by Kat Ross
“Which clan is Sakhet’s?”
“They worship Khaf-hor.” He sighed. “I have always wanted to see the Isles of the Marakai. Each fleet has its own island, with a harbor and a temple where they keep their treasure. I cannot imagine who would be fool enough to rob the Marakai, but they take no chances. It’s said the temples are guarded by half-human, half-Marakai mercenaries called the Medjay. They wear the hides of sharks they have killed with their own hands, and take their pick of the weapons given as tithe to the Marakai.” He grinned like a boy. “Jeweled daggers and gilded swords and the exotic throwing weapons of Tjanjin. No one knows what happens to all the treasure, for the Medjay are as discreet as they are ruthless and loyal.”
Nazafareen smiled back, listening with half an ear as she watched Darius chatting easily with the captain. She hadn’t told him the full truth when she said she’d adjusted to the bond. It was very distracting to have him occupy a corner of her mind. The initial darkness had faded, she suspected because he was rested and had more control over himself, but it still lurked there. She wondered what exactly had happened to him in Delphi. He refused to speak of it except in general terms. Other than the chafing at his wrists, ankles and neck, which had mostly healed, he showed no lasting physical damage. She would have felt it through the bond. So whatever pain they’d inflicted was of a different sort.
Guilt stabbed her, as it did a hundred times a day. If she hadn’t left him behind, none of it would have happened. Her old self might have been wiser. Nazafareen sighed. As well wish for her hand to grow back. What was gone was gone. But the future was not yet written, and she vowed to do better. To control her temper.
Speaking of which, the captain had begun to glower impatiently by the time Kallisto and her Maenads hurried up the wide esplanade running along the docks, their arms laden with packages. Once aboard, Cyrene tossed one to Nazafareen.
“Fur-lined cloak and hat,” she said. “You’ll need it when we reach the Isles.” She blew out a breath. “Wasn’t easy to get. The Marakai don’t need such things, and the locals would probably go naked if the magi let them. Apparently, no humans ever go to the Isles. The tailor thought we were mad.”
It hadn’t occurred to Nazafareen that it might be very cold where they were going. The Danai forest, which was the only part of Nocturne she knew, was much cooler than Solis, but she’d never needed more than a light cloak.
“Thank you,” she told Cyrene, who nodded absently and joined her sisters below.
Kallisto had already arranged for extra stores of dried meat, bread and fresh fruit to be brought aboard since the Marakai ate only raw fish and black kelp they pulled up from the deep. Now that all the passengers and freight were loaded, the captain bellowed orders and a light breeze filled the sails, though they were still only half-raised. A crewman untied the mooring line. Nazafareen’s hand tightened on the rail as the great ship glided smoothly away from the dock on a fresh current that pulled her out to sea. As they picked up speed, Nazafareen thought she glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye. A reddish shimmer. She scanned the deck.
“Did you see that?” she asked Herodotus.
He blinked. “See what, my dear?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose.” Nazafareen linked her arm with Darius, who had come to stand beside her.
Small fishing vessels filled the harbor, bobbing next to the much larger Marakai ships like ducklings among swans. The current drew the Chione unerringly through the forest of masts. Partway out, a pilot boat came alongside to escort her to the harbor mouth.
“Protocol,” Darius explained. “The captain says the Marakai don’t need one, but the Persians insist on it. It’s a reminder that this is their port and their rules.”
“So they’re using the power?”
“Oh, yes.” He watched the crew intently. Six of them stood at the bow with the captain. They didn’t seem to be doing anything special, but Nazafareen understood they were working the water somehow.
“The captain says I’m the first Danai she’s ever had aboard,” Darius said. “My people are not very adventurous it seems.”
“What else did she say?”
“That we will have fine weather for at least three days. Beyond that, she cannot tell. It seems they can read the weather but only to a degree. And the region around the Umbra is the most mercurial.”
Nazafareen thought of Javid’s wind ship. Mercurial indeed.
“Do you know how to swim, Darius?”
