The Midnight Sea (The Fourth Element #1) (11 page)

I stared at my captain. He couldn’t actually be considering this unholy pact…

The silence on the plain seemed brittle as ice over running water. I slowly eased my sword from the scabbard, just an inch but enough to whip it free in a heartbeat. I would rather burn for all eternity than ride with these creatures and their human chattel. Darius gave the tiniest nod as I released my hold on the bond.

Maybe we’d even manage to kill one or two of them before we died.

Then Ilyas sat up straighter. He had reached a decision.

“Your offer is refused,” he said in that ringing voice I remembered from the day we met.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath.

“The daēvas are the property of the King, not your Bactrian witch. Tell Queen Neblis that if we see any of her
Antimagi
in these lands again, we will return their heads and leave the corpses for the carrion birds.” His lip curled. “If they’re even willing to touch your debased flesh.”

The rider laughed at this, but he no longer sounded amused. “It’s a pity you have that one.” He pointed a pale hand at Darius and the chain jerked tight, nearly dragging his slaves from the saddle, but their doll’s eyes never changed. “The others would be easily disposed of and then I could find a place for you in my retinue.” He stared at Ilyas. “I think you would last a long time. But alas! I don’t wish to test that daēva of hers. He reminds me too much of the one we seek.”

The necromancer must be referring to Darius’s power, I thought. That he was as strong as the ancient ones. Nothing else. I refused to believe that my daēva was truly Druj.

They wheeled around and rode back the way they had come, into the shifting sands of the Rig-e Jenn. I watched them vanish over the horizon. I wondered if any of the slaves had been taken from the village of Ash Shiyda, and felt even sicker.

“How did that scum know of the escape?” Tijah asked. “Do you think they followed us?”

“The messenger from Gorgon-e Gaz,” Tommas said thoughtfully. “He was pursued by Druj. They must have reported back.”

“Can they track like Darius?”

“Perhaps not. Their magic is focused on the dead, not the living. It would explain why they needed our help.”

“Once we have these daēvas in hand, we will hunt them down and destroy them,” Ilyas said. “You have my word.”

He made the sign of the flame. Ilyas was calm again. In control. But he had not been himself these last days. I caught Tommas’s eye and knew he was worried too. He would never say anything, but he felt it.

Something in our captain was very close to breaking.

Chapter Twelve

W
e rode so hard I feared Ilyas would kill the horses, but we did not catch them on the plain. Nor did we see the necromancers again. So I was braced for the worst when we got our first glimpse of the Barbican some hours later.

I expected a pile of rubble. More broken bodies. But from all appearances, the fortress was untouched. It squatted on a lump of rock in the middle of a shallow lake. Fires burned all along the grey walls, spaced only a foot apart. Heavily armed soldiers guarded the entrance, and dozens more watched us ride up from atop the circular towers anchoring each corner. A wooden bridge arched over the water, leading to a pair of massive iron gates.

We reined up on the shore. The air had a strange smell to it, and I could feel Darius’s discomfort.

“The final defense,” he said quietly. “If the fortress is attacked, they have only to toss a torch into the lake and the water will burn. A combination of pine resin, naphtha, some other substances I don’t recognize.”

“But they didn’t light it,” I said.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Darius!” Ilyas called. “The runners. Did they come this way?”

“I…” Darius frowned and I felt power flow into the bond. “They passed a little ways south. But…I don’t understand it…”

“What? Tell me!”

Darius shook his head. “They’re gone, captain.”

“What do you mean, they’re gone?”

“I mean, I can’t feel them anymore.”

“Could they be dead?” Ilyas asked hopefully.

I knew what he was thinking. That the necromancers had caught them. Maybe both sides had massacred each other in the battle. Two birds with one stone.

“They could be,” Darius said. But he doubted it. I did too.

Ilyas blew out a long breath. “Nazafareen, come with me. The rest of you wait here. Let’s find out if they’ve seen anything.”

I spurred my horse into a canter and we rode across the bridge, hoof beats echoing on the wooden planks. When we reached the gates, Ilyas made the sign of the flame and explained that we’d been sent by Satrap Jaagos, but he didn’t elaborate further. The soldiers, all hard-faced men, opened the gates just wide enough for us to pass, then winched them shut again.

