The Chariot at Dusk

by Swati Teerdhala

  “We were right,” he said. “The servants gave it away. The animal sounds stopped being reported, even though no soldiers were dispatched, because they were paid off. And from the sounds of it, they’re moving camp again.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know,” Aahal said. “We have to catch them tonight.”

  Esha nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  She shaded her eyes as she looked over the fields of wheat ahead of her, the low, jagged red hills that surrounded them like looming giants.

  Now to make their move.

  Chapter 5

  Kunal had been surprised more times in the past few moons than in the year before. And he was getting rather sick of it.

  He blinked a few times as soldier after soldier jogged into the small opening to the temple, blocking the already-meager light. At the front was a striking young woman with a stern expression and long black hair braided down to her waist. She was flanked by guards draped in furs and leather, spears pointed outward.

  Yavar, all of them. And the girl, she looked so familiar.

  The girl spoke again. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve succeeded.”

  That voice . . . he’d heard it many times at the numerous Champions Balls he had been forced to attend during the Mela.

  Lady Yamini, heir to Seshirekh, the current Yavar chieftain. A low growl ripped out of Kunal’s throat, a nod to the feral animal lingering under his skin, at the ready.

  She stepped forward, exposing a slash of light to the inner temple.

  Kunal jumped back into the water, brandishing his knife in one hand and a longer sword in the other. Reha’s hands immediately went to her weapons as well. Yamini held up her hands, revealing that she was weaponless, at least as far as Kunal could see. He listened in closer for the telltale rustle or slide of metal against leather. Nothing.

  That alone made him more suspicious than anything else.

  Yamini looked past Kunal at the girl half hidden behind him. “You’re a popular girl, Princess Reha. I’ve been looking for you. Your friends have also been looking for you, especially after you left them in such a bad position back in Gwali. They were not open to working together. I don’t hold it against them—not really, at least.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sure they’ll find our gift in the desert soon enough.”

  Kunal stiffened, unsure what that meant. Yamini’s sharp eyes noticed, her own narrowing in interest. “You don’t know, do you? What your choices made them give up? Interesting. Anyway, we found you without them.”

  “Who are you?” Reha said with a disdain that would’ve made any royal proud. She jutted her chin out, her eyes flashing a burnished gold and garnet.

  “I’m Yamini,” she said simply. “Daughter of Seshirekh, Yavar chieftain. Your friend seems to have recognized me.” Yamini gave him a thoughtful look, tilting her head. “You’re the Archer. Kunal, was it? In the chaos after the Winner’s Ball, no one noticed their prizewinner missing. Wonder how long that will last.”

  Kunal didn’t know what game she was playing. Her face was surprisingly open, her words direct. It confused him after moons with the Blades and Scales, dealing in shadows and verbal sleights of hand.

  “I think it’s time you leave,” Reha said, tilting her sword over her shoulder, the sharp tip pointing straight at Yamini.

  Yamini smiled. “I can’t leave. I need you. But we can do this simply, without any mess, if you come with me now. The Archer will be free to go. We only need you.”

  “Why?” Reha asked, moving backward. “Sorry to say, but you don’t sound like a great option right now. It always worries me a bit when someone says they need me. Need is a funny term. Do you need me to choose between two saris for your next party? Or do you need me for a sacrifice? Neither really sounds like much fun, though I will tell you that fur is not really your color.”

  Reha’s ability to talk—and inability to know when to stop—still confounded Kunal. He began to move with her, putting the force of the river in front of them as a shield.

  “I need your blood,” Yamini said. “You are the only true heir to the Himyads and Samyads.”

  Reha let a short laugh out, harsh and sharp around the edges. “You came too late. The ritual didn’t work,” Reha said. “My blood didn’t work for the ritual.”

  Yamini narrowed her gaze, glancing at the still-fresh cut on the girl’s arm.

  “Impossible,” she said.

  “I thought turning into a bird would be impossible for me, but look where we are now,” Reha said.

