When Comes the Fire

by Lisa Cochrane

  Wind whipped past her ears, and she realized she was flying—or rather, falling. There was a choking sound, and the thud of a body beside her as she made jarring impact with the stone path, her teeth clacking together painfully. She scrambled to her feet, Darwe doing the same to her right, and they both stood in defensive stances, her grip on her sword still strong despite the sudden attack. A large, cloaked figure stood hunched over a kneeling Busuni, whose eyes were wild with panic as his hands grasped desperately at the fabric of the man's cloak. Something shone between the man's hand and Busuni's throat.

  A dagger.

  The man drew back the dagger, dripping red, and half turned towards them as Busuni collapsed, the life slipping from his eyes as the blood gushed from the second mouth that had been carved into his throat. Namida could feel the rage and frustration bursting forth from her mind. What had Busuni been about to say? She needed to know! All of the lies and misunderstandings that had led her here, and finally, he was going to clarify things for her! Her lips twisted in a snarl at the hooded stranger, but then she saw the arm that peeked out from beneath the fabric.

  Tattered cloth ties on a bare upper arm.

  Kaska's elite.

  Gray eyes flashed at her from beneath the man's hood, and she could have sworn she saw his lips twist into a smirk at the realization in her eyes. He touched two fingers to the edge of his hood, a mocking salute to the two that stood rigid across the wide alley from him.

  And then he was gone, slipping back into the reaching shadows as though he were melting into them, his dark cloak swallowed up in the black.

  "Wait!" Namida tried to yell, her voice cracking as her muscles finally obeyed her mental command to move already, he's getting away and her sword fell forgotten to the ground as she reached for the slip of fabric that melted away into nothingness, her fingers closing around nothing but air. She screamed, a wordless shriek of rage to the heavens and Fate for stealing away this one opportunity from her. Who knew when, or if, she would ever get another? She scraped her hand back through her hair, messing the already tousled braid Darwe had carefully folded it into that morning when they rose for the day. One of Kaska's elite had been here, and she had just let him slip right through her fingers. She glared down at her sword, lying innocently on the ground by her feet, and she resisted the urge to send it flying with her foot. What good had all her training done her in the face of such an unexpected opponent, one with such terrifying power that he could become one with the very shadows themselves? Nothing. It had done nothing for her. The element of surprise would give any opponent an edge, granted, but she should have sensed him coming. She should have felt that raw power that he had emanated, freezing her feet to the ground when she knew in the back of her mind that she should be attacking him already. That raw power told her that there was no way she could have hoped to defeat him, though. Who was that man? Those gray eyes...they seemed so familiar, even though she had only seen them for a moment...

  Namida shook her head. Darwe squeezed her shoulder, and she looked up at him, her brow furrowed. His face was resolute, as though he had made up his mind about something.

  "We'll find him," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And we'll find out who the traitor was. It will take time, but we will find them. Together."

  Namida's eyes burned, but there was no way it was with tears. She just got some dust in her eye, that was all. She blinked harshly, staring at the mess that they had been left with; a dead, laughable traitor from years ago with his throat torn out and their only lead, snuffed out like the wick of a candle.

  "Yeah," she said quietly. "Together."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Namida's sword sank into the mercenary's abdomen, her boot on his throat cutting off the scream of pain as she crushed his windpipe. Her actions were stiff, as though she had been through them a hundred times before—because she had. She didn't bother keeping track of the number of spies and mercenaries she had killed, the number of traitors to the crown she had maimed for the smallest tidbit of information on Kaska and his troops and what the blazes they had done to Master Dorozi and the complex, but she knew the body count she had left in her wake was frighteningly high, numbering several dozen, if not over the hundred mark. She wondered vaguely if perhaps people would consider her to be as bad as Kaska if they knew how many she had killed and tortured; but then she thought back to that man in the alley, Kaska's elite, and the several cloth ties on his arm that each denoted a dozen kills. Kaska had a handful of elite troops, each with several dozen kills notched plainly on their arms with those same cloth ties, and who knew how many regular troops he had or how many kills they each had made. Skirmishes between Kaska and Queen Gawela's troops were happening in the towns almost regularly, but it was as if Kaska's troops were the shadows themselves, with how quickly they disappeared from the scene—quicker than Namida and Darwe could ever get to each site. And, she thought bitterly, perhaps they truly were shadows, with how that man had escaped from them. Now she knew that Kaska had at least one magick wielder within his ranks, and they would have to be a lot more careful if they wanted to keep their heads attached to their necks until they found Kaska.

