The Desert Prince

by Peter V. Brett

  Selen and I rush to him, but Rojvah is there first. Darin looks like he’s having a seizure as she takes him in her arms and dials the sound wards on her choker to put them in a bubble.

  After a moment, he calms, going limp in her arms. Selen and I both breathe a sigh of relief, but not before Selen gives Rojvah a look that would do Elona proud. Maybe they haven’t kissed, after all.

  But even as Darin’s tension eases, mine grows ever more unbearable. Far above our heads, my brothers are fighting for their lives. I shift uncomfortably until he gives Rojvah a last embrace and sits up. Rojvah dials her choker warily, but as the bubble bursts, Darin retains his calm.

  “What can you tell us?” Micha asks.

  “Corelings are in the city,” Darin says. “Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Destroying everything in their path.”

  I shiver, breaking out in goosebumps and a nervous sweat. “They broke the defenses so quickly.”

  Darin shakes his head. “Didn’t hear a thing until a few minutes ago when they were already close. Don’t think they went through the Maze at all.”

  “Perhaps Iraven’s Pit Warders didn’t seal the last breach as well as they believed,” Micha says. “But no matter. They will not penetrate the Holy City. So long as the Majah take refuge behind the bone walls, they will be safe.”

  “Perhaps,” I say. “But will they have anything left to come home to? And what of my spear brothers, out in the night?”

  Faseek, who risked everything to help me. Chadan, attempting to lead without me at his side. Gorvan, Thivan, Parkot, Montidahr, and the others. Out fighting while I cower in the Holy City.

  “Don’t you go thinking anything stupid, Olive Paper,” Selen warns.

  It’s unnerving, how well she knows me, even now. “What’s stupid is hiding when I can make a difference out there.”

  “Or make it worse,” Selen reminds me. “You’re the one they’re after.”

  “There’s no proof of that,” I say. “Just dice and guesses. But even if there was, all the more reason I should be with my brothers. If it’s me the demons want, they can have me before I use one of my brothers as a shield.”

  “The Hollow greatward was your shield, until these people stole you off it!” Selen snaps. “The Holy City is the next best thing, and with everyone safe inside, the Sharum will see it’s hopeless to defend an empty city and retreat.”

  “Unlikely,” Rojvah snorts. “They are men, after all.”

  Arick spits on the floor. “And why should they? Why should we give the alagai even an inch of ground without exacting a price in blood and ichor? What glory is there hiding in the undercity like w…”

  Micha, Selen, Rojvah and I all fix him with a stare that gives him pause.

  “Choose your next word carefully, brother,” Rojvah warns.

  “Cowards,” Arick growls. The word is a knife in my chest, because he’s right.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Darin is staring at the ceiling, his senses far away. “They’re sounding a retreat.”

  * * *

  —

  Darin goes out to scout before morning comes. I know he’s the best suited to the task, but it grates on me to wait while he takes all the risk.

  We all jump when he returns. Selen and Rojvah both move to him, but I don’t have time for greetings. “What did you find?”

  Darin lifts a shopping bag with fresh hogroot stalks poking from the top. “Best you come and see for yourself.”

  “Alagai’viran.” Rojvah gives the plant its Krasian name. “Yes, that will work.” She grinds the leaves into a wet paste that she uses to paint over the armlet and mixes into the plaster. She soaks this into strips of cloth, wrapping it in a hardening cast.

  The plaster is still wet when Micha and I dress in plain dal’ting blacks and blend into the crowd of essential workers waiting to be allowed out of the Holy Undercity to begin assessing the damage. With all able-bodied men called to sharaj, women make up the majority of the construction crews and fire brigades. Micha and I do not seem out of place. My sister jostles through the crowd and I follow in her wake to the head of the line. Somewhere along the way, she must have lifted some woman’s papers, because she furnishes the gate guards with enough to let us pass with only a cursory glance.

  Darin is waiting for us outside. He follows a step behind, for all appearances our chin servant. I hate playing the part, but it was Darin’s idea. Everyone ignores him, and that’s how he likes it best.

  What we find is horrifying. Horns blare and brigades rush to combat fires that rage throughout the city. No longer constrained to the chin quarter, the alagai have cut a path of destruction leaving whole neighborhoods in ruin. The Mehnding Palace, home to thousands, is ablaze. The rubble and smoke and dust reach all the way to the outskirts of the Holy City.

  And there are dead. Those who refused to abandon their homes, or stayed in hope of looting when others were gone, now spattered and eviscerated on the streets. We make our way to the Majah Palace and find many of my brothers repairing damaged wards on the wall.

  I shudder. If the fighting made it all the way here, things were dire, indeed. I spot Faseek cleaning scorch marks that mar a large clay demon ward, and catch his eye, beckoning him over to stand just out of sight of the others.

  My friend looks exhausted, covered in dust, sweat, ichor, and blood. “Apologies, honored dal’ting, but I have no time to…”

  I unfasten my veil, and Faseek’s eyes bulge. “Olive! You—”

  “I know,” I cut him off. “I shame myself with such womanly attire.”

