“Adah said you’d come here, to the culvert.”
“She did, did she? And did she also tell you that I probably wouldn’t return alive?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you came.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, here you are, a child in a harsh world of warriors.” Jordin paced, furious. No one had noticed them, but she had to get moving before anyone did. She jabbed her finger at the culvert. “Go back. You can’t go where I’m going. Out of the question.”
“And where is that?” When Jordin refused to answer, Kaya set her jaw. “I’m not going back. You just killed four Dark Bloods here. They’ll be discovered, and the streets will be crawling with them. If you make me go back, you might as well kill me here. I’d never make it.”
She was right. Sending her back would just as likely get her killed as taking her into the wasteland.
“Please, Kaya….”
“Jonathan—”
“Didn’t die so you could get yourself killed!”
“Then what are you doing?” the girl said more quietly.
Jordin stared at her for a long moment.
What am I doing?
Jonathan, where are you?
“Go back or stay with me, you’ll end up dead. I’m in no position to protect a child.”
“I’m not a child,” Kaya said. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Jordin looked away, shook her head.
“Are you jealous?” Kaya asked.
Jordin strode toward her and yanked the sword from her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Kaya stared at her for a long moment, frowning deeply. “Fine,” she said. “Then send me to my death. When you find him, tell Jonathan that you abandoned me. Tell him I died trying to come to him.”
“I’m not going to find Jonathan. Are you deaf?” She tossed the sword away.
Kaya spun on her heel and headed back toward the culvert, arms spread wide as if to offer herself up. She would never make it. Dark Bloods seemed to have a sixth sense that alerted them when harm had found their comrades. Others were likely already on their way.
“Kaya.”
The girl marched resolutely on. She was incorrigible—the very recipe for certain disaster.
“Kaya.”
The girl stopped but did not turn.
“If you come, you follow my lead to the letter.”
Kaya turned around.
“I don’t have food for two,” Jordin said.
“I won’t eat.”
At least the girl had the sense to bring the canteen at her waist. She wore dark-brown boots that rose mid-calf. She wasn’t properly dressed for a journey out of the city, but street shoes and black pants would have been far worse for daylight travel through rough terrain.
Too frustrated to speak, Jordin turned her back on the city and headed out into the wasteland, well aware of Kaya behind her, hurrying to catch up.
She closed her eyes. Death was now ensured.
Jonathan might have done better to leave the girl to the Authority of Passing. At least there she might have lost her life in peace.
T
HE WASTELAND south of Byzantium held several advantages for Jordin. She knew the terrain intimately—Sovereigns had lived in caves to the southwest for several years before their discovery by the Immortals a year ago. The Blood War between Feyn and the Immortals had been two months old at the time, and with so many engagements focused to the north, the Sovereigns had remained largely unmolested—until that day. Though Roland penetrated the city from all sides today, Immortal attacks remained concentrated on northern Byzantium, where the Citadel and the bulk of Feyn’s Dark Blood army stood heavy guard.
For the moment, the likelihood of a daylight encounter with Immortals this far south was thin, but come nightfall plenty of patrols would sniff them out. She was counting on it.
She glanced up at the sun, just shy of its zenith. They had been walking nearly two hours at a healthy pace and were already running out of water. With any luck, the small seasonal creek that snaked through the Basil canyon an hour ahead would still be running.
By her reckoning, they had almost eight hours to reach the canyon she had in mind and prepare.
“Jordin?”
Kaya walked to her right, half a step behind, keeping mostly to
herself. For as many complications as the girl’s presence had introduced to the situation, Jordin couldn’t deny that her companionship offered some relief. If they died tonight, they would at least die together.
“Keep your voice down.”
Kaya cleared her throat and spoke just above a whisper. “Jordin?”
“What is it?”
“Do you have a plan?”
“A plan for what?”
The girl hesitated. “I mean, if we aren’t going to find Jonathan, what do you plan to do?”
Keeping the truth from Kaya would serve no purpose.