  Namida felt nothing as she killed the mercenary. Another dead end. Literally, she thought humorlessly as she looked down at the glassy eyes and still figure beneath her boot. She felt nothing for the man who likely had friends and a family of his own that would miss him. He had chosen his profession, had known the risks when he chose to hunt down other humans for the promise of coin. Yet there was a flicker of warning in the back of her mind at her lack of concern for the dead man or the possible consequences of his death. She couldn't bring herself to care, and she could hear a small voice whispering within her that she needed to care, that she was losing the last shreds of her humanity that remained the longer she spent killing these mercenaries that never seemed to lead her any closer to Kaska than when she started out. Even Nyago was shooting her worried looks, the hound's emotions so thick she could almost taste them, weighing heavy in her mouth.

  "Mida, he's dead," Darwe's low voice sounded from her left, barely registering in her mind. "You can step back now. He's not getting back up."

  Namida realized belatedly she was still grinding her boot into his neck despite the fact that the last flickers of life had already faded from his eyes. She stepped back, noting Darwe's eyes followed her every movement, his posture rigid, as though he were waiting for her to snap. He had been acting like this a lot lately. Was she really that bad? She had been feeling more and more haggard, barely sleeping at all as her mind refused to shut down, consumed as it was with thoughts of everything and nothing. She was starting to give up hope of ever getting anywhere, and thinking that perhaps she might need to go to Queen Gawela after all. Despite that they had delayed their visit to her for almost three years since they had originally set out to see her, the year that Chifuya and Mantas and the others from the complex had been betrayed and killed. She no longer felt that gut-wrenching guilt and heartache when she thought about it. Instead, she just felt this hollowness open up inside her, like a yawning void where her emotions should have been. She couldn't bring herself to feel scared of it, even though her logical mind told her she should be, that this was not natural and she needed to find some way to bring her emotions back.

  Darwe seemed to flutter around her, fretting without words as they headed back to camp, making sure she ate and drank and laid down in the bed roll with her back pressed to his. Even the familiar pressure and warmth just seemed to make the void inside her gape open further. Nyago yawned at her feet, draping himself over both of their legs, but as soon as she felt Darwe had fallen asleep, she slowly disentangled her legs from the hound and crawled out from under the covers. She waited while Darwe shifted in his sleep but did not wake, meeting Nyago's concerned gaze as he watched her cross the tent to the opening. She shook her head, wordlessly telling him that she wasn't going far and not to follow her. The hound snorted, bu
t lowered his head onto his forepaws, still watching her as she pulled back the tent flap and stepped outside into the cold desert night air. Her breath formed little puffs of translucent white condensation, and she shivered as the full force of the cold bit into her skin from through her sleep clothes. She looked up at the stars that hung in the sky above, bright and clear with no clouds to blur them that night, and it was as if something within her broke. Namida fell to her knees in the sand, her hand clenching a fistful of the fabric of her pants as tears coursed down her cheeks in rivers, and she gave loud sniffs, not bothering to wipe away the tears as she stared resolutely at the stars.

  Fate, I can't do this anymore. I need a sign. I need to know where I'm supposed to go.

