Phoenix Rising

by Rebecca Harwell

  Shay twirled her blades. “We should not hang about. They are quite a few people who would love to catch a couple of nivasi in the streets.”

  Ten minutes later, Nadya sat on the edge of a building a few doors down from the Guard station.

  “You look like you’re thinking too much,” Shay said, sitting down beside her. The men and women they’d taken down were all nicely bound up, a present for the guardsmen when they returned to their posts in the morning.

  Nadya looked out over the tier, to where the stone streets met the great wall, and wondered about all the stories Shay had about what lay beyond. “I probably am.”

  “Well, don’t. That was fun, wasn’t it?” Shay nudged her. “Come on, you cannot tell me that you didn’t enjoy yourself at least a little bit.”

  “Okay, I did. You were right—I needed that.” Nadya looked at her hands. “I’d like to do it again sometime.” She stopped, her words surprising even her. But she did want to. She just did not know why.

  Shay, evidently, did. “Thought so. There is something different about it, isn’t there? Going out with another nivasi. I almost never use my abilities in front of others. Even out there”—she waved vaguely as if to indicate the world beyond Storm’s Quarry—“with no Elders who hunt people like us, it is not good to advertise this kind of power. But even when a person knows about me, I still don’t like to reveal my fire. It feels…like I am trying to intimidate, even when I’m not.”

  “Exactly,” Nadya whispered. “By just being different, it’s easy to scare people.” The cold look on Mirela’s face hung in the front of her mind.

  “But with you, there is no worrying about that. And that’s nice.” Shay smiled. “Besides, I’d forgotten how utterly dull this city can be. You keep it interesting, Nadya.” She stood up. “I should go.”

  Nadya opened her mouth, but shouts on the edge of her hearing cut her off. She stood abruptly, forcing Shay to take a step back. Down on the streets, far off, but closing in fast. Guardsmen, at least two dozen. Even without her extraordinary eyesight, Nadya would have recognized their leader.

  Marko.

  “Lord Marko and his hunting party,” Shay said, her tone a bit too nonchalant for the arrival of the Guard, but Nadya hardly heard her. “After the Phoenix’s blood, no doubt.”

  Blood, yes. The dark swirls staining the uniform of every guardsman who dared get within ten paces of her. Spines snapped, limbs torn—feel the life leave them, slither out like a snakefish, flopping out of the ground as the stones run red. Storm has come to Storm’s Quarry, brought at the hand of a girl—

  Nadya gasped and fell to her knees.

  Her fingers dug into the edges of the roof tiles, crumbling stone to gravel as her grip tightened. Behind her eyes, she found not the comforting darkness of sleep, but Gedeon’s night, the black that clawed its way down her throat and burrowed into her heart.

  Images flashed before her. Nadya raised her arms. She tried to bat them away as the weight on her back increased until she could not move.

  “Nadya! Stars, what’s wrong?” The voice was fuzzy, but its volume increased when her hands made contact with flesh. “Damn it, I’m not your enemy.” Warmth encircled her arm, and Nadya’s vision cleared enough to see the figure drop down on her knees beside her. Weight, comforting, not crushing like the scent of blood and iron, settled in at her side.

  Shay leaned into her, one arm on hers, one encircling her shoulders, holding her.

  “Should leave,” Nadya muttered, breath erratic. “I could hurt you.”

  “Not a chance, Phoenix. Come back to me. Breathe. In. Out. It’s not real, whatever you are seeing. My voice, hold on to it. Breathe. In. Out.”

  In. Out. Slowly, with Shay’s soft words repeated right into her ear, Nadya crawled out of the well of memories and back into the night.

  She gasped. “Shay.”

  “Good. I was half afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.” Shay’s words did not match the softness of her eyes, or the way she tucked stray strands of hair behind Nadya’s ear.

  “The Guard?”

  “It is a miracle they can manage anything. Marched right past this building. Missed your whole performance.” Her hands retreated, and Nadya found herself following the touch.

