“Be aware of your surroundings at all times.” Amira sends another shock through my shackles. “First rule of fighting, remember? You didn’t even hear me come into the armory tonight.”
A stitch runs up my side as I try to catch my breath. “I didn’t know I had enemies to fear here as well.”
In the very next instant, I have to duck and roll across the floor, dodging a jet of light she sends my way, burning away the tail of my braid. Rising back to my feet, I react on instinct, throwing the dagger the way the Yudhnatam mistress once taught us, surprising myself when it misses Amira by a hair, forcing her to spin out of its way.
“Not bad.” She picks the dagger off the ground and twirls it. I barely have a moment to dodge the beam of green light she aims at me. “Even though throwing away one of your only two weapons without hitting your mark is a stupid thing to do during battle.”
My fingers curl around the hilt of the other dagger, feel the ridges and curves of the shells. This time, I let Amira move closer and use every bit of training I remember from the past two years.
Yudhnatam is not a fight, Uma Didi always said. It is a dance of approach and retreat. If you can remember this, you will be able to defend yourself on the battlefield with or without magic.
I spin and lunge to one side, then to another, dodging Amira’s spells each time. She’s initially amused by my moves, almost lazy in the way she shoots at me. But a few moments in, she begins to get frustrated. I feel the next blast of air full on, my teeth knocking together so hard that, for a moment, I think I’ve broken one. I sit on the floor, clutching my throbbing head.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” Amira’s voice is quiet. Furious.
“Tire you out?”
My sarcasm infuriates Amira even more. “Your biggest problem has always been defense. You need to learn to protect yourself if you ever hope to do any real damage to your enemy.”
“If you told me how to protect myself, maybe I could!” I have a hard time believing that focusing on a single word will do anything.
“I already told you. Focus on the word protect. I don’t control your thoughts, princess—you do. Now come on. We don’t have much time left before our session ends.”
I want to walk out of the storage room and quit. Instead, I think about Juhi’s challenge—the strange, hopeful look in her eyes when she issued it. I think about the Sky Warrior who murdered my parents—a woman who was a hundred times more brutal than Amira ever could be. I grit my teeth and rise to my feet again.
10
GUL
“Don’t you bathe?” Amira wrinkles her nose when I enter the training room one evening. “You’d think you were rolling in dung, not simply making cakes out of it.”
I say nothing in response. Nearly two weeks have passed since Amira replaced Juhi during our training sessions. Thirteen consecutive days during which I’ve learned to tolerate some of her taunts—when I’m not thinking of ways to sink a dagger into her eye. It took ten evenings of going to Juhi’s quarters and repeatedly knocking on her door before a frustrated Uma Didi (who sleeps in a room nearby) admitted that Juhi wasn’t in Javeribad at all. Neither was Kali—and that probably explains the sullen expression on Amira’s face. She hates being left behind.
“I hope you’ll do better accessing your magic this time,” Amira says now. “You haven’t progressed a bit since our first lesson.”
“If you told me how to access my magic, then maybe I could make some progress,” I bite out, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
She sends a gust of air my way, knocking me off my feet. “Haven’t you been listening to me? Magic is a mental game. And I’ve already told you several times before to use your mind. Look out, now! You’ll be fighting fire next.”
She’s not joking. I barely have time to raise my shield before she sends an arrow of flames in my direction. My shield, made entirely of metal, makes things even worse, marking my skin with burns.
“Concentrate on protecting yourself!” she instructs. “Use your mind, princess!”
If I were a princess, I would have replaced you a long time ago, I think. But since I’m not, I bite my tongue and continue dodging, sometimes managing to throw a dagger, which Amira flicks away with another blast of air, once throwing my shield at her, which, after her initial surprise, makes her roar with fury.
“You think this is a joke?” She sends even more flaming arrows my way. “You think you’ll survive a battle with Raja Lohar, the most powerful magus in Ambar, with this sort of nonsense?”
