Shadow of the Phoenix

by Rebecca Harwell

  Nadya was about to remind her that they wanted to keep a low profile, when the figure turned into a man. Erevan, by his freckled skin and reddish hair, with a scraggly beard and a thick aura of liquor. He wore patched cotton clothes and held out a rusted pistol. His grip shook, and the barrel wobbled between Nadya and Shay.

  “Stars, we have all the luck,” Shay muttered, stepping slightly in front of Nadya.

  “Shut up! Give me your coin. All of it,” he barked in slightly slurred Erevo.

  “Believe me,” Shay said, not bothering to conceal her grin, “you do not want to rob us.”

  “That so?” He returned her smile, showing missing teeth. “It’s me and a couple o’ girls on a big scary road. No one else. Maybe you’d be able to convince me, darling, but with the trouble up north, the war and all, it gets hard for a man to make an honest living. Sorry ’bout that.” He shrugged.

  “What’s happening up north?” Nadya asked quickly, ignoring Shay’s sigh.

  The Erevan snickered and leveled his pistol. “Coin, if you want news.”

  Before she thought better of it, Nadya snatched the pistol away with a speed that drew a gasp from the would-be thief. In the same movement, she grabbed his collar with her other hand and lifted until only the tips of his boots trailed the ground.

  “Tell me,” she said quietly.

  Heat hit her skin. Beside her, Shay had drawn a small flame into her hand. “I’d answer her if I were you.”

  “What—what are you?” he sputtered. Nadya heard his heartbeat race, and the fear that oozed off him twisted her stomach. “I don’t know anythin’, I swear. Just saw the smoke rising from Storm’s Quarry, you know? Soldiers marching across the bridge. Got out of there real fast. Swear it.”

  Her fingers turned numb, and she dropped the man. He scrambled away on all fours. Nadya didn’t make a move to pursue; neither did Shay.

  “I’m sure it’s all right,” Shay said, grasping Nadya’s arm. “The word of a drunken thief is hardly anything to take seriously. He could have been seeing his own vapors, not smoke.”

  Nadya desperately wanted to believe Shay’s lighthearted words, but she could not stop the weight that crept over her. “Let’s keep moving. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we know what happened.”

  They passed many groups of travelers on the road north as the day grew longer: merchant carts pulled by donkeys with jingling bridles, families with young wide-eyed children sitting on the shoulders of their parents, single men with their faces concealed by scarves and their footsteps quick. Few other travelers made notice of them as they trekked slowly north. Those who did catch their eyes gave them a wide berth. Something in their demeanor, the stubborn determination in Nadya’s set jaw, or the dangerous gleam in Shay’s eyes, told everyone that they were not to be trifled with.

  When the final rays of sun descended behind the blurry mountains, hundreds of leagues in the distance, Shay nudged Nadya. “There’s an inn ahead, maybe half an hour’s walk. Nothing fancy, but decent enough when Jeta and I have stopped there on our way north. We should rest there tonight.”

  Nadya glanced ahead. For the first time in months, the fog around her thoughts had lifted. Returning to Storm’s Quarry brought a purpose that she hadn’t realized she lacked, and she was desperate to hold on to it. “I think we should keep moving. We don’t know what’s going on in Storm’s Quarry, and if it is urgent…” Her voice trailed off, as a thousand possibilities tore through her mind, each more harrowing than the last.

  “Neither of us will be in any position to help if we arrive exhausted,” Shay said. She spat onto the ground. “I need a hot meal. You need to sleep. I don’t care about your superhuman stamina—you are worrying yourself half to death.”

  Nadya thought to argue, but Shay’s mouth was a thin, unyielding line, and Nadya knew any debate was moot. “All right,” she relented, but her chest still squirmed with nerves. “But we leave before first light.”

  “You have never been awake before first light,” Shay teased, but her eyes didn’t carry any amusement. “Storm’s Quarry will still be standing, Nadya. We need to be at our best if we’re to do anything.”

  Nadya swallowed hard and nodded. They resumed their walk, Shay’s strong hand on her back.

  The Old Crow inn sat nestled between the road and a huge forest of evergreens. A few buildings, no doubt the homes of its workers, stood on the opposite side of the road, all built from stained pine. The inn itself was two stories, with a simple garden of flowers out front and a stone birdbath that rose up from a bush of lilacs. A wooden sign bearing The Old Crow in faded script creaked on its hinges, welcoming them to the simple establishment.

