by AB Bradley
Iron screamed for his companions. The flock—no, the swarm—quickly drowned his voice.
He and Batbayar charged deeper into the basin, each turn and twist farther into the cliff’s shadow showcasing structures in greater disrepair.
One of your friends is really the enemy, his paranoia whispered. They’ll betray you and kill the ones you love, just like their betrayal killed the others.
But who? Sander would never doom himself to the High King, much less throw away the years spent hiding Iron in the wild. Kalila didn’t have the wits for betrayal. Iron remembered the torment and the rage in Ayska’s eyes after Caspran murdered her crew. No one with that much hate for the serpents would ever help them. Iron knew little of Nephele and supposed she might have hidden allegiances, but Caspran came to Spineshell long before he ever met the woman. He was missing something. There was an answer there, screaming for discovery, but he just couldn’t see it.
Dammit. Now’s not the time to let this get you! Iron dashed into an alley lined by broken doors, some empty, some covered with tattered veils. A swift dove between the alley’s adobe walls and cut a burning scratch down his exposed bicep. He whipped out and grabbed its leg, smashing it to the ground and crushing the screeching animal beneath his heel. “We’ve got to find cover!”
Batbayar seized Iron’s collar and flung him through a doorway as he plucked one of his browned gourds from its leather strap. “Blessed is the Shining Child, for through her all light shines!”
With those words, he crushed the object and hurled it into the flock. Blinding light burned the sky. A blast rocked the air. Fire rained over the alley. Smoke rushed into the dilapidated building as Batbayar barreled through the doorway waving smoke from his eyes.
The priest smiled, his teeth white as a crescent moon tipped on its belly against cheeks layered with ash. “Not even Caspran’s swifts see through smoke and flame. Let his dead swifts feed the people for weeks! Hah!”
Iron coughed as he charged into another alley. People spilled from other doors, frightened to the streets by Batbayar’s explosion. They flooded past Iron, shoving and pushing as he fought them. “Ayska, Sander! Where are you?”
Ahead, a doorway covered with rubble burst free of its debris. Kalila tumbled out, shoving frightened townsfolk more easily than Batbayar handled Iron. He exhaled and waved, shoving through hard shoulders, wide eyes and open mouths.
“Kalila, over here! Kalila!”
Their eyes met. For an instant, the spark in hers flared bright through the tunnel of her stupor. She smiled as a child might smile at a puppy, and the spark faded. The woman lurched into the doorway and plucked her sister from within it. Sander and Nephele tumbled out next, looking with panic at the sky.
Iron shoved past the last sweaty strangers between him and his friends. He grabbed Ayska and kissed her, and her lips embraced him. Her gaze wrinkled into a scowl on Batbayar, and she pulled away. “Who is that?”
“Batbayar!” Nephele called, her eyes alight. “You fat Kerran fool, what ever are you doing in this rotted town?”
“Maybe you know the future better if you chose the Child over the Lover, you prissy Eloian hellcat.”
“Prissy? Why, someone’s been studying their Common. Last I saw you, you could barely put three words together.”
“I can do four now,” he said with a wink. “It is death to go by the southern gate, but this fat Kerran fool has secret ways from this rotted town unknown to even serpents!”
Batbayar stampeded to the head of the line and motioned for them to follow. Ayska looked suspiciously at his back, but Nephele and Sander had no problem racing behind the man.
“Caspran’s here,” she said.
“I know.”
“If I see him—”
“I have a plan,” Iron cut in. “If you trust me, I have a plan.”
“Of course I trust you.”
Those words stung. She might not once he set his plan in motion. “I know his weakness. Let me make the first move. Protect Kalila and everything will be fine.”
She started to speak, but he tugged her along. “No time to explain, let’s go!”
He, Ayska, and Kalila darted after the others. What swifts remained—and many remained—recovered from the explosive shock and blotted the sky once again. They wheeled in great ribbons overhead, their call drowning cries and panicked screams. Batbayar tore through a now empty lane so fast, the rest had trouble keeping pace. Even Iron found his heartbeat thrashing against his chest and his lungs aching from the sprint.