“I’m going to kill an Immortal.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. The deep canyons here had been carved by rivers, most of which were dry, the rough, scrubby terrain having yielded years ago to desert with as much sand as rock. They climbed a sandy slope, leaning forward to gain better purchase, and topped a rise that overlooked a small canyon to the south. A gentle, forgiving breeze cooled the sweat beneath Jordin’s tunic.
She scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. None, as expected.
“Does Rom know?” Kaya asked.
She eyed the girl, knowing the objection she voiced in the question.
“He knows it may be necessary.”
“Why necessary?”
Jordin headed north along the ridge. “Because we need Immortal blood.”
“For what?”
“It’s the only way to become Immortal,” Jordin said.
Kaya stopped in her tracks. Jordin walked on.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the only way to become Immortal is through seroconversion. That means I have to inject Immortal blood into my veins.”
“What?” Kaya hurried to catch up. “You’re going to
become an Immortal?
”
“Not so loud. We don’t need to go out of our way to be discovered. Not yet.”
“Is it even possible?”
“Would I do it if I didn’t think so?” she said.
“But you’d no longer be Sovereign.”
She and Rom had discussed the notion on several occasions, an option for desperate straits. He’d gone to Feyn, knowing he faced possible conversion to Dark Blood, and her mind all but told her she must do the same with the Immortals. In becoming their enemies, they might defeat them.
“That’s true,” Jordin said.
She dropped off the ridge and angled down into the wash. She could only imagine the thoughts careening through Kaya’s mind. To become Immortal was tantamount to turning one’s back on Jonathan. To leaping off a cliff into the abyss of Hades itself. And that was assuming that seroconversion from Sovereign to Immortal could work. Even though they’d all once been Mortal before taking Jonathan’s blood, no one knew if it could be reversed. For all she knew, Immortal blood would kill her.
“It’s mad!” Kaya said. “You’ll become Immortal and set out to kill Sovereigns!”
“Maybe.”
Kaya grabbed her arm. “You can’t do it! Jonathan would never approve!”
Jordin spun, wrenching free of the girl’s grasp. “Jonathan isn’t speaking!” She felt her frustration boil over but made no attempt to calm herself. “He’s left me to lead, and this is the only thing I know to do.”
Kaya looked as if she’d been slapped.
“If you think I’m in love with the idea of becoming the enemy,
you’re wrong,” Jordin continued. “I’d rather slit Roland’s throat than eat with him—let alone become like him. And make no mistake, I will slit his throat. But the only way to get close enough for that to happen is to become like him. If you have a problem with that, you’d better hurry back and take your chances with the Dark Bloods. Otherwise, keep your doubts in your own head.”
They remained locked in that stare, Jordin’s face red…. Kaya’s white. But the girl’s eyes were flashing with offense.
“If you had no doubts you wouldn’t be so cross,” she said. “I’m only asking what any reasonable Sovereign would ask.”
“We’re past the time to be reasonable.”
“But not the time to be kind,” Kaya retorted. “I don’t think Jonathan would like the way you’re speaking to me.”
Jordin looked at her, at a loss for words. There was nothing quite as annoying as a self-righteous priss, particularly when she spoke smatterings of the truth.
She looked away, mocked once again by her own shame, which only aggravated her more. They were on a fool’s mission. One that Kaya had no business being on.
But that no longer mattered. Her own bitterness might be more of a threat to their safety than Kaya’s naïveté. Between the two of them, Kaya was more in line with Jonathan’s spirit. And yet her frustration refused to yield.
“How many Dark Bloods have you killed in Jonathan’s defense?” Jordin asked, eyes fixed on the rise.
“I haven’t killed anyone,” the girl responded after a moment.
Jordin looked at her. “Do you think I enjoy killing? That when I fought in Jonathan’s defense I relished each swing of my blade?”
“No.”
“Do you think I don’t have his heart?” She felt tears pooling in the corner of her eyes and quickly blinked them away. “That the man whose arms held me, whose lips kissed me, would disapprove of my heart?”
A tear broke from the corner of her eye. She swiped it with her wrist.
“No, Jordin. No, I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“Have you ever even loved a man? Loved him, and kissed his lips?”