  The cider tasted sour, but the stew, made with thick cubes of boar from an old family recipe, according to the beaming cook who served them, warmed Nadya through. After finishing the hearty meal, she waited while Shay paid a few coins for a room, then followed her up the rickety stairs to a small room with a single bed and a bowl full of water for washing.

  One of Shay’s many gifts was the ability to brood in silence. She went through the motions of washing her face and stretching out with a scowl that dimmed the entire room. In fact, Nadya was certain her partner’s mood reduced the glow of the bedside candle. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “You’re angry that we’re going back, aren’t you?” She sat on the bed, and its coils squeaked under her weight.

  “Not at all.”

  “Shay, be honest with me,” Nadya pleaded.

  The other woman sighed. She finished her final stretch, wrapping each arm around her body, and then sank onto the mattress next to Nadya. “I’m not angry—I promise. I’m just…worried.”

  “About what?” Nadya asked. Shay was no coward; it couldn’t be the prospect of danger that had her on edge.

  “About you. About what this might do to you, after you’ve just gotten away from it all. And…” Shay’s voice faded. “Just—just promise me something, all right?”

  Nadya tried to reach out to Shay, but she looked away from her. “What is it?”

  “Promise me you won’t seek her out.”

  “What?” Nadya couldn’t help the hurt that seeped into her tone. Did Shay really think she could be unfaithful?

  “You are going to Storm’s Quarry to see your mother before she dies. Fine. I may disagree, but I’ll support you in that. And if you turn out to be right about your father sending a hidden missive of danger in that message, and Storm’s Quarry is actually in peril, I will help, just as I did last time. Stars, the Guard and the Nomori Elders may run us out the gate with rapiers and pitchforks. I can handle all of that.” Shay took a deep breath, and Nadya felt her lungs tremble in the still air. “But what I cannot handle is seeing the woman I love run off after someone else. So promise me. Promise me you will not seek her out.”

  Nadya reached out. Shay did not pull away as she took her hand, threading their fingers together. Holding on to her as if this connection would bring the understanding Nadya desperately needed Shay to have. She tried to find the words. “Kesali is my best friend. I’ve known her as long as I have known myself.”

  Shay’s pulse quickened against Nadya’s hand. “Promise me,” she whispered.

  “Kesali might need me,” Nadya said, moving closer until her knee pressed up against Shay’s. The familiar warmth of her partner raised goose bumps down her calf. “As the future leader of Storm’s Quarry, she might need the Phoenix.”

  The Iron Phoenix. Not Nadya Gabori.

  “Promise me,” Shay said again. A moment later, she silenced Nadya’s next breath as she half turned and then crushed her lips against Nadya’s. The sheer heat behind the kiss overwhelmed any explanation that Nadya had ready. On the bedside table, the candle flared bright, its wax sizzling and popping.

  Nadya closed her eyes. “I promise,” she whispered to Shay’s neck. “I promise.” She kissed down to where neck met shoulder and lingered there. “I promise that I love you, Shay.�
� The burning oil scent of her partner filled the air around her as Nadya acquainted herself with the stretch of skin along Shay’s shoulder. “I promise that when I chose you, I did it for real. I promise that my duty to Kesali means nothing more than my duty to Storm’s Quarry. I promise that Storm’s Quarry will not break me.”

  Under her touch, Shay stiffened. Nadya raised her eyes to meet the unreadable dark gaze that fixated on her. “Trust me, Shay,” she pleaded.

  Shay grabbed the back of her head, and Nadya let herself be yanked upward to crash against Shay’s lips once more. It was not an acknowledgment nor a pledge of trust. Both of them knew it, and neither of them cared as Nadya fell backward upon the thin mattress. The bed’s coils squeaked again as Shay maneuvered atop her, straddling her hips. Her quick fingers undid the ties on Nadya’s tunic, before pausing. “We can just go to sleep, you know. Probably should, with the day that’s ahead of us tomorrow. We don’t need to do this,” Shay added, her eyes soft and gentle, despite their arguments over the past day.