They turned and twisted through lanes and alleys. They bounded over rubble and leapt over unkempt fires. Swifts caught sight of their prey and shrieked in a flock so thick sunlight came in fleeting spears.
Behind them, Iron heard the angry shouts of soldiers and the clang of city bells. Ahead, the towering cliffs dwarfed the tallest ruins built against them. “How are we supposed to get through that?”
Ayska tossed a braid behind her. Sweat beaded in diamonds on her rich skin. “The desert gate is a tunnel that ascends through the rock to the sands. I have no idea how this friend of yours plans to get us to safety out of the Old City unless he’s got wings stashed away somewhere.”
“He said he’s got a way. If he really is a priest of the Shining Child, he’s telling the truth.”
Ayska’s jaw clenched. He squeezed her hand, but she pulled away. Great.
“Almost there!” Batbayar bellowed. They’d come so close to the basin wall that it forced the flock away from its imposing face. Slabs of sandstone formed vertical tiles darkened by the shadow they threw over the Old City. Hundreds of feet high the basin rose, like the titans had uprooted a mountain and left a crater in the desert.
“One tunnel leads out of that?” he asked. “A titan couldn’t even climb that wall.”
“Some people say that’s exactly why they built the city against it,” she said. “One tunnel to lead them out, a great basin to keep the First Sun’s monsters within.”
Just in case the titans returned. Men were good at fearing long dead things. Once, Iron would have laughed at the thought. If what he learned of the Serpent was true, maybe their ancestors knew more than their descendants remembered.
Batbayar rounded another corner. Iron and the others sprinted after, and they spilled into a great courtyard backing against the mighty sandstone wall.
Their strange guide skidded to a halt in the center of the courtyard. A line of squat adobe structures clustered like toes where the basin met the ground. Their black windows stared blankly at the dirty, sweaty band clustered over the broken plaza’s stones.
“Hmm.” Batbayar scratched his patterned scalp. “They should be here.” He whistled, and the sound pierced even the shrill chaos of the swifts.
Dread prodded Iron like a knife pressed against his back. His instincts cried a warning as he whipped Fang from its scabbard and faced the city.
A wall of fire rose against the sky. Roiling black smoke cast a curtain against the blue as orange flames reached for the heavens. The Old City burned. So would the people in it. Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands.
Like a phantom from a nightmare, a figure strolled into view atop one of the taller adobes before him. Flame and smoke framed his figure with their careless hunger. Glints of silver rotated in a lazy circle behind his hooded face like a starry halo.
“Caspran.” Iron squeezed Fang’s grip.
“Fireborn!” Caspran’s voice bellowed like a war drum through the courtyard, vibrating through every brick and stone. He didn’t know if Caspran knew the truth, but someone had taught him the title. At the very least, the High King knew what Iron was.
“End this, Caspran!” Iron thrust his arm out as Ayska took a step forward. He stopped her advance, but the poison in her eyes betrayed how close she flirted with maddened rage.
“Remember,” he said, knowing full well she might hate him for what he was about to do.
“He killed them,” she answered, fighting his h
old. “I hate him.”
Think—he had to think. “Let me make the first move. Be a loyal sister and keep Kalila safe.”
“Be loyal?” The fire in her eyes extinguished, her chin dipping. What Iron saw then gave him pause. He hadn’t just extinguished the flame, he’d beat it a hundred feet into the ground.
Ayska stepped back. “I won’t abandon her.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Fireborn!” Caspran’s shout rattled Iron’s ribs. Behind the alp, the flames feasted on the Old City like starving men at a banquet. “The time has come. My master awaits. You can go no farther. Surrender, and some of them may be spared.”
“You’re a bad liar, Caspran. You’ll kill them all, just like you killed my other friends. I don’t—won’t—ever believe a word you say.”
Caspran’s shrill cackle had the same effect on Iron’s skin as a rash from frost ivy. “Oh, Fireborn, you think you’re so intelligent, don’t you? Why would I lie to you, the one the High King has sought for so long? You above all others on Urum are precious to him. I would not dishonor my master by polluting your thoughts with lies.” The alp shook his hooded head. “The Sinner’s man behind you, now he is a different story. He is the liar among you.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sander hissed. “He only wants to drive a wedge between us.”