He laughed. “Yes, and so do you. But neither of us would last long in the waters of the Austral Ocean. They’re too cold.”
“I suppose I would rather freeze than drown if it came down to it,” she replied after a moment.
Darius pulled her closer. “You will do neither, I promise, Nazafareen.” He pointed to the three black fan-shaped sails. All bore the image of the faceless Sat-bu, her myriad arms flailing. “You see the horizontal stays? They keep the sails from tearing under high wind conditions. And the wood of the hull is special too, strong as iron.”
Nazafareen looked at the sails doubtfully. They still seemed a bit…flimsy.
“Is Sat-bu real? Will she protect us?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But Captain Mafuane is real and so is her crew. They're all strong in water and air both. And the Marakai have sailed these seas for generations.” He gave a wry grin. “I can’t promise a smooth journey, but I think they will deliver us whole at the end.”
They reached the harbor mouth and the Chione shouldered through a rolling swell. The pilot ship peeled away and turned back for shore.
“How do you feel?” Darius asked, eyeing her askance.
“Fine.” She frowned. “Why?”
“You used to get seasick. Rather badly.”
“Oh.” The ship climbed and then coasted down another trough. It was an odd sensation but not unpleasant. “Perhaps I’ve changed.”
She felt his relief. Then she flushed, understanding.
“Did I…did I make you sick too?”
He grimaced. “Horribly.”
Nazafareen burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. But you needn’t worry.” She gave her stomach a whack. “Cast iron.”
“I think I’ll go below,” Herodotus murmured next to them. He did look a little green.
“Lie down with a cool cloth on your forehead,” Darius advised. “And have a bucket ready.”
Herodotus nodded grimly and staggered for the stairs leading to the cabins below. Nazafareen spread her legs for balance, but found she liked the fresh wind on her face and even the motion of the ship. It was a bit like riding a horse, although one that was trying to gallop in several directions at once.
Susa dwindled behind as they sailed due south rather than hugging the shore, as Nazafareen expected. The captain said dangerous shoals lurked in the waters along the Westfjords, the jagged fingers of rock that marked the boundary of the Gulf of Azmir, and no Marakai ship would go near them though it added considerable distance to the journey. At last, the Chione turned east and the sun sank lower on the horizon. Nazafareen shivered.
“I think I’ll head below to try on the warm clothes Kallisto bought,” she said.
Darius nodded, his eyes on the darkening sky. She felt sadness in him. Soon they would enter Nocturne.
“I won’t be long,” she added quickly.
Nazafareen found her cabin and untied the package. The cloak was midnight blue and lined with thick sable fur, soft as a cloud. She wrapped it around herself and felt the chill in her bones melt away like sliding into a warm bath. Her cabin was small but tidy, with glossy wood paneling and a cedar chest to keep her things in. Thick quilts covered the narrow bed. Two square windows gave a view of the cobalt waves. Nazafareen lay down, thinking only to rest for a moment, but nestled in the delicious cloak, her eyes soon drifted shut. She woke to a soft knock on the door. She knew before she opened it that Darius stood outside.
“We’ll be entering the Umbra soon,” he said.
His cheeks were flushed from the wind, his blue eyes bright. Nazafareen stood aside and ushered him in, closing the door behind him. His presence filled the small cabin.
On the journey, they’d camped on the roadside in a group. In Susa, she’d shared a room at a crowded inn with the Maenads. This was the first time they’d been alone together since the wrenching moment of the bonding, when both had been too exhausted afterward to do more than collapse into slumber.
“I don’t mean to intrude—” he began, and his uncertainty touched her heart.
“You’re not. I…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to be with you when the bond breaks.”
He studied her for a moment. “We still have time. An hour perhaps.”
“What shall we do?”
His lips curved in a smile. “I don’t know.” Darius’s eyes slid to the cuff around her stump. “But why don’t you take that off?”
“The bond won’t snap?”
He shook his head. “Only death can break it. Death and the darklands." His face shadowed. "Or if another wore it.”