We entered a courtyard and then the fortress proper. Everywhere, torches burned, casting flickering light on the bare stone. No daēva could enter this place.

We dismounted and two magi in hooded robes of plain brown roughspun led the horses away. A third gestured for us to follow him. I couldn’t see his face, but his hands bore a welter of scars, burns by the look of them.

“They call themselves Purified,” Ilyas whispered to me as we followed the magus down a long corridor. “They welcome the pain of working with the holy fire. It’s a badge of their devotion.”

I nodded, wondering how far those scars extended under the robes. I was as pious as anyone, but the thought of burning my own body for the sake of the Holy Father made me a little ill.

“The High Magus,” our escort said, throwing open a door.

A man stood before a small fire altar. He was stooped and white-haired—just as I had thought a magus should look when I was a little girl—but his black eyes were lit with the intensity of a true zealot. He wore a white robe with a gold faravahar embroidered on the breast. I noted the harsh set of his thin-lipped mouth, the gauntness of his face, and understood right away that this was a very different sort of man than the magus we had at home.

“Water Dogs from Tel Khalujah,” the High Magus said. His voice was deep and rasping, as though he didn’t use it often. “What is your business at the Barbican?”

Again, Ilyas made the sign of the flame before speaking. “A week ago, there was an escape from Gorgon-e Gaz. Six daēvas. We’ve pursued them across the mountains, and now the plain. The trail led here, but we…Well, we seem to have lost them.”

The High Magus’s expression didn’t change, although his disapproval was clear. “I see. And why would you think to find them here?” He waved a hand at the altar, the multitude of torches burning in brackets on the walls. “We have no fear of
daēvas
.” He spat the word, like it was a piece of rotten meat. “This fortress is impregnable.”

“I’m well aware of that, High Magus,” Ilyas said evenly. “But until a few minutes ago, they were heading directly for the Barbican. We feared an assault of some kind.”

“Your fears are unfounded. All is well here.”

“We also encountered necromancers on the plain,” Ilyas said. “They have human captives. If you can spare some soldiers—”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” the High Magus said. “Especially with dangerous daēvas on the loose. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

He was turning away when I found myself speaking. I hadn’t planned to, but a thought had just occurred to me. I didn’t believe it was a coincidence that the runners had passed so near the Barbican. If what the necromancers said was true, they would have avoided Bactria at all costs. Queen Neblis clearly held a grudge. She wasn’t their ally—quite the opposite. If she got hold of these daēvas, she would probably torture them to death.

Which left them two choices. Run south, toward the Sayhad desert and the satrapy of Al Miraj, or north for one of the coastal villages of the Midnight Sea, where a ship could bring them straight to Eskander’s lines. That was the obvious choice. But they had done neither of those things. They had risked crossing the open plain, with Water Dogs in pursuit. Until we lost them, they had made a beeline for the Barbican. There had to be something here they wanted.

“Wait,” I said.

Ilyas frowned and tried to take my arm but I shook him off. The High Magus stared at me.

“Speak, girl,” he said impatiently.

I took a deep breath. If I was wrong, we’d be lucky to leave in one piece.

“At Gorgon-e Gaz, the guards aided in their escape.” I paused, letting that fact sink in. “They had help on the inside.”

The High Magus’s predatory black eyes bored into me. “What exactly are you suggesting? That we have traitors here?”

“No, High Magus. I would never think such a thing. Only that you may wish to find out if anyone has come or gone in the last several hours,” I said. “Soldiers. Purified. Anyone at all.”

I thought he might throw me onto the flames of the altar himself, but the High Magus froze. His eyes roved unseeing across the room. Ilyas and I stood very still.

“No, it’s impossible,” he said finally. “As you will see in a moment. The bridge is the only way in or out.”

We followed as he strode out the door and back down the corridor, through the inner courtyard to the gates. The soldiers there snapped to attention when they saw him.

“Has anyone left this day?” the High Magus demanded. “Speak truth, or I’ll know it!”

The soldiers looked confused.

