by Rena Barron
I slip off my shoes by the entrance. “I’m afraid so.”
Commander Korr looks amused and waves the iron rod in his hand. “There is no need for that, Crown Prince. We don’t eat on the ground in the North.”
I bite my tongue at the slight. The world spins a little, and I can’t seem to find my center of balance. Commander Korr sweeps to the table at the center of the tent and gestures for us to join him. He picks up a jug and pours himself a drink, then one for Captain Dakte and me. “It’s a wonder that you eat at all,” I manage to say, “with the way you partake in your spirits.”
“I see why Princess Veeka wrote so passionately on your behalf.” Korr laughs, and that stuns me into silence. “She spoke of your father’s claims that demons helped the Ka-Priestess and her daughter attack your capital city. Our king has his doubts about the validity of that information.”
Captain Dakte uses my silence as a chance to interject. “Do you know Princess Veeka well?”
“She’s my niece,” Commander Korr says with no affection. “Her mother is my half sister—one of the Zeknorian king’s bastards, same as me. Caught the eye of King Qu’setta of Galke at a social gathering and became his third wife.”
“I’m grateful for Princess Veeka’s kind words,” I remark as Commander Korr gulps down his liquor. “I assure you we wouldn’t have marched onto Zeknorian soil without good reason.”
“My official position on the matter must align with our king’s, you see.” He pours himself another round. “My father has been itching for a war with the Kingdom since Jerek Sukkara slighted him in a trade deal. From his viewpoint, you declared war the moment you arrived on our shores.”
I start to speak, but Captain Dakte cuts across me. “Do you think the Almighty One would send his heir apparent to lead an invasion of a foreign land? Come now, Commander Korr, we’re both sensible men.”
“Our good sense has nothing to do with war.” Commander Korr grimaces. “What better way for your prince to earn his place than in a bloody battle between two formidable forces?”
I have half a mind to dismiss Captain Dakte and make him wait for me outside. He’s making me look green to get the point across that my father wouldn’t have sent his heir if the situation wasn’t dire. We’re talking to a prince; that should’ve tipped him off that in Zeknor, it isn’t unusual for one to go into battle. I don’t think it’s a coincidence either that the demons chose to come to a country at odds with the Kingdom. Shezmu had counted on the petty delays of diplomacy to keep us busy and out of his way. Re’Mec said that he was clever, and I was starting to see the shape his plans had taken.
I clear my throat and redirect the conversation. “You said your official position must lie with your king. You appear to be a man who keeps himself well informed. What is your unofficial position?”
Captain Dakte cuts his eyes at me, looking annoyed for a moment before he hides it.
“Had we not already lost three villages before you showed up, I would’ve cut you down on sight,” Commander Korr says. “But I believe your story about the demons. We’ve heard some strange reports coming out of the Kingdom. One such report said that you and a handful of others battled the demons in the tribal lands and won. An exaggeration, I’m sure.”
“Then you see that it would be advantageous for us to help each other.” Captain Dakte takes a sip from his cup and coughs when the liquor hits his throat.
Commander Korr watches him, carefully. Without his furs, the Zeknorian is still a large man, with thick dark hair, pale windburned skin, and a gold tooth. I reach for my cup, and sharp pain cuts through my chest. I bite back a wince.
“You don’t look very well, Crown Prince,” Commander Korr says, his eyes on me now. “Are you sure our arrow didn’t hit you? Even a nick or a splinter would kill a man.”
“I’m still a little ill from the voyage.” I force myself to take the cup and gulp the liquor down at once. It tastes foul and burns, but I keep my face smooth under Commander Korr’s scrutiny. I tell him what we know about the demons. “Shezmu killed a god named Iben and took his powers to control the gate that once connected our world to theirs. He’s planning to reunite the demon army so they can lay waste to our world.” As I relay this information to Korr, my gut’s telling me that there’s more to it. I’m missing something. Why hasn’t Shezmu opened the gate and brought more demons through yet? Or had he and they’re lying in wait to attack? But to what end?