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered, and Shay hesitated. Slowly, she lowered herself back on the ground next to Nadya without further prompting. Nadya did not know what made her say it. She only knew that she did not want to be alone.

  She could have hurt Shay. Killed her. Caught in the throes of memories, Nadya was helpless to control her strength. Even now, she clung to Shay’s arm. Not hurting her, she realized after several more breaths. Not hesitating in the way she would have with Kesali. Or her parents. Or practically anyone else.

  The world was fragile to her, but Shay seemed anything but.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. Breath for breath. Slowly, Nadya’s heart retreated back within her chest, its normal rhythm humming through her veins. She inhaled, tasting the scent of coal that hung around Shay, who was, despite everything, still there. Who did not fear her strength or her madness, who talked her out of the darkness and back into the quiet night.

  “How do you do it?” Nadya asked hoarsely. She clutched the edge of the stonework with shaking fingers. “Keep control all the time. Know that you’ll have to watch every breath for the rest of your life.”

  “You get used to it, thinking about breathing, about control. Part of being nivasi. That is what separates us from monsters like Gedeon.”

  “That’s it?”

  Shay leaned toward her. Carefully, she pulled a bit of rubble out of Nadya’s hair, flicking it to the side. “You want there to be something more?”

  “I want there to be a sea, a universe between us and that creature.” Nadya nearly tripped over the words as they rushed out.

  Shay raised an eyebrow. “So now I’m not like him?”

  Nadya flushed. “It’s not—I don’t—that’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” Shay cuffed her arm lightly. “Truth is, I do not think much does separate one nivasi from another.”

  “But—” The words failed her as Shay gave her a long look, as if explaining the sun’s cycle to a child.

  “It’s nature, Nadya. Not nivasi nature. Just…nature. Just as there is little to separate this Councillor Aster from your Duke, to separate your Stormspeaker from the zealot, little separates us from him. Choices. Control. Breathing.” She stared off into the sky. Nadya watched the edges of her hair move in the slight breeze. Her eyes moved to Shay’s lashes, short and thick, framing dark eyes.

  Eyes as dark as his…

  She snapped herself away from the comparison as Shay continued.

  “The Nomori Elders say our powers drive us mad. That we are destined, to the last, to wreak havoc upon the people of this world.” Shay shook her head. “I do not believe it. We choose, like Gedeon did. Like Durriken before him. They fear us, so they invent a madness to cover their own shame. So they can believe that evil is linked only to blood, that true Nomori could never commit such acts.”

  “And if they are right?” Nadya whispered. “About the madness?”

  The edge of Shay’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Then I guess the world better watch out.”

  Nadya’s shoulders stiffened as she regarded Shay. There it was, the inescapable difference between them. One nivasi woman afraid of her fate, of the mad destiny that might await her, and the other dismissive of it. Perhaps even excited? Unable to pin down Shay’s intentions, Nadya reminded herself just how little she knew of her. “We both should go,” she said suddenly, standing.

  Shay frowned slightly, but rose. She watched Nadya with sharp eyes. “You’ve thought about turning yourself in, haven’t you?”

  “Of course. Kesa—the Stormspeaker seems to think this Councillor is just bluffing in her demand that they bring the Iron Phoenix to justice, another move in the e
ver-complicated game of politics. But I’m not as sure.”

  Shay’s expression softened. “So why haven’t you?”

  The easy lie died in her throat at the sudden sincerity in Shay’s tone. Somehow, even in conversation, Shay managed to disarm her. Nadya kept a watch on the street below, but no guardsmen appeared. “I have to believe that I can do more good out here. I have made mistakes, but I cannot atone for them sitting in a jail cell that I could easily break out of. Whether or not the people feel safer, the city is safer with me out here.” She took a breath. “Maybe you’re right about it all.”

  She turned to Shay, but there was nothing but warm air and a whiff of iron.

  *

  Nadya’s thoughts dwelled for days on blades of light and that simmering smirk they’d illuminated. Better there than on the home she no longer had. Shay had not appeared again, and so Nadya did not go out on patrol. When she did walk after dark amidst the decay and the dying of Storm’s Quarry, she swore she saw light at the edge of her vision, dancing on rooftops out of reach.