“Well, yes,” one of them said. “Two Purified passed through the gates not an hour ago. By your own orders, High Magus. I checked the papers myself. They bore your seal.”

The High Magus’s face seemed to collapse in on itself.

“A forgery,” he whispered. “Treason has been committed here.”

The soldiers looked terrified, and I felt sorry for them.

“Who was it? What were their names? Speak!”

“Magus Yari and Magus Mahvar,” the guard stammered. “They carried a small urn with them. They said it was a gift for the King.”

Whatever color remained in the High Magus’s face drained away at these words. He raised a shaking hand to his forehead. “It cannot be…Never, in two hundred years…”

He suddenly looked frail and lost, just an old man in a fancy robe. Ilyas swore under his breath and stepped forward, taking the High Magus by the elbow.

“What did they steal?” he asked firmly. “The holy fire?”

The High Magus didn’t respond.

“I can still get it back, but you must explain everything to me,” Ilyas said. “Where was it kept?”

He looked on the verge of shaking the answer loose when the High Magus spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll show you.”

He led us to a chamber in the heart of the fortress. We passed several hooded Purified on the way, but the High Magus ignored them. I had expected an altar, but my first impression when we entered was of a blacksmith’s forge. I saw an anvil and hammer and other tools, a vise gripping a set of half-finished cuffs. Trays of raw gold nuggets.

In the center of the room sat an empty pedestal.

“Holy Father, forgive me.” The High Magus buried his face in his hands.

“Do you not keep it locked and guarded?” Ilyas asked in disbelief.

“It
was
guarded. The soldiers, the lake…I never…” He took a deep breath. “The brothers here served the flame. We always assumed that the threat lay outside these walls, not within.”

“Why would they take it?” Ilyas muttered. “Why?” He stalked over and slapped his palm on the bare stone. “To forge new cuffs? But to what purpose?”

The High Magus looked up. “Not to forge new cuffs,” he said in a dead voice. “To break them.”

Chapter Thirteen

“
T
he cuffs cannot be broken,” Ilyas said, his jaw clenched. “The bond can be changed to another, yes. But not broken. Even if they are removed, the link remains. Everyone knows that.”

“No.” The words came out of the High Magus slowly, painfully. “When the cuff is given to the flames it was forged in, the bond will shatter. The daēva will be freed.”

Ilyas slammed his fist down. His face flushed red with rage. “Why were we not told of this possibility?”

“It is kept secret,” the High Magus said sharply. “For obvious reasons.”

“We are Water Dogs!” Ilyas growled. “Bonded to these Druj. We were promised they could never turn on us. Never! And yet you allow two Purified to walk out the front door carrying the key to their cages.” He paced up and down, then halted suddenly as the full impact of the High Magus’s words hit him.

“The Immortals,” Ilyas whispered. “There are five thousand bonded daēvas in Persepolae
. Five thousand
. What if Victor and the others mean to set them free?”

I suddenly remembered that first day with the magus at Tel Khalujah, his reassuring words to a frightened child.

All our daēva soldiers have been raised in the light. We’ve trained them to overcome their wicked
natures…

But was it really true? And if it wasn’t, what retribution would they exact for their enslavement? I knew what I would do if I was a daēva, offered a chance at freedom.

“There’s something else,” the High Magus said hollowly. “Once freed, it’s likely they will no longer have infirmities.”

“
What
?”

“The infirmity occurs during the bonding process. The cuff takes a piece of the daēva. Maims them. It’s different for each one. We never know in advance what it will be. But I would imagine the reverse is true. If the bond is broken, the daēva will become whole.”

I thought of Darius’s withered arm and a wave of nausea rolled over me.

“But the Way of the Flame teaches that they were born that way,” I said.

The High Magus pursed his thin lips and said nothing.

“You’re liars,” I spat. “The Holy Father didn’t curse them.
You
did.”

“They are Druj!” the High Magus thundered. “Everything we do here, we do out of necessity. Who are you to pass judgment?”

I wanted to stab the old man right there, but Ilyas stepped between us.

“What else?” he asked in a deadly tone. “Any other surprises?”

The High Magus gazed at him, black eyes as murderous as my own.

