Nemesis Read online

“Do they know we’re coming?”

  Katrin didn’t reply. She gave a piercing whistle and an abbadax slunk over, its yellow eyes staring at Nazafareen with baleful intensity. Katrin mounted with an acrobatic leap, reins in her hands and gaze fixed straight ahead.

  Nazafareen took a step forward and then Frida was at her side, showing her how to climb up without getting slashed to bits. A second saddle had been placed behind Katrin, with a waist harness and straps to secure her legs. Frida started to attach them, but Nazafareen pushed her hand away.

  “I can do it.”

  The buckles posed little challenge; she buckled her sword on every day. But the waist harness was another matter. She sensed Katrin’s impatience as she fumbled with the straps. Finally, Nazafareen managed to get herself situated. She surveyed the assembled Valkirins coldly.

  “If you touch one hair on Darius’s head, the deal is off,” she said. “I’ll use the diamond to entomb you all in ice.”

  Runar waved a hand. “Bring it out and you’ll have him back. As we agreed.”

  “I’ll watch over him while you’re gone!” Megaera called as Katrin whispered a command and the abbadax tested its wings.

  It ran for the edge in an ungainly waddle that didn’t inspire confidence. Darkness loomed ahead. She sucked in a breath as it dove over the edge of the ravine, tilting into the powerful currents. Nazafareen’s harness went taut with strain. Her weight shifted hard to the left. The whole apparatus seemed to slide a bit. She wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t have been prudent to let Frida attach everything correctly, and then the abbadax leveled out, flapping hard.

  The wall of ice surrounding Val Moraine drew closer. It appeared smooth as glass except for a semicircular hole about ten paces across and jagged at the edges. Fifty paces away, they hovered on an updraft and Katrin raised her empty hands, kicking Nazafareen to do the same. A lone figure appeared in the recesses of the tunnel. It wore white leathers like a Valkirin, but Nazafareen caught a glimpse of waist-length black hair. There was only one daēva she knew who fit that description.

  “Mithre!” she called, throwing back her hood.

  The figure moved toward the tunnel entrance and a familiar face emerged from the blue-tinged shadows. Dark and vulpine, with a hooked nose and thin lips. He went rigid with surprise.

  “Nazafareen?”

  “I bear a message. Let us land!”

  Mithre scanned the empty skies. He beckoned once, then disappeared back down the tunnel. The space looked very narrow. Nazafareen eyed it doubtfully, though she knew Katrin had done this once before. The abbadax wheeled around in a wide circle. They passed over Darius and the Valkirins waiting on the other side. Then the mount banked sharply and flew straight at the tunnel mouth, gathering speed as it went. At the last instant, Katrin leaned forward, pressing flat against its serpentine neck. With a curse, Nazafareen ducked down as the creature tucked its wings against its body and skidded into the tunnel, using its claws to arrest the slide.

  A moment slower and she would have lost her head—something Katrin had clearly been hoping for. Nazafareen gritted her teeth but said nothing. After about twenty paces, the tunnel opened into a much larger space, thick with a pungent, musky smell. Pens stretched to either side and she saw more abbadax, though they hunched unmoving against the inner wall. Only the creatures’ reptilian eyes showed they were alive.

  Katrin guided her mount to the farthest of the pens. The three abbadax there made excited chirps as they caught the new scent. Nazafareen undid her buckles and slid to the ground. Katrin ignored her, muttering soft words to the creatures.

  “We’d given you up for dead,” Mithre said, striding forward. “When I saw Darius out there….”

  “I know. So much has happened, Mithre. I’ll explain it all, but the most important thing is that the Valkirins are willing to strike another deal. Where’s Victor?”

  Something indecipherable flickered across Mithre’s face. “Inside.”

  Nazafareen turned to Katrin, who stood stiffly next to the abbadax, watching them.

  “Wait here.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she snapped.

  “No, you’re not. You’ll muck it up.”

  Katrin’s green eyes burned. “That’s not what you agreed to.”

  Nazafareen sighed. “Swear you’ll keep your mouth shut and your sword in the scabbard. Swear it on your honor. Or you stay right here.”

