Conqueror's Blood (Gunmetal Gods Book 2)

by Zamil Akhtar

  The Tower would eventually come down, so only a few brave warriors remained within to fire cannons at the palace, and of course, at the Glass District.

  In the meantime, I wanted to know more about the black tunnel, so I asked a rider to awaken Eshe and bring him here. I waited outside by the entrance and watched the rising sun streak red across the clouds.

  This was my home, and now war engulfed it. I couldn’t help but feel for everyone huddling in their hovels, hoping it would soon end. The same folks I saw every day for the past eight years. And yet, it wasn’t just Zedra making them suffer. By fighting back, I too was guilty, though I hoped to spare them whatever catastrophe she’d planned.

  What was the alternative? To run away? I wouldn’t, ever. Qandbajar was mine as much as anyone’s, and I was here to stay. This was my home, and I resolved to die than be chased out again.

  Eshe arrived on horseback, a kabab skewer in his hand. He munched it upon dismounting. When was the last time I’d eaten?

  “You better?” I asked.

  He nodded, mouth full. After swallowing, he looked up at the Tower and said, “Didn’t I tell you not to kick this bag of scorpions?”

  “Wasn’t my idea…but I can’t say I protested much. Telling me not to do something is a sure way to make me do it.”

  “You’re self-aware. I like that.” He wielded the now bare skewer like a sword. Jabbed my shoulder with it.

  I raised my hands. “I’m unarmed.”

  “Are you?” His mischievous smile warmed me. From his pocket, he took out another skewer, the heavenly scent of mutton, onions, and cumin wafting off the kabab within the wrapping.

  I grabbed it, threw off the wrapper, and took a meaty bite. Tender, juicy, and filled with flavor — just like how they made them at the Grand Bazaar. “This’s a Sirmian kabab,” I said, mouth full and dripping. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Saw a few open stalls on the way. People still have to earn and eat. War and all. Paid twenty times the usual, given what your locusts did to the crops and grazing grass.”

  “It’s damn good.” After devouring it, I ran my fingers over the empty skewer and licked the juices off them.

  He raised his skewer to eye level and wielded it straight at me. “We going to duel, or what?”

  I chuckled. “You’re in a good mood.” Was he still feeling the lightning of our near-death flight?

  He lowered his skewer and scowled. “I shouldn’t be, though. Look around. This city…the people…it’s just getting worse for them, isn’t it? The Disciples have a saying, help others and you won’t need to help yourself. But now…it’s like we’ve turned that on its head.”

  “I want to end this awful trouble, too. Which is why…Eshe, there’s something you need to see.”

  I’d left the book — Melody of Flowers — near the Tower entrance. I picked it up and handed it to him.

  He shuddered. “This is what I transcribed, from memory, for them. Though, I don’t recall this being its title. It was much dryer — Flowers and their Properties by Tamor. I rather like this new title. Melody of Flowers — so much sweeter. Anyway, why, of all things, did they leave it here?”

  I hunched my shoulders.

  Next, I showed him the iron staircase that led to the tunnel of black fog. None of us had gone down yet, the Jotrids remarking it was home to cursed tribes of jinn.

  Eshe’s eyes widened. “Labyrinthos. The gateway to hell.”

  “Gateway…to hell? But the Philosophers took their books and inventions and marched through there, to wherever it leads.”

  “I read a book, once, about a man who claimed to have charted it. According to him, it has openings throughout the earth, and once you learn to navigate it, you can cover a month’s journey in an hour.” He shook his head. “But the dangers…the jinn down there leech on men’s minds. If you can’t find your way…the suffering is untold.”

  I shuddered at the thought. Perhaps the man whom Zedra called Father Chisti knew the way through and so guided the Philosophers to some other place. “So I’m guessing you don’t suggest we go inside.”

  “Well, I won’t tell you not to go inside because then you just might.”

  I gave him a wry smile. “I’m not that foolish.” I recounted how Zedra soulshifted into Elnur’s body and how she called the man in the flowery cloak Father Chisti.

  Eshe laughed…too nervously for comfort. “The bitch is howling at the moon.”