  “I was going to say you look beautiful.” Faseek winks. “If you’re looking to evade the guards looking for you, I think you’ve discovered the right tack. There’s a warrant to arrest you for the murder of Drillmaster Chikga.”

  “What are our brothers saying?” I ask.

  Faseek spits in the dust. “Chikga was respected, but he was not loved. Our brothers agree that if you killed him, he must have given you cause.”

  “And Chadan?” I can’t help but ask. Micha and Darin shift uncomfortably, but I need to know.

  Faseek seems to understand. It might have been a surprise at court, but everyone in the Princes Unit knows Chadan and I are pillow friends. “He is…strained,” Faseek admits, “but he will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of you. He tells the men this is a misunderstanding, and their ajin’pal will return.”

  My heart aches at the words. My brothers remain loyal, even though I was not there in their hour of need. Chadan remains loyal, though I did not love him enough to trust.

  “Inevera, it will be so,” I say. “What happened last night?”

  “It was like two moons ago,” Faseek says. “Our lines did not break. They burst from the streets behind us, countless alagai, more interested in destroying the city than fighting. But when we engaged…” He shakes his head.

  “They were ready for you,” I say.

  “It was a trap!” Faseek hisses. “They fell on us like a swarm of locusts. We lost seventeen before Chadan called a retreat.”

  Seventeen. It’s like a rock demon punched me in the chest. Seventeen of my brothers died on alagai talons while I hid in a temple cellar.

  “The Sharum Ka called Prince Chadan a coward, even so,” Faseek says. “He would have stripped Chadan of the white veil had the Damaji not intervened. Aleveran praised the move, ceding the streets and reassigning our warriors to protect the palaces and holy sites.”

  I should be relieved that my brothers will be behind fortified walls tonight, but the plan lacks strategy.

  “The enemy cannot be defeated by guarding rich men’s palaces and letting the demons destroy everything the chin and khaffit own,” I say.

  “Prince Iraven agrees,” Faseek says. “The Sharum Ka has scouts mapping the city, hoping to find some sort of pattern. But for tonight,
we have our orders.”

  “I will return this time tomorrow,” I say. “Will you meet me?”

  Faseek punches a fist to his chest, like he did when I was his kai. “Of course. Perhaps you will come as yourself.”

  I nod. “Perhaps.”

  I turn and head back toward the Holy City. “This is because of us.” The words are barely a whisper, but I know Darin hears.

  “You don’t know that,” Micha says.

  “Think she’s right,” Darin says. “This is a hunt and the corelings are just hounds to flush us out of the bushes.”

  I ball a fist. “We should be the ones flushing them.”

  “It’s the hunter we ought to be worrying about,” Darin says. “Until we know where to find him, we’re all better off waiting things out.”

  “Even if they level Desert Spear to get to us?” I ask bitterly.

  “Just stuff, Olive,” Darin says. “The folk are what matter, and the Holy City is big enough for all of them.”

  I want to argue, but I know he’s right.

  * * *

  —

  That evening I pace the floor, not knowing what to do with myself. Darin sits by the fishing pool, breathing in a steady rhythm and staring blankly at the water. Selen and Rojvah remain in the main chamber, giving him the distance he wants, but both cast worried gazes his way. The fighting will be closer, tonight.

  Darin doesn’t react as I approach, but I’m sure he smells me coming. I say nothing, kneeling by the water a few feet away. I breathe as Favah taught me, a slow, steady rhythm to relax my body and bring peace to my mind.

  Or so she claimed. The breathing could still my body, but it never calmed my nerves or quieted my mind.

  And outside, the Enemy is rising.

  “They’re on the streets,” Darin confirms quietly a moment later. “Some are just wrecking everything in sight, but the rest…”

  He trails off, and I don’t press, giving my friend the time he needs even as every muscle and tendon in my body ties a slow knot.

  “They’re heading for the palaces,” Darin confirms my fears.

  * * *

  —

  I listen until I understand how Darin felt last night. How he feels even now, trying to process so much pain, so much suffering, all at once. The walls are holding, but everywhere there is screaming and death.

  When I can’t stand any more, I get up, giving Darin some peace as I head into the main chamber. The others look at me, but I say nothing, walking to the weapons rack and selecting one of the sacred hora spears. I put it through a series of sharukin, amazed at how light the bone spearhead and crosspiece are compared with steel or even warded glass. It appears fragile, a delicate relic better suited to a museum than combat, but when I touch the point with a fingertip, it immediately wells red with blood.

  Selen comes over to me. “Know what you’re thinking.”

  I don’t look up from the weapons rack. The macabre artistry of it helps keep the real world at bay. I select a sickle and chain, every link carved from sharik hora. I imagine throwing this holy chain around a demon’s throat and seeing the alagai’s flesh blacken and smoke.

  “Do you?” I ask. “Because I sure as the sun don’t.”

  “You’re thinking you can’t stand another corespawned second hiding in this cage,” Selen says, “while other people fight the demons that are looking for you.”

  I test a bone blade against my fingernail and it shears like a razor. “Can you blame me for that?”

  “ ’Course not,” Selen says. “But you’re taking more than your due. Demons have attacked Fort Krasia for three thousand years. You think it’s gonna stop if Olive Paper surrenders?”

