Shazad’s eyebrows went up. I stepped back.
‘I’ll tell you what.’ Shazad turned towards him. ‘Why don’t you come and face me? Anyone who can land a blow can take over this training.’ A small audience was gathering by now. Everyone who’d ever seen Shazad fight knew exactly where this was going. The rebels were elbowing one another slyly as the boy stepped forward, looking all too confident.
‘Doesn’t seem like a fair fight to me,’ the boy said, too lightly. The boy was at least twice Shazad’s weight, broad where she was slim – slimmer still, after her time in Eremot.
‘It’s not even close to a fair fight,’ Jin commented from the sidelines. We’d all formed a circle now, watching.
‘Oh, my friend.’ Sam clapped the boy on his back. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘My loss?’ The young idiot said.
‘Of your dignity.’ He gave him a rueful smile before stepping back to stand next to me.
The challenger lunged at our general, all ungainly fists and brute force. Shazad moved like a blade through water, going for his clumsy legs. She danced under his fists easily, her foot catching him in the ankle. And just like that he was on the ground and she was on top of him with a knife at his throat. The fight had lasted less than three seconds.
‘And now you’re dead,’ Shazad said.
‘That’s not fair,’ he wheezed, fighting for breath against the knee pressed into his chest. I got the feeling she was pressing a little harder than she strictly needed to. Pressing a point home.
‘You’re the one who said it wouldn’t be a fair fight.’ Shazad got to her feet, sheathing the knife. The boy stumbled to his feet as well. I realised he was going to lunge for her again a second too late to shout a warning. But Shazad didn’t need one. She grabbed his hand as it closed on her shoulder, dropping to her knees, tipping him off balance as she went down. His own anger worked against him as he tumbled over her body and on to his back, slamming down hard again.
‘Besides, war isn’t fair.’ Shazad turned away, leaving him coughing in the dust. ‘But if you want to see a bit more of an even fight …’ She glanced around the circle, eyes finally landing on Jin. She summoned him forwards with a nod. He stepped into the makeshift arena with her, pulling off his shirt as he went. Across from me, among the line of new recruits, I saw one of the few girls who’d stood up to fight for Ahmed dash her eyes down to her feet, embarrassed, before looking back up quickly, eyebrows travelling up her forehead. Jin looked impressive enough with his shirt on, but without it, he was a wall of bare, lean muscles and tattoos against Shazad’s smaller frame. He rolled his shoulder, making his compass tattoo shift across his skin.
I stuck my fingers in my mouth, letting out a high whistle. Jin laughed, casting me a wink over his shoulder. I couldn’t remember the last time things had been so easy between all of us, the last time we’d been together like this. Not fighting for our lives, just living.
‘If they kill each other –’ Sam slid into the space Jin had left next to me – ‘does it mean you and I can finally stop these games and be together?’
Neither Shazad nor Jin moved straightaway, both eyeing each other at a safe distance. I’d seen them fight separately, but never one another. They’d trained Ahmed together, I remembered. Back before the Sultim trials, when he’d faced Kadir. They knew each other’s fighting styles. Neither one of them was going to strike in haste.
Shazad moved first, a straight lunge through Jin’s defences. He slammed an arm hard into hers, forearm deflecting as he aimed a blow for her side even as she twisted away from him. Breaking apart before they clashed together again. Before even catching her breath, Shazad aimed for Jin’s jaw, while he ducked out of the way, gaining a brief advantage as he dodged to her left before she dropped and rolled away from the blow that came her way.
They fought like a blur. She was quicker. He was stronger.
In the end, it happened so fast I almost missed it. Shazad snaked behind Jin, ducking under an arm as he swung, his knife suddenly out at his throat. Plucked from his belt without him ever noticing it was going.
Without thinking, my hand danced to Zaahir’s knife at my own side, the levity suddenly leaving me.
But Jin laughed as Shazad released him, tossing his blade back to him. ‘Anyone else?’ Shazad asked, spreading her arms wide. Nobody stepped forward. Whatever else it might take to train our new recruits, I didn’t think Shazad would have to worry about them following her lead.
