She returns my scrutiny. “I love my people. I love my tribe. But I make my own decisions. Why do you ask?”
“Zivah, wake up!”
Dineas’s voice is an unlikely counterpart to the nightmarish images haunting my sleep. I bat the voice away, annoyed that I’d be so needy as to imagine him when he doesn’t show up in person. But he keeps calling, and finally a gentle nudge on my shoulder rocks me awake.
I open my eyes and spring away from the touch. Fear crawls up my spine. It’s the middle of the night.
“Zivah, it’s me,” whispers Dineas.
It is him. I can make out his shadow crouched next to my cot. Even in the darkness, I sense how tense he is, coiled as if ready to leap into battle. Heat emanates from his skin, and I half expect him to glow like a dying ember. The faintest trace of his breath tickles my cheek. “What are you doing?”
“You need to leave.”
“What?”
“Leave the camp tonight. I’ll help you.”
What is he talking about? As I shake off my sleep, all the anger and hurt from yesterday comes rushing back. I prop myself up on my elbow. “Are you mad? Where were you yesterday? Why didn’t you acknowledge my note? And now you just break in here in the middle of the night and order me to leave?”
I’m sitting now with my blanket clutched around me, staring him down in the darkness. There’s a long silence.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have come. I was foolishly wrapped up in my own troubles. But I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out.”
I offer no words of conciliation, but I wait for him to continue.
Dineas lets out a breath. “You need to leave before we meet with the warlords again. They’ll just keep at you to poison the Amparans, and soon you won’t be able to refuse.”
Have you seen rivers of blood? Gullies that run red with the life of your kin?
“Maybe they’re right to urge me,” I say.
“Maybe they are. Maybe they’re not. But it should be your choice.”
It dawns on me that he’s serious. He really wants me to leave Dara, right now. “But that’s impossible.”
“Why? I’ll help you get past the scouts.”
“I can’t just run away. I won’t leave my family to fend for themselves.”
“Don’t run away,” he says. “Go find this Kione. Find out what she knows.”
“How would I cross the strait?”
“One of my fighters will go with you.”
He’s thought this through. And I do want to find Kione. But how can I just pack up and go? “And you?”
“I have to stay. They need me to help plan the defense.” He stops abruptly. Is that regret in his voice? “You can go to Khaygal, or cross the strait and come back after thinking things through, but if you stay, you won’t leave Monyar until we defeat the Amparans. Or until they kill us all.”
I think of the vast army gathered on the beach, of the bridge that comes closer day by day. Dineas is right. It will only get harder to leave Dara once the fighting starts. If the warlords don’t let me go to Khaygal now, they never will. And if I’m stuck here, that leaves me only one way to help with the war.
I kick my feet off the bed. “Do I have time to pack?”
“Some,” he says, and he sounds relieved.
“Turn around so I can get dressed.”
He pivots to face the door. I wait a moment to make sure he doesn’t turn again, and then spring into action. Now that I’ve made the decision, I feel surprisingly at peace. I open the window shutters to let in more moonlight and shed my nightgown for more functional tunic and trousers. It doesn’t take long to put together what belongings I need. My blowgun already lies next to a bag packed with darts, an assortment of dried herbs, a bracelet of snake fangs, and a few bandages. I store the bulk of my healing supplies on my shelves, but I’ve had this bag ready for weeks. I suppose part of me must have known I might have to leave on short notice. I throw some leftover taro root and bread into the bag. For other food, I’ll have to forage along the way.
There’s one more thing to do. I go to my shed where I keep my venomous creatures and open all the cages. My blackarmor scorpion clicks out of its cage the moment I open it, as does a brownhead serpent who flows down the shelves and out the door. Setting these creatures free is easy until I get to Diadem. The snake’s pale green scales shimmer gray in the darkness, and she lifts her head when I approach.
“It was good to know you, friend. But I can’t let you risk your life again for my sake. Not when I know this time how dangerous it will be.”