“None. I’ve told you everything. And now you must swear to keep what I have told you secret. If our enemies knew that the cuffs had a weakness…”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up, Nazafareen,” Ilyas said calmly. “We swear it. Now, I need fresh horses and as many men as you can spare without leaving the fortress undefended.”

The High Magus nodded curtly and swept from the chamber.

“Nothing has changed,” Ilyas said. He seemed strangely detached. “They would have fought us regardless. We can’t bring them back if the cuffs are broken, but we can still kill them. We can still catch them before they reach Persepolae. We must.”

“Ilyas…”

“I will not be remembered as the man who brought down the empire, Nazafareen.”

I stared into his grey eyes and felt a chill.

“But we have to tell—”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “No. We don’t.” Ilyas smiled coldly. “I’ve been lenient with you, but your tongue has grown very loose of late. I was the first to see your potential. I see it still. Do not press me on this. We are at the end now. The only question is
whose
.”

He gave the pedestal a happy little slap. Like quicksilver, I thought.

“Good thoughts.” His fingers drifted to my forehead. “Good deeds.” Ilyas poked my chest. “Good words.” He touched my mouth a final time. I wanted to bite him, but I managed to leash my temper.

“Remind me of the Water Dog loyalties, Nazafareen. I hope you still remember them.”

“Holy Father,” I said. “King, then satrap.”

“Very good. Daēvas are not on the list, are they? Bonded or otherwise.”

“No,” I said quietly. “But they fight for us still.”

“Because they have to. And without them…Well, our borders would be worth nothing more than lines on a map.” He gazed into the space just above the pedestal, as though he saw writhing flames there. “Even if they don’t manage to free the Immortals—which I’ll admit wouldn’t be a simple task, nor a certain outcome—what do you think Eskander would do with the holy fire? The power to both forge the cuffs and break them at will? Or maybe they’ll bring it to Neblis. How does that sit with you, Nazafareen?”

“They won’t bring the fire to Neblis,” I said wearily. “Weren’t you listening? She wants those daēvas dead as much as you do.”

And it occurred to me then that the necromancer had never actually said anything about the daēvas
changing sides
in the war, only that their queen owed Victor a great debt. Darius and Tommas despised the Druj Undead more than anything on earth. So did Myrri. If the magi had lied about the cuffs, what else had they lied about? It was all such a long time ago. Who still lived that knew the truth? Not even the magus at Tel Khalujah was so old. I could only think of six—the daēvas we hunted—and Ilyas wanted to kill them all.

Clearly, I wasn’t the only one harboring serious doubts. This had gone beyond Gorgon-e Gaz now. Beyond a few rebellious Water Dogs. Two
Purified
—the most devout and fanatical sect in the empire—had just betrayed their faith, and they weren’t even bonded. There was no question that their actions had been a deliberate choice, made of their own free will.

I felt the foundation of everything I believed start to crumble beneath my feet. How did we know Neblis was a daēva? And even if she was, did we have the right to punish an entire race based on her actions?

I hate this thing. And sometimes I hate
you
…

Maybe Darius had every right to. Maybe we were no better than those necromancers.

“Enough, Nazafareen,” Ilyas said, and I wondered how much he had read in my face. “Every second they’re getting farther away.” He started to walk to the door, then turned back. “And if you tell your daēva what we learned here, I will have Tommas kill him on the spot.”

We found six fresh horses waiting in the courtyard, along with two dozen mounted soldiers carrying lances. They wore egg-shaped felt caps and their tunics bore both the faravahar and the griffin.

“Captain Ilyas?” A man with a short beard and faint white scar across his chin rode forward. “I am Lieutenant Parshad. The High Magus says we are to accompany you in returning two Purified to the fortress.”

Ilyas nodded. “Did he tell you who else we’re hunting?”

The lieutenant swallowed. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good. I plan to catch them on the Royal Road.”

When the guards saw Ilyas’s face, they winched the gates open without a word. I think they were just relieved we hadn’t arrested them for treason.

As for myself, I didn’t know who or what I believed anymore. But I still wore the scarlet tunic, and I didn’t have a shred of doubt that Ilyas would carry out his threat. Which left me with very few choices, all of them bad.