  “She must be crazy. You’re right. But still, by manipulating her, that man is responsible for all this. For what happened to me. For what’s happening to my home, as we speak. He’s responsible, and he needs to be stopped.”

  “But we don’t even know who he is. What he’s capable of. When the Philosophers brought me here, they showed him so much reverence. Wouldn’t look him in the eye, would keep their heads bowed and never show their backs, as if he were their king.”

  I sighed. It all seemed so strange. Litani was the Grand Philosopher, so how come they had a king that even he revered?

  “Eshe, when you got arrowed in the stomach, do you remember when I took your hand?”

  He shrugged, all jittery. “I was in tremendous pain. All I remember is seeing the Morning Star.”

  “I took Pashang’s hand, the night we rescued you. I think…when I really want something, the Morning Star hears me. Or rather, when we really want something.”

  “I don’t know how starwriting works. Had I known, perhaps I could’ve stopped Aschere.” He smiled at me. “All I know is, you’re not like her.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “In what way am I not like her?”

  “She led a Crucian army into a Latian city,” he pointed at the black fog below us, “through Labyrinthos, might I add. She caused untold suffering, indescribable slaughter.”

  Through Labyrinthos…if she could navigate it, then why couldn’t I? “Eshe…are you so sure that I’m not like her? That I wouldn’t do things that lead to suffering and slaughter?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see you that way. I…” He hesitated.

  “Maybe…maybe your love for me blinds you…to what I truly am?”

  He shook his head again, more vigorously. “No…you’re kind. When the Philosophers took me, you joined with your enemy to save me. When I got shot with an arrow, you shielded me with your own body.” His eyes watered. “Bloodwriting, starwriting…some of us are cursed with these powers. It’s not the power that’s evil, it’s what we do with it.”

  But…what wouldn’t I do with it? Did Eshe not see what I saw in myself? I was indeed self-aware, like he’d just said, and so knew how impetuous I could be, how disdainful. Perhaps that was why the Order of the Magi required fanaa from seekers of their power.

  I slid my eyepatch off, then held out my hand. “Let’s try. Let’s see if we can light the way.”

  Eshe smiled at me, nodded, and took it. We held hands. It was…nice.

  “Is something supposed to happen?” He stroked his beard. “Or do we just wait?”

  No…I’d forgotten…I needed to pray. I hadn’t even told Eshe who I was praying to, that I was committing the worst sin of our faith that would undoubtedly doom my soul.

  Perhaps that reveal was for another time when we weren’t trying to enter the gate to hellfire.

  I pictured the black sky — the darkest thing I could — and prayed for it to light the way.

  Something twinkled by my ear. At first, I thought it a green star, but it had tiny wings that buzzed: a firefly. It flew into the tunnel and, where its light went, the fog seemed to clear. More appeared, coming from the air itself and streaming into the black cave.

  Eshe’s jaw hung. I, too, couldn’t believe what I’d just summoned. Couldn’t believe how easily my prayer was answered.

  “Let’s go?” I asked, looking into Eshe’s wide eyes.

  He gulped, his palm suddenly sweaty. “Not going to lie. This is pretty fucking terrifying. We’re relying on insects to guide us through the gate
to hell.”

  “Insects brought us through Qandbajar’s wall…”

  “Good point.” He rubbed his cheek. “We’ve watched so many suffer, for what? What was Zedra trying to do? I suppose…all the answers are in there, with that man, and we need those answers as much as we need breath.”

  Full agreement. I had to know what all this senselessness had been about. Why I, and so many, had suffered.

  We gave Melody of Flowers to a Jotrid on guard, instructing him to give it to Pashang for safekeeping. Then we clasped hands and took the first step down. Cold air engulfed my feet. Oh Lat…it was not only dark but freezing.

  Above, a cannon shot screamed through the air, whizzing by just outside. Kyars had resumed firing on the Tower.

  “If they succeed, the Tower will fall on this entrance,” Eshe said. “We may be sacrificing our lives for these answers.”

  Worse than that, I didn’t want to be cold. Not now. Not ever.