  Just like that, it was as if an ethereal sense of peace washed over her, and she knew for no reason at all that it was going to be alright. Her eyes slid shut, and she stayed there for a long moment before she thought to dry her tears and slip back into the tent, Nyago's gaze seeming a lot calmer and almost...approving?...as she did. She sighed, feeling rather alone despite having her best friend at her back and her hound at her feet. Without giving herself the chance to rethink it, she turned and pressed her face into Darwe's back, clutching at his sleep shirt. She could use some comfort, and she could think of no better person to seek it from than the person she loved more than herself.

  o—O—o

  Namida stirred from her slumber to the feel of a gentle pressure on her hair. She grumbled incoherently, reaching up to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she opened them, squinting against the brightness. It seemed she had overslept, if the sun pouring in from the open tent flap was any indication.

  "Dar?" she mumbled, rolling over to see him sitting at her other side, already bringing out rations and a water skein from their packs for her to break her fast with. She took them with a grateful glance, sitting up beside him, their shoulders brushing against one another. "You should have woken me up. It's rather late for us to set out," she commented from around a mouthful of dried fruit, not that she really put any conviction into her words. She still wasn't sure where she wanted to go from here, feeling more than a little lost despite the sense of peace that had overcome her yesterday when she asked Fate for help. She wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking, or if Fate really had heard her prayer. It would be nice if it had, but her mouth went dry at the doubting thoughts that nagged her, saying she couldn't rely on anything but herself when Fate had allowed so many bad things to happen to her and Darwe already. She crammed the thoughts down, locking them away as she enjoyed the quiet company of Darwe, Nyago still sprawled at the end of the bed roll, though he had since rolled onto his back, his paws twitching as though he were chasing something in his sleep. The thought made her smile. At least someone was enjoying himself. She glanced over at Darwe to find him looking at Master Dorozi's old map, now worn and creased, the ink faded with time and use. His brow was furrowed as he seemed to be mouthing the names of villages to himself in deep thought. She stuffed the last of the jerky in her mouth and chased it with a large swig of water.

  "What are we looking at?" she asked, leaning her head in close to trace the path his finger was forming on the paper. Darwe gave a low chuckle, and she was struck by how pleasant the sound was. He didn't laugh enough these days. Then again, she was one to talk. Darwe bumped her shoulder lightly with his own before growing somber once more.

  "I was just making note of all the towns we've been to, and the ones where we've actually found people connected to Kaska." He set the paper down in his lap, and the number of towns he pinpointed with his fingers was rather worrying. Kaska's influence had spread further than they had thought, slow and insidious, working its way through the formerly neutral villages, and even in many of the ones like Bafti that still claimed to be neutral but seemed to house more people that were for Kaska than against him. Namida cursed under her breath. Nine villages, most of them in the central or northern part of the country. Given, they hadn't been too far north yet, but it would seem that the further they got from the capital, the weaker the Queen's sway was on the people. She thought bitterly once more of the weak support that had been given even to her own loyal village by the Queen when Kaska's troops had come and slaughtered them like animals, and she knew that the people had good reason for not wanting to ally themselves with her. She took a deep breath. It didn't change the fact that Kaska was ultimately the one in the wrong here, though. She wasn't after the Queen, she told herself. She was after the one that ordered the killing blow for her family.

  "If you were Kaska, where would you hide your troops from prying eyes?" she murmured, her eyes tracing the deserts and the mid-eastern swamp region, all the way up to the mountain range along the northern coast. Darwe's fingers followed her eyes as they rested on the ink-drawn ridges.

  "The one place she can't reach."

  Her eyes narrowed. "I think it's time we take things to the next level, don't you think?" Even though she wasn't sure she quite felt prepared for the confrontation she knew would come, she was sick and tired of waiting. Maybe this conclusion was the sign she had asked for. They hastily packed up the camp, heading through the town they had camped outside of to pick up some provisions before they headed out into the open desert once more. Nyago led the way, trotting ahead with his long tongue lolling as he panted in the late morning heat. As they left the village behind them, though, Nyago stopped dead in his tracks, his large ears flattening back against his skull as he turned to growl at something behind them. Namida and Darwe bristled, trusting the hound's instincts as they both whirled, weapons drawn.

