The Midnight Sea (The Fourth Element #1) (4 page)

“Rude, you mean,” I said. “I’m sorry. My mother says my tongue is like a dog. It makes lots of noise, but very little sense.”

“No, you can ask,” Tommas said. “Although I’m not sure I know the answer. He’s a complicated man, and his life has not been easy. More than anything, I think he wishes to prove himself.”

I sensed that Tommas knew more than he was letting on, but decided I’d pressed my luck enough. “How old is Ilyas?”

“Nineteen.”

“He prays a lot,” I said, stroking the horse’s neck. “I always see him at the fire temple.”

“Yes, he’s very devout.” Tommas reached into his pocket and took something out. “A welcome gift,” he said, handing it to me.

I studied the wood carving in my hand, feeling pleased and slightly embarrassed. It was a fish, the scales and fins so detailed and lifelike I half-expected it to begin flopping around.

“Thank you,” I said. “You made this?”

He nodded. “Do you like it?”

“Very much.” I wished I could return the gesture, but my possessions were few. Then I remembered something I’d hastily packed the morning we left the Khusk range. “Wait here.” I ran next door to my room in the barracks and searched through the small goatskin bag I’d brought from home. When I returned, Tommas was sitting quietly on a bale of hay.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I want you to have it.” I offered my prize, and his eyes lit up.

“It’s the tail feather from a mountain eagle,” I said. “I found it on a ledge.”

Tommas’s slender fingers riffled the snowy white barbs, which faded to a darker brown at the tip.

“Air is my favorite element,” he said. “This is a treasure. Thank you.”

We shared a smile, and I thought that if my own daēva was like Tommas, it might not be so bad to be bonded after all.

Now that I was free of the kitchens, my life at Tel Khalujah became a much happier one. Daily sword practice and generous food rations put some muscle on my bones. We ate apart from the daēvas, but I got to know the other Water Dogs. There were only three bonded pairs besides Ilyas and Tommas. They were all much older and a tight-knit bunch, so when I heard that a new recruit had arrived, I was both excited and wary.

We met when she walked into the barracks and sat down on my bed. She was very pretty, with dark skin and a multitude of braids held back with a gold band. Like me, she wore the grey tunic, but this girl made it look like a gown fit for the satrap’s wife.

“Are you the nomad girl?” she demanded.

“My name is Nazafareen,” I said, giving her a look that dared her to say something rude. I was no longer the skinny thing I’d been when I arrived. I knew how to fight with my hands and feet as well as with a weapon. And I was past tolerating other people’s ignorance.

“Nazafareeeeen…I like it.” She smiled. “North star.”

“How do you know that?” I was shocked. Not many knew our dialect.

“I know a lot of things, nomad girl.” She had a lilting, musical accent. “I come from Al Miraj. Do you know of it?”

I tried to picture the map the magus kept in his study. “The burning sands to the south,” I said.

“The very same. My daēva’s name is Myrri.”

“You have a daēva?” I felt a stab of jealousy.

“Bonded since we were small children. We do things differently in Al Miraj.” She flopped back on my bed and sighed. “And we don’t call them daēvas there. We call them djinn.”

“They haven’t given me one yet,” I said glumly.

She eyed me closely. “They’ll have to soon. Have you had your blood yet?”

I blushed a little at her bluntness, although my people weren’t shy about such things. “Yes. A while ago.”

“Hmmmm. I suppose you follow the Way of the Flame?”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean, all civilized people?”

She laughed. “Oh, nomad girl. No, we have our own gods in Al Miraj. We’ve been loyal to the King since the war and he’s too smart to take our customs away from us. That’s the best recipe for rebellion.”

“So why are you here?”

“My father is very rich,” she said languidly. “He’s good friends with the satrap of Al Miraj. I told him I wanted to go kill Druj and he refuses me nothing. So here we are.”

“You haven’t told me your name,” I said.

She grinned, flashing a set of even white teeth. “I’m Tijah,” she said. “It means sword.”

And then she proceeded to pull out a wicked-looking curved blade that she said was called a
scimitar
. I decided right then that I liked this girl very much.

“What does it feel like to be bonded?” I asked.

“I’ve been told it depends on how strong your gift is. It’s different for everyone.”

“What about you?”

She thought for a moment. “I sense Myrri there, almost as if I have a second body, but it’s…ghostly. Faint. Sometimes I know what she’s feeling, but not always.”

“Can you read each other’s thoughts?” I asked, greatly fearing the answer.

“No, nothing like that. Much more subtle.”

“Thank the Father.”

She laughed. “Are your thoughts so terrible?”

I saw Ashraf for an instant, bloody and accusing. “Sometimes. The point is that they’re mine, and I don’t want anybody rifling through them. What’s she like, Myrri?”

