“Yes. He would have killed me if I hadn’t killed him. I breached the raven-marked line to collect some ingredients I forgot for Rory, and he would not accept my explanation.” I gestured at his fallen sword. “They’ll put me on trial if I do not mask his death as an accidental fall into Hirun.”
The violence of Nizahl soldiers required little elaboration. Everyone had felt the lash of their terrible power at some point. What my non-Jasadi friends did not need to know was how he accused me of more than merely trespassing. They might feel more sympathy for the soldier if they knew what kind of hand had felled him.
I described my plan, mindful of my race against the dawn. Every instinct rebelled against letting them help. If they made a mistake, it would be my neck. Teamwork, however, was a necessary evil to see this night through.
“Preparing him will not be a delicate affair. If you doubt your tolerance, you can wait behind those trees. I only need your help with carrying his body to the river.”
“This is a bad omen. A bad, bad omen. The Alcalah is only seven weeks away. Isn’t it meant to bring prosperity and good fortune?” Sefa appeared transfixed by the unnatural angle of the soldier’s neck. “What if this means the Awaleen are closer to waking from their slumber?”
“Don’t be a fool.” Marek collected branches to spread over the blood-dampened earth. Impressive forethought. “The Awaleen’s sleep is permanent. If a tournament as bloody and random as the Alcalah could influence the Awaleen, they would have cracked out of their tombs and killed us centuries ago.” Marek scattered the branches with more force than necessary. The mention of the Alcalah must have prodded an old wound. I wondered if Marek had ever joined the legions of competitors vying for a position as their kingdom’s Champion. “Think carefully, Sefa. If the Alcalah or its Champions had the power to bring good fortune, the Supreme would have called it magic and eliminated it after the war. What we are witnessing here is the result of a Nizahl soldier’s hubris.”
Sefa shivered. In our rush, she and Marek had left the keep without any shields against the wind. She looked small and profoundly pathetic. It wouldn’t do—I needed her in action-ready condition.
I shoved my cloak toward her. “Avoid getting it bloody.”
As I moved to the soldier, a hand thrust forward, halting my path.
“Sylvia, you cannot think you have the strength to break this man’s back.” Marek crossed his arms over his chest. “I have seen you struggle to lift a crate of apples.”
I choked on a bark of laughter. Oh, but there was not any sport in winning a game the other side wasn’t playing. “You saw what I wanted you to see. Sefa, please find as many small, jagged stones as you can fit in the cloak’s pockets.”
“Let me do this part,” Marek argued.
I took a fortifying breath, releasing it through my nose. He was trying to help, I reminded myself. “I can handle it. Alone.”
Flipping the body facedown on the ground, I grabbed the arms and hoisted the body back. Sefa turned green. I couldn’t blame her. The body was on its knees, pulled back by its arms, its mutilated and mud-stained torso pointed in her direction. A macabre sight, to be sure.
“At least we do not plan on eating him,” I grumbled to myself. Marek shot me a bewildered glance.
Keeping a firm grip on the body’s elbows, I planted my boot at the base of his back. Sefa scurried into the trees, covering her ears. Marek watched with a skeptical frown.
A sinister voice bloomed in my mind. In a matter of hours, you may have destroyed the identity you spent years building. You cannot even protect your own pathetic, pointless life, Hanim whispered in my ear. My darkest thoughts always spoke in her voice. Years had passed since I last heard my former captor. That I heard her now could not signify anything good.
I heaved the body’s arms toward myself. Breaking a grown man’s back at this angle required a significant amount of force. Hanim had compared it to pretending I was trying to shove my foot through the person and toward the ground just ahead of them. The arms needed to be pulled back far and held fast. Otherwise, the shoulders would pop loose, and the back would remain undamaged.
I slammed my boot downward against his back. The thunderous crack sent Marek’s brows disappearing into his hair. Satisfied, I dropped the body onto its broken bones and pointed at the gash on the soldier’s belly. “This cut is too clean. I need you to make it seem as though he sustained the damage from the boulders in Hirun.”
Marek accepted my dagger with a slow smile. “I can’t break a grown man’s back, but I can certainly whittle a messier wound.”
I left him crouched beside the soldier and went to find Sefa. I stumbled on her apologizing to a colony of ants for stealing the rocks they were hiding behind. “I am almost finished,” she said.
Suspicion thickened into a brick in my chest. Aside from her spat of superstitious paranoia, she seemed utterly nonchalant. So did Marek. I had dragged them out of the village in the middle of the night to help me mangle a soldier’s corpse and carry it to the river. I’d seen them react with more horror to the discovery that I routinely forgot to water my fig plant.
I slid into a crouch, grimacing at the sight of my cloak dragging against the ground. It swallowed Sefa’s small frame. “Speak plainly. Why are you doing this for me?”
Undeterred by my harsh tone, she blew gently on the rocks in her palm, flaking away the loose debris. “Despite your strong resistance to the concept, we are friends.”
“Friendship has its limits.”
“Perhaps.”
“I wouldn’t do this for you or Marek.”
The corner of her mouth lifted like I had said something amusing. “I know.”
“If I’m caught, I will be executed. You would be thrown to the mercy of a Nizahlan tribunal for helping me.”
“If you are hoping to light a fire of fear in me, you are too late. It was lit long ago.” Sefa tucked the rocks in her pockets. “Be at ease, Sylvia. Before it ever came to a tribunal, I would promptly follow you into death.”
Sefa and I stood at the same time. Only a Jasadi would have need for such a disturbing vow, but Marek and Sefa did not have a trace of magic. Living as closely as we did, I would have seen it. What cause did they have to fear Nizahl?
I evaluated Sefa as though seeing her anew. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Now, Sylvia. You may have my loyalty without cost.” The rest of the rocks tumbled into her pocket. “But you must earn my secrets.” She smiled, whites of her teeth bright against her skin.