The commander listens without comment, pouring more liquor into his mug. When he offers the same to us, Captain Dakte shakes his head while I accept another. “To be frank,” he says, “I’m not sure I want to ally myself with a man who can’t hold his drink and a sickly boy.”
Captain Dakte tenses beside me, and I lean closer to Commander Korr, staring him straight in the eyes. “This sickly boy fought the demons several times and won. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two before you lose another village.”
Commander Korr strokes his beard. “I’ll consider your offer.”
“That’s all we ask.” I come to my feet, my head spinning. “Don’t consider too long, lest your country be the first that the demons destroy.”
I don’t wait for him to answer. I sweep out of the tent, and Captain Dakte joins me moments later. “Have you lost your mind—storming out like that?” he asks, his voice sharp.
“Let him think about it while another village falls to the demons.” I stumble, pitching forward, my breath cutting short. Captain Dakte catches my arm to keep me from falling. When I straighten myself up, he holds on to me.
“I saw that arrow scrape your arm,” he says. “You’re not sick from the voyage.”
“You’re mistaken.” I laugh off his concern.
I find my way into my tent with my friends at my side. Fadyi and Majka help me to the cot in the back, and I drop onto it, my eyes drifting closed. Their voices ring in my ears, but none of the words make sense. I’m in and out of sleep, and I dream about blood and screams and death. I dream about Arrah, too. She lies on the cot with me, tucking herself against my side, her skin warm and heavenly.
She brushes my sweat-slick forehead. “You have to wake up now.”
I stir on the cot and peel my eyes open. The canopy is so thick that I can’t tell if it’s morning yet. I sway a bit before I get my bearings. It takes only a moment for me to realize something is wrong. I hear echoes of pain throughout the camp and catch the scent of blood on the air. I’m halfway to the tent flap when Fadyi steps inside.
“What’s happened?” I say, my voice hoarse.
Fadyi holds up his hands to stop me from advancing. “Slow down, Rudjek. You’ve been out for two days.”
“Two days?” I stumble past him, pushing the flap open. “What’s he done?”
“Our scouts found the demon encampment while you were unconscious,” Fadyi explains. “Captain Dakte attacked them without the Zeknorians’ support. Reinforcements arrived from the Dark Forest, but I couldn’t convince our craven brethren to aid the Kingdom. They will only take orders from a leader of the Elder or Eldest bloodline—from you.”
My legs almost give out when I take in the camp, full of the dead and the dying, bodies strewn on cots everywhere. Captain Dakte may have destroyed our only chance to stop Shezmu from opening the gate.
Twenty-Four
Arrah
The sun rises over the Barat Mountains, bathing the forest and ridge in golden ribbons of light. I draw my knees to my chest, my magic curling around me like a blanket, but there’s no warmth to be had. I sit apart from my friends, away from the crossroads, serenaded by birdsong. I’m bothered by the ease with which I killed the assassins and my numbness to the whole affair. In my heart of hearts, I know that my actions are still my own, and I can’t blame the Demon King.
With my magic, I’m a danger to my friends and especially to Rudjek. I can’t reconcile knowing these things and still believing that I can go back to my dream of reopening my father’s shop. I can’t stop hop
ing that Rudjek and I can beat the odds, that we don’t end up another tragic story. But we’re both fools thinking that things could be different.
I hear Sukar’s near-silent footfalls before he crests the hill behind me. “Did you sleep up here with the frogs?” His voice is bright, and I can tell that he’s come to cheer me up.
“No.” It isn’t exactly a lie. I didn’t sleep as much as sit here all night, sulking in my misery.
Sukar thrusts a cup of mint tea into my hand and settles cross-legged beside me. “I come bearing gifts.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “You carried tea all the way here?”
“You look like you could use something stronger, but Tyrek is stingy with his wine these days,” Sukar says. “Once a spoiled little prince, always a spoiled little prince.”
“You’re not being fair to him.” I inhale the steam from the tea. It smells exactly like my father’s blend, the mint and honey in the perfect proportions. “He’s proven himself and his loyalty.”