  “No,” Nadya said, running a hand up the muscled skin underneath Shay’s shirt. “I want this. Want you.” If not to trust me, then at least beside me.

  Before Shay, Nadya’s only experience had been one unfinished night with Kesali, when the fear of her strength and the guilt of Kesali’s betrothed being in the next room had caused Nadya to flee out the window. That night had been all hurried touches and soft kisses. With Shay, Nadya learned it could be different.

  With Shay, it was everything.

  There was no fear as Nadya laid a practiced trail of kisses down Shay’s spine. No hesitation that she might hurt her partner. She would always have to be careful of her strength, in the same way that Shay had to restrain the fire that churned just beneath her skin. But the bruises and the burns seemed such a small price to pay when Shay’s touches brought stars across Nadya’s vision.

  Then there was heat and fire, and smoke made Nadya’s nose twitch as the mattress smoldered. She couldn’t help but laugh at Shay’s muffled curse. “Hope they don’t notice,” she muttered, yawning. “We do need to sleep, love.”

  Nadya found herself too tired to disagree. Shay draped an arm around her, pulling her close, and she fell into the familiar embrace. Would it be the last time, she wondered with a stab of worry. Would Storm’s Quarry be enough to break apart what they had built?

  “Trust me,” Nadya whispered into Shay’s shoulder before sleep overtook her.

  * * *

  The early morning saw Nadya and Shay on the road before dawn. No words passed between them, not even the usual morning greetings. The weight of what they would find in Storm’s Quarry hung over their travels, and Nadya found no beauty in the grasslands that they passed. Only when a stone tower came into view did she jerk to attention. The tower of Eagle’s Reach, a Cressian stronghold built just on the border of their lands as a challenge, looked abandoned, but neither of them wished to take any chances. The poisons and chemicals of that place had nearly killed them when they broke in to steal what they thought had been the cure to the sickness in the well water of Storm’s Quarry. Nadya was not keen to repeat the experience, so they gave the stronghold a wide berth as they descended the ridge that rimmed the Kyanite Sea and headed for the marble bridge.

  Nadya stopped at the first hint of smoke in the air. For a moment, she wondered if Shay really was angry, that her emotions were seeping out through her nivasi gift. But while Shay’s fires smelled sweet, with a metallic tinge, this smoke burned Nadya’s nostrils, acrid and stale.

  Protectress, she begged silently, quickening her pace, please tell me you looked after them. After the people in your care. Please…

  Her prayer disappeared into silence as the city before her came into focus.

  Behind her, Shay swore, but Nadya barely heard. The world around her retreated until the only sound she heard was the harsh thump of her heartbeat. An age passed between each beat as she gazed upon the island in the middle of the Kyanite Sea.

  The great gate of Storm’s Quarry stood no more.

  Chapter Four

  Just as the great gate of Storm’s Quarry had fallen, Nadya’s knees gave out and she crashed to the ground. Bits of jagged-edged marble littered the bridge amidst cracks in its own stonework. The cracks ran down past them like veins, reaching far away from the heart that used to be Storm’s Quarry.

  Beyond the fallen gate and the rubble strewn in its wake, Storm’s Quarry lay in ruins. The smoke of smoldering fires lazily twisted among charred piles of what had once been the homes and shops of the Nomori tier. Some of the sturdier buildings, those made of the same stone as the city walls, still stood, though shakily, missing large pieces of rooftops and windowpanes.

  “We left,” she whispered, the words barely gaining enough traction to get through her rapidly closing throat. “We left them.”

  When night falls here, you and your armies will not be safe, Kesali had told the ambassador of Wintercress. If you choose war, then you will face the guardians of Storm’s Quarry: The Iron Phoenix and the Shadow Dragon. Guilt curdled in her stomach. She had vowed after Gedeon took over her mind, making her slaughter dozens of innocents the eve before the Blood Sun Solstice, that she would repay the city for that massacre. That she would use her nivasi strength to do good, to protect the people of Storm’s Quarry.

  She had failed.

  “Do not put this on yourself, Nadya.” Shay knelt beside her.

  “Then is it yours? Do you take responsibility for this?” Nadya’s eyes burned as the smoky air mixed with her tears.

  “I never asked you to come away with me.” Shay said it so quietly that had Nadya not possessed supernatural hearing, she would never have caught it.