“That wedge has been there for a lot longer than I’ve known Caspran’s name.” Iron took a deep breath and held a palm toward Sander. “Now be quiet and let me do this.” He stepped forward without waiting for his master’s reply. “You say the High King wants me. Does your word mean anything?”
“Ignorant man child, my word is worth ten thousand human souls and ten times their flesh’s weight in gold. I am alp. You are vermin. The High King wants you alive, so living I’ll take you to him. This I swear on the Serpent himself.”
“Good.” Iron had to smile at that bit of Irony. Caspran clearly didn’t know what Iron learned at the shrine.
In one smooth motion, Iron pressed his free hand against Fang’s pommel, locked his elbows, and angled the sword away from Caspran and toward himself. Fang’s tip pointed against the soft flesh beneath Iron’s jaw. “Then if you even try and hurt my friends, I’ll kill myself.”
The others gasped like a choir inhaling just before the first note. The razors rotating behind Caspran’s head slowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Iron, don’t be stupid,” Sander said.
“You can’t do this!” Ayska screamed. “Iron, you can’t let him take you from me too. Stop!”
“I don’t have a Kalila of my own.” As he spoke, the blade punctured his skin. A line of wet warmth slid down his throat and soaked his leather vest. Funny that Fang should finally be sharp wielded against its own bearer. “I’ve got nothing but a useless sword and a master who never wanted to raise me in the first place.” Tears weighed against his eyes and gave the flames behind Caspran an oiled sheen. “I have no family. I have no friends. I am alone. I’ve always been alone. Even around others, I am alone. I know I’m different. So do they. I’ll never be part of something. Why should I care if I die?” He pressed the tip harder against his skin. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t care. If my death at least saves another, then I’d die a thousand times.”
“Iron…” Nephele’s voice rolled soft as silk.
“I don’t even worship the Six. I hate them. I hate them because this is my burden. They’ve left me to fight this war for them. I know their shame, what they’ve done, and forgiving them is too much. It’s just too much.”
“Then don’t fight it.” Caspran raised a hand toward Iron and made a fist. “Join us. Join your High King and learn the Serpent’s wisdom. Together, we can raise the Serpent Sun and end the old gods’ tyranny for eternity.”
“I’ll never join that madman. He’s just as bad as the Six! He doesn’t care who lives or dies. The truth is, there shouldn’t be any gods on Urum! You think you’re special because the Serpent’s given you power, Caspran, but the truth is, you’re not special. You’re just like any other priest of the Six, and you know it. You are just. Like. Them.”
“I am nothing like them!” Caspran vaulted from the roof. He flipped several times before smashing onto the plaza, a plume of rock and dirt bursting around him, the stones beneath him a web of cracks. “How dare you, Fireborn. How dare you!”
Iron tightened his grip on Fang. “Run,” he told them as he closed his eyes. He would miss Ayska. He would miss Sander. He would miss them all, but at least in death, he would find some peace and hopefully end the cycle of this war.
A force slapped his blade. Fang raked a cut beneath his jaw but only just broke the skin. Iron opened his eyes to see Batbayar’s angry snarl on his face and hand wrapped around Fang’s steel tongue. “Stupid boy, so petulant and selfish. You take our lives by taking yours, elchgharat.”
“Let me do this!”
“No.” Batbayar’s knuckles whitened on the blade. Blood seeped from his palm like a wet rag twisted. “I have survived too much to die here before this shotgoch. If you were a man, maybe I let you die here. But you are still a boy, and a boy named Iron has much to learn. Come. We leave.”
Caspran strolled toward them as Batbayar yanked a gourd from his leather strap and squeezed, spreading cracks along its tanned surface. Without a second look at the alp, he tossed the gourd and kicked it at the priest.
The explosive whistled across the plaza. Caspran smirked and caught it, examining the object more out of curiosity than anything.
Batbayar yanked Iron away. “Move!”