I’m barely able to register her words. After a long day, exhaustion has begun creeping in, and the more I dodge her, the more my anger diminishes. I close my eyes for a second and breathe deeply.
“Protect!” Amira shouts. “Protect yourself, fool!”
Fool. The word brings back an old memory I’d forgotten. I was six years old and playing with a group of children in a village. I followed them everywhere, even climbed a tall mango tree with them. On a dare, they all jumped down as one, some magically floating to the ground, others finding their balance without any magic, like cats. I stayed up on my branch, terrified. Unlike my playmates, I had no experience jumping out of trees. And my magic had failed me far too many times in the past. I didn’t expect it to cushion my fall.
“Jump!” the kids shouted. “Jump, fool!”
I didn’t. By the time my mother finally came to the tree to fetch me, I was in tears.
“Jump, my girl,” Ma said. “I will catch you.”
After a long time, I jumped, right into Ma’s strong arms. However, to my surprise, when Ma let go, I floated in the air for several moments before gently landing on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I told Ma, feeling embarrassed. “The other kids were right. I am a fool.”
“You are not. You were simply nervous,” Ma said, her voice fierce. “You have magic in you, daughter, and it is strong. Always remember that—even when I am not there to protect you.”
Ma is not here now, in this training room. But her words sink in, slowing my movements, an odd calm falling over me. It’s similar to what I felt when my mind split for the first time and slid into Agni’s, only clearer and more intentional. As if I just understood how to open my eyes underwater. The birthmark on my right arm grows warm. There is no burning sensation this time, only heat. Power.
Protect. The word sinks in, even though my limbs are screaming for a break, an instant of relief. Protect yourself.
When Amira sends a ball of flame morphing into an armored leopard, I hold up my hands. Her spell hits my hands, glows for a split second before turning blue. The flames ricochet back at Amira, who instantly douses them with water.
For a long moment, we both stare at each other. Then Amira’s mouth hardens, and she gives me a nod. “Again.”
Wood shrapnel turning into arrows that shoot my way.
Protect. The arrows turn to powder.
Water shaped into a four-headed sea serpent.
Protect. It disappears into mist.
Fire again, this time with the face of a man: King Lohar.
Anger twists my gut. My hands shake. “Do it! Destroy him!” Amira shouts.
But when I raise my hands, my shield fractures. I scream as steam sizzles my skin, but I continue to stab at the air with my dagger until Amira finally sends a blow my way, knocking me to the ground.
“We’ll stop here tonight,” she says.
Panting, I slowly rise to my feet.
“So you do have something in you. Let’s see if it remains consistent.” She points at my face. “And clean that up.”
I touch my nose and lips; blood coats my fingers. The surprise that overcame Amira’s face when I raised my shield for the first time has been replaced once more by the all-too-familiar contempt.
“Be prepared tomorrow. There will be no room for error.”
* * *
The next morning, after being yelled at by Cook again for not adding enough sal
t to the lotus sabzi, I see a familiar figure instructing a pair of sparring novices in the courtyard.
“Kali!”
Kali looks up at my shout and grins. She says something else to the girls before ambling my way. As she comes closer, I notice the thick bandage wrapped around her bare waist, under the blouse of her training sari. The smell surrounding her is astringent and bitter.
“Are you all right? What happened? Where’s Juhi? Amira didn’t say—”
“The sky goddess has been kind,” Kali says. Despite her pallor, Kali’s gray eyes are bright and keen when they scan my appearance. “You’ve done magic, haven’t you?”
“Wha—? How did you know that?”
“Amira told me.”
“Oh.”
“Your training’s not going too well, I take it?”
“I hate her.” The words float like poison in the air, and for a second, I worry if I’ve overstepped an invisible line.
Kali laughs and then winces, clutching her bandage. “Don’t worry. I would hate Amira, too, if she were training me. She’s absolutely terrible at it.”
“Why her, then? Why not Juhi? Or you? What happened to you? And don’t tell me it was nothing!”
