The Priestess’ face is lit with thousands of years worth of hatred and suppressed rage. I shudder; I can’t help it. One lifetime of bondage has been unbearable; to live and die and live again, for millennia, in service to the gods who did this to you, to the family of the woman who did this to all of us.
“What we did was unforgivable, Priestess. I could tell you that the Captain forced us, and it would be true, but it is not the whole of the truth. We all got what we thought we wanted; it’s just that what we wanted turned out to be more terrible than we could have imagined. I would beg your forgiveness, and that of every descendent of the colonists we brought here, but I do not deserve it. Every day I live the life that I asked for and every day I hate it, and myself, more and more. Like you I cannot truly die, I can only suffer alone. But now I have a chance to redeem what we did, to undo it. I must.”
“My duty is to protect this world that you made with the Gods. I cannot let you break it, even if I wanted to. Even if I could admit how very much I hate this world of yours.” The Priestess turns away from Freyja and looks at me again. “You should have killed the Prince, assassin. I cannot let the Five Families come together in the place of the Gods; I tried to prevent this by taking one life, and instead, all the Princes will die, and the daughter of the Undying, and you too, Alinya, all because you didn’t do your duty.”
Her words cut into me. I know we are doing the right thing, I know it, but to see her pain and to have her remind me of my failure, it guts me. Ever since I left the Guild Hall these emotions have started creeping in and they feel so heavy, and I am so tired of carrying all these burdens, and now I wonder if the Guild was right to keep us from feeling. How do we keep moving with all this anger and sadness and guilt?
“Don’t let her get in your head.” Kjiersten is suddenly next to me, her arrow pointed at the Priestess now. “Do not listen to her, Alinya. She’s trying to find a way to break you.”
It’s working, I want to tell Kjiersten, but I look at her standing there, standing with me no matter what. Every inch of her is the fierceness of the Archer, the tenderness of the girl who kissed me under the sea so I wouldn’t be afraid. I can’t let her down; I can’t let my friends down, my friends who had enough faith in me to travel across the world to face the gods. We can’t stop here.
“Even if you kill me, Archer, another will come,” the Priestess says to Kjiersten. “We cannot be ended.”
“Then I will kill that one too, and the one after that, and as many as I have to until we get to the Gods and stop this cycle forever.”
The Flaming Man and the eldest Master step in front of the Priestess.
As always, I have a question. “Why didn’t you bring the rest of the Guild to the desert? Why only the three of you?”
The gold markings ripple across the Priestess’ face. “I only have so many of the anywhere transport spells. Some of them have gone missing.” I think about the Joker, playing with all of us, giving me her carefully hoarded spells.
“The rest of the masters will be here soon,” the eldest Master says to no one in particular.
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Freyja says, and her eyes are gone and then here again. “Assassins aren’t soldiers.”
The Princes draw their long knives and I tell them to move away from the portal. I don’t want them getting attacked from behind while Freyja, the Archer, and I face the Priestess. Kell looks like he’s not sure he made the right choice in coming. I hope we can show him he did.
The Priestess tells the Flaming Man: “Kill the girl first.” I know she means me. He wraps himself in flames and runs towards me.
Kjiersten steps to the side and fires her arrow at the Priestess. The Flaming Man reaches out and burns it out of the air. She keeps shooting and he has to keep blocking them, slowing his run towards me. I’m not sure what I’ll do when he gets to me; these clothes don’t have the protection spells I’m used to. I’m worried that letting go of my gear was a mistake.
Freyja steps in front of me. “Your cloak,” she says, not looking back at me. She stands there and clenches her fists; I wrap my cloak around me and she’s suddenly covered in a thin layer of icy scales. She leans forward and breathes out a white mist that douses some of the flames.
The Old Master has disappeared. I realize my error when I feel a punch in my side; I look down and a shadowy arm is there with a knife. The cloak stopped it, and I’m grateful for dangerous Queens who give out bespelled cloaks.
