18
DEVEN
The soldiers who earned the coin and bottle of apong sing rowdily across the way. My unit rests on the ground against the catapult wheels. I am dirty, sweaty, and so tired the campfire embers look like lanterns floating off into the sky. I could do with a long pull from that apong bottle, but I settle for the dirty cup of water and charred flatbread a meal server brought around.
Yatin sits alone and stares into the rocky plain while flexing his hand into a fist over and over. He and Natesa have not spoken since we left the village. Rohan eats quietly, his gaze jumping around so often my own nerves crackle. No one has come looking for the missing soldier, but that could still change.
A mild western wind swirls through camp, flowing from the barren region ahead. At our pressing pace, we will reach the Bhavya Desert the day after tomorrow, a full day ahead of schedule.
Natesa itches her neck. “How do you wear these?”
“We take our turbans off at night,” I say.
“How fortunate for you.” She scratches harder. “I’m not used to sleeping with something on my head. You’ll have to make sure I don’t rip it off and throw it into the fire.”
The group of drunkards across camp bursts into laughter. Rohan jogs his knee. His hunger to search for his sister will not be satiated tonight.
“When it gets late, I’ll take a stroll around camp alone,” I tell him.
Rohan sits taller. “I should go with you and keep an ear out.”
I can determine how upset he is by how often his voice breaks. That was three times. “It would be suspicious for us to wander around together. After today, we have to be selective about our risks.”
“You mean after you nearly got us caught?” Rohan grumbles.
“I won’t repeat my mistake,” I promise. “Have you heard anything?”
“No.” Rohan crosses arms, his frown understandable.
I lower my voice between us. “If Brac and Opal are indeed in camp, we’ll find them. Please wait here while I’m gone.”
“Is that an order?” Rohan’s voice pitched only once, but it was so apparent Yatin glances over.
“I’m asking for your trust.”
After my prolonged stare, Rohan concedes with a begrudging mumble.
Natesa stretches out her legs. “I’m fine right here.” She sneaks a tentative glance at Yatin seated at the end of the wagon. His aloofness bothers her, but she leaves him be.
I stride over to him. “How are you faring?”
Yatin glowers at his fist, his sight in line with my boots. “Natesa shouldn’t have taken her turban off today. She risked too much.”
I purse my lips in thought. “I doubt she sees it that way. Natesa’s a sister warrior. She was trained to stand up for herself and those she loves.” Yatin unclenches his fist, and I spot the lotus ring in his palm. Holding on to it must be adding to his unrest. “You should propose to her again. She may give you a different answer.”
“She’s stubborn.”
“Be more stubborn.”
Yatin grunts noncommittally and slips the ring into his pocket. The noises around camp have lessened. The men are turning in for the night. I pat his shoulder and then walk back to the others. Natesa is by herself.
“Where did Rohan go?” I ask.
She picks dirt out from under her nails. “He needed the latrine.”
“Keep an eye on him and Yatin while I’m gone.”
“Are you assigning me to watch duty, General?”
Why does everyone take what I say as an order? “You can call it that if you prefer.” I thumb at Yatin. “He’s worried about you.”
“No, he’s mad that I took off my turban, but we would have been caught. At the very least, you would have. Kali will burn us alive if anything happens to you.”
“I’m not so certain she cares,” I admit.
“Don’t be a dolt. Of course she does.” Natesa thumps my shin, a friendly bump. I return her badgering with a nudge of my toe. She does not smile. “Yatin wants to marry me.”
“Oh?”
“You’re an awful liar, Deven. I know Yatin told you. He doesn’t understand why I want to meet his family first, because he has a family. But it matters to me.” Natesa hugs her knees to her chest and tries unsuccessfully not to glance at him.
“He wants you for his wife,” I reply. “He already considers you part of his family.”
She loosens some. “You better go before Rohan comes back and talks you into taking him along. Be careful.”
“You too.” I pick up my empty water cup, salute her in farewell, and head off.
I maneuver through the sleepy camp, careful not to draw much attention. The soldiers have settled in tents or lain out under wagons. To keep up the appearance that I am out for a drink, I stop at the watering hole. No one pays me any mind as I down a cup of stale water and head off in a direction opposite to the one I came from. Since we have not found any sign of prisoners, the demon rajah must be keeping them close by, so I set out in search of his tent.