Kali sighs. “Why don’t we talk later tonight? After your lesson?”
“Swear on the Sisterhood, you will?”
“Gul, I can’t—”
“Please! If I am to tolerate six more weeks of Amira, I need to know!”
“Kali!” a voice shouts across the courtyard. “Are you coming?”
She hesitates, but only for a brief moment. “I swear. Tonight. In the courtyard.”
* * *
Life while shackled to the house turns into a monotony of chores. Eventually there comes a time when I have nothing to do—not even Cook to exchange insults with. I wander to the training room and pause before a sack of rice lying in the corner. The seaglass daggers I use during training have been locked in the armory again, but Amira’s sangemarmar-tipped spear is still here. She must have forgotten about it. With a quick glance at the door, I pick it up and take aim.
Attack, I think. I try the same trick I used when producing a shield the day before and recall the memory I had about my mother. Nothing happens. I try over and over again, aiming for the same feeling of calm that fell over me, but instead, I grow frustrated as more time passes and the sack remains as is. As a last resort, I try the only spell I’ve truly mastered—the shield spell—but all it does is throw me back with such force that I hit the wall of the room, my bones rattling.
Useless. Amira’s most recent taunt burns under my skin. No better than a non-magus.
The words remind me of Cavas from the moon festival—a boy with aging brown eyes on a still-young face. A heat that has nothing to do with the stuffy room rises to my cheeks. I do not normally think of Cavas when I’m awake. It’s only during the night when he sneaks into my thoughts. Once, during a nightmare I was having about my parents, he slipped his hand into mine, holding it tight. There are other dreams, too. Dreams where I relive our kiss at the festival. Where he does a lot more than simply curl a hand around my waist. But in my nightmare, we didn’t kiss. He just stayed with me, holding my hand until everything—including the sneering Sky Warrior—faded into blessed black.
“Gul!” Cook’s gravelly voice echoes in the corridor. “Arri O Gul! Where is that cursed girl?”
Sighing, I lower the spear, carefully placing it exactly where I found it.
“Don’t worry, Cook,” I say under my breath. “This cursed girl isn’t going anywhere.”
* * *
Tonight, I fail three times in a row before my shield shatters the phantom King Lohar.
“That will do for now,” Amira says. “At least you’ve stopped with the nosebleeds. Let’s see if you can generate any attacking spells. Use your daggers to protect yourself. I’ll give you a moment to think and strategize.”
How? I want to ask but don’t. I have no intention of getting shocked through my shackles again. Goddess knows it has been the longest time I’ve worn them. Instead, with gritted teeth, I try to think of the ways the other Sisters—including Amira—fight during practice battles.
“All right. Get ready.”
Despite her curt words, Amira is being a lot nicer to me than usual, giving me advance warnings and time to think and prepare. It makes me uneasy, and I wonder if this lesson is going to go even worse than usual.
Fire erupts from Amira’s hands. I instantly raise a shield, expecting the flames to shoot back at her. They push even harder at my magical barrier, so much so that my hands begin to shake.
“There will come a time when you will encounter someone with more power than your shield is capable of handling.” Amira’s voice, though loud, reveals no strain. “You must, in that case, attack the way I instructed in the first place.”
“I would if I knew what to do!” I shout.
It’s a bad idea. The energy expended in talking makes my shield collapse, forcing Amira to put out her fire with water. She examines my arms and upper body—apart from the right sleeve, which has been somewhat singed—the skin around my birthmark remains unbroken, only slightly reddened from the heat.
“Thank Zaal it was your right arm, not your left. Of course, even the skin of an armored leopard won’t save you from an atashban or a well-placed jambiya in the ribs.”
“If you would tell me what to do, then maybe I could try to do it!” An unsurprising shock goes through my shackles, but I shake it off and go on talking. “You keep giving me instructions that are mostly useless—”
Another shock, this one so sharp it makes my tongue burn. Amira’s eyes glitter with anger. “So far you have only produced a shield with some consistency—and with intent. Your other magic has been unstable, has relied on emotions you have no control over. If you don’t learn to control your emotions, I have no hope of teaching you anything useful.”