  A slow smile curved up Yamini’s face like one of the moon cat’s of folklore. Almost as if she had wanted them to break the janma bond.

  Bonds were meant to be broken. Isn’t that what Kunal had overheard Esha talking to King Mahir about? Was it possible—

  “Regardless, we need you.” Yamini grabbed a nearby guard’s spear and thrust the iron tip forward. She looked as if she knew how to use it. “Come to us willingly and we won’t have to shed any blood.”

  “I’m okay with a bit of blood,” Reha said, holding up her arm. Yamini glanced at Kunal and Reha caught it. She jerked a thumb back at him. “And I know he can take care of himself.”

  Yamini shrugged. “Let the gods know I tried to avoid this.”

  She slashed her hand forward and two guards from her sides ran toward the river. The others circled around the mouth of the river, blocking one of their two exits. The soldiers tried to race into the river, but the water surged forward to meet them.

  Kunal and Reha glanced at each other and pushed back through the water, running as fast as they could. The water moved quickly out of their way.

  They had almost reached the exit at the opposite bank of the river, when two guards rushed at them. Kunal and Reha tried to turn around, but another pair of guards blocked them.

  Cornered like animals.

  Yamini came from behind the two guards closest to them, wading into the river. The water didn’t give way to Yamini, nor did it fight her as it had the other soldiers. Reha stared down at the river, giving the lifeless water a dirty look. “Traitor,” she muttered under her breath.

  Kunal didn’t disagree.

  Yamini approached them slowly even as Kunal and Reha backed away.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

  “Why does it feel like there’s a but coming after that statement?” Reha said.

  Kunal grabbed Reha’s hands, squeezing them and hoping she’d understand.

  She nodded. Kunal dove deep into his blood song, searching for the notes to shift, but—

  Nothing.

  There was only silence in his blood. An emptiness he had never felt since he had discovered his powers.

  Terror creeped up Reha’s face as she discovered the same thing. They inched toward each other, looking back and forth between the different banks and the approaching Yamini. Kunal racked his brain for any sort of tactic or trick that he could employ to get them out, but he came up short.

  He’d never been in an ancient cave temple, fighting off Yavar clansmen in a magical river. And he hoped never to be here again. None of this was supposed to have happened, certainly not in this way.

  Kunal raised his sword to his chest. They would have to fight their way out. Reha looked over and set her jaw.

  Yamini reached out with her spear, suddenly lunging toward Reha. Kunal rammed into her. Her left side collapsed against his and he felt the briefest touch from her fingers before she fell into the water with a loud splash.

  That seemed to grab the attention of the soldiers nearby. They raised their spears and released deafening cries.

  Reha screamed back, her shorter frame carrying the weight of the cry with ease. She thrust her sword above her head with a fierce expression, revealing arms corded with muscle and dotted with small white scars. A life’s worth of struggle was written on her skin and Kunal saw her for who she was.

  A warrior.

  Kunal raised his sword, read
y to charge, ready to fight till death, when the strangest thing happened.

  The cave entrance began to vibrate in a steady thump. It grew more and more frantic, until the stone shattered. A team of Crescent-silver clad fighters stormed through the door, surrounding the Yavar and immediately engaging them.

  And in the front, a familiar face.

  A familiar, red, furious face.

  Bhandu.

  He roared and rammed into the soldiers nearest him, shoving them aside. Kunal went for another soldier, sweeping his feet from under him and pushing him under the water. Reha, quick as lightning, landed blows that were as brutal as they were effective.

  The Yavar in his hands had stopped struggling and Kunal threw him onto the riverbank instead of contaminating their holy river. Yamini was on the riverbank, her shivering frame struggling to her feet. Even in her apparent defeat, she didn’t look cowed.

  “This isn’t over, Princess. We won’t give up this time,” Yamini said, her voice as resolute as the mountain that surrounded them.

  Before Kunal could respond, two scarred hands grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the river. Reha was already on the riverbank, soaked to the bone and sputtering.

