Shadow of the Phoenix

by Rebecca Harwell

  Lanterns lit up the sides of the…well, it could no longer be called a tunnel. Cavern, perhaps. The ceiling, sharp with stalactites, rose far above Shay, and the cavern’s edge stretched out nearly the length of the great staircase. It sloped downward toward a central lake that glimmered in the low light, clear enough to see the blind mine-fish that scurried along its bottom. A few children splashed in the shallows under the watchful eye of an older Nomori woman who sat sharpening bayonets. Shanties sprouted up around the lake. The cavern housed a veritable town of misshapen dwellings, built of aging wood planks and primitive bricks.

  Erevan and Nomori men, lacking uniforms but carrying themselves with the immaculate posture of the Duke’s Guard, patrolled the outer walls, some stationed around the tunnel entrances that led into the cavern. Others sparred in a makeshift ring beside what appeared to be a smithy. A repurposed smelter had been poorly reconstructed, with its smoke being pumped upward through precariously fastened pipes of differing sizes. Shay’s head hurt just looking at it. The forgemaster would find someone to smack upside the head and then get to work fixing it up if she was there.

  “How many people are here?” Nadya asked as they paused in the middle of a rough-hewn path that wound around the various buildings. Nomori and Erevans bustled around them, most pausing to greet their leaders with a bow and to cast a curious eye to Shay and Nadya.

  “Several hundred. More every day,” Kesali said. As soon as they had left the others behind, the uncomfortable courtesy and formality had ceased in their words. “It started out with those wanted by Wintercress for various crimes, mostly members of the Guard. Then their families. Whispers started to travel, and many who have lost someone to the Cressian invasion have joined up, willing to do anything for a bit of vengeance.”

  Marko nodded. “This isn’t our only refuge, either, just the largest. We have a few more camps deeper into the mines, and we’ve taken over several safe houses in the Nomori tier. When the time comes, we’ll have enough of a foothold throughout the city to turn it to our advantage.”

  No one spoke for several moments. Shay glanced at her three companions. Each wore a grim expression, Nadya’s tinged with worry. That was all there was to it, Shay thought. She watched a young girl help buckle a leather breastplate onto her father, before he kissed her and left, no doubt to relieve a guardsman of his watch. They are all going to have to wage war to get their city back. No more negotiations or daring plans to thwart the enemy. Wonder if they know that.

  “Cressian forces can’t find this place,” Marko said suddenly. “They know the mines exist, and they’ve scouted them out, but our spies report that they have concluded the mines are flooded. Useless, for now. They’ll want the gemstones, of course, but not until the city is under control.”

  “But you have no plans to let that happen,” Shay said flatly.

  Marko flashed her a tired smile. “Not in the least.”

  Do you know what that means, little Duke? Do you know what you’ll have to sacrifice to bring your city any kind of future? She swallowed back any further comments. This was not her city. She had no stake in the outcome of the war.

  Well, she thought, brushing her fingers against Nadya’s arm, almost no stake.

  “This is…” Nadya shook her head. “Incredible.”

  “It’s something. Enough to give us hope that the city might be ours one day again,” Kesali said.

  Marko led them into the most stable looking of the buildings. It was a simple structure with one room and four walls that barely rose above Shay’s head. Jeta would have had to duck in two in order to get into the room. A table without chairs stood in the middle, covered in parchments and pens.

  “Not much of a headquarters,” he remarked. “I’ve only been here a few days. Already made a mess. It does the job, though. The people here have already taken to calling this place the Bulwark.”

  “A few days?” Nadya frowned. “But you were there during the Prince’s speech. You were there when…How long has it been?” she asked. “How long since…”

  Shay saw her swallow the words your father died. The young Isyanov, to his credit, did not flinch.

  “A week. Several of our operatives staged a distraction. Smoke bombs, modeled from Cressian recipes. Kesali and I got you two out of there. Dragged you to one of our safe houses. Once a physician deemed it safe to move you, we brought you here.”

  Shay tried to process his words. “You two rescued us.”