The others stood dumbfounded for a moment. But when Batbayar lurched forward, they followed. A blinding flash lit the plaza. Air slammed against Iron and nearly tossed him from his feet. Caspran’s scream shook the stones nearly as hard as the explosion.
“I hire protection for us,” Batbayar said. “But I guess no protection comes. I have another way. I always have another way.”
The man rushed them into a building built against the cliff. In a room filled more with sand than anything else, he shoved his hand into the dirt and yanked open a trap door. Crude stairs spiraled deep into a basement, where they ended at a shoddy tunnel sloping upward.
“This goes to desert. I raise greyhorns just outside city. My desert greyhorns will see us across the sands to Ker.”
“Did you dig this?” Nephele asked, peering into the tunnel’s black throat.
“I told you I have been waiting. I do not lie. I have had much time for digging. Now go!” He stood at the mouth and motioned for each of them to head up the tunnel. Iron went last. Batbayar gave him a disapproving look.
Iron barely noticed. His plan had fallen apart. He’d planned to sacrifice himself for them to end this war and save the ones he loved, but the ones he loved didn’t want him to leave. Now, he’d have to face them. They would be angry. Anger wouldn’t begin to describe Ayska.
Only he could see Fang’s light. That made the tears staining her cheeks even more painful as she wiped them from her face in what she thought was total darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Simmer Go the Sands
It didn’t take long to reach Batbayar’s pasture on the outskirts of Athe. Here where the city met the desert, minuscule oases dotted the landscape. Batbayar made an oasis of his own and built quite a herd of desert greyhorns. The beasts had shorter hair than the greyhorns in the Everfrosts, and instead of ashen coats, theirs was more of a ruddy variety. Like the greyhorns he knew, males grew two long horns that swept before their dark snouts and curved nearly into a perfect circle. Females grew only two small nubs, although despite the males’ imposing horns, females were the more difficult mounts when it wasn’t mating season.
Behind them, a wall of smoke blackened the sapphire sky. “He’s not finished with us,” Iron said.
Batbayar grunted and pulled a large greyhorn over to him. “This is correct, which is why we leave now. I know the way through the Simmering Sands. There are s
mall pockets of green and blue in the sea of dirt. We will survive.” He tossed Iron a strap weighed with two flagons of water and motioned to the beast. “Take your mount.”
The others had already taken to greyhorns. The words he’d just spoken with Batbayar were the first he exchanged with anyone since they escaped the Old City. He sighed and bounded onto the beast. It grunted and shuffled to the side, but Iron kept his balance. They formed a line with Batbayar leading and Iron bringing up the lonely rear, and together, the quiet party fled Athe.
Warm winds blew from the south and washed his cheeks with sand. A sapphire sky formed a perfect, crisp dome over the dusty waves, the only thing to mar the blue a burning eye slowly sliding from one horizon to another.
Sweat plastered Iron’s clothes against his skin. It glued sand onto every conceivable part of his body. At first, he fought the desert. After the sixth day of traveling, he accepted its filthy kiss and retreated into his thoughts as the animals trudged from one dune to the next.
Despite the heat, a chill frosted the space between him and his companions. Sander floated like driftwood around a whirlpool named Nephele. Every so often, Iron would catch his master’s wounded gaze flick toward him. Ayska kept to her sister. He feared speaking with her the most. Their distance left a bitter taste in his mouth. She just couldn’t understand why he’d done it, why he’d take his life to save hers. The bitterness swelled that awkward space between them until even thinking of it made him angry. Iron no longer knew what they were, and that made everything about them awkward.
His paranoia and suspicion compounded against the backdrop of a silent wasteland. All evidence pointed to betrayal. All evidence pointed to a spy, and only Ayska made logical sense.
“We will reach first oasis soon,” Batbayar said. The man’s shadow blocked the sun from Iron’s eyes as he slowed his mount until it trotted next to Iron’s.
“What will we find there?”
Batbayar shrugged and slapped his greyhorn’s neck. “Snakes. Hares. Water. Trees. Rock. Sand—always sand.”