“Brave. Loyal. She’s a sister to me,” Tijah said. A shadow crossed her face, but she covered it by standing and tossing her bag on the bed next to mine. “So you’ve had the place all to yourself. I hope you don’t mind company.”

“I’m glad for it,” I said honestly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since last winter. Have you met Ilyas yet?”

“Yes, he said we are to train together. What do you think of him?”

“Hard but fair,” I replied, helping her shake out a blanket and tuck it in. “He’ll push you to your limits, but not beyond. He’s been good to me.” I lowered my voice to juicy gossip level. “He’s the satrap’s bastard. His mother was Macydonian.”

“A barbarian!” Tijah exclaimed in delight.

“Not really. He looks like one, but he was raised here.” And then my tongue was off and running, filling in my new friend about the other Water Dogs and their daēvas.

Zohra, who was even shorter than me but could leave four men weeping in the dirt at practice. Sanova, who always wore a sneer on her face and should be avoided at all costs. Behrouz, who could throw a boulder twenty paces but had a singing voice as sweet as a nightingale.

“Then there’s Tommas, that’s Ilyas’s daēva. He’s handsome and nice, but Ilyas is very cold with him. I think he doesn’t like being bonded.”

“Can’t he just take another daēva?”

“No, the magus says the Water Dog cuffs are for life. It didn’t used to be so, but the last satrap was caught trying to sell his daēvas on the black market. Now they lock the cuffs on. Only the magus has the keys.”

“Well, I hope you get a good one then,” Tijah said. “Since you’ll be stuck with them forever.”

I fell back on my bed and stared at the timbered ceiling, suddenly feeling a little ill.

“So do I,” I said.

Chapter Five

O
n my seventeenth birthday, the magus summoned me to his study.

I sat down and waited while he shuffled through a stack of papers. Finally, he looked up.

“I’ve found you a daēva,” he said.

I sat very still, hardly breathing.

“His name is Darius. He was raised by the magi in Karnopolis. By all accounts, obedient and devout. And powerful.” The magus held my eyes. “Very powerful. The strongest in generations, if his keepers are to be believed. You were chosen because I can’t leave you unbonded much longer. You’re nearing the time when your mind will become too rigid to accept him, Nazafareen. And so that is my present to you. Are you happy?”

“Yes, magus. Very happy.” I was happy. I was also extremely nervous.

“Do you wish to meet him?”

My heart lurched. “He’s here?”

“In the yard, waiting for us. Oh yes, and his curse is a withered left arm. I thought the fact that you are left-handed would be a nice complement.”

I let out a long breath as we walked outside. Bonding my daēva meant I could hunt Druj. Go on patrol with Ilyas and Tommas. Tijah had already been promoted several months before. Now the six of us would be a unit. I’d been waiting for this moment for more than three years, and yet part of me still wanted to run in the other direction as fast as I could.

We came around the corner of the barracks and there he was. A boy still, although not for much longer. I took in the close-cropped brown hair and pale, serious face. His sky-blue tunic matched his eyes, which were not particularly warm. More along the lines of one of the glacial lakes I’d bathed in as a child.

I walked right up to him, refusing to be cowed. It seemed prudent to let him know who was in charge immediately.

“I’m Nazafareen,” I said.

Darius nodded. His face was perfectly impassive, but did I see a spark in those eyes? Of fear? Contempt? It came and went too fast to tell.

I had no idea what to say next, so we just stood there in awkward silence for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the magus spoke.

“Come. Satrap Jaagos and the other Water Dogs are waiting.”

The bonding ceremony took place in the audience chamber of the satrap. It was a cavernous room, with vaulted ceilings of gilded tile and three marble pillars. The walls were carved with bas-reliefs of horses, their arched necks and braided manes rendered in exquisite detail.

Jaagos sat on his throne, his Water Dogs arrayed to either side. Half of them wore tunics of sky blue, the other half of a deep, bloody red.

I’d seen Jaagos from afar a few times, but this was the closest I’d ever been to him. In the moment before I prostrated myself, I saw a chubby man dressed in a rich gown of silver thread. He was bald as an egg, with thick lips and sloping shoulders. A housecat among lions.

I pressed my forehead to the stone. To my right, Darius did the same.

I was keenly aware of the eyes of the Water Dogs on me. They were the ones I wanted to impress, especially Ilyas. I didn’t give a fig about the satrap, except that I knew I didn’t want to make him angry. His authority was absolute, the hand of the King in Tel Khalujah, and if he wanted me dead, he had only to make the slightest gesture and it would be done.

“Get on with it,” Jaagos said after an appropriate amount of time had passed for the obeisance.