Sukar flourishes his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t mean I can’t give him a hard time.”
I take a sip from the cup, letting the tea roll over my tongue and warm me from the inside. “The demons we’re tracking are nothing like the ones we fought at the Temple. They’re faster, stronger, more powerful. They can’t be easily killed, if at all.”
“If we find the tribal people, they’ll add to your strength,” he says. “No one’s invincible.”
If we find them. There is so much doubt in his voice, even if he’s trying to sound strong and brave. “When we find them,” I reassure him. “The demons could’ve consumed their souls on this ridge, but they didn’t. They left a trail for me to follow.”
“To what end, if the Demon King already has a connection with you?” Sukar asks, shifting on his haunches.
“I don’t know,” I say, “but why else would they take a hundred people alive?”
Sukar drums his fingers against his knee. “I think we’re missing something.”
The wind blows and whips up his smell of sunlight and cloves. I want to sink against him, the way I did with Essnai, but I can’t, not like when we were younger. It doesn’t feel the same. His touch is a reminder that Rudjek and I are worlds apart—his anti-magic, his future as Almighty One, his life among the Kingdom’s elite. Tyrek said that no Sukkarra or Omari ever married for love—only political gain. I will never fit in that life. “I wish we knew what was happening in the North with Rudjek and the others.”
Sukar stares over the ridge, tracking the path of a hawk gliding across the sky. “Rudjek is lucky to have you.” His tattoos vibrate with energy, wobbling like they can’t tell if he’s getting ready to run or fight.
I clutch the cup hard to stop my hands from shaking.
“Arrah,” he says, breathless, his eyes full of yearning. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time, vulnerable, brave, beautiful. But Sukar doesn’t finish his thought, and my name is swept away in the awkward silence that follows. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Well, we better get going soon.” Disappointment threads through his words.
“Yes.” I climb to my feet, glad that he changed the subject. “I suspect we have some traveling yet to do, and the crossroads will be confusing to navigate from what I’ve seen so far.”
Sukar is quiet as we descend the hill and join Essnai and Tyrek on the ridge. Once we’ve packed our things, I stand at the edge of the crossroads; the sunlight almost washes out the paths. “Stay close to me,” I tell my friends. “One wrong step and it’ll be next to impossible to find you again.”
Tyrek yawns and stretches his arms. “Your pep talk could use some work.”
“And your tongue could use a rest,” I say, stepping onto the path.
We follow the spiraling maze for hours, walking in circles, straight lines, and loops. I keep my eyes pinned to the ground, watching the faint magic fade in and out. We take sharp turns, retrace our steps, and hack our way through thick brush. It seems nonsensical on the surface, like we are four wandering fools lost on the mountain.
I’m in awe of the talent it would take to make something so sophisticated. Had one witchdoctor built the crossroads, or had it been an effort that took many people working together? It reminds me that I could still do so much good with the chieftains’ gift, if given the chance. But it’s not worth the risk of keeping my magic after we find the tribal people and this ordeal with the demons is over. I hate that I don’t really have a choice. The Demon King will still be with me as long as the chieftains’ kas are tied to mine.
We follow the memories of the tribal people, herded like cattle. It’s midday when we come upon a fork in the path where hundreds of impressions overlap. I stop cold.
Essnai glances around, although I know that she only sees the sun shining down on the mountain. “What’s wrong?”
The memory is dark around the edges, and something hums underneath the surface. Hundreds of survivors from every tribe—Aatiri, Mulani, Kes, Litho, and Zu—gather on the path. They think they’re safe until the faint white lines on the crossroads flicker in and out for a brief moment. Gray smoke converges on their position, and the demons that attacked Tribe Zu trap them. With their new prisoners in tow, the demons twist and blend the white lines to make a new path. “The demons captured many more people after they entered the crossroads,” I say. This is much worse than I expected. “Then they changed the path.”
“What do you mean, changed the path?” Essnai asks.
“The tribes created one path and the demons altered it.” I massage my forehead. “I don’t know why.”
