The Gilded Ones

by Namina Forna

  “I don’t remember things like I used to,” I whisper, looking up at Belcalis. For once, I allow myself to feel the pain coiling tightly inside me, the pain I so often stifle in an effort to pretend I’m fine. “I used to have excellent memory, but ever since the cellar, little things escape me. Like Father’s face….The only thing I remember about him now is his expression as he beheaded me in the cellar. His features, what his smile looked like—I don’t remember any of it anymore.”

  It’s a devastating, awful admission, and I gasp for air, trying to steel myself against the force of it. “I know that what he did was wrong, but he’s my father. The only one I have, anyway. There were good times—before….Now, every time I try to remember him, his face slips away.” I look down, surprised to find tears in my eyes. “All my memories from before, they just keep slipping through my fingers.”

  “Is that why I forgot my anger so easily today? Is that why I forgot everything that I’d gone through?”

  “I was thirteen when it happened,” Belcalis says softly, turning to me. “I cut myself slicing onions. Onions. Can you imagine how stupid that is? Girls aren’t supposed to play with knives….When my father saw the gold, he knew immediately what it was—he was a priest, you see. He thought it was Oyomo’s will that my blood had appeared so young—a sign that I was meant to be spared. So he called for his brother in Gar Calgaras and asked him to help me disappear into the city so I’d never have to undergo the Ritual of Purity.

  “Father trusted his brother, loved him….He was an apothecary, a good man who helped people.” She laughs a short, bitter laugh. “It wasn’t even a month before that ‘good man’ sold me to the brothel. But that was his mistake, you see. When the procurers saw my golden blood, realized that it was actually real, they killed him immediately so he would never lead the jatu to them—mistakenly or not. And then they offered me to their most…particular clients. The ones who like to hurt children—like to watch as they scream.”

  My hands are trembling now. There’s so much pain in Belcalis’s eyes, I feel the echo of it deep inside me.

  “Belcalis,” I say, “you don’t have to—”

  “They would give them a knife as they came into the room.” Belcalis’s voice is low and pained as she continues. “ ‘You can do whatever you want to her and she’ll heal’—that’s what they told them. She’ll heal.” Belcalis’s voice breaks at these words.

  “ ‘No matter what you do—no matter how badly you hurt her, grind her beneath your feet—she’ll heal. She’ll always be as good as new. Even if you slit her throat.’ ” Belcalis sobs brokenly, and something inside me shatters. These past few months, I’ve been so determined to bury my own pain, to prove to myself I’m fine—I’ve been so focused on my own troubles—I’ve forgotten that other girls are suffering too.

  “Belcalis…,” I whisper.

  She abruptly reaches for the ties to her robe, begins untying them.

  My eyes widen. “Belcalis, you don’t have to—”

  “I want you to see,” she insists. “Remember those scars you saw long ago? Look now.”

  She takes off her robe and turns, offering me her back. I blink, startled. “They’re gone.” Her back is completely smooth now. But of course it is. The only scars that ever remain are the ones acquired before the blood turns.

  “Once I stopped being hurt, being violated, they faded.” She smiles bitterly. “And that’s the worst part. The physical body—it heals. The scars fade. But the memories are forever. Even when you forget, they remain inside, taunting you, resurfacing when you least expect.”

  My entire body is trembling now. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Belcalis shakes her head. “I don’t want you to be sorry,” she says. “I want you to keep the memory of my scars. I need someone to remember what happened to me. I need someone to—”

  I rush to her and gather her in my arms. “I won’t forget,” I promise her. “I’ll never forget.”

  The tears Belcalis has been holding back for so long burst out of her in great big heaving sobs. “Don’t you dare,” she cries. “Don’t you dare. They might need us now because we’re valuable, might pretend to accept us, to reward us—but never forget what they did to us first. If they did it once, Deka, they’ll surely do it again, no matter the flowery promises they give.”

  “I won’t forget,” I promise, tears streaming down my face, determination building in my heart. “I’ll never forget.”