The magus stepped forward. “You are Water Dogs, the holiest of all dogs,” he said. “Without water there is no life, yet water has the power to destroy as well as to create. May your impurities be washed away.” The magus slowly poured the contents of a silver bowl over our heads.

“May the Holy Father keep you and guide your actions,” he intoned. “May the bond bestowed this day be true and pure. May you always serve the cause of light and shun the darkness.”

He set the bowl aside and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. Then he took out a gold cuff, thick and worked with snarling lions. Had he touched it with his bare hands, he would have bonded Darius himself instantly.

The magus’s face swam in my vision as he knelt before us. Darius had gone a deathly pale, but he looked at the cuff—the twin of one already encircling his right arm—without wavering. I resolved not to show him how afraid I was. Not to give him that victory.

“You will fight as one, live as one,” the magus said. “You will carry out the will of the Holy Father, as directed by your King and satrap. Good words, good thoughts, good deeds. By the Prophet and the Holy Father are you bonded.”

Then he snapped the cuff around my wrist and locked it with a tiny golden key. I may have cried out. I probably did. Because I wasn’t alone anymore. Floodgates opened in my mind, releasing a torrent of alien emotions. Next to me, Darius drew a sharp breath as the same thing happened to him, although I barely heard it. Panic surged through me, followed by an aching loss so deep it tore a hole in my heart. I didn’t know if it was mine or his, or both feeding off the other. And I felt his power, a deep, churning pool of it, held tight in my fist.

“It is done,” the magus said.

My knees trembled as I stood. Darius offered me his hand but I was afraid to touch him so Ilyas took charge of me, leading me from the audience chamber to the fire temple. We knelt there together. I tried to pray, but my teeth were chattering.

“It gets easier with time,” Ilyas said in a soothing tone, as if he was talking to a small child. “You’ll learn to tell the difference between your own feelings and his. To separate them. To hold onto yourself.”

I nodded but I didn’t believe him. I just wanted to tear the cuff from my wrist. To get Darius and his bottomless despair out of my head. But that was impossible. It was locked in place.

“Look into the flames,” Ilyas said. “Imagine them burning your fear away. Scouring your mind clean of thought. Feed it all to the holy fire. You have the gift, Nazafareen. Now you must learn to control it, or it will destroy you.”

I tried to do as he instructed. For a moment, I felt as though I’d broken the surface, that the torrent was easing a little, but then it came back stronger than ever.

I jumped to my feet and just made it to the courtyard before I threw up.

They let me go to my bed after that for the rest of the day. Everyone left me alone. They understood that I couldn’t bear to be near even a single other person. I had enough of them in my head already.

My eyes flew open at the crack of dawn. I groaned and rubbed my forehead. My scalp tingled, an icy, unpleasant sensation. I knew right away where Darius was and what he was doing. It was another side effect of the bond, I’d discovered. I could feel his heart beating. I knew that one of his boots was too tight. I could shut my eyes and tell you exactly where he was, even if he was hundreds of leagues away.

Why had no one told me what it would be like? I supposed Tijah did, but this was much worse than I’d expected. Much, much worse.

I threw on my new scarlet tunic and marched down to the river. Tendrils of mist swirled through the dead reeds at the edge. It was late autumn and the air had a dank chill that promised snow.

My daēva stood there, stripped to the waist, pouring water over his head with his right hand. He wore a gold faravahar on a chain around his neck, its eagle wings spread wide. His left arm lay at his side, grey and dead. I stared at his shoulder, at the juncture where smooth skin met rough. His Druj curse.

It slowed me for a moment, seeing that pathetic arm, but I wasn’t yet ready to forgive him for waking me. That was my excuse, anyway. Of course, what really angered me was the terrible realization that I was burdened with a sorrow not my own, but that bled me nonetheless. What really angered me was
him
—everything about him.

He was calmer this morning, but I wasn’t. I stopped about twenty feet away. He didn’t turn around although he knew I was there.

“It’s nice that you’re so pious,” I said. “But don’t you think it’s a little early to be down here performing the morning rites?”

He paused, then dumped the last of the water from the bowl. I felt the cold trickle down my spine and my lips tightened.

“I was taught by the magi to come at first light,” Darius said. “Did you expect to sleep in? I’m afraid that’s not the way it works for Water Dogs.” He smiled, and we both knew it was fake. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in some way.”

I stared at him, at the dark hair plastered across his forehead, his stubborn mouth. He looked so human. And yet there was something in the way Darius held himself, perfectly at ease in his own skin. Still but
coiled
, like the wolves I’d seen in the mountains.

“You haven’t offended me in the least,” I said. “I suppose you need the blessing more than I do.”

