"Can you...stay?" she asked, hesitating. "Just until I fall asleep. I don't really want to be alone right now."
Darwe's expression was unreadable, and she retracted her hand, mumbling for him to never mind as she turned over in bed to face the other wall. She heard him sigh, and felt the bed sink down on the other side. She stifled a smile.
"Fine. I'm not staying all morning, though. I've got chores to do yet," he said sternly. She did, too, but seeing as he wouldn't let her do them until she'd slept... Well, at least she wouldn't be the only one putting them off for a while.
Darwe's hand found her hair again, and the rhythmic motion of his hand against the braided strands had her dropping into unconsciousness faster than she had since she was small.
o—O—o
Namida woke to the sound of screaming. It took a moment for the fog to recede from her mind and for her to realize that no, for once, the screaming was not her own. The next thing she was aware of was Darwe shaking her shoulder gently.
"Mida," he whispered. "Mida, wake up. We have to go see what's going on."
It felt like she had just closed her eyes. She cracked them open just enough to stare blearily up at her best friend. "How..." She yawned. "How long have I been asleep?"
Darwe gave a one-shoulder shrug. "About an hour or so. Now come on, get up," he said, looking antsy. "That sounds like Kilish."
She suddenly didn't want to go. Who cared if Kilish was upset? She could be a drama queen all she wanted; it had nothing to do with Namida. But the worry and agitation on Darwe's face made her sigh and give in. "Fine," she said, hauling herself up out of bed as she trudged along after him out the door and down the hallway. The screaming was coming from Master Dorozi's office. Suddenly, Namida got the sense that things were not alright. It wasn't something she could explain, just a feeling deep within her bones that something had gone horribly wrong. She picked up her pace a bit until she was jogging towards the room down the hall, Darwe hot on her heels. She skidded to a stop in the doorway and peered in, the smell hitting her immediately. The blood drained from her face as she saw it.
Kilish knelt in a puddle of blood, screaming over Master Dorozi's body as she clutched his lifeless hand, his glassy eyes staring out the doorway in a permanent look of horror and shock.
Inside, Namida was screaming right along with Kilish. Another one of her precious people; gone. Snuffed out, just like that. Who was supposed to teach her now? Who was supposed to share their wisdom with her when she got angry or upset or frustrated with her weakness or panic attacks, or the tiniest imperfections that she couldn't help but hate? Who was supposed to be the father figure in her life that she'd had to do without ever since that fateful night that brought her here? Why? Why was Fate so cruel? She could feel the hot, angry tears spilling out of her. She didn't even care to wipe them away. Let everyone see. Let them see the loathing and outrage in her face, the inner vow to avenge her master on the fool who dared do this to him.
"What did you see, Kilish?" she asked coldly, interrupting her screams that had turned into wails. The woman turned to them, her tight curls bouncing as she shook her head.
"I didn't see anything, but," she swallowed thickly. "But we were arguing earlier, and before I left, uncle...he...he said something. About Momal." Her eyes locked on something past the two of them. "He said Momal was a spy."
Namida turned to see Momal standing behind them, his nostrils flaring as he glared death at Kilish.
"I should have known you couldn't be trusted. You little—"
Namida's fist connected with his stomach, his look of surprise fuelling her anger as she drove her fist forward hard enough to lift his feet off the ground, sending him stumbling back.
"Get out."
He didn't deserve the flicker of hurt that shone in his eyes as she stared him down.
"But—I didn't—"
"No. You don't get to explain yourself," she hissed, the tears still streaming. "Get out! I know you're a spy. I've known it for the past three years. The only reason I never did anything about it before now was because I believed Master Dorozi was a good judge of character. But, well, now I know I was wrong." She smiled bitterly. "So leave, Momal. I don't want to see your face ever again, because if I do, I will cut it off."
Momal bristled as his eye caught Kilish's, but when Namida turned, the woman had her face covered in her hands, silent sobs wracking her body. At least she wasn't shrieking anymore, that unearthly banshee sound.
"Fine," Momal said, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose with a stony expression as he turned to leave. "At least one good thing will come of my leaving. When you turn around to find a knife in your back, you'll know that it wasn't me that betrayed you."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The memorial they held for Master Dorozi was brief, for they had no Priest or Priestess of the Ancients to commune Fate's final blessing, nor were there any who felt composed enough to speak any last words about him. They dug a hole for him in the sand outside the greenhouse, piling it high with rocks to keep his body safe from scavengers. Namida didn't want to watch, but she forced her eyes to remain on the swordmaster's body the entire time. This, she reminded herself, was what she had been training to become. This was the work of a mercenary. The wound had been clean and efficient; just one single stab wound, straight through the heart. It made her think of how his heart must have broken to find that one of the people he trusted the most had betrayed him by taking his life. The thought made her blood boil.