  The muscles in Katrin’s neck tightened. Nazafareen planted her feet, ready to brawl. But then the Valkirin woman seemed to think better of it.

  “I swear,” she muttered scornfully. “On my honor.”

  Nazafareen brushed past her and followed Mithre into the keep, Katrin trailing behind. It was dark and almost as cold as outside. They passed through long corridors of naked stone and finally reached a heavy bronze door. Mithre stopped. Katrin lounged against the far wall, watching them closely.

  “Victor’s inside,” he said in a low voice. One hand massaged the other in a nervous gesture, rubbing the webbing between thumb and forefinger. “You should know, the occupation has taken a toll.”

  “What do you mean?” Nazafareen asked. “Was he injured?”

  “Not physically. But he keeps his own counsel. Barely speaks to me anymore. I get the feeling he’s determined to still win somehow, whatever the hell that means.” He paused. “When we told him Darius was being displayed like a trophy head, he laughed. Claimed it was a Valkirin trick.”

  Nazafareen frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ll set him straight. I always got on well with Victor.”

  In truth, she saw more than a little of herself in Darius’s father. They were both headstrong and inclined to violence over diplomacy. Where Darius exuded chill calm, Victor was bluster and reckless charm. And he had a soft spot for her.

  They used to spar together in a clearing in the forest. He would call her Water Dog to rile her up and break her concentration, but he always said it with a teasing grin. And the one time he’d accidentally nicked her with his blade—a scratch, really—Victor had been beside himself with remorse, fussing over her like a mother hen. He had a tender side, though she suspected it mainly came out with Delilah.

  “It’ll be fine,” Nazafareen said. “Trust me.”

  Mithre looked dubious but pushed the door open. The chamber beyond seemed familiar. She realized she’d seen it through the globe. A long rectangular table occupied the center of the room. The shadows were so thick it took her a moment to make out the man who sat at its head.

  “Victor?”

  He looked up, his face catching the blue light of a single lumen crystal. Nazafareen recoiled at the sight. His strong jaw sagged beneath the weight of loose skin. Streaks of white winged his raven hair and his eyes were cavernous hollows, full of suspicion.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  “It’s me. Nazafareen.”

  Victor’s gaze narrowed as he studied her, but then his expression softened.

  “Is it truly you?”

  She walked over and took his hand. It was freezing.

  “It’s me.”

  “I thought the chimera….” He squeezed her fingers so hard it hurt. “Did Delilah find you?”

  “She did. She was intending to return here, but she’s with Tethys now.”

  He closed his eyes. “Thank the gods.”

  “She’s gone to fight the Pythia, Victor. And you should be at her side.”

  “The Pythia?” He looked lost for a moment, his eyes unfocused.

  “The Oracle of Delphi. She holds captive daēvas.” Nazafareen paused. “She had Darius for a time, but he escaped.”

  Victor hunched forward. “I knew it was a trick,” he muttered.

  “Listen to me,” Nazafareen said firmly. “It’s not a trick. Your son is out there, in Valkirin custody.” She pressed on before he could ask why they’d come. “I’m here to make you an offer. They’re willing to trade Darius for Val Moraine and the diamond.”

  Victor pull
ed his hand free and slipped it inside his coat.

  “No more deals,” he snarled. “They can’t be trusted.”

  Nazafareen wanted to throttle him, but she kept her voice even and soothing. “Runar swore it to me on a talisman that compels the truth. He said he would let you and your Danai go home. Stefán of Val Altair swore the same, and so did Frida of Val Tourmaline.”

  His mouth set, thin and crooked like an obstinate old man. “Damn Darius for putting me in this position.”

  At least Katrin had the sense to stay out of sight in the hall. Nazafareen could only imagine Victor’s reaction if he saw her there. But Mithre, who’d been hovering in the doorway, strode forward at these words. His face was tight with suppressed fury.

  “Damn Darius? You should be thanking your lucky stars they’re willing to trade! We’ve been here far too long. Half of us are dead, and the other half are drunk all the time. No one’s seen Arjan in days. He either stumbled over the edge taking a piss, or, far more likely, decided to jump. Tomorrow, it will be another.” His voice dripped with contempt. “It’s over, Victor. It was over a long time ago. You’re the only one who can’t see that.”