  The feelings of connection stirred in her chest. As much as she tried to push them down, they came again, as persistent as floodwaters.

  And maybe that is what they are, she thought more than once. Here to destroy the life that I have built, however decrepit that might be. Or to save it from the hungry jaws of my past?

  Kesali had been equally as absent as Shay, matters of state overtaking anything of a personal nature. That, or Kesali was avoiding her ever since her ungraceful departure from her room. Still, whispers filled the streets that talks with Wintercress were going well, talks she had not been needed at. Beneath those whispers, however, lay murmurs of dark voices that the city’s neighbor had maneuvered Storm’s Quarry exactly where they needed her.

  As the sun rose and Nadya with it, she breathed in deep and hoped for a day of peace from this internal unrest. She had scheduled to train with her father, the first time since her visit to Mirela. Hands shaking, she went through the motions of getting ready and left for their secret meeting place.

  Shadar was there, silhouetted by the midmorning sun. Her breath caught; she had not been sure he would still come. He turned around, rapier already in hand.

  “Are you all right?”

  His voice was gruff, and underneath the simple words Nadya heard the worry and pain that must be wracking him right now, his family split.

  She managed a smile. “Yes.” It wasn’t true, and they both knew it.

  Without another word, they began. Familiar drills, once confusing, fell into place in Nadya’s movements, acted out nearly on their own accord. Her mind was far from the practice bout, and Shadar’s, it seemed, was also afield.

  “Your grandmother came by the house this morning.”

  Nadya froze halfway through the routine, and her father knocked the rapier out of her grip. She bent to pick it up. When she rose, she hoped her face was composed. “Did Mirela tell her anything?”

  “No, of course not. Your mother will honor that promise.” He gestured with his blade. Again. They moved through the first drill, Nadya’s limbs acting on their own accord as her thoughts whirled about. “She came to tell us that she is giving up her place as head of the Gabori family.”

  “What?” This time Nadya could not keep the surprised squawk silent. “But…Grandmother would never. She loves being in charge.”

  Shadar smiled. “She does. I do not know what brought this on. She and your mother spoke alone for quite some time. I suppose Drina was explaining that your mother could not inherit, not with her illness.”

  “So…it’s leaving our family.” There were other Gaboris, cousins and aunts and uncles littered around the Nomori tier. Nadya could not inherit, not since…well, I guess I am not a Gabori any longer.

  “Yes, to your second cousin, Brioni.” Drina’s niece, a capable woman in her early forties with a strong psychic gift of reading childbirth.

  For so long I took every opportunity to avoid the responsibility of that inheritance, and now that it is beyond my reach…

  She shook herself and looked up to find her father watching her intently.

  “Nadya…this is not your fault.”

  “No, and who do you blame for having a nivasi for a daughter? The Protectress? I’ve certainly blamed her plenty,” she said bitterly. “The Elders for not finding out about me when I was a child?”

  “Do not speak like that.” He sheathed his rapier, and Nadya, blinking away angry tears, was enfolded in his arms. He smelled of salt from patrols on the wall, and his arms were as strong as when she was a little girl who had scraped her knee on the cobblestones. In that moment, Nadya was not the Iron Phoenix, or the nivasi. She was that little girl again, and for a brief moment, she felt safe.

  “This will be all right. Your mother will come around. I’ll see to it. She is just—”

  “She hates me. She disowned me.” Nadya sniffed and looked up. “You should not even be here with me. I’m no longer your daughter.”

  He squeezed harder, and his warm eyes shone wet. “You are always my daughter.”

  I want to believe you.

  *

  In the wake of Drina’s shocking announcement, Nadya watched from afar as the quiet of the Gabori house was shattered. Elders came in and out at all times of day, muttering to themselves in the ancient Nomori tongue. The ceremony to pass on leadership of a Nomori family took place in the center of the tier at the fountain, the same place as the Arane Sveltura festival. Under the stars, with the blessing of the Protectress, the ceremony would happen in three days.