  It’s evening and we’re slogging through the marshes at Hemaira’s southern edge, heading toward a deathshriek nest deep in the marsh. Mist hangs thick over us, as does a cloud of mosquitoes, which nip incessantly at our faces. Leeches would do the same to our legs, but thankfully, we’ve worn sturdy boots for the occasion. Even so, this is the most draining raid I’ve ever been on. Now that the campaign is almost here, we’re taking on even tougher raids in even more difficult terrain, the places where the deathshrieks blend themselves so completely into their surroundings, you almost never notice them until it’s too late.

  “It’s like the Infernal Realms, it is,” Britta grumbles under her breath.

  “The arsehole of the Infernal Realms,” Belcalis mutters—her favorite insult in times like these.

  Keita shrugs. “If you think this is bad, wait till you visit my family home at Gar—”

  A rock whizzes past so quickly, he has mere seconds to dodge it. I immediately slip into the combat state, time seeming to slow as I notice how quiet the marsh has become. Unnaturally quiet. The deathshrieks are near.

  Power rushes into my veins as I raise my hands, gathering the energy in them. The air around me begins to vibrate as my body obeys my silent command.

  “Show yourselves,” I say.

  The reeds around us rustle as deathshrieks slip out of them, answering my call. To my surprise, they’re all wearing strange metal circlets around their heads. I squint at them, wondering what in the world they are. One of the deathshrieks nods to something behind me.

  I whirl back, alarmed, and that’s when I realize my mistake. Those metal circlets are cochleans, protecting the deathshrieks from the effects of my voice. We wear the same thing under our helmets to protect ourselves from deathshriek screams. Before I can gesture to freeze them in place, one of the deathshrieks throws a rock into my face, crushing my jaw and throat. I gurgle, blood oozing from the remnants of my jaw, but the next rock is even more sizable, breaking my hands, so I can’t move them. I’m in shock now, my body going cold, blackness edging at my vision. I can’t even absorb the fact that the deathshrieks are using rocks and cochleans—that they’ve obviously planned for my arrival. All I can feel is pain and confusion as golden blood gushes from me, pouring into the water.

  “Deka!” Keita rushes toward me, using his body to shield me from the storm of rocks the deathshrieks are now throwing.

  More of them are running out of the marsh’s bushes, slingshots in their hands. It’s an ambush, but I can do nothing, only continue gurgling helplessly as my own blood drowns my mouth and throat. If only I could just move my arms—a finger.

  “Call them off, Deka!” Captain Kelechi roars. Being human, he can’t see what’s happened to me in the darkness as he beats a retreat with the others.

  “She can’t, she’s been struck!” Keita answers, holding me closer to his body.

  By now, black is spotting my vision, and I can’t feel my limbs anymore. Blood has already drained from them. I’m going to die again. Is it my final death? I’ve never had my face crushed before. The serenity of the thought jars me, forcing me to struggle against the cold, the helplessness.

  No, no, no! I must remain awake.

  Keita desperately covers my neck, trying to stem the blood flow. “Deka!” he cries. “Deka!”

  He doesn’t seem to notice the deathshrieks gathering around him, the
ir claws at the ready. I desperately motion toward them with my eyes, trying to get Keita to see them, to notice. Beware, Keita! I try to say, but it’s no use. I can no longer move my tongue—or any other part of me, for that matter. The darkness has gathered around me now, bringing with it that familiar chill. My skin is already gilding, turning that eerie gold color. I should be relieved it’s only an almost-death, but I’m not. I’m scared for Keita, scared for all my friends. What’ll happen to them when I go into the gilded sleep? Please, please let them be all right.

  DEKA!

  Reptilian blue scales flash past me, a monstrously large body. Deathshriek screams fill the air as the enormous creature plows into them, claws flashing, jaws chomping.

  Ixa? I think, my thoughts distant and airy.

  And that’s all I have time to ask before I fall into the gilded sleep.