Near the front of camp, the covered wagons multiply. At the end of a long row, the demon rajah’s grand silk tent is pitched. Manas ducks out the tent’s entry. I flatten against a wagon, and he strides to the far end of the nearest row.
I start after Manas. Heaviness burdens my approach, and a high signal drones in my ears, as though I am standing too close to a ringing gong. I close in on the tent, and a thick, cloying darkness permeates the night. Even the torchlights do not shine as far.
A blue light flashes from inside the tent, and a sudden tremor shakes the ground. Then stunning quiet.
Cold fingers pry at my chest. That quake came from a Trembler.
Ignoring the fear simmering in my gut, I tiptoe down the row of wagons, navigating the gloom to my advantage.
A shadow moves in front of me. Someone else sneaks to the wagon at the end of the second row. I recognize the person’s small, slight shape and whisper his name.
Rohan pauses, the only indication that he heard me, and carries on. I hiss for him to come back, but he tiptoes closer to the last covered wagon.
Skies above. I should have ordered him to remain with Natesa and Yatin.
I dart to the line of wagons and nestle in the shadows. A swift, suspicious gust ruffles the draped opening of the demon rajah’s tent and knocks over a lamp within. Two guards and Manas dash inside to stomp out the fire.
Rohan must have caused the sudden wind. He hurries for the wagon nearest the tent. I stop at the front of the wagon, by the coachman’s bench, and peer around the corner. Rohan hovers at the corner of the covered wagon’s rear door.
“Opal?” he whispers.
I strain my ears but hear nothing. Manas will have weakened the bhuta prisoners by poisoning them with white baneberry and snakeroot or by bleeding out their powers.
A muffled voice comes from inside the wagon. “Rohan?”
Opal. I listen for Brac, but another voice calls out.
“General,” says the demon Udug in Tarek’s stolen timbre, “we have a visitor.”
Manas and two soldiers armed with crossbows race out of the tent. Rohan summons a raging gust, and the opulent tent starts to lift off the ground. Furniture tips over, and lamplight flickers. Both soldiers release bolts. Rohan’s wind diverts the first one, but the second strikes him in the shoulder.
Rohan falls, and his winds dwindle.
“Bind him,” says Manas.
The soldiers tie Rohan’s wrists behind him with a vine of toxic snakeroot, and the last of his powers recede. In the stillness, the demon rajah strides out of his tent.
“You’re audacious, boy.” Udug’s snide voice rings with amusement. “Are you alone?”
Rohan bends over, in pain from the bolt in his shoulder. “You have my sister.”
“You mean Opal.” Udug elongates the o and snaps the p. Ooo-pal. “Your sister has proven to be very valuable.”
Manas speaks up. “This boy served as a guard for Kindred Kalinda and Prince Ashwin.”
“Oh?” Udug looms over Rohan as he would a drooping flower. “How are my son and first wife? Have they run into any further trouble?”
My stomach plunges. He must mean the sea raiders. Did they follow the navy or Kali and the prince?
Rohan groans through firm-set teeth. “Release Opal. Take me.”
“I have no need for two abominations.” The demon rajah grabs Rohan’s head as he did when he executed the Galer.
Anu, don’t let this be happening.
Rohan also recognizes the fatal grip and toughens to someone sager than his fourteen years. “Prince Ashwin is our true ruler. He and Kindred Kalinda will stop you.”
His boldness tugs at my pride. His voice did not break once.
“You will not live to see how wrong you are.” Udug’s fingers glow an eerie azure as his fingertips dig into Rohan’s head. “I cast you out, demon.”
Rohan’s expression fixes in a silent scream. White light, his soul-fire, filters out of him and into the demon’s grasp.
Pounding sounds from inside the wagon. Opal bangs against the door, her shouts indistinct. I have to get to Rohan. Perhaps I could dispatch Manas and one of the guards before the other releases a bolt at me, but could I cut down all three? And then how do I stop Udug?
All my muscles strain for me to step forward—to protect Rohan, to stop Udug, to do something—but Opal’s wailing holds me back. I promised Rohan I would save his sister. Revealing my presence would jeopardize my chance of keeping my word. Any attempt to save Rohan would put Opal, Natesa, and Yatin in danger, and by all reason would be suicide. I cannot do anything for Rohan, but I can still help Opal.
Dropping my head against the side of the wagon, I fight the need to act. Why couldn’t Rohan have listened to me and stayed behind? Why didn’t he trust me? I should have known he lied to Natesa about needing the latrine. I should have stayed at the wagon until he returned. I failed him. I failed us all.