As everyone else slowly filed back inside, some of the guards that had watched her grow over the years shooting her pitying looks, Namida stepped forward, scattering rose petals on the rocks that she had stolen from the greenhouse. She had nearly destroyed the entire rosebush in a fit of rage, hating that it reminded her of Momal, as he had so tenderly cared for that plant in particular. She had hacked and slashed and bludgeoned it with her sword until she was sure she had dulled the blade to the point of uselessness, and then carefully picked a handful of the destroyed petals, saving them for now. The deep crimson petals reminded her of when they found him, his blood pooled around his still body. If it hadn't been for you... She shoved back the words that whispered mockingly in her ear, the words of regret and self-loathing, gritting her teeth and whirling on her heel to head back into the complex. She might hate Momal, but that didn't stop his words from playing themselves over in her mind. When you turn around to find a knife in your back, you'll know that it wasn't me that betrayed you. She wanted to think he was just saying that to make her feel guilty, to make her change her mind about kicking him out, but the paranoid part of her that had seen so many people's actions as suspicious over the past three years could not fully ignore his words. Was he the only spy? Possibly, but it was also possible that he was not. She couldn't afford to get comfortable. Not when she was stuck in limbo without Master Dorozi's guidance, when she wasn't entirely sure where to go from here. She needed to make sure she was the only one influencing her decisions. She needed to make sure that no one else could sway her mind. Others might want to take control of the complex, to keep it running smoothly, perhaps to become the leader that Master Dorozi had once been. She knew that no one could take his place, ever the diplomat and peacekeeper as he had been, but that wouldn't stop them. People had a tendency to desire power. That was what had started all of this country's problems in the first place.
And what about Kilish? Would she desire her uncle's position? Or would she want to blend into the background once again, despite her jealousy of Namida? Namida found it funny, now, that she had let Kilish's words affect her so. When she thought about it, the woman had never actually sought to assert her dominance over Namida. Sure, they had sparred a few times over the years, the last few times ending in Kilish rather sore and disheartened, flat on her butt in the sand, but Namida had sparred with every single person employed at the complex at least once. It was part of Master Dorozi's philosophy that one should know the fighting style
s and abilities of every person they surrounded themselves with. And what weight should she really give the angry words of someone who couldn't beat her, with her one arm, in a fair fight?
Regardless, she found herself floundering. As the days pressed on, it soon became clear that most of the others were looking to her for guidance, asking for her opinions on the important matters like assigned shifts and what should become of the complex and even whether they should finally join the war or not. She artfully dodged giving any straight answers, instead holing herself up in her room. Perhaps she would stay there for the foreseeable future, she thought, until her stomach growled angrily. She sighed. It had been a nice idea, if it weren't for the need to indulge in being a human once in a while.
The sound of bickering lofted down the hall as she opened her door that evening, two weeks after Master Dorozi's death. Her brow furrowed as her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her towards the sound.
"...can't believe you're just going off on your own like this! Do you realize how dangerous that is? It doesn't matter that you can wield a sword, you're still a lone woman wandering out into a war zone!"
"Oh, pull your head out of the sand, Darwe! We've had so many intruders and spies encroaching on our borders these last few months that we might as well declare a side for all the killing we're doing of both factions." Kilish scoffed. "You all need to make up your minds about who you support already and be done with it. Uncle may have been unwilling to budge because of his personal ties to both of the leaders in this war, but the rest of you are just being spineless cowards by refusing to involve yourselves in something that has been inevitable for the past six years."
"It's not up to me now," Darwe said, his voice dropping as Namida approached. "It's Namida who has to choose."
Yes. Choose, choose, choose. Everything was hers to choose these days. She massaged her temple, feeling the headache coming on already. Was she ready to make the commitment to one side of the war? She didn't even believe in the damned thing! The only reason she would participate at all was to get revenge for her family, for her village; to make sure that those that slaughtered them paid the price in kind. But even though Master Dorozi had been so close to proclaiming her a fully-fledged swordmaster at long last, even though she knew that there were few in Solus now that would be able to defeat her on the battlefield, Kaska's troops numbered in the thousands. She was just one girl, albeit with a vicious hound on her side. She refused to involve Darwe in her affairs, so there wasn't even that she could count on. It could take years picking off Kaska's troops and interrogating them for information on his elite troops' whereabouts, and then she would have to be careful she didn't walk straight into a trap. She didn't doubt for one second that they would know she was after them by the time she found them, and they would be ready for her. She sighed, slumping against the wall as she stared unseeingly at her feet. Even with her magick, it was so unpredictable at best. She had had small, frightening flare-ups in the past three years, but nothing as severe as setting her bed on fire from a bad dream. Every once in a while, when Darwe managed to taunt her enough in training to send her into a blind rage, her sword would glow red-hot; or the one time he had pranked her and frightened her so bad with a painted replica of a poisonous spider, she had incinerated it (which, she thought, would actually be quite useful should she encounter a live one); or when she had been training by herself, feeling particularly frustrated at how slow she felt she was progressing, she had punched one of the targets and burnt a hole in it with her fist. Master Dorozi had been quick to notice that almost all of the incidents when her powers activated, she was feeling strong emotions of fear or anger, so he had begun to teach her the art of meditation. He taught her to focus on herself and the peace within her; to close her eyes and open the rest of her senses to the world around her. He taught her to feel her world rather than just see it, and to feel the sense of calm that came with focusing on just breathing and being, rather than thinking and dwelling on things that would only make her more frustrated and fearful of the future.