“I…. no, not yet, but—”
“Then don’t assume you know anything about love, much less my love for Jonathan. I have gone and will go to the ends of the earth in his service. If he calls, I won’t just answer. I’ll run to him.”
“I know you would,” Kaya said softly. “Jonathan was so fortunate to have you. I meant no disrespect. You saved me as much as he did.”
The tables had somehow been flipped. She, not Kaya, should be the reassuring one.
“Has he called to you?” Kaya asked. “In your dreams?”
The question stopped her cold.
“Has he called to you?” Jordin asked.
“I dream of him calling to me in the desert.”
Maybe there was something to it after all. Her heart quickened—both with the possibility of it and with something like envy. Why hadn’t he called to her, if not alone, then uniquely?
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Forgive me, Kaya. I don’t know what’s become of me. I…. it all seems so hopeless right now.”
“Don’t be sorry,” the girl said. “We’re all facing this. But we can trust Jonathan, can’t we? You always taught me to trust him, didn’t you?”
Jordin nodded absently. “Yes, I did. And you’re right. I’m just struggling a bit right now. I’m sorry for letting you down.”
“You haven’t!” Kaya grabbed her hand and pressed a fervent kiss against her knuckles. “You lost more than I did when Jonathan was killed. But you’ve seen him, right? In your dreams.”
Jordin nodded. “Yes, in my dreams. And Rom has as well.”
“He’s calling to us, Jordin. That’s how I know he’s still alive. I’m just not sure he would like us killing Immortals.”
Jordin considered the girl. Perhaps having Kaya by her side was meant to be. She took in the sight of her, eyes brilliant as a green sea in the sun. Her hair billowed with the breeze like a dark sail, a stray tendril teasing at her cheek and catching against her lips. The Nomads would have prized her for her sheer beauty alone. A stunning creature, she could have taken any lover. But what would the Immortals make of her? Roland, she thought, might eat her for dinner. The strong and sudden instinct to protect the girl surprised her.
“But,” Kaya added, “that said, I will follow you.”
Such simple faith—faith in her—nearly broke Jordin’s heart.
“Unless you have another idea?” Jordin asked, for the first time genuinely open to any suggestion.
Kaya shrugged. “We could just walk into their camp.”
“We don’t know where it is. And even if we found it, they would never allow us to approach it alive.”
Kaya diverted her eyes, lost in thought. “Maybe we could take one captive and force him to take us.”
“We have the wrong smell. They’re much more highly skilled than we are. Mortal perception has evolved in them. There’s no way we’d stand a chance.”
Finally, Kaya nodded. “Then I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “We have to kill. Or at least wound one? Couldn’t we just cut off a hand and take the blood from it?”
Jordin smiled. “Unlikely. But you’re not far off.”
“You’re sure about becoming Immortal?”
“This is my path. I’m not sure, but it’s what I’ll do. Or at least try.” She almost said “die trying,” but she stopped herself in time.
“Then I won’t try to discourage you.”
For all her artlessness in some matters, Kaya was surprisingly astute in others.
“What about you?” Jordin asked.
“Me?”
“If we manage to acquire Immortal blood, will you take it?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.”
Jordin turned and resumed her march north, adjacent to the canyon over the rise. “Then you’d better think quickly,” she said over her shoulder. “Time is running out.”
THE PLACE Jordin had chosen lay near the mouth of a small canyon. She’d once holed up in the narrow passage at the end of the ravine to escape a band of Dark Bloods. That was before the Blood War that pushed Feyn’s warriors back into the city. To call it a passage overstated its dimensions. It was more of a crack in the canyon wall, which jutted skyward on either side. Only two paces wide, it ran deep, a hundred meters at least.
Unaided by the Immortals’ acute sense of smell and oblivious to Jordin’s hiding deep within, the Dark Bloods had passed by the fissure, waiting at the mouth of the canyon until nightfall, when they’d given up and headed back to the city.
During the long hours of waiting them out, Jordin had noticed the precarious balance of the boulders perched along the western rim of the fissure. The narrow passage was practically a death trap.
It was to that place she took Kaya. There, they worked with the small shovel for several hours, loosening enough boulders to make for a crushing landslide along a twenty-meter section of the cliff wall above.