The night transforms around Udug, thickening to a suffocating depth of nothing. Rohan’s soul-fire fades like a dying day. I grasp my sword so tightly my palm aches. Finally, Udug steals the last of Rohan’s essence and lets him go.
Rohan folds in a heap like a husk, limbs and head angled wrongly.
Opal’s frantic thuds and cries lessen. Udug stares up at the sky and scowls at the stars that defy his darkness. Then he strides into his tent.
Manas wrenches the bolt from Rohan’s shoulder. I cringe from the grisly sound of blade ripping flesh. “Get rid of it.”
The soldiers pick up Rohan and lug him away. Opal’s weeps reverberate into my bones.
Manas raps his fist against the wagon. “You in there. Shut it.” He mutters to himself and ducks inside Udug’s tent.
I wait two breaths. Then five. Then twelve. No one returns.
Opal’s cries continue. Brac must not be with her or I would have heard him by now. Perhaps Udug stole his soul-fire too.
The pair of soldiers returns and stands guard at the end of the prisoner’s wagon.
I press my lips against the wall and whisper so only the wind can hear me. “I’ll get you out, Opal. I swear it.”
Trusting the wind to deliver my message, I slip away to the end of camp. The moon and stars reveal two sets of footprints leading into the rocky field. I follow their trail to the body.
The soldiers dumped Rohan in the grass. They did not even lay him so he looks to the heavens. I roll him onto his back and sniffle away my tears. He was so young.
Without a tool to dig a grave with, I will lay him to rest another way. I set to work gathering rocks. Taking off my jacket to use as a bindle, I load and carry four or five rocks at a time. I stack them around Rohan, burying his feet and legs first.
A rustle in the grass draws me up short. Scavengers must have caught the scent of the body. Before long, they will circle in. I double my speed, gathering and stacking until Rohan is encased in stones.
I kneel back, sweat dripping down my forehead, and try to center myself. My anger against Udug drove me to labor through most of the night, but I must let go of my hard feelings long enough to pray.
“Gods, bless Rohan’s soul so that he may find the gate that leads to peace and everlasting light.” I recite the Prayer of Rest more often than feels fair, but the blessing always instills harmony in my heart.
I sit with Rohan until sunrise stirs on the horizon. Then I leave him to his rest and trudge back to our catapult wagon. Yatin and Natesa are wide awake, sitting upright beside each other.
“Rohan didn’t return,” Natesa says. Her lower lip is red from gnawing it.
Tears I thought I left at the grave site burn my eyes. “He found Opal locked in a wagon. The demon rajah . . . got to him first.”
Natesa’s expression crashes in as she succumbs to shock and sorrow. I slide down to the ground and drop my head in my hands.
“And Brac?” Yatin asks.
My shoulders curve over my hollow chest. “No sign of him.”
Yatin and Natesa fall quiet. We alone cannot stop Udug. We are three mortals against an immortal demon. We could sneak off now, as though we were never here. We could steal horses and run for Vanhi ahead of the army, or backtrack and seek out the Lestarian Navy along the river. But my vow to Opal stops me, and despite my better instincts, I muster the fortitude not to flee.
“I’m staying,” I say. “You two can leave.”
Natesa draws short breaths, working up the nerve to run or hide or both. Yatin wraps his arm around her, and she leans into his side.
“We need to stay together,” he says.
My heart fills until it may burst. They still trust me, even after my terrible mistake. I thought Rohan would regard my plea for him to stay with the others. I should have commanded him not to leave, but I refused to take full responsibility for his life, and now I am partly responsible for his death. I will not repeat my error.
“If you stay, you stay on as my troops.” I leave no quarrel about my authority. “You’ll do everything I order. No questions. No debates. You follow me.”
Yatin does not so much as blink. “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, General Naik,” Natesa amends.
Her use of my rank rubs at an old sore, but I let it alone and rest against the wagon for what is left of the night.
Daybreak gradually pours across the grassland, stinging my tired eyes and waking the troops. I could sleep through the ruckus, but sunup pushes us to get underway.
My unit packs up. The loss of our fourth member is stark as we divide the work to ready our horses and wagon. I would like to visit Rohan’s grave site before we leave, bring Natesa and Yatin along, and allow myself another moment to rage about his death. But the wagons ahead of us roll out, so we set off for another grueling day of marching.