Chapter Text
On the roof, the fighting had incited even the heavens to join in. Blue lightning streamed from the godstaves, ruptuous thunder careening moments before. Storm clouds gathered in the sky above, blocking out the desert stars. The night breeze blew harsh so high up, making me wish I had on something warmer than my dress. I settled for tucking myself into Halah instead.
The scene before us rivaled the weather overhead. Across the flat roof were Faaiq and Marcus, both commanding their share of palace guards and skilled warriors. Marcus had more people, but with Faaiq wielding the godstaves, he had gained his fair share of followers. In the end, their powers evened out. Omari had placed herself besides Marcus – at first I wondered why she was there, if she was on our side, supposedly, but it soon became clear that the best way to catch your enemies off-guard was when they thought you had their back.
The warships originally set for Abaja Dչsja has all been burnt down by Faaiq. The people fighting here were only the smallest part of the soldiers the empire had— the real force would have to travel here on foot now if they were coming. I prayed that they weren’t.
It was mesmerizing, watching the soldiers fall back and forth in waves, here attacking, there defending, listening for orders, taking any chance they got. It seemed as if they had been at it for some time now – the dull sheen in their eyes has replaced whatever passionate battle fury had been there before.
Neither Faaiq nor Marcus look winded in the slightest. They stood back, behind the soldiers, calling orders and encouragement with not a scratch on them. Every once in a while, when the Jajt army looked like they might gain the upper hand, Faaiq shot some lightning to warn them off. He had done something to the godstaves that I hadn’t seen before – they were uncapped. The blue lighting seemed to be originating from where the caps had once been.
It looked as though he hadn’t quite gained control of the godstaves yet. It took some vigorous shaking for him to get the bolts going, and when they don’t come at all, which was happening more and more frequently, well, some aptly-placed cursing and gesticulating was his retort of choice. The godstaves, it seemed, were rather finicky.
The armies continued clashing. Lightning rained down and blood poured for what seemed like forever, Halah and I just watching, hidden to the side.
We weren’t fully out of the danger, but no one paid enough attention to notice us. The closests we came was when a soldier fell dead at our feet.
Blood splattered my dress.
“You okay?” Halah asked.
“Yeah.” I clutched her hand tighter. “Yes. I can do this.”
“Just say the word, and we’ll leave.”
“I need to see this through.”
What could I do? I didn’t know how to fight. Halah was unarmed, and my dagger wasn’t much better. Neither of us knew a whip about strategy – the closest we’d ever come was planning routes to food markets that wouldn’t get us attacked by bandits. The soldiers in front of us were giants compared to Halah, even though she was taller than most men—I would be less of a nuisance than a bug to them. Faaiq, Marcus, Omari, all had been raised for this. Had studied their whole lives for this. This was their destiny.
I was a princess too. I had been born into nobility just as they had. Not for the first time, though, it occurred to me that I was nothing like them. As much as I had started life as heir to a country, I barely remembered those days now. It was the caravan, and Halah, who had taken me in, that had raised me into the person I was today. Haunted by my past, with the weight of secrets on my shoulders, I was nonetheless a simple person at heart. It was fruits and trade and faraway lands that made me me, not fancy clothes and royal prestige. Faaiq and I. Same past. Different lives. Unknown futures.
He stood, stance wide, with his raptor’s eyes and commanding air. He radiated, oozed confidence, his side seemingly having the upper hand. The godstaves, however, fizzled and popped, no longer shooting anything useful – and it wouldn’t be long before Marcus and the other side noticed.
My realization predicting it, Jajt warriors surged forwards, revitalized in a way that only crowds could be. Faaiq anxiously called out his name – the keyword, I remembered – trying to keep the lull of victory on his side. It was to no avail: the godstaves had stopped working completely.
Marcus took this as the cue to press forwards. The battlefield descended into chaos, Jajts breaking Abaja Dչsjan lines everywhere. Warriors stabbed and parried, wailing like demons, until no one could tell friend from foe. Carnage resulted, confusion and anger surging through the crowd, allies killing each other. It looked like a living hell.
Out of the corner of my eye, a bout of movement pried my mind from the centre of the battle. Omari stood behind Marcus, at a safe distance from the battle. Her sword was drawn.
It only took a second before Marcus has fallen to his knees. He clutched at his side, wailing in agony, not unlike all those he had burned before him. It looked like Omari had purposely avoided his heart – or maybe she just figured that he’d die either way, so why not make it agonizing. That was what he would have done.
Faaiq turned his head towards the scream, somehow having heard it through the thunderous beat of the battlefield. A ferocious smile broke out across his face as he realized what it meant. “Look!” He called out, voice louder than any human should have been, calling to his soldiers. “Their leader has fallen! Your enemies have been incapacitated from the inside! They are disjointed, no one at the helm to guide them! Do not stop fighting, my soldiers - the battle is yours!”
The Abaja Dչsjans rose up, spirit renewed with his words. They charged forwards, Jajt warriors scurrying back, their fate sealed behind their eyes the moment they realized their leader was down. Some attacked Omari, attempting one last push, but she wielded her sword with expert skill, disarming each and throwing them aside.
The battle was decided quickly.