  “We need to see this through,” I said. “If we go back out there, to the war, we won’t know why we’re fighting. Who we’re fighting. That man…it all leads to him.”

  Eshe sighed. “You’re much braver than the girl who came to my brass throne, in what feels like forever ago.”

  I could only smile at the memory.

  “But,” he said, “it could be a trap, couldn’t it?”

  “Wasn’t it a trap, also, to come back to this city? We could’ve stayed in Zelthuriya or gone anywhere else and just moved on from what happened.”

  “But Cyra, they say getting lost in Labyrinthos is a fate worse than death.”

  “Never knowing is worse than death, too. Zedra was my friend, once. That man tricked her. Turned her against me. Made her murder Tamaz. Then he tortured you.” I clenched my fist. “I’ll not have it!”

  The fireflies floating in the cavern seemed like green stars pulsating against an oppressive black sky.

  Eshe gulped. “What if…what if he has something to do with Aschere, too?”

  “Unless we find him, we’ll never know.”

  A firefly landed on my shoulder. Then more on my head and across my arms and legs. They did the same for Eshe, and, with their somber glow, they warmed us.

  We shared a resolute nod. Together, we descended until we stood in the cave itself, surrounded by what looked and smelled like tar.

  Eshe touched the cave wall and came away with stains. I shivered as frigid whispers scathed my ears — the fireflies could only warm me so much. But we were inside now, and I resolved not to turn back.

  So on we went through the cave, guided and warmed by the green bugs. I wouldn’t let go of Eshe’s hand, and he wouldn’t let go of mine. Until we saw something: a wood-bound book lying on the ground.

  Eshe picked it up and dusted it. A firefly landed on the cover, illuminating the title: The Melody of Nora.

  I touched my chin. “Another melody? Did the Philosophers, perhaps, drop it while they were escaping?”

  We flipped through it together: empty page after empty page, until we came upon a picture of seven stars surrounding a single eye — written in blood.

  Eshe gasped. “By Lat…this can’t be what I think it is.”

  “Something wonderful, I hope?”

  He shook his head. “This is a memory rune. It transfers memories between people, replacing your own. Entire lives of memories. In Tinbuq, the now blood-flooded capital of the Golden Kingdom, the Philosophers would use these runes to inherit lifetimes of knowledge. And worse…it can only be written with saint’s blood, angel’s blood, or god’s blood. Three of the rarest flavors.”

  “So…I assume we shouldn’t touch it.”

  “We don’t know if it’s active or not, so we shouldn’t…unless, you know, you hate yourself and wouldn’t mind being someone else…whoever’s memories are baked into that rune.”

  I rubbed my forehead; a headache was coming on. “But whose memories are they?”

  “Nora, I suppose…whoever that is.”

  “Nora…as in Saint Nora? From the unbreakable statue in the Glass District?”

  “Obviously not her. I’ve met dozens of women named Nora. Nay, hundreds.” Sure he had. “Common enough name.”

  Eshe flipped to the next page. Another bloodrune lay on it, but this one had four stars, and the eye was sideways. “All right, this is peculiar — also a memory rune, but this one is less powerful. It makes you experience a particular memory and doesn’t erase your own.”

  I scratched my head. “So…it’s safe to touch?”

  “No, not at all. When that man tortured me, he used the same kind of bloodrune. He was showing me a memory…and making me live it. This could be a trap for the curious.”

  It was all so utterly unbelievable. We flipped through the rest of the book, but the pages were bare. Best not to linger in the gateway to hell, so Eshe tucked the book into his caftan, and we moved on. Finding that was a good sign we were getting somewhere, at least.

  The ground declined and turned moist, as if we were stepping on a thin mud layer. We slowed and tightened our handhold, wary of sliding.

  “Whatever happens, we can’t get separated,” Eshe said. “In all the stories I’ve read, that’s when it goes badly.”

  A bird squawked and fluttered by, making us duck. Black feathers: a drongo. Did birds really live in this cursed place!?

  Eshe said, “Y-You know, they say the jinn who live here have daggers for nails. They take the form of birds, sometimes.”

