‘What’s happening?’ I gasped, pulling up my sheema to shield my eyes from the sand. The others were doing the same. All except Sam.
‘I think …’ His eyes were turned westwards. The rest of us followed his gaze. There, on the horizon, stood row upon row of green uniforms. ‘It’s the Albish army.’
Chapter 39
It was far from the whole Albish army – a dozen men out of hundreds. But a dozen men wielding powers were better than nothing.
‘Captain Westcroft.’ We met him at the edge of the camp as he marched, leading what remained of the men we’d seen in Iliaz. The young soldiers behind him looked battered. ‘We figured you’d been annihilated.’
‘Many of us were.’ The captain nodded gravely. ‘But I thought it prudent to keep some of our soldiers separate from the Gallan.’ Their Demdji. They might have forged an alliance with the Gallan, but hundreds of years of prejudice didn’t disappear just because two regents had signed some paper far away. The Gallan thought all magic was the work of the Destroyer of Worlds. The Albish had a different kind of faith. ‘We were luckier than most of my men.’ The captain looked sad, tugging on the ends of his moustache. ‘And now it seems like you could use some cavalry, so to speak.’
Ahmed considered the foreign man. I knew what he was thinking. Allying with foreigners had been the beginning of his father’s rule as well. It had been the start of us handing the country over to the Gallan and their greater force. We could not make that mistake again.
*
‘We will happily accept,’ Ahmed said finally, ‘provided you can follow orders from my general.’ He nodded to Shazad. He wouldn’t make his father’s mistakes. If he could make them pledge themselves to us not as allies but as those who would obey, then we could do this.
I could see her already tensing, ready for the raised eyebrows that came with her being a woman. But Captain Westcroft just nodded. ‘If we can take orders from our queen, then I’m sure we can manage that. After all, she does outrank me if she is indeed your general.’
Shazad’s brain worked fast, unsnarling everything into the smooth fabric of a plan. ‘Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.’
Sam and I were ready all too quickly. We didn’t need much: A few weapons. Izz in the shape of a huge Roc. For the Albish to direct a little bit of cover my way. For me to stay alive to the end.
Suddenly we were standing in a circle, all of us keenly aware that this might be the last time any of us saw one another alive.
‘This is it.’ I checked my gun for the hundredth time.
‘It seems like someone ought to make a speech or something,’ Izz said, wearing only a blanket, ready to shape-shift for us.
‘Something suitably heroic,’ Maz agreed with his brother.
Around us, the noise of the camp getting ready for battle reigned, men and women arming themselves, rushing into position to face the Sultan’s men and machines. Orders were shouted down the lines to the rhythm of guns snapping into place against uniforms. A few prayers were going up.
Our people would fight on the defensive until Sam and I could bring the wall down. And the Albish would provide a sandstorm. They might not be able to control our desert, but they could control the winds enough for it to look like I was still with Ahmed’s army as it closed in on the city.
‘Speeches are best saved for the dead,’ Shazad spoke up. She’d been unusually quiet. ‘That’s what my father used to say, at least.’
I embraced Ahmed, then Rahim, both of them whispering a prayer of good luck in my ear.
I turned to Jin. There was nothing either of us could say now that we hadn’t said last night. He just ran a thumb along the line of my jaw. ‘I’ll see you again, Bandit,’ he promised before kissing me.
Shazad embraced me last. ‘Bring each other home safe,’ she said finally, before letting me go and looking at Sam.
His mouth pulled up at the side, and I recognised the prelude to a joke – some gallows humour before we all headed off to try our hardest to stay alive to see another dawn like the one rising behind us now. But before he could say anything, Shazad grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him towards her abruptly, kissing him squarely on the mouth.
And suddenly everyone else was looking at their feet. Or at the sky. Or just about anything that wasn’t Sam and Shazad.
That was one way to shut him up.
Finally the two of them broke apart. ‘Well,’ Sam said, looking flushed and unbearably pleased with himself as he riffled his hands through his hair. ‘That’s one hell of a motivation to come back alive.’
We climbed on Izz’s back, and in a few quick movements, we were catapulted above the approaching army, towards the city. Izz flew over the dome of fire, spreading huge blue wings wide as he soared over the rooftops, leaving the battle behind.
We landed a little way from Oman’s Gate, the easternmost entrance to the city. When we’d left through the tunnels, there had been a Gallan army in our way. Now there was nothing but blackened sand.
I stood in front of the gates, a little way back, careful not to touch the fire. Did I have anything left in me? If I didn’t, we’d have to dig our way in. I drew my power to me, pulling it together between my hands as I pressed them in front of me before splitting them open in one violent gesture that sent me to my knees in agony. The sand parted, scattering away from the gate. And sure enough, there, underneath, was one of the bricked-up tunnels.
Sam stepped on to it, and sand cascaded down as I released my power, breathing hard. Cautiously he pushed his foot through the hard stone before pulling it back. Like dipping a toe in the water to test it. He turned towards where I was standing, still on steady desert ground, extending one hand to me. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, like we were headed into a party and not a death trap. I took his hand, stepping on to the top of the tunnel with him.
He pulled me to him, like we were going to dance. Suddenly the solid stone below our feet started to give. I felt the soles of our boots slip through, slowly at first. Then we started to drop. Fast. I just had time to hold my breath and shut my eyes before we plunged through the roof of the tunnel, like a pair of stones sinking through the water.
We hit the ground hard, in a heap. Sam grunted loudly below me as my elbow caught him in the stomach. I untangled myself, rolling away from him. It was dark and cool down here. The only light was above us, a long narrow metal wire that was incandescent with Djinni fire, feeding the wall from the palace. But it wasn’t much to see by.
I didn’t know how long we walked for. We moved as quickly as we could through the tunnel, aware that every moment we wasted here was another moment our people were on the defensive on the battlefield.
Sam was faster than I was. He was running ahead, his blond hair glowing dimly in the light, when suddenly he stumbled, sprawling into the dark. I caught up with him in a few short steps as he picked himself back up. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I tripped,’ Sam said. He groped around for a moment in the dark before his hand closed on something, and he held it up to the light. It was a gleaming bronze face. I drew back without meaning to. An Abdal. Or part of one. The eyes were blank and sightless. It was just a piece of a machine, I reminded myself. It was nothing without the spark of fire lighting it, without a word in the first language marked across it, giving it life.
‘We’re under the palace,’ I said out loud. ‘We’re close.’ I stretched my hand out backwards, searching for the stone wall. It met hard metal instead.
‘The walls are lined with iron.’ When I said it out loud, my voice echoed against the metal unsettlingly. ‘Seems like the Sultan’s been hard at work since we were last here.’
In the faint light of the wire, I saw Sam reach up and lay a hand flat against the stone ceiling. He could reach it, but just. ‘So we’re trapped,’ Sam said, too cheerily. ‘Excellent.’