  Victor lip curled in a sneer. “Cowards. I won’t cede the Maiden Keep, not for some—”

  Nazafareen seized a fistful of Victor’s coat and pulled him closer, until they were inches apart. She could smell his bitter breath.

  “You listen to me, Victor Dessarian,” she said softly. “There’s a gate not far from here. Or you can walk home if you choose. I don’t care. But I will not let you sign Darius’s death warrant.”

  The muscles of his face jerked as he tried to form words. Nazafareen rode straight over him.

  “Your son was chained by the Oracle of Delphi and I’ll not see him suffer at the hands of the Valkirins. So you’ll put your bloody pride aside, for Darius’s sake if not your own.”

  Victor tried to pull away, but Nazafareen held him fast. Once he would have shaken her off like a mastiff with a flea. She peered into his flat, glittering eyes. He was so far from the man she remembered, they might be two different people.

  “Things have happened while you holed up at Val Moraine. There is a fourth daēva clan, Victor. They work fire. The Danai and Valkirins must unite against them or we’ll die.”

  “Lies!” he shrieked, spittle flying into her face. “You’re with them, aren’t you? They sent you here to rob me of my prize. You treacherous little—” He trailed off at the rasp of Mithre’s sword leaving the scabbard. Nazafareen hadn’t even heard the daēva move, but now he loomed next to them.

  “Take it, Nazafareen,” Mithre said in a dead voice. “It’s on a chain around his neck.”

  Victor tried to push back from the table to draw his own blade but Nazafareen planted her boot on his hand, trapping it against his thigh. She saw a glint of gold and snatched at it, yanking hard. As the chain broke, Victor let out an unearthly howl that echoed through the silent keep.

  “The fuck?” Katrin burst into the chamber. Her hand rested on her sword, but she hadn’t drawn it, not yet. When Victor saw her, he scrabbled away, his face contorted in rage.

  “Traitors,” he spat. He ran for the door but Katrin blocked his way.

  “Let him go,” Nazafareen snapped. She held up the chain and showed her the huge white diamond dangling from its setting. “I have the talisman.”

  Katrin hesitated. A look of mutual loathing passed between her and Victor.

  “Let him go!”

  She glared at Nazafareen but stepped aside. Victor stumbled through the door, vanishing into the shadows beyond. Mithre eyed the diamond with revulsion.

  “Get rid of it as fast as you can,” he told Nazafareen. “It’s a foul thing. I suspected, but I wasn’t sure until now.” He sheathed his sword, tension giving way to weariness. “I’ll tell the others we’re going home. And I’ll find Victor. He’ll come back to himself in time.”

  Nazafareen nodded. “I’ll warn the Valkirins about it. Where did Victor come by the diamond?”

  “It belonged to Eirik. The Kafsnjórs used it during the Iron Wars to defend the keep. Culach told him about it.”

  Nazafareen slipped the diamond into her pocket. It was an icy weight, but she felt nothing from it. No taint of evil. Perhaps it only worked on those who were already susceptible. Or maybe it required time and solitude to work its magic.

  Either way, she was eager to be rid of it. But she had another task first.

  “Where is Culach?” she asked. “I need to see him. It won’t take long.”

  Katrin sneered. “Why? So you can taunt him?”

  Nazafareen ignored her. “Mithre, where is he?”

  The daēva looked at her oddly. “His room, most likely.”

  “Don’t tell him in advance. Just take me there.”

  Mithre studied her for a moment. “Well, I suppose you can handle yourself. And he’s blind, else I wouldn’t risk it. But don’t expect a warm reception.”

  “I don’t.” She turned to Katrin. “Wait at the stables.” When Katrin opened her mouth, Nazafareen held her gaze, giving her a glimpse of the beast that had been straining at its leash for the last day. “Just do it.”

  She hadn’t raised her voice, but this time, Katrin didn’t argue.

  8

  A Visitor from Beyond

  “That’s not the price you quoted me.”