Diadem flicks her tongue and stays in the cage. I leave the door open for her, fighting the lump in my throat.
“I’m ready,” I say to Dineas.
Outside, the moonlight gives the forest a ghostly sheen. Insect calls ring over the muffled sound of our footsteps. Dineas leads the way, forgoing the trails and leading us directly through the bamboo. We hike up the side of the valley and make a large circle, giving the other houses a wide berth. Soon my clothes are damp with dew.
As we travel, I can’t help but wonder about Dineas. He creeps through the forest with the stealth and agility of a warrior. Yet when he looks back, there’s a fierce protectiveness in his gaze. Finally, as the sky turns gray, he slows and looks around, his entire body alert to the sounds of the forest. An umbertouched Shidadi girl steps out of the shadows, and Dineas beckons her over.
“We should be past most of the scouts,” Dineas says, his voice unusually solemn. “Sarsine will help you get to Khaygal. She’s the best kind of warrior. I’d trust her with my life. I trust her with yours.”
Sarsine beams. “Karu will be furious with me,” she says, though she doesn’t seem to mind.
Dineas whistles, and Scrawny lands on his shoulder. The crow doesn’t complain as Dineas carefully transfers him to my hand.
“Scrawny likes you more than he likes me these days,” Dineas says with a wry smile. “It would break his heart to be left here.”
Perhaps it’s the arrival of daylight, but suddenly the magnitude of what I’m about to embark on hits me, as does the gravity of what Dineas has done. I have a hundred questions to ask him, and I wish we had more time. I wonder what price he will pay for this.
Dineas opens his mouth to speak, and I hardly dare to breathe. But instead, he looks away.
Sarsine clears her throat. “I’ll wait for you beyond that hill.”
We both watch her disappear. Cicada calls fall like a curtain around us.
I struggle for words. “You betray your people to help me. Why?”
Dineas casts his eyes downward. “I thought you a coward before,” he says, his voice soft with shame. “I know better now. I know your vows to the Goddess, and what they mean to you. If you do as the council asks, it will shatter your soul. There are some things you can’t recover from.”
He speaks with the conviction of one who’s had his soul shattered. I think of his anguish over his double life, and once again, I’m deeply aware of my part in his suffering.
I search his eyes. “Do we part as friends?”
Something flickers across his face at the word “friends,” but it disappears just as quickly. “Of course.”
“Will you look after my family? Keep Alia out of the fighting if you can. I—I’m sorry I faulted you for helping her with her swordplay. She’ll be safer with what you taught her.”
“I’ll look out for them,” Dineas says firmly. And then he furrows his brow. “I don’t know how the battle will play out here. When you come back, stay at the beach you leave from. I’ll send Slicewing once a day to look for you.”
I nod. So many logistics to arrange, yet I can’t shake the feeling that there are more important things to say. I see the same frustration mirrored in his expression.
“Zivah...” He swallows. “I said some things when we argued about Arxa...I’m sorry.”
The regret in his eyes surprises me. “We’ve both said foolish things. There
’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“There’s plenty to be sorry for. There’s plenty to regret.” His voice dies down to a whisper. “I know I’m not him.”
He said it so softly I’m not sure I heard him right. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not the man you knew in Sehmar City. But...” He stops and shakes his head with a sad smile. “I really made a mess of things, didn’t I?”
“Dineas, I don’t understand...”
My words grow weak as he steps closer, then die away completely as Dineas takes my hand. I shiver, transfixed by the depth of yearning in his gaze, and find myself paralyzed as he leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, so lightly that I’m not even sure we actually touch. My heart stutters, and I draw a sharp breath. In a fraction of a heartbeat, he’s stepped away. The cold wind brushes my fingers where he’d held them.
Dineas stares at me, eyes wide. “Forgive me,” he says. “I—”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” My mind can’t make sense of it, but my mouth tingles where our lips came close. The scent of his skin lingers, the warmth of his breath.
