The sister warriors line up on the ramparts. Yatin, Natesa, Opal, and I are in the center of the troops, on the wall near the gate. Everyone is silent, like the flashes of lightning overhead, while we watch the army steadily approach.
Galers conduct the storm from the palace balconies. Aquifiers are stationed beside open water barrels set around the grounds. Hastin and his Tremblers reinforce the outer wall from the courtyard and garden. The rebel army is small, about two hundred bhutas according to my estimate, approximately the same number of sister warriors.
Brac has not returned, a concern I have no time at the moment to resolve. I cannot leave my troops, so I hope and pray he finds us.
The torches of the army break through the roads. The infantry and archers fan out in front of the wall, men marching and artillery wagons creaking. They are as loud and mobile as we are motionless. Manas rides with the light cavalry and raises his hand for a halt. Hastin calls for the same. The rain and thunder stop, but the dark clouds still swirl, interspersed by bolts of lightning.
Udug rides up to Manas’s side, identifiable by his glowing blue hands, and he dismounts. His ranks have diminished to nearly half the size, but we are still outnumbered by thousands. The disguised demon strides to the barricaded gate. The torches reveal his appearance. The sister warriors inhale in unison.
He directs his speech at the shaken women. “My wives, I have come to free you. Lay down your weapons and let me into our home.”
“Hold your ground,” I command. “Don’t believe his lies.”
Shyla answers, her tone hushed, “We know our husband. That isn’t him.”
“He isn’t Tarek,” Parisa and Eshana agree in tandem.
More ranis and courtesans murmur the same proclamation down the line. He isn’t Tarek. I should not have doubted them or their conviction.
“Captain Naik,” Udug calls out, “what falsehoods have you told my family?”
“I told them the truth. You don’t belong in our world.”
Udug scoffs and waves at Manas, who dismounts and starts for an ammunitions wagon. “I have no interest in destroying my palace in my effort to return to my home. Perhaps you and I can work out an exchange. You let me through the gate, and I won’t execute your brother.”
Manas drags Brac out of the wagon and throws him to the ground. Brac lands on his side, motionless. His wrists are bound with snakeroot. My heart dips so low I feel nothing but its quickening thrum.
“My scouts found him outside the palace wall. He was trying to light a palm tree on fire. Amusing, isn’t it? You thought I held him captive when I didn’t, and this is a surprise to you now.” I grind my teeth down on a response. “Open the gate and you can have him.”
Hastin climbs the ladder to the top of the wall and glowers at Udug. “General Naik is in no position to negotiate.”
Manas sneers at the warlord’s mention of my rank. I would relish his fuming if not for Brac, bound and unconscious at his feet.
“You want bloodshed?” Udug pushes his eerie blue fire into his hands. “You will lose this battle.” He signals his men. “Archers ready!”
Hastin instructs his rebels. “Galers ready the sky! Tremblers hold the ground!”
Brac is so close, yet I cannot get to him. How do I get to him? The archers light their arrows aflame and aim toward the churning storm clouds.
“Get low!” I shout to my troops.
Manas calls, “Fire!”
Arrows whirl at us. I loop my arm over Asha and pull her down with me. Galers summon a gust that throws some of the fiery arrows back. The loose ones strike stone and bounce away. Natesa and Yatin crouch near us. An arrow barely misses Yatin’s leg. Two sister warriors are struck.
The whizzing arrows stop, and I peer over the rampart. Brac has not moved. Soldiers heft ramps and prop them along the wall. Galer winds sweep the ramps into the clouds. But more soldiers bring additional ramps, pressing with them into the storm.
Udug heaves his blue fire at the barricaded gate. Hastin and several Tremblers fortify the clay bricks from their side, but on the outside, the blue fire melts a hole. I need to go now, while the Voider is distracted.
“Natesa,” I say, and her attention snaps to me, “you’re in charge. Remember, do not engage Udug, only the soldiers.”
I leap over the wall onto a ramp. My knees jar, and I roll down the incline to the ground. I push up, and a talwar blade jabs at my middle. I reel away and draw my khanda on Manas.
“You’re the general of who?” he demands. “Those women?”
“Sister warriors,” I correct, parrying his thrust. Lightning touches down behind us, and the air crackles. Men scream. A catapult burns from the lightning strike. “You’re serving the wrong master. Walk away, Manas.”
“So you can save your dirty bhuta brother?” He elbows me in the side, and I spin away. Our blades stretch between us. “As soon as the rajah wins back his palace, I will keep your brother prisoner and let his blood every day. I will cut him over and over again.” Manas swings his talwar, and our weapons clang. “He will beg for me to finish him.”
“You’re done hurting bhutas.” I slam down, striking his bent knee, and then rotate and bury my khanda in his chest. “May Anu have mercy on your soul.”
Manas jerks once and keels over. I wrench my sword from his chest. Behind me, soldiers brace ramps against the wall and scale them. A quake rattles them, and the ramps fall, slamming into the ground.
Hail the size of my fist pummels down and bashes the forefront of the troops. Men dive under wagons or catapults for shelter. The beating hail dents the catapult buckets and mangles the springs, rendering them unusable.
I run for Brac and cut away the snakeroot binding his wrists. His eyes snap open the second the poison is gone, and he moans. The last of the archers release more whirring, burning arrows. Sudden rains and winds redirect most of them back over the wall at us. Brac throws up a heatwave, singeing them. Ash drifts down and washes to silt in the downpour.
My brother clutches his chest. “Gods, burning something felt good.”
I clap his shoulder and hoist him up. “A palm tree on fire?”
“It was a good idea. Would have worked too, if those scouts hadn’t caught me.”
Behind us, a quake opens a crater in the ground. Several rows of archers drop into the sinkhole. Past them, the road beneath the light cavalry warps and heaves. The spooked horses scatter and buck, throwing their riders. Many are trampled in the animals’ retreat.
Brac scoops up a dropped shield. “Time to get out of the way.”