I spun on my heel and walked away, knowing I had wounded him. A small stab to my own heart. And I felt slightly ashamed. But that wasn’t the end of it. Then I felt his satisfaction at my shame. And my own anger that he knew and was glad.

And then his amusement at my anger!

I stalked off, determined to think nothing, to feel nothing, ever again.

If only it were that easy.

I didn’t see Darius again until Ilyas brought me to the training yard that afternoon. He wanted me to watch our daēvas fight each other.

Tommas was already waiting. He grinned when he saw me and tilted his head in greeting.

“Mine,” Ilyas said, with a possessive edge to his voice. “And here’s yours.”

Darius walked up. Tommas got a nod. I didn’t. If Darius was nervous, I couldn’t feel it. If anything, his emotions were flat, blunted, like he’d found a way to hide them from me. Well, good for him. I hoped I could learn to do the same.

They each selected wooden practice swords. The daēvas began to spar, slowly at first, testing each other’s infirmities. Tommas’s leg versus Darius’s arm. Tommas was taller, but Darius moved like a striking serpent. Soon, they were slashing the air so fast I could only follow their sparring by the sharp crack of the wooden blades coming together with bruising force. When they shattered their fourth staves, Ilyas called an end to it. I found myself as flushed and sweaty as the combatants, which made him laugh.

“I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like in the beginning,” he said. Then his face hardened. “But you must learn to separate yourself, Nazafareen. To keep focused. In a real fight, it can kill you to let the bond take control. To think that what he’s experiencing is real. It is real, but it’s over here.” He made a pushing motion with his hand. “You must use your will to keep him in one part of your mind. Like a box. You’re aware of what’s happening in the box, but it’s not yours. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

I closed my eyes, tried to find the place where I ended and Darius began. I could almost feel it, like the edges of a bubble. Something tangible, at least. I imagined the bubble shrinking, growing smaller until it fit into the palm of my hand. He receded, and for the first time since the bonding ceremony, I felt some measure of control over the contents of my own mind.

Then the bubble burst and he came hurtling back. But it was a start.

“Now we fight in pairs,” Ilyas said to me. “Get a sword.”

I pulled one out and went over to Darius.

“On his left,” Ilyas snapped.

I reddened and moved over. Of course, I was supposed to compensate for my daēva’s infirmity. That was my purpose. To keep Ilyas out of the way, while Darius engaged Tommas.

We squared off, Ilyas on the side of Tommas’s bad leg. An instant later, Ilyas lunged, and it was like my first day in the yard. Before I could blink, my sword was sailing through the air.

I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. I had fought Ilyas countless times, but I had never seen him move like that. Had he been toying with me the entire time? Embarrassment and fury flooded me as Darius lowered the tip of his own sword to the dirt while he waited for me to retrieve my stave. How could my captain leave me so unprepared? Was part of my training to make me look a fool in front of my daēva?

I gritted my teeth and pulled the sword out of the horse trough.

“Blade up!” Ilyas commanded. “Come, Nazafareen. You can do better than that.”

I adjusted my grip on the hilt and managed to keep it for about ten seconds before Ilyas disarmed me again. This process repeated itself several more times, until he mercifully called for a break. I had staggered over to the well for a drink of water when Darius came up behind me. I expected pity or scorn, but that wasn’t what I sensed from him. It was something closer to frustration.

“Listen,” he said. “You have some of my strength and speed, if you’ll just use it.”

I opened my mouth and he held up his good hand.

“I’m not asking you to let me in. I understand that you don’t want to do that, and frankly, I don’t either. But if you loosen your grip on the power, just the tiniest bit, you’ll get what’s called backflow. It will help you. Ilyas is using it.” He tilted his head, and I didn’t need the bond to see his amusement. “Unless you enjoy playing fetch.”

I stared at him. One advantage of the bond was that I didn’t need to come up with a cutting response. I could just let my opinion of his patronizing attitude leak straight into his brain.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly, turning my back.

I could feel it, lapping at the edges of my mind. Not the dark power of the Druj I was so terrified of. Something full of life, bursting with it. I took a deep breath and let go of his leash. I was clumsy that first time, feeling the power surge and then clamping down in fear again, until I felt just a trickle come through the bond. But that trickle was enough. My reflexes quickened, as did my awareness of Darius’s position just behind and to the right of me. The yard snapped into sharper focus. Even from ten paces away, I could see the tiny patch of red-gold stubble on Ilyas’s jaw that he’d missed while shaving that morning, the sweat beading between his fingers.

I felt Darius’s satisfaction as I kept Ilyas at bay for a full five minutes before he disarmed me. The next time, it was ten. To his credit, Ilyas realized what I was doing right away and didn’t reprimand me for it. He could be strange sometimes. I think he’d wanted me to figure it out on my own.