  “You two, come with me,” Bhandu said, pointing at a small crack in the stone that neither of them had noticed before. Another exit.

  Two of the Yavar soldiers were wading through the water, just paces away, and behind them Yamini was shouting orders. The sooner they were out of here, the better.

  “Bhandu, it’s good to see you. Thank—”

  “Save it, cat eyes,” Bhandu said, his expression hard. “Move.”

  Kunal and Reha obeyed, sprinting out of the cave behind him.

  The soldiers didn’t move until early morning.

  Esha stretched her limbs, rolling out a crick in her neck after being cooped up in the fields all night.

  She was about to signal to Laksh and Aahal when voices filtered into the open area. Laksh and Aahal picked up on them as well, and they began to move into position.

  They crouched forward, making sure to stay low for cover as they split up and each took their own direction. Esha sped to the left, hurrying through the fields. The sun was only just peeking its head over the horizon, casting a reddish-orange glow over the fields, mixing with the pale wheat stalks to create an ocean of yellow.

  She blended in perfectly. It had been a good idea to steal these clothes last night.

  The left flank of the caravan was exposed as Esha approached. All was quiet, only the faint breeze whistling in the distance. But Esha took care not to assume that meant the camp was still asleep. She stepped forward, crossing over a low fence tucked among the wheat stalks. It was higher than Esha expected and she stumbled on her descent, landing heavily.

  Directly on a branch. The crack was loud in the cool silence of the morning.

  Immediately, a Yavar clansman dashed out of the caravan, his curved spear at the ready. Esha cursed and took out her whips, lashing them against the ground in warning.

  The caravan had been a trap.

  The Yavar didn’t stop running toward her. He lunged, thrusting his spear, and Esha danced out of the way, trying to use her whip to encircle and pull away the end of the clansman’s spear.

  But he was too fast. He kept spinning his spear around, pulling back and then lunging in a rhythm that Esha was struggling to follow.

  She had to change the dance, then. Esha dove to the ground, and the sudden movement startled the clansman, giving Esha enough time to lash her whip around his left arm. She pulled him toward her even as he pointed his spear forward with his free arm.

  Esha dodged out of the way, pulling harder. But the man wrapped her whip around his arm and dragged her closer.

  She’d either have to let go or be stabbed.

  Esha didn’t let go at first, not until she had tugged out the knife in her waist sash. Her whip went flying in the air and the man staggered back.

  Esha ran forward and kicked at the wooden spear, sending it flying in the air. The moment of distraction was all Esha needed, and she grabbed the spear and smacked him between the eyes.

  He went down.

  No one else came out of the tent, and Esha staggered forward, blood on her fingertips as she brushed her arm. A flesh wound. She tore off a piece of her turban and tied it around her arm, wincing as she cinched it tight.

  Esha crept into the first tent. It was empty. As was the next.

  Her heart began to drop.

  Were they too late? Had she been wrong? Too reckless?

  Esha set her jaw. Wrong or reckless, she had followed a lead to the best of her ability. And she didn’t think she was wrong. She refused to let doubt plague her now.

  She snuck into one of the last two tents. It was dark, unlike the others, and the ground was covered in furs. This tent had been lived in.

  In the corner of the tent, a flap was loose, and Esha strode over to it. She had only managed to lift the edge of the canvas when something large rammed into her side. She tumbled to the ground, groaning as she made contact.

  Esha barely had a moment to recover before she was lifted off the ground by a very large man. She sputtered as the air was choked out of her, unable even to cry for help. She looked around and glimpsed metal. The sword at the man’s hip. Esha struggled wildly, thrashing her limbs while there was still energy in them. Only a bit closer and she could grab it.

  “Stop struggling, little bird. It’ll be over soon,” the man said in a wide toothy grin. “We don’t want to harm you or your friends. Not yet, our lady says.”