Hope comes into his eyes, but it’s a resigned hope. “Be safe. Come back.”
I’m struck by the urgency in his words, the fear of someone who had already lost too much. And too late, I realize how strong my fear of losing him has become as well.
“I will.”
His gaze drifts over my face, committing me to memory before turning away. And then, all too soon, he’s gone.
There’s a spark in Sarsine’s eye when I come over the hill. “Come,” she says. “We want to move fast.”
Making conversation is beyond me right now, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to expect a reply. Sarsine’s confident for someone so young, moving quickly and deliberately through the tangles of foliage. She swivels her head from side to side as we walk, pausing every so often at any suspicious sound. I follow as best as I can, feeling slow and clumsy in her wake. I wouldn’t be able to match her in the best of circumstances, much less as I am now, with my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and my heart yearning toward the forests behind me.
I know I’m not him.
True, Dineas is no longer the man I loved in Sehmar City. I’d thought anything between us beyond friendship had disappeared when I restored his memory. But if that’s true, then what was that look in his eyes? Why this tug at my chest? I wonder now if I’ve made a grave mistake in leaving.
By afternoon, we reach a small beach I’d never seen before. The ground is covered almost entirely with rocks bigger than my fist. Tidewater fills in some of the larger gaps, and the entire beach smells of seaweed and barnacles.
“Have you kept watch before?” Sarsine asks.
“Dineas and I alternated watches when we traveled together.”
She purses her lips, then seems to accept Dineas’s judgment of my vigilance. We find a sheltered spot near the edge of the tree line. I take first watch, then Sarsine takes over while I sleep. When she wakes me, the sun is low over the horizon.
“Come.” Sarsine leads me to a boat buried underneath the rocks. “Between the land breeze and the boulders, the Amparans stay away at night.”
She starts heaving rocks out of the boat, and I follow suit. The stones are cold, heavy, and caked with slippery sand, but with the two of us working, we soon have them all tossed to the side. Sarsine makes a slow circle around the boat, checking for damage. Then we lug it to the water, taking care not to twist our ankles on the uneven ground.
Sarsine hands me a set of oars. “We’ll both need to row. Don’t want to be dashed on the boulders.”
“Is it that dangerous?” The boat wobbles under me as I climb in. Scrawny perches on the side and flaps his wings for balance.
“There’s a reason the Amparans avoid this beach.” She pushes off before I have a chance to reply.
This beach would be beautiful if it weren’t so deadly. Giant boulders jut out of the sea to the height of several men, their brown surfaces glistening red in the fading sunlight. There’s no chance to admire them, though, because waves meet us immediately. Our boat tilts, and we drift toward one particularly menacing rock. I start rowing.
“Good, good,” says Sarsine. She steers us to the left. “Keep going.”
We drift past the first rock, and then the real current hits. The boat pitches back and forth, turning my stomach, and Scrawny takes off with a squawk as frigid water splashes over the sides. Though I’m rowing as hard as I can, the water carries us straight toward a jagged outcropping. I wonder if I’d be able to swim back to shore should we capsize.
“Harder!” Sarsine yells.
Any Amparans around would surely hear us, but they were wise enough to stay away. I throw my back into each stroke. My muscles scream. Behind me, Sarsine grunts with exertion. We narrowly pass the outcropping, then skim another sharp boulder.
“Almost there!” Sarsine cries.
Salt water splashes into my face. I spit and cough. My eyes burn.
“Just past that next one.”
That next one comes toward us at a frightening speed. A horrible grating sound rattles the boat. We lurch, and I almost drop my oar.
“Row harder!” Sarsine shouts again. It’s a wonder we’re still upright.
And then we shoot past the last rock into the open ocean. Sarsine lets out a hoarse sigh. The rhythm of her paddling slows, and I take that as a cue that I can slow as well. My heart gallops in my chest, my arms burn, and it hurts to breathe. The Amparan shore, a thin line in the distance, taunts our efforts.