I know better than to take my eyes off an assassin; I won’t make that mistake again. The master is hidden by a shadow spell and I look for the telltale flickering as he moves. My daggers are in my hands now and I feel more comfortable as I step slowly carefully on the rocky path. I can’t see the shine of his knife or any movement; he knows what I’m doing and he’s staying still.
Freyja is right; assassins aren’t soldiers. We are patience and stealth and sudden death, not battles, not meant for fighting each other. It’s so odd that the Priestess told the Flaming Man to target me, when I’m not necessary for the plan. Only the Five Families need to be there to break the agreement. All they have to do is kill one of the Princes. On the heels of that thought comes another; she didn’t tell the Old Master to kill me; she told the Flaming Man. I’m standing here looking for an assassin while the Princes are unguarded. The old man wasn’t trying to kill me, just distract me; just have me chasing shadows.
I turn and run towards the Princes. “Alexsi!” I scream. “Look out, he’s coming -” and then there is that flickering, and the gleam of steel and Zair moves reflexively at my shout and that is the only thing that saves his life as his knife deflects the eldest Master’s dagger at the last moment and instead of stabbing him in the kidney the knife slices across his ribs and Zair is bleeding. He reels back and I can’t watch him, I have to find the Master before he kills them. Alexsi is screaming Zair’s name and Kell is crouching, curved knives out, watching.
“Look for the shadows,” I tell him. “Don’t let him get close to you.” Kell nods and his eyes don’t stop moving. I see a flicker and then it’s gone; another. The shadow spell lasts twenty minutes and even though it feels longer it’s only been five. We can’t wait him out; he’ll have killed everyone by then.
Another flicker and Kell blocks an attack, only to have his arm sliced open by the Master’s second blade. If he can’t get a clean kill he’ll bleed them to death.
I put my useless daggers away and take my favorite weapon from my belt. “Alexsi, I need your help,” I call out. He’s backed up against a rock, holding Zair, looking like a cornered snowcat. “I need you to do something.” I need to find the Master before his next strike. He has three fairly easy targets; I don’t know which one he’ll hit next. I need him exposed.
Alexsi looks confused and then he gets it. Still gripping his knives he reaches out and concentrates. Nothing happens for a moment and I get worried. Maybe the ground here is too dead.
He concentrates harder. The eldest Master isn’t moving now; he’s waiting to see what will happen. Patience and timing are the assassin’s best weapons. The good news is that I know it.
Alexsi’s face starts to sweat and I think it’s not going to work and then suddenly the ground moves; twigs shoot up from the ground around us, dozens of them, and the dirt and the ground shake as they come up, roots digging in, twigs rapidly branching into the small leaves of the mountain desert shrubs. Every time the ground moves I see a flicker, flicker, as the Master tries to get his footing. I step carefully, slowly, while everyone is watching the bushes grow out of the ground and then I’m next to the Master and I strike before he does, wrapping my garrotte around his throat.
His daggers swipe against my cloak but it protects me as he chokes. I twist the handles, tightening the cord around the throat of the man who stole me from my family, who taught me to kill. Who brought me the books of the loremasters when I needed them. His struggles are faint, fading.
“It had to be me,�
� he chokes out. “I couldn’t let her bring anyone else.” The shadow spell is still working; I can’t see his face, can barely see the shape of him. “So proud of you,” he whispers. I hold the garrotte tight for another minute and then I loosen it and feel his pulse. I kiss him on the forehead in benediction and then I tuck something into his pocket to ease his way and then I stand and go check on the princes.
CHAPTER 28
Zair and Kell are bleeding and Alexsi is pale and shaking. I hand some of my spidersilk to Alexsi and tell him to help Zair first; he’s bleeding heavily, but the wound isn’t fatal. I’m worried it might weaken him too much for the journey through the desert.
Freyja is still fighting with the Flaming Man and Kjiersten is circling the Priestess. I don’t know why she hasn’t killed her and then I see that the Priestess has her eyes fixed on Kjiersten; Kjiersten won’t look at her, so the Priestess can’t compel her, but somehow she is managing to hold her off. Kjiersten has gotten her staff away from her; it’s on the ground five feet away.