  “That—isn’t—very—encouraging,” Esha said. She rocked against the man, and her fingers grazed over the top of the sword. She put all her strength toward reaching down and yanked the man’s sword out of his sheath, kicking at him.

  The movement was enough to startle him, and he dropped her.

  She whirled around, facing him with the sword now in her hand. Esha lunged forward and dove, slashing him across the leg. He slowed down. Esha stabbed him in his side, his arm, and then across his throat.

  She didn’t bother to wait for him to fall.

  Esha dashed through the open flap of the last tent and there, in the corner, was Harun. Blue-sapphire cords were still wrapped around his hands and feet and his face was paler than she had ever seen it before. Purple smudges hung under his eyes, his cheekbones pronounced. It was as if every angle of Harun had been sharpened so that he was no more than muscles and sinew.

  Curse Yamini for keeping the blue sapphires on him. Esha couldn’t even imagine what the long-term consequences of such poison would be to Harun—to any royal. She prayed they wouldn’t have to find out.

  Still the relief at the sight of him dug deep into her. A flood of emotions rose to her throat and threatened to spill out, but she kept it in. Harun didn’t need to see her blubbering.

  “Esha?” Harun’s voice was harsh, dry.

  “Harun.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To rescue you, Your Highness.” She fell to her knees by his side, yanking at the blue-sapphire cords. Her knife was one of the sharpest steels in the land, but the cords held firm as she sawed.

  “I don’t like it when you call me that,” he whispered. His eyes began to close, and Esha shook him awake.

  “It’ll only be a few more seconds.” The sleep Harun seemed to be drifting into didn’t feel right. “Your Highness, don’t fall asleep.”

  His eyes fluttered open. “Harun. I’m Harun.”

  “Your royal, pompous Highness.”

  “Esha . . .” His eyes widened a bit as the first hunk of blue-sapphire cords fell off. “Esha. Why are you here?”

  “I already answered that, my prince.” She tried to be as gentle as possible, but getting through the cords was tougher than she had expected. Sweat beaded at her temples and she shook her hair away.

  “It’s a trap,” he said.

  “I know. We’ll have to find Laksh and Aah
al after this and make sure they’re safe.” Harun didn’t look any less concerned, but an element of confusion entered the mix. “I’ll explain later. We knew it was a trap, Harun.”

  “And still you came?” Harun coughed, a trickle of blood sliding down the corner of his mouth.

  “Don’t ask me stupid questions,” Esha said. Another cord fell to the ground. One more to go.

  Color was slowly coming back into Harun’s face, though a haunted look remained. Esha moved faster, putting every last ounce of her strength into sawing. The last cord came apart, and Esha finally sagged in relief, her knife falling to the ground.

  She rushed to help him, pulling Harun out of the remnants of the cords and to his feet. He wobbled, and she wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  Esha ran her hands up and down his torso as gently as she could, checking for broken bones or injuries of any kind. No external bleeding was visible, but she didn’t know what the impact of the blue sapphire could be. He was all bones, lankier than she had ever seen him.

  “Hmm, that feels nice,” Harun said. “It’s been a while since you touched me like that.”

  Esha gave him a stern look. He chuckled lightly.

  “Did they hurt you?” she asked.

  Harun shook his head but then paused, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. “I don’t know. There are parts of days I don’t remember. There are parts of days I was very lucid. Esha, I—” Harun’s voice cut off, and he stared up at her with wide eyes.

  He pulled her into a hug, and Esha’s heart fluttered. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, finally relaxing for just a moment.

  They had him.

  Even if she had to fight her way out through twenty men, they had him. She wouldn’t be alone anymore. Her prince would be safe and whole. The future of her country.

  Her friend.

  She pulled back, knowing they had spent too long in the tent. Aahal’s signal, a long sharp whistle, sounded through the air. The sound of two dozen wild horses trampling the ground came next.

  Esha grinned. Laksh had done his job. The Yavar would need to refocus their attention to the horses that were currently running wild or lose their livelihood. And now they had the perfect opportunity to slip out, unnoticed.