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Faaiq sent his soldiers to attend to the wounded, fetch surgeons and round up the Jajt who were attempting to slink away. They would be prisoners of war, at least for now. I didn't know what Faaiq would do with them – somewhere inside of me, I still hoped that he would defy the way things had always been done.
He walked over to where Halah and I, now joined by Omari, were standing, a few of his guards following. We had revealed ourselves once the battle had safely concluded, but stayed to the slide lest things heat up again. They hadn't, fortunately; plus, Omari had come to us before we thought to move anywhere anyways.
“Aunt,” he said as he arrived, inclining his head towards her. “I'm glad to see you chose the right side after all.” There was something different about him. He seemed to shine in the battle’s heat. As if it was what he was born to do. His eyes were more focused, more intent than I had ever seen. Sweat gleamed on his brow, his cheekbones.
“What, no thank you?” She scoffed.
“Not yet.” He turned to me. “The prophecy isn't complete yet.”
He snapped— and his guards surged forwards.
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One guard restrained Halah. A second restrained me. It took three guards and one groin injury to hold down Omari, but eventually she, too, was incapacitated.
“Faaiq!” I yelled, facing him. “What are you doing?! The battle is won!”
“The prophecy isn't over yet,” he answered simply. “Until I fulfill the final task, the power of the godstaves will not be handed over to me.”
“I know the godstaves weren’t working very well, but what does that have to do with us?” I struggled against the guard’s burly arms.
“I don't need all three,” he said, waving Omari and Halah’s guards aside. “Just you, Ankla.”
“Me?” The guard pushed me to my knees, a single hand holding my arms behind my back.
“Yes, you. When the lord Serkh came to me in my dreams, showing me my path, you were the last step.” He stepped forwards slowly, confidently, a wild dog seeking his prey. “I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Ankla. You were a true friend, all these weeks, despite your few small arguments. I could not have asked for anything more.”
“What are you doing, Faaiq?”
“I love my country more than anything, you understand. I would give up everything for Abaja Dչsja.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Faaiq, what are you doing?”
“I'm sorry, Ankla—” he raised his sword – “but I have to kill you.”
The guard holding my arms let go.
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I rolled to the side just in time to dodge his first blow. “You have to kill me?? Why?”
He swung again, nicking my stomach. Halah screamed. “Because the Lost Gods told me so! Serkh told me so! Power locked until the end didn't mean until the final battle, Ankla, it meant until you are dead!”
“Okay, and?” I ducked away from his swing, hiding behind a loose pile of baked bricks, leftovers from construction. “Do you even need this power? The battle’s won! You’re king again!”
“You think this was the last battle? This was a handful of soldiers on a roof! This wasn't even the Empire’s main forces! This is only the beginning, Ankla! The beginning of a war we can't hope to win without divine power. If you truly care about this country, Ankla, you will give your life to save it! If you truly care!” He slammed his sword down, catching my dress, pinning me to the ground. The candle in my pocket threatened to fall out. His face looked down on mine, sweaty from exertion, eyes staring right at me and yet somehow unfocused. Or focused, but in the distance. He wasn't really seeing me at all.
If you truly care about this country, you will give your life to save it. If I loved this country as much as Faaiq did, my answer would be obvious. The decision would have been made before I even knew there was a choice.
I thought back to earlier this battle. I was a princess no longer. My country was a colony with no true king, a country which I no longer belonged to. I thought about the caravan. My home for so long. Eating melons from Koiten, side by side with Halah, long treks through the desert and fires at night.
I thought about Halah. Halah, who had been foremost in my heart all this time. Halah, who would have put me before the world. Halah, who wanted nothing more than to see me safe at the end of the day.
It was a selfish decision to make. Me, or the world.
I drew my dagger and stabbed him.
Blood flowed down the handle as he fell to the ground. My dress ripped at the shoulder as I pulled myself out of his sword’s hold and staggered to my feet.
“Wh—” he sputtered, coughing up red.
“Faaiq—” I leaned down, pulling the godstaves from his clammy hand – “you don't deserve these.”
“Who – cough—are you—cough—to say? I'm the king, Ankla! My word is law!”
“You’re dying, Faaiq.”
“I am gold. I am perfect. I am strong. I will not break!”
“Do you recall telling me about the girl you were engaged to? The Heaman princess with the green eyes?”
“What are you—”
“Her name was Alecta, right?” the godstaves begin to hum, “Well, before I was Ankla, that was my name.”
Realization dawned in his eyes. “No.”
“Yes, Faaiq. I am the princess. True heir to the throne. I could have been queen, with my parents dead.
“I witnessed the horrors that Marcus, that the emperor, that the Empire itself wrecked on our lives. I sat front row before the executioner’s blade. I know what these people are capable of. I would never wish them on a soul.”
“Then why—”
“Because you were becoming one too. I couldn't stand by and let you take over our country. Hatred begets hatred, Faaiq. Fighting only leads to more fighting, in the end. I couldn't let that happen.” Despite myself, tears came. Faaiq only wanted was best for his country. He was good, at heart, but soon he would be dead because of me.
I crouched down next to him, talking quietly for only him to hear.
“I'm sorry, Faaiq. I promised someone I wouldn't die.”
Behind us, golden skies marked the coming of dawn as I closed his faraway eyes.