There was another roar, and a thick tongue of water lashed the spot where they’d been standing, like a giant swatting a fly. It crashed against the muddy bank, and water swept out to splash their feet as they fled.
The serpent twisted and slammed to the ground just ahead of them. Nahri slid to a halt, pulling Dara in another direction to sprint across the emptied riverbed. It was littered with damp waterweeds and drying boulders; Nahri stumbled more than once, but Dara kept her on her feet as they dodged the crushing blows of the river monster.
They had gotten a bit more than halfway across when the creature suddenly halted. Nahri didn’t turn around to see why, but Dara did.
He gasped, his voice returning. “Run!” he screamed, as if they were not already doing so. “Run!”
Nahri ran, her heart pounding, her muscles protesting. She ran so fast she didn’t even notice the ditch, a spot of what must have been deep water, before she was sailing over it. She hit the uneven bottom hard. Her ankle twisted as she landed, and she heard the snap before she felt the pain of the broken bone.
Then from the ground, she saw what had made Dara scream.
Having risen once again to howl at the sky, the creature was letting its lower half dissolve into a waterfall taller than the Pyramids. The water rushed toward them, the wave at least three times her height and spreading out in both directions. They were caught.
Dara was at her side again. He clutched her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His fingers snaked through her wet hair. She could feel his warm breath as he kissed her brow. She held him tight, tucking her head into his shoulder and taking a deep breath of his smoky scent.
She expected it to be her last.
And then something slammed down between them and the wave.
The ground shook, and a high-pitched screech that would have frozen the blood of the bravest man alive broke the air. It sounded like a whole flock of rukh descending upon their prey.
Nahri looked up from Dara’s shoulder. Outlined against the rushing wave was an enormous sweep of wings, glittering with lime-colored sparks where the starlight touched them.
Khayzur.
The peri shrieked again. He spread his wings, raised his hands, and then took a breath; as he inhaled, the air around Nahri seemed to ebb—she could almost feel it being pulled from her lungs. Then he exhaled, sending a racing, funnel-shaped cloud toward the serpent.
The creature let out a watery bellow when the winds hit. A cloud of steam evaporated off its side, and it flinched, ducking away toward the ground. Khayzur flapped his wings and sent another giant gust. The serpent let out a defeated sound. It collapsed in the distance with a crash, flattening back out across the land, gone in an instant.
Nahri let out a breath. Her ankle was already healing, but Dara had to help her to her feet and give her a shove to get out of the ditch.
The river had lain down along different banks and was busily consuming the trees and ripping at the cliffs they had just escaped. There was no sign of the ifrit.
They had crossed the Gozan.
They had made it.
She stood up, giving her ankle a delicate twist before she let out a triumphant shout. She could have thrown her head back and howled at the stars herself, she was so thrilled to be alive. “By God, Khayzur has the best timing!” She grinned, glancing around for Dara.
But Dara wasn’t behind her. Instead she spotted him rushing toward Khayzur. The peri landed on the ground and immediately collapsed, his wings falling around him as he crumpled.
By the time she reached them, Khayzur lay cradled in Dara’s arms. His lime-colored wings were marked with white boils and gray scabs that grew larger before her eyes. He shuddered and several feathers fell to the ground.
“. . . was following and tried to warn . . . ,” he was saying to Dara. “You were so close . . .” The peri stopped to take a deep, rattling breath. He looked shrunken, and there was a purplish cast to his skin. When he looked up at her, his colorless eyes were resigned. Doomed.
“Help him,” Dara begged. “Heal him!”
Nahri bent to take his hand, but Khayzur waved her off. “There’s nothing you can do,” he whispered. “I broke our law.” He reached up and touched Dara’s ring with one of his claws. “And not for the first time.”
“Just let her try,” Dara pleaded. “This can’t be happening because you saved us!”
Khayzur gave him a bitter smile. “You still don’t understand, Dara, about my people’s role. Your race never did. Centuries after being crippled by Suleiman for interfering with humans . . . and you still don’t understand.”
Taking advantage of Khayzur’s distracted rambling, Nahri laid her palm over one of the boils. It hissed and grew icy at her touch and then doubled in size. The peri yelped, and she pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “I’ve never healed anything like you.”
“And you can’t now,” he said gently. He coughed to clear his throat and lifted his head, his long ears pricked up like a cat’s. “You need to go. My people are coming. The marid will be back, as well.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Dara said firmly. “Nahri can cross the threshold without me.”
“It is not Nahri they want.”
Dara’s bright eyes widened, and he glanced around, as though he expected to see a new addition to their trio. “M-me?” he stammered. “I don’t understand. I’m nothing to either your race or the marids!”
Khayzur shook his head as the shrill cry of a large bird pierced the air. “Go. Please . . . ,” he croaked.
“No.” There was a tremor in Dara’s voice. “Khayzur, I can’t leave you. You saved my life, my soul.”
“Then do the same for another.” Khayzur rustled his wrecked wings and gestured at the sky. “What’s coming is beyond you both. Save your Nahid, Afshin. It’s your duty.”
It was as if he’d cast a spell on the daeva. She watched Dara swallow and then nod, all trace of emotion vanishing from his face. He laid the peri carefully on the ground. “I am so sorry, old friend.”
“What are you doing?” Nahri exclaimed. “Help him to his feet. We need to— Dara!” she shouted as the daeva picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Don’t! We can’t leave him here!” She kneed the daeva in the chest and tried to push off his back, but his grip was too tight. “Khayzur!” she screamed, catching a glimpse of the injured peri.
He gave her a long, sad look before turning his gaze back to the sky. Four dark shapes soared over the cliffs. The wind kicked up, seeding the air with sharp pebbles. She saw the peri wince and draw a withered wing across his face for protection.
“Khayzur!” She kicked at Dara again, but he only sped up, struggling to clamber over a sandy dune with her still on his shoulder. “Dara, please! Dara, don’t—”
And then she could not see Khayzur any longer, and they were gone.
12
Ali