‘Blue-Eyed Bandit,’ Samir called, eyes sparkling in the way of someone who didn’t really understand that fighting meant blood. Meant death, not adventure. ‘Are you going to fight her?’
‘Now that wouldn’t be a fair fight,’ Shazad said.
‘No,’ I agreed, and when Shazad turned around, she was staring down the barrel of my gun. I winked at my friend. ‘It wouldn’t.’
Shazad pulled something out of her pocket: an orange, harvested that morning from the chest buried in the mountain. She tossed it up in the air, a high arc. I tracked the thing with the barrel of my gun all the way to its highest point. And right before it began its descent, I fired.
The orange fell to the ground, a mess of pulp and shredded rind.
‘Now,’ Shazad said, turning back around to the recruits, ‘let’s start again. Who thinks that they can shoot like Amani?’
*
‘Will they be ready by the time we reach Izman?’ Ahmed asked that evening. Shazad had run everyone ragged before she finally released them to go to the prayers that Tamid was leading at sunset.
Tamid stood where, just a few days past, I’d seen my brother bless the gathered men and women. He led them in prayer for Noorsham’s soul, long may it defend us. And for the safety of those who had stood up to fight with Ahmed.
It was strange watching him; he seemed at home. Like standing in front of our people, our families, was where he had always been destined to be. I’d thought we were both too crooked to fit in this place. But he belonged here in a way I never had. Or never wanted to.
I belonged with the Rebellion.
Instead of going to prayers, the Rebellion gathered in a small tent propped up against one of the few remaining walls of what used to be Sazi. The last of the daylight filtered red through the tent casting a flame-like glow across our faces.
With all of us here, it was like a faraway echo of something familiar. Of our old camp and all the times we’d gathered like this to make a plan. Except now, everyone looked like shadows of themselves. Ahmed, Shazad and Delila were worn ragged. Smudged with pain and exhaustion, and something else, too: the first-hand knowledge of the suffering the Sultan was putting this country through. Of what one man could do to all of us from on high. Of what it would mean for those who lived if we lost this war, those we left behind under the rule of a man who had sent hordes of people to Eremot.
We were like a faded picture in a book that had lost a lot of its gilt.
‘Do you think we should take the new recruits with us?’ Ahmed asked.
‘I don’t think we can afford to turn away any extra able bodies,’ Shazad said.
‘Even if they’re extra bodies to feed and supply?’ I could hear the question Ahmed was really asking: Even if we might just be leading them to their deaths?
Our general cast a fleeting glance my way before she carried on quickly. ‘Assuming we can shut that machine down then this is a fight that’s going to be won on numbers.’
‘Hell, we might need them before we get into Iliaz. What with the new foreign friends Bilal has been making.’ It slipped out irritably, though I hadn’t meant it to. Rahim and Ahmed both looked at me blankly. They hadn’t been gone all that long, but a whole lot of Miraji had changed in that time. I’d been leading this rebellion, and now I had to give that power back to Ahmed. I’d thought it would be a relief. I guess I’d gotten a little used to the weight while he’d been gone. ‘Things have changed while you’ve been in Eremot. And you know, it might not kill you f
rom time to time to talk to someone who knows about this desert.’ The words were coming out in a torrent now, my accent getting thicker as I went. ‘For one, I reckon I could’ve told you how the people here would react to us returning without Noorsham. We might’ve spared Delila needing to save all our necks. And another thing I can tell you is that Iliaz is crawling with Albish. They’re looking to make an alliance with the Gallan and move on Izman together. And the way I see it, if two of our enemies turn on us at once, we’re done for. Whether we can take that throne or not. We won’t hold it.’ Ahmed listened to me, pressing a knuckle against a spot at his hairline as I told them what they had missed. That to get to Izman we would have to get through Leyla’s inventions and our foreign enemies. That Iliaz was occupied. I pointed at Rahim. ‘Your Lord Bilal is helping, too, giving them passage through the mountains, and if we don’t get this right, we’re going to find ourselves facing more enemies than we can handle before we even see the city.’