  Kesali nodded. “You’d been buried beneath rubble. The Cressians must’ve thought you were dead, but we assumed they would try to verify. With the distraction, we were able to get ourselves and you two out.”

  “Thank you,” Nadya said. She touched Kesali’s arm, who gripped her hand for a moment.

  Damn it all, even in the midst of the demise of Storm’s Quarry, Nadya and Kesali really did look perfect together, Shay thought bitterly. She couldn’t help the awful thought that it was only the young Duke who stood next to the Stormspeaker, a marriage of politics, that kept the two of them apart.

  The temperature of the surrounding air rose a bit, enough that Nadya must have noticed. She withdrew her hand quickly and cast Shay an apologetic look. Shay glanced away. She hated herself for the jealousy. Nadya chose you. Act like it.

  She was saved from having to explain herself to Nadya by the appearance of a guardsman. Former guardsman, she supposed, now that Wintercress had dismantled the Duke’s Guard and its uniform painted a large bullseye on any who wore it. The older man, salted hair slick with sweat, bowed to Marko and Kesali.

  “Apologies for the interruption, but I have an urgent message for you, my lor—Your Grace.”

  Marko waved a hand. “Thank you, Sergeant. Come, we can discuss it outside.” He nodded to Kesali and left without looking at Nadya or Shay.

  When he had disappeared around the makeshift wall, Kesali sighed. “The past week has been hard on him. On all of us, but him especially.”

  “Duke Isyanov was a good man,” Nadya agreed. “He did not deserve that death.”

  “He will be avenged. He and every other death that Wintercress played a part in. We will not stop until we have taken back our city. Every person here, from the elders to the children, is dedicated to regaining our city. But to do that, we need you.” Kesali cleared her throat, looking away from Nadya to Shay. “Both of you.”

  There it was. Shay’s inner fire rose with each word Kesali uttered. It raged and crawled at her insides, shouting with the anger that she did not dare show. She clung to the anger, because it was easier to deal with than what lay beneath: hollow sadness. An emptiness that had simmered inside her since the messenger first approached them in Kipperwell. From that moment, she knew their life on the road together approached its end. Storm’s Quarry was insistent on swallowing her lover up in its madness.

  “Of course,” Nadya said.

  Shay spat out at the same time, “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

  Shay felt the heat rise to her face as both Nomori women looked at her, Nadya in surprise and Kesali in resignation.

  “What do you mean? We have to help. Storm’s Quarry…” Nadya’s voice trailed off, as she must have realized that appealing to Shay’s loyalty to her birth city would do no good. “Shay, we promised. We swore an oath to protect this city.”

  “You swore an oath.” Shay’s words came out before she had even considered them, and instantly she wished to take them back. Not because she had lied, but because of the sudden pain in Nadya’s eyes, the flash of disgust and anger. Aimed at her.

  “You came back. You saved the city, Shay.” Nadya reached out to her. “You overcame your past and the hatred you harbored for Storm’s Quarry. We swore an oath together, the moment we put on our masks. We pledged to protect the city. You were part of it, Shay.”

  “For you!” Shay grabbed Nadya’s hands. She ignored the audible breath that Kesali drew, stealing the air from the already stifling room. “I did it for you. Not for them. It is y
our oath, not mine.”

  “So what does that mean?” Nadya whispered, voice shaking.

  Shay opened her mouth but hesitated. What did it mean? she wondered. Since arriving in this war torn place, the sadness that had plagued Nadya’s step seemed to have lifted, and purpose sparked in her eyes. How could Shay deny her that? She cursed all the gods, living and dead, as her mind froze and no words came out.

  “Nadya.” Marko’s voice cut through the moment, breaking any chance that Shay might explain.

  If she found the words, that was. How can you reassure her when you do not even know yourself? The voice took on the tone of Jeta, and Shay tried to push it back to focus on whatever new crisis Marko surely brought.

  The instant she hard Marko’s voice, Nadya dropped Shay’s hands like they burned her. Maybe they had.

  The new Duke stood in the doorway, face grim. Shay could not tell if the message had borne terrible news, or if this was the new countenance of the heir to Storm’s Quarry. She had barely known him before but admired the fire he had. Nadya had always spoken well of him too, and she would not wish the loss of a loved one in such a violent way upon someone with his courage and heart.