  * * *

  When I wake, it’s fully dark, and I’m nestled inside a warm, soft blanket. I stretch, luxuriating inside it. I haven’t felt this comfortable in ages.

  “She’s waking up!” a voice gasps. “Deka, Deka—can ye hear me?”

  Britta? I think. It’s difficult to push past the darkness surrounding me, and honestly, I don’t want to. I like it here in the darkness. It’s so snug.

  “Why don’t we just lure the creature down—or shoot it,” an annoyed voice suggests. Gazal’s.

  “Oh, yes, that sounds very reasonable,” another voice returns, sharp with sarcasm. I immediately recognize it as Adwapa’s. “Shoot down the one thing protecting us if those deathshrieks return.”

  “It’s not protecting us, it’s protecting her.” This voice belongs to Li, and it doesn’t sound at all cheerful, as it usually does.

  The blanket around me rustles as footsteps draw near, squelching loudly through the mud. “Deka, please wake.” This voice is Keita’s, and he sounds concerned. “We can’t leave here until you do.”

  Keita! The very thought jolts through me, shattering my darkness.

  “Keita?” I rasp, blinking awake. “You’re alive!”

  Relief swells within me as I remember when I last saw him, his body shielding me from the deathshrieks gathering near. But he’s alive and well. I look around, trying to get my bearings. To my surprise, I’m surrounded by soft, shimmering blue scales covered in a light sprinkling of blue fur. When I glance up, a massive feline face with reptilian black eyes meets mine.

  Deka…, Ixa coos, nuzzling me with his gigantic snout.

  “Ixa?” I gasp, shocked. “You’re so big!”

  He’s never shifted into such a large drakos form before.

  “He transformed when you died,” Keita’s voice says.

  He’s standing on the ground below me, his eyes filled with worry. I’m lying in a tree, I realize belatedly, and what I first thought was a blanket is actually Ixa’s body coiled all around me. Protecting me…

  Now I take in the surrounding area. It’s littered with deathshriek corpses, their body parts scattered across the marsh with macabre abandon. The familiar musky sweetness of their blood fills the air, causing me to gag. Even after all these months, I still haven’t gotten used to it.

  Keita tiptoes closer. “He killed all the deathshrieks attacking you. We took care of the rest, but he took you up there before we could get to you.”

  I finally realize that the others are gathered a safe distance away in a makeshift camp, watching me, Keita, and Ixa. Everyone has seen him in this form. Everyone.

  The stern look in Captain Kelechi’s eyes when I meet them strikes fear into my heart. He’s never been one to tolerate anything he thinks is irregular. He points accusingly at Ixa. “Now that you’re awake, Deka,” he says quietly, “you will tell me what that creature is.”

  Ixa sniffs dismissively, turning his nose up. He’s never thought much of the captain.

  “He’s my pet,” I say quickly, trying not to look at all the deathshriek corpses littering the ground. The corpses that Ixa made all by himself, if what I heard is true. I try not to let my unease show as I turn to the captain. “Whatever he’s done, it’s to protect me.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” Captain Kelechi returns, seeming every inch the jatu commander he is as he again asks, “What exactly is that thing?”

  I look at Ixa, trying to find an answer. How do I explain a horned creature that looks feline half the time but occasionally transforms into a gigantic monstrosity when the need arises?

  “Just a pet,” I repeat, at a loss for how to explain.

  “Does your pet have a specific breed?” Captain Kelechi grinds out, aristocratic face even darker with impatience now.

  “I don’t know…exactly…”

  “You don’t know?” The captain takes a step closer but stops when Ixa hisses at him.

  “Enough, Ixa,” I say, tapping him. Let me down.

  Snuffling his annoyance, Ixa ripples his tail so I can slide down. By the time my feet touch the ground, he has shrunk to his normal feline state, and he wraps himself around my neck with a small chirp.

  “Did you see that?” one of the recruits gasps. “It just changed again!”

  I walk toward the captain, nervous. “I just sort of found him,” I say, taking Ixa from my neck and reluctantly holding him up for view.