  “Shay, I—”

  But what was there to say?

  “Never mind it. You were right. About the note, I mean.” Shay stood up. “Sitting here crying won’t solve anything. We don’t even know what happened, let alone how the walls came down. We need a plan.”

  Nadya found her footing and rose. The world swam around her for a moment before it settled. She wiped her eyes. “Whatever happened, they need us.”

  “Cannot believe I’m saying this, but they don’t need us.” Shay bent down and dragged her fingers across the stone. She straightened, drawing a dark mask around her eyes with the bridge’s dark silt. Nadya understood, pulling her hood up and fastening her mask. “They need the Iron Phoenix and the Shadow Dragon.”

  Nadya and Shay ran. Past the crumbled remains of the once-great gate of Storm’s Quarry. Into the Nomori tier, barely recognizable as the place she had grown up, its streets torn up and burned with gunpowder. Through empty streets, past emptier dwellings. Each step increased the weight on Nadya’s chest. Where is everyone? Her thoughts ran frantically, faster than even her feet could carry her through the city.

  A gathering was being held in the Duke’s courtyard on the fourth tier. The wide open space was normally reserved for speeches given by Duke, but it was not only Duke Isyanov atop the ornate dais at the head of the crowd of forlorn faces. Nadya’s heart lurched as she saw the chains that bound the Duke. And her heart fell completely as she recognized the two figures that stood at the back of the dais, guarded by Cressian soldiers.

  Marko Isyanov and Kesali Stormspeaker.

  “My father, where is he?” Nadya scanned the dais frantically. “Papa would not let the Duke be captured, not without…” Her words died in her throat. Not without giving his life to try to save him.

  Shay gripped her shoulder. “Don’t dwell on what you don’t know now. We need to get up there. A better vantage point at least.”

  Dodging civilians and the gazes of Cressian soldiers, they made their way through the crowds and onto the rooftop of a neighboring building. Nadya had to suppress a shudder. It was here that she had fought Gedeon over a year ago, and here that he took over her mind and turned her into a murderer.

  “Stay with me,” Shay muttered, squeezing her hand. Nadya gave her a g
rateful smile and refocused upon the dais.

  Her enhanced senses included uncanny eyesight, and so the scene down upon the dais was as clear to her as if she stood next to the Cressian royal guard.

  A lone figure stepped out to the center of the raised platform. Nadya’s skin crawled as she recognized the haughty smile.

  “Aster!” Nadya hissed. “She’s come back.” The serpent of a woman wore her customary floor-length white gown, which fluttered about her in the slight breeze. Even from a distance, Nadya saw the twinkle of jewels at her ears and throat, the sparkle of a tiara nestled into her blond hair.

  The councillor stood with such perfect poise that Nadya wanted to throttle her right there.

  Shay swore. “That woman will get hers.” A lash of heat flared around her. “I will make sure of it.”

  “Why did she come back?” Nadya wondered. “Why risk it?”

  “Doesn’t seem like much of a risk from here.” Shay nudged her. “What’s she saying?”

  Down below, Councillor Aster spread her arms wide before the crowds of stone-faced Erevans and Nomori.

  “People of Storm’s Quarry, we have returned to fulfill the promise that I left with.”

  Her voice echoed down the grand stairs. Those too far away from the palace tier heard through Cressian heralds, stationed along the staircase and into the lower tiers, who repeated her words.

  “To do just that, I introduce His Highness, the Crown Prince Trillium of Wintercress, favored son of the High King.” She raised her hand in a flourish, and a man stepped forward.

  Next to him, Aster looked like a pauper.

  The white-gold armor of the Prince shone in the midday sun. Delicate gold leafing edged the carved chestplate, gauntlets, and plumed helm. The shield on his back was edged in gold filigree, its crest of a three-edged leaf encrusted with sapphires. It was so unlike the simple crimson-dyed leather of the Duke’s Guard that Nadya wondered how a person could even fight in that armor.

  “People of Storm’s Quarry,” the Prince began, speaking in rumbling, near-flawless Erevo, “your salvation is upon you. In the name of my father, High King Aton of Wintercress, may the old gods bless his line, I claim this city of Storm’s Quarry for the Kingdom of Wintercress.”