  A familiar face stood before them, one that she had not expected—nor wanted—to see again in this lifetime.

  "Traitor," she snarled, moving to lunge at Momal with her blade. Darwe caught her arm, and she whirled to glare at him. How dare he stop her! This was the man that Kilish said had killed Master Dorozi, no matter what that idiot Bufuni might have said to the contrary. Darwe did not meet her eyes, though, staring straight ahead at the bespectacled man with a set jaw and hard eyes. He hadn't forgiven Momal either, then, even though he seemed to be giving the man the benefit of the doubt. She relaxed a little in his grip, though she still maintained a stance that said she wouldn't hesitate to attack him given the slightest opportunity.

  "What are you doing here?" Darwe demanded, getting straight to the point.

  Momal pursed his lips. "I'm here on behalf of the Queen," he said, and a shock traveled down Namida's spine. She had been wrong. So wrong. Momal had even tried to tell her how wrong she was, but she hadn't been willing to hear him out in the face of her anger and grief. Bufuni's last words rang in her ears. While it's true he was a spy, you pinned him on the wrong side...

  She cursed under her breath. Momal's eyes flickered to her in response.

  "Queen Gawela has requested an audience with you. She wishes to offer her assistance in wiping out the rebel threat."

  Namida couldn't help the sneer that twisted her lips. "Oh yeah? And where has her assistance been all these years the rebels have been killing and pillaging throughout the country? She hides behind her palace walls and is content for the rest of the world to burn, is she not?"

  There was something about Momal's gaze that seemed to know more than she gave him credit for, and he seemed to gaze at her almost sympathetically. She refused to let him know it phased her, but there was something in the back of her mind that told her he was not everything she thought he was, and she could not seem to shake it. After all, this was the man that she had thought to be a spy for Kaska, and how wrong she had been about where his loyalties laid.

  "We'll go with you."

  Namida's head snapped to Darwe as she bristled. Why was he speaking so boldly for her when she had just voiced her distaste for their damned queen? She bore her teeth at him, all but snarling.

  "And why the blazes would we do that?" Her eyes were narrow slits in her face as she ripped her arm from Darwe's grasp. Darwe frowned, flashing her a
scolding look. It didn't even phase her.

  "Because," he said simply, "we are at a stand-still in our investigation. We have a vague idea of where Kaska may be, but we have no idea about what is going on in the area; who still lives there, who the villages have allied with—if anyone—or what sort of things we will need to prepare for. The wilderness is...different in the north. As is the terrain." Darwe looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I have never been to the mountains, but I hear that they can be a very treacherous place for the unprepared."

  Momal gave a sage nod. "You are correct," the man confirmed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Queen Gawela is willing to sponsor for you for the trip. Not to mention, she has heard of your...special abilities," he said, pinning his gaze on Namida, "and will provide you with the tutelage you require for them."

  She could feel sweat prickling the back of her neck underneath her thin cotton hood, and not from the blazing sun that beat down on them. She didn't even want to think about using the flames, about making peace with them, not after what had happened with Darwe. Her eyes slid shut as she took a deep breath to calm herself. If she wanted to have a hope of defeating Kaska, then she would need to utilize everything she had, and as much as she might hate them, her flames were quite a powerful weapon she had at her disposal. She needed to learn how to use them—and without the risk of destroying the few things she had left that she loved. When she reopened her eyes, Momal was looking at her with knowing eyes, as though he already knew what her answer would be. She could feel the anger prickling just beneath her skin. He didn't know her, just like she didn't know him. Despite having lived with him for so many years ago, when she found out that Momal was a spy in their midst, she realized that he was in truth a stranger to her. He might act like the friend she had once had, but that man was nothing more than a facade.