulders. It was made for a taller person and the hem dragged on the ground. She expected it to be suffocating, but the cloak felt light as air and shielded her from the worst of the sun. Nicodemus handed her a water skin and she drank gratefully. Then they crept through folds of earth toward the towering rock pinnacle. Half a league away, Nicodemus stopped. He pulled aside a patch of bramble to reveal a dark hole leading into the earth.