  Could I see them if I removed my patch, like I’d seen Marada in the sky? I didn’t want to find out, but I had to know, so lifted it slightly…

  Faces formed in the tar. Big, twitching eyeballs. Wide mouths, silently screaming. Above, to the right, to the left: eternal pain surrounded us. This wasn’t a gate to hell…this was hell!

  I tugged on Eshe, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “What?”

  I pointed to the wall, then realized only I could see them. I slipped the eyepatch back on, and the faces disappeared. The curiosity hadn’t been worth it.

  After I caught my breath and sanity, we continued through the tunnel and reached an open area. A black sky stretched above, with rocks and hard stone beneath our feet. Were we on a mountain…in a cave?

  We followed the green fireflies toward a cliff’s edge. I stepped on something hard and ball-like. I picked it up and brought it to my eye: a bullet ball casing. More were scattered about. By Lat, had a battle happened here?

  Eshe tugged my shirt.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I see something.” He pointed it out.

  A thin rope dropped from the sky in the distance. As we got closer, the fireflies perched upon it. I could scarcely believe it: a ladder rope was hanging in the air, leading up to…something so high, we couldn’t see it.

  “Gate to hell…” Eshe snickered. “Ladder to heaven.”

  “We can only hope.”

  An icy gust blew by my ears. Cold crept through my arms. I wanted out, and that ladder seemed the way. The fireflies climbed it, as if goading us.

  Eshe rubbed his hands together. “Thanks for sweating all over my hands.”

  “Certain it wasn’t you sweating all over mine?”

  He squeezed the rope ladder. Pulled it. “You find this quality of rope on hastily built reed boats.”

  “So…you first?” I grinned. I wasn’t the best climber; perhaps him going first would help my confidence.

  “Right, me first.” He stepped on the first rung, then heaved up. The rope barely shifted with his weight, which was a relief. He climbed several rungs, then gestured to me.

  I took a resolute breath and followed him. Seemed I was stronger than I thought and could balance my bodyweight. But how high did this thing go?

  What the hell were we even doing? Surely coming here was one of the worst ideas I’d ever conceived and among the poorest choices Eshe had made. But those weren’t comforts waiting for us in the world above. Besides, when ha
d my prayers led me wrong?

  “Oh, some advice,” Eshe said, pausing momentarily. “Don’t look—”

  “I know!” I used to climb hills with my mother as a child, so wasn’t entirely unused to heights. “Don’t stop!”

  As we climbed, the fireflies surged upward and sat on…the sky? No, a roof. They formed a circle, as if blazing a way through. Though I yearned to hurry into the sky, I had to be careful; falling now would certainly be the end.

  Chirp-peep. I turned to my left; wings fluttered past my right ear. Peep-chirp. Black feathers.

  A little girl giggled below.

  I swallowed. “Eshe…you hear that?”

  “You too? Did someone’s daughter get lost in here?”

  More flutters. I swung my head left and right: nothing but shadows. Shadows in the form of birds, swirling around us.

  “Hurry up!” I said, my palms sweaty. So, it was me.

  “I’m going as fast as I safely can!”

  Finally, Eshe reached the circle of sky where the fireflies blazed; I pulled just below his feet.

  “Push it up,” I said. “It might be a hatch or something.”

  He pushed against it. A blinding light scathed my eyes; I shut them, but the light poured through my eyelids.

  Eshe continued climbing. I followed, blinking at the intense, milky light.

  No more rope to grab. Eshe stood next to me, on solid ground. I pushed off the wood floor and onto my feet.

  Strangely, that brightly burning light was gone. Instead, the fireflies throbbing around provided sight. Piles of books sat around the room. Eshe grabbed one while I looked for a door.

  “What the hell?” He showed me the spine.

  Angelsong was written in Paramic. “The Ethosian holy book?”

  Eshe nodded. “Didn’t see too many copies of these in the Tower. If it’s in Paramic, it must mean we’re still in Alanya.”

  “Do you think we’re still in Qandbajar?”

  “No way to know aside from exploring wherever we are.”