It had helped, at least. She had much fewer outbursts since she had started meditating with him every morning, but in the past two weeks since Master Dorozi's death, when she had gone to sit out on the veranda where they would meditate every morning before training, she hadn't been able to bring herself to do so. She would close her eyes, but all she heard was the swordmaster's voice, and she would end up in tears rather than feeling at peace. Even though she knew he would want her to be able to forge her own path without him, she found herself struggling. What would become of her without his guidance? He was the only father figure she'd had since her own had disappeared in the slaughter of her village. She still wanted so badly to believe that her father was alive, somewhere out there, serving the Queen as he always had, but it was just so hard and she knew that there was little to no chance of it being true. And if he had truly survived, would he not have tried to track her down?
Kilish slammed open the door, stopping on the threshold as she saw Namida standing there. Namida could have sworn she saw a flicker of malice in the woman's eyes for a brief moment, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. Kilish opened and closed her mouth, frowning.
"I'm leaving, as you probably heard," she said, her tone of voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm going to hunt down Momal. I won't let him get away with what he's done." There was hatred in her eyes, as well as bloodlust; as though Kilish was itching for retribution. It made Namida wonder if she looked like that when she spoke of hunting down Kaska and his elite. The thought sent a tiny shiver down her spine. She gave a polite nod, not finding it in herself to see her off with a smile. Not with all that had happened; not with all that could go wrong with her hunting down someone who had proven himself a very capable spy.
"Fate be with you, then," she murmured, even though it didn't feel like Fate had been with them when they lost Master Dorozi; even though it didn't feel like Fate had been with her when she had lost her family and her arm to a war she'd felt was worlds away before that tragic day. "And may the Ancients guide you." Even though they hadn't shown their faces on the continent in over a century, having withdrawn to the rumored island of Fate's Landing that no sailor had ever been able to find, no matter how skilled; and not for lack of trying, either.
Kilish nodded her thanks before brushing past, her pack bobbing against her back with every step. It struck Namida that she couldn't hear the woman's footsteps whispering against the stone, despite the silence that otherwise filled the hall. She tried to remember a time that she had heard them, but wracking her brain brought nothing to mind. She pursed her lips. It didn't matter, though, she told herself. Kilish was leaving, and she didn't have to worry about her anymore. Not that she thought she ought to, but her paranoid side worried about everyone these days. It made her feel like everyone, save for Darwe, was out to get her—watching her every move, reporting back to Kaska. Her rational side would combat it, whispering that she was nothing special, nothing anyone would be concerned about, least of all the most fearsome warlord known to the four continents, but it was hard to keep a leash on her ever-growing fear.
Nyago trotted in, a desert hare clenched limp and lifeless in his jaws. Upon seeing her clenched fists and carefully blank expression, he quickly dropped his prey and padded over to her, nudging her side with his large, boxy head. Her lips quirked upwards, and she scratched him behind the ears, earning a pleased grunt from the hound, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he gave a wide yawn, smacking his lips before turning back to his supper. Namida grimaced, not wanting to see the gruesome feast no matter how many times he had done it in front of her before. She entered the room that Kilish had departed from only moments before, standing in the doorway as she watched Darwe, sitting hunched on the sofa with his face in his hands. She hesitated, wondering if she should leave him alone, but remembered all of the times when she had been distraught and he had comforted her, bringing her down from her hysterics and up from her hope
lessness. The least she could do was return the favor...right? Although she felt awkward and uncomfortable being the carer for once, she slowly moved across the room and perched on the edge of the sofa beside him, letting her hand run over the warrior's knots in his hair; the knots he had once confessed to her that he had never wanted, but now wore resolutely following Master Dorozi's death to honor the man who had raised him. Darwe slowly brought his hands down, revealing his eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, but free of tears.
"I just feel like we're losing everyone all at once," Darwe said hoarsely, without preamble. "First...Master Dorozi," his voice cracked a bit as he spoke the man's name, "then Momal right after, and now...now Kilish, too." He turned to her with fierce, desperate eyes. "Promise me you won't leave me too, okay? I'm not sure I could take it if you left me alone."
She wanted to tell him that he wouldn't be alone, that there were other people still at the complex; guards and cooks and caretakers. She knew he wasn't especially close to the rest of them, though. She knew the truth behind his words, behind his devotion to her. She knew his guilt at rescuing her from the desert, as he'd told her one night years ago, whispering it to her when he thought she'd fallen back to sleep after one of her many nightmares. His wordless devotion to her made her uncomfortable at times, though she appreciated it, without a doubt. It made her uncomfortable at times like this, when she contemplated leaving him behind in a safe place to make her way to the enemy; when she contemplated whether she was ready to start her journey for revenge. But if she left him behind now... She knew without a doubt he would follow her, only making himself an easier target by traveling alone. She sighed, grasping his right wrist as he did the same to her, already starting to smile as he recognized the tell-tale sign of a promise being made.
When Comes the Fire Page 8