Even Tyrek looks put out by the news. “How many more people did they take?”
I watch impressions of the demons march the tribal people down the new path. “Hundreds.”
“Koré told Arrah that the demons are in the North,” Sukar says. “So maybe this new path is a shortcut to there.”
“Are we prepared for that?” Tyrek asks, shifting on his heels.
“Prepared or not, we don’t have a choice,” I say.
Tyrek wrinkles his nose. “There’s always a choice.”
“You can choose to step off the path and disappear,” Sukar suggests.
“Give it a rest, will you?” Tyrek groans. “I’m not your competition. He’s in the North playing hero while you’re pestering me.”
Essnai glances between Sukar and me, and we both look away to keep from meeting her eyes. I can almost hear the questions working through her mind—questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I can’t answer without betraying my own heart. “We’ve already made our choice,” she says. “We’re going after the missing tribal people with or without you, so stop being a miserable little twit.”
Tyrek blinks at her, his face confused. “Am I really a miserable little twit? Because I don’t feel all that miserable these days. Maybe it’s the company I’m keeping.”
“From here on out, the next one to pass an insult gets left behind, okay?” I ignore their grumbles as I lead the way again, following the path where the five groups vanished.
One moment we’re on the mountain, then we’re near the ruins of Heka’s Temple. The transition is jarring and disorienting. Both Essnai and Tyrek get sick, and we have to stop to rest, which helps with the dizziness. It happens three more times. From Heka’s Temple to the reed fields along the Serpent River to the deserts of Yöom—and then to a Northern village, as Sukar suspected.
The wind and snow whip against our faces as we stand in front of an arch made of bones. It breathes magic. Sparks buzz around it like fireflies, illuminating the gaps between the bones. I don’t understand how it’s so solid, or how it’s the only thing in the village not covered in snow. I breathe in cold air that stings my lungs.
“What is that?” Tyrek whispers, his voice almost whisked away in the howl of the wind.
“You can see it, too?” I whirl around to face him. I’m surprised and glad at once.
“Of course I can.”
Tyrek reaches for it. “It’s like a whirlpool in the middle of the sky. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Don’t touch it,” I snap, and he pulls away. “We don’t know what it is.”
“Whirlpool?” Sukar frowns, staring at it. “It’s a forest.”
“I see silks of all colors hanging from clotheslines flapping in the wind,” Essnai says.
“So, we each see something different?” I turn around in a circle to get a good look at the village around it. We’re in the middle of a courtyard, the ground icy beneath our feet. The houses are stone supported by wood beams with crooked roofs. No smoke curls up from any of the chimneys. “The tribal people aren’t here. I don’t feel their magic.”
I face the bone arch again, a feeling of foreboding threading through my veins. I know this place. I’ve been through . . . the gate before. The memory fills in my mind in bits and pieces. A starry night, the ground trembling, a familiar voice. Some part of the gate calls to me like an old friend. “It’s the gate between Zöran and Ilora—the gate between all worlds.” Ilora. The word rolls off my tongue with ease, like I’ve said it countless times.
“And you think the demons took the tribal people through it?” Tyrek asks. “We don’t know what’s on the other side.”
“It wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t,” Essnai says.
I don’t have a chance to answer as I turn my attention back to the village. I hadn’t felt any magic from the houses only a moment ago, but now it chokes the air. It’s nothing like the feather touch of tribal magic—it reeks of an insatiable hunger. The demons draw back the curtains in the houses as if they’ve just noticed us. Then I hear the creaking of doors opening. Pebbles and ice crack underfoot.
Sukar pulls his sickles. He senses the demons, too. “How many?”
“A lot,” I say, my voice coming out in puffs of white mist. Among the demons, there is one with magic that feels like a thousand prying eyes crawling over my skin. It drags up my old nightmares, the night of the awful ritual. My father’s mouth stretching into a gaping hole, his body convulsing against the altar. The children’s souls trapped in jars. “We have to go.” I back away, my heart hammering against my chest. “Shezmu’s here.” I don’t have to say more.