  The Marakai sighed. He was sweating heavily in the desert heat, ebony skin glistening with moisture despite the dampened cloth wrapped around his forehead. “I gave you an estimate. The water is much deeper than I thought. It’s not my fault if you drained your well so quickly.”

  The corners of his father’s mouth turned down. Farrumohr knew the look well.

  “It’s always the same with you, isn’t it? Think you can blackmail me into paying twice what we agreed.”

  The Marakai shrugged. “Take it or leave it. You won’t find anyone to do the work for less.” He glanced at the dark-haired Danai who waited patiently at his side. “You did warn me about this guy. I should have listened.”

  Farrumohr’s father bristled. He was a powerfully built man with a sharp nose and sunken eyes that peered out at the world with perpetual suspicion. Once, his hair had been flame red like Farrumohr’s, but the years had leached the color out, leaving it a faded rust. Stooped shoulders made him appear shorter than he was. Sometimes Farrumohr felt his father was being slowly erased and one day he might simply fade away altogether, like the shimmering heat mirages on the horizon.

  His father could be hard, but he was smart—smarter than the other Vatras, who let themselves be fleeced without a word of protest.

  “What do they say about me?” he demanded.

  The Marakai laughed. “That you’re tighter than a knot soaked in saltwater. That you’ll spend hours under this cursed sun arguing down the value of a day’s labor and still go off grumbling—even when whoever you hired finally accepts a pauper’s wages just to see the back of you.” He sniffed. “Dig for the water yourself. We won’t do it for less than two talismans of summoning and three of shrinking.”

  Farrumohr saw his father’s face darken and thought he might burn them on the spot. He’d never actually done such a thing, but he’d talked about it, especially after the well ran low. He blamed the Marakai. They’d delved too shallow on purpose so he’d have to hire them again to fix it.

  His family’s homestead was one of the smallest and meanest in the Western Barrens. Farrumohr often heard his parents fighting about it. His mother would rail at his father, every word audible through the thin walls. She cursed the day she laid eyes on him. Cursed his laziness and obstinacy. Sometimes his father yelled back. But mostly he just suffered in silence. Farrumohr knew her anger was displaced. She couldn’t see that they were being punished for standing up to the outrageous demands of the other clans.

  “Five talismans for a simple well?” his father demanded. “You’re criminals.” He clenched his fists. “I ought to teach you a
lesson. One you’ll never forget.”

  Farrumohr felt a sickening mix of fear and excitement. But then his mother’s shrill voice came from the house, calling him in to supper, and his father backed down, as he always did.

  “Liars and thieves,” he muttered. “Just get out.”

  The Danai and Marakai glanced at each other, smirking in shared amusement.

  “Get off my land!” his father shrieked. “Go!”

  They sauntered away, shaking their heads.

  Farrumohr watched his father trudge to the house, shoulders slumped, and wondered what he might have done if she hadn’t interrupted. If she hadn’t beaten him down. And for an instant, he felt such a white-hot rage it made him tremble.

  After that, none of the other clans would set foot on their homestead. The well ran dry. Their little oasis withered and died. And the fights got worse.

  Farrumohr knew his mother despised him. She’d always been affectionate with Julia, but she never so much as hugged him or spoke a kind word. His father saw what she was like and tried to make up for it. He told Farrumohr that he was a special boy. He encouraged him to experiment with talismans, praising his first clumsy efforts. His father taught him the most important things. Farrumohr could see that his mother was killing him slowly. Sucking the life from him like a lich.

  Even at the tender age of eleven, he understood that something had to be done.

  No one expressed surprise when she disappeared. They’d fallen into poverty and his father assumed she up and left. None of the other clans would trade with them now. Their talismans sat in the corner of the workroom, gathering dust. His father finally swallowed his pride and tried to hire the Marakai to fix the well. They refused. So he asked for help from the neighbors. It’s your own fault, they said, and turned him away.

  All except for one: Gaius’s family.

  For the sake of the two motherless children, they agreed to take his father on as a gardener and allow them to stay at the sprawling homestead. Farrumohr knew his father found the situation deeply humiliating. The Vatras were a hard-working, independent people. They’d tamed the desert and tending your own land was a point of pride.