  “I need to speak with you. The message I received concerns you,” Marko continued, oblivious to the strained emotions in the small room.

  Nadya frowned slightly. “What is it?”

  “Not here.”

  “I trust Shay. We both trust Kesali.” Nadya crossed her arms. “Any message for me can be said in front of them.”

  “Not here,” Marko repeated, and his words now carried a slight edge.

  Shay did not want Nadya provoking a fight on her behalf. At least, not over this. “Go on. If it’s as exciting as the princeling is making it out to be, you can tell me of it later.” She nudged Nadya forward.

  Nadya glanced between her and Kesali, obviously not wanting to leave them alone together.

  I’m not about to set her ablaze, Shay wanted to say but thought better of it. The royals, or their loyal subjects, might take her jest seriously. She did not, as Nadya no doubt did, hold on to the hope that no one knew of her being nivasi. Caution, however, would be prudent. Jeta would like that, so she settled for, “I will behave. Promise.”

  Nadya nodded, gave her a strained smile, and followed Marko out. Suddenly, it was just Shay and Kesali in the all-too-small Bulwark.

  Kesali stared at her, making no attempt to hide the way her iron gaze fixed upon Shay’s face. Shay tried looking elsewhere. The floor was worn down, hundreds of paces having packed the earth tightly. The room’s two lanterns flickered nearly in tandem. Shay felt each movement of their flames as her own fire hummed along.

  Finally, when she could not take the intense silence anymore, she remarked, “Even deep underground, Storm’s Quarry still finds a way to be hot and humid. Don’t know how you do it.”

  “I know the truth,” Kesali said, ignoring her attempt at flippancy.

  Shay nodded. She, unlike Nadya, did not expect that her abilities nor her vigilante identity would stay a secret. It did not take a scholar to guess that the Nomori child exiled for her nivasi blood and the Shadow Dragon were one and the same. Even so, she did not intend to give Kesali the satisfaction of confession.

  “Nadya and I haven’t been hiding it. We’ve shared a tent on the road for some time.”

  The queasy look on Kesali’s face gave her no small sense of victory. “Not that—I knew that. I—that’s not what I meant.” The Stormspeaker did not often trip over her words, and it took some time for her to get righted. “Your powers. Your blood. Nivasi blood. You are the Shadow Dragon.”

  “Genius,” Shay said. “Of all the fire-caller nivasi to choose from, you realized it was me.”

  “This is no joke. I hid the armor you two wear away in your bunk for Nadya’s sake. To keep her secret. Not yours.”

  “I am not laughing, Duchess.”

  Kesali shook her head. “You take nothing seriously, do you? Not your forbidden powers, not your city’s fate, not the pain you cause her—”

  Shay’s grin disappeared. She held back the fire that roared up at the jabs from the Stormspeaker. “I do not cause her pain, Your Royal Highness,” she said, letting the title roll off her tongue as insultingly as possible. “I’m not the one who wanted to lock her up in a closet, to keep her as a pet one brings out when you get tired of your noble husband or when your city needs saving.”

  “I would never—”

  “But you did.” Shay enunciated each word with a sharp hiss. She knew she did not deserve Nadya, that her angry past and violent tendencies only ever pulled down the good-hearted Nomori woman. She knew she was given to flares of jealousy. Despite all that, Shay had never abandoned Nadya. Had never forced her to make such a choice. Kesali could not claim the same. “You asked it of her, and she nearly gave it to you. You might be surprised to learn this, oh, wise Stormspeaker, but you cannot always have everything in life. You tried, and you lost.”

  Kesali’s hands shook ever so slightly at her sides, the only outward sign of her anger that she let on. Shay had to admire her control.

  “You think Nadya’s affections are a prize to be won?” Kesali threw back at her. “Just like everything with you, isn’t it? We have to buy the help of the great Shadow Dragon to save her own city. Is nothing sacred to you?”