  Captain Kelechi squints down at him. “Where?” he asks.

  I swallow, sweat suddenly prickling my forehead. “At—”

  “The Warthu Bera,” Belcalis says, stepping forward. “We all found him at the Warthu Bera. He was by the lake.”

  “The lake?” the captain echoes disbelievingly. “Which one?”

  “The one where we take lessons with the Lady of the Equus,” Britta says. She steps forward, sliding easily into Belcalis’s lie. “An’ he wasn’t that big when we found him. We thought he was some sort of cat. As ye can see, he changes form.”

  “He’s probably been doing so for some time now,” Adwapa adds, her face perfectly straight. “At least, that’s what Karmoko White Hands says. She’s the one who told Deka to care for him.”

  Something I didn’t know was clenched inside me releases. My friends are coming to Ixa’s rescue. They’re protecting him for me.

  Captain Kelechi looks from one to the other, then abruptly nods. “Very well,” he says, turning on his heel. “We will continue this discussion later with the Lady of the Equus.”

  I slump, relieved. That went much better than I thought.

  As we return to camp, I hold on tightly to Ixa, deep in thought. What exactly is he? I wonder, looking down at his furry blue form. Is this truly his real form, or is it the one he turned into earlier, when he saved us? Even more important, what were those deathshrieks back there? They were wearing cochleans and using slingshots. I already knew their kind was much more clever than ordinary predators, but this—this defies all expectation. I’m so deep in thought, I barely notice Adwapa, Britta, and Belcalis approaching until they’re flanking either side of me, leading me from the group.

  “What?” I say, staring from one to the other when I notice that Britta is avoiding my eyes.

  Belcalis looks around, making sure no one is listening. The recruits and the others are slogging toward the edge of the swamp, where the battle matrons and assistants are waiting with the horses.

  “Ixa wasn’t the only worrisome transformation that happened today,” she says, turning back to me.

  Just like that, the clenched feeling is back in my stomach. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “When you called to the deathshrieks, yer eyes—they changed,” Britta explains in a hushed whisper.

  “That always happens,” I say.

  “But then the rest of you began to as well.” This quiet statement comes from Belcalis.

  I stop midstep, turn to her. “What does that mean?”

  “They mean th
at for a moment, your skin leathered.” All of us whirl to face Gazal, who approached so quietly, we didn’t even hear her as she neared. Her face has its usual calm expression as she says, “It looked just like a deathshriek’s.”

  My heart stops, the words like an arrow through it. Leathering? Changing? What are they talking about?

  “That’s not even the worst thing that happened, though,” Adwapa adds.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard, it feels like it’ll leap out of my chest. When she looks away again, uncomfortable, my heartbeat doubles.

  “She means we felt it—your voice. When you told the deathshrieks to show themselves, we all felt the command inside us—compelling us,” Gazal says.

  “Compelling…?” I look from one to the other, still not understanding.

  “Commanding,” Belcalis says. “Your voice commanded us the way it did the deathshrieks. It took everything in me to resist it. It was so beautiful, but in a strange, terrifying way.”

  I’m so shocked, my knees feel weak. Then I have another thought. I look at the recruits, who are now out of the marsh and hurrying to their horses. “The recruits, did they—”

  “I don’t think they noticed,” Britta quickly reassures me. “It didn’t seem to affect them. I don’t think it works on humans.”

  I’m in such a daze now, everything seems far away.

  “Are you telling me that you didn’t know this is happening?” Gazal asks.

  I shake my head, my entire body heavy. Deathshriek? Compelled? I still don’t fully understand what they’re saying. Don’t want to understand. Because if I do, that means it’s my fault. I’ve caused all these changes, taking all those lessons, building up the power inside me. I’ve made myself even more monstrous than I already am.

  “It can’t be possible,” I say. “It can’t be.”

  “But it is.” Belcalis’s tone is implacable, and there’s a look in her eyes now—something almost close to fear. “And the question is, what will you do?”