  I flick away the pared nail. “Never said I mean to surrender.”

  “But it ent just that,” Selen says. “You want to go find him. Your boyfriend.”

  I whirl on her. “He’s not my boyf—!” I cut off as Selen just raises an eyebrow.

  “Ent blaming you,” she says. “I had a good look when we left the harem. I’d be smitten too, if I’d spent three months in sweat rooms with a handsome prince like that.”

  “This isn’t some stableboy I had a round of kissy with and ended up in the shit.” I turn back to the weapons rack, choosing three thigh bones, connected by short chains. I whip the weapon through the air, imagining the power as the impact wards on the sacred bone strike alagai flesh. “Chadan saved my life. And I saved his. Back and forth, more times than I can count. And now he’s out there alone, without me to guard his back.”

  “Ent alone,” Selen says. “Got more than a hundred of your brothers with him, and it sounds like he knows how to take care of himself.”

  I select a punch dagger, testing it with a lunge. “You don’t understand.” I put the dagger back on the rack and reach for—

  There’s a thump as Selen puts a hand on my chest, shoving hard. I stumble back, shocked.

  “Ay, that’s right, Olive Paper,” Selen growls. “We’ve been keeping each other’s secrets since we were in nappies, and you will ripping look at me when I talk to you.”

  I rock back at the force of the words, but Selen isn’t done.

  “You think I don’t know what it’s like to love someone?” Selen demands. “To risk everything to protect them? Because if I don’t, what in the dark of night am I doing trapped in a tomb in the middle of the corespawned desert?”

  I spread my hands. “You’re right, Sel. I’m sorry. If it was you up there, you can bet I wouldn’t be hiding in a basement.”

  “It’s like that?” Selen asks. “Your prince?”

  I can only shrug helplessly. “Ay. It’s like that.”

  Selen blows out a breath. “So how can we help?”

  I look at her. “This isn’t your fight, Sel.”

  “Not now it ent,” she agrees. “But the moment you step in, it is. We didn’t come all this way to let you get cored. But your own brother said you’d be arrested if you showed yourself.”

  “He said there was a warrant,” I say. “But my brothers would not allow them to enforce it, especially if I show up at dusk. All men are brothers in the night.”

  Selen wrinkles her nose. “Women and children don’t count?”

  “Women and children are not allowed in the Maze.”

  “And what will your brothers say, when Micha and I show up at your side with spears tonight?”

  I honestly don’t know, but that’s not what Selen needs to hear. “They will accept you, or I’ll knock the sense into them. I won’t leave you again.”

  I know it is a lie. It’s one thing to gamble my own life, but quite another to gamble everyone else’s.

  * * *

  —

  “I want to come,” Selen says, but I shake my head.

  “No one is going to question three Arms of Everam on the street, but they’ll want papers if we have women with us.” Somehow Darin has secured uniforms of the temple guards. Arick has already put makeup around his eyes to disguise his pale skin.

  “Fine for you and Arick,” Selen says, “but I’m taller and wider than Darin. How come he gets to go?”

  Indeed, Darin is swimming in his uniform, cut for a much larger man. He looks up as Selen names him. “Just need a minute.”

  He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales. As he does, he seems to swell, getting taller and thicker until the uniform fits almost perfectly.

  Selen forgets her irritation, letting out a low whistle. “That trick’s new.”

  “Looks more impressive than it is.” Darin tries to take a step, loses his balance, and stumbles a bit. “Ent any heavier or stronger, just taking up more space.”

  “It’s still early,” I tell Selen. “We’re just going to scout a bit. We can’t show ourselves before sunset.”

 
“And what do we do come morning?” Selen asks.

  I shrug. “Let’s focus on getting there.”

  Darin walks a little awkwardly at first, but he’s found his stride by the time we march past the gate and into the city. Arick, on the other hand, looks every inch the dal’Sharum. His size alone marks him as a fighter to watch, but he moves with an easy grace that hints at skill to match his strength, and the hora spear and shield give credence to his uniform as a holy warrior.

  It’s not uncommon for wealthier Sharum families to have a spear or shield enhanced with the blessed bones of a famed ancestor, though they are usually considered too precious for combat.

  “Hope you didn’t leave anything important in your room.” Darin points down the street.

  Flames still smolder in Chadan’s palace. The outer wall where the barracks were housed is partially collapsed, as if the demons had tunneled under the foundations, but the palace itself appears to have held.

  Faseek materializes out of the shadows as we approach the meeting place. “Prince Olive.” He puts a fist to his chest and bows deeply.

  “Enough of that” The gesture makes me uneasy. I don’t deserve it, and anyone who sees it will have an unwanted clue to who we are. “What happened last night?”

  “The palace wards were too strong for the alagai to attack directly,” Faseek says, “so they threw stones and set fires to weaken the warding with soot and ash, while the rest of them trampled the city to dust.”

  He swallows. “But they were tunneling. They collapsed the supports under a corner of the wall, and everything came crashing down. We lost fourteen in the collapse, and another score before Chadan cut us a retreat to the palace itself.”

  Now it’s my turn to swallow, though my throat is dry. “Is he…?”