  Nadya found herself using any excuse to pass by the Gabori house, often lingering just across the street for hours at a time whenever she and her father were not training. Which was often, since his Guard duties had him running nearly all day. Her mother’s rejection hurt, still a sharp, stinging pain in her chest. One day, she hoped it would recede to a dull ache. I never wanted to be the head of the family, she reminded herself as Brioni met with Drina the night before the ceremony. Never wanted to marry or have children or lead. But it had always been a choice, a possible future. Watching her old life from afar did nothing to soothe the pain, but she needed to feel close to it. Shay would probably tell her to move on.

  She wondered when she had started thinking about what Shay would say.

  The morning of the ceremony found her winding her way through the cramped streets of the second tier, trying to get any thoughts of it out of her head. She had vowed that she would not attend. I need to stop making this harder for myself, she told herself sternly.

  Nadya stopped suddenly, and the man behind her stumbled into her shoulder. She ignored his curses.

  Someone was following her.

  She turned down the nearest side street, weaving between disease-ridden rats and open hands begging for safe water. Bile rose in her throat. Quickly, she stepped just inside a doorway of an abandoned home. Abandoned, or death-ridden. Its shutters were closed and still. She held her breath, waiting.

  “Well, that was pretty unsuccessful.”

  Nadya jumped. Shay strolled up beside her, almost fading out of the shadows. She still wore black, but her clothes were spun rather than leathered. Softer. No paint across her eyes either. She sported a big grin, and between that and the sunlight, she looked more like the joy-filled child Nadya remembered than the blood-shedding nivasi.

  Which she still was, Nadya needed to remember.

  “How did you—”

  “You are actually pretty good at spotting a tail. Just horrible at evading one.” Shay poked her in the arm. “See, not everything comes from nivasi blood. Some skills need to be learned, no matter what abilities a person has.”

  “Is that your way of telling me that without my strength, I’m useless?”

  “Would you be so touchy if it weren’t true?”

  Nadya bit back a quick reply. Shay’s words echoed what her father had been trying to drill into her for nearly three months. Perhaps it really wa
s time to put aside any pride and just listen. “Point taken. Now, I am sure you did not just seek me out to lecture about being woefully terrible at everything.” Although now that she said it, she wasn’t that sure.

  She was sure of nothing with Shay.

  Shay laughed, deep and throaty. “No, I didn’t. Come with me.” She turned and headed down the street, not even looking to see if Nadya followed.

  For a moment, she considered not following just to prove to Shay that she would not be so easily swayed. But her thoughts weighed heavy with the upcoming ceremony this evening, with everything going on around her, everything so wrong with her city. And in aiding her through the trauma of one of her Gedeon flashbacks, Shay had become something of a rock. A few hours with her might distract Nadya at least.

  “Wait up,” she called and chased after Shay.

  Nadya caught her quite easily, and together they made their way up to the third tier, past ragged but standing neighborhoods, and to the place where furnaces bellowed and spit smoke into the sky. Many of the traveling craftspeople were housed in this district, though the streets were deserted. Most left early and returned late, Shay told her. The Duke paid well and had a long list of needs.

  “You came with these people,” Nadya said, but it was more of a question.

  Shay did not reply, but led on.

  Around the corner, the smithy was a flurry of activity. Men and women, dusted black from grime and ash, sweated as they banged, molded, and fired metal into a multitude of shapes. A long stack of metal shelves ran along the outside wall, full of objects ready to be picked up. Two guardsmen were there now with one of the city’s rare horses tied to a wagon. As they loaded it, the workers replaced those items with new ones nearly as fast. Brackets, braces, nails as long as her arm, chains, and all manner of construction materials.

  “Come,” Shay said.

  Nadya wondered what there could possibly be in a tool-smithy to be shown. She followed, eyes watering from the ash-tinged air. The metallic taste of the caustic smoke reminded her of the fire in the Guardhouse a few months ago, the genesis of the Iron Phoenix, and her chest tightened.