I hear a strange cackling. At first I think it’s some kind of seabird, but I then I realize it’s Sarsine laughing maniacally behind me. When I turn around, she grins.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Where is Zivah?” Gatha’s face mirrors her frustration.
It took the leaders a day to notice Zivah had left. Enough, hopefully, for her and Sarsine to be well on their way. And now, I stand facing my warlord in the clearing outside Zivah’s cottage, steeling myself to face the consequences.
I set my chin. “She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I would never lie to you, Warlord, but I will say no more.”
“Is Sarsine with her?”
I don’t answer.
Gatha sighs. “It’s not like you to act alone like this.”
“I acted alone,” I say. “But I acted on Shidadi values. We’re stooping to tactics that we would have condemned in the past. Zivah’s taken vows to her Goddess. She shouldn’t have to destroy herself to win our war.”
“It’s her war too. It’s her people.”
“Maybe, but it should be her choice. If she stayed, you would have made the choice for her.”
“So instead, you and she have forced all our hands. We’ll have to clear everyone out of Dara, set up camps deep in the forests.” Gatha rubs the bridge of her nose. She looks as though she’d just fought a week-long battle. “I don’t know what to do with you, Dineas. Karu is pushing me to exile you back to Ampara. Vidarna doesn’t go so far, but he harbors his own suspicions after that failed bridge raid. You’ve always been one of my most loyal fighters, but there have been questions asked about you since you returned. I don’t want to doubt you.”
I don’t want to doubt you. That’s not the same thing as saying she trusts me, and it hurts. With my parents dead, Gatha is the closest thing to a mother I have. “I’ll take whatever punishment you give me.”
Disappointment settles over her countenance at my answer. “You’re not to leave camp from here on out without my permission. No more wandering the mountainside, and definitely no scouting of the Amparans, unless you have an escort. Don’t test these boundaries, Dineas. I can make them tighter.”
She leaves without looking at me.
Zivah’s cottage stands still and silent in front of me, taunting me with its emptiness. I have an urge to hit something, kick the walls of the cottage and yell. But
what good would it do? Zivah would still be gone. My people would still think me a traitor. If Zivah restored my memories in Sehmar City, why do I know less and less about where I belong?
There’s a rustling in the bamboo, and I reach for my sword. A pregnant Dara woman steps out into the clearing. My heart sinks when I recognize Zivah’s sister Leora. I can see Zivah in her face. They have the same eyes, and the edges of their mouths turn up in the same way.
“They say you helped Zivah leave,” Leora says.
Why does word travel the fastest when you least want it to?
Leora comes closer, stepping awkwardly under the weight of her swollen belly. “Will you tell me where she is? At least tell me whether she is safe. Will you keep news of her from her own family? We love her, and we worry for her.”
She looks so vulnerable, so utterly defenseless against anything that might come. I think of the promise I made Zivah to protect her. How foolish I was to think I could keep that promise.
Leora takes a step closer. “You love her too,” she says.
What does it mean to say I love Zivah? In Sehmar, I thought myself in love with her. I bought her gifts from the market, talked with her about anything and everything, lay awake at night thinking about what it would be like to kiss her. Now I try to talk to her and the words tangle in my mouth. I lie awake wondering if she’s alive. And yet, there’s still the memory of a kiss.
In Sehmar City, I’d implored Zivah to take a chance on love. Nothing’s promised us by the gods. Isn’t that all the more reason to love while we can? Those were the words of someone who hadn’t lived through the horrors of war. Who hadn’t watched his friends and family die, one by one, until he didn’t think his soul could fragment into any more pieces.
“Don’t give up on each other,” Leora says.
She’s still watching me intently, brow furrowed as if I were a note whose ink had been smudged, and suddenly I’m exhausted. Every single one of my battle injuries throbs in unison.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And I find there’s nothing more I can add. So I simply turn around and leave.
Umbertouched Page 11