‘My men are following orders,’ Rahim said defensively. ‘They’re not traitors to their country.’
‘We’re all traitors to our country,’ Jin pointed out. He was sitting with one knee propped up, his arm slung lazily over it, but his focus wasn’t to be mistaken. He didn’t trust Rahim. Not even if Ahmed and Delila were treating him as their brother. Not even if he was Jin’s brother, too. ‘We need them to be traitors for us. What happens if they’re not as loyal to you as you think they are?’
‘Why don’t we worry about that when we get there?’ I interjected, breaking up this fight before it could start. ‘How the hell are we going to get there?’
‘We use one of our new friends from Eremot,’ Shazad said, without missing a beat. ‘Haytham Al-Fawzi. He is – was – the Emir of Tiamat before he started sheltering rebel sympathisers and wound up jailed for it. His brother is ruling in Tiamat now, but the city belongs to him, rightfully. I reckon we can take it back.’
‘And it’s a seaport,’ Jin completed, understanding. ‘You want to sail to Iliaz from Tiamat.’
‘It will be easier than travelling north on foot,’ Ahmed said, trying to make peace. ‘We can dock in Ghasab and get to Iliaz from there.’
‘I’m not so sure I want to go back to Iliaz,’ Sam interjected, making sure Shazad heard what he was saying. And how could she not – we were all cramped so close together in here that our knees were touching. ‘What with how I almost died there.’ He puffed out his chest a little.
‘Half the people here have almost died in Iliaz,’ Rahim informed him tersely.
‘Amani only almost died because you shot her,’ Jin interjected, making Sam snort under his breath. I glanced around the circle, catching Shazad’s eye roll as I did. But she wasn’t who I’d been looking for. I realised that without meaning to, I’d been seeking out Hala. Expecting her to interject with something that would cut the bickering boys down to size.
‘The only people who aren’t coming to Iliaz are people who are behaving like children,’ Shazad snapped. ‘Because I don’t train children in my armies.’ A quick silence fell over the tent as Shazad took control. ‘Now, here’s what we’re going to do.’
Chapter 29
The city of Tiamat never stood a chance.
It took us almost two weeks of walking to get to the sea. It would’ve taken half that time if we hadn’t stopped quite so often.
When the Rebellion was somewhere near recovered from Eremot, we finally made ready to move. We packed as much as we could carry, as much as Sazi could spare, splitting it between the twins and the people who were on foot.
Finally we were as ready to leave as we were ever going to be.
But not all of us were leaving.
Tamid decided to stay behind. I’d known he wouldn’t be coming with us, but it was unsettling to walk away without him all the same.
‘You could still come with us, you know,’ I said on the morning we prepared to leave. ‘We could use someone to patch us up on the road.’ He was good at what he did. I’d watched him bandage Rahim’s bloody nose a few days past, when Jin had hit him in the face as they were demonstrating something to our new recruits. Ten days in Sazi and those two weren’t getting along any better.
‘I belong here, Amani.’ Tamid leaned heavily on his false leg on the unsteady ground of the mountain face. ‘I always have.’ I could tell his mind was elsewhere. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ he said finally. ‘Go back there and …’ Die. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. ‘If you stayed—’
‘I have to go, Tamid,’ I cut him off. ‘I belong with them.’ I offered him a wan smile to take the sting out off the words. ‘I always have.’
He nodded. And I knew he understood without really understanding. The same way I understood he had to stay here even if I’d never really understand why he wanted to. So we just stood in silence on the mountain. Waiting until the moment our paths would take us far apart. Probably forever. It was early morning, and it was colder up here. A small shiver went through me. To my surprise, Tamid reached out and put his arms around me awkwardly. My one-time friend. If I was going to die in Izman, it was nice to know that we’d forgiven each other at least.
We all said our goodbyes. Some eyes filled with tears as families bid farewell to the men and women who had joined us. There were about three dozen of them in the end, adding to the hundred or so we’d rescued from the mines. A few of the people who had come out of Eremot had decided not to go any further with the Rebellion. They were too broken by the prison to fight any more fights.