I spare a moment to thank the gods that the Priestess doesn’t have as much power as the Queen of Air, or else she could control all of us. “Go help Freyja,” I tell Kjiersten. “Remember the Forest.” She nods and sprints over to join Freyja, who is managing to douse every fire he starts but isn’t able to get him down. She can’t freeze him, either; his internal flame is too strong.
They need to manage, though. I have to face the Priestess.
It’s only fitting that after I defeat the Master who trained me, I confront the Priestess who made our Guild, who tells us who to kill. I won’t be controlled by them any more. The Priestess sees my death in her eyes and she doesn’t beg, but she does get in a few cuts of her own as I get closer.
“You wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the Guild,” she tells me. “You’d be just another dead groundling, grubbing for jewels and farming for magic until you die under the shadow of the City.”
“Thank you for reminding me why I’m doing this, Priestess.” I draw my daggers. I have my throwing knives but she’ll just find a way to dodge them, or she’ll transport out. I need to be close.
“It won’t work,” she says as I get close, close enough to touch her. She has a small knife in her hand and I squeeze her wrist until she drops it. “Humans will always find a way to mess things up.”
“I’d rather make my own mistakes than live paying the price for theirs,” I tell her. “I’d rather everyone be free to choose, even if it means screwing up sometimes.”
“Ask her what they did with the rest of the colonists,” she whispers. “Ask your Queen what really happened. See if you want her to be part of your new world when you know the truth.”
I close my mind to what she’s saying; her words are maggots, trying to burrow into me. I won’t let her twist this. I won’t let her corrupt what we are trying to do.
“I hope you find peace, Priestess,” I say as I slit her throat. “Go with the Gods.”
She falls, blood pooling around her, the beautiful gold designs on her face burned into my memory as her blood stains my hands. The hate and the compulsion fade from her eyes as she dies and she is no longer the Priestess; she is, at last, a woman at rest.
I hear a shout behind me and I turn, terrified that something has gone wrong. Instead I see Kjiersten, crouched over the Flaming Man, a fierce look of triumph on her face as she chokes all the air from him. Freyja is preventing him from burning Kjiersten while she strangles him. Finally the air leaves him and he goes limp and disappears, going wherever he goes when his flames go out. I wonder if he will ever find peace either, or if the Gods will just keep resurrecting him to do their will. I wonder who he is.
◆◆◆
Our small group is almost spent and we still have to cross the desert. Freyja, too thin to begin with, is weakened by the fight with the Flaming Man. Zair and Kell are still bleeding and Alexsi is shaking from what he did earlier. My stomach hurts but I’m otherwise unharmed. Kjiersten is the only one who looks fine; she looks better than fine, glowing with health, muscles taught, golden hair shining in the sun as she counts her remaining arrows and tends to her bow.
“We need to get away from the portal. The Guild is still chasing us, and the next Priestess will rise soon. We can rest when we put some distance between us and the mountain.”
No one argues with me, even though half of us look like they can barely walk. We pick up our packs and trudge into the desert. When we get to the sand I realize there will be no way to hide our tracks.
Something occurs to me and I stop and turn to Freyja. “Can’t they just use a spell to get to the Unseen Realm?” I’m suddenly terrified that they will be there when we get to the Unseen Realm.
She shakes her head. “No. They can’t for the same reason we can’t. The Gods won’t let anyone port in the Arid Lands. They want to make it hard to get to them. They also didn’t want us going back to our ship. That’s why no one is allowed here.”
Kjiersten looks at us, impatient. “We need to go. It’s not safe to stand around here. Talk while we walk or don’t talk at all.” She starts walking again, taking the lead. There are no paths in the desert but she doesn’t seem to need one.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Zair asks, holding his side.
“I’m the Guide. I can always find where we need to be,” she says, striding forward with her long leather-clad legs. “Keep up.”