She fumbled with the cuff for a moment, then set it atop the chest. She felt his shallow, swift pulse, felt her own match it. Nazafareen cleared her throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted.
“Why did you want me to take it off?”
“So it doesn’t hurt me if I touch it by accident.”
“By accident, eh?” She raised an eyebrow.
A smile played on his lips. “I want to show you something.”
He moved closer, fingers brushing the fur-lined hood of the cloak. Nazafareen was forced to tip her head back to look at him.
“It’s a rather interesting side effect of the bond. Unintentional, I’m sure. The magi frowned on…fraternizing between humans and daēvas.”
“Did they?” she asked faintly.
“Very much so,” he murmured. “It was considered the most wicked thing imaginable.”
“Oh my. Tell me more.”
“Well, just as we share emotions and sensations, when they are direct—” He paused to kiss her temple. “Like so, the experience is…enhanced.”
“I see what you mean,” she managed. For Nazafareen felt not only the kiss on her own brow, but how Darius himself reacted to it. “That is…most wicked.”
“A sin of the highest order,” he agreed, loosening the cloak so it fell to her shoulders. His hand cupped her neck. “If the magi only knew how far it could go, they would die from apoplexy.”
Nazafareen sighed at the tingling warmth.
“Have we…tested this before?”
She laid her hand on his broad shoulder, traced the lines of his back through his thick cotton shirt.
“Hmm, yes, but not nearly as often as I wished. Fate has torn us apart too many times.”
He pressed against her, both hard and soft, and then the bed was behind her knees. She sank onto it. Darius knelt before her and laid his cheek against her breast. “Nazafareen,” he said softly. “My North Star.”
“Hurry,” she whispered, feeling a desperate need to seize this gift before it vanished.
The bond still burned bright between them as she cupped his face and kissed him properly. It pulsed as they discarded clothing with unseemly haste, hurling it every which way so that his pants ended up dangling from a lumen crystal and her tunic ripped down a side seam. It flowed from him into her and back into him again as they tangled together, laughing and touching and tasting, greedy for each other, frantic at first, but then again, more slowly.
“The magi made the cuffs?” she asked, as they lay in each other’s arms.
He made a drowsy noise.
“Then those rotten old men were good for something after all.”
Nazafareen listened to his soft breathing, and the sound of the waves knocking against the hull. How beautiful he was, the fading sunlight picking out strands of gold in his dark hair. She must have been mad to abandon him—though if she hadn’t, they might never have been bonded again. He’d paid the price for both of them. Paid it to the Pythia with a pound of flesh. Nazafareen felt her temper start to simmer.
Darius had been reassured to learn her breaking magic wasn’t as deadly poisonous as it had been in the Dominion, though she’d glossed over the sickness she felt after using it. Now the power stirred, as if it knew it would soon be snuffed out.
Nazafareen didn’t want to leave his side, but her throat ached with thirst. So she slipped out of his arms, wrapped herself up in the fur cloak and went in search of a cup of water. The sun was just touching the rim of the sea as she climbed onto the deck. She watched it slowly bleed into the west, knowing it wouldn’t appear again until they left Nocturne. It was a bittersweet feeling. Her bond with Darius would break, but she would be free of her power. She didn’t like what it did to her. How it made her change.
“Excuse me, but where’s the drinking water?” she asked a passing Marakai, who was bare of tattoos save for a single thick grey tentacle coiling around his neck.
He gestured to barrels lashed tight against the raised cabin where the captain stayed. Nazafareen found a tin cup tied to a cord and dipped out a mouthful. She refilled it as the last molten sliver vanished in a greenish spark. All three moons seemed to grow more luminous at the sun’s final departure. Streaks of rose still tinted the western sky, but the Chione was approaching the edge of the Umbra. It loomed ahead, twilight fading gently to velvety darkness. A handful of stars glimmered on the horizon.
Nazafareen felt the bond begin to weaken, felt Darius slipping away from her. She quickly rinsed the cup and hurried back to the hatchway. The light grew dimmer with each moment. She pushed past another crewman in the narrow corridor. Anxiety clawed at her chest. It’s too soon. We didn’t have enough time. Not enough….