She begins to walk out of the room in clear dismissal when I stop her, intending to demand she give me more pointers. Instead, what comes out is: “Why do you hate me so much?”
The flicker of surprise in her dark eyes disappears so quickly that, for a moment, I think I imagined it. She shakes off my hand on her arm. “You’re pathetic, little princess. Not everyone in the world has to like you. Least of all me.”
She leaves me standing there, openmouthed, simmering with anger, and is already gone by the time I produce a burst of magic: a faint glow of green in my dagger before it flickers out.
* * *
“You’re in a temper.” Kali’s voice stops me in my tracks on the way back from the armory. “Did you forget about our meeting?”
“Of course not.” I am grateful it’s dark, so she can’t detect the lie directly from my face. A pair of fingers lightly pinch my cheek.
“A liar who smells like dung.” A fanas emerges from the darkness, its flames illuminating Kali’s grin.
“Do you even need me to tell you why?” I ask, exasperated.
“Shhhh. You’ll wake Juhi.” Kali places the lantern on the ledge of the balcony overlooking the courtyard. “She’s having one of her headaches.”
“What happened to her? To you?” I point to her injury. “You’ll tell me, right? You swore you would!”
“That’s why we’re meeting here, aren’t we?” Kali pauses for a moment. “Juhi saw something while scrying her shells. She insisted she had to find someone in the Desert of Dreams. I wouldn’t let her go alone, of course. It was probably a good idea I did go with her, because we ended up finding a pack of dustwolves instead.”
“Goddess!” I wince. Rabid and ferocious, dustwolves are known to tear fully armed Sky Warriors apart. Juhi and Kali are lucky to have escaped alive. “Who in Svapnalok were you looking for?”
Kali shakes her head. “I’ve said too much already. Listen, Gul. I know Amira is hard to take, but she’s brilliant at death magic—the only one of us apart from Juhi who’s capable of wielding an atashban. That
’s why Juhi picked her to train you over me.”
“But she’s so difficult to work with! She doesn’t want to train me. She hates me!”
“Amira doesn’t hate you. Not really.” Kali shrugs. “There might be a bit of jealousy involved. Before you came along, Amira was the star of Juhi’s eyes, the girl who might have been the One.”
The One. The prophesied Star Warrior who is meant to take down the king. Had it been anyone other than Amira, I might have sympathized with her. “I don’t know why she’s so worried. I can whisper to animals, yes, but I can barely do any death magic—apart from a shield spell. Or two.”
“Don’t belittle yourself. You can do magic,” Kali says. “If you didn’t get blocked by what happened with that novice, you would’ve had more control over it sooner.”
“That novice nearly died!”
“Death is a risk every trainee faces during magical combat,” Kali says firmly. “In any case, I think Amira may be good for you. Her bark has always been worse than her bite—even though her bite is pretty bad. According to her, you haven’t suffered enough.”
The words take a while to sink in. “Suffered enough? What does that mean?”
Kali gives me a wary look. “Amira and I went through a lot at the labor camp. More than losing our families. We didn’t have any saviors until Juhi came along, and by then it was too late for us in some ways. Certain sufferings harden you more than others.”
Rape. Torture. I heard the stories through other Sisters when they thought I wasn’t listening.
“Amira went through even more than I did,” Kali continues. “She resents you for it—which is her problem entirely, not yours. But you need to also start toughening up. Stop taking every little thing to heart.”
“I don’t take every little thing to heart!”
Kali raises an eyebrow.
“All right, so maybe I could be better about it,” I admit. “But she imparts nothing except criticism and taunts. I never know what she wants me to do, how she expects me to figure things out for myself. What kind of teaching is that?”
Hunted by the Sky Page 10
