book title

For perhaps the first time in Emara’s life, the sinking sun actually brought hope rather than dread. The three of them had already been walking for hours under its harsh light, and the dusk meant they were probably halfway to their destination. As long as Chipo wasn’t leading them in circles…

Although their feet were already sore and aching, they didn’t dare stop for rest. With the dry wind whipping at them and their waterskins growing lighter, Emara found them round stones to suck on to curb their unyielding thirst. Though in the resulting silence, she missed the light conversation to raise their spirits.

At first, Emara worried Jai wouldn’t be able to keep up with her and Chipo’s unnatural stamina. After the first few hours, his shoulders sagged, and he started to stumble. Instinctively, she reached out to steady him and almost laughed. This was the one person she could help. She sent a stream of yanaa through him, sweeping away his fatigue and aches.

He straightened instantly, his curious glance meeting hers. “Doesn’t that take energy? Don’t waste your strength on me.”

Emara shook her head, shifting the stone in her mouth. “It’s no trouble at all.” She said it automatically, but after a moment, she realized it was true. In the past, it might have taken a small toll on her, but now her yanaa flowed and replenished so easily, it had cost her nearly nothing. “Using so much yanaa yesterday seems to have made me stronger.”

“Your yanaa is just like a muscle,” Chipo said as she climbed the dune ahead of them. “The more you use it, the stronger it will get.”

Emara switched the smooth stone to her other cheek. Aza had said that too, but if that was true, how much stronger could she have been if she hadn’t been hiding her gift all those years? How much stronger could she get?

“In that case, I’m glad to be of service whenever you wish to exercise your gift,” Jai said, the exhausted despondency of only a moment before replaced with a grin that somehow managed to look totally inappropriate.

She lifted her chin. “You better be nice to me then.”

He held a hand to his chest as if wounded. “And just what are you implying?”

“That you’re a swindling artist of deception?” Chipo said.

“You know, actually, I really like the sound of that,” Jai said. “Maybe I’ll use it to pitch my next show: swashbuckling artist of deception.”

“I said swindling,” Chipo said.

“And I improved it,” Jai said. “But I can still be a nice swashbuckler.”

Emara’s feet sank into the loose red sand as she climbed, the moon bright above them. “I think that depends—”

The keen of the Lost’s hunting screech carried on the dry wind, cutting her off.

The three exchanged a tight glance before Chipo took off running. “Let’s get to the top of the dune so we can see them.”

Jai and Emara raced after her, Emara’s heart thumping as they went. As she reached the top, she noticed two things at once. A well sat in the trough between the dune they were on and the next one, and a cluster of ten Lost stood between them and it. They looked more like walking skeletons than corpses, dragging rusted swords and shields behind them. Their black eye sockets glinted with hate as they shambled toward them up the slope, their toothy jaws unleashing another sharp scream of bloodthirst.

“Ten?” Jai said, his breath coming fast. “We’re thrice outnumbered.”

“Should we try to outrun them?” Chipo’s words shook ever so slightly. “We could probably go around.”

“And miss that well?” Emara spit out the rock in her mouth and dropped her pack into the sand. “I don’t think so. Even if we did, that would just give them time to follow us and grow their numbers.”

Too dark for a bow, she drew her sword and looked at Chipo. Fear shone in the girl’s eyes, and sweat glittered on her brow. Although she seemed confident and fearless, this was something that had certainly haunted her childhood nightmares. Something she had little experience with and every right to fear.

But this, Emara could handle.

She shifted the sword in her hand, finding its balance. “They’re drawn to me and you, Chipo, so we’ll split up. Jai will go with you. If you get five, that’s only a couple each. If they rush you all at once, run a few steps to spread them out.”

Jai drew his own weapon, the sword a little awkward in his hand. “You’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

She pulled her dry lips into a smile. “I’m so thirsty, I think I could take on a whole army myself.”

Jai smirked, his hand brushing against hers in a way that made her heart stutter a little more. “We’ll meet you at the well, then. Don’t drink it all before we get there.”

“As if I would do such a thing,” Emara said.

Jai turned to Chipo, her hands trembling as she stared down at the dead already halfway up the dune. “You ready?”

Chipo shook herself from the trance, giving Jai a nod. “Let’s get it over with.” She started down the slope with long strides and a thought occurred to Emara.