The moment we passed over the bridge, Ilyas summoned the rest of the Water Dogs.

“Two Purified may have gone to join them,” he said. “The High Magus graciously lent me some of his troops as reinforcements, but all is well in the Barbican.”

I knew Darius sensed my turmoil. He couldn’t miss it, especially since I made no effort to conceal how I felt. He looked at me, blue eyes questioning, but kept his face impassive. It was the only warning I could give him. I hoped it would be enough.

“We cannot allow them to reach Persepolae,” Ilyas said. “So here’s what we’re going to do.”

When he finished laying out his insane plan, no one spoke for a moment. Then Tommas nodded.

“It might be possible,” he said.

“It is possible,” Ilyas growled. “And you’ll make it happen. Now! Or you’ll learn what the bond can do to a daēva that disobeys its master.”

Darius tensed, but Tommas only smiled. I marveled at his calm. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to be yoked to Ilyas in his current state.

“Easy, Captain.” Tommas turned to the other daēvas. “How strong are you with air?”

Myrri tilted her palm back and forth.
So-so
.

“Fairly strong,” Darius said.

“Can you follow my lead?”

“I’ll try.”

Myrri nodded. Her skin was a lighter brown than Tijah’s, almost the same color as my hair, and she had large, liquid eyes that always seemed to be slightly unfocused. I think she lived in that nothing place as much as possible, and I was starting to understand why.

Tijah made the hand sign that I had learned meant
Be
careful
.

I looked at my sister in the Water Dogs and wondered what she would do if it came down to it. Where her own loyalty lay. And I knew in my heart it would be to Myrri.

The problem was, I also knew that Ilyas wasn’t entirely wrong. No one could predict what freed daēvas would do. Most likely, it would be Gorgon-e Gaz on an unimaginable scale. Because even if they weren’t evil before, two hundred years of servitude had made them into something twisted and vengeful.

I watched as Tommas, Darius and Myrri walked out onto the plain. They stood facing west, their backs to the Barbican. Tommas took a deep breath. Beside him, Darius and Myrri did the same. I felt power surge through the bond. My daēva’s shoulders heaved. His heart sped up until I feared it would burst in his chest. And then he drew still more power. The cuff seared my wrist, that familiar sensation of frozen fire. My own breath caught in my lungs as Darius’s awareness dissolved into the air and began bending it to his will.

The soldiers had gathered in a tight knot around their lieutenant. Their eyes were wide with fear, and I wondered if they had even seen a daēva before. One of them pointed. An excited murmur erupted.

At the edge of the plain, just at the visible horizon, something was forming. A wall of dull grey. I blinked as it swallowed the sun.

Just when I was about to run over there and scream at the daēvas to stop before they killed themselves, Tommas fell to his hands and knees. “It’s done,” he gasped.

I seized the bridle of one of the fresh horses and led it to Darius.

“Tommas did most of it,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve never seen anything like—”

“Mount up!” Ilyas shouted. “In the name of the Holy Father and King Artaxeros the Second, I pledge my sword to stem the tide of evil staining this land. Who shall join me?”

The soldiers from the Barbican roared their approval. Tijah waved her scimitar in the air. Darius bowed his head, muttering a prayer. I alone was silent, but Ilyas didn’t notice. He was already digging his heels into the horse’s flanks, the end of his
qarha
streaming behind him like a bloody banner.

I offered Tommas my hand. He looked utterly spent.

“Ilyas,” I said, as Tommas staggered to his feet. “He’s not…”

Sane? Trustworthy? The man I had once loved like a brother? I was still deciding what I meant to say when Tommas hoisted himself into the saddle of the last horse. He had a quiet strength that was easy to overlook. His beauty was the first thing you noticed, but it was his character you remembered. Unfailingly decent to his friends, implacable to his enemies.

“Make sure you wind the
qarha
tightly, Nazafareen,” Tommas said. He gave me a crooked smile.

And then he too was gone.

As we galloped toward the sandstorm, I looked back only once. An unnatural twilight had fallen across the plain, but I could see a red glow in the distance, glimmering like a fallen star.

The High Magus had set the lake on fire.