  Shay clamped down the cold fury that threatened to overfill her chest and spill out in waves and waves of white fire. Even so, translucent flames raced up and down her arms. Kesali took a step back. Her mouth opened slightly, and the blood left her face. Shay bit her lip. The pain focused her. She stalked toward the makeshift door. Resting her hand on the door frame, she half turned. “Let us make one thing clear. I do not care about this city. I do not care what happens to its people. All I care about is Nadya. I am here for her, nothing else, and I will fight for her, and nothing else.”

  Shay withdrew her hand, leaving a smoking print on the wood, and left the Bulwark of Storm’s Quarry’s final resistance.

  Chapter Six

  Nadya let herself be led away from Kesali and Shay, muttering a prayer that they would not kill each other, and into the wider cavern. In the midst of the shanties, makeshift barracks, and smithy, she felt as if she was in a town. If not for the spiked ceiling above, this could have been one of the small, destitute March villages she had traveled through in the past months.

  “It really is amazing,” she found herself saying.

  Marko looked at her, eyes heavy. “It is. A miracle, even. A bit of hope, like she said,” he added of his wife.

  Wife. Nadya rolled the odd thought around in her mind. That would take some getting used to. You made a choice, she reminded herself sternly. Do not give any credence to Shay’s notion that you still love Kesali.

  Even if Shay refused to stay and fight for the city they had pledged themselves to. Bitterness curdled in her stomach. That she had pledged herself to.

  “Your Grace!” A young Nomori girl ran up to the two of them. She gave Nadya a curious look before bowing to Marko. “Your Grace, the smithy’s piping is acting up again. Alla said to come see you.”

  Marko sighed. “Again? Tell her I will assign one of the craftspeople to it as soon as they are able.”

  She bowed again and ran off.

  “I’m not used to it yet,” he remarked suddenly. “The title. It was only ever my father’s. Theoretically, I knew I would inherit it one day, but I never pictured any but he upon the throne.” He shook his head, the edges of his eyes shining. “Still don’t.”

  “Your father would be proud. Of you. Of this.” Nadya reached out to give him a comforting touch on the arm, but Marko flinched away.

  She recoiled instantly. Beneath the echoes of the cavern, she heard his heartbeat speed up. Nausea rose in her stomach. How much had the new Duke of Storm’s Quarry seen at his father’s execution? How much did he know? She had awoken without her armor or cloak, any indication that she might be more than just Nadya
Gabori, truthseer of the Nomori.

  Nadya cleared her throat. “You said you had a message for me?” she asked in an attempt to get both of them focused on the present.

  “From your father.”

  Her breath froze. “Is he…” Did Marko have her father’s final words for her? Nadya felt the dirt floor shift beneath her feet. It took all her strength to remain standing as the walls suddenly began closing in around her.

  Marko watched her, his expression oddly detached. “He’s alive.”

  “Oh.” She found her breath. “Alive? You’re sure?”

  “Hard to be sure of anything now, but the message he sent is not yet a day old.”

  “Where is he?” she asked quickly. “Has he seen fighting? Was he attending the Duke’s speech?”

  Marko raised a hand. “He is safe for the moment. He’s commanding the resistance in the lower tiers. My father ordered him there, and I doubt Shadar will ever forgive him for it. He wanted to be there, during the speech, to protect my father.”

  “Of course,” Nadya whispered. Her father’s blood ran thick with loyalty, to family, to his people, to his city and his Duke. She had feared the worst when he did not appear when the Crown Prince of Wintercress forced Duke Isyanov upon his knees; only a direct order or death would have kept him from fighting at his Duke’s side in that moment.

  “For all his loyalty, he lied to us. To the man he pledged his service to.” Marko’s voice took on uncharacteristic distress. “Over and over again, he spat lie after lie at us.”

  Her breath left her as if several bullets had struck her chest, knocking the air from her lungs. Nadya tried to make sense of his words as a coiling feeling of dread rose in her chest.

  He knows.

  “I don’t—” Nadya tried to say in a feeble attempt to dissuade him, but Marko cut her off.

  “Do not keep lying to my face, Nadya. You know exactly what I speak of.”