Chipo's brown eyes turned to her in silent question.

“It’s not like taking a life.” Emara squeezed the smooth hilt in her grip. “They’re already dead. Putting their souls to rest is the only mercy we can give them.”

Doubt flickered across Chipo’s face, but she gave another curt nod before running off, sword drawn. Taking a sharp breath, Emara ran in the other direction.

The Lost shrieked in confusion. They turned from side to side, torn with indecision. But then as one, the ten turned toward Emara. She almost laughed. So much for her plan. At least this way she didn’t have to worry about Jai or Chipo.

A frenzied urgency pumped through her as she ran toward the well. “This way, you sack of rot!”

They shrieked again, lifting their weapons as they stumbled toward her. Their bones clacked as they moved, green yanaa curling about their decaying joints.

When they were close enough for Emara to smell the sickening reek of death, a sharp, instinctive bolt of fear flashed through her, urging her to flee. But this wasn’t her first time, and she knew better. She lunged forward, swinging the blade across the creature’s neck. The second didn’t even have time to raise its weapon before its skull fell into the sand.

Emara’s heart hammered in her chest, but the fear was gone—replaced only with a grim efficiency. Undaunted, the Lost continued forward, clumsily hacking with their blades. Emara darted and sidestepped, everything else falling away as she focused on these five. One by one she beheaded them with efficient slashes, her feet sinking into the sand as she moved. Jai arrived in time to make quick work of the remaining three, with a flustered Chipo following close behind. The last one had time to shrill a piercing death keen before the steel of Emara’s blade cut it off, and the creature crumbled into the sand.

Chest heaving, Emara scanned the red dunes for any others that may have lagged behind, but there was only Jai and Chipo beside her. Was that really it? Emara considered the already crumbling remains of the Lost surrounding her and wondered how much slower and dumber these were than the ones in her time. If it was Idriel’s influence that gave them strength, maybe once he was gone, they’d have a chance to finally rid their land of the abominations.

“Emara!” Jai sheathed his sword and clutched her arms as he looked her over. “Are you okay?

She smiled, squeezing his arms back. Somehow in the fray, one of the Lost had managed to land a cut on his forearm, and with a pulse of yanaa she quickly knit it back together. “I’m fine, but this well best not be dry.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Jai turned with her toward the small stone well. “I knew you said you’d dealt with them before, but that was...” He shook his head as though words failed him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help,” Chipo said, shuffling her cloth boots on the sand as they crossed to the well.

“Think nothing of it.” Emara wheeled the squeaking handle to pull the well bucket up. “It didn’t exactly go according to my less-than-brilliant plan in any case.”

“That’s because plans always go sideways. It’s better to have options and adapt.” Jai put his smooth palm over her hand, his crinkled eyes meeting hers for a moment as they rotated the handle together. “But you know, the more I learn about your homeland, the more it sounds like quite the place of horrors.”

Emara swallowed the dry knot in her throat, relief gushing through her at the sound of sloshing water. “It certainly is.”

Jai grabbed the full water bucket and offered it to her, his brow lined and gaze strangely earnest. “Then why not stay here?”

Emara took a swig straight from the bucket before passing it to Chipo. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, but somehow I have a feeling that choice won’t be up to me.”

Wiping her mouth, Chipo gave the bucket to Jai, and he paused. “Well, I’m glad we at least got to know you for a short time.” He took a sip from the bucket and offered a bittersweet smile. “I don’t know what we would’ve done if you weren’t here to take care of the Lost.”

“First, you wouldn’t have been out here if it weren’t for me.” Emara accepted the bucket from Jai again and drank deep. “And secondly, you would’ve done what you had to.” But as she said it, her memory snapped to where she stood frozen in the blood-slicked throne room.

Yes, there’d been many times in the past where she’d been able to do what she had to. But the problem was: first, she had to know what exactly needed to be done.

She lowered the bucket from her lips when another screech split through the night, followed by another, and another. An echoing howl of bone-chilling rage filled the night around them, and Emara met Chipo’s terrified gaze.

“How many?” Chipo whispered.

Emara shook her head, the screams still overlapping each other. Her fear swelled with its terrible crescendo, spinning her mind back to that terrible night where she’d lost her mother to the same keens.