‘Amani.’ Aunt Farrah stopped me as we turned to head down the mountain. I tensed. Whatever she had to say to me, she’d waited until the absolute last minute. Which couldn’t mean anything good. Shazad noticed and stopped next to me, like she was standing guard at my back. I was grateful for her. But Aunt Farrah’s face wasn’t full of venom this time. ‘Shira –’ I heard the pain it took her to say her dead daughter’s name – ‘she had a son?’
‘She did.’ I nervously adjusted the strap on the pack of supplies I was carrying. Aunt Farrah was more family to Fadi than the Rebellion was; she was his grandmother. She had more right to raise him than we did. But he was a Demdji, too. I couldn’t just hand him over to be raised here like I had been, ignorant of what I was. Like Noorsham had been, a bomb of sheer power waiting to explode. If she asked me for her only daughter’s child and I had to refuse her … well, then I might just be leaving her on even worse terms than I did last time. But still, I couldn’t stop myself from adding, ‘She named him Fadi. After her – our grandfather. Your father.’
‘If you—’ Aunt Farrah started, and then she bit off her own words, like she was struggling to get them out. ‘I’d like to meet my grandson someday, Amani … if that’s possible.’
I waited, but there was no threat, no demand, no belittling of me to get what she wanted. I hesitated before replying. ‘I don’t know—’ if I trust you with him. ‘I don’t know how things are going to turn out here. We’re at war.’ Chances are I’m not going to be alive to bring him to meet you.
Aunt Farrah nodded stiffly. ‘I know. But will you try?’
That I could give her. That was a promise I could keep. ‘I’ll try.’ I turned away quickly before I could see the hope spark on my aunt’s face, when I knew trying might not be good enough.
*
We headed down from the mountain and towards the railway tunnel that cut from western Miraji into the east, through the middle mountains. Haytham Al-Fawzi was anxious to reclaim his city. All of us were anxious to finish this war.
On the way, we passed through both Juniper City and Massil, the place where Jin and I had joined a caravan back when I was barely the Blue-Eyed Bandit and he was just a foreigner. Not a Demdji and a prince. I hadn’t known then that the Djinni they told the story of here, who’d flooded the sea with sand, was my father.
There, standing in the same pit in the middle of town where Jin had once fought to prove his prowess to the Camel�
�s Knees, Delila told the story of Prince Ahmed again, like she had in Sazi, images that matched her words spilling from her fingers. By the time she finished, we had another half dozen recruits. Most of them were young men and women who belonged to the crumbling city, but a few split off from their caravans to fall into step with us. Leaving their travelling clan wouldn’t be looked on well, but they were taking a chance and handing their lives over.
A day after Massil, we crossed through the railway tunnel that led from the desert into eastern Miraji. We started at dawn, moving as quickly as we could. We all knew that it wasn’t a good idea to wind up under the mountain in the dark. And we made it to the other side before night.
Barely. The sun was setting as we stepped out.
It had been months since we’d lost the rebel camp in the attack, but for a moment as we emerged on the other side of the mountain, I thought I wasn’t stepping out of a tunnel but through the secret door.
Instead of desert sands, the valley that stretched out below us was emerald with rolling fields of grass. This was another Miraji, a thousand miles away from the one I’d grown up in, it seemed. Trees hanging with the last of the summer fruits dotted the landscape between field after field, and the air smelled of rain. Abruptly, the twins were off, bursting into the shapes of two hawks and plunging down the valley, racing, their loud screeches filling the air.
South-eastern Miraji was dotted with farming villages, and we stopped in every single one we passed. In each village Delila told Ahmed’s story, and in each one new people joined us, packing up their supplies to fall in line behind the hero of Miraji, the Rebel Prince brought back to life. Before we’d made it far, the story had spread ahead of us, shape-shifting as it went.
They said Ahmed was chosen by the Djinn to save Miraji. He had been brought back from the dead and remade by the very hands of the creatures who had made us. He wasn’t wholly human in some eyes. As we passed through towns, people came out of their houses to pray to him, to call out to him, just to see him. And always, some joined up with us.
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