She threw open the door to her cabin. Darius lay there, sleeping peacefully, his good arm flung above his head. Moonlight spilled through the window in a square across his bare chest. She let out a breath of relief—and blinked. The skin of her scalp tightened. The faint sense of wrongness she’d been feeling for days solidified into a screeching alarm.
Too late.
Something crouched over him. If it hadn’t turned its head to look at her, she might not have seen it at all.
Chimera.
Darius didn’t stir. For a heart-stopping moment, she feared he was already dead. How could he not sense the creatures? Then he gave a low murmur and rolled to his side, a lock of hair falling across his eyes. She realized she was seeing him through the chimera. When it shifted, his face blurred slightly.
For a long moment, she simply froze. A shaft of moonlight glinted on teeth. Do something. Nazafareen reached for her power, for the breaking magic she’d summoned on the steps of the Acropolis, but it had been seeping away since the instant the sun dipped below the horizon. Only a bitter residue remained. She could detect the flows binding the creatures, but they were slippery and indistinct.
Her eyes darted to her sword, carelessly lying in the corner. Another squatted there, a shadow amid shadows.
She felt the one on the bed staring at her. If she moved for her sword, it could tear Darius’s throat out in an instant. And iron had done no good last time anyway.
One chimera between her and Darius. One between her and the blade.
There had been three before.
Where was the last?
It didn’t make a sound. Nazafareen felt the displacement of air, something streaking toward her, and Darius was suddenly on his feet. She hadn’t even seen him move. Wind roared in her ears. Her sword quivered, rattling in the scabbard. It flew across the cabin and slammed into his palm hilt-first just as hot carrion breath tickled her cheek. Steel swept past her face. She stumbled back, slamming into the cabin door. Too dark to see anything now.
He tried to shield her with his body. The sword whistled and cut, Darius wielding it two-handed now, the infirmity caused by the bond fading though not gone. She could still sense weakness in his l
eft arm. And then the chimera were dragging him down, savaging him on the ground with needle teeth, and a red rage descended. She was a burning torch, a clenched fist. She was the hand of death. The Stranger.
For a single heartbeat, she saw the chimera clearly, the bottomless despair that gave them form. For a single heartbeat, her power sizzled and surged, fed by raw fury. Nazafareen slashed the knot of throbbing veins at their core. The creatures gave an ear-shattering howl. She smelled the stink of old blood. Heard a liquid crunching sound.
Nazafareen dragged Darius into the corridor just as three Marakai sailors came running up. She didn’t even realize she had the sword in her hand until it pressed against the first one’s throat.
“Get a healer,” she growled. “Right now.”
He backed away, wary eyes locked on her face. A veil of scarlet hung across her vision. Darius stirred weakly at her feet. Nazafareen looked up as Captain Mafuone strode toward her.
“Drop that sword,” snapped the captain.
Nazafareen’s jaw set. “Heal him first.”
They glared at each other.
“I could kill you where you stand, mortal.”
“Then try it.”
The captain shook her head.
“I do this for him. But you’re off my ship as soon as we reach the Twelve Towers, girl.”
The Marakai sank to one knee beside Darius. His eyes were closed and he leaked blood from a dozen places. Vicious bite marks punctured his skin. She laid a hand on his chest.
“What did this? We felt the power being used.”
“Chimera.”
Captain Mafuone looked up in alarm. “Where?”
“They’re dead.” Nazafareen’s hand tightened on the hilt. “Just heal him.” She tamped down her anger with a great effort. “Please. He’s not gone yet, but he will be soon.”
“Dead how?”
“I have breaking magic,” Nazafareen admitted.
The captain’s dark eyes narrowed, but she turned to Darius. “The wounds are deep. But healing is drawn from water, the Marakai gift.” She cradled his head with one hand. Darius gave a shuddering gasp, sweat bursting from his skin. So much blood…. He was bathed in it.