We do our best. I’m the shortest so I have to do a half-jog to stay with the group. Everyone else stumbles along weakly. This isn’t a great way to start the last stage of our journey to the gods but there’s nothing that can be done. The wind picks up and I look back; it’s smoothing the sand behind us. At least something is finally happening in our favor. I squint but I don’t see anyone back where we came from.
“The mountain will hold them as long as it can,” Freyja says. “If you don’t know the ways you can get lost in there forever.” I hope the mountain can buy us enough time; I’m not feeling up to being chased through the desert by every master assassin from the Guild. The wind gets stronger. “Scarves,” Freyja orders, and we all find the scarf tucked into our cloaks and wrap them around our faces, even our eyes. We can only see dimly but it’s better than getting sand in our eyes.
My breath is hot and weird through the scarf. The air here tastes strange, dry and dusty and flavored with silicates but there is also an ozone smell, and something else underneath it.
“The air is bad.” Kell speaks up, echoing my thoughts.
“Try not to breathe deeply,” Freyja directs us. “We need to get through this section quickly.”
I feel dizzy and I see strange shapes in the sky, vultures as large as men and with human looking legs. The sand appears to be moving and it’s not just the wind; it’s undulating like a wave. I look closer. Scorpions are scuttling through the sand, their translucent bodies hard to see. There are ones as small as a coin and others as large as my hand.
“The smaller ones are more poisonous,” Freyja says. “The boots will protect your feet and ankles but don’t let them climb up.”
We step high and fast, trying to minimize our contact with the ground. Kell and Zair are breathing hard, their cuts bleeding through the bandages. I try to think of anything in my pack that will help but I have nothing.
“Keep going,” Kjiersten tells us. “There’s a dune up ahead; the scorpions end there.” I don’t ask her how she knows. It’s the same way she knew we’d be entering the Forest that day so many weeks past; the same way she knew to be waiting for us there. The gift she inherited from her father.
We smash as many scorpions as we can and we shake them off as they try to climb up our legs. The small ones are sticky and don’t come off easily so we start using our knives to flick them off. It takes an hour to get to the dune, an hour of stomping and shaking and scraping. We finally climb the dune and Kjiersten is right, the scorpions don’t come up here.
“We can rest on the other side.”<
br />
She leads us down the dune into a valley of pure, unbroken sand. The wind is gone and we drop our scarves and look. It’s midday and the suns are high and the heat is coming off the sand in hazy waves that hurt my eyes and I keep imagining the scuttling motion of scorpions, but they aren’t here.
Kjiersten pulls a sheet of spidersilk out of her pack along with four sticks that unfold into poles. Alexsi helps her set the poles into the ground and tie the spidersilk onto each of them, creating a canopy and some shade. “We can’t stay for too long, but we should be ok to rest here while the suns are at their hottest.”
The shade helps. Our cloaks and boots have protected our skin but the canopy keeps the worst of the sun off us and we start to cool. Freyja tells us to drink more water than we think we need and we have lunch from the food packs and we drink the cool water from our canteens and we rest and, without quite noticing it, I doze off.
◆◆◆
When I wake Kjiersten is crying and Freyja is curled into a ball, not speaking, just like when I found her in her room in the Palace. The princes are silently weeping and then I feel it too, it comes over me like a wave, the sadness and futility of everything.
Why are we even doing this? We can’t hope to defeat the gods. Who are we to think we can change anything? Who am I? I’m just a girl from the ground. I’m not even an assassin anymore; I don’t even have that. I’m an assassin who failed to kill the Prince of the Air, a spoiled, self-indulgent ass of a Prince who deserved to die.
We all deserve to die. We should just give ourselves up to the Guild. Maybe I should kill the Princes first, redeem myself as an assassin. Or maybe I should kill this Queen, this Queen who swore to uphold the law and enforce the Gods’ will. She’s betraying them.
I pull out the knife. It’s so sharp. I run it down my arm and I see the red red blood flow and drip onto the sand. It looks so pretty. I want to